All part of the service.

By Alia

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood.

Summary: Late at night Ianto provides more than coffee.

Rating: PG

Author's notes: This is first attempt at this fandom. Double drabble. Australian spelling. Unbetaed.

Comments: Are welcome at alia1999@hotmail.com

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Sex is good. Serving more than just the physical it takes away the pain and heals all manner of wounds until the time when they can be recalled again to wreak havoc on men's souls.

When I first joined Torchwood 3 I had thought that Jack did not sleep. It was a mistake of course. He sleeps, perhaps not as well as the rest of us, but after he fucks me his body stills and his eyes close.

I watch him as he rests, wondering as I clean up after both of us if he has found what he needs, if my efforts have been enough.

"Thank you, Ianto," he says as I finish up, flashing me one of his killer smiles and reaching out to me.

I am flattered by the simple gesture, ridiculously so under the circumstances, but I know better than to let it show. For someone like Jack, who has had sex with dozens of different species over many thousands of years, sex with the current Torchwood receptionist is a means to an end, and no more.

I cover his hand briefly, returning his smile and then let him go.

"All part of the service, sir."

End.

 

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