Ficlet: Gwen/Ianto porn
Title: Dust: Settled
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto/Gwen (Jack)
Warnings: NC-15
Author's Notes: Originally here.
Summary: Ianto and Gwen celebrate after Journey's End
She should be calling Rhys. She should be calling Rhys she should be calling Rhys she should be calling Rhys she should be calling Rhys she should be calling Rhys but sweet god Ianto's hand is in her denims and moving and his mouth is on hers and his tongue is peeling anything she might say right from her throat oh Jesus.
There are sparks from the equipment and one of them hits her bare ass when she rides him on the grating, and sometime after he thrusts up once or twice into her they roll and fall down the flooring into the pond a little but she doesn't notice because Ianto picks her up and slams himself into her, digging her ass into the shallow water, pressing her into the rocks that litter the ground. On the monitor Jack is whooping and even though the Earth has come to a rest, they must be celebrating in the TARDIS.
Ianto pulls her head away from the direction of the monitor and instead reaches one hand down to massage her clit, biting her bottom lip and pounding into her. Their legs are tangled in their trousers, only one of her legs is completely off and his are barely down. She might have ripped a few buttons on his shirt on the way across the Hub, but she can't tell, because he reaches behind and slips two slick fingers in her ass, and she bites his shoulder, thinking, this is what it feels like to be alive.
On the monitor, Jack is laughing and chatting with everyone on the Doctor's ship, and she comes screaming, but no one seems to notice. Ianto groans into her mouth, face sweaty and straining when she digs her nails into his back, and she hears Jack, laughing, still, chatter, dirty talk that isn't dirty except for her and Ianto, his voice saying things that he isn't saying except in her mind, in Ianto's head, surely. She tugs Ianto's neck towards her for one more kiss, one more bite, one more lick of what the world tastes like when it's safe, what the world tasted like when it rested in their hands.
That was…anticlimatic.
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto/Gwen (Jack)
Warnings: NC-15
Author's Notes: Originally here.
Summary: Ianto and Gwen celebrate after Journey's End
She should be calling Rhys. She should be calling Rhys she should be calling Rhys she should be calling Rhys she should be calling Rhys she should be calling Rhys but sweet god Ianto's hand is in her denims and moving and his mouth is on hers and his tongue is peeling anything she might say right from her throat oh Jesus.
There are sparks from the equipment and one of them hits her bare ass when she rides him on the grating, and sometime after he thrusts up once or twice into her they roll and fall down the flooring into the pond a little but she doesn't notice because Ianto picks her up and slams himself into her, digging her ass into the shallow water, pressing her into the rocks that litter the ground. On the monitor Jack is whooping and even though the Earth has come to a rest, they must be celebrating in the TARDIS.
Ianto pulls her head away from the direction of the monitor and instead reaches one hand down to massage her clit, biting her bottom lip and pounding into her. Their legs are tangled in their trousers, only one of her legs is completely off and his are barely down. She might have ripped a few buttons on his shirt on the way across the Hub, but she can't tell, because he reaches behind and slips two slick fingers in her ass, and she bites his shoulder, thinking, this is what it feels like to be alive.
On the monitor, Jack is laughing and chatting with everyone on the Doctor's ship, and she comes screaming, but no one seems to notice. Ianto groans into her mouth, face sweaty and straining when she digs her nails into his back, and she hears Jack, laughing, still, chatter, dirty talk that isn't dirty except for her and Ianto, his voice saying things that he isn't saying except in her mind, in Ianto's head, surely. She tugs Ianto's neck towards her for one more kiss, one more bite, one more lick of what the world tastes like when it's safe, what the world tasted like when it rested in their hands.
That was…anticlimatic.