![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_silver_storyTitle: A Different Way of Communicating
Chapter: 36
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_silver_story
Genre Humour, a bit McAngsty
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: M.M
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.
Summary: Forgriza
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
36| (Prose)
IANTO has entered the conversation
IANTO: I’ll take it as a good sign that you’ve unblocked me.
IANTO: ... but putting the hub into emergency lockdown last night was a little harsh, y’know. Seeing as I have no idea what I’ve done.
IANTO: Bugger you then.
IANTO has left the conversation
~*~*~*~
Ianto cast his eye uselessly around his Tourist Center desk. He’d been confined there by Jack, via post-it note, even though he had absolutely nothing to do but sit there and pretend to know everything about Wales (not that it took much pretending). He’d hoped to be able to go down and shove the Jaffa Cakes into Jack’s hands and sit in the chair opposite him until he ate one. Then he would kiss him. Kiss him like he’d kissed him the night before he went to Australia ...
Letting out a wistful sigh for those better, happier times, Ianto tapped his fingers on the keyboard. Gwen wasn’t online. Neither was Rhys. Or Andy. Or anyone Ianto could chat to or torment. Kathy Swanson was on, but Ianto decided it was probably best to block her for now.
He felt like beating his head with something heavy. The frustration was overbearing. He felt like he was going to snap. He desperately needed to talk to Jack. He’d tried to go down to the main area a little earlier, only to be shoved back upstairs by Gwen hissing about moods and tempers and ‘Please don’t – you’ll make him worse and I’ve got to work with him!’ Ianto tutted at the thought of her. She was jealous of him and Jack. Always had been. He’d liked it at first – she was more senior in the team, she was popular and bubbly and a born leader: and she was jealous of the coffee boy. He liked her, though. When she wasn’t making eyes at Jack, she was sweet and lovely and caring. Everything he kind of wished his own sister was.
Bitterly, Ianto shook thoughts of Gwen and Rhiannon from his head and searched for something to do. There was always something to do at Torchwood. He’d find something soon ... He moaned in exasperation. Everything he could be doing was down in the archives. Could he slip past without Jack or Gwen noticing? He could have easily done it if there wasn’t that bloody cog door between him and the main area ...
At that moment, a swirl of blue army coat hurtled through the office and out the door. It was closely followed by a red shirt and skinny jeans and cries of “Wait Jack! I can’t run that fast in these trainers!” ... and just as suddenly as he’d been in company, Ianto was alone again. He sprang to his feet, his sub conscious deciding his movements, and made his way down to the hub.
He’d made the decision not to give Jack the gifts he’d bought him. He knew Jack had infiltrated his conversation with Rhys, albeit a little late. Ianto huffed at the fact Jack had taken none of his feelings on board and was still being a first class git. He just wanted to know what he’d done! He could probably have written that on the post-it note he’d been left his morning as well as instructions to stay in the Tourist Office. At least then he’d understand this punishment. Was it punishment? Was this it? Was this how Jack and Ianto was going to end?
Ianto stopped part way to the coffee machine. Post-it. Jack will be doing his weekly review of the reports written during the week. He’d annotate on post-its and stick them on the papers. Abandoning his need for coffee, Ianto walked over to Jack’s office. He pushed the door, but it was locked. Ianto laughed to himself a little, reaching up above the door and curling his fingers around the spare key Jack kept there. He let himself in, and sat in the Captain’s chair – more out of insolence than need.
Jack’s yellow post-its were there, the top one half scrawled over in ink, stopping mid-word as the Weevil sighting was alerted and abandoned while it was to be dealt with. Ianto delicately lifted the top sheet, careful not to un-stick it, and wrote two words on the one underneath. As an afterthought, he added a little drawing:
Ianto smiled to himself, got up and made his way back to the Tourist Centre, making sure he locked up afterwards.
~*~*~*~
It took Jack and Gwen ages to catch the Weevil – at least three times longer than it did Jack and Ianto – and they both trudged back into the Tourist Centre looking shattered. Turned out the Weevil had got away when Gwen had uncharacteristically panicked and dropped her Weevil spray on her foot.
Ianto kept his eyes downcast as Jack walked past his desk, hearing a vague called of “Coffee, Ianto!” as he disappeared down the corridor. Ianto sighed, remembering what Rhys had said – anything that wasn’t an emergency wasn’t heard. Ianto wanted coffee, but he wanted Jack more. He decided the shout for coffee hadn’t been heard.
Half an hour later, Jack must have realised he’d been ignored – as Ianto had said he would be in the conversation he’d rudely intercepted the night before – and sent Gwen up with his blue stripy mug.
“His Highness demands caffeine.” Said Gwen, putting the mug down in front of Ianto. She looked sadly at him.
“Ohhh alright.” Said Ianto, pushing back his chair and lifting the mug. He paused when a flash of yellow from below the cup caught his eye. “I’ll be right down ...” he said to Gwen, under the pretence of picking up a few papers that were on his desk. He wondered if Gwen had seen it ...
Judging from her disgruntled ‘Thanks’ and the way she didn’t seem eager to stay and find out what it was told him she hadn’t.
Ianto’s heart leapt as he pulled the folded post-it note out from under the mug. He hoped he hadn’t had his little message ‘returned to sender’, but was relieved to discover he finally, after two days of stony, heartbreaking silence, he had a reply:
He shoved it in his pocket, picked up his own pad of post-its and his favourite pen and began to make his journey to the coffee machine, Jack’s mug in hand. He made the coffee, stuck his own reply on the bottom of the cup and took it through.
Entering Jack’s office with a gentle knock, he faltered slightly. Ianto hadn’t properly seen Jack since the wedding, really. Now, he looked like a different man. Pale and drawn, like he hadn’t slept (even though he didn’t need to sleep), and his clothes looked like they’d been stuck to his body since he’d put them on in the early hours of the day before. He was currently flicking through his papers, pencil horizontal between his teeth the way he did, with a little frown of concentration and exhausted red-rimmed eyes.
Ianto silently placed the mug on Jack’s desk and backed out of the room. As usual, he wasn’t thanked for the coffee, but Jack usually gave him a smile of appreciation – but he didn’t even acknowledge he’d been in there. Ianto walked slowly back to the Tourist Office, wondering when Jack would read his reply.
No more than twenty minutes later, Gwen was at the secret door in the wall again. She had a small stack of reports. She shoved them on his desk saying ‘From Jack. He says you need to check them again.’ and left.
It took a couple of false starts to find it, but there was another reply:
Ianto decided to carry on pursuing the ‘I’m taking no crap’ approach. Straight to the point:
He checked through the reports, editing the digital versions and sending them to print again. Gathering up the paper, he stuck his reply in the middle of it. Ianto took the pile down to the Hub and dropped it in Jack’s In tray.
Jack sent up an alien artefact next:
And Ianto angrily sent back a pen pot:
Eventually, a stapler made its way up, the note tucked inside the staple bed:
Using Gwen as a messenger, they managed to have a whole conversation.
Gwen was getting tired of constantly to-ing and fro-ing, so was relieved when Jack said that she could tell Ianto to come and review some artefacts for the archives down in the Hub. Ianto opted to stay in the Tourist Office though, on the condition he’d take his own crap down to Jack. She noticed Ianto in Jack’s office and was relieved when she saw Jack lean in to kiss him. They were making up, finally .... but then Ianto stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind him. Gwen sighed as another report was shoved in her hands to take to the Tourist Office. Was Ianto really this bad at reports? What was going on?
~*~*~*~
Ianto felt like such an idiot. Why, when only a couple of hours ago he’d thought it was all over and just wanted to go home and lose himself in Scott Walker and Guinness, was he so happy? Once again, Jack was around his finger. Ish. Jack had to wait until he was ready before they tried to take up from where they had been. Come to think of it, where had they been? Were they really a couple, or just pretending while Ianto hung around waiting for Torchwood to kill him and Jack drifted around lonely and, though he would never admit it, scared?
Ianto shook the thought from his head. He knew how he felt about Jack. Nothing about it was pretend. He knew Jack felt something for him. Jack loved life too much to waste it on someone he didn’t ... have feelings for.
It was coming up to 11:00 pm, and Gwen had gone home ages ago. Ianto decided that Jack had had enough time to munch down his Jaffa Cakes. He got up and switched off the lights, having locked up hours ago, and made his way down to the hub. A malevolent part of his mind reminded him of the night before, crying in front of the secret entrance for at least an hour, realising Jack had locked down the hub and that the only person who could trip the system and let him in was Tosh. He had been choking back fresh tears over Tosh’s death when he knew he may as well give up and go home. Try and sleep. Decide what to do ...
Ianto was angry at how Jack had made him feel, just because he’d shared a look of connection or attraction or whatever it was Jack had interpreted it as. He realised that Jack was probably angry at himself, too. Was Jack really so paranoid about Ianto finding someone else that one look and a quick hug would be enough to drive him into this state?
Jack was sat at his desk when Ianto got there, pushing his last Jaffa Cake into his mouth. Ianto closed the door as he entered, leaning back on it with his hands behind him, watching Jack. The Captain finished his cakey treat, and showed Ianto the empty box. Ianto gave a small nod.
“Have you ... ah ... have you decided?” asked Jack, nervously.
“Yep.” Replied Ianto.
Jack shifted under his unwavering gaze. “And ...?”
“If you ever - ever - treat me like this again, I’m retconning myself to infancy and you’re going to have to deal with it.” Ianto knew that it would be a worse threat to Jack that Ianto would do something to himself rather than him, and saw an eyebrow quirk and a small amount of tooth bit a bottom lip. “Yes, Jack.” Continued Ianto. “I’d rather not remember you – well, remember anything – than not be with you. But if you’re going to treat me like this ... well – there’s nothing for us.”
Jack said nothing. He looked down. He sniffed quietly, and Ianto caught a glint of a tear falling from his face to his desk. “I was just ... I don’t know ... I’ve lost so much ...”
“Then stop trying to find excuses to lose me. I’ll be with you to the end, Jack. I swear. Right ‘til the end. And remember what you promised me?”
Jack raised his face. There were tears making track marks down his cheeks. He nodded. “I ... I have to ... I have to be there. When ... when ...” he buried his face in his hands. Ianto still didn’t move from the door, despite every fibre of his being wanting to throw his arms around the Captain and kiss him until the tears stopped.
“When the time comes.” He finished, soothingly. Jack nodded.
“I had a nightmare, Ianto.” Whispered Jack. “Last night. About you ... it felt so real ...”
Ianto finally made a move towards him. “Come on.” He said soothingly. “Come on, we’ll sit on your bed and talk about it. Shall I get hot chocolate?”
“No!” Jack stood suddenly. “No. No, I don’t want to talk just yet. Wait ... until it ... until it’s faded a little.”
Ianto put a hand on his shoulder, finally relishing in contact with the man he loved. Jack sank into his arms, resting a chin on his shoulder. They swayed together for a short while, as if they were dancing again. Eventually, Ianto drew his head back and pressed his mouth on to Jack’s. He could taste the freshest wave of salty tears as it had travelled down those noble cheeks and dripped onto the back of his suit. His Cute Suit. He’d worn it today, especially for Jack. Their kiss was chaste, Ianto not allowing Jack to deepen it and Jack not really trying to.
“Let’s not talk about anything.” Whispered Ianto, pressing their foreheads together. “We’ll pick up from where we left off. We were leaving the wedding, remember? We’d been dancing all night. We tried to leave, but our song came on, yeah?”
“Yeah ...” sniffed Jack. “Paul Weller ...”
“Yeah! We were leaving, and we were happy. Let’s move straight on ... skip right to now. Nothing happened in between. What should we be doing now?”
“We should be at your flat.” Said Jack ruefully. “In your big double bed with the electric blanket.”
Ianto laughed. “Yes. The main attraction of my flat is definitely the electric blanket.” He pressed his lips to Jack’s again. He whispered low. “Take me home, Jack. Lie me on my bed and make love to me again. I prefer it when we make love. The sex is great ... fucking is just ... well it’s amazing ... but when you make love to me ... I lose everything. Except you. Make it so there’s only you.”
~*~*~*~
Ianto’s flat was painstakingly neat, but more because Ianto was hardly there than his own natural orderly tidiness. The night before he’d cleaned the entire property to distract himself, and now it was show-room perfect.
The drive from the hub to the flat had been silent. Ianto hadn’t been sure whether or not it had been comfortable or companionable, but all the tension from the last couple of days was definitely dissipating. As they’d entered the flat, he had held the door open for Jack with a welcoming gesture, and closed it gently behind him, locking it and putting on the catch. He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text while both he and Jack took their shoes and socks off. Jack knew the rules about the ivory carpet. Shoes + Carpet = Death By Carpet Cleaner Poisoning.
Ianto turned his phone off, and was pleased to see Jack follow suit and place his next to Ianto’s on the sideboard. Jack also took the liberty of removing the landline phone from its hook. He moved closer to Ianto, pulling him into his arms, and held him. Ianto closed his eyes as he felt soft lips seek out the sensitive flesh of his neck, and squeezed Jack’s waist a little when he felt a tongue touch his skin.
Before he was too sure what was happening, he found that Jack had lifted him clear off his feet into a fireman’s lift. Jack had only really lifted him once before, when he’d held him cradled in his arms and Ianto had complained he was being treated like a girl. He laughed as Jack carried him to his bedroom. He’d expected to be thrown down on the bed, so was a little surprised to find himself gently lain down in the middle of it, Jack kneeling next to him stroking his cheek and hair and holding his hand.
They gazed at each other for a couple of seconds. “Make love to me, Jack.” Whispered Ianto.
Jack smiled softly and moved his hands to undo the button on Ianto’s jacket, opening it up and running his eyes and hands over the silk-clad torso. He curled a finger inside the knot of the tie, laughing slightly, remembering. “Do you remember the first time I tried to untie your tie?”
Ianto smiled, settling back into the bed and letting Jack methodically pull each weave of his Windsor tie-knot free. “You’d never had to undo a Windsor before. You got a bit tangled.”
“Why do you use such a complicated knot anyway? What’s wrong with over-over-under-through?” asked Jack with a smile, finally pulling the last of the knot free and sliding the material through Ianto’s collar. He stood, opened the wardrobe and hung it on the tie-rack. He was going to do this slowly and properly – and Ianto wouldn’t even have to iron afterwards.
Ianto frowned a little as Jack made his way back to where he was lying. “Over-over-under-through?” he asked. “Do you mean the Four-in-Hand?”
Jack had begun to slide Ianto’s arms out of his Jacket. Ianto raised his torso a little, allowing Jack to pull it out from under him. The jacket was folded and placed on the chair in the corner. When Jack came back this time, he lay down on his side next him. He put a hand on his cheek and kissed him, pushing his tongue into Ianto a little way and gripping his shoulder in joy when he felt reciprocation. He moved the arm he wasn’t leaning on, and began to gently unfasten the buttons of Ianto’s crisp, red shirt.
Ianto had his arms around Jack’s neck, and slid them round to the front of his collar and pushed the first buttons out of their fastenings. Jack caught his hands gently and broke away from their kiss.
“What’s wrong?” Frowned Ianto.
“Nothing.” Said Jack. He rose from the bed and started undoing his own shirt, taking off his braces, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor. His undershirt and trousers followed, and Ianto raised himself onto his elbows to watch as the trousers and boxers came down. Jack threw his clothes into the corner. He lay down next to Ianto, who was still on his back, shirt half-undone and trousers bulging. Jack let his erection dig into his hip as he kissed at Ianto’s neck again. “You don’t have to do anything.” He whispered. “Just lie here and be ... c ... cared for ...”
Ianto sighed and let Jack kiss him again, the last of his shirt buttons falling open and the material pushed aside. Jack kissed his way down Ianto’s chest, nuzzling with his nose and gently flicking his tongue out over a nipple. Ianto arched his head back, closing his eyes and placing a light hand on Jack’s hair. He raised his hips slightly as Jack reached his lower abdomen, the hard bulge in his pants brushing at his naked shoulder. He felt slight disappointment as Jack worked his way back up again, kissing and nuzzling at every inch of him. Ianto let himself lie there and just enjoy himself.
As Jack made his way back to his favourite spot below Ianto’s ears, he gently prised open the belt buckle and slowly began to draw out the leather from its loops. When it was free, he stood again and hung it on one of the belt hooks on the inside of Ianto’s wardrobe door. He knelt back on the bed and helped Ianto off with his shirt, slowly and deliberately, and draped it over the chair where he’d put the jacket.
The slow, methodical, sensual way Jack was undressing him made Ianto feel wonderful. It was like Jack was, for the first time, removing his clothes for him not just for sex and contact and naked skin. He was appreciating and admiring and touching and learning and relishing each new piece of flesh revealed as if he’d never seen Ianto’s body before. He felt a little light-headed, his heart was pounding. It felt like their first time, all over again. It felt like the beginning, when the first few times you’re naked together you bother to learn all the freckles and the scars and the idiosyncrasies but forget about them as you grow comfortable. Being naked stops being a treat and a secret between two lovers, but a necessity and norm that gets taken for granted. Jack was smiling to himself as he kissed at a little scar on Ianto’s stomach that he’d neglected to remember, re-learning the contours and planes of his body that he knew by touch but couldn’t properly recall by sight. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ianto’s fingers gently curled into the duvet.
Finally, Jack allowed his hands to wander between Ianto’s thighs, rubbing gently with his thumb against the bulge behind the zip while squeezing the soft muscle of his upper leg. Ianto sighed, his eyes still closed, and Jack finally pulled down the fly and undid the fastening above it. He slipped a hand inside the opening and caressed Ianto’s erection through his boxers. He let his fingers wander over its hard contours, listening to Ianto’s moans and sighs and feeling a hand curl into his hair and stroke his head. Jack pulled Ianto’s trousers and boxers off together, and finally Ianto was naked. He knelt at the foot of the bed, kissing his way from calf to inner-thigh, pulling himself back onto the bed between Ianto’s legs as he did so. He filled his mouth with spit and wet his middle finger, using his other hand to grip the hard cock in front of him and kiss the head and lick the length as he pushed his finger inside the tight entrance.
Ianto moaned loudly at the penetration, lifting his legs into the air to make it easier for Jack to get more of his finger inside. He could feel Jack’s tongue flicking over his sensitive flesh, lips running down and up as they took him inside the hot mouth and down the tight throat beyond. Ianto let out a slight whimper as Jack moved the finger inside him, gently fucking him and bringing him to the edge. With his legs in the air, all his blood was running to his head and then straight back down to his groin. Jack’s gentle finger was teasing his prostate while his mouth and tongue were making him see lights. He squirmed and clutched at the duvet, opening his mouth in a silent cry of ecstasy as his orgasm broke over him in gentle, intense and then electrifying waves.
Ianto lay there, breathing deeply and allowing a small moan to escape his lips with each outward breath. He vaguely felt Jack pulling the covers out from under him and pulling him tightly into his body, wrapping them in the warmth of the duvet. Jack was lying beside him, his arm around Ianto’s shoulders and the other over his waist, gripping gently but not so light Ianto could forget he was being held. Tightly. By someone who deeply cared for him.
Jack kissed his temple and waited patiently for Ianto’s brain functions to return. “Let me know when we can carry on.” He whispered soothingly. Ianto caught his lips in a gentle kiss, their tongues touching and stroking. Ianto grimaced a little as they broke apart.
“I thought the taste of Jaffa Cakes might have gone by now.” He joked.
“All I can taste is you.” Said Jack, smiling.
Ianto kissed him again, turning onto his side below the covers and pulling himself as close to Jack as he could. Afterwards, they held each other for a few moments, foreheads pressed together, listening to the other one breathing. Ianto ran his hand down Jack’s side, letting his fingers search out the ripples of muscle and the bones of his hip. He moved his hand slightly, and felt Jack’s cock with his fingers. He smiled at Jack, then slipped beneath the covers.
It was Jack’s turn to moan and clutch the cotton duvet covers, sighing happily or crying out every time he felt himself disappear into Ianto’s throat or felt a hot, sure tongue teasing his flesh. He lifted the covers slightly, and looked down himself. For a few moments he watched Ianto, his face showing his concentration as he pulled every trick in the book to make Jack squirm and writhe. He saw his cock disappear into Ianto’s neck, and came with a shout and a cry and a mutter of “Ianto ... Ianto ...” breaking free from his heart to his lips.
Ianto joined him back at the pillows, kissing him again. “Let me know when we can carry on.” He whispered with a laugh. Jack smiled weakly, closing his eyes and savouring the feeling of his nerve-endings returning to their usual functions.
“C’mon then.” He said, after fifteen minutes of holding each other. He pushed Ianto back onto his back and had to stop him from trying to kick off the duvet covers. “Let’s be adventurous.” He said. “Let’s have sex in bed, rather than on one.” Ianto smiled softly and pulled the covers back around him as Jack fished in their drawer for lube. He put it on the bedside table ready and lay back next to his partner, kissing and nibbling at his ear while massaging circles on his stomach.
Ianto had his arm around Jack, gently stroking his fingers on strong shoulder Jack muttered: “Remember: you don’t have to do anything. Just lie here. Let me take care of you.”
As Jack began his favourite journey south again, Ianto felt a little restricted by the duvet surrounding them. As Jack moved to lie between his legs, they’d nearly lost the covers and had a moment of re-adjustment before getting back to their mind-set.
It wasn’t until Jack was preparing him, slick fingers inside him, big enough to make him moan and gently buck, that Ianto began to understand what Jack had meant by “in” bed. As Jack’s cock slid inside him the first time, and Jack pulled the covers around them and gently made love to him - slow enough for Ianto to feel every inch, but not so slow it would only tease – he felt protected. Isolated. Warm and safe. The covers were a barrier between them and the world - between their lovemaking and the sadness of their lives. Jack had cocooned him away from everything. There was nothing to be afraid of because nothing outside of their little bubble mattered. For Ianto, there was nothing. Only Jack – only Jack, like there’d never been “only Jack” before.
As Ianto lay there, beneath and around the man he loved, he thought of what Jack had done with him that night. The way he had been undressed, not stripped. How they had talked and kissed and communicated with each other instead of using signals and gauging moods and movements. Ianto thought of the gentle, delicate and methodical way Jack had touched and kissed every inch of him he could. He felt like ... he felt like he had been worshipped. Jack had worshipped him.
Ianto opened his eyes. Jack was lying fully on top of him, every inch of them touching from groin to neck, with his head buried and biting into Ianto’s shoulder. Gently, Ianto used his hand to touch his head, and Jack raised his face. He was gently fucking him, their eyes locked, dark with lust and bright with ... what were they feeling? Ianto knew he loved Jack. Did Jack love him? He’d hinted before ...
Ianto tried to hold on to his rational thoughts. ‘You should tell him,’ said a voice in his head. ‘Tell him that you love him. Right now. When he can’t run away.’
“Jack ...” he moaned, feeling his body on fire, safe inside his and Jack’s little cocoon of Fairtrade cotton and soft, springy mattress.
Jack leaned down and kissed him, and anything he had intended to think or do or say was gone from his mind. They came together, Jack, as usual, shamelessly crying out Ianto’s name – this time with words from a language Ianto didn’t understand – and slumped down into Ianto’s body. Ianto fought to keep his eyes open as his orgasm took him, desperate to see what he had done to Jack, just by lying there and holding him and kissing him. His vision was too distorted for him to see clearly, but he could hear and feel. Jack’s hot cum made his insides tingle as his stomach warmed under his own. Jack’s lips were at his ear and neck and jawline, kissing and nipping. Ianto lay there, still, letting him. His brain was dragging itself back together again, and what he had come so close to telling Jack was once again at the front of his mind.
Jack stilled his lips, sliding his hands behind Ianto’s shoulders and cuddling him, still inside and still on top.
“Jack?” said Ianto. Jack grunted by way of reply. “Jack ... um ... I ...”
Jack pushed himself up sharply. “Sorry! I forget how heavy I am sometimes.” He rolled off, pulling out and drawing Ianto into a firm hold, letting him pillow his head on a bicep as the arm it belonged to snaked around his shoulders, across his chest and played with dark chest hair.
“Oh ...” breathed Ianto. “No ... we were fine as we were ... really ... I just ...”
“It’s the muscles.” Continued Jack, oblivious. “Muscles weigh more than fat. I always forget that. I’m sorry.” He winked at Ianto. “Good job you’re not asthmatic. I’d have to give you mouth to mouth every time ...”
“Mouth to mouth won’t work on asthmatics. Their lungs are closing up so it wouldn’t really make much difference. They need salbutamol or a steroid ... uh ... anyway ... doesn’t matter ....”
Jack smiled at him, gazing at him sappily. Ianto took another deep breath. “Jack?”
Jack stroked his cheek with a knuckle, leaning forward to kiss him. “Yes?” he said, their lips millimetres apart.
“Jack ... I ... well ... I ....”
Jack seemed to realise what he was going to say. His expression changed instantly. “No.” he breathed. “No ... don’t say it. Please ... please don’t say it.”
Ianto half expected him to jump out of the bed and run for the hills, but instead he found himself being crushed into Jack’s chest, firm arms around his body and lips in his hair. He could hear snatches of what Jack was muttering to the lightening sunrise orange of the room. ‘... don’t need to say it ....’, ‘... not now ... not so soon ... not like this ....’, ‘actions speak louder than words ... he doesn’t need to say it ....’, ‘I know ... I know ... I know ...’
Ianto wondered if Jack was crying, but he was held too firmly to move and see. He couldn’t feel any sobs vibrate through the warm body clinging to him, but Jack had much greater control over his muscles and reactions that anyone else Ianto had ever known. He worried to himself, falling into a deep sleep – restful only because Jack was still holding him – and waking in the morning to find Jack watching him sleep, smiling and fawning over him like nothing had happened.
FIN
Woo this one hurt my typing fingers!
This fonts I used on the post-its were from www.1001fonts.com and they were:
This part was written for and requested bygriza ... and I promise goddess_ophelia that fun with inflatables will definitely be happening soon.
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Chapter: 36
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Author:
a_silver_storyGenre Humour, a bit McAngsty
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: M.M
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.
Summary: For
grizaFIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
36| (Prose)
IANTO has entered the conversation
IANTO: I’ll take it as a good sign that you’ve unblocked me.
IANTO: ... but putting the hub into emergency lockdown last night was a little harsh, y’know. Seeing as I have no idea what I’ve done.
IANTO: Bugger you then.
IANTO has left the conversation
Ianto cast his eye uselessly around his Tourist Center desk. He’d been confined there by Jack, via post-it note, even though he had absolutely nothing to do but sit there and pretend to know everything about Wales (not that it took much pretending). He’d hoped to be able to go down and shove the Jaffa Cakes into Jack’s hands and sit in the chair opposite him until he ate one. Then he would kiss him. Kiss him like he’d kissed him the night before he went to Australia ...
Letting out a wistful sigh for those better, happier times, Ianto tapped his fingers on the keyboard. Gwen wasn’t online. Neither was Rhys. Or Andy. Or anyone Ianto could chat to or torment. Kathy Swanson was on, but Ianto decided it was probably best to block her for now.
He felt like beating his head with something heavy. The frustration was overbearing. He felt like he was going to snap. He desperately needed to talk to Jack. He’d tried to go down to the main area a little earlier, only to be shoved back upstairs by Gwen hissing about moods and tempers and ‘Please don’t – you’ll make him worse and I’ve got to work with him!’ Ianto tutted at the thought of her. She was jealous of him and Jack. Always had been. He’d liked it at first – she was more senior in the team, she was popular and bubbly and a born leader: and she was jealous of the coffee boy. He liked her, though. When she wasn’t making eyes at Jack, she was sweet and lovely and caring. Everything he kind of wished his own sister was.
Bitterly, Ianto shook thoughts of Gwen and Rhiannon from his head and searched for something to do. There was always something to do at Torchwood. He’d find something soon ... He moaned in exasperation. Everything he could be doing was down in the archives. Could he slip past without Jack or Gwen noticing? He could have easily done it if there wasn’t that bloody cog door between him and the main area ...
At that moment, a swirl of blue army coat hurtled through the office and out the door. It was closely followed by a red shirt and skinny jeans and cries of “Wait Jack! I can’t run that fast in these trainers!” ... and just as suddenly as he’d been in company, Ianto was alone again. He sprang to his feet, his sub conscious deciding his movements, and made his way down to the hub.
He’d made the decision not to give Jack the gifts he’d bought him. He knew Jack had infiltrated his conversation with Rhys, albeit a little late. Ianto huffed at the fact Jack had taken none of his feelings on board and was still being a first class git. He just wanted to know what he’d done! He could probably have written that on the post-it note he’d been left his morning as well as instructions to stay in the Tourist Office. At least then he’d understand this punishment. Was it punishment? Was this it? Was this how Jack and Ianto was going to end?
Ianto stopped part way to the coffee machine. Post-it. Jack will be doing his weekly review of the reports written during the week. He’d annotate on post-its and stick them on the papers. Abandoning his need for coffee, Ianto walked over to Jack’s office. He pushed the door, but it was locked. Ianto laughed to himself a little, reaching up above the door and curling his fingers around the spare key Jack kept there. He let himself in, and sat in the Captain’s chair – more out of insolence than need.
Jack’s yellow post-its were there, the top one half scrawled over in ink, stopping mid-word as the Weevil sighting was alerted and abandoned while it was to be dealt with. Ianto delicately lifted the top sheet, careful not to un-stick it, and wrote two words on the one underneath. As an afterthought, he added a little drawing:
Ianto smiled to himself, got up and made his way back to the Tourist Centre, making sure he locked up afterwards.
It took Jack and Gwen ages to catch the Weevil – at least three times longer than it did Jack and Ianto – and they both trudged back into the Tourist Centre looking shattered. Turned out the Weevil had got away when Gwen had uncharacteristically panicked and dropped her Weevil spray on her foot.
Ianto kept his eyes downcast as Jack walked past his desk, hearing a vague called of “Coffee, Ianto!” as he disappeared down the corridor. Ianto sighed, remembering what Rhys had said – anything that wasn’t an emergency wasn’t heard. Ianto wanted coffee, but he wanted Jack more. He decided the shout for coffee hadn’t been heard.
Half an hour later, Jack must have realised he’d been ignored – as Ianto had said he would be in the conversation he’d rudely intercepted the night before – and sent Gwen up with his blue stripy mug.
“His Highness demands caffeine.” Said Gwen, putting the mug down in front of Ianto. She looked sadly at him.
“Ohhh alright.” Said Ianto, pushing back his chair and lifting the mug. He paused when a flash of yellow from below the cup caught his eye. “I’ll be right down ...” he said to Gwen, under the pretence of picking up a few papers that were on his desk. He wondered if Gwen had seen it ...
Judging from her disgruntled ‘Thanks’ and the way she didn’t seem eager to stay and find out what it was told him she hadn’t.
Ianto’s heart leapt as he pulled the folded post-it note out from under the mug. He hoped he hadn’t had his little message ‘returned to sender’, but was relieved to discover he finally, after two days of stony, heartbreaking silence, he had a reply:
He shoved it in his pocket, picked up his own pad of post-its and his favourite pen and began to make his journey to the coffee machine, Jack’s mug in hand. He made the coffee, stuck his own reply on the bottom of the cup and took it through.
Entering Jack’s office with a gentle knock, he faltered slightly. Ianto hadn’t properly seen Jack since the wedding, really. Now, he looked like a different man. Pale and drawn, like he hadn’t slept (even though he didn’t need to sleep), and his clothes looked like they’d been stuck to his body since he’d put them on in the early hours of the day before. He was currently flicking through his papers, pencil horizontal between his teeth the way he did, with a little frown of concentration and exhausted red-rimmed eyes.
Ianto silently placed the mug on Jack’s desk and backed out of the room. As usual, he wasn’t thanked for the coffee, but Jack usually gave him a smile of appreciation – but he didn’t even acknowledge he’d been in there. Ianto walked slowly back to the Tourist Office, wondering when Jack would read his reply.
No more than twenty minutes later, Gwen was at the secret door in the wall again. She had a small stack of reports. She shoved them on his desk saying ‘From Jack. He says you need to check them again.’ and left.
It took a couple of false starts to find it, but there was another reply:
Ianto decided to carry on pursuing the ‘I’m taking no crap’ approach. Straight to the point:
He checked through the reports, editing the digital versions and sending them to print again. Gathering up the paper, he stuck his reply in the middle of it. Ianto took the pile down to the Hub and dropped it in Jack’s In tray.
Jack sent up an alien artefact next:
And Ianto angrily sent back a pen pot:
Eventually, a stapler made its way up, the note tucked inside the staple bed:
Using Gwen as a messenger, they managed to have a whole conversation.
~*~*~*~
Ianto felt like such an idiot. Why, when only a couple of hours ago he’d thought it was all over and just wanted to go home and lose himself in Scott Walker and Guinness, was he so happy? Once again, Jack was around his finger. Ish. Jack had to wait until he was ready before they tried to take up from where they had been. Come to think of it, where had they been? Were they really a couple, or just pretending while Ianto hung around waiting for Torchwood to kill him and Jack drifted around lonely and, though he would never admit it, scared?
Ianto shook the thought from his head. He knew how he felt about Jack. Nothing about it was pretend. He knew Jack felt something for him. Jack loved life too much to waste it on someone he didn’t ... have feelings for.
It was coming up to 11:00 pm, and Gwen had gone home ages ago. Ianto decided that Jack had had enough time to munch down his Jaffa Cakes. He got up and switched off the lights, having locked up hours ago, and made his way down to the hub. A malevolent part of his mind reminded him of the night before, crying in front of the secret entrance for at least an hour, realising Jack had locked down the hub and that the only person who could trip the system and let him in was Tosh. He had been choking back fresh tears over Tosh’s death when he knew he may as well give up and go home. Try and sleep. Decide what to do ...
Ianto was angry at how Jack had made him feel, just because he’d shared a look of connection or attraction or whatever it was Jack had interpreted it as. He realised that Jack was probably angry at himself, too. Was Jack really so paranoid about Ianto finding someone else that one look and a quick hug would be enough to drive him into this state?
Jack was sat at his desk when Ianto got there, pushing his last Jaffa Cake into his mouth. Ianto closed the door as he entered, leaning back on it with his hands behind him, watching Jack. The Captain finished his cakey treat, and showed Ianto the empty box. Ianto gave a small nod.
“Have you ... ah ... have you decided?” asked Jack, nervously.
“Yep.” Replied Ianto.
Jack shifted under his unwavering gaze. “And ...?”
“If you ever - ever - treat me like this again, I’m retconning myself to infancy and you’re going to have to deal with it.” Ianto knew that it would be a worse threat to Jack that Ianto would do something to himself rather than him, and saw an eyebrow quirk and a small amount of tooth bit a bottom lip. “Yes, Jack.” Continued Ianto. “I’d rather not remember you – well, remember anything – than not be with you. But if you’re going to treat me like this ... well – there’s nothing for us.”
Jack said nothing. He looked down. He sniffed quietly, and Ianto caught a glint of a tear falling from his face to his desk. “I was just ... I don’t know ... I’ve lost so much ...”
“Then stop trying to find excuses to lose me. I’ll be with you to the end, Jack. I swear. Right ‘til the end. And remember what you promised me?”
Jack raised his face. There were tears making track marks down his cheeks. He nodded. “I ... I have to ... I have to be there. When ... when ...” he buried his face in his hands. Ianto still didn’t move from the door, despite every fibre of his being wanting to throw his arms around the Captain and kiss him until the tears stopped.
“When the time comes.” He finished, soothingly. Jack nodded.
“I had a nightmare, Ianto.” Whispered Jack. “Last night. About you ... it felt so real ...”
Ianto finally made a move towards him. “Come on.” He said soothingly. “Come on, we’ll sit on your bed and talk about it. Shall I get hot chocolate?”
“No!” Jack stood suddenly. “No. No, I don’t want to talk just yet. Wait ... until it ... until it’s faded a little.”
Ianto put a hand on his shoulder, finally relishing in contact with the man he loved. Jack sank into his arms, resting a chin on his shoulder. They swayed together for a short while, as if they were dancing again. Eventually, Ianto drew his head back and pressed his mouth on to Jack’s. He could taste the freshest wave of salty tears as it had travelled down those noble cheeks and dripped onto the back of his suit. His Cute Suit. He’d worn it today, especially for Jack. Their kiss was chaste, Ianto not allowing Jack to deepen it and Jack not really trying to.
“Let’s not talk about anything.” Whispered Ianto, pressing their foreheads together. “We’ll pick up from where we left off. We were leaving the wedding, remember? We’d been dancing all night. We tried to leave, but our song came on, yeah?”
“Yeah ...” sniffed Jack. “Paul Weller ...”
“Yeah! We were leaving, and we were happy. Let’s move straight on ... skip right to now. Nothing happened in between. What should we be doing now?”
“We should be at your flat.” Said Jack ruefully. “In your big double bed with the electric blanket.”
Ianto laughed. “Yes. The main attraction of my flat is definitely the electric blanket.” He pressed his lips to Jack’s again. He whispered low. “Take me home, Jack. Lie me on my bed and make love to me again. I prefer it when we make love. The sex is great ... fucking is just ... well it’s amazing ... but when you make love to me ... I lose everything. Except you. Make it so there’s only you.”
Ianto’s flat was painstakingly neat, but more because Ianto was hardly there than his own natural orderly tidiness. The night before he’d cleaned the entire property to distract himself, and now it was show-room perfect.
The drive from the hub to the flat had been silent. Ianto hadn’t been sure whether or not it had been comfortable or companionable, but all the tension from the last couple of days was definitely dissipating. As they’d entered the flat, he had held the door open for Jack with a welcoming gesture, and closed it gently behind him, locking it and putting on the catch. He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text while both he and Jack took their shoes and socks off. Jack knew the rules about the ivory carpet. Shoes + Carpet = Death By Carpet Cleaner Poisoning.
Ianto turned his phone off, and was pleased to see Jack follow suit and place his next to Ianto’s on the sideboard. Jack also took the liberty of removing the landline phone from its hook. He moved closer to Ianto, pulling him into his arms, and held him. Ianto closed his eyes as he felt soft lips seek out the sensitive flesh of his neck, and squeezed Jack’s waist a little when he felt a tongue touch his skin.
Before he was too sure what was happening, he found that Jack had lifted him clear off his feet into a fireman’s lift. Jack had only really lifted him once before, when he’d held him cradled in his arms and Ianto had complained he was being treated like a girl. He laughed as Jack carried him to his bedroom. He’d expected to be thrown down on the bed, so was a little surprised to find himself gently lain down in the middle of it, Jack kneeling next to him stroking his cheek and hair and holding his hand.
They gazed at each other for a couple of seconds. “Make love to me, Jack.” Whispered Ianto.
Jack smiled softly and moved his hands to undo the button on Ianto’s jacket, opening it up and running his eyes and hands over the silk-clad torso. He curled a finger inside the knot of the tie, laughing slightly, remembering. “Do you remember the first time I tried to untie your tie?”
Ianto smiled, settling back into the bed and letting Jack methodically pull each weave of his Windsor tie-knot free. “You’d never had to undo a Windsor before. You got a bit tangled.”
“Why do you use such a complicated knot anyway? What’s wrong with over-over-under-through?” asked Jack with a smile, finally pulling the last of the knot free and sliding the material through Ianto’s collar. He stood, opened the wardrobe and hung it on the tie-rack. He was going to do this slowly and properly – and Ianto wouldn’t even have to iron afterwards.
Ianto frowned a little as Jack made his way back to where he was lying. “Over-over-under-through?” he asked. “Do you mean the Four-in-Hand?”
Jack had begun to slide Ianto’s arms out of his Jacket. Ianto raised his torso a little, allowing Jack to pull it out from under him. The jacket was folded and placed on the chair in the corner. When Jack came back this time, he lay down on his side next him. He put a hand on his cheek and kissed him, pushing his tongue into Ianto a little way and gripping his shoulder in joy when he felt reciprocation. He moved the arm he wasn’t leaning on, and began to gently unfasten the buttons of Ianto’s crisp, red shirt.
Ianto had his arms around Jack’s neck, and slid them round to the front of his collar and pushed the first buttons out of their fastenings. Jack caught his hands gently and broke away from their kiss.
“What’s wrong?” Frowned Ianto.
“Nothing.” Said Jack. He rose from the bed and started undoing his own shirt, taking off his braces, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor. His undershirt and trousers followed, and Ianto raised himself onto his elbows to watch as the trousers and boxers came down. Jack threw his clothes into the corner. He lay down next to Ianto, who was still on his back, shirt half-undone and trousers bulging. Jack let his erection dig into his hip as he kissed at Ianto’s neck again. “You don’t have to do anything.” He whispered. “Just lie here and be ... c ... cared for ...”
Ianto sighed and let Jack kiss him again, the last of his shirt buttons falling open and the material pushed aside. Jack kissed his way down Ianto’s chest, nuzzling with his nose and gently flicking his tongue out over a nipple. Ianto arched his head back, closing his eyes and placing a light hand on Jack’s hair. He raised his hips slightly as Jack reached his lower abdomen, the hard bulge in his pants brushing at his naked shoulder. He felt slight disappointment as Jack worked his way back up again, kissing and nuzzling at every inch of him. Ianto let himself lie there and just enjoy himself.
As Jack made his way back to his favourite spot below Ianto’s ears, he gently prised open the belt buckle and slowly began to draw out the leather from its loops. When it was free, he stood again and hung it on one of the belt hooks on the inside of Ianto’s wardrobe door. He knelt back on the bed and helped Ianto off with his shirt, slowly and deliberately, and draped it over the chair where he’d put the jacket.
The slow, methodical, sensual way Jack was undressing him made Ianto feel wonderful. It was like Jack was, for the first time, removing his clothes for him not just for sex and contact and naked skin. He was appreciating and admiring and touching and learning and relishing each new piece of flesh revealed as if he’d never seen Ianto’s body before. He felt a little light-headed, his heart was pounding. It felt like their first time, all over again. It felt like the beginning, when the first few times you’re naked together you bother to learn all the freckles and the scars and the idiosyncrasies but forget about them as you grow comfortable. Being naked stops being a treat and a secret between two lovers, but a necessity and norm that gets taken for granted. Jack was smiling to himself as he kissed at a little scar on Ianto’s stomach that he’d neglected to remember, re-learning the contours and planes of his body that he knew by touch but couldn’t properly recall by sight. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ianto’s fingers gently curled into the duvet.
Finally, Jack allowed his hands to wander between Ianto’s thighs, rubbing gently with his thumb against the bulge behind the zip while squeezing the soft muscle of his upper leg. Ianto sighed, his eyes still closed, and Jack finally pulled down the fly and undid the fastening above it. He slipped a hand inside the opening and caressed Ianto’s erection through his boxers. He let his fingers wander over its hard contours, listening to Ianto’s moans and sighs and feeling a hand curl into his hair and stroke his head. Jack pulled Ianto’s trousers and boxers off together, and finally Ianto was naked. He knelt at the foot of the bed, kissing his way from calf to inner-thigh, pulling himself back onto the bed between Ianto’s legs as he did so. He filled his mouth with spit and wet his middle finger, using his other hand to grip the hard cock in front of him and kiss the head and lick the length as he pushed his finger inside the tight entrance.
Ianto moaned loudly at the penetration, lifting his legs into the air to make it easier for Jack to get more of his finger inside. He could feel Jack’s tongue flicking over his sensitive flesh, lips running down and up as they took him inside the hot mouth and down the tight throat beyond. Ianto let out a slight whimper as Jack moved the finger inside him, gently fucking him and bringing him to the edge. With his legs in the air, all his blood was running to his head and then straight back down to his groin. Jack’s gentle finger was teasing his prostate while his mouth and tongue were making him see lights. He squirmed and clutched at the duvet, opening his mouth in a silent cry of ecstasy as his orgasm broke over him in gentle, intense and then electrifying waves.
Ianto lay there, breathing deeply and allowing a small moan to escape his lips with each outward breath. He vaguely felt Jack pulling the covers out from under him and pulling him tightly into his body, wrapping them in the warmth of the duvet. Jack was lying beside him, his arm around Ianto’s shoulders and the other over his waist, gripping gently but not so light Ianto could forget he was being held. Tightly. By someone who deeply cared for him.
Jack kissed his temple and waited patiently for Ianto’s brain functions to return. “Let me know when we can carry on.” He whispered soothingly. Ianto caught his lips in a gentle kiss, their tongues touching and stroking. Ianto grimaced a little as they broke apart.
“I thought the taste of Jaffa Cakes might have gone by now.” He joked.
“All I can taste is you.” Said Jack, smiling.
Ianto kissed him again, turning onto his side below the covers and pulling himself as close to Jack as he could. Afterwards, they held each other for a few moments, foreheads pressed together, listening to the other one breathing. Ianto ran his hand down Jack’s side, letting his fingers search out the ripples of muscle and the bones of his hip. He moved his hand slightly, and felt Jack’s cock with his fingers. He smiled at Jack, then slipped beneath the covers.
It was Jack’s turn to moan and clutch the cotton duvet covers, sighing happily or crying out every time he felt himself disappear into Ianto’s throat or felt a hot, sure tongue teasing his flesh. He lifted the covers slightly, and looked down himself. For a few moments he watched Ianto, his face showing his concentration as he pulled every trick in the book to make Jack squirm and writhe. He saw his cock disappear into Ianto’s neck, and came with a shout and a cry and a mutter of “Ianto ... Ianto ...” breaking free from his heart to his lips.
Ianto joined him back at the pillows, kissing him again. “Let me know when we can carry on.” He whispered with a laugh. Jack smiled weakly, closing his eyes and savouring the feeling of his nerve-endings returning to their usual functions.
“C’mon then.” He said, after fifteen minutes of holding each other. He pushed Ianto back onto his back and had to stop him from trying to kick off the duvet covers. “Let’s be adventurous.” He said. “Let’s have sex in bed, rather than on one.” Ianto smiled softly and pulled the covers back around him as Jack fished in their drawer for lube. He put it on the bedside table ready and lay back next to his partner, kissing and nibbling at his ear while massaging circles on his stomach.
Ianto had his arm around Jack, gently stroking his fingers on strong shoulder Jack muttered: “Remember: you don’t have to do anything. Just lie here. Let me take care of you.”
As Jack began his favourite journey south again, Ianto felt a little restricted by the duvet surrounding them. As Jack moved to lie between his legs, they’d nearly lost the covers and had a moment of re-adjustment before getting back to their mind-set.
It wasn’t until Jack was preparing him, slick fingers inside him, big enough to make him moan and gently buck, that Ianto began to understand what Jack had meant by “in” bed. As Jack’s cock slid inside him the first time, and Jack pulled the covers around them and gently made love to him - slow enough for Ianto to feel every inch, but not so slow it would only tease – he felt protected. Isolated. Warm and safe. The covers were a barrier between them and the world - between their lovemaking and the sadness of their lives. Jack had cocooned him away from everything. There was nothing to be afraid of because nothing outside of their little bubble mattered. For Ianto, there was nothing. Only Jack – only Jack, like there’d never been “only Jack” before.
As Ianto lay there, beneath and around the man he loved, he thought of what Jack had done with him that night. The way he had been undressed, not stripped. How they had talked and kissed and communicated with each other instead of using signals and gauging moods and movements. Ianto thought of the gentle, delicate and methodical way Jack had touched and kissed every inch of him he could. He felt like ... he felt like he had been worshipped. Jack had worshipped him.
Ianto opened his eyes. Jack was lying fully on top of him, every inch of them touching from groin to neck, with his head buried and biting into Ianto’s shoulder. Gently, Ianto used his hand to touch his head, and Jack raised his face. He was gently fucking him, their eyes locked, dark with lust and bright with ... what were they feeling? Ianto knew he loved Jack. Did Jack love him? He’d hinted before ...
Ianto tried to hold on to his rational thoughts. ‘You should tell him,’ said a voice in his head. ‘Tell him that you love him. Right now. When he can’t run away.’
“Jack ...” he moaned, feeling his body on fire, safe inside his and Jack’s little cocoon of Fairtrade cotton and soft, springy mattress.
Jack leaned down and kissed him, and anything he had intended to think or do or say was gone from his mind. They came together, Jack, as usual, shamelessly crying out Ianto’s name – this time with words from a language Ianto didn’t understand – and slumped down into Ianto’s body. Ianto fought to keep his eyes open as his orgasm took him, desperate to see what he had done to Jack, just by lying there and holding him and kissing him. His vision was too distorted for him to see clearly, but he could hear and feel. Jack’s hot cum made his insides tingle as his stomach warmed under his own. Jack’s lips were at his ear and neck and jawline, kissing and nipping. Ianto lay there, still, letting him. His brain was dragging itself back together again, and what he had come so close to telling Jack was once again at the front of his mind.
Jack stilled his lips, sliding his hands behind Ianto’s shoulders and cuddling him, still inside and still on top.
“Jack?” said Ianto. Jack grunted by way of reply. “Jack ... um ... I ...”
Jack pushed himself up sharply. “Sorry! I forget how heavy I am sometimes.” He rolled off, pulling out and drawing Ianto into a firm hold, letting him pillow his head on a bicep as the arm it belonged to snaked around his shoulders, across his chest and played with dark chest hair.
“Oh ...” breathed Ianto. “No ... we were fine as we were ... really ... I just ...”
“It’s the muscles.” Continued Jack, oblivious. “Muscles weigh more than fat. I always forget that. I’m sorry.” He winked at Ianto. “Good job you’re not asthmatic. I’d have to give you mouth to mouth every time ...”
“Mouth to mouth won’t work on asthmatics. Their lungs are closing up so it wouldn’t really make much difference. They need salbutamol or a steroid ... uh ... anyway ... doesn’t matter ....”
Jack smiled at him, gazing at him sappily. Ianto took another deep breath. “Jack?”
Jack stroked his cheek with a knuckle, leaning forward to kiss him. “Yes?” he said, their lips millimetres apart.
“Jack ... I ... well ... I ....”
Jack seemed to realise what he was going to say. His expression changed instantly. “No.” he breathed. “No ... don’t say it. Please ... please don’t say it.”
Ianto half expected him to jump out of the bed and run for the hills, but instead he found himself being crushed into Jack’s chest, firm arms around his body and lips in his hair. He could hear snatches of what Jack was muttering to the lightening sunrise orange of the room. ‘... don’t need to say it ....’, ‘... not now ... not so soon ... not like this ....’, ‘actions speak louder than words ... he doesn’t need to say it ....’, ‘I know ... I know ... I know ...’
Ianto wondered if Jack was crying, but he was held too firmly to move and see. He couldn’t feel any sobs vibrate through the warm body clinging to him, but Jack had much greater control over his muscles and reactions that anyone else Ianto had ever known. He worried to himself, falling into a deep sleep – restful only because Jack was still holding him – and waking in the morning to find Jack watching him sleep, smiling and fawning over him like nothing had happened.
FIN
This fonts I used on the post-its were from www.1001fonts.com and they were:
Ianto: "Scrawler"
Jack: "Spitter"
This part was written for and requested by
griza ... and I promise goddess_ophelia that fun with inflatables will definitely be happening soon.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:05 pm (UTC)They finally took a big step towards being an offical couple but we need the 'I love you's' soon!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:08 pm (UTC)I don't know about "I love you's" though ... it is my own personal opinion that Jack won't tell Ianto he loves him until Ianto's dying. Heartbreaking, and I hope that's not how it goes .... but that's what I believe.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:05 pm (UTC)Want to kick Jack though ... hard!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:15 pm (UTC):-P
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:17 pm (UTC)lol!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:29 pm (UTC)*nerd-out*
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 04:53 pm (UTC)Awww Jack...
Awwww Ianto...*huggles them both*
That, was amazing. Bless them!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 05:09 pm (UTC)I love the post-it :)
I am so addicted to this series.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 05:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 05:23 pm (UTC)I love this chapter. A little sad for Ianto at the end. Jack really should not worry so much and just accept his feelings! :) xx
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 05:38 pm (UTC)Just what I needed to read. The boys are back together again. Now I can concentratate on work again.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 05:59 pm (UTC)Still, make-up sex rocks! :)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 06:30 pm (UTC)But the make up sex.... I'm a melty happy puddle of goo here. lol Very hot and sweet and romantic. * dreamy happy sighs*
It kinda didn't surprise me that Jack won't let Ianto say ILU though. But I'm sure Ianto will find his way to say it.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 06:36 pm (UTC)Fun with inflatables? Cannot wait.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 07:59 pm (UTC)I'm glad they are talking again to each other. ;)
I looked the whole day if you posted the next part! I get really addicted to it! :D
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 08:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 08:35 pm (UTC)Nicole
no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 10:02 pm (UTC)i can't believe he changed the locks... why couldn't he of just ignored her... why the hell can't they get it together!
so glad that they finally talked like grown ups, the scene at the end made me all misty. *huggles boys*
you have made me so happy!!!!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-18 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-18 12:48 am (UTC)*bad writer*
and OMG i've literally just posted the next part and it IS Rhys and Ianto ... Jack's not listening in though. Muaha!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-18 01:00 am (UTC)on to read the next part *tiny claps of excitement*
no subject
Date: 2009-06-18 01:22 am (UTC)See icon
<<<<<<
no subject
Date: 2009-06-18 12:34 am (UTC)I'm so glad they made up. Poor, scared Jack...
no subject
Date: 2009-06-18 08:56 am (UTC)They're so cuuteee!
Y'know when Jack says "It's too soon" does he mean that he doesnt want to say "i love you" until Ianto's dying? Cos that's what ive always imagined Jack doinggg.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-18 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-18 11:16 pm (UTC)Then Jack and his jealousness...the post it notes..the making up..
Wonderful...absolutely wonderful!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-19 12:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-19 01:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-20 05:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-21 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-21 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-23 09:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-28 06:41 am (UTC)