Fic: To Rights (Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, NC-17)
Title: To Rights
Author: allyndra
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2,025 words
Disclaimer: I do not own Jack and Ianto, but I really don’t think they would be offended to be portrayed this way. They might even be into it.
Summary: Post-Journey’s End, Ianto is cleaning up the Hub. Jack needs some seeing to, as well.
Note: For suki_blue This is the traditional Encouragement for Quitting Smoking Porn. (What, you don’t have that tradition? Get on it!) Over a month smoke free! Yay!!!
Cleaning up the Hub never used to be this difficult. Ianto had never grumbled about it, but it had bothered him, back when it was merely a matter of picking up take-away boxes and cleaning the stains left by Owen’s latest autopsy. He’d kept his face smooth and professional as he’d tidied and scrubbed, but he’d hated that he was the one who had to do it.
Now there was equipment lying wherever it had fallen, papers from dozens of cases and files loose on the floor, and bullet casings scattered about. And of course, there was the Dalek. It was going to be a job to get the Hub into a fit state, but Ianto didn’t mind. This wasn’t drudging make-work; this was setting things to rights.
He rolled up his sleeves and set to work.
He noticed when Jack came in - he always noticed Jack - but he didn’t stop in his task, which was sorting papers into piles by subject and time period, so that he could file them properly later. Jack leaned against a desk, his arms behind him, propped on the edge. Anyone would have thought he was carefree, lounging about for lack of anything better to do.
Anyone would have been an idiot who couldn’t be bothered to notice the lines of pain around Jack’s eyes and the tense line of his shoulders.
“You could help, Jack,” Ianto said, giving him a mild glance from his seat on the floor, in the middle of his piles.
“I could,” Jack said, nodding. Ianto wasn’t fool enough to believe that was promise, or even an offer. Jack watched him for a long moment. “Do you ever wonder if it’s worth it?” he asked suddenly. “Always rebuilding, recouping our losses. Do you ever think it’s just not worth the price?”
Ianto set a file about the eating habits of Hrunglins down and looked up at Jack. “No,” he said. “No, I never wonder.” It was the truth. He’d go mad if he stopped to doubt what he was doing. What Torchwood was doing.
“I do sometimes,” Jack said abruptly. He lifted his chin in the direction of the medical bay. “We lose so much.”
Ianto nodded. “We do. We lose a great deal. But only think of what we safeguard.” Jack knew better than most how close they’d come to losing everything to the Daleks. Not only people they’d loved, but everything, Earth and sky. It was too much for Ianto to comprehend, but he thought Jack could probably grasp the vastness of that loss.
“I know,” Jack said. “I know. I just … I get tired.”
“You should rest,” Ianto told him.
Jack barked out a short laugh. “Rest. Is it fair for me to rest while you fix all this?”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “As great a help as you’re being,” he said pointedly, “I think I can manage without you.”
It was only because he was looking that he saw the flash of emotion across Jack’s face. Uncertainty? Pain? Fear? Ianto didn’t know. He did know that he didn’t like it. Standing carefully, Ianto stepped over his piles of paper and walked to the desk. Bullet casing skittered across the floor every time he took a step.
He stood in front of Jack and looked at him steadily, waiting. Finally, Jack said, “Sometimes I don’t want to be alone.”
Ianto lifted a hand to the back of Jack’s neck, stroking his thumb through the short hair at the base of his skull. “Only sometimes?” he asked, his voice betraying nothing more than idle curiosity.
“Sometimes I think I’m better off alone,” Jack said. “It’s … harder. Having people to worry about.” He said it slowly, like it was a confession or a revelation, and Ianto managed not to roll his eyes. He and Gwen had smiled and sent Jack off to save the world without telling him that a Dalek would be any moment bursting through their door. They knew what a burden caring could be.
It wasn’t enough of a burden to stop.
“Sometimes you are better off alone. But not most of the time,” Ianto told him. He let his thumb press into Jack’s neck, just where it met the back of his head. The muscles there were tight and knotted, and Ianto brought his other hand up so he could rub at them. “Not now.”
“No?” Jack asked. There was a smile in his voice suddenly, and Ianto wondered how many layers Jack had. How many facets there were to him that Ianto would never guess at, much less see. “I can think of one thing that’s better when I’m not alone.” He slid his arms around Ianto’s waist, tugging him closer.
This time Ianto did roll his eyes. “Well, there is Scrabble,” he said, running his fingers down Jack’s neck.
Jack arched his neck, curving into Ianto’s hands. “Not what I had in mind,” he said with a chuckle.
“You surprise me,” Ianto said. He let Jack reel him in until there was no space between them. His chest pressed against Jack’s so tightly that he could feel Jack’s braces.
“Would you like me to surprise you?” Jack asked.
“No,” Ianto said, ignoring the way Jack’s eyes widened. “I believe it’s my turn.”
“You’re going to surprise me?” Jack asked, a delighted smile stretching across his face. Ianto didn’t know how he managed that, the boyish glee that broke free at random intervals. It seemed like it should have been drained out of him centuries ago.
“Probably not,” Ianto admitted. “But trying is more than half the fun.”
He leaned up and took Jack’s mouth in a kiss that was sudden but not likely very surprising. Not to Jack, anyway. It always surprised Ianto how well Jack’s mouth fit against his, how quickly this simple thing could undo him. He was breathless when he pulled away, gasping kisses along Jack’s jaw and down his throat. He wanted to take Jack’s shirt off, to taste skin and run his hands over Jack’s chest, but the buttons and undershirt seemed endlessly complicated right now.
He ran his hands down Jack’s chest, sliding his thumbs under his braces but leaving them in place. He could feel Jack’s nipples going tight, even through two layers of fabric, and he raked his fingers against them. Jack made a happy humming sound and leaned back farther against the desk, opening himself up to whatever Ianto wanted to do. It was nice - that trust and acceptance - but it wasn’t what Ianto wanted. He wanted Jack needing. Not desperate, but needing too deeply to simply go along for the ride.
Ianto dropped to his knees and offered a moment’s thanks that he hadn’t come down on any of the loose bullet casings. A broken kneecap would have brought things to a halt rather effectively. He looked up at Jack’s loose posture, at the lazy smile on his face, and he wanted to erase them.
Ianto rubbed his hands slowly up Jack’s thighs, pulling at them until Jack spread his legs into a wider stance. Still moving with slow deliberation, he opened Jack’s trousers and pulled out his cock. “You make a pretty picture,” Ianto said. “Fully dressed still. Except for this.” He ran one finger lightly down the length of Jack’s cock, watching the way it bobbed under the pressure of his hand and then surged upward. He smiled.
“You just going to admire me?” Jack asked. His voice was a bit rough, but still in control.
“I might do,” Ianto said, settling back thoughtfully on his haunches. “Keep you like this while I carry on with my work.” He grinned up at Jack. “Or maybe not.”
He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the head of Jack’s cock, startling a curse out of him. If Ianto could have smiled, he would. He sucked hard and steady for a long moment, then drew back just long enough to lick his upper lip and get it slippery. He knew what Jack usually liked - hard and fast and as wet as possible - but he didn’t give it to him. He kept his mouth just a shade too loose, his rhythm unsteady. Not enough to make it bad, just enough to make it … frustrating.
“Ianto,” Jack whined. Ianto flushed. Whining was a step in the right direction. He hummed questioningly and felt a surge of satisfaction when Jack’s hips bucked toward him. Still, it wouldn’t do to encourage bad habits. Sliding one hand inside Jack’s trousers, he gave his balls a warning squeeze.
It should have been threatening. A bit uncomfortable and a taste of what he’d get if he misbehaved. But Jack made a pleased yelping noise that didn’t sound even slightly chastised. Raising his eyebrows, Ianto did it again, tightening his fingers around the soft wrinkled skin that was already drawing up close to Jack’s body. Jack made that noise again, and Ianto made a mental note to check the CCTV footage later. He wanted to see what Jack looked like when he sounded like that.
He didn’t actively decide to let Jack have what he wanted. It just happened, now that Ianto had what he wanted - a Jack who was fully engaged, tense and tight and yearning toward his climax. Ianto tightened his lips and bobbed his head in a quick rhythm, tugging at Jack’s balls in sharp little jerks. He had no idea why Jack liked that, but he clearly really, really liked that. It only took a few more moments before he was moaning low and loud and coming into Ianto’s mouth.
Ianto waited through it, taking it all without swallowing. He pulled off and stood up, clinging to Jack’s hips to help himself rise. Jack clung back, and he was waiting when Ianto kissed him, lips opening to take the come from Ianto’s mouth into his own.
With anyone else, Ianto assumed this would feel dirty. Forbidden or kinky. But Jack just liked it, in the oddly innocent way he enjoyed all sex, as a thing of pleasure to share and celebrate, but never to be ashamed of. So Ianto let himself enjoy the way Jack’s tongue glided over his, slick and bitter. Let himself feel unashamed and possibly beautiful as he undid his own trousers and took his cock in hand.
Ianto pulled his cock hard and fast, not bothering with the tease he’d put Jack through. He kissed Jack more fiercely as his orgasm rushed through him, groaning into Jack’s mouth and coming over his own fist.
He slumped against Jack, enjoying in the feeling of lax satiation. Finally, he pulled himself upright. He looked down at his hand and grimaced, then lifted it toward Jack’s mouth, eyebrows raised questioningly. Jack gave him a disgruntled look. “Things that are hot in the heat of the moment are not as sexy when they’re used as general cleanup,” Jack said, tucking his cock away and fastening his trousers.
Ianto hid a smile and dug in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Well, you can pitch in with the general cleanup of the Hub,” he said. “As that’s never sexy at all.”
“I don’t know, Ianto. All that bending and stooping. Filing,” Jack said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Pretty sexy.”
“I’ll be certain to remember that next time you want to roleplay,” Ianto said, making sure he was tucked away, with his zipper and button done up. “But right now, come help me sort papers.” He took Jack by the hand and tugged him over to the piles he’d abandoned earlier.
Jack shook his head, but he let himself be led. “I still don’t know if this is worth it,” he said. But his voice sounded light, joking rather than brooding.
“Yes, you do,” Ianto said. “And it is.”
Jack hummed a mild agreement and held up a wrinkled page. “Where’s the stack for weaponry?”
“Matter or energy?” Ianto asked, leaning over to check.
They sorted papers, and then they swept up bullets and discussed making the Dalek into a planter. They worked together at setting things right.
Author: allyndra
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2,025 words
Disclaimer: I do not own Jack and Ianto, but I really don’t think they would be offended to be portrayed this way. They might even be into it.
Summary: Post-Journey’s End, Ianto is cleaning up the Hub. Jack needs some seeing to, as well.
Note: For suki_blue This is the traditional Encouragement for Quitting Smoking Porn. (What, you don’t have that tradition? Get on it!) Over a month smoke free! Yay!!!
Cleaning up the Hub never used to be this difficult. Ianto had never grumbled about it, but it had bothered him, back when it was merely a matter of picking up take-away boxes and cleaning the stains left by Owen’s latest autopsy. He’d kept his face smooth and professional as he’d tidied and scrubbed, but he’d hated that he was the one who had to do it.
Now there was equipment lying wherever it had fallen, papers from dozens of cases and files loose on the floor, and bullet casings scattered about. And of course, there was the Dalek. It was going to be a job to get the Hub into a fit state, but Ianto didn’t mind. This wasn’t drudging make-work; this was setting things to rights.
He rolled up his sleeves and set to work.
He noticed when Jack came in - he always noticed Jack - but he didn’t stop in his task, which was sorting papers into piles by subject and time period, so that he could file them properly later. Jack leaned against a desk, his arms behind him, propped on the edge. Anyone would have thought he was carefree, lounging about for lack of anything better to do.
Anyone would have been an idiot who couldn’t be bothered to notice the lines of pain around Jack’s eyes and the tense line of his shoulders.
“You could help, Jack,” Ianto said, giving him a mild glance from his seat on the floor, in the middle of his piles.
“I could,” Jack said, nodding. Ianto wasn’t fool enough to believe that was promise, or even an offer. Jack watched him for a long moment. “Do you ever wonder if it’s worth it?” he asked suddenly. “Always rebuilding, recouping our losses. Do you ever think it’s just not worth the price?”
Ianto set a file about the eating habits of Hrunglins down and looked up at Jack. “No,” he said. “No, I never wonder.” It was the truth. He’d go mad if he stopped to doubt what he was doing. What Torchwood was doing.
“I do sometimes,” Jack said abruptly. He lifted his chin in the direction of the medical bay. “We lose so much.”
Ianto nodded. “We do. We lose a great deal. But only think of what we safeguard.” Jack knew better than most how close they’d come to losing everything to the Daleks. Not only people they’d loved, but everything, Earth and sky. It was too much for Ianto to comprehend, but he thought Jack could probably grasp the vastness of that loss.
“I know,” Jack said. “I know. I just … I get tired.”
“You should rest,” Ianto told him.
Jack barked out a short laugh. “Rest. Is it fair for me to rest while you fix all this?”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “As great a help as you’re being,” he said pointedly, “I think I can manage without you.”
It was only because he was looking that he saw the flash of emotion across Jack’s face. Uncertainty? Pain? Fear? Ianto didn’t know. He did know that he didn’t like it. Standing carefully, Ianto stepped over his piles of paper and walked to the desk. Bullet casing skittered across the floor every time he took a step.
He stood in front of Jack and looked at him steadily, waiting. Finally, Jack said, “Sometimes I don’t want to be alone.”
Ianto lifted a hand to the back of Jack’s neck, stroking his thumb through the short hair at the base of his skull. “Only sometimes?” he asked, his voice betraying nothing more than idle curiosity.
“Sometimes I think I’m better off alone,” Jack said. “It’s … harder. Having people to worry about.” He said it slowly, like it was a confession or a revelation, and Ianto managed not to roll his eyes. He and Gwen had smiled and sent Jack off to save the world without telling him that a Dalek would be any moment bursting through their door. They knew what a burden caring could be.
It wasn’t enough of a burden to stop.
“Sometimes you are better off alone. But not most of the time,” Ianto told him. He let his thumb press into Jack’s neck, just where it met the back of his head. The muscles there were tight and knotted, and Ianto brought his other hand up so he could rub at them. “Not now.”
“No?” Jack asked. There was a smile in his voice suddenly, and Ianto wondered how many layers Jack had. How many facets there were to him that Ianto would never guess at, much less see. “I can think of one thing that’s better when I’m not alone.” He slid his arms around Ianto’s waist, tugging him closer.
This time Ianto did roll his eyes. “Well, there is Scrabble,” he said, running his fingers down Jack’s neck.
Jack arched his neck, curving into Ianto’s hands. “Not what I had in mind,” he said with a chuckle.
“You surprise me,” Ianto said. He let Jack reel him in until there was no space between them. His chest pressed against Jack’s so tightly that he could feel Jack’s braces.
“Would you like me to surprise you?” Jack asked.
“No,” Ianto said, ignoring the way Jack’s eyes widened. “I believe it’s my turn.”
“You’re going to surprise me?” Jack asked, a delighted smile stretching across his face. Ianto didn’t know how he managed that, the boyish glee that broke free at random intervals. It seemed like it should have been drained out of him centuries ago.
“Probably not,” Ianto admitted. “But trying is more than half the fun.”
He leaned up and took Jack’s mouth in a kiss that was sudden but not likely very surprising. Not to Jack, anyway. It always surprised Ianto how well Jack’s mouth fit against his, how quickly this simple thing could undo him. He was breathless when he pulled away, gasping kisses along Jack’s jaw and down his throat. He wanted to take Jack’s shirt off, to taste skin and run his hands over Jack’s chest, but the buttons and undershirt seemed endlessly complicated right now.
He ran his hands down Jack’s chest, sliding his thumbs under his braces but leaving them in place. He could feel Jack’s nipples going tight, even through two layers of fabric, and he raked his fingers against them. Jack made a happy humming sound and leaned back farther against the desk, opening himself up to whatever Ianto wanted to do. It was nice - that trust and acceptance - but it wasn’t what Ianto wanted. He wanted Jack needing. Not desperate, but needing too deeply to simply go along for the ride.
Ianto dropped to his knees and offered a moment’s thanks that he hadn’t come down on any of the loose bullet casings. A broken kneecap would have brought things to a halt rather effectively. He looked up at Jack’s loose posture, at the lazy smile on his face, and he wanted to erase them.
Ianto rubbed his hands slowly up Jack’s thighs, pulling at them until Jack spread his legs into a wider stance. Still moving with slow deliberation, he opened Jack’s trousers and pulled out his cock. “You make a pretty picture,” Ianto said. “Fully dressed still. Except for this.” He ran one finger lightly down the length of Jack’s cock, watching the way it bobbed under the pressure of his hand and then surged upward. He smiled.
“You just going to admire me?” Jack asked. His voice was a bit rough, but still in control.
“I might do,” Ianto said, settling back thoughtfully on his haunches. “Keep you like this while I carry on with my work.” He grinned up at Jack. “Or maybe not.”
He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the head of Jack’s cock, startling a curse out of him. If Ianto could have smiled, he would. He sucked hard and steady for a long moment, then drew back just long enough to lick his upper lip and get it slippery. He knew what Jack usually liked - hard and fast and as wet as possible - but he didn’t give it to him. He kept his mouth just a shade too loose, his rhythm unsteady. Not enough to make it bad, just enough to make it … frustrating.
“Ianto,” Jack whined. Ianto flushed. Whining was a step in the right direction. He hummed questioningly and felt a surge of satisfaction when Jack’s hips bucked toward him. Still, it wouldn’t do to encourage bad habits. Sliding one hand inside Jack’s trousers, he gave his balls a warning squeeze.
It should have been threatening. A bit uncomfortable and a taste of what he’d get if he misbehaved. But Jack made a pleased yelping noise that didn’t sound even slightly chastised. Raising his eyebrows, Ianto did it again, tightening his fingers around the soft wrinkled skin that was already drawing up close to Jack’s body. Jack made that noise again, and Ianto made a mental note to check the CCTV footage later. He wanted to see what Jack looked like when he sounded like that.
He didn’t actively decide to let Jack have what he wanted. It just happened, now that Ianto had what he wanted - a Jack who was fully engaged, tense and tight and yearning toward his climax. Ianto tightened his lips and bobbed his head in a quick rhythm, tugging at Jack’s balls in sharp little jerks. He had no idea why Jack liked that, but he clearly really, really liked that. It only took a few more moments before he was moaning low and loud and coming into Ianto’s mouth.
Ianto waited through it, taking it all without swallowing. He pulled off and stood up, clinging to Jack’s hips to help himself rise. Jack clung back, and he was waiting when Ianto kissed him, lips opening to take the come from Ianto’s mouth into his own.
With anyone else, Ianto assumed this would feel dirty. Forbidden or kinky. But Jack just liked it, in the oddly innocent way he enjoyed all sex, as a thing of pleasure to share and celebrate, but never to be ashamed of. So Ianto let himself enjoy the way Jack’s tongue glided over his, slick and bitter. Let himself feel unashamed and possibly beautiful as he undid his own trousers and took his cock in hand.
Ianto pulled his cock hard and fast, not bothering with the tease he’d put Jack through. He kissed Jack more fiercely as his orgasm rushed through him, groaning into Jack’s mouth and coming over his own fist.
He slumped against Jack, enjoying in the feeling of lax satiation. Finally, he pulled himself upright. He looked down at his hand and grimaced, then lifted it toward Jack’s mouth, eyebrows raised questioningly. Jack gave him a disgruntled look. “Things that are hot in the heat of the moment are not as sexy when they’re used as general cleanup,” Jack said, tucking his cock away and fastening his trousers.
Ianto hid a smile and dug in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Well, you can pitch in with the general cleanup of the Hub,” he said. “As that’s never sexy at all.”
“I don’t know, Ianto. All that bending and stooping. Filing,” Jack said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Pretty sexy.”
“I’ll be certain to remember that next time you want to roleplay,” Ianto said, making sure he was tucked away, with his zipper and button done up. “But right now, come help me sort papers.” He took Jack by the hand and tugged him over to the piles he’d abandoned earlier.
Jack shook his head, but he let himself be led. “I still don’t know if this is worth it,” he said. But his voice sounded light, joking rather than brooding.
“Yes, you do,” Ianto said. “And it is.”
Jack hummed a mild agreement and held up a wrinkled page. “Where’s the stack for weaponry?”
“Matter or energy?” Ianto asked, leaning over to check.
They sorted papers, and then they swept up bullets and discussed making the Dalek into a planter. They worked together at setting things right.