galadriel1010 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
galadriel1010) wrote2010-09-15 11:52 am
galadriel1010) wrote2010-09-15 11:52 am
Entry tags:
Schmoop_Bingo fills 21-25
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Prompt:
Erotic Feeding
Wordcount: 1632
Summary: The male body isn't designed to cope with both pregnancy and eating, so Ianto tries to lend assistance.
Jack was on the sofa in the living room, securely propped by pillows and cushions and snuggled under the duvet from their bedroom, hugging a pillow to his chest miserably. Spring had come with bright flowers and baby birds, chocolate rabbits in gold foil and gradually warming weather; and Jack was indoors almost every day, often alone because Ianto had to keep an eye on things at the new Hub. Whilst male pregnancy was possible – and he and Concept were living proof of that – it would never be a pleasant experience for the carrier, even with medical facilities developed to cope with it. Trapped in the twenty-first century, treated as a loveable freak by the media and often abandoned by his husband's stressful schedule, Jack was miserable and in discomfort bordering on pain most of the time.
He'd tried to hide it from Ianto as much as he could; he had too much on his mind already, and there was very little he could do to help. Admittedly, a little more of his company would have been appreciated, but he was spending as much time at home as he could, working nights so that he was at home whilst Jack was awake and Jack could sleep whilst he was gone.
The kitchen door opened and Ianto emerged with a trayhttp://www.livejournal.com/editjournal.bml?journal=fiwen1010&itemid=27252 full of small bowls. He set it down on the table carefully and settled into Jack's open arms, running his hands over Jack's stomach and sides, everywhere he could reach, knowing that it eased some of the strain. “Hey.” He kissed Jack gently and rested their foreheads together, one arm lifting to wrap around Jack's shoulders and the other holding his swollen stomach, protecting and supporting it. “How are you feeling?”
Jack dropped his head onto Ianto's shoulder, felt Ianto kiss his hair gently, and sighed. “Enormous, and sore.”
Ianto's hand started rubbing again. “Where are you sore?”
“My back,” he shrugged to indicate it. “Shoulders particularly. I think I've been hunching them.”
With a small nod, Ianto wormed his way out of Jack's embrace and got up to stand behind the sofa. He pushed Jack's shoulders forwards and ran the palms of his hands across them in broad sweeps, from the base of his neck right across to the joint, then started massaging them firmly. “This better?”
Jack sounded more pitiful than he would have liked when he moaned his agreement, but at least it sounded affirmative. “Ianto, please don't leave me on my own any more?” He hadn't meant to ask, but once it had escaped, and there was no taking it back, he needed Ianto to agree.
Ianto's hands stilled on his shoulders. “I can't promise that,” he said quietly, soft and apologetic. “But I'll do my best.”
“Thank you,” Jack reached up to cover one of his hands and leaned his head against Ianto's other wrist. “I know you're doing so much already. I just miss you when you're out.”
“You're my priority,” Ianto told him, resuming his massaging of Jack's shoulders. “You come before everything. If you're ever not okay with me going out, or anything, just tell me and I'll find a way. Now...” he slid his hands down over Jack's shoulders and pulled him back into the sofa gently. “You couldn't eat all your lunch?”
Jack shook his head and thought of the sandwich that Ianto had made for him and left within easy reach; he'd managed half of it but, whilst his mind had wanted the rest, he just couldn't eat that much any more. By the time he'd been able to eat again, it had gone dry. “I got as much as I wanted,” he said, not wanting to worry Ianto.
“Hmm,” Ianto sounded unconvinced. “Hungry again now?”
He was, and the covered bowls on the tray were intriguing him. “A bit. Won't be able to face much, though.”
“I thought of that,” Ianto told him. “Humour me.”
“Uh oh,” Jack said lightly, whilst Ianto walked around the sofa again and dangled a silk blindfold from his fingers. “He's had an idea.”
Ianto rested one hand on either side of Jack's shoulders and lowered himself carefully so as not to put any of his weight on Jack, kneeling on the edge of the sofa with his knees straddling Jack's legs. He ducked his head to kiss Jack gently, resting the hand that held the blindfold against Jack's cheek and stroking his face softly. “Do you trust me?”
“Always,” he replied, without having to consider it.
After kissing him once more, Ianto pulled back and Jack rested his hands on his waist to steady him. He stroked the blindfold between his fingers to smooth it out and pressed it against Jack's eyes gently, then ran his fingers along it around Jack's head until they met at the back, where he gathered the loose ends together and tied them off. “Can you see?” Jack shook his head. “And it's not too tight?” Another shake. “Good.”
Ianto's close presence disappeared and Jack could hear him moving about, then the tray was set carefully on his lap. On Ianto's instruction he opened his mouth and felt Ianto's fingers brush against his lips gently, then something touched his tongue. He closed his lips, flicking his tongue against the tips of Ianto's fingers before he could withdraw them and smiled. “Roast salted peanuts?”
“High in salt and fat,” Ianto answered, brushing his unseen fingers against Jack's lips again. “Open.”
He did, and Ianto's fingers just managed to escape this time. “Banana. Potassium.”
“And sugar. You're getting the idea,” Ianto told him. “Any idea what else you might get?”
He considered it and licked his lips. “Protein, or Vitamin C? Egg or orange?”
Ianto laughed and kissed him again, a pleasant surprise. “You got two of the dietary requirements, but only one of the foods. Any more guesses?”
“Strawberries?” he guessed, reaching out for Ianto again carefully so as not to dislodge the tray. He opened his mouth when Ianto's finger touched his lips and lifted the segment of orange from his fingers delicately with his teeth. “Orange.”
“You got that one already,” Ianto pointed out. “Here we go.” He let his fingers linger this time, and Jack sucked them into his mouth, nibbling, licking and sucking on them, coating them in rapidly melting chocolate and then cleaning them off again. Ianto gave a guttural moan which fanned the glow of the flame within Jack. “Good for your serotonin levels.”
“Do you know what else is good for my serotonin levels?” Jack asked in a cracked purr.
Ianto laughed and kissed him again. “Good things come to those who wait, I promise.”
Jack nodded and surrendered himself to Ianto's whim, letting Ianto feed him, touch him and kiss him as he wanted to, and just trusted Ianto to take care of him. Blindfolded as he was, he had no way to measure the passage of time except in how much he'd eaten which, dragged out over a long period as it was, was more than he'd been able to eat in one sitting for a couple of weeks. Cheese, ham, chicken, grapes, tomatoes and sliced pepper, as well as the foods he'd already had, were fed to him in no particular order or discernible pattern.
Eventually, though, there came a point when he really couldn't eat any more, so Ianto took the tray from his lap and set it out of the way somewhere. He left the blindfold on, though, and Jack didn't try to remove it himself, so he was denied his sight, reliant on sound, touch and his imagination to fill in the gaps as Ianto pulled down the elasticated waistband of his loose trousers, stroked his fingertips over the sensitive skin of Jack's inner thighs, ghosted touches up his heavy, heated shaft before firming his touch and adding his mouth to the task.
He wished that he could see Ianto, see his eyes dark with lust and bright with love, cheeks flushed, hair tousled, lips swollen from kissing and stretched around him. Needing to hold Ianto, to touch in some way, he reached out blindly with one hand and squeezed tightly when it was caught and held in one of Ianto's. They shifted their grip, lacing their fingers together, and Jack relied on the connection to anchor him when Ianto finally tipped him over the edge. He felt Ianto moving around as he came down from the high, tucking him back in and snuggling against his side, rubbing at his stomach to ease the cramps that his orgasm had caused with one hand whilst the other tugged at the knot on the blindfold to remove it.
Jack kept his eyes tight shut against the sudden brightness and turned his head to the side. Ianto cupped the back of his neck and met him in a gentle kiss, a continuation of everything that tonight had been – nothing had been about sex, even when Ianto was on his knees between Jack's legs, it had been Ianto making love to him from the moment he'd sat down next to Jack on the sofa. “I love you. So damn much,” he whispered into Ianto's jaw. “Never forget that, never let me forget...”
Ianto brushed a thumb across his cheek and followed it with gentle kisses. “Never could, never would. I am yours, and you are mine, all the turnings of the year,” he promised.
“Until the stars go dark,” Jack vowed.
Prompt: Pregnancy
Wordcount: 739
Summary: As they prepare for the arrival of their child, Jack reflects on the months since she entered their lives.
“You're going to be absolutely fine,” the UNIT midwife told him, smiling warmly. “Doctor Morris has delivered children to parents with much stranger anatomies than yours, she'd be able to do it with her eyes closed.”
“Well, I hope she'll keep them open,” he quipped back, less strongly than he would have liked, hands clasped around his own knees to hide that his palms were sweating. “Although at least if she did, Ianto would be the first to see the little one.”
“Sorry, Jack,” Ianto's hand was warm and gentle, splayed between his shoulder blades, and his voice matched it, “I'll do anything for you, but I am not going to be watching her operate.”
“I'll do anything for love, but I won't do that?” Jack asked, smiling, as he turned to look at Ianto. “I might let you off.”
“Good,” he rubbed at Jack's back and smiled at him. “Now would be a bad time to fall out.”
Jack smiled down at his lap and leaned into Ianto's chest, resting his head against his shoulder when his arms slid around him fully. They were waiting for the operating theatre to be prepared, and for the local anaesthetic to take effect on Jack. Already he was feeling less sore and cramped than he had in a long while, the pressure not easing, but his awareness of it dimmed. He was in a wheelchair, ready to be taken through, and Ianto was next to him on one of the hard plastic seats provided for waiting families who spent most of their time pacing anyway. Ianto rested his cheek against Jack's forehead and held him carefully. The last two nights had been the absolute worst: sleep caught where they could between increasingly painful cramps and pressure; Jack couldn't move from the bedroom without using a wheelchair, and his appetite, normally a terrifying thing to behold, was scaring Ianto for entirely the opposite reasons when he couldn't eat more than a couple of bites of anything.
Finally, Doctor Morris had agreed that they had reached a point where Jack carrying any longer would do more harm to their still-unborn child than it helped her development – although Ianto was still sticking his fingers in his ears and singing whenever anyone started talking about gender – and had fairly rushed them to the UNIT facility closest, where they had the run of the advanced medical equipment and a private ward, and where the gawking paparazzi were banned from the site.
Jack lifted one hand from his knee and laid it almost nervously over Ianto's, feeling irrational relief when Ianto turned his hand and laced their fingers together to hold on as tightly as Jack was doing. They'd nearly made it to nine months; nine months of Jack getting bigger, less mobile, more stressed, tireder and almost constantly scared for the baby he was carrying. They'd had middle of the night panics and elations from body-racking cramps and baby's first kick; days of surly silence from Jack and worried but silent care from Ianto, and then flipped it around to the point where Ianto had gone to work and stayed there for three days and left Jack on his own, confined to the house but still mobile at that point; thoughtless invasions of their privacy from the media and the government left them on edge, whilst a stream of messages of good will and wishes from the general public nearly overcame them with bewildered joy. The Catholic church condemned them, the Church of England couldn't make up its mind, and the United Nations praised them.
They had laughed and cried, fought and loved, tumbling together, head over heels. Head over heels in love. He turned his head to look at Ianto and found Ianto looking back at him. Leaning in, he found Ianto's lips with his own and tried to pour everything he felt, everything they'd shared over the last few years, everything he'd clung to through his hells, and everything he hoped for from the future, into the gentle press of lips, stroking tongues, shared breaths and swallowed whimpers. “I love you,” he whispered without pulling away, “and it means so much to me to have had the chance to carry your child.”
“Our child,” Ianto corrected. “A little bit of you, and a little bit of me. Together.”
Prompt: Kidfic
Wordcount: 594
Summary: Jack tends to Mirabelle in the middle of the night.
Right on cue, a hiccup from the crib in the corner warned Jack that Mirabelle was waking up and gave him enough time to slide out of bed and collect her before she started crying properly and woke Ianto. He cradled her against his shoulder, his huge hands dwarfing her tiny body, and murmured soothingly whilst he kissed her head, barely covered by dark downy hair. Her tiny fingers latched into his T shirt and she grumbled sleepily, but he knew that he had a couple of minutes to get her down to the kitchen and start feeding her before she started screaming properly.
He released one hand for long enough to tug the duvet back up over Ianto, who was still sleeping deeply, and crept from the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Down in the kitchen he put the formula on to warm up and swayed gently whilst he waited for it, murmuring half-remembered snatches of songs that kept her quiet for as long as it took for him to prepare her bottle and settle down in an armchair in the darkened living room with Mirabelle settled in the crook of his elbow.
She accepted the bottle happily – one tiny hand latching around his little finger to hold it in place whilst the other remained fixed in his T shirt – and the living room was filled with the sounds of quietly contented sucking and his soft encouragements. Her eyes remained open, bright blue and sparkling up at him, dark lashes a blur against pale skin; time would tell whether she'd inherit his deeper blue or Ianto's lighter shade, his wavy brown hair or Ianto's wildly curling black locks. She was a little bit of both of them and, in Jack and Ianto's eyes at least, absolutely perfect.
Jack leaned back in his armchair and watched her, utter adoration burning like a fire in his chest. He found it hard to believe that his life had changed so much so fast, that only a couple of days ago he was heavily pregnant and bed-ridden, and now there was this tiny, perfect little girl in his arms, with her tad curled up in their bed upstairs where he'd curl back into Jack without waking up as soon as Jack got back into bed. Somewhere in the last few years, his life had gone absolutely, perfectly right, and the life that surrounded him was the proof of that.
Mirabelle grumbled and yanked on his finger, and he took the nearly empty bottle away from her, put a cloth against her shoulder and rested her against it, getting up and walking around the room whilst he rubbed her back to burp her. She clung to his T shirt again and yawned, then burped up onto the carefully placed cloth. Smiling fondly, he pulled it out of the way and threw it into the washing machine, then resumed his pacing around the house until she fell asleep and he could put her back to bed.
“Is she asleep again?” Ianto asked from the bed, groggy in his half-awake state.
Jack kissed Mira's forehead and smiled softly, then left her and crawled back under the duvet with Ianto, shucking his T shirt on the way. He pulled Ianto into his arms and closed his eyes. “Like a log, like you should be.”
“Mmm, can sleep now,” he slung an arm over Jack's torso and hooked his ankle with Jacks, and tucked his head under Jack's chin. “Better.”
Jack smiled. “Best.”
Prompt: Adoption
Wordcount: 876
Summary: The newest member joins the Harkness-Jones family
Mirabelle stood on Ianto's lap and held onto his hair to keep her balance. He had his hands on her waist and gave Jack a long suffering look that Jack had come to interpret as 'your daughter' over the last three years. “Bell, go to your dad sweetheart,” he urged her gently, turning her towards Jack. “I need to stretch my legs.”
Jack lifted her up and held her above his head. “Simba,” he boomed, making her squeal with laughter. “Good grief, Simba, you're getting too heavy, have we been feeding you?” he dropped her to his lap and trapped her against his chest with one arm, tickling her with the other. “Have we, Bell, have we been feeding you?”
She squealed and leaned away from him, reaching for Ianto. “Tad, Tad!”
He was looking at a painting on the far wall, and turned back to look at her curiously. “What's the matter, Bell?”
“Daddy,” she laughed, trying ineffectually to grab Jack's tickling hand and pushing at his arm with her other hand. “Taddy, help!”
“Daddy's the problem?” he gasped in feigned shock. “Well, I've been saying that for a while, haven't I, sweetheart. Do you think we should gang up on him.”
“Yes!”
“Oh no...” Jack stopped his assault and hugged her to him, watching Ianto warily. “No no no.”
“No?” Ianto checked. “Do you think you should be spared?”
The door at the end of the waiting room saved Jack and they looked up at the young man holding the door open for them. “Jack and Ianto?” he checked.
“And Mirbell!” Mirabelle yelled, scrambling up in Jack's lap. He held her down, though, and she settled. “I come too!”
“And Mirabelle, of course,” he smiled and came forwards to greet them. “I'm David, I'll take you through to Christine and Andrew.”
“Thanks, David,” Ianto shook his hand. “I'm Ianto, the one beset by infant is Jack, and the infant you're met.”
David laughed. “She's got herself quite a reputation already. Now, if you'd like to follow me.”
He led them down a long corridor to a small, cozy meeting room with sofas clustered around a low coffee table, and coffee and tea making supplies on a matching table against the wall. A young boy, only a couple of years older than Mirabelle, was sitting on one of the sofas next to a woman who looked like everyone's favourite maiden aunt. They both smiled when Jack and Ianto entered, and some of the boy's nervousness disappeared behind it. “Heya,” he smiled and swung his legs.
Christine stood up to greet them and to borrow Mirabelle for a cuddle; Mirabelle often had that effect on people. “Big day, guys. I hope you've got them all organised, Mirabelle.”
She nodded seriously and stuck her thumb in her mouth in response, and Ianto took her back from Christine. Jack took her place on the sofa next to Andrew and returned his shy smile with an equally shy one of his own. “Hey, how you doing?” he asked quietly.
Andrew shrugged and ducked his head. “I'm okay. How are you?”
Jack hugged him carefully and Andrew seemed to melt into him, disappearing into Jack's embrace. “Better now,” Jack told him, smiling over his head at Ianto. “Ready to come home with us?”
He nodded firmly and peeped out at Ianto. “Really?”
“Yep, we're all yours,” Ianto sat on his other side and supported Mirabelle carefully. “Well, I think you're one of Belle's boys now, if we're being accurate.”
He laughed and detached himself from Jack to hug Mirabelle and let Ianto cuddle him. “What do you think, Bellie? Can I come home with you?”
“Yes!” she cried joyfully, then stopped to consider it. “And ice cream.”
Jack just nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”
Christine smiled at them all happily. “If you're ready, Andrew, you should say goodbye to everyone before you go; they'll want to see you off.”
“Okay, Chris,” he slid off the sofa and reached out for Jack's hand. She rested a hand on his head and used it to push him towards the door. “Go on, new life ahead of you. Don't miss us too much.”
“We'll let you know how he's getting on,” Ianto promised, hoisting Mirabelle up against his shoulder. “You're getting too big for this, missus,” he chided.
Jack and Ianto stood in the doorway of the front common room with Mirabelle and Christine, watching Andrew saying his goodbyes to the other children at the home. He hadn't been there long, but childhood friendships formed as fast as they fell apart, and there were more than a couple of glum faces. In the car, he waved madly until the house was out of sight, then settled down in his seat. Jack, who was driving, looked over his shoulder briefly. “Say, Andrew, do you think this deserves a celebration?”
His face split in a grin. “Pizza hut?”
“I'll take that as a yes,” Jack laughed. “Welcome to the family, Andrew.”
Prompt: Holiday
Wordcount: 540
Summary: The Harkness-Jones family is reunited at the airport for a fortnight in the sun.
Ianto steered the kids through the crowds towards the baggage console, keeping tight hold of their hands. “Don't wander off,” he warned Mirabelle, who was tugging at his arm. “There's too many people around.”
“Dad's here,” she told him, tugging hard. “Look!”
Sure enough, Jack was standing out of the way of the crowd with a pile of bags, waving to get their attention, so Ianto let Mirabelle and Andrew drag him through the crowd. They both hugged Jack at once. “Heya kids, miss me?” he asked, hugging them back. “How was the flight?”
Andrew grinned and tucked his head under Jack's arm. “I watched Top Gear, and Bell was sick.”
“Don't tell tales!” she cried in affront. “I was not sick!”
“She was,” Ianto confirmed, brushing her hair back carefully. “But she was okay. Just flight sickness, excitement and two packs of Polo mints.”
“I'm sorry,” Jack said, not sounding it. “I won't leave you to do flights on your own again.”
“You said that last time,” he pointed out without rancour, “and there still wasn't a way around it. I can cope. We had fun, didn't we?”
Mirabelle nodded seriously. “I watched the penguin movie. It was funny.”
Ianto made a 'don't ask me, not a clue' face and nodded to the bags. “You got everything? Thought you weren't allowed past here?”
“Yeah,” Jack picked up the kids' bag before Ianto could. “I waved my ID and told them that you were coming through with two small children, so they gave me a special dispensation.”
“How was the conference? And what's the weather like?” Ianto asked, shouldering his own bag and gripping Mirabelle's shoulder to steer her through the crowd. “Found stuff for us to do?”
“Interesting, glorious, and yes,” Jack led the way out through security, talking as he went. “The hotel is fantastic, I've been using the pool and the gym every morning and in the evenings when I can. And it's only ten minutes from the beach in one direction and from the centre of town in the other direction. There's a couple of museums that look interesting, and a restaurant I want to take you to.”
They were brought to a halt by the queue to get through the last security hurdle, and Ianto used the opportunity to pull Jack close and kiss him again, ignoring Mirabelle's giggles. “I missed you,” he told Jack softly. “You're not allowed to go away without me again. I'll come next time, we'll figure something out.”
“Yep. Moving again,” he pointed out, pulling away from Jack and collecting Mirabelle. “Bell, if you stick to us like glue and don't wander off, I'll take you horse riding, okay?”
Ianto smiled fondly and ushered his family out into the warm California sunshine. They had two weeks here with no responsibilities but those to each other, no worries but the weather, and a hotel suite courtesy of UNIT provided to ensure Jack's attendance at the week long conference that had just finished. He laced his fingers through Jack's and sighed happily. Life was good.
Prompt:
Erotic Feeding
Wordcount: 1632
Summary: The male body isn't designed to cope with both pregnancy and eating, so Ianto tries to lend assistance.
Jack was on the sofa in the living room, securely propped by pillows and cushions and snuggled under the duvet from their bedroom, hugging a pillow to his chest miserably. Spring had come with bright flowers and baby birds, chocolate rabbits in gold foil and gradually warming weather; and Jack was indoors almost every day, often alone because Ianto had to keep an eye on things at the new Hub. Whilst male pregnancy was possible – and he and Concept were living proof of that – it would never be a pleasant experience for the carrier, even with medical facilities developed to cope with it. Trapped in the twenty-first century, treated as a loveable freak by the media and often abandoned by his husband's stressful schedule, Jack was miserable and in discomfort bordering on pain most of the time.
He'd tried to hide it from Ianto as much as he could; he had too much on his mind already, and there was very little he could do to help. Admittedly, a little more of his company would have been appreciated, but he was spending as much time at home as he could, working nights so that he was at home whilst Jack was awake and Jack could sleep whilst he was gone.
The kitchen door opened and Ianto emerged with a trayhttp://www.livejournal.com/editjournal.bml?journal=fiwen1010&itemid=27252 full of small bowls. He set it down on the table carefully and settled into Jack's open arms, running his hands over Jack's stomach and sides, everywhere he could reach, knowing that it eased some of the strain. “Hey.” He kissed Jack gently and rested their foreheads together, one arm lifting to wrap around Jack's shoulders and the other holding his swollen stomach, protecting and supporting it. “How are you feeling?”
Jack dropped his head onto Ianto's shoulder, felt Ianto kiss his hair gently, and sighed. “Enormous, and sore.”
Ianto's hand started rubbing again. “Where are you sore?”
“My back,” he shrugged to indicate it. “Shoulders particularly. I think I've been hunching them.”
With a small nod, Ianto wormed his way out of Jack's embrace and got up to stand behind the sofa. He pushed Jack's shoulders forwards and ran the palms of his hands across them in broad sweeps, from the base of his neck right across to the joint, then started massaging them firmly. “This better?”
Jack sounded more pitiful than he would have liked when he moaned his agreement, but at least it sounded affirmative. “Ianto, please don't leave me on my own any more?” He hadn't meant to ask, but once it had escaped, and there was no taking it back, he needed Ianto to agree.
Ianto's hands stilled on his shoulders. “I can't promise that,” he said quietly, soft and apologetic. “But I'll do my best.”
“Thank you,” Jack reached up to cover one of his hands and leaned his head against Ianto's other wrist. “I know you're doing so much already. I just miss you when you're out.”
“You're my priority,” Ianto told him, resuming his massaging of Jack's shoulders. “You come before everything. If you're ever not okay with me going out, or anything, just tell me and I'll find a way. Now...” he slid his hands down over Jack's shoulders and pulled him back into the sofa gently. “You couldn't eat all your lunch?”
Jack shook his head and thought of the sandwich that Ianto had made for him and left within easy reach; he'd managed half of it but, whilst his mind had wanted the rest, he just couldn't eat that much any more. By the time he'd been able to eat again, it had gone dry. “I got as much as I wanted,” he said, not wanting to worry Ianto.
“Hmm,” Ianto sounded unconvinced. “Hungry again now?”
He was, and the covered bowls on the tray were intriguing him. “A bit. Won't be able to face much, though.”
“I thought of that,” Ianto told him. “Humour me.”
“Uh oh,” Jack said lightly, whilst Ianto walked around the sofa again and dangled a silk blindfold from his fingers. “He's had an idea.”
Ianto rested one hand on either side of Jack's shoulders and lowered himself carefully so as not to put any of his weight on Jack, kneeling on the edge of the sofa with his knees straddling Jack's legs. He ducked his head to kiss Jack gently, resting the hand that held the blindfold against Jack's cheek and stroking his face softly. “Do you trust me?”
“Always,” he replied, without having to consider it.
After kissing him once more, Ianto pulled back and Jack rested his hands on his waist to steady him. He stroked the blindfold between his fingers to smooth it out and pressed it against Jack's eyes gently, then ran his fingers along it around Jack's head until they met at the back, where he gathered the loose ends together and tied them off. “Can you see?” Jack shook his head. “And it's not too tight?” Another shake. “Good.”
Ianto's close presence disappeared and Jack could hear him moving about, then the tray was set carefully on his lap. On Ianto's instruction he opened his mouth and felt Ianto's fingers brush against his lips gently, then something touched his tongue. He closed his lips, flicking his tongue against the tips of Ianto's fingers before he could withdraw them and smiled. “Roast salted peanuts?”
“High in salt and fat,” Ianto answered, brushing his unseen fingers against Jack's lips again. “Open.”
He did, and Ianto's fingers just managed to escape this time. “Banana. Potassium.”
“And sugar. You're getting the idea,” Ianto told him. “Any idea what else you might get?”
He considered it and licked his lips. “Protein, or Vitamin C? Egg or orange?”
Ianto laughed and kissed him again, a pleasant surprise. “You got two of the dietary requirements, but only one of the foods. Any more guesses?”
“Strawberries?” he guessed, reaching out for Ianto again carefully so as not to dislodge the tray. He opened his mouth when Ianto's finger touched his lips and lifted the segment of orange from his fingers delicately with his teeth. “Orange.”
“You got that one already,” Ianto pointed out. “Here we go.” He let his fingers linger this time, and Jack sucked them into his mouth, nibbling, licking and sucking on them, coating them in rapidly melting chocolate and then cleaning them off again. Ianto gave a guttural moan which fanned the glow of the flame within Jack. “Good for your serotonin levels.”
“Do you know what else is good for my serotonin levels?” Jack asked in a cracked purr.
Ianto laughed and kissed him again. “Good things come to those who wait, I promise.”
Jack nodded and surrendered himself to Ianto's whim, letting Ianto feed him, touch him and kiss him as he wanted to, and just trusted Ianto to take care of him. Blindfolded as he was, he had no way to measure the passage of time except in how much he'd eaten which, dragged out over a long period as it was, was more than he'd been able to eat in one sitting for a couple of weeks. Cheese, ham, chicken, grapes, tomatoes and sliced pepper, as well as the foods he'd already had, were fed to him in no particular order or discernible pattern.
Eventually, though, there came a point when he really couldn't eat any more, so Ianto took the tray from his lap and set it out of the way somewhere. He left the blindfold on, though, and Jack didn't try to remove it himself, so he was denied his sight, reliant on sound, touch and his imagination to fill in the gaps as Ianto pulled down the elasticated waistband of his loose trousers, stroked his fingertips over the sensitive skin of Jack's inner thighs, ghosted touches up his heavy, heated shaft before firming his touch and adding his mouth to the task.
He wished that he could see Ianto, see his eyes dark with lust and bright with love, cheeks flushed, hair tousled, lips swollen from kissing and stretched around him. Needing to hold Ianto, to touch in some way, he reached out blindly with one hand and squeezed tightly when it was caught and held in one of Ianto's. They shifted their grip, lacing their fingers together, and Jack relied on the connection to anchor him when Ianto finally tipped him over the edge. He felt Ianto moving around as he came down from the high, tucking him back in and snuggling against his side, rubbing at his stomach to ease the cramps that his orgasm had caused with one hand whilst the other tugged at the knot on the blindfold to remove it.
Jack kept his eyes tight shut against the sudden brightness and turned his head to the side. Ianto cupped the back of his neck and met him in a gentle kiss, a continuation of everything that tonight had been – nothing had been about sex, even when Ianto was on his knees between Jack's legs, it had been Ianto making love to him from the moment he'd sat down next to Jack on the sofa. “I love you. So damn much,” he whispered into Ianto's jaw. “Never forget that, never let me forget...”
Ianto brushed a thumb across his cheek and followed it with gentle kisses. “Never could, never would. I am yours, and you are mine, all the turnings of the year,” he promised.
“Until the stars go dark,” Jack vowed.
Prompt: Pregnancy
Wordcount: 739
Summary: As they prepare for the arrival of their child, Jack reflects on the months since she entered their lives.
“You're going to be absolutely fine,” the UNIT midwife told him, smiling warmly. “Doctor Morris has delivered children to parents with much stranger anatomies than yours, she'd be able to do it with her eyes closed.”
“Well, I hope she'll keep them open,” he quipped back, less strongly than he would have liked, hands clasped around his own knees to hide that his palms were sweating. “Although at least if she did, Ianto would be the first to see the little one.”
“Sorry, Jack,” Ianto's hand was warm and gentle, splayed between his shoulder blades, and his voice matched it, “I'll do anything for you, but I am not going to be watching her operate.”
“I'll do anything for love, but I won't do that?” Jack asked, smiling, as he turned to look at Ianto. “I might let you off.”
“Good,” he rubbed at Jack's back and smiled at him. “Now would be a bad time to fall out.”
Jack smiled down at his lap and leaned into Ianto's chest, resting his head against his shoulder when his arms slid around him fully. They were waiting for the operating theatre to be prepared, and for the local anaesthetic to take effect on Jack. Already he was feeling less sore and cramped than he had in a long while, the pressure not easing, but his awareness of it dimmed. He was in a wheelchair, ready to be taken through, and Ianto was next to him on one of the hard plastic seats provided for waiting families who spent most of their time pacing anyway. Ianto rested his cheek against Jack's forehead and held him carefully. The last two nights had been the absolute worst: sleep caught where they could between increasingly painful cramps and pressure; Jack couldn't move from the bedroom without using a wheelchair, and his appetite, normally a terrifying thing to behold, was scaring Ianto for entirely the opposite reasons when he couldn't eat more than a couple of bites of anything.
Finally, Doctor Morris had agreed that they had reached a point where Jack carrying any longer would do more harm to their still-unborn child than it helped her development – although Ianto was still sticking his fingers in his ears and singing whenever anyone started talking about gender – and had fairly rushed them to the UNIT facility closest, where they had the run of the advanced medical equipment and a private ward, and where the gawking paparazzi were banned from the site.
Jack lifted one hand from his knee and laid it almost nervously over Ianto's, feeling irrational relief when Ianto turned his hand and laced their fingers together to hold on as tightly as Jack was doing. They'd nearly made it to nine months; nine months of Jack getting bigger, less mobile, more stressed, tireder and almost constantly scared for the baby he was carrying. They'd had middle of the night panics and elations from body-racking cramps and baby's first kick; days of surly silence from Jack and worried but silent care from Ianto, and then flipped it around to the point where Ianto had gone to work and stayed there for three days and left Jack on his own, confined to the house but still mobile at that point; thoughtless invasions of their privacy from the media and the government left them on edge, whilst a stream of messages of good will and wishes from the general public nearly overcame them with bewildered joy. The Catholic church condemned them, the Church of England couldn't make up its mind, and the United Nations praised them.
They had laughed and cried, fought and loved, tumbling together, head over heels. Head over heels in love. He turned his head to look at Ianto and found Ianto looking back at him. Leaning in, he found Ianto's lips with his own and tried to pour everything he felt, everything they'd shared over the last few years, everything he'd clung to through his hells, and everything he hoped for from the future, into the gentle press of lips, stroking tongues, shared breaths and swallowed whimpers. “I love you,” he whispered without pulling away, “and it means so much to me to have had the chance to carry your child.”
“Our child,” Ianto corrected. “A little bit of you, and a little bit of me. Together.”
Prompt: Kidfic
Wordcount: 594
Summary: Jack tends to Mirabelle in the middle of the night.
Right on cue, a hiccup from the crib in the corner warned Jack that Mirabelle was waking up and gave him enough time to slide out of bed and collect her before she started crying properly and woke Ianto. He cradled her against his shoulder, his huge hands dwarfing her tiny body, and murmured soothingly whilst he kissed her head, barely covered by dark downy hair. Her tiny fingers latched into his T shirt and she grumbled sleepily, but he knew that he had a couple of minutes to get her down to the kitchen and start feeding her before she started screaming properly.
He released one hand for long enough to tug the duvet back up over Ianto, who was still sleeping deeply, and crept from the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Down in the kitchen he put the formula on to warm up and swayed gently whilst he waited for it, murmuring half-remembered snatches of songs that kept her quiet for as long as it took for him to prepare her bottle and settle down in an armchair in the darkened living room with Mirabelle settled in the crook of his elbow.
She accepted the bottle happily – one tiny hand latching around his little finger to hold it in place whilst the other remained fixed in his T shirt – and the living room was filled with the sounds of quietly contented sucking and his soft encouragements. Her eyes remained open, bright blue and sparkling up at him, dark lashes a blur against pale skin; time would tell whether she'd inherit his deeper blue or Ianto's lighter shade, his wavy brown hair or Ianto's wildly curling black locks. She was a little bit of both of them and, in Jack and Ianto's eyes at least, absolutely perfect.
Jack leaned back in his armchair and watched her, utter adoration burning like a fire in his chest. He found it hard to believe that his life had changed so much so fast, that only a couple of days ago he was heavily pregnant and bed-ridden, and now there was this tiny, perfect little girl in his arms, with her tad curled up in their bed upstairs where he'd curl back into Jack without waking up as soon as Jack got back into bed. Somewhere in the last few years, his life had gone absolutely, perfectly right, and the life that surrounded him was the proof of that.
Mirabelle grumbled and yanked on his finger, and he took the nearly empty bottle away from her, put a cloth against her shoulder and rested her against it, getting up and walking around the room whilst he rubbed her back to burp her. She clung to his T shirt again and yawned, then burped up onto the carefully placed cloth. Smiling fondly, he pulled it out of the way and threw it into the washing machine, then resumed his pacing around the house until she fell asleep and he could put her back to bed.
“Is she asleep again?” Ianto asked from the bed, groggy in his half-awake state.
Jack kissed Mira's forehead and smiled softly, then left her and crawled back under the duvet with Ianto, shucking his T shirt on the way. He pulled Ianto into his arms and closed his eyes. “Like a log, like you should be.”
“Mmm, can sleep now,” he slung an arm over Jack's torso and hooked his ankle with Jacks, and tucked his head under Jack's chin. “Better.”
Jack smiled. “Best.”
Prompt: Adoption
Wordcount: 876
Summary: The newest member joins the Harkness-Jones family
Mirabelle stood on Ianto's lap and held onto his hair to keep her balance. He had his hands on her waist and gave Jack a long suffering look that Jack had come to interpret as 'your daughter' over the last three years. “Bell, go to your dad sweetheart,” he urged her gently, turning her towards Jack. “I need to stretch my legs.”
Jack lifted her up and held her above his head. “Simba,” he boomed, making her squeal with laughter. “Good grief, Simba, you're getting too heavy, have we been feeding you?” he dropped her to his lap and trapped her against his chest with one arm, tickling her with the other. “Have we, Bell, have we been feeding you?”
She squealed and leaned away from him, reaching for Ianto. “Tad, Tad!”
He was looking at a painting on the far wall, and turned back to look at her curiously. “What's the matter, Bell?”
“Daddy,” she laughed, trying ineffectually to grab Jack's tickling hand and pushing at his arm with her other hand. “Taddy, help!”
“Daddy's the problem?” he gasped in feigned shock. “Well, I've been saying that for a while, haven't I, sweetheart. Do you think we should gang up on him.”
“Yes!”
“Oh no...” Jack stopped his assault and hugged her to him, watching Ianto warily. “No no no.”
“No?” Ianto checked. “Do you think you should be spared?”
The door at the end of the waiting room saved Jack and they looked up at the young man holding the door open for them. “Jack and Ianto?” he checked.
“And Mirbell!” Mirabelle yelled, scrambling up in Jack's lap. He held her down, though, and she settled. “I come too!”
“And Mirabelle, of course,” he smiled and came forwards to greet them. “I'm David, I'll take you through to Christine and Andrew.”
“Thanks, David,” Ianto shook his hand. “I'm Ianto, the one beset by infant is Jack, and the infant you're met.”
David laughed. “She's got herself quite a reputation already. Now, if you'd like to follow me.”
He led them down a long corridor to a small, cozy meeting room with sofas clustered around a low coffee table, and coffee and tea making supplies on a matching table against the wall. A young boy, only a couple of years older than Mirabelle, was sitting on one of the sofas next to a woman who looked like everyone's favourite maiden aunt. They both smiled when Jack and Ianto entered, and some of the boy's nervousness disappeared behind it. “Heya,” he smiled and swung his legs.
Christine stood up to greet them and to borrow Mirabelle for a cuddle; Mirabelle often had that effect on people. “Big day, guys. I hope you've got them all organised, Mirabelle.”
She nodded seriously and stuck her thumb in her mouth in response, and Ianto took her back from Christine. Jack took her place on the sofa next to Andrew and returned his shy smile with an equally shy one of his own. “Hey, how you doing?” he asked quietly.
Andrew shrugged and ducked his head. “I'm okay. How are you?”
Jack hugged him carefully and Andrew seemed to melt into him, disappearing into Jack's embrace. “Better now,” Jack told him, smiling over his head at Ianto. “Ready to come home with us?”
He nodded firmly and peeped out at Ianto. “Really?”
“Yep, we're all yours,” Ianto sat on his other side and supported Mirabelle carefully. “Well, I think you're one of Belle's boys now, if we're being accurate.”
He laughed and detached himself from Jack to hug Mirabelle and let Ianto cuddle him. “What do you think, Bellie? Can I come home with you?”
“Yes!” she cried joyfully, then stopped to consider it. “And ice cream.”
Jack just nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”
Christine smiled at them all happily. “If you're ready, Andrew, you should say goodbye to everyone before you go; they'll want to see you off.”
“Okay, Chris,” he slid off the sofa and reached out for Jack's hand. She rested a hand on his head and used it to push him towards the door. “Go on, new life ahead of you. Don't miss us too much.”
“We'll let you know how he's getting on,” Ianto promised, hoisting Mirabelle up against his shoulder. “You're getting too big for this, missus,” he chided.
Jack and Ianto stood in the doorway of the front common room with Mirabelle and Christine, watching Andrew saying his goodbyes to the other children at the home. He hadn't been there long, but childhood friendships formed as fast as they fell apart, and there were more than a couple of glum faces. In the car, he waved madly until the house was out of sight, then settled down in his seat. Jack, who was driving, looked over his shoulder briefly. “Say, Andrew, do you think this deserves a celebration?”
His face split in a grin. “Pizza hut?”
“I'll take that as a yes,” Jack laughed. “Welcome to the family, Andrew.”
Prompt: Holiday
Wordcount: 540
Summary: The Harkness-Jones family is reunited at the airport for a fortnight in the sun.
Ianto steered the kids through the crowds towards the baggage console, keeping tight hold of their hands. “Don't wander off,” he warned Mirabelle, who was tugging at his arm. “There's too many people around.”
“Dad's here,” she told him, tugging hard. “Look!”
Sure enough, Jack was standing out of the way of the crowd with a pile of bags, waving to get their attention, so Ianto let Mirabelle and Andrew drag him through the crowd. They both hugged Jack at once. “Heya kids, miss me?” he asked, hugging them back. “How was the flight?”
Andrew grinned and tucked his head under Jack's arm. “I watched Top Gear, and Bell was sick.”
“Don't tell tales!” she cried in affront. “I was not sick!”
“She was,” Ianto confirmed, brushing her hair back carefully. “But she was okay. Just flight sickness, excitement and two packs of Polo mints.”
“I'm sorry,” Jack said, not sounding it. “I won't leave you to do flights on your own again.”
“You said that last time,” he pointed out without rancour, “and there still wasn't a way around it. I can cope. We had fun, didn't we?”
Mirabelle nodded seriously. “I watched the penguin movie. It was funny.”
Ianto made a 'don't ask me, not a clue' face and nodded to the bags. “You got everything? Thought you weren't allowed past here?”
“Yeah,” Jack picked up the kids' bag before Ianto could. “I waved my ID and told them that you were coming through with two small children, so they gave me a special dispensation.”
“How was the conference? And what's the weather like?” Ianto asked, shouldering his own bag and gripping Mirabelle's shoulder to steer her through the crowd. “Found stuff for us to do?”
“Interesting, glorious, and yes,” Jack led the way out through security, talking as he went. “The hotel is fantastic, I've been using the pool and the gym every morning and in the evenings when I can. And it's only ten minutes from the beach in one direction and from the centre of town in the other direction. There's a couple of museums that look interesting, and a restaurant I want to take you to.”
They were brought to a halt by the queue to get through the last security hurdle, and Ianto used the opportunity to pull Jack close and kiss him again, ignoring Mirabelle's giggles. “I missed you,” he told Jack softly. “You're not allowed to go away without me again. I'll come next time, we'll figure something out.”
“Yep. Moving again,” he pointed out, pulling away from Jack and collecting Mirabelle. “Bell, if you stick to us like glue and don't wander off, I'll take you horse riding, okay?”
Ianto smiled fondly and ushered his family out into the warm California sunshine. They had two weeks here with no responsibilities but those to each other, no worries but the weather, and a hotel suite courtesy of UNIT provided to ensure Jack's attendance at the week long conference that had just finished. He laced his fingers through Jack's and sighed happily. Life was good.