Condition of Release, 5/5

[sam_storyteller]

Title: Condition of Release
Part: 5 of 5
Rating: PG-13; R in the final chapter
Summary: Jack has studied the Cybermen for forty years, and he's damned if he'll let one take any of his people away from him without a fight.
Beta Credit: 51stcenturyfox, misswinterhill, neifile7, and spiderine are winnars! :D

CHAPTER FIVE

Nothing happened that night, at least according to Tosh when Jack showed up to relieve Owen at five in the morning. He sent Tosh off too; now that they'd all had at least some rest, he could take an eight-hour shift on his own. No reason to keep two people out in the field, especially since there was a lot of sorting and studying to do back at the Hub.

Stakeouts were boring, which was why Jack normally made everyone else do them. Back when he'd been a subordinate agent, he'd usually tried to ensure he was conveniently absent when that kind of assignment was handed out. You couldn't read, you couldn't play music, you couldn't even get out and walk around much. You just sat and stared at an empty street until your eyes hurt.

Theoretically, sitting here was also pointless. Tosh had a camera on the street and a system set up to alert them when a Cyberman made his appearance. The last one had been so quick that nobody could have stopped the thing if they'd wanted to. On the other hand, if Michael Hamilton had seen one for long enough to know what it was, perhaps the length of their appearances varied.

Jack was in the middle of trying to name all the Sherlock Holmes short stories (by publish date, then interior chronological order) when he saw a car prowling down the street. It was too early to be his relief, and it wasn't Gwen's car -- it was Ianto's, pulling to a stop nearby.

"What happened to Gwen?" Jack asked, as Ianto climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Hello," Ianto said pointedly, and handed him a large bundle wrapped in oilcloth. "She had an encounter with the Noothi. It got loose."

Jack gave him an eyebrow. "How'd that happen?"

"Owen was trying to make friends," Ianto informed him.

"Oh, please tell me you saved the CCTV footage," Jack begged.

"Duplicates on your server space," Ianto told him. "Gwen's out cold -- she'll be fine, just needs some rest -- so Owen sent me to fill in. Tosh sent that for you," he added, indicating the bundle. Jack opened it and found a...device...of some kind nestled inside. It looked like what Tosh had been working on the day before.

"It's just what I've always wanted," he drawled, and Ianto snorted.

"Tosh has a theory," he said, settling in as if he was actually going to stay, and not about to get punted back to the Hub by Jack. "She's checked Rift activity in this area. During the ghost shifts there were a lot of spikes around here. She thinks..." he frowned a little, as if recalling her precise wording, "the displaced quantum energy from the ghost shifts entangled with the molecular traces left by the Rift and created an ongoing trans-dimensional feedback loop."

Jack tilted his head. "The Rift and the Cybermen ran into each other and left their mess behind them."

"That was my impression," Ianto agreed.

"So?" Jack indicated the machine.

"Tosh calibrated a laser to suspend the transdimensional molecular decay," Ianto said, still sounding as if Tosh had drilled him in this. "Should stabilise the feedback loop."

"Thus...freeing...the Cyberman?" Jack asked skeptically.

"Long enough for us to kill it," Ianto replied. His tone was grim. Jack studied him for a moment before responding.

"I was about to tell you to get the hell out of the SUV and go back to the Hub," he said.

"And?" Ianto asked, like a kid daring him to mete out punishment.

"Now I think maybe I'll leave it up to you," Jack said. Ianto glanced at him, looked at the street, back to Jack.

"Shouldn't be too hard," he said. "Killing it, I mean."

"UNIT used to use grenades," Jack said idly. "Handguns don't work very well."

"So..."

Jack reached into one of the cup holders, held up the stun-gun, and waved it cheerfully. "Electrocution. Twice the fun, half the mess."

"Not exactly long-range," Ianto pointed out.

"I'm fast on my feet," Jack told him.

"UNIT...used to?" Ianto asked, turning to him. "Before Canary Wharf?"

Jack realised a tactical error, but backpedaling was pointless; Ianto was, after all, a very methodical man.

"We have records on Cybermen going back to the forties," Jack said, watching Ianto's grip on the arm of the passenger's seat grow tighter. "There's also evidence they were present in London in 1851. Torchwood's never dealt directly with them before. UNIT was always first on scene, always handled it. And we were happy to let them," he added.

"Did London know this?" Ianto asked. It took Jack a minute to realise he meant Torchwood London.

"They had briefings," he said. "They kept a file. Wouldn't have mattered, though, they didn't think the ghosts were Cybermen. You worked for London; if they had known, what do you think they'd have done?"

Ianto turned back to the street. "Rigged a way to bring them over. Planned to round them up and dissect them."

"You think that would have worked?"

"No." Ianto's voice was soft, but the rage bled through.

"Who are you more angry at," Jack said speculatively, not really asking, not really expecting an answer, "the Cybermen for what they did, or London for allowing it to happen?"

He thought Ianto's hand on his wrist was the first step towards Ianto punching him in the face again, but when he looked up Ianto was staring at the road.

"Do you see that?" he asked, nodding at what might be a shimmer off a puddle.

"Yeah," Jack said, picking up the laser Tosh had sent him. He popped the door cautiously and stepped out, staying close to the car, keeping most of his body behind the cab. Ianto, on the other side, was edging along the alley wall, handgun in one hand, stun gun in the other.

Jack realised, too late, that their roles were reversed -- Ianto should have the laser, the long-range, and Jack should have the stun gun, because it wasn't like a Cyberman was going to send him down permanently. She had proved that.

The light in the air was definitely not a glimmer from a puddle. It was expanding, spiking at the edges.

"Ianto," Jack said, voice low, and jerked his head for Ianto to come around. "Swap."

Which was why Ianto was in front of the car, outside of cover, when the Cyberman emerged.

To his credit, Ianto ducked and rolled almost immediately, giving Jack a clear shot with the laser; the Cyberman seemed to phase out of existence in time to dodge the first shot, but Jack's second shot was true, the laser landing square in what would have been its belly, if it had one. It froze briefly -- suddenly seemed more real --

And Ianto was running forward before Jack could stop him, obviously trying to take advantage of the momentary pause in movement. He shouted for him to stop, and Ianto didn't even glance backwards; the Cyberman, Jack saw, heard the noise. Its head flicked slightly to the left.

Shit.

It raised its arms just as Ianto reached it, not fast enough to defend itself but fast enough to catch Ianto and try to fling him aside. Jack threw the laser down and joined the fight, Ianto clinging to the Cyberman's wrist and shoulder while it tried desperately to shake him off. Jack tried for a speedy impact, ducking and catching it with his shoulder around the waist at full run, and promptly dislocated something.

It did have some effect, though; the Cyberman staggered back on one foot, and Ianto swung his weight around to add to the overbalance. The Cyberman turned, dragging Jack with it as his boots scrabbled for purchase on the wet asphalt, and slammed its foot down firmly, staggering but staying upright. It whipped its body back around and Ianto skidded away, finally shaken free.

Jack pushed again, biting his tongue against the pain that lanced down his body, and they both stumbled backwards. He pushed up, trying to get it off its feet, and it looked down at him with a terrible impassive face.

He heard Ianto's feet on the asphalt, saw him moving out of the corner of his eye. The Cyberman's body crackled. Blue arcs began to leap off its metal skin just as Ianto lunged. Every hair on his body stood on end --

And then nothing. Less than nothing. Nothing would imply he had senses to feel it with, which he didn't. Blackness would mean that the colour existed in the first place. No sense of body, no sense of time. He had no lungs to scream with, and if he did he couldn't have heard it anyway. He couldn't tense against the onslaught of pain, because he had no body. For a moment he was simply pain, all over, horrible dragging pain, pressing up against the not-thereness, until it shattered and streaked across him and he inhaled back to life, the air forcing its way into his lungs.

He struggled up into consciousness, rolling over onto his elbows, panting for breath against the smell of stale puddled water. When he raised his head he could see the Cyberman lying inert next to him; Ianto was standing a few feet away, stun gun in his left hand, eyes distant. Jack pushed himself to his knees, wiping mud off his hands. He rocked back, a little unsteady, then used the momentum to get himself to his feet.

"I thought it killed you," Ianto said, not looking away from the Cyberman.

"Jeez, so did I," Jack agreed, subtly flexing his shoulder. Relocated. Good. "What happened?"

"It..." Ianto stopped. "I..."

He gestured with the stun gun, bringing it up to his own head, holding it a few inches from his temple. His hand shook. Jack looked and saw a blackened mark on the metal of the Cyberman's face.

"Good work," he said. Ianto let his hand fall. The gun was still shaking in it.

Jack crouched by the Cyberman and studied the situation. Thinking was always difficult right after he died.

"Ianto," he said softly. Ianto was still staring at the Cyberman with bottomless eyes. "Come here."

Ianto looked at him, then -- looked at him liked he'd ordered him to shoot himself.

"Come here," Jack repeated, keeping his voice gentle. "It can't hurt you. I'm here. I won't let it."

Ianto took a hesitant step forward. Jack pulled his boot knife and flicked the blade open.

"And you won't hurt me," Jack continued. "You killed it, because you're stronger than them. Come here."

Another hesitant step, and he was standing beside Jack, staring down not at the Cyberman but at Jack. Jack tugged on his trouser-leg and Ianto crouched next to him. His breath was coming in short gasps.

"This is how you confirm your kill," Jack continued, prying the chestplate seal off the armor with the tip of his knife. He set the seal aside and pointed with the blade at the mass of wires beneath. "Just reach in and pull the wires out. It's dead; we're just making sure. Go on," he said, when Ianto put out a hand. He took Ianto's wrist and guided it into the circuitry. Ianto jerked sharply, as if he'd been shocked.

Jack helped him find where the wires were bundled, below the top layer, and fixed Ianto's fingers around it, withdrawing his hand.

"Pull," Jack said. "One short sharp tug. They'll come free."

Ianto's arm tensed against his, shoulder muscles bunching under the soft nap of his suit. He looked at Jack.

"Go on," Jack said. "Pull."

Ianto tugged and the wires came free; foam bubbled up to the edges of the chestplate, sinking again slowly, leaving an ugly, cream-coloured film behind.

Ianto shot to his feet, stumbling away. Jack closed his knife and put it back in its holster, standing more slowly. Ianto was leaning against a tree, puking on someone's lawn, one arm clenched against his stomach. Jack put a hand between Ianto's shoulderblades and rubbed, waiting for the heaves to subside.

When Ianto finally spat and straightened, wiping his mouth, Jack took his hand away.

"That was a person once," Ianto said, not looking at him, fingers scrabbling against the bark of the tree.

"Once. Not anymore. Now they're not trapped anymore, and the Cyberman can't hurt anyone. And you," he said, turning Ianto's face to him, "did that. You saved the world, Ianto Jones."

Ianto took a deep breath, turning away to spit onto the grass again. "You know in the cinema nobody ever pukes after saving the world," he said.

Jack grinned. "Come on. There's water in the car. Hey, tell me the truth," he added, as they walked. Ianto looked hunted.

"About what?" he asked.

Jack ran a hand over his head, hearing static crackle. "How's my hair?"

***

They got the Cyberman off the street quickly, as quickly as they could; Ianto wouldn't touch it with his bare hands, but he found a pair of latex gloves in the medical kit and between the two of them they hefted the body and tumbled it into the boot. Ianto called in to the Hub to inform them they were on their way back, then followed Jack down to the Quay in his car.

Owen and Tosh were both eager to get their hands on it, so he didn't actually have to get it inside himself, and Ianto didn't have to help. Tosh was thrilled that the laser had worked, and more than a little annoyed that Jack had thrown it aside when he was done with it, damaging several of the components. He took her scolding with sheepish good grace, aided by a cup of coffee Ianto silently offered him, and then went to get a report on the Noothi Incident from Owen, who had sent Gwen home for the day.

By the time he was done with that, not to mention mediating who got first crack at the Cyberman, Ianto was upstairs, paying for a lunch order; Jack caught him in the Tourist Office and took the box of food out of his hands, placing it on the counter.

"Food'll get cold," Ianto said.

"I hear man has invented fire," Jack told him. "And microwaves."

Ianto put his hands on his hips, a little defiant. "So...?"

"Are you okay?" Jack asked. "I mean, puking aside, are you getting through this? You need to take a day?"

Ianto shook his head. "I'm fine, Jack."

Jack stepped in close, blocking him from retrieving the food.

"Sometimes it feels good," he said in a low voice, and Ianto looked up at his face. "Knowing you have that power. Or...sometimes all that happens is you feel like you're killing her all over again."

"How do you know?" Ianto asked.

Jack gave him a sharklike grin. "I've been killing things for a long time. So which was it, Ianto?"

Ianto moved forward, into Jack, one arm going around to gather up the food. Jack tensed, smelled wet asphalt and aftershave.

"I don't have to tell you," Ianto said quietly, and turned away.

Jack let him go, pleased.

***

Jack insisted that they destroy the Cyberman. Tosh protested, but he'd let her study the components, which was dangerous enough. He noticed Owen taking her aside later to remind her of what they'd seen in London, the wreckage of Canary Wharf; he also noticed that Ianto wouldn't go near her desk or Owen's as long as the Cyberman was still scattered in pieces there. Tosh did seem glad once they'd thrown it all into the incinerator and Ianto was willing to bring coffee to her again instead of making her fetch it from his workbench.

When it was done, ingots of metal mixed in with ash and chips of bone and teeth in the incinerator bin, Jack emptied it into a box and filed it away in the morgue with the other "shelf-stable" remains, box on box of ashes, sealed containers and preserved specimens.

After the Cyberman incident, Ianto seemed better. Not perfect, but then who was in this job? Shadows still lurked in his eyes sometimes, but generally they could be dispersed easily. A smile from Gwen in thanks for a sandwich, a quip from Jack or Tosh, verbal sparring with Owen, satisfaction in the work -- his shooting improved, and he had an aptitude for handling witnesses and subtly administering Retcon where necessary, which got him into the field more often. If he had bad days, they weren't nearly so bad as they had been. Jack began to detect in Ianto a burgeoning sense of humour, even if it was so dry it practically rattled.

Then came Suzie, with her rusty blood wall-paintings by proxy and her traps within traps, her return to life, the edges of the hole in the back of her head waggling every time she spoke. Everyone reacted differently to Suzie: Tosh avoided her, Gwen pitied her, Owen studied her like an insect pinned to a board, and Ianto...as far as Jack could tell, Ianto ignored her. He kept time, made coffee, and when Suzie's little trap locked the Hub down he turned into a technological goddamn genius.

So Jack was left to be the one to kill her, because apparently all other attitudes towards Suzie had been spoken for.

Jack had certain political matters to attend to, in the wake of Suzie's death (take three). He had to sweet-talk the port authority into ignoring the gunplay on the pier, for a start. Trusting Owen to get Gwen and the body back safely, he picked up flowers to deliver to Kathy Swanson and endured her fresh mockery with a good-natured smile, grateful she'd at least helped him get out of lockdown. By the time he got back to the Hub, Gwen looked healthy again, and he supposed he should stop and talk to her, but she was sitting with Owen and Tosh, and that meant Suzie's body was either unattended --

Or Ianto had it, already bagged and laid out, waiting in a cold-storage drawer. In his dark suit, with a clipboard in one hand, he looked like a young undertaker's apprentice. Which, Jack supposed, in some ways was not inaccurate.

He knew Ianto could partition death away. Jack could do it himself. Most people who worked for Torchwood could, or they didn't work for Torchwood for very long. Ianto, with his forcibly tidy brain, probably found it easy, and probably hated how easy he found it.

"If you're interested," Ianto said, while Jack contemplated mortality and his lack thereof, "I've still got that stopwatch."

Jack glanced at him, puzzled.

"So?" he prompted.

"Well, think about it," Ianto said, and smiled, and Jack felt a creeping horror in his belly. "Lots of things you can do with a stopwatch."

By god, if Ianto leaned across Suzie's corpse to kiss him....

But looking at Ianto, studying his face -- his gaze was clear, and the lurking mischief there was tinged with real concern, real affection.

Jack smiled back, but he wasn't quite sure yet. "Oh, yeah. I can think of a few."

A response, and a dare; if Ianto balked now --

"There's quite a list," Ianto said.

Oh...clever, broken Ianto.

"I'll send the others home early," Jack said. "See you in my office in ten."

Ianto put them both on the clock with a smartass remark and a flick of the stopwatch's button. Jack walked away with uncharacteristic nervousness in his step, even if he felt miles better than he had when he'd slunk down here to see Suzie's body, to be sure she was dead.

Ten minutes was a good plan. Ten minutes gave Ianto time to realise what he was doing, if this was conditioning; if it wasn't, it still gave him time to change his mind if he wanted.

Ianto, in return, gave him a chilling reminder that at least one person in the Hub was keeping track of how many evil alien death gloves they had, and then left him to brood on it for ten minutes (less three or four for convincing the others to go home). Still, there were pleasant things to brood on as well.

"You know," Jack said, when Ianto came up to his office twelve minutes later (late, tsk tsk), "I've been sitting here listing off all the erotic things you could do with a stopwatch. I'm a pretty imaginative guy, and the list is still actually kinda limited."

Ianto hung up his suit-jacket on the rack next to Jack's greatcoat and turned to regard him cautiously.

"And that leads me to believe that it takes a special kind of mind to invoke timepieces in a sexual proposition," Jack continued. "That's not something a person comes up with unless they're really thinking hard about it. So I think, yes, this -- is you, is it?"

Ianto's lips tilted upwards. "Yes."

"You seem sure of yourself. You want this, Ianto?" Jack asked. Ianto came forward, leaning on a corner of the desk, crossing his arms and regarding Jack evenly.

"I'm not who I was," he said, more in the tone of a confessing sinner than a potential lover. "I used to be...messy. I used to be loud. I used to like different things, feel different things. She left things in me that won't go away. I have to live with that, no matter how strong I am. I wondered if you were part of it."

"And?" Jack prompted.

"And I decided she saw something that was already there," Ianto said. "I mightn't have done it -- flirted, or whatever -- if I hadn't been made to. Doesn't mean I mightn't have considered it. And now I choose it. I own it."

"You mean me," Jack said, his voice low. Ianto smiled.

"Has anyone ever owned you, Jack?" he asked. Jack didn't answer; there were two people who might have owned him, once, but they weren't here and Ianto was. Instead he slid a hand up Ianto's thigh, toyed with his belt-buckle, hooked his fingers in the slim chain of the stopwatch hanging across his waistcoat, luxuriating in finally being allowed to touch.

He considered carefully just how to go about this. On the one hand, the possibilities of the stopwatch; on the other, the wisest road to take with a young, wary, unpredictable man, inexperienced with other men, whose last relationship had ended in a fair amount of murder.

But really, in the end, it was up to Ianto, wasn't it?

"You know what's awkward?" Jack said. "Sex in a camp bed."

"I can't imagine your desk is more forgiving," Ianto replied.

"The Hub is remarkably uncomfortable." Jack considered matters. "I should get some divans in here or something."

"Well, you've seen my bedroom," Ianto pointed out. "You bought the bed."

Jack looked up at him. "Would you really?" he murmured to himself.

"Really what?" Ianto asked.

Jack shook his head. "Nothing," he lied, because he suspected even this new self-possessed Ianto was not prepared to face certain truths. Jack was fairly confident Ianto had never been with a man, which was not really that big a problem, but he knew Ianto had never shared that house, that bed, with anyone else. Jack had been an occasional visitor, a fix-it man at best. Ianto might want to own this flirtation, but the intimacy of it went two ways. He could not have Jack without letting Jack in. Letting Jack into his house as a mark of that might not be as easy as Ianto thought.

But Ianto had gone to Flat Holm, had worked to break the surface after being buried for so long, had been able to call for help when help was needed, had killed his demon. So perhaps this was one more test. Devised and executed by its sole subject.

Jack flattened his palm against Ianto's stomach, over the chain and the waistcoat.

"Do you actually want a time-challenge on this?" he asked. Ianto shook his head. "Leave the stopwatch. Get your coat."

***

"Is it safe to leave the Hub empty?" Ianto asked, as they stepped out into the chilly Cardiff evening.

"Too late now if it isn't," Jack said cheerfully, waving a hand at a cab waiting in front of the Millennium Centre -- the head of a line of cabs, anticipating the opera letting out. He flashed his lights and Jack hurried across the Plass, glancing back at Ianto, who looked as if his concern was not entirely laid to rest. "We leave the Hub empty all the time," he added, opening the door of the cab. "In."

Ianto gave him a sardonic look. "Yes, sir."

Jack climbed in after him as Ianto was giving his address to the driver, who grunted his affirmative and pulled away from the kerb. Ianto was watching Jack, pale face illuminated by the streetlights they passed under. There was a certain calm about his expression, but his eyes were cautious and he looked very young. Jack traced a hand along his forearm, thumb sliding into the slight crease of his elbow, and smiled. All the thwarted anticipation of months ago rushed back, this time untinged by guilt (she made him do that) or fear (does he want this) or shame (how did I not see).

Ianto's eyes flicked down to his hand, briefly, then back up to his face; to his mouth, in specific. Jack licked his lower lip. Ah, not so pale now; Ianto was blushing.

Jack paid for the cab when it jerked to a stop in front of Ianto's house, caught up to Ianto inside the gate; he was leaning against his front door, forehead touching the dark wood, one hand on the key which was in the deadbolt lock. Jack stood on the step below him, patient.

"Second thoughts?" he asked. He half expected Ianto to startle, but he didn't move.

"Wondering if I've left anything embarrassing lying out," Ianto said.

Jack humoured him. "Sex toys, dirty underwear, or trashy novels?" he asked. "Because frankly I could make sure any of those are more fun than a stopwatch -- "

"Oh my god, get off the street," Ianto said in horror, turning back to him and hip-checking the door open. He pulled Jack inside by the arm and Jack went enthusiastically, kicking the door closed behind him. Ianto was slipping his shoes off, hanging up his coat -- and he turned to Jack, hands out, to take his coat from him as well. Jack stepped up into his space, grinning, and shrugged the coat off his shoulders. Ianto had to either reach around him for it or let it fall.

"Now that I'm off the street," he said, as Ianto caught the coat, freezing at their proximity, "What are you going to do with me?"

Ianto let one hand slip away, hanging up the coat with the other, not turning, not backing down.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Ianto brought his hand up again slowly, smoothing his thumb against one of Jack's braces before tucking his fingers under and running them down again. Jack let him explore, content for now to watch the concentration on Ianto's face blossom slowly into understanding. Ianto tugged; Jack let his shoulder drop, and the strap fell. He pulled the other one off himself, so that they hung down around his hips. He caught Ianto's eye, smiled reassuringly, and slid his fingers up to the knot of Ianto's necktie.

"Never done this before," Ianto said, lifting his chin so Jack could tug the fabric loose. Looking up, looking away, as if he weren't a part of this somehow.

"Don't have to do it now," Jack said, tucking the tie between his fingers, then dropping it on the floor. There; they had managed to get rid of one accessory each. Jack supposed it was a start. "Whatever you want, Ianto."

"Shoes," Ianto said, and Jack frowned at him.

"What?" he asked. Shoes weren't usually his thing, but he was game to try it if --

Ianto tapped his already bare toe against Jack's boot. "Off."

Jack laughed -- only Ianto -- and crouched to unlace his boots. It occurred to him, as he worked on the second one, that he was in an intriguing position, and he was about to observe on this to Ianto, when he realised he was alone in the foyer.

Ianto was already in the bedroom, belt hung neatly on a rack, trousers folded across a chair, down to his shirt (unbuttoned) and briefs (very tight). He turned to Jack, who opened his mouth for a smart remark about efficiency.

He was inhaling when Ianto stepped forward and kissed him intently, all tongue and teeth. He kissed almost sidelong, like he was trying to hide his face, and Jack carefully cupped his head with one hand, enjoying the short spiky hair at the back of his neck.

"Easy," he said, pulling back a little. "Easy, slow down."

"Why?" Ianto asked, nipping his skin just below his jaw.

"Because..." Jack pulled back again, moving his hand around to hold Ianto's face, to stop him. "...because you kiss like you don't want to lose your nerve."

Ianto's mouth was slightly open, lips damp, and his eyes were wide.

"Jack," he said, and something in his tone made Jack realise he was containing impatience. "I haven't had sex in almost a year."

Bits of Jack's brain ceased functioning. Which was actually sort of nice.

"Oh," he said.

"I kiss," Ianto stepped in again, pausing to press a demonstrative kiss to Jack's lips, "like I'm trying to get you out of your pants as fast as possible."

Jack gave in and pushed back, leaning into the kiss, hands fumbling with Ianto's at his belt-buckle before he gave up and let Ianto do it, sliding his fingers up Ianto's chest instead. So responsive -- he got a shudder and a moan for his effort, and a brief brush of contact against his cock when Ianto hooked his thumbs in Jack's trousers and pulled them and his underwear down in a quick motion. Jack reached for his shirts and tugged both up and off without bothering with the buttons; Ianto shrugged out of his own, which gave Jack just enough time to swing around him and fall back on the bed. The bed he had bought, in the house Ianto liked, a house with a crooked sofa and a mess in the kitchen.

Ianto stripped off his underwear on his way to the bed, reaching for Jack, allowing himself to be pulled on top of him. He flinched back a little when Jack's cock brushed his thigh -- well, that was twenty-first-century men for you. Jack let him ease down again, exploring shoulders, biceps, chest with his hands, until Ianto bent his head and kissed him.

"Can I touch you?" Jack asked in Ianto's ear, drawing his knees up, pulling Ianto's hips against his. Ianto nodded against his cheek, leaning a little to one side. Jack splayed his fingers on Ianto's waist, slid them around to his stomach, curled them against the skin there. Tense; he rubbed slowly, just with his fingertips, until Ianto exhaled and bit down gently on his throat again. Much better, and when he ran his fingers lower, exploring, Ianto was no longer tense.

Hard though, yes, he was hard, lovely to feel, moaning softly when Jack closed his fingers around his cock and squeezed. Louder when Jack flicked his wrist -- a sort of needy, pleading noise. One of Ianto's hands found his arm, fingernails digging in. Jack kissed his temple, the nearest place he could reach, and grinned. Slowly, he tipped his body so that Ianto's turned against his, and when he let go, Ianto bucked against his cock. This time the noise was just as desperate, if a little more surprised.

"Just like this," he said, rolling his hips. Ianto's whole body jerked. Ianto drew himself up a little, propped on one elbow so he could kiss Jack's mouth, and Jack let him be the one to move next -- well, maybe he rocked back and forth a bit, just as encouragement. Ianto twitched, experimentally, and then began to thrust. Jack moaned and grabbed for his shoulders, rising to meet him, pushing back. This was perfect: being able, being allowed to touch and kiss, to explore the smooth planes of Ianto's back, the lovely curve of his spine.

Ianto was quiet, his mouth mostly taken up with Jack's own mouth, his jaw, throat, shoulder, perhaps because Ianto was ashamed to show pleasure, perhaps because he just liked to kiss. Jack made enough noise for both of them, swearing, groaning, muttering encouragements, yes, right there, harder, it's okay...

Ianto went still and tense for just a second and he muffled a cry in Jack's skin as he came, hips stuttering, messy and breathless. Jack pulled him back (perhaps a little roughly, but Ianto didn't seem to mind) so he could see his face, his eyes -- and came himself, the orgasm taking him by surprise and arching his back up off the bed.

He collapsed again, panting, and let Ianto drop down into his arms. Definitely no tension now; he was a loose, dead weight, breath warm on Jack's neck.

He thought he heard a muffled "Sorry."

Jack burst out laughing.

"Sorry?" he said, manhandling Ianto off to one side so they could face each other. "Sorry?"

Ianto cut his eyes away. "Was sort of...fast," he mumbled.

"So?" Jack asked. "We both were."

"Yeah, but..." Ianto touched his chest, hand moving slowly, stopping short at the sticky mess on Jack's stomach. Jack deliberately brushed his hand downwards, lifted one of Ianto's smeared fingers, and sucked it into his mouth. Ianto's breath caught.

"But?" Jack asked, when he was done very thoroughly cleaning Ianto's fingers.

"I wanted -- "

Jack waited patiently.

"It's all right, isn't it, about today I mean," Ianto said, which seemed like a random tangent from someone who'd been about to tell Jack he wanted to fuck him (or wanted to be fucked by him; Jack couldn't quite be sure yet, but he was up for either proposition).

"Today?" Jack asked.

"With Suzie and all, you looked -- " Ianto shrugged against the blanket. "You looked...dark. Like the bad days."

Jack nodded. "Do I look that way now?"

Ianto's whole face changed when he smiled. Jack liked to see it, didn't see nearly enough of it. "No," he admitted.

"Then what's the problem?" Jack asked. "Aside from getting a little sticky," he added. Ianto gave him another quick smile and rolled off the bed.

"Easily cleaned," he called, walking to the bathroom. Jack studied his ass. It was a very nice ass and hopefully Ianto would not be squeamish about it, because Jack had big plans for that ass. Ianto returned, cleaner than he had been, carrying a washcloth.

Jack had big plans for Ianto's all over, actually. Ianto seemed to sense it, too; the blush that formed as he handed Jack the washcloth went from cheeks to chest. Jack wiped himself down and showed off a little, and Ianto's blush deepened.

"No use worrying about it now," Jack told him with a grin. "Or standing there," he pointed at Ianto, "when you could be here." He pointed to the bed. Ianto sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers curling into the blanket, head bowed. Jack looked up at him, perplexed.

"Can I ask you something?" Ianto said. "A favour."

"Go again?" Jack replied hopefully. Ianto laughed a little.

"No," he said. "Not for a bit, anyway. I..." he looked up at the ceiling. "Jack, you have to stop checking me."

"Checking you?" Jack pushed himself up on his elbows, curious.

"You have to stop asking. About the conditioning. You have to stop looking at me to make sure I'm all there," Ianto said. He swallowed, and Jack admired the bob of his Adam's apple. "If you can. I need to know someone trusts me to be who I am."

Jack considered it. Tactically, it was dangerous, but he couldn't very well spend the rest of Ianto's life forcing him to undergo that scrutiny.

"I am...releasing you from that responsibility," Ianto added, turning finally to look at him.

Release. Jack felt like something had lifted off his chest, a crouching suspicious bird of prey he hadn't even known had been there. He put out a hand and pulled Ianto down to lie next to him, facing him.

"Can you?" Ianto asked. "Please?"

Jack nodded and traced a fingertip along Ianto's cheek. "I can do that. Might take some time to remember not to. It's a habit."

"I'm not asking for perfection."

"Are you implying I'm not perfect?" Jack asked. Ianto smiled and pressed his forehead against Jack's.

"But you can try?" he asked. Jack nodded again.

"I can try," he said. He felt exhausted, like he could sleep for a week.

"Thank you," Ianto said, as Jack's eyes closed. God, he was so tired. Ianto said something else, but he hardly heard. It was warm here, and there was another body tangled up with his, and Ianto was safe, he'd survived -- one lost man found and bound back to him again, a salvaged wreck among Jack's many monumental screwups.

Jack fell asleep with his hand on Ianto's neck, holding him gently in place, foreheads still touching.

END

Author's Notes