Fic, Ecstasy, Chapter 4/5: "Shower"

[loveslashangst]

Story: Ecstasy
Author: Love! Slash! Angst! loveslashangst
Beta: ophymirage
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Captain John Hart, Ianto Jones
Rated: Very VERY Adult for slash, pseudo-science, remembering who you wake up with, and water sports. Not like that, ya pervs! Sheesh!
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did this kind of thing would be canon and fangirls like me wouldn't need to write fanfic.
Spoilers: AU, Faithful!Verse. The promised story behind "What Goes Around..."
Summary: For aibhinn's ficathon, your delectation, and Faithful's back-history. Prompts: tease, dance, truth, SHOWER

Author's Note: Did I say 3 chapters? Um. Well. That was just a..... MADE YA LOOK! In truth, this should've been more like nine chapters, but as it is, I think I can wrap it up in five. So this relatively short chapter, one more in a week. (Sorry -- real-life stuff is still taking up my time, but that's a good thing.) I'll be back on the once-a-week schedule for Faithful after the fifth and final chapter of this.

And just to pique your interest -- chapter 5 is subtitled "Oblivion".


"Trust and you'll be trusted
Says the liar to the fool
Lust and so what if you're busted?
In love and war there ain't no rules

"Do you believe in forever?
I don't even believe in tomorrow
The only things that last forever
Are memories and sorrow

"Out of sight out of mind
The motto of betrayal
The prophets preach to forgive and forget
I'm sorry, but I am unable."
(Type O Negative)

(In which Ianto washes up, Jack cleans up, and John antes up.)



Chuckling, John curls up on one side of the still-unconscious Ianto, Jack takes the other. Both of them wrap themselves protectively around this beautiful boy who -- in spite of everything -- has brought them together.

And that's when Ianto begins to snore. When they look, he's beautifully dishevelled -- a freshly-fucked angel on white sheets.

John touches Ianto's face gently. The lovely boy stirs in his sleep. Shifts. Falls back into silent slumber.

He snuggles closer, as does Jack. They eye each other warily (and -- if he's honest -- a bit sleepily) over Ianto's chest.

"Much as I'd love to continue the dick-measuring contest," he says.

Jack nods. "Nap." He yawns like an overfed tomcat. "Definitely nap."

John settles in for sleep, one arm draped across Ianto. The fingertips of his other hand brush the familiar reassurance of the grip of one of his pulse-pistols, which is holstered between the mattress and the headboard.

Even starting from a sound sleep, if he can't out-draw a slow-hand like Jack, he'd be embarrassed to show his face back in his own time.

When he opens his eyes, the world's a different place. Ianto's warm. Almost too warm. Being sandwiched between Jack and John is both the height of bliss and slightly sticky. Though in actuality, it IS wonderful. Loved. This is what it feels like to be loved. And protected. And maybe even fought over a bit. Cliché though it might be, it's actually good for the ego. (Ah, life as the crème filling in a Captain sandwich.)

Ianto watches Jack, trying to reassure his poor battered memory that this face he's been seeking for as long as he can remember is real. Jack's film-idol good looks are even more breathtaking in sleep. His first love is real. The thought both warms and terrifies him, because the flush of lust from his groin tells him in no uncertain terms that -- danger and complications aside -- he'd have the Captain again in a minute if he could.

John stirs against his other side, nuzzling closer. Ianto cups the sleeping face in his hand. John's lids flicker open, then close again. Love. He loves this beautiful, bizarre stranger with such a painful intensity that he can't help kissing him.

"Mmm?" The questioning hum turns to a muffled moan of pleasure. John snogs him sleepily. Against all logic, his lover tastes of cinnamon and champagne -- a guilty pleasure. Ianto lingers, stretching the kiss out as long as he can.

"Shao'r fir...," John manages, eyes heavy-lidded. "N... bak t'bed.... 'M nxt."

"I love you." The words make him ridiculously happy. (Though if he starts giggling like a girl, he'll ask John to shoot him.)

"Love... too." John's eyes flicker shut -- hard to be sure if he was ever fully awake. "Shower," he murmurs again. "... Wake ... when..." The rest trails off into sleepy incoherence. John's breathing soon settles back into the steady rhythm of sleep.

Ianto carefully extracts himself from between his two lovers. Slips down the length of the bed. Pads over to the bathroom. Lack of coordination has never been so much fun. He's all but humming to himself as he turns on the very posh taps for what promises to be a five-star wash-up after a five-star shag. (Several five-star shags, come to think of it.)

Not sure what he'll find when he goes back to bed, but at least it was a night to remember.

When he opens his eyes, the world's a different place. The man Jack left years ago is tousled and drowsing beside him. The bed linens reek pleasantly of sex and cinnamon and the sweet musk of Jones. Ianto. Beautiful Ianto.

"I saa he frst," John murmurs into his pillow in drowsy Neo-Standard.

"You can't keep him, you know," he murmurs. (Damn this yawn.) "And you bloody well did NOT see him first."

"U no taak he, Jak." John lolls. Stretches, his indolence a thin veneer for the bodily threat beneath. "or I keel U, ja?"

"Nai," he denies. (Considering that both of them are naked in bed after a very lovely shag, he finds the death threat less than convincing.) "Ianto Jones deserves a real life."

A steely glare. "A real life like the one I offered you?" John taunts, then sobers. "I maak he hnst maan, Jak."

"U j/k me nao sai hnst," he retorts in Neo-Standard -- though his grammar is admittedly a little rusty. "U maak he do criim, liik u."

"Don't be insulting," says John. "I'm a Time Agent, an officer of the intergalactic law, duly authorized by the Shadow Proclamation to roam time and space enforcing order, protecting citizens, and restoring the timeline."

He keeps a straight face for as long as he can, then he and John dissolve into laughter.

"That was a good one, John." He wipes tears of mirth from his eyes. "If you hadn't said 'protecting citizens', I might've held out."

"Pffft. I haven't killed anyone in weeks," says John. "Well, anyone who didn't deserve it, anyway."

He sobers. "U nai keep he nao ni nvr."

John attempts a hard look, but his expression is more hurt than threatening. "I love him, Jack."

He nods, heart twisting in sympathy. "So do I."

"So why not come with us?" John smiles, cajoling. "You've always said there's room for one more."

It's a testament to the seductive power of his ex that for a moment Jack is tempted. But in the end he shakes his head no. "I have important work to do here, John. You know what happens in the years to come. So do I. Maybe I can help. I owe it to them to try."

"You don't owe anyone anything," says John. "Because that would be interfering with the timeline more than you already have -- which, I might add is completely counter to your sudden attack of morality. Honestly, Jack, I don't know what you think you've been up to, but if you keep wavering in the murky middle of pretending to be a good guy when we both know you're a--"

"Things have changed." He glares. "And how exactly do you expect to take the high moral ground after the life you've led?"

"At least I'm an honest con man."

"That's an oxymoron."

"Takes one to know one." John glares. "And I nai frgiiv i U taak he."

He kisses John. "Then I won't ask for your forgiveness." He flicks his eyes toward the bathroom. "Jones'll be done soon, and we both know what has to happen next."

"It doesn't." John very seldom lets this much real emotion show. "Jack. It doesn't."

"You just met him." He never could understand how John could commit himself to someone so quickly.

John won't meet his eyes. "Doesn't matter."

"Then help me help him." He pulls John close. Savours the familiar feel of his lover's body close to his. "Giv tiim. Let liv liif. Giv he chns."

"Delayed gratification?" John scoffs, even as he snuggles into the embrace. "U no me 2 wel 2 ask tht, Jak."

He keeps his voice perfectly even. "I thought you said you loved him."

"U R prik, Jak," says John bitterly.

He kisses his temple. "Learned from the best, honey."

"Glad to know you were paying attention." John kisses him, hard and deep and almost painfully good.

For a few more guilty minutes he abandons himself to the kiss. Tastes John deeply. Revels in the sheer joy of having a lover who can match him, even in this. (God, I'm going to miss you, honey.)

"I suppose," John says, always long-suffering, "nao U want I hel U cvr tis?"

"You love him," he says.

"Play that card one more time, Jack," John warns, "and I really WILL shoot you."

"Seven years." He caresses him. "Give the boy seven years."

John stares at him. "Of what?"

"Life. This world, here and now. This time." He smiles. "Give him a chance to be him."

John's eyes narrow. "This isn't a fucking fairytale, Jack. He can be who he is wherever and whenever he is. Besides, a lot can happen in seven years."

He allows himself one last kiss. "If he fell for you once, he'll fall for you again -- fair and square this time."

"Oh that's flattering," John retorts. "I didn't cheat, Jack."

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him. "Your pheromones still smell like cinnamon and sandalwood, right? So unless your idea of foreplay included baking cookies and burning incense...?"

John's adorable when he sulks.

He catches his ex's eyes. "Just let him get old enough to have some perspective, honey. You'll still be sexy and dangerous and hot as fuck in bed. Besides, who knows what might change by the time you return?" (And he is NOT entertaining fairytales of his own.)

John looks at him a long time. Drops his gaze, beaten at last. "I'll go explain it to him."

"Thank you." He doesn't have to fake the sincerity as he lays back.

John sits up. Turns away. Turns back. Lands a breath-stealing punch straight down into Jack's gut. Pain. Pain, oh God. He folds around the fist. Tries to remember how to breathe.

"I won't forget this, Jack," John says coldly.

"Kinda... got that... impression..." Jack gasps. Recovers his breath. Uncurls slowly as his ex heads for the bathroom.

Yup. Now he'll have to RetCon them both.

When he opens his eyes, the world's a different place. It really pisses John off -- Jack never intended to help Ianto. Knowing his heartless ex's cavalier approach to sex and the feelings of others, this whole scene could've been a set-up from the start. (You just wanted to get laid, didn't you, you prick? At least when I want to shag someone I'm HONEST about it.)

Well, fortunately for his beautiful young lover, John had the whole cross/double-cross thing mastered when he was barely out of diapers -- in his family he had to if he wanted to survive infancy.

When John steps into the bathroom, Ianto's wreathed in clouds of steam behind the glass door of the shower-surround. Mouth-watering sight, that is.

Lust for Ianto wins out over righteous indignation at Jack and he indulges in an ogle.

Ianto glances his way. Smiles. Jerks his head in invitation.

Heart twisting, he joins his lover. The lovely boy kisses him deeply. Runs expressive hands down his back. Tips the shower head so steaming water flows over them both. Takes his hand. Kisses the palm. Draws each of his fingers into his mouth. Tells him with eyes and tongue what he'd like to do next. And all the while that naughty sparkle. (You really are lovely, aren't you?)

For his part, John's never been so sure about anything as he is about this boy. This can't be accident. Can't be luck. God is up to something, and for once it might not involve him getting his heart trampled on.

Ianto runs John's hand down his chest. Over the flat planes of his hip. Curls John's fingers around a lovely hard heat.

He grins, impressed. "Maybe you're not human after all."

"And aren't you lucky?" Ianto kisses him. Strokes his cock with a knowing hand. He returns the favour. Pulls the boy closer. Breathes with him. He changes the angle of his grip on his lover's cock. Ianto does the same. He slows. Ianto smiles, stroking him with a leisurely hand. He kisses his gorgeous lover. Ianto catches the back of his neck with his free hand. Nips at his mouth. Teases. Draws his tongue deeply. Kisses him so that he doesn't want to remember anything else. And all the while, that lovely hand scarcely misses a beat on his cock. He builds with him. (Darling, I love the way you shiver when you're right on the edge.) Ianto shudders against him. Cries out. Comes beautifully. Buries his face in John's shoulder. He savours his own orgasm. Lets the pleasure roll him. Clings to his lover so he won't crumple to the floor.

They rest in each other's arms, hot water pouring down. The shower reeks of sandalwood and cinnamon but even more enticing is the overlay of Ianto's sweet musk. Pungent. Promising. (Ohhhh. The things I'm going to show you, my love.) After a moment more, Ianto kisses him. Moves back a bit to kneel, presumably to finish him a second time with his mouth. He stops him.

Sopping wet, Ianto looks even younger than he is. An uncertain gaze. "You said twice?"

They really should hurry, but he can't bring himself to admit the night is over. "Yes, darling, but not right now."

Ianto sobers. Stands. "What is it?"

"Jack," he admits. "He sent me in here to RetCon you."

To his credit, Ianto doesn't look surprised.

He smiles at him. "Five points for smarts, my love."

"People don't change," says Ianto. "If he's mucked about with people's minds before, he'll do it again. It's a power trip, which is why no one should have the right to control another person's mind."

If only things were that simple. He moves closer. Puts one hand on each delectable mound of Ianto's arse. "I'm not going to do it."

Ianto smiles that gorgeous half-smile. "I know."

A boy he hardly knows. He's risking everything for a boy he hardly knows. The Powers that Be have a strange way of playing tricks on his heart. "I love you."

"I love you too." The kiss is sweet. Deep. Fierce. A young man staking his claim. Challenging him to give his whole heart.

Fortunately for Ianto, he's had the good sense to fall in love with someone clever. "Time agents have a trick," he murmurs. "Useful for deep cover, where there's always the possibility of someone RetConning you halfway through a mission."

"An antidote?" His lover guesses.

"A preservative," he corrects. "Every Time Agent can quickly manufacture one dose. More than that takes time -- the combination of nanogenes and neurotransmitters involves some fairly heavy-duty tech and chemistry, even for someone from my time."

"I almost followed that," says Ianto. "Should that scare me?"

"Probably." He kisses him. "Plan is I give you a pill. It's part drug, part microscopic robots. It diffuses into your body. Takes and preserves a snapshot of your mind as it is now. Your memories as they are now. You as you are now."

Ianto considers him with a seriousness all out of proportion with his age. "So I take the RetCon, but it has no effect?"

"No," he says. "You take the RetCon, and that idiot out there thinks you're a closed case. You forget tonight. You forget him. You forget me."

He kisses the boy again even as Ianto shakes his head no.

"You blend back in," he insists. "Now listen -- I give you my word of honour as a Cavaliere of Serenissima that I would never just abandon you to them. No. You take the preservative. You take the RetCon. You forget tonight and Jack and me." He kisses Ianto to drown out his objections. "You lay low for two months of your timeline, and then I return for you."

"But..." The pleading in those eyes is killing him.

He cups Ianto's face in his hands. "You'll have to trust me, darling. I'll come back for you after the set time has elapsed. I'll say the words. My symbiont will manufacture the right neurotransmitter and transfer it to the dermal layers of my mouth..."

He kisses his lover slowly. Deeply. Communicates all his determination and emotion.

"And you wake the real me with a kiss," Ianto murmurs.

"Just like in a fairytale," he says. "Only with high technology, cutting-edge biochemistry, and DNA coding to ensure that no one but me can wake you."

"What if it goes wrong?" Ianto kisses him back.

"It can't." Few things are quite so enjoyable as making out with this promising a protégé. "That's the beauty of this, darling. Jack can't RetCon a symbiont permanently. They're implanted in people of my era to process toxins, manufacture beneficial chemicals, and both store and organize information. A symbiont is like a supercomputer with anti-venin. And it will remember." He caresses Ianto's dripping hair. "One way or another, my love, I will always remember you."

The pale blue eyes are veiled. "How do I know you're not just lying to me now?"

"You don't," he says. He pulls Ianto into an even more possessive embrace. Snogs him fiercely, enjoying the way his mouth grinds against that of his young lover. "Intoxicating, isn't it? This whole 'trust' thing?"

That lovely blue gaze is steady when they part. "Let's do it."

Grinning, he kisses the boy. Prods the symbiont. After a few very sullen moments (fecking thing never did do well with absinthe), it begins to gather the chemicals necessary to manufacture the neurotransmitter. Transfers the dose to the small subdermal container in his wrist. John steps out of the shower. Opens the container. Holds up the pill.

Ianto steps out too. Opens his mouth. Swallows the dose. "What's the password?"

"It's more post-hypnotic trigger than password."

"Post- hypnotic?" Right on cue, Ianto's eyes go unfocussed. His body relaxes.

He wraps a towel around him. Pulls the boy close. "Giovanni Nero San Martin di Cuore," he murmurs. Unlikely Ianto will hear that name between now and when he returns. "Say the trigger, my love."

"Giovanni Nero San Martin di Cuore." The boy has such a lovely accent that the syllables roll off his tongue.

He bends close. "Come back to me, my love."

Ianto's eyes focus. He blinks. "Giovanni?"

"Gianni to some." Ironically, his current handle is an Anglicization of his given name.

Ianto folds the towel around himself. Stares. "You're Italian?"

"Machiavellian." He turns off the taps, holding his towel out of the way.

Ianto starts towelling his hair. "There's a difference?"

"About thirty-five hundred years and several thousand light-years, yeah." He finishes towelling himself off for the second time this evening. "I'll explain everything when I return, my love, but we're running out of time."

Right on cue, there's a knock at the door. "You boys mind if I join you?" says Jack, voice still muffled.

He questions his young lover with a look. Ianto nods.

He pitches his voice to carry. "Come in, lover." He smiles at Ianto, who smiles back. "I think you'll find we've reached an understanding."

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Link to previous Faithful!Verse stories

Crossposted to jackxianto, torchwoodslash