It's a Christmas story, so no angst. But no sickly-sweet fluff either. And zombies. Yes, zombies. Except not really.
“Gifts! Come on!” Gwen shoved Owen in the direction of the conference table where Tosh was already shaking the wrapped packages. “Gifts!”
Ianto didn’t want to stand up. The floor was lovely and comfortable. But he took Jack’s hand and let himself be hauled to his feet. He wasn’t drunk, but felt pleasantly mellow.
Jack slung a companionable arm round his neck. “So should I try to get your gift? Did you buy something dirty?”
Ianto smiled. “That wasn’t the directive, sir. The word you used was fun.”
“Come on, you lot! I want to open a gift!”
“It’s a sodding gag gift, Cooper, what’s the fuss?” Owen scowled as Gwen smushed her Santa hat down over his head.
Ianto dropped into a chair and slouched contentedly. It wasn’t often he had the chance to wear jeans and a
Tosh put down the gift she was holding. “Who opens first?”
“Owen can go first. Bloody Scrooge.”
“Right.” Owen tossed the hat back to Gwen and grabbed the gift nearest him. He pulled off the paper and smirked. “You know, this would be funny if it weren’t a good bet to be actually practical in this job.” He held up the book. The Zombie Survival Handbook.
“That’s what I thought,” Gwen said proudly. “You’ll thank me when we have to go out and take down a horde of zombies.”
“Easiest thing in the world.” Jack sat back and propped his boots on the table. “Shoot ‘em in the head.”
“Thank you, Gwen,” Owen nodded with exaggerated grace and started flipping through the pages. “Go.”
“Right.” Gwen surveyed the packages. She picked one up. “Whose is this, then?”
“That’s mine.” Ianto got up to pour himself more punch while Gwen ripped open the gift.
She collapsed backward into her chair, giggling. “Oh, Ianto, this is brilliant!”
“What is it?” Tosh craned her neck to see.
Gwen held up an ornate silver frame. Jack and Tosh burst out laughing and Tosh applauded.
Ianto sat again and smiled into his drink. “Photoshop is a marvelous tool.” It had been rather tricky, actually. When he finally got a decent shot of the Weevil he had to eliminate the reflection from the cell door, then change the light effects to make it appear the Weevil was outside in the sunshine. The swing, the flowers, and the hat were simple enough, but the smile had taken ages.
“Listen up, children,” Owen said. “Get up the staircase, then destroy it. Important safety tip.”
Gwen ignored him. “That’s going right on my desk, that is. Thank you, Ianto. I love it.”
“You go next, then.”
Ianto surveyed his choices, decided to avoid those he knew were from Jack and Owen, and picked up Tosh’s gift. He opened the paper carefully. Inside the box was … a set of handcuffs. Fuzzy, red handcuffs. He raised an eyebrow and picked them up dubiously. Attached with a string were two tiny silver keys.
“Jack!” Gwen laughed and threw a biscuit at him. Jack ducked.
“Not guilty!” He looked between Owen and Tosh and whooped delightedly. “Tosh!”
Tosh blushed and giggled and covered her face.
“Why Toshiko Sato, you little minx.” Owen looked impressed.
“What’s more fun than padded handcuffs?” Tosh asked innocently, but her face was still pink.
Ianto smiled at her and nodded graciously. “Thank you, Tosh.”
Jack spoke up. “If you need some ideas for how to use those …”
“Thank you, Captain, I have ideas of my own.” He placidly met Jack’s grinning stare. “Tosh? Your turn.”
“Blades don’t need reloading. Too bloody right …”
“Trench knife. Absolutely the best zombie weapon.”
“Oh, of course, Jack Harkness, you’ve fought zombies, have you? Bet you’ve shagged one, too.”
“Technically, no, but there was this one guy…”
“Oi! Would you two stop with the zombies? Sorry I bought that bloody thing.” Gwen reached over and slapped Owen’s book closed. “Let Tosh open her gift.”
Tosh grabbed a package and Ianto saw Jack sit back with an anticipatory smile.
Inside the artfully-wrapped (Ianto was rather surprised that Jack knew origami) box was something red. Or was it purple? Or possibly blue? … no it was red again. Tosh lifted it from its nest of mylar and cradled it carefully in her palm. It was a cube, with silver edges and iridescent sparkles along every surface. Tosh looked up at Jack.
“It’s beautiful. Um … what is it?” She turned it over and back.
“A little something I picked up awhile ago in a … well, let’s say the shop is a little off the beaten path.”
Owen frowned, distracted from his book. “But what’s it for? Paperweight? Foot massager? Automatic teakettle?”
“You’ll know what it is when you use it.” Jack’s teeth were positively sharklike.
“But when do I use it?” Tosh was smiling, but puzzled. “It feels … it’s tingling.”
“Just keep it with you. You’ll figure it out.”
“It’s something filthy, isn’t it? I know you, Harkness. Tosh, you’ll probably want to keep it at your bedside next time you have a shag. And have the fire brigade at the ready.” Owen narrowed his eyes at Jack. “It’s not going to make her float up to the ceiling or anything when she comes, is it?”
Tosh looked alarmed. And intrigued.
Jack shook his head smugly. “Not telling.”
“Bloody hell.” Gwen looked rather jealously at Tosh then shook her head. “All right, Captain Jack, open your gift.”
“Keep moving, keep low, keep quiet, keep alert!”
The last item was a rather sloppy-looking gift bag. Jack reached inside and pulled out a black T-shirt. He shook it out and said, “Yes!” He dropped the shirt to the table, flipped off his braces and started unbuttoning. The girls laughed and Owen whistled. Ianto ran his eyes over Jack’s chest briefly, until it was covered. Jack now wore a (rather tight) T-shirt emblazoned with Drop It Like It’s Hot.
“I was hoping to see one of the girls in that.”
“I’m game if they are. Think it’ll stretch enough?”
“Tosh, if you want a ride get your ass moving!” Owen shouted from the door.
“Coming!” She slid off the desk and kissed Ianto on the cheek. “Happy Christmas, Ianto.”
“Nadolig Llawen, Tosh. Sleep well.”
“You’re not going to clean all this up tonight, are you? Leave it till Boxing Day.”
“I’m just going to bin the food. We don’t want Myfanwy hopping round down here.”
“Right, I’m off then.”
Ianto picked up a bin bag and started filling it with the remains of the buffet spread. Owen’s pudding was mostly untouched, he was unsurprised to see, but there wasn’t any of his own treacle toffee left.
He tied the bag and put it out and as he passed back through the conference room, his head brushed the mistletoe and it fell to the floor. He picked it up. There had been many kisses underneath it tonight. Everyone must have kissed everyone else at one point or another. He hadn’t kissed Jack though, Ianto thought. He had received a sweet kiss from Tosh, a giggly, friendly one from Gwen, and had twice been blindsided by a loud, wet smack from Owen, but he and Jack had never been under the mistletoe together.
He sat on the conference table, letting his feet dangle, and twirled the sprig idly between fingers and thumb. Jack walked in, still wearing his T-shirt, his braces hanging loose.
Ianto looked at him without speaking. Jack’s gaze flicked down to the mistletoe then back to Ianto’s eyes. They stared. Then Jack stepped forward between his knees, took his head in both hands and kissed him.
It was a good kiss. A very good kiss indeed. But then, Ianto would have expected Jack to kiss well. He left his hands resting on his lap and allowed Jack to grip his hair and tilt his head back and plunder his mouth. He felt calmer than he would have thought. He excelled, he knew, at maintaining a calm exterior even when he was excited or agitated, but this wasn’t a facade. Despite his arousal, his quickened breath, Ianto felt … serene. Passive. Jack tasted of toffee and rum punch and something else as well. His tongue plunged deep into Ianto’s mouth and stroked the insides of his teeth and Ianto moaned a bit. He didn’t have to moan. He wasn’t to that point. But he liked the humming vibration between their mouths.
Jack allowed the kiss to slow, and taper off. He pulled away slightly. Only an inch or so between their lips. He looked at Ianto, seemed to ask a question. Ianto didn’t answer, didn’t speak, just looked back at him calmly. Jack swooped in and kissed him again, hard enough to lean him back over the table a bit.
Ianto dropped the mistletoe and his hands clutched Jack’s shoulders to keep from falling backwards. Because backwards would mean away from the kiss. Jack pushed into Ianto’s open mouth and made it his own. Just a kiss and Ianto felt a bit dizzy, like the alcohol was returning to buzz through his veins and tickle at his belly. Jack’s tongue moved languidly, yet seemed everywhere at once. This could explain the cheerful sexual arrogance that Captain Jack Harkness wore like a badge. Ianto moaned again, but without the measured intent of before. He pressed up into the kiss. He felt himself growing hard and wondered if Jack would just bear him down and climb onto the table on top of him.
Jack pulled them upright and broke the kiss again and held Ianto’s head firmly to keep him from resuming it. He grinned wickedly and Ianto tried to clear his head and slow his breathing.
“So,” Jack breathed. He released Ianto and leaned in close to reach behind him on the table. Ianto pushed his face into Jack’s neck and inhaled the scent of him, then Jack moved back. “I’ve got a nice big bed downstairs. Shall we break in your Christmas gift?” He dangled the handcuffs from one finger. “You’d look awfully good in red.”
Ianto cleared his throat and collected himself. “Like I said, Captain,” he reached up for a kiss and plucked the cuffs from Jack’s hand. “I have my own ideas. After all, it is my gift.”
Ianto sat across Jack’s naked thighs and considered. He could just finish this now. Jack was trembling and his pale skin was bright with sweat. His hands, fastened with the cuffs, clenched into fists above his head. His cock pushed up desperately, steadily leaking fluid from the tip. Most importantly, he hadn’t spoken with anything approaching coherency for at least ten minutes now. When the cuffs had first snapped shut round his wrists, Jack had been fully compliant, full of wicked cheek. But slowly, patiently, methodically, Ianto had reduced him to this quivering mass of animalistic need.
And Ianto was more than ready himself. He had spent several minutes preparing himself with oiled fingers as Jack watched and squirmed and cursed beneath him. His own cock was straining and tight where it lay hot against Jack’s hip. He wanted to be fucked. But he didn’t know if he wanted to give this up yet. How often did one have complete and utter control over Jack Harkness?
He leaned down and tasted the salty skin of Jack’s ribcage. Jack hissed as Ianto’s shoulder bumped his rigid shaft. Ianto moved up Jack’s body, trailing his tongue, stopping briefly to kiss or suck a random bit of skin. He hovered on his hands and knees, not touching Jack except with his mouth. Up the center of his chest and the column of his throat to take his mouth in a kiss. They hadn’t kissed much since the conference room table. Ianto was taking a perverse pleasure in keeping Jack helpless and didn’t want to give him any advantage. He knew what the man could do with a kiss.
This kiss, however, had nothing like the expert finesse and control of before. Jack bit frantically at Ianto’s mouth, stabbing with his tongue and seeming intent on grabbing as much sensation as possible as long as he was allowed. Ianto kissed him back for a moment, then pulled away.
Jack made a sound between a moan and a whimper. “Jesus …” he panted. Ianto bent and sucked on a nipple. “Oh, fuck, Ianto, please.”
Ianto smiled and put his mouth against Jack’s ear. Jack twisted his head, pushing against Ianto’s skin. “I want you inside me, Jack,” he murmured. Jack yanked hard against the handcuffs. Ianto spared a thankful thought that the bedstead was strong and the cuffs were padded and ran his hands appreciatively over the bunched muscles of Jack’s biceps. Jack cursed through gritted teeth. Ianto nipped Jack’s earlobe. “Do you want to fuck me?” Jack writhed and groaned.
And Ianto reached up and twisted the key, releasing Jack’s left wrist.
Jack simply exploded upward and Ianto had a moment of freefall and then he was flat on his back and Jack was thrusting into him.
Ianto gasped in pain and pleasure; Jack was thick and he was too far gone to take any care, but god, it was good to be filled and stretched and fucked to within an inch of his life. Every few strokes Jack’s shaft clipped Ianto’s prostate, sending pleasure sizzling through him. Jack’s eyes were fever bright and he held Ianto’s arms to the bed in a bruising grip, as if afraid Ianto could somehow still take this away from him. He thrust hard and fast, working for release and Ianto moaned and let his body lie pliant and passive, allowing Jack to drag him along toward orgasm.
And then Jack— stopped.
Ianto had a moment of sheer disorientation and he blinked up at Jack.
Jack’s eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was clenched. A vein throbbed visibly on the side of his neck. His fingers dug into Ianto’s forearms and he breathed raggedly through his nose.
“Jack?” Ianto said, breathless. “What—” Jack’s eyes opened.
Jack’s eyes opened and they were clear and focused, without the feverish gleam of before. He still breathed like he had been sprinting, but it was steady. Controlled. And he was still buried to the hilt inside Ianto.
“Oh, shit,” Ianto said weakly.
Jack pulled back slowly then pushed back in, hard and rough. Ianto grunted. Jack thrust again. And again, slowly working back up to a quick rhythm, rocking Ianto beneath him. He canted his hips slightly and struck Ianto’s prostate, sending a shower of sparks up his spine and into his brain. Ianto’s back arched and he said something, he didn’t know what, and Jack homed in on that place inside him, spearing it over and over with his cock, bruising the insides of Ianto’s thighs with the force of his thrusts.
Ianto could feel his balls tighten, orgasm building, pooling insistently in his belly, and Jack reached down and took his mouth and he moaned and writhed, reaching for it …
And Jack put a hand in Ianto’s hair and twisted as he thrust in hard and held his place deep in Ianto’s body. Sharp pain in his scalp rushed down to meet the boiling orgasm erupting from below and Ianto convulsed and if Jack’s mouth hadn’t been muffling him he would have screamed as his cock spurted liquid heat between them and Jack pressed in with his hips and down with his mouth and Ianto twisted again and felt the energy drain out of him.
He lay still for a moment, gasping, and listened to the thud of his heart and he and Jack breathed into each other’s mouths. Then without warning, Jack pulled back and thrust hard and deep one more time, catching the trailing edge of Ianto’s climax and sending a final bolt of pleasure spiking through him. Ianto cried out once more in shock and his hips bucked and he collapsed, limp. Jack groaned and spent inside him, grinding inward and inward until his cock stopped twitching.
For a long moment they lay in a tangle of sweat and semen and exhaustion, as their breathing gradually slowed. Then Ianto dragged his arms in and pushed at Jack’s chest.
“Jack,” he grunted. No response. “Jack. Don’t fall asleep on top of me.” He pushed again but his arms didn’t have the strength to move him. Jack mumbled something into Ianto’s neck. “Captain!”
Jack finally rolled to one side and groaned. “I need some water.”
There was silence for a moment, and Ianto turned his head to look at him. “Were you expecting me to get you some?”
“It would be nice.”
“I’m off duty, Captain. You’ll find the sink just to your left.” He tried to say all that in one breath but he failed.
Jack rolled on top of Ianto again and ignored his complaint to reach down to the floor. He came up with a bottle of water and rolled back again, uncapped it, and drank thirstily. The handcuffs still dangled from his right wrist. Ianto wanted some water, too, but didn’t ask. Jack offered him the bottle. Ianto smiled, and drank.
Ianto stared up at the ceiling. Very soon he’d want a blanket but right now the cool air felt wonderful. “You know, next time—”
“Next time? If you think I’m letting you cuff me ever again…”
“It wasn’t worth it?”
Jack was silent for a moment. When he spoke, Ianto could hear him smiling. “Next time what?”
“We could invite Tosh to join us.”
“Yes, we could.” Now Ianto could hear naked delight.
“We could ask her to bring that cube.”