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Pull and Release; Ianto, Jack, in the shooting range
Topic Started: Jul 20 2009, 04:50 PM (767 Views)
i_jones
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Bang. Bang. Bang.

Ianto exhaled, finger loose on the trigger, and lowered the gun. Thirteen bullets, thirteen breaths - Ianto still felt breathless. And a little deaf - the tunnel wasn't as bad as a commercial shooting range for amplifying the sound, but the earmuffs had a purpose. Unfortunately, that purpose interfered with Ianto's own; you didn't get to muffle the shot in a firefight.

He dropped out the empty clip and slid in another, setting his stance and watching dispassionately as the human-shaped targets gained hole after hole, clustered tight in the vitals. It was easy enough, here. The range was bright, nobody was shooting back, everything was orderly and practiced. "Useless," Ianto muttered, tossing the empty handgun on the table in frustration and running his hands through his hair. If he couldn't reproduce what happened on the Valiant, how was he ever going to get over it?
Edited by i_jones, Jul 20 2009, 04:51 PM.
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Captain Jack Harkness
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Jack was prowling. He knew it and he knew better - it didn't help his unease for him to wander the dusty corners of the Hub and wonder if he'd heard something, or if something wasn't what he remembered ... wasn't quite real. But he couldn't stop himself and gave in at night, when everyone else was gone and a little obsessive behavior would go unnoticed.

The sound of gunfire, though, made him run - remembering Andy and others before, until he recognized the target range and, as he pushed open the door, Ianto in his shirtsleeves.

"Ianto," he said, more sharply than he meant, "what are you doing here?"
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i_jones
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Ianto started, looking up at Jack in the doorway.

"Bollocks if I know," Ianto muttered. He didn't want to deal with Jack; not tonight, not this week. He didn't want to hear whatever Jack had to say about his little fit on the Valiant, and so far, Jack hadn't seemed too interested in tracking Ianto down for a lecture. Ianto turned away and reached for one of the cases on the table, unlatching it to display the broken-down automatic rifle.

"Practicing," he amended a little louder, arms and wrists and fingers turning and sliding smoothly over the pieces. They fell together easily - theory, all theory, and Ianto was more than good at that - like a stop-motion film, until the complete rifle rested loaded and ready in his hands.
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Captain Jack Harkness
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Jack watched the skill in Ianto's hands and wondered if he'd hesitated during the Year, when he'd died, how. Then fought to push his far to experienced imagination aside because, gods, he didn't want to think about Ianto dead - he didn't want to see it in his mind's eye. He didn't want to see it at all.

"Is it helping?" Jack leaned against the wall, gaze shifting from the shredded targets to Ianto and back, watching as Ianto took aim. From the tension in Ianto's shoulders and face, it didn't look to be. Jack curled his fingers against his shirtsleeves, turning his imagination to how they might work out some tension - a better option than thinking.
Edited by Captain Jack Harkness, Jul 21 2009, 03:19 AM.
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i_jones
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Ianto leveled the rifle and took aim at one of the further targets, lining up the little beads along the barrel with the outline's orange head, and exhaled at his successful shot.

"Is it helping?"

"No," Ianto said shortly, shifting to the left and aiming ten metres back. Bull's eye. Target's eye, at least. "I might as well be baking biscuits for tea. Probably what I should have been doing." The third, more distant target, escaped the first shot but fell to the second. Ianto smiled tightly, and re-engaged the safety before turning back to the table, and Jack. He couldn't quite make himself make eye contact with Jack, just focused on dismantling the rifle.
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Jack snorted softly, “A few biscuits then wouldn’t have gone amiss. Paradoxical chocolate isn’t the best nutrition for a mutiny.”

He came over and drew a fingertip along the barrel of the rifle, still a bit warm from the bullet. Ianto wouldn’t look at him and Jack couldn’t blame him – he’d been pushed into a position that had almost gotten him killed. “None of us were ready for that,” Jack sat on the edge of the table, staring off at the bullet ridden targets. “I can’t say I was at my best,” he grimaced, thinking of his mis-handling of Lucy and the consequences. He’d nearly gotten Owen killed, because he couldn’t get one crazy woman to talk to him.

Jack glanced sidelong at Ianto’s stiff expression and deiced that neither of them were really in any mood for heart-to-heart and fell back on familiar innuendo. “I prefer our adventures to require significantly less clothes.” He slid a fingertip under the cuff of Ianto’s sleeve, fingering the stiff cotton before shifting to stroke his thumb over the angle of Ianto’s wrist.
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i_jones
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"Subtle mind control is a pretty good excuse," Ianto retorted. He didn't want excuses, he wanted it not to happen again. Ianto reached across the table to pick up his usual Beretta, wound so tight Jack's fingers on his wrist made him start.

“I prefer our adventures to require significantly less clothes.”

"Fewer," Ianto said, covering his nerves at letting Jack pull at him until they were nose to nose. His eyes flicked to Jack's, but Jack gaze was lower, and Ianto let his fall to Jack's lips, his free hand finding Jack's waist above his belt. So Jack wanted a distraction - fine, Ianto could do that. Perhaps he didn't have to novelty of a third this time, but the circumstances were a little less dire. He could make do.

"Tell me what you want."
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"Fewer," Jack echoed agreeably and flicked but button on Ianto's cuff open with his thumb.

"Tell me what you want."

He ignored the undertones to Ianto's voice, and the ugly way it reminded him of their first encounters and focused on the pleasant surfaces instead. Jack also ignored how much his own behavior echoed those first months and the lies they'd practiced on each other. Even bad times had good moments.

He lifted Ianto's hand to his mouth and licked the palm, tasting sweat and gun oil, pressed his tongue to the pulse in Ianto's wrist - picking up speed - and bit him gently. He shifted into Ianto's touch, free hand sliding up his shirt, fingers spreading to flex against Ianto's chest - the beating of his heart shaking Jack momentarily before he shoved aside any thoughts beyond pursuing simple pleasures. "You," he murmured against Ianto's skin. "I want you."

It was too true for right now and he tugged Ianto's tie lose and kissed him to stop any answer.
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i_jones
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It was nice to hear Jack say it, even if it wasn't true. Ianto could have been anybody, but he was easy; no convincing or explaining necessary. Which was fine, really. Either that's all he was and there was no point crying about it, or this was just one of those times when needs ran in a different direction than emotional fulfillment. Jack didn't need to hear his angst and anger, and it wasn't as if Ianto felt like a heart-to-heart himself; a quick and dirty fuck, and maybe a nap was the most he could handle.

Ianto pressed his mouth to Jack's, tongue finding lips and teeth as he let his body take over where his mind failed, Jack's touch and scent overruling thought. He wound a hand around one of Jack's braces, knuckles grazing over Jack's stomach, using his grip to urge Jack back against the edge of the table.

They broke apart with a wet noise, and Ianto went straight to Jack's neck to lick and bite, pressing a thigh between Jack's. There were words, tight in his throat, but Ianto swallowed them down and rocked up instead, tense with more than the automatic pull of arousal. His gaze over Jack's shoulder fell on his gun, lying abandoned on the table. Ianto groaned and bit down, hard, on the tight cord of muscle where Jack's neck and shoulder joined.
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Ianto's push was insistent, rough and Jack's boots skidded before he got his leverage back, dipping his head to breathe harshly in Ianto's ear and drag his hands along his hips to feel the strength in him. He hauled Ianto closer, fisting his shirt and breaking into a harsh groan at the sharp bite on his neck. It was good pain.

Yes, yes, he wanted to say, or Ianto's name but Jack was afraid of what else would come out and didn't want to hear whatever knotted Ianto's back and made him shove Jack against the table again. Jack yanked Ianto's shirt out of his pants then pressed his palm up the warm line of his back, their hands fumbling and hurried. Jack's breathing was ragged already, his cock hardening with a sort of wrenching urgency that left him gratefully thoughtless.

The wordlessness wasn't like either of them but they didn't break it. Jack undid Ianto's belt, hand sliding down to palm his cock with a satisfied sound at the eager feel of him before fumbling with his zipper. Ianto's face was hot when Jack pressed kisses against the arch of his cheek, stubble rasping against lips and tongue, tasting the salt of his skin and biting over the rush of his pulse. Ianto arched into him with a groan, mouth searching wet and open for Jack's, the kissed noisily and hard, straining against each other.

Jack shuddered in pleasure and got his hand into Ianto's trousers, he jerked against him at the scrape of nails over the silk of Ianto's boxers and along his cock. Ianto's cry was muffled against Jack's mouth and a bite was half accident, half eagerness and the nick of teeth against someone's lip ....

The taste of blood flooded his mouth and they were holding him, jaw nearly dislocated, while Lucy worked, her wide eyes inches from his face and the box cutter glinting bright and bloody before she reached for him again. Jack shrieked, arching in a violent spasm to shove away - anything to get away - gagging violently as he staggered back. He was pinned, a hard line against the back of his thighs and in front of him ...

Jack lashed out, unseeing, pupils blown so wide his eyes looked like burned holes in his white face as he scrambled away, sliding along the edge of a table, hands brushing blindly over cold, deadly steel.
Edited by Captain Jack Harkness, Aug 1 2009, 05:03 PM.
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i_jones
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The fist that caught Ianto along the jaw was wild; panicked and poorly angled and though his neck cracked with the unexpected force his head was clear enough to catch at Jack's belt.

"Jack!" Ianto shouted, his other hand gripping the wrist that was trying to push him away. Jack didn't seem to hear him, fighting like a bird trapped between palms, fists and knees and - fuck - heavy boots to the shins. Ianto buckled a little, ready to back away, when the scrape of metal caught his ear and his eyes went to Jack's hand, groping blinding for the gun (still loaded? Ianto couldn't remember) left on the table.

It was instinct that set his posture; knees bent and shoulders squared, one hand outstretched to catch Jack's shooting arm as he drove forward with his full weight, catching Jack square in the chest and sending them both to the floor. Jack's skull cracked against the floor, but he was still fighting, nails catching the soft skin of Ianto's neck. Ianto yelled, rearing up and pinning Jack with his knees, trying to fight off the blows without escalating Jack's panic.

"Jack, Jack! You're - fuck - you're safe. The Hub, not the Valiant. The Hub, with me, Ianto!"
Edited by i_jones, Aug 2 2009, 10:38 AM.
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Jack strained up for a moment more, struggling to be more defiant than terrified, before Ianto – Ianto’s voice made him stiffen, blinking wildly. “No!” not here, not here but he wasn’t … they weren’t …

Not the Valiant, not Lucy, not the Master. It was the cool, dank reek of the Hub instead. His home. Jack dragged in a ragged breath that was half sob before he swallowed that down as well as everything else simmering too close to the surface of his memories.

“Ianto,” Jack rasped, mouth dry. His heart hammered so hard he felt dizzy, sick, and clammy. Ianto’s grip was painfully hard but his weight was oddly reassuring and he looked shocked and a little battered above him. A roll of savage nausea made Jack squirm urgently under him.

“Let me up,” he gasped, twisting, swallowing back a gag at the faint taste of blood in his mouth. “Ianto – let me up.”
Edited by Captain Jack Harkness, Aug 3 2009, 02:59 PM.
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i_jones
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Ianto followed Jack's hands as the fell back, leaning over Jack and watching as he came back to himself by degrees. He gripped Jack's forearm, stopping it's uncertain path, trying to contain Jack and ground him. The fight or flight had drained away, but the panic hadn't, and Jack struggled against him.

"Let me up. Ianto - let me up," Jack begged, turning his face to the concrete and pushing weakly at Ianto's chest.

Ianto hesitated, wondering if Jack would just run off if he let him go, or if he'd start fighting again if he didn't. Maybe Ianto had been wrong to give him all the space he'd silently demanded this week, maybe Jack needed someone to push at his walls just as much as Ianto did, and Ianto was being selfish and hiding away in doctor's offices instead of being here, where he was needed. Jack twisted under him, and Ianto realized there was a middle path in all things. He swung a leg over and let Jack sit up.

"Hey," he said firmly, strengthening his grip on Jack's wrist to keep him from standing. "Wait a minute. Wait it out." Where the hell had that come from? It felt uncomfortably reminiscent of the corridor on the Valiant, only true to form Jack never reacted with anything but action. Ianto wondered briefly if it was innate or learned, and then pushed it aside. He pressed a palm between Jack's shoulders, finding the bumps of his spine as he stroked down, trying to impart security and calm with the warmth of his hand.
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“Okay, okay,” Jack mumbled, hunched on his knees as he battled another sweaty surge of rebellious nausea. A shudder followed the path of Ianto’s hand and Jack straightened up, fishing his handkerchief out and wiping roughly at his mouth. He listed unconsciously towards the other man; even a year of torment hadn’t destroyed Jack’s yearning for touch.

Gaze settling once Jack realized where he was, he managed a faint, crooked smile for Ianto, catching his hand and lacing their fingers together as the world filtered out of fear. “Not too suave today, huh?”

The pink blotch on Ianto’s face registered with the mild ache in Jack’s knuckles and his expression sank into dismay as he reached out to brush his fingers gently over Ianto’s skin. “Ah – I did that, didn’t I? I'm sorry, sweetheart."
Edited by Captain Jack Harkness, Aug 4 2009, 01:39 PM.
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