Fic: Walls of Navy Blue (SoI 4) Part 2
Part 1
Part 2
Two days after Ms. White left and Torchwood Three was still on edge. They had passed inspection (the first ever for Cardiff, to Ianto's surprise when he overheard Suzie and Wilson talking), but there was a jitteriness that lingered with the relief. She had found plenty to criticize, plenty to berate Jack and the rest of the team about, but nothing was ever found which hinted at the deception. The others, for their part, had stood up to her in ways Ianto found remarkable, given the air of command and fear she usually maintained. Never did they let slip what was really housed at Cardiff, hidden in secret vaults and trap doors, though Jack had borne the greatest of her ire and sheer determination to find something wrong with the branch.
The strain had gotten to them all, however. Jack had even chastised Owen for his irreverence despite the mutual dislike for the woman, steam let off but the fires were still stoked. Ianto knew this couldn't last, this tension strung tight between all the members of the Cardiff branch except for himself. He was still not truly a member, still a slight shade passing through doling out coffee and tea and food when necessary. He was exempt from the snapping and bickering, the elevated voices and barrage of cursing and insults. Owen had even been quiet around him lately, sulking in an unnerving hyper manner which never meant anything good.
Ianto had left early, that evening after Ms. White had returned to London. He'd left early and relegated cleaning up for the early hours of the morning before the others came in to work. No one tried to kill him on his way home, there were no more bugs hidden in his place then there had been when he'd left that morning (three - one in the kitchen light plate, one in the bedroom phone, and another in the living room, tucked into the remote control - had been there since two days following his arrival), and no one was waiting for him in a darkened room, ready to threaten him within a breath of his life. A good end to the day; he'd gone out to celebrate and was nearly late for work the following morning when he had to go home to change out of the clothes he'd worn to the clubs. He should have brought clothes with him, but at the time, drinking in relief had been the priority. Not that he believed anyone would have noticed if he were late, though they might have missed their coffee.
Although, that wasn't entirely accurate, Ianto corrected himself. When he had been occupied with various duties about the hub, he'd felt eyes upon him. He knew Jack was watching, arms crossed and head inclined as though attempting to batter down his mental defenses and read what Ianto was all about. It'd be a nice try, but Ianto felt comfortable that he'd read nothing, even if Jack could read minds. He had caught him in this stance a time or two in reflections and passing glances. Jack was curious, but he never spoke to him. Ianto was disappointed he never got to use his response to the 'why' question, but then, Jack never acted as Ianto expected him to. It kept him slightly off-kilter, always second-guessing his plans and secrecy.
And he still didn't have the passcodes for the Archives.
He knew he should have turned around when he heard the low rumbles of laughter, but the room was one of the few he'd yet to clean. And being one of Owen's rooms dedicated to research, it tended to accumulate trash faster than the doctor's desk. It was a long rectangular room, a spindle off the autopsy room. Ianto wondered what mind had designed the place with all its halls and great rooms and round spirals, but then, a mind who had envisioned a hub meters beneath the surface with an 'invisible lift' and a rift running through its core was probably not the most sane members of society and thus the subterranean castle architecture made a sort of sense. At the far end of the long room (designed initially as a lecture hall, Ianto thought), Owen and Miles sat hunched over Owen's desk, sniggering like madmen with nothing on their minds but trouble.
He should have turned around, let them be.
"Oi! Tea-boy! Come here. I dropped my cup on the floor, made a bit of a mess." And with that, Owen let his cup fall to the floor, spraying a pinwheel arc of dark mocha coffee over the floor and up onto the wall when it hit on its edge and bounced. This set Miles off again, peals of laughter bouncing off the rows of tall tables and stools in one of the few rooms which appeared pristine Torchwood One white. Hyenas were what they reminded Ianto of - laughing hyenas with a leader of the pack, though if Ianto remembered right, the alphas were female. Maybe more the males of the pack, lowest in the hierarchy and raving mad in this case.
He did turn around, retrieving the mop and bucket he'd left outside the door. Best not to encourage them. Miles was already shuffling off to the door as Ianto passed him, mop and half-full trashbag in hand, the mop bucket beside him as he steered it with the mop handle. The sense of peace he'd found after Ms. White had left was gone, fury and disgust replacing the calm. He longed to crack the handle over Owen's head, just for kicks, to see if it really was as hollow as it sounded. Miles was a close second; maybe he'd throw a stool after him, or hit him with the mop bucket. He had rather remarkable aim, he was fairly sure he could hit the retreating back. But he had more than himself to consider, and that quickly dampened any flare of temper he might have had at the continued bullying. Instead, Ianto pushed the bucket along and focused on how best to clean up the mess without the mocha coffee staining the wall or the floor. He might actually have to return to the storage closet, get some bleach. Would piss off Owen, all the more reason to use bleach, but it was probably the best he had that might actually take the stains out.
Ianto was nearly upon the mess on the floor, a stool between he and Owen, when he noticed movement. Owen was far closer than he had been. The doctor had sprayed himself with something that made Ianto sneeze, three times he sneezed before the tickling in his nose stopped and he could stand straight. The room took a strange focus, in fact, the focal point was Owen and everything else seemed to move around him. It was incredibly disorienting, but at the same time an exhilarating lust was overriding everything. The disorientation, the spinning, his lips weren't full, but he wondered at the same time if for all the talking and insults if that wasn't masking something greater, something animal and fuck those lips -
"Miles? You getting this? You want me, don't you Ianto. Can't hardly keep your hands off me, you lecherous bloody tea-boy. I bet all you want to do is strip me down and have a shag, isn't it?"
It was true, true and so shallow when Owen said it but it was all Ianto could think about. As much as it disgusted him, Ianto wanted him. He lurched forward, fighting against a small corner of his mind that kept shouting that it was Owen for fuck's sake and he stopped himself, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, minds of their own threatening to grab the lapels of the white lab coat and throw him against the wall, kissing those lips until they were puffed and bruised, trailing down until he buried his face against Owen's neck, licking and kissing and drowning in his scent. He felt drunk, he felt high, and he'd never felt so alive in his life, not even during his teens when wanking took a near constant presence. He wanted nothing more than to -
God, no, this was Owen with whom he wanted to ignore all propriety and decorum, wanted to shag against one of the lab tables until Owen came with Ianto's name on his lips. His fingers tangled in his suit coat, holding himself back from both jumping Owen and ignoring all self-preservation and wanking in the middle of the lab. If he didn't...fuck, he was probably going to come in his pants just from the smell of Owen. He was dimly aware of background noise - sound garbled from traveling through water is what it was, so slow while time raced around the rich, sharp, and all-edges scent of Owen (why had he never noticed before?) as it wafted past, straight-lining to his cock and drawing his head with it to follow. The air moved, Owen moved. Ianto needed to follow, even if he didn't allow himself to touch since it was Owen, he could just smell, strip down out of these hot clothes and jerk himself off quickly and maybe he could -
A navy blue wall planted itself between Ianto and the trail he was following ... someone's...he couldn't remember but he was following something and now something was in his way. Arousal was making him light-headed, or maybe it was the pressure against his chest; he'd never felt like this before and it was suffocating. He pushed out, pushed at the wall and it took a moment to realize it was chuckling - the navy blue wall was chuckling and loosening his tie. He'd forgotten about the tie which was probably the source of the strangled feeling, there was a hand on his chest and it belonged to someone...he couldn't quite place it ... it wasn't the scent that he was following but God the wall smelled nearly as good. Maybe better.
Laughter again, more pleasant on the ears than hyena laughter and fuck if everything didn't just feel more, the sounds of laughter and the smells and the brilliant navy blue which held the scent of the air, dark and cloying and at the same time fresh and clear like rain as the world poured around him, pulling and pushing him. A sharp sound not far from Ianto's eyes drew his complete attention, movement clarifying until he realized a finger was waving back and forth like a pendulum.
"-nto. You with me here? Or are you still with the hyenas?"
Ianto nodded, then shook his head, not sure which question he was supposed to be answering while the finger waved in front of his eyes, barely resisting the urge to capture the digit between his lips and suck. He licked his lips instead, biting with enough pressure to bring a small measure of clarity cutting through the cloud of want. He could hardly breathe, but he didn't want to let go of the shirt he was touching, navy blue, the tight cotton weave feeling like mountains and valleys beneath his fingers. He knew who it was, he knew the name, different from the one who had been in the room before.
"Jack."
"Yes. Ian-Ianto. Listen to me." The wall shifted away from his touch, Ianto absently realized the wall was actually Jack's chest, which he'd been fondling and stroking while touch was so real. "Ianto, are you listening?"
Nodding again, Ianto leaned forward until his nose touched the crook of Jack's neck, inhaling deeply. He couldn't get enough, couldn't quit even though the same corner of his mind which had cried protest to the one before was now calling out just as loud that this was his boss he was smelling.
"Yes, I am. Do you understand what happened?"
Humming his agreement, Ianto gave in and licked the skin closest to his lips, tasting the smell as much as he was feeling it. He knew what it was, knew what Owen (Owen!) had been studying. Alien tech, potency undetermined, he'd read ... something ... "Pheromones." And truthfully, Ianto didn't care what Owen had been studying, there was warmth beneath his touch and he'd found delicious solid pressure to rub his cock against - would feel better without clothing but this slow smooth slide was finally giving him what he wanted, what he'd been wanting since...he couldn't remember when but now it was all he could remember ever desiring.
"Good. I'm going to help you take the edge off, okay?"
Ianto wanted nothing more than pants off, he didn't care about edges or help, he could take his pants off himself and get that skin contact he was craving, had been craving for so long he couldn't remember a time when he wasn't craving, lusting. His skin was crawling with want to touch and the need to be touched and there was laughter again but now hands were pushing away his own, struggling as they were with his belt which had twisted itself in knots and refused to open and god, he was going to come in his pants if he didn't hurry, didn't move faster cause he needed to touch.
One of his hands - his right hand, he used that hand to wank and why was it ... something was holding back and cool air and freedom were so overpowering Ianto could hear nothing but the blood rushing in his ears, the sounds of his own heart thrumming in his skull as his cock was wrapped in wet heat nearly buckling him if not for something hard supporting him. So hot, a fast slick slide and Lisa was glistening with sweat as she rode him, hands cuffed to the bed he couldn't touch but she was amazing, back arched and head thrown back. He could see a rivulet of sweat running between her breasts as she rose on her thighs and sank back down, slow steady heat and he couldn't touch, couldn't move, just let her take him as he begged her to move, pleaded even though she laughed, her laughter echoing through her body, trembling god this was a dream she wasn't here, she couldn't be here, it'd been so long but so hot, fire sliding over his cock so good, he needed this -
Too soon and he was coming; he felt it down to his toes and in the tips of his hair and even if it was only a dream it was his dream and Lisa was there, she was there as he sank deep inside her, coming with a cry he knew would be lost when he woke. It wasn't fair, the dreams were over so soon and he was left alone in a cold bed in a cold room and an even colder flat, beauty and warmth gone. He clung to this one, clutched as tight as he could as he felt himself sink into the bedding, hands free but no energy to move as he felt Lisa leaving him, he was sinking faster and faster with nothing to hold on to and he couldn't fight back the powers that pulled her away from him as quickly as he was falling, whisking her away to another time, another place, another dream to haunt him when he woke.
Ianto woke with a start, cold burning through half of him like running glacier water while the other half burned hot. He pulled the warmth tighter around him, hoping to save some of it before it bled off.
"Sleeping beauty awakes."
Groggy and more than a little confused, Ianto opened his eyes, seeing nothing but metal pegs in front of him. Rolling his head, his eyes traveled up the stool to find Jack staring back, elbows resting on his knees. "What..." And Ianto remembered what happened, small portions, flickering across his mind, Owen and navy blue cloth and ...
"Yes, I did. That floor can't be comfortable."
He could feel his face flame scarlet, no control and too flustered to care as he shifted around, noting without drawing too much attention that his pants were zipped, his belt buckled. Had he really? He had...for the first time since he'd transferred he found he couldn't look Jack in the eyes, and that was nearly as disheartening as knowing he'd humped the leg of his boss while hyped on alien pheromones to get off when his boss blew him. It was ....mortifying.
"My apologies, sir, I shouldn't -" He was lifted by the elbow off the floor and steadied with an even hand, quickly backing away when he had his feet under him.
"Go home, Ianto. Go home and sleep it off. You'll feel better in the morning and then you can come to work and tell me what happened."
"He didn't mean..." Jack was silent as Ianto's sentence trailed off, and Ianto found himself forced to look at the man (his boss) who had just ... at least he didn't really remember that portion of it. Or maybe he wished he would, those would be better than the torturous reminders of what he lost when Lisa was injured. But he was working on that. Ianto straightened with that thought, knowing the dreams would become real, soon, while he worked his tie back into place. Straight lines, crisp formality, his cold comfort which steadied him each time. "He was studying the potency of the substance. He had no idea it was this strong. I've seen stranger things," he added, almost as an afterthought.
Jack looked like he was going to argue, but didn't, helping Ianto straighten the lay of his suit coat. "I'll speak with him."
"Not necessary, sir." Ianto smoothed out the sides of his suit where his fingers had irreparably wrinkled the fine cloth. "I know where he stores the laxatives."
Jack's laughter filled the room and for a moment Ianto almost felt like part of Torchwood Three. But that was dangerous, it was there as long as he needed it and he couldn't allow himself to feel connected. Not again. So with a smile he didn't feel, Ianto collected himself, left the mop and bucket behind, and exited the room as he had entered.
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