Warnings: Violence, language, masturbation, m/m sex.
Author's notes: This fic traces the development of Jack and Ianto's relationship between the flashback in Fragments through to They Keep Killing Suzie. It is a completed fic, to be posted one chapter a day for the next five, each chapter being approximately 4,000 words.
Also, I've been heavily influenced by Moving In by Calico, which gives a similar first day encounter but from Jack's POV. There's no way I could ever hope to better that fic, but I thought instead I'd offer what something similar might have been like from Ianto's POV.
You go to work.
"You've used one of these before, haven't you?" the computer expert enquires, her voice soft and hesitant.
"I certainly have, Ms. Sato. All you need to do is let me know how you all take your coffee, and I'll be around with them in about ten minutes."
"Please, call me Toshiko," she smiles, the shy reserve bordering on the coy.
Ianto smiles back.
"Certainly, Ms. Toshiko. Now, I have you down as a woman who likes her coffee frothy and sweet. Am I right?" He raises an enquiring eyebrow and she giggles a little. He likes her already. It's a surprise, as he hadn't been expecting to like any of them. It's going to make it so much harder to do what he has to do.
After talking him through the team's preferences, and pointing out Jack's favourite mug, she walks back to her workstation. His eyes follow her, the diminutive frame and graceful movements reminding him of all he has lost. He stifles the rising pang of sorrow by concentrating on the coffee machine, observing that he'll need to take the whole thing apart and give it a proper cleaning. He sighs, looking around the kitchenette. He'll be doing a lot of tidying and scrubbing around here. It's a distraction, at any rate.
He's doing okay. He's doing fine.
It's okay, you did fine, she said.
You shook your head as you tore off the ridiculous "fuck me" belt she'd told you to wear. You'd told her you'd always been attracted to men. You'd told her you'd never done anything about it. You'd told her you didn't think this was a good idea. You'd do it if you loved me, she'd said.
You'll just have to try again in the morning, she said.
You ripped open your fly, thwarted lust making you savage. Your hands were shaking and he hadn't even let you touch him, for fuck's sake. You'd done all that careful research, all that stalking, and it turned out you weren't even his type.
Don't worry, darling. You'll get us in there somehow, she said.
You bent down over her, seeking a strip of unblemished flesh to suck and bite as you fisted your cock furiously. You licked her skin; cool, coppery, tasting strangely salty until you realised that was your tears, rolling down your cheeks. You didn't want this. You didn't want to be wondering what his cum would taste like. You didn't want to be picturing him as you came with a joyless shudder.
It doesn't matter, she said.
You wiped up the blood, muttering your apologies for using her so carelessly.
You couldn't meet her eyes when she squeezed your hand.
"Okay, if you'd like to roll up your sleeve I can get a blood sample and run a few tests," the doctor commands, his eyes on the screen in front of him as he enters the data from Ianto's physical examination. An examination that had been surprisingly invasive. Ianto's nerves hadn't been eased by Dr. Harper's brusque bedside manner and avoidance of eye-contact.
"Tests? What kind of tests?" What could he possibly need to be tested for?
"Blood-borne diseases, mostly. It's standard Torchwood staff protocol. There's a high risk of injury in this job. I'm sure you must have had it done at Torchwood One."
Ianto shakes his head, then realising that the medic hasn't seen him, clears his throat. "No, I had a desk job. Didn't really need a full medical for that. Didn't think I would here either."
"Well then, lucky you, because Jack's asked me to give you the full works. All diseases that can be transmitted by any bodily fluids or close physical contact. That's what he said." At this he finally looks up, eyes narrowed, voice dripping scorn. "Can't think why all that would be necessary for a tea boy, can you?"
Uncomfortably aware of the heat rising up his neck then into his cheeks, Ianto curses himself for getting so easily wound up. He concentrates on rolling up his left sleeve and proffers his arm to Dr. Harper, watching closely as the medic wipes his skin and deftly inserts the needle into the clearest vein. It makes sense to observe how to do these things properly. Who knew when he might have to do something like this for her? Watching the blood running up the tube into the waiting syringe, he has flashbacks of the first few hours getting her hooked up into the unit. Desperately trying to decipher the alien technology under her garbled tuition, tense with the knowledge that if he didn't get her in there soon, then she would be lost forever.
Distraction is best when the memories threaten to overwhelm him. But what to say to this hostile, sarcastic man who seemed to have taken an instant dislike to him?
"So, will it take long for the results to come through?" His voice sounds fairly controlled, and Dr. Harper probably won't notice that he's shaking.
"Oh, you just can't wait, can you? God, you're as bad as him. He was in here first thing, wanting the all clear. Well, don't worry, with all of this wonderful alien tech I'll be able to give you the go ahead about two minutes." The doctor's voice is low, but the dislike seeps through with every word. "Then you can go and tell him you're safe; assuming you are, of course."
Face burning, Ianto glares back at Dr. Harper, who just smirks infuriatingly.
"It's not what you think," he mutters. "I'm not like that."
"Ianto, I don't give a flying fuck what you're like or what you're up to with the boss. Just stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours, okay? And make sure you remember that I outrank you in every way. Some of us here got our jobs because of our credentials, not because we shagged the boss." Dr. Harper pulls the needle out a little more forcefully than seems strictly necessary, and Ianto watches the blood well up out of the neat puncture wound before he is given a swab to hold in place.
The next two minutes are excruciating, and he tries not to give away his nerves with any bodily tics, sitting poker-straight on the edge of the examination table. He's clean, how could he be otherwise? But just knowing what Dr. Harper is checking for and the inferences he is making is incredibly discomfiting. He suspects that the evidence of his recent experimentation is written on his flesh. The doctor was bound to leap to the wrong conclusion.
"Right then, you'll be thrilled to hear that you've got the official, Dr. Harper all clear. You can go and tell Jack that you're ready to go."
You wanted to know everything. You wanted to be prepared. You didn't want to make a fool of yourself again. You didn't want a repeat of the morning when he'd brushed off your hand and you'd been so close to grabbing him by those lapels and pushing him back against the wall. You wanted to make him recognise your need and want you as ferociously as you wanted him.
You pushed your slickened finger against the tight ring of muscle, breathing deeply to calm yourself, remembering to loosen your jaw and shoulders. You were in, and you paused a moment before pushing in further. You liked the way it felt, so you tried another finger, bending them inside you until you found your prostate. Your body convulsed as a jolt of electricity arced through you. You'd never realised it would feel that intense. You lay there, panting, wanting more than just your fingers inside you. You contemplated the dildo, lying on the bed next to you, still glistening with your saliva. You'd chosen it because it felt silky and warm, as far from cold metal as you could get without the use of someone else's flesh.
You lubed it up, worked it in slowly, hissing as you breached your tight ring. You wondered if he would be even bigger than the silicone toy. You feared that he might be, but the thought made you even harder. You found your fingers were trembling as you began to work the fake cock in and out of you.
You didn't want to remember whose name you shouted as you came.
"Jack tells me you're familiar with Weevils," the brusque woman says. Ianto can't tell if that tone signifies disapproval or simply disinterest. He murmurs his assent.
"Well, we won't be needing your help catching any, that's a job for us field agents, but you will be taking over looking after these ones. They need feeding once a day, and we clean the cells out every now and again."
It looks like now and again must mean once in a blue moon. The stench and the filth are overpowering. Ianto isn't particularly fond of Weevils, but no creature deserves to live in conditions like these. He resigns himself to the fact that he will be coming back here tomorrow and washing these cells from top to bottom. But not today. Today he needs to keep himself clean and fragrant. He's gone to a lot of trouble.
"Right then, on with the tour. Jack wants you to have a look at the archives. They're in a bit of a state. Should keep you out of harm's way, sorting that lot out. Then we'll have a quick peek at the lower levels. Not much of interest down there though."
Ianto follows Ms. Costello, ever alert for potential hiding places. The lower levels sound promising.
You prepared yourself for your first day with far more care than you'd ever put into getting ready for a date. You shit, shaved, then showered yourself inside and out. You agonised over which combination of shirt and tie he'd like best. You slipped a couple of condoms and the rest of the lubricant into your inner jacket pocket. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you were attempting too much: to start a new job; to scout out and prepare a place for her; to seduce your boss. You wondered what kind of a man you were, to be brimming with such excitement, terror and sorrow, yet to hide it all so perfectly.
You remembered the press of his body against yours as you lay in the warehouse the previous night. You'd wanted to kiss him, but you'd promised her you wouldn't, even though she'd said that she wouldn't mind. You wanted to keep something back for her. You wondered if you had time to drive by the storage unit and see her before work. You decided not to risk it.
You felt guilty.
You told yourself that this was all for her sake.
You weren't convinced.
You slammed the door on your way out.
"So Jones, Ianto Jones, how's your first day been? I hope my little team did their best to help you fit in." Captain Harkness is leaning back against the Tourist Office counter. The others have just left for the pub. The absence of an invitation was conspicuous, but Toshiko did have the decency to look back with apologetic eyes, before trailing after Dr. Harper and Ms. Costello.
Ianto dissembles, wondering whether to make his move now. He looks up at the CCTV camera. The Captain follows his gaze.
"Those things are all over the upper levels. Toshiko reviews all the footage every morning. I have to remember not to wander around naked in the middle of the night. Well, not unless I wanna give her a special treat." Brilliant teeth gleam in the incandescent light. "Still, there are a few little blind spots. Let me show you something. Through there."
Ianto steps through the bead curtain and into the tiny back room, a corridor between the toilet at one end and the kitchenette at the other. A place crammed with files and boxes, thick with dust. He moves down to the end, where there's a little space in front of the toilet door. The bead curtain whispers behind him. The air is suffused with those intoxicating pheromones the Captain uses. His breathing speeds up. He turns around.
Captain Harkness lounges against the wall with his upper body, his hips jutting out. There's a smirk on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes.
"This particular part of the Hub, for instance, is definitely not covered by the network."
"Is that so, sir?"
"You don't need to call me sir, Ianto. Not after hours. It's kinda weird."
It's as if all the moisture has been sucked out of Ianto's mouth. He knows that this is his chance, but as the Captain - Jack - shows no sign of moving it looks like it will be up to him. He licks his lips, raking his eyes over Jack's body. His gaze snags on the crotch area. He can't help it, there's a loose thread on the fly seam.
"Excuse me... Jack, but as your butler, I need to attend to your clothing." Jack raises his eyebrows but otherwise remains still, letting Ianto approach, picking his way through the piles of boxes.
Sinking to his knees in front of his new boss, Ianto looks up to see an expression of delighted surprise. Who would have thought a man could look so beautiful? He reaches out for the thread, and keeping his eyes on Jack's, bites through it. The effect is electric. Those eyes turn from blue to black, and a swelling pushes out at the fabric by Ianto's cheek. He turns to it, and gently mouths the erection through the thick cotton. That scent is even stronger down here, and it stirs his own body into a response. He hears Jack's breathing hitch as his fingers work at the fly buttons, and his own cock springs into life when he realises that he doesn't wear any underwear. His fingers brush against the coarse hair and silky shaft as he frees the Jack's heavy cock. This is it. There's no going back now.
He feels his treacherous body shivering as he licks a stripe up the broad shaft, wondering how he will fit it all in his mouth. Still, there's only one way to find out. Grasping the base with one hand and taking the head into his mouth, Ianto sucks experimentally, not surprised at how delicious he is. He'd have to be, wouldn't he? Tastes as good as he looks and smells. He swirls his tongue around and tries to gauge from Jack's reactions what he's enjoying. It's a good thing he's managed to master his gag reflex, he reflects, working up and down, hand and mouth in synchrony, taking Jack deeper with every stroke. There's a guttural moan as he reaches capacity, his jaw aching with the unfamiliar exercise. For a moment he thinks it was him, but looking up at Jack's flushed, fevered face he realises his mistake. God, he's so fucking gorgeous like that. His lips so full and kissable. He wonders what he must look like right now, with his mouth clamped around Jack's cock, and the thought makes him dizzy. He swallows. Jack moans again. He hums. Another moan, the sound making his own, neglected cock twitch. He's quite enjoying this, he realises. This power over another man. This ability to make him pant and sweat and shiver. To draw out those incredibly needy sounds. Exploring with his hands now, cupping and squeezing his sac, probing his entrance; relishing the pull of Jack's hands, twisting in his hair.
But then he's pushed away, just when he thought he was really getting somewhere.
"You're gonna have to stop that. I want to last a bit longer," Jack rasps, arousal making him rough as he hauls Ianto to his feet and spins him around, pinning him to the wall.
Jack dives in for a kiss and Ianto turns his head, exposing his neck, loosening his tie and buttons as his neck is ravished. He undoes his fly, pushing down on Jack's shoulders before he has a chance to try for his lips again.
"I see, getting a little impatient are we? Well, I like a lover who knows what they want," Jack purrs, before teasing Ianto mercilessly. Nudging, nuzzling and licking when all he wants is a good hard suck. Reaching around to knead his buttocks gently. He digs his fingers into Jack's scalp, thrusting against him to give him the message. He doesn't want to have to beg, for fuck's sake. When Jack finally takes him into his mouth, he's ashamed to own up to the low keening sound that issues from somewhere deep in his chest. He has a feeling that he's lost control of the situation, and it alarms him. Frightens him that all he wants to do is pound into Jack's hot, wet throat until he obliterates himself.
"Oh no, not yet," Jack chides, chuckling as Ianto bites back a whimper.
And then those hands are spinning him round again, driving him up against the wall and groping his arse shamelessly. Ianto fumbles in his jacket pocket, hands shaking. Holds the tube and the foil wrapped packet out behind him. There's a low chuckle.
"Good idea, but we won't be needing this," as the condom drops to the floor. "Owen's checked us both out. We're fine."
"But... I'd prefer it if you used one, sir."
There's a low growl. "It's Jack, and I hate those fiddly little things. Haven't been able to feel what I'm doing properly for years now. I want to feel you, no barriers," Jack's voice turns silky as he slips his slickened fingers inside, emphasising his point. Ianto gasps as he twists them inside him, knowing he'll capitulate, but not wanting to submit too readily.
"Now, do you want me to fuck you, or not?"
He screws his eyes shut, saying nothing, feeling his legs being pushed wider apart. The fingers withdraw, only to be replaced by a warm, wet pressure; the intimate contact startling Ianto. He finds himself panting as Jack's tongue explores him. It feels fucking incredible. Why did she never do this for him? His knees start to buckle as Jack's tongue pushes into him. He clings to the wall, moaning as the tingling heat coalesces at the base of his spine. Tries to stop himself thrusting back, demanding more of that wonderful fullness. He actually whimpers when Jack pulls out, biting down hard on his lower lip to prevent his traitorous body humiliating him further. Sensing Jack stand up behind him, he leans his forehead against the rough wall, dislodging cobwebs as he splays out his fingers for purchase. Pushes his arse out in an unspoken invitation.
And then Jack's there, hands grasping his hips, pushing into him slowly and steadily. Ianto forces the tension out of his shoulders, trying to melt into the wall and just welcome this intrusion. Tries not to fight it, that bursting pressure that makes him doubt his ability to cope. And then, mercifully, Jack halts. He can feel Jack's hips hard against him, realises that this is it; as deep as he can go. He heaves a sigh of relief, shuddering as he exhales.
"Ianto, have you ever done this before?" And there's concern in his voice. Almost a tenderness. Ianto feels tears prickle behind his eyes as lips brush against his neck, hands stroke his trembling flanks.
Ever done what? Ever cheated on your girlfriend at her insistence? Ever seduced your new boss so that he won't wonder why you're so keen to hang around after hours? Ever been fucked by a man?
"I know what I'm doing," he answers, racking up yet another lie. One day soon they'll come crashing down on him, burying him under the shards of half-truths and broken promises.
Jack nuzzles at his neck, and that isn't what he wants right now, is it? He wants something fast and hard and violent. Wants to annihilate his guilt by punishing his body. But Jack seems to have other ideas, taking his time to pull out, before sliding back in again at a measured pace, all the while licking his neck and caressing, pushing his hands up under his shirt. He begs silently, twitching his hips to demand a faster pace, rougher treatment. As Jack gets the message he's able to thrust back as he wants to, pulverising himself against the ruthless pounding, crying out his pain and pleasure. And then the hands close around his cock, the insistent pressure sending him spinning over the edge, the shattering climax roaring through him and leaving him blank, barely aware of Jack riding out his own orgasm inside him.
Coming to, feeling Jack panting against him, looking down at the cum pooling on the floor. Inhabiting his body again, raw, bitter and tasting of defeat. He pulls his trousers up as soon as Jack withdraws, looking around for a cloth to clean up the mess. Jack's giving him a odd look. He avoids eye contact.
I don't kiss, you say, dodging his lips as they seek yours.
I'm pretty damn good at it, he says, before making another attempt.
You're missing out, he says.
I don't kiss, you say, letting the mask slip a little.
I'll do anything else, though, you say. You watch the smile twist his lips, leaving his eyes clouded. You wonder if he's feeling hurt. You decide you don't want to know.
Anything? He says.
I might hold you to that, he says.
You gulp, wondering what you've just promised. You decide you don't care. You don't want to be in control any more. You want to throw yourself at his mercy. You welcome oblivion. You definitely don't want to taste his mouth, feel his tongue moving in yours.
I need to get to know the layout downstairs, you say. You arrange to meet him later.
You're proud of yourself for keeping your promises.
You still love her.
You tell yourself that that didn't mean anything; that it was just sex.
You want to believe it.
You don't want to feel like this.