Title: Overdue Reunion
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, mentions of past Ianto/OMC
WARNING: DARK THEMES. BLOOD. CHARACTER DEATH.
Summary: During the London Blitz, Jack Harkness meets Ianto Jones in a bar, unaware of how much his life is going to change.
Author's Note: This is the sequel to Blood Lust.
Somewhere in the distance, bombs were falling. German devices were falling from the sky and landing on innocent people, no doubt killing them instantly. Captain Jack Harkness, Royal Air Force 133 Squadron, was one of the American volunteers who had signed up to fight for the British.
Footsteps approached him and Jack looked up to see Algy approaching him. "Barrage balloon," Jack commented, nodding to the sky in front of the building.
"Must have come loose," Algy murmured, following Jack's gaze for a moment before looking back at the Captain. "Say, Jack, I don't suppose…"
Algy trailed off when a hand slipped in between them, handing a drink to Jack. Together, they turned to face the interrupter curiously. Jack smiled inwardly as he ran his eyes up and down the length of the other man's body, not making any effort to hide his actions. If the man wasn't interested, he was in the wrong place.
"Can I help you?" Jack asked.
The newcomer nodded to the glass he was still holding. "This is for you."
Jack smiled obligingly and took the drink from him. "I'll see you later," he murmured to Algy, who nodded his head, getting the hint and sloping off to sit with some friends near the bar. "I haven't seen you around here, before," Jack commented, taking a sip of the Scotch – his favourite drink, he noted.
The other man shrugged his shoulders, slowly sipping his own beverage. "It's my first time here," he explained.
Jack frowned, trying to place the accent. He had never heard anyone with an accent like it. "Your accent…"
He laughed and rattled the ice around his glass. "Welsh," he explained. "Ianto Jones." He held his hand out, offering it to Jack.
Jack smiled and took Ianto's gloved hand in his own, squeezing it before releasing him. "Captain Jack Harkness," he introduced with his customary grin.
"Well, Captain Jack Harkness," Ianto purred, finishing off his drink and handing it – and Jack's – to a passing waiter, "care to accompany me?"
Jack gasped and captured Ianto's lips in a heated kiss. His breath was coming in ragged gasps as Ianto's hand slipped inside his RAF issued trousers, pumping his cock savagely.
The gentleman's club Jack had frequented since his volunteering with the 133 squadron was in darkness, the lights dimmed, hiding the building away from falling bombs.
But the falling bombs were the last thing on Jack's mind as Ianto made short work of the Captain's uniform, pushing the navy clothing to the floor and urging Jack back towards the sideboard. There was no worry about being caught by anyone – everyone else was in the shelter.
Jack reached behind him, searching for something to hold onto as Ianto pinned him against the mirror, wrapping the Captain's legs around his waist. His fist curled around the edge of the mirror and Jack found himself hoping he wouldn't pull it down, before all coherent thought left him.
In one swift movement, Ianto slid into Jack's body, not stopping until he was fully sheathed in the other man's hot channel.
Jack's back arched and he groaned when he felt Ianto's hand curl around his cock. Their time together wasn't about being gentle or caring; they were horny and desperate for human touch.
Outside the building, bombs were falling, destroying everything they landed on instantly. But Jack didn't care. The only thing that existed was him, Ianto and the room they were in.
He threw his head back, panting for breath and pressing his hips down, impaling more of himself on Ianto's cock.
Jack felt lips against his neck and his hand flew up, burying his fingers in Ianto's hair, curling the digits around his short strands.
"God, Ianto," he panted when he felt teeth bite at his skin.
Ianto groaned and continued pumping Jack's cock and thrusting into the RAF pilot's body. Jack tasted so good; he was so intoxicating, Ianto never wanted to stop.
He could feel his orgasm approaching and he started pumping Jack faster and thrusting deeper with each movement.
Ianto carefully pulled his mouth away from Jack's neck. "Come for me, Jack," he whispered, running his tongue over the shell of his ear.
Jack grasped, clutching tightly at Ianto's shoulder as he felt his own orgasm overwhelm him. He clenched his muscles around Ianto's cock and spilt his seed onto their stomachs.
The muscles clenching around him made Ianto gasp and soon he was thrusting into Jack's body, arching his back and spilling his own seed with a cry of Jack's name.
Ianto stood on the hill, watching as the planes flew overhead, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his long coat swirling around him in the cold January wind.
"You didn't return last night," a familiar male voice spoke from behind him.
His blue eyes didn't move from the scene in front of him; he was searching for one plane in particular. "I was busy," he replied.
Silence passed between them, both concentrating on the war they were witnessing.
"Did you take him?" the Doctor asked suddenly, his hands not moving from where they were also lodged in his pockets.
Ianto nodded his head. "It's him," he stated.
The older man turned to face him, a look of surprise on his face. "He died, Ianto."
Ianto rolled his eyes. "I know that," he snapped, anger flashing across his eyes. "I was there. The bastard killed me as well."
"But I saved you," the Doctor reminded him – recalling the events of that night long ago.
"And I've never once regretted that," Ianto conceded with a tilt of his head. "But I can't help the way I feel."
The Doctor placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder. "He was already dead when I got there, Ianto," he said softly, brushing his thumb over the hollow of Ianto's neck. "There was nothing I could do. I barely had time to save you."
Ianto sighed and nodded his head. "I know," he relented. "But I'm certain I'm right, Doctor."
The older man looked at his childe, feeling a wash of sympathy for him. Until he had met Ianto, it had been a long time since he had felt that particular emotion – far too long for him to even think about.
"Souls aren't reincarnated, Ianto," he whispered. "He died. This man you've taken a liking to isn't him – no matter how much you want him to be."
Jack didn't know how much time had passed since his plane had been shot down. He couldn't move, his legs were jammed underneath the console, and while he was sure they weren't broken, he knew that he couldn't move without someone else's assistance.
His breathing was getting heavier. Jack had never been overly claustrophobic, but being trapped in a slowly burning plane, was slowly turning him into a panicky mess.
The engine exploded and a piece of the plane flew through the shattered window, lodging itself deep in Jack's shoulder.
Jack screamed in agony and tried to pull the metal from his shoulder.
"Shh…" a familiar voice whispered and he felt a hand run down his cheek.
Through his haze filled mind, Jack realised that the voice belonged to the person he had slept with the night before. "Ianto?" he croaked, tears of pain filling his eyes.
Ianto ran his thumb across Jack's cheekbone. "I'm here," he murmured, he reassured the pilot.
The other man studied the metal protruding from Jack's chest. It went through the pilot's body and was embedded in the jump seat Jack was sat in. Blood was pouring from his chest, staining the front of his trousers red and pooling in his lap.
Jack was bleeding to death. Ianto knew it wouldn't be long before he lost too much blood and bled to death.
"Help me," Jack pleaded.
Ianto smiled sadly and kissed Jack softly. "This'll hurt," he whispered.
Jack winced and closed his eyes. "Just do it," he instructed, taking a deep shuddering breath and preparing himself for the pain.
Ianto curled his fingers around the metal and, with strength impossible for a human to possess, yanked the metal from Jack's body, making him scream loudly.
He threw the metal to the ground and put his hands under Jack's armpits, roughly dragging the RAF Captain from the destroyed plane.
Seconds after Jack was free from the plane, the engine ignited and a large explosion shook the area.
Ianto carefully laid Jack down on the ground, cradling his head in his lap and running his hand through the other man's hair. The other man was pale and shaking with blood loss.
"I'm dying, aren't I?" Jack asked, his voice weak and shaky.
Ianto shook his head firmly. "Don't say that," he instructed firmly.
Jack tried to laugh, but coughed when his lungs filled with blood. "You're the only one night stand who's ever cared."
The other man crackled a smile. "One night and I'm already addicted," he replied. "I can help you, Jack," he whispered, running his thumb across Jack's bloody lower lip.
"Please," Jack begged, his eyes watering with the pain.
Ianto seemed to hesitate for a second before he made his decision. Jack watched with amazement – he felt no horror – as Ianto's canine teeth lengthened and his eyes morphed from blue to sparkling silver.
He ducked his head, sinking his canine teeth into Jack's neck and tasting his blood for the second time in as many days. The pain Jack felt in his neck was a welcome break from the pain he was feeling in the rest of his body and he brought his hand up to bury his fingers in Ianto's dark hair.
Because Jack was already close to death, it didn't take long for Ianto to drain him almost entirely. When he could sense Jack's heartbeat slowing, Ianto pulled back and sank his teeth into his own wrist, holding it against Jack's mouth.
"Come on, Jack," he pleaded, urging him to drink. "Please," he begged.
It took Jack a few seconds to pull himself away from the alluring blackness that was threatening to overwhelm him.
He felt liquid against his lips – he barely registered that it was blood – and Jack eagerly reached up and grabbed Ianto's wrist, latching his lips against the other man's skin. The crimson liquid spilling into his mouth refreshed Jack so much; he felt like a thirsty man who'd just been given a bucket of water in the desert.
Ianto ran his hand over Jack's hair, silently urging him to drink from him. He could feel the blood flowing from his own body into Jack's mouth.
"Jack," he called, trying to pull his wrist away from the hungry man. When Jack didn't relent his grip, he tried again. "Jack," he called again, firmly pulling his mouth from Jack, drawing a whine of protest from him.
"You've had enough," he replied, wiping blood from the corner of Jack's mouth.
"Vampire," Jack whispered, resting his head against Ianto's leg and closing his eyes. He could feel something inside of him changing. It was painful, but compared to what he had been feeling before the pain was nothing.
Ianto nodded his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered, truly meaning the words for the first time in two hundred years.
Jack's eyes flickered open and he studied Ianto. "Don't be," he replied.
Ianto smiled and kissed Jack softly. He was so glad that Jack was safe now. He couldn't have survived if the other man had left him again.
High on the hill, the Doctor watched Ianto turning Jack into a vampire. From the distance the average human wouldn't have been able to see what was happening, but the Doctor was far from your average human.
Watching them, the Doctor could why Ianto was so adamant that the previous love of his life had returned to him. From the little of him the Doctor had seen, Jack did bear a striking resemblance to Henry.
He straightened his cravat and sighed heavily. He hated being wrong and he had a feeling he had been wrong about his previous statement regarding reincarnation.
Henry Fitzgerald seemed to have returned to Ianto Jones in the form of Captain Jack Harkness.