#maybe that was the first time ianto ever held him after a death . and hell was so traumatic for jack

[speakofgrace]

worship || janto || 3.8k || ao3

None of the team knew what to say after watching John beam away. Gwen had two almost deaths to process, and she sat stock still in the passenger seat, trembling with the adrenaline.

Ianto walked her inside, Jack calling after them to make sure Rhys didn’t make any phone calls. There was a good chance they’d go to the other Gwen, still living through this hellish night.

Gwen just nodded; eyes blank. She turned Ianto away before they reached her door, and Ianto wanted to protest, but he understood. Rhys would have questions, and she was in no state to be answering them. He gave her a squeeze, and turned away, hearing the downturn in Rhys’s voice as he transitioned from happy to worried.

Some part of him missed being loved like that.

* * *

Back in the car, Jack had moved to the driver’s seat. Tosh and Owen sat in the back, still in heavy silence.

No-one could even begin to know what to say.

Jack drove to Owen’s place, then Toshiko’s. Saw them off with kind, gentle words. Told Tosh to get some sleep. Told Owen not to drink too much. Owen gave him a smile, at that. Shook Jack’s hand.

It didn’t really make sense to leave Ianto’s until last, but Ianto didn’t point it out. He hoped, desperately, that Jack wanted to talk.

He stared straight ahead as Jack parked, trying not to give himself away.

“Can I come in?” Jack asked, and Ianto breathed out. “Of course.” He was too tired to try and be coy. He would listen, and he would say what he meant, and then he would get some sleep.

Ianto fumbled a little with the lock, his body keyed-up and nervous. Jack stood ever so slightly too close, and Ianto had almost forgotten just how warm he was, how good he always smelled.

“Go sit down,” Ianto said as he closed the door behind them. Normally, they’d be kissing by now, Jack’s body pushing him back against a wall, Ianto’s hands working at Jack’s buttons.

“I missed this place,” Jack said, quiet, and Ianto let himself pretend that Jack meant “I missed you.”

“I’m going to make tea,” Ianto said. “Want some?” “I suppose it’s too late for coffee.” Jack smiled, and nodded. “Milk and two sugars?” Ianto asked, like he hadn’t committed it to memory, like he hadn’t been haunted by memories of their intimate moments for the last three months. “Yes.”

* * *

Ianto had spent too much time carrying full mugs to let his hands shake, but he felt like a slight breeze might knock him to pieces. Jack sat upright and stiff, still wearing his coat; it was a staggering contrast from how he usually looked on Ianto’s couch.

“Thank you.” Jack said, picking up his mug. Ianto had always preferred coffee, but there was an awful lot to be said for the calming properties of a strong cup of tea. Especially tea with a shot of whiskey. He left his cup on the coffee table, watching the curl and flicker of the steam. “I meant what I said before,” Jack almost whispered, and Ianto looked over at him. “About offices?” Ianto tried to smile, tried to pretend he wasn’t terrified of what Jack might be about to tell him. “No.” Jack gave a strained little smile of his own. “About coming back for you.” “For all of us.” Ianto finished for him, focussing once more on his tea. He brought it to his lips, blowing and watching the ripples on the surface. “No, for you.” Jack put a hand on Ianto’s arm, and Ianto was suddenly achingly aware of the space between them on his couch. “I care about the others, of course, but I meant it when I said I came back for you.”

Ianto inhaled very, very carefully. “Where were you, Jack?” “With the Doctor. It’s a very long story.” “We have time.”

Jack sighed, put down his cup and twisted his hands together. “From where I’m standing, I’ve been gone a year. How long was it for you?” “About three months,” Ianto replied, like he didn’t know to the day. “Did he take you somewhere nice?” “What?” Jack looked baffled. “While you were time travelling. Did your Doctor take you somewhere nice.” It wasn’t a question. “No. And I wasn’t really time travelling.” “Oh.” “The Doctor didn’t come back for me. I had to chase him down.” Jack bundled his fingers into his coat, “That’s why I left without saying goodbye.” Ianto swallowed. He’d been assuming Jack had gone off to be happy, and had taken some comfort in that. “He didn’t even let me inside. I grabbed the outside of the TARDIS as it was about to take off, and it flew to the end of the Universe to try and get rid of me.” Ianto put down his tea, and reached for Jack’s hand, watching his face in case he would flinch away.

He didn’t. He held on tight.

“He’s a bastard who doesn’t deserve you, then.” Jack laughed, weak. “It wasn’t him; it really was the TARDIS.” Jack sniffed. “The Doctor can’t fix me, but he did tell me what was wrong.” Jack fell silent, and Ianto waited; words would only snap the fragile trust Jack was placing in him. “Do you know anything about Rose Tyler? She would’ve been with him, at Canary Wharf.” “A little.” Ianto had heard her mentioned afterwards, had seen it on the memorial. “Well, she was with the Doctor, when we used to travel together. It’s a long story, but I died, and she brought me back. Except she was a bit out of control, and now I’m back forever.” “Oh my god,” Ianto whispered. “People aren’t supposed to be fixed points, and the TARDIS didn’t like it. Neither did the Doctor.” Ianto had never met the man, but between the stories from Torchwood One (even though he tried to tell himself that most of them were exaggerated), and what he was hearing now, he felt pretty safe in thinking that he was, in fact, a bit of a bastard. “He must’ve known that, at the time,” said Ianto. “Why did he leave you behind?” “Because he knew.” A tear slipped down Jack’s face, glinting in the gentle light of the lamp in the corner. “He couldn’t bear to look at me. His words.”

Ianto ached. The Doctor must have known how Jack felt; for all his secrecy, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. How could you tell someone who loved you that you couldn’t stand the sight of them? “He’s wrong.” Ianto said, squeezing Jack’s hand. “It’s not his fault,” Jack said, voice catching. “I upset his senses.” Ianto opened his mouth to protest, but Jack turned to look at him, and cut him off, “Anyway, that’s not the important bit. The important bit is when we got to the end of the Universe, we found another Timelord. But this one was evil, and he was mad.” Jack wrapped his other hand around Ianto’s, inching a little closer. “Do you remember Harold Saxon?” “Wait, that mad bloke who reckoned he was going to show us first contact? He’s a Timelord?” “Yes. Well, he was. He’s dead now. Anyway.” Jack breathed, “This is where it gets tricky. As far as I’m concerned, his plan worked.” Ianto moved closer too, their hands clasped together and Jack’s thigh just resting against his own. He was always so warm. “The Master, that’s his real name, brought the descendants of humanity from the end of the Universe. He stole the TARDIS, and turned it into a paradox machine. They came through time in the millions, and started killing as many people as they could.”

Jack shuddered, and didn’t stop, his hands trembling against Ianto’s. What kind of hell had Jack been through?

“The Master was furious that I couldn’t die. He kept me in chains that whole year, used me as a punching bag. He could torture me however he wanted, for as long as he wanted, and there would never be any consequences.”

Ianto curled his fingers into Jack’s hair, pulled his head down until it was against Ianto’s chest. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, daring to let himself press his lips against the top of Jack’s head. “We stopped it. Well, Martha did. I broke the paradox machine, and time snapped back to just before those murderous little bastards came through. The year that never was.” Ianto couldn’t even begin to know what to say. He just held on to Jack, hoping that he could give at least a shred of comfort. “The Doctor asked me to travel with him,” Jack’s voice was a little muffled, part of his face pressed against Ianto’s jacket. “Why didn’t you go with him? Isn’t that what you wanted?” “No. Not after all that. Maybe not even before.” “What do you mean?”

Jack sat up again. Ianto almost reached to pull him back, but Jack rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath; he needed to think. “I’ve been waiting for the Doctor for more than a century. I loved him at the start of it, I know that, and I kept loving him for a long time. But when you have to wait that long, you tell yourself you love them, even if maybe you don’t, not the way you used to. You have to, or what’s the point?”

Jack’s eyes shone. God, he was so beautiful, even like this.

“When we were dealing with Abaddon, you saw Lisa, right?” “Yeah.” “Everyone saw someone they loved; someone they’d lost. I should’ve seen the Doctor, but I didn’t.” Jack took Ianto’s hand again, held it like something precious. “When I saw the Doctor again, he was different. He wasn’t my Doctor, the one I’d travelled with. And when I was the Master’s chew toy, it wasn’t him that got me through it.” Ianto held his breath. He often had a pretty good idea of what Jack was about to say, but he couldn’t be right this time, surely? Jack reached up with his other hand, cupped Ianto’s cheek. “It was you. The thought of you.” Ianto closed his eyes; Jack’s touch so, so warm and so good. “I didn’t want to stay with the Doctor. I wanted to see you.”

It wasn’t “I love you”, but Ianto didn’t need that. He wasn’t even sure what he felt for Jack himself. But he knew he’d never felt this way about anyone before, and that he was so overwhelmed with something that he could burst.

When he opened his eyes, Jack looked so open and vulnerable Ianto almost couldn’t bear it. “Kiss me,” he whispered, and brought his hand up to hold Jack’s against his face. Jack grabbed Ianto’s shoulder with his other hand, pulled him forward oh so gently, kissing him soft and sweet. Ianto pressed himself against Jack, grabbing his lapels as leverage. “I missed you,” Ianto whispered, their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling hot between their mouths. “Show me,” Jack said, pressing their lips together again. Ianto pushed forward, half standing and tipping Jack back against the cushions until he could press their bodies together completely. Jack’s coat fell open around him, and Ianto snaked his arms inside, pushing his hands underneath Jack’s back. Jack clutched at Ianto’s head, slipping his fingers under the back of Ianto’s collar, tugging him down and down and down. “Come to bed?” Ianto said, voice husky. “Buy me a drink first,” Jack replied, and Ianto almost burst out laughing. “There’s a perfectly good cup of tea right there. I can wait for you to finish it, if you really want.” Ianto moved to sit up, but Jack grabbed at him, pulled him closer. “No.” This kiss was somehow tender and rough all at once, Jack’s tongue darting insistently against Ianto’s lips. Ianto gave in, like always, arching down against Jack, twisting to press kisses against Jack’s neck. “Come to bed,” he said again, his words muffled against Jack’s skin. God, the way he smelled had always made Ianto flustered, but right now, after being deprived of it for three months, he felt almost drunk on it.

Jack sat up, and Ianto pushed his coat off his shoulders, loathe to let go of Jack even for a moment. Jack returned the gesture, tugging Ianto out of his jacket sleeves, tossing it on the back of the couch, and didn’t stop kissing him once. “Come on then,” Jack said between kisses, and Ianto whined as Jack pulled him upright, tugging them back together again, his thigh angling just so between Ianto’s legs. He grabbed Ianto’s arse, and tugged.

Ianto hissed, and pulled back to see Jack looking far, far too pleased with himself. He leaned forward, ready to melt that smirk with his mouth, but then he had another idea. Probably not a good one, and he would regret it in the morning, but right then, he didn’t care. He stepped back, tucking his arm behind Jack’s knees and sweeping him off his feet.

He was certainly heavier than Lisa, but it was a short trip to the bedroom, and it was more than worth it for the look of delighted surprise on Jack’s face. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special,” Jack was smiling now, big and proper and beautiful, and something inside Ianto lurched. “It’s what you deserve.” He laid Jack gently on the bed, wincing when he saw that Jack still had his boots on. Still, that could be fixed, and he set too it, before tugging Jack gently upright to shrug his suspenders off his broad shoulders. “Let me take care of you,” Ianto said, soft, fingers going to work on Jack’s shirt buttons. “Let me make you feel good.” “Please,” Jack almost whined, eyes slipping shut. Ianto hastily unbuttoned his own shirt, desperate to get his hands on Jack’s skin.

He meant to undress Jack completely, but the time it took him to get them both shirtless was too long not kissing Jack, and he leaned over him again, pressing their bodies together and relishing in the heat of Jack’s skin, Jack’s hands roaming his back. “God,” Ianto hissed, giving in and pushing his hips down, grunting as Jack squeezed his arse. Heat was pulsing through him, radiating slowly from all the points where Jack touched him, the currents of it colliding and overlapping until he was full to bursting.

Ianto made himself pull away, made himself leave the honey-warmth of Jack’s embrace to finish undressing him, because Ianto had a job to do, and he intended to do it properly. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking down at Jack’s naked body. It was perfect, skin smooth and flawless and glowing in the dim lamplight. Ianto leaned down once again, and set about kissing every single inch of that skin. He started with Jack’s lips, lingering there for what could’ve been an hour, pressing and pushing and exploring with his tongue until Jack’s lips looked like overripe berries, glossy with dew.

Satisfied, he began his journey, trailing his lips along the line of Jack’s jaw, sucking a little at the hinge, before truly feasting on his neck. He lingered there, too, kissing and touching and sucking, but still so careful. He could not, would not leave a bruise. There would be no pain here.

He trailed his fingers along the lines of Jack’s collarbones, pressing careful kisses to the hollow in between, the place where they met his shoulders. Jack’s eyes were closed, his fingers tracing slow, smudgy lines along Ianto’s torso. Ianto pressed his hands against Jack’s biceps, shifting downwards once more to press kisses against Jack’s sternum, the flutter of his heart.

When Ianto was a child, he’d dreamed of travelling, of exploring the whole world until there was nothing more for him to see. That had never quite worked out, but some of that sense of wonder came back to him now, as he explored and mapped the crests and valleys of Jack’s ribs, the firm plain of his belly. Jack was silent, breaths hitching in time with Ianto’s mouth, but that wouldn’t do. Ianto traced a river with his fingers, following with his mouth to the mountain of Jack’s hip bone, and sucked. Jack’s breath hitched a little louder, the barest hint of a moan trailing behind it. “That’s better,” Ianto said. “Wanna hear you.” He traced his fingers down the line of Jack’s pelvis, carefully avoiding the treasure that was waiting at the end, and Jack whined, loud and disgruntled. “Stop teasing,” he said, voice croaky. “Not teasing,” Ianto said. “I’m worshipping.” And that was a dangerous, dangerous thing to say. They never talked about how they felt, danced around the topic like ballerinas, but Jack’s confession had made Ianto reckless. He’d always been jealous of the Doctor, but he had won.

Jack didn’t really seem to notice Ianto’s words, instead tossing his head back as Ianto kissed a delicate line down the inside of his thigh. Ianto hummed, fingers trailing the curves and lines of muscle, building fresh memories on the foundations of the ones that had been tormenting him in Jack’s absence. Jack’s body sat in such a perfect in-between space. He was broad and strong, but somehow still delicate, the lines of his muscles only peeking through the silk of his skin. He took his time here, too, scattering kisses like flower petals.

“Ianto, please.” Jack moaned, tangling his fingers in Ianto’s hair and pulling him up, crushing their lips together, and tugging Ianto’s hips flush against his own. Jack rolled his hips up like a wave, the crash of it against Ianto fizzing and bubbling through his insides like seafoam. “Want me to fuck you?” Ianto nearly growled, the drag of Jack’s cock against his own making him almost dizzy. “God, yes.” Ianto fumbled for the bottle in his bedside table, trailing his mouth down the curves of Jack’s torso once more, before finally giving in, trailing kisses up the length of Jack’s cock. Jack tugged at his hair again, and Ianto took the hint this time, sealing his lips around Jack and swallowing the length of him down, hot and heavy against his tongue.

Like everything else, he took his time opening Jack up, his fingers twisting in an almost leisurely way while he fisted Jack’s cock in his other hand. Normally, Ianto would’ve given in to Jack’s impatience by now, Jack telling him he liked the stretch and burn. But not tonight. Ianto refused to let Jack experience even the slightest discomfort, not after everything he had been through.

Instead, he took Jack apart slowly, trailing yet more kisses around the curve of Jack’s hips and thighs, fingers gentle inside him. He fisted Jack’s cock, trailing his lips back up to the crater of his collarbone, relishing in every little gasp and grunt and moan he could draw out of Jack’s perfect, perfect mouth.

“Ianto.” He’d always loved the way Jack said his name. He’d never met anyone else who said it like that. He curled his fingers up, just a touch, tossing a log onto the fire burning in his own body as Jack tensed and whimpered. “Ianto, I don’t wanna come like this.” Jack almost babbled, hands fisting in the sheets. “Wanna come on your cock.”

And that was Ianto done for. He pulled back, arranging himself between Jack’s legs, and the brief touch of his own fingers as he lined himself up sent a shockwave through his body. He pressed his other hand against the curve of Jack’s hipbone, pushing forwards with his eyes on Jack’s face.

Jack’s eyes fluttered closed, and Ianto leaned forward as his hips pressed home against Jack’s thighs, curving over him to press a kiss to each of his closed eyelids. “Look at me,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together, and Jack opened his eyes, sky blue gone thunder-dark. “So beautiful,” Ianto whispered, still reckless, “so, so good.” Jack didn’t say anything, just traced his hands down and down, settled them against Ianto’s hips, and pulled, just a little. A reminder.

Ianto moaned loud, wrapping an arm around Jack’s thigh as he surged forward, the heat coursing through him burning even hotter.

Jack clutched his face in both hands, pressing long, desperate kisses against Ianto’s lips, an exquisite counterpoint to the rhythm of Ianto’s thrusts, slow and heavy and deliberate. Jack traced his thumb over the curve of Ianto’s cheekbone, and Ianto almost froze, shocked at the intimacy of it. “Don’t you dare stop,” Jack said, voice cracking as a moan broke through his speech.

Ianto didn’t think he could. His body was buzzing with heat, and a stone rolled loose in his ribcage, the beginning of a landslide. He wrapped a hand around Jack’s cock, twisting his wrist just the way Jack liked, the cascade in his body tumbling down and down and down, the heat in his guts coiling like a spring. Jack let out a muffled moan against his lips, and Ianto’s hips sped up of their own volition, the earthquake in him shaking his very core as he came hard, as Jack’s cock twitched in his hand, yet more heat spurting over his fingers. Jack keened, and Ianto covered the sound with his lips, swallowing it into his own mouth where he could keep it. He collapsed on top of Jack, hips stuttering through the aftershocks of the tremor, his mouth pressed almost absently to Jack’s neck.

“Fuck,” Jack said, and Ianto smiled against his skin. Jack almost never swore, and it was always so fun when he did. “That is what I did, yes.” Ianto forced himself upright, clumping tissues into his hand to at least give a semblance of cleaning Jack up. Jack let out a little huff, apparently too exhausted to laugh properly. “And you do it very well.” Ianto preened at the praise, collapsing down next to Jack once more and bundling Jack into his arms. Jack would never admit it, but he loved being the little spoon, and Ianto was more than happy to oblige him. “I really did miss you.” Ianto said against the nape of Jack’s neck, watching his hair flutter with Ianto’s breath. “I missed you too.” Jack tangled their fingers together. He was always very tactile, but this seemed different, somehow. Less about comfort and more about closeness. Ianto pressed a kiss to the back of Jack’s neck and closed his eyes. There were more things to talk about, things far more complicated even that what Jack had told him already, but for now, this was enough. It was enough to lie with Jack in his bed, in his arms, pressed flush against him. It was enough that Jack was here.

#torchwood #jack harkness #captain jack harkness #ianto jones #janto #ianto #jack #otp: stay with me #yes i posted this already but i don't think the link thing is the move ksjlfdjldsjf #mine: fic