Man Management.
I haven’t really done anything, except be ill, this week. So here’s a story (sorry that nothing actually happens) and the picture that goes with it.
Thank you to everybody who commented before, just so people know who to blame for me doing more.
Title/Series Info: Man Management
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating/Warning: PG unbeta-ed.
Summary: Jack's bored, so he plays with Ianto.
Author's Notes: Once again I drew something that needed a little explination.
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all it's characters and locations do not belong to me.
Man Management:
Jack was bored. Oh, so very bored.
There was plenty he could be doing, but almost all of it involved paperwork, and if he waited just a few hours he could palm that off onto one of his underlings. It was often like this early in the morning, after he’d given up on sleep but before anyone else had arrived.
Occasionally something interesting would fall through the rift but then things tended to get too interesting all too quickly. Almost certainly causing more paperwork in the long run too.
He was disturbed from his procrastination by movement in the main part of the hub. Apparently he wasn’t as alone as he had assumed. Looking out he smiled; it was only Ianto.
“You’re in early,” he called across the office. Half hoping he’d manage to surprise him; a ruffled Ianto was often an entertaining Ianto.
“Thanks for telling me, Jack, I hadn’t noticed,” he replied, clearly not surprised in the least. “You’re not dressed. There, now we’re even.”
“You’re being quite informal this morning,” Jack replied before continuing playfully. “How can I be sure that’s really you, Ianto?”
“As you so helpfully told me, I’m early. I haven’t technically started work yet, so I didn’t feel it would be inappropriate if I didn’t call you sir.” Jack was tempted to tell Ianto that he didn’t need to call him ‘sir’ at all, but stopped himself when he realised that one day Ianto might listen and stop doing it altogether. “And it’s unlikely to be anybody else, Jack,” he continued, this time emphasising the ‘Jack’.
So Ianto was definitely unruffled but maybe Jack could change that and if it didn’t work he could always give him some filing to get started on (Jack wasn’t particularly bothered where it was filed as long as it was away from his desk).
“Ianto, could you come up here a moment?”
As Ianto ascended the staircase Jack considered his plan of attack. However Ianto beat him to an opening.
“Why aren’t you dressed?”
“You don’t like it?” he replied without hesitation.
Ianto looked him up and down while Jack graced him with a particularly dazzling smile.
“If you’re not careful you’ll end up in nothing but your socks. It’s a difficult look to pull off,” he considered, “even for you.”
This was not the way things were supposed to go but if Ianto wanted to play Jack certainly wasn’t going to deny him the pleasure.
“Well we’ll just have to get you out of that suit. Then we can look foolish together.”
“I think you should put some more clothes on; the others will be here soon.” At which Jack couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“I’m not sure who you’re thinking of but I can tell you we almost certainly have this place to ourselves for awhile.” While Jack had, at least some of the time, the greatest respect for his staff he also new their strengths; punctuality on a Monday morning was not among them.
Having decided it would be sometime before they were interrupted he sat back against the desk and, with apparent nonchalance (Jack had in fact perfected this move some years previously), stretched his arms above his head and arched his back. It looked just like a morning stretch, which happened to show off his chest and arms very nicely. Ianto certainly seemed to appreciate the view; he hardly seemed able to take his eyes off Jack.
With Ianto on the back foot Jack decided to press his advantage and, in all honestly, anything else within easy reach. With that thought in mind he gently grasped Ianto’s jacket and popped the buttons, as if sudden movement might scare him away.
“That’s better.”
“I thought we decided that you’d get dressed, rather than undressing me.” Jack realised, to his delight, that Ianto was blushing.
“No, you decided that, I had a different plan.”
Ianto was still a little passive, almost unsure of himself. Perhaps, Jack considered, they were playing different games (it wasn’t until later that Jack considered that maybe Ianto hadn’t been playing at all). He shrugged mentally, it didn’t matter, they could still enjoy themselves.
Jack’s hands skimmed over the tailored shirt, toying briefly with the buttons, before he took hold of Ianto’s tie, running his thumb over the material.
“Are you going to take that off too?”
“No, just looking,” Jack replied, before tugging slightly and forcing Ianto to stoop or fall over.
The problem, Jack thought, was Ianto was many things; devoted, intelligent; loyal; dedicated; and, as he was demonstrating now, incredibly stubborn. Refusing to be swayed by Jack’s advances, or, in this case, fall into Jack’s lap. He hadn’t stepped away, which he could have done easily, but neither had he come any closer. In fact his arms were still hanging by his sides, refusing to reach out and rest them on Jack’s shoulders (which was a shame in Jack’s opinion). It was only really the colour in his cheeks and his dilated pupils that gave any indication that he was enjoying this anywhere near as much as Jack.
It would have been annoying, if Jack hadn’t found Ianto’s veneer of control such a turn on.
Jack leaned up and Ianto’s eyes drifted closed. Their mouths just millimetres apart; breath almost mingling. He glanced quickly at the desk clock then paused, drawing the moment out. And then... he waited some more. Ianto shifted restlessly, and still Jack didn’t move. Until Ianto couldn’t take anymore.
“Jack?” he asked a little breathlessly.
The level of trust was humbling, not once had he opened his eyes, and Jack would have just kissed him then and there if he didn’t like to win almost as much as he liked sex (and this way he might get to do both).
“I believe we’re on the clock now, Mr. Jones,” Jack whispered in response. “Is this inappropriate or do you want to continue?”
Ianto, now trembling slightly, just nodded his head a little.
So, even though Jack was unsure which question Ianto had actually answered, they did...
Man Management: Or a sexual harassment suit in the making.
Notes:It could take place post 'Countrycide' (as in all the repercussions of 'cyberwoman' have already been dealt with) or even after Jack's return (series two). But since I drew Jack, Ianto, and the Doctor frolicking on a beach last week I clearly have very little respect for cannon events.
This was an attempted at dialogue (and I think we can all see why I cut it all out of my first fic), the fact that nothing really happens was accidental.
I apologise for Ianto’s shoes and Jack’s apparently prehensile lips... Is it wrong that I like Jack’s socks the best?
Comments are very welcome.
Thank you to everybody who commented before, just so people know who to blame for me doing more.
Title/Series Info: Man Management
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating/Warning: PG unbeta-ed.
Summary: Jack's bored, so he plays with Ianto.
Author's Notes: Once again I drew something that needed a little explination.
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all it's characters and locations do not belong to me.
Man Management:
Jack was bored. Oh, so very bored.
There was plenty he could be doing, but almost all of it involved paperwork, and if he waited just a few hours he could palm that off onto one of his underlings. It was often like this early in the morning, after he’d given up on sleep but before anyone else had arrived.
Occasionally something interesting would fall through the rift but then things tended to get too interesting all too quickly. Almost certainly causing more paperwork in the long run too.
He was disturbed from his procrastination by movement in the main part of the hub. Apparently he wasn’t as alone as he had assumed. Looking out he smiled; it was only Ianto.
“You’re in early,” he called across the office. Half hoping he’d manage to surprise him; a ruffled Ianto was often an entertaining Ianto.
“Thanks for telling me, Jack, I hadn’t noticed,” he replied, clearly not surprised in the least. “You’re not dressed. There, now we’re even.”
“You’re being quite informal this morning,” Jack replied before continuing playfully. “How can I be sure that’s really you, Ianto?”
“As you so helpfully told me, I’m early. I haven’t technically started work yet, so I didn’t feel it would be inappropriate if I didn’t call you sir.” Jack was tempted to tell Ianto that he didn’t need to call him ‘sir’ at all, but stopped himself when he realised that one day Ianto might listen and stop doing it altogether. “And it’s unlikely to be anybody else, Jack,” he continued, this time emphasising the ‘Jack’.
So Ianto was definitely unruffled but maybe Jack could change that and if it didn’t work he could always give him some filing to get started on (Jack wasn’t particularly bothered where it was filed as long as it was away from his desk).
“Ianto, could you come up here a moment?”
As Ianto ascended the staircase Jack considered his plan of attack. However Ianto beat him to an opening.
“Why aren’t you dressed?”
“You don’t like it?” he replied without hesitation.
Ianto looked him up and down while Jack graced him with a particularly dazzling smile.
“If you’re not careful you’ll end up in nothing but your socks. It’s a difficult look to pull off,” he considered, “even for you.”
This was not the way things were supposed to go but if Ianto wanted to play Jack certainly wasn’t going to deny him the pleasure.
“Well we’ll just have to get you out of that suit. Then we can look foolish together.”
“I think you should put some more clothes on; the others will be here soon.” At which Jack couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“I’m not sure who you’re thinking of but I can tell you we almost certainly have this place to ourselves for awhile.” While Jack had, at least some of the time, the greatest respect for his staff he also new their strengths; punctuality on a Monday morning was not among them.
Having decided it would be sometime before they were interrupted he sat back against the desk and, with apparent nonchalance (Jack had in fact perfected this move some years previously), stretched his arms above his head and arched his back. It looked just like a morning stretch, which happened to show off his chest and arms very nicely. Ianto certainly seemed to appreciate the view; he hardly seemed able to take his eyes off Jack.
With Ianto on the back foot Jack decided to press his advantage and, in all honestly, anything else within easy reach. With that thought in mind he gently grasped Ianto’s jacket and popped the buttons, as if sudden movement might scare him away.
“That’s better.”
“I thought we decided that you’d get dressed, rather than undressing me.” Jack realised, to his delight, that Ianto was blushing.
“No, you decided that, I had a different plan.”
Ianto was still a little passive, almost unsure of himself. Perhaps, Jack considered, they were playing different games (it wasn’t until later that Jack considered that maybe Ianto hadn’t been playing at all). He shrugged mentally, it didn’t matter, they could still enjoy themselves.
Jack’s hands skimmed over the tailored shirt, toying briefly with the buttons, before he took hold of Ianto’s tie, running his thumb over the material.
“Are you going to take that off too?”
“No, just looking,” Jack replied, before tugging slightly and forcing Ianto to stoop or fall over.
The problem, Jack thought, was Ianto was many things; devoted, intelligent; loyal; dedicated; and, as he was demonstrating now, incredibly stubborn. Refusing to be swayed by Jack’s advances, or, in this case, fall into Jack’s lap. He hadn’t stepped away, which he could have done easily, but neither had he come any closer. In fact his arms were still hanging by his sides, refusing to reach out and rest them on Jack’s shoulders (which was a shame in Jack’s opinion). It was only really the colour in his cheeks and his dilated pupils that gave any indication that he was enjoying this anywhere near as much as Jack.
It would have been annoying, if Jack hadn’t found Ianto’s veneer of control such a turn on.
Jack leaned up and Ianto’s eyes drifted closed. Their mouths just millimetres apart; breath almost mingling. He glanced quickly at the desk clock then paused, drawing the moment out. And then... he waited some more. Ianto shifted restlessly, and still Jack didn’t move. Until Ianto couldn’t take anymore.
“Jack?” he asked a little breathlessly.
The level of trust was humbling, not once had he opened his eyes, and Jack would have just kissed him then and there if he didn’t like to win almost as much as he liked sex (and this way he might get to do both).
“I believe we’re on the clock now, Mr. Jones,” Jack whispered in response. “Is this inappropriate or do you want to continue?”
Ianto, now trembling slightly, just nodded his head a little.
So, even though Jack was unsure which question Ianto had actually answered, they did...
Man Management: Or a sexual harassment suit in the making.
Notes:It could take place post 'Countrycide' (as in all the repercussions of 'cyberwoman' have already been dealt with) or even after Jack's return (series two). But since I drew Jack, Ianto, and the Doctor frolicking on a beach last week I clearly have very little respect for cannon events.
This was an attempted at dialogue (and I think we can all see why I cut it all out of my first fic), the fact that nothing really happens was accidental.
I apologise for Ianto’s shoes and Jack’s apparently prehensile lips... Is it wrong that I like Jack’s socks the best?
Comments are very welcome.