Theory/Practice
It had started out so well. Jack had put the contacts on in the club’s bathroom, the jeans and button-down shirt he’d put on to look normal seeming exotic to Ianto’s eyes. He’d winked into the mirror, mouthing “Here we go.”: words Ianto only understood because of the lip reading software.
The girl Jack followed out of the club into the alleyway was very pretty in a curvy sort of way, wearing a clingy sort of skirt that left nothing to the imagination- for example, her choice of underwear was 'lack thereof'. She wore a very dark green shirt, something which struck Ianto as oddly relevant as he made himself comfortable in Jack’s chair.
Unfortunately, it was all downhill from there.
He’d had to turn the lip-reading software off after a short while, because a) listening to it trying to interpret the moans she made was making his eye twitch, and b) Jack would pick the girl whose dirty talk sounded like it came from the worst sort of romance novel.
So, no sound. That was fine- he did have a fondness for silent films after all.
Except, unlike silent films, the camera had no appreciation for letting the audience know what was happening. Jack, while a very tactical and oral person, wasn’t a very optical one, and it showed. It was pretty much the only thing that did show, once the foreplay was over.
Ianto was absolutely sure that Jack was doing something interesting with his hands right now, something involved her arse or her thighs or her cunt, or her elbows for all he knows. But he can’t see what it is, because Jack has latched onto her neck and the only thing he’s looking at now is her ear.
After a several minutes of watching, in turns, close-ups of the girl’s eyebrow, chin, and throat, as well as one of the alley wall, Jack’s eyes started to flutter. Then they closed completely.
Ianto sighed, and closed the laptop in disgust. When Jack got back, Ianto was going to make sure he learned the meaning of the phrase “blue balls”.
Originally posted here.