Home Sweet Hell
folder
S through Z › Torchwood
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,385
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Torchwood
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,385
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Torchwood, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Home Sweet Hell #6
Home Sweet Hell #6
He wakes naked on the bed, alone. But he can still smell him; on his skin, and in the bed. He stretches out his hand and can still feel the warmth of Jack's body on the covers, turns slightly and sees the hollow Jack's head has made in the pillow. A weight is pressing down on him; it's Jack's coat.
Gingerly levering himself upright, dried semen flaking on his belly, he stumbles out into the corridor. Another familiar scent… He pokes his head round the kitchen door and can just make out a small red light in the gloom. Jack has unpacked his coffee machine; bought long ago yet never used, for he's rarely stayed here long enough to need it. It has been coaxed to life, and although the coffee won't be as good as he makes he is touched by Jack trying.
Endeavouring to ignore his aching muscles and twinging tendons, he pads softly into the living room. Jack is standing by the window, naked save for the leather-strapped gizmo on his wrist, the first streak of pink light in the sky illuminating him, glancing off his pale skin. He is holding a photo; the one of Lisa and Ianto together, carefree and open and happy.
"She was beautiful" Jack says quietly, without turning.
"Yes, but that's not why I loved her." He surprises himself with the use of the past tense, for he loves her still, will always love her, but she is gently moving aside, making space in his heart for the possibility of another.
"Oh, I may not understand you as well as I should, but that, that I know about you."
Jack carefully places the photo on the ledge, upright, facing out into the room. When he turns he reveals discoloured and slightly puffy skin beneath his right eye. Fading impressions of palms and fingers, teethmarks and bruises, cover his torso. He knows he bears similar marks, although they seem more vivid, somehow.
Jack's look is lingering, moving slowly from toe to thigh, hip to chest, but he cannot seem to look him in the eye. Eventually he says, almost in wonder "I could swear you seem taller…"
"It's all a matter of perspective, sir… Jack" he corrects himself.
The long, livid weal running down his side throbs and burns. He winces as he lowers himself to the couch, raising up his heels to rest on the edge of the cushion, knees spread carelessly wide, balls and cock displayed and dangling. Jack stares, then lowers his gaze; picks up his coffee mug and half-raises it to his lips. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Jack is embarrased. But Jack is never embarrassed, is he? After an awkward moment Jack joins him on the couch, close but not touching, one arm draping across its back.
"So, where do we go from here?" Jack's voice is level, but thin.
He fixes on a point straight ahead, deliberately avoiding the real question. "Well, I call you sir, I bring you coffee, I do your dirty work and clean up your shit. Like I always have…."
Jack sighs unhappily.
"… at work. And you still get to flirt, but anything more, uh, inappropriate is out of bounds." Pause. "In front of the others. And maybe you'll start making better use…"
Jack doesn't seem to be picking up on the hints of out-of-hours intimacy, but he's picking up on something and interrupts. "No more underestimating you. Or trying to keep you out of harm's way. I get it."
"Do you?" He closes his eyes and leans back, nape of his neck brushing against Jack's outstretched arm. "Do you really?"
"Oh yeah!" Jack responds emphatically, then lapses into silence.
He relaxes against Jack's arm and waits for him to start up again.
"Do you… did you mean what you said…?"
Jack doesn't need to explain further, he knows he means the allegations spat out in the immediate despair of finally losing Lisa; the threats, the warnings.
"Yes Jack, I did. I wanted to see you dead. I wanted to be the one to do it."
Jack sounds lost. "Well, that's two points for honesty, I guess." He shifts uncomfortably on the couch. "There are things I need to tell you. Only, I can't explain them myself." He leans forward enough to set his mug down on the floor, then settles back. Their bodies are a little closer now, hips almost touching. "But for now, let's just say you couldn't. Not physically. But you, Ianto Jones, you can make me die inside. There was a moment there last night when you did, a little…"
"You're talking bollocks, Jack." Although he doesn't really think he is; he's too serious. But it's okay, he'll find out the truth of it, in time.
"I wish I was" Jack says sadly.
"So, do you regret it? Last night?"
"No, I didn't say that…" he responds quickly.
He leans in, rests his head against Jack's shoulder; he needs the contact, and he doesn't want Jack to see the small, satisfied smile he can't suppress. "But you wouldn't want to do it again?"
"Didn't say that, either!"
"But?"
"But next time…"
He's had enough fucking misery to last a lifetime, and it sounds like Jack has too. They've both been wearing masks, it seems, for far too long. So he takes the initiative again and slides his hand down Jack's thigh. "You want it to be more like this?" His lips are still swollen, so when he gently presses them to the bite on Jack's neck, it's the softest kiss he has ever given anyone. And it feels good.
Jack shivers, and at last wraps his arm around him. "You got that right." His voice is as silky as the kiss.
He wonders if Jack has ever looked this grateful for being allowed to ease his way between a man's thighs, has ever been so careful not to lower his full weight onto a lover because he knows it would hurt too much right now. He hopes not…
Their slow-motion strokes and caresses are soothing, healing, and carry them through until the early winter sun begins to warm the room. Eventually and reluctantly Jack pulls away and stands, murmuring something about needing to shower before things go any further, and stumbles over the coffee mug when he cheerfully offers to join him. Jack looks stricken when the dregs splash onto the rug and is even more wrong-footed when he just laughs and tells him to leave it.
At 7-00 am, clean now and physically sated, they sit together on the living room floor sharing cold pizza and the occasional kiss. He swallows a mouthful of Jack's second brew of coffee.
"Room for improvement!" he grimaces.
"You better mean the coffee, Ianto Jones..."
***
Later that day
Jack: Ianto
Ianto: Sir? Want something?
Jack: You know I do!
Jack: Is that inappropriate?
Ianto: Definitely
Jack: Are you the boss of me now?
Ianto: What do you think? :p
[conversation ends]
Jack: Ianto?
Ianto: I'm busy
Jack: Doing?
Ianto: Sorting postcards
Jack: Ouch!
Ianto: Just sold some
Jack: Really?????
Ianto: Really. So fulfilling...
Jack: Very funny
[conversation ends]
Ianto: CAPTAIN!!
Jack: Whoa! What's up?
Ianto: Gwen
Jack: ???
Ianto: She reckons I've had collagen injections
Jack: *snort*
Ianto: She's on her way up
Ianto: You might want to find your dark glasses
Jack: Okay
Jack: Oh crap… too late
[conversation ends]
Jack: Ianto, had any more visitors?
Ianto: Yes, just now
Jack: And?
Ianto: Courier delivery
Jack: Opened it yet?
Ianto: Doing it now…
Jack: Well?
Jack: Well?
Ianto: Are you trying to get into my knickers, sir?
Jack: As if!
Ianto: There was no need, sir
Jack: So sue me
Jack: Felt bad about ripping the last one off your back
Ianto: Not like I don't have plenty more
Jack: But is it okay?
Ianto: Perfect
[conversation ends]
Jack: Do you have to call me sir?
Ianto: Yes sir
Jack: Good, it makes me horny
Ianto: Fuck off sir
[conversation ends]
Jack: Looked through your music collection earlier
Jack: Do you dance?
Ianto: I'm writing your report sir
Jack: Good, I like your reports
Jack: Please tell me you dance…
Ianto: It has been known
Jack: Dinner and dancing tonight?
Ianto: How very quaint
Jack: PLEASE!! :-)
Ianto: Are you begging sir?
Jack: I think I am
Ianto: Okay
[conversation ends]
END
He wakes naked on the bed, alone. But he can still smell him; on his skin, and in the bed. He stretches out his hand and can still feel the warmth of Jack's body on the covers, turns slightly and sees the hollow Jack's head has made in the pillow. A weight is pressing down on him; it's Jack's coat.
Gingerly levering himself upright, dried semen flaking on his belly, he stumbles out into the corridor. Another familiar scent… He pokes his head round the kitchen door and can just make out a small red light in the gloom. Jack has unpacked his coffee machine; bought long ago yet never used, for he's rarely stayed here long enough to need it. It has been coaxed to life, and although the coffee won't be as good as he makes he is touched by Jack trying.
Endeavouring to ignore his aching muscles and twinging tendons, he pads softly into the living room. Jack is standing by the window, naked save for the leather-strapped gizmo on his wrist, the first streak of pink light in the sky illuminating him, glancing off his pale skin. He is holding a photo; the one of Lisa and Ianto together, carefree and open and happy.
"She was beautiful" Jack says quietly, without turning.
"Yes, but that's not why I loved her." He surprises himself with the use of the past tense, for he loves her still, will always love her, but she is gently moving aside, making space in his heart for the possibility of another.
"Oh, I may not understand you as well as I should, but that, that I know about you."
Jack carefully places the photo on the ledge, upright, facing out into the room. When he turns he reveals discoloured and slightly puffy skin beneath his right eye. Fading impressions of palms and fingers, teethmarks and bruises, cover his torso. He knows he bears similar marks, although they seem more vivid, somehow.
Jack's look is lingering, moving slowly from toe to thigh, hip to chest, but he cannot seem to look him in the eye. Eventually he says, almost in wonder "I could swear you seem taller…"
"It's all a matter of perspective, sir… Jack" he corrects himself.
The long, livid weal running down his side throbs and burns. He winces as he lowers himself to the couch, raising up his heels to rest on the edge of the cushion, knees spread carelessly wide, balls and cock displayed and dangling. Jack stares, then lowers his gaze; picks up his coffee mug and half-raises it to his lips. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Jack is embarrased. But Jack is never embarrassed, is he? After an awkward moment Jack joins him on the couch, close but not touching, one arm draping across its back.
"So, where do we go from here?" Jack's voice is level, but thin.
He fixes on a point straight ahead, deliberately avoiding the real question. "Well, I call you sir, I bring you coffee, I do your dirty work and clean up your shit. Like I always have…."
Jack sighs unhappily.
"… at work. And you still get to flirt, but anything more, uh, inappropriate is out of bounds." Pause. "In front of the others. And maybe you'll start making better use…"
Jack doesn't seem to be picking up on the hints of out-of-hours intimacy, but he's picking up on something and interrupts. "No more underestimating you. Or trying to keep you out of harm's way. I get it."
"Do you?" He closes his eyes and leans back, nape of his neck brushing against Jack's outstretched arm. "Do you really?"
"Oh yeah!" Jack responds emphatically, then lapses into silence.
He relaxes against Jack's arm and waits for him to start up again.
"Do you… did you mean what you said…?"
Jack doesn't need to explain further, he knows he means the allegations spat out in the immediate despair of finally losing Lisa; the threats, the warnings.
"Yes Jack, I did. I wanted to see you dead. I wanted to be the one to do it."
Jack sounds lost. "Well, that's two points for honesty, I guess." He shifts uncomfortably on the couch. "There are things I need to tell you. Only, I can't explain them myself." He leans forward enough to set his mug down on the floor, then settles back. Their bodies are a little closer now, hips almost touching. "But for now, let's just say you couldn't. Not physically. But you, Ianto Jones, you can make me die inside. There was a moment there last night when you did, a little…"
"You're talking bollocks, Jack." Although he doesn't really think he is; he's too serious. But it's okay, he'll find out the truth of it, in time.
"I wish I was" Jack says sadly.
"So, do you regret it? Last night?"
"No, I didn't say that…" he responds quickly.
He leans in, rests his head against Jack's shoulder; he needs the contact, and he doesn't want Jack to see the small, satisfied smile he can't suppress. "But you wouldn't want to do it again?"
"Didn't say that, either!"
"But?"
"But next time…"
He's had enough fucking misery to last a lifetime, and it sounds like Jack has too. They've both been wearing masks, it seems, for far too long. So he takes the initiative again and slides his hand down Jack's thigh. "You want it to be more like this?" His lips are still swollen, so when he gently presses them to the bite on Jack's neck, it's the softest kiss he has ever given anyone. And it feels good.
Jack shivers, and at last wraps his arm around him. "You got that right." His voice is as silky as the kiss.
He wonders if Jack has ever looked this grateful for being allowed to ease his way between a man's thighs, has ever been so careful not to lower his full weight onto a lover because he knows it would hurt too much right now. He hopes not…
Their slow-motion strokes and caresses are soothing, healing, and carry them through until the early winter sun begins to warm the room. Eventually and reluctantly Jack pulls away and stands, murmuring something about needing to shower before things go any further, and stumbles over the coffee mug when he cheerfully offers to join him. Jack looks stricken when the dregs splash onto the rug and is even more wrong-footed when he just laughs and tells him to leave it.
At 7-00 am, clean now and physically sated, they sit together on the living room floor sharing cold pizza and the occasional kiss. He swallows a mouthful of Jack's second brew of coffee.
"Room for improvement!" he grimaces.
"You better mean the coffee, Ianto Jones..."
***
Later that day
Jack: Ianto
Ianto: Sir? Want something?
Jack: You know I do!
Jack: Is that inappropriate?
Ianto: Definitely
Jack: Are you the boss of me now?
Ianto: What do you think? :p
[conversation ends]
Jack: Ianto?
Ianto: I'm busy
Jack: Doing?
Ianto: Sorting postcards
Jack: Ouch!
Ianto: Just sold some
Jack: Really?????
Ianto: Really. So fulfilling...
Jack: Very funny
[conversation ends]
Ianto: CAPTAIN!!
Jack: Whoa! What's up?
Ianto: Gwen
Jack: ???
Ianto: She reckons I've had collagen injections
Jack: *snort*
Ianto: She's on her way up
Ianto: You might want to find your dark glasses
Jack: Okay
Jack: Oh crap… too late
[conversation ends]
Jack: Ianto, had any more visitors?
Ianto: Yes, just now
Jack: And?
Ianto: Courier delivery
Jack: Opened it yet?
Ianto: Doing it now…
Jack: Well?
Jack: Well?
Ianto: Are you trying to get into my knickers, sir?
Jack: As if!
Ianto: There was no need, sir
Jack: So sue me
Jack: Felt bad about ripping the last one off your back
Ianto: Not like I don't have plenty more
Jack: But is it okay?
Ianto: Perfect
[conversation ends]
Jack: Do you have to call me sir?
Ianto: Yes sir
Jack: Good, it makes me horny
Ianto: Fuck off sir
[conversation ends]
Jack: Looked through your music collection earlier
Jack: Do you dance?
Ianto: I'm writing your report sir
Jack: Good, I like your reports
Jack: Please tell me you dance…
Ianto: It has been known
Jack: Dinner and dancing tonight?
Ianto: How very quaint
Jack: PLEASE!! :-)
Ianto: Are you begging sir?
Jack: I think I am
Ianto: Okay
[conversation ends]
END