Ficlet: Claimed
Feb. 27th, 2026 05:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badly_knittedTitle: Claimed
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Ianto, Jack.
Rating: PG-15
Word Count: 537
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Ianto wasn’t flirting, exactly, but it still had an effect on Jack.
Written For: The prompt ‘Any, any, marked as property,’ at
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threesentenceficathon.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Back at the beginning of their relationship, when they were barely more than friends with benefits, Ianto would never have thought of Jack as the jealous type, not with all his stories of past conquests, and the way he flirts with everything that moves. As for being possessive… he could have practically anyone he wanted, just for the asking, so why would he feel the need to warn others away from whoever he was with?
But it’s not that simple. Yes, Jack can be free and easy with his attentions, flirting is his way of connecting with other people, but he doesn’t share, except on his own terms, and when it comes to Ianto, those terms amount to ‘Not on your life!’
Ianto hadn’t even been flirting, not in the way that Jack flirts, he’d simply been exchanging pleasantries with some guy at the bar earlier this evening while waiting to be served, half expecting Jack to suggest a threesome. But that hadn’t happened, and now Ianto is thinking maybe he should do that more often, because…
“Mine,” says Jack, nipping at Ianto’s collarbone hard enough to leave a small, red mark. “Mine,” as he sucks up a love bite at the centre of his lover’s chest, right over his heart. “Mine!” Another love bite on his hip, then a matching one on the other hip, before flipping Ianto over onto his stomach and sinking his teeth into one firm arse cheek. The sharp pain makes Ianto’s breath hiss through his teeth, turning to a keening whine as Jack pulls away to admire his handiwork.
“All mine,” Jack repeats, licking across the toothmarks on Ianto’s arse, soothing the soreness, peppering butterfly kisses across to the other cheek, and leaving another love bite as Ianto fists the rumpled sheets in both hands, moaning incoherently, and thrusting convulsively against the mattress. He’s being driven out of his mind! He wants more, wants Jack, never wants any of this to end…
“Jack…” he begs, even though he’s not at all sure what it is he’s begging for. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
“Mine,” Jack insists fiercely, kissing his way up Ianto’s spine before latching onto the tender side of his neck, sucking blood to the surface, possessive and insistent, inflamed from watching Ianto idly chatting with that guy at the bar. Ianto can’t remember what he looked like, can’t even remember what they were talking about, and it wasn’t flirting anyway, just small talk because the bar was busy and it was taking forever for the barmaid to get around to taking his order.
And okay, Ianto freely admitted he HAD been flirting with her a bit, because she was pretty, and if Jack could flirt with anyone he wanted, then he couldn’t complain if Ianto did the same. And to be fair, Jack hadn’t said a word about it, hadn’t seemed annoyed or anything, had just brought him here and proceeded to get all possessive.
“Yours,” Ianto agrees, voice deep and strained, eyes dark with desire. “Always yours.”
Jack is never more passionate than when he’s driven to mark his territory, and Ianto relishes every second, knowing the marks Jack is leaving on his pale skin will last for days.
The End
But it’s not that simple. Yes, Jack can be free and easy with his attentions, flirting is his way of connecting with other people, but he doesn’t share, except on his own terms, and when it comes to Ianto, those terms amount to ‘Not on your life!’
Ianto hadn’t even been flirting, not in the way that Jack flirts, he’d simply been exchanging pleasantries with some guy at the bar earlier this evening while waiting to be served, half expecting Jack to suggest a threesome. But that hadn’t happened, and now Ianto is thinking maybe he should do that more often, because…
“Mine,” says Jack, nipping at Ianto’s collarbone hard enough to leave a small, red mark. “Mine,” as he sucks up a love bite at the centre of his lover’s chest, right over his heart. “Mine!” Another love bite on his hip, then a matching one on the other hip, before flipping Ianto over onto his stomach and sinking his teeth into one firm arse cheek. The sharp pain makes Ianto’s breath hiss through his teeth, turning to a keening whine as Jack pulls away to admire his handiwork.
“All mine,” Jack repeats, licking across the toothmarks on Ianto’s arse, soothing the soreness, peppering butterfly kisses across to the other cheek, and leaving another love bite as Ianto fists the rumpled sheets in both hands, moaning incoherently, and thrusting convulsively against the mattress. He’s being driven out of his mind! He wants more, wants Jack, never wants any of this to end…
“Jack…” he begs, even though he’s not at all sure what it is he’s begging for. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
“Mine,” Jack insists fiercely, kissing his way up Ianto’s spine before latching onto the tender side of his neck, sucking blood to the surface, possessive and insistent, inflamed from watching Ianto idly chatting with that guy at the bar. Ianto can’t remember what he looked like, can’t even remember what they were talking about, and it wasn’t flirting anyway, just small talk because the bar was busy and it was taking forever for the barmaid to get around to taking his order.
And okay, Ianto freely admitted he HAD been flirting with her a bit, because she was pretty, and if Jack could flirt with anyone he wanted, then he couldn’t complain if Ianto did the same. And to be fair, Jack hadn’t said a word about it, hadn’t seemed annoyed or anything, had just brought him here and proceeded to get all possessive.
“Yours,” Ianto agrees, voice deep and strained, eyes dark with desire. “Always yours.”
Jack is never more passionate than when he’s driven to mark his territory, and Ianto relishes every second, knowing the marks Jack is leaving on his pale skin will last for days.
The End
