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The Small Print
folder
S through Z › Torchwood
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,130
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Torchwood
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,130
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, UNIT or their world. They belong to the BBC/Russell T Davies. I make no money from this.
Part Two
The Small Print - Part Two
It would be tomorrow. Jack had finally promised him that after some excruciating minutes of merciless teasing. Ianto tried to forget what might be revealed to him as he went about his day. All of this, all these things that he did, they should be meaningless now, but they weren't. Jack had given him exactly what he wanted so easily, and when the reason for it all was gone, this place he occupied at Torchwood was still his. For a long time everything had been empty hopelessness. And then Jack...
As if bringing him back to life hadn't been enough. There was a moment after the episode with Suzie where Jack had been irresistible, almost melancholy, and Ianto's objective had been to make him smile. Oh, he'd smiled, and then brought Ianto back to live. To experience again. He shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but he was. He'd thrown himself at Jack deliberately, and never dreamed it might end up here, like this. The irony wasn't lost on him, but he couldn't resent it.
At last everything was done, and the night stretched before them, as endless as the rest. It had been quiet, and there was no adrenaline to work off between them. Still, that didn't mean there was nothing. Ianto had begun with a massage, playing the servant because it appealed to him. Strange that it was then he should think of it again. Was it in his contract? Touching Jack like this, making him relax, making him groan in pleasure... It put a definite edge on everything Ianto did.
The idea of it remained in him when they kissed, when he turned the chair so that Jack faced him and they moved on from something that was almost innocent, to something that was anything but. Jack's heat and scent surrounded him, and why did it make him think of the hunt? A frisson of something electric flashed between them in the silence of the Hub at night, alone together, and though everyone knew now it still felt so illicit.
He'd distracted Jack from paperwork, and the idea of the contract refused to leave him, even when he was on his knees before the chair, Jack's shirt and trousers open before him, taking Jack in deep as he wondered if he'd really signed his name to it, if it was really beyond his control. A silly thought anyway – of course it was out of control. Jack's hand was in his hair, fingertips almost trembling against his scalp. He could hear Jack's breathing, obvious and stuttering in the silence. It was the sound of pleasure, and Ianto moved more quickly, secretly loving it when Jack moved with him, using his mouth like that so that his lips tingled.
It made him tingle all over, and he worked for it as though it was his own pleasure. Soon it would be. That made him open his eyes and look up for a second, seeing Jack lost to it but staring back at him, blue eyes so intense it made him shiver.
He'd never felt so much like a servant as he watched and listened to Jack's enjoyment. He could almost feel the waves of it as they crashed against him, translated in Jack's sudden unrefined movements and whispered curses, nearly threatening enough to take him with them, but his own desire was really only building up. He'd have what he wanted by the end.
So wonderfully dirty when Jack came, trembling and hard all at once, nothing but pure victory in his eyes as he continued to stare down at Ianto. Jack tasted good – he wouldn't ever deny it – and yet there were only a couple of moments to spare before he surged up to kiss Jack again, knowing the taste of what they had done must still be on his tongue.
This was only the beginning, and Jack knew. He always knew.
His urgency wasn't lost on Jack, and before he knew it they were naked and warm together in the sleeping space, already going for it, and oh! He felt so good. So hot and perfect and easy like this afterwards. Ianto moved inside him with every breath and every instinct, staring down into his eyes as he held Jack in some kind of impossible position.
This was his lust being satisfied, and he admitted to himself his ulterior motive for the blow job when Jack was beneath him, pliant and relaxed. But that didn't mean Jack wasn't participating. Not him. The tight clench of his body was a contrast to the welcome in his eyes, something so close to perfection that Ianto only wanted it – wanted him – more and more.
His body still raged powerfully with desire, so that whatever was in his mind, and however much he wanted to show it, his only answer to the tenderness in Jack's eyes was a series of sudden sharp movements forward, as if in punishment for staring at him so blatantly. It felt so good, and Jack's moan of encouragement made him do it again and again.
And still the edge. Still the unknown wondering about what he had signed up for. Something about the way Jack looked at him made him wonder if this was in the contract too, and that combined with the slight resistance of his body – a resistance so easily overcome – made Ianto reach the edge suddenly with a groan, just a little violence in those final movements as Jack held him. Was it possible to be a servant in this way? With Jack, he thought it might, and he thought that even if he had known at the beginning just who he was throwing himself in front of and where it would end up, it wouldn't have stopped him. In fact, if he had known, he might have tried that little bit harder to get it.
It would be tomorrow. Jack had finally promised him that after some excruciating minutes of merciless teasing. Ianto tried to forget what might be revealed to him as he went about his day. All of this, all these things that he did, they should be meaningless now, but they weren't. Jack had given him exactly what he wanted so easily, and when the reason for it all was gone, this place he occupied at Torchwood was still his. For a long time everything had been empty hopelessness. And then Jack...
As if bringing him back to life hadn't been enough. There was a moment after the episode with Suzie where Jack had been irresistible, almost melancholy, and Ianto's objective had been to make him smile. Oh, he'd smiled, and then brought Ianto back to live. To experience again. He shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but he was. He'd thrown himself at Jack deliberately, and never dreamed it might end up here, like this. The irony wasn't lost on him, but he couldn't resent it.
At last everything was done, and the night stretched before them, as endless as the rest. It had been quiet, and there was no adrenaline to work off between them. Still, that didn't mean there was nothing. Ianto had begun with a massage, playing the servant because it appealed to him. Strange that it was then he should think of it again. Was it in his contract? Touching Jack like this, making him relax, making him groan in pleasure... It put a definite edge on everything Ianto did.
The idea of it remained in him when they kissed, when he turned the chair so that Jack faced him and they moved on from something that was almost innocent, to something that was anything but. Jack's heat and scent surrounded him, and why did it make him think of the hunt? A frisson of something electric flashed between them in the silence of the Hub at night, alone together, and though everyone knew now it still felt so illicit.
He'd distracted Jack from paperwork, and the idea of the contract refused to leave him, even when he was on his knees before the chair, Jack's shirt and trousers open before him, taking Jack in deep as he wondered if he'd really signed his name to it, if it was really beyond his control. A silly thought anyway – of course it was out of control. Jack's hand was in his hair, fingertips almost trembling against his scalp. He could hear Jack's breathing, obvious and stuttering in the silence. It was the sound of pleasure, and Ianto moved more quickly, secretly loving it when Jack moved with him, using his mouth like that so that his lips tingled.
It made him tingle all over, and he worked for it as though it was his own pleasure. Soon it would be. That made him open his eyes and look up for a second, seeing Jack lost to it but staring back at him, blue eyes so intense it made him shiver.
He'd never felt so much like a servant as he watched and listened to Jack's enjoyment. He could almost feel the waves of it as they crashed against him, translated in Jack's sudden unrefined movements and whispered curses, nearly threatening enough to take him with them, but his own desire was really only building up. He'd have what he wanted by the end.
So wonderfully dirty when Jack came, trembling and hard all at once, nothing but pure victory in his eyes as he continued to stare down at Ianto. Jack tasted good – he wouldn't ever deny it – and yet there were only a couple of moments to spare before he surged up to kiss Jack again, knowing the taste of what they had done must still be on his tongue.
This was only the beginning, and Jack knew. He always knew.
His urgency wasn't lost on Jack, and before he knew it they were naked and warm together in the sleeping space, already going for it, and oh! He felt so good. So hot and perfect and easy like this afterwards. Ianto moved inside him with every breath and every instinct, staring down into his eyes as he held Jack in some kind of impossible position.
This was his lust being satisfied, and he admitted to himself his ulterior motive for the blow job when Jack was beneath him, pliant and relaxed. But that didn't mean Jack wasn't participating. Not him. The tight clench of his body was a contrast to the welcome in his eyes, something so close to perfection that Ianto only wanted it – wanted him – more and more.
His body still raged powerfully with desire, so that whatever was in his mind, and however much he wanted to show it, his only answer to the tenderness in Jack's eyes was a series of sudden sharp movements forward, as if in punishment for staring at him so blatantly. It felt so good, and Jack's moan of encouragement made him do it again and again.
And still the edge. Still the unknown wondering about what he had signed up for. Something about the way Jack looked at him made him wonder if this was in the contract too, and that combined with the slight resistance of his body – a resistance so easily overcome – made Ianto reach the edge suddenly with a groan, just a little violence in those final movements as Jack held him. Was it possible to be a servant in this way? With Jack, he thought it might, and he thought that even if he had known at the beginning just who he was throwing himself in front of and where it would end up, it wouldn't have stopped him. In fact, if he had known, he might have tried that little bit harder to get it.