The Hunt

Author’s Note: Here is the next chapter. The writing on the wall is in answer to a request from PoisonIvy. The idea was brilliant, so I borrowed it.

Thank you to Ripe WickeD PlUm! I hope you enjoy the new chapters!

Chapter Two

The door to the Gents swung shut behind them and there was a quiet click as it latched into place. Obviously, Jack's kick hadn't quite managed to break it. Ianto stared steadily down the barrel of his gun. The floor and walls were covered in old oblong white porcelain tile. On the left was an enamel urinal that ran most of the length of the wall, an unbreakable stainless steel mirror above. At the end of the wall was a space that housed a vending machine. Directly to their right was an alcove with one dingy pedestal sink, beyond which lay three cubicles. Jack pointed to the first silently with his gun, and Ianto nodded, shadowing him as Jack moved over to it and kicked it open. Nothing.

Ianto took the next, breathing slowly as he prepared himself and then shoved the door open with his foot, facing nothing but a toilet, though that was horrific enough, maybe more so. That only left one more, and Jack walked behind him to reach it, gun held up in his hands as he spared a conspiratorial glance for Ianto. If it was in here, and it had to be, then it was in there. Jack kicked the door, and then just stood staring. There was no shot from the tranquilliser gun. Ianto peered around from behind him. Empty as well. Both of them looked up at the same time, to an open window set high in the wall.

“You've got to be kidding!” Jack exclaimed in amazement. How had it got up there? Ianto wondered if it was sheer desperation. It must have climbed onto the top of the last cubicle door to get out. That meant the hunt was still on, and Ianto found himself smiling slightly as he stared up at the window. They couldn't get out that way. Well, he might. Jack wouldn't. Not with that coat. Besides, he thought, staring at the window. All that grime, regretful at the mere thought. It'd never come out.

Ianto turned away, fully intending to continue the chase, and then stopped when Jack's arms closed around his waist. He moved a little to get free as they stared at each other in the polished steel of the mirror, their reflections slightly distorted by it. Jack didn't let him go, and Ianto breathed in deeply as he felt Jack's fingertips play along his ribs. He had known about his shirt, but it hadn't really occurred to him how easily Jack could touch him until now.

He leaned his head back and stole a hungry kiss as one of those hands trailed down his right arm to take the gun from him. He allowed that with his eyes closed. Jack would put the weapons somewhere safe. Jack's left hand was flat against his stomach, heat from his palm radiating out across Ianto's skin so that he felt some return of the lust from before in the park. He could feel Jack's arousal as well, and his breathing quickened, as did his blood, and it really wasn't going to take much.

“Jack,” he said, trying to break away, aware that they had to move, knowing it wasn't over, itching to continue the chase. “It's still out there.”

“And we're in here,” Jack said in a low voice against his throat, keeping him still, “with a policeman guarding the door.” Suddenly it was all too clear what Jack was suggesting.

“No,” he said instinctively. “I don't want –”

“You're lying to me again, Ianto Jones,” Jack murmured suddenly, and there was a blossoming of guilt in him, but it didn't hurt any more. There had been too many nights since then that were like this. Jack's hands slid down over the front of his jeans, on either side of him, just teasing.

“No, I'm not,” he maintained, his voice slightly strained as the heat from those palms passed through the denim. He felt the surge of his own blood, and pressed against Jack's hands slightly. It was so easy for Jack to do this to him, and to make his need for action into a need for more.

“Liar,” Jack whispered, and moved one of his hands to rub at Ianto, proving it, making him take a few sudden short breaths in. Now the focus of his attention had not escaped out of the window. It was in here with him. Jack was in here, and Ianto wanted him.

“Cheat!” he accused into the mirror, noting that despite the distortion, he could still see the lust in them both. In the mirror, which only showed their faces, they might have already been going for it. Something about that encouraged the change in perspective and he remembered how close they’d been in the park, remembered how raw the need was, because it was back.

Jack continued to tease him and only just got away with it. “Now say that as if you don't enjoy it,” Jack challenged, and Ianto couldn't keep in the smile at all. He leaned back again deliberately, pressing his body against Jack and eliciting a sudden indrawn breath from him. Jack turned them around so that he was facing the bare bit of wall between the vending machine and the last cubicle door.

“We can't,” Ianto said, thinking about how wrong it was, not meaning it at all, and not making a move to stop Jack as he undid the belt and the buttons on the front of his jeans, so desperate to feel Jack touch him properly that the thought of getting it almost made him help.

“Wrong.” It wasn't an argument. That was what Jack's tone said, and Ianto almost regretted him noticing that the Weevil had escaped them earlier. It was pretty clear what was going to happen here now. And yet, it if had happened up there on the hill it would have been the other way around. His way around.

“We shouldn't,” he said then, knowing it was inevitable and wanting it just as much as Jack did, wondering fitfully if there was some clean space on the wall for him to put his hands.

“That's better.” It was approval in Jack's voice, and Ianto shivered at the purpose in it.

There really wasn't a clean space. “Jack, it's not exactly...” he broke off, suddenly seeing how filthy it really was as Jack slid the jeans down past his hips. They were tight, so they didn't go far, but it was far enough for their purposes. Yet the smell in here as well... he'd been too high on adrenaline before to really notice.

“What?” Jack asked, and Ianto wrinkled his nose.

“Hygienic,” he finished, wondering if the sickly sweet smell of the solid air freshening blocks in the urinal made it better or worse. He groaned when Jack curled a hand around him, and looked down to watch what was happening as he leaned back. It was good. It was always good with him. Even like this, in a place like this.

Apparently, Jack concurred with him about the hygiene. “It's really, really dirty,” he said in throaty agreement, and Ianto just took in a breath as Jack's hand squeezed him.

Something occurred to him. “You like that, don't you?” Jack didn't answer, and Ianto looked again at the wall. There really wasn't a clean space. He tried to look for the cleanest bits, even while he was being distracted. He knew what Jack was doing. Jack would make him come first, so that he was relaxed, and the thought made him want to hold back. Make it last, really make him work for it. But this was Jack Harkness, and even his hands were hot.

It was too much to try and hold back, after the chase and the fight. All of that came back to him as his body concentrated on the one thing. He almost groaned as he pushed himself into Jack's closed hand, using Jack's marvellous grip on him to get off. He just barely hit something at the forward end of the movement – Jack's other palm, such a dirty trick to make him lose – and he moaned out loud. “That's not fair,” he protested, but he didn't ask for Jack to stop doing it.

After this, Jack would take him, and since they knew how hunting usually ended up, they'd both prepared for the eventuality. He cursed the weevil in that moment, because Jack would have been his up there, so easily. He'd almost been begging for it with the moonlight in his eyes. Ianto imagined Jack's body, how it felt, how he could feel every shuddering breath and thundery heartbeat while inside him. The utter closeness of it. How Jack would beg for movement and violence until the last of Ianto's restraint was torn away, and he'd take Jack so thoroughly then, making Jack cry out and acknowledge it by calling Ianto's name.

“Come on,” Jack said against his cheek, coaxing, and Ianto closed his eyes tightly. He didn't need coaxing. He wanted rough, and power, and the call of it like the enormity and inevitability of the sea. “Come on,” Jack said again, more a cold command this time – and that was better. He breathed through his nose as he moved more quickly, feeling himself so hot and hard, and ever so slightly wet, knowing he couldn't stop. It couldn't stop, and he suddenly grabbed Jack's wrist to make sure he didn't move his hand away. He breathed through his mouth then, lips curling as his body put everything into that one little bit of time.

“Jack!” he called out, and his breathing stalled for a long few seconds as he grunted and gave himself to Jack's hand, opening his eyes in time to see the white of his orgasm falling to the floor. It made him as dirty as the place, but he didn't care. It felt good. So good that he almost didn't mind so much missing out on what would have been his in the park.

Jack held him for a long moment, just rhythmically drawing it out until Ianto protested, then his hand moved away, only for him to mess around with his own clothes. “Lean against the wall,” Jack ordered, and Ianto almost fell forward as he obeyed, not even caring now about the dirt and the grime. He drew in a shaky breath as he heard the clink of loose change. He turned his head to the side, and Jack was putting money into the vending machine. They didn't need that, so Jack was doing it for effect. Ianto knew what it was for, and an electric feeling ran through him even though he was spent. Jack turned him on in all ways, in mind as well as body.

“That's just cheap,” he noted, not really complaining, just making the observation, and Jack stared at the machine for a long minute before digging his hand into Ianto's pocket where it rested against his upper thigh.

“No, it... really isn't,” he said in vaguely astonished surprise, and Ianto giggled, amused that Jack was going to use his money. Jack was good, and Ianto came around a little. Enough to appreciate the anticipation as Jack got the goods and ripped open the packet. His mind filled in the blanks so clearly that he knew exactly the moment when it would happen and braced himself against the wall. “Ready?” Jack asked, and Ianto took a breath.

“Yes.” And he couldn't have braced himself for it enough. He never could. Jack pushed up and forward forcefully, taking him deep, and because of the things they did before coming out, with the additional lubrication from the condom, it didn't even really have an edge of pain. But it felt like too much. So full. Ianto cared so little about the wall now that he flattened his palms and scraped his fingertips against the tiles as if to cling to them.

Jack had hold of his hips, pulling him backwards, greedy, and Ianto found himself staring at the tiles as Jack took pleasure from him, sliding so deep inside him that Ianto rocked forward with a catch of something aggressive stuck in his throat. His eyelids fluttered before opening again, and he caught writing on the wall in front of him, meaningless graffiti, and his instinctive laugh morphed into an animal sound of need.

“Fuck me,” he read aloud, secretly thrilled when Jack did just that, becoming more forceful and almost violent. There was a hidden part of him that always took this as punishment, if very pleasurable punishment. There was a part of him that considered this payment, despite how things had moved on. It was because he enjoyed thinking of it that way. He'd more or less offered himself up to Jack long ago, and it thrilled him to imagine Jack using him, using his body. Ianto's hands scrabbled at the tiles as if to embrace them, fingertips slipping over them as his short nails tried to find purchase in the grouting between them.

“So filthy,” Jack murmured into his ear, pressing him almost into the wall. The shock of the cold tile against his softened flesh made Ianto jolt back onto Jack, whose arms closed around him possessively as if to capture him. “Tell me,” he said then, and Ianto almost struggled in his arms as Jack brushed electric fingertips against his nipples.

“You make me want to swear,” Ianto gasped as Jack pinched one of his nipples, his body tightening so that Jack made a noise that something between a groan and a growl and it all sped up, so that all Ianto could concentrate on was not being crushed between Jack and the wall. His arms weren't really up to it after the hunt and what Jack had done to him, and he ended up with the length of his body pressed against the wall while Jack pounded inside him. His cheek rested against the cool tiles beneath the window, and he looked at the space between the urinal and the mirror. Now Wash Your Hands, it said, and Ianto honestly tried to laugh.

His eyes roved over the wall, and he saw a hastily scribbled conversation between several anonymous strangers.

Fancy a shag?

Yeah.

Call 0775575485

That your number, sad case?

Your mothers.

Motherfucker.

Luke, I am your father.

He really tried to laugh out loud at the last line, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth it turned into a needy cry as Jack touched him somewhere inside for the first time. Ianto didn't move a millimetre, praying for it to come back, and Jack obliged him. He began to feel hot and the graffiti was forgotten as it continued. Impossible that he should be getting hard again, but he felt the powerful rush of his own blood and knew it was true. They were going to need a long hot shower after this, and there... there he would have Jack the way he wanted.

It was coming to the crescendo. Jack was nothing if not completely obvious most of the time, and Ianto breathed along with him as he worked towards it, no longer caring about the words. And then, just when it couldn't be contained, there was the sound of the door opening behind them. Jack actually managed to stop for all of five endless seconds which were five of their heartbeats, and Ianto heard a shocked gasp. His only comfort was that he was mainly hidden by Jack's coat, them being directly opposite the door and facing away from it. But then, instead of moving away, Jack pushed into him again, making Ianto gasp in sudden unwanted pleasure.

“I can't stop,” he groaned in apology, and Ianto closed his eyes knowing Jack couldn't stop, because he could feel it. “I can't,” Jack said again on another more definite movement, the feel of him inside Ianto a testament to that. “I won't.”

Still, for as much as he got it, Ianto knew they were being watched, and knew that the softly cleared throat was only the beginning of the humiliation for him. It must be Andy, but he hadn't left. As quickly as possible, Jack finished and pulled away, helping to make them both presentable before they turned around to face it. Andy stood with a look of slight disbelief for a second, then cleared his throat again, his voice coming out much lower than Ianto remembered it being before.

“So,” he said conversationally, as if he hadn't just been watching them, “you, er... didn't find him then?”


To be continued...


Author's Note: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.