TITLE: Our Last Night Before The World Ends
AUTHOR: Erin Giles
RATING: NC-17 (Explicit Sex)
WORDS: 4500
CHARACTERS/PAIRINGS: Jack/Ianto
DISCLAIMER: Torchwood is property of the BBC.
SPOILERS: Contextual spoilers for CoE but it is set the night before Day One.
SUMMARY: Jack and Ianto spend the night together before all the Children of Earth stop and the world comes crashing down around their ears. To them though, it's just another night.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: First of all, thank you as always to the wonderful Sam who now has me sat between Ben Foster and RTD in her Hall of Fame for this. :D This is my second NC-17 fic, and slightly more graphic than the first. I have no squicks about reading NC-17 I just get highly nervous when I write them because I am not a gay man so the only experience I have on the subject of male gay sex is listening to my housemate's sex-capades over breakfast. Also, who calls a man's penis their love muscle? I'd just like to know… really?
Day Zero
Tomato puree was dribbling down Ianto's fingers as his stereo burst into life in the next room. He frowned, sticking his fingers in his mouth to suck the sauce off them as he padded across the kitchen in bare feet, a wooden spoon in his right hand. He was just licking the last of the sauce off his thumb when he entered the living room to find Jack stood at the stereo, Michael Bublé's album in one hand.
"I never took you for a closet Michael Bublé fan, Ianto," said Jack without turning to look at Ianto as he skipped a couple of tracks.
"I'm not," Ianto replied. "It was a Christmas present from my Aunt. I think she thinks because she likes him, everyone does." Ianto turned at that and headed back into the kitchen, fearful that the sauce was boiling over. It was simmering nicely as he stuck the wooden spoon into it, stirring a couple of times to make sure it didn't stick to the bottom of the pan.
"I can remember when the Drifters brought this out," Jack said softly from the kitchen doorway. Ianto listened for a moment to Michael Bublé coming from the next room, trying to figure out what the song was. He smiled while simultaneously rolling his eyes when he realised what Jack had put on. Jack Harkness was still an old romantic at heart.
"Loved the 60's," Jack reminisced as he leant on the doorframe, staring back into the past while Ianto added herbs to the sauce. "It all changed in the 60's; revolution, governments turning left wing, Beatlemania, JFK, feminist movements, space exploration-"
"I thought you said the 21st Century is when it all changes?" Ianto interrupted slyly, not turning to look at Jack as he turned the sauce down and put the lid on it.
"Things are always changing, Ianto," Jack countered, an annoyed edge to his voice. Ianto smirked down at the chopping board he was washing, glancing up when Jack came and leant against the work surface beside him, a thoughtful expression on his face. For a moment they stood there in companionable silence, listening to Michael Bublé floating in from the living room.
"Penny for them?" Ianto asked as he dried his hands on the tea towel. Jack's head jerked up as if he had been caught unawares while the music next door suddenly reached a crescendo. Instead of answering, Jack stepped forward grabbing Ianto around the waist and swinging him round a cursory circuit of the kitchen in a modified quickstep. Ianto smiled, laughing into Jack's shoulder as he moulded his hand into Jack's, his left hand splaying out over Jack's back as he started to join in with the chorus.
"So darling, save the last dance for me," Jack sang as bare feet shuffled out into the hall over the carpet, the friction on feet warming them both as Jack turned their quickstep into some kind of rudimentary salsa dance before the song ended.
"I think I prefer Michael Bublé's version to The Drifters," Jack commented as he pulled Ianto closer while the next song on the album started. He slowed their dancing back to something more sedate again as they swayed back and forth in Ianto's hallway, the sulphur glow of the streetlights filtering in through the front door.
"I can never work out if you're an old fashioned man who looks forward to the future or a futuristic man who is a little too attached to the past," Ianto said softly, his words whispering past Jack's ear as his head leant against the side of Jack's.
"A little bit of both I think," Jack replied mysteriously. They did one last turn in the hall, almost banging into the doorframe as Ianto extracted himself from Jack's grip.
"Sauce is burning," Ianto excused, making his way back into the kitchen and lifting the wooden spoon from the side. He stirred it a couple of times before he felt Jack's hand on the small of his back. He didn't start at his touch, he expected it now, it was Jack's way of saying relax, of saying he was there and always would be. Jack had an uncontrollable urge to touch everything – which got him into far too much trouble on occasions – but it was part of Jack's way of communicating.
He felt Jack's other hand tugging the wooden spoon from his hand, placing it down on the folded over kitchen roll on the counter top before he was tugging Ianto round into his embrace. Jack's hand moved past Ianto, still pining Ianto between himself and the stove, to turn the sauce off completely.
"It'll keep," Jack whispered, his eyes never leaving Ianto's as he pushed in closer to Ianto's body.
Losing one of your senses always heightens the others. Which was why Ianto, with his eyes closed, could feel Jack's breath ghosting over his neck, sending shivers down his spine as he started to speak. Ianto couldn't hear the words anymore, just his own breath hitching in his throat as Jack's large hands held him close, whispered words of arousal against his ear and the friction of stubble against stubble as their cheeks met. He felt a calloused thumb pass over his cheek, a breath exhaled against his chin before supple lips were pressed against his own in a half open kiss.
Ianto's hands were slipping underneath Jack's braces, sliding them down his muscular arms as Jack's hand slides up the back of Ianto's neck, making the kiss closer, more fervent. Ianto's fingers were fumbling with the buttons of Jack's shirt as he felt a heat radiating through him that wasn't just from the oven he was leaning against.
Jack turned them away from the oven as he started to un-tuck Ianto's shirt from his trousers. They passed Ianto's suit jacket and tie already hanging over the back of one of the kitchen chairs as they moved out into the hall. Ianto's left elbow grazed Jack's standard issue RAF coat that was hanging in the hall as cold feet moved from laminate flooring to the carpet again. Jack's foot knocked against Ianto's black, leather shoes that stood in regimented fashion next to Jack's boots by the front door as they moved the wrong way down the hall.
Jack's back pressed briefly against the frosted glass in the front door, making him shiver involuntarily before Ianto was spinning them both away, further down the corridor towards the bedroom. Michael Bublé was still singing to himself in the living room, an old Sinatra classic filling the empty space. Jack and Ianto were oblivious to the ironic meaning of the words as they almost tripped over each other's feet in an effort to be closer.
Their shirts were discarded on the threshold of the bedroom as blunt fingernails scraped across broad backs, coarse hair a contrast to baby smooth skin as Ianto tugged Jack's white t-shirt over his head. Jack could feel the cool metal of Ianto's belt buckle pressing just below his belly button before his fingers were fumbling with it, tugging leather from metal.
Ianto's hands had already undone Jack's belt and unzipped his trousers that were now pooled around his ankles with his underwear. They paused for a moment, stood beside the perfectly made bed in similar states of undress. Ianto finally opened his eyes, watching Jack through his eyelashes for a moment, the flush of passion up his neck and in his cheeks. A hand reached up, pushing Jack's springy fringe away from his forehead before their lips locked again and eyes slipped closed as they feel their way onto the bed.
They flopped down on top of each other, the mattress causing them to bounce a couple of times and the bed to groan under the sudden weight of two fully-grown men. Jack smiled into the kiss, teeth clattering against each other as Ianto wriggled out of his underwear, Jack's hand coming up to slap his bare arse like he always did. Jack found it hard to get through a day without slapping Ianto's arse - whether it was first thing in the morning when Ianto padded into the bathroom naked, or when he gave Jack his first coffee of the day, or more embarrassingly, when they were in the middle of a crime scene and a new PC was trying to flirt with Ianto.
Ianto responded by slipping both hands down Jack's back and grabbing Jack's own arse, pulling Jack closer in the process. Jack's leg hooked over Ianto's right one, the flat of it running up the back of Ianto's calf, rubbing the hairs up the wrong way and causing Ianto to shudder. Kisses were getting sloppier now as Ianto rolled Jack over so he was straddling Jack.
Ianto's hands wrapped around Jack's wrists, pinning them above his head as Ianto pulled back, watching Jack squirming and bucking beneath Ianto's hold. Ianto rotated his hips a couple of times, grinding against Jack teasingly, riding him like a cowboy on a bucking bronco as Ianto grinned down at him. Jack growled in the back of his throat before lips and teeth were pressed against Jack's neck, Jack's eyes fluttering closed in bliss, a moan vibrating against his lips as Ianto released Jack's hands so his fingertips could join in the journey south his mouth was making.
Jack could feel Ianto's calloused fingers trailing down his ribs, a palm pressed flat against his stomach as Ianto pressed a kiss to the inside of Jack's left thigh. It wasn't just the Welsh vowels that came from Ianto's mouth that drove him crazy. Ianto's tongue was always teasing, whether with words or actions.
It felt like an age before Ianto's lips were hot on Jack's cock, that talented tongue twisting and turning over flushed skin. Jack could feel blood rushing away from his head, making him feel light headed as Ianto's mouth worked its magic, his hand coming to join Ianto's mouth in its thrusting motions. Jack's breath hitched as Ianto's tongue twisted with his movements, the tip of it teasing the end of Jack's cock.
Jack keenly felt the loss of Ianto's mouth when he paused to spread Jack's legs wider with the flats of his hands, each touch hot against Jack's skin and the sensation stronger than ever as Ianto wrapped his tongue around Jack's slowly hardening cock. When Ianto paused again Jack reached down and dragged Ianto's body around so he was facing the other way. Jack was one of the most patient men in the world that Ianto knew, expect when it came to sex. And both of them agreed that foreplay was highly over-rated.
Fingers were fumbling with the handle of the bedside table drawer, scrabbling over the surface of wood, almost tugging the whole drawer out. Neither Jack nor Ianto noticed the bedside lamp wobbling precariously, tipping over before it rested, leaning half against the wall and half against the bookshelf. They were too busy being preoccupied with each other, only breaking apart long enough to breathe.
A hand was rummaging through the contents of the bedside table now, fingers pushing past pens and half-empty packets of Paracetamol, throwing already torn condom wrappers onto the floor and trailing over the leather binding of a well loved diary. There was an uttered curse from Ianto followed by the sound of bare feet scuffing across the bedroom to the en suite, the bathroom cabinet door clicking open as Jack propped himself up on his elbows. He smiled as he watched Ianto fumbling through the packets in the cupboard, a triumphant smile adoring his features as he came back into the bedroom, holding his prize before him.
"Not been shopping for the bare essentials?" Jack teased as he rolled over to grab the lube from the floor that Ianto had accidentally unearthed from the drawer. As he tried to right himself again he found the weight of Ianto on his arse, breath hot against his neck.
"It was your turn to do the shopping," Ianto breathed past Jack's ear. Jack smiled into the covers before he was pulling himself up abruptly, unbalancing Ianto so he flopped back onto the pillows. Jack didn't let him get his bearings before he was straddling Ianto, pinning his arms to the bed with one hand as he leered down at him.
"Well if we're taking turns doing the shopping-" Jack let his sentence trail off, grinning suggestively and Ianto opened his hand where the wrapped condom sat waiting. Jack smiled appreciatively before he plucked it from Ianto's hand, releasing him in the process. Ianto didn't make a move, just watching Jack as he perched on top of him, lights from a passing train flickering over his torso. Jack opened the wrapper with his teeth, discarding it onto the floor next to the others before he was rolling the condom onto himself with practiced ease.
The lube was cold on Ianto's arse as Jack drizzled it over him like he was a chef lovingly garnishing a salad. Ianto smiled at that cheesy analogy, especially when he knew he was about to be devoured by Jack. Jack didn't seem to notice, he was too intent on his task, rubbing up against Ianto, guiding himself with one hand while he grabbed onto Ianto's own length with the other.
Ianto tucked one arm behind his head, enjoying the view of Jack jerking him off, taking a sharp intake of breath as Jack bent quite suddenly to suck on Ianto's balls.
"Mmm, strawberry," Jack hummed, which caused Ianto to laugh, a deep bellied chuckle that vibrated through him as Jack righted himself before he was pushing into Ianto. Another gasp escaped through Ianto's lips as his arse cheeks left the bed, arching up to give Jack more access as he felt muscles tensing. A guttural moan escaped Jack as he bit down on his bottom lip while he buried himself deep within Ianto. There was a pause as Jack repositioned himself, pushing Ianto's legs further apart, his hands burning Ianto's skin. Jack's hands trailed up Ianto's thighs, coming to rest at either side of his hips as he started to move back and forth, slowly at first.
Ianto lost himself in the rhythmic thrust of Jack's motions, his eyes open and watching, spreading his legs wider as his toes ran down the side of Jack's calves. Jack's eyes were watching Ianto closely too, a smile devoid of all morals tugging at his lips. The smile was not one of Jack's usual lust filled ones, there was something more behind the gentle tug of his lips and the small dimples that were slow in forming.
He wanted to ask Jack what he was thinking but Jack changed the angle slightly and all rational thoughts escaped Ianto at that moment in time. No words apart from a long and loud moan escaped his lips as his fingers clawed helplessly at Jack's forearms. A brief chuckle escaped Jack's lips, light and full of desire and pleasure as he dipped his body to kiss tenderly at Ianto's neck. His tongue trailed up to Ianto's jaw line, biting along it until lips were squashed against each other, tongues battling for dominance as moans slipped past teeth, breath hot and needy against stubbly cheeks.
Ianto felt all the want in Jack's touch as strong hands curled around his biceps, leaving imprints that would be gone by morning. Jack had no desire to mark Ianto, to leave love bites all over his body; there was no need, not when Ianto was unequivocally his. There was no question about whose bed Ianto would fall into at the end of a long day.
Ianto remembered the day he had first fallen into Captain Jack Harkness' bed. Every move was premeditated, hesitant, and not just due to lack of experience. He remembered the way Jack had looked at him, promising him he wasn't just another shag. Ianto had believed he looked at everyone that way and Jack probably had once upon a time. Now though, the look Jack was giving him he knew to be just for him and him alone.
He could deal with Jack flirting, with Jack mentally undressing people in the street. He could deal with never having all of Jack - he had come to terms with it - and he knew Jack only told him enough to keep him satisfied. Jack told him fanciful stories of adventures - of things he had done in another time, another place, another life - but he always left out the truly horrific. Ianto knew by the way Jack paused, a tooth catching the side of his lip before he continued his story.
The look on Jack's face now was more than a look of lust. Jack's mouth was open slightly, a panting breath escaping through his swollen lips, his eyes stormy with yearning, sweat beading along his forehead and upper lip. He was looking straight at Ianto, holding his gaze, holding him captive - and not just with his body - as he buried himself deep within Ianto again.
Ianto's fingertips were curling in tufts of the duvet now, grabbing onto fist fulls of the fabric as Jack's arse gyrated in the air. Ianto's legs were wrapped tightly round Jack's back, encouraging him, pulling him closer, and pulling him deeper as toes curled in pleasure. Ianto's hands let go of the covers long enough to grab at Jack's thighs, sweaty palms slick on skin as Ianto arched and moaned, his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.
With his eyes closed Ianto could feel every touch, every thrust, every cell of Jack's being touching his own. He could smell the sweat and the 51st century pheromones mixed with the sickly sweet smell of lubricant and sex that permeated the room. The bedroom door was still open, allowing the smell to dance down the hall and out through the letterbox to let the neighbours know, if the moaning and the rhythmic thump of the bed hadn't already alerted them.
There was a time when Ianto had cared enough to put WD40 on the bed, had cared enough to pull the bed a couple of inches out from the wall so the headboard didn't rattle, had cared enough to turn his face into a pillow or a shoulder when he came - but Jack had made him realise he had no reason to hide. Let Mrs. Davies give him funny looks when he left the house on a morning, Jack already sitting in the car beeping the horn - he had nothing to be ashamed of.
Jack thrust into him one last time and he felt his resolve crumble, he felt Jack's body shuddering on top of him, a moan of pure pleasure escaping Jack's lips, following on from Ianto's own. Jack's body was lying flush against his when he came back to his senses, Jack panting in his left ear for a moment before he felt Jack kissing that spot on his neck. Ianto shuddered slightly in pleasure, a brief chill sweeping over him as Jack rolled from on top of him, the sweat and come drying quickly in the cool air of the bedroom. Ianto felt a foot sliding up his calf as the bed shifted and Jack rolled back over so he was lying half on top of Ianto, a palm pressed flat against Ianto's belly before it was joined by a tongue.
Ianto let out a laugh of delight as Jack licked Ianto's stomach clean, tickling and teasing Ianto's belly button. Ianto's hand came down to curl in Jack's hair, scratching at the scalp in appreciation as Jack's teeth grazed Ianto's stomach, causing him to inhale sharply. It was Jack's turn to laugh at that as he moved back up the length of Ianto's body, kissing Ianto's collarbone and jaw before reaching his lips.
Jack's sweaty palms twisted in Ianto's hair, their noses squashed against each other, saying everything with actions when words just wouldn't do it justice. Jack smiled into the kiss before he rolled away slightly, reaching down to pull the now scrunched up duvet up over the two of them. Jack settled back down beside Ianto, hooking one foot over Ianto's ankle without thinking while he tucked an arm behind his head.
"That sauce is still sat on the stove," Jack commented quietly, staring at the ceiling as he felt Ianto's sweaty palm against his thigh.
"Not hungry anymore," Ianto replied lazily and Jack let out a deep bellied laugh at that. He must admit his appetite for the evening had been sated too, and if he was completely honest with himself it was too much bloody effort to get out the bed again.
"I'll need to buy some new sheets soon," Ianto said conversationally, his fingers playing lightly on Jack's thigh.
"Why?" Jack asked, his head rolling lethargically on the pillow to see Ianto, his head bent slightly towards Jack, his eyes closed.
"The rate we go through them," Ianto replied quietly, voice slurred with tiredness. Jack smiled at the mental image of himself and Ianto in Marks & Spencer arguing over the colour of bed linen.
"We can go shopping at the weekend, honey," Jack teased, a hand reaching down to pat Ianto's that was still resting on his thigh. Ianto gave a grunt in reply that was a sign he was close to sleep now. So Jack let him go, closing his own eyes and surrendering to his own post-coital exhaustion.
Day One
Jack watched Ianto sleeping for a long moment as he stood in the bedroom doorway, two cups of coffee in his hands. Ianto was sprawled across most of the bed now, a leg hooked over the top of the duvet so that his arse was on show as he clutched to his chest the pillow that Jack had previously been lying on. His hair was a mess, not gelled into its usual styled order as he breathed deeply, the early morning light filtering in through the slats in the blinds to fall across Ianto's back in waves.
"You better have brought one for me," Ianto grunted into the pillow, not opening his eyes as Jack reanimated himself and moved towards the bed.
"You need to sit up if you want it," Jack replied as he stood next to the bedside table, looking down at Ianto's messy mop of hair.
"What about if I just open my mouth?" Ianto replied, still not moving.
"Then you may get something else poured down your throat," Jack retorted and watched as Ianto smiled into the pillow. After an age Ianto cocked one eye open to find Jack stood beside the bed, two cups of coffee in hand and a pair of boxers on.
"Feeling modest this morning?" Ianto asked as he pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard, the corner of the duvet barely keeping him covered.
"Mrs. Davies has already seen quite enough of me I think. Don't want to give the poor woman a heart attack," Jack replied as he sat down on the bed next to Ianto, handing Ianto his coffee as he took a slurp of his own.
"You impersonating the Naked Chef on a morning is probably the most excitement she gets in her life," Ianto retorted as he too took a slurp of coffee before rubbing at the left hand side of his face so Jack could hear the rustle of stubble against Ianto's palm. Jack leant back against the headboard, crossing his legs on the bed and wiggling his toes as Ianto let out a rather loud yawn.
"We need to go and see that Doctor at some point this week," Jack said conversationally.
"Which doctor?" Ianto asked, turning his head slightly to look at Jack as he tried to muffle a second yawn. Jack raised his eyebrow at Ianto in question.
"My brains barely ticking over at the moment, never mind kick-started," Ianto rebuked, taking a long drink of coffee and looking away from Jack in annoyance.
"Patanjali," Jack said, instead of teasing Ianto. Teasing Ianto was always saved for after the first cup of coffee in the morning. It was like he couldn't take a joke without caffeine in his system.
"The one that thinks bodies are disappearing from the morgue at St. Helen's?" Ianto asked, his face scrunched up slightly in thought.
"That's the one," Jack replied cheerily, suddenly thinking about getting up and making toast as his stomach made itself know. Which was really rather disgusting considering Ianto had just mentioned bodies and morgues.
"Still thinking of giving him a job?" Ianto asked, his head resting against the headboard and his eyes closed as he balanced his half-drunk cup of coffee on his thigh.
"We need a doctor," replied Jack, matter-of-factly. Ianto hummed in agreement, his nose and eyelids twitching as he tried to resist falling asleep again. Jack's phone vibrated against the bedside table and Jack's hand shot out to catch it before it danced itself over the edge.
"Hello?" Jack answered, listening to the person on the end of the line. His eyes though were firmly fixed on Ianto who was drifting precariously towards sleep again, his head getting closer and closer to his shoulder before Jack snapped his phone shut.
"You can sleep when you're dead," Jack whispered next to Ianto's ear, causing Ianto to start as he opened his eyes abruptly while Jack pulled himself from the bed and headed towards the en suite.
"Work to do," Jack threw back over his shoulder as Ianto pulled himself from the bed covers, coffee cup still in hand as he shuffled across the bedroom floor, ignoring his reflection in the mirror. He watched Jack brushing his teeth at the sink while he finished the dregs out of his coffee cup, thinking of the sauce still sat on the kitchen stove, and Michael Bublé still in the stereo in the front room.
"Finally acting on my idea of naked Mondays?" Jack asked as he spat toothpaste into the bowl, putting Ianto's toothbrush back in its holder and coming out the bathroom. Ianto smiled coyly before a minty fresh kiss was pressed to the corner of his mouth followed by a slap to his bare arse.
That moment was somehow more foreign to Ianto than working in an underground base; catching pterodactyls; having a Cyberman for a girlfriend; almost being eaten by cannibals; defrosting a soldier from 1914; having a work colleague who to all intents and purposes is dead; attending your best friend's wedding, being called one of the Ghostbusters by a bridesmaid and not being able to disagree; watching two of your best friends die and not being able to do anything about it; fighting Daleks; having your boss/lover/boyfriend come back to life in your arms time and time again.
"Jack," Ianto started, turning towards the man in question who was currently sitting on the edge of the bed pulling on a pair of socks. Jack looked up, and Ianto suddenly decided now wasn't the time.
"Nothing," Ianto said, shaking his head as he turned and went back into the bathroom, closing the door over behind him as he turned the shower on.
There would be other moments far more appropriate to tell Jack he loved him.