Torchwood Smut: "A Boy's Christmas In Wales"
Title: "A Boy's Christmas In Wales"
Author: Spiderine
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17 (Adults Only)
Warnings: BDSM (note new warning!)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its characters are not owned by me. Unfortunately.
Author's Notes: This story was supposed to be ready for Christmas, but… *rolls eyes*. (Let's call it time travel! Whee!) It contains vague allusions to "A Child's Christmas in Wales" by Dylan Thomas; you don't need to read that in order to read this, but if you haven't read that, why haven't you? This story is part of an unnamed AU series: it follows my stories " Proper For The Workplace", " Adaptive Evolution", " A Creature of Habit" and " Time Between Friends". You do need to read those to understand what's going on here, and to decide whether you like this sort of thing. Trust me: if you don't like those stories, you really won't like this. Much thanks goes to goseaward for beta above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you for reading, and for your comments.
-------------------------------
One thing to be said for Christmas at Torchwood was that it was definitely like no other. If it snowed, there was no way to tell deep in the bowels of the Hub, but the constant drip of water down the central column was nearly cold enough to freeze, and had intermittently taken on a pleasant hissing sound, like snow being blown through a drafty window. There was no fire, crackling or otherwise; on the other hand, the pterodactyl had devoured an entire box of Christmas crackers, with explosive results. The Christmas tree was still smoldering.
"Fess up. You injected sauce into those crackers, didn't you."
"I'll deny it until my dying day, sir."
What party there was had been small, with just the five of them, and rather awkward at the start. The addition of an appropriate amount of alcohol, however, in the form of both egg nog and hot rum punch, had lubricated the occasion to a point verging on festivity. There had even been caroling, of remarkably high quality.
"It's not my fault I have perfect pitch."
"Bastard."
"What was that?"
"Baritone, sir."
"Thought so."
It was true that any party consisting of only five people was bound to be a bit, well, pathetic, in Ianto's honest opinion, although it wasn't as though they could invite anyone else into the Hub. Jack had suggested they bring the Weevil up from its cell, but he had just been joking. (At least, everyone had assumed that Jack was joking. It was best not to know.) Still, the current state of personal relations among the crew made for drawbacks when it came to traditional Christmas pastimes.
"The mistletoe was a bad idea, wasn't it?"
"It might have been ill-considered, sir."
"I had fun."
"Owen certainly didn't."
"Oh, he'll get over it. He should have known better than to push his luck with Gwen."
"Nothing says it's over like hot rum down the trousers, sir."
There had been useful presents. Ianto had scoured the vintage shops and found Jack a pair of leather driving gloves, circa 1940, gently worn and butter soft. For Toshiko there had been a Japanese block print silk scarf, and a tiny spangled evening bag for Gwen. They had both given him neckties, apparently without consulting each other, which had sent them into peals of laughter. Ianto didn't see the humor; a quality necktie was nothing to joke about, and these were lovely.
And there had been useless presents. Owen had given him a feather duster and a flower-print apron. But that was quite all right; he had given Owen a novelty inflatable sheep.
"I wish I could have been there when you went to buy the thing. I might have picked up a few things myself," said Jack from the sofa. He was using his finger to lick up the last of the eggnog from the punch bowl. "And stop cleaning up. Didn't anyone ever tell you that you never clean up the night of a party? You're supposed to leave it until the next day."
Ianto piled the last of the glasses in the sink and turned to face him. "I'll tell you the truth, sir. I've seen many a strange thing here, all in a day's work. But the fact that we live in a world where one can buy a 'blow-up party sheep' ... that truly gives me pause."
Jack laughed. "You haven't asked me if I got you anything."
"I'm not a child. I don't fish for presents."
"Spoil sport."
Ianto rolled his eyes. "Please sir, did you get me a present?"
Jack got to his feet and grinned. "Funny you should ask. Come and see." He went over to the hatch to his private quarters and started climbing down. Ianto, following, hesitated at the top of the ladder. Jack popped his head back up and said, "You coming down or what?"
Ianto didn't know what he'd expected to find at the bottom of the ladder. Some sybaritic paradise? A sensory deprivation tank? A hoard of futuristic technology? Chains and shackles? Not this, in any case. It looked like something one might find on the submarine Nautilus. Or perhaps in a boiler room, if it were also used for storage of random bits of furniture. It was a long, narrow room with a high ceiling. Jammed in among the pipes and ductwork and mechanical equipment were a large old iron bedstead, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, and an armchair with a floor lamp next to it. The furniture was shabby, salvaged, and the concrete floor was covered with a nearly threadbare oriental rug.
In truth, it was almost as spartan as Ianto's own camp bed and locker tucked in a corner. But while Ianto considered his accommodations to be perfectly adequate for his needs, Jack's quarters struck him as -- well, sad, really. Captain Jack Harkness was supposed to be larger than life. Ianto had no idea where he thought Jack really belonged, but he certainly didn't belong in a boiler room.
"Thank you for letting me into your home, sir," he said, meaning every word. "It's a wonderful gift."
Jack looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "That's not the present."
"Oh. Well, still, thank you, sir."
Jack chuckled. "Don't thank me yet." He picked something off the bookcase and dangled it from his finger. It was some kind of miniature arrangement of straps and buckles, like something that could have been meant for a doll-sized horse, perhaps. Ianto supposed it was meant for him, but he couldn't imagine how he was supposed to wear it. It was too small to fit around his neck or even his wrist, yet far too large to wear on his finger. The loops looked just about large enough to fit around his --
Oh, dear god.
Jack took one look at Ianto's dumbfounded face and smirked. "It's yours if you want it."
"Ah. Thank you?"
Jack toyed with the little contraption and said, "I figure you're about ready to be trigger trained." His eyes took on a look that was slightly amused, but rather more intense, almost arrogant. Ianto didn't understand what Jack was saying, but he recognized that look. It was the expression he associated with … that place, that unnamable space in Jack's head that was the counterpart to Ianto's own, making two puzzle pieces that fitted together so well when Ianto was on his knees.
This boded ill, to be sure. Still, Ianto couldn't deny the heat of arousal that he was beginning to feel, a combination of pounding heart and swelling cock that was terrifying and shameful and wonderful … The puzzle piece clicked into place, just like that. There was nothing to be done for it except to whisper, "Yes, sir," in a voice Ianto himself could barely hear.
Jack nodded in recognition. "All right then," he began in the quiet, pitiless voice that thrilled Ianto to the depths of him. "I've taken a lot away from you in the past weeks. I've taken your mouth away, and your ass, and left you with a couple of holes. Isn't that right?"
"Yes, sir."
"I've taken your cock away. It's been pretty much out of control lately, hasn't it?"
Ianto sighed, "Too bloody right," then he remembered himself, coughed, and said, "I mean, yes, sir."
Jack grinned. "Go on, tell me about it."
With a grimace, Ianto admitted, "It's horrible. I can barely piss, whenever I hold it I get an erection. The slightest thing, the smallest shift of my clothing, I start to get hard. During the day, trying to hide a tent pole in my trousers. It's bloody embarrassing!" The words started pouring out of his mouth. "I keep finding myself starting to rub against things, edges of desks and things. I'm not even thinking about it, it just happens. I wake up in the night and I'm rubbing on the sheets. I come in my sleep, I had to wash the sheets three times last week. I don't know what to do!"
"Shh, shh," Jack said. "It's all right. We're going to start taking care of that right now. I had to get you to the point where your cock doesn't answer to you anymore. Because from now on" -- his smile was cruel, cruel -- "it answers to me."
"Oh, god."
"It's okay, trust me, you'll like it. It means you'll get to come a lot more often. But there's a price."
"Oh, god!"
Jack approached Ianto and stood close to him, very close, his face so close Ianto could feel his breath. Ianto just stood there, trembling slightly, looking straight ahead and clenching and unclenching his fists.
Quietly, Jack said, "Let's face it. Up until now, I haven't asked you to do a damn thing you wouldn't want to do anyway, isn't that right?"
"Ah, well, sir," Ianto ventured, not really wanting to contradict. "There was that bit with the lubricant."
Jack chuckled. "Oh, come on. It isn't like you didn't want me to fuck you."
"Well, yes, but --"
"And it felt good."
"Well, yes, but --"
"And you really didn't balk all that much, did you? Fess up," Jack murmured as if urging Ianto to share a secret. "You wanted to. You just needed a bit of encouragement."
Ianto swallowed. "I don't know what to say, sir."
"Tell the truth. Say you wanted it."
Ianto looked down at his feet and whispered, "I wanted it. Sir."
"Good boy." Jack nipped his earlobe, making him shiver. "You've been a very good boy so far. But things are going to get a bit harder now. We're going to push a little. I'm going to ask you to do something for me. You're not going to want to do it, but I want you to trust me and do it anyway. I want to beat you."
"What?" Ianto blurted, loudly enough to make Jack wince and step away.
Jack's face betrayed the effort it took not to laugh. "You heard me," he said.
"But what have I done?"
"You haven't done anything. You've been wonderful."
"Then for god's sake, why?"
For a moment, Jack said nothing, evidently mulling over the proper answer. "Well," he began, "I could just say, because I want to. But you deserve more than that."
"Well, thanks for that," Ianto muttered.
Jack snorted. "All right, all right. Listen." He hesitated, and when he started speaking again, he did so slowly, carefully choosing each word. "I've seen your face. I've seen where you go. It's beautiful," he insisted, as if Ianto were arguing with him. Which he wasn't, but he wasn't sold yet either.
Jack continued. "But I've also seen you fighting yourself every step of the way. I've got a dozen tricks to get around that, and we'll use them too, believe me," he smirked, "but this one…" The smirk lit up into a smile of pure joy. "We can do things, I can take you places you wouldn't believe. I can teach you to fly."
"That is possibly the most incomprehensible thing I've ever heard, sir."
Jack nodded apologetically. "I know. It's not the easiest thing to put into words. But I don't think I've steered you wrong yet, and I don't think I'm steering you wrong now."
"No," Ianto admitted, "you haven't steered me wrong yet. But still…" His eyes narrowed in wariness. "What if I say no?"
Jack exhaled. "You could do that. It's your choice." He went over to sit on the arm of the easy chair. "You could say no. You could say no any time you got nervous about something, or any time you weren't in the mood for something. But then… look, what if you had said no when I asked you to lube yourself? Should you have said no, should I not have pushed you through that?"
Ianto felt a bit of a blush rise, but shook his head and told the truth. "No. I'm glad you did it."
"Well," Jack grinned, "that's nice to hear at least. But look at it this way: if you're picking and choosing, that's a completely different thing from what we have here."
"What do we have here, then?"
Jack raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. "Your choice. You tell me."
Well, Ianto thought in sudden alarm. He'd painted himself into a corner now. It was supposed to be simple and unspoken: Jack would do horrible, wonderful things to him, and he would just follow blissfully, trusting that Jack would take him where he needed to be. It was a heady feeling, almost like flying --
Ah. Bloody hell.
Ianto looked at Jack, who was looking back at him patiently, letting him take his time and think things through. Jack, who had given him things he'd barely known enough to dream about. Jack, who quietly asked, "Can I say one more thing?"
Jack, who asked. Jack -- Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood's own Man of Mystery and all-around cocksure bastard with perfect bloody pitch to boot -- was asking his permission to speak. "Jack, for god's sake, you can say anything you like."
"I will never, ever harm you," said Jack. "You have my word. I'd rather be Weevil chow."
Ianto suddenly thought, it's Christmas. This is Christmas. Somewhere else, it might be snowing; somewhere else there might be bells ringing and a tree that wasn't half charred. But this is Christmas, here and now. "I want it, Jack. I want anything you want to give me; anything you want to do, I'll do it. I trust you, I do."
Jack nodded. He slumped a bit and rubbed his face with his hand, then stood up, stretched and exhaled. "Okay, then. Where were we? Oh yeah," he said with a grin, before Ianto could answer. "You were getting naked."
Yes, we were, Ianto thought. Rather naked indeed, the both of us. But all he did was nod and begin stripping off his clothes. Jack's eyes were on his every move, and he didn't know whether that was flattering or embarrassing, but once he was undressed and his clothes folded neatly, he stood calmly, letting Jack look as much as he wished. It was, Ianto thought, the least he could do.
Jack pulled the contraption of straps and buckles from his pocket and began toying with it again. "So as I was saying," he smiled, "they call this a Persian bridle. At least they used to. It's an ancient design, very hard to find nowadays. I had to have it made." He held it up close to Ianto's face. "Just for you."
Hanging from the thing was a round steel tag, a small duplicate of the lock tags they used for artifact security. Embossed on it was, "PROPERTY OF TORCHWOOD."
Ianto sighed. "At least it doesn't say NOT FOR USE."
"Oh no," Jack smirked. "It'll get plenty of use, believe me." And then he did something incredible -- he took Ianto's cock and balls in his hands and started strapping them into the thing.
Jack had his hands on Ianto's cock. Jack was touching his cock. Jack never touched his cock -- he never had and Ianto had come to believe that he never would. There was a loop of leather going around the top of Ianto's scrotum and another around the base of his cock and a pair of straps connecting the two sliding through some kind of ring arrangement and oh, god, he was swelling and hardening and Jack's hands felt so good. Jack was saying something. He was saying something and Ianto should be paying attention. He really should.
"So what do you think?"
In a strangled voice, Ianto said, "I think you're touching my cock, sir."
Jack snickered. "I was asking if you were comfortable."
"Extremely, sir," Ianto croaked, which just made Jack laugh some more.
"You should probably shave your crotch. You won't want hair getting caught in it."
Ianto just nodded, his throat too dry to speak. Shave his crotch. Absolutely, Ianto thought. As long as Jack kept fondling his bollocks like that, he would shave his bloody head, although it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell Jack that.
"The point is, it shouldn't bother you for the most part. You can wear it all day," Jack smiled. "Isn't that nice?"
Ianto cleared his throat and said, "Lovely, sir."
"But if you get in trouble, if you need help holding back…" Jack tugged on the tag. The straps slid through the rings, pulling down the top of Ianto's scrotum and tightening around the base of his cock, making Ianto grunt and stagger a step. "That," said Jack with a roguish grin, "is why they call it a bridle." He released the tag to slacken the constriction, and Ianto sighed in relief.
"Point taken, sir."
Jack closed the space between them. He slid one hand around to cup Ianto's bum and the other up his front, his fingers making the skin of Ianto's belly flutter on their way to rest lightly on his chest. Jack idly flicked his fingernails against Ianto's nipple as he asked, "You ready to do this?"
Ianto swallowed, and nodded. "I'm scared as piss, sir."
"It's okay to be scared. Just don't be worried." He pressed his lips to the side of Ianto's neck. "I've got you."
Oh god, Ianto thought. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Let go, let go, he told himself. Let go, give up, it's decided and nothing left for it. It's all up to Jack now. It's all Jack, and Jack would take care of him. He had to.
He heard Jack take something from the bookcase and say, "Give me your hands." Without opening his eyes, Ianto held out his hands, and felt Jack tie something around his wrists, binding them together with something that felt like soft cotton rope. Ianto whimpered; he couldn't help it. His heart was pounding. "Shh," Jack said. "It's easier like this. Trust me."
Ianto nodded, cleared his throat and asked, "Can I keep my eyes closed, sir?"
"Of course you can. Open or closed, whatever you like. Now, just a few steps forward, come on." With one hand at the small of Ianto's back, Jack guided him forward. "Hands up, over your head. One more little step, I'm putting you against a pole." Ianto lifted his arms and slid one foot forward, where he encountered the metal base of a long pipe that stretched from ceiling to floor. He opened his eyes so he wouldn't hit his head on it as he stepped up and pressed the length of the front of his body against it. The cement floor was rough on his feet, and the cast iron pipe was cold against his skin, and he leaned his forehead against the pipe and closed his eyes again and thought, give up, let go.
Jack had tied his wrists together with one end of a long rope. He tossed the other end up over an overhead pipe and pulled, causing Ianto's arms to be drawn up to their full length. Ianto didn't feel stretched; both his feet were firmly on the floor, but he was held firmly against the pipe as Jack tied off the long end of the rope around another pipe. Ianto thought, this is it, and began to tense up, but then he felt Jack's arm slip around the front of his waist to buffer him from the cold metal, and Jack's warm body up against his, the crisp cotton of Jack's shirt against Ianto's bare skin.
"Relax," Jack said. Ianto nodded and deliberately let himself sag a bit into Jack's arm. He tried not to think. Jack had told him time and again not to think, just to trust, just to be, to give up, to let go. He was in Jack's hands now, literally, his body fitted against Jack's like two puzzle pieces together, and it was all Jack now, all for Jack, and he wanted that so very badly, and it was bliss.
"That's my good boy," Jack whispered into his ear. "Now, I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to strike you five times with my belt. Just five. And you're going to thank me after every strike. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Ianto answered just as softly.
The first strike came like a sharp slice across his arse. It made Ianto gasp and jerk forward against Jack's embrace. "What do you say?" prompted Jack.
"Thank you, sir."
"Good boy." There was a pause, and Ianto started to tense up again, but Jack told him, "Stop that," and the second blow came before Ianto could anticipate it. Again, at first it felt sharp enough to cut, bucking Ianto forward into Jack's supporting arm, but after a moment it settled into a stripe of heat that was, if not enjoyable, at least somewhat bearable.
"Thank you, sir," Ianto gasped.
"Good boy." Then the third strike cut across where the second still burned and the pain was terrible. It made Ianto yelp like a kicked dog and without thinking he was struggling in Jack's embrace, pulling on the rope holding his wrists and groaning, "No, no, no..."
Jack held him fast and crooned in his ear. "Shhh, shhh, it's okay, it's all right, I've got you..." He waited until Ianto settled down, slumped against him with his head on his shoulder. "Points out of ten, how bad is it?"
Ianto considered the question as he caught his breath. To be honest, now that the first cutting pain had subsided into what was becoming one glowing heat over his whole arse, it wasn't... well, it was still bad, it was very bad, but it wasn't the type of horrible agony that he felt he had to escape immediately. He'd been through far worse, truly. In fact, he was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded, and almost giggled as he answered, "Not as bad as being tortured by cannibals, sir."
"Okay, then," Jack chuckled and hugged him around the waist. "With cannibals as ten, where are we now?"
Ianto thought for a moment, and then said, "Four." Really, compared to cannibals, this was nothing.
"Two more to go. Ready?"
Ianto nodded into Jack's shoulder and tried to stop himself from grinning. Why on earth was he grinning? How utterly absurd.
"Then aren't you forgetting something?"
Forgetting...? Oh, yes, Ianto thought. "Thank you, sir."
"Good boy. Two more. Here we go."
Another blow, another searing stripe of pain, and Ianto gasped again, but this time he squirmed into Jack's arm of his own accord and whispered, "Thank you sir," without prompting. And again, Jack told him he was a good boy before the last strike came, and it was the worst, a slice of fire across his arse that made him cry out hoarsely and throw himself against Jack to escape it. But still, he didn't forget, and sobbed, "Thank you, sir."
Jack dropped the belt and took Ianto in his arms. "Thank you," he said hoarsely before sliding his hands up Ianto's body, up his neck to hold his face in both hands while he kissed him. And a deep and sloppy kiss it was, to Ianto's delight; long and wet and full of tongue, it was a giddy kiss, a kiss to make the heart soar and the head reel. Hanging there by his wrists from a sodding pipe, naked, shivering, tears streaming down his face, Ianto knew that this was a kiss he would remember for the rest of his life for the sheer joy of it.
Jack reached up and somehow managed to release Ianto's wrists with one yank of the rope. Ianto slumped into Jack's arms, but Jack caught him, Jack had him, Jack didn't even stop kissing him as he pushed forward to spill Ianto onto his back on Jack's bed. And then Jack was on top of him, writhing on top of him while trying to strip off his clothes at the same time. And Ianto -- Ianto could scarcely believe himself -- he was scrabbling at Jack's shirt, popping buttons clear across the room, cursing at Jack's goddamned cuffs and braces and how many layers did he bloody well need anyway?
Then Jack was naked, finally finally naked with feverish eyes and gleaming skin, rising over Ianto huge and wild while Ianto lay there splayed out on his back with his knees up by his ears. Ianto hadn't even known he could bend like that, and he'd certainly never considered doing it before, but there was no time to spare for niceties when Jack was frantically rolling a condom on his cock and slopping gel over it like his life depended on getting into Ianto now, now, now --
Dear god, that was his voice, that was Ianto's own voice groaning, "Now, now, now" and then screaming out loud when Jack breached him with one long forceful push. Jack's cock -- it was glorious, it was hot and hard and tremendous as it stretched him. Jack took Ianto's legs and propped them on his shoulders. He grabbed Ianto's arsecheeks with both hands and that made Ianto scream again because his arse was still burning, he could feel the stripes like streaks of fire in Jack's hands, and Jack's cock was stretching and burning him from the inside out as well. Jack gripped him and yanked him forward, dragging him down the bed, burying the full length of his cock into Ianto's arse and starting to pound with a grunt and a shake of his head to fling the sweat-soaked hair from his eyes.
This was flying, this was flying indeed, Ianto thought, and then he gave up thinking, he gave up everything, he was burning, he was being fucked like a wild thing by a force of bloody nature. He was so hard, god, his cock was hot and hard as a bar of iron in a forge and slapping against his belly; he could feel the bridle biting into his skin, it made his bollocks bulge tight and hot and it should have been awful but it was glorious, glorious. He was split wide open and his throat was wide open and he was crying out, "god, yes, god, yes" with every thrust and he didn't care if they heard it from here to Swansea.
He reached up and grabbed Jack and pulled him down against him. It bent Ianto in half and knocked the breath out of him but he didn't care because suddenly shocks of white were running right up his spine and exploding behind his eyes. He had Jack tight up against him, inside him and over him, exactly where he should be, Jack's cock was perfect, fucking perfect, fucking him perfect, the fine hairs on Jack's belly were rubbing against his cock and oh god that was --
"Oh god too much it's too much oh please oh god..." he was babbling, he couldn't help it and Jack would hate it -- the last thing he wanted now was to ruin things but oh god he couldn't come anyway because the bridle was just too fucking tight --
"Hang on, hang on," Jack gasped. Ianto opened his eyes to see Jack bucking over him, and Jack's eyes were open too, wide and white and wild. Jack was barely holding himself together, Ianto realized. And that was simply amazing, that was the best fucking thing that had ever happened ever.
Jack let Ianto's legs slip down off his shoulders even as he kept fucking; it was like he couldn't have stopped if he tried. He leaned back to give them some room between their bodies, grabbed the tag on Ianto's bridle and panted, "I'm going to count you down from five. You hold on until then, you hear me? You hold on!"
Ianto nodded, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth. Jack slowed his thrusts and roughly counted in time with each one, "Five, four, three, two, one -- now come!" He gave one more sharp snap of his hips and slipped the tag on the bridle, and it was like someone had launched a rocket in Ianto's head, or his cock, or both -- he was coming, hell, his whole body was coming, his cock was erupting and his head was thrown back and he was yelling hoarsely, wordlessly. Jack was coming too; he moaned and bucked with no hint of his usual finesse until the bucking slowed to shuddering, and the moaning to gasping, and he collapsed. He reached between them to hold the condom while he pulled out, peeled it off and threw it unceremoniously on the floor, stretched out his full length with his legs dangling off the end of the bed, and lay still, with his head on Ianto's chest.
Silence. The sound of two men breathing. Somewhere in a corner, water dripping. Ianto's heart pounding, coming slowly to rest. Ianto on his back, legs splayed open with Jack on his front between them. Jack's head on his chest, Ianto's fingers combing through his hair.
Ianto thought, was he really here? Did that really happen? "Did I really do that?" he asked.
Jack nodded and leaned up on his elbows, one on each side of Ianto's chest. "You really did that," he grinned. "We both did."
"That was... that was fucking amazing," Ianto blurted. "That was, I... I screamed."
"Yep, you did. Repeatedly, and loudly."
"I've never done that before in my whole life. I've never felt like that. The stars, my god, the white..."
Jack looked at him strangely. "What are you saying?"
Ianto felt a sudden stab of fear. "What? What do you mean? Is it just me, then? Is something wrong?"
"No," Jack said slowly. "Something's right." He swung his body off Ianto's and scooted up to look him intently in the face. "Ianto, tell me the truth. Am I the first man you've ever had sex with?"
The stab of fear settled in Ianto's belly and threatened to become panic. Ianto squirmed under Jack's steady gaze, and avoided his eyes. "Define sex," he muttered.
Jack sat up with a frown. "Son of a bitch. You're telling me that the first time you had a cock up your ass was when I bent you over my desk."
"Well, if you put it like that..."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
Ianto sat up to face him and said, "Because then you wouldn't have done it!" Jack stared at him, open mouthed, without speaking. Well, Ianto thought, that's a first. "You know you wouldn't have," he insisted. "And I wanted it, by god I wanted it. I didn't want to be coddled or romanced. I wanted exactly what I'd signed on for, exactly what I'd begged for: a good, hard buggering." At Jack's frown, Ianto continued more softly, his voice starting to break. "I'd dreamed of it, Jack. For years. I walked into your office one morning and it was like you reached into my head and knew everything I'd ever dreamed of but was terrified to admit." He looked down at his hands, feeling the blush rise. "For a while I even wondered if you were telepathic."
"Ianto..."
"Don't you apologize. Don't you dare."
"Oh, so now you're the telepath?"
Ianto snorted. "I don't have to be a telepath to know that you'd think you were taking advantage of me. Well, you weren't. I wanted it. I want it. It is what I want."
Jack looked at him as if he'd never seen him before. "I would never want to hurt you, Ianto." Then he paused, raised his eyebrows and smiled wryly at himself. "Well, you know, except for like tonight."
Ianto smiled as well. "You haven't hurt me, Jack. Even tonight."
Jack shrugged. "I just want you to be happy," he said breezily.
Bullshit, Ianto thought -- and was almost shocked at himself for thinking so. "What about you, Jack? Are you happy? Why are you doing this?"
"What's in it for me?" Jack lay back, laced his hands behind his head and donned his most disarming grin as he asked, "You mean besides the mindblowing sex?"
"Ah," sighed Ianto. He should have known better. "Of course, sir."
A flicker of emotion clouded Jack's face. "No," he said softly. "I'm sorry. Just give me..." He trailed off, and sighed something that sounded like, "...time..." There was a pause in which Jack seemed to be looking at something very far away, and Ianto didn't break the silence. Then, quietly, in a voice that sounded on the point of cracking, Jack said, "We lose things. I just want something... beautiful. Perfect." He looked at Ianto with eyes that hinted at something that was almost fear. Then it was gone. "Something that's all mine," he said with a rueful smile. "Even just for a little while."
Ianto gently laid his hand over Jack's heart and said, "I'm not going anywhere."
Again, there was that flash of fear, just for a moment, and then the cocky grin was back. "You're going to bed. You can't sleep here," said Jack.
Ianto hid a smile and nodded. "Quite right, sir. Of course not." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but before his feet hit the floor, he felt Jack's hand on his arm and turned back to look at him.
Jack shrugged, in a way that seemed hesitant, almost nervous. "Well, maybe just this once," he said ever so casually. "For Christmas, you know."
"Thank you, sir," Ianto said with a smile, and got into bed beside him. Pulling the duvet up to cover them both, he lay his head on Jack's chest and rested in the warm crook of Jack's arm.
Somewhere there was moonlight and unending snow. Somewhere there were lights in windows, and music rising into the long night. But this was Torchwood, and Torchwood was like no other place on Earth.
"Merry Christmas, Ianto."
"Merry Christmas, Jack."
Ianto said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then he slept.
~fin~
Author: Spiderine
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17 (Adults Only)
Warnings: BDSM (note new warning!)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its characters are not owned by me. Unfortunately.
Author's Notes: This story was supposed to be ready for Christmas, but… *rolls eyes*. (Let's call it time travel! Whee!) It contains vague allusions to "A Child's Christmas in Wales" by Dylan Thomas; you don't need to read that in order to read this, but if you haven't read that, why haven't you? This story is part of an unnamed AU series: it follows my stories " Proper For The Workplace", " Adaptive Evolution", " A Creature of Habit" and " Time Between Friends". You do need to read those to understand what's going on here, and to decide whether you like this sort of thing. Trust me: if you don't like those stories, you really won't like this. Much thanks goes to goseaward for beta above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you for reading, and for your comments.
-------------------------------
One thing to be said for Christmas at Torchwood was that it was definitely like no other. If it snowed, there was no way to tell deep in the bowels of the Hub, but the constant drip of water down the central column was nearly cold enough to freeze, and had intermittently taken on a pleasant hissing sound, like snow being blown through a drafty window. There was no fire, crackling or otherwise; on the other hand, the pterodactyl had devoured an entire box of Christmas crackers, with explosive results. The Christmas tree was still smoldering.
"Fess up. You injected sauce into those crackers, didn't you."
"I'll deny it until my dying day, sir."
What party there was had been small, with just the five of them, and rather awkward at the start. The addition of an appropriate amount of alcohol, however, in the form of both egg nog and hot rum punch, had lubricated the occasion to a point verging on festivity. There had even been caroling, of remarkably high quality.
"It's not my fault I have perfect pitch."
"Bastard."
"What was that?"
"Baritone, sir."
"Thought so."
It was true that any party consisting of only five people was bound to be a bit, well, pathetic, in Ianto's honest opinion, although it wasn't as though they could invite anyone else into the Hub. Jack had suggested they bring the Weevil up from its cell, but he had just been joking. (At least, everyone had assumed that Jack was joking. It was best not to know.) Still, the current state of personal relations among the crew made for drawbacks when it came to traditional Christmas pastimes.
"The mistletoe was a bad idea, wasn't it?"
"It might have been ill-considered, sir."
"I had fun."
"Owen certainly didn't."
"Oh, he'll get over it. He should have known better than to push his luck with Gwen."
"Nothing says it's over like hot rum down the trousers, sir."
There had been useful presents. Ianto had scoured the vintage shops and found Jack a pair of leather driving gloves, circa 1940, gently worn and butter soft. For Toshiko there had been a Japanese block print silk scarf, and a tiny spangled evening bag for Gwen. They had both given him neckties, apparently without consulting each other, which had sent them into peals of laughter. Ianto didn't see the humor; a quality necktie was nothing to joke about, and these were lovely.
And there had been useless presents. Owen had given him a feather duster and a flower-print apron. But that was quite all right; he had given Owen a novelty inflatable sheep.
"I wish I could have been there when you went to buy the thing. I might have picked up a few things myself," said Jack from the sofa. He was using his finger to lick up the last of the eggnog from the punch bowl. "And stop cleaning up. Didn't anyone ever tell you that you never clean up the night of a party? You're supposed to leave it until the next day."
Ianto piled the last of the glasses in the sink and turned to face him. "I'll tell you the truth, sir. I've seen many a strange thing here, all in a day's work. But the fact that we live in a world where one can buy a 'blow-up party sheep' ... that truly gives me pause."
Jack laughed. "You haven't asked me if I got you anything."
"I'm not a child. I don't fish for presents."
"Spoil sport."
Ianto rolled his eyes. "Please sir, did you get me a present?"
Jack got to his feet and grinned. "Funny you should ask. Come and see." He went over to the hatch to his private quarters and started climbing down. Ianto, following, hesitated at the top of the ladder. Jack popped his head back up and said, "You coming down or what?"
Ianto didn't know what he'd expected to find at the bottom of the ladder. Some sybaritic paradise? A sensory deprivation tank? A hoard of futuristic technology? Chains and shackles? Not this, in any case. It looked like something one might find on the submarine Nautilus. Or perhaps in a boiler room, if it were also used for storage of random bits of furniture. It was a long, narrow room with a high ceiling. Jammed in among the pipes and ductwork and mechanical equipment were a large old iron bedstead, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, and an armchair with a floor lamp next to it. The furniture was shabby, salvaged, and the concrete floor was covered with a nearly threadbare oriental rug.
In truth, it was almost as spartan as Ianto's own camp bed and locker tucked in a corner. But while Ianto considered his accommodations to be perfectly adequate for his needs, Jack's quarters struck him as -- well, sad, really. Captain Jack Harkness was supposed to be larger than life. Ianto had no idea where he thought Jack really belonged, but he certainly didn't belong in a boiler room.
"Thank you for letting me into your home, sir," he said, meaning every word. "It's a wonderful gift."
Jack looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "That's not the present."
"Oh. Well, still, thank you, sir."
Jack chuckled. "Don't thank me yet." He picked something off the bookcase and dangled it from his finger. It was some kind of miniature arrangement of straps and buckles, like something that could have been meant for a doll-sized horse, perhaps. Ianto supposed it was meant for him, but he couldn't imagine how he was supposed to wear it. It was too small to fit around his neck or even his wrist, yet far too large to wear on his finger. The loops looked just about large enough to fit around his --
Oh, dear god.
Jack took one look at Ianto's dumbfounded face and smirked. "It's yours if you want it."
"Ah. Thank you?"
Jack toyed with the little contraption and said, "I figure you're about ready to be trigger trained." His eyes took on a look that was slightly amused, but rather more intense, almost arrogant. Ianto didn't understand what Jack was saying, but he recognized that look. It was the expression he associated with … that place, that unnamable space in Jack's head that was the counterpart to Ianto's own, making two puzzle pieces that fitted together so well when Ianto was on his knees.
This boded ill, to be sure. Still, Ianto couldn't deny the heat of arousal that he was beginning to feel, a combination of pounding heart and swelling cock that was terrifying and shameful and wonderful … The puzzle piece clicked into place, just like that. There was nothing to be done for it except to whisper, "Yes, sir," in a voice Ianto himself could barely hear.
Jack nodded in recognition. "All right then," he began in the quiet, pitiless voice that thrilled Ianto to the depths of him. "I've taken a lot away from you in the past weeks. I've taken your mouth away, and your ass, and left you with a couple of holes. Isn't that right?"
"Yes, sir."
"I've taken your cock away. It's been pretty much out of control lately, hasn't it?"
Ianto sighed, "Too bloody right," then he remembered himself, coughed, and said, "I mean, yes, sir."
Jack grinned. "Go on, tell me about it."
With a grimace, Ianto admitted, "It's horrible. I can barely piss, whenever I hold it I get an erection. The slightest thing, the smallest shift of my clothing, I start to get hard. During the day, trying to hide a tent pole in my trousers. It's bloody embarrassing!" The words started pouring out of his mouth. "I keep finding myself starting to rub against things, edges of desks and things. I'm not even thinking about it, it just happens. I wake up in the night and I'm rubbing on the sheets. I come in my sleep, I had to wash the sheets three times last week. I don't know what to do!"
"Shh, shh," Jack said. "It's all right. We're going to start taking care of that right now. I had to get you to the point where your cock doesn't answer to you anymore. Because from now on" -- his smile was cruel, cruel -- "it answers to me."
"Oh, god."
"It's okay, trust me, you'll like it. It means you'll get to come a lot more often. But there's a price."
"Oh, god!"
Jack approached Ianto and stood close to him, very close, his face so close Ianto could feel his breath. Ianto just stood there, trembling slightly, looking straight ahead and clenching and unclenching his fists.
Quietly, Jack said, "Let's face it. Up until now, I haven't asked you to do a damn thing you wouldn't want to do anyway, isn't that right?"
"Ah, well, sir," Ianto ventured, not really wanting to contradict. "There was that bit with the lubricant."
Jack chuckled. "Oh, come on. It isn't like you didn't want me to fuck you."
"Well, yes, but --"
"And it felt good."
"Well, yes, but --"
"And you really didn't balk all that much, did you? Fess up," Jack murmured as if urging Ianto to share a secret. "You wanted to. You just needed a bit of encouragement."
Ianto swallowed. "I don't know what to say, sir."
"Tell the truth. Say you wanted it."
Ianto looked down at his feet and whispered, "I wanted it. Sir."
"Good boy." Jack nipped his earlobe, making him shiver. "You've been a very good boy so far. But things are going to get a bit harder now. We're going to push a little. I'm going to ask you to do something for me. You're not going to want to do it, but I want you to trust me and do it anyway. I want to beat you."
"What?" Ianto blurted, loudly enough to make Jack wince and step away.
Jack's face betrayed the effort it took not to laugh. "You heard me," he said.
"But what have I done?"
"You haven't done anything. You've been wonderful."
"Then for god's sake, why?"
For a moment, Jack said nothing, evidently mulling over the proper answer. "Well," he began, "I could just say, because I want to. But you deserve more than that."
"Well, thanks for that," Ianto muttered.
Jack snorted. "All right, all right. Listen." He hesitated, and when he started speaking again, he did so slowly, carefully choosing each word. "I've seen your face. I've seen where you go. It's beautiful," he insisted, as if Ianto were arguing with him. Which he wasn't, but he wasn't sold yet either.
Jack continued. "But I've also seen you fighting yourself every step of the way. I've got a dozen tricks to get around that, and we'll use them too, believe me," he smirked, "but this one…" The smirk lit up into a smile of pure joy. "We can do things, I can take you places you wouldn't believe. I can teach you to fly."
"That is possibly the most incomprehensible thing I've ever heard, sir."
Jack nodded apologetically. "I know. It's not the easiest thing to put into words. But I don't think I've steered you wrong yet, and I don't think I'm steering you wrong now."
"No," Ianto admitted, "you haven't steered me wrong yet. But still…" His eyes narrowed in wariness. "What if I say no?"
Jack exhaled. "You could do that. It's your choice." He went over to sit on the arm of the easy chair. "You could say no. You could say no any time you got nervous about something, or any time you weren't in the mood for something. But then… look, what if you had said no when I asked you to lube yourself? Should you have said no, should I not have pushed you through that?"
Ianto felt a bit of a blush rise, but shook his head and told the truth. "No. I'm glad you did it."
"Well," Jack grinned, "that's nice to hear at least. But look at it this way: if you're picking and choosing, that's a completely different thing from what we have here."
"What do we have here, then?"
Jack raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. "Your choice. You tell me."
Well, Ianto thought in sudden alarm. He'd painted himself into a corner now. It was supposed to be simple and unspoken: Jack would do horrible, wonderful things to him, and he would just follow blissfully, trusting that Jack would take him where he needed to be. It was a heady feeling, almost like flying --
Ah. Bloody hell.
Ianto looked at Jack, who was looking back at him patiently, letting him take his time and think things through. Jack, who had given him things he'd barely known enough to dream about. Jack, who quietly asked, "Can I say one more thing?"
Jack, who asked. Jack -- Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood's own Man of Mystery and all-around cocksure bastard with perfect bloody pitch to boot -- was asking his permission to speak. "Jack, for god's sake, you can say anything you like."
"I will never, ever harm you," said Jack. "You have my word. I'd rather be Weevil chow."
Ianto suddenly thought, it's Christmas. This is Christmas. Somewhere else, it might be snowing; somewhere else there might be bells ringing and a tree that wasn't half charred. But this is Christmas, here and now. "I want it, Jack. I want anything you want to give me; anything you want to do, I'll do it. I trust you, I do."
Jack nodded. He slumped a bit and rubbed his face with his hand, then stood up, stretched and exhaled. "Okay, then. Where were we? Oh yeah," he said with a grin, before Ianto could answer. "You were getting naked."
Yes, we were, Ianto thought. Rather naked indeed, the both of us. But all he did was nod and begin stripping off his clothes. Jack's eyes were on his every move, and he didn't know whether that was flattering or embarrassing, but once he was undressed and his clothes folded neatly, he stood calmly, letting Jack look as much as he wished. It was, Ianto thought, the least he could do.
Jack pulled the contraption of straps and buckles from his pocket and began toying with it again. "So as I was saying," he smiled, "they call this a Persian bridle. At least they used to. It's an ancient design, very hard to find nowadays. I had to have it made." He held it up close to Ianto's face. "Just for you."
Hanging from the thing was a round steel tag, a small duplicate of the lock tags they used for artifact security. Embossed on it was, "PROPERTY OF TORCHWOOD."
Ianto sighed. "At least it doesn't say NOT FOR USE."
"Oh no," Jack smirked. "It'll get plenty of use, believe me." And then he did something incredible -- he took Ianto's cock and balls in his hands and started strapping them into the thing.
Jack had his hands on Ianto's cock. Jack was touching his cock. Jack never touched his cock -- he never had and Ianto had come to believe that he never would. There was a loop of leather going around the top of Ianto's scrotum and another around the base of his cock and a pair of straps connecting the two sliding through some kind of ring arrangement and oh, god, he was swelling and hardening and Jack's hands felt so good. Jack was saying something. He was saying something and Ianto should be paying attention. He really should.
"So what do you think?"
In a strangled voice, Ianto said, "I think you're touching my cock, sir."
Jack snickered. "I was asking if you were comfortable."
"Extremely, sir," Ianto croaked, which just made Jack laugh some more.
"You should probably shave your crotch. You won't want hair getting caught in it."
Ianto just nodded, his throat too dry to speak. Shave his crotch. Absolutely, Ianto thought. As long as Jack kept fondling his bollocks like that, he would shave his bloody head, although it probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell Jack that.
"The point is, it shouldn't bother you for the most part. You can wear it all day," Jack smiled. "Isn't that nice?"
Ianto cleared his throat and said, "Lovely, sir."
"But if you get in trouble, if you need help holding back…" Jack tugged on the tag. The straps slid through the rings, pulling down the top of Ianto's scrotum and tightening around the base of his cock, making Ianto grunt and stagger a step. "That," said Jack with a roguish grin, "is why they call it a bridle." He released the tag to slacken the constriction, and Ianto sighed in relief.
"Point taken, sir."
Jack closed the space between them. He slid one hand around to cup Ianto's bum and the other up his front, his fingers making the skin of Ianto's belly flutter on their way to rest lightly on his chest. Jack idly flicked his fingernails against Ianto's nipple as he asked, "You ready to do this?"
Ianto swallowed, and nodded. "I'm scared as piss, sir."
"It's okay to be scared. Just don't be worried." He pressed his lips to the side of Ianto's neck. "I've got you."
Oh god, Ianto thought. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Let go, let go, he told himself. Let go, give up, it's decided and nothing left for it. It's all up to Jack now. It's all Jack, and Jack would take care of him. He had to.
He heard Jack take something from the bookcase and say, "Give me your hands." Without opening his eyes, Ianto held out his hands, and felt Jack tie something around his wrists, binding them together with something that felt like soft cotton rope. Ianto whimpered; he couldn't help it. His heart was pounding. "Shh," Jack said. "It's easier like this. Trust me."
Ianto nodded, cleared his throat and asked, "Can I keep my eyes closed, sir?"
"Of course you can. Open or closed, whatever you like. Now, just a few steps forward, come on." With one hand at the small of Ianto's back, Jack guided him forward. "Hands up, over your head. One more little step, I'm putting you against a pole." Ianto lifted his arms and slid one foot forward, where he encountered the metal base of a long pipe that stretched from ceiling to floor. He opened his eyes so he wouldn't hit his head on it as he stepped up and pressed the length of the front of his body against it. The cement floor was rough on his feet, and the cast iron pipe was cold against his skin, and he leaned his forehead against the pipe and closed his eyes again and thought, give up, let go.
Jack had tied his wrists together with one end of a long rope. He tossed the other end up over an overhead pipe and pulled, causing Ianto's arms to be drawn up to their full length. Ianto didn't feel stretched; both his feet were firmly on the floor, but he was held firmly against the pipe as Jack tied off the long end of the rope around another pipe. Ianto thought, this is it, and began to tense up, but then he felt Jack's arm slip around the front of his waist to buffer him from the cold metal, and Jack's warm body up against his, the crisp cotton of Jack's shirt against Ianto's bare skin.
"Relax," Jack said. Ianto nodded and deliberately let himself sag a bit into Jack's arm. He tried not to think. Jack had told him time and again not to think, just to trust, just to be, to give up, to let go. He was in Jack's hands now, literally, his body fitted against Jack's like two puzzle pieces together, and it was all Jack now, all for Jack, and he wanted that so very badly, and it was bliss.
"That's my good boy," Jack whispered into his ear. "Now, I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to strike you five times with my belt. Just five. And you're going to thank me after every strike. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Ianto answered just as softly.
The first strike came like a sharp slice across his arse. It made Ianto gasp and jerk forward against Jack's embrace. "What do you say?" prompted Jack.
"Thank you, sir."
"Good boy." There was a pause, and Ianto started to tense up again, but Jack told him, "Stop that," and the second blow came before Ianto could anticipate it. Again, at first it felt sharp enough to cut, bucking Ianto forward into Jack's supporting arm, but after a moment it settled into a stripe of heat that was, if not enjoyable, at least somewhat bearable.
"Thank you, sir," Ianto gasped.
"Good boy." Then the third strike cut across where the second still burned and the pain was terrible. It made Ianto yelp like a kicked dog and without thinking he was struggling in Jack's embrace, pulling on the rope holding his wrists and groaning, "No, no, no..."
Jack held him fast and crooned in his ear. "Shhh, shhh, it's okay, it's all right, I've got you..." He waited until Ianto settled down, slumped against him with his head on his shoulder. "Points out of ten, how bad is it?"
Ianto considered the question as he caught his breath. To be honest, now that the first cutting pain had subsided into what was becoming one glowing heat over his whole arse, it wasn't... well, it was still bad, it was very bad, but it wasn't the type of horrible agony that he felt he had to escape immediately. He'd been through far worse, truly. In fact, he was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded, and almost giggled as he answered, "Not as bad as being tortured by cannibals, sir."
"Okay, then," Jack chuckled and hugged him around the waist. "With cannibals as ten, where are we now?"
Ianto thought for a moment, and then said, "Four." Really, compared to cannibals, this was nothing.
"Two more to go. Ready?"
Ianto nodded into Jack's shoulder and tried to stop himself from grinning. Why on earth was he grinning? How utterly absurd.
"Then aren't you forgetting something?"
Forgetting...? Oh, yes, Ianto thought. "Thank you, sir."
"Good boy. Two more. Here we go."
Another blow, another searing stripe of pain, and Ianto gasped again, but this time he squirmed into Jack's arm of his own accord and whispered, "Thank you sir," without prompting. And again, Jack told him he was a good boy before the last strike came, and it was the worst, a slice of fire across his arse that made him cry out hoarsely and throw himself against Jack to escape it. But still, he didn't forget, and sobbed, "Thank you, sir."
Jack dropped the belt and took Ianto in his arms. "Thank you," he said hoarsely before sliding his hands up Ianto's body, up his neck to hold his face in both hands while he kissed him. And a deep and sloppy kiss it was, to Ianto's delight; long and wet and full of tongue, it was a giddy kiss, a kiss to make the heart soar and the head reel. Hanging there by his wrists from a sodding pipe, naked, shivering, tears streaming down his face, Ianto knew that this was a kiss he would remember for the rest of his life for the sheer joy of it.
Jack reached up and somehow managed to release Ianto's wrists with one yank of the rope. Ianto slumped into Jack's arms, but Jack caught him, Jack had him, Jack didn't even stop kissing him as he pushed forward to spill Ianto onto his back on Jack's bed. And then Jack was on top of him, writhing on top of him while trying to strip off his clothes at the same time. And Ianto -- Ianto could scarcely believe himself -- he was scrabbling at Jack's shirt, popping buttons clear across the room, cursing at Jack's goddamned cuffs and braces and how many layers did he bloody well need anyway?
Then Jack was naked, finally finally naked with feverish eyes and gleaming skin, rising over Ianto huge and wild while Ianto lay there splayed out on his back with his knees up by his ears. Ianto hadn't even known he could bend like that, and he'd certainly never considered doing it before, but there was no time to spare for niceties when Jack was frantically rolling a condom on his cock and slopping gel over it like his life depended on getting into Ianto now, now, now --
Dear god, that was his voice, that was Ianto's own voice groaning, "Now, now, now" and then screaming out loud when Jack breached him with one long forceful push. Jack's cock -- it was glorious, it was hot and hard and tremendous as it stretched him. Jack took Ianto's legs and propped them on his shoulders. He grabbed Ianto's arsecheeks with both hands and that made Ianto scream again because his arse was still burning, he could feel the stripes like streaks of fire in Jack's hands, and Jack's cock was stretching and burning him from the inside out as well. Jack gripped him and yanked him forward, dragging him down the bed, burying the full length of his cock into Ianto's arse and starting to pound with a grunt and a shake of his head to fling the sweat-soaked hair from his eyes.
This was flying, this was flying indeed, Ianto thought, and then he gave up thinking, he gave up everything, he was burning, he was being fucked like a wild thing by a force of bloody nature. He was so hard, god, his cock was hot and hard as a bar of iron in a forge and slapping against his belly; he could feel the bridle biting into his skin, it made his bollocks bulge tight and hot and it should have been awful but it was glorious, glorious. He was split wide open and his throat was wide open and he was crying out, "god, yes, god, yes" with every thrust and he didn't care if they heard it from here to Swansea.
He reached up and grabbed Jack and pulled him down against him. It bent Ianto in half and knocked the breath out of him but he didn't care because suddenly shocks of white were running right up his spine and exploding behind his eyes. He had Jack tight up against him, inside him and over him, exactly where he should be, Jack's cock was perfect, fucking perfect, fucking him perfect, the fine hairs on Jack's belly were rubbing against his cock and oh god that was --
"Oh god too much it's too much oh please oh god..." he was babbling, he couldn't help it and Jack would hate it -- the last thing he wanted now was to ruin things but oh god he couldn't come anyway because the bridle was just too fucking tight --
"Hang on, hang on," Jack gasped. Ianto opened his eyes to see Jack bucking over him, and Jack's eyes were open too, wide and white and wild. Jack was barely holding himself together, Ianto realized. And that was simply amazing, that was the best fucking thing that had ever happened ever.
Jack let Ianto's legs slip down off his shoulders even as he kept fucking; it was like he couldn't have stopped if he tried. He leaned back to give them some room between their bodies, grabbed the tag on Ianto's bridle and panted, "I'm going to count you down from five. You hold on until then, you hear me? You hold on!"
Ianto nodded, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth. Jack slowed his thrusts and roughly counted in time with each one, "Five, four, three, two, one -- now come!" He gave one more sharp snap of his hips and slipped the tag on the bridle, and it was like someone had launched a rocket in Ianto's head, or his cock, or both -- he was coming, hell, his whole body was coming, his cock was erupting and his head was thrown back and he was yelling hoarsely, wordlessly. Jack was coming too; he moaned and bucked with no hint of his usual finesse until the bucking slowed to shuddering, and the moaning to gasping, and he collapsed. He reached between them to hold the condom while he pulled out, peeled it off and threw it unceremoniously on the floor, stretched out his full length with his legs dangling off the end of the bed, and lay still, with his head on Ianto's chest.
Silence. The sound of two men breathing. Somewhere in a corner, water dripping. Ianto's heart pounding, coming slowly to rest. Ianto on his back, legs splayed open with Jack on his front between them. Jack's head on his chest, Ianto's fingers combing through his hair.
Ianto thought, was he really here? Did that really happen? "Did I really do that?" he asked.
Jack nodded and leaned up on his elbows, one on each side of Ianto's chest. "You really did that," he grinned. "We both did."
"That was... that was fucking amazing," Ianto blurted. "That was, I... I screamed."
"Yep, you did. Repeatedly, and loudly."
"I've never done that before in my whole life. I've never felt like that. The stars, my god, the white..."
Jack looked at him strangely. "What are you saying?"
Ianto felt a sudden stab of fear. "What? What do you mean? Is it just me, then? Is something wrong?"
"No," Jack said slowly. "Something's right." He swung his body off Ianto's and scooted up to look him intently in the face. "Ianto, tell me the truth. Am I the first man you've ever had sex with?"
The stab of fear settled in Ianto's belly and threatened to become panic. Ianto squirmed under Jack's steady gaze, and avoided his eyes. "Define sex," he muttered.
Jack sat up with a frown. "Son of a bitch. You're telling me that the first time you had a cock up your ass was when I bent you over my desk."
"Well, if you put it like that..."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"
Ianto sat up to face him and said, "Because then you wouldn't have done it!" Jack stared at him, open mouthed, without speaking. Well, Ianto thought, that's a first. "You know you wouldn't have," he insisted. "And I wanted it, by god I wanted it. I didn't want to be coddled or romanced. I wanted exactly what I'd signed on for, exactly what I'd begged for: a good, hard buggering." At Jack's frown, Ianto continued more softly, his voice starting to break. "I'd dreamed of it, Jack. For years. I walked into your office one morning and it was like you reached into my head and knew everything I'd ever dreamed of but was terrified to admit." He looked down at his hands, feeling the blush rise. "For a while I even wondered if you were telepathic."
"Ianto..."
"Don't you apologize. Don't you dare."
"Oh, so now you're the telepath?"
Ianto snorted. "I don't have to be a telepath to know that you'd think you were taking advantage of me. Well, you weren't. I wanted it. I want it. It is what I want."
Jack looked at him as if he'd never seen him before. "I would never want to hurt you, Ianto." Then he paused, raised his eyebrows and smiled wryly at himself. "Well, you know, except for like tonight."
Ianto smiled as well. "You haven't hurt me, Jack. Even tonight."
Jack shrugged. "I just want you to be happy," he said breezily.
Bullshit, Ianto thought -- and was almost shocked at himself for thinking so. "What about you, Jack? Are you happy? Why are you doing this?"
"What's in it for me?" Jack lay back, laced his hands behind his head and donned his most disarming grin as he asked, "You mean besides the mindblowing sex?"
"Ah," sighed Ianto. He should have known better. "Of course, sir."
A flicker of emotion clouded Jack's face. "No," he said softly. "I'm sorry. Just give me..." He trailed off, and sighed something that sounded like, "...time..." There was a pause in which Jack seemed to be looking at something very far away, and Ianto didn't break the silence. Then, quietly, in a voice that sounded on the point of cracking, Jack said, "We lose things. I just want something... beautiful. Perfect." He looked at Ianto with eyes that hinted at something that was almost fear. Then it was gone. "Something that's all mine," he said with a rueful smile. "Even just for a little while."
Ianto gently laid his hand over Jack's heart and said, "I'm not going anywhere."
Again, there was that flash of fear, just for a moment, and then the cocky grin was back. "You're going to bed. You can't sleep here," said Jack.
Ianto hid a smile and nodded. "Quite right, sir. Of course not." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but before his feet hit the floor, he felt Jack's hand on his arm and turned back to look at him.
Jack shrugged, in a way that seemed hesitant, almost nervous. "Well, maybe just this once," he said ever so casually. "For Christmas, you know."
"Thank you, sir," Ianto said with a smile, and got into bed beside him. Pulling the duvet up to cover them both, he lay his head on Jack's chest and rested in the warm crook of Jack's arm.
Somewhere there was moonlight and unending snow. Somewhere there were lights in windows, and music rising into the long night. But this was Torchwood, and Torchwood was like no other place on Earth.
"Merry Christmas, Ianto."
"Merry Christmas, Jack."
Ianto said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then he slept.
~fin~