By CS WhiteWolf
It was ridiculous, truth be told, and yet Ianto couldn’t help the goofy smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he stepped into the shop the very next morning to find a brand-spanking-new coffee machine perched upon the reception desk with an overly-large pink bow wrapped about it. He laughed, stepping up to the counter and depositing the tray of Starbucks coffees he’d picked up at Jack’s request, as well as his shop keys and work folder. He fingered the bow around the machine and shook his head with a faint snort of laughter.
Jack was upon him seconds later; his arms wrapping about Ianto’s trim waist whilst he nuzzled his nose up against his ear.
“Morning, Sexy,” Jack greeted, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Ianto’s neck.
“Mmmm,” Ianto hummed his approval, twisting in Jack’s hold till he was able to face the other man. “First dinner and now this,” he purred, fingers running teasingly along the straps of Jack’s braces, “anyone would think you were after something, Captain Harkness.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Jack replied with faux innocence even as he tightened his arms, drawing Ianto flush against him and leaning in for a kiss Ianto willingly reciprocated, his arms winding themselves around Jack’s neck as he parted his lips in invitation.
Jack moaned softly, deepening the kiss whilst inwardly congratulating himself on the apparent ease with which he’d managed his conquest of Ianto Jones. Right up until the moment Ianto pulled away from him, that is, smiling somewhat impishly as he pressed his fingers to his mouth and murmured something about coming in early to talk about Michael Schofield’s tattoo.
Jack wasn’t the slightest bit interested in tattoos at the moment (unless it happened to be one of Ianto’s less visible ones). He reached out and snagged Ianto around the waist, leaning in for another kiss which Ianto expertly avoided by presenting Jack with his cheek instead. Jack groaned, frustrated, as he pressed his forehead to Ianto’s instead.
“I brought coffee?” Ianto offered, trying to pacify him. Jack shot him an unimpressed look before moving more quickly than Ianto was expecting and pushing Ianto up against the reception desk, their bodies pressed so tightly together that Ianto could feel the swell of Jack’s arousal as he canted their hips together. Ianto flushed, feeling a stirring in his loins as Jack’s lips found his own with the same swift ease with which he’d manipulated their positions.
Ianto sucked in a gasp of air the moment Jack pulled his mouth away, his lips twisting up into a leering grin as he eyed the stain of desire colouring Ianto’s cheeks.
“What were you saying?” Jack purred, rocking his hips against Ianto’s once more.
Ianto’s attempt at a glare was gone just as quickly as it formed. “Well,” he breathed, arching a little in Jack’s arms, “I suppose we have some time.”
Taking that as his cue, Jack grinned and leant in to kiss Ianto once again, only to have Ianto duck his head away, avoiding the contact.
“What now?” Jack huffed, frowning. Ianto grinned at his put-out look.
“If you want anything from me, Captain, I suggest we move this to your office,” he nodded over Jack’s shoulder towards the front of the shop, and the fact that the only thing separating the view of them from anyone strolling past was three window panes of glass.
Jack turned back with a leer. “I don’t mind putting on a show,” he said, temptingly.
Ianto laughed, smacking lightly at Jack’s arm, “You might not, but I do.” He wriggled himself free and took one of Jack’s hands, “Come on, Casanova, your office will just have to do.”
- - -
Much to Jack’s chagrin, the furthest Ianto was willing to let them go in the workplace involved nothing more explicit than some heavy atop-the-clothing petting and the contribution of a stopwatch, after which Ianto expertly extracted himself from Jack’s wandering hands and pulled out the timetable he’d spent most of the previous evening working on for his latest client. Jack’s disbelief over the entire situation increasing tenfold as Ianto, quite the thing, manoeuvred himself so that there was now a desk between them and settled himself in Jack’s chair as if he owned the place.
“Ianto,” Jack growled, fingers clenching at his sides as he resisted the urge to leap the desk and pounce upon Ianto’s unsuspecting form. Ianto looked up at him through his eyelashes, blinking slowly and smiling sweetly. Jack ground his teeth, shifting as he felt his untouched erection rub at the fabric of his pants in protest.
Ianto raised his hand, pointing his finger up into the air and cocking his head in a gesture inviting Jack to listen. Put out, Jack glared at Ianto, but was powerless to deny the sound of activity and voices as their colleagues arrived for work.
“You-,” Jack began, huffing out a long puff of frustration. “You so owe me.”
Ianto just grinned a moment before indicating the seat opposite him.
“Now, as I was saying about Mr. Schofield’s schedule…” Ianto began, ignoring Jack’s groan as he shuffled forward and sat, head thumping against the desk in front of him as he considered this Mr. Schofield and how he was almost certainly going to be the death of him.
- - -
“Are you a religious sort of man, Mr Schofield?” Ianto asked with a half-smile as Michael leant over the counter towards him. He was in the area, he’d said, and thought he’d stop by and see if any arrangements had been made in regards to appointments and pricings. Ianto was once again touched with the notion that Michael most certainly did not want to waste any time in regards to getting his tattoo permanently inked.
Thankfully, earlier that morning, Ianto had managed to steal Jack away for a couple of hours so that they could go over the details for Mr. Schofield’s tattoo, amongst other things. They’d been able to agree on nightly sessions, up to four a week and each lasting up to a couple of hours at a time. With the whole piece worked out over, roughly, two hundred hours, it would take more than a couple of months to complete the full design, but if Michael was as desperate as he’d appeared to be in their initial consultation, then Ianto was sure he’d agree to it.
As for the pricing, Jack had quoted between fifteen and twenty grand, depending of course on how many hours the piece actually took and how much ink had to be used to cover the design. Ianto was sure that Michael would have no qualms over the pricing, whatever the figure totalled to; he’d said as much last night.
Michael’s smile was slow, amused almost even as a quick frown flittered across his face. “I’ve never really thought about it,” he answered and Ianto raised an eyebrow at his words, not entirely sure whether the other man was being serious or not.
“You’ve an awful lot of religious imagery for a man who’s never considered it,” Ianto said, his voice light enough not to press the issue if Michael didn’t want to discuss it.
“I went more for a design that was aesthetically pleasing to me than any real attempt at religious conviction,” he said after a minute of deliberation, “there just seemed to be something inherently poetic about angels and demons fighting.”
Ianto smiled his agreement after a moments thought before handing over the timetable he’d worked out along with the timescale and price.
“That long, huh?” Michael asked, frowning as his eyes scanned the sheet.
“You cannot rush perfection, Mr. Schofield,” Ianto reminded him. “You have a tremendous amount of detail in your designs and in order to make sure everything is as exact as your drawings then I’m going to need the time to get it right. I am right in my assumption that you want everything done as they’ve been sketched?”
“Yes,” Michael answered, “I want it as exactly as I’ve drawn it.”
“Then we both need the time to make sure I can do my job. Not only that, but your body will need time to heal.”
“The healing can come after,” Michael said, but made no further mention of the timescale.
“If I may,” Ianto began, with a slight frown, “why the rush?”
Michael looked at him cautiously but said nothing.
“For most people a design of this scale would take years to complete. You seem pretty desperate to get it done as soon as possible.” Ianto continued.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Michael answered slowly, watching as Ianto raised an eyebrow in question though he refrained from enquiring outright.
“You know,” Ianto began, redirecting the conversation, “if you went to anyone else, they could probably cut down the length of time by a third, possibly even a half of what I’m quoting you here.”
Michael smiled then, the gesture reaching his eyes as he looked into Ianto’s. “I doubt I could get anyone else as good as you are, though.” He replied with such honestly that Ianto found himself shifting under the praise.
“I’ve done a lot of research into this, Ianto,” Michael continued, his tone serious, “and a lot of research into you and your work. This isn’t a whim by any means; it’s been in the works for a long time coming.”
Ianto took a moment to consider his words before nodding. “Then we’re in agreement?” He asked, gesturing to the timetable and price. Michael looked down at the slip of paper in his hand once more before looking up and nodding his head.
“We are in agreement,” he said, holding out his hand. Ianto took the proffered hand and shook it firmly.
“So,” Ianto asked with a smile, business over, “when would you like to get started?”
“As soon as possible,” Michael laughed, slipping the timetable into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
Ianto shook his head with a smile before reaching for the appointment book sitting open on the reception desk and silmultaneously checking his watch; 4 o'clock, and neither he nor Gwen had any outstanding clients pencilled in.
“Well, Mr Schofield, it just so happens I’m free for the rest of the afternoon,” Ianto offered. Michael looked at him for a moment before pulling out his phone.
“Give me a moment,” he said, stepping away from the counter to make a quick phone call, presumably to his work.
“Oh, isn’t he a pretty one?” Gwen gushed, slipping up beside Ianto and staring over towards Michael as he spoke swiftly into his mobile. Ianto rolled his eyes at her.
“Do try to contain yourself, Mrs Williams,” Ianto teased, watching as Gwen’s entire face scrunched up in disapproval as he reminded her that she was a married woman.
“Oh god, don’t call me that! You make me sound like Rhys’ mother!” She exclaimed, poking him in the side, “It’s still Cooper to you lot, thank you very much!”
Ianto grinned at her as he dodged another prod. “Should have thought about that before you said ‘I do’, don’t you think?”
“Ianto Jones, don’t make me-!” Gwen threatened with a grin that soon became a muffled squeal as Ianto reached out and hooked his arm around the back of her neck before ruffling at her dreads.
A throat cleared just as Gwen began hissing obscenities and squirming to get out of Ianto’s arms. They both paused, looking up to see Michael watching their antics with a half-smile on his lips.
Ianto grinned somewhat sheepishly and released Gwen who was doing her best to pretend she’d not just been held in a headlock by her co-worker.
“We are also the epitome of professional here at Torchwood, of course,” Ianto said in reply to Michael’s amused expression.
“Of course,” Michael repeated, his eyes flickering momentarily to Gwen who nudged Ianto in the rubs.
“Mr. Schofield, this is Mrs Gwen Williams née Cooper,” He gestured to Gwen, trying not to laugh outright as she shot him her most unimpressed look, “Gwen, this is Mr. Michael Schofield.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Gwen said, smiling at Michael before turning to Ianto, “you can go right off some people you know,” she grumbled for his ears only and Ianto grinned, reaching out to ruffle at her dreads again.
“Good luck with this one,” Gwen began, huffing as she dodged Ianto’s hand, “I don’t envy your having to spend so much time with him!”
Ianto laughed and shooed her away with a wave of his hand, “Be gone, woman!” he teased and Gwen pulled her tongue at him, smiled sweetly towards Michael, and disappeared into the back once more, where Ianto fancied he could hear her conferring with Toshiko and Owen already.
He turned back to Michael with a smile.
“Interesting lot you’ve got here,” Michael noted, hands in his pockets.
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Ianto joked before sobering a little and bringing the subject back around to the tattoo.
“If you’re so inclined, I’ve managed to free myself up for the rest of the afternoon,” Michael said, his eagerness obvious and Ianto smiled again.
“It just so happens that I am very much inclined,” he agreed. “Shall we?” he asked stepping to the side and gesturing for Michael to follow him through into the back rooms.
They stepped into his cubicle and Ianto passed over the consent and medical forms for Michael to fill out whilst he fetched the carbon copies he’d made from Michael’s sketches, laying them out on the workbench for Michael to approve once he was done.
“So, where would you like me to start, Mr. Schofield?” Ianto asked as Michael passed over his finished forms and moved closer to the individual pieces of carbon paper, his eyes moving critically over the images whilst Ianto scanned the information Michael had just provided him.
“Please, first names are fine,” Michael offered, somewhat distractedly as he pursued the pieces.
“Okay, where would you like me to start, Michael?” Ianto repeated, smiling at the hesitancy that manifested itself in the form of a frown creasing Michael’s brow. “May I suggest starting on, say, your right shoulder? Somewhere which is easily accessible, relatively painless, and where we can start small and see how it goes?”
Michael looked up at Ianto and nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, not sounding nearly as eager as he’d been just five minutes ago.
“You sure you want to do this?” Ianto checked. When Michael nodded again, his eyes hardening with determination, Ianto gestured for him to remove his shirt and sit himself up on the bed-chair.
“Just try to relax, the worst part is not knowing what to expect, it’ll hurt to start with, but after a moment your body will begin releasing endorphins that should dull most of the pain you might feel,” Ianto said, reassuring Michael as he reached for a fresh pair of gloves and a packet of alcohol wipes.
Michael stripped down to his undershirt and slid himself up onto the bed-chair; his previously immaculately pressed shirt bunched up between nervous fingers as Ianto sat himself on a stool before him and ripped open the wipes.
“This is just to clean your skin before we begin,” Ianto stated as he began cleaning the area he planned to work upon. Satisfied, he picked up a stick of adhesive and swiped it over the skin he’d just cleaned.
“The adhesive I’ve just applied will make sure that this-,” he picked up one of the pieces of Michael’s design and began positioning it cautiously over the area he’d just prepared before pressing it directly against Michael’s upper arm, “-copies my copy of your design onto your skin,” he pealed the paper away, eying the outline left upon Michael’s arm.
“Ta-da!” Ianto said with a smile as he pushed back and reached behind him for a small, hand-held mirror, which he held out for Michael to use to inspect the placement and proportion. Whilst his client was occupied, Ianto fetched his supplies; inks, fresh needles, his tattooing gun, and began to set up. When he lifted his head to check on Michael, it was to find that the other man was paying more attention to what he was doing than he was towards the design upon his arm.
Ianto smiled and reached out to take the mirror back, before explaining about Torchwood’s policies on health and safety, hygiene and using fresh needles for every client.
“Everything okay?” Ianto asked as he finished attaching the needle to the tattooing machine.
“Everything’s okay,” Michael agreed, unsmiling.
“You should try to relax,” Ianto encouraged, moving forward on his stool and rolling his table of supplies with him.
“I am relaxed,” Michael said, and though his tone was level, his eyes showed his defensiveness at the comment. Ianto surreptitiously started up the machine, watching as Michael jumped none too lightly at the bzzzt sound that echoed around the confines of his workspace.
Ianto bit at his bottom lip, to keep from grinning both at Michael’s initial reaction as well as his embarrassment over said reaction.
“Please, Michael,” Ianto began, “just take a few deep breaths and relax. This isn’t going to hurt nearly so much as you think it will. I’ll start slow, but if you jump like that then your ‘Moaning Man’ will end up a looking like grinning loon more than anything else, and I just don’t think my reputation could survive a mistake like that!”
Michael let out a slow huff of air, settling himself more comfortably upon the bed-chair. Ianto started the gun up again and let it run for a moment, allowing for Michael to get used to the sound. After a moment Michael nodded towards him, a sign for him to begin.
“So, tell me about this man I’m inking,” Ianto opened, moving the gun towards the black ink pot and dipping the needle inside. Michael eyed everything Ianto did with a high level of suspicion, as if at any moment he expected Ianto to lunge for him and stab the needle into his arm.
Ianto moved slowly, cautiously, as he brought the machine up towards Michael’s upper arm. The first touch of the needle to skin brought a minute flinch from Michael but nothing else. Ianto flicked his eyes over Michael’s face, but found his stare to be intent upon the tattooing gun in Ianto’s hand. Pressing forward again, Ianto began to ink the first stroke- a line that would soon join a myriad of other lines to create a design of epic proportions. It was Ianto’s most ambitious piece yet, and he was determined himself to make sure every envisioning Michael had for the piece could be met.
Michael didn’t flinch again.
“You wouldn’t be putting on a brave face just for me, would you?” Ianto asked, flashing Michael a smile as he pulled the gun away, wiping over the spot he was working on to remove the excess ink.
Michael smiled tightly at him but said nothing else. Taking that as his cue, Ianto refilled the needle and brought it back up to Michael’s arm
“It's to remind me that sometimes it’s okay to do something wrong in order to do something right.” Michael said before Ianto could restart.
Ianto paused, finding something innately ominous about those words as he looked up to meet Michael’s watching eyes. He frowned slightly.
“Your question,” Michael clarified, “that is what it means to me.”
“Oh.” Ianto nodded as if understanding and dropped his gaze back to Michael’s arm, pushing his unease aside as he touched the needle to flesh and began working once more.
He didn’t know Michael well enough to ask him what exactly he meant by that, even though he felt that some sort of reply was necessary in response to the comment. He said nothing however and the rest of their session lapsed into one of silence, interrupted only by the hum of the tattooing iron as Ianto worked the lines of Michael’s design into his arm.
Just over an hour later, Ianto put the gun down and stretched his back.
“I think we’ll stop there for the night,” he said, reaching out to swab at the freshly inked section before applying a salve to the area. He handed Michael the mirror to inspect the first part of his tattoo.
Instead of looking pleased about it, Ianto was shocked to find that Michael seemed to pale at the sight instead. Ianto stood swiftly. Either Michael was not impressed with his work, or the reality of being inked for the first time was gearing him up to be a fainter.
“Are you okay?” Ianto asked, he shucked his gloves- tossing them into the disposal bin beside his stool- and fetched a glass of water for Michael.
Michael sipped slowly at the water, even as his eyes continued to stare into the mirrored image on his arm.
“Michael?” Ianto prompted, biting his lip with nervousness. He didn’t want to believe that Michael hated the inking after only their first session, especially not after he’d done so much research into Ianto and his capability as a tattoo artist. After he’d put so much faith into Ianto’s abilities.
“I’m fine, Ianto,” Michael answered. He dragged his eyes from the mirror and handed it back to Ianto who was still hovering worriedly beside him. Michael offered him a strained sort of smile.
“I just can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” He looked at his arm, holding it out and twisting it to see the skin move beneath the ink, “It makes everything all that more of a reality. I… there’s no turning back from this. I think I’ve just realised what I’m doing and…” he shook his head, laughing softly as he dropped his arm and looked up to meet Ianto’s concerned gaze.
“Excuse me,” he said, “I fear I’ve become rather melancholy all of a sudden.”
“You don’t have to go through with this,” Ianto offered, a strange urge to tell Michael that whatever it was he was doing, he could turn back from it, that there was always a way to turn back. He held his tongue instead and watched as Michael shook his head again.
“So, how do I look after this then?” Michael asked. Subject closed.
Ianto pursed his lips a moment before slipping back into a professional mode as he began to explain the aftercare requirements for the tattoo; no soaking the area, no scratching, how to bathe it, how frequently to apply the Retcon, Torchwood’s own brand of aftercare balm, and so on and so forth. Convinced Michael knew everything, Ianto set him up with the Retcon and wrapped the tattoo in a layer of clingfilm- to be left on for a couple of hours at least- before inviting Michael back the following evening for his next session.
“Thank you,” Michael said as he was paying up the total for his first session. Ianto smiled and handed over his receipt, watching as Michael shrugged on his suit jacket and slipped out the front door without a second glance. He wondered if Michael would come back the following evening. Something in the other man’s reaction to seeing his skin inked made Ianto think that after tonight he’d either never return or that he’d return with an even firmer resolve than he’d had to start with. A part of him wasn’t sure which outcome he hoped for.
Biting at the piercings on his bottom lip, Ianto turned and made his way back to his cubicle to begin the cleanup of his workstation.
“Strange guy, huh?” Ianto looked up to find Jack leaning in his doorway. He flashed the older man a smile and a nod as he chucked the last piece of rubbish into the bin.
“There’s something about him though,” he said, straightening in time to catch the glint of a smirk in Jack’s eyes.
Ianto laughed, reaching out to smack him lightly on the arm, “Get your mind out of the gutter, Jack.”
“Ah, come on, Ianto, you know life’s better down on my level,” Jack grinned, grabbing at Ianto’s hips and drawing him into a quick kiss. “What say you and me head off to grab a bite to eat?” He invited, pulling back.
Ianto raised his eyebrows, “Are we talking food or sex here?”
“Oh I was thinking maybe a little bit of both,” he offered, kissing at Ianto’s lips again, “I’ve got Owen and Toshiko locking up for the night. I’m free and you’ve just finished your last client, and I’ve really, really missed you.”
“You missed me?” Ianto asked, coyly running his fingers down the length of Jack’s chest and stomach, his palm comfortably cupping itself over Jack’s groin a moment later, “Or do you mean your little friend here missed me?”
“Hey, not so much on the little,” Jack defended with a grin as he rolled his hips into Ianto’s palm. “What do you say?”
“Hmmm,” Ianto purred, rubbing his palm lightly between Jack’s legs, “I guess I could be persuaded.”
- - -
Dinner turned out to be the Chinese leftovers Ianto had stashed in the fridge from the night before. There was barely enough left for two, Ianto noted as he shoved the half-filled carton into the microwave to zap some life back into the limp noodles. Still, it was more sustenance than he’d been expecting to get as Jack crowded him from behind, his hips rocking suggestively against his arse as he nuzzled his nose against Ianto’s neck.
“I thought I was getting fed first?” Ianto mused, smiling even as he bent his neck to let Jack’s mouth trail its way up towards his ear.
“I don’t think I want to wait that long,” Jack purred, pressing wet, lingering kisses to the spot just behind his earlobe. Ianto sucked in a sharp breath of air, his eyelids fluttering as a quiver of delight spread through his body.
“I’m…” his breath hitched as one of Jack’s hands slid from his hip to between his legs without hesitation, “I’m hungry,” Ianto tried protesting. The smile he felt pressing against his neck told him Jack didn’t believe a word of it. At least, not in the hungry-for-food kind of sense anyway.
“I’ve got something that’ll fill you up,” he offered, nipping at the curve of Ianto’s ear and rocking his hips forward once more. Ianto choked back a moan, holding himself still and tense in a futile effort not to give into Jack so easily.
“Yeah?” he breathed, moving his hands to grip at the counter before him, he turned his face towards Jack, catching at his mouth and pressing awkward kisses to his wandering lips.
“Yeah,” Jack grinned, nipping at his chin. “It’s right here,” he said with a lazy thrust against Ianto, “in my pants.”
Ianto laughed, turning in Jack’s arms, his eyes shining with mirth. “Of course it is,” he replied, happily receiving an open-mouthed kiss from Jack for his humour.
“You should take a look,” Jack continued, pulling away slightly, breathing heavily against Ianto’s lips as he ghosted over his mouth, “I think you’ll like what you find.”
Something in the way Jack said his words had Ianto raising an eyebrow at him, his eyes flickering down to Jack’s crotch and the visible outline of his erection. He looked up again, narrowing his eyes as he caught Jack’s attempt at an innocent look.
“What did you do?” Ianto asked, his hands already tugging at Jack’s belt buckle even as he asked. He didn’t miss that this might be some trickery on Jack’s part, throwing Ianto a nonexistent bone just to see if he would bite; Jack was always thinking up new and exciting ways to get Ianto into his pants, after all. And if Ianto was honest, suggesting that there might be something in his pants (aside from the obvious) was certainly a step up from his attempted antics with hockey sticks and tape measures.
Jack gave an exaggerated moan as Ianto unfastened him enough to slip a hand into his pants; nimble fingers cupping and stroking the bulk of Jack’s cock before sliding down in a long, slow tease until he reached the head and… and…
Ianto’s eyes widened, his fingers pressing more firmly against the head of Jack’s cock, watching as Jack shivered delightedly at the touch, his grin smug as he thrust himself into Ianto’s hand.
“Jack-,” Ianto’s voice was more a strained whisper now, his thumb swiping across the metallic protrusions he could feel titivating Jack’s flesh. As long as he’d known Jack, the Captain had always had what was commonly referred to as a ‘Prince Albert’ genital piercing; a piercing Ianto had quickly grown to appreciate for its ability to enhance the sexual pleasure he received from Jack (Jack had been understanding enough their first few times together to remove the piercing before sex, allowing Ianto to build up his appetite for trying new things with a willing partner before introducing him to the joys of sex and piercings).
Now though, as he pushed Jack a step or two backwards and dropped himself to his knees before the other man, Ianto’s mind was in overdrive at the certainly that, in the space of time he’d been out of the country for, Jack had acquired another genital piercing- or two!- to compliment his existing Prince Albert.
“Jeez…” Ianto hissed through his teeth as he finally extracted Jack’s cock from his pants to find that the smooth ridging he’d felt were indeed piercings. His eyes widened slightly at the sight as he ran his hand up Jack’s length, before tenderly fingering the head and the new adornments piercing the flesh either side of his urethral.
“When did you get these done?” Ianto asked, eying the original Prince Albert and the newly acquired double Dydoe piercings with both a critical and lust-filled look.
“Not long after you were gone,” Jack said with a grin as he looked down at Ianto who unconsciously licked at his lips as he examined Jack’s new piercings.
“Did you do them yourself?” Ianto ran his fingers over the head of Jack’s cock and Jack shivered at the touch, his belly quivering as Ianto looked up at him through half-lidded eyes.
“Owen helped,” Jack answered, his eyes fluttering as Ianto moved his hand to grip at the base of Jack’s cock whereupon he began stroking the length with slow, deliberate rubs.
“I’m not sure I like the idea of Owen being this close to your cock,” Ianto teased, procuring a condom from seemingly nowhere and skilfully rolling it onto him, his fingers tightening in a quick squeeze once the latex was in place. Jack hissed, the unconscious pumping of his hips belying any sounds of discomfort he made at Ianto’s firm touch. He didn’t have the chance to voice any objections anyway as Ianto leant in soon after and touched his lips to Jack’s flesh, his tongue slipping past his lips to lave over the metallic intrusions pierced through his skin.
Both men moaned with the first touch; Ianto opening his mouth a little wider to suck Jack slowly into the heat of his mouth, enjoying the smooth feel of the barbell jewellery against his tongue.
“Ianto-,” Jack choked out, hands clenching in Ianto’s hair, tugging as he urged Ianto both to stop and to continue. Waiting until Jack was on the verge of fulfilment, Ianto pulled away with a wolfish grin, licking his lips provocatively as he looked up at Jack’s flushed face.
“What say we move this somewhere more comfortable?” Ianto asked, pushing to his feet.
Jack grabbed him as he rose, pulling him into his arms and attacking his mouth with vigour. “You are such a tease,” Jack hissed out between kisses, his hands roaming across Ianto’s body, undoing buttons and zippers as he went till Ianto’s state of dress was just as- if not more so- rumpled as his own.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Ianto grinned at him, his hand moving between their bodies to grab at Jack’s cock once again, enjoying the way Jack’s breath hitched at the touch and his eyes rolled with the pleasure of Ianto’s stroking hand.
“If I’d known this morning that you’d got yourself all pierced up for me, Jack,” Ianto purred, nipping at Jack’s lips, “I’d have let you have you way with me.”
Jack made a sound very much like a whimper and Ianto chuckled against his cheek, walking Jack out of his kitchenette and towards the living room where he had a perfectly good couch waiting to receive the pair of them.
“If I’d known…” he whispered, laving his tongue in a lick across Jack’s jaw as he fisted his hand up then down then up again, his fingers teasingly touching at the freshest piercings and shivering with his own pleasure as Jack’s breath hitched and his hips jerked up into the touch.
“If I’d known, I’d have let you do me right there in the front room,” Jack groaned, his eyes flickering at the fantasy of being able to bend Ianto over the reception desk and taking him then and there, leaving him bared and wanting and for the world to watch.
“God, yes,” Jack breathed, allowing himself to be led into Ianto’s living room and pushed down onto the couch with Ianto climbing onto his lap moments later; pressing their bodies flush as he leant in to kiss at Jack’s mouth once more.
“Yes,” Jack moaned, his fingers moving to hold at Ianto’s thighs as the other man kissed him deeply, his hand fisting at Jack again as their mouths moved wetly together, lust and desperation building between them till Jack had to pull away with a harsh pant; his own hand moving to still Ianto’s hold on his cock before he finished things too soon.
“God I’ve missed you, this…” He grabbed at Ianto’s hips, pulling him in till their groins were flush and thrust up against Ianto, who moaned wantonly, his head falling back as Jack licked a trail from his collar bone to the tip of his chin.
Jack slipped his hands round to press at the small of Ianto’s back, fingers dipping beneath the looseness of the pants he’d managed to undo if not remove completely. He slipped one hand down the back of Ianto’s pants, fingers squeezing gently, suggestively, as he moved his hand down, curving it round to press eagerly between Ianto’s cheeks.
Ianto groaned, arching up into Jack; eyes closed and head thrown back with pleasure, as Jack teased his fingers into him one by one, whilst his mouth tongued at Ianto’s chest and the nipple ring he’d had the pleasure of branding Ianto with once upon a time.
“Jack,” Ianto panted, one hand dropping to his own crotch, fingers desperate to remove his erection from the confines of his pants, desperate to have Jack’s hands on him and his cock inside him.
“I need…” he choked off as Jack gently crooked a finger inside him, spikes of pleasure shooting through him and curling his toes with ecstasy. “Need you,” he pleaded, hips rocking against Jack’s abdomen. “Want you,” he breathed, “so deep in me,” he found Jack’s mouth, head dipping for a wet, uncoordinated kiss, “please.”
It didn’t take much pleading for Jack to oblige him, and with deft, practiced movements he managed to divest Ianto of enough clothing to urge him up and then down onto his own straining erection; Ianto moaning with the initial stretching before crying out his gratification as Jack proceeded to move inside him, his hips rising and falling to meet Jack’s thrusts, the feel of Jack’s pierced head stroking at his prostrate had him choking on his moans, whimpering his delight, till (much sooner than even he had anticipated) their desires were met with a mutually explosive end.
Spent, they collapsed against each other, falling sideways onto the couch and laying there till discomfort dislodged them and forced them to take their next round of antics through to the bedroom.
They never did get round to eating the Chinese in the microwave.
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