Torchwood Smut: "Adaptive Evolution"
Title: “Adaptive Evolution”
Author: Spiderine
Rating: NC-17; Adults Only
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: D/s
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Author’s Notes: If you don’t watch Torchwood you won’t know who these people are. I am trying to keep the characterizations true to form, but there is no attempt being made to include current Torchwood plotline canon at this point (for example, ep 1x04 “Cyberwoman”). In other words, consider this an AU. This story follows my story “Proper In The Workplace”. Massive thanks go to femmequixotic for beta’ing even though she was insanely busy with other things. Thank you for reading.
--------------------------------------------
Thirty one hours and counting.
“I’ve got a lock! I’ve got a lock!” Toshiko yelled into her headset. “I’m bringing it down! Go! Go!”
Jack’s voice crackled into Ianto’s ear. “Great! Ianto, where the hell are those coordinates?” There was a clatter of gunfire in the background. “That would be now, Ianto - Gwen, get down!”
Ianto rattled off directions into his mike and tried to keep the figures on his computer screen from swimming before his eyes as he input the data. Thirty one hours and counting, nothing but coffee and bile in his stomach, and it was finally all coming together. Gwen and Jack in the field, Owen tending to the victims of those horrible experiments, and he and Tosh in the Hub doing technical backup.
This had been the longest workday of his life. This was what he lived for.
For the next few excruciating minutes he heard nothing but screams and explosions. Then, at last, Jack’s voice again, harshly: “We’re out! We’re good! Gwen, leave that - Owen, for god’s sake move!”
The critical indicator light on Tosh’s screen image of the building plan blinked red, red, red, and then went out. Far above them, on the surface, somewhere in Wales, the detonation would rock the countryside. There would be a great deal of cleaning up to do.
Tense moments of silence, and then Jack’s voice in his ear again, sounding exhausted to the bone. “We done good, people. You all right over there, Tosh, Ianto?”
“Of course we’re fine,” Tosh snapped. “You’re the ones who had us worried sick. You cut it too damn close, Jack.”
“Tell it to the bad guys, Tosh.” A sigh. “And we’re not done yet. You two may as well take a breather, we’ve a long night of covering our asses ahead of us. Gwen, Owen, get the truck started before the amateurs get here. I’m taking one last sweep.”
Another few moments later, there was a click in Ianto’s earpiece. “Ianto, this is a secure channel. Are you alone?”
Ianto stepped into a hallway off the central Hub. “I am now, sir.”
“Good. You sounded like the top of your head was ready to blow off. I want you to go take a wank.”
Ianto stopped dead in his tracks. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Is there a problem with your headset, Ianto?”
“No, sir. Sorry. Just a bit punchy, I suppose.”
“Exactly. So go to the toilet, have a wank, come in your hand and eat it.”
“Ah. Yes, sir.”
“And don’t make a holiday of it. We’re on our way back and I’ll need you to help with the mop up arrangements.”
“Of course, sir. Absolutely.”
“Right. Out.” And the headset went dead.
Well. That was certainly ... The thought trailed off to blankness in Ianto’s mind. It was certainly something, but he’d been awake 31 hours and counting, and he was beginning to have difficulty forming words. Which was probably the point of the order. And an order was an order, after all.
Ianto slipped into the nearest toilet, locking the door behind him. He put his headset into the pocket of his suit jacket, and hung the jacket behind the door before undoing his trousers and dropping to his knees. It seemed the most appropriate position under the circumstances, and at least he knew the floor was clean. He had mopped it himself the day before.
He pulled his cock up over the elastic of his shorts, feeling the swell of arousal despite his fatigue. Jack didn’t often approve of him using his cock for anything but pissing; this was quite the treat and he couldn’t waste the chance. He closed his eyes and began to stroke - quickly, quickly, no time to lose.
It had been so very long since he’d last masturbated, and his work for Jack kept him in such a heightened state of stimulation, that he’d begun having wet dreams again, like a boy. The first time he’d woken up with a mess in his sheets he’d been mortified beyond imagining. He’d confessed to Jack that very day, his face hot with shame, but Jack assured him that he wasn’t to be faulted for what was purely a physiological reaction. In fact, he was to be commended - it showed he was adapting well to his new duties.
Since then, whenever he’d woken to find he’d had an emission, he felt ... well, it was still shameful, but he was starting to find the shame itself oddly pleasurable. He was adapting. His desires were reshaping themselves to Jack’s specifications. All was as it should be. It was right and good. Very good. So very -
Ah, yes, good. He spurted into his palm, shuddering quietly, doing his best not to let the semen drip onto the floor. It felt right, and shameful, and very pleasurable indeed. He lapped up the sticky globs, meticulously cleaning his fingers with a tiny smile and the heat of a blush in his cheeks. The taste of come was another thing he was learning to enjoy.
Shrugging into his jacket and adjusting his tie, he returned to the Hub as quickly as possible, just in time to hear Toshiko snap, “Ianto, where the hell have you been? I need you on the phone with the utilities. I have my hands full with the army.”
“Sorry, Tosh. I’m on it.” He grabbed the closest telephone and started punching buttons.
Thirty two hours and counting. The whirring of the lift mechanics signaled that Jack and the others had arrived back at the Hub. He and Tosh had covered the authorities, the hospitals, the utilities, and were planting the proper stories in the media. He was entirely worn out and his head was swimming, but Jack, Owen and Gwen had to be feeling even worse, and Toshiko sounded about ready to chew someone’s head off. So his last telephone call had been to Chula Indian takeaway for plenty of chicken korma, almond rice and mango lassi - mild, soothing food and drink, suitable for agitated stomachs - and he had set the kettle on for a large pot of green tea.
Thirty three hours and counting. Everyone else had staggered off home for much-needed sleep. Ianto was stumbling around the table clearing away the debris from dinner - breakfast - the meal, whatever to call it. Jack was still wide awake, pacing restlessly about the Hub. Ianto had no idea where he got the energy.
“Ianto,” Jack called. “Leave that. Come here.” Ianto went over to Jack’s workstation to see Jack pulling the braces from his shoulders and opening his trousers. “Over the desk, Ianto.”
It appeared his workday wasn’t over yet. Ordinarily this would be more than welcome, and in an abstract sense it still was, but Ianto was shivering with fatigue as he once again removed his jacket and folded it over the back of a chair. He dropped his pants and bent over the desk, and it felt so good to be on a horizontal surface that he almost fell asleep right there.
Jack shook his shoulder, jolting him back to full consciousness. “Lube and condoms, Ianto. Is this what you call anticipating my needs?”
Tears of utter exhaustion welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. Sorry. We’ve just been so busy, I forgot...”
Jack considered him for a moment, nodded, and pulled his supplies from a drawer in his desk. “All right, Ianto,” he said soothingly, running a strong, calming hand up and down Ianto’s trembling thigh. “It’s all right. We’ll let it go.” He moved into position between Ianto’s legs and rolled on a condom, covering it with gel. “Let’s just do this and then you can get some sleep.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ianto mumbled, face down on the desk. “Very kind of you.”
“Sshhh. Just relax.”
Ianto felt the stretch and burn of two slick fingers being pushed into his arse. He couldn’t help but relax; he was far too knackered to do anything but relax. Which, he supposed, was all to the good.
He was still getting used to the sensation of being buggered. It had hurt so much at first, but Jack had been patient, and gentle, and had assured him that the pain would pass and he would learn to enjoy it. And he was learning, he knew he was; Jack had said so. Jack was becoming more pleased with him every day. His desires were reshaping themselves, his body becoming more accommodating to Jack’s wishes. Even now, as Jack replaced his fingers in Ianto’s arse with his cock, Ianto accommodated him with nothing more than a soft groan and a sigh.
Jack’s cock felt tremendous inside him, which was only proper. Ianto felt every inch of it fill him slowly, relentlessly, without meeting the slightest resistance. He was quite pleased with his progress, really. He felt sleepy, and relaxed, and full, and stretched to his utter limit, and although there was still pain, he was finding it oddly pleasurable, in the same way that the shame had become pleasure. Jack’s hands on his arse held him firmly, and every thrust rocked him gently forward and back against the desk, almost as if he were being rocked to sleep.
Jack stroked Ianto’s hair as he pumped into him steadily, deeply, and called his name in a low purr, like something from a dream.
“Yes, sir?” he answered, barely aware of his own voice.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes, sir,” he murmured, smiling drowsily and shifting his legs slightly wider.
“You like having my cock up your ass, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“That’s my good boy.”
Jack stroked his hair and rubbed his thigh gently, making Ianto shiver and sigh in contentment. “I’m sorry I don’t have an erection, sir.”
Jack chuckled. “That’s quite all right. I’m going to come now.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Jack gripped Ianto’s hips and started pumping sharply, with harsh little grunts. It startled Ianto out of his reverie but he said nothing, merely clutched the edge of the desk, eyes wide, feeling each thrust as a jolt up his spine. Faster and harder Jack worked him, reaming him until Ianto’s breath came in guttural pants and the pain stopped being a pleasure and started being, well, painful again. And just at that point, Jack snapped his hips forward once, twice, and came with a low, hoarse growl, grinding and twisting deeply into Ianto’s arse.
Ianto moaned quietly as Jack pulled out of him and discarded the used condom, but stayed in position, splayed face down over the desk, until Jack told him he could move. It was impossible for him to stand, so he just slid down and sat on the floor, his trousers still pooled around his ankles.
Jack patted his head and ruffled his hair. “I think it’s about time we moved you in here, don’t you think?”
Ianto gasped for breath. “Sir?”
“Well, you’re hardly of any use to me if you’re not here, so we’ll just set you up with a cot or something so you can be around when I want you. You don’t need much space, do you?”
“No, sir, I suppose I don’t.”
“Well, you think about it, and in the meantime you can sleep here under my desk tonight.”
Still rather dazed, Ianto nodded. “Oh. All right, sir.” He crumpled to the floor on his back, getting his breath back.
Jack pulled his grey wool coat from the back of his chair and covered Ianto with it. “Good night, Ianto. See you in the morning.”
“Good night, sir.” Ianto watched Jack as he turned off the lights and climbed down the ladder into his quarters. He rolled up in Jack’s coat. It was warm and heavy and smelled like Jack, and as he pulled it up around his neck and closed his eyes, he wondered idly how he was going to dispose of the furniture in his flat.
Thirty four hours and counting. He was adapting.
~fin~
Author: Spiderine
Rating: NC-17; Adults Only
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: D/s
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Author’s Notes: If you don’t watch Torchwood you won’t know who these people are. I am trying to keep the characterizations true to form, but there is no attempt being made to include current Torchwood plotline canon at this point (for example, ep 1x04 “Cyberwoman”). In other words, consider this an AU. This story follows my story “Proper In The Workplace”. Massive thanks go to femmequixotic for beta’ing even though she was insanely busy with other things. Thank you for reading.
--------------------------------------------
Thirty one hours and counting.
“I’ve got a lock! I’ve got a lock!” Toshiko yelled into her headset. “I’m bringing it down! Go! Go!”
Jack’s voice crackled into Ianto’s ear. “Great! Ianto, where the hell are those coordinates?” There was a clatter of gunfire in the background. “That would be now, Ianto - Gwen, get down!”
Ianto rattled off directions into his mike and tried to keep the figures on his computer screen from swimming before his eyes as he input the data. Thirty one hours and counting, nothing but coffee and bile in his stomach, and it was finally all coming together. Gwen and Jack in the field, Owen tending to the victims of those horrible experiments, and he and Tosh in the Hub doing technical backup.
This had been the longest workday of his life. This was what he lived for.
For the next few excruciating minutes he heard nothing but screams and explosions. Then, at last, Jack’s voice again, harshly: “We’re out! We’re good! Gwen, leave that - Owen, for god’s sake move!”
The critical indicator light on Tosh’s screen image of the building plan blinked red, red, red, and then went out. Far above them, on the surface, somewhere in Wales, the detonation would rock the countryside. There would be a great deal of cleaning up to do.
Tense moments of silence, and then Jack’s voice in his ear again, sounding exhausted to the bone. “We done good, people. You all right over there, Tosh, Ianto?”
“Of course we’re fine,” Tosh snapped. “You’re the ones who had us worried sick. You cut it too damn close, Jack.”
“Tell it to the bad guys, Tosh.” A sigh. “And we’re not done yet. You two may as well take a breather, we’ve a long night of covering our asses ahead of us. Gwen, Owen, get the truck started before the amateurs get here. I’m taking one last sweep.”
Another few moments later, there was a click in Ianto’s earpiece. “Ianto, this is a secure channel. Are you alone?”
Ianto stepped into a hallway off the central Hub. “I am now, sir.”
“Good. You sounded like the top of your head was ready to blow off. I want you to go take a wank.”
Ianto stopped dead in his tracks. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Is there a problem with your headset, Ianto?”
“No, sir. Sorry. Just a bit punchy, I suppose.”
“Exactly. So go to the toilet, have a wank, come in your hand and eat it.”
“Ah. Yes, sir.”
“And don’t make a holiday of it. We’re on our way back and I’ll need you to help with the mop up arrangements.”
“Of course, sir. Absolutely.”
“Right. Out.” And the headset went dead.
Well. That was certainly ... The thought trailed off to blankness in Ianto’s mind. It was certainly something, but he’d been awake 31 hours and counting, and he was beginning to have difficulty forming words. Which was probably the point of the order. And an order was an order, after all.
Ianto slipped into the nearest toilet, locking the door behind him. He put his headset into the pocket of his suit jacket, and hung the jacket behind the door before undoing his trousers and dropping to his knees. It seemed the most appropriate position under the circumstances, and at least he knew the floor was clean. He had mopped it himself the day before.
He pulled his cock up over the elastic of his shorts, feeling the swell of arousal despite his fatigue. Jack didn’t often approve of him using his cock for anything but pissing; this was quite the treat and he couldn’t waste the chance. He closed his eyes and began to stroke - quickly, quickly, no time to lose.
It had been so very long since he’d last masturbated, and his work for Jack kept him in such a heightened state of stimulation, that he’d begun having wet dreams again, like a boy. The first time he’d woken up with a mess in his sheets he’d been mortified beyond imagining. He’d confessed to Jack that very day, his face hot with shame, but Jack assured him that he wasn’t to be faulted for what was purely a physiological reaction. In fact, he was to be commended - it showed he was adapting well to his new duties.
Since then, whenever he’d woken to find he’d had an emission, he felt ... well, it was still shameful, but he was starting to find the shame itself oddly pleasurable. He was adapting. His desires were reshaping themselves to Jack’s specifications. All was as it should be. It was right and good. Very good. So very -
Ah, yes, good. He spurted into his palm, shuddering quietly, doing his best not to let the semen drip onto the floor. It felt right, and shameful, and very pleasurable indeed. He lapped up the sticky globs, meticulously cleaning his fingers with a tiny smile and the heat of a blush in his cheeks. The taste of come was another thing he was learning to enjoy.
Shrugging into his jacket and adjusting his tie, he returned to the Hub as quickly as possible, just in time to hear Toshiko snap, “Ianto, where the hell have you been? I need you on the phone with the utilities. I have my hands full with the army.”
“Sorry, Tosh. I’m on it.” He grabbed the closest telephone and started punching buttons.
Thirty two hours and counting. The whirring of the lift mechanics signaled that Jack and the others had arrived back at the Hub. He and Tosh had covered the authorities, the hospitals, the utilities, and were planting the proper stories in the media. He was entirely worn out and his head was swimming, but Jack, Owen and Gwen had to be feeling even worse, and Toshiko sounded about ready to chew someone’s head off. So his last telephone call had been to Chula Indian takeaway for plenty of chicken korma, almond rice and mango lassi - mild, soothing food and drink, suitable for agitated stomachs - and he had set the kettle on for a large pot of green tea.
Thirty three hours and counting. Everyone else had staggered off home for much-needed sleep. Ianto was stumbling around the table clearing away the debris from dinner - breakfast - the meal, whatever to call it. Jack was still wide awake, pacing restlessly about the Hub. Ianto had no idea where he got the energy.
“Ianto,” Jack called. “Leave that. Come here.” Ianto went over to Jack’s workstation to see Jack pulling the braces from his shoulders and opening his trousers. “Over the desk, Ianto.”
It appeared his workday wasn’t over yet. Ordinarily this would be more than welcome, and in an abstract sense it still was, but Ianto was shivering with fatigue as he once again removed his jacket and folded it over the back of a chair. He dropped his pants and bent over the desk, and it felt so good to be on a horizontal surface that he almost fell asleep right there.
Jack shook his shoulder, jolting him back to full consciousness. “Lube and condoms, Ianto. Is this what you call anticipating my needs?”
Tears of utter exhaustion welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. Sorry. We’ve just been so busy, I forgot...”
Jack considered him for a moment, nodded, and pulled his supplies from a drawer in his desk. “All right, Ianto,” he said soothingly, running a strong, calming hand up and down Ianto’s trembling thigh. “It’s all right. We’ll let it go.” He moved into position between Ianto’s legs and rolled on a condom, covering it with gel. “Let’s just do this and then you can get some sleep.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ianto mumbled, face down on the desk. “Very kind of you.”
“Sshhh. Just relax.”
Ianto felt the stretch and burn of two slick fingers being pushed into his arse. He couldn’t help but relax; he was far too knackered to do anything but relax. Which, he supposed, was all to the good.
He was still getting used to the sensation of being buggered. It had hurt so much at first, but Jack had been patient, and gentle, and had assured him that the pain would pass and he would learn to enjoy it. And he was learning, he knew he was; Jack had said so. Jack was becoming more pleased with him every day. His desires were reshaping themselves, his body becoming more accommodating to Jack’s wishes. Even now, as Jack replaced his fingers in Ianto’s arse with his cock, Ianto accommodated him with nothing more than a soft groan and a sigh.
Jack’s cock felt tremendous inside him, which was only proper. Ianto felt every inch of it fill him slowly, relentlessly, without meeting the slightest resistance. He was quite pleased with his progress, really. He felt sleepy, and relaxed, and full, and stretched to his utter limit, and although there was still pain, he was finding it oddly pleasurable, in the same way that the shame had become pleasure. Jack’s hands on his arse held him firmly, and every thrust rocked him gently forward and back against the desk, almost as if he were being rocked to sleep.
Jack stroked Ianto’s hair as he pumped into him steadily, deeply, and called his name in a low purr, like something from a dream.
“Yes, sir?” he answered, barely aware of his own voice.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes, sir,” he murmured, smiling drowsily and shifting his legs slightly wider.
“You like having my cock up your ass, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“That’s my good boy.”
Jack stroked his hair and rubbed his thigh gently, making Ianto shiver and sigh in contentment. “I’m sorry I don’t have an erection, sir.”
Jack chuckled. “That’s quite all right. I’m going to come now.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Jack gripped Ianto’s hips and started pumping sharply, with harsh little grunts. It startled Ianto out of his reverie but he said nothing, merely clutched the edge of the desk, eyes wide, feeling each thrust as a jolt up his spine. Faster and harder Jack worked him, reaming him until Ianto’s breath came in guttural pants and the pain stopped being a pleasure and started being, well, painful again. And just at that point, Jack snapped his hips forward once, twice, and came with a low, hoarse growl, grinding and twisting deeply into Ianto’s arse.
Ianto moaned quietly as Jack pulled out of him and discarded the used condom, but stayed in position, splayed face down over the desk, until Jack told him he could move. It was impossible for him to stand, so he just slid down and sat on the floor, his trousers still pooled around his ankles.
Jack patted his head and ruffled his hair. “I think it’s about time we moved you in here, don’t you think?”
Ianto gasped for breath. “Sir?”
“Well, you’re hardly of any use to me if you’re not here, so we’ll just set you up with a cot or something so you can be around when I want you. You don’t need much space, do you?”
“No, sir, I suppose I don’t.”
“Well, you think about it, and in the meantime you can sleep here under my desk tonight.”
Still rather dazed, Ianto nodded. “Oh. All right, sir.” He crumpled to the floor on his back, getting his breath back.
Jack pulled his grey wool coat from the back of his chair and covered Ianto with it. “Good night, Ianto. See you in the morning.”
“Good night, sir.” Ianto watched Jack as he turned off the lights and climbed down the ladder into his quarters. He rolled up in Jack’s coat. It was warm and heavy and smelled like Jack, and as he pulled it up around his neck and closed his eyes, he wondered idly how he was going to dispose of the furniture in his flat.
Thirty four hours and counting. He was adapting.
~fin~