Fic: This Other Darkness - Jack/Ianto 4/6

[metztlimoon]

Author: Metztlimoon
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Ianto/OMC
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Blood, Vampirism, Mind control/iffy consent.
A/N: Written for thestopwatch  fic exchange
Betas: Jimmymick and blaiyzed

 
Part ONE is HERE.
Part TWO is HERE
Part THREE is HERE

  

Jack isn't surprised to find that Thorne owns an expensive apartment in a converted building, complete with pretty receptionist. He'd figured Thorne for the sleek leather couches, expensive art and bare boards type, and he is not disappointed. There is a real fire beneath a modern mantle and large mirror; Jack stands beside it, looking at the silver candlesticks and feeling the pleasant warmth from the flames. 

 

“Would you like a scotch?” Thorne says. “Or are you more of a brandy man?”

 

“Just water.”

 

On reflection, Jack thinks, it's obvious. In fact, as he looks into the mirror, in reflection it's obvious. Although Thorne stands beside him now, handing him the glass, it's only Jack in the mirror. And I've just walked right into his house.  Jack's hand goes down to his gun.

 

“Ah, I wondered how long it might take you,” Thorne says.  

 

“It must make it awkward when you have visitors.”

 

“You'd be surprised how many people simply don't look,” Thorne turns the coals in the fire with a poker, then sits down opposite the fire and sips from his glass. After a moment he gestures to the other end of the couch. “Please sit down, Captain. You don't need the gun.”

Jack sits at the other end of the couch, and leans forward. “Who the hell are you?”

“I'm sure the more instinctive question is what,” Thorne says. “I won't be offended.”

 

“I haven't got time to play around.”

 

“How disappointing.” Seeing Jack's scowl Thorne shakes his head and looks contrite. “Forgive me, force of habit.  I don't mean to belittle your concerns. Tell me what's happened and maybe I can help.

 

“We were investigating a series of attacks. On animals and people in the city.  It isn't any of the usual suspects.”

 

“And from that you came to the conclusion it was vampires? Not a first assumption for most people. Is your interest strictly professional?”

“A colleague...” you can't say it, can you. Not in front of someone you find attractive. Not in front of a stranger. You lousy bastard. “My friend... has been... infected. I need to know what you can tell me.”

 

“Where is your friend now?”

 

“He's safe.”

 

“Well, that's a start.” Thorne sips from his glass.  “It isn't an infection in the classic sense. One doesn't get bitten by a Vampire and become one, like some kind of rabid animal.”

 

Owen should really be the one to be asking these questions. “So what is it? Nano-genes? An alien force?”

 

“I don't know what a 'nano-gene' is,” Thorne says. “Although the name gives something away and may not be far from the truth. There may be some merit to your alien force theory... you are evidently a man who has seen many wonderful things, perhaps even real extra-terrestrials.” Jack nods.  “The truth is, I don't actually know what it is, any more than a caveman could know what fire was, only that it was warm, and scared away animals.”

 

“I don't need to talk philosophy.”

 

“Then let me talk about effects. A Vampire is conceived when the spark – your alien energy - passes from one to another. In and of itself, the spark can start the process of change, but it can lay dormant for years, even decades. So to speed up the process the vampire who begins it gives a little of themselves- a little blood- to provide a template. The more blood that is given, the faster the change becomes.  The spark is sustained only by blood and the energy within it. In return, the spark changes the body to survive; speed, stamina, life beyond human norms.”

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Older than I look.”

 

“That's old hat.”

 

“Yes,” says Thorne. “But we both look rather good on it, don't you think?” He places his hand on Jack's shoulder and leans in. Jack tenses, expecting Thorne to try and kiss him which should worry me more than it does.

 

“Whatever you're about to do, don't,” Jack says.

 

Thorne wraps his hand round the back of Jack's neck and sniffs behind his ear. “He went for you, didn't he?”

 

Jack pushes him away. “Yes.”

 

“I'm not surprised,” Thorne sits back, and sips again on his brandy. “If I was young, afraid, reacting only on instinct to the life I sensed around me, I would have ripped your throat out in a second. He must like you a great deal to resist.”

 

“If I was young, afraid and less in need of your information, I'd wring your neck, slowly.”

 

“Ah,” Thorne says.  “You don't trust me.” 

 

“Can it be undone? The 'change'. Is it reversible?”

 

“That would depend. How far along is your... friend?”

 

“I don't know. He stopped showing up on camera a couple of hours ago.”

 

“That far?” Thorne seems surprised. “Then I'm sorry, but I doubt there is much you can do.”

 

“I won't believe that. I won't see him become a murderer.”

 

“I would have hoped you, of all people, would be less judgemental,” Thorne says.  “Human beings are so quick to label evil.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Torchwood and I are not in exclusive circles.”

 

“I've seen enough evil,” Jack says. Just why did the Devil's card have your face, I wonder.

 

“Then you have to realise that what I am is not Evil.  Vampires are children fighting in the playground. They only harm others because they have yet to learn not to.”

 

“Is this the speech about how awful it is to be a vampire?” Jack says, getting to his feet.  “Because I've seen that movie and I don't need to hear it.”

 

Thorne stands up and faces him with a flash of anger in his eyes. “Then what do you need to hear? That your friend is being driven mad by his need for blood and he will do anything to get it?  That sooner or later he will get it and when he does, when he drains enough normal, human blood, the change will complete?”

 

“I need to know how to stop it.”

 

“Why?” Thorne says.  “Why does it worry you so much?”

 

Jack hesitates, thoughts racing.  Why does it, exactly? Why does it?

 

“Are you worried he'll leave you?”

 

Jack swings for Thorne, connecting with his jaw and sending him backwards a few paces. 

 

“I rather suppose I deserved that,” Thorne says, wiping his split lip.  “Consider me suitably chastened. I said there wasn't much you could do . If you were to bring him to me... I might be able to withdraw the spark...”

 

“You could do that?”

“Of course,” says Thorne, and smiles. “I put it there in the first place.”

The Webley is in Jack's hand before he can think about it. “You son of a  bitch.”

   

Thorne casually picks up his brandy and sips it. “What are you going to do? I certainly can't help you if I'm dead.”

 

“I'm prepared to bet I can put enough bullets into you to keep you down and alive for long enough.”

 

“Are you?”

 

Jack isn't, but he's cut off from trying to think of a response, when his phone rings. He lifts it to his ear without taking his eyes off Thorne. “Go.”

 

It's Owen. “Why aren't you on your radio? We've got a problem.”

 

“Little busy right now.”

 

“Ianto escaped.”

 

“How the hell did that happen?”

 

“He locked Gwen in the cells, knocked me out, and threatened to kill Tosh if she didn't open the roof for him.”

 

“Good. The important thing is none of you are hurt.”

 

“Tosh slipped a tracker on him, but she's having trouble keeping the signal through the energy field that keeps him off camera. We're getting intermittent contacts, but enough.  We're heading for the SUV now.”

 

“Stay where you are. I'll find him.”

 

“With more of us...”

 

“Stay where you are.  Keep researching. Leave Ianto to me.” He closes the phone and ignores it when it begins ringing again a second later. “You're going to help me find him.”

 

Thorne finishes the last of his brandy and smiles. “No need. He'll find his way to me”

 

    --------

 

Ianto has no idea where he's going, only that he's going there.   He doesn't know what is waiting, but he wants it. He needs it. It will make the pain go away.

  

  --------

 

“Would you like another drink while we wait? I'd hate to be a poor host.”

 

“No, thanks,” Jack says. I'm waiting. Waiting for you to give me the opportunity to take you down.

 

“As you wish,” Thorne pours himself another drink.

His back is turned only for a moment, but Jack takes a chance, leaping forward and pinning Thorne to the ground, pulling the cuffs from his pocket and snapping one side around Thorne's wrist. Thorne struggles beneath him, snatching his hand out of Jack's grasp, and scrabbling forwards. Jack bears down, but Thorne is fast, damn fast, turning and locking his fingers round Jack's throat. Jack breaks the hold, rolls away and up, bringing up the gun and firing, twice, into Thorne's shoulder.  Thorne staggers backwards, ending up on his knees clutching at the wound.

“Stay down,” Jack says. “or the next one's your heart.”

 

“You will regret this,” Thorne says.

 

“I might regret not aiming for your head.”

 

“Possibly. I rather need it.”

 

“I'm getting a little sick of you having the upper hand.”

 

Thorne rolls his shoulder. “Do you feel better now you have resorted to projectile weaponry?”

 

“Much better.”

 

Then Thorne is somehow on him again, pushing him backwards. Jack fires, but the shot either goes wide or right through Thorne, Jack hasn't time to analyse as Thorne snatches the gun from his hand and sending it skittering across the floor. Jack reaches blindly for a weapon, finding the crystal decanter he smashes it into Thorne's head. Thorne goes down and Jack runs for the gun.  He's almost there when something metallic impacts with his back and keeps moving, pinning him to the floorboards. The fire poker. Jack screams, until he feels Thorne standing on his back.  

 

“We could have kept this civilised,” Thorne says. He twists the end of the poker, and Jack sinks his teeth into his hand rather than give Thorne the pleasure of another scream.  “We could have negotiated like grown ups. Come to a mutually beneficial solution. But no.” He moves the metal again, and this time Jack whimpers into his hand. “You had to be a fool. So now the price of the deal is going to be considerably higher.”

 

“Wait,” Jack gasps. “Wait.”

 

“Unfortunately, your friend will be here soon, and I really need you out of the way before that happens.” Thorne pulls the poker free.  “Goodnight, Captain.”

 

Thorne brings the poker down on the back of Jack's head and a rush of Nothing releases Jack from the pain.

 

  -------

  

Ianto reaches the apartment block, goes past the receptionist without her blinking, guided only by instinct. A door stands open, and Ianto pauses there, looking in.  Thorne is standing by a fire, leaning on the mantle and looking at the drink in his hand.  “Come in, Ianto. I've  been expecting you.”

 

Ianto stays by the door, breathing hard.   “I was looking... for you?” Ianto tries to keep his voice calm, but he can't. Desperation. Hunger. Need.  

   

“It's all right,” Thorne says, with a gentle smile, running his fingers around the rim of the glass before putting it down.  He holds out his arms.  “You've found me now.”

Ianto runs to Thorne, pressing his body against him, seeking closeness.  Thorne wraps his arms round him and strokes the back of his neck . Ianto shakes with hunger and desire.  When Thorne leans down to kiss him, Ianto responds, kissing hard, frantically searching for something more, biting at Thorne's lips. The metallic taste, the warmth of blood in my mouth, the feel of your body, twisting against mine.  Thorne lifts his hand to Ianto's mouth, showing him the blood on his fingers, leaves a trail of it across his lips.

“Is what you need?”

 

Ianto moans, trying to fight the ache, his voice is a sob. “What's happening to me?”

   

“Don't be afraid.” Thorne says.

 

“I don't want...”

 

“Ianto.” Thorne tilts Ianto's head up and looks into his eyes.  “I can't stop you wanting, but if you take this, you won't need to hurt anyone else.”

 

Ianto takes Thorne's fingers into his mouth, sucking and drinking until the craving almost goes away, and Thorne pulls back his hand. The instant it is gone, Ianto wants it back, reaches for Thorne's hand again, but Thorne grips his wrists, leans in close.  “ I want you.”

 

God, yes.

 

Thorne leads him into a bedroom, lies him down. He runs his fingers slowly over Ianto's chest, unbuttoning and pushing aside the red silk. When he closes his lips round an exposed nipple, Ianto moans softly and twists his fingers into Thorne's hair. “ Will you touch me?” Ianto whispers.

 

 Thorne makes a show of licking his fingers before he traces the length of Ianto's growing cock.  Ianto moans into Thorne's neck as Thorne presses harder.  “Do you like it when I touch you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Thorne works Ianto's trousers down over his hips, and wraps his fingers around him, stroking.  “Tell me what it is you want,” Thorne says.

 

“I want...” his fingernails dig into Thorne's shoulder. He wants Thorne inside him, taking him completely -not yet, not ready to complete this betrayal, not yet- His own shoulder is burning.

 

“I want to...” Nails, raking skin, drawing trails of red.

 

Thorne pushes himself into Ianto's fingers. “Do it.”

 

Ianto rakes Thorne's skin, and as he does the hand on his cock strokes roughly, making him arch his back in pleasure.

 

 “Harder,” Thorne breathes. Scratching, clawing, Thorne moaning as Ianto draws blood,  pulling Ianto's hand against his cock, thrusting against his palm. “Do it more, Ianto. Take what you need.”

 

Ianto licks at the blood on Thorne's shoulders, and he knows it is wrong, but he wants it so badly. He wants this, needs this, the feel of Thorne touching him, the feel of Thorne's blood in his mouth, burning him, owning him, making him live. As he takes more, the burning in his shoulder stops. The more pain he causes, the more blood, the more Thorne is dragging him closer and closer to orgasm.

 

“Come for me,” Thorne says.

 

Ianto comes.

 

What have I done? In minutes after, as Thorne is changing clothes, Ianto lies still.  The taste of iron is still in his mouth, blood is drying on his fingertips. In the absence of arousal, in the absence of need, he's suddenly very cold.

 

And then Thorne sits beside him, brushing sweat from his eyes, and he doesn't care. I want this. I'm happy with this. He doesn't know how he could doubt it, with Thorne protecting him, with Thorne making love to him. He looks for a kiss, and Thorne leans down to give. At the brush of Thorne's fingers on his thigh, warmth floods him and he's hard again, craving again.

 

“Are you mine, Ianto?”

 

“Yes,” he says.

 

“And your 'sort of'?” Thorne says.  “What about him?”

 

A sudden rush of reality. Jack.  A sad fondness touches Ianto as he remembers, but it barely registers with the feel of Thorne's skin next to his. A tiny glimmer of hope -you know this isn't right - tries to surface, but Thorne's touch, curling his fingers round me again, pushes it away. “Doesn't matter,” Ianto says.

 

“I wonder,” Thorne says.  “How true that is.”

 

**************
Part FIVE is HERE

Comments

[bk_forever]

I want to wipe the air of superiority off Thorne's face. Exactly what kind of game is he playing? I'm really starting to loathe him. I wish Jack had been able to restrain himself though, maybe Thorne wouldn't be so intent on taking Ianto over completely now if Jack had just played along a while longer.

I wonder if killing Thorne would free Ianto of his influence...