Title: Undeniable Intermission: Mondays and Mood-Swings
Summary: Missing chapter from The Undeniable - Whilst Ianto is confined to the Hub, Jack tries to get him to open up. And pretty much fails completely.
Warnings: M-rated for a reason! Smut and violence.
A/N: This is a scene that I thought about putting into The Undeniable, but ultimately decided would get in the way of the tempo of the story. However, as people were SO responsive to the mere mention of angry sex, I knew I'd have to write this at some point! In relation to the story itself, this would be chapter 16B.
Weekends weren't exactly distinguishable from weekdays within Torchwood. The unofficial, and yet indisputable, requirement of active agents to possess no life outside the Hub inevitably meant that the names of days lost all significance to them; beyond, say, the sharp rise in reported 'alien sightings' around 3am each Saturday and Sunday morning.
Gwen had, naturally, been the exception to that rule. If ever things were quiet at the weekend, she would gladly take leave of the Hub to spend time with Rhys, or see her friends, or whatever else she did out in the real world. Then, come Monday morning, she'd roll in with some tale to share about her adventures and a repeat of her regular (and yet never quite implemented) suggestion that they all go out together one night.
Without Gwen around to continue that new tradition, and without a glimpse of the outside world in six days thanks to Jack's imposed imprisonment, it was purely by chance that Ianto knew it was a Monday at all.
He was updating the personnel files, a job he'd neglected for some time due to rather more pressing matters: Gwen's deadly illness and the exposure of his secret masochist needs being the most time-consuming. The obvious revisions came first, like Tosh's new mobile number and Owen's permanently compromised left hand, but when he reached Gwen's record he began to struggle. Especially as he caught sight of the box stating her wish not to be reanimated by alien means in the case of her demise.
He conducted a brief but thorough debate with himself whilst the cursor blinked patiently at him from the screen. She hadn't exactly been reanimated, simply put into cryo to retard the development of her illness whilst they searched for a cure, but even that pushed the limit of her instructions and if he left the command in place it would mean one more piece of evidence of Jack's frequent disregard for the rules. If he took it out, however...well that would be tampering with official records and he'd always been told at One that such an act would be punished with immediate dismissal, a full dose of Retcon and an essential death at the hands of the memory-stealing drug.
Eventually, as he'd done numerous times before, he went ahead and erased all mention of the incriminating subject. Strong though the urge not to manipulate the data was, stronger still was his loyalty to Torchwood and the Captain...despite the way Jack had been treating him recently.
Next, entirely skipping over Jack's record (updating that thing was a two day job at the best of times) Ianto moved on to his own, moodily considering changing his place of residence to 'cell G-19', despite the fact no one was ever likely to read that snarky little dig at his superior/lover/persecutor. The thought dissolved quickly, however, when he opened the file and an angry little red box popped up to tell him it had been precisely three months and one week since his last session on the shooting range.
His last monthly session. The official monthly sessions that needed to be completed on, or as near as possible to, the first Monday of every month, to make sure he could still wield a gun without putting a bullet through his own foot.
Frowning, Ianto scrolled back through the records he'd just updated, sure he hadn't seen the same alert on them, and found to his surprise that everyone else (those who weren't frozen, that is) was up to date. Then he checked Jack's file. The same box sprang into life and Ianto groaned in realisation.
Of course: the training sessions. The training sessions he and Jack had wilfully abandoned in favour of certain other activities. Ianto was supposed to have altered the sensor logs afterwards, to keep their records in line with the others, but apparently that too had been set aside when more grave and dangerous issues reared their heads.
Or maybe Jack had distracted him before he could get to it; that was also a possibility. A stronger possibility in fact.
Ianto slumped down in his chair and rubbed at his temples. He might have only just found out what day of the week it was, but he already had that Monday feeling.
The door into the section of tunnel currently serving as their shooting range was a solid piece of equipment, designed to withstand just about any form of bombardment from the weapons used within. Not that they often shot at the door itself, but there was always the chance of an accidental discharge – and Jack was still finding ways to joke about that – or that an experiment Tosh conducted inside could backfire, and it was always nice to have the extra layer of precaution between that kind of thing and the rest of the Hub.
As thick and heavy as it was, the door still swung open smoothly and quietly on its hydraulics, and so it was only the sound of the safety alarm that alerted Ianto to the arrival of another person in the range.
Halfway through a clip, Ianto didn't bother to stop and acknowledge the newcomer, already well aware of who approached. As much as it distressed him, Ianto couldn't deny how effective the new level of sensitivity he'd developed to Jack's presence was. It seemed foolish to think he could become attuned to the older man any more than he already was, but ever since Jack had unwittingly given him a new appreciation of the pleasure to be found within pain, it seemed he was permanently conscious of the Captain's proximity and the possibility of what that proximity could lead to.
Not that Ianto intended to allow any such thing to happen, despite Jack's determined blend of pestering and teasing. He was still far too angry to cave so easily.
The weapon in Ianto's hand clicked empty but he held it aloft for a moment longer, giving himself time to inhale and gather himself in the silence that followed. Finally he bent his elbows, brought the gun in closer to his chest, made sure the chamber was empty, removed the empty ammunition clip and set both down on the table at his side. Then he exhaled.
"Looks good," Jack said, stepping forward and peering out into the depths of the range.
Ianto turned his head, studying the targets he'd set up for his practise. The other man was right; from here they did indeed seem suitably decimated, but Ianto wasn't so sure that would be the case close up. His right arm, which had been broken shortly before the development of his new respect for pain – and which had played a large part in that development – was still not back to full strength and he was unhappy with the way the gun felt slightly too heavy in his hand.
Sure enough, when the sensors linked to each target transmitted the results back to the mainframe, the monitor in the corner of the room revealed the less-than-perfect scattering of impact sites. Ianto pursed his lips, reset the programme, and turned back to retrieve his gun once more.
"Are you ignoring me for any particular reason?" asked Jack. He hadn't moved from beside the table, but his attention was now fully on the younger man.
"I'm not ignoring you," Ianto replied blithely. "You've said nothing so far which requires a response."
The tart answer made Jack narrow his eyes. "And I guess a simple greeting is out of the question?"
"Farewells and greetings tend to be employed only when leaving or rejoining the company of another," Ianto said, eyes fixed on his hands as he pressed fresh bullets into the clip. "As I have yet to leave your company in almost a week, it didn't seem necessary."
Ianto didn't have to look up to know that his words had struck a nerve; he'd become rather adept in the past few days at making innocent comments that nonetheless riled the other man. Jack, though he likely wished to do something altogether different, merely gave a short laugh and said, "Well that is true, I suppose."
Dammit. Ianto fought to keep the disappointment from showing in his expression, having not expected so compliant an answer. All other times the subject of Ianto's imprisonment had arisen in conversation, there had followed a fierce but satisfying argument – which Ianto welcomed, albeit subconsciously, as a substitute for the sessions with his hired sadist that he had been forced to discontinue.
Annoyed that Jack had denied him yet another method by which he could relieve the strain of his unwelcome emotions, Ianto finished loading the clip and pushed it back into his gun. At least the biological reaction to firing a live weapon provided the brief thrill and distraction of rushing adrenalin, even if it were a poor shadow of what Ianto truly craved.
He faced the range again, lifting the gun and focused on his breathing to steady his heartbeat.
"You're overcompensating," Jack said, as Ianto slipped his finger within the trigger guard.
The young Welshman studiously ignored him and fired the gun. Despite the distance, Ianto already knew the bullet had hit only at the very edge of the mark he'd aimed for. He could tell by the faint tremble in his wrist and he silently cursed his weakness.
He squeezed the trigger again and a dark hole appeared directly beneath the first, even further from his target.
"Don't think about your arm," Jack told him.
"Then stop thinking about it."
Ianto gave him a sidelong glare, unable to overlook the patronising tone. "I don't need your advice."
"I beg to differ." The Captain shrugged, returning the glare with an entirely emotionless expression. That in itself should have warned Ianto, but he had passed the point of rational thought and now only irritation coloured his sight.
"Did you come here just to harass me?" Ianto asked.
"Of course not," Jack innocently replied. "When you logged into the personnel records, the mainframe sent me a rather peevish message about my negligence concerning your training. It's my job to make sure you get back up to a level suitable for a field agent."
Ianto returned his attention to the range. His immediate instinct was to point out that he wasn't a field agent whilst trapped in the Hub, but he knew such a petty comment would have no impact on the other man. Instead he took another shot and said, "As you can see, I'm working on that. Perhaps you should worry about your own training. I seem to recall you missing just as many sessions as I did."
"I don't think I'd have any problem matching my last score," came the careless response and Ianto recognised the familiar lilt in Jack's voice. The older man was taunting him, pushing at his pride to instigate a challenge, seeking a way to break through the cold wall Ianto had constructed around himself since being banished from the outside world.
How unfair, Ianto inwardly raged. For Jack to try and direct his conduct when he already had control over everything else in Ianto's life was really pushing it. His physical freedom might be easily taken, but Ianto riled at the thought of the other man steering his mood as well. He unwittingly forced his anger through his index finger, sending the next bullet thudding alarmingly wide of the target's centre.
"Whereas you clearly need more practise than I thought."
The nonchalant tone shifted the slightest fraction into amusement and Ianto snapped. He span around to glare insolently at the immortal. "I refuse to play this game," he growled, slamming down the gun without a care for safety or procedure.
"Ianto-" Jack began, but Ianto had already stormed over to the entrance.
He pushed the button that opened the large metal door and stepped aside to let it swing by...except it didn't move. He pushed it again, watching this time to see that the small LED on the panel remained stubbornly red. "Dammit," he hissed from between gritted teeth, and moved his fingers instead to the console beside the button.
There was no doubt in his mind at all that Jack was responsible for the locked door, but Ianto refused to let him win through such underhanded means. Childish though it may be, Ianto was determined to retain at least some command over what happened in his life, even if it meant running away every time Jack attempted to begin any kind of dialogue between them that wasn't completely professional.
"It won't work," Jack told him, making no move to stop him from trying and thus revealing just how confident he was in his own words.
Ianto gave the declaration no heed and began to enter a sequence of numbers into the keypad that should have overridden the blast door's lock no matter what. A part of him knew perfectly well that the Captain had changed even that most secret of codes, but he refused to listen to that shrewd voice, refused to turn back and give Jack the satisfaction of admitting defeat. The light stayed red and the panel beeped at him in disapproval.
"I'll just wait here while you try and guess the new one," Jack was saying. "I've got all the time in the world, after all."
A sharp stinging pain flashed behind Ianto's eyes, fury and mental claustrophobia giving abrupt revival to a headache from which he'd been suffering on and off for the past week. He tried a string of random numbers, aware of the futility, but his fingers moved on their own accord, separate from the wisdom that came about after only a few short years in Jack's company.
"How about trying an important date? That's generally a favourite for passwords. I'd suggest my birthday, but even I don't know that one anymore."
Ianto slammed his palm flat against the unforgiving stone wall – chance being the only thing keeping it from being a bone-breaking punch – and looked back over his shoulder. "Let me out."
"Not until you can hit a bullseye again."
"I was getting there, before you interrupted."
"No, you weren't." Jack lifted Ianto's gun and emptied the remaining bullets into the very centre of one of the targets. He set it back down, infuriatingly calm, and cocked a suave eyebrow at the young Welshman. "You were worrying over your arm again."
If the camel's back had already buckled, Ianto hadn't a clue what broke next, but he was suddenly striding towards Jack, his vision tinged with pulsing red. "My arm is fine," he declared, scant moments before bringing his fist around and into Jack's jaw.
The immortal reeled against the table, sending the collection of weapons sliding from its slick surface, before rebounding back upright, more through luck than intention. He lifted an arm to defend himself, but was too late to counter the violent shove to his chest and he went down with a huff of surprise, caught off guard but still alert, his hands up and ready for further attack from above.
"See?" Ianto asked, standing over the Captain with a humourless smile and waving his right hand. "Now tell me the code."
Jack stared up at him, fingers hooked like the claws of a fierce animal ready to fight to the death. His eyes were shadowed in the limited lighting of the tunnel but the twist of his lips spoke volumes. "No."
Ianto's chest expanded visibly as he inhaled an entire lungful of air, nostrils flaring, left eye twitching. "Tell me."
"Hit the bullseye first."
"God damn you, Jack!" Ianto kicked him in the thigh, strong enough to bruise the flesh there. "Is there nothing you won't-"
He broke off with a yelp as Jack snatched at his ankle and pulled him off balance, sending him crashing to the floor with considerably more force than Jack's previous tumble.
Pain blossomed first at the base of Ianto's spine, then at the back of his head, causing the world to spin alarmingly fast around him. Everything went dark for a moment, until movement overhead jolted him back into awareness and Jack's face swam into view. He was close and getting suspiciously closer, his eyes seeming to flash with guilt, though when Ianto's vision cleared fully the look was gone. Instead there was only warm breath on his cheek and soft words. "Hey, I didn't-"
But the sentiment went unfinished, as Ianto dragged his limbs back into operation and swung a weak but unexpected punch at the other man. Jack rolled away and Ianto followed, clambering to his knees to catch the Captain before he could rise from the ground.
"Bastard," Ianto muttered, tongue thick in his suddenly dry mouth, as he pinned the older man down.
Jack, stilled by surprise at Ianto's actions, lay submissive for two long heartbeats before his body's instincts kicked in once more and he bucked upwards to dislodge his attacker. Ianto, though he was still dazed, anticipated such a response, and whilst his knees clamped Jack's legs together, he punched the immortal twice in quick succession: a weak swing at his face to bring his arms up, then a stronger jab into his exposed side.
Jack gasped and attempted to curl inwards to protect himself, at the same time jerking one leg forcefully towards Ianto's groin. The young man had to pull back to keep from being completely incapacitated, but he was able to grab the offending limb before Jack could move too far away. He used it to fling himself back on top of the older man, growling with anger, and the battle began in earnest.
The initial shock of Ianto's attack had worn off quickly and soon Jack was returning each strike with one of his own. He was well-versed in unarmed combat, thanks to many years training at a variety of institutes, but whenever it seemed he had gained the upper hand, Ianto would conspire to topple him once more and pummel another part of his body.
It was actually a great testament to the Captain's ability to teach others, for he had been the one to instruct Ianto in hand-to-hand fighting when he'd officially become a field agent, and now, having learnt all he could from Jack, including his style and the tricks he thought no one else could detect, Ianto was able to hold his own against a man with considerably more experience than himself in this arena.
It was a first for the younger man to be able to really challenge Jack; in the past he'd always had to concede, to cry surrender as the Captain overwhelmed him with both strength and speed. Now, however, the cyclone of emotions that had formed his core since his secret had been exposed burst forth with sudden and satisfying power, giving additional strength to his muscles and intuition to his movements.
The pain of each blow Ianto took in return did not go unnoticed, but it was accepted as a necessity to keep him within Jack's sphere of influence, and thus close enough to take out his rage on the man who was not only somewhat responsible for the current situation, but who also happened to be the only person who could take a beating at Ianto's hands and understand the need for it.
Although, when the flurry of punches began to slow down a fraction, that understanding was suddenly given a voice that Ianto found it difficult to hear.
"You're going to make it worse," Jack declared, having to speak loudly to be heard over their tussling.
"Your arm," the other man went on, explaining when Ianto had requested no such thing. "You'll damage it again."
"Only on your thick skull," Ianto muttered in response, and he lifted Jack by his shirt, just a fraction, before slamming him back down again onto the rough stone floor.
The Captain's head snapped back and the pain in his expression was unmistakable; his eyes lost focus for a moment but then he was back, accepting the challenge, and surging up to unbalance Ianto once more.
Ianto had never fought anyone like this before: in his childhood he'd always known when to run from the bullies and in his teens he'd done well to avoid making enemies. Even during his college years, when most nights were spent getting as drunk as possible, he had failed to piss anyone off enough to warrant such a thrashing.
Now that he'd grown fully into his body and been trained to perceive an opponent's weakness, he was able to take them down without sparing much time at all on right hooks and clever feints. Or else he was within reach of a weapon, which often made the fight move along even swifter, he found.
But this...this was something altogether new to Ianto Jones. This was like beating against a tidal wave looming over him, frozen at its peak. The water gave beneath each thrust of his fists, but flooded back immediately to fill the void, an eternity of apparent submission that seemed to look down on him with wise humour. It knew the futility of his pounding, knew it could not be harmed, nor could harm him in response, but it also knew that each touch between them pulled something from Ianto, leaching it from his fists and dissolving it within the vast ocean beyond.
The sound of choking cut through the red haze distorting Ianto's vision and the picturesque notion of boundless release vanished from his mind. He blinked and found himself staring at his own hands, where they had wrapped themselves around Jack's throat.
The older man's face was discoloured with signs of conflict: one eye swelling, bottom lip split and glistening, a bruise already blossoming along his jaw, but Ianto saw none of that...only his fingers gripping Jack's throat. He leaned back, trying to release him, but his hands refused to cooperate now that he had the stronger man at a disadvantage; they loosened enough for Jack to breathe, but he could move them no further.
There came a gurgled laugh and Ianto stared, bewildered, as Jack's gasping mouth twisted impossibly into a grin. "Feel better?" he asked, squirming weakly beneath Ianto's weight.
"Shut up," Ianto said, though the immortal never seemed to listen to that particular command.
Sure enough Jack went on without missing a beat. "Keep going," he wheezed. "Do it."
Ianto's eyes widened, the meaning behind his words impossible to misinterpret. He shook his head numbly, yet still his fingers refused to uncurl from about the other man's neck. Blood raced beneath his palms, Jack's heart pounding at double...triple-time, and a thin reedy laugh bubbled from his constricted throat.
The horrific command was swallowed by Ianto's lips as he employed the only method he had ever found to successfully render the Captain silent (and still breathing). There was no tenderness in the kiss, only bright fury, and the metallic taste of blood on his tongue merely spurred him on to push harder forward. He attacked Jack's mouth fiercely, willing his mind to shift away from the image of his thumbs pressing into the prone man's windpipe.
It didn't matter that Jack would survive it, didn't matter one bit that he was offering such a release for Ianto's pent-up energy, it would still make Ianto a murderer and that was the one thing he could not abide himself to become.
Sure enough, his hands soon released their hold on Jack's throat and moved to encourage the new turn of events. One tangled in the immortal's damp hair whilst the other clamped hard on his bruised chin, holding him in place despite the fact the struggles had mutated into something considerably less dangerous.
Jack, able to go from half-dead to horny in a heartbeat, opened willingly beneath him. Though he gasped for breath each time their lips parted, he made no effort to escape Ianto's strong grip. Indeed, his own hands clutched at Ianto, clawing eagerly to pull him closer as they kissed, and his hips pushed upward to reveal the hardness already growing there.
Ianto growled low in his throat and caught Jack's wandering hands, ripping them from his sides and thumping them down to the rough floor. He held onto them there, sure that if he let go they would immediately retrace their steps back up again, and sought to keep him off balance with a forceful roll of his hips.
Jack moaned and twisted in the firm restraint of the other man's hands, but it was a token gesture, a simulated struggle, as though he knew something Ianto didn't. As though he'd known all along that this was going to happen and he had no intention of fighting hard enough to stop it.
And some part of Ianto realised that Jack had expected...encouraged...hoped for this; perhaps not the beating, but the explosive release of tension, and that manipulation stirred dark embers in Ianto's soul. He repeated the thrust of his hips, his cock hard and trapped in delicious friction within his clothes, his tongue delving further into Jack's hot mouth.
Without giving it much thought, Ianto freed one hand and reached for the older man's shirt. He tugged at the small buttons, yanking it open and slipping his fingers beneath Jack's undershirt. As he pushed aside the garment, Ianto's lips left Jack's and moved instead to his chest, alternately licking at the sweat that coated his skin and biting at the redness his own fists had caused. Jack hissed as teeth found newly sensitive areas, but the hand that swept towards his groin soon turned the noise into one of encouragement.
Swiftly unfastening both belt and trousers, Ianto returned to claim Jack's mouth once again, swallowing his moans as he rubbed the shaft that burned within its cotton prison. The motions were familiar, but the sentiment so very different that Ianto's mind could barely comprehend his own actions. He knew what they were doing, what he was doing, and yet it had the flavour of a dream in which he hadn't an inkling why such things were happening.
He was being overtly forceful for the first time in his, admittedly somewhat limited, sexual experience. Oh, he had done so in play before, taking the lead as Jack writhed enthusiastically beneath him, but this was something else altogether. This was something feral; a distortion of the dark need that had driven him to a professional sadist, but rather than yielding under Jack's fists, he had pushed back until the immortal had submitted instead.
The power of such control flowed through Ianto's body, his blood pumping fast and hot in his veins, roaring in his ears like a frantic drumbeat. His fingers worked without his command to shove aside Jack's remaining clothes, baring the way to his centre, and they plunged into the waiting heat with sweet mimicry of his tongue in Jack's mouth.
The Captain grunted around the pain and the sound did strange things to Ianto's equilibrium. His vision swam, head spinning and he knew only the need to be inside the other man immediately. Tearing his fingers away, he leaned further into Jack, pushing the immortal's legs up and apart before unzipping his trousers and freeing his own weeping erection.
Jack drew in a sharp breath as Ianto's engorged cock entered his unprepared body and the young man pulled back just enough to see Jack's expression, studying features that painted a tale of the pain he felt. Ianto's breath was coming fast and hot as he held back from slamming all the way home, preferring instead to watch Jack taking him in without protest, without a cry for more, for faster, for now...now...
"AH!" Jack cried aloud, his control lost when Ianto broke his steady progress and jerked forward without warning.
The flesh around his cock was tight, so very tight, and it squeezed and pulsed and Jack's chest was heaving with each needy gasp for air. Ianto bit his tongue as he slid his hips back slowly before repeating the jolt inwards, catching the immortal unawares once again. His free hand clutched at Jack's thigh, urging it further aside and giving him room to push even deeper.
Each thrust moved Jack's entire body, grinding the bare skin of his lower back against the dirt and grit of the tunnel's floor and Ianto increased his pace, thrilled by the resistance through which he speared with every forceful push. He released his other hand, placing both now on the cold floor and using the new leverage to pound faster into the hot channel; velvet flesh and constricting muscles combining incredibly with Jack's panting and the clenching of his fists above his head.
He was being very well behaved, the immortal Captain, more so than Ianto had ever experienced before, and he wanted to believe it was his command over Jack's body that was responsible. Instead he knew only the truth; that Jack was doing this for him, bending for him and giving all he could to ease the consuming agony of disorder within Ianto's being.
The older man's motives were written as plain as day before Ianto's clever eyes: the submissive tilt of his head, the hands held so obediently in place where Ianto had left them, the twitch of his lips...miniscule and yet magnified beneath the blue gaze that saw more than most others ever would. It angered Ianto, drove his body faster and deeper, but it did not stop him. Not even the knowledge of this sham contest could stop him now.
Climax neared, a crescendo of airless lungs, curving fingers, squeezing muscle, and Ianto watched from far above as he pounded into his supine Captain. He moved with single-minded purpose, desperate for release, as if all the answers to the mysteries of life could be found on the crest of convulsion that grew ever larger in his sights. Beneath him, Jack rocked and arched like a boat upon stormy waves, defenceless and completely at his mercy
But his eyes were closed, and as pleasure began to spiral through Ianto's body, he could no longer stomach the absence of Jack's knowing gaze, the anchor he had clung to so frequently in the few short years he'd known the immortal.
"Jack," he said, exhaling the name upon a panting breath as he dropped to his elbows above the older man.
Jack's mouth, painted like a cheap harlot's with smeared blood, rounded into an 'O', but instead of a response to the call there came only a hiccup of a gasp and Ianto knew with certainty that he was very close to the edge.
His hands were near enough to comb back into Jack's hair and he did so now, taking hold of the Captain's head and tightening his fingers into fists. The pull on Jack's scalp forced an explosive inhalation from those bruised lips and his eyes snapped opened to reveal a hazy blue through which Ianto doubted any image could pass.
A feeling of triumph swept over the young man and he indulged this elation with another deep plunder of his lover's mouth. For all that Jack had submitted to provide Ianto's tension with an outlet, the clouded eyes and, more importantly, the lack of idle chatter, revealed just how far beneath Ianto's command Jack had allowed himself to fall.
His cock throbbed within Jack's flesh, testicles tight with impending release, and Ianto only then truly realised what the immortal man was doing for him. Jack moaned loudly into his mouth, the sound seeming to resonate throughout Ianto's entire being, and the world burst apart with enough force to disconnect his mind from his body.
After a few seconds in that buoyant stupor (or possibly hours, he couldn't be sure), Ianto rolled back into awareness to realise his nose was pressed against something warm and yielding, his breath rebounding back onto his own skin and heating further the flush already residing there. He lifted his head a fraction, sending a fiery blaze through his body as harried nerves were jostled once again and causing him to shudder with the aftershock of sweet agony,
Then there were hands cupping his face and hot lips crushed against his own and he returned Jack's kiss without a second thought, mind still fuzzy from orgasm, the entire notion that he was angry with the other man lost to the mental fugue of physical ecstasy.
There was nothing else in that moment beyond their joined bodies, no concept of their lives outside the bubble of pleasure wrapped around them: not the grim need that constantly fed Ianto's guilt, nor the thoughtless commands of the strangely overprotective Captain.
Ianto slipped his hand between their bodies, taking hold of the solid fire of Jack's arousal and the immortal bucked up instantly into his fist, already near to completion. The lips still sliding over Ianto's curved into a smile without breaking the ferocity of the kiss and the fingers which bracketed his head tried to pull him impossibly closer. Ianto squeezed the flesh in his hand, more than tight enough to hurt, and Jack came with a violent convulsion that passed through to Ianto's body where they were still intimately joined.
Another flash of lightning ran the length of Ianto's spine as the muscles clamped around his cock constricted even further and he yanked his head back to gasp aloud, lungs suddenly devoid of precious air. Beneath him, Jack continued to thrust a few more times into his hand, prolonging both their highs until at last, weak with exertion, they slowed to a halt, lying for a moment entangled and spent.
"Think you can hit a bullseye now?" Jack asked, once their breathing had begun to even out.
"I think I already did," Ianto said, voice muffled by the skin against which his face was pressed.
Ianto made a noise of assent, too distracted by the lingering echo of pleasure to revel in his victory.
After another minute Jack broke the silence again. "Wanna talk about...?"
"Shut up," Ianto replied without missing a beat and, much to his surprise, Jack did just that.
Easing out of the other man's body, Ianto turned and slumped down to the floor beside him, tucking himself away before closing his eyes and trying to enjoy the loose feeling of his limbs. His mind, however, wouldn't allow him such peace, and instead he lay there replaying the events that had just transpired.
He had been a prisoner within the Hub for six days, six long days since Jack had torn asunder the fragile web of lies that had been his life for the past few months, and so perhaps it was understandable that he react unfavourably to Jack's attempt to force a confrontation. Yet the manner with which he had responded had been so incredibly violent that it was clear he was getting closer to the limit of his self-control.
The image of his hands wrapped tightly around Jack's throat flashed behind his eyelids and he drew in a shuddering breath to calm the panic that arose within him. He still didn't know what he was going to do about the situation, and he refused to give in to Jack's offer to help in satisfying his masochistic desires, but he simply did not know how else he could solve this problem.
Worse still, as time passed and Jack's attempts to force a resolution became more inventive, there was a small part of him that was intrigued to see what the Captain would do next.