[Fic] you strangle my heart
Title: you strangle my heart
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Gwen
Warnings/Spoilers: NSFW
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1850
Summary: All week, Ianto's been like this and it’s been driving him crazy - the way he’s been thinking all these ridiculous, sappy, quirky-indie-pop-lyric type things about Jack, about his feelings. It really isn’t like him at all.
Notes: This is for Sariagray, because she asked so nicely for fluffy, happy porn. I um... hope this does the trick? Maybe? ^_~
Ianto is babbling.
It’s movie night at Gwen’s flat, and the whole team is supposed to be here, but of course, like so many other Friday nights, it’s ended up just him, and Gwen, and several bottles of red wine (quality: questionable).
To be fair, it’s not like they planned to drink it all themselves… It’s really not their fault no one else could be bothered to show up to these things.
And so Ianto’s babbling, wine loosening his tongue, because Gwen’s there and she listens without too much judgment, and because all week he’s been feeling a little, well… Lost, really, in regards to Jack. And his thoughts, because he hasn’t had any outlet for them, have just been rattling around in his brain and his body, clunking around like knives or cutlery or something.
Ianto cringes. All week, he’s been like this and it’s been driving him crazy - the way he’s been thinking all these ridiculous, sappy, quirky-indie-pop-lyric type things about Jack, about his feelings. It really isn’t like him at all.
All these feelings need an outlet though, or something, so when he hears, on the radio, you strangle my heart, vines twisting, taking root, he finds himself thinking, yes, yes, that’s it exactly! And then he realizes, of course, that he has no idea what that even means. Maybe that’s the point?
"He makes me cross-eyed," Ianto says, looking over his wine glass at Gwen, matter-of-fact, and Gwen pats his knee encouragingly.
“I don’t know what you mean, love,” she says. “But it sounds brilliant.”
Jack makes him cross-eyed, Ianto explains, because sometimes when he looks at him from a distance - say, when he’s up in the main level of the hub, and Jack’s down in the interrogation rooms - Ianto gets distracted, trying to take all of him in at the same time.
And sometimes, given the right combination of lighting and mood, he imagines that he can actually look at everything at once--at Jack, at his profile, at the bold pressed cotton shirt with the tiny hint of white undershirt grazing his collarbone, at those bloody braces, and how the pull of them on the back of Jack's trousers just accentuates the magnificent curves of his arse... Jack’s teeth, his hands, the well-defined muscles of his forearms… Sometimes he imagines that if he stares at Jack just so, if he unfocuses his eyes just a little, like one of those Magic Eye pictures, then maybe all those wonderful things will converge, and some sort of 3-D version of Jack will just pop out in front of him. So close he can taste it. But mostly, it just makes him cross-eyed.
To Gwen, he says, a little frantically, "It’s just that when he's around, when he's in the room, sometimes I can't see anyone else. It’s the feeling I get when he looks at me, you know, like that?”
Gwen nods in understanding.
“And sometimes, when we're alone, just for a second, something lifts, and he's just himself, just... normal. Not a hundred years of experience, or 51st century this, time traveling con man that, and I just... I can't stop thinking about how to get him to look at me like that again, because that person,” Ianto pauses, takes a breath, and a generous sip of wine. “That person is the only person I ever want to look at me like that again.”
Ianto can see that Gwen’s eyes have misted over a little, and he shakes his head. He can’t believe he just said that out loud. And yet, he’s still talking.
“He thinks I can't see it,” Ianto says. “He's got this complex, this huge thing that stops him from being himself, and I want to bring it out, I want--"
From behind the couch, Jack clears his throat. Ianto feels the color drain from his face. It’s possible that several years of his life pass in front of his eyes, too, just for a moment.
Gwen pats his knee again, and turns to beam at Jack.
"Jack! Glad to see you're not letting that key go to waste. Come on in then, let me get you a drink."
Jack squeezes in next to Ianto on the small couch, as Gwen gets up to head to the kitchen.
Ianto, trying not to appear as shell-shocked as he feels, manages a tight, "Glad you could make it, sir".
You strangle my heart, Ianto’s head offers unhelpfully when he meets Jack’s eyes.
Ianto sighs, and Jack just presses close, leans in and whispers, "Can I stay at your place tonight?"
And of course, Ianto's insides completely melt, just like that, right on the spot.
I give up, he thinks, helplessly.
To Jack he just nods though, and mutters quietly, “You’re driving,” because he feels a little light-headed, now, a little unwell, a little like he's been turned inside out.
And he should care, about how quickly Jack can turn his feelings inside out like this, it’s an issue of self-preservation, really, but he doesn't. Because right now, his face is warm, and Jack's hip is jutting up against his side, and all he can think about are Jack's fingers on his flesh, the way the pads of his thumbs angle in on his hips when he thrusts, and oh - god. He wants Jack so much he could burst.
Gwen's still in the kitchen--Rhys has woken up and they're chatting, he can hear their voices drifting up and over the room.
Ianto swallows, and presses the heel of his palm down onto his jutting erection as Jack looks on, curious, eyes attentive.
And then their eyes meet, and something clicks, some unspoken agreement that makes Ianto’s mouth go dry.
And then, suddenly, Jack is tapping at his wrist strap and standing up, wide-eyed.
"Sorry, Gwen, Ianto and I - rift alert," he says quickly. “I know I just got here, but… This looks like it could be big.”
He waves off her worried questions with a quick, "No, no, Ianto and I can handle it, but... We've got to go now, sorry! I promise I'll take a rain check on the whole movie night."
**
And suddenly they’re outside in the cool air, but they barely make it down one flight of stairs--Ianto barely has the chance to start to ask, "Was there really a--" and Jack is shoving his hand down Ianto's trousers, walking him around a corner, and pressing his back against the cool brick wall.
It takes him about 30 seconds to realize that - shit - they're only one level down from Gwen's, about two meters round the corner from someone else’s door for christ's sake, but Jack is palming Ianto’s erection through his thin cotton briefs with one huge hand, and oh, oh, Jack’s fingers are slipping underneath, and his wrist is grazing past his balls, as he teases Ianto's entrance, the pad of his index finger pushing just barely past that sensitive pucker of flesh…
Just this would be enough to completely undo him, of course, but Ianto grounds himself as his balls tighten, biting down on his lip so hard he tastes blood.
Jack's fingers slip forward to cup his balls as his erection strains against the stretched cotton of his underwear, wetness spreading quickly as Jack's fingers tease, tease, and then finally, Jack's hand tightens around him. With a tight grunt, Ianto thrusts into that warmth, his tip still straining against the cotton.
Jack's tongue flicks across his lips, and Ianto draws it in greedily, thrusting into Jack's hand again. The friction is agonizing, and to distract himself, Ianto imagines Jack's cock, heavy on his tongue, imagines the tip of his tongue dancing across Jack's slit. His cock swells under Jack’s fingers. At some point Jack tongue takes over, following the rhythm of Jack's hand until Ianto's heart is stuttering in his chest, and his knees begin to shake. Jack flicks his tongue out and over Ianto's lips, a thick stripe along his jaw line, and then over his earlobe, sloppy.
Jack's erection is heavy against his thigh as Jack presses up against him. His fingers tighten around Ianto’s tip and before he's able to clamp down on it, Ianto lets out a low moan that quickly turns into a whimper as Jack makes a loose fist, and twists. Ianto squeezes his eyes shut, but they fly open a moment later when he realizes that Jack's hand has disappeared and that Jack is pressing his hips up against him, hard and purposeful.
Before he knows it, Ianto's trousers are sliding down his legs, past his arse, but he doesn't care because god, Jack's cock is jutting up against his erection, and Jack is panting hard in his ear.
He sounds close, Ianto can tell, and he must be, because he hasn't even taken the time to undo his braces or his fly - by sheer force of will he's got them both a bit awkwardly in his hand between them. Even through the layers, Ianto imagines that he can feel the heat of Jack’s skin. Jack is panting in his ear, and trying to work them as close together as he can, and then he's fumbling with his zipper, and his braces, finally. Suddenly there are fewer layers between them, just the thin cotton of Ianto’s underwear, and Jack's cock free to the air, as Jack’s trousers slide below his waist.
With one quick movement, Ianto pulls his waistband down just far enough, until there's skin on skin and it's utterly glorious. Jack’s hand can barely work its way around them, but he does, and before he knows it, Ianto's grabbing onto Jack's arse for purchase and thrusting into that hot, wet warmth. He's throbbing he's so close, and then Jack's breathing turns quicker, and his hand clenches and Ianto bears down as Jack thrusts up, and it's like he's fifteen all over again. He comes so hard he can't breathe for a second, just squeezes his eyes shut as the world comes crashing down around them.
Jack's forehead presses against his shoulder and he heaves a huge happy sigh before nuzzling Ianto's cheek with his nose.
"You're amazing, you know that," Jack whispers.
"Shut up and take me home," Ianto says, as he pulls up his trousers.
**
Later, with the covers tucked up around his ears, and Jacks body wrapped around his back, Ianto hums into his pillow, content and sated for what feels like the first time in months. His heart feels a little less strangled now, too, a little more free. Of course, free or not, he always ends up choosing the same thing, so he figures it hardly matters.
“And just for the record,” Jack whispers, the words hovering against Ianto’s left earlobe, “I’ve always known that you can see it.”
Ianto smiles. “Yeah, I figured,” he says, and presses his back against Jack’s chest, content.
“You know everything,” Ianto says softly, and when Jack laughs, he thinks maybe he can feel it rattling against his ribcage, jostling his heart, just a little.
***
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Gwen
Warnings/Spoilers: NSFW
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~1850
Summary: All week, Ianto's been like this and it’s been driving him crazy - the way he’s been thinking all these ridiculous, sappy, quirky-indie-pop-lyric type things about Jack, about his feelings. It really isn’t like him at all.
Notes: This is for Sariagray, because she asked so nicely for fluffy, happy porn. I um... hope this does the trick? Maybe? ^_~
Ianto is babbling.
It’s movie night at Gwen’s flat, and the whole team is supposed to be here, but of course, like so many other Friday nights, it’s ended up just him, and Gwen, and several bottles of red wine (quality: questionable).
To be fair, it’s not like they planned to drink it all themselves… It’s really not their fault no one else could be bothered to show up to these things.
And so Ianto’s babbling, wine loosening his tongue, because Gwen’s there and she listens without too much judgment, and because all week he’s been feeling a little, well… Lost, really, in regards to Jack. And his thoughts, because he hasn’t had any outlet for them, have just been rattling around in his brain and his body, clunking around like knives or cutlery or something.
Ianto cringes. All week, he’s been like this and it’s been driving him crazy - the way he’s been thinking all these ridiculous, sappy, quirky-indie-pop-lyric type things about Jack, about his feelings. It really isn’t like him at all.
All these feelings need an outlet though, or something, so when he hears, on the radio, you strangle my heart, vines twisting, taking root, he finds himself thinking, yes, yes, that’s it exactly! And then he realizes, of course, that he has no idea what that even means. Maybe that’s the point?
"He makes me cross-eyed," Ianto says, looking over his wine glass at Gwen, matter-of-fact, and Gwen pats his knee encouragingly.
“I don’t know what you mean, love,” she says. “But it sounds brilliant.”
Jack makes him cross-eyed, Ianto explains, because sometimes when he looks at him from a distance - say, when he’s up in the main level of the hub, and Jack’s down in the interrogation rooms - Ianto gets distracted, trying to take all of him in at the same time.
And sometimes, given the right combination of lighting and mood, he imagines that he can actually look at everything at once--at Jack, at his profile, at the bold pressed cotton shirt with the tiny hint of white undershirt grazing his collarbone, at those bloody braces, and how the pull of them on the back of Jack's trousers just accentuates the magnificent curves of his arse... Jack’s teeth, his hands, the well-defined muscles of his forearms… Sometimes he imagines that if he stares at Jack just so, if he unfocuses his eyes just a little, like one of those Magic Eye pictures, then maybe all those wonderful things will converge, and some sort of 3-D version of Jack will just pop out in front of him. So close he can taste it. But mostly, it just makes him cross-eyed.
To Gwen, he says, a little frantically, "It’s just that when he's around, when he's in the room, sometimes I can't see anyone else. It’s the feeling I get when he looks at me, you know, like that?”
Gwen nods in understanding.
“And sometimes, when we're alone, just for a second, something lifts, and he's just himself, just... normal. Not a hundred years of experience, or 51st century this, time traveling con man that, and I just... I can't stop thinking about how to get him to look at me like that again, because that person,” Ianto pauses, takes a breath, and a generous sip of wine. “That person is the only person I ever want to look at me like that again.”
Ianto can see that Gwen’s eyes have misted over a little, and he shakes his head. He can’t believe he just said that out loud. And yet, he’s still talking.
“He thinks I can't see it,” Ianto says. “He's got this complex, this huge thing that stops him from being himself, and I want to bring it out, I want--"
From behind the couch, Jack clears his throat. Ianto feels the color drain from his face. It’s possible that several years of his life pass in front of his eyes, too, just for a moment.
Gwen pats his knee again, and turns to beam at Jack.
"Jack! Glad to see you're not letting that key go to waste. Come on in then, let me get you a drink."
Jack squeezes in next to Ianto on the small couch, as Gwen gets up to head to the kitchen.
Ianto, trying not to appear as shell-shocked as he feels, manages a tight, "Glad you could make it, sir".
You strangle my heart, Ianto’s head offers unhelpfully when he meets Jack’s eyes.
Ianto sighs, and Jack just presses close, leans in and whispers, "Can I stay at your place tonight?"
And of course, Ianto's insides completely melt, just like that, right on the spot.
I give up, he thinks, helplessly.
To Jack he just nods though, and mutters quietly, “You’re driving,” because he feels a little light-headed, now, a little unwell, a little like he's been turned inside out.
And he should care, about how quickly Jack can turn his feelings inside out like this, it’s an issue of self-preservation, really, but he doesn't. Because right now, his face is warm, and Jack's hip is jutting up against his side, and all he can think about are Jack's fingers on his flesh, the way the pads of his thumbs angle in on his hips when he thrusts, and oh - god. He wants Jack so much he could burst.
Gwen's still in the kitchen--Rhys has woken up and they're chatting, he can hear their voices drifting up and over the room.
Ianto swallows, and presses the heel of his palm down onto his jutting erection as Jack looks on, curious, eyes attentive.
And then their eyes meet, and something clicks, some unspoken agreement that makes Ianto’s mouth go dry.
And then, suddenly, Jack is tapping at his wrist strap and standing up, wide-eyed.
"Sorry, Gwen, Ianto and I - rift alert," he says quickly. “I know I just got here, but… This looks like it could be big.”
He waves off her worried questions with a quick, "No, no, Ianto and I can handle it, but... We've got to go now, sorry! I promise I'll take a rain check on the whole movie night."
**
And suddenly they’re outside in the cool air, but they barely make it down one flight of stairs--Ianto barely has the chance to start to ask, "Was there really a--" and Jack is shoving his hand down Ianto's trousers, walking him around a corner, and pressing his back against the cool brick wall.
It takes him about 30 seconds to realize that - shit - they're only one level down from Gwen's, about two meters round the corner from someone else’s door for christ's sake, but Jack is palming Ianto’s erection through his thin cotton briefs with one huge hand, and oh, oh, Jack’s fingers are slipping underneath, and his wrist is grazing past his balls, as he teases Ianto's entrance, the pad of his index finger pushing just barely past that sensitive pucker of flesh…
Just this would be enough to completely undo him, of course, but Ianto grounds himself as his balls tighten, biting down on his lip so hard he tastes blood.
Jack's fingers slip forward to cup his balls as his erection strains against the stretched cotton of his underwear, wetness spreading quickly as Jack's fingers tease, tease, and then finally, Jack's hand tightens around him. With a tight grunt, Ianto thrusts into that warmth, his tip still straining against the cotton.
Jack's tongue flicks across his lips, and Ianto draws it in greedily, thrusting into Jack's hand again. The friction is agonizing, and to distract himself, Ianto imagines Jack's cock, heavy on his tongue, imagines the tip of his tongue dancing across Jack's slit. His cock swells under Jack’s fingers. At some point Jack tongue takes over, following the rhythm of Jack's hand until Ianto's heart is stuttering in his chest, and his knees begin to shake. Jack flicks his tongue out and over Ianto's lips, a thick stripe along his jaw line, and then over his earlobe, sloppy.
Jack's erection is heavy against his thigh as Jack presses up against him. His fingers tighten around Ianto’s tip and before he's able to clamp down on it, Ianto lets out a low moan that quickly turns into a whimper as Jack makes a loose fist, and twists. Ianto squeezes his eyes shut, but they fly open a moment later when he realizes that Jack's hand has disappeared and that Jack is pressing his hips up against him, hard and purposeful.
Before he knows it, Ianto's trousers are sliding down his legs, past his arse, but he doesn't care because god, Jack's cock is jutting up against his erection, and Jack is panting hard in his ear.
He sounds close, Ianto can tell, and he must be, because he hasn't even taken the time to undo his braces or his fly - by sheer force of will he's got them both a bit awkwardly in his hand between them. Even through the layers, Ianto imagines that he can feel the heat of Jack’s skin. Jack is panting in his ear, and trying to work them as close together as he can, and then he's fumbling with his zipper, and his braces, finally. Suddenly there are fewer layers between them, just the thin cotton of Ianto’s underwear, and Jack's cock free to the air, as Jack’s trousers slide below his waist.
With one quick movement, Ianto pulls his waistband down just far enough, until there's skin on skin and it's utterly glorious. Jack’s hand can barely work its way around them, but he does, and before he knows it, Ianto's grabbing onto Jack's arse for purchase and thrusting into that hot, wet warmth. He's throbbing he's so close, and then Jack's breathing turns quicker, and his hand clenches and Ianto bears down as Jack thrusts up, and it's like he's fifteen all over again. He comes so hard he can't breathe for a second, just squeezes his eyes shut as the world comes crashing down around them.
Jack's forehead presses against his shoulder and he heaves a huge happy sigh before nuzzling Ianto's cheek with his nose.
"You're amazing, you know that," Jack whispers.
"Shut up and take me home," Ianto says, as he pulls up his trousers.
**
Later, with the covers tucked up around his ears, and Jacks body wrapped around his back, Ianto hums into his pillow, content and sated for what feels like the first time in months. His heart feels a little less strangled now, too, a little more free. Of course, free or not, he always ends up choosing the same thing, so he figures it hardly matters.
“And just for the record,” Jack whispers, the words hovering against Ianto’s left earlobe, “I’ve always known that you can see it.”
Ianto smiles. “Yeah, I figured,” he says, and presses his back against Jack’s chest, content.
“You know everything,” Ianto says softly, and when Jack laughs, he thinks maybe he can feel it rattling against his ribcage, jostling his heart, just a little.
***