Fic: Ambiguity
Title: Ambiguity
Rating: Sexual themes. Nothing graphic. Meh.
A Ianto/Owen snippet. Well, they are both in it, and both naked. Beyond that, not so much. I'm sure I had a point when I started, anyway.
Owen yawned and rolled over. He scratched himself, only half awake, and wondered idly where the sheets had gone.
Padding through the grey rain-filtered light, he spotted both Ianto and the missing bed sheet. It was folded and wrapped around his waist. Characteristic bloody neatness. It made Owen want to rip it off and throw it on the floor, and crow in triumph. As for him there, Ianto, smug bastard probably knew.
'Welsh' Owen muttered, watching Ianto watching the rain-streaked view. He was thinking of Gwen standing at the same window, or remembering, maybe, because he felt nothing more than a vague sense of the passage of time. Ianto turned and raised an eyebrow. He'd tucked corner of the sheet in just below his navel on one side, creating a wedge of white dipping down...
Owen dragged his gaze back up, following the faint trail of dark hair that ran up Ianto's belly, firm and white. The suggestion of musculature under the skin gave the same hint, drawing the eye in towards his navel. Owen knew from experience that if he let his thumb trace that line, his little finger would touch thicker, wiry hair hidden by the sheet. In the half-light, the sheet around Ianto was black, but in the day it would be deep purple.
'Come back to bed' he grumbled. 'It's six in the fucking morning. Fucking Saturday for fuck's sake.'
'Some people would have stopped at “Come back to bed”' Ianto said. His lip curled. Owen glared at it.
'Some people wouldn't be staring pensively out the window at the crack of friggin' dawn. Are you missing your clipboard collection or practising dramatic looks in the reflection?'
'Neither.' Ianto smiled mock-fondly. 'Your legs kick in your sleep, like a puppy.'
Owen's mouth opened, and then shut. He glared again, and Ianto laughed.
'Damn.' Ianto yawned, decorously covering his mouth. He reached both arms above his head, rolling up onto his toes and stretching his whole body. His fingers brushed the air up by the ceiling. Tall bugger, too.
'What?' It wasn't the first time Owen had seen Ianto bare-chested, but rarely had he taken the time to really look. Usually, there were other more pressing concerns. He found himself irritated by the neat, surprisingly thick chest hair. Ianto wasn't supposed to be that masculine.
'If I'd held a straight face for a moment longer, we could have had mutually annoyed sex.'
'I can't believe you even used that phrase' Owen scoffed. Ianto probably knew what his accent did to it, too.
In a more prosaic, far less sexy gesture, Ianto rubbed his eyes and scratched through the stubble on his chin. He looked tired suddenly. Black-eyed and unshaven, like any other mortal man at dawn on a Saturday morning. Owen grunted what might have been agreement and let himself fall back down on the bed. He stared a the ceiling while Ianto slid onto the mattress beside him. Not touching him. In Ianto's hands, the sheet unfurled and settled over them both like a parachute. For just a moment, Owen got a flash of the pale pair of them sandwiched between planes of dark colour. It stilled him for a second or two. Mixed resentment and lust gave way to something else.
He rolled over and opened the drawer under the bed, pulling out a blanket. Silently, Ianto helped him spread it over them. It was always coldest at dawn, and there were perfectly good geophysical reasons for that. They weren't touching, but were both awake, quiet, lying flat and waiting for the chill to subside.
Owen turned and found Ianto already looking at him.
'Alright?' Even to himself, Owen sounded gruff.
'Alright' Ianto agreed, evenly. It was what you said. The standard reply. Owen grunted and rolled over, but he took care to end up a few inches closer to Ianto. A moment later he felt weight shift on the mattress. It was a well rehearsed drill, and ended like it usually did, with the warmth of Ianto's back against his. Owen didn't bother working through the psychological or philosophical implications. It was warm. He yawned and rubbed his nose on the pillow. Outside, rain began to beat a gentle patter on the window. Ianto reached behind him and pulled the blanket up to better cover both their shoulders, before they both drifted back into sleep.
Rating: Sexual themes. Nothing graphic. Meh.
A Ianto/Owen snippet. Well, they are both in it, and both naked. Beyond that, not so much. I'm sure I had a point when I started, anyway.
Owen yawned and rolled over. He scratched himself, only half awake, and wondered idly where the sheets had gone.
Padding through the grey rain-filtered light, he spotted both Ianto and the missing bed sheet. It was folded and wrapped around his waist. Characteristic bloody neatness. It made Owen want to rip it off and throw it on the floor, and crow in triumph. As for him there, Ianto, smug bastard probably knew.
'Welsh' Owen muttered, watching Ianto watching the rain-streaked view. He was thinking of Gwen standing at the same window, or remembering, maybe, because he felt nothing more than a vague sense of the passage of time. Ianto turned and raised an eyebrow. He'd tucked corner of the sheet in just below his navel on one side, creating a wedge of white dipping down...
Owen dragged his gaze back up, following the faint trail of dark hair that ran up Ianto's belly, firm and white. The suggestion of musculature under the skin gave the same hint, drawing the eye in towards his navel. Owen knew from experience that if he let his thumb trace that line, his little finger would touch thicker, wiry hair hidden by the sheet. In the half-light, the sheet around Ianto was black, but in the day it would be deep purple.
'Come back to bed' he grumbled. 'It's six in the fucking morning. Fucking Saturday for fuck's sake.'
'Some people would have stopped at “Come back to bed”' Ianto said. His lip curled. Owen glared at it.
'Some people wouldn't be staring pensively out the window at the crack of friggin' dawn. Are you missing your clipboard collection or practising dramatic looks in the reflection?'
'Neither.' Ianto smiled mock-fondly. 'Your legs kick in your sleep, like a puppy.'
Owen's mouth opened, and then shut. He glared again, and Ianto laughed.
'Damn.' Ianto yawned, decorously covering his mouth. He reached both arms above his head, rolling up onto his toes and stretching his whole body. His fingers brushed the air up by the ceiling. Tall bugger, too.
'What?' It wasn't the first time Owen had seen Ianto bare-chested, but rarely had he taken the time to really look. Usually, there were other more pressing concerns. He found himself irritated by the neat, surprisingly thick chest hair. Ianto wasn't supposed to be that masculine.
'If I'd held a straight face for a moment longer, we could have had mutually annoyed sex.'
'I can't believe you even used that phrase' Owen scoffed. Ianto probably knew what his accent did to it, too.
In a more prosaic, far less sexy gesture, Ianto rubbed his eyes and scratched through the stubble on his chin. He looked tired suddenly. Black-eyed and unshaven, like any other mortal man at dawn on a Saturday morning. Owen grunted what might have been agreement and let himself fall back down on the bed. He stared a the ceiling while Ianto slid onto the mattress beside him. Not touching him. In Ianto's hands, the sheet unfurled and settled over them both like a parachute. For just a moment, Owen got a flash of the pale pair of them sandwiched between planes of dark colour. It stilled him for a second or two. Mixed resentment and lust gave way to something else.
He rolled over and opened the drawer under the bed, pulling out a blanket. Silently, Ianto helped him spread it over them. It was always coldest at dawn, and there were perfectly good geophysical reasons for that. They weren't touching, but were both awake, quiet, lying flat and waiting for the chill to subside.
Owen turned and found Ianto already looking at him.
'Alright?' Even to himself, Owen sounded gruff.
'Alright' Ianto agreed, evenly. It was what you said. The standard reply. Owen grunted and rolled over, but he took care to end up a few inches closer to Ianto. A moment later he felt weight shift on the mattress. It was a well rehearsed drill, and ended like it usually did, with the warmth of Ianto's back against his. Owen didn't bother working through the psychological or philosophical implications. It was warm. He yawned and rubbed his nose on the pillow. Outside, rain began to beat a gentle patter on the window. Ianto reached behind him and pulled the blanket up to better cover both their shoulders, before they both drifted back into sleep.