Fic, FAITHFUL, 18/50?: The Rave Review

[loveslashangst]

Story: Faithful
Author: Love! Slash! Angst! melindakitty
Beta: the well-rested ophymirage
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Captain John Hart, Ianto Jones
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, violence, dire provocations, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did there would be no doubt who Jack came back for, Gwen would stick with the man who loves her, we'd have regular doses of Unexpected!John, and everyone would cheer the f*** up.
Spoilers: AU. If you haven't seen the first two series of Torchwood, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon, especially when it pisses me off. The PROLOGUE takes place right after "Countrycide" in series 1. The rest of the story, from Chapter 1 on, takes place about three weeks after "Exit Wounds", the end of Series 2.
Summary: Torchwood OT3 ZOMG! Jack/John/Ianto. The Rift is active, the Weevils are acting weird, and Captain John Hart is back in town. Let the crack-tastic smut ensue. I think there's a happily ever after in here somewhere, but until then, enjoy the insanity.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: 2 months. It's been 2 long months, almost to the day, since I wrote Chapter 17 of FAITHFUL. I am sorry for the exceedingly long hiatus, but I really needed to get well into Ianto's backstory and the odd abortive history of the OT3 ZOMG! (aka ECSTASY) Most of my reason for wanting to do that story was because I'd always felt that there was more history between Ianto and John than Jack would EVER let on (which was part of the reason why he was so hyper to get rid of John in KKBB and then again in EW.) I wanted to explore the John/Ianto relationship some. In the process I found out a few of Jack's secrets and learned a LOT more about Ianto himself, who's honestly the least fleshed-out character in Torchwood. (Let's face it; he's the only guy whose flat we've never been to.) So that's what ECSTASY was all about. (If you haven't read it yet, I'm sure my lovely and talented beta will be glad to link you.)

So here we are. Back again with Ianto and John in the throes of passion. Dunno about anyone else, but this is giving me serious déjà vu. It was an adventure to write this because it IS a key turning point in the story, the Plot is beginning to intrude again, I usually don't switch POV five times in a chapter, and this ranks up there as being one of my favourite slashy sex scenes (in two parts, no less) that I've written since I got to play with Jack and Nine in the men's room of the Savoy (aka Chapters 6-8 of DANCING LESSONS.)

So off we go. May the crack-tastic smut continue!

On with the show...


"As a tot, when I trotted in little velvet panties,
I was kissed by my sisters, my cousins, and my aunties.
Sad to tell, it was hell, an inferno worse than Dante's.
So my dear I swore,
"Never, never more!"

"I could cry salty tears;
Where have I been all these years?
Little wow, tell me now;
How long has this been going on?

"There were chills up my spine
And some thrills I can't define.
Listen, sweet, I repeat:
How long has this been going on?

"Kiss me once, then once more.
What a dunce I was before.
What a break! For Heaven's sake!
How long has this been going on?"
(George Gershwin)

(In which Rhys gets a snootful, the Kapo finds himself in a whole new world, Jack gets some sense beaten into him, Gwen is carried off, and John wakes Ianto with a kiss.)




"At the risk," John murmurs against Ianto's lips, "of jeopardizing what promises to be the best shag of my life: you're sure about this, Ifan?"

He slides those lovely jeans over John's even lovelier arse. "With all due respect, Captain, shut the hell up."

Laughing, John presses him back against the coverlet.

**************

Rhys is having the weirdest day of his entire life. Bad enough for Gwen to con him into hauling away these... whatever these things are. Worse still to be reminded how much danger your wife faces every damn day she works for that pretty-boy lunatic Captain. Worse than that to know that that same pretty-boy's going to line up your blokes, assembly-line style, and wipe their memories, one after the other.

But the worst of all is to be part of it. A knowing and willing accomplice. That's the craziest thing about Captain Jack -- he gets normal, sane, reasonable people to do the most abnormal, insane, and UNreasonable things -- and then he has the nerve to march around like everything's completely normal and fine and "nothing-to-see-here-move-along-as-you-were."

Is it any wonder he hates the prick?

The monstery-things -- Weevils, ol' Jack calls them, though they certainly don't look like any kind of weevils Rhys has ever seen -- are starting to get a little restless as the boys unload the last of the lorries. Not violent or dangerous -- though those claws could rip a man from stem to sternum without blinking -- just sort of... well, if he didn't know better, he'd say they were sullen. Ornery. Like a child being woken from a sound sleep. A sort of "Oh, shove off, you, and leave us for another hour" kind of attitude.

And where is Captain Jack? Up in his office, o' course, puttering about with some kind of paper pushing while Rhys, Gwen, and the rest of the lot work their collective asses off. When that coward dares show his face again (and he will, if only to make eyes at Gwen) Rhys'll give him a black eye to match that fat lip.

Now THAT is a thought to make a man whistle while he works. Whoo. They stink too, these Weevils. Been living in the sewers, from the smell of them. Even Captain Poncy Coward's so-called nasal filters don't seem to do fuck-all about the reek of the monsters. (Plus the ones up Rhys's nose are beginning to itch.) All of the Weevils reek but the last, who's in the boot of that James-Bond-flash-more-quid-than-sense SUV. No jumpsuit for this creature. It's wearing a three-piece suit, like the ones Jack's Poof Friday favours. (And talking of Ianto, where has that boy gotten himself to?) But unlike Ianto Never-a-hair-out-of-place, this monster seems to have taken -- and dished out, from the look of him -- some kind of beat-down. And judging by the slashed-up suit and bloodstains, it was hardly a fair fight.

He grins as he helps Jim pull the Weevil from the boot of the SUV. (Should leave this one in bastard Jack's office as a little token of Rhys's "esteem".) Instead, it's down to the cells with him, though Gwen insists he have a cell all to himself.

"That one's more dangerous than the others," she claims. Poor girl's as sweaty and dishevelled as he is. Even on a nippy day like this, hauling monsters up and down stairs is damn hard work. Though hard nipples under soft cotton do make a--

"Oi!" says Gwen. "Eyes up here, and thank you very much for not ogling."

"So why's this one get the gold-star treatment?"

Gwen pulls the door shut. "We need to isolate him so he doesn't give the others any funny ideas."

He gestures to the calm looking monster (Weevil, whatever) in the cell right next door. "What about that one? Won't he get funny ideas too?"

"SHE is Jack's favourite pet, is Janet," says Gwen with a smirk. "We've used her before as a kind of bloodhound. Jack keeps her down here because she seems to like it, though she hasn't injured anyone seriously in months."

Not exactly comforting. The thing up his nose shifts again. Tickles him. He sneezes. Once. Twice. Three times. Then again and again like he won't be able to stop.

"Rhys?"

He waves Gwen away. Knowing his luck, he'll just flail into her before the sneezing stops. He fumbles for a hanky. Sneezes into it. Blows hard. Struggles to breathe right again.

"Rhys?" Gwen has her hand on his shoulder. "You all right, love?"

He nods. Waves her off. "Go tend the boys. Do whatever witchy stuff you lot do to people who aren't supposed to remember. I'll catch you up in a jiff."

"You sure?"

He nods. Holds his breath to give his poor lungs the chance to recover. Gwen pats his shoulder, then pops off to find the rest of the poor bastards.

Rhys takes a tentative breath. No sneezing. No coughing. He sniffs to clear his sinuses.

Then the smell hits him. Cinnamon and sandalwood and the promise of wild, passionate sex. No, not just sex -- FUCKING. The kind of mad shag a man dreams of but seldom gets. Hits him like a punch to the gut, it does. Knocks him against the wall.

He has to have more of it. He breathes in deeply. Lets the smell take hold of him. Gives in to its pull.

The world falls away. Nothing matters but what he wants. What he needs. What he's going to have. What bastard Jack tried to take from him.

GWEN.

***

The Kapo wakes slowly. Pain. It hurts all over. The little human was quick and merciless. His plating is bruised and burned from the pulse pistol in some spots. Tender to the touch. His overlords will be displeased. He'll probably have to take a nap for this one.

Crooning. One of his own kind is singing to him.

A female. Small. Graceful. Innocent. She presses a hand to the wall between them. Purrs welcome to him. Tells him he's in the most perfect place that was ever created.

The Kapo falls hopelessly in love.

***

John is enjoying the hell out of himself. From near-death to near-bliss in the space of a few short hours. His lovely Ifan has him laid out on the bed, gasping and grasping at the sheets while Ianto dines on him like he's the main course in a seven-star restaurant. (Gotta hand it to Jack -- either Ianto was unbelievably talented to begin with and he has fantastic taste, or -- and oh God YES! that feels fabulously familiar -- Jack's taught him the right way to give a universe-class blowjob.) He'll fuck Ianto soundly in another minute, but in the meantime who would want to rush a mouth as talented (Ohhhhhh yesyesyes!) as this?

He thrusts his fingers through Ianto's hair. Moves with him and against him and grinds into to him. And to his delight, Ianto laces his fingers with his. Holds him down. Brings him closer and closer with every stroke of that beautiful mouth.

He is definitely keeping this one. Soon as they fix the future, he and his lovely Ifan will be gone so fast that Jack won't even know what hit him. (Yeah, Ianto will be pissed that John lied about the whole "we'll fix things with Jack" but he'll also come to understand that Jack doesn't do relationships. Not serious ones, anyway.)

"Therinian," he gasps. "Has Jack... Ohhhhhhhhhh, darling, yes please... shown you the Therin-n-n-ian?"

Ianto nods. Tightens his grip on John's hands. Teases and dips his tongue along the flange of John's cock in a way that has sends him shuddering with bliss. "Drawer," the tease says, his breath a delicious torture.

"You..." He struggles to free his hands, but Ianto's stronger than he looks. A particularly insistent draw turns his gasp into a delighted chuckle. "You'll have to let me up if I'm to reach it, darling-n-n-NG OH GOD YES!"

Ianto draws his cock all the way to the back of his throat. Pins him hard as he screams. (Yours, darling! I belong to you!) His lover kisses and licks his way up his body. Pulls his wrists up over his head. Pins them again. Presses his whole body against John's. Kisses him lingeringly. Reaches up and over. Finds the packet.

John grins, panting. "A toast to Jack's hypocrisy."

"Cheers." Ianto assaults his mouth. Digs his nails into John's wrists so hard that he moans in anticipation. (It's been ages since he found anyone who could top him so handily.)

"I'm getting the idea that you like it rough," he says against Ianto's lips.

"Sometimes." Another bruising kiss.

He grins when they part. "And is this one of those times?"

Ianto presses his whole body against John's. Teases him with a light brush of lips and a quick flick of tongue. "What do you think?"

He uses the moment to roll Ianto. Tightens their interlaced fingers. Pins Ianto's hips with his. Holds him with a love bite under the chin until Ianto relaxes into the hold. Tastes the salt of this exquisite young man's skin with slow laps. Ianto moans. Presses up into him.

"I think," he murmurs into Ianto's ear, "that was a request for me to fuck you senseless."

A tangible wave of heat travels up Ianto's body from groin to face. The air is suddenly thick with the scent of "very aroused young man", which -- in Ianto's case -- is a particularly delicious blend. "Yes, please."

He indulges in a long, slow inhale. Lovely. Edible. And his. "On your knees, darling."

Ianto grins. "Yes, Captain."

Smooth boy that he is, Ianto has a Therinian tablet out of its package and slipped inside himself by the time he's turned over. Ianto grabs a couple of pillows to lean on. Pauses a moment. Looks at the pillows as if seeing something else.

He runs a lingering hand over Ianto's shapely arse to remind him where he is.

Ianto blushes. "Sorry... I..."

He kisses his way up Ianto's back. Licks. Nibbles. "Are you still sure this is what you want?" (In John's experience, nothing convinces a partner to shag faster than giving them an out while reminding them why they want to give in.)

Ianto presses back with a shuddering sigh of pleasure. "Yes." He leans over the pillows, still tense, though a bit more trusting.

He covers Ianto's body with his. (Love that skin-on-skin contact.) Nips at Ianto's earlobe. "I wanted you from the first."

"I know." The pretty thing goes from holding his breath to panting and back again.

He struggles for control. Distracts himself by slipping the first finger inside. A little rougher than he'd planned, but Ianto's hiss of indrawn breath relaxes into a sigh of pleasure.

He bends closer. "How would you like it, darling?"

Ianto's eyes are full of wanting. (It's more than a bit of a turn-on.) "What will you do," he asks, "if I trust you?"

There's a sweet moment of connection. Unspoken understanding. John has the giddy sense of having found a man who might well be the new love of his life.

He savages Ianto's shoulder. Kisses. Bites. Fingers him. Finds just the right spot. Brings his lovely Ifan right to the edge without letting him come.

"Say it," he demands.

"Please." Ianto squirms, desperate to have just the right friction.

"Oh no you don't, darling." He slips his fingers out. "Say it," he demands again.

"Please."

Rougher strokes with his hand. "Again."

"Please." Ianto bows his head. Bites his lip to muffle his cries.

He spanks him with his free hand. "Stop that."

Ianto looks back, uncertain. "I'm sorry?"

Another swat, which -- just as John thought -- makes Ianto contract those internal muscles with a sweet shiver.

"Stop apologizing." John strokes him leisurely. "Stop holding back." One more swat. Ianto spreads himself wide. "Stop worrying. Just feel."

Ianto's whole body relaxes. "I love you for that."

He bends over him again. "I'm going to fuck you twice, my love." He presses his cock against Ianto's hip to punctuate his sincerity. "Fierce at first?"

Ianto nods, moving with him. "And the s-second time, you want to see my face."

He shivers, anticipating. "How did you know?"

A sweet smile. "I know you."

He can't stop grinning at the thought. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes, please."

He withdraws his hand. Knocks Ianto's knees wide. Teases the opening with the head of his cock. "Say it."

"Please." His gorgeous lover presses back, an invitation.

He gives Ianto three punitive swats. "Please what?"

Ianto shivers. "Please... Captain?"

Another three swats. "I'm not going to do what you want until I hear the words."

A deeper shiver grips Ianto. "Please fuck me, Captain."

(Happiness is making a class act like Ianto say "fuck".) He slides in hard. "Good man."

Ianto bites his lip hard. Muffles that first beautiful cry of pleasure.

Annoyed, John catches his hand in Ianto's hair. Hauls him up onto his lap so he can murmur in Ianto's ear. "I thought I told you not to hold back."

Ianto's internal muscles clench around him. "You did, Captain."

"So let me hear it," he purrs, "or you don't get to come at all."

This time, when he thrusts, Ianto moans in pleasure. Catches John's hips. Leans his head back to rest on John's shoulder.

"That's better." He wraps his other arm around Ianto. Fucks him slowly so he can feel every inch sliding within him.

Ianto sobs. Pleads.

He tightens his fingers in the boy's hair. Pulls his head to one side. Savages his neck. Ianto cries out, nearly laughing with pleasure. And he feels fantastic. Slick and tight and wanton. John curls his hands around Ianto's shoulders. Pulls him down with each stroke up.

"Who is fucking you?" he demands.

"John." Ianto's voice is hoarse, a beautiful sound.

He curls Ianto's hand around his own cock. Encourages him to stroke in time with each thrust. Ianto gives him an uncertain look over his shoulder.

"Who knows what you need?"

Ianto smiles. With one hand, he strokes himself double-time to John's thrusts. He seizes John by the hair with the other. "John," he whispers before devouring his mouth.

He curls his hands around Ianto's hips. Fucks him harder and harder. "Whose cock have you been craving?"

"John!"

"Who's going to make you come screaming again?" He thrusts again and again at that spot that makes Ianto shiver.

Ianto strokes himself faster and faster. "JOHN!" Jets of come spill over the duvet.

He pauses while the boy shudders his release. Gives his shoulder an approving bite. Licks up his neck. Nips the hard line of his jaw. "My turn, darling."

"Yes," Ianto pants. "Please. Captain."

He lets the boy fall forward over the pillows. Wraps his whole body around him. Ianto braces against the headboard. Pushes back to meet him at every thrust. He's open. Wide. Wanting. John fucks him harder. Fiercer. Bites his shoulder. Sucks the flesh until Ianto shudders. Holds back nothing. Grabs Ianto's hips. Rides him so hard he slaps against Ianto's arse with every thrust. And Ianto is begging him for it. Demanding it from him. Daring him to give everything. Demanding. Demanding. Demanding.

John comes so hard the lights dance before his eyes. The room spins. He collapses before he means to. Wraps himself around his beautiful lover.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to recover his ability to speak or move. Usually, the first come is just for fun and it's the second that leaves him spent. Mercifully, Ianto's body is just as boneless as his.

Eventually, Ianto half-turns. Kisses him. "Thank you."

Yes, he is absolutely and completely a lost cause where this lovely young man's concerned. Hopelessly smitten.

"Darling," he manages. "I can honestly say it was my pleasure."

***

When Gwen finishes RetConning Rhys's workers and Jack's still nowhere to be found, she goes to see what he's about. Surely re-ducting the Hub didn't take this long for someone like Jack. (He may pretend to be nothing more than a pretty face, but their Captain Harkness is much more savvy about technology and mechanics than he lets on. She's long fancied him to be a kind of X-rated Han Solo.)

He's at Tosh's old desk, of all places, watching the CCTV. And if she's not mistaken, those are tears streaking his cheeks. Judging by the Wild Kingdom that's on the screens (that bastard John and Ianto really didn't waste any time, did they?) a girl doesn't have to wonder what's got poor Jack all upset.

"Now why would you want to watch that?" she says.

Jack jumps a bit, startled out of his pity-party. He tries his usual charming grin, but it comes off as patently false and a little pathetic. "Are you kidding?" He swallows hard, no doubt trying to keep that crack out of his voice. "Usually you have to spend real money for porn like this."

She gives him the Disbelieving Eyebrow.

He wilts. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well." She folds her arms. "You're in tears, watching your lover be shagged by your ex. Haven't caught you at it till now, but you're not the kind of bloke I'd expect to watch porn in anything less than smug comfort."

Jack looks torn between amusement and fascination. "You've thought about how I'd watch porn?"

Her cheeks are hot again. "No, but I daresay I know you by now. If this were just fun, I'd expect you to have a nice bowl of popcorn, a cold one, and maybe some lotion and tissues handy."

The sharp bark of Jack's laugh turns into the painful hitch of real tears.

And isn't she the bitch for kicking a man when he's down? "Oh, Jack, I'm sorry."

Jack shakes his head no. Pauses the CCTV. Zooms in on Ianto's face. "That."

She blushes in spite of herself. (Don't need to see Ianto in the throes of passion, thanks.) "He's taking one for the team, yeah."

"You don't understand," Jack says. "He never looks like that with me."

"Nonsense." She can NOT be having this conversation with her boss. "From what I've overheard--"

"He's relaxed, Gwen," Jack says. The words seem to pain him. "Ianto doesn't relax around me. Ever. He never fully gives in because there's just too much shit between us. Part of him will always be guarded because he can never fully forget all the ways we've hurt each other."

She folds her arms tighter around herself. "And what d'you want me to do about it?"

"What?"

"You heard me, Captain Harkness," she says. "Are you going to just sit here on your arse, crying in your beer--?"

Another flicker of inappropriate amusement. "Well, I don't have any beer--."

"And that would be your first mistake, wouldn't it?" She can't decide if she's pissed off at him for involving her, pissed off at him for being stupid about Ianto, pissed off at him for letting things get out of hand with Hart, or pissed off at herself for encouraging them.

He laughs softly, wiping at his tears. "I guess it would."

She shuts off the monitor with Ianto's face frozen on it. "If you love him, Jack, you'll fight for him"

But Jack doesn't answer right away. The conflicted look on his face makes her uneasy, as does the way he won't quite meet her eyes.

"Do you, Jack?" She shuts off the other monitors.

"Do I what?"

She glares at him. "Do you wash behind your ears and floss regularly?" She gives him a mild swat up the back of his head. "Do. You. Love. Ianto?"

"I..."

"Do you?" she presses.

"Yes." The answer's so soft at first she can't be sure what she heard.

"Do you?"

"Yes."

She punches him in the arm. "Then say it."

"I... I love him."

She punches his arm again. "Like you mean it."

His look has the usual dose of Jack amusement. "You realize how weird this is getting."

She punches his other arm, harder this time. "Shut up and say it."

"I love him."

She threatens another punch. "Love whom?"

He puts up his hands in surrender. "Ianto. Ianto. I love Ianto, okay?"

"I don't believe you."

"Goddammit I LOVE him!" The anger begins to dissolve into what may well be the first honest emotion she's ever seen from Jack. "I love him, Gwen. I love him so much it frightens me, because sometimes I feel like he'll come in one day, see through everything I am, turn his back on me, and leave for good."

Tugs at the old heartstrings, does Jack. She kisses his cheek. "'Course you're scared. It's human to be scared when you love someone. But Ianto loves you too."

Jack flicks his eyes at the now-dark monitors. "Proof to the contrary."

"Like you never had a guilty shag behind his back."

Jack blinks hard.

Dear God, he might well be innocent. "Jack?"

He shrugs, self-conscious. "I just... I couldn't do it."

She stares at him. "You're up the pub every other night."

"Sometimes," he says. "Sometimes I just walk. And when I do come round the pub, it's not what you think. It stopped being that when I realized I was flirting with the grandchildren of the first people I shared drinks with."

There's something a bit tragic about a man who outlives everyone without showing a day of it on his face. She recovers a bit of her sternness. "So off you go."

Jack gives her an uncertain look. "I don't think now's the time for the pub."

She threatens another punch to the arm. "You know what I mean." She indicates the monitors again. "'Bout time you broke that nonsense up, eh Jack?"

He grins, then his eyes go wide as he sees someone over her shoulder. She whirls, weapon drawn, cocked, and aimed.

"Gwen." Rhys's voice is so rough and low she hardly recognizes it at first. He's paused at the top of the stairs, eyes wild and clothing dishevelled.

"Rhys?" She eases off the full alert. Points the at the ceiling. Not sure what to make of her husband, though that look in his eyes does make her own body stand up and pay attention.

"Come here," he says.

Ohhhhhhhh. He has a look like he had... Actually, come to think of it, he's NEVER had that kind of look before.

Jack stands and suddenly she's immersed in the vanilla Happily-Ever-After that's like a more concentrated version of Jack's usual scent.

Rhys's eyes calm a little, though the intense look of lust is even more happy-making than that wild look. "She's mine."

She glances at Jack, who takes her glock and says with mock seriousness, "I recommend my desk. I bolted it to the floor a while back for occasions just like this. Hang on tightly, though. Bruises like a sonovabitch when you fall off."

She has time to grin at him before Rhys snatches her up, throws her over his shoulder, and carries her off toward what one can only hope is Jack's office and the shag of a lifetime.

***

Ianto wraps his legs tighter around John's waist. Savours the slow, steady strokes. (John wasn't bluffing about being fantastic in bed.) He's a bit tender inside from that fantastic shag, but instead of hurting, he only feels more sensitized. Every stroke is bliss, and John takes them all slow and long and deep.

The man is a maze of contradictions. A rough top the first time, yet now John's gazing down at him as though Ianto's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. (He could get used to this.) And every sweet movement seems so familiar. Comfortable.

He reaches up to stroke John's chest. Smiles at him. John smiles back.

"John." The name feels good in his mouth. John feels fantastic inside him. Bumping gently against him as each stroke goes deep. Not sure how a man can recover so quickly, but Ianto for one is not going to question his good fortune.

"Giovanni," John says softly.

(Blond hair and black velveteen. Absinthe sharp and sweet in his mouth.) "Giovanni?" he asks.

John bends over him without missing a stroke. "Giovanni Nero San Martin di Cuore," he murmurs. "Cavaliere of Serenissima."

(The champagne burned when he swallowed it wrong.) "Gianni for short," Ianto says. Close. He's getting close.

John actually pauses a moment, then speeds. Trickles of sweat run down his chest. "How did you know?"

(Harsh whispers in his ear as he was buried hip-deep in... Jack?) "I..." He struggles to make sense of the pieces and snatches of memory even as John's heavenly cock brings him closer and closer. "I could swear you told me."

John strokes harder and faster. "I told you my name?" He pauses for a moment as if listening, though he continues to thrust.

"Gianni?" Close. God he didn't think it was possible, but every stroke hits just the right place. Just the right spot. Just the right. "Gianni." (The taste of the name in his mouth. The slow shag in the shower.) Sweet thrusts. Perfect angle. (He's going to come again.)

John arches into him. Brings them both. Ianto surrenders to it, loving the moment.

John collapses. Slides out of him. Flops down beside him. Curls his body around Ianto's. Kisses his neck. Ianto turns in his arms, loving this. Loving him.

"Neurotransmitter?" John kisses him even as he appears to be talking to someone else. "What the fuck are you talking about 'Neurotransmitter'?"

And then a tingling passes from John's lips to his. Cold. Dark. Music. John dancing. John chasing. John kissing. John shagging. John defending. John plotting. John. John. "John...?"

Memories consume his senses. Arch his back. Hold his body rigid.

And the darkness consumes him.

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Link to previous Faithful!Verse stories

Crossposted to jackxianto, torchwoodslash