![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lizzledpinkTitle: Charade
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lizzledpink
Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Ianto-centric
Summary: I wonder if it would be kinder to not pretend you're after little more than a pleasant outlet.
A/N: I'd like to think it isn't a coincidence that the inspiration for this stuck me at 8:02 am. (I checked.) Oh, and my first DW or TW fic with a rating above PG-13. Whoa.
Also, this is not beta'd, because I love it so much and I have no patience today. Hooray. Please let me know if something needs to be fixed. Edit: THANK YOU,alt_universe_me ! :D
Disclaimer: I don't own, I don't make any money, etc.
:::
Some days I like to pretend I'm more than just a willing fuck to you.
On those days, I tell myself that were we not confined to a work situation, perhaps we'd go for a walk. I don't like public displays of affection as much as you do, you voyeuristic bastard, but you'd cajole me and tease me and finally, exasperated, I'd let you hold my hand. But secretly I wanted it anyway.
Some days I pretend that when you cup my "lovely ass" with one hand and growl, your eyes dark with lust and need and passion, "mine," you mean more than body - you mean my soul, my life, every last fibre of my being belongs to you and you alone and had I the courage, I might growl "mine" back, pounding the words into you with such reckless want. But I don't, because like it or not that "mine" is not an invitation, it's a warning. My arse is yours to keep. You own it as surely as others might own a bed or a table: you may use it when you want, how you like, and I mustn't complain.
So I don't.
I am only allowed to gasp, between thrusts, "yours," and that pleases you and whether you're in me or I'm in you doesn't matter; the order of things is plain. I'm surprised there's no deed or receipt. I wonder what you must've paid to buy me. Then I remember I found myself in your debt when you allowed me so graciously to live, and I wonder if I've paid you yet.
I haven't.
Some days, I make myself believe a not-so-subtle grope at midday is more of a lover’s caress, a whispering promise of care, which later you intend to fulfill. At that time, your teeth will nip at my collarbone, another mark my oft-worn suits must hide, or perhaps your tongue will lick the skin at the small of my back. Maybe your hands will rake themselves across my chest, or your thumb will find that spot just behind my ear, and you'll graze it, just once, enough to drive me wild and make me arch into your body, feel your skin clash with mine. I make myself believe you gift me with these pleasures, showing your affection and showering me in happiness. I don't think about where you learned these tricks, these baubles, because I'm the only one in your bed. Or at least the only one who ever mattered.
Some days, I lie to myself. I'll pass you a cup of coffee. You might thank me, but then again, you might not, but nevertheless I was the one to give you that coffee. I'm the person who cleans up, the person who does all your dirty work, and some days, those days, I pretend this makes me indispensable. I'm an irreplaceable fragment of your life. What would you do without me? Survive, of course. Move on. I don't mean a thing to you, and this is my penance; this will always be my penance. I know my place in the fabric of your life, and another's life may slide into place as easily as my own where you're concerned.
Some days, we kiss, and it's more than a desperate plea to remind us both how to live again. It's mutual companionship, not shared agony. We're partners, or lovers at the least. Not a couple, never a couple; I suspect you hate that label as much as I.
Some days, we are more than the master and his chattel.
Truthfully, some days are crueler than most, because I see you care, and it isn't real. I wonder if it would be kinder to not pretend you're after little more than a pleasant outlet. I think it would. But you're as desperate to keep this charade as I, and I know it, and maybe that's why I've so openly shackled myself to you. We're two of a kind, each as lost and lonely in this sinking world, an in need of an anchor.
Some days, there's a relationship. It's not physical. It's real, a tangible, invisible force. The kind of thing I could have had if there were no Torchwood, no Lisa, no nothing. If it were only Ianto and Jack.
But that would be nice. I'd like that. And you've made it clear, so clear, that I am your property, and if my stomach is full of rats, with such constant pain, it doesn't matter. For a short time, you make the rats go away. I temporarily feel whole again. You fill me up - and yes, the double entendre is intentional.
It's a beautiful lie you weave for me, and for it, I am ever thankful.
Author:
lizzledpink Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Ianto-centric
Summary: I wonder if it would be kinder to not pretend you're after little more than a pleasant outlet.
A/N: I'd like to think it isn't a coincidence that the inspiration for this stuck me at 8:02 am. (I checked.) Oh, and my first DW or TW fic with a rating above PG-13. Whoa.
Also, this is not beta'd, because I love it so much and I have no patience today. Hooray. Please let me know if something needs to be fixed. Edit: THANK YOU,
alt_universe_me ! :DDisclaimer: I don't own, I don't make any money, etc.
:::
Some days I like to pretend I'm more than just a willing fuck to you.
On those days, I tell myself that were we not confined to a work situation, perhaps we'd go for a walk. I don't like public displays of affection as much as you do, you voyeuristic bastard, but you'd cajole me and tease me and finally, exasperated, I'd let you hold my hand. But secretly I wanted it anyway.
Some days I pretend that when you cup my "lovely ass" with one hand and growl, your eyes dark with lust and need and passion, "mine," you mean more than body - you mean my soul, my life, every last fibre of my being belongs to you and you alone and had I the courage, I might growl "mine" back, pounding the words into you with such reckless want. But I don't, because like it or not that "mine" is not an invitation, it's a warning. My arse is yours to keep. You own it as surely as others might own a bed or a table: you may use it when you want, how you like, and I mustn't complain.
So I don't.
I am only allowed to gasp, between thrusts, "yours," and that pleases you and whether you're in me or I'm in you doesn't matter; the order of things is plain. I'm surprised there's no deed or receipt. I wonder what you must've paid to buy me. Then I remember I found myself in your debt when you allowed me so graciously to live, and I wonder if I've paid you yet.
I haven't.
Some days, I make myself believe a not-so-subtle grope at midday is more of a lover’s caress, a whispering promise of care, which later you intend to fulfill. At that time, your teeth will nip at my collarbone, another mark my oft-worn suits must hide, or perhaps your tongue will lick the skin at the small of my back. Maybe your hands will rake themselves across my chest, or your thumb will find that spot just behind my ear, and you'll graze it, just once, enough to drive me wild and make me arch into your body, feel your skin clash with mine. I make myself believe you gift me with these pleasures, showing your affection and showering me in happiness. I don't think about where you learned these tricks, these baubles, because I'm the only one in your bed. Or at least the only one who ever mattered.
Some days, I lie to myself. I'll pass you a cup of coffee. You might thank me, but then again, you might not, but nevertheless I was the one to give you that coffee. I'm the person who cleans up, the person who does all your dirty work, and some days, those days, I pretend this makes me indispensable. I'm an irreplaceable fragment of your life. What would you do without me? Survive, of course. Move on. I don't mean a thing to you, and this is my penance; this will always be my penance. I know my place in the fabric of your life, and another's life may slide into place as easily as my own where you're concerned.
Some days, we kiss, and it's more than a desperate plea to remind us both how to live again. It's mutual companionship, not shared agony. We're partners, or lovers at the least. Not a couple, never a couple; I suspect you hate that label as much as I.
Some days, we are more than the master and his chattel.
Truthfully, some days are crueler than most, because I see you care, and it isn't real. I wonder if it would be kinder to not pretend you're after little more than a pleasant outlet. I think it would. But you're as desperate to keep this charade as I, and I know it, and maybe that's why I've so openly shackled myself to you. We're two of a kind, each as lost and lonely in this sinking world, an in need of an anchor.
Some days, there's a relationship. It's not physical. It's real, a tangible, invisible force. The kind of thing I could have had if there were no Torchwood, no Lisa, no nothing. If it were only Ianto and Jack.
But that would be nice. I'd like that. And you've made it clear, so clear, that I am your property, and if my stomach is full of rats, with such constant pain, it doesn't matter. For a short time, you make the rats go away. I temporarily feel whole again. You fill me up - and yes, the double entendre is intentional.
It's a beautiful lie you weave for me, and for it, I am ever thankful.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 11:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 11:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 11:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 11:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 12:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 12:47 am (UTC)Thank you! :)
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 12:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 12:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 01:08 am (UTC)IT JUST WROTE ITSELF OKAY?
:) Thank you, though. Don't mind me; I'm just rambling. Happily.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 01:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 03:06 am (UTC)I read your responses to other comments, and wanted to add that I read and write many things that I adamantly DENY as well because I, too, am a hopeless romantic and believe that Ianto and Jack loved each other. Oh, not in a fluffy, always happy kind of way, but I think they loved each other.
That doesn't mean I don't want to read awesome, angsty stuff like this, though, because I definitely do :)
Anyways, I wanted to mention that there are a couple typos, since you asked:
"I'd I've paid you yet" I think you mean "if I've"
"hand will rake themselves" I think you mean "hands"
~hearts~
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 03:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 03:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 03:11 am (UTC)I agree with all statements made within your second and third paragraphs.
And THANK YOU for that. Want proof of how impatient I was to post this up? I handwrote it in my notebook at, as mentioned, 8:02am, typed it on my iPod in my spare time, emailed it to myself, and the moment I had laptop access immediately gave it a quick once-through before posting it to my LJ.
THAT IS HOW IMPATIENT I WAS. And also the reason why "I'd I've" and "hand" slipped past. :) So thanks for catching them!
nice
Date: 2010-09-28 01:42 am (UTC)Re: nice
Date: 2010-09-28 01:45 am (UTC):D Thank you. Glad I was able to capture that the way I wanted to.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 01:46 am (UTC)...And because I'm a hopeless romantic, I'd like to think that there's another side to his thoughts too--a happier Ianto who lets all these insecurities go sometimes... Maybe. Hopefully. ;__;
But yes. This was wonderful. Thank you so much for being impatient and sharing it! <3
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 01:51 am (UTC)Thank you! :D I'm glad my impatience has made you go "<3" over it.
AND ME TOO. /hugs/ Did I mention? I DENY THIS FIC! I might have written it but that doesn't mean I necessarily agree with it. This is just one of many possible takes on their relationship.
And 99% of the time, happy!Ianto is much happier and they're all fluffy and stuff. Well, as fluffy as TW gets, at least. :D
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 04:00 am (UTC)And you know, I absolutely get what you're saying, and I've totally, totally been there. XD;; I feel like lots of times when I write Ianto, it ends up coming out with much more angst than I planned on, and with much more angst than I actually see in their relationship. XD;; So yes, I can definitely identify. ;) And I think you did a wonderful, wonderful job of making it seem like this was just sort of one side of himself thinking these things? At least that's how it came across to me. *nods*
That's probably due to the fact that you're looking at it as one of many takes on them, like you said, but I also think that's true for Ianto as well? One day he sees Jack like this, and then another day everything's fluffy and melty and happy? ;) So yes, really great job capturing this side of him. <3
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 04:02 am (UTC)*blushing* Thanks all over again!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 04:27 am (UTC)P.S. I meant to say this before, but do you mind if I friend you? :)
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 04:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 02:49 am (UTC)I just want to hug him.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 02:56 am (UTC)The plot bunny sprung me, what can I say?
I'd like to think the same. I do believe Ianto means MUCH more than this fic might have you believe. But the fic begged to be written, because since we see so, SO little of S1 J/I, it's really hard to define the exact nature of their relationship - this is just one interpretation.
It just happens to be one of the most depressing interpretations, too. :D
/gives you Ianto/ Go ahead, hug him. Poor emo!Ianto would like your hug. I've already given him mine and tossed him in a room with Jack for 24 hours as my apology for writing this.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 03:51 am (UTC)I know exactly what you mean. My last fic was suppose to be a CoE fix-it and it turned into total CRACK!(as you know).
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 03:45 am (UTC)Ouch! Broke my heart!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 03:48 am (UTC)...You know I typed that BEFORE I looked at your icon, right? :D Thank you! Happy to break your heart at any time. Well, in fic, at least. Sheesh, now I feel guilty because the last thing you wrote had my laughing my head off as well as falling over with a loud *thud* and then in return you get emo!Ianto angst. :P
:D Glad it seems you liked it, anyway!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 04:41 am (UTC)Yeah... And the frightening part is how Ianto accepts it all. :) Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 06:33 am (UTC)What would you do without me? Survive, of course. Move on. I don't mean a thing to you, and this is my penance; this will always be my penance.
This particular section sort of summed it up for me, and it sounds very post-Lisa.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 06:41 am (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 07:39 pm (UTC)But anyways, thank for this insight into Ianto's dark thoughts. Very haunting, well written. : D
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 10:14 pm (UTC)On the other hand, in his darkest moments this could well be what goes through Ianto's mind, almost as if he's trying to punish himself, or as if he feels it's all he deserves.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 10:47 pm (UTC)/blames the muses/
:) Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-29 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-29 07:57 pm (UTC)