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TITLE: Monsters Ianto Has Known
AUTHOR: Kita
RATING: Light R, for violence, imagery, language, and sex.
PAIRING: Jack/Ianto
AUTHOR NOTES: "Torchwood" Fandom
Monsters Ianto Has Known
1. Myfanwy
They let her out of the hub once a month; by the dark of the moon,
she’s only another shadow in the night sky. Early on,
they’d tried a perception filter, but she chewed the tag off her
neck, spat it at Ianto’s feet.
From the roof’s edge he watches her, riding the clouds in ever expanding circles, until the vertigo makes him sway.
Jack squeezes his shoulder; comfort, ground. “You know she always comes back.”
“Yes sir,” Ianto says. “I just don’t understand why.”
Jack closes his eyes against the stars. Whispers, “Where else is she going to go?”
2. Weevils
They come through the Rift naked, smooth and genderless as dolls. Ianto
needs the stun gun to clothe them, but they never do try to undress.
He tosses them each the same pound of raw meat, four times a day, until
the third Weevil on the left stops eating altogether. Soon, it shrinks
in on itself, hissing like a roach when Ianto passes its cage.
“If you don’t eat, you’ll die,” Ianto tells it.
He pours ketchup over the food, slides the tray beneath the glass,
waits.
And the Weevil eats, then stares unblinking at Ianto until he fetches more.
3. Meat
Ianto decides its song did Jack in. Loud and lonesome, a misplaced echo.
A year ago he’d told Jack about a dragon sighting in Los Angeles.
“America has too much crazy stuff for us to bother. Besides, where would we keep a dragon?”
For this though, Jack was willing to make room. Ianto carefully refuses
to consider a common history of chains and torture as the reason.
He covers the warehouse in gasoline, lights the matches. He stands
guard all through the night as it burns, choking around the stench of
rot and fire, humming scraps from an old lullaby.
4. Lisa
He can’t bring himself to kill her, even as he realizes that she
will kill him first. Instead, he stares at the scar across her forehead
beneath unfamiliar blonde curls, and thinks of Frankenstein. He wants
to laugh. There is so much blood.
He can still clean this up.
Run, he tries to say, but Jack is faster on the draw than he will ever be.
Two days later, Jack is shot. He lies bleeding out in the dirt, and
just before he dies, Ianto bends to whisper in his ear. “I hope
it hurts, you son of a bitch.”
5. Jack
Ianto isn’t sure how he finds his way into Jack’s bed, only that he keeps coming back.
Killing hands caress Ianto’s dick, unmarred skin shivers under
Ianto’s mouth; each time Ianto counts the places where the scars
ought to be.
Jack fucks him cruel and precise, a scalpel that cuts him wide and
leaves him gasping. But he prays Ianto’s name when he comes, and
after, he presses a kiss over Ianto’s heart.
Sometimes, Ianto wakes just before dawn, and finds Jack staring out his
window. In the half light, he is pale, immense, motionless; a beautiful
and terrible thing.
-End
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