Warning/Notes: Set after the radio play 'Lost Souls' so possible spoilers for that. Also, m/m sexual situations, some language. Also, I've used German because I cannot find a translator for Swiss German.
Thanks to DragonDi for helping fix the dodgy ending. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine, although I'd look after them better than RTD and the BBC.
'Did you see the concierge's face when you took the second key off me and handed it to Gwen?' Jack laughed as he stepped into the tiny room in the shitty hotel that they were lucky to have found. 'I thought his head was going to explode he turned so red. You 21st Century people and your sexual repression.'
There was no answer from Ianto, and Jack sighed. After their flight back to Cardiff had been delayed for a second time, the Torchwood team decided to give up and try to find a hotel to get some rest before taking another flight home in the morning. Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones who'd had that idea, but two hours and several renditions of "Ich spreche nicht fließend Englisch," by various airport staff and phone operators, Jack managed to find two vacant rooms in a nearby hotel.
He was certain Ianto could have done it in half the time.
They'd all had a tough day. Gwen was exhausted, emotionally and physically, from fighting to get herself and Ianto out of the Large Hadron Collider before it was activated. Ianto was still intermittently shuddering from the cold that had pierced his bones, and, Jack suspected, from the battering his mind had taken. More alarmingly, his mood was swinging between almost-annoyingly talkative and cheery, and withdrawn and silent, but he just smiled and nodded whenever Gwen asked if he was okay.
Jack, himself, was emotionally drained. Trying to focus on convincing Professor Johnson to stop the firing of the proton beams was near impossible when he knew Gwen and Ianto were still in those tunnels being attacked by some kind of neuron-melting alien. The effort it took to put aside his concern for his team – for his friend and his lover - had taken a mental toll; he felt as though his mind had been viciously attacked.
Then their plane was delayed and they were stuck in this dingy room in this even dingier hotel. The last straw had come when the concierge had assumed that Jack and Gwen were a couple, much to an unusually possessive Ianto's disgust, and Jack could still hear Gwen's tired, almost-hysterical giggles over the man's goggling eyes and stuttered apologies when Ianto pointedly redistributed the keys.
'Switzerland,' Jack thought as he slipped the 'Do Not Disturb' sign over the door knob, 'has been a big disappointment so far.'
He shut the door and slid the security chain home then gasped in surprise when a warm, solid weight slammed into him, forcing him back against the solid wood.
'Jesus, Ianto...' he managed to choke out before the other man's mouth covered his, tongue pushing roughly between Jack's lips.
It wasn't the kind of kiss he and Ianto shared very often these days, and Jack's heart sank as Ianto's teeth pulled not-so-playfully at his lip. This was the kiss that had first occurred two weeks after the team shot Lisa and Ianto had answered Jack's knock on his door with a burning anger in his eyes. It was the kiss that led to rough and bruising sex on Jack's desk after a visit to the Brecon Beacons then again after John Hart's first visit, although they hadn't made it out of the SUV that time.
The kiss had felt more like a punch the next time – after Ianto had been held hostage in the warehouse with the space whale and Jack had that fight with Gwen about retconning Rhys... he wasn't really sure who'd initiated that one. And they hadn't even reached Cardiff's outskirts after Gwen's wedding before they were tearing at each other's clothing. The last time had been several weeks ago, after Grey's reign of terror that cost Toshiko and Owen their lives.
This was the kiss Jack and Ianto shared when words would have revealed too much, when one or both of them needed the escape of sweaty, writhing, plunging bodies, and Jack knew what it meant today. It meant that Ianto had lied. It meant that, despite his continued insistence, Ianto probably remembered exactly what had happened in that tunnel today.
Jack knew better than to try and stop this. Sometimes he and Ianto were too much alike and he knew that the other man would only back even further away from him if he tried to slow this down – just like Jack would do in his place. He knew that sometimes both of them needed the uncomplicated, numbing combination of mindless pleasure and distracting pain that down-and-dirty sex brought. So, when Ianto's hands scrabbled desperately at the buttons of Jack's shirt, his own fingers hastened to help him.
Their lips moved without any coordination, without any of the finesse that they both usually took pride in. Instead, the kiss was sloppy and wet and selfish on both their parts as they took what they needed without a thought of giving anything back.
That would come later.
For now, they worked fervently to get each other's clothing off, shoving coats and shirts to the floor then breaking their greedy kiss to yank Jack's white undershirt over his head. Ianto hooked his fingers into the belt loops on Jack's trousers and pulled him close, roughly reclaiming his lips as he maneuvered them both towards the bed.
As they moved the few metres to the double bed, their hands worked frantically at each others' flies, fire licking at Jack's nerve-endings every time fumbling fingers brushed over engorged flesh. They each kicked their shoes off to land god-only-knew where, then toed off their socks. Ianto sat down heavily on the bed after the back of his knees hit the edge and gave out, and he pulled Jack's pants and underwear down as he went. Jack quickly stepped out of the garments then hissed when Ianto's mouth closed around his cock, swallowing him down as his fingers bit into Jack's buttocks.
'Christ,' Jack muttered, taking a minute to enjoy the wet, tight suction before he gave Ianto's head a shove, pushing him down onto the mattress then reaching for his half-fastened fly.
Ianto raised his hips to allow Jack to strip the trousers down his legs then he sat up once more, gripping Jack's wrist and pulling him down onto the bed beside him. He quickly rolled Jack onto his back and threw a leg over him, straddling his upper thighs. As he dipped his head to suck Jack's bottom lip into his mouth, Ianto rolled his hips and their bare, precome-slicked cocks slid together deliciously. Jack arched up, meeting Ianto's movement with a thrust of his own. He reached between them as their tongues battled for control of another messy kiss, but he'd barely gotten his hand around their erections before Ianto was pulling back.
'Lube?' he rasped – the first words he'd uttered since they entered the room and Jack groaned as he lost the friction of Ianto's dick against his.
'Pants,' Jack grunted, sitting up and taking Ianto's nipple between his teeth as, at the same time, he reached for the other man's cock once more. 'Right side pocket.'
Ianto growled and gave Jack a hard shove back onto the pillows before he leaned over the side of the bed, impatiently fumbling through Jack's pocket until he found a small packet of lubrication. He shifted back into place, unconsciously rocking their groins together as he ripped the lube open with his teeth, spitting the torn piece out onto the floor. Jack's hand strayed to Ianto's chest, pinching a nipple before trailing lower so he could wrap his fingers around Ianto's shaft, smiling when he felt it throb in his grasp.
Ianto knocked his hand aside as he reached between his own legs with slippery fingers. Jack frowned at Ianto's reticence, but pushed himself up to try once more.
'Let me do it,' he whispered to Ianto, his own hand brushing over the other man's as it moved behind Ianto's tight sac, searching for entry.
'It's done,' Ianto muttered as Jack tried to slide a finger inside him alongside Ianto's own digit. He grabbed Jack's hand as he withdrew, pressing it into the mattress beside Jack's pillow as he pushed the other man down again.
'You're not prepared enough,' Jack objected – albeit weakly – as Ianto drizzled the remaining clear lube over Jack's cock. 'You... fuck... you'll hurt yourself.'
Ianto's hand – as efficient as ever - smoothed the slippery unguent into every dip and bump of Jack's cock. He shook his head as he moved, positioning the crown of Jack's dick against his puckered entrance.
'Want to be tight,' he mumbled as he let his weight drop a little, the head of Jack's cock opening him up. 'Want to feel it.'
Jack tore his hand from Ianto's grasp and reached out, gripping the other man's hips hard then clenching his eyes shut as Ianto sank down on him. He was incredibly, almost painfully, tight and, as Jack breached him, he imagined the burn of the soft, hot flesh spreading and stretching to accommodate the intrusion. Ianto was panting hard, fingers digging bruisingly into Jack's wrists as his body accepted the entire length then he paused for several seconds to adjust his seat, rotating his hips to open himself further around the thick cock. Jack took advantage of the still moment and pulled himself up, wrapping his arms around Ianto's waist.
Ianto groaned at the change in angle then his lips were on Jack's, kissing him with an urgency that was contagious. Jack left one arm around Ianto's waist and tangled the other in his hair to keep their mouths joined as Ianto began to move.
'Oh, yeah. Ride me,' Jack whispered and Ianto moaned into his mouth, tongue chasing the sound.
They kissed hungrily as they moved, hands and mouths frantically trying to touchtasteclaim as much as they could of each other. He barely heard Ianto as the other man turned Jack's name into a litany, chanting it in time with every down stroke. His own pleasure coursed through his veins, the roaring of his rushing blood loud in his ears. He released his hold on Ianto's waist and leaned back, bracing himself with a hand on the bed behind him as his hips thrust up, meeting Ianto's punishing pounding with a powerful plunge of his own.
It was always going to be more of a sprint than a marathon and Jack soon felt his orgasm curling tight and tense in his stomach. 'C... close,' he managed to hiss through his clenched teeth.
Ianto grunted then his arse rippled around Jack and he let out a wordless shout as he came, ribbons of ejaculate pulsing over Jack's chest. Jack watched as the final throes of Ianto's orgasm ebbed before succumbing to his own, throwing his head back as he gave in to the kaleidoscopic pleasure of his release.
As Jack began to come down from the high of his climax, he felt strong arms encircle him and open-mouthed kisses pressed to his jaw. Panting, he turned his head to catch Ianto's lips with his own, the needy, hungry lip lock of just a minute ago softening and melting into a deep kiss of assurance and affection. They had both greedily taken; now it was time to give back.
Their mouths moved together with gentle tenderness now, soothing the hurts they'd just inflicted. They wrapped themselves around each other, Ianto clinging to Jack with arms and legs as he pressed an apologetic kiss to every rapidly-fading mark on Jack's shoulders. Jack licked a stripe up Ianto's throat, murmuring Ianto's name against the other man's throbbing pulse point before he lowered them carefully to the bed. He combed his fingers through Ianto's hair, bracing the other man's head between his hands to still him before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Ianto's mouth.
'Alright?' he asked softly, catching Ianto's eye, and Ianto nodded. Jack cocked his head. 'Want to tell me what all that was about? I'm not the sort to complain about great sex, but...'
'It was incredible sex, Jack. What's not to like?' Ianto said with a little smile. He made an attempt to shift off Jack's chest, but Jack hooked a leg over Ianto's and held him in place.
'Incredible it was,' Jack agreed, voice low and gentle. 'But we both know that this wasn't about the sex.'
A muscle leaped in Ianto's jaw and Jack saw the too-familiar mask shifting back into place. 'Ianto,' he pleaded, trailing his thumbs over Ianto's cheekbones. 'Trust me. Please?'
He saw the battle in Ianto's eyes and stayed silent, knowing that the other man would retreat if pushed. Eventually, Ianto sighed and closed his eyes tight.
'I lied,' he admitted in a whisper. 'I remember everything that happened in the tunnel. I remember hearing Lisa, and Tosh, and Owen's voices in my head. I remember them telling me things they could only know if it was really them. I remember hearing them beg me to help them.'
His voice cracked and Jack saw the undulation of Ianto's throat as he swallowed hard. 'I wanted to help them,' he continued, barely audible now. 'I... I failed them again.'
'You didn't fail them, Ianto. It wasn't really them,' Jack reminded him, stroking his hand over Ianto's throat. 'Yan, the dead...'
'... stay dead,' Ianto snapped irritably, echoing the words Jack had spoken earlier that day. 'Yeah, I know, Jack. That didn't make it seem any less real.'
There was a long moment of silence then Ianto rolled off to the side, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. Jack stood up, disappearing into the bathroom and coming back with a warm flannel. He sat down on the edge of the bed and dragged the cloth over Ianto's skin, cleaning up the unresisting man. Once he was done, he threw the cloth on the floor and climbed back into bed, shifting a pliant Ianto until they were lying face to face. He traced the line of the other man's stubble-darkened jaw then pressed his lips to his chin, his nose, his cheeks then finally, his lips. Ianto relaxed a little into his embrace, sliding a leg between Jack's thighs.
Jack smiled then asked quietly, 'Why didn't you tell us you remembered?'
The tension returned to Ianto's body. 'Does it matter?' he asked, averting his gaze, but Jack pushed on.
'Yes,' he murmured. 'It matters to me.'
Ianto was so quiet for so long that Jack thought he was ignoring him, but just as he opened his mouth to insist once more, Ianto spoke.
'Gwen's only just stopped crying,' he whispered, finally meeting Jack's eye. 'You've only just started smiling again: real, proper smiles; not those pale imitations you wore for weeks after Tosh and Owen died. I just... I didn't want you both to go back there. I didn't want to see Gwen crying for them again. It was bad enough that thing used their names to try and trick her. She doesn't need to know that I can still hear them in my head. She'd want to help me and I don't want...' He bit his lip and closed his eyes. 'I don't want her to cry anymore.'
He opened his eyes and looked up at Jack, face pained as he touched a finger to Jack's mouth, tracing the seam of his lips. 'I didn't want you to stop smiling again. I like your smile.'
'God, Ianto,' Jack breathed, cupping Ianto's face in his palms as his chest ached with pride and sorrow. 'You're still trying to look after us, aren't you?'
'It's my job, sir,' he murmured, shifting his eyes to Jack's chest.
Jack leaned forward and kissed Ianto softly. 'I'm your Captain,' he said gently, shaking his head. 'I'm supposed to be the one watching out for you.'
'You hired me to take care of Torchwood's needs. That job description never changed,' Ianto said, and in that instant, Jack was reminded of all the reasons he had been unable to stop himself falling for this amazing man.
Ianto turned his head and kissed Jack's palm. 'Don't tell Gwen,' he murmured, before he rolled onto his other side and pulled the pillow more comfortably under his head.
Jack shook his head – pointlessly, as Ianto was no longer looking at him – then curled himself behind Ianto, bodies touching from shoulder to toe. He could feel the other man's breathing slow and even out then heard the light, snuffling snores that meant Ianto had fallen asleep.
He kissed the soft skin behind Ianto's ear and whispered, 'Who looks after you, Ianto Jones?' and wished, not for the first time, that Ianto would let it be him.
Translation: " I don't speak fluent English."