Of Blood And Absolution

By compassion we make others' misery our own, and so,

by relieving them, we relieve ourselves also.

On a normal evening, the Hub was quiet. Its only sounds were the hum of the generator that gave the underground base a sense of breathing, of being alive, and of anticipating.

This was not a normal evening.

This night, it seemed to hold its breath and wait. It felt - pensive. Ianto could not fail to notice its (imagined?) demeanour as he made his final rounds through its intricate spaces, clearing up the last bits of rubbish and removing files the team no longer needed. He saved the upper level for last, knowing Jack was in his office mulling over the events of the day.

Of course, Jack had a right to brood tonight, Ianto reflected as he silently climbed the metal spiral staircase that connected the floors. As soon as he peered through the glass walls of the office, he stilled, and his breath caught in his throat. He gripped the railing tightly until his knuckles whitened with the strain.

Gwen’s words echoed through Ianto’s mind as he watched Jack, hunched miserably in his office chair behind his desk. His fingers were steepled, index fingers brushing the tip of his nose. Jack was still gazing at the CCTV monitor, his eyes unfocused and unseeing.

Jack looked…lost.

But none of you have any partners outside of this!

But we understand how you feel.

No you don’t! No, you don’t, Jack! You all think it’s cold and lonely out there, but it isn’t for me because I have him. He matters…

Ianto’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. Jack’s palpable misery was too much for either of them to bear alone. Jack was holding himself together in a way that bordered on recalcitrant, letting everyone else assume he was fine and would be right as rain the next day.

Ianto knew better.

He and Jack were trying to find their way back from the schism Jack left behind when he travelled with the Doctor – he had told Ianto that much about his missing time – but as to where they were going, he couldn’t have said. He didn’t even know what to call whatever it was they had. But it was something.

Jack was his boss, his friend, and his once-and-current lover. Ianto valued each aspect of his relationship with Jack individually, but at this moment, he thought Jack probably needed his friendship more than anything.

Ianto knew, suddenly and with certainty, what he needed to do. He would intervene while the wounds were fresh and tend them carefully. The unfinished business he could handle later.

*^*

Jack had sent his team home an hour earlier, quietly and solemnly dismissing them for the evening with none of his usual teasing banter. Toshiko and Owen left quickly, grimacing with the acerbic taste Gwen’s tantrum had left in their mouths. They could not conceal their eagerness to escape the funereal pall that had descended over them as Gwen had ascended on the invisible lift to join Rhys on the Plass.

Owen was subdued and cloaked in remorse and grief at what he had been forced to do to relieve the alien’s suffering. He had thanked Ianto for the coffee he’d supplied after their return to the Hub, which told him more about Owen’s emotional state than anything else might have done. He grabbed his things and fled as soon as Jack gave them leave, sparing Toshiko a small, grateful smile that didn’t reach his eyes. But he did not invite her to go with him, and Ianto would have been concerned if he had. Owen was in no state to be entertaining Ianto’s closest friend; he’d probably go out on the pull and get pissed to oblivion, and Ianto couldn’t blame him. Owen’s own mindless refuge from the horrors Torchwood inflicted on him was the simple act of a drunken shag with a nameless stranger who would not be around in the morning.

But Ianto stayed, because that was what Ianto did.

Ianto scrutinized Jack’s expressive features and studied the posture of his body, and decided Jack wasn’t ready for company yet. With a tired sigh, Ianto made his way to the shower room. He rummaged in his locker and found a set of casual clothes he had forgotten he had stashed there – for that matter, he couldn’t even remember putting them there. He retrieved the old denims and shook them out, draping them across the bench against the wall, and collected the black tee-shirt that lay beneath them. He dug out an old but comfortable pair of trainers, wrapped neatly in a plastic bag. He poked about, frowning; how was it he had no pants in his locker? It was hardly the end of the world, but it irked him all the same.

While they didn’t measure up to his usual work attire, they were clean and his suit wasn’t. His suit stank of the horror of the alien manatee’s living death and of the ravenous greed of the men who had murdered it in pieces every day. It reeked of the creature’s living putrefaction and the stink of rotting blood and of his own desperate fear.

Even worse - he reeked of it. He felt contaminated to his very bones by the day’s collective filth.

He stank of meat, of the putridity of decomposing tissues. He imagined the smell clinging to him, to his clothes, to his hair and his skin. The memories it dredged up - bound and gagged (trussed), beaten (tenderized), scared shitless and knowing he was about to die. His throat still bore the tiny, pale scar below his Adam’s-apple where the meat cleaver had scored the tender flesh, ready to bleed him dry…Ianto swallowed hard and forced the unwanted thoughts away.

Ianto peeled off his armour layer by layer with his fingertips, resisting the urge to heave the pieces into a bin liner - shoes and all - tie it off, and walk it down to the incinerator stark naked. The garments could be laundered, he reasoned. It was not like the clothes were damaged.

Except that they were. So many of his clothes were ruined like this – perfectly wearable, but equally detestable for the unspeakable horrors to which they’d borne helpless witness.

With a single-minded determination that could be easily mistaken for obsession, Ianto forcefully scoured every inch of his body, losing himself in the singular task of getting clean. Every plane, concavity, prominence, arc, and crevice was soaped and scrubbed vigorously until his pale skin glowed bright pink. He washed until the powerful stench he imagined clinging to him swirled down the drain with the suds. He worked with brutality, his goal nothing more than feeling like he’d been fully cleansed. Purified.

At last he was satisfied, though his sensitized skin tingled somewhat unpleasantly. Ianto sagged against the cool tiles and allowed the water to rinse the remnants of soap and shampoo and contamination away. He wanted only to curl up in his own bed, in his own flat, and forcefully will the day to have never happened – or at least to coerce its memories into that dark niche in his mind into which he rarely ventured (where cybermen and Lisa and cannibals and Daleks and Abaddon lived).

Ianto towelled off and rubbed his hair damp-dry, ruffling it so that it stood on end and curled gently, and tucked the towel around his waist. He picked up his razor and looked in the mirror, then slowly replaced it on the counter.

Fuck.

No aftershave – he had run out yesterday and hadn’t found the time to go out for more. He had gone without it all day since he had shaved that morning in the little bathroom adjacent to Jack’s quarters, where he had taken his last shower and dressed in his impeccable suit.

Unbidden, the memory of dressing with the bathroom door slightly ajar to let the steam escape flooded him. He recalled smirking, his fingers working the silk tie into its traditional half-Windsor knot by rote, when his eyes fell upon the tangle of bedding, wadded and hanging half off the narrow cot. He found himself smiling a little at the thought, and wondered if it should hurt to smile at something that was meant to be a fond recollection.

He wondered if it had only been this morning, some half a day ago, when he had awoken cold where the covers were missing and hot where Jack was draped across him.

Ianto scrutinized his reflection in the mirror. There wasn’t much stubble, he decided; he could shave in the morning at his flat.

I should stay, he thought half-heartedly. He wanted to stay. He wanted to put Jack to bed and to take his mind off of everything that had happened, and to curl protectively around him afterward.

Ianto’s gut twisted when he thought of Jack, alone in his bunker, after the day they had just experienced. His eyes closed as he imagined Jack curled on his side, trying to sleep and fighting it at the same time, attempting to keep the inevitable nightmares at bay for just a little while longer.

However, the idea of sleeping at the Hub tonight did not appeal to him after all that had transpired here earlier in the day.

Perhaps it was the echo of Gwen’s words, bouncing off the stone walls and somehow permeating them with vitriolic stains, that made him want to retch. Maybe it was being trussed up like livestock. Maybe it was the look of helpless terror in Jack’s eyes when their plan began to unravel.

It was too much. It had already been too much for him and too much for Owen and too much for Jack when they returned to the Hub that evening. Then Gwen-bloody-Cooper had sashayed in and dealt the coup de grace, leaving Jack more devastated than the horrific day’s events had already done.

The fallout was only just beginning, Ianto suspected, and he dreaded what it would bring in the days to come.

*^*

Ianto leant heavily against the counter as he prepared the last coffee of the night, wincing when a particularly sore spot on his body pressed along the edge of the stainless steel work surface. He used his thumbs as little as possible, avoiding the rope-burns that throbbed along the webbing between them. He reflected that perhaps he should have capitulated to Owen’s insistent demands to examine him, and he had even considered it.

Then Gwen had burst in, stalked toward Jack, and blatantly refused to Retcon Rhys, which would have been bad enough in itself. But she didn’t leave it at that; instead, she continued ranting, accusing them all of not knowing what it was like to love someone like she loved her fiancé.

If being so in love with your fiancé includes shagging a colleague and lusting shamelessly after your boss, then Gwen Cooper is the very picture of enamoured bliss, Ianto thought irritably, but then shook his head, surprised at his own bitter thoughts. Such pettiness was beneath him.

Ianto wondered how her little tantrum might have fared if she hadn’t cornered Jack in such a vulnerable moment. She had hit him below the belt, kicking him in the proverbial gonads with that comment.

…none of you have any partners outside of this!

She had punched them all in the stomach with that remark.

Ianto had never wanted to squeeze his hands around her throat as badly as he had in that moment. And he genuinely did not dislike Gwen on the whole.

What about those of us who have someone on the inside, Gwen? Ianto had wanted to challenge her, but there was a time and a place, and that had not been it. He had kept quiet and stayed in the place he usually occupied lately - at Jack’s back and silently supportive.

He sighed, long and deep and from the depths of his soul, and pushed his fingers through his still-damp hair. What a hell of a day.

Ianto had faced death before that idiot Dale had pulled the gun on him – hell, he was Torchwood, and facing death was practically engraved in the job description – but never had he looked down the barrel of a weapon and known his own life was moments from ending. Jack had held him at gunpoint, but that had been a different situation and, in retrospect, entirely justified. John Hart had pointed a gun in his face, but somehow Ianto had not thought he meant to had meant to kill him so much as intimidate him. Hart needed Jack, and Jack was not likely to cooperate over the body of a member of his team.

Staring into the narrow cylindrical blackness of the handgun’s barrel, Ianto had understood immediately what it meant when people insisted your life flashed before your eyes when you were about to die.

And worse – Jack had been standing right there, and he had witnessed Ianto’s moment of complete helplessness. His hands shook slightly when he recalled Jack’s panicked shout – NO! – as Ianto fought with Dale and the gun discharged. And then they had struggled with the weapon and each other, and the man pointed the gun at him and pulled the trigger.

Had that shout been for him, or for the manatee-creature who was, by then, thrashing in its restraints in fear and agony? He could not clearly remember what he had been thinking at that moment, though the sight of Jack’s eyes, wide and fearful, hinted that it was Ianto’s life-or-death predicament that had scared him most profoundly.

Ianto wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He knew Jack cared for him, but he absolutely did not want to become a liability in that capacity. Look at Gwen, he thought – her love for Rhys had made her vulnerable and subsequently almost got them killed. It was because he cared for Jack that he couldn’t let – this – place Jack in the same position.

Ianto decanted the hot coffee into two mugs. After a moment’s indecision, he added a splash of brandy to each. After today’s events, he felt they deserved something to take the edge off. He didn’t know if Jack would actually feel the effects of the liquor, but surely the warmth would be appreciated.

Ianto slowly approached Jack’s office and raised his fist, then hesitated. Since when did he have to knock?

Quietly, he let himself in and moved silently across the room in that ninja-butler fashion he had so carefully cultivated that often left Owen swearing a blue streak and threatening to suture a bell to his neck.

Jack didn’t acknowledge him at first, seemingly still lost inside his own head. Ianto placed the mug, its handle facing Jack, on the opposite side of the desk. Then he perched on its edge, leaning back slightly, and studied Jack.

The longing and sorrow shadowing Jack’s face tore Ianto up inside.

“She’ll be back,” Ianto whispered at last, unable to handle the heavy silence any longer. At last Jack turned to face him.

Jack snorted softly. “Of course she will. I’d have to Retcon her to keep her away. She likes the job – and she’s good at it, even – but it doesn’t totally own her. Not like it does us.”

Ianto’s expression hardened slightly. “Well, you heard her. None of us have as much to lose as she has.”

Jack pinned Ianto with tired blue eyes. “Don’t tell me you actually believe that.”

“Didn’t say I did.”

He watched Jack consider him for a long, silent moment, his blue eyes unreadable. Ianto couldn’t help but wonder what Jack was thinking about so intensely, then decided it was probably better that he didn’t know.

“Good. That’s good,” said Jack finally. He smoothed his fingertips along the threadbare denim stretched over Ianto’s knees. “Nice outfit. You should wear this more often.”

Ianto managed to conceal his sudden shiver under a startled chuckle. “Because Torchwood encourages casual Fridays now, does it?”

Jack laughed softly, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Looks good on you.” He paused, and Ianto could see Jack retreating into a memory.

“You were dressed like this the night we met. Bute Park, fighting a Weevil.”

“Yep,” he replied noncommittally. Ianto didn’t like to think too much about that night; in wearing the rent-boy attire, his motives had been less than pure where Jack was concerned. He had wanted the job because he had wanted to save Lisa; he just hadn’t counted on wanting Jack too.

Jack lapsed into silence again, and Ianto took the opportunity to sip his coffee and enjoy the warmth of the brandy trickling down his throat into in his stomach. He knew Jack would talk when he was ready.

Jack’s thumb absently stroked over Ianto’s knee. Ianto swallowed hard and shifted slightly. One finger could send searing heat through him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that either.

Jack looked up at him abruptly. “This – thing – with Gwen…I don’t know what to do with it.” He sighed, a deep sound that resonated grief and exhaustion. “But – you do know it has nothing to do with – with you and me, right?”

Ianto heard the faintest echo of uncertainty and he waited until Jack met his eyes before he nodded deliberately. He might not know exactly what they were, but since his return Jack was truly trying to make whatever it was between them work. It was like Jack had experienced a terrible sort of revelation. He’d told Ianto little to give him that idea; still, it gave Ianto a reason to wonder in Jack’s changing attitude during the last few weeks.

Knowing this didn’t make Gwen’s behaviour any easier to tolerate. Nor did it make it any easier to forgive it.

And Jack still looked lost and frighteningly uncertain.

Ianto abruptly leant over and kissed Jack’s forehead, letting his lips linger against warm skin.

Jack smelled of the warehouse. Ianto froze, his breath caught in his throat.

Ianto felt Jack’s hands come up to grasp his biceps to brace him. “Okay?” Jack whispered, at once very much in the present and, Ianto saw, obviously concerned.

Ianto turned his head aside and inhaled clean air deep into his lungs. This was not Jack’s fault, he reminded himself. Jack hadn’t realized he needed showering, so lost in his thoughts as he was.

“Ianto?” Jack prompted softly. Ianto felt Jack’s breath whisper along the shell of his ear.

Ianto steeled himself and forced his visceral reaction into the background. Jack needed him. He rested his forehead against Jack’s and murmured, “Want to get out of here for the night? Go back to mine, get a hot shower, and maybe sleep in a real bed for a change?”

Get away from Gwen’s harsh words echoing off the walls and from the memory of Owen’s anguished eyes...

Jack’s eyelids slid closed. “God, yes,” he breathed. “Let me grab a few things; won’t be a minute.”

Ianto took the time Jack spent rummaging in his bunker to phone the Thai restaurant not far from the Plass and order vegetarian takeaway - his stomach lurched at the thought of meat. He programmed the remote Rift alarm that would sound an alert on Jack’s wrist strap if it detected any activity, and he initiated nocturnal lockdown protocols. He wanted nothing to distract Jack from leaving the Hub as soon as possible.

*^*

Ianto felt chilly fingers interlace with his own as they walked across the Plass, and he smiled to himself. This little intimacy was new as well. He squeezed Jack’s large hand gently, reassuringly, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the gesture. Jack craved physical contact, especially when he felt vulnerable. Ianto knew he would need touching tonight.

Ianto needed it too.

There was little parking available around the Millennium Centre, so Ianto opted to leave his car at the Hub. It was a lovely night, cool and clear and delightfully quiet. He found he needed the walk; he was tired and every inch of his body ached terribly, but he knew the movement would help keep his muscles from stiffening quite as soon as they inevitably would.

Jack was still too quiet, and Ianto was acutely aware that meant he was still embroiled in the memories of the day’s events. Melancholy had settled over him again and Ianto could almost feel it radiating through the connection of their clasped fingers. Ianto came to a rapid decision and stopped abruptly, almost jerking Jack off his feet.

Jack regained his balance and frowned, a thin furrow wrinkling his brow. “Ianto, what the hell…?”

Ianto curled his free hand around Jack’s neck and pulled him close. He kissed Jack, short and quick and firm, on the mouth. He leant back and let a smirk curve his lips while his thumb stroked down the smooth line of Jack’s neck.

“Just that. Come on then, food’s getting cold,” Ianto replied lightly and matter-of-factly. Still holding Jack’s hand, he tugged the surprised and speechless man along the street.

A low, throaty chuckle rumbled out of Jack’s chest. “What was that for?” he asked softly, squeezing Ianto’s fingers.

Ianto shrugged. “Felt like it.”

“You should act on your impulses more often then,” Jack replied.

Ianto noticed that Jack was smiling again, and his eyes had regained a semblance of their usual sparkle.

*^*

The takeaway was packed and ready to go at the Thai restaurant. As they approached the counter to pay for their meals, Ianto felt Jack’s fingers loosen in his. Ianto grasped Jack’s hand firmly, biting his lip against the stinging burns around his thumbs, and feigned intense interest in the menu board above the counter. He immediately felt Jack respond to the pressure and return it carefully.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jack staring at him with open curiosity. Ianto didn’t shift his gaze from the menu board, but he knew Jack was wondering where the sudden affectionate gestures were coming from. Ianto had never been one for overwrought public displays of affection, but tonight – tonight was different. The day’s events had written the script they were playing out, and Ianto’s motivation was clear, if only to himself.

Jack shuffled a step closer to Ianto and brushed their shoulders together. Ianto finally looked at Jack and smiled at the expression of fond amusement. He gave another gentle squeeze to Jack’s fingers and was gratified when Jack’s lips lift slightly at the corners.

*^*

They strolled back to the Hub, the bag of takeaway swinging perilously and cheerfully in Jack’s hand. Ianto felt a moment of fear for the pad Thai’s fate, but decided have faith in the restaurant providing idiot-proof takeaway containers.

He had a couple of good wines stored at his flat that would nicely compliment the Thai. Perhaps plying Jack with some of it would allow him to relax and let Ianto take care of him.

Carefully minding the abrasions on his hands, and artfully hiding them from Jack, Ianto held his hand firmly during the entire walk. Jack gave no sign of wanting to let go.

*^*

Ianto fumbled with his keys in the too-dim corridor as he unlocked the door to his flat. He made a mental note to buy one of those little LED key ring lights he saw on display at the Tesco checkout lines. He reflected that at least he nailed the keyhole on the third attempt tonight; most other nights, he would have had his hands full, fending off Jack’s assaults of affection or his mischievously wandering fingers and trying to unlock the door at the same time. Tonight Jack was behaving himself; holding the bag of Thai in one hand, and his carryall slung over his shoulder, Jack stood slightly behind Ianto, patiently waiting for him to let them into his flat.

He pushed the door open and was surprised by Jack’s hand, planted firmly between his shoulder blades, guiding him inside. From the corner of his eye he saw Jack cross the foyer in two strides. He carefully placed the bag of food on the coffee table and carelessly slung his carryall onto the couch, then turned to Ianto and grabbed his shoulders. Ianto sucked in a sharp breath as Jack pushed him against the foyer’s wall and kissed him hard, licking at Ianto’s lower lip until he parted them. Jack’s wicked tongue slid into his mouth, stroking and caressing Ianto’s and tracing the line of his teeth. Ianto groaned into the kiss and cupped Jack’s face carefully in his hands. It occurred to Ianto as he drowned in the sensation of Jack’s feel and taste that he hadn’t touched Ianto, except for the light caresses on his knee and the twining of their fingers, since that morning when they had climbed reluctantly out of Jack’s bunker.

Jack’s hands slid down Ianto’s sides and around his waist until he had pulled Ianto tightly against his body. Ianto felt, more than heard, the little moans emanating from Jack’s throat as they melted into the kiss, and he pressed himself firmly to Jack.

Only the need for breath broke the kiss, and Jack buried his face in Ianto’s neck. Ianto felt one of Jack’s hands wander up his chest and rest firmly in its centre. Jack inhaled deeply and sucked gently at the tender skin below Ianto’s ear. Ianto sighed happily; he threaded his fingers through Jack’s soft hair and kissed his temple.

Jack’s hair reeked of the warehouse as well. Ianto winced and resisted the urge to turn his head away.

“As nice as this is,” Ianto began, his breath hitching, “why don’t you go grab a shower while I fix our dinner? And there’s coffee as well if you’re very good.”

“’m always good,” Jack murmured into Ianto’s skin, teasing it with his teeth and the tip of his tongue. “Why don’t you leave the food and come join me?”

Ianto chuckled quietly. “Because I’ve already had one, back at the Hub.”

“I know,” Jack replied, amused. “Doesn’t mean you can’t take another one for fun.”

“Really. Suddenly psychic, are we?”

“I can smell you.”

Ianto’s smile dimmed.

Oh.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Ran out of aftershave last night. I’ll grab some at Tesco in the morning.”

“Don’t be sorry – don’t you know how fantastic you smell?” Jack growled, and pulled back enough to meet Ianto’s eyes. “I’ve smelt you all day.”

Under the intensity of Jack’s piercing, lustful gaze, Ianto suddenly felt very much like an insect speared with one of those long, sharp pins and on display for everyone to see. He gulped hard.

“You – on the catwalk earlier…” Ianto let his voice trail off as realization dawned on him.

“Oh yeah,” Jack breathed. “Imagine walking around most of the day with a hard-on that won’t wait.”

Jack emphasized his point by rolling his groin against Ianto’s, brushing their erections against each other.

“Oh.” Ianto’s mouth went dry. Jesus fucking Christ, what doesn’t turn that man on? he wondered fleetingly.

“I’m not the only one with pheromones, you know,” Jack continued in a throaty whisper. He lowered his head to Ianto’s throat and licked a wet stripe along his Adam’s-apple, inhaling deeply as he did. “Mine are just louder than yours. Which is good – I don’t think I want anyone else to scent you like I can.”

Ianto’s eyes drifted closed and his lips parted, his head falling back against the wall. He shuddered violently.

Ianto felt Jack hum against his neck and he whimpered. Then, steeling himself, Ianto caught Jack’s shoulders and pushed backwards gently.

“Shower first. Dinner second. Then, we’ll see,” Ianto muttered in a gravelly voice. He wanted Jack – oh god did Ianto want him – but he’d be damned if they were going to have it off in the doorway when there was plenty of perfectly good furniture and carpeted floor space available to them.

Jack growled, a low and feral sound rumbling in his throat.

“Shower, Jack. Now.”

It never failed to amuse Ianto at how quickly Jack could assume the mantle of a whipped puppy. Ianto jerked his thumb wordlessly toward the bathroom, head cocked slightly and eyebrow raised. Jack shot him a dirty look and grabbed his carryall off the couch.

“Spoilsport,” he heard Jack grumble as he headed down the short hallway and into the bathroom.

Ianto inhaled slowly and deeply, trying to regain some shred of control over himself, and he sagged against the wall. He’d had a similar reaction in the armoury. Sometimes Jack was just so – overwhelming. To his mind, to his senses, to his entire being, Jack could be utterly intoxicating.

It occurred to Ianto that Jack had just admitted the same thing about him, and found a smile slowly curving his lips. Ianto felt inordinately pleased.

*^*

Ianto settled his iPod in its dock and hit ‘shuffle’. He enjoyed listening to music while he worked, and it helped take his mind off his troubles and put it into the headspace where he needed to go.

Music blared from the speakers, and Ianto turned it down. Loud wasn’t what he wanted, just - white noise, really.

Ianto divided the Thai into two servings and reheated each plate for half a minute in the microwave. He rummaged in his pantry until he found a bottle of wine that would suit the meal, and dug out a container for ice in which to immerse it.

He was about to bring the food to the table when strong arms slipped around his waist and a warm, firm chest pressed into his back. Ianto smiled and leant back into the embrace.

“Hi, Jack,” he murmured. He found himself suddenly less surprised by Jack’s new affectionate side than his own, newer, lack of discomfort with it.

“Hi yourself,” Jack whispered into his ear, and then kissed his neck. “Hungry?”

“Yep. Take these to the table, and I’ll join you in a second.” Ianto twisted to reach the plates, but Jack pulled him back tightly and pressed his nose into the fine hair that curled behind Ianto’s ear, inhaling deeply.

“Wait,” Jack mumbled suddenly. “No need to hurry. We have all night.” His right hand crept up Ianto’s stomach and pressed lightly against his chest.

Ianto covered Jack’s hand with his own and wondered at the gesture. “All right.” He turned slowly in Jack’s arms and nipped at his lower lip playfully. “What do you have in mind then?”

Jack’s laughter resonated deep in his throat. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Really?”

Ianto pressed himself closer to Jack, feeling his arousal through the thin fabric of Jack’s draw-string sleeping trousers. He inhaled deeply and suddenly realized that Jack smelled right – he smelled like himself. Ianto exhaled, relieved, and dipped his head to trail kisses along Jack’s jaw to the broad expanse of his naked shoulders.

Jack’s head fell back and exposed his throat, and Ianto licked and nibbled his way down to the hollow at its base as he kissed and sucked at the sensitive skin there. Jack groaned softly and ran his fingers through Ianto’s hair. Ianto felt Jack’s arm tighten around his back, and the hand that caressed his hair roamed down his shoulder to rest over his heart.

Vaguely Ianto wondered about the gesture – this was the third time Jack had touched him like this since they’d arrive at his flat.

Ianto took Jack’s face between his hands and kissed him, gliding the pads of his thumbs over smooth skin. A whimper escaped his throat when Jack canted his head slightly and slipped his tongue between Ianto’s lips. He slid his hands over Jack’s shoulders, around his bare back and down to his arse. Ianto dug his fingernails into the thin cloth and clutched him tightly, rolling their hips together. He felt the vibration of Jack’s moan through their bodies crushed against each other.

“Fuck, Ianto…” Jack gasped. “Dinner…”

“Fuck dinner,” Ianto growled, and kissed Jack again. There was no finesse here, no elegance; it was all teeth and tongues and lips, wet and messy, hot and needy. Ianto wondered distantly if Jack could taste the desperation and want he suddenly felt lancing through him.

Jack pushed against him; Ianto felt himself pressed backward along the counter. Once again he imagined he might be drowning, Jack’s hands caressing his body like a riptide pulling him under and every harsh breath he sucked in tasted of Jack. He shuddered into the kiss and thrust forward into Jack’s groin.

Jack’s whimpers and sighs described every step of this dance to beautiful oblivion. Ianto anchored himself to those sounds, using them to gauge Jack’s responses to him, and urged him further along the path to forgetting the appalling events of the day they were rapidly leaving behind them. Ianto wanted Jack relaxed and sated and - if he was honest - utterly shagged out by the time they fell asleep. He wanted Jack to sleep in peace.

He just wanted Jack to sleep.

Ianto broke away from Jack’s mouth long enough to mutter, “Living room.” Jack nodded, his eyes half-lidded and pupils large and dark, and grabbed Ianto’s wrist in a vice-like grip. Ianto was pulled along in Jack’s wake, narrowly missing the ottoman. When Jack released him, Ianto turned and pushed him onto the couch by the shoulders. Jack, he saw, was too far gone to resist, and sat without complaint.

“Wait here,” Ianto ordered, and returned to the kitchen, confident of Jack’s obedience.

Jack still sat on the couch where Ianto had left him, leaning back with his arms spread across the back, legs stretched out and slightly spread. Ianto couldn’t help but notice the impressive bulge tenting Jack’s trousers.

Ianto handed him a half-filled wine flute. “Drink. You need to relax, and this will help.”

“You’re helping, Ianto. But thanks.” Jack drained half the wine in one gulp, eyeing Ianto while he darted his tongue along the rim of the glass and licked the errant drops.

Ianto shivered, his eyes riveted on Jack’s tongue. Suddenly he found it hard to breathe.

Ianto took several measured breaths, and then sipped his wine carefully. He knew he needed to keep his head in order to entice Jack to lose his.

Jack placed the flute on the side table and held out a hand to Ianto in silent entreaty.

Ianto’s lips curved slightly. His glass joined Jack’s, and he crossed to the couch. Instead of sitting beside Jack, however, Ianto straddled his lap and pressed himself flush to Jack’s bare chest.

“Ah yeah,” Jack sighed, and leant his head back, eyes drifting closed. “That’s nice.”

Ianto attacked Jack’s neck with a careful ferocity, licking and biting and kissing more skin. He felt Jack’s arms move around him and urge him closer, and clever hands pushed under the hem of Ianto’s shirt and onto the bare skin of his back. Ianto moaned softly into Jack’s throat.

Jack’s hands worked Ianto’s shirt halfway up his back before he tugged Ianto backward with a fistful of fabric. Ianto obeyed, suddenly wanting to be rid of anything between their bodies. Jack pulled the tee over his head, thoroughly mussing his hair, and tossed it carelessly aside.

In a move that was probably meant to surprise Ianto, Jack suddenly twisted to the side and, holding Ianto securely below his shoulder blades, lowered him to the couch. Ianto reflexively clutched Jack’s shoulders and blinked as Jack loomed over him, grinning brightly. It took Ianto a second to figure out how Jack had come to be kneeling on the couch between his thighs.

Ianto rolled his eyes and chuckled deep in his throat. He reached for Jack’s trousers and tugged the drawstring, freeing the knot and loosening the waistband. He watched Jack’s grin soften into that smile he saved for Ianto alone, and felt Jack’s body heat before their chests pressed together when Jack kissed him.

Ianto’s fingers pushed the pants over Jack’s slim hips as they kissed fiercely. Jack squirmed and kicked them off, then pressed himself fully to Ianto. Their groans mingled along with their tongues and Jack eagerly ground his hips into Ianto’s.

“You’re still dressed. That’s hardly fair,” Jack muttered, and pushed back far enough to unbutton Ianto’s denims. Ianto laughed softly as Jack’s eyes widened in surprise, his shoulders shaking with enjoyment while Jack swore and chuckled.

“Going commando? Someone’s eager tonight,” Jack commented as he moved lower and eased the denims over Ianto’s bare hips. “Nice view. And you should most definitely dress like this more often - exactly like this…”

Jack tossed the denims onto his own abandoned pants and leant over Ianto, who watched Jack openly appreciate the sight of his body, naked and open below him. Ianto’s head lolled back onto the throw pillow when Jack lowered his head and began kissing the tender skin inside his thighs.

Ianto released a long breath and relaxed into the sensations Jack drew from his body. He had planned on orchestrating the evening’s activities, but he realized that Jack needed to do this, maybe even more than he did. Perhaps Jack felt something needed righting as well, and who was he to deny Jack something as simple and necessary as this?

Jack needed to take control tonight. If it meant bringing Jack back from the edge of his personal abyss, Ianto would not refuse him this simple thing.

Ianto writhed as Jack’s mouth grazed his hipbone, caressing and tasting along the way. Jack’s hands stroked his sides, gliding up and over his ribs and chest. Ianto bit his lower lip and gasped as Jack’s fingernails snagged a few of the wiry hairs as they ghosted across his nipples, and he released a shaky breath. Jack slid up his torso, kissing and licking as he moved. Ianto slid his fingers through Jack’s hair and down over his shoulders, guiding and encouraging.

He felt Jack’s weight pressing him down into the cushions, the fabric of the rough-woven upholstery imprinting into his skin. Jack kissed him deeply as he slid his palms beneath Ianto’s shoulders. One gripped him closer; the other seemed to be ferreting around under Ianto’s head.

Ianto smirked when Jack produced a small bottle with a triumphant hum. Of course, Ianto thought, Jack would hide what he would undoubtedly term ‘emergency lube’ around his flat. Ianto had discovered numerous bottles and tubes secreted around the Hub in some of the most unlikely places.

Ianto sighed when Jack sat back, leaving Ianto feeling suddenly chilly and strangely bereft. He watched, heavy-lidded, as Jack squeezed a generous pool of lube into his palm. Ianto thought, with admiration and the last shred of his reason, Jack was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His smooth chest gleamed with perspiration. Blue eyes were shot dark with desire and shapely lips were slightly parted. With wonder, Ianto reached up and traced a finger over the firm musculature of Jack’s chest, circling each light brown nipple. He watched with satisfaction as Jack’s eyes drifted closed with the pleasure of his touch.

Ianto lay still and pliant while Jack prepared him. Quickly but meticulously, Jack probed and stretched until Ianto was relaxed and ready for him. Ianto gasp-moaned when Jack carefully entered him, inching forward until Ianto felt Jack’s balls pressed tightly against his arse. He watched Jack bite his lower lip and inhale shakily, stilling himself, and then Jack leant forward and draped his body over Ianto. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders and held him there. Ianto felt himself filled and impaled and so very alive.

Slowly, Jack began to rock into him. Ianto groaned into Jack’s skin until he felt Jack’s mouth latch over his. Ianto slid one hand into Jack’s hair and cupped the back of his head, holding him firmly in place. Their tongues danced and they swallowed each other’s low moans and breathless gasps as they moved with each other.

Ianto felt Jack slide his hands under his back again and curl his fingers up and over his shoulders, seeking greater purchase and thrusting deeper and faster into him now. Ianto broke the kiss and cried out, head thrown back, as Jack repeatedly and unerringly hit the sweet spot inside him. Jack dropped his head onto Ianto’s shoulder, his mouth pressed to the tender skin there. He felt the vibrations of Jack’s groans and the shudders rippling through Jack’s body.

Jack’s stomach pressed tightly against Ianto’s, and with every thrust forward Ianto felt his cock stroked, trapped between their bellies. He arched into Jack’s taut body, seeking the friction he suddenly needed, and pulled his head up for a scorching kiss.

Ianto wrapped his legs around Jack’s waist and dug his heels into the small of his back, urging him to move faster-harder-deeper. He writhed frantically as Jack fucked him; he clawed at Jack’s back, shoved his tongue deeper into Jack’s mouth, and thrust his hips against Jack’s in perfect counterpoint.

He broke the kiss with a gasp. “Jack…so close…”

Jack’s forehead dropped to Ianto’s shoulder again, damp hair plastered to his skin. “Good…” Jack whispered roughly. “That’s it, Ianto…come on.”

Jack’s words did the trick, and Ianto felt the first waves of orgasm break over him. He groaned loudly and sank his teeth into the juncture of Jack’s neck and shoulder as he came, bucking wildly into Jack’s groin and digging his fingernails into the skin furrowed beneath them. Hot come shot between their bellies and Jack moved feverishly in the slickness.

He felt himself clench around Jack’s cock. He heard Jack loose a loud, strangled sob as he came, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside Ianto.

Jack collapsed heavily onto Ianto. Lazily, he slid his arms around Jack’s shoulders. Ianto pressed a light kiss to his temple and leaned his cheek against Jack’s damp hair. Their chests heaved as they struggled to regain their breaths.

Presently, Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows and leant in to kiss Ianto slowly. Ianto sensed from Jack only a languid, sensual warmth and deep affection mingled with something he couldn’t quite discern. He fell into it easily, lips parting and merging with Jack’s.

They kissed until they were starved for air. When they parted, Ianto watched Jack’s eyes open slowly. He looked down at Ianto for a silent moment, and then adjusted his position so that Ianto had to shuffle to the side to allow Jack to squeeze onto the couch beside him. Jack wrapped strong arms around Ianto, who let himself relax into the embrace, his forehead resting against Jack’s temple.

This was different. It was - new. Ianto thought he could get used to it. The warmth and closeness felt good, and Jack seemed to feel better – certainly he seemed sated. His breathing had evened out and his body was heavy and relaxed beside Ianto. He could feel Jack’s fingers playing lightly along his spine in a soft caress that demanded nothing but Ianto’s presence.

Jack’s upper hand smoothed over Ianto’s hip, his large palm open and flat and warm on the curves and planes of Ianto’s skin. Ianto smiled softly at the feel of it. The hand stroked lightly up Ianto’s drying, sticky belly and onto his chest, where it paused between his nipples and pressed gently. Ianto’s eyes were closed and he lay still, inhaling the spicy warmth of Jack’s unique scent mingled with his own and the combined musky smell of their sex. When he felt Jack’s hand rest on his chest, Ianto opened his eyes just enough to see Jack about to kiss his cheek. There was something almost - desperate - in Jack’s expression, and Ianto turned his head to intercept his lips and joined the kiss.

Jack whimpered as their lips met, a strangled, heartbreaking little sound that Ianto couldn’t fail to notice. Ianto felt him press harder on his chest with one hand and pull him closer with his other arm, hooked around his shoulders. The pads of Jack’s fingers dug into his skin, but it wasn’t a painful sensation. It was more like a necessity for feeling –

And that was when it struck Ianto.

Oh.

Ianto threaded his fingers through Jack’s hair soothingly and let them wander along the contours of Jack’s face to his chin. Then Ianto gently pulled back from the kiss.

“Jack.”

Jack’s eyes opened, faintly surprised.

He tipped Jack’s chin so that their eyes met in the dim light.

Ianto rested his hand over the one covering his heart. “Still here.”

Jack’s eyes closed and he kissed Ianto again, more roughly this time. “I know,” Jack breathed.

Ianto nodded, unconvinced.

“You almost weren’t,” Jack said thickly.

Ianto’s heart constricted painfully. “Still here,” he repeated softly.

Jack’s arms tightened around him and he shifted until his head rested on Ianto’s shoulder, but he didn’t move his hand, and Ianto couldn’t find it in himself to protest.

Ianto thought Jack had fallen asleep when his lips brushed against Ianto’s skin.

“I’m sorry. About everything that happened.”

Ianto frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Having to send you after that asshole that almost killed you. If I could have…”

“I know that, Jack. Don’t be an idiot,” Ianto said with exasperation. “We had a job to do. We - this - can’t get in the way of that. What we do is bigger than us.”

“Bigger, maybe, but not necessarily more important,” Jack insisted stubbornly. His voice was muffled against Ianto’s shoulder.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Ianto replied quietly. Jack’s words unsettled him; he couldn’t sort out why Jack would say something like this. It was – not like him.

More to the point, Ianto thought, it wasn’t like the Jack who had left them. But the Jack who’d returned…he confused Ianto, and Ianto did not like to be confused.

They lay still for a few minutes longer before Jack spoke again, his voice rumbling against Ianto’s throat.

“Gwen endangered you.”

Ianto sighed softly. “She endangered us all.” He kissed Jack’s hair to soften his words. “But, if it helps, I don’t think she meant to. All she could see was Rhys, lying there bleeding.”

“She saw the man she loved get hurt in front of her eyes.” Jack placed a kiss on Ianto’s shoulder. “I can understand that, and I can even forgive it. What I can’t forgive is her complete disregard for the rest of you,” he added. “Once Rhys was down, Gwen was out of the game, and she became a liability. I can’t have that, Ianto. I can’t let her cause you, or Toshiko, or Owen, to be hurt.” Jack sighed, and Ianto’s heart ached at the sorrow in his voice.

Ianto trailed his hand down Jack’s neck and stroked his shoulders lightly and with all the care he could impart in the simple gesture. He wanted so much to tell Jack it would all work out, that it would be okay in the end, but those were just convenient, pretty lies. And they would both know it.

Instead, he let his hands and lips say everything he couldn’t speak aloud, and Jack let it be enough. After a little while, Ianto’s eyelids drooped, and he dozed in the warm cocoon of Jack’s body wrapped protectively around him.

*^*

Ianto awoke alone, but covered with a blanket from his bedroom. He looked around the dark room blearily. Squares of orange light painted the walls, but his flat was otherwise dark.

“Jack?” he croaked, and cleared his throat.

“Over here.”

Jack was standing naked in the shadows beside the windows, looking down onto the street below.

Ianto sat up and pulled the blanket around him. He glanced down at the feeling of a distinct absence of something usually familiar, and he realized his stomach had been wiped clean at some point while he slept. He glanced up at Jack, unsure quite what to think, because this was new too.

Ianto pushed that thought away after a moment. His mouth was uncomfortably dry and he found he was parched. He drew the blanket around himself like a cloak and padded to the kitchen to find something to drink.

“How long have you been awake?” Ianto asked.

Jack didn’t answer for a moment, and Ianto didn’t pursue the question. He gulped half a bottle of water he found in the refrigerator.

“I put dinner away,” Jack finally said quietly. He stared down into the street; his skin rippled with the shadows cast on him by the rain streaming down the windowpanes.

Ianto joined him by the window, standing close enough to feel the heat radiating from Jack’s body, but didn’t touch him.

“I saw that. Thank you.” Ianto didn’t look at him.

They stood silently for the time it took Ianto to drain the water bottle, then he felt Jack take it from him. He blinked; he hadn’t thought Jack was paying especially close attention to him.

“I may have to let Gwen go, Ianto. For everyone’s sake.” Jack’s voice was flat, almost clinical, but Ianto could hear the sadness in its undercurrents.

“But you don’t really want to.”

Jack released a long breath through pursed lips and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. Ianto resisted the intense urge to reach over and touch him, to reassure him. But he didn’t; Ianto knew Jack needed to unburden himself, to talk this out. Physical contact would only serve to distract Jack, and the sooner he worked this out, the better.

“No. I really don’t.” Ianto noticed Jack shivering slightly in the chill of the flat, and though he longed to drape his blanket over Jack and share their warmth, Ianto forced himself to remain still.

“We need her, Ianto. She has skills and knowledge Torchwood needs.” Pain laced Jack’s voice and stabbed through Ianto’s heart. “But I can’t let today happen again. I won’t let one person destroy my team. I don’t care what that person offers Torchwood, it’s not worth losing any of you. I’ll Retcon her if I have to. Let her live her life with Rhys in blissful ignorance.” Bitterness laced his words, and Jack sighed wearily and leant his forehead against the windowpane.

“Gwen resisted its effects once and found Torchwood again,” Ianto reminded him quietly.

Jack shot him a dark look. “She wouldn’t overcome the dose I’d have to give her this time. She’d forget. For good.”

Ianto flinched at the hardness of Jack’s eyes. He’d seen it before – plenty of times – but he never thought he’d find Jack’s inner darkness and Gwen on a collision course. Gwen would lose. There could be no other outcome, because Jack would do whatever he had to do to protect his team, even from one of their own. Hadn’t Jack held a gun to his head not so long ago when Lisa was discovered in the basement of the Hub? Hadn’t Jack opened fire with a shotgun on a group of cannibals who had taken his team hostage? Hadn’t Jack killed Suzie to save Gwen?

We’ve all betrayed him – all of us have fucked up in some way – and he’s forgiven us over and over. What is it that keeps him from forgiving Gwen now? What’s different this time?

“She gives you something you need, Jack. I understand that. But before you make your final decision, sleep on it, yeah? Get some perspective.” Ianto finally allowed himself to brush his hand along Jack’s forearm lightly, and he ran it gently up his bicep and along his shoulder until it came to rest on the nape of his neck. “I can’t tell you what to do. Wouldn’t dream of it -”

Jack snorted laughter, and Ianto grinned. “Professionally,” he amended. “Out of the office, on the other hand…”

Jack turned and smiled at him, but it wasn’t his usual brilliant Captain-Jack grin. While it was less vibrant, it was more sincere, and it was rarely seen by anyone except Ianto.

“Come to bed?” Jack implored, holding out a hand as his eyes met Ianto’s.

“Again?” Ianto smirked. “You’re insatiable…”

Jack laughed softly. “I mean, to sleep. Someone enticed me with promises of a real bed. Or was that just the bait to lure me here so you could have your wicked way with me?”

Jack waggled his eyebrows suggestively as he spoke and grinned brightly.

Ah, almost there, Ianto thought, and something tightly-wound inside his chest uncoiled. He took Jack’s proffered hand.

“I also promised you coffee if you were good,” Ianto murmured huskily and gave Jack a smouldering look. “And you were. Very. Good.” He punctuated each word with a swipe of his thumb against the heart of Jack’s palm. “Do you want some coffee, Jack?”

Ianto was surprised when Jack didn’t reply immediately, but simply gazed at him, the luminosity of his brilliant smile dimming. After a long moment, Jack squeezed his hand gently. “Actually, I think I’d really rather go to bed. I’m – I’m tired tonight, Ianto…” Something plaintive in Jack’s voice caught Ianto’s attention, and he instinctively moved closer to Jack and hugged him. He understood suddenly that Jack had been more profoundly affected by the day’s events than he’d realized.

Maybe if I pulled my head out of my own arse once in a while… Ianto wondered if there was something going on with Jack of which he wasn’t aware.

“Let’s go to bed then,” he murmured into Jack’s ear, and kissed his neck. “Plenty of time for coffee tomorrow.”

Jack just tightened his arms around Ianto and nodded.

*^*

Jack slept.

Ianto curled his arms around Jack, stroking the mussed brown hair soothingly while he drifted off. Ianto lay awake, thinking. His mind returned to one pattern of thought time and again, and he toyed with the variables like building blocks, rearranging them until one configuration made perfect sense.

When Jack squirmed and whimpered pitifully in his sleep, Ianto murmured softly to him. Ianto heard Jack mumble fragments of phrases and barely-perceptible words – master and please no and doctor and tocla-something – that he didn’t understand and wasn’t certain he really wanted to know. Ianto shook him lightly, careful not to startle, until Jack relaxed and his breathing evened out.

Jack’s restlessness settled shortly after Ianto noticed midnight flash on his alarm clock. Ianto lay still as Jack wrapped himself around his body and nudged his nose into the crook of Ianto’s neck below his ear. Already well into sleep, Jack snuffled and pressed his palm to the centre of Ianto’s chest.

He’s done that all evening. Because I almost died today.

And there it was. It suddenly struck Ianto why Jack wasn’t as willing to forgive and forget Gwen’s actions. His breath caught in his throat, and he tried to swallow past the lump that had unexpectedly formed there.

He pushed the revelation as far into the back of his mind as he could. He couldn’t think about that yet. Later, perhaps, after he helped Jack deal with this disaster, he’d retrieve it and try to figure out what it meant.

Exhausted and satisfied that Jack might at last find peaceful rest, Ianto finally allowed himself to follow.

*^*

A while later -- Ianto didn’t know how long and didn’t particularly care -- Jack yawned and stirred along his back. Ianto stretched, long and languidly, and nestled closer into the warmth. Jack tightened his arm around Ianto’s chest and kissed his shoulder. Ianto watched him yawn in the mirrored closet door.

“Are we awake?” Ianto asked softly, amused.

“Mmm…maybe,” Jack mumbled and chuckled deep in his chest. Ianto felt the resonance through their connected bodies and smiled.

“Awake but not coherent,” Ianto clarified. Jack’s laughter rumbled quietly into his neck.

“Yeah. Just don’t ask me to move anytime soon.”

Ianto’s soft laughter joined Jack’s. He rolled over and shifted until their noses almost touched. Ianto stroked the contours of Jack’s cheek and watched as his eyes drifted closed and a smile played across his shapely lips. He felt Jack’s breath, warm and moist, ghost across his fingertips when he traced the curve of Jack’s mouth, before he replaced them with his own lips.

Jack melted into the kiss, swiping the tip of his tongue along Ianto’s lips until the kiss deepened, and Ianto felt himself drowning again.

Unlike their kisses of earlier in the evening, Ianto did not taste frantic urgency in Jack. This was careful and unhurried and leisurely. It was this fitting together that startled Ianto more and more lately, especially since they had sent Tommy Brockless back to 1918 - back to his death by firing squad, and breaking Toshiko’s heart in the process. Jack had been vulnerable that night too, and although his words were hesitant, the openness of his expression and the honesty of his sentiment began to chip away at the wall Ianto had erected around his heart after Jack had left with the Doctor.

It scared Ianto shitless while at the same time his heart leapt in wild hope.

When the kiss drew to its natural conclusion, Ianto whispered against Jack’s lips, “I’ve an idea, Jack. Hear me out, yeah?”

Jack nodded faintly, their foreheads brushing and noses nudging cheeks. “Of course.”

Ianto pressed a quick kiss to Jack’s forehead and forged ahead. “Send Gwen away.”

Jack’s eyes flew open. “Excuse me?” Surprise lit his features. “Ianto…?”

“For a week. She has the accrued time. She should get away from Torchwood for a few days, maybe stay at home with Rhys and get some perspective on things.” Ianto threaded his fingers through Jack’s soft hair as he spoke.

Jack snickered, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter in the bedroom’s dimness. “You want me to tell Gwen to go to her room and think about what she’s done?”

Ianto smiled softly. “Something like that.” He drew Jack into another deep, lazy kiss, into which he could feel Jack eagerly melt.

“You need time too, Jack,” he murmured when they parted.

Jack surprised him by hugging him hard. “You almost got shot yesterday. How is it you’re so - okay?”

Ianto considered his answer carefully before he spoke. He reflected that maybe it was time he started showing Jack a little trust as well. Not completely – that would take a lot longer than a few weeks to earn back – but Jack had taken the first step in his office late one night while Toshiko was squeezing the last drops of joy from her final night with Tommy.

What the hell, he thought. He’s trying. He deserves this much.

“I’m not. But – what else can I do? Either of us, for that matter? We haven’t the luxury to dwell. You know that as well as I,” Ianto finished in a rough whisper.

“Ianto…” Jack sighed, and Ianto felt the sorrow emanating from Jack in waves. Ianto tightened his arms around him and cradled Jack’s head into the crook of his neck.

“We deal, Jack. That’s all,” Ianto said.

Jack said nothing for several moments, and then he nodded slowly. He pulled away and tipped Ianto’s chin until their eyes met. Ianto thought he saw something flash in Jack’s eyes in the second before he kissed Ianto again fiercely.

When he broke the kiss, breathless, Jack murmured, “I’ll call her in the morning and tell her to take the week off.”

“She may fight you on it,” Ianto replied softly, his voice muffled as he laid a trail of kisses along the ridge of tendon running down the length of Jack’s neck.

Jack moaned faintly and sighed, “Tough. I am the boss, whether or not she actually believes that…”

Ianto hummed as he nipped Jack’s collarbone, and he noted Jack’s surprise that he had moved down in the bed. Jack grinned and stretched out on his back. Ianto could feel Jack’s eyes fixed on him, unwavering, and he wondered if Jack was trying to burn this into his memory.

Ianto slid down Jack’s body, leisurely mapping the familiar landscape with fingers and lips and tongue. He smiled to himself when Jack writhed and gasp-groaned. He felt Jack’s fingers card lightly through his hair as Ianto teased a taut nipple with his teeth and the tip of his tongue before kissing it gently. He smirked as those same fingers tightened when Ianto licked a broad, wet stripe down the centre of Jack’s chest to his firm, rippled stomach and dipped his tongue into his navel. Ianto moaned softly at the feel of Jack’s obvious arousal as Jack hooked a knee over Ianto’s shoulder and lifted his hips, grinding his hard cock into Ianto’s throat.

Ianto gave Jack his filthiest grin and said primly, “Patience is a virtue, sir.”

“Not from where I’m sitting,” Jack growled.

Ianto smirked before he abruptly took Jack into his mouth. He heard Jack groan at the suddenness of the movement and grinned. He glanced up and saw Jack propped on his elbows, pupils blown and lips parted, watching Ianto go down on him. Ianto dragged his tongue along the underside of Jack’s cock, flicking it along the fat vein along its length as he pulled back.

“Ah, god, Ianto!” Jack moaned, his head dropping back.

Ianto hummed around Jack’s cock, snaking a hand under his balls and cupping them carefully. He caressed the sac while he drew Jack in as deeply as he could, sucking harder as he worked his mouth up and down the thick shaft. Jack fell backward into the mattress, whimpering and muttering, “More…god yes…so good.”

Ianto groaned softly as he watched Jack fall apart beneath his hands and mouth. He loved seeing Jack like this; he always thought Jack looked utterly gorgeous, flushed and glistening and writhing. He revelled in the knowledge that Jack let only him see this side of him, because, for all of Jack’s flirting and wild tales, Ianto knew on some level that Jack wasn’t running about shagging random strangers or aliens. Until now, he’d told himself it was because there was no time outside of work for Jack to go trolling, but he was beginning to suspect Jack had another, different motive.

I came back for you…I was thinking, while I was away…maybe dinner, a movie?

Ianto shoved the memory away and concentrated on sucking Jack off.

Jack pulled his knees back until his heels dug into the mattress and spread his legs wide, opening himself to Ianto. Ianto glanced up at Jack and their eyes locked, and Ianto saw that same flash of white-hot – something – that he didn’t want to think about. He also glimpsed overpowering desire and intense affection, and those things he could accept.

Ianto released Jack’s cock from his lips with a wet pop and shifted onto his knees. He straddled Jack, who stared heavy-lidded up at him, red lips parted. Ianto released a shaky breath and lay flush over Jack and kissed him, and he knew Jack must feel his desperation and raw need as much as the desire and affection. He felt Jack’s arms close around him, one large hand dragging through his hair. Ianto ground his cock against Jack’s groin, pulling a hoarse groan from his throat and a raspy, “Ianto...want you…” whispered against his lips.

Again Ianto felt that vague sense of something Jack was trying to tell him. He kissed Jack harder as he tried to quell the little niggling voice in the back of his head that knew what it was. This was how they communicated best; why couldn’t Jack leave it at that? Ianto knew how to do this; he knew the steps to this dance intimately…

…and that was the problem. He felt the burning knowledge searing itself into the forefront of his brain where he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Intimately. ‘Intimacy’ implied a difference in the closeness sex afforded and that of emotional involvement. And Ianto knew then that he was losing the battle he’d been waging within himself since Jack returned.

Abruptly he climbed off Jack and pushed his legs apart. Understanding dawned in Jack’s eyes and he pulled his knees up, thighs nearly pressed to his chest. Ianto smiled a little and ran a hand along Jack’s smooth chest, enjoying the soft moan that escaped Jack’s lips.

Ianto rummaged hurriedly in the nightstand drawer, his fingers closing around the bottle of lube. Jack’s hands circled his biceps, holding him steady and breathing heavily. Jack’s eyes fixed hungrily on Ianto as he slicked his cock, stroking it to full hardness. He gasped when Ianto moved between his legs and carefully inserted a slick finger into him. Jack pushed against him, hissing and moaning in the same breath. Ianto pushed a second finger into Jack, stretching him.

“Now, Ianto,” Jack muttered between gritted teeth. Ianto felt his fingers digging roughly into his thighs; he knew bruises would bloom there before morning and could have cared less.

“You’re not ready…” Ianto began, but Jack cut him off.

“Now!” Jack ground out.

Ianto started to remind Jack that it would hurt too much if he didn’t prepare him further, then stopped himself when it dawned on him that maybe this was what Jack wanted. Maybe Jack needed the pain to burn away the remnants of the guilt Ianto knew he still felt for thinking he put Ianto in danger.

Ianto couldn’t help the glower he directed at Jack. He lined himself up and, with a single deep breath, thrust his hips forward.

Jack threw his head back into the pillow and cried out. He grabbed Ianto’s hips, pulling him in closer. “Yes,” he whispered on a ragged breath.

Ianto leant over him and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t be sorry – just move already!” Jack hissed. Ianto felt Jack’s hands slide firmly over his hips and around to his arse, nails digging into Ianto’s skin.

Ianto moved, thrusting slowly and shallowly in a rhythm that he knew would bring Jack close to the edge but not send him over. Jack groaned and thrust back against him, wrapping his legs tightly around Ianto’s hips. Ianto saw him reach for his heavy cock, bouncing against his stomach with every movement, and he pushed Jack’s hand away forcefully.

“No,” Ianto growled. He grabbed Jack’s wrists roughly and pinned them over his head to the pillow. “Stay.”

Jack swallowed hard and nodded, pupils blown, and he grabbed the bars on the headboard. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.

Ianto felt a stronger wave of pure lust surge through him, hot arousal singing in his veins, as Jack coming undone beneath him always evoked, and thrust harder into his body. He kissed Jack, and it held nothing of gentleness. It was all teeth and tongues and feverish, brutal absolution, and Ianto thought it was the only way he could make Jack understand and let the guilt go.

“Do you feel me, Jack?” Ianto said, breathless. He felt Jack’s chest heave beneath him, slick and hot and so smooth.

Jack grunted and thrust his hips against Ianto. He was, Ianto saw, losing himself in the sensations of their coupling now, and suddenly, Ianto wanted something else. He realized what he needed to do to bring Jack into the here-and-now and how to dispel the lingering remorse.

He hauled himself backward until he sat on his heels, pulling Jack with him. Jack tightened his legs around him and clutched his shoulders as the new position forced Ianto deeper into him. He pressed his face to Ianto’s shoulder and a ragged groan escaped his throat.

Ianto circled his arms around Jack to steady him. He felt Jack pull him close and shift his legs so that he crouched over Ianto and pushed down onto his cock as Ianto thrust up into him. Ianto leaned back enough to catch Jack’s eyes, and saw that Jack was very much in the present. An intense blue stare met his and held it for a moment.

“Still here,” Ianto panted, and kissed Jack hard, willing the affirmation into him. Jack nodded feverishly, one hand sliding into Ianto’s hair as he pushed his tongue between Ianto’s lips. They moved together in familiar cadence, hands slipping over slick skin and fingers gripping.

Jack broke the kiss and rested his forehead on Ianto’s shoulder for a moment before turning his head to the side. Ianto heard his breath hitch.

“Ianto – look.”

Ianto opened his eyes and looked at Jack, frowning slightly, as he felt the heat begin to pool at the base of his spine. He was surprised when Jack let go of him with one hand and gripped his chin, and turned his head to the side…

…where Ianto saw Jack and himself, reflected in the mirrored closet door. He gasped.

“Look at us, Ianto,” Jack breathed in his ear. “Look how we fit.”

Their gazes met and locked in the mirror’s reflection. Seeing them joined together so completely sent a jolt of searing electricity through Ianto’s body. He watched Jack move with him; watched him run large hands across his back and sides as he held onto Ianto; watched him suck and lick and taste at his skin even as he moaned into it. Ianto knew what that something was, and he might not be prepared to name it, but he could see it clearly in their reflection. He knew he’d see it in Jack’s expressions and feel it through his touches as well, if he’d allow it.

Ianto felt his orgasm about to crash over him. He reached between their stomachs, pressed tightly together, and stroked Jack’s cock in time with their thrusts.

“Now, Jack!”

Jack came, hot and slick, over Ianto’s hand and between their bellies. Ianto’s hand slipped smoothly along the thick shaft while Jack cried out until he moaned softly into Ianto’s neck.

When Jack whimpered, “Ianto,” and bit and sucked at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, Ianto convulsed and spilled into Jack with a harsh shout. He felt Jack’s arms holding him tightly as his body shuddered through his climax.

They collapsed in a tangle of limbs onto their sides, breathing heavily, and then rolled onto their backs.

“You’re a mess,” Jack commented sleepily after a while, rolling his head on the pillow to grin at Ianto. He stroked Ianto’s forearm with a fondness Ianto no longer found quite so bothersome.

“Glass houses,” Ianto returned with a grin of his own. He was comfortable and sated, and was gratified that Jack seemed to be too.

Ianto smiled slightly. He reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a package of wet-wipes, taking a couple for himself and tossing the package at Jack. He cleaned himself off as best he could and saw Jack obediently following suit.

Satisfied, Ianto returned the wipes to their drawer and pulled the duvet over their chilling bodies.

Jack sighed, a deep and relaxed sound. He rolled onto his side and kissed Ianto’s forehead. “Thanks,” he whispered into Ianto’s hair.

He felt Jack burrow into his side, as he seemed to be doing more often, and tuck his head under Ianto’s chin.

“Welcome. Now shut up and go to sleep,” he murmured, and he lowered his guard and allowed his affection to seep into his voice. Jack’s shoulders shook in a silent chuckle.

Ianto pressed a light kiss to Jack’s hair as he felt his breathing slow, and his eyes slid closed.

*^*

The insistent ringing of Jack’s mobile dragged Ianto from a disturbed sleep, giving him unexpected purchase as he frantically clawed his way out of the dream. His eyes shot open wide and he gasped harshly, desperate to escape the metallic tang of blood stinging his nostrils, echoes of otherworldly cries keening in his ears, and cold sharpened steel etching the skin of his throat.

The ringing abruptly stopped, plunging the dark room into heavy silence. He sighed, oddly relieved, and shifted slowly onto his back. Miraculously still asleep, Jack followed his movements and nestled closer, winding himself around Ianto again.

Ianto chuckled silently at his living teddy bear and adjusted the duvet over their shoulders. He was glad Jack appeared to be sleeping so deeply after his earlier bout of restlessness. It seemed that Jack only slept well, since his return from travelling, when he was wrapped around Ianto…

A head-splitting yawn, fortunately, dispelled that thought before it could take root.

He yawned again and thought perhaps the nightmares had run their course for the night. Maybe he could finally get some decent sleep. The warmth and silence cocooned Ianto and drew him into that twilight between sleep and wakefulness. Ianto gratefully gave in to it and allowed himself to drift.

His mobile started ringing.

Ianto started awake and Jack breathed a muffled groan into his neck. Ianto shushed him softly without thinking about it. Blearily, his hand fumbled around the nightstand until his fingers curled over it. Squinting, he read the backlit text screen.

Cooper, Gwen

Shit. It’s not even light out. He glanced at his alarm clock. ‘5:42’ burned brightly against the black LCD field.

Flipping the mobile open, he turned his mouth away from Jack’s tousled head.

“Jones.”

“Ianto, love, have you heard from Jack? He’s not in the Hub and he’s not answering his mobile.” Gwen sounded tired and anxious and a bit shrill.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Gwen. He’s probably off brooding on a roof somewhere. You know Jack.” Ianto bit back a gasp when he felt large fingers tweak one of his nipples.

Bastard, he thought fondly, combing his fingers absently through Jack’s hair.

“Still, he seemed upset when I left yesterday,” she hurried on, as if the words tasted sour on her tongue and she wanted to spit them out.

You think? Ianto thought sarcastically.

He grabbed Jack’s mobile and squinted at the screen, confirming his initial suspicion. “Have you tried texting him?”

“He isn’t answering.”

Ianto sighed. “He could be sleeping, you know. He does sleep, especially when he’s stressed.”

Gwen said nothing for a long, tense moment, and then continued flatly, “He’s not in the Hub, Ianto. I’m here, and he isn’t.”

Ianto heard the implicit question as clearly as if she had uttered it: Is he there, with you?

He gritted his teeth – it was entirely too early in the morning for this sort of rubbish – and shifted the conversation’s direction. “What are you doing there this time of morning? Bit early for work, isn’t it?”

She hesitated again, as if gathering her thoughts, and then replied quietly, “I – I couldn’t sleep. A lot on my mind. Stuff…you know…about yesterday…I just wanted to talk to him. I need to make him see – ”

Ianto tensed and exhaled forcefully. He felt Jack kiss his shoulder and rub soothing circles on his chest.

Did Gwen never know when she’d fucking won? Ianto wondered irritably. Did she want to kick Jack a little more while he was down just for the sake of assuaging her own guilt for Rhys’ injuries?

“Look,” Ianto interrupted, more brusquely than he intended. “I’ll tell him you’re trying to get in touch with him when I see him. That’s the best I can offer, Gwen. But I’m sure you’ll hear from him before that.” Ianto tapped Jack’s shoulder lightly as he spoke, and Jack chuckled silently into his skin.

“Hmm…all right, then,” she said reluctantly. “Thanks, Ianto.”

Ianto disconnected without another word and tossed the mobile onto the nightstand, then shifted onto his side to meet blue eyes staring back at him.

“Thanks,” Jack whispered. “Not sure I’m up to dealing with Gwen just yet.”

Ianto smiled softly at a sleep-rumpled Jack, hair mussed and spiked in a dozen different directions, linen-creases pressed into his cheek. Impulsively Ianto moved closer and kissed him. Jack drew him in and returned the kiss enthusiastically; Ianto could feel Jack’s fingers threading through his hair as his other hand slid lower down the valley above Ianto’s spine, pulling him tightly against his body.

Ianto cupped Jack’s cheek and stroked along his cheekbone with his thumb, enjoying the unexpected softness of Jack’s skin sliding beneath his fingers. Jack pulled back from the kiss and turned his face into Ianto’s hand and kissed the webbing of his thumb gently.

Ianto hissed sharply as Jack’s lips brushed the friction burns. He bit his lip and frowned. “Sorry.”

Jack took Ianto’s hand carefully and studied it by the glow of the numerals on the clock. “Ianto – why didn’t you say something? Your hand is a mess.” He kissed Ianto’s palm, avoiding the wounds on the sides and back of his hand. “I’d guess the other one is in no better shape?”

Ianto shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. Owen offered to see to it, but then Gwen…well, after that it slipped my mind. Anyway, it’s a minor thing. Just stings a bit.”

Jack stared at him sorrowfully for a long moment. “I should have noticed sooner.”

Ianto could feel the melancholy flooding back into Jack and threatening to undo his efforts of the last several hours, and he resolutely drew Jack firmly against him. “Would you kindly shut the fuck up?” Ianto murmured into his ear. “You can’t fix everything, Jack. Seriously, this is nothing. A bit of peroxide and a bandage, and it’ll be good as new in a couple of days.”

Jack pulled away and stared at him, his eyes unreadable again, and then he resolutely sat up. “C’mon. Let me take care of those hands.”

“Jack…”

“No arguments.” Jack jerked his head toward the bathroom. “Won’t take a minute and I’ll even draw smiles on your bandages if you behave yourself.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Fine! Fine. Arse,” he added, sotto voce.

He pulled his old sleep-trousers on and followed a very naked Jack into the bathroom. He leant against the vanity and held his hands out, palms down, for Jack to treat. Ianto was genuinely surprised at the gentleness with which Jack dabbed the hydrogen peroxide-soaked cotton over the friction burns. He watched Jack, head bent in concentration, frown at the lively bubbling along the raw wounds, his furrowed brow visible through his floppy brown fringe. Ianto wanted to brush the hair aside and smooth the skin beneath it.

Ianto watched, bemused and a little touched, as Jack carefully blotted the abrasions and smeared antibiotic ointment liberally over them. He smiled softly when Jack applied the 2”x2” squares of sterile dressing and wound the bandage snugly around each hand.

“You’re a fair medic, Jack. Owen will be jealous,” Ianto said, his voice uncharacteristically thick.

“Nah. Just meatball surgery. And anyway, I’d much rather play doctor than be one.” Jack shot him a dirty grin.

Ianto shook his head, biting his lip against the smirk that wanted to form there. “Of course you would.” He hesitated and met Jack’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Ianto noticed that unguarded little smile flicker across Jack’s lips. “Anytime. Well, hopefully not anytime.” A fleeting shadow crossed Jack’s features and he sobered. He shrugged, trying for nonchalance and not fooling Ianto at all. “You know what I mean.”

“Yep.”

Jack dropped his eyes and then looked back at Ianto. “Is there any chance I could cash in on that offer of coffee? I could really use a cup. Especially since I have a phone call to make.” Jack glanced away from Ianto’s bandaged hands and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

“Of course. And Jack – mention Paris. I overheard her telling Tosh she wanted to visit Paris with Rhys.”

Jack stared at Ianto with frank surprise. “I’m beginning to think there really isn’t anything you don’t know.”

Ianto smirked. “Will wonders never cease?” he murmured.

“I think we can handle things ourselves while she’s gone. Unless the Rift spits out an alien talk-show host or something…” Jack mused, his eyebrows lifted.

“So we’ll advertise it as a sci-fi convention and sell tickets. We can contribute the proceeds to Owen’s ‘Torchwood Tahiti Fund’.” Ianto touched Jack’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’ll be fine, Jack. The only thing out of the ordinary on the agenda is the annual audit, and you and I can handle that.”

Jack pulled a pained face. “Is it that time already?” he moaned.

“We can do it in the Archives. Alone,” Ianto murmured, stretching the long O sound. He raised a knowing eyebrow and pinned Jack with eyes he knew betrayed desire. “And, if memory serves, the CCTV system in the Hub is scheduled for maintenance. That means taking it off-line. We could kill two birds with one stone.”

Jack swallowed hard. “You’re very…efficient.”

Ianto smiled smugly. “One of my many talents,” he purred.

Jack tried to look thoughtful, as if he were weighing important matters of Queen and country. “Gwen in Paris for a week. Doing audits – ” and Ianto could visualize Jack wrapping his tongue lewdly around the word – “…alone in the Archives with you. No CCTV.”

Ianto nodded only once – a single dip of his head.

Jack grinned brightly. “Sounds…brilliant.”

Ianto gave him a light swat on the arse. “I have coffee to make, and you have a bear to wrestle. See you in the kitchen in – ” Ianto glanced at the clock on his nightstand and back up to Jack. “ – ten.”

Warmth flooded Ianto’s chest as he watched Jack reach for his mobile and flip it open with his usual Harkness flair.

“Yes, sir,” Jack breathed huskily, his blue eyes sparkling. “That’s ten minutes…and counting.”

~ fin ~