Title: Combat: Coda

Author: Emma
Characters: Canonical Torchwood Three members… sort of.
Rating: Some chapters definitely not safe for work.
Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Summary: Something is killing weevils, and Torchwood is out to stop it.

Combat is here

“So Gwen and Rhys are engaged,” Jack mused.

He made himself more comfortable, leaning back against Ianto's chest and tucking his head in the curve of Ianto's shoulder. They were stretched out on Ianto's sofa, half-sitting against one of the high armrests, Jack cradled between Ianto's legs, a handmade quilt thrown over their bare feet. Cups of chocolate and a plate of biscuits were within easy reach on the nearby table. They were tired but unable to sleep.

“It nearly didn't happen,” Ianto said. “I overheard her telling Tosh she had told Rhys about her one night stand with Owen.”

“What is it with women and confessions?” Jack nibbled lightly on Ianto's neck. “They either live whole lives keeping back life and death matters or babble about inconsequential things at the drop of a hat.”

“Infidelity is inconsequential?” Ianto said softly, but there was an edge to his tone.

“Infidelity is never inconsequential,” Jack said. “But what Gwen did wasn't infidelity. If Rhys had been here it wouldn't have happened at all, because she would have gone home and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dragged him into bed, and fucked him into insensibility. But she had spent the whole night in the most terrifying situation of her life and the man who had helped her through it was the only one available. Did you notice how they tip-toed around each other afterward?”

Ianto laughed as he wrapped his arms around Jack's middle. “Poor Owen nearly jumped out of his skin whenever Gwen came into the room. And she kept needing shooting practice.”

“Once they realized they really wanted nothing from each other but friendship it all went back to normal.” Jack stroked Ianto's wrist absently. “The whole episode could have been first ignored and then forgotten.”

“I think I understand her,” Ianto said. “From things she's said, her parents have a very strained marriage. She probably wanted to avoid their mistakes. No lies, no evasions. Nothing to surprise them later on.”

Jack's answer was a soft hum. Ianto didn't know whether that meant he was agreeing or not. He often wondered exactly what Jack thought about this relationship of theirs. No, not relationship, it was a hell of a lot more than that. Love affair? Partnership? He knew that everyone, from the girl at the Chinese takeaway to Mother Katherine, thought of them as a couple. Duw, Jack's invitation from the Prince and Princess of Wales for this year's Trooping of the Welsh Colours had been addressed to both of them! But whether Jack thought of them as a couple, Ianto couldn't tell. He behaved as though he did, but he had never said anything.

For the first time in his masculine life he understood a woman's insistence on talking things out.

“I wonder,” Jack said drowsily, “if we should buy the flat next door.”

“What?”

“The flat next door is for sale, didn't you notice? This one is great, but it doesn't have a proper guest suite. We could reconfigure the two into a large place with three suites, a big library, and a nice-sized reception room with kitchen. What do you think?”

As Ianto's silence lengthened, Jack started to feel uncertain. Maybe Ianto liked the monogamous but without strings arrangement. Officially moving in together would cement everything into place. Maybe Ianto wasn't ready for that yet.

The answer finally came but it wasn't verbal. Ianto slid his hand into Jack's hair and turned him until their mouths were touching. His tongue outlined Jack's lips until Jack's mouth opened, and then plunged in, a naked act of possession that made Jack moan low in the back of his throat. Jack's hand came up to grip Ianto's shoulders as he leaned into the kiss.

They broke apart to look at each other, and each saw the answer in the other's eyes. Smiles broke through and they kissed again. This time it was slow, leisurely; now that they were sure of each other, now they understood, they had all the time in the world. It went on and on as they licked and sucked, exploring every sensitive spot, finding every delicious weakness.

Finally, Ianto dragged his mouth away. “Bed?”

“Why? Right here is perfect.”

Jack sat up, grabbing the quilt as it slid off. They had started a fire – they both liked it better than central heating on cool, chilly evenings – and now Jack laid the quilt down on top of the hearth rug, a careful distance away from the elegant ironwork fire screen. He gave Ianto a lazy, provocative smile and started to strip.

Ianto's mouth dried as he watched Jack's clothes come off. It wasn't an exhibition – though he was sure Jack knew and exploited the fact that Ianto was utterly besotted by the way Jack's spine curved when he canted his hip – but the deliberate way he unbuttoned and unzipped drove Ianto nearly mad with lust. He watched as Jack pushed his trousers and pants down his legs, stepped out of them, and stood straight as a soldier on parade, fully aroused, his gorgeous body gilded by the fire light.

He stood up and walked to where Jack waited. This close he could smell Jack's arousal, and the scent sent shock waves through him. Suddenly his trousers were too tight, his jumper too warm. He stripped in a rush, with no elegance, just wanting to be as naked as Jack was. The moment the last piece of clothing was tossed aside, Jack pulled him close.

“I want you inside me tonight. I want you to take me, own me. No, don't look scared.” He traced Ianto's brow, the curve of his cheek, the line of his jaw. “You won't hurt me. I know you won't. After tonight, you will know it too.”

He knelt on the quilt, smiling up at Ianto, then he leaned forward and trailed his lips along the underside of Ianto's engorged penis, from the base to the tip. The sensation made Ianto moan, and his hips bucked forward, searching for the wet heat of Jack's mouth, wanting more. Jack obliged, opening his mouth wide and swallowing him as deeply as he could. Ianto's moan turned into a shout as he felt Jack's throat muscles massage the head of his cock.

Jack kept it up for a few seconds, then released him. Grabbing one of the floor pillows Ianto had scattered near the fireplace, he laid back on it, propping himself up on one elbow. “Come here and make love to me, cariad.”

Ianto stared down at his lover – at his love – and felt the fear evaporate. No matter what he was, what he had become, he would never hurt Jack. He felt as if a heavy chain had fallen away, and he was completely free for the first time in his life. He reached into the top drawer of the side table and pulled out a small tube. Kneeling at Jack's side, he showed it to him.

“Are you sure?”

Jack's only answer was to turn over on his stomach. Ianto nearly drooled at the sight of the perfect curves, at the indentation of the spine as it met the waist, at the sweep of muscle up to the broad shoulders. He opened the tube and poured a generous amount of gel on his fingers, then spread Jack's buttocks and started to prepare him gently. As his fingers breached Jack for the first time, he leaned over and pressed a line of sucking kisses across Jack's shoulders and along his spine, leaving tiny red circles in his wake. Moaning, Jack began to rock back on his fingers, trying to impale himself. Ianto placed a hand on the small of his back and pressed down.

“Not yet, love. Lift up that lovely arse a little. Yes, just like that.”

He reached underneath Jack and wrapped his fingers around Jack's erection and started pumping as he searched for and found Jack's prostate. The combination of gentle pumps and insistent massage made Jack howl and arch backwards.

“God, Ianto, please, stop, I'm going to come, please, yes, please!”

Ianto leaned down and bit down on jack's buttock as his fingers speared inside his arse. Jack screamed one more time and came, flooding Ianto's hand, then slid down bonelessly, face buried in the pillow. Ianto reached for another pillow and pushed it underneath Jack's stomach.

“It'll get filthy,” Jack said drowsily.

“Dry cleaner,” was the terse answer as Ianto positioned himself at Jack's entrance and pressed in until he was as deep as he could. Jack uttered a soft sound too sleepy to be a moan, and clenched his buttocks to draw him deeper. Ianto stretched out over him, burying his face against Jack's neck.

“Like this. Yes?”

“Yes.”

They rocked together gently, almost not moving at all; they weren't in any hurry. Jack twisted slightly, seeking Ianto's mouth. Ianto straddled Jack's hips and arched down to make the meeting easier. They kissed again and again, alternating short nips with long explorations. Heat built until they were being seared from the inside out, and yet there was so much pleasure in it that they delayed the ending as long as they could, until they could stand it no longer. When it came it was not an explosion but a long shuddering slide into a warm ocean, a silent drowning in perfect pleasure.

After a few minutes – or a few hours, they couldn't tell – Ianto withdrew and lay down next to Jack, head propped in the same pillow. Jack opened one eye and looked at him.

“So do we buy the flat?”

Ianto laughed softly. “Yes. We do."