Owen’s hands were demanding upon his waist, urging Ianto’s hips to flex with his own as they moved together upon the dance floor, chest-to-back, with the music loud and thumping, pumping through their veins with the alcohol and the first stirrings of desire. Ianto pushed himself against Owen, feeling the hardness that pressed itself against his arse with the motion.
Owen splayed his hands over Ianto’s hips, moving one to rub over the Welshman’s belly before dragging it slowly downwards, teasing the other man as Ianto threw his head back against Owen’s shoulder, a soft moan leaving his lips to be lost in the whir of the music and the many faceless bodies grinding to it. Ianto’s hips made small, aborted thrusts as Owen’s hand hovered- oh, so closely- over his crotch before moving away all together.
Ianto’s eyes sprang open in confusion, his mouth opening to protest the loss even as the haze in his mind suddenly cleared and he recognised the man standing before them, tall and imposing as he glared daggers over Ianto’s shoulder till Owen’s hands fell away completely and a barely heard ‘Sorry mate,’ licked at his ear.
Jack stepped in the moment Owen stepped back, his hands possessive as they grasped Ianto close; his eyes lust darkened and warring with a jealously Ianto had never before seen the enigmatic Captain show so openly.
“What the hell was that?” Jack hissed, leaning in to bite sharply at the lobe of his ear, tugging at the flesh and receiving a soundless gasp and an involuntarily thrust of Ianto’s hips against his own.
Jack’s lips moved to his neck, biting and sucking and pressing intermittent little kisses against the pale flesh as he dragged his hands down Ianto’s back to settle dominantly over his backside; fingers squeezing and urging Ianto to push against him once more.
“As I recall, sir,” Ianto moaned against Jack’s cheek, “You didn’t want to dance at all.”
“If I’d known you’d end up whoring yourself out on the dance floor I may have reconsidered.”
Ianto bit at his jaw line, anger spiking within him at the comment. Jack bit him back; his teeth unrelenting as he dipped his head back to Ianto’s throat and worried his flesh into a soon-to-be bruise. Ianto couldn’t help the sound he made at Jack’s ministrations, the pain warring with the pleasure as Jack both bit him and rubbed against him, his hands massaging his arse as he rolled their bodies together till Ianto was writhing and hot against him; blood pounding past his ears till even the music was a dulled beat in comparison.
“Jack!” Ianto cried, wide eyed and arching as he came, wetting his pants with his seed before slumping tired and sated into Jack’s strong arms.
“Good boy,” Jack whispered into his ear, shifting Ianto so that he could lean down to nip at the darkening discoloration of the bite mark he’d left. Ianto whimpered at the gesture, his fingers curling into Jack’s shirt as the Captain told him without words that next time he was caught getting a little too up close and personal with someone other than himself, a hickey would be the last of his worries.
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