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Title: SilverFish
Chapter 05/??
Author [livejournal.com profile] a_silver_story
Genre: Alternate Universe
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: None for this chapter
Summary: Jack and Ianto in prison - with plot, and lots and lots of smut. Sorry, I can't help it.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...


Torchwood Index


First Chapter






Ianto woke up gradually, his awareness slowly coming back. For the first time since he'd been here, the moment of confusion before he realised where he was didn't happen - he was pretty much certain of where he expected to be.

Jack was still pressed against his back, and Ianto opened his eyes slowly, muddled with sleep. He'd awoken because he was too hot, and his boiler suit clung to his sticky skin as he realised he was sweating. He wasn't in any rush to move, though.

Slowly pushing the covers further down the bed until they were hanging off the end and not covering him any more, Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. Already it was better, and he could finally concentrate on the feel of Jack behind him, in bed with him, and sleeping.

They'd shifted slightly as they napped, and now Ianto's head was resting on Jack's bicep, the side of Jack's face resting against the back of his head and other arm now loosely draped over Ianto's middle and chest. Ianto lost himself in adolescent thoughts about how their bodies seemed to just fit together - from their heads, to where their bodies curved around and against each other, to where thigh rested alongside thigh and ankles crossed - before remembering himself and almost laughing at his own very much teenage musings.

He could feel Jack's chest rise and fall against his back, the rush of warm air as it escaped against the back of his head, the heavy weight of muscled arm resting over him - and the definite outline of something hard and hot pressing into the flesh of his buttock.

That was good.

Ianto liked that.

He lay there in Jack's arms, his mind wandering as it usually did when he found himself with nothing much to do. He wound up thinking of John and Jack, and how they had been and how they had interacted those first few times Ianto had glimpsed them from afar. Playfighting, laughing, always with a smile for each other; now only a shadow of that seemed to remain. Perhaps Jack was right - he had suggested his relationship with John was circumstantial, and now that circumstances had changed so had their reasons for being together. By default that meant that anything he might share with Ianto would also be circumstantial, just as quickly questioned and ... just as quickly made obsolete.

Jack shifted in his sleep a little, and Ianto tensed, hoping he wouldn't wake up. The Captain settled again, and slowly and carefully Ianto lifted Jack's arm and inched himself around until they were facing each other. He propped his head up on his hand and rested his other hand on Jack's chest, feeling the rise and fall and the steady heartbeat reverberating behind the soft white cotton t-shirt.

It was strange.

Ianto knew what those hands felt like on his body, how strong those arms were when they held him and how good those fingers could feel - and all without having a clue what Jack's lips would feel like on his; what his mouth would taste like; how he would kiss him ... how he would kiss him back. Curiosity piqued, and Ianto bit his lip.

Slowly, he leaned forward a little, and keeping his eyes fixed on Jack's eyelids he quickly pressed their lips together gently and pulled back. Jack didn't stir.

Ooo. He'd liked that.

Something in his brain had buzzed the moment their mouths made contact, and Ianto was instantly considering leaning in and doing it again. After a moment of procrastination, he brought their mouths together in an almost non-existent touch, lingering for a moment and feeling Jack's breath on his face and the warmth of the soft skin on his own lips.

Jack stirred, and Ianto managed not to jump back, instead moving his head away slowly, his heart thudding in his chest. Jack rubbed the side of his face against the pillow, moved the arm draped over Ianto and turned slightly so that he was leaning closer into him and his hand was resting on Ianto's back.

Ianto didn't dare to try again, so made himself comfortable by shuffling a little lower on the bed and draping his own arm over Jack, pulling himself even closer until he could practically snuggle against him. Jack was warm and comforting when he was calm and ... well, when he was asleep. Ianto soon felt himself slipping off again.

He probably just imagined the kiss pressed to his forehead as his eyes drifted shut.





~*~*~*~






BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG




Jack and Ianto practically leaped awake, the sound of someone hammering on the door echoing around the cell and piercing their tranquillity.

Jack instantly sprang from the bed and up onto his feet as the key scraped in the lock, leaning casually by the sink as the door swung open to reveal Officer Davidson and Officer Holroyd with two medium sized cardboard boxes.

"Food," barked Holroyd. "The boxes and plates will be collected at breakfast," she informed them, shoving one box into Jack's hands and leaving the other on the floor since Ianto was still sat dazedly in bed. Turning on her heel, she slammed the door behind her and locked it again.

"Such a mild mannered woman," observed Ianto with a yawn, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed as Jack gave him a box. He opened it and grimaced. "I think this is the least appetising fish and chips I've ever had the misfortune to have to eat."

"You get used to it," Jack shrugged, sitting down next to him and shuffling back until he was cross-legged. He yawned, too. "Didn't mean to fall asleep."

"No," Ianto shook his head, his brief moments awake coming back to him and forcing him to avert his eyes. "Gonna throw our sleep patterns off."

"Mmmm," agreed Jack, taking his meal out of his box and expertly balancing it on his crossed legs so that he could cut up his fish without tipping the plate. Ianto frowned at him, picked up his own empty box and set it upside down on the bed, put his plate on the box and used it as a table. Jack stared at it a second.

"Why didn't I think of that?"

Ianto shrugged and popped his first chunk of fish into his mouth. "Actually ... maybe this fish isn't so bad. It just ... looks wrong."

They ate the food quickly and put their leftovers back in their boxes for collection the next day.

"So ... what do we do now?" asked Ianto.

Jack grinned.

"Not that," Ianto sighed, and Jack smirked mischievously.

"Not even a little play?"

"No."

"Meanie."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "I left the playing cards at Owen's," he grumbled. "What else can we do? Do we have any other board games or ... anything?"

"I have music," shrugged Jack. "and I've got my book."

"What could I do, then?"

"You seemed fine 'entertaining yourself' earlier ...."

Jack was smirking again, and Ianto felt himself colour as Jack chuckled.

"Teach me Welsh."

Ianto nearly burst out laughing. "Are you kidding?"

Jack looked a little disgruntled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well ... Welsh is a very difficult and complicated language. I'm not even that good at it myself - all I know is what I learned in school, 'cause I went to an English-speaking school."

"There are Welsh-speaking schools?"

Ianto gave him a wide-eyed stare. "... why wouldn't there be?"

Jack shrugged. "So ... where abouts were you from, again?"

"Cardiff."

"What's Welsh for 'Cardiff'?"

"Caerdydd."

Jack nodded as if he'd learned something impressive, and they fell awkwardly silent.

"So ..." tried Ianto. "Where are you from?"

"All sorts of places."

Ianto shrugged. "Fair enough. And how do you say that in English?"

Jack laughed, seemingly weighing him up for a moment. "California," he admitted eventually. "I moved over here when the Terminator took over and I joined the Air Force."

"Cool. I always wondered ... what's it like to fly a jet?"

A shadow passed over Jack's features for a moment. "The exact opposite of being stuck in here," he muttered, getting up from the bed and hauling himself into his own bunk. "I think I'm going to read for a bit," he called down. "And ... did you switch our bed sheets?"

"You left mine in a mess," Ianto replied, having to bite back a 'sir' and wondering what he'd done to scare Jack away. Legs appeared over the side of the bunk again, a second before Jack himself dropped down.

"Switch them back. Now."

Ianto scowled. "Well ... no."

"Now."

"No! It's your mess! You shouldn't have even been fucking in my bed anyway!"

"That was point," Jack said to him like he was thick.

"I don't care," shrugged Ianto. "Your mess - and I don't appreciate that tone."

"I'm sorry - what? Are you my Dad all of a sudden?" Jack sounded steady, but his face had momentarily shown his surprise.

Ianto sighed, and curled over onto his side, back to Jack. "Get over yourself."

Jack was practically fuming, grabbing Ianto's body and dragging him off his bed. Rather than protest, Ianto laughed, and Jack just got angrier. He bundled Ianto up, trying to get him onto the top bunk as he laughed even more and feigned a struggle. With great difficulty, Jack got him up there.

"Why am I up here, again?" Ianto asked, his grin cheeky and touching several of Jack's nerves.

Jack folded his arms, his teeth gritting. "You need to change the sheets back."

Ianto sighed dramatically. "You're worse than my sister's kids, you know that?" He pivoted to lie back and stretch out on Jack's bed, turning onto his front to look out of the tiny window. Angling his head slightly, he could see out further than he'd ever managed standing on the floor. "Wow ... you can see quite a way from here. All the way to the houses."

"I know," Jack replied, arms still folded and perhaps a little peeved that the subject had changed.

"They look like posh houses," Ianto said, wistful.

"Never really thought about it," Jack shrugged. "You ... you coming down from there?"

"Hmm. I dunno ..." Ianto screwed up his face as he thought about it. "I've decided that now that I'm up here, I quite like it."

"Ianto!"

"What?"

"Come on - get down. You're on my bed!"

"You're on my bed most of the time - you've fucked in my bed!"

"I fucked in your bed before you got there," Jack pointed out.

"But that was before it was my bed, and before I slept in it - though I've decided I do quite like your bed, so I might stay here."

Ianto sensed he was going to be manhandled again a second before Jack reached forward for him. "No, no, no, no, no!" he laughed, squirming away from Jack as he was dragged around in an one-hundred-and-eighty-degree pivot by his ankles. He laughed, kicking out a little but not to purposefully hurt Jack. His world turned, fingers dug into his flesh and he found himself unceremoniously dumped on his feet. Stumbling slightly he fell onto his knees, and Jack was laughing with him and offering a hand up.

Their laughter died when they realised what position they had found themselves in.

Ianto was on his knees.

His mouth was very close to Jack's crotch.

Ianto stared at his zip and fastening for a moment, before slowly and deliberately raising his eyes up over tight, white cotton t-shirt, a hint of tanned chest and up to Jack's face. His mouth felt dry as they stared at each other, the seconds stretching out endlessly. Jack slowly raised his left hand, tentatively letting his fingers graze over Ianto's cheekbone, his thumb touching his lower lip. Ianto allowed it for a second or two, before gathering his resolve and squeezing his eyes shut. He hauled himself to his feet and the moment was broken.

Stretching, Ianto made a show of checking his watch. "I think we should ... maybe we should try and get some sleep?"

Jack nodded, trying to discreetly wipe the sweat from his hands by putting them on his bunk.

"You don't want to sleep up there," Ianto told him, stretching out on his own mattress and ruffling over near to the wall.

"I think I do," Jack replied quietly.

"Just sleep," Ianto insisted. "We'll just sleep like before. It was nice, wasn't it?"

"I ... yeah," Jack nodded.

"Then what's the problem?"

For a moment it seemed like Jack might say something, but thought better of it. He hesitated, then decided to say it anyway. "Can I watch you get changed into your pyjamas?"

"... you always watch me getting changed."

"Yeah ... but you always do it so fast ...." Jack joked, though he sounded a little apprehensive in his request.

Ianto climbed out from his bunk, biting his lip. "Help me get changed, if you like," he suggested. "Look - but don't touch ... well ... no heavy petting," he warned.

Jack looked more than a little bit eager at the idea. "Yeah ... that could be fun," he smirked.

"If I tell you to stop, you stop," Ianto warned further, reaching up to his highest-fastened buttons and slowly and deliberately undoing the first one. Jack started yanking his own t-shirt over his head without much more prompting and stepped forward to practically rip open Ianto's boiler-suit. "Slow down," Ianto sighed.

"Sorry," Jack muttered, and slowed his actions down to an almost painfully hesitant speed, inching the coarse wool of the prison uniform down Ianto's shoulders in what felt like slow motion. Once Ianto's arms were free and the top half of the boiler suit was hanging down and leaving Ianto in his white undershirt, Jack rested one hand on Ianto's hip, moving his fingers minutely over the cotton. Slowly Jack circled until he was stood behind him, letting his fingertips drag over Ianto's stomach as he went until he could rest the hand on his other hip from the other side.

Ianto remained still, and Jack had felt in his stomach how Ianto's breathing had changed, becoming heavier and hitching slightly as fingers trailed just below his navel.

Carefully, Jack slipped the fingers of both his hands just below the edge of Ianto's t-shirt, sliding his hands up and feeling soft, hot skin beneath his palms as he lay them flat on his stomach. He pulled ever so slightly, feeling Ianto give a little and allowed for Jack to press their bodies together. Ianto could feel every inch of Jack from his shoulder to his calves, and could feel every reaction Jack was having to him. He tipped his head back, and felt Jack resting his temple against the side of his head, hot breath touching his bared neck.

Jack pushed his hands further up Ianto's t-shirt, his palms still flat and trapped between the heat of Ianto's body and the restricting cotton shirt. He found the soft hair of Ianto's chest beneath his fingers, and began to slowly and tantalizingly withdraw his hands. Ianto closed his eyes, anticipation making his breath come quicker, waiting for the cold air to his his skin.

The Captain lifted his t-shirt and Ianto raised his arms, Jack making sure to tousle his hair a little more than necessary. He tossed the clothing aside to wherever he'd throw his own, and ran a hand up and down Ianto's back, watching as the muscles tensed and relaxed and the flesh pimpled in his wake.

He circled back to stand in front of Ianto again, meeting his eyes with a soft smile and slowly lowering himself to the floor. Ianto watched him carefully, his eyes dark, and Jack wondered how far he would let him go. He could see directly in front of him how much Ianto was probably aching to be touched, and began to slide the bottom half of the boiler suit down Ianto's thighs so that only one material barrier stood between him and Ianto's erection.

Ianto stepped out of the hideous clothing, and Jack tossed it aside, too. He could sense how tense Ianto was, and realised he probably wouldn't be allowed to go much further. Tentatively, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Ianto's underwear and putting firm pressure on the hard flesh underneath. Ianto gasped, but put a firm hand on Jack's hair. Their eyes met, and Ianto shook his head minutely.

Giving him a reassuring smile, Jack stood and reached for Ianto's pyjama bottoms. Ianto insisted he do it himself, taking them from him and slipping them on hurriedly. He gave an awkwardly apologetic look to Jack, and sat on the edge of his bed to wait while pulling on his pyjama t-shirt as Jack himself got changed.

Jack, being Jack, made a show of it, slowly revealing his smooth and evenly-tanned flesh before covering it up again. He finished pulling on his t-shirt, and sat beside Ianto on his bottom bunk. "Well ... that was fun," he grinned.

"Yeah," Ianto nodded, then yawned and lay down by the wall again. Impatient, he yanked Jack down by the back of his t-shirt. Jack laughed and stretched out, too, lying on his back and lifting an arm for Ianto to rest underneath it. Ianto yawned again and closed his eyes.

Jack squeezed him gently, and in ten minutes they were both asleep.




~*~*~*~





It was the third and final day of the lock-in.

Jack and Ianto had managed not to argue or fight more than they usually did, and both of them could feel the sexual tension becoming an almost touchable third companion in their cell. They had carried on the 'Undress Ianto Game', as Jack called it, morning and night, and Ianto knew that if something didn't give soon, he wouldn't be able to stop Jack next time the Captain was on his knees before him, mouth slightly parted and almost begging him with his eyes to let him have a taste ...

It didn't help that they'd run out of things to do, either.

This did not help Ianto's 'No Sex Until John's Gone' ethic much at all - and Jack was hardly subtle with what he wanted.

"One day," Jack had told him, both of them lying on their own bunk and staring at the ceiling after having an 'it's just fun/I'm not ready' mini-argument (arguing for the sake of something to do, if anything). "One day, I'm going to fuck you so hard against that cell door you'll forget who you are."

"I know," Ianto had replied. "And one day soon after, I'll probably return the favour."

Despite the Arguing For Something to Do, when they went to sleep they huddled onto Ianto's bunk - even after their row over 'scon' and 'scown' on Night 2 ...

"It has a magic 'e'!" Ianto had yelled. "You don't say 'con' instead of 'cone', or 'ston' instead of 'stone'!"

Jack had been a little stumped with that one, then folding his arms and giving Ianto the silent treatment until bed-time. "Maybe it is 'scown'," he had muttered into Ianto's sleepy ears. "But if saying 'scon' annoys you, I'm going to keep saying it."

Ianto had lifted his hand and let it fall heavily onto Jack's chest to make his point.

At the moment, Jack and Ianto were lying on their own bunks. They'd exhausted conversation, exhausted things to argue over (for now) and they'd played so many games of 'Eye Spy' that they'd exhausted things to spy - even 'Third Rivet on the Bottom Left of the Cell Door' had been done (and had taken Jack three hours to get).

"Finished my book!" Jack announced, breaking the silence.

Ianto had been staring at the bunk above him lost in thought, and blinked back into the present. "Yeah?"

"Yep."

"Can I read it?"

"Yeah, sure. But when lock-in's done, 'cause I don't wanna get bored with you reading during lock-in and ignoring me."

"You read it during lock-in!"

"I'd already started it, though."

"You've read it before! You said so!"

Jack laughed, and his impish grin appeared over the edge of his bed. "Read it to me, then."

Ianto pinked a little. "What?"

"Read it to me. You have a good voice for reading - I'd put money it."

"There's nothing ... erotic in it, is there?"

"Nope."

"Mm. I'll read a bit, if you want me to."

Jack passed the book down, open at chapter one, and Ianto sat up cross-legged. He cleared his throat and awkwardly began.

"The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton cou-
"

Ianto stopped and frowned at the page. "Lord Henry Wotton?" he said, confused. "Wasn't he in The Picture of Dorian Gray?"

"Yep."

Ianto flipped to the front of the book, finding the title page.

The Picture of Dorian Gray.

"You said it was like ... a gay love story ... ?"

"I said it was a love story. It's about different kinds of love."

"I've read it, and ... that's not what I took away from it ...."

"Did you never read between the lines? It's about love, as well as selfishness and hate. And it's very definitely gay."

Ianto frowned at the page. "I was thirteen when I had to read it and ... didn't pay much attention I suppose."

"Would you read it again?" Jack asked, appearing again over the edge of his bunk.

"I ... well, yes. I'm intrigued now - though I do remember Dorian Gray to be a right bastard."

Jack smiled. "Dorian's a metaphor," he explained. "Read more of it to me." His head disappeared as he settled back to listen again.

"Erm ... okay ...." Ianto cleared his throat again. "... Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flame-like as theirs ...."




~*~*~*~





Jack quietly climbed down from his bunk and dropped to his feet, crouching down beside Ianto's bed. He'd fallen asleep while reading aloud, after copious amounts of yawning, and was now peacefully dozing on his back, the hardback book resting on his chest. Jack had left him a while, just lying on his own bed and thinking until it got too dark to see any more.

Carefully, Jack picked up the book and removed it from Ianto's arms, closed it and set it down. He returned his attention to Ianto, and jumped when he saw two pale blue eyes sleepily watching him. "Hey," Jack smiled, speaking softly. "You fell asleep, Little Fish."

"Mmmm." Ianto made a contented sound, moving his hand slightly and playing with the material covering Jack's shoulder. Jack brought his own hand to rest on Ianto's hip, and watched him as he sleepily tried to decide whether to wake up and be annoyed at the nickname or just fall unconscious again.

Through the gloom, their eyes met, and Ianto's hand hesitated by the crook of Jack's neck. Slowly, his fingers moved until he could touch Jack's face, feel the smoothness of his skin, the definition of his jaw and the softness of his lips. They were moving closer together, whether they new it or not, and they were centimetres apart when Ianto made the first move to close the gap between their mouths.

"Don't," Jack whispered, his voice barely audible and almost cracking.

Ianto froze.

"Don't," Jack repeated. "Don't kiss me."

"Why?"

"Because if you kiss me, I won't be able to stop," he admitted, his voice getting quieter still.

Ianto frowned at him in the sparse light from the security lamps lining the fences outside. Evenutally he nodded. "Okay."

Hesitantly, Jack lifted the covers, asking permission. Ianto shuffled backward slightly in invitation, and Jack gratefully slid in beside him. He rested his head on Ianto's shoulder, moving a little further down the bed and letting Ianto hold him rather than the other way around.

Ianto rubbed his back soothingly, and they were both soon fast asleep.



















WHADDYA MEAN YOU'RE NOT A LUCKY CRICKET? YOU LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIED TO ME???

>:|












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