Fic - Resurrection
Title: Resurrection
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: Pr0n is par for the course in my work, as is angst.
Spoilers: Allusions to series events through COE
Disclaimer: Torchwood, its characters and settings are the property of Russell T. Davies, no matter what a mess I think he’s made of them. I own little more than a tabby that gets destructive when he feels ignored and would make a poor target for copyright infringement litigation.
Author’s Note: Written for maisontv, who urged me to get into the Torchwood fandom. My first foray into Torchwood fic, this is little more than an excuse to undo Ianto’s death and have he and Jack have lots of sex.
Please be kind and feel free to leave as much feedback on all of this as you wish. Feedback is always adored. Detailed feedback results in eternal love and more fic. ^o^
Music: Pieces - Red
Love Song - 311
If You’re Not the One - Daniel Bedingfield
If I Didn’t Care - Amy Adams & Lee Pace
A prickle up his spine was the only warning he had. It was usually enough, and his invulnerability meant he didn’t need much more anyway. Not even bothering to turn from the bar, Jack’s right hand strayed to his pistol.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“Sometimes.” Jack’s right hand remained on his pistol while his left tipped his glass to his lips. “What brings you here?”
“Same as you.” John sat beside him and ordered a drink. “All this time, and you still don’t trust me? I’m hurt.”
“Our relationship was never about trust.” Jack ordered another shot and turned his head to face his old partner. “Why are you here?”
“I told you-”
“Don’t lie to me.”
John sighed and faced Jack. “You’re no bloody fun anymore, d’you know that? Time was: you’d throw a few punches, I’d bash you about, we’d have a few drinks and then fuck until dawn… or… whatever passes for dawn ‘round here.”
Jack took his new drink from the barkeep and gulped half in one swallow. “The binary suns cross the horizon at almost the same time. You should go: watch them. Alone.”
“Maybe I will.” John’s hand slid over to Jack’s thigh. “Or maybe I’ll find somewhat better to do, eh?”
Jack stood up and backed up. “Never again.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve given up sex,” John sneered. “That’s a bloody impossibility.”
“Just sex with you.” Jack’s face was pale, his hands shaking. He hadn’t seen John Hart since… well, since before…
His heart lurched in his chest, bringing tears he’d thought long dry back to his eyes. Owen, Tosh, Gray… Ianto… even Gwen by now. Dust and shadow.
John watched the play of emotion through Jack’s eyes, the tightening of that chiseled jaw and the barest quiver of that devastatingly sensual lower lip. Five years… he knew Jack damned well: well enough to know who Jack was thinking of just now.
“A century,” John stated softly. He stood from the bar, drawing into Jack’s space, watching Jack watch him like an animal tracks a predator. “A hundred years gone by, filled with adventure and sex and every wonder you could ever ask… and it still hurts you. You can make it go away, Jack. I can help you make it go away.”
For a moment, Jack almost gave in to the desire to lick those soft, upturned lips… lips he knew better than nearly anyone else’s… it was almost worth the risk of the paralytic that likely laced them for a chance to let John take it all away… to sink into John’s warm, willing, very experienced flesh and just forget…
…let's be honest Jack, I'm nothing more than a blip in time for you…
In a thousand years’ time, you won't remember me…
I love you.
“No!” Jack recoiled as if struck, his right hand half-pulling the pistol from its holster. “No. You have nothing to offer me.”
John remained where he was, dark eyes knowing. Jack had avoided Earth, and any reminder of it, for over a hundred years. It didn’t take a genius to determine why. “Oh, I do, love. And in the end? You’ll bleeding well go down on those pretty knees and thank me proper for it.” Swiftly quaffing his drink, John paid the barkeep and vanished into the crowd.
Remaining where he was for several long minutes, Jack managed to compose himself. The memories rattling around inside his heart were bad enough without physical reminders. Finally gathering himself, he finished his drink and turned his attention to the beautiful female that had been exuding pheromones his direction for half the night.
Females didn’t trigger flashbacks.
* * *
Mayhem and murder weren’t the only things John Hart was good at. After all, he’d been a Time Agent, and one of the best. He and Jack had been unstoppable.
He knew how to watch. How to stay unobtrusive. How to gather intelligence from sources other than a gasping lover.
He knew how to use the vortex manipulator without being traced. How to glide from one moment to the next as if crossing an iced pond.
Most importantly, he knew how to find the threads that wove time together, and how to manipulate them.
* * *
“I can survive anything!”
Ianto didn’t have time to respond, couldn’t think beyond Jack’s kiss. Wild, animal, desperate: a man about to die and needing that one moment of pure hunger… and then Jack placed him on the lift and Ianto could hardly see him for the tears in his eyes. I could have found a way to stop it… damn it, Jack, why won’t you let me save you for once!
“I’ll come back. I always do.”
Those blue eyes swam in Ianto’s vision even before he was powered too far away to see them clearly. Jack shouldn’t have to come back… shouldn’t have to die… especially not like this…
The lift cleared the sidewalk just as the blast rocked the entire neighborhood. Ianto crumpled to the ground and rolled clear, fighting the howl of rage and grief that swelled up in his chest. He started to his feet when the shaking stopped, desperate to get back down into the Hub…
A hand latched onto him from behind. Male. Not Jack. Ianto spun into that grip fighting on base rage alone…
His blows were easily deflected, as if the person he was fighting was swatting flies. A muttered “bugger all” was all Ianto heard before two hands grabbed his face and lips that weren’t Jack’s sealed to his. Ianto shoved with all his strength and broke free of that grip, staggering back and shaking his head to clear his vision of rage-induced white before he… he…
Red coat… eyes like fresh pitch… long sword at the belt…
“Sorry, Eye Candy. We’ve got a long trip ahead, and I’m not in the mood for questions.”
Jack… Darkness rose up and claimed him.
* * *
Warmth surrounded him; balmy, like he always thought Fiji or the Azores or Aruba might be. The fabric under his skin was filmy and soft, inviting a nestle deeper…
“Wakey, wakey, love. Time’s wasting.”
That’s not Jack’s voice.
Ianto sat up straight, hand reaching for the gun in his shoulder holster. He came up empty and panic began to set in as he bolted to his feet and scanned the room.
“Easy, there. No need for violence.” The sound of that cocky West End accent drew Ianto’s attention to a chair in the corner. There, large as life, sat John Hart. Amusement twisted the admittedly handsome features; long-fingered hands were empty, dangling lazily off the arms of the chair.
Memory, fuzzy with panic and fear, crashed into Ianto’s mind. John Hart catching him off guard after the explosion… kissing him… blackness rushing over him like a wave…
The explosion. The Hub. Gwen. “Jack.”
“Don’t worry, Eye Candy. He’s alive.” A snort of laughter. “What could kill him?”
“Where am I?” Ianto demanded. “Where’s Jack? What are you-”
“Settle down or I’ll kiss you again, Ianto Jones.” John smiled at the alarm flashing through those blue eyes. The boy was young… gorgeous… John was tempted to wipe the sedative gloss from his lips and seduce the belligerence out of the lad. Jack was lucky to have such an innocent to debauch. When Ianto’s eyes flared in panic and he forced his muscles to uncoil, John smiled soothingly. “There now… that’s better. Now…”
John hopped to his feet, grinning at Ianto’s ever-widening eyes, and strode to the window. “We’re on Valera; little blue jewel in a binary star system. Nice place, this: devoted to the pleasures of living. Vices you can find here, unlike anything you’ve ever heard of on Earth.”
“Where’s Jack?” Ianto demanded again.
Smiling, John stepped into Ianto’s space. Ianto tried to scramble back, but John stayed on him, reaching out and brushing a hand through Ianto’s hair. Ianto coiled like a spring, trapped between man and wall. “He’s here,” John crooned. “Doesn’t know you are, though… you’re a surprise, lovely.”
“What do you mean, a surprise?” Ianto’s eyes never left Hart’s, unease building in his gut with every word. A finger lazily traced Ianto’s cheekbone. Ianto suppressed a shudder. “I won’t let you…”
“Oh, hush.” John touched those soft lips, silencing Ianto before he could finish. “I could make you beg for me, Ianto Jones… could show you dark sides of sin and lust that Jack never would… make you crave each one like the air you breathe… I could make you forget all about Captain Jack Harkness…”
Ianto felt the pull of those black eyes… an urge to know if John could really do what he was promising… a shiver of desire, raw and primal, laced through Ianto’s blood… Hart was hypnotic… sensual… just like Jack…
Jack’s blue eyes cast into his mind, and Ianto latched onto the image like a lifeline. A burst of speed had him out of John’s space, the spell broken; Ianto fought for breath as he glared furiously at the rogue Time Agent.
“Oh, don’t get priggish, Eye Candy,” John admonished. “Can’t blame a bloke for his instincts, can you?”
“If Jack’s really here, I want to see him.” Ianto hoped his voice sounded as firm as it felt. “Now. Otherwise, you can take me back to Cardiff. And I want my gun back.”
A bark of laughter, and then John sat on the bed, his expression becoming serious. Not the intense seduction of a few moments ago, but… grave… “First, you listen. There’s a lot you need to know.”
Ianto hesitated, calculating. Jack had said to never believe a word John Hart said… but he needed to see Jack if he was here. And why would Jack be here after the bomb inside him had gone off? Why wasn’t he on Earth, with Gwen and Rhys? This was a strange place to heal when there was a crisis… when the Hub had just been destroyed…
Or had it?
Ianto suddenly realized he was on another planet and had no idea how much time had passed since Hart had taken him by surprise outside the Lift. No idea how long it had been since Jack had been blasted apart. He had no idea what had happened while he was gone or what Jack thought of his disappearance. And he had no idea whatsoever as to why John had taken him.
Seeing comprehension dawn, John smiled. “Aye, lovely. ‘When’ is just as important as ‘where’.”
Taking a deep breath, Ianto sat in the chair John had vacated. “All right. What’s going on?”
“The short version? Right then.” John took a breath and squared his shoulders. “The mess you were starting to deal with when I nabbed you was an invasion by a race called the 456. If I’d left you there, you’d have died of an alien virus three days after that bomb took Jack apart.”
Ianto went cold. “What?”
“Died in his arms, actually.” John’s voice was matter-of-fact, dispassionate. It made Ianto feel like someone walked over his grave. “He’s been a bloody mess over it.”
“How long?" Ianto croaked. “When are we?”
John’s eyes softened. “2115 by your calendar.” He saw the shock rip across Ianto’s face and felt a twinge of sympathy, but he had to press on. “Had to pull you far enough forward that no one would question it if you and Jack return to Earth.”
“Why?!” Ianto exploded. “Why couldn’t you just warn us?”
“Boy, d’you even have the faintest idea what you’re on about?” John’s teeth snapped on every syllable, sharp as fangs. “Fate’s a bloody persistent bitch. If I hadn’t pulled you out of time, a bloody isolation tank wouldn’t have kept that pretty arse of yours out of trouble. He’d have lost you, no matter what I said.”
“So why make him wait a century?” Ianto was struggling with the idea, trying to understand what was happening. “Why not sooner?”
“You want a lesson in how bleeding hard it is to manipulate time flows?” John sneered. “I did what I needed to do. “You’re reset, Ianto Jones. Fate’s had to recalculate your expiration.”
“You’re sure of that, are you?” Ianto couldn’t help sneering back.
“Sure as anyone can be.” John stood, paced closer to Ianto. Ianto stood in response, not wanting to be trapped again. “Question is, are you?”
“What?”
“Are you sure Jack’s what you want?” Those dark eyes caught him again; Ianto couldn’t look away. “He’s been a bloody wreck, but he’s been far from celibate. Can’t guarantee you’ll never catch his eyes wandering, or any of his other bits.”
Ianto swallowed. “I know what he is. I don’t care.”
“Don’t you?” John drew nearer, voice low and soft as silk drawing across a blade. “Do you love him, Ianto Jones?”
“Yes!” Low and fierce, Ianto put his soul into the word.
“Enough to let him fuck someone else if they catch his eye?”
Pain slashed through Ianto at the thought. Could he really share Jack? Jack had flirted with Gwen; he’d have given his ‘namesake’ one night of what he truly desired if Owen hadn’t opened the rift. But for nearly three years, Ianto alone had warmed his bed. Could he live with it if that changed? Could he have born it if Jack had been Gwen’s lover as well as his? Or Owen’s? Tosh’s?
Yes. For Jack’s heart, I can share his bed.
“Yes.” Ianto was amazed at the steadiness of his voice. “If that’s what he wants, yes.”
John grinned knowingly. “You’re young; in love; idealistic. We’ll see what a decade means.”
“Where’s Jack, damn it?” Ianto exploded.
“Easy, Eye Candy.” John was still grinning. “I’ve got everything set. Just listen…”
* * *
Light filtered through the curtained windows, gently prodding Jack towards waking. He’d gone to bed alone for the first time since he’d arrived on Valera, feeling strangely groggy and not up to his usual performance. Of course, he hadn’t slept well since John’s visit in the cantina, and he’d been drinking something the barkeep had recommended…
Ghosts in his heart… taunting him in his dreams… Ianto dying in his arms… crying and in pain… They’d fought before the end; there hadn’t been time for lovemaking… for letting Ianto know he was more than…
Pain knifed through Jack, bringing him more fully awake. The ghosts were still there, lingering in his mind, tricking him into thinking he could smell the warm, clean spiced scent of Ianto’s skin… cinnamon and bayberry…
Another body, firm and warm, pressed up against his own. The scent grew stronger and Jack groaned as his body stirred. His body wanted… just for a moment… his hands found the body twining against his own, openly inviting… smooth, soft skin… human skin…
Jack’s eyes shot open, expecting to see John Hart lying naked beside him. His body braced for a fight… and then froze in shock.
Blue eyes smiled up at him, warm and beckoning and dilated with passion that Jack hadn’t seen in far too long… “Ianto?”
Jack’s voice was thready with shock. Ianto nestled impossibly closer, wanting to reassure him. “Hello, sir,” Ianto replied in his best bedroom tease. “Sorry there’s no coffee; I’m not sure the locals have ever heard of it. Is there something else I can get you?”
Words wouldn’t come; there were too many battling their way to the forefront of his mind. Was he dreaming? Or on some strange hallucinatory high from the new drink last night? Or had his grief and guilt finally snapped his sanity?
Ianto gazed up at him, waiting patiently for a response. After a moment, of watching Jack warring with his own mind, he pressed a warm, open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of Jack’s throat, his fingers sliding up into the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck.
Jack’s confusion disintegrated. Dream or drugs or insanity, Ianto was alive and warm and willing in his arms and it no longer mattered what Hell would unfurl in his heart when reality returned. His hands trapped Ianto’s mouth against his by locking his head in an iron grip, and he rolled that beautiful naked body beneath his own. Ianto’s legs slid up around his waist, ankles locking and hips arching into his own: invitation so sweetly familiar that Jack nearly wept.
His hips ground back, rubbing their erections together almost frantically. Ianto clawed at his back, panting and moaning into his mouth the way he always had… Jack couldn’t stop, couldn’t think. Ianto’s hips arched again and Jack shifted to get his erection beneath them, needing to be inside Ianto so desperately, it was actually painful. His hands skimmed the length of that beautiful body, coming to rest on those perfect, questing hips.
Ianto’s mouth broke free just far enough to beg: “Now, Jack… please, now…”
Hips drove forward of their own volition and Jack cried out, somewhere between anguish and grace. Barely registering that Ianto had lubed himself before Jack woke, almost not hearing Ianto’s sighing gasp of pleasure, Jack wrapped him close and thrust like an animal in rut, mating Ianto on base instinct.
Ianto kissed him and moaned for him and shuddered and cried out and clung and gasped and Jack could have died from the perfection of the memory. Ianto’s name was a litany on his lips, syllables falling with the rhythm of their hips, a prayer to every God in which Jack had never believed that he never wake up from this…
There was nothing Ianto held back; he surrendered when orgasm hit and let Jack ride through it as he held on for dear life… Jack needed this… Ianto could deny him nothing…
“Let me see you…” Jack’s voice was hot, dark, thick with need and tears. He rolled them, putting Ianto astride him, and Ianto blushed furiously as he rode Jack with eyes wide open and fixed on the man beneath him. The sight made Jack smile, running worshipful hands over Ianto’s body. “You’re beautiful… so beautiful… did I tell you that enough?”
“You made me feel it,” Ianto murmured. One hand slid to Jack’s cheek, around to the nape of his neck, and then Ianto urged Jack up to hold him close. Jack obeyed, eager for the closeness that felt so real… so perfectly real… his hand slid between them to stroke Ianto with lazy intent, and Ianto gasped and clenched and nipped Jack’s shoulders… “Jack… I…”
“Let me watch you… so lovely when you come…”
Ianto shuddered, helpless; Jack’s thumb worried over the head of his arousal, fast as hummingbird wings and Ianto exploded in his hand. And then they were spinning, flying, and Ianto was on his knees and Jack was pounding, deep and hard, hands everywhere at once. He was biting into Ianto’s neck and tugging on his nipples and scraping his nails up Ianto’s shaking thighs and Ianto was gasping with every stroke that rasped across his prostate with devastating speed…
After the third time his body seemed to explode, Ianto somehow passed beyond orgasm. He hung suspended, quivering and keening, lost in a storm of hypersensation over which Jack had total control. And Jack couldn’t stop, rode him down to utter exhaustion, until finally, finally Jack’s inhuman control gave out and his release burst into Ianto like an overburdened dam.
Ianto wept, feeling Jack’s tears fall onto his shoulder, no strength in his limbs to hold Jack and every need in the world to do so. Jack made up for Ianto’s lack, wrapping him tightly in his arms as if the world could end and he wouldn’t let go.
“Not yet,” Jack murmured brokenly. Sleep dragged insistently at his mind, his body driven as hard as Ianto’s. And if he slept, Ianto would vanish… “Don’t leave yet.”
“I won’t,” Ianto soothed. His trembling hands smoothed across Jack’s tense back and shoulders. “Sleep, Jack… it’s all okay now…”
“No.” Jack fought the drowsiness creeping over him, unwilling to let the hallucinatory Ianto fade. It felt real… whole… Ianto was here in his arms, not dust and shadow and bone a million miles away…
“I won’t leave,” Ianto whispered, kissing Jack’s parted lips. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise, Jack.”
He didn’t want to; he wanted to stay here, where Ianto was warm and alive. But sleep crept through his veins like poison and Ianto was pressing little gentling kisses to his jaw, hands stroking his hair, and Jack sank into dreamless slumber.
* * *
Sex with Jack had left Ianto uncomfortable before. Their first tryst had been exuberant, and Jack hadn’t realized that Ianto had never been with a man before. Ianto hadn’t the faintest idea that it would have mattered. Jack had been more careful with him the second time, recognizing the signs of Ianto’s hurt and asking some very blunt questions. Even so, Ianto had been nervous, uncertain of what Jack saw in him, and it had translated into a difficult time adjusting to penetration.
Jack had patiently guided him through, trying to give him every assurance that he found Ianto exquisite, that he wasn’t a disappointment to Jack because he was taking so long to come around… Jack had found it a challenge to overcome Ianto’s insecurities so their passion play could be uninhibited.
Nothing of that could compare with this morning. Ianto’s entire body felt like an overstretched rubber band. Jack slept on, letting Ianto watch him while he summoned the wherewithal to move from the bed and have a long soak. It was a rare moment, to see Jack Harkness unguarded. He was just a man, not much older than Ianto physically, face peaceful and eyes fluttering.
Even Jack Harkness dreamed.
Slowly, aching, Ianto eased from the bed and found the bathing tub. Carved from indigenous stone, the liquid flowed in from an unseen spring. Ianto gingerly slipped in and rolled, resting his crossed arms on the side of the tub and floating, his head pillowed on his forearms, rather than sitting on his sore bum. The liquid felt like warm honey, viscous and soothing, and Ianto smiled softly as the warmth suffused his entire body.
How long he floated, blissful and content, Ianto couldn’t say. But he heard movement in the outer room and knew Jack was awake. Time to move. Time for explanations.
There was soft material in the room, ostensibly for toweling after the bath. Ianto took a length and wrapped it around his waist, noting that his muscles no longer protested when he moved. The bath likely had healing properties of some kind; he would have to ask Jack… later. Taking a soft breath, Ianto stepped to the door and peered into the room.
Jack was standing naked at the window, staring out at the landscape with blind eyes. Ianto knew he didn’t believe last night was real… didn’t believe Ianto was alive… Jack looked so lost…
Needing to erase that expression from Jack’s eyes, Ianto cleared his throat. “Jack?”
Jack’s head snapped around, his blue eyes huge. Shock lines were visible along his entire body as he stared, slack-jawed, at a ghost. He couldn’t speak; Ianto could see his Adam’s apple bob as Jack struggled for voice. Ianto couldn’t stand it. He closed the distance and threw himself into Jack’s arms, wrapping himself as close as he could and resting his forehead against Jack’s. “Jack… Jack, it’s all right… I’m here…”
“How…?” Jack’s voice felt like it came from far away… as far away as Ianto should have been… “You died… you died in my arms…”
Ianto kissed him, soft and quick. “Hart.”
Jack started, his eyes going impossibly wider. “What?”
“I don’t know why and I don’t really understand how,” Ianto confessed softly. “But he said he pulled me ‘out of time’. For you.”
For a moment, Jack’s mind reeled. It didn’t make sense; Ianto had died… he remembered Ianto’s death… the virus had killed them both…
No. Not he and Ianto. He and Gwen.
Memories shifted, rearranging. Jack could remember with wrenching clarity the explosion tearing him apart, a regeneration that had been like death all over again. Gwen and Rhys, helping him through. Being told Ianto had disappeared in the aftermath. Gwen had literally seen Ianto one moment, and he’d vanished the next.
There had been no time to search; the threat of the 456 was too immediate. And then…
Gwen had followed him. He’d tried to stop her, citing her pregnancy, but she’d refused to listen. She’d died in his arms, saying she loved him as much as Ianto did… that he couldn’t lose faith, had to find Ianto… Ianto wouldn’t have abandoned them… him… willingly…
Years spent searching; long after Ianto’s life had probably lasted. Jack couldn’t give up, thinking only to find him… until one night… one horrible New Year’s night when he’d found himself searching a crowded square and someone had shouted the year.
2080.
More than seventy years. If Ianto was still alive, the remainder of his life would be no more than a heartbeat… and it would be cruel of Jack to suddenly appear when there was so little time… too little to share what they would both want… and so he'd given up the search. Had left Earth entirely, hoping to leave his grief and guilt behind. Hoping the memories of a chance that could have been wonderful would eventually be bearable.
Jack’s eyes focused on Ianto, focused on the present, focused on the reality of what had happened. Ianto was here, alive, pulled out of time by John Hart. The memories of Ianto’s death were ghosts, remnants of a timeline that no longer existed.
Ianto was alive.
“Ianto…”
“I don’t know why he did it,” Ianto repeated. “He told me that he did it for you, that I would have died three days after the explosion if he hadn’t.”
“You did,” Jack murmured. His eyes couldn’t pull away from Ianto’s face, memorizing features he’d never thought to see outside his own mind again. “You died in my arms… you were sure I would forget you…” Jack’s throat closed, his heart aching. “You told me you love me.”
Words Ianto had once sworn he wouldn’t confess, not to this beautiful, eternal man whose heart could not possibly be caught by a transient creature like himself. But Ianto couldn’t let that memory stand… couldn’t let it be the way Jack remembered hearing those words from him…
“I do love you, Jack,” Ianto confessed softly. “I have for a long time, and I will for the rest of my life… however long it lasts this time.”
Jack yanked Ianto into his body and kissed him. Ianto’s body yielded, his hands grasping at Jack’s shoulders as Jack’s lips sealed against his own and Jack’s tongue sweeping into his mouth like a conqueror, taking no prisoners. One of them moaned into the kiss, but neither knew which nor much cared to know. Jack’s hands found Ianto’s thighs and lifted, urging those strong legs around his waist. Ianto gave the tiniest wince, his muscles still a bit stressed, and Jack’s head immediately lifted. “Ianto?”
“I’m fine, sir,” Ianto assured him. “Don’t be concer-”
Jack shook him. “Don’t, Ianto. Are you injured? Did John-”
“No!” Ianto sighed and tightened his legs around Jack’s waist. He drew a long, deep breath against the twinge and brushed a reassuring but uncertain kiss over Jack’s lips. “Don’t you… remember last night?”
For a moment, Jack was poised to ask what Ianto meant. But memory came flooding back again: much more pleasant memories this time… hazy memories of passion riding hard… Ianto writhing with abandon in his arms… “I hurt you,” Jack said thickly.
Ianto let out a growl and kissed Jack more fervently this time. “No. You finally stopped treating me like I’m fragile, because you didn’t think I was real. I am real, and I love you, and I’m not going to break, Jack.” He tightened his grip with arms and legs, pressing his arousal into Jack’s belly as hard as he could. “I love you.”
Drunk on the words, inflamed by the familiar, beautiful, perfect man naked and wanting in his arms, Jack carried Ianto into the bath. Lowering them both into the warm liquid, Jack kissed Ianto’s eyes. “I love you, too, Ianto.”
Ianto gasped, and Jack kissed those open lips. Kissed the smooth line of Ianto’s jaw. Kissed the tender skin beneath Ianto’s ear. His lips caressed the soft skin of Ianto’s neck, lingered over the hollow of Ianto’s pulse, whispered over every inch of Ianto’s shoulders… Ianto’s hands slid, wet and slow, over Jack’s broad back and his legs parted of their own volition… he loved Jack… Jack loved him…
He didn’t know how long he could hold the heart of this man, but to have it for even a moment… to really have Jack and not just his body… Ianto felt tears well in his eyes as Jack relearned his body, exquisitely slow…
Slower still when the head of Jack’s erection prodded at Ianto’s entrance, almost asking permission… Ianto wrapped his legs around Jack again, unable to ignore the rightness… this was where he always wanted to be… naked and cradled in Jack’s arms, legs slung around that tapered waist, open to receive him…
Unlike last night, Jack drew this mating out until Ianto was begging, words tumbling from Ianto’s lips in a litany of need, and Jack’s smile was fierce, blinding, a seduction all its own… “I love you, Ianto… come for me, love… let me watch you… I love to watch you…”
Ianto’s climax rolled through him like a tidal wave seemingly at Jack’s command, his body clasping Jack’s with as much strength as he could muster. Jack came with him this time, moaning Ianto’s name and burying his face in the curve of Ianto’s neck.
Long moments later, Jack finally lifted his face and brushed his lips over the tears spilling down Ianto’s cheeks. Ianto could feel Jack’s own and his eyes opened, his fingers reaching up to brush them away. “Jack…”
“I’ll never let you go,” Jack promised softly. “We’ll travel together; we’re not bound to Earth or Torchwood anymore. The things I could show you, Ianto… things most humans never see, even now… and I’ll protect you… I won’t let anything happen to you; I’ll never leave your side…”
Kissing those talented lips, Ianto kept up the soothing stroke of his fingers over Jack’s face and hair. “I believe you, Jack… but you have to agree to something for me.”
“Anything,” Jack promised instantly.
Taking a breath, Ianto went for it. “I want you to promise me that if you decide there’s someone else you want to bed, that you'll bring them home so we can share.”
Thunderstruck, Jack couldn’t form words to answer. Why would Ianto…? It didn’t make sense. “Ianto, there’s no one…”
“Not now,” Ianto agreed softly. “Maybe not for a while. Back on Earth, I know there was no one else. But it was a close thing with Gwen, and I’m not stupid, Jack. You’re not built for monogamy. I’m not going to demand it. What I want is a part in it. If you’re attracted to someone else enough to seduce them, I want to be a part of that seduction.”
Sharing Ianto with someone else was an almost gut-wrenching concept. Jack couldn’t even begin to describe how vehemently he opposed the idea. “Ianto…”
“It’s a deal-breaker, Jack,” Ianto said firmly. “I love you, but I’m not fool enough to think I’m enough for you in bed forever. You agree to share your conquests with me, or this goes no further.”
Jack debated with himself, trying to see it from all angles. Could he bring himself to really bed someone else when he had Ianto? He’d had opportunities back in the 21st, but Ianto had been such a perfect consort… so lovely and eager to learn and passionate… Jack hadn’t felt the need to really pursue other entertainments. If he had Ianto for years… spent decades with him… would that need begin to assert itself? Would he find someone too tempting to ignore?
If I do, Ianto is giving me permission to take the opportunity… his only condition is that I share it with him. He’s willing to compromise exclusivity for longevity…
No wonder I love him.
“All right, Ianto,” Jack finally conceded. “If I find someone tempting enough, I’ll bring them to you and we’ll share.” He brushed a damp hand through Ianto’s hair. “You won’t mind if I don’t even consider the idea for a decade or so, though? Long enough to get used to the idea that you’re really still alive… that you love me?”
Ianto’s smile was melting, heartwarmingly relieved. “I won’t mind at all, sir. Whatever you want.”
Jack kissed Ianto again; Ianto could feel him grow hard in an instant. “That’s what I love about you, Ianto… always so accomodating… so eager to please…”
“I love you,” Ianto replied simply, meaning every word. He loves me… Jack Harkness loves me… “How could I not be?”
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: Pr0n is par for the course in my work, as is angst.
Spoilers: Allusions to series events through COE
Disclaimer: Torchwood, its characters and settings are the property of Russell T. Davies, no matter what a mess I think he’s made of them. I own little more than a tabby that gets destructive when he feels ignored and would make a poor target for copyright infringement litigation.
Author’s Note: Written for maisontv, who urged me to get into the Torchwood fandom. My first foray into Torchwood fic, this is little more than an excuse to undo Ianto’s death and have he and Jack have lots of sex.
Please be kind and feel free to leave as much feedback on all of this as you wish. Feedback is always adored. Detailed feedback results in eternal love and more fic. ^o^
Music: Pieces - Red
Love Song - 311
If You’re Not the One - Daniel Bedingfield
If I Didn’t Care - Amy Adams & Lee Pace
A prickle up his spine was the only warning he had. It was usually enough, and his invulnerability meant he didn’t need much more anyway. Not even bothering to turn from the bar, Jack’s right hand strayed to his pistol.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“Sometimes.” Jack’s right hand remained on his pistol while his left tipped his glass to his lips. “What brings you here?”
“Same as you.” John sat beside him and ordered a drink. “All this time, and you still don’t trust me? I’m hurt.”
“Our relationship was never about trust.” Jack ordered another shot and turned his head to face his old partner. “Why are you here?”
“I told you-”
“Don’t lie to me.”
John sighed and faced Jack. “You’re no bloody fun anymore, d’you know that? Time was: you’d throw a few punches, I’d bash you about, we’d have a few drinks and then fuck until dawn… or… whatever passes for dawn ‘round here.”
Jack took his new drink from the barkeep and gulped half in one swallow. “The binary suns cross the horizon at almost the same time. You should go: watch them. Alone.”
“Maybe I will.” John’s hand slid over to Jack’s thigh. “Or maybe I’ll find somewhat better to do, eh?”
Jack stood up and backed up. “Never again.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve given up sex,” John sneered. “That’s a bloody impossibility.”
“Just sex with you.” Jack’s face was pale, his hands shaking. He hadn’t seen John Hart since… well, since before…
His heart lurched in his chest, bringing tears he’d thought long dry back to his eyes. Owen, Tosh, Gray… Ianto… even Gwen by now. Dust and shadow.
John watched the play of emotion through Jack’s eyes, the tightening of that chiseled jaw and the barest quiver of that devastatingly sensual lower lip. Five years… he knew Jack damned well: well enough to know who Jack was thinking of just now.
“A century,” John stated softly. He stood from the bar, drawing into Jack’s space, watching Jack watch him like an animal tracks a predator. “A hundred years gone by, filled with adventure and sex and every wonder you could ever ask… and it still hurts you. You can make it go away, Jack. I can help you make it go away.”
For a moment, Jack almost gave in to the desire to lick those soft, upturned lips… lips he knew better than nearly anyone else’s… it was almost worth the risk of the paralytic that likely laced them for a chance to let John take it all away… to sink into John’s warm, willing, very experienced flesh and just forget…
…let's be honest Jack, I'm nothing more than a blip in time for you…
In a thousand years’ time, you won't remember me…
I love you.
“No!” Jack recoiled as if struck, his right hand half-pulling the pistol from its holster. “No. You have nothing to offer me.”
John remained where he was, dark eyes knowing. Jack had avoided Earth, and any reminder of it, for over a hundred years. It didn’t take a genius to determine why. “Oh, I do, love. And in the end? You’ll bleeding well go down on those pretty knees and thank me proper for it.” Swiftly quaffing his drink, John paid the barkeep and vanished into the crowd.
Remaining where he was for several long minutes, Jack managed to compose himself. The memories rattling around inside his heart were bad enough without physical reminders. Finally gathering himself, he finished his drink and turned his attention to the beautiful female that had been exuding pheromones his direction for half the night.
Females didn’t trigger flashbacks.
* * *
Mayhem and murder weren’t the only things John Hart was good at. After all, he’d been a Time Agent, and one of the best. He and Jack had been unstoppable.
He knew how to watch. How to stay unobtrusive. How to gather intelligence from sources other than a gasping lover.
He knew how to use the vortex manipulator without being traced. How to glide from one moment to the next as if crossing an iced pond.
Most importantly, he knew how to find the threads that wove time together, and how to manipulate them.
* * *
“I can survive anything!”
Ianto didn’t have time to respond, couldn’t think beyond Jack’s kiss. Wild, animal, desperate: a man about to die and needing that one moment of pure hunger… and then Jack placed him on the lift and Ianto could hardly see him for the tears in his eyes. I could have found a way to stop it… damn it, Jack, why won’t you let me save you for once!
“I’ll come back. I always do.”
Those blue eyes swam in Ianto’s vision even before he was powered too far away to see them clearly. Jack shouldn’t have to come back… shouldn’t have to die… especially not like this…
The lift cleared the sidewalk just as the blast rocked the entire neighborhood. Ianto crumpled to the ground and rolled clear, fighting the howl of rage and grief that swelled up in his chest. He started to his feet when the shaking stopped, desperate to get back down into the Hub…
A hand latched onto him from behind. Male. Not Jack. Ianto spun into that grip fighting on base rage alone…
His blows were easily deflected, as if the person he was fighting was swatting flies. A muttered “bugger all” was all Ianto heard before two hands grabbed his face and lips that weren’t Jack’s sealed to his. Ianto shoved with all his strength and broke free of that grip, staggering back and shaking his head to clear his vision of rage-induced white before he… he…
Red coat… eyes like fresh pitch… long sword at the belt…
“Sorry, Eye Candy. We’ve got a long trip ahead, and I’m not in the mood for questions.”
Jack… Darkness rose up and claimed him.
* * *
Warmth surrounded him; balmy, like he always thought Fiji or the Azores or Aruba might be. The fabric under his skin was filmy and soft, inviting a nestle deeper…
“Wakey, wakey, love. Time’s wasting.”
That’s not Jack’s voice.
Ianto sat up straight, hand reaching for the gun in his shoulder holster. He came up empty and panic began to set in as he bolted to his feet and scanned the room.
“Easy, there. No need for violence.” The sound of that cocky West End accent drew Ianto’s attention to a chair in the corner. There, large as life, sat John Hart. Amusement twisted the admittedly handsome features; long-fingered hands were empty, dangling lazily off the arms of the chair.
Memory, fuzzy with panic and fear, crashed into Ianto’s mind. John Hart catching him off guard after the explosion… kissing him… blackness rushing over him like a wave…
The explosion. The Hub. Gwen. “Jack.”
“Don’t worry, Eye Candy. He’s alive.” A snort of laughter. “What could kill him?”
“Where am I?” Ianto demanded. “Where’s Jack? What are you-”
“Settle down or I’ll kiss you again, Ianto Jones.” John smiled at the alarm flashing through those blue eyes. The boy was young… gorgeous… John was tempted to wipe the sedative gloss from his lips and seduce the belligerence out of the lad. Jack was lucky to have such an innocent to debauch. When Ianto’s eyes flared in panic and he forced his muscles to uncoil, John smiled soothingly. “There now… that’s better. Now…”
John hopped to his feet, grinning at Ianto’s ever-widening eyes, and strode to the window. “We’re on Valera; little blue jewel in a binary star system. Nice place, this: devoted to the pleasures of living. Vices you can find here, unlike anything you’ve ever heard of on Earth.”
“Where’s Jack?” Ianto demanded again.
Smiling, John stepped into Ianto’s space. Ianto tried to scramble back, but John stayed on him, reaching out and brushing a hand through Ianto’s hair. Ianto coiled like a spring, trapped between man and wall. “He’s here,” John crooned. “Doesn’t know you are, though… you’re a surprise, lovely.”
“What do you mean, a surprise?” Ianto’s eyes never left Hart’s, unease building in his gut with every word. A finger lazily traced Ianto’s cheekbone. Ianto suppressed a shudder. “I won’t let you…”
“Oh, hush.” John touched those soft lips, silencing Ianto before he could finish. “I could make you beg for me, Ianto Jones… could show you dark sides of sin and lust that Jack never would… make you crave each one like the air you breathe… I could make you forget all about Captain Jack Harkness…”
Ianto felt the pull of those black eyes… an urge to know if John could really do what he was promising… a shiver of desire, raw and primal, laced through Ianto’s blood… Hart was hypnotic… sensual… just like Jack…
Jack’s blue eyes cast into his mind, and Ianto latched onto the image like a lifeline. A burst of speed had him out of John’s space, the spell broken; Ianto fought for breath as he glared furiously at the rogue Time Agent.
“Oh, don’t get priggish, Eye Candy,” John admonished. “Can’t blame a bloke for his instincts, can you?”
“If Jack’s really here, I want to see him.” Ianto hoped his voice sounded as firm as it felt. “Now. Otherwise, you can take me back to Cardiff. And I want my gun back.”
A bark of laughter, and then John sat on the bed, his expression becoming serious. Not the intense seduction of a few moments ago, but… grave… “First, you listen. There’s a lot you need to know.”
Ianto hesitated, calculating. Jack had said to never believe a word John Hart said… but he needed to see Jack if he was here. And why would Jack be here after the bomb inside him had gone off? Why wasn’t he on Earth, with Gwen and Rhys? This was a strange place to heal when there was a crisis… when the Hub had just been destroyed…
Or had it?
Ianto suddenly realized he was on another planet and had no idea how much time had passed since Hart had taken him by surprise outside the Lift. No idea how long it had been since Jack had been blasted apart. He had no idea what had happened while he was gone or what Jack thought of his disappearance. And he had no idea whatsoever as to why John had taken him.
Seeing comprehension dawn, John smiled. “Aye, lovely. ‘When’ is just as important as ‘where’.”
Taking a deep breath, Ianto sat in the chair John had vacated. “All right. What’s going on?”
“The short version? Right then.” John took a breath and squared his shoulders. “The mess you were starting to deal with when I nabbed you was an invasion by a race called the 456. If I’d left you there, you’d have died of an alien virus three days after that bomb took Jack apart.”
Ianto went cold. “What?”
“Died in his arms, actually.” John’s voice was matter-of-fact, dispassionate. It made Ianto feel like someone walked over his grave. “He’s been a bloody mess over it.”
“How long?" Ianto croaked. “When are we?”
John’s eyes softened. “2115 by your calendar.” He saw the shock rip across Ianto’s face and felt a twinge of sympathy, but he had to press on. “Had to pull you far enough forward that no one would question it if you and Jack return to Earth.”
“Why?!” Ianto exploded. “Why couldn’t you just warn us?”
“Boy, d’you even have the faintest idea what you’re on about?” John’s teeth snapped on every syllable, sharp as fangs. “Fate’s a bloody persistent bitch. If I hadn’t pulled you out of time, a bloody isolation tank wouldn’t have kept that pretty arse of yours out of trouble. He’d have lost you, no matter what I said.”
“So why make him wait a century?” Ianto was struggling with the idea, trying to understand what was happening. “Why not sooner?”
“You want a lesson in how bleeding hard it is to manipulate time flows?” John sneered. “I did what I needed to do. “You’re reset, Ianto Jones. Fate’s had to recalculate your expiration.”
“You’re sure of that, are you?” Ianto couldn’t help sneering back.
“Sure as anyone can be.” John stood, paced closer to Ianto. Ianto stood in response, not wanting to be trapped again. “Question is, are you?”
“What?”
“Are you sure Jack’s what you want?” Those dark eyes caught him again; Ianto couldn’t look away. “He’s been a bloody wreck, but he’s been far from celibate. Can’t guarantee you’ll never catch his eyes wandering, or any of his other bits.”
Ianto swallowed. “I know what he is. I don’t care.”
“Don’t you?” John drew nearer, voice low and soft as silk drawing across a blade. “Do you love him, Ianto Jones?”
“Yes!” Low and fierce, Ianto put his soul into the word.
“Enough to let him fuck someone else if they catch his eye?”
Pain slashed through Ianto at the thought. Could he really share Jack? Jack had flirted with Gwen; he’d have given his ‘namesake’ one night of what he truly desired if Owen hadn’t opened the rift. But for nearly three years, Ianto alone had warmed his bed. Could he live with it if that changed? Could he have born it if Jack had been Gwen’s lover as well as his? Or Owen’s? Tosh’s?
Yes. For Jack’s heart, I can share his bed.
“Yes.” Ianto was amazed at the steadiness of his voice. “If that’s what he wants, yes.”
John grinned knowingly. “You’re young; in love; idealistic. We’ll see what a decade means.”
“Where’s Jack, damn it?” Ianto exploded.
“Easy, Eye Candy.” John was still grinning. “I’ve got everything set. Just listen…”
* * *
Light filtered through the curtained windows, gently prodding Jack towards waking. He’d gone to bed alone for the first time since he’d arrived on Valera, feeling strangely groggy and not up to his usual performance. Of course, he hadn’t slept well since John’s visit in the cantina, and he’d been drinking something the barkeep had recommended…
Ghosts in his heart… taunting him in his dreams… Ianto dying in his arms… crying and in pain… They’d fought before the end; there hadn’t been time for lovemaking… for letting Ianto know he was more than…
Pain knifed through Jack, bringing him more fully awake. The ghosts were still there, lingering in his mind, tricking him into thinking he could smell the warm, clean spiced scent of Ianto’s skin… cinnamon and bayberry…
Another body, firm and warm, pressed up against his own. The scent grew stronger and Jack groaned as his body stirred. His body wanted… just for a moment… his hands found the body twining against his own, openly inviting… smooth, soft skin… human skin…
Jack’s eyes shot open, expecting to see John Hart lying naked beside him. His body braced for a fight… and then froze in shock.
Blue eyes smiled up at him, warm and beckoning and dilated with passion that Jack hadn’t seen in far too long… “Ianto?”
Jack’s voice was thready with shock. Ianto nestled impossibly closer, wanting to reassure him. “Hello, sir,” Ianto replied in his best bedroom tease. “Sorry there’s no coffee; I’m not sure the locals have ever heard of it. Is there something else I can get you?”
Words wouldn’t come; there were too many battling their way to the forefront of his mind. Was he dreaming? Or on some strange hallucinatory high from the new drink last night? Or had his grief and guilt finally snapped his sanity?
Ianto gazed up at him, waiting patiently for a response. After a moment, of watching Jack warring with his own mind, he pressed a warm, open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of Jack’s throat, his fingers sliding up into the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck.
Jack’s confusion disintegrated. Dream or drugs or insanity, Ianto was alive and warm and willing in his arms and it no longer mattered what Hell would unfurl in his heart when reality returned. His hands trapped Ianto’s mouth against his by locking his head in an iron grip, and he rolled that beautiful naked body beneath his own. Ianto’s legs slid up around his waist, ankles locking and hips arching into his own: invitation so sweetly familiar that Jack nearly wept.
His hips ground back, rubbing their erections together almost frantically. Ianto clawed at his back, panting and moaning into his mouth the way he always had… Jack couldn’t stop, couldn’t think. Ianto’s hips arched again and Jack shifted to get his erection beneath them, needing to be inside Ianto so desperately, it was actually painful. His hands skimmed the length of that beautiful body, coming to rest on those perfect, questing hips.
Ianto’s mouth broke free just far enough to beg: “Now, Jack… please, now…”
Hips drove forward of their own volition and Jack cried out, somewhere between anguish and grace. Barely registering that Ianto had lubed himself before Jack woke, almost not hearing Ianto’s sighing gasp of pleasure, Jack wrapped him close and thrust like an animal in rut, mating Ianto on base instinct.
Ianto kissed him and moaned for him and shuddered and cried out and clung and gasped and Jack could have died from the perfection of the memory. Ianto’s name was a litany on his lips, syllables falling with the rhythm of their hips, a prayer to every God in which Jack had never believed that he never wake up from this…
There was nothing Ianto held back; he surrendered when orgasm hit and let Jack ride through it as he held on for dear life… Jack needed this… Ianto could deny him nothing…
“Let me see you…” Jack’s voice was hot, dark, thick with need and tears. He rolled them, putting Ianto astride him, and Ianto blushed furiously as he rode Jack with eyes wide open and fixed on the man beneath him. The sight made Jack smile, running worshipful hands over Ianto’s body. “You’re beautiful… so beautiful… did I tell you that enough?”
“You made me feel it,” Ianto murmured. One hand slid to Jack’s cheek, around to the nape of his neck, and then Ianto urged Jack up to hold him close. Jack obeyed, eager for the closeness that felt so real… so perfectly real… his hand slid between them to stroke Ianto with lazy intent, and Ianto gasped and clenched and nipped Jack’s shoulders… “Jack… I…”
“Let me watch you… so lovely when you come…”
Ianto shuddered, helpless; Jack’s thumb worried over the head of his arousal, fast as hummingbird wings and Ianto exploded in his hand. And then they were spinning, flying, and Ianto was on his knees and Jack was pounding, deep and hard, hands everywhere at once. He was biting into Ianto’s neck and tugging on his nipples and scraping his nails up Ianto’s shaking thighs and Ianto was gasping with every stroke that rasped across his prostate with devastating speed…
After the third time his body seemed to explode, Ianto somehow passed beyond orgasm. He hung suspended, quivering and keening, lost in a storm of hypersensation over which Jack had total control. And Jack couldn’t stop, rode him down to utter exhaustion, until finally, finally Jack’s inhuman control gave out and his release burst into Ianto like an overburdened dam.
Ianto wept, feeling Jack’s tears fall onto his shoulder, no strength in his limbs to hold Jack and every need in the world to do so. Jack made up for Ianto’s lack, wrapping him tightly in his arms as if the world could end and he wouldn’t let go.
“Not yet,” Jack murmured brokenly. Sleep dragged insistently at his mind, his body driven as hard as Ianto’s. And if he slept, Ianto would vanish… “Don’t leave yet.”
“I won’t,” Ianto soothed. His trembling hands smoothed across Jack’s tense back and shoulders. “Sleep, Jack… it’s all okay now…”
“No.” Jack fought the drowsiness creeping over him, unwilling to let the hallucinatory Ianto fade. It felt real… whole… Ianto was here in his arms, not dust and shadow and bone a million miles away…
“I won’t leave,” Ianto whispered, kissing Jack’s parted lips. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise, Jack.”
He didn’t want to; he wanted to stay here, where Ianto was warm and alive. But sleep crept through his veins like poison and Ianto was pressing little gentling kisses to his jaw, hands stroking his hair, and Jack sank into dreamless slumber.
* * *
Sex with Jack had left Ianto uncomfortable before. Their first tryst had been exuberant, and Jack hadn’t realized that Ianto had never been with a man before. Ianto hadn’t the faintest idea that it would have mattered. Jack had been more careful with him the second time, recognizing the signs of Ianto’s hurt and asking some very blunt questions. Even so, Ianto had been nervous, uncertain of what Jack saw in him, and it had translated into a difficult time adjusting to penetration.
Jack had patiently guided him through, trying to give him every assurance that he found Ianto exquisite, that he wasn’t a disappointment to Jack because he was taking so long to come around… Jack had found it a challenge to overcome Ianto’s insecurities so their passion play could be uninhibited.
Nothing of that could compare with this morning. Ianto’s entire body felt like an overstretched rubber band. Jack slept on, letting Ianto watch him while he summoned the wherewithal to move from the bed and have a long soak. It was a rare moment, to see Jack Harkness unguarded. He was just a man, not much older than Ianto physically, face peaceful and eyes fluttering.
Even Jack Harkness dreamed.
Slowly, aching, Ianto eased from the bed and found the bathing tub. Carved from indigenous stone, the liquid flowed in from an unseen spring. Ianto gingerly slipped in and rolled, resting his crossed arms on the side of the tub and floating, his head pillowed on his forearms, rather than sitting on his sore bum. The liquid felt like warm honey, viscous and soothing, and Ianto smiled softly as the warmth suffused his entire body.
How long he floated, blissful and content, Ianto couldn’t say. But he heard movement in the outer room and knew Jack was awake. Time to move. Time for explanations.
There was soft material in the room, ostensibly for toweling after the bath. Ianto took a length and wrapped it around his waist, noting that his muscles no longer protested when he moved. The bath likely had healing properties of some kind; he would have to ask Jack… later. Taking a soft breath, Ianto stepped to the door and peered into the room.
Jack was standing naked at the window, staring out at the landscape with blind eyes. Ianto knew he didn’t believe last night was real… didn’t believe Ianto was alive… Jack looked so lost…
Needing to erase that expression from Jack’s eyes, Ianto cleared his throat. “Jack?”
Jack’s head snapped around, his blue eyes huge. Shock lines were visible along his entire body as he stared, slack-jawed, at a ghost. He couldn’t speak; Ianto could see his Adam’s apple bob as Jack struggled for voice. Ianto couldn’t stand it. He closed the distance and threw himself into Jack’s arms, wrapping himself as close as he could and resting his forehead against Jack’s. “Jack… Jack, it’s all right… I’m here…”
“How…?” Jack’s voice felt like it came from far away… as far away as Ianto should have been… “You died… you died in my arms…”
Ianto kissed him, soft and quick. “Hart.”
Jack started, his eyes going impossibly wider. “What?”
“I don’t know why and I don’t really understand how,” Ianto confessed softly. “But he said he pulled me ‘out of time’. For you.”
For a moment, Jack’s mind reeled. It didn’t make sense; Ianto had died… he remembered Ianto’s death… the virus had killed them both…
No. Not he and Ianto. He and Gwen.
Memories shifted, rearranging. Jack could remember with wrenching clarity the explosion tearing him apart, a regeneration that had been like death all over again. Gwen and Rhys, helping him through. Being told Ianto had disappeared in the aftermath. Gwen had literally seen Ianto one moment, and he’d vanished the next.
There had been no time to search; the threat of the 456 was too immediate. And then…
Gwen had followed him. He’d tried to stop her, citing her pregnancy, but she’d refused to listen. She’d died in his arms, saying she loved him as much as Ianto did… that he couldn’t lose faith, had to find Ianto… Ianto wouldn’t have abandoned them… him… willingly…
Years spent searching; long after Ianto’s life had probably lasted. Jack couldn’t give up, thinking only to find him… until one night… one horrible New Year’s night when he’d found himself searching a crowded square and someone had shouted the year.
2080.
More than seventy years. If Ianto was still alive, the remainder of his life would be no more than a heartbeat… and it would be cruel of Jack to suddenly appear when there was so little time… too little to share what they would both want… and so he'd given up the search. Had left Earth entirely, hoping to leave his grief and guilt behind. Hoping the memories of a chance that could have been wonderful would eventually be bearable.
Jack’s eyes focused on Ianto, focused on the present, focused on the reality of what had happened. Ianto was here, alive, pulled out of time by John Hart. The memories of Ianto’s death were ghosts, remnants of a timeline that no longer existed.
Ianto was alive.
“Ianto…”
“I don’t know why he did it,” Ianto repeated. “He told me that he did it for you, that I would have died three days after the explosion if he hadn’t.”
“You did,” Jack murmured. His eyes couldn’t pull away from Ianto’s face, memorizing features he’d never thought to see outside his own mind again. “You died in my arms… you were sure I would forget you…” Jack’s throat closed, his heart aching. “You told me you love me.”
Words Ianto had once sworn he wouldn’t confess, not to this beautiful, eternal man whose heart could not possibly be caught by a transient creature like himself. But Ianto couldn’t let that memory stand… couldn’t let it be the way Jack remembered hearing those words from him…
“I do love you, Jack,” Ianto confessed softly. “I have for a long time, and I will for the rest of my life… however long it lasts this time.”
Jack yanked Ianto into his body and kissed him. Ianto’s body yielded, his hands grasping at Jack’s shoulders as Jack’s lips sealed against his own and Jack’s tongue sweeping into his mouth like a conqueror, taking no prisoners. One of them moaned into the kiss, but neither knew which nor much cared to know. Jack’s hands found Ianto’s thighs and lifted, urging those strong legs around his waist. Ianto gave the tiniest wince, his muscles still a bit stressed, and Jack’s head immediately lifted. “Ianto?”
“I’m fine, sir,” Ianto assured him. “Don’t be concer-”
Jack shook him. “Don’t, Ianto. Are you injured? Did John-”
“No!” Ianto sighed and tightened his legs around Jack’s waist. He drew a long, deep breath against the twinge and brushed a reassuring but uncertain kiss over Jack’s lips. “Don’t you… remember last night?”
For a moment, Jack was poised to ask what Ianto meant. But memory came flooding back again: much more pleasant memories this time… hazy memories of passion riding hard… Ianto writhing with abandon in his arms… “I hurt you,” Jack said thickly.
Ianto let out a growl and kissed Jack more fervently this time. “No. You finally stopped treating me like I’m fragile, because you didn’t think I was real. I am real, and I love you, and I’m not going to break, Jack.” He tightened his grip with arms and legs, pressing his arousal into Jack’s belly as hard as he could. “I love you.”
Drunk on the words, inflamed by the familiar, beautiful, perfect man naked and wanting in his arms, Jack carried Ianto into the bath. Lowering them both into the warm liquid, Jack kissed Ianto’s eyes. “I love you, too, Ianto.”
Ianto gasped, and Jack kissed those open lips. Kissed the smooth line of Ianto’s jaw. Kissed the tender skin beneath Ianto’s ear. His lips caressed the soft skin of Ianto’s neck, lingered over the hollow of Ianto’s pulse, whispered over every inch of Ianto’s shoulders… Ianto’s hands slid, wet and slow, over Jack’s broad back and his legs parted of their own volition… he loved Jack… Jack loved him…
He didn’t know how long he could hold the heart of this man, but to have it for even a moment… to really have Jack and not just his body… Ianto felt tears well in his eyes as Jack relearned his body, exquisitely slow…
Slower still when the head of Jack’s erection prodded at Ianto’s entrance, almost asking permission… Ianto wrapped his legs around Jack again, unable to ignore the rightness… this was where he always wanted to be… naked and cradled in Jack’s arms, legs slung around that tapered waist, open to receive him…
Unlike last night, Jack drew this mating out until Ianto was begging, words tumbling from Ianto’s lips in a litany of need, and Jack’s smile was fierce, blinding, a seduction all its own… “I love you, Ianto… come for me, love… let me watch you… I love to watch you…”
Ianto’s climax rolled through him like a tidal wave seemingly at Jack’s command, his body clasping Jack’s with as much strength as he could muster. Jack came with him this time, moaning Ianto’s name and burying his face in the curve of Ianto’s neck.
Long moments later, Jack finally lifted his face and brushed his lips over the tears spilling down Ianto’s cheeks. Ianto could feel Jack’s own and his eyes opened, his fingers reaching up to brush them away. “Jack…”
“I’ll never let you go,” Jack promised softly. “We’ll travel together; we’re not bound to Earth or Torchwood anymore. The things I could show you, Ianto… things most humans never see, even now… and I’ll protect you… I won’t let anything happen to you; I’ll never leave your side…”
Kissing those talented lips, Ianto kept up the soothing stroke of his fingers over Jack’s face and hair. “I believe you, Jack… but you have to agree to something for me.”
“Anything,” Jack promised instantly.
Taking a breath, Ianto went for it. “I want you to promise me that if you decide there’s someone else you want to bed, that you'll bring them home so we can share.”
Thunderstruck, Jack couldn’t form words to answer. Why would Ianto…? It didn’t make sense. “Ianto, there’s no one…”
“Not now,” Ianto agreed softly. “Maybe not for a while. Back on Earth, I know there was no one else. But it was a close thing with Gwen, and I’m not stupid, Jack. You’re not built for monogamy. I’m not going to demand it. What I want is a part in it. If you’re attracted to someone else enough to seduce them, I want to be a part of that seduction.”
Sharing Ianto with someone else was an almost gut-wrenching concept. Jack couldn’t even begin to describe how vehemently he opposed the idea. “Ianto…”
“It’s a deal-breaker, Jack,” Ianto said firmly. “I love you, but I’m not fool enough to think I’m enough for you in bed forever. You agree to share your conquests with me, or this goes no further.”
Jack debated with himself, trying to see it from all angles. Could he bring himself to really bed someone else when he had Ianto? He’d had opportunities back in the 21st, but Ianto had been such a perfect consort… so lovely and eager to learn and passionate… Jack hadn’t felt the need to really pursue other entertainments. If he had Ianto for years… spent decades with him… would that need begin to assert itself? Would he find someone too tempting to ignore?
If I do, Ianto is giving me permission to take the opportunity… his only condition is that I share it with him. He’s willing to compromise exclusivity for longevity…
No wonder I love him.
“All right, Ianto,” Jack finally conceded. “If I find someone tempting enough, I’ll bring them to you and we’ll share.” He brushed a damp hand through Ianto’s hair. “You won’t mind if I don’t even consider the idea for a decade or so, though? Long enough to get used to the idea that you’re really still alive… that you love me?”
Ianto’s smile was melting, heartwarmingly relieved. “I won’t mind at all, sir. Whatever you want.”
Jack kissed Ianto again; Ianto could feel him grow hard in an instant. “That’s what I love about you, Ianto… always so accomodating… so eager to please…”
“I love you,” Ianto replied simply, meaning every word. He loves me… Jack Harkness loves me… “How could I not be?”