![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Story: Ecstasy
Author: Love! Slash! Angst!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
loveslashangst
Beta:ophymirage
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Captain John Hart, Ianto Jones
Rated: Very VERY Adult for slash, pseudo-science, and doing you back.
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: Foraibhinn's ficathon, your delectation, and Faithful's back-history. Prompts: tease, dance, truth
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
LSA: *hauls sorry ass out of bed* I've been down with the flu for three days now (two of them bad enough that I refused to go to work or anything), but I could NOT leave y'all hanging yet AGAIN.
LSA: "This is me tying up all the loose ends and setting our beloved OT3 ZOMG! on the paths they need to be on for the beginning of FAITHFUL to make any damn sense. I know that some of you will want to kill me for where I leave this. I accept and embrace that. But I also want you to keep in mind that I can't have a Happily-Ever-After now and another HEA later without seriously screwing up my own canon.
LSA: "There are a TON of hints in these five chapters for the kind of crack-tastic insanity I have planned for future Faithful. Be on the lookout and know that I LIVE to self-reference."
LSA: "And, because I haven't done it in a while, a serious THANK YOU to Ophymirage, who does all the heavy lifting when it comes to putting and keeping us up. I owe her a major debt of gratitude for the job she does as my beta (and the de facto manager of my LJ). She's delightfully sick, twisted, funny, smart, practical, and effective as hell.
(OM: "Plus I bitch at her and whine, even when she's got a 101-degree fever, that they'll kill us with pitchforks if we're late again." See what I do for you all?)
LSA: Especially because she continues to challenge my imagination and my boundaries, not only with fic recommendations, but with weird (yet oddly fascinating) stuff like this..
(OM: "Um. I just think anything is better with ninjas. Or monkeys. But there aren't any monkeys in that. There may be ninjas, though.")
"I'd love
To watch him dream
Love to see
Him sleep
To have his arms
Around me
Feel him
As he breathes
Hold his hands
In mine
Sense
His perfect trust
I'd give
All I ever had
For a moment
Of his love...
"A boy I never knew
And the man
I'll never know
I'll never know
I'll never know "
(The Cure)
(In which Ianto throws a punch, Jack slips a mickey, and John orders in.)
ECSTASY, Part 5: Oblivion
Right on cue, there's a knock at the door. "You boys mind if I join you?" says Jack's voice, still muffled.
John questions him with a look. Ianto nods, heart pounding. The lingering taste of the drug is still vaguely metallic in his mouth.
John pitches his voice to carry. "Come in, lover." His look is level, which helps Ianto's stomach to stop flip-flopping so violently. And that smile... how can he do anything but smile back?
"I think you'll find," John continues, "we've reached an understanding."
It's all he can do not to giggle at the conspiracy. Giddy. He's ridiculously giddy and terrified and excited and God he'd love nothing quite so much as to have John (or be had by him) right here, right now. Maybe make good use of that counter and the wall-length mirror?
He schools his expression to be calmer than he feels.
Not sure what they're up to. Jack, not being completely stupid, can pretty much count on his ex to cook up some hare-brained scheme -- and he's right. John has that innocent/blank look that might as well tattoo "UP TO SOMETHING" on his forehead. But it won't matter in a bit, because he's going to RetCon both John and Jones, so let them say their angst-ridden farewells and smirk at each other. (Jones is actually not half bad at the poker face, though it'd be more convincing if it weren't so obvious that he's keeping his emotions in check behind that impassive façade.)
As for himself, he's still tired as hell (it WAS a good shag) so they might as well bring this farce to a close. He tosses John his trousers and sets Ianto's clothes on the counter. "Did he tell you?"
Jones nods, a high flush on his cheeks. "He said it was your idea."
This whole thing would be easier if he didn't need a shower quite so badly and if the lower half of his body weren't reminding him so forcibly how much fun these two were in bed. (He aches in all the right ways.) "You'll want to get dressed."
Nodding miserably, Ianto reaches for his trousers. With another evil look at Jack, John finishes tucking himself back into those pettable skin-tight trousers and heads over to help Ianto with the billion-and-one D-rings on the front of his shirt.
Jack pulls on his own mesh shirt and makes at least a cursory attempt to refasten the corset. He's not really in the mood to try to squeeze himself back into the thing, and he doubts either Jones or John are in a particularly helpful mood.
When he glances up, he's annoyed to find that Jones is --if anything -- even MORE attractive now that he knows what's under the layers.
John gives Ianto a slow, lingering, frighteningly sincere kiss.
He glares. "Not that you're putting on a show with a boy you just met."
John brushes Ianto's lips with his. "I'm not the heartless bastard here, Jack."
He refuses to feel guilty. Someone has to think about the future in realistic terms, and realistic terms do not include John, Serenissima, or Torchwood One. "Do you want to do the honours or shall I?"
A sullen John folds his arms. Leans against the counter. Glares at him with that insouciant eyebrow raised. "You're barking mad if you think I'll help you there, lover."
Irritating, but hardly unexpected. He circles around toward Jones. Keeps John well in front of him -- no sense opening himself up for an attack.
"Why would you do this?" Jones asks softly. "Haven't you helped me before?"
Low blow. He is not going to let these two turn him into the Grinch, not after going a round with Yvonne on Jones's behalf. "You deserve a real life. This is the best way to make sure you get it."
The tears in Ianto's eyes aren't fake. "I-I thought you gave me your word that-that nothing bad would happen to me."
He blinks at the pricking of tears. Keeps his face calm. Holds up the pill. "Dissolves instantly. Works in a matter of seconds. I promise I'll keep you safe."
Jones, stricken, looks to John. John shifts uncomfortably. Nods.
He has to give Jones credit -- that pleading look could thaw the hardest heart.
He takes Ianto's hand. Puts the RetCon in it. "I don't want to have to restrain you, Ianto, but I will if I must."
The first tears slip from Jones's eyes as he swallows the pill.
"I love you," says John softly.
Jones gives John a look so intensely passionate that it leaves Jack breathless. "I love you too."
Yeah, he feels quite the heartless bastard. Jack reminds himself forcibly that this is the right thing to do.
Jones turns on him, rage blazing in his eyes. "I will never forgive you for this."
But the RetCon kicks in just as the kid throws the punch. Jones misses his chin by a comfortable margin. John rushes to catch Jones. Eases him to the floor.
"What now, bright boy?" says John.
Jack heaves Jones up onto his shoulder. "Time to go."
John regards him with hard eyes. "Where to?"
"UCL."
"Back to the dorms?" John scoffs. "He's had his first full-contact fuck with a man, Jack. You can RetCon him all you want, but his body will remember."
He has a point. "You're carrying nanogenes?" Jack says.
An evil glare, but John obediently -- and sullenly -- releases the golden cloud of them. He and John watch in silence as the nanogenes seep through Jones's clothing. Repair any lacerations or minor abrasions that would tell him what had happened to him the night before.
"I will NEVER forgive you for this, Jack," says John. "What kind of soulless prick takes away the memory of a man's first time?"
"Seven years," he says. "You can duck back to the fifty-first and come back right away if you like, but let Ianto have the time."
John calls back the nanogenes and shuts them back into their subdermal container. "Oh, would you please lay off the sales pitch and just get your fucking keys?"
Not sure what they're up to. John's making this up as he goes. He's never been one for planning to the letter -- the more you plan, the more likely that things'll go tits-up -- but this is definitely a situation that will require some finesse.
His lover was brilliant. The tears. The missed punch. Gorgeous. This is definitely one he'll have to take home to Mother. (And Ianto's young and fit and good breeding stock too, from the look of it. Ideal for a future mate.)
He makes damn sure to lay on the Sullen as he follows Jack to the SUV. "What's your cover story for him? Or have you bothered to think that far?"
Jack gently lays Ianto down along the back seat. Tucks him in. Shuts the door. "We take him home and put him in bed."
"Yeah," he scoffs. "Because that's been so convincing every other time you've done it. Honestly, Jack, did you learn NOTHING from your time with me? Cons work best when the mark doesn't know he's been conned."
It's his heartless ex's turn to look slightly sullen, a sure sign that the idiot has figured out that John -- yet again -- happens to be right. "What do you propose?"
"Back to the rave." John gets in the passenger side of the vehicle (never was one for driving in this century if he can avoid it). "And let me handle it."
Though he doubts highly that Jack trusts him, at least there are no further arguments.
Infiltrating the party isn't a problem. Bouncers know him. Many in the crowd know him -- if only by coat and reputation. Girl or two slide invitingly past him. (Believe me, darling, if I had the time I might want to, mood that I'm in.) But he finds Kim relatively quickly.
Lucky for him, she hasn't paired off with anyone yet.
He pitches his voice to carry over the music. "So lovely and yet all alone?"
Her face lights up when she sees him. "No one was worth it." She snogs him a good one. "Till now."
He kisses her back, in part just to enjoy it and in part to imagine that he's kissing the boy he loves. Now how to phrase the request?
"How was he?" Kim asks.
The bluntness catches him off guard. "Who?"
Kim laughs. "'Who'? Ianto. Didn't think you could get him away from my rave without me noticing, did you? Ianto's like me baby brother. Except for the whole us having a shag from time to time."
Sadly, such close genetic relations wouldn't stop some branches of his own family. "He is lovely, but I need a favour."
Kim's look hardens. "Were you good to him?"
Protective Kimmy. He loves her for that. "I didn't touch him."
Kim snorts. "Yeah, right. Adam not shag someone. That'll happen."
He catches her arm and lies his best. "I'm telling you, Kimmy, nothing happened between us. I couldn't, not with him so... By the time we got back to the hotel whatever he'd taken had him so far under the influence that he couldn't have consented even if he'd wanted to."
Kim's hard look melts. "My God, you DO have a conscience."
"You know me, darling -- consent's half the fun." He puts just enough genuine emotion into his voice to make it convincing. "Ianto's a sweet boy. Why would I want to hurt him?"
She doesn't entirely believe him. Not surprising -- Kimmy's smarter than people give her credit for -- but also not insurmountable. "Sure took your time getting back here," she says.
"I was hoping he'd sleep it off." He shrugs. "Maybe wake up a bit more... amorous."
"Aren't we the gentleman?" To his delight, she cups him through his trousers. "So, all that honour and only blue balls to show for it?" The play of those fingers is too delicious for words. "Poor noble Adam."
He leans into the touch. Lets her wank him a little through the black velveteen. Kisses her. "Later, darling."
Her hand becomes more insistent. "Now, darling."
Persistence is Kimmy's best trait. "You have my word, sweetheart," he says, "that the next time we meet I'll give you the shag of a lifetime." (Which also happens to be true, because he's done it already. Time travel can be damn convenient at times.)
"What's the favour?"
He kisses her, persuading. "Stay with him. Take care of him."
She grins toothily, flashing the false fangs. "Can I shag him when he wakes?"
Oh, a woman after his own heart. "If he likes."
"Done." This kiss is as much vampire bite as snog -- the false incisors are a bit of kink that he's coming to enjoy.
"You owe me one," she says.
"Yes, I do." And if memory serves, she'll be repaid handsomely.
She follows him outside. Jack is doing a passingly horrible impression of Random Guy Who Just Happens to Be Parked Innocently. (Yeah, like most guys from the early twenty-first are clothed in Goth gear beneath a leather duster.) Still, at least Jack has the good sense to lay low and let John hail a cab.
When they arrive at the dorms, John pays the cabbie enough to silently remind him not to be too nosy, and hoists Ianto onto his shoulder. Carries him upstairs. He and Kim carefully lay the boy out on the bed.
Kim is watching him. Without any prompting, she helps him undress Ianto. "Are you in love with him, Adam?"
He brushes a stray lock of hair from Ianto's sleeping face. "And if I were?"
Kim smiles understanding. Unties Ianto's other boot. Shrugs. "Think everyone is, sooner or later. There's just something about him makes you want to shag him one minute and protect him the next."
When they have Ianto naked and safely tucked up in bed, John pulls Kimmy into his arms and kisses her with gratitude he doesn't have to fake. "Thank you."
She gives him one more lovely caress through his trousers. "I'll collect later."
Reluctantly, he pulls away. "Next time," he promises.
He snaps awake. Jack shakes off fatigue and disorientation. Stretches to relieve the aching muscles. Shifts to try to minimize the chafing that's starting to rub a few spots on his hips raw. How long has he been out? He checks the display on the dash. Only a few minutes. Good. Any second now...
John jerks the door open. Flops down sullenly on the back seat. Shuts the door with an operatic slam.
"Took you long enough," He watches his ex carefully in the rear view mirror. "Did you shag her too?"
"Fuck off, Jack."
He starts the car, unsure how to communicate his gratitude without losing face. "You did a good thing."
"Fuk U, Jak," John snarls. He folds his arms and nestles down into his seat, the very picture of resentment. "Fucking home, fucking Jeeves."
He is NOT going to laugh. He is NOT going to pick a fight. He is NOT going to do anything but drive them back to the hotel and follow John back up to the room.
Once the door is closed, he pulls John into his arms. Kisses him with something that feels like gratitude with a chaser of remorse.
John jerks away. Decks him. Pain explodes through his cheek. (Actually feels good in a weird sort of way.)
"Like I'd give you any after the stunt you just pulled," says John.
The throbbing in his cheek goes away almost immediately. (Immortality does have its up side.) And the punch gives him the chance to turn away long enough to palm and then mouth the RetCon.
"It's not forever," he says. "It's just for now."
John is looking at him with such a mix of hate, love, indecision, and several more veiled emotions that Jack actually begins to wonder if he's finally getting through to him.
When Jack moves to kiss him again, his ex actually doesn't fight him.
"I love you," Jack murmurs.
The words take John off guard just long enough for Jack to move the RetCon to the front of his mouth. His tongue jams it far back enough in John's mouth to foil whatever gag reflex John has left. The man chokes a little. Swallows in spite of himself. Comes up cursing. "You fucking BASTARD!"
"I can't take any chances." It's a mark of how much the years have worn him down that he feels only fatigue and not genuine remorse.
John decks him again, much harder this time. Tries to vomit the pill back up -- not that he could because the thing dissolves instantly -- the highest dose Jack can synthesize. To his credit, John fights it as long as he can. Jack avoids the punches. Swats the pulse pistol out of John's hand. (Damned if he can figure out where he got it from.) He stays out of John's reach. Waits for him to slump to the floor, unconscious.
He waits another minute, then heaves John onto the bed. "I'm sorry." He kisses him goodbye.
The hiss of a sonic hypo is loud in his ears. John's eyes are blue with triumph.
"Son of a bitch!" Jack manages. It's been ages since he felt this tingle in his veins.
John laughs. "Getting rusty, are we, Jack?" he croaks. "Time was, you would never have fallen for that."
"You can't RetCon me!" Shit! Shit! ShitshitshitshitSHIT!
"I just did," says John. "Now hustle your pretty little ass down to the SUV or you'll lose your ride home."
"You can't...!" But he can already feel the fuzziness that precedes the black.
"You do me..." John's eyelids flutter closed. "I do you back."
Jack races down the stairs to the SUV. Gets in just as the blackness swallows him.
Later, the chiming of an incoming message wakes him. E-mail from Yvonne. Something about Jones. Something about her agreeing in writing to leave him alone so long as Jack keeps his promise to stay out of London. (Why the hell did I promise to stay out of London?) He struggles to remember. Struggles to put it together.
Then, he smells the cinnamon and sandalwood, and he can pretty well guess why he doesn't remember the rest. (Goddammit, John. When are you going to learn that we are OVER?)
And OW! Something's jabbing him in the ribs. And the hips. A cursory glance raises more questions than it answers. (The club wear Owen bought me for Christmas?)
"What the fuck?"
He snaps awake. Draws the pulse pistol. No one there. No one in the room. A quick scan and consult of the symbiont reveals nothing. John's alone.
It's a beautiful room. The sheets reek of sex and champagne and possibly some lovely young man. John grins as the last dregs of hangover clear. He's been well laid, from the feel of it, and undoubtedly laid someone equally well in return.
Better still, whoever the layer/layee was, they had the courtesy to clear all their kit out before he woke. (Not sure why he's fully dressed, though. Usually he just lets his partner(s) leave on their own.)
Well, they took all their kit but one bit. A jeweled flask. Beautiful. False antique, but worth keeping all the same. He opens it. Sniffs. Absinthe. Interesting. That's usually Kimmy's M.O. Maybe there was a threesome? His body certainly remembers something energetic enough, and the room's destroyed enough, and his memory's fuzzy enough to support the theory that they partied like it was 1999 and then retired here for some excellent three-way shagging.
He carefully sets the flask on the bedside table. Good ol' Kimmy. He can always count on her for a good time with no strings.
Cheerful, John rings for room service.
He snaps awake. Kim's beside him, cuddled into his arms. He's naked and so is she, so Ianto doesn't have to wonder what they've been up to. He relaxes a little, enjoying the warmth of a girl he'd be in love with if he had any sense at all.
"Mmm?"
He kisses her forehead. Smiling, she reaches up to snog him. He's not sure whose mouth tastes worse -- his or hers. She joins him in the grimace. Laughs with him. Reaches for her skirt, which is flopped in a heap of fabric over the chair across the room. (Only in a dorm room as small as his would "across the room" mean "an easy arms-length from the bed.)
Kim leans over him, a soft press of warm flesh. He holds her gently, telling himself it's to make sure she doesn't overbalance and fall, but in reality it's an excuse to reassure himself she's real. (His first love is real.)
The thought is so odd and out of place. (And blond. Something about blond.) No, Kim's never been blond, though she's been every other colour in the palate and even invented a couple. But he's never lost time and then awakened with someone before. He did have a few last night, he almost remembers. Maybe he's just waking up from a normal blackout.
Sweet. Hard. Kim's popped some sort of sweetie in his mouth. Raspberry. Lovely flavour. (Not metallic at all.) He holds her chest-to-chest, even as she takes another hard candy.
"Good morning," he says.
She crunches the sweetie with abandon. "Good morning."
He shifts his own candy to the other cheek. Considers...
She kisses him again before he can decide what to do next. Pulls hungrily at his mouth. Nibbles his lower lip. Teases with her tongue. Makes a curious kind of love with each kiss.
Then she sucks the candy from his mouth and crunches it in triumph.
He watches, bemused. "That was either deft and clever, sexy as hell, or completely disgusting."
She swallows with gusto. (Yes, please.) "Why not all three?"
Kissing. More kissing. He loves kissing her as much as she seems to love kissing him. Every movement of her mouth reassures him. (I swear to you I will never abandon you to them.) Every snog makes him forget about anyone (blond) but her.
He wants her. She wants him. She strokes him with confident fingers. He slips a hand down until he finds soft, wet heat. She snogs him harder. (Weird as it may sound, the false fangs are sort of a turn on. He loves the bite.) She presses him back. Mounts him in one smooth move. It feels fantastic, all liquid heat. He moans, smiling. Enjoys the leisurely shag.
She grinds down onto him with confident strokes. "All right, love?"
"Yeah." He curls his hands around her hips. "Fine, thanks." He pulls her harder onto him. Angles up just a little to hit...
Kim comes violently. Bites her lip hard to muffle the scream. (Quite the compliment.) Smiling, he moves beneath her. Strokes her harder. Deeper. Brings them to a climax that shudders through them both.
Panting, she bends over him. Kisses him. He snogs her right back.
Uncoordinated but smiling, she slides off him. Curls up next to him. Pulls the somewhat raggedy bedclothes over them. "In another minute," she pants. "I'll want to do that again."
"Me too." He smiles. This warm feeling is almost like what it must be like to be happy. Life would be so much easier if he were in love with someone like Kim. As it is, he's quite fond of her -- she's always been kind to him.
"Kim?"
She snuggles closer. "Yes, love?"
"What--" he struggles to find a way to not make this sound completely insane. "What happened last night?"
She chuckles. "You came to the rave. We danced. Had some really fantastic stuff -- some mine, some from a friend. You invited me back to your place."
Blond hair. Why does he keep seeing blond hair? (Short-cropped, like a man's.) "And then?"
Another lascivious chuckle. "What d'you think?" She kisses him, lingering. "You were fantastic."
Happy. He should be happy. At least he's here with someone who cares about him. (And seems determined to lay him again as soon as both of them are up for it.) Everything should be shiny and happy and good, but no matter how hard he tries to make himself believe Kim's story is the truth, it's there again at the back of his mind -- the fear that's dogged him ever since he moved to London and yet still kept losing time.
It's happening again...
END
"a love struck romeo
sings the streets a serenade
now he's laying everybody low
he's got a love song that he made
he finds a convenient streetlight
and he steps out of the shade
and says something like
"you and me, babe, how about it?"
"juliet says "hey, it's romeo!"
"you nearly give me a heart attack!"
yeah well, he's underneath my window
now she's singing "hey-la, my boyfriend's back"
"you shouldn't come around here
singing up at people like that
ah anyway, whatcha gonna do about it?"
"juliet
the dice were loaded from the start
and i bet and you exploded into my heart
and i forget, i forget the movie song
when you gonna realize
it was just that the time was wrong..."
(Indigo Girls)
Previous | Next
Link to previous Faithful!Verse stories
Crossposted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
jackxianto, torchwoodslash
Author: Love! Slash! Angst!
loveslashangst Beta:
ophymirage Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Captain John Hart, Ianto Jones
Rated: Very VERY Adult for slash, pseudo-science, and doing you back.
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, truthAUTHOR'S NOTE:
LSA: *hauls sorry ass out of bed* I've been down with the flu for three days now (two of them bad enough that I refused to go to work or anything), but I could NOT leave y'all hanging yet AGAIN.
LSA: "This is me tying up all the loose ends and setting our beloved OT3 ZOMG! on the paths they need to be on for the beginning of FAITHFUL to make any damn sense. I know that some of you will want to kill me for where I leave this. I accept and embrace that. But I also want you to keep in mind that I can't have a Happily-Ever-After now and another HEA later without seriously screwing up my own canon.
LSA: "There are a TON of hints in these five chapters for the kind of crack-tastic insanity I have planned for future Faithful. Be on the lookout and know that I LIVE to self-reference."
LSA: "And, because I haven't done it in a while, a serious THANK YOU to Ophymirage, who does all the heavy lifting when it comes to putting and keeping us up. I owe her a major debt of gratitude for the job she does as my beta (and the de facto manager of my LJ). She's delightfully sick, twisted, funny, smart, practical, and effective as hell.
(OM: "Plus I bitch at her and whine, even when she's got a 101-degree fever, that they'll kill us with pitchforks if we're late again." See what I do for you all?)
LSA: Especially because she continues to challenge my imagination and my boundaries, not only with fic recommendations, but with weird (yet oddly fascinating) stuff like this..
(OM: "Um. I just think anything is better with ninjas. Or monkeys. But there aren't any monkeys in that. There may be ninjas, though.")
"I'd love
To watch him dream
Love to see
Him sleep
To have his arms
Around me
Feel him
As he breathes
Hold his hands
In mine
Sense
His perfect trust
I'd give
All I ever had
For a moment
Of his love...
"A boy I never knew
And the man
I'll never know
I'll never know
I'll never know "
(The Cure)
(In which Ianto throws a punch, Jack slips a mickey, and John orders in.)
ECSTASY, Part 5: Oblivion
Right on cue, there's a knock at the door. "You boys mind if I join you?" says Jack's voice, still muffled.
John questions him with a look. Ianto nods, heart pounding. The lingering taste of the drug is still vaguely metallic in his mouth.
John pitches his voice to carry. "Come in, lover." His look is level, which helps Ianto's stomach to stop flip-flopping so violently. And that smile... how can he do anything but smile back?
"I think you'll find," John continues, "we've reached an understanding."
It's all he can do not to giggle at the conspiracy. Giddy. He's ridiculously giddy and terrified and excited and God he'd love nothing quite so much as to have John (or be had by him) right here, right now. Maybe make good use of that counter and the wall-length mirror?
He schools his expression to be calmer than he feels.
Not sure what they're up to. Jack, not being completely stupid, can pretty much count on his ex to cook up some hare-brained scheme -- and he's right. John has that innocent/blank look that might as well tattoo "UP TO SOMETHING" on his forehead. But it won't matter in a bit, because he's going to RetCon both John and Jones, so let them say their angst-ridden farewells and smirk at each other. (Jones is actually not half bad at the poker face, though it'd be more convincing if it weren't so obvious that he's keeping his emotions in check behind that impassive façade.)
As for himself, he's still tired as hell (it WAS a good shag) so they might as well bring this farce to a close. He tosses John his trousers and sets Ianto's clothes on the counter. "Did he tell you?"
Jones nods, a high flush on his cheeks. "He said it was your idea."
This whole thing would be easier if he didn't need a shower quite so badly and if the lower half of his body weren't reminding him so forcibly how much fun these two were in bed. (He aches in all the right ways.) "You'll want to get dressed."
Nodding miserably, Ianto reaches for his trousers. With another evil look at Jack, John finishes tucking himself back into those pettable skin-tight trousers and heads over to help Ianto with the billion-and-one D-rings on the front of his shirt.
Jack pulls on his own mesh shirt and makes at least a cursory attempt to refasten the corset. He's not really in the mood to try to squeeze himself back into the thing, and he doubts either Jones or John are in a particularly helpful mood.
When he glances up, he's annoyed to find that Jones is --if anything -- even MORE attractive now that he knows what's under the layers.
John gives Ianto a slow, lingering, frighteningly sincere kiss.
He glares. "Not that you're putting on a show with a boy you just met."
John brushes Ianto's lips with his. "I'm not the heartless bastard here, Jack."
He refuses to feel guilty. Someone has to think about the future in realistic terms, and realistic terms do not include John, Serenissima, or Torchwood One. "Do you want to do the honours or shall I?"
A sullen John folds his arms. Leans against the counter. Glares at him with that insouciant eyebrow raised. "You're barking mad if you think I'll help you there, lover."
Irritating, but hardly unexpected. He circles around toward Jones. Keeps John well in front of him -- no sense opening himself up for an attack.
"Why would you do this?" Jones asks softly. "Haven't you helped me before?"
Low blow. He is not going to let these two turn him into the Grinch, not after going a round with Yvonne on Jones's behalf. "You deserve a real life. This is the best way to make sure you get it."
The tears in Ianto's eyes aren't fake. "I-I thought you gave me your word that-that nothing bad would happen to me."
He blinks at the pricking of tears. Keeps his face calm. Holds up the pill. "Dissolves instantly. Works in a matter of seconds. I promise I'll keep you safe."
Jones, stricken, looks to John. John shifts uncomfortably. Nods.
He has to give Jones credit -- that pleading look could thaw the hardest heart.
He takes Ianto's hand. Puts the RetCon in it. "I don't want to have to restrain you, Ianto, but I will if I must."
The first tears slip from Jones's eyes as he swallows the pill.
"I love you," says John softly.
Jones gives John a look so intensely passionate that it leaves Jack breathless. "I love you too."
Yeah, he feels quite the heartless bastard. Jack reminds himself forcibly that this is the right thing to do.
Jones turns on him, rage blazing in his eyes. "I will never forgive you for this."
But the RetCon kicks in just as the kid throws the punch. Jones misses his chin by a comfortable margin. John rushes to catch Jones. Eases him to the floor.
"What now, bright boy?" says John.
Jack heaves Jones up onto his shoulder. "Time to go."
John regards him with hard eyes. "Where to?"
"UCL."
"Back to the dorms?" John scoffs. "He's had his first full-contact fuck with a man, Jack. You can RetCon him all you want, but his body will remember."
He has a point. "You're carrying nanogenes?" Jack says.
An evil glare, but John obediently -- and sullenly -- releases the golden cloud of them. He and John watch in silence as the nanogenes seep through Jones's clothing. Repair any lacerations or minor abrasions that would tell him what had happened to him the night before.
"I will NEVER forgive you for this, Jack," says John. "What kind of soulless prick takes away the memory of a man's first time?"
"Seven years," he says. "You can duck back to the fifty-first and come back right away if you like, but let Ianto have the time."
John calls back the nanogenes and shuts them back into their subdermal container. "Oh, would you please lay off the sales pitch and just get your fucking keys?"
Not sure what they're up to. John's making this up as he goes. He's never been one for planning to the letter -- the more you plan, the more likely that things'll go tits-up -- but this is definitely a situation that will require some finesse.
His lover was brilliant. The tears. The missed punch. Gorgeous. This is definitely one he'll have to take home to Mother. (And Ianto's young and fit and good breeding stock too, from the look of it. Ideal for a future mate.)
He makes damn sure to lay on the Sullen as he follows Jack to the SUV. "What's your cover story for him? Or have you bothered to think that far?"
Jack gently lays Ianto down along the back seat. Tucks him in. Shuts the door. "We take him home and put him in bed."
"Yeah," he scoffs. "Because that's been so convincing every other time you've done it. Honestly, Jack, did you learn NOTHING from your time with me? Cons work best when the mark doesn't know he's been conned."
It's his heartless ex's turn to look slightly sullen, a sure sign that the idiot has figured out that John -- yet again -- happens to be right. "What do you propose?"
"Back to the rave." John gets in the passenger side of the vehicle (never was one for driving in this century if he can avoid it). "And let me handle it."
Though he doubts highly that Jack trusts him, at least there are no further arguments.
Infiltrating the party isn't a problem. Bouncers know him. Many in the crowd know him -- if only by coat and reputation. Girl or two slide invitingly past him. (Believe me, darling, if I had the time I might want to, mood that I'm in.) But he finds Kim relatively quickly.
Lucky for him, she hasn't paired off with anyone yet.
He pitches his voice to carry over the music. "So lovely and yet all alone?"
Her face lights up when she sees him. "No one was worth it." She snogs him a good one. "Till now."
He kisses her back, in part just to enjoy it and in part to imagine that he's kissing the boy he loves. Now how to phrase the request?
"How was he?" Kim asks.
The bluntness catches him off guard. "Who?"
Kim laughs. "'Who'? Ianto. Didn't think you could get him away from my rave without me noticing, did you? Ianto's like me baby brother. Except for the whole us having a shag from time to time."
Sadly, such close genetic relations wouldn't stop some branches of his own family. "He is lovely, but I need a favour."
Kim's look hardens. "Were you good to him?"
Protective Kimmy. He loves her for that. "I didn't touch him."
Kim snorts. "Yeah, right. Adam not shag someone. That'll happen."
He catches her arm and lies his best. "I'm telling you, Kimmy, nothing happened between us. I couldn't, not with him so... By the time we got back to the hotel whatever he'd taken had him so far under the influence that he couldn't have consented even if he'd wanted to."
Kim's hard look melts. "My God, you DO have a conscience."
"You know me, darling -- consent's half the fun." He puts just enough genuine emotion into his voice to make it convincing. "Ianto's a sweet boy. Why would I want to hurt him?"
She doesn't entirely believe him. Not surprising -- Kimmy's smarter than people give her credit for -- but also not insurmountable. "Sure took your time getting back here," she says.
"I was hoping he'd sleep it off." He shrugs. "Maybe wake up a bit more... amorous."
"Aren't we the gentleman?" To his delight, she cups him through his trousers. "So, all that honour and only blue balls to show for it?" The play of those fingers is too delicious for words. "Poor noble Adam."
He leans into the touch. Lets her wank him a little through the black velveteen. Kisses her. "Later, darling."
Her hand becomes more insistent. "Now, darling."
Persistence is Kimmy's best trait. "You have my word, sweetheart," he says, "that the next time we meet I'll give you the shag of a lifetime." (Which also happens to be true, because he's done it already. Time travel can be damn convenient at times.)
"What's the favour?"
He kisses her, persuading. "Stay with him. Take care of him."
She grins toothily, flashing the false fangs. "Can I shag him when he wakes?"
Oh, a woman after his own heart. "If he likes."
"Done." This kiss is as much vampire bite as snog -- the false incisors are a bit of kink that he's coming to enjoy.
"You owe me one," she says.
"Yes, I do." And if memory serves, she'll be repaid handsomely.
She follows him outside. Jack is doing a passingly horrible impression of Random Guy Who Just Happens to Be Parked Innocently. (Yeah, like most guys from the early twenty-first are clothed in Goth gear beneath a leather duster.) Still, at least Jack has the good sense to lay low and let John hail a cab.
When they arrive at the dorms, John pays the cabbie enough to silently remind him not to be too nosy, and hoists Ianto onto his shoulder. Carries him upstairs. He and Kim carefully lay the boy out on the bed.
Kim is watching him. Without any prompting, she helps him undress Ianto. "Are you in love with him, Adam?"
He brushes a stray lock of hair from Ianto's sleeping face. "And if I were?"
Kim smiles understanding. Unties Ianto's other boot. Shrugs. "Think everyone is, sooner or later. There's just something about him makes you want to shag him one minute and protect him the next."
When they have Ianto naked and safely tucked up in bed, John pulls Kimmy into his arms and kisses her with gratitude he doesn't have to fake. "Thank you."
She gives him one more lovely caress through his trousers. "I'll collect later."
Reluctantly, he pulls away. "Next time," he promises.
He snaps awake. Jack shakes off fatigue and disorientation. Stretches to relieve the aching muscles. Shifts to try to minimize the chafing that's starting to rub a few spots on his hips raw. How long has he been out? He checks the display on the dash. Only a few minutes. Good. Any second now...
John jerks the door open. Flops down sullenly on the back seat. Shuts the door with an operatic slam.
"Took you long enough," He watches his ex carefully in the rear view mirror. "Did you shag her too?"
"Fuck off, Jack."
He starts the car, unsure how to communicate his gratitude without losing face. "You did a good thing."
"Fuk U, Jak," John snarls. He folds his arms and nestles down into his seat, the very picture of resentment. "Fucking home, fucking Jeeves."
He is NOT going to laugh. He is NOT going to pick a fight. He is NOT going to do anything but drive them back to the hotel and follow John back up to the room.
Once the door is closed, he pulls John into his arms. Kisses him with something that feels like gratitude with a chaser of remorse.
John jerks away. Decks him. Pain explodes through his cheek. (Actually feels good in a weird sort of way.)
"Like I'd give you any after the stunt you just pulled," says John.
The throbbing in his cheek goes away almost immediately. (Immortality does have its up side.) And the punch gives him the chance to turn away long enough to palm and then mouth the RetCon.
"It's not forever," he says. "It's just for now."
John is looking at him with such a mix of hate, love, indecision, and several more veiled emotions that Jack actually begins to wonder if he's finally getting through to him.
When Jack moves to kiss him again, his ex actually doesn't fight him.
"I love you," Jack murmurs.
The words take John off guard just long enough for Jack to move the RetCon to the front of his mouth. His tongue jams it far back enough in John's mouth to foil whatever gag reflex John has left. The man chokes a little. Swallows in spite of himself. Comes up cursing. "You fucking BASTARD!"
"I can't take any chances." It's a mark of how much the years have worn him down that he feels only fatigue and not genuine remorse.
John decks him again, much harder this time. Tries to vomit the pill back up -- not that he could because the thing dissolves instantly -- the highest dose Jack can synthesize. To his credit, John fights it as long as he can. Jack avoids the punches. Swats the pulse pistol out of John's hand. (Damned if he can figure out where he got it from.) He stays out of John's reach. Waits for him to slump to the floor, unconscious.
He waits another minute, then heaves John onto the bed. "I'm sorry." He kisses him goodbye.
The hiss of a sonic hypo is loud in his ears. John's eyes are blue with triumph.
"Son of a bitch!" Jack manages. It's been ages since he felt this tingle in his veins.
John laughs. "Getting rusty, are we, Jack?" he croaks. "Time was, you would never have fallen for that."
"You can't RetCon me!" Shit! Shit! ShitshitshitshitSHIT!
"I just did," says John. "Now hustle your pretty little ass down to the SUV or you'll lose your ride home."
"You can't...!" But he can already feel the fuzziness that precedes the black.
"You do me..." John's eyelids flutter closed. "I do you back."
Jack races down the stairs to the SUV. Gets in just as the blackness swallows him.
Later, the chiming of an incoming message wakes him. E-mail from Yvonne. Something about Jones. Something about her agreeing in writing to leave him alone so long as Jack keeps his promise to stay out of London. (Why the hell did I promise to stay out of London?) He struggles to remember. Struggles to put it together.
Then, he smells the cinnamon and sandalwood, and he can pretty well guess why he doesn't remember the rest. (Goddammit, John. When are you going to learn that we are OVER?)
And OW! Something's jabbing him in the ribs. And the hips. A cursory glance raises more questions than it answers. (The club wear Owen bought me for Christmas?)
"What the fuck?"
He snaps awake. Draws the pulse pistol. No one there. No one in the room. A quick scan and consult of the symbiont reveals nothing. John's alone.
It's a beautiful room. The sheets reek of sex and champagne and possibly some lovely young man. John grins as the last dregs of hangover clear. He's been well laid, from the feel of it, and undoubtedly laid someone equally well in return.
Better still, whoever the layer/layee was, they had the courtesy to clear all their kit out before he woke. (Not sure why he's fully dressed, though. Usually he just lets his partner(s) leave on their own.)
Well, they took all their kit but one bit. A jeweled flask. Beautiful. False antique, but worth keeping all the same. He opens it. Sniffs. Absinthe. Interesting. That's usually Kimmy's M.O. Maybe there was a threesome? His body certainly remembers something energetic enough, and the room's destroyed enough, and his memory's fuzzy enough to support the theory that they partied like it was 1999 and then retired here for some excellent three-way shagging.
He carefully sets the flask on the bedside table. Good ol' Kimmy. He can always count on her for a good time with no strings.
Cheerful, John rings for room service.
He snaps awake. Kim's beside him, cuddled into his arms. He's naked and so is she, so Ianto doesn't have to wonder what they've been up to. He relaxes a little, enjoying the warmth of a girl he'd be in love with if he had any sense at all.
"Mmm?"
He kisses her forehead. Smiling, she reaches up to snog him. He's not sure whose mouth tastes worse -- his or hers. She joins him in the grimace. Laughs with him. Reaches for her skirt, which is flopped in a heap of fabric over the chair across the room. (Only in a dorm room as small as his would "across the room" mean "an easy arms-length from the bed.)
Kim leans over him, a soft press of warm flesh. He holds her gently, telling himself it's to make sure she doesn't overbalance and fall, but in reality it's an excuse to reassure himself she's real. (His first love is real.)
The thought is so odd and out of place. (And blond. Something about blond.) No, Kim's never been blond, though she's been every other colour in the palate and even invented a couple. But he's never lost time and then awakened with someone before. He did have a few last night, he almost remembers. Maybe he's just waking up from a normal blackout.
Sweet. Hard. Kim's popped some sort of sweetie in his mouth. Raspberry. Lovely flavour. (Not metallic at all.) He holds her chest-to-chest, even as she takes another hard candy.
"Good morning," he says.
She crunches the sweetie with abandon. "Good morning."
He shifts his own candy to the other cheek. Considers...
She kisses him again before he can decide what to do next. Pulls hungrily at his mouth. Nibbles his lower lip. Teases with her tongue. Makes a curious kind of love with each kiss.
Then she sucks the candy from his mouth and crunches it in triumph.
He watches, bemused. "That was either deft and clever, sexy as hell, or completely disgusting."
She swallows with gusto. (Yes, please.) "Why not all three?"
Kissing. More kissing. He loves kissing her as much as she seems to love kissing him. Every movement of her mouth reassures him. (I swear to you I will never abandon you to them.) Every snog makes him forget about anyone (blond) but her.
He wants her. She wants him. She strokes him with confident fingers. He slips a hand down until he finds soft, wet heat. She snogs him harder. (Weird as it may sound, the false fangs are sort of a turn on. He loves the bite.) She presses him back. Mounts him in one smooth move. It feels fantastic, all liquid heat. He moans, smiling. Enjoys the leisurely shag.
She grinds down onto him with confident strokes. "All right, love?"
"Yeah." He curls his hands around her hips. "Fine, thanks." He pulls her harder onto him. Angles up just a little to hit...
Kim comes violently. Bites her lip hard to muffle the scream. (Quite the compliment.) Smiling, he moves beneath her. Strokes her harder. Deeper. Brings them to a climax that shudders through them both.
Panting, she bends over him. Kisses him. He snogs her right back.
Uncoordinated but smiling, she slides off him. Curls up next to him. Pulls the somewhat raggedy bedclothes over them. "In another minute," she pants. "I'll want to do that again."
"Me too." He smiles. This warm feeling is almost like what it must be like to be happy. Life would be so much easier if he were in love with someone like Kim. As it is, he's quite fond of her -- she's always been kind to him.
"Kim?"
She snuggles closer. "Yes, love?"
"What--" he struggles to find a way to not make this sound completely insane. "What happened last night?"
She chuckles. "You came to the rave. We danced. Had some really fantastic stuff -- some mine, some from a friend. You invited me back to your place."
Blond hair. Why does he keep seeing blond hair? (Short-cropped, like a man's.) "And then?"
Another lascivious chuckle. "What d'you think?" She kisses him, lingering. "You were fantastic."
Happy. He should be happy. At least he's here with someone who cares about him. (And seems determined to lay him again as soon as both of them are up for it.) Everything should be shiny and happy and good, but no matter how hard he tries to make himself believe Kim's story is the truth, it's there again at the back of his mind -- the fear that's dogged him ever since he moved to London and yet still kept losing time.
It's happening again...
END
"a love struck romeo
sings the streets a serenade
now he's laying everybody low
he's got a love song that he made
he finds a convenient streetlight
and he steps out of the shade
and says something like
"you and me, babe, how about it?"
"juliet says "hey, it's romeo!"
"you nearly give me a heart attack!"
yeah well, he's underneath my window
now she's singing "hey-la, my boyfriend's back"
"you shouldn't come around here
singing up at people like that
ah anyway, whatcha gonna do about it?"
"juliet
the dice were loaded from the start
and i bet and you exploded into my heart
and i forget, i forget the movie song
when you gonna realize
it was just that the time was wrong..."
(Indigo Girls)
Previous | Next
Link to previous Faithful!Verse stories
Crossposted to
jackxianto, torchwoodslashTags: