FIC: KEEP BREATHING
Title: Keep Breathing
Author: lukataintedlove
Recipient: d8rkmessngr
Summary: Jack dies and Ianto comes to the rescue - kinda like a combination between Superman and Florence Nightingale but with a kinky edge.
Disclaimer: I don’t own very much at all and I bow at the feet of RTD.
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC17
Warning: Mild bondage.
Author Notes: Cadwalader’s is an ice cream parlour at on Cardiff Bay. They do the most gorgeous melon and ginger ice cream. If you ever end up at the Bay then give it a go. Cadwalader's Ice Cream
I really hope that this is the kinda thing you where hoping for, d8rkmessngr. I’ve found this one pretty hard. You may see further re-edits in the future because the sex scene that plays out in my brain is much longer but I couldn’t translate my brain to pen and paper.
Word Count: 4500+
Beta: The ever loving Anonymous. Cheers hon x.
Ianto was enjoying a quiet night in. A rare privilege these days. Torchwood had been lurching from one crisis to another for what felt like forever. Jack’s stunning disappearance hadn’t helped matters. Overtime had become less and less optional and when he wasn’t working, as loathed, as he was to admit it, Ianto had spent most of his time moping over his lost Captain.
Everything was different now though. Jack was back at the helm, Torchwood was on track again and Ianto had nothing to mope about. The status quo had been re-established and Ianto was able to enjoy a night to himself. More importantly, a night to himself during the rugby season. Sadly not a home match, but that was okay. Ianto was happy enough to watch his team on the television. A pizza, a couple of beers and Cardiff Blues v Munster on the box, Ianto could almost believe his life was normal. Thousands of other guys across the city would be doing exactly the same as him tonight and that knowledge made Ianto feel good.
Ianto sat on his ratty old sofa in ripped jeans, the type that had been created through years of wear rather than fake factory distressing. His outfit topped off by a Cardiff Blues shirt his dad had bought him for his birthday in 1999. Ianto had grown a bit since he was 16, so he had to admit to himself that it was, perhaps, a bit too tight. He didn’t care though, nobody was going to see him and, whether it was true or not, it always seemed that his club won more often when he was wearing his lucky shirt.
The rest of the gang at Torchwood would be surprised to see Ianto in his natural habitat. It was not what anybody who knew Ianto through work would expect. Yes, it was pristinely clean and incredibly tidy, but all of Ianto’s possessions had a world-worn shabbiness to them. The sofa was an inheritance from his late Grandmother, his Uncle Adam had once teased him that Ianto had been conceived on said sofa, a possibility that Ianto refused to acknowledge. His father had made the end table that his beer sat on as a woodwork project when he was at school. Ianto liked the idea of possessions having memories, stories to tell. He figured it was the hopeless romantic in him - the same part of him that preferred good old fashioned vinyl LP’s to CD’s, never mind MP3’s.
Ianto relaxed, putting his feet up on the old pine coffee table, swallowing down the last mouthful of his bottle of lager. It didn’t matter, the first half was almost finished and Ianto had a full shelf of beers in his fridge. In fact, that was pretty much all he had in his fridge. A career in Torchwood meant limited time in which to shop and equally limited time in which to cook. Thank God Mermaid Quay was stocked with some fine restaurants and excellent takeaways. In the closing seconds of the first half the Blues where 10 points up, Munster had a man in the sin bin and all was right with the world. Ianto was just about to head to the kitchen to get his second beer when he heard his phone ring. Ordinarily he’d have ignored it but the ringtone gave away the callers identity. As Otis Redding sang “Love Man” Ianto’s heart leapt into his throat, knowing that Jack wouldn’t ring him tonight unless something was wrong.
+++++
Jack was hunting something. He had to admit he had no idea what. The rift activity monitor had gone totally haywire and before he knew it Jack was in a warehouse on the other side of the bay, chasing something that was a sort of purple-y grey colour and looked to have very large claws. Jack was relishing the chance to be out hunting alone. He’d given the gang the night off and unsurprisingly enough they’d all given him strict instructions to not get in touch unless the end of the world was imminent. That was fine with Jack. As much as he loved his team, some alone time to sharpen his teeth and get back to basics was more than welcome.
One thing was for sure, whatever Jack was hunting; it was fast and smart. Jack felt as if he’d been chasing shadows for hours. He wasn’t anywhere close to having the thing cornered and the word ‘frustrated’ came nowhere near to describing just how pissed off Jack actually was. Perhaps having Ianto and the gang around would’ve been better? At least the company might have curbed the boredom and annoyance. Thinking about it, Jack realised that perhaps the extra pairs of eyes might have helped too.
Jack decided to do one more sweep of the warehouse before giving up and calling for reinforcements. Okay, so perhaps the end of the world wasn’t “imminent” exactly but Jack had no idea what the missing creature was, never mind if it was dangerous, and he had no intention of waiting for the bodies to start mounting up before he found out. Prevention is better than cure after all. Jack was sure his troops would understand that. Well, perhaps not. Either way, he was big enough to cope with the fallout. It’s not like any of his colleagues had vibrant social lives. What was the worst he could be interrupting?
Just as Jack was pondering the possible answers to that question the creature appeared in front of him. Teeth bared and claws looking bigger than Jack remembered from his admittedly brief sighting of the mysterious life form. Jack glanced around him. His options were limited, as he had climbed up onto the large gantry spanning the warehouse, in order to get a better view of the ground below him. Jack hadn’t anticipated that a creature with such big claws would be able to make it up the small access ladder to the rickety steel structure. Jack almost laughed at his own idiocy. ‘You’ve seen overgrown tin cans levitate for Gods sake. Why are you surprised that an alien with on board grappling hooks for hands can climb? Idiot Harkness.’ the Captain mumbled under his breath.
Jack tried to delicately move his hand into his pocket to reach for the tranquilliser spray but the slightest movement was all the provocation the creature needed to attack. With remarkable ferocity the creature ran at Jack, shoving him hard enough to ensure that the Captain plummeted 50ft to the ground. A soft landing was too much to hope for. Hell, a concrete landing would’ve been better than what he actually ended up with. Pain exploded in his side as he looked at the three large scaffolding rods that pierced his torso. Yep, this one was gonna be fatal… again.
+++++
Ianto leapt across the sofa to the small occasional table that held his phone, answering it immediately. The welsh man couldn’t make out much of what was happening on the other end, just a grunt, a gurgle and an unmistakable moan. Ianto had been fortunate enough to hear Jack moan an awful lot in recent history. He’d know that sound anywhere. This one though was tinged with pain, and not the fun kind. It was enough for Ianto to realise that Jack was in trouble and needed him, now. The GPS on Ianto’s phone was high tech enough to be able to locate the position of the incoming call and without giving it much thought Ianto ran to his car, heading at full pace to the location of the clear distress call.
Jack thanked God that he had Ianto as speed dial number 1. He admitted to himself that his primary motivation had been to ensure a speedy “booty call,” if the need ever arose, but as he lay on the ground bleeding and in pain it occurred to him that Ianto’s was the only face he really wanted to see. Sensible, practical and undeniably cute, Ianto. Some people may have thought a medic would be advisable but, having died a thousand plus times, Jack new that all Owen would be good for was making inappropriate jokes about penetration. To be honest, Jack didn’t need to hear it. Not now.
Ianto knew that he was breaking several key Torchwood protocols but he couldn’t bring himself to care. As much as Ianto’s brain told him that Jack was going to be okay, that he couldn’t die, he just had to make sure. Had to physically touch his Captain, feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, look into his beautiful blue eyes and see life. So, Ianto raced into the warehouse, not caring about back up, safety procedures, or policy number blah blah blah, which clearly stated ‘yadda, yadda...’ Something about not running into an unknown building to face an unknown situation which evidence suggested could be extremely dangerous. Once upon a time Ianto would’ve never ignored the rules so flagrantly but things where different now. Jack had changed him.
Ianto spotted Jack immediately and raced to his side at a surprising pace. Ordinarily Ianto was not the sort to run in public, he was too dignified for that kind of thing, but Ianto’s dignity had been steadily deserting him ever since the first day he met Jack. This was something that Ianto actually felt was comforting. He’d never met anybody who had been able to touch him like this before, change him so fundamentally. As much as he thought he loved Lisa it hadn’t taken long at all for Jack to get completely under his skin. So much so that the night they’d engaged in their little pterodactyl hunting expedition Ianto had cried himself to sleep. He hadn’t been able to get the feeling of Jack’s heavy weight pressing down on him out of his mind. Ianto was horrified by the fact that he’d forgotten Lisa so completely and so quickly. If anything, it was his guilt that made him fight so hard to save her in the end.
It took until Ianto was actually kneeling next to Jack for the severity of the situation to occur to him. Right, Jack was actually impaled. Three 5ft scaffolding posts, that looked to be secured to a large metal sheet, protruded through his chest. What could Ianto do about that? He started making an inventory of the contents of his boot to try and figure out what kind of equipment he had in there that would actually prove useful. A spare tyre, a car jack, a box of glass bottles Ianto had meant to drop off at the bottle bank. Ianto suddenly remembered the laser-cutting torch that he’d borrowed from the hub a few months ago. Tests had shown that this particularly nifty piece of alien tech was capable of cutting through literally anything. Steel, concrete, titanium, diamonds, you name it, and they’d tested it. Ianto had used it to cut down a particularly ugly tree that had been in his garden, and had meant to put I back a while ago, but the thing was quite heavy and unwieldy and Ianto had never wanted to ruffle his suit. Ianto pondered for a second how freakishly fortuitous his uncharacteristic laxness had been. Perhaps Jack was just a lucky guy.
Ianto grabbed hold of Jack’s hand. “I’ll be back in a minute. Okay?” he said. The look of concern so clearly evident on the Welshman’s face that it made Jack uneasy. Particularly as he couldn’t do much other than cough up bloody and splutter occasionally. He wished he’d thought of some kinds of witty one-liner to take the look of disquiet off Ianto’s face. If, for no other reason, than it made Jack feel weak and pitied and he hated that. Hated the idea that he was vulnerable and somehow in need of help. Sadly, the fact of the matter was it didn’t matter how many times Jack had died, it always hurt. Jack reassured himself that his calling Ianto was due to his practicality and not his weakness.
As Ianto ran out of the warehouse Jack noticed the Welshman’s frayed jeans and too tight top. He took this as further reassurance, and was momentarily proud of himself for his ability to maintain his sex drive at even the most trying of times. This amusement soon dissipated as Jack began to cough again, realising that no matter how attractive he found Ianto, at the moment he didn’t have enough blood left is his body to do anything constructive about it. Jack could feel the blood welling in the back of his throat and knew he didn’t have long. Yep, impalement was definitely one of his least favourite ways to go. Ranked right up there with burning and drowning. On the whole Jack preferred to be shot any day. It was generally quicker.
Ianto made it back to his car in record speed. The plan of action was to cut the length of the scaffolding poles off just above Jack’s body so he could be lifted off them with relative ease. Yep. Good plan. Ianto did look briefly towards the emergency first aid kit that he kept in his boot but at the end of the day a couple of plasters, a bandage or two and some Savlon just wasn’t going to cut it. Jack would heel soon enough anyway. His bones would fuse back together and his skin would knit closed. This time tomorrow it would all just be a memory. No disfiguring scars to tell the tale.
Ianto hauled the cutter into the warehouse and knelt down next to Jack again, grabbing hold of his hand.
“Okay, Jack.” Ianto said. “I’m going to cut the scaffolding poles so I can lift you off them. Is that alright?”
Jack gently pulled his hand out of Ianto’s. “Okay. Just get on with it. I still have a creature to catch before dawn.” Jack replied almost indignantly. Spluttering blood between his words.
Ianto got the message loud and clear. Jack clearly didn’t feel comfortable being the victim rather than the hero.
Ianto made quick work of the posts. Each one clattering to the ground in turn, echoing loudly through the building.
“Right, Jack. I’m gonna lift you of the poles now. I’ll be as quick as possible but I’m pretty sure you know that this is gonna hurt.” Ianto tried to make his voice sound as blasé as possible.
“To be fair, you’re love of Cadwalader’s Ice Cream isn’t gonna help. I think you might be carrying a few extra pounds round you’re middle. You’re gonna be a bitch to lift.” Ianto smirked. Hoping that a bit of banter would make Jack feel more at ease.
“You didn’t seem to mind my love of ice cream when I was licking it off your bare ass last week, coffee boy” Jack deadpanned. “Besides, as soon as you lift me off these poles I’ll bleed out in seconds. Feel free to drop me. I won’t feel a thing.”
“Wow, you seem to know your stuff. Just how many times have you been impaled?” Ianto asked. Part with genuine interest and part as a distraction technique as he placed his arms under Jack and prepared to lift.
“Er, at last count, seventy aaaarrrghh!” Jack screamed. Unable to finish his sentence before the pain ripped through him.
Jack was right. Ianto hadn’t made it three steps before his Captain died in his arms.
+++++
When Jack gasped awake he found himself in much more comfortable surroundings. It took him a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim light but he recognised his room in the hub. Though markedly more relaxing than a bunch of rusty metal in a damp old warehouse, Jack became aware that his comfort was somewhat restricted, his arms tied above his head to the bedposts. His first impulse should’ve been to struggle but oddly enough he didn’t. He felt too shocked to even think about it. How did he go from being a human kebab to being stripped shirtless on his bed and tied up like some kind of poster boy for bondage weekly? Not all of his brain cells had sparked back into life yet so the situation was more than a little confusing. Jack was still trying to process the evenings events when Ianto realised he was awake.
“Welcome back, Sir.” Ianto greeted. “You’ll be pleased to hear I’ve been doing my best Florence Nightingale impression. The wounds seem to have healed over properly. Just a few pretty angry looking bruises that I’m sure will clear up over the next few hours. You feel sort of squishy on the inside though. Not sure how long it takes your internal organs to regenerate but…”
“Ianto, as grateful as I am for the entirely unnecessary nursing care, would you please explain to me why I’m tied to my bed?” Jack made little effort to hide his annoyance and frustration. He felt like a child that had mittens taped to his wrists to try and prevent chicken pox scars. Jack had no need for that kind of nannying. He’d called Ianto for his practicality and not his maternal instincts. One thing Jack was sure of was that he didn’t need mothering or nursing or any kind of ‘ing’ that might imply weakness on his part.
“Ah. Right. Well, my explanation for that is three fold.” Ianto replied. Sounding vaguely predatory.
“Firstly, I’ve hauled your corpse far enough tonight. I don’t fancy doing it again so we’re getting the team to come in and do some recon before we go after whatever it was that attacked you again.”
Ianto stood up slowly. Walking towards the bed.
“Secondly” he continued. “You’ve ruined my favourite lucky shirt. Got your blood all over it. Not even I can get that much blood out. Definitely deserves come kind of punishment.”
Ianto began slowly stripping his shirt off, showing it to Jack as if to further prove his point, before throwing it across the room into a corner.
“Thirdly, having you tied up on the bed like that fulfils a fetish I’ve had for a very, very long time now.” The Welshman’s voice dropped an octave, emphasising his arousal.
Yep, Jack was still having trouble trying to process what exactly had happened. He knew from plenty of experience that near death encounters invariably ended up in some kind of horniness but it was normally him that felt horny and not whoever he happened to be with. In fact, his penchant for post-death blowjobs had earned him a reputation for being more than a little bizarre with some people. Jack didn’t understand that though. With death came the need to reaffirm life and nothing was more life affirming than an orgasm. Didn’t matter how many times he died, that was the one constant of each experience.
“Hmm, I like the sound of that, coffee boy. Tell me more. What exactly are you doing to me in these fantasies of yours?” Jack enquired. Blood swelling in his cock before he even had his answer. It didn’t much matter what the answer was. Just the sight of Ianto was enough to lure Jack towards the edge. His body, soft but strong. His shoulders, deceptively broad and capable of carrying so much weight. His chest, covered in short, soft brown hair that made the ultimate man whore, Captain Jack Harkness, fall in love that little bit more each time he saw it. Jack was finding it increasingly difficult to remember that he was annoyed.
As crazy as it sounds, Jack had never really felt more powerful than right at that moment, when to all intents and purposes he was at his most submissive. Ianto was incredibly clever. Jack knew that. He was impressed by the Welshman’s ability to manipulate. Ianto had somehow managed to ensure Jack’s safety from odd, clawed creatures, nurse him, despite his obvious distaste for it, and make him horny, all at the same time. Yep, Ianto Jones really was a genius. A sexy genius who was still edging closer to the bed.
+++++
Ianto knew Jack and his behaviour well enough to know that despite his liberal 51st Century outlook on most things, at the end of the day, he was a traditionalist. Cut from the ‘men don’t cry’, ‘weakness is for pussies’ cloth. As soon as he’d got Jack back to the hub Ianto had been thinking of ways to reassure him and make him feel safe without making him feel weak. The look on Jack’s face as Ianto had been cutting him free from the scaffolding, the slow pull of the Captain’s hand away from his as Ianto had tried to offer comfort, was glaringly obvious and enough to make Ianto realise that Jack felt impotent.
Part of it made Ianto feel sad. That Jack was so clearly in need of being the strong, alpha male, ‘don’t need help’, type. He hated that he couldn’t care for his Captain in the way that he wanted to without Jack seeing it as being a weakness. Ianto understood though. Jack had been forced to be strong for so long. Taking the worlds pressures on his shoulders and not having anybody to support him. Not being able to die meant that Jack knew he would lose everybody in the end. Leaning on people for their support was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He couldn’t become reliant on anybody else because at the end of the day Jack would be alone. Perhaps the fact that Ianto understood that was enough to make sure that Jack let him in, just a little bit.
If not, Ianto was conniving enough to know that sex smoothed over most cracks with Jack. Tying him up was Ianto’s way of making sure that Jack didn’t get himself killed again in the near future. It also ensured that Jack had time to heal before running off to save the world again. As invulnerable as Jack was, when his body was damaged it still needed time to heal. Jack had pretty much exsanguinated, Ianto had a once pale blue shirt that could prove that, and whatever Jack would like to think, that blood needed to be regenerated and the process wasn’t instant. Jack’s death at the hands of Abaddon had proved that. Ianto remembered the all-consuming pain that he’d felt, as his Captain’s corpse lay lifeless in the hub’s mortuary. It had taken him days to come back and nobody even knew that he would. Just the thought of it made Ianto feel ill.
The Captain let out a small shudder, obviously lost in his own thoughts for a second. It was enough to focus Ianto’s attention back to the task in hand, providing Jack with an earth shattering orgasm that would be life affirming, exhilarating and make Jack feel a little less vulnerable.
Ianto made short work of the rest of his clothes. To be honest he wasn’t wearing much. Ianto had expected a quiet and exceedingly private night in, so he hadn’t bothered with such niceties as underwear.
“Fuck, Ianto. Do you normally go commando when you have the night off?” Jack enquired. “Because if you do I’ll have to make sure that I pay you the occasional random visit.”
Ianto let out a chuckle as he crawled on the bed and slowly began kissing his was up Jack’s torso. Paying special attention to the still bruised areas of flesh. The Welshman gently nibbled at Jack’s left nipple, knowing from plenty of experience that the sensation drove him wild. Ianto could feel Jack buck underneath him, straining at the bonds on his wrists. The oh so efficient Welshman was good at multi tasking and Jack hadn’t even realised that Ianto had been unbuckling his belt until his trousers where being pulled down. Impatient hands grabbing onto the firm flesh of his ass. Their now free cock’s straining against each other.
Both men where silent. Nothing really needed to be said. The occasional grunt and moan would suffice. Ianto continued the exploration with his tongue, licking his was across Jack’s collarbone before settling on his mouth. Kissing his Captain passionately, sweeping his tongue into Jack’s mouth and nipping at his bottom lip with his teeth. Jack was again surprised at Ianto’s ability to multitask efficiently as he felt a slick, blunt finger pressing at his entrance. How the hell had Ianto managed to get the lube out without Jack even realising it?
Ianto’s oral investigation began to travel down Jack’s body. This time paying attention to his right nipple. Jack began to feel suddenly light-headed; unsure as to whether it was through blood loss or the dizzying sensation of Ianto gently licking the top of his penis before entirely enveloping it in his warm, wet mouth. As Ianto sucked on Jack’s hardness the Captain felt overcome by passion as one of the Welshman’s hands caressed his velvet sack while the other continued it’s exquisite assault on his puckering hole. Two long fingers scisorred in and out of him, scraping across his prostate with each intrusion. Jack was so close already, he knew that he wouldn’t last long with the Welshman inside him.
“Oh, God. Ianto, don’t tease. Fuck me already!” Jack pled.
“Excuse me, Sir.” Ianto said. Jack’s firm cock slipping from his mouth. “You’re the one tied up, which I think you’ll find means I’m the one who’s in charge. I pick the pace. I might decide to leave you on the brink for hours. Begging for me to let you come.”
Jack laughed. “You’re the one in charge yet you still call me Sir. I love the contradiction.”
“I call you Sir, not because you’re in charge but because I think it sounds kinky. I think you’ll find I’m a man of many fetishes, Sir.”
With that Jack felt Ianto’s hard cock against his entrance. In one hard thrust Ianto was home. Not as gentle as he could be and Ianto had no doubt that it hurt but the Welshman didn’t care. More importantly, he knew that Jack wouldn’t either. He wanted to prove to Jack that he didn’t think of him as weak of breakable. Wanted to prove that their relationship was built on heat, passion and need, not fragility, vulnerability and reliance. Ianto thrust into Jack, strong, steady and hard. It wasn’t long before Ianto could feel the give away convulsions round his cock as Jack came. Ianto’s name on his tongue as has shot come across I his own stomach. Ianto’s own release followed close behind. He came deep inside Jack. Collapsing down on top of him. Not caring that he’d be sticky with come. In that second Ianto felt totally content.
“You still owe me a new Rugby shirt, you know?” Ianto complained. Hurriedly moving to untie Jack from his bonds as if he’d almost forgot. “I’ll have to take you to a game sometime. My treat. All you have to do is provide the shirt.”
Jack didn’t even reply. He just sniggered.
“Just to add more incentive. You know how death leaves you horny? Rugby matches have the same effect on me. Must be something to do with all the big men in shorts. How do you feel about playing dress up one day?” Ianto winked.
Jack just laughed and fell asleep. Arms wrapped tightly around his little Welsh coffee boy.
Author: lukataintedlove
Recipient: d8rkmessngr
Summary: Jack dies and Ianto comes to the rescue - kinda like a combination between Superman and Florence Nightingale but with a kinky edge.
Disclaimer: I don’t own very much at all and I bow at the feet of RTD.
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC17
Warning: Mild bondage.
Author Notes: Cadwalader’s is an ice cream parlour at on Cardiff Bay. They do the most gorgeous melon and ginger ice cream. If you ever end up at the Bay then give it a go. Cadwalader's Ice Cream
I really hope that this is the kinda thing you where hoping for, d8rkmessngr. I’ve found this one pretty hard. You may see further re-edits in the future because the sex scene that plays out in my brain is much longer but I couldn’t translate my brain to pen and paper.
Word Count: 4500+
Beta: The ever loving Anonymous. Cheers hon x.
Ianto was enjoying a quiet night in. A rare privilege these days. Torchwood had been lurching from one crisis to another for what felt like forever. Jack’s stunning disappearance hadn’t helped matters. Overtime had become less and less optional and when he wasn’t working, as loathed, as he was to admit it, Ianto had spent most of his time moping over his lost Captain.
Everything was different now though. Jack was back at the helm, Torchwood was on track again and Ianto had nothing to mope about. The status quo had been re-established and Ianto was able to enjoy a night to himself. More importantly, a night to himself during the rugby season. Sadly not a home match, but that was okay. Ianto was happy enough to watch his team on the television. A pizza, a couple of beers and Cardiff Blues v Munster on the box, Ianto could almost believe his life was normal. Thousands of other guys across the city would be doing exactly the same as him tonight and that knowledge made Ianto feel good.
Ianto sat on his ratty old sofa in ripped jeans, the type that had been created through years of wear rather than fake factory distressing. His outfit topped off by a Cardiff Blues shirt his dad had bought him for his birthday in 1999. Ianto had grown a bit since he was 16, so he had to admit to himself that it was, perhaps, a bit too tight. He didn’t care though, nobody was going to see him and, whether it was true or not, it always seemed that his club won more often when he was wearing his lucky shirt.
The rest of the gang at Torchwood would be surprised to see Ianto in his natural habitat. It was not what anybody who knew Ianto through work would expect. Yes, it was pristinely clean and incredibly tidy, but all of Ianto’s possessions had a world-worn shabbiness to them. The sofa was an inheritance from his late Grandmother, his Uncle Adam had once teased him that Ianto had been conceived on said sofa, a possibility that Ianto refused to acknowledge. His father had made the end table that his beer sat on as a woodwork project when he was at school. Ianto liked the idea of possessions having memories, stories to tell. He figured it was the hopeless romantic in him - the same part of him that preferred good old fashioned vinyl LP’s to CD’s, never mind MP3’s.
Ianto relaxed, putting his feet up on the old pine coffee table, swallowing down the last mouthful of his bottle of lager. It didn’t matter, the first half was almost finished and Ianto had a full shelf of beers in his fridge. In fact, that was pretty much all he had in his fridge. A career in Torchwood meant limited time in which to shop and equally limited time in which to cook. Thank God Mermaid Quay was stocked with some fine restaurants and excellent takeaways. In the closing seconds of the first half the Blues where 10 points up, Munster had a man in the sin bin and all was right with the world. Ianto was just about to head to the kitchen to get his second beer when he heard his phone ring. Ordinarily he’d have ignored it but the ringtone gave away the callers identity. As Otis Redding sang “Love Man” Ianto’s heart leapt into his throat, knowing that Jack wouldn’t ring him tonight unless something was wrong.
+++++
Jack was hunting something. He had to admit he had no idea what. The rift activity monitor had gone totally haywire and before he knew it Jack was in a warehouse on the other side of the bay, chasing something that was a sort of purple-y grey colour and looked to have very large claws. Jack was relishing the chance to be out hunting alone. He’d given the gang the night off and unsurprisingly enough they’d all given him strict instructions to not get in touch unless the end of the world was imminent. That was fine with Jack. As much as he loved his team, some alone time to sharpen his teeth and get back to basics was more than welcome.
One thing was for sure, whatever Jack was hunting; it was fast and smart. Jack felt as if he’d been chasing shadows for hours. He wasn’t anywhere close to having the thing cornered and the word ‘frustrated’ came nowhere near to describing just how pissed off Jack actually was. Perhaps having Ianto and the gang around would’ve been better? At least the company might have curbed the boredom and annoyance. Thinking about it, Jack realised that perhaps the extra pairs of eyes might have helped too.
Jack decided to do one more sweep of the warehouse before giving up and calling for reinforcements. Okay, so perhaps the end of the world wasn’t “imminent” exactly but Jack had no idea what the missing creature was, never mind if it was dangerous, and he had no intention of waiting for the bodies to start mounting up before he found out. Prevention is better than cure after all. Jack was sure his troops would understand that. Well, perhaps not. Either way, he was big enough to cope with the fallout. It’s not like any of his colleagues had vibrant social lives. What was the worst he could be interrupting?
Just as Jack was pondering the possible answers to that question the creature appeared in front of him. Teeth bared and claws looking bigger than Jack remembered from his admittedly brief sighting of the mysterious life form. Jack glanced around him. His options were limited, as he had climbed up onto the large gantry spanning the warehouse, in order to get a better view of the ground below him. Jack hadn’t anticipated that a creature with such big claws would be able to make it up the small access ladder to the rickety steel structure. Jack almost laughed at his own idiocy. ‘You’ve seen overgrown tin cans levitate for Gods sake. Why are you surprised that an alien with on board grappling hooks for hands can climb? Idiot Harkness.’ the Captain mumbled under his breath.
Jack tried to delicately move his hand into his pocket to reach for the tranquilliser spray but the slightest movement was all the provocation the creature needed to attack. With remarkable ferocity the creature ran at Jack, shoving him hard enough to ensure that the Captain plummeted 50ft to the ground. A soft landing was too much to hope for. Hell, a concrete landing would’ve been better than what he actually ended up with. Pain exploded in his side as he looked at the three large scaffolding rods that pierced his torso. Yep, this one was gonna be fatal… again.
+++++
Ianto leapt across the sofa to the small occasional table that held his phone, answering it immediately. The welsh man couldn’t make out much of what was happening on the other end, just a grunt, a gurgle and an unmistakable moan. Ianto had been fortunate enough to hear Jack moan an awful lot in recent history. He’d know that sound anywhere. This one though was tinged with pain, and not the fun kind. It was enough for Ianto to realise that Jack was in trouble and needed him, now. The GPS on Ianto’s phone was high tech enough to be able to locate the position of the incoming call and without giving it much thought Ianto ran to his car, heading at full pace to the location of the clear distress call.
Jack thanked God that he had Ianto as speed dial number 1. He admitted to himself that his primary motivation had been to ensure a speedy “booty call,” if the need ever arose, but as he lay on the ground bleeding and in pain it occurred to him that Ianto’s was the only face he really wanted to see. Sensible, practical and undeniably cute, Ianto. Some people may have thought a medic would be advisable but, having died a thousand plus times, Jack new that all Owen would be good for was making inappropriate jokes about penetration. To be honest, Jack didn’t need to hear it. Not now.
Ianto knew that he was breaking several key Torchwood protocols but he couldn’t bring himself to care. As much as Ianto’s brain told him that Jack was going to be okay, that he couldn’t die, he just had to make sure. Had to physically touch his Captain, feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, look into his beautiful blue eyes and see life. So, Ianto raced into the warehouse, not caring about back up, safety procedures, or policy number blah blah blah, which clearly stated ‘yadda, yadda...’ Something about not running into an unknown building to face an unknown situation which evidence suggested could be extremely dangerous. Once upon a time Ianto would’ve never ignored the rules so flagrantly but things where different now. Jack had changed him.
Ianto spotted Jack immediately and raced to his side at a surprising pace. Ordinarily Ianto was not the sort to run in public, he was too dignified for that kind of thing, but Ianto’s dignity had been steadily deserting him ever since the first day he met Jack. This was something that Ianto actually felt was comforting. He’d never met anybody who had been able to touch him like this before, change him so fundamentally. As much as he thought he loved Lisa it hadn’t taken long at all for Jack to get completely under his skin. So much so that the night they’d engaged in their little pterodactyl hunting expedition Ianto had cried himself to sleep. He hadn’t been able to get the feeling of Jack’s heavy weight pressing down on him out of his mind. Ianto was horrified by the fact that he’d forgotten Lisa so completely and so quickly. If anything, it was his guilt that made him fight so hard to save her in the end.
It took until Ianto was actually kneeling next to Jack for the severity of the situation to occur to him. Right, Jack was actually impaled. Three 5ft scaffolding posts, that looked to be secured to a large metal sheet, protruded through his chest. What could Ianto do about that? He started making an inventory of the contents of his boot to try and figure out what kind of equipment he had in there that would actually prove useful. A spare tyre, a car jack, a box of glass bottles Ianto had meant to drop off at the bottle bank. Ianto suddenly remembered the laser-cutting torch that he’d borrowed from the hub a few months ago. Tests had shown that this particularly nifty piece of alien tech was capable of cutting through literally anything. Steel, concrete, titanium, diamonds, you name it, and they’d tested it. Ianto had used it to cut down a particularly ugly tree that had been in his garden, and had meant to put I back a while ago, but the thing was quite heavy and unwieldy and Ianto had never wanted to ruffle his suit. Ianto pondered for a second how freakishly fortuitous his uncharacteristic laxness had been. Perhaps Jack was just a lucky guy.
Ianto grabbed hold of Jack’s hand. “I’ll be back in a minute. Okay?” he said. The look of concern so clearly evident on the Welshman’s face that it made Jack uneasy. Particularly as he couldn’t do much other than cough up bloody and splutter occasionally. He wished he’d thought of some kinds of witty one-liner to take the look of disquiet off Ianto’s face. If, for no other reason, than it made Jack feel weak and pitied and he hated that. Hated the idea that he was vulnerable and somehow in need of help. Sadly, the fact of the matter was it didn’t matter how many times Jack had died, it always hurt. Jack reassured himself that his calling Ianto was due to his practicality and not his weakness.
As Ianto ran out of the warehouse Jack noticed the Welshman’s frayed jeans and too tight top. He took this as further reassurance, and was momentarily proud of himself for his ability to maintain his sex drive at even the most trying of times. This amusement soon dissipated as Jack began to cough again, realising that no matter how attractive he found Ianto, at the moment he didn’t have enough blood left is his body to do anything constructive about it. Jack could feel the blood welling in the back of his throat and knew he didn’t have long. Yep, impalement was definitely one of his least favourite ways to go. Ranked right up there with burning and drowning. On the whole Jack preferred to be shot any day. It was generally quicker.
Ianto made it back to his car in record speed. The plan of action was to cut the length of the scaffolding poles off just above Jack’s body so he could be lifted off them with relative ease. Yep. Good plan. Ianto did look briefly towards the emergency first aid kit that he kept in his boot but at the end of the day a couple of plasters, a bandage or two and some Savlon just wasn’t going to cut it. Jack would heel soon enough anyway. His bones would fuse back together and his skin would knit closed. This time tomorrow it would all just be a memory. No disfiguring scars to tell the tale.
Ianto hauled the cutter into the warehouse and knelt down next to Jack again, grabbing hold of his hand.
“Okay, Jack.” Ianto said. “I’m going to cut the scaffolding poles so I can lift you off them. Is that alright?”
Jack gently pulled his hand out of Ianto’s. “Okay. Just get on with it. I still have a creature to catch before dawn.” Jack replied almost indignantly. Spluttering blood between his words.
Ianto got the message loud and clear. Jack clearly didn’t feel comfortable being the victim rather than the hero.
Ianto made quick work of the posts. Each one clattering to the ground in turn, echoing loudly through the building.
“Right, Jack. I’m gonna lift you of the poles now. I’ll be as quick as possible but I’m pretty sure you know that this is gonna hurt.” Ianto tried to make his voice sound as blasé as possible.
“To be fair, you’re love of Cadwalader’s Ice Cream isn’t gonna help. I think you might be carrying a few extra pounds round you’re middle. You’re gonna be a bitch to lift.” Ianto smirked. Hoping that a bit of banter would make Jack feel more at ease.
“You didn’t seem to mind my love of ice cream when I was licking it off your bare ass last week, coffee boy” Jack deadpanned. “Besides, as soon as you lift me off these poles I’ll bleed out in seconds. Feel free to drop me. I won’t feel a thing.”
“Wow, you seem to know your stuff. Just how many times have you been impaled?” Ianto asked. Part with genuine interest and part as a distraction technique as he placed his arms under Jack and prepared to lift.
“Er, at last count, seventy aaaarrrghh!” Jack screamed. Unable to finish his sentence before the pain ripped through him.
Jack was right. Ianto hadn’t made it three steps before his Captain died in his arms.
+++++
When Jack gasped awake he found himself in much more comfortable surroundings. It took him a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim light but he recognised his room in the hub. Though markedly more relaxing than a bunch of rusty metal in a damp old warehouse, Jack became aware that his comfort was somewhat restricted, his arms tied above his head to the bedposts. His first impulse should’ve been to struggle but oddly enough he didn’t. He felt too shocked to even think about it. How did he go from being a human kebab to being stripped shirtless on his bed and tied up like some kind of poster boy for bondage weekly? Not all of his brain cells had sparked back into life yet so the situation was more than a little confusing. Jack was still trying to process the evenings events when Ianto realised he was awake.
“Welcome back, Sir.” Ianto greeted. “You’ll be pleased to hear I’ve been doing my best Florence Nightingale impression. The wounds seem to have healed over properly. Just a few pretty angry looking bruises that I’m sure will clear up over the next few hours. You feel sort of squishy on the inside though. Not sure how long it takes your internal organs to regenerate but…”
“Ianto, as grateful as I am for the entirely unnecessary nursing care, would you please explain to me why I’m tied to my bed?” Jack made little effort to hide his annoyance and frustration. He felt like a child that had mittens taped to his wrists to try and prevent chicken pox scars. Jack had no need for that kind of nannying. He’d called Ianto for his practicality and not his maternal instincts. One thing Jack was sure of was that he didn’t need mothering or nursing or any kind of ‘ing’ that might imply weakness on his part.
“Ah. Right. Well, my explanation for that is three fold.” Ianto replied. Sounding vaguely predatory.
“Firstly, I’ve hauled your corpse far enough tonight. I don’t fancy doing it again so we’re getting the team to come in and do some recon before we go after whatever it was that attacked you again.”
Ianto stood up slowly. Walking towards the bed.
“Secondly” he continued. “You’ve ruined my favourite lucky shirt. Got your blood all over it. Not even I can get that much blood out. Definitely deserves come kind of punishment.”
Ianto began slowly stripping his shirt off, showing it to Jack as if to further prove his point, before throwing it across the room into a corner.
“Thirdly, having you tied up on the bed like that fulfils a fetish I’ve had for a very, very long time now.” The Welshman’s voice dropped an octave, emphasising his arousal.
Yep, Jack was still having trouble trying to process what exactly had happened. He knew from plenty of experience that near death encounters invariably ended up in some kind of horniness but it was normally him that felt horny and not whoever he happened to be with. In fact, his penchant for post-death blowjobs had earned him a reputation for being more than a little bizarre with some people. Jack didn’t understand that though. With death came the need to reaffirm life and nothing was more life affirming than an orgasm. Didn’t matter how many times he died, that was the one constant of each experience.
“Hmm, I like the sound of that, coffee boy. Tell me more. What exactly are you doing to me in these fantasies of yours?” Jack enquired. Blood swelling in his cock before he even had his answer. It didn’t much matter what the answer was. Just the sight of Ianto was enough to lure Jack towards the edge. His body, soft but strong. His shoulders, deceptively broad and capable of carrying so much weight. His chest, covered in short, soft brown hair that made the ultimate man whore, Captain Jack Harkness, fall in love that little bit more each time he saw it. Jack was finding it increasingly difficult to remember that he was annoyed.
As crazy as it sounds, Jack had never really felt more powerful than right at that moment, when to all intents and purposes he was at his most submissive. Ianto was incredibly clever. Jack knew that. He was impressed by the Welshman’s ability to manipulate. Ianto had somehow managed to ensure Jack’s safety from odd, clawed creatures, nurse him, despite his obvious distaste for it, and make him horny, all at the same time. Yep, Ianto Jones really was a genius. A sexy genius who was still edging closer to the bed.
+++++
Ianto knew Jack and his behaviour well enough to know that despite his liberal 51st Century outlook on most things, at the end of the day, he was a traditionalist. Cut from the ‘men don’t cry’, ‘weakness is for pussies’ cloth. As soon as he’d got Jack back to the hub Ianto had been thinking of ways to reassure him and make him feel safe without making him feel weak. The look on Jack’s face as Ianto had been cutting him free from the scaffolding, the slow pull of the Captain’s hand away from his as Ianto had tried to offer comfort, was glaringly obvious and enough to make Ianto realise that Jack felt impotent.
Part of it made Ianto feel sad. That Jack was so clearly in need of being the strong, alpha male, ‘don’t need help’, type. He hated that he couldn’t care for his Captain in the way that he wanted to without Jack seeing it as being a weakness. Ianto understood though. Jack had been forced to be strong for so long. Taking the worlds pressures on his shoulders and not having anybody to support him. Not being able to die meant that Jack knew he would lose everybody in the end. Leaning on people for their support was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He couldn’t become reliant on anybody else because at the end of the day Jack would be alone. Perhaps the fact that Ianto understood that was enough to make sure that Jack let him in, just a little bit.
If not, Ianto was conniving enough to know that sex smoothed over most cracks with Jack. Tying him up was Ianto’s way of making sure that Jack didn’t get himself killed again in the near future. It also ensured that Jack had time to heal before running off to save the world again. As invulnerable as Jack was, when his body was damaged it still needed time to heal. Jack had pretty much exsanguinated, Ianto had a once pale blue shirt that could prove that, and whatever Jack would like to think, that blood needed to be regenerated and the process wasn’t instant. Jack’s death at the hands of Abaddon had proved that. Ianto remembered the all-consuming pain that he’d felt, as his Captain’s corpse lay lifeless in the hub’s mortuary. It had taken him days to come back and nobody even knew that he would. Just the thought of it made Ianto feel ill.
The Captain let out a small shudder, obviously lost in his own thoughts for a second. It was enough to focus Ianto’s attention back to the task in hand, providing Jack with an earth shattering orgasm that would be life affirming, exhilarating and make Jack feel a little less vulnerable.
Ianto made short work of the rest of his clothes. To be honest he wasn’t wearing much. Ianto had expected a quiet and exceedingly private night in, so he hadn’t bothered with such niceties as underwear.
“Fuck, Ianto. Do you normally go commando when you have the night off?” Jack enquired. “Because if you do I’ll have to make sure that I pay you the occasional random visit.”
Ianto let out a chuckle as he crawled on the bed and slowly began kissing his was up Jack’s torso. Paying special attention to the still bruised areas of flesh. The Welshman gently nibbled at Jack’s left nipple, knowing from plenty of experience that the sensation drove him wild. Ianto could feel Jack buck underneath him, straining at the bonds on his wrists. The oh so efficient Welshman was good at multi tasking and Jack hadn’t even realised that Ianto had been unbuckling his belt until his trousers where being pulled down. Impatient hands grabbing onto the firm flesh of his ass. Their now free cock’s straining against each other.
Both men where silent. Nothing really needed to be said. The occasional grunt and moan would suffice. Ianto continued the exploration with his tongue, licking his was across Jack’s collarbone before settling on his mouth. Kissing his Captain passionately, sweeping his tongue into Jack’s mouth and nipping at his bottom lip with his teeth. Jack was again surprised at Ianto’s ability to multitask efficiently as he felt a slick, blunt finger pressing at his entrance. How the hell had Ianto managed to get the lube out without Jack even realising it?
Ianto’s oral investigation began to travel down Jack’s body. This time paying attention to his right nipple. Jack began to feel suddenly light-headed; unsure as to whether it was through blood loss or the dizzying sensation of Ianto gently licking the top of his penis before entirely enveloping it in his warm, wet mouth. As Ianto sucked on Jack’s hardness the Captain felt overcome by passion as one of the Welshman’s hands caressed his velvet sack while the other continued it’s exquisite assault on his puckering hole. Two long fingers scisorred in and out of him, scraping across his prostate with each intrusion. Jack was so close already, he knew that he wouldn’t last long with the Welshman inside him.
“Oh, God. Ianto, don’t tease. Fuck me already!” Jack pled.
“Excuse me, Sir.” Ianto said. Jack’s firm cock slipping from his mouth. “You’re the one tied up, which I think you’ll find means I’m the one who’s in charge. I pick the pace. I might decide to leave you on the brink for hours. Begging for me to let you come.”
Jack laughed. “You’re the one in charge yet you still call me Sir. I love the contradiction.”
“I call you Sir, not because you’re in charge but because I think it sounds kinky. I think you’ll find I’m a man of many fetishes, Sir.”
With that Jack felt Ianto’s hard cock against his entrance. In one hard thrust Ianto was home. Not as gentle as he could be and Ianto had no doubt that it hurt but the Welshman didn’t care. More importantly, he knew that Jack wouldn’t either. He wanted to prove to Jack that he didn’t think of him as weak of breakable. Wanted to prove that their relationship was built on heat, passion and need, not fragility, vulnerability and reliance. Ianto thrust into Jack, strong, steady and hard. It wasn’t long before Ianto could feel the give away convulsions round his cock as Jack came. Ianto’s name on his tongue as has shot come across I his own stomach. Ianto’s own release followed close behind. He came deep inside Jack. Collapsing down on top of him. Not caring that he’d be sticky with come. In that second Ianto felt totally content.
“You still owe me a new Rugby shirt, you know?” Ianto complained. Hurriedly moving to untie Jack from his bonds as if he’d almost forgot. “I’ll have to take you to a game sometime. My treat. All you have to do is provide the shirt.”
Jack didn’t even reply. He just sniggered.
“Just to add more incentive. You know how death leaves you horny? Rugby matches have the same effect on me. Must be something to do with all the big men in shorts. How do you feel about playing dress up one day?” Ianto winked.
Jack just laughed and fell asleep. Arms wrapped tightly around his little Welsh coffee boy.