Title: Moonlight and Memories.

Rating: M (for non-graphic sex.)

Fandom/Paring: Torchwood. JackXIanto.

Prompts: loss of control and harvest moon

Summary: Ianto gives him timeless moments when he can pretend that they both have forever. Tonight is one of those moments, a time to make memories to carry into eternity with him, ones that he can remember by moonlight when he's all alone.

In the bed behind him Ianto slumbers, as Jack stands at the casement window, looking out at the moonlit Welsh countryside beyond.

Once, Jack knows, a moon like this, full and bright lighting up the autumnal sky, would have been called a bombers moon. Before the war, before air raids had become part of anyone vocabulary it had been a harvest moon, and perhaps now that that war at least is long passed people call it a harvest moon once more. For Jack though it's still a bombers moon, and maybe it always will be.

Lost in memories more wistful than sad, Jack doesn't notice as Ianto slips out of bed, realising only as his lover slips his arms bout his waist.

"Are you missing being out there amongst the stars?" he asks softly, resting his chin on Jack's shoulder.

"No," Jack says honestly, leaning back into the embrace, suddenly realising how chilled his skin has become from standing naked in front of the cold glass.

"Hmm," Ianto hums softly against Jack's neck, not exactly disbelieving, more an acknowledgement that he knows that Jack is missing or remembering something.

"I was remembering how the moonlight looked on the Rhine, how we barely noticed it going out, and how we always did on the way back home." It had been beautiful, the countryside and silver water beneath the plane. Yet it had always been tinged with sadness, that knowledge that amongst that serene night people had lost family and friends weighing heavy on the crew.

It had been hard knowing all that would happen, and not being able to speak of it to anyone, to know that he couldn't change anything, that he had to maintain the timeline even if it meant watching those he loved perish. He shivers, a movement that has nothing to do with the cold night air.

"Don't brood," Ianto whispers gently in his ear, before starting to trail light kisses along Jack's collarbone, his breath warm against cool skin. He works slowly, moving up Jack's neck until he's kissing the pressure point just below Jack's jaw. The kiss turns into a soft suction as Ianto's tongue and teeth gently worry the sensitive skin.

Jack shivers again, although this time it has nothing to do with memories, and everything to do with the fact that Ianto was getting him hard from just a kiss.

He has no control around Ianto, he knows it. Once, before he'd allowed himself to really think about it, he'd told himself it was just lust, that it couldn't be anything else, that he couldn't iallow/i it be anything else.

Yet the more Jack had tried to convince himself that they were doing was purely physical the less it worked. Ianto had shown him in soft touches and whispered words, in slow smiles and gentle caresses in those long dark hours when the world seemed too much to bear alone that not to love meant not to live.

Ianto had made him abandon the notion that if he didn't fall in love that he'd never again suffer the pain of loss. He'd taught him love again and he'd done it simply by being there. Jack knows that one day he'll lose him, and that when that day comes it will hurt him in a way that nothing has managed for a very long time, yet even knowing that he cannot stop.

He has no control over loving Ianto, and he suspects that the same is true for him. They are together, against the odds, against everything that the world and the Rift has thrown at them, and perhaps they are all the stronger for it.

Ianto gives him timeless moments when he can pretend that they both have forever.

Tonight is one of those moments, a time to make memories to carry into eternity with him, ones that he can remember by moonlight when he's all alone.

Moving to sit on the window seat, a long, low padded bench that is set into the thick walls of the holiday cottage, they continue kissing and touching, hands and lips working until they are both breathless with need.

Ianto is still open and ready from their lovemaking earlier that evening as Jack slips inside him, hands strong and steady on his hips, supporting and guiding him, until they are joined in passion.

Time and place and reality no longer matter, they are just two men lost in each other, in sensation and movement, silhouetted against a world of soft blues, silver and grey.

Later, content and with sleep fast over taking them, they lay together on the window seat, watching the moonlit landscape beyond turn silvered with early autumn frost.

There's no need for words in moments like this, the closeness between them, both physically and emotionally, is all they need. It speaks far more eloquently of love than either of them could manage in mere words.

Settling back against the wall, Jack pulls one of the throws over them, staving off the chill night air. The window seat might not be as comfortable as the bed, but this moment is too perfect for him to want to disturb.

Stroking his hand through Ianto's hair, Jack watches the contented smile on Ianto's lips as he rest his head against Jack's chest, his eyes closing as he drifts into a sated sleep.

Tonight in the moonlight memories have been made, and as Jack follows Ianto into sleep, he knows that losing control and losing his heart to Ianto Jones was one of the best things that he ever did.