FIC: Torchwood - Christmas Stocking (1/1)

[fajrdrako_fic]

Title: Christmas Stocking
Author: fajrdrako
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Words: 1,504
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: possibly for They Keep Killing
Notes: A bit of Christmas fluff as Ianto and Jack exchange presents.


Christmas Stocking

Captain Jack Harkness had finished his midnight workout, showered, dressed again, and was at his desk reading a report on UFO sightings in Nepal when a light on his monitor alerted him that someone had entered Torchwood - an authorized entry. At almost two a.m., Christmas Day? He checked the CCTV. It was Ianto.

He sat back in his chair, and waited.

Ianto was dressed in a dark suit and red tie, as was normal for him, but the tie was somewhat loose, giving him the look of a naughty schoolboy. Jack said, "Shouldn't you be at home celebrating Christmas? Or asleep in your bed?"

"I was at home in bed. I couldn't sleep, sir. I was thinking of you. Wanting you. So I came here." He took a small package from his pocket and put it on Jack's desk. "I wanted to give you this."

He waited expectantly: wide-eyed, with a slight smile. Jack wondered if he knew how sexy he looked when he did that. He concluded that Ianto knew exactly how sexy he looked, or at least, had some sense of the effect he had on Jack when he did it. Ianto was still in many ways an innocent, but he was not in the least stupid.

Jack reluctantly stopped staring at the smooth line of Ianto's throat where it disappeared under his collar with the suggestively half-opened tie. He looked at the small Christmas present, less than three inches across either way, perhaps an inch deep. It was wrapped in red, with gold ribbon, as neatly as if it had been gift-wrapped at the store, which made Jack believe that Ianto had wrapped it himself. The tag, decorated with the picture of a sprig of holly, had neatly printed on it: "To Jack from Ianto" in precise block lettering.

"Open it," said Ianto. He flashed a grin; then looked quietly expectant.

Instead of opening it right away, Jack picked it up, and shook it. Then, frowning, he held it close to his ear. "It's ticking. Ianto! How sweet. You got me a bomb."

"Only the best for you. Open it."

With deliberate slowness - teasing Ianto for his impatience - Jack untied the meticulous bow, pulled off the neat ribbon, used his jack-knife to slit the tape on the wrapping. He unfolded the paper with sensuous care, folding it flat on his desk before turning to the box.

"Well?" said Ianto. A smirk kept escaping from his control.

"Sit," said Jack, waving at the spare chair. Instead of just sitting in it, Ianto pushed it around the desk so he could sit right next to Jack. Pretending indifference to his proximity Jack picked up the box and turned it in his hands. "Fragile?"

"Sir!"

In a quick move, Jack took Ianto's hand in his and kissed it, lips lingering on the knuckles. "Whatever it is, thank you."

"Thank you. Now look at it!"

Jack brushed Ianto's palm with his lips before he let go. Then he took the lid off the box, revealing in a black velvet cloth, an antique pocket watch with a gold chain.

"Almost as good as a stopwatch, don't you think?" Ianto's Welsh vowels seemed a little more broad than usual, and now he didn't even try not to smile. "I'm sure we can find uses for it."

"You can make a list," said Jack. He entwined his fingers in Ianto's, and this time kissed his wrist. Ianto's smile disappeared on a quick intake of breath. "It's beautiful," said Jack. "Thank you."

"I thought it would suit your style."

"It will make me think of you whenever I check the time."

Ianto blushed. "I can keep it polished for you, and wound properly."

Holding Ianto's hand between both of his, Jack said, "I have a Christmas present for you, too."

"That isn't necessary, sir."

Jack kissed him lightly, then leaned back in his chair, still keeping his hand clasped. "The gift is not visible. You will have to use your imagination. Can you do that?" His thumb ran over the back of Ianto's hand, caressing.

"I can try."

"Good. So. Imagine a Christmas stocking. Not garish and cheap, like a child would have. Not something knit by your grandmother. Not so much red as burgundy, the trim more Lincoln green than emerald - can you picture that? Brocade, yes, and rather Baroque - trimmed in gold thread and Celtic lettering, with your name, Ianto -" he let his tongue elongate the syllables - "embroidered in gilt. Gold and green tassels. This Christmas stocking might belong in an Italian palazzo, beautiful while even in its restraint hinting at sensuous hedonism and uncontrolled lewd acts. Can you imagine that?"

"Almost. I think you tripped me up a little at the uncontrolled lewd acts."

"You? I'm sure there's nothing you can't handle."

"Well... I might need some help from you on that, sir."

"In any way I can... So. You can picture this Christmas stocking?"

"Yes, sir." Ianto's fingers curled around Jack's, responding to the touch of his fingertips. He gave Jack's fingers a squeeze.

"Now you can take your presents out, one by one, picturing them in your mind's eye as I tell you about them. The first gift inside: a kiss." He took Ianto's head between his hands and kissed him, the kiss warm and lingering and thorough.

When he pulled back, Ianto whispered, "That is quite a gift, sir." His voice was husky and his eyes unfocussed, the hair endearingly mussed. Jack smoothed it with his hand and said, "It's only the first present."

"I'm reaching for the next one," said Ianto, though his hands were, for the moment, motionless in his lap.

"The next one is a foot massage. Whenever you wish, for as long as you wish. You stand on your feet a lot. They must get tired." He held up his hand, broad palm facing Ianto. "I have good hands."

"I know that already, sir. Ah, thank you."

"The next gift is a 'get out of jail free' card. Meaning, ask me something and I will grant it. You want the day off? You need an extension on a report? You want to be part of a mission - or to be excused from it - well, pull this card, and you get it."

"I never need an extension on my reports," said Ianto. "You must be thinking of Owen."

Jack cleared his throat. "Hardly. Still, you might find this card comes in handy one day."

Ianto was thoughtful. "Suppose I want to take a day off work to spend it in bed with my boss?"

"This card would be good for that purpose, yes. That brings us to the next gift."

"Yes?"

"Any sex act of your choosing, to be performed when or where or however you wish. No limits."

"Oh," said Ianto. A rather dreamy, expectant light was in his eyes. "Anything?"

"Anything."

"Thank you... I like that one."

"I thought you might. There's more."

"It's a very big stocking, sir, isn't it?"

"As big as it needs to be. There are eight presents in it, all told. The next - number five, I believe - is a sex act of my choosing. Same as the last, but you set the limits. Anything I suggest, you can veto."

"Or not."

"Or not. If you veto something, I suggest something else, until we reach an agreement. Deal?"

Pause. "Deal."

"Good. This has a certain resemblance to the next gift. A blow job. Any time, anywhere."

"Now?" suggested Ianto. He shifted a little in his seat.

"Sure," said Jack, smiling, and reached for him.

Ianto stopped him with a hand on his chest. "No - wait - we have to finish the stocking first. There might be something else in it I want to see."

"Might be," agreed Jack. "Anticipation while aroused is a good. You're sure? Okay, then. The next gift: dinner with me at a restaurant of your choice. A tacky pub, a pizza parlour, the most expensive haute cuisine in the city - your choice."

"Candlelight?" suggested Ianto. "White tablecloths? Soft music? A waiter in a vest, with champagne? Some groping under the table, maybe?"

"Whatever you wish."

"All of it," murmured Ianto.

"And the last gift in the stocking..." He paused.

"Tease," said Ianto. His cheeks were more red than usual. He shifted again in his chair. Jack took his hand.

"The last gift in the stocking is love," he said. "Lots of it. Lots and lots of it." He spoke lightly, but he stood, and pulled Ianto up into a warm embrace. Ianto dropped his head on Jack's shoulder, holding him. "My heart was a dried-up husk, till you lit an ember in it."

Ianto lifted his head, his eyes brightening as if suddenly wet. "Sir, I - "

"Shh." Jack put a finger on his lips. "No answers. Accept the moment. Merry Christmas." He kissed him quickly, twice, teasingly. "Now, are you ready for that blow job?"

"I've been ready since I walked through the door."

Jack's laugh was mellow and full of promise.

- end -


cross-posted to jackxianto,
torch_wood, torchwood_fic, torchwoodslash. Also on my website at fajrdrako's nest