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Title: "Hypertension"
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13 for language, mostly.
Notes/Summary: I don't usually write follow-up fic right after the ep, but SPOILERS FOR 2.02. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Moreover, this story makes heavy reference to objects and dialogue from the episode, so if you haven't seen it, you won't get the full effect. AGAIN, SPOILERS FOR 2.02. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Ianto tugged at the leather straps that held his wrists in place. He’d tried them on in jest before, and at the time he’d found the whole thing darkly hilarious. But Jack had him fastened into the mind probe chair for real this time, wrists and ankles both. He’d enjoyed getting here – Jack pushing him down, kissing and toying with him while he did up the restraints – but now that Jack had moved on to adjusting the electrode cap on his head and tapping lazily at Tosh’s keyboard, Ianto was having second thoughts.
“Jack?”
“Hang on. Gotta get this calibrated properly. Can’t have your pretty little head exploding can I?”
“What?” Ianto’s eyes went wide as the device came online. His head felt buzzy and sort of neutral, but he knew perfectly well what the probe could do. He’d seen it. “Jack, no. You wouldn’t. You can’t!”
“Can’t I? Because, you see, it occurs to me there’s an awful lot I don’t know about you, Ianto. And if there’s anyone around here who really should know everything, it’s me. Oh, by the way, how’s your blood pressure?”
Panic bubbled to the surface. Ianto strained hard against the leather, twisting his midsection to try and wrench himself free. “Jack, this is crazy. You can’t do this! I’m asking you not to do this! Jack, please!”
“Are you scared?” Jack asked.
“What?”
“Are. You. Scared?” he growled, hand hovering over the keyboard.
“Jesus Christ, Jack! What do you bloody think?! I’m fucking terrified!”
The machine powered down. Ianto took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, relieved that Jack had seen sense.
“My god, Ianto. Your face.” Jack stood, arms crossed, clearly trying to hold back laughter.
“Wh-What?” Ianto blinked, trying to make sense of the sudden change in tone.
“You were scared stiff!”
“Oh, really? Do you think?” Ianto shot back, making no effort at all to mask his irritation.
“Shivers down your spine and everything.” Jack’s weak façade collapsed as he was taken by a fit of giggles.
Ianto swore under his breath as realization slammed into him like a heavy lorry. “Jack Harkness. You fucking bastard.”
Jack covered his mouth and snickered.
“Oh, go on. Laugh all you like, Jack. I will get you for this.”
“Really? Because from where I’m standing, you’re not in a position to do much of anything.”
“Yeah, I know. Another boring, lonely night faffing about in the Hub for you, Jack Harkness.” Ianto deadpanned. “A long, coffee-less, monastic…”
“Okay, okay,” Jack relented, stepping forward to undo the wrist restraints. “You win. But god, Ianto. You really should have seen –“
“Did I mention monastic?”
Jack took Ianto’s hand and hoisted him up out of the chair. “And you call me a bastard.”
“I suppose like attracts like,” Ianto said with a shrug before pulling Jack into a rough, playful kiss. “Now come on. Let’s work on those bedroom manners some more, shall we?”
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13 for language, mostly.
Notes/Summary: I don't usually write follow-up fic right after the ep, but SPOILERS FOR 2.02. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Moreover, this story makes heavy reference to objects and dialogue from the episode, so if you haven't seen it, you won't get the full effect. AGAIN, SPOILERS FOR 2.02. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Ianto tugged at the leather straps that held his wrists in place. He’d tried them on in jest before, and at the time he’d found the whole thing darkly hilarious. But Jack had him fastened into the mind probe chair for real this time, wrists and ankles both. He’d enjoyed getting here – Jack pushing him down, kissing and toying with him while he did up the restraints – but now that Jack had moved on to adjusting the electrode cap on his head and tapping lazily at Tosh’s keyboard, Ianto was having second thoughts.
“Jack?”
“Hang on. Gotta get this calibrated properly. Can’t have your pretty little head exploding can I?”
“What?” Ianto’s eyes went wide as the device came online. His head felt buzzy and sort of neutral, but he knew perfectly well what the probe could do. He’d seen it. “Jack, no. You wouldn’t. You can’t!”
“Can’t I? Because, you see, it occurs to me there’s an awful lot I don’t know about you, Ianto. And if there’s anyone around here who really should know everything, it’s me. Oh, by the way, how’s your blood pressure?”
Panic bubbled to the surface. Ianto strained hard against the leather, twisting his midsection to try and wrench himself free. “Jack, this is crazy. You can’t do this! I’m asking you not to do this! Jack, please!”
“Are you scared?” Jack asked.
“What?”
“Are. You. Scared?” he growled, hand hovering over the keyboard.
“Jesus Christ, Jack! What do you bloody think?! I’m fucking terrified!”
The machine powered down. Ianto took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, relieved that Jack had seen sense.
“My god, Ianto. Your face.” Jack stood, arms crossed, clearly trying to hold back laughter.
“Wh-What?” Ianto blinked, trying to make sense of the sudden change in tone.
“You were scared stiff!”
“Oh, really? Do you think?” Ianto shot back, making no effort at all to mask his irritation.
“Shivers down your spine and everything.” Jack’s weak façade collapsed as he was taken by a fit of giggles.
Ianto swore under his breath as realization slammed into him like a heavy lorry. “Jack Harkness. You fucking bastard.”
Jack covered his mouth and snickered.
“Oh, go on. Laugh all you like, Jack. I will get you for this.”
“Really? Because from where I’m standing, you’re not in a position to do much of anything.”
“Yeah, I know. Another boring, lonely night faffing about in the Hub for you, Jack Harkness.” Ianto deadpanned. “A long, coffee-less, monastic…”
“Okay, okay,” Jack relented, stepping forward to undo the wrist restraints. “You win. But god, Ianto. You really should have seen –“
“Did I mention monastic?”
Jack took Ianto’s hand and hoisted him up out of the chair. “And you call me a bastard.”
“I suppose like attracts like,” Ianto said with a shrug before pulling Jack into a rough, playful kiss. “Now come on. Let’s work on those bedroom manners some more, shall we?”
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