invisible_lift (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
invisible_lift) wrote2008-05-21 06:35 am
invisible_lift) wrote2008-05-21 06:35 am
It'll End In Tears #13: "And The Palmer's Palm He Kissed"
Title: "And The Palmer's Palm He Kissed"
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: Ianto/Andy, Jack/Ianto, Jack/Ianto/Andy.
Rating: Series ranges from relatively safe to hard NC-17. This installment is in the NC-17 range for smut and language. What, you thought the end of #12 was a tasteful, PG-13 fade-out?
Notes/Summary: Part Thirteen of the "It'll End In Tears" cluster, and #11 on the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
un_love_you prompt table. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
demotu and sanginmychains for giving this the sweet, sweet beta-fu.
---
Also:tintop_lizzy left a comment a little while back about how Andy deserves so much better than what I'm giving him, and that if I wasn't careful, there'd be a nice story where he gets cake and gets to be a hero and have his picture on the front page of the police gazette.
Well, clearly I wasn't careful. You can find it here.
---
And now, #13:
Andy is naked and luminous in the early morning light, all curves and edges in blue shadows against Ianto’s own dark, clothed body. He lands on the bed and Ianto follows, slipping in between Andy’s knees and spreading his legs. He nuzzles the crease where Andy’s leg meets his groin, savoring the smell and taste of sweat, musk, and warm skin. He knows Andy’s body, but he’s missed out on a lot of the details. It’s novel and strange and he feels sort of dizzy.
Jack is going to be furious.
Truth is, he’s breaking every single rule in the book at the moment. They’re alone, Andy’s touching him, and it looks like they’re probably moving toward the sort of sentimental fuck that Ianto can’t just walk away from if he needs to. He knows he shouldn’t be so aroused by the feeling of fingertips on his shoulders as he leaves a trail of gentle nips across Andy’s abdomen, but he is. It’s bizarre, and more than anything he feels like two men in the same body: one faintly hysterical and desperate to pull away, the other made wholly of lust and craving human contact.
Completely bloody furious.
He wraps his fingers around Andy’s cock and gives it a squeeze. Andy’s stomach tenses and his hips rise slightly as Ianto settles his grip and rests his cheek against Andy’s thigh. He’s transfixed as the steady rhythm of his hand makes Andy clutch the sheets in his fists. The impulse to pin him down – to bite hard and leave marks and to own him – is intense. He wants to nail Andy to the bed before their good intentions and sweet words go to hell.
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t want to stop.
Andy, bless him, is too blissed-out to notice any distress or confusion that might show in Ianto’s eyes. When Ianto’s tongue grazes over the smooth skin of Andy’s cock, he lets out little moan, urging Ianto on. That little moan grows into out-and-out groans as Ianto begins to suck in earnest, tentatively at first, but building into a greedy rhythm. Andy’s fingers find their way into Ianto’s hair. That’s when he hears it: Andy rasping the word “please” over and over again.
Please what? Please stop? Please fuck me? Please accept my apology?
If there are tears in Ianto’s eyes when Andy comes, he is quick to hide them by leaning over the edge of the bed to retrieve the duvet.
“Ianto, are you –“
“Fine,” he says, as evenly as he can. “Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll be back in just a tick.”
I thought I needed this. God, if he’d said anything else. Anything but ‘please’…
He tucks his erection into the waistband of his underwear and ignores it until he closes the bathroom door. He undoes his belt and trousers and puts a hand down on the countertop to steady himself. In the mirror, he can watch as he jerks roughly at his own flesh, dragging his own orgasm to the surface.
He wants to get it over with.
When Ianto comes into his fist, he lets out a stifled grunt and tries not to get any on his clothes, or the bathroom counter, or the floor. He tidies up with a bit of toilet paper, which he flushes, and then washes his hands before tucking his softening cock back into his briefs and doing up his trousers. He goes to the kitchen for a glass of water. While he’s there he considers going back to the diary, but it’s hard to write with another person in his flat, so he leaves it under the phone directory for the moment.
By the time he returns to the bedroom, Andy’s dead asleep. Ianto climbs back onto the bed and scoots up to sit against the headboard, knees close to his chest. He strokes Andy’s hair and watches his chest rise and fall with each slow breath. He can’t tell if he’s done the right thing or not, asking him to stay. He feels... Well, sort of relieved. Exhausted. Uncertain. Hopeful. Doomed.
Ianto closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall. There’s going to be hell to pay when the sun comes up. Sleep takes him unbidden, leaving him upright, and dressed in rumpled work clothes.
# # #
Andy wakes up with the glare of afternoon sun in his eyes. He’s disoriented, and he’s got a profound desire to piss. The bed is empty, and the door is closed, but after a moment he sorts out that he’s definitely in Ianto’s bedroom. That’s new. He’s never woken up here before.
He pulls on his jeans and does up his belt buckle before tiptoeing out into the hallway. He doesn’t hear anything – no telly, or noise in the kitchen – but he needs the toilet, so that’s where he goes first. He washes his hands and face in the sink after, and borrows a bit of Ianto’s mouthwash to clear the stale taste in his mouth. He could do with a shower and a toothbrush, probably; at least it’s a start.
He opens the bathroom door and startles.
“Morning,” Jack says, grinning at Andy. He’s leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, in his usual fancy dress get-up. Andy can’t remember hearing footsteps. “Sleep well?”
“Where’s Ianto?”
“Out getting breakfast. Though technically,” Jack pauses to check his wristwatch, “I guess it’d be dinner now.”
“I’m beginning to think this is what you do for a living,” Andy grumbles, pushing past Jack to fetch a shirt from the bedroom.
Jack follows him. “What? Check up on Ianto?”
“Jump out at me at inopportune moments.”
“Well, maybe if you had more opportune moments, you’d see less of me.” Jack watches him from the doorway. “Speaking of which, is it just me, or are you here a little early in the week?”
Andy pulls on his shirt. “He invited me in.”
“So he said.”
“He also asked me to stay.” Andy makes a move to exit the bedroom, but Jack doesn’t budge.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Andy, but let me make something abundantly clear,” Jack says, eyes narrowed. “If you hurt him again –”
Andy rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “I didn’t come over to hurt him, Jack. I just needed someone to talk to, alright? Christ.”
“Yeah, because Ianto’s really in a state to be somebody’s counselor right about now.”
“He isn’t a bloody child, Jack,” Andy snaps. “Honestly, what’s this about? When I tried to leave last time, you stopped me. Now you’re angry I’m here?”
“That’s different. I was here last time.”
“Yeah, well –“
They stop and peer down the hall at the sound of Ianto’s keys in the door. Jack steps past Andy into the bedroom. He sticks his hands in his pockets.
“Jack?” Ianto calls out. “Andy?”
“Back here,” Jack replies.
There’s a sound like settling groceries, and then Ianto appears wearing jeans and a grey Aran jumper. He looks relaxed and, if not well-slept, at least well-caffeinated.
“I see I can’t leave you two alone for an hour without everything ending up in the bedroom.” Ianto puts a hand on Jack’s cheek and gives him a quick kiss before turning and doing the same for Andy. “He wasn’t too hard on you, was he?” Ianto asks, and gives Jack a warning glance over his shoulder.
“Nope,” Andy says. “Just making conversation.” His eyes meet Jack’s, and Jack raises a questioning brow.
“Well, if you’d like to move to the front of the flat, maybe you can continue making conversation over a bit of a meal,” he tells them with a smile before going to the kitchen to gather plates.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Jack says quietly.
“No. I didn’t.” Andy tells him, and follows Ianto.
# # #
Dinner reminds Jack a little too much of work. It seems like all three of them are saying nothing, just speaking to one another in little codes and glances. Him and Ianto. Ianto and Andy. When Andy leaves, Ianto follows him to the door and kisses Andy’s left palm and touches the bracelet. It’s gesture Jack’s never seen before, and it makes him nervous.
“That’s new,” Jack says, eyebrows raised.
“Yep.” Ianto shrugs.
“It’s cute. So are you two betrothed now or something?” Jack asks as he stands. He approaches Ianto and starts to put his hands in his pockets, but Ianto takes them in his own instead, and then gives Jack a playful kiss on the mouth. He tastes like coffee and Italian food and Andy.
“Jealous?”
“Not jealous. Just,” Jack searches for the right word. “Concerned, mainly.”
“Mmm,” Ianto purrs against his neck and releases one of Jack’s hands so that he can work at Jack’s shirt buttons. “Does that mean I need to distract you?”
Jack rests his hand on Ianto’s hand and stills it. There’s a flash of something he doesn’t recognize in Ianto’s eyes, and then he pulls away, leaving Jack alone in the middle of the room. It’s a more immediate and intense reaction than he’s seen before, and he forgets to breathe for a second.
“Last Thursday you let me hold you,” Jack says softly. “I miss that, Ianto.”
“So go on then,” Ianto says a little sharply, but his voice is unsteady. “Hold me.”
Jack puts his hands back in his pockets and stands in silence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean –“
Ianto wheels around, and the anger is plain on his face. “You think you’re so much better than he is. You think you can judge him just because he wronged me in an ordinary way. You think you’re so fucking right. I think you’re forgetting your own past a little bit here, Jack.”
“Ianto, what are you talking ab –“
“No,” he says, pointing a finger at Jack. “Let me finish. All the times you’ve hurt me, you’ve expected me to dust myself off and go on. I had to mourn Lisa alone, and then watch you wash the blood off of Gwen’s hands. I’ve forgiven you, Jack, but I haven’t forgotten.” He wraps his arms around himself, and looks away. “I had no one, Jack. No one but you, and you left me. You treat Andy like he’s a monster, but we’re all monsters here, aren’t we Jack? Every last one of us. We couldn’t survive otherwise.”
Ianto grabs his keys and slams the door behind him as he storms out of the flat. Jack imagines he hears the Audi start, though he can’t know for sure. He stands, dumbfounded, before dropping back onto the sofa to sit and wait for Ianto to come back. The dusk outside makes him feel heavy, but he doesn’t switch on the lights. Instead, he rests his face in his hands and wonders what he could have said or done differently.
When an hour passes and Ianto hasn’t returned, Jack starts to panic a bit. He uses Ianto’s laptop to log into the Hub’s tracking system. Jack swears quietly when both Ianto’s phone and car trackers register as disabled. He sets his wrist strap to communicate with the main computer and notify him if the status of the trackers change, and rushes out into the night to find him.
---
Prev (Pt #12) (Warnings: Language.)
-
Next (Pt #14) (Warnings: Smut & language.)
---
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: Ianto/Andy, Jack/Ianto, Jack/Ianto/Andy.
Rating: Series ranges from relatively safe to hard NC-17. This installment is in the NC-17 range for smut and language. What, you thought the end of #12 was a tasteful, PG-13 fade-out?
Notes/Summary: Part Thirteen of the "It'll End In Tears" cluster, and #11 on the
un_love_you prompt table. Thanks to demotu and sanginmychains for giving this the sweet, sweet beta-fu. ---
Also:
tintop_lizzy left a comment a little while back about how Andy deserves so much better than what I'm giving him, and that if I wasn't careful, there'd be a nice story where he gets cake and gets to be a hero and have his picture on the front page of the police gazette. Well, clearly I wasn't careful. You can find it here.
---
And now, #13:
Andy is naked and luminous in the early morning light, all curves and edges in blue shadows against Ianto’s own dark, clothed body. He lands on the bed and Ianto follows, slipping in between Andy’s knees and spreading his legs. He nuzzles the crease where Andy’s leg meets his groin, savoring the smell and taste of sweat, musk, and warm skin. He knows Andy’s body, but he’s missed out on a lot of the details. It’s novel and strange and he feels sort of dizzy.
Jack is going to be furious.
Truth is, he’s breaking every single rule in the book at the moment. They’re alone, Andy’s touching him, and it looks like they’re probably moving toward the sort of sentimental fuck that Ianto can’t just walk away from if he needs to. He knows he shouldn’t be so aroused by the feeling of fingertips on his shoulders as he leaves a trail of gentle nips across Andy’s abdomen, but he is. It’s bizarre, and more than anything he feels like two men in the same body: one faintly hysterical and desperate to pull away, the other made wholly of lust and craving human contact.
Completely bloody furious.
He wraps his fingers around Andy’s cock and gives it a squeeze. Andy’s stomach tenses and his hips rise slightly as Ianto settles his grip and rests his cheek against Andy’s thigh. He’s transfixed as the steady rhythm of his hand makes Andy clutch the sheets in his fists. The impulse to pin him down – to bite hard and leave marks and to own him – is intense. He wants to nail Andy to the bed before their good intentions and sweet words go to hell.
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t want to stop.
Andy, bless him, is too blissed-out to notice any distress or confusion that might show in Ianto’s eyes. When Ianto’s tongue grazes over the smooth skin of Andy’s cock, he lets out little moan, urging Ianto on. That little moan grows into out-and-out groans as Ianto begins to suck in earnest, tentatively at first, but building into a greedy rhythm. Andy’s fingers find their way into Ianto’s hair. That’s when he hears it: Andy rasping the word “please” over and over again.
Please what? Please stop? Please fuck me? Please accept my apology?
If there are tears in Ianto’s eyes when Andy comes, he is quick to hide them by leaning over the edge of the bed to retrieve the duvet.
“Ianto, are you –“
“Fine,” he says, as evenly as he can. “Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll be back in just a tick.”
I thought I needed this. God, if he’d said anything else. Anything but ‘please’…
He tucks his erection into the waistband of his underwear and ignores it until he closes the bathroom door. He undoes his belt and trousers and puts a hand down on the countertop to steady himself. In the mirror, he can watch as he jerks roughly at his own flesh, dragging his own orgasm to the surface.
He wants to get it over with.
When Ianto comes into his fist, he lets out a stifled grunt and tries not to get any on his clothes, or the bathroom counter, or the floor. He tidies up with a bit of toilet paper, which he flushes, and then washes his hands before tucking his softening cock back into his briefs and doing up his trousers. He goes to the kitchen for a glass of water. While he’s there he considers going back to the diary, but it’s hard to write with another person in his flat, so he leaves it under the phone directory for the moment.
By the time he returns to the bedroom, Andy’s dead asleep. Ianto climbs back onto the bed and scoots up to sit against the headboard, knees close to his chest. He strokes Andy’s hair and watches his chest rise and fall with each slow breath. He can’t tell if he’s done the right thing or not, asking him to stay. He feels... Well, sort of relieved. Exhausted. Uncertain. Hopeful. Doomed.
Ianto closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall. There’s going to be hell to pay when the sun comes up. Sleep takes him unbidden, leaving him upright, and dressed in rumpled work clothes.
Andy wakes up with the glare of afternoon sun in his eyes. He’s disoriented, and he’s got a profound desire to piss. The bed is empty, and the door is closed, but after a moment he sorts out that he’s definitely in Ianto’s bedroom. That’s new. He’s never woken up here before.
He pulls on his jeans and does up his belt buckle before tiptoeing out into the hallway. He doesn’t hear anything – no telly, or noise in the kitchen – but he needs the toilet, so that’s where he goes first. He washes his hands and face in the sink after, and borrows a bit of Ianto’s mouthwash to clear the stale taste in his mouth. He could do with a shower and a toothbrush, probably; at least it’s a start.
He opens the bathroom door and startles.
“Morning,” Jack says, grinning at Andy. He’s leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, in his usual fancy dress get-up. Andy can’t remember hearing footsteps. “Sleep well?”
“Where’s Ianto?”
“Out getting breakfast. Though technically,” Jack pauses to check his wristwatch, “I guess it’d be dinner now.”
“I’m beginning to think this is what you do for a living,” Andy grumbles, pushing past Jack to fetch a shirt from the bedroom.
Jack follows him. “What? Check up on Ianto?”
“Jump out at me at inopportune moments.”
“Well, maybe if you had more opportune moments, you’d see less of me.” Jack watches him from the doorway. “Speaking of which, is it just me, or are you here a little early in the week?”
Andy pulls on his shirt. “He invited me in.”
“So he said.”
“He also asked me to stay.” Andy makes a move to exit the bedroom, but Jack doesn’t budge.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Andy, but let me make something abundantly clear,” Jack says, eyes narrowed. “If you hurt him again –”
Andy rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “I didn’t come over to hurt him, Jack. I just needed someone to talk to, alright? Christ.”
“Yeah, because Ianto’s really in a state to be somebody’s counselor right about now.”
“He isn’t a bloody child, Jack,” Andy snaps. “Honestly, what’s this about? When I tried to leave last time, you stopped me. Now you’re angry I’m here?”
“That’s different. I was here last time.”
“Yeah, well –“
They stop and peer down the hall at the sound of Ianto’s keys in the door. Jack steps past Andy into the bedroom. He sticks his hands in his pockets.
“Jack?” Ianto calls out. “Andy?”
“Back here,” Jack replies.
There’s a sound like settling groceries, and then Ianto appears wearing jeans and a grey Aran jumper. He looks relaxed and, if not well-slept, at least well-caffeinated.
“I see I can’t leave you two alone for an hour without everything ending up in the bedroom.” Ianto puts a hand on Jack’s cheek and gives him a quick kiss before turning and doing the same for Andy. “He wasn’t too hard on you, was he?” Ianto asks, and gives Jack a warning glance over his shoulder.
“Nope,” Andy says. “Just making conversation.” His eyes meet Jack’s, and Jack raises a questioning brow.
“Well, if you’d like to move to the front of the flat, maybe you can continue making conversation over a bit of a meal,” he tells them with a smile before going to the kitchen to gather plates.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Jack says quietly.
“No. I didn’t.” Andy tells him, and follows Ianto.
Dinner reminds Jack a little too much of work. It seems like all three of them are saying nothing, just speaking to one another in little codes and glances. Him and Ianto. Ianto and Andy. When Andy leaves, Ianto follows him to the door and kisses Andy’s left palm and touches the bracelet. It’s gesture Jack’s never seen before, and it makes him nervous.
“That’s new,” Jack says, eyebrows raised.
“Yep.” Ianto shrugs.
“It’s cute. So are you two betrothed now or something?” Jack asks as he stands. He approaches Ianto and starts to put his hands in his pockets, but Ianto takes them in his own instead, and then gives Jack a playful kiss on the mouth. He tastes like coffee and Italian food and Andy.
“Jealous?”
“Not jealous. Just,” Jack searches for the right word. “Concerned, mainly.”
“Mmm,” Ianto purrs against his neck and releases one of Jack’s hands so that he can work at Jack’s shirt buttons. “Does that mean I need to distract you?”
Jack rests his hand on Ianto’s hand and stills it. There’s a flash of something he doesn’t recognize in Ianto’s eyes, and then he pulls away, leaving Jack alone in the middle of the room. It’s a more immediate and intense reaction than he’s seen before, and he forgets to breathe for a second.
“Last Thursday you let me hold you,” Jack says softly. “I miss that, Ianto.”
“So go on then,” Ianto says a little sharply, but his voice is unsteady. “Hold me.”
Jack puts his hands back in his pockets and stands in silence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean –“
Ianto wheels around, and the anger is plain on his face. “You think you’re so much better than he is. You think you can judge him just because he wronged me in an ordinary way. You think you’re so fucking right. I think you’re forgetting your own past a little bit here, Jack.”
“Ianto, what are you talking ab –“
“No,” he says, pointing a finger at Jack. “Let me finish. All the times you’ve hurt me, you’ve expected me to dust myself off and go on. I had to mourn Lisa alone, and then watch you wash the blood off of Gwen’s hands. I’ve forgiven you, Jack, but I haven’t forgotten.” He wraps his arms around himself, and looks away. “I had no one, Jack. No one but you, and you left me. You treat Andy like he’s a monster, but we’re all monsters here, aren’t we Jack? Every last one of us. We couldn’t survive otherwise.”
Ianto grabs his keys and slams the door behind him as he storms out of the flat. Jack imagines he hears the Audi start, though he can’t know for sure. He stands, dumbfounded, before dropping back onto the sofa to sit and wait for Ianto to come back. The dusk outside makes him feel heavy, but he doesn’t switch on the lights. Instead, he rests his face in his hands and wonders what he could have said or done differently.
When an hour passes and Ianto hasn’t returned, Jack starts to panic a bit. He uses Ianto’s laptop to log into the Hub’s tracking system. Jack swears quietly when both Ianto’s phone and car trackers register as disabled. He sets his wrist strap to communicate with the main computer and notify him if the status of the trackers change, and rushes out into the night to find him.
---
Prev (Pt #12) (Warnings: Language.)
-
Next (Pt #14) (Warnings: Smut & language.)
---