Something Blue (1/3)
Title: Something Blue
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: graphic dub-con, spoilers through 2x09
Summary: After Gwen’s wedding, Jack is hurt, Ianto is forgiving, and things go too far.
Notes: Coda to “Something Borrowed.” This plot bunny kind of beat me over the head, and I felt awful writing it. I'm still new to the fandom, so if there are any glaring canon errors that I've missed, please feel free to let me know! Feedback is fantastic, even if you hated it.
…
Mug of coffee in one hand, Ianto paused before rapping his knuckles on the doorframe of Jack’s office.
Jack was turned away from him, looking at something Ianto couldn’t see. The firm set of his shoulders suggested tension, and Ianto debated turning back-if Jack was brooding, he generally liked to be left alone.
Then again, these days Ianto was less concerned with what Jack wanted and more concerned with what he needed. Jack hid his guilt over Owen’s (however impermanent) death well enough from the rest of the team, but Ianto could see it was-pun completely unintended-killing him. If Ianto didn’t shake him out of his slump every few hours with good coffee and better sex, he was fairly sure that Jack would end up working himself to death.
And just because he’d come right back didn’t mean Ianto had to like it any better.
He adjusted his grip on the mug and knocked.
Jack started and looked up at him. “Ianto?” He jerked one of the drawers in his desk open, stuffed something into it, and then flashed him a bright-and utterly fake, Ianto noted wryly-smile. “What’s up?”
Ianto raised the mug. A peace offering, he supposed. “Coffee.”
Jack’s smile turned a little more genuine, though no less forced. “Great, thanks.” Ianto returned it and crossed the office to him, handing him the mug and settling himself against Jack’s desk as Jack took a grateful sip. “Fantastic, as always. Thanks.”
“Not at all.” Ianto eyed the mostly-empty decanter on Jack’s desk. “Drinking alone, Jack?”
“Long day.” Jack took another swallow of coffee. “Doesn’t have as much of an effect as it used to, anyway. It’s mostly just for comfort. The slow burn as it goes down.” His eyes glazed over slightly and he shook himself, his gaze meeting Ianto’s again. “Know what I mean?”
Ianto nodded, reaching down to pick up one of the empty glasses. A few drops of golden liquid still clung to the bottom, reflecting in the fluorescent bulbs. “I know what you mean,” he said, replacing the glass. “Doesn’t mean I like it any better. I would’ve come up if you’d asked me.”
“No, that’s all right. I needed to think.” Jack emptied the decanter into his mug of coffee, and Ianto resisted the urge to wince. “Others gone home?”
“Owen drove Tosh back to hers about an hour ago.” He smiled in spite of himself. “They’ve been carpooling.”
“Typical,” Jack snorted. “It would take dying to make Owen care about his carbon footprint.” He took a sip of the now-spiked coffee, grimaced, and exhaled hard after he swallowed. “That was dumb,” he gasped. “Shouldn’t have done that.”
“Blasphemy,” Ianto agreed, and Jack chuckled, reaching down to run his fingertips lightly over the back of Ianto’s hand.
“So then,” he said, his voice dropping. “It’s just you and me. All alone in the Hub. All night.” He took Ianto’s hand in his, lifting it to his lips for a brief kiss. “However shall we pass the time?”
Ianto smiled, reaching down with his free hand to cup Jack’s cheek. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
Jack grinned.
Their kisses were rarely anything less than scorching, and this was no exception. Leaning against Jack’s desk Ianto had the height advantage to Jack’s seated position, but Jack quickly stole dominance, his hands curling around Ianto’s neck and tugging him closer. Ianto’s back protested the awkward angle but he deepened the kiss anyway, sucking hard on Jack’s tongue. Jack’s groan vibrated through both of them and he bit Ianto’s lower lip before pulling back. “I think,” he murmured, stroking his thumbs over Ianto’s neck, “that we should move this downstairs.”
Ianto barely had time to nod his agreement before Jack was pulling him over to the ladder, dropping down and motioning Ianto to follow him. Ianto slid down easily, drawn instantly into Jack’s embrace and pressed back against the ladder.
And then Jack’s lips were on his again, but there was something different about the kiss-it was deeper, harsher almost, more teeth and less tongue. Feeling his lips swelling already, Ianto drew back, his hands coming to rest on Jack’s shoulders. “If things are going to be getting rough, Jack, I’d appreciate a warning.”
“Consider yourself warned,” Jack growled, and covered Ianto’s lips with his once more. Something in his tone was decidedly unnerving and Ianto frowned into the kiss, tightening his grip on Jack’s shoulders in an attempt to soften the kiss-or at least tame it to the point where Jack wasn’t attempting to bite his tongue off. Jack seemed to get the message, at least slightly, curling his tongue around Ianto’s and grinding their hips together, erection pressing hard into Ianto’s hip. Ianto pressed back and Jack set a slow, thrusting rhythm, matching it with his tongue as his hands made short work of Ianto’s tie. His touch was hot and hurried and Ianto let his hands fall from Jack’s shoulders to unbutton Jack’s shirt. Jack wormed back long enough to let Ianto push the shirt off him before drawing Ianto back to him, resting their foreheads together and breathing heavily.
Ianto reached around to cup Jack’s face in his hands, searching Jack’s eyes for the source of the sudden surge of roughness. “Jack, what is it?” Jack said nothing, only turned his head and set his teeth to Ianto’s neck, and Ianto winced, pulling him off. “Jack, stop. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jack snapped, and Ianto shot him a look of pure disbelief. Jack’s fingers flexed on Ianto’s hips, digging in almost painfully, and then relaxed. “Nothing’s wrong,” he repeated, his voice calmer. “I just-I don’t like weddings.”
“You don’t like weddings,” Ianto echoed, “or you don’t like Gwen’s?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ianto looked at him. “I’m not an idiot,” he said simply. Jack looked away from him, and Ianto sighed, forcing Jack’s gaze back. “Jack, you did the right thing, letting her go. Rhys is good for her.”
“I know,” Jack muttered. His eyes were blazing, though, with something that wasn’t quite anger. “But I’m sick of doing the right thing.”
He surged forward, capturing Ianto’s lips again, and Ianto got the message that the conversation was over. Jack was gentler, though, hands moving in more of a caress, rather than an assault, and Ianto leaned into the kiss, slipping his own hands under the hem of Jack’s t-shirt and running his fingers over the smooth skin of Jack’s back. “Bed,” he murmured when they next parted.
“Always did like your ideas,” Jack shot back, his voice husky and heavy with an emotion that Ianto still wasn’t sure he liked. He steered Ianto by the belt loops, back to the bed, divesting him of jacket and shirt-but not, Ianto noted, tie-as they went. Ianto’s calves hit the bed and he went down, Jack’s hand at the back of his head cushioning his impact. Ianto propped himself on his elbows, watching through half-lidded eyes as Jack divested himself of his trousers and underwear, kicking off his shoes before climbing into bed, straddling Ianto’s hips and leaning down. Ianto groaned at the feeling of Jack’s bare erection pressing against his clothed one and Jack smirked against his lips, finally pulling the tie off and looping it around Ianto’s wrists, tying them to the bed frame.
Instantly, Ianto froze. There was an unspoken rule between them that any and all bondage was to be agreed on by both parties beforehand. This was sudden, spontaneous and, as Ianto tested the knots and realized he wouldn’t be able to get out of them easily, worrying. “Jack,” he said, schooling his voice to calmness. “Jack. Untie me.”
“Don’t think I will.”
“Jack.” He could hear the barest hint of panic slipping into his tone and swallowed to quell it. “Untie me.”
“No.” Jack dipped his head and licked at Ianto’s collarbone, then covered the lick with a bite. Ianto hissed, bucking up against him, more out of pain then pleasure, and Jack nipped gently at the reddened skin, almost in apology. “I need you, Ianto,” he whispered, hoarse and husky. “I need this.” He punctuated the sentence by squeezing Ianto’s erection through his trousers and Ianto groaned in spite of himself, thrusting his hips into Jack’s touch. “Let me,” Jack breathed, his tone bordering on vulnerable, and Ianto closed his eyes.
“Only if you untie me.” Jack made a softly protesting sound and Ianto opened his eyes, glaring at him. “Jack.”
“Fine.” Jack reached up and swiftly loosened the knots. Ianto breathed a faint sigh of relief, letting his arms drop down and reaching to pull Jack into a grateful kiss.
“Thank you.” The panic subsiding, he became suddenly aware that Jack had unfastened his belt. He lifted his hips to help Jack shimmy the fabric over his arse, letting Jack pull his trousers off completely.
Jack cocked an eyebrow at him, a hint of his usual humor sparking in his eyes. “No underwear, Ianto? You kinky thing, you.”
“Like you don’t know why,” Ianto shot back. Jack had pulled Ianto off the dance floor and into the coatroom, stroking him off through his trousers, and Ianto had walked around in sticky boxers for a decent hour before he’d had time to slip away to the bathroom and throw them away.
The laughing light died in Jack’s eyes and he bent his head to Ianto’s neck again, scraping his teeth over the pulse point. Ianto let his hands stroke over Jack’s back and groaned his appreciation as Jack’s hands worked their way lower, curling around his cock. “Jack,” he breathed, eyes falling closed, and Jack’s reply was muffled against Ianto’s skin as he stroked him, quick and efficient. Ianto jerked at the roughness of it, biting back a cry as Jack squeezed the tip, milking out drops of precome and smearing them over his fingers.
And then Jack’s hand was moving over, past his balls, one slightly-slickened finger pressing up and into him. Ianto hissed at the sudden entry, arching, and Jack pushed another finger in, only slightly wetter than the first, scissoring them quickly. Ianto dug his fingers into Jack’s shoulders, breathing hard-it hurt, and for all Jack’s joking about rough sex, kinky had never equaled pain before. Jack’s fingers withdrew, and an instant later Ianto felt the blunt tip of Jack’s cock at his entrance. He clenched his nails into Jack’s skin, panic beginning to flare up again. “Jack, I’m not-don’t-”
Jack pushed in, hard and fast, and Ianto cried out, his vision going red. Something definitely just tore, and he was nowhere near loose enough for this-another cry caught in his throat as Jack pulled out and then moved back in, setting a quick, heavy rhythm. His lips found Ianto’s and Ianto was grateful for it, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering into Jack’s mouth.
The pace wasn’t doing anything to alleviate the pain-if anything, it was sharpening it-and Ianto had almost forgotten he was actually involved in the sex when Jack’s free hand-the one that wasn’t digging into his hip-curled around his cock, still half-hard, and stroked him back to erection, thumb rubbing him in all the right ways even as his body continued to protest. Ianto swallowed what felt suspiciously like a sob, breaking the kiss to bury his face in Jack’s neck, and Jack panted against his cheek, his breath hot and heavy. “So good, Ianto,” he gasped, his lips moving against Ianto’s skin. “God, you’re so good-”
Ianto choked out a cry, his body’s instincts overwhelming pain as he came, shuddering, in Jack’s hand. Jack groaned, his rhythm stuttering to a halt as warm heat flooded Ianto’s body. Jack’s hips jerked once, twice, and Ianto bit his lip hard enough to draw blood at the stabbing pain of it before Jack slumped over him, gasping. Releasing a shaking breath of his own, Ianto closed his eyes and loosened his grip on Jack’s shoulders, knowing there would be bleeding marks from his nails left behind.
For a long moment they lay still, Jack still sheathed inside Ianto, Jack’s breathing slowly returning to normal while Ianto struggled to get his own under control. Finally Jack lifted his head from the crook of Ianto’s neck, resting their foreheads together. “Thank you,” he murmured, dipping down to drop an unbearably gentle kiss to Ianto’s lips. “I needed that.”
Ianto swallowed, trying to keep the mental litany of oh God oh God oh God from showing on his face. “What I’m here for, Jack.”
Jack laughed softly, pulling out, and Ianto snapped his mouth shut to keep from crying out. “Sometimes I think I’d fall apart if you weren’t there to take care of me,” Jack said quietly, stroking his fingertips over Ianto’s cheek. His eyes flickered to meet Ianto’s, surprisingly bright in the darkness of the room. “Is that too melodramatic?”
“Just a bit,” Ianto managed, and Jack laughed again.
“Thought as much.” He sat up with a groan, running an appreciative hand through the cooling come on Ianto’s stomach as he did so. Ianto suppressed a shudder. “I’m going to go shower. Want to come?”
Ianto shook his head. “Grab me a washcloth, though?”
Jack nodded, rolling off the bed and padding into the small adjoining bathroom without turning on any lights. Water ran briefly and then Jack was back, offering Ianto a damp cloth. “Sure you don’t want to come?” he teased, leaning down to nip at Ianto’s lower lip, grin flashing white in the darkness. “Always more fun with two.”
Ianto forced a smile. “I’ve barely been home in three days, Jack. If I get in there with you, I’ll never leave.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Jack mumbled, nuzzling Ianto’s neck, but he sighed and straightened, running his (thankfully clean) hand through Ianto’s hair. “Alright. Will you be here when I get out?”
“Probably not.”
“Goodnight, then.” Jack dropped a kiss to his lips, and then another, longer one before heading off again.
Ianto waited until the shower was running before running the cloth over his stomach, cleaning himself off before cautiously reaching over and turning on the small lamp next to the bed. He took a deep breath and bit his lip, running the cloth between his legs and then further back.
The cloth came away red, streaked with blood and come, and Ianto hissed softly, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the pillow. This was bad. He swallowed and wiped himself down as best he could before cautiously sitting up. The pain that had softened to a dull ache flared back into sharpness and he sucked in a quick breath, clenching his hands into the sheets before and letting his body adjust as much as he could before pushing himself very, very slowly to his feet.
Every movement was agony and it took him almost five minutes to gather his clothing and dress. He left his tie looped around the bed frame and barely buttoned up his shirt, loosely buttoning his belt before moving to the ladder. As an afterthought, he threw the cloth into the rubbish bin. He looked up at the ladder and closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself before setting one foot on the bottom rung.
He was gasping by the time he emerged into the Hub, his entire body trembling and his eyes protesting the sudden exposure to the lights still on in Jack’s office. Hauling himself to his feet, he let himself rest against Jack’s desk for a few moments before making his way slowly up to the tourist office.
His keys were in the bowl on the desk but his head was spinning and he wondered for a brief, horrifying second just how much blood he was losing from whatever tearing Jack had caused. Cautiously, he slipped one hand down the back of his trousers and ran it down. His fingers were bloody when he brought them up to his face and he groaned, grabbing a few tissues from the box on the desk and wiping them clean.
No way was he driving home. Even if he could stand the pain enough to concentrate on the road-doubtful, his ever-pragmatic brain told him-there was no way he’d be able to drive properly with his head spinning like this.
Swallowing his pride, he reached for his mobile.
Two rings later, a sleepy voice picked up, and Ianto took a deep breath. “Tosh? It’s Ianto.”
to part 2...
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: graphic dub-con, spoilers through 2x09
Summary: After Gwen’s wedding, Jack is hurt, Ianto is forgiving, and things go too far.
Notes: Coda to “Something Borrowed.” This plot bunny kind of beat me over the head, and I felt awful writing it. I'm still new to the fandom, so if there are any glaring canon errors that I've missed, please feel free to let me know! Feedback is fantastic, even if you hated it.
…
Mug of coffee in one hand, Ianto paused before rapping his knuckles on the doorframe of Jack’s office.
Jack was turned away from him, looking at something Ianto couldn’t see. The firm set of his shoulders suggested tension, and Ianto debated turning back-if Jack was brooding, he generally liked to be left alone.
Then again, these days Ianto was less concerned with what Jack wanted and more concerned with what he needed. Jack hid his guilt over Owen’s (however impermanent) death well enough from the rest of the team, but Ianto could see it was-pun completely unintended-killing him. If Ianto didn’t shake him out of his slump every few hours with good coffee and better sex, he was fairly sure that Jack would end up working himself to death.
And just because he’d come right back didn’t mean Ianto had to like it any better.
He adjusted his grip on the mug and knocked.
Jack started and looked up at him. “Ianto?” He jerked one of the drawers in his desk open, stuffed something into it, and then flashed him a bright-and utterly fake, Ianto noted wryly-smile. “What’s up?”
Ianto raised the mug. A peace offering, he supposed. “Coffee.”
Jack’s smile turned a little more genuine, though no less forced. “Great, thanks.” Ianto returned it and crossed the office to him, handing him the mug and settling himself against Jack’s desk as Jack took a grateful sip. “Fantastic, as always. Thanks.”
“Not at all.” Ianto eyed the mostly-empty decanter on Jack’s desk. “Drinking alone, Jack?”
“Long day.” Jack took another swallow of coffee. “Doesn’t have as much of an effect as it used to, anyway. It’s mostly just for comfort. The slow burn as it goes down.” His eyes glazed over slightly and he shook himself, his gaze meeting Ianto’s again. “Know what I mean?”
Ianto nodded, reaching down to pick up one of the empty glasses. A few drops of golden liquid still clung to the bottom, reflecting in the fluorescent bulbs. “I know what you mean,” he said, replacing the glass. “Doesn’t mean I like it any better. I would’ve come up if you’d asked me.”
“No, that’s all right. I needed to think.” Jack emptied the decanter into his mug of coffee, and Ianto resisted the urge to wince. “Others gone home?”
“Owen drove Tosh back to hers about an hour ago.” He smiled in spite of himself. “They’ve been carpooling.”
“Typical,” Jack snorted. “It would take dying to make Owen care about his carbon footprint.” He took a sip of the now-spiked coffee, grimaced, and exhaled hard after he swallowed. “That was dumb,” he gasped. “Shouldn’t have done that.”
“Blasphemy,” Ianto agreed, and Jack chuckled, reaching down to run his fingertips lightly over the back of Ianto’s hand.
“So then,” he said, his voice dropping. “It’s just you and me. All alone in the Hub. All night.” He took Ianto’s hand in his, lifting it to his lips for a brief kiss. “However shall we pass the time?”
Ianto smiled, reaching down with his free hand to cup Jack’s cheek. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
Jack grinned.
Their kisses were rarely anything less than scorching, and this was no exception. Leaning against Jack’s desk Ianto had the height advantage to Jack’s seated position, but Jack quickly stole dominance, his hands curling around Ianto’s neck and tugging him closer. Ianto’s back protested the awkward angle but he deepened the kiss anyway, sucking hard on Jack’s tongue. Jack’s groan vibrated through both of them and he bit Ianto’s lower lip before pulling back. “I think,” he murmured, stroking his thumbs over Ianto’s neck, “that we should move this downstairs.”
Ianto barely had time to nod his agreement before Jack was pulling him over to the ladder, dropping down and motioning Ianto to follow him. Ianto slid down easily, drawn instantly into Jack’s embrace and pressed back against the ladder.
And then Jack’s lips were on his again, but there was something different about the kiss-it was deeper, harsher almost, more teeth and less tongue. Feeling his lips swelling already, Ianto drew back, his hands coming to rest on Jack’s shoulders. “If things are going to be getting rough, Jack, I’d appreciate a warning.”
“Consider yourself warned,” Jack growled, and covered Ianto’s lips with his once more. Something in his tone was decidedly unnerving and Ianto frowned into the kiss, tightening his grip on Jack’s shoulders in an attempt to soften the kiss-or at least tame it to the point where Jack wasn’t attempting to bite his tongue off. Jack seemed to get the message, at least slightly, curling his tongue around Ianto’s and grinding their hips together, erection pressing hard into Ianto’s hip. Ianto pressed back and Jack set a slow, thrusting rhythm, matching it with his tongue as his hands made short work of Ianto’s tie. His touch was hot and hurried and Ianto let his hands fall from Jack’s shoulders to unbutton Jack’s shirt. Jack wormed back long enough to let Ianto push the shirt off him before drawing Ianto back to him, resting their foreheads together and breathing heavily.
Ianto reached around to cup Jack’s face in his hands, searching Jack’s eyes for the source of the sudden surge of roughness. “Jack, what is it?” Jack said nothing, only turned his head and set his teeth to Ianto’s neck, and Ianto winced, pulling him off. “Jack, stop. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jack snapped, and Ianto shot him a look of pure disbelief. Jack’s fingers flexed on Ianto’s hips, digging in almost painfully, and then relaxed. “Nothing’s wrong,” he repeated, his voice calmer. “I just-I don’t like weddings.”
“You don’t like weddings,” Ianto echoed, “or you don’t like Gwen’s?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ianto looked at him. “I’m not an idiot,” he said simply. Jack looked away from him, and Ianto sighed, forcing Jack’s gaze back. “Jack, you did the right thing, letting her go. Rhys is good for her.”
“I know,” Jack muttered. His eyes were blazing, though, with something that wasn’t quite anger. “But I’m sick of doing the right thing.”
He surged forward, capturing Ianto’s lips again, and Ianto got the message that the conversation was over. Jack was gentler, though, hands moving in more of a caress, rather than an assault, and Ianto leaned into the kiss, slipping his own hands under the hem of Jack’s t-shirt and running his fingers over the smooth skin of Jack’s back. “Bed,” he murmured when they next parted.
“Always did like your ideas,” Jack shot back, his voice husky and heavy with an emotion that Ianto still wasn’t sure he liked. He steered Ianto by the belt loops, back to the bed, divesting him of jacket and shirt-but not, Ianto noted, tie-as they went. Ianto’s calves hit the bed and he went down, Jack’s hand at the back of his head cushioning his impact. Ianto propped himself on his elbows, watching through half-lidded eyes as Jack divested himself of his trousers and underwear, kicking off his shoes before climbing into bed, straddling Ianto’s hips and leaning down. Ianto groaned at the feeling of Jack’s bare erection pressing against his clothed one and Jack smirked against his lips, finally pulling the tie off and looping it around Ianto’s wrists, tying them to the bed frame.
Instantly, Ianto froze. There was an unspoken rule between them that any and all bondage was to be agreed on by both parties beforehand. This was sudden, spontaneous and, as Ianto tested the knots and realized he wouldn’t be able to get out of them easily, worrying. “Jack,” he said, schooling his voice to calmness. “Jack. Untie me.”
“Don’t think I will.”
“Jack.” He could hear the barest hint of panic slipping into his tone and swallowed to quell it. “Untie me.”
“No.” Jack dipped his head and licked at Ianto’s collarbone, then covered the lick with a bite. Ianto hissed, bucking up against him, more out of pain then pleasure, and Jack nipped gently at the reddened skin, almost in apology. “I need you, Ianto,” he whispered, hoarse and husky. “I need this.” He punctuated the sentence by squeezing Ianto’s erection through his trousers and Ianto groaned in spite of himself, thrusting his hips into Jack’s touch. “Let me,” Jack breathed, his tone bordering on vulnerable, and Ianto closed his eyes.
“Only if you untie me.” Jack made a softly protesting sound and Ianto opened his eyes, glaring at him. “Jack.”
“Fine.” Jack reached up and swiftly loosened the knots. Ianto breathed a faint sigh of relief, letting his arms drop down and reaching to pull Jack into a grateful kiss.
“Thank you.” The panic subsiding, he became suddenly aware that Jack had unfastened his belt. He lifted his hips to help Jack shimmy the fabric over his arse, letting Jack pull his trousers off completely.
Jack cocked an eyebrow at him, a hint of his usual humor sparking in his eyes. “No underwear, Ianto? You kinky thing, you.”
“Like you don’t know why,” Ianto shot back. Jack had pulled Ianto off the dance floor and into the coatroom, stroking him off through his trousers, and Ianto had walked around in sticky boxers for a decent hour before he’d had time to slip away to the bathroom and throw them away.
The laughing light died in Jack’s eyes and he bent his head to Ianto’s neck again, scraping his teeth over the pulse point. Ianto let his hands stroke over Jack’s back and groaned his appreciation as Jack’s hands worked their way lower, curling around his cock. “Jack,” he breathed, eyes falling closed, and Jack’s reply was muffled against Ianto’s skin as he stroked him, quick and efficient. Ianto jerked at the roughness of it, biting back a cry as Jack squeezed the tip, milking out drops of precome and smearing them over his fingers.
And then Jack’s hand was moving over, past his balls, one slightly-slickened finger pressing up and into him. Ianto hissed at the sudden entry, arching, and Jack pushed another finger in, only slightly wetter than the first, scissoring them quickly. Ianto dug his fingers into Jack’s shoulders, breathing hard-it hurt, and for all Jack’s joking about rough sex, kinky had never equaled pain before. Jack’s fingers withdrew, and an instant later Ianto felt the blunt tip of Jack’s cock at his entrance. He clenched his nails into Jack’s skin, panic beginning to flare up again. “Jack, I’m not-don’t-”
Jack pushed in, hard and fast, and Ianto cried out, his vision going red. Something definitely just tore, and he was nowhere near loose enough for this-another cry caught in his throat as Jack pulled out and then moved back in, setting a quick, heavy rhythm. His lips found Ianto’s and Ianto was grateful for it, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering into Jack’s mouth.
The pace wasn’t doing anything to alleviate the pain-if anything, it was sharpening it-and Ianto had almost forgotten he was actually involved in the sex when Jack’s free hand-the one that wasn’t digging into his hip-curled around his cock, still half-hard, and stroked him back to erection, thumb rubbing him in all the right ways even as his body continued to protest. Ianto swallowed what felt suspiciously like a sob, breaking the kiss to bury his face in Jack’s neck, and Jack panted against his cheek, his breath hot and heavy. “So good, Ianto,” he gasped, his lips moving against Ianto’s skin. “God, you’re so good-”
Ianto choked out a cry, his body’s instincts overwhelming pain as he came, shuddering, in Jack’s hand. Jack groaned, his rhythm stuttering to a halt as warm heat flooded Ianto’s body. Jack’s hips jerked once, twice, and Ianto bit his lip hard enough to draw blood at the stabbing pain of it before Jack slumped over him, gasping. Releasing a shaking breath of his own, Ianto closed his eyes and loosened his grip on Jack’s shoulders, knowing there would be bleeding marks from his nails left behind.
For a long moment they lay still, Jack still sheathed inside Ianto, Jack’s breathing slowly returning to normal while Ianto struggled to get his own under control. Finally Jack lifted his head from the crook of Ianto’s neck, resting their foreheads together. “Thank you,” he murmured, dipping down to drop an unbearably gentle kiss to Ianto’s lips. “I needed that.”
Ianto swallowed, trying to keep the mental litany of oh God oh God oh God from showing on his face. “What I’m here for, Jack.”
Jack laughed softly, pulling out, and Ianto snapped his mouth shut to keep from crying out. “Sometimes I think I’d fall apart if you weren’t there to take care of me,” Jack said quietly, stroking his fingertips over Ianto’s cheek. His eyes flickered to meet Ianto’s, surprisingly bright in the darkness of the room. “Is that too melodramatic?”
“Just a bit,” Ianto managed, and Jack laughed again.
“Thought as much.” He sat up with a groan, running an appreciative hand through the cooling come on Ianto’s stomach as he did so. Ianto suppressed a shudder. “I’m going to go shower. Want to come?”
Ianto shook his head. “Grab me a washcloth, though?”
Jack nodded, rolling off the bed and padding into the small adjoining bathroom without turning on any lights. Water ran briefly and then Jack was back, offering Ianto a damp cloth. “Sure you don’t want to come?” he teased, leaning down to nip at Ianto’s lower lip, grin flashing white in the darkness. “Always more fun with two.”
Ianto forced a smile. “I’ve barely been home in three days, Jack. If I get in there with you, I’ll never leave.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Jack mumbled, nuzzling Ianto’s neck, but he sighed and straightened, running his (thankfully clean) hand through Ianto’s hair. “Alright. Will you be here when I get out?”
“Probably not.”
“Goodnight, then.” Jack dropped a kiss to his lips, and then another, longer one before heading off again.
Ianto waited until the shower was running before running the cloth over his stomach, cleaning himself off before cautiously reaching over and turning on the small lamp next to the bed. He took a deep breath and bit his lip, running the cloth between his legs and then further back.
The cloth came away red, streaked with blood and come, and Ianto hissed softly, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the pillow. This was bad. He swallowed and wiped himself down as best he could before cautiously sitting up. The pain that had softened to a dull ache flared back into sharpness and he sucked in a quick breath, clenching his hands into the sheets before and letting his body adjust as much as he could before pushing himself very, very slowly to his feet.
Every movement was agony and it took him almost five minutes to gather his clothing and dress. He left his tie looped around the bed frame and barely buttoned up his shirt, loosely buttoning his belt before moving to the ladder. As an afterthought, he threw the cloth into the rubbish bin. He looked up at the ladder and closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself before setting one foot on the bottom rung.
He was gasping by the time he emerged into the Hub, his entire body trembling and his eyes protesting the sudden exposure to the lights still on in Jack’s office. Hauling himself to his feet, he let himself rest against Jack’s desk for a few moments before making his way slowly up to the tourist office.
His keys were in the bowl on the desk but his head was spinning and he wondered for a brief, horrifying second just how much blood he was losing from whatever tearing Jack had caused. Cautiously, he slipped one hand down the back of his trousers and ran it down. His fingers were bloody when he brought them up to his face and he groaned, grabbing a few tissues from the box on the desk and wiping them clean.
No way was he driving home. Even if he could stand the pain enough to concentrate on the road-doubtful, his ever-pragmatic brain told him-there was no way he’d be able to drive properly with his head spinning like this.
Swallowing his pride, he reached for his mobile.
Two rings later, a sleepy voice picked up, and Ianto took a deep breath. “Tosh? It’s Ianto.”
to part 2...