Warning: This scene is a bit gross… and then graphic. You have been warned ;)

Chapter 3

Jack woke up in a start, loudly gasping for air and half expecting to lie in Ianto's lap. He was, however, alone. Reaching frantically for some hold, his hand hit the hard marble of the bathroom counter top. His slippery fingers could not quite grasp the cold surface and he ended up hitting his head on the floor as he fell backward. He cursed, his hand instinctively reaching for the back of his head. His found that his hair was wet and sticky and, as if he had suddenly got his senses back, smelled the horrible stench of the room he was in. It was a gruesome odor, a mix of all possible human filths mixed with something else. Gingerly, he put his right elbow on the floor to prop himself up. It was covered in some kind of viscose liquid. He shuddered. He had seen quite a lot of gross stuff, but this was truly disgusting. Finally sitting up, he looked down at himself and realised he was covered in the dark slime. Lucky thing he wasn't wearing his coat.

I really missed that coat.

Ianto. Has he thought the name, the event of the previous night came back to him in a flash. He reeled as images of the apparition overcame him. Had he been that drunk? He must have been to dream up such a thing. Trembling, but not letting his emotions take control of him like they had the previous night, he stood up and switched on the light. He looked around and the sight was so disgusting that he automatically switched them back off.

"Oh god…"

He frowned; trying hard to remember the last things he had seen and done the night before. He turned on the light anew, resolving to look at his own bathroom as he would a crime scene. First of all, the floor was covered with a darkish liquid, almost transparent in some areas and darker in other. Then, there was the blood. There was a gigantic splatter of blood on the wall, opposite to the cabinet. He then looked at himself. The front of his shirt was covered in the same dark liquid that coated the floor and there were no traces of blood. He turned around to see his back's reflection in the mirror. It was sullied with dark blood, which was also caked at the base of his neck and in his hair. He now had a good idea of what had happened but he was still missing a piece. He walked toward the bathtub which was smeared with blood. The floor was slippery and he had to hold on to the wall to avoid slipping in the goo, thus making strange wall paintings as he went.

He finally found what he was expecting in the bathtub itself: a classic hunting rifle. Jack couldn't help but smile. How clever he had been, notwithstanding his drunkenness. He had done the only thing that could silence his mind for a while: he had killed himself. He started to laugh, amazed at his own genius.

He leaned down to touch the bath with his open hands and admired his work. Judging by the splatter pattern, he had most likely been sitting with his feet in the bathtub, his back to the door. He had then shot himself, expecting his weight to pull him forward. He had been quite silly in thinking that the shot would not hurl him backward. Now the dark liquid on the floor and his shirt was most likely sick. Had he been sick before or after? He reached for his bottom and recoiled immediately. After. He had definitely been sick after he had died. What a mess.

The hot steamy water fell like a present from the gods after the hour he had spent knees and hands in grim. He could have asked his staff to clean the bathroom, but then he would have had to explain the blood and his mind was not clear enough yet to contrive convincing stories. And, to be honest, he was a bit ashamed. It had been truly disgusting. He had managed to save most of the room but the carpet and wallpaper were ruined and would have to be replaced. He did not even dare think of his clothes. He would burn them at the first occasion he got. He could not remember the last time he had drunk like that. At least, when he died after having drunk water, the mess was a whole lot easier to clean. He, of course, had never mentioned that detail to the team. At least, killing himself meant that he did not have a hangover.

As he was washing his hair, he tried to figure out what that manifestation of Ianto had been. Had it been all a dream, or just, ad his lover had said, a manifestation of his imagination? The image was unclear and the memory hazy at best; he had been too drunk. As he was tidying up, he had tried several times to conjure the image of his lover, but to no avail. No matter how hard he had tried to call him forth, the man had eluded him.

Jack rinsed his hair and started to wash his body with the soft blue loofah he had found dangling from the tap. As he was cleaning himself, his mind started to wander.

Jack, get out of here! I'm trying to shower not get dirtier!

Ianto was standing naked in his shower, under the hub. He was covered in soap suds. His wet hair made him even sexier. Jack stepped in and closed the glass door behind him. Ianto was about to protest but Jack swiftly pulled him to his chest and started to ravage his mouth with kisses. Ianto pushed back, managing to get his mouth free for a moment.

Jack.. The others will arrive soon. We can't…

Ianto gasped as his lover grabbed his fast hardening cock. He moaned, letting go of the loofah and grabbing jack's buttocks to pull him closer. Jack kissed him again and this time, Ianto kissed back, his mouth aching to feel his lover's lips. Jack hand was still stroking him, teasing the tip of his shaft with his thumb. Ianto groaned and, freeing his mouth, slowly made his way down on his knees, kissing Jack's body.

Jack had let go of the sponge and grabbed his hard cock in his wet hand while he leaned on the wall for support with the other.

Ianto was teasing him with the tip his tongue, his hand still clasped on his buttocks. Then, without warning, he took him. Jack moaned with a pleasure which doubled as his lover started to suck him. The pleasure was intense and he was startled when Ianto suddenly stopped. He looked down to see the man suck his fingers to cover them with saliva. Then, as he slipped his lover's cock in his mouth again, he started to push at his opening, gingerly at first, as if hesitating, then with more strength, encouraged by Jack's cries of pleasure.

Fuck… Ian… Ianto...

Jack's hand was going faster as the memories of his lover overpowered him.

Ianto, busy at work with his mouth, pushed one finger in, then another. Jack jerked forward with pleasure. He felt as if his cock was going to explode. His legs were weak and he feared that they would buckle under his weight. He wanted to enjoy the pleasure longer but, unable to hold it anymore, he came in Ianto's mouth with a roar.

Jack came with a loud moan. He remained immobile under the water a moment, not wanting the feeling to go away just yet. His breathing was ragged, he was trembling. He felt so good. His eyes closed, he finally leaned against the wall of the shower, basking in the moment.

"It was a really good fuck, I must admit."

Jack opened his eyes. Facing him, on the other side of the glass, was Ianto.