Pairing: Janto, Ianto/OC.

Characters: Obviously the captain and his boy, Gwen, John Hart, and My own OC- 'Clair'.
Disclaimer: Not mine, I have no connection to Torchwood, or any of the cast and crew and make no money from writing fanfic.
Description: Set eighteen months after COE so obviously a fix it (fix what should have never been broken). Disjointed narrative, starts with "now" and then goes into explaining what has happened to the men since we last saw them at the end of COE. All the now bits are in the usual type, and all the then bits are in italics. Dates are included at the top of each chapter as a guide.

A/N: Second Janto fic, first one long. So please let me know what you think, particularly interested in con/crit.

Huge thanks to NightXBlossom for the amazing beta job.

Date: 05/11/10

Chapter One: The beginning

Jack looked up from his paper work as Ianto stormed into his office that evening. He was no longer surprised when his previously submissive employee stormed into places carrying what looked like a thundercloud on his shoulders. But it was definitely past ten, and that was a little late to be having one of their "chats", even if Jack did deserve some harsh words this time round.

It was raining outside, had been for hours now, and Ianto was literally dripping. His hair was sleeked flat against his head as big drops of water rolled down his face. Jack watched as one fell from a strand of hair just above his eyebrow, skittering down his face, past his soft round lips, off his chin, and nestling somewhere underneath his collar. Jack shivered as he thought of that particular part of Ianto's body, how good it tasted when Jack's lips teased and taunted him, how Ianto moaned at the sensitivity..

Jack coughed awkwardly, aware that this was probably not the time to be having such thoughts about this man, tonight of all nights. He quickly averted his eyes to anywhere but Ianto's perfectly soft skin. That's when Jack noted his RAF jacket tucked underneath the younger man's arm.

"Oh, are you taking me somewhere?" He said.

His tone would have mocked the Welshman, if said Welshman had cared, and wasn't currently more happily entertained with re-enacting a fantasy he had held for the last six years. Ianto sidled around to the other side of Jack's desk, trying to ignore the way the alcohol in his system made the room tip just a little bit. He sat down on the office chair, swinging his legs onto the desk.

"Take your clothes off, Jack." He ordered.

Jack's eyebrows shot up to reside somewhere halfway up his forehead as he heard the younger man's soft tone's solicit such an instruction.

"Ianto," he stepped forward, realizing that for the man to be sat like that, feet on a table, telling him to strip he must be well and truly plastered. "I think-"

"Clothes, off." Ianto repeated in such a domineering way Jack couldn't deny it affected him a little bit.

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

"I see you're getting the hang of how this is going to work, Jack." Ianto responded, nodding with an air of drunken dominance.

Without thinking of anything other than how Ianto's voice and gaze were affecting him, Jack fulfilled his charge. He started at the braces, removing one off his firm shoulder, dropping it down by his waist, followed at a leisurely place by the other one. Taking the same infuriating amount of time Jack undid the buttons on his blue shirt, counting as he did so.

"One, two, three, four,"

That was enough to get Ianto to stare at how his tight white under-shirt shaped around each one of his sculpted muscles. Ianto bit his lip to prevent himself from growling; it was way too early to give the other man the upper hand. The fantasy hadn't finished yet.

"Five, six," and the shirt dropped to the floor.

Jack paused, wondering what part of bare flesh he should expose to Ianto's languished gaze first. He winked at his spectator before lifting the tight white cotton away from his chest. Jack felt his blood rush and nipples harden at the mere way the younger man was studying him. If looks could talk, he thought dreamily as he recalled the one time Ianto had talked dirty to him, under demand.

Ianto's eyes grazed over Jack's bare skin, taking in every last inch of him. He'd long thought that Jack was some object of perfection, and that if this is how they make people in the fifty-first century, someone had better find him a time machine and quick.

The real world was slightly hazed out around Jack's dips and contours. However, Ianto caught a glimpse of the control floor through the CCTV cameras, and the minuet sober side of him asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, asking his former boss to perform a strip tease as he lay dreamily over the desk. Jack noticed Ianto's pupils get slightly less dilated, his posture slightly less hungry, and knew the slow pace had to stop before he lost Ianto and this new dominating side of him. He swiftly pulled off his trousers; for once thankful that Ianto's very presence caused a deep burning sensation in his groin.

Ianto drank up the sight of Jack naked, his strong muscular body poised ready to cause Ianto more pleasure than he knew he could even imagine. The stretched material of Jack's boxers seemed to almost snap under the weight of him. Wait a minute, why the hell was he still wearing his boxers?

"All your clothes, Jack." Ianto demanded slowly, needing to truly see him.

Jack nipped a finger inside each edge of his boxers sliding them down his legs. He was amazed, and rather proud, to find how hard he actually was. Considering Ianto hadn't even been within touching distance since this whole thing began, he was actually sporting quite a large erection.

Ianto couldn't feel anything except the pressure building in his balls. He was minutely aware that all the blood had left the rest of his limbs and compiled in the manhood trapped against the tight material of his own trousers. He undid the button to his trousers, thinking that if he didn't, he'd actually come through and point out, and as much as that might humour him, it would be rather hard to explain later.

He handed the RAF jacket over to its owner, who put it on without question. Ianto gritted his teeth together, he was right about how good the captain would look in nothing but his greatcoat. In fact, he possibly under estimated it. The grey wool was hiding everything except the parts Ianto yearned to trace with his tongue (and another part of his anatomy), as he watched the captain writhing beneath him, begging for more.

"What would you like me to do now, Sir?" Jack asked.

Fuck, Ianto thought, realising that in the dreams this was normally when he woke up, with a raging hard-on that sought immediate attention. His hand trembled as he held it back from doing its standard job. His eyes grew even wider as he saw Jack grasp for his own rather large member. Ianto let out a long string of inappropriate curse words. On hearing the obvious distress of his viewer, the captain slowly sauntered over to him, and bent to place an almost chaste kiss on his lips. If chaste was possible, when he was virtually naked and breathing rather rapidly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to neglect my duties, Sir," he said, palming Ianto out of the already half removed trousers, helping him to lift his hips as he pulled the material clean away.

Ianto felt his eyes roll back into his head as Jack licked at his strained member, coating his dick in his precum. Jack moaned in pleasure, as Ianto felt, more than saw, Jack's jaw relax to take the whole of him in. Ianto sensed the start of his climax shake through his cock, which was currently situated in its favourite warm, dark, damp place. He cursed himself for avoiding this for so long, remembering how unsure he felt when he first arrived at the farmland.