Birthday fic #1 for Razzle.
Jan. 18th, 2007 10:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aleathielPairing: Jack/Ianto (Torchwood)
Rating: Probably R. Maybe NC17.
Title: Smile
Notes: Razzle, my love, I have to admit that perhaps my brain is no longer the clone of yours: I have to confess I haven’t read this pairing at all – not even yours yet. I want to watch the second half of the series before I do. So I apologise profusely if this is totally unoriginal, but then again, it’s just a little smutlet so I doubt if you will mind that much!
Note 2: Um, fuck knows where this came from. They didn’t end up behaving as I thought they would! I thought Jack would be in charge. Ha.
It was quiet when everyone had left. They’d pretty much turned everything off, although there was still the gentle hum of the power and some screen flickered over where Owen had been working. Jack wondered, somewhat idly, if he ought to go over and find out what it was and maybe switch it off.
He glanced at his watch again. Then at the switch for the intercom. Then at the watch again. Then he ran his hand through his hair, sighed, and turned back to his paperwork.
For a man who prided himself in his control, he was feeling very jittery. He debated getting up, going upstairs, doing it his way. He glanced at the clock again. Dammit.
He’d almost given up hope when he heard the doors open. He didn’t turn around, but his senses were instantly at high alert. He could smell the coffee, Ianto’s usual justification for his visit. The mug was placed by his elbow and Jack turned his head ever so slightly, trying not to startle the other man. He’d been careless too often.
He caught a glimpse of Ianto’s retreating hand, the curve of his elegant suit sleeve, the shadow the cuff cast, caressing the underside of his wrist. Jack knew what that skin tasted like, how it smelled, and he let his eyes drift closed to centre himself, biting on his tongue to choke back a moan.
For a few moments there was silence, he couldn’t even hear Ianto’s breathing, and for a few paranoid seconds he thought Ianto had gone. What had he done wrong? He’d been so still, so careful…
Then a gentle touch brushed the back of his neck, making his shoulders sag in relief and his arms break out in goose pimples. Then again, so feather light he couldn’t even tell if it was a finger or a tongue, right where his hair curled into his collar, the touch teasingly soft and yet he was achingly aware of it. He strained towards the touch, willing it to happen again, wanting so badly.
Then lips, definitely lips, against his jaw. The top of a dark head in the corner of his vision, but Jack didn’t dare turn to look. He’d made that mistake too often, destroyed precious moments by being too eager.
A tongue traced a line up to his ear. Jack stifled a whimper. He wasn’t the kind of man who whimpered.
But oh please.
He shifted his weight ever so slightly in his chair, trying to ease the pressure of his trousers against the urgent erection that had been pressing on his awareness before even the very first touch, aroused simply by the hopeful anticipation.
The touch withdrew and Jack nearly banged his head on the desk in frustration. No he almost yelled at Ianto, stop playing games!
And then the mouth was back, the tongue stroking, coaxing, intoxicating and this time there were hands, firm hands, not at all hesitant, and they curled around Jack’s hips. They paused for a moment, fingers digging into the outside of his thighs, warning him to stay still.
He didn’t move, his head tipped slightly back, his legs trembling as he tried to keep them motionless. Careful fingers plucked at his trousers, unfastened his fly. The sudden release of pressure on his cock made him breathe in sharply, urgently. The hands stilled.
“Please,” he whispered, breaking a unacknowledged rule.
After a moment’s pause – Jack could hear Ianto’s breathing, the distinctive hitch of his breath that betrayed his arousal, could feel the warm exhalations against his cheek and neck – the hands returned, smoothing up Jack’s inner thighs, cupping his balls through the fabric, peeling apart his fly and delving in, in…
He hadn’t worn underwear since the first time. Some days he thought he almost caught Ianto looking at him speculatively, eyeing his arse, his crotch, in the middle of a meeting, in front of the others. Never he wanted to tell him, I’m always ready
The fingers that wrapped around him were firm and sure, confident now that they could please. Jack let the sensation wash over him, those warm, familiar fingers. They were on safer ground now. He was pretty sure Ianto wouldn’t leave now, not with the way he was pressing against Jack’s back, the increased urgency of his kisses on Jack’s neck and face.
Swift fingers swirled around the head of his penis and Jack allowed himself to make a soft sound of pleasure, of encouragement. He canted his hips forward, pressing more into Ianto’s touch. He heard the gasp of delight from the other man.
Feeling brave, he turned slightly so that one of Ianto’s kisses brushed the very edge of his mouth. For a moment he feared it would be too much because Ianto pulled suddenly away. The hand on Jack’s cock stilled, the other resting flat on his stomach.
Then Ianto surged back, this time deliberately catching the edge of Jack’s mouth. His fingers were doing wonderful things, and Jack let out a gasp, a hoarse exhalation that caught in his throat before being swallowed by the gentle pressure of a mouth against his own.
This was new.
This was wonderful.
Jack’s life had not been short of kisses – or fucks – he thought to himself, some romantic, some forceful, some careless. But never had one been so thoughtful, so explorative. When Ianto’s tongue slid into his mouth, brushing against Jack’s own, warm desire pooled in Jack’s belly, lured, coaxed, by the continuing touch on his cock.
He was going to come, he realised. With Ianto’s tongue in his mouth and Ianto’s erection pressed against his hip. He was making wanton sounds now, he could hear them distantly. Or perhaps it was Ianto, breaking from his customary silence, overwhelmed at the feeling of his captain coming apart under his hands.
One day he thought, through a red haze on the edge of the precipice, one day Ianto was going to let him reciprocate the touch. One day he was going to lick and kiss and bite and not have to be content with the almost silent mewling sound of Ianto coming, still dressed, pressing his cock against the side of Jack’s chair. One day he was going to make Ianto scream.
And then he came, tumbling brilliantly, spectacularly, fiercely.
They stayed still, unspeaking, unmoving, for a moment. Ianto’s entire body pressed against his side, Ianto’s hand inside his trousers.
Then Ianto stood, moved away, headed silently for the door.
Jack cleared his throat. “Ianto?”
The other man paused but did not turn.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
Ianto turned his head, glanced back over his shoulder, and Jack swore that he saw the ghost of a smile.
Rating: Probably R. Maybe NC17.
Title: Smile
Notes: Razzle, my love, I have to admit that perhaps my brain is no longer the clone of yours: I have to confess I haven’t read this pairing at all – not even yours yet. I want to watch the second half of the series before I do. So I apologise profusely if this is totally unoriginal, but then again, it’s just a little smutlet so I doubt if you will mind that much!
Note 2: Um, fuck knows where this came from. They didn’t end up behaving as I thought they would! I thought Jack would be in charge. Ha.
It was quiet when everyone had left. They’d pretty much turned everything off, although there was still the gentle hum of the power and some screen flickered over where Owen had been working. Jack wondered, somewhat idly, if he ought to go over and find out what it was and maybe switch it off.
He glanced at his watch again. Then at the switch for the intercom. Then at the watch again. Then he ran his hand through his hair, sighed, and turned back to his paperwork.
For a man who prided himself in his control, he was feeling very jittery. He debated getting up, going upstairs, doing it his way. He glanced at the clock again. Dammit.
He’d almost given up hope when he heard the doors open. He didn’t turn around, but his senses were instantly at high alert. He could smell the coffee, Ianto’s usual justification for his visit. The mug was placed by his elbow and Jack turned his head ever so slightly, trying not to startle the other man. He’d been careless too often.
He caught a glimpse of Ianto’s retreating hand, the curve of his elegant suit sleeve, the shadow the cuff cast, caressing the underside of his wrist. Jack knew what that skin tasted like, how it smelled, and he let his eyes drift closed to centre himself, biting on his tongue to choke back a moan.
For a few moments there was silence, he couldn’t even hear Ianto’s breathing, and for a few paranoid seconds he thought Ianto had gone. What had he done wrong? He’d been so still, so careful…
Then a gentle touch brushed the back of his neck, making his shoulders sag in relief and his arms break out in goose pimples. Then again, so feather light he couldn’t even tell if it was a finger or a tongue, right where his hair curled into his collar, the touch teasingly soft and yet he was achingly aware of it. He strained towards the touch, willing it to happen again, wanting so badly.
Then lips, definitely lips, against his jaw. The top of a dark head in the corner of his vision, but Jack didn’t dare turn to look. He’d made that mistake too often, destroyed precious moments by being too eager.
A tongue traced a line up to his ear. Jack stifled a whimper. He wasn’t the kind of man who whimpered.
But oh please.
He shifted his weight ever so slightly in his chair, trying to ease the pressure of his trousers against the urgent erection that had been pressing on his awareness before even the very first touch, aroused simply by the hopeful anticipation.
The touch withdrew and Jack nearly banged his head on the desk in frustration. No he almost yelled at Ianto, stop playing games!
And then the mouth was back, the tongue stroking, coaxing, intoxicating and this time there were hands, firm hands, not at all hesitant, and they curled around Jack’s hips. They paused for a moment, fingers digging into the outside of his thighs, warning him to stay still.
He didn’t move, his head tipped slightly back, his legs trembling as he tried to keep them motionless. Careful fingers plucked at his trousers, unfastened his fly. The sudden release of pressure on his cock made him breathe in sharply, urgently. The hands stilled.
“Please,” he whispered, breaking a unacknowledged rule.
After a moment’s pause – Jack could hear Ianto’s breathing, the distinctive hitch of his breath that betrayed his arousal, could feel the warm exhalations against his cheek and neck – the hands returned, smoothing up Jack’s inner thighs, cupping his balls through the fabric, peeling apart his fly and delving in, in…
He hadn’t worn underwear since the first time. Some days he thought he almost caught Ianto looking at him speculatively, eyeing his arse, his crotch, in the middle of a meeting, in front of the others. Never he wanted to tell him, I’m always ready
The fingers that wrapped around him were firm and sure, confident now that they could please. Jack let the sensation wash over him, those warm, familiar fingers. They were on safer ground now. He was pretty sure Ianto wouldn’t leave now, not with the way he was pressing against Jack’s back, the increased urgency of his kisses on Jack’s neck and face.
Swift fingers swirled around the head of his penis and Jack allowed himself to make a soft sound of pleasure, of encouragement. He canted his hips forward, pressing more into Ianto’s touch. He heard the gasp of delight from the other man.
Feeling brave, he turned slightly so that one of Ianto’s kisses brushed the very edge of his mouth. For a moment he feared it would be too much because Ianto pulled suddenly away. The hand on Jack’s cock stilled, the other resting flat on his stomach.
Then Ianto surged back, this time deliberately catching the edge of Jack’s mouth. His fingers were doing wonderful things, and Jack let out a gasp, a hoarse exhalation that caught in his throat before being swallowed by the gentle pressure of a mouth against his own.
This was new.
This was wonderful.
Jack’s life had not been short of kisses – or fucks – he thought to himself, some romantic, some forceful, some careless. But never had one been so thoughtful, so explorative. When Ianto’s tongue slid into his mouth, brushing against Jack’s own, warm desire pooled in Jack’s belly, lured, coaxed, by the continuing touch on his cock.
He was going to come, he realised. With Ianto’s tongue in his mouth and Ianto’s erection pressed against his hip. He was making wanton sounds now, he could hear them distantly. Or perhaps it was Ianto, breaking from his customary silence, overwhelmed at the feeling of his captain coming apart under his hands.
One day he thought, through a red haze on the edge of the precipice, one day Ianto was going to let him reciprocate the touch. One day he was going to lick and kiss and bite and not have to be content with the almost silent mewling sound of Ianto coming, still dressed, pressing his cock against the side of Jack’s chair. One day he was going to make Ianto scream.
And then he came, tumbling brilliantly, spectacularly, fiercely.
They stayed still, unspeaking, unmoving, for a moment. Ianto’s entire body pressed against his side, Ianto’s hand inside his trousers.
Then Ianto stood, moved away, headed silently for the door.
Jack cleared his throat. “Ianto?”
The other man paused but did not turn.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
Ianto turned his head, glanced back over his shoulder, and Jack swore that he saw the ghost of a smile.
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Date: 2007-02-01 10:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 11:30 am (UTC)I'm going to Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Mexico, California and Singapore.
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Date: 2007-02-01 11:51 am (UTC)Oh, wow. That sounds intense and incredible. You're going there to travel, to see family, to...?
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Date: 2007-02-01 11:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-01 12:59 pm (UTC)