Disconcertingly Sticky
Ianto scowled and quickly followed the guilty looking Jack into his office, who was already quite obviously aware of what he’d done and that he was about to be chastised for it.
Jack had sat down at his desk and was trying to look busy. Ianto walked right up to it and waited for Jack to acknowledge him. He frowned impatiently.
“Something I can help you with?” asked Jack, calmly, but not convincing anyone.
“You duct-taped this to the SUV wing mirror. It’s a disgusting mess.”
“It was necessary,” replied Jack, curtly.
“I don’t think so,” chided Ianto. “You’ve made the wing mirror disconcertingly sticky.”
Jack snorted.
“Jack,” warned Ianto.
Jack looked up, eyes wide, the perfect picture of child-caught-with-hand-in-cookie-jar.
“I was trying to save the world,” said Jack indignantly, though it came out as more of a whine. “It’ll come off.”
And he tried to busy himself again with something on his desk.
“Yes, because you will be cleaning it off.”
Jack looked up at Ianto, but petulant this time.
“I will be doing no such thing, Ianto. I’m the leader of Torchwood 3. You’re the one that cleans up.”
There was a momentary flicker across his face as he possibly realised he shouldn’t have said that.
Ianto stilled, quietly angry and very stern. Jack watched him as he coolly placed the sticky aerial on Jack’s desk and walked around to where Jack was sitting. Jack shifted in his seat and tried to look harmless.
“Jack,” said Ianto, dangerously, leaning over until his face was level with Jack’s.
“You are going to clean that up. Is that clear?”
Jack’s face flushed and he felt his body tingle as he gazed at Ianto. He knew absolutely that he would do as he was told.
“OK,” he rasped. Ianto stayed close to him, glaring at him.
Jack squirmed a little.
“Sorry,” he added quickly.
Ianto straightened, still stern.
“Don’t do it again,” he commanded. “I’ll see you later to make sure you’ve done it properly. I’d advise you to be vigilant, Jack.”
Ianto’s eyes softened at the same time as Jack’s cock hardened.
“Understood?” prompted Ianto.
“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, breathily, face still flushed and mouth slightly open.
“Good,” said Ianto, before firing a last warning glare at Jack and swinging out of the door.
Jack looked at the mass of aerial and duct-tape. This was going to be tricky.
--
Later that evening, Jack had tried his best. He had. But he was rubbish. And a small part of him, well a big part of him, wanted to know what would happen if he hadn’t been vigilant. He was well aware that the big part of him was most likely his penis.
He’d written up the day’s events and had everything filed and sorted and now returned to the kitchen where he’d been trying to separate the duct-tape from the aerial. The warm, soapy water had worked on the wing mirror to a certain extent, and he’d glared at Owen for smirking at him as he’d tried to scrub it off. But there were still one or two smears that he knew Ianto wouldn’t let go. He tried to do all of this without the team seeing.
Within a few minutes, Jack, the CB aerial and the duct-tape were tangled up together and Jack had already nicked himself with the kitchen scissors. It got too much. In a flash of temper, he flung the sticky, pointy lump unceremoniously into the kitchen bin with an expletive and started washing his hands. He dried them on a tea towel, scowling at his own frustration and carelessly threw the tea towel in the kitchen bin as well. He realised, thought about it for a moment…and decided to walk away.
But Ianto was standing right in front of him with his arms folded across his chest.
“Take it out,” he said icily.
Jack froze, eyes darting to the bin. He opened his mouth to argue and closed it again, thinking better of it. But he did shoot a defiant look at Ianto before he removed the tea towel from the top of the bin and placed it, with considerably more care, back on the work top. He folded his arms, mirroring Ianto.
“And the aerial. We might need it,” said Ianto.
“I’ll buy you another one,” snapped Jack, growing impatient.
Ianto took a step closer to Jack.
“You, when they’ve all gone home, are going to be very sorry you did that,” he said sternly, before glaring one last time at Jack and walking away.
Jack was left standing in the kitchen. Worrying.
--
9pm. Jack had taken refuge in his office, muttering to himself about who was in charge around here. He was painfully aware of Ianto being somewhere in the hub, and when the others had finally left for the day, he found himself feeling inconveniently anxious. He therefore started to slam various drawers and doors, just to prove he was the boss.
He’d just kicked his own chair for being in his way when Ianto walked in, hands in pockets, his eyes fixed on Jack. It occurred to Jack that a very clever thing to do would be to apologise as soon as possible.
“Ianto, I’m sorry about today. I just..”
“Shush,” said Ianto.
Jack’s mouth fell open. Shush? SHUSH?? What the hell! Ianto walked up to Jack. He didn’t look angry, or scary. He just looked like Ianto. But Jack knew that there was something underneath. His throat was dry.
“You didn’t do as you were told, Jack,” stated Ianto, as if he were reading the weather. But it scared the hell out of Jack.
“I tried,” argued Jack, a little hopelessly.
Ianto smiled. To be fair, Jack had done more than he’d expected him to do.
“Not good enough,” said Ianto, still freakishly relaxed. “There are going to be consequences.”
“Sexy consequences?” Jack eyes were pleading, trying his luck. Ianto’s eyes darkened. Jack squirmed.
“You’re killing me here, Ianto. Tell me what you want me to do for God’s sake!”
Ianto took a deep breath and closed the gap between himself and Jack.
“What do you think, Jack?” Ianto’s voice was so low. It was threatening, but seductive.
Jack could feel Ianto’s breath on his face.
“You’re going to punish me, aren’t you?” said Jack, face anxious, hanging his head slightly.
Ianto’s mouth curled up on one side.
“I’ve a feeling you would enjoy that too much, Captain,” said Ianto, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“So what, then?” asked Jack, genuinely concerned now.
“You will complete the task I set you. Clean the wing mirror properly. Now.”
Jack stared at Ianto. This was ridiculous. But then he realised he was going to do it. He stormed out of his office and ran down to the kitchen, grabbing the bucket of soapy water and the scourer, and headed out towards the SUV.
Ianto stood in front of the CCTV and watched Jack as he furiously scrubbed every last sticky trace from the wing mirror. Eventually, Jack sulkily returned to the hub carrying the bucket and found Ianto waiting for him in the kitchen.
Ianto was standing there again with his arms folded across his chest, but was also leaning back slightly on a kitchen cabinet. His gaze was stern. Somewhere in his head, Jack thought that was quite sexy, but he felt too much like being petulant to deal with that right now. He looked away from Ianto, face fixed in an angry pout, and swung the bucket up into the sick and emptied its contents before disposing of the scourer in the bin. He removed his now mucky shirt and dumped it in a heap on the worktop, allowing his braces to swing by his sides. He looked thoroughly dishevelled.
He washed his hands and dried them as before. Then he turned, folded his arms, and leant back against the sink, mirroring Ianto, as before. Daring Ianto. With all his heart.
“It’s done,” he said tetchily. “You can check if you like.”
“I saw,” Ianto informed him, a warning tone in his voice again.
Jack scowled and looked at the floor.
“Come here, Jack,” ordered Ianto, perfectly still.
Jack glared at him for a full five seconds before shifting himself forwards and slowly coming to Ianto, unfolding his arms. He looked anywhere but into Ianto’s eyes.
Ianto caught one of Jack’s sulkily swinging arms and brought him in closely, keeping a grip on him.
“Look at me,” said Ianto, evenly.
Jack did. Still pouting in spite of himself. He noticed then that Ianto’s eyes were angry.
The pout disappeared and contrition replaced it.
“Your behaviour leaves a lot to be desired, Jack,” chided Ianto, still holding Jack firmly by the arm. “But I’m pleased you finally completed your task. Looks like you can be a good boy when you choose to be.”
Jack frowned, but was relieved to see Ianto’s eyes soften.
“Are you mad?” asked Jack, so very much like a boy now.
“I must be,” said Ianto softly, before pressing his lips to Jack in a short but sweet kiss. Jack raised his eyebrows and grinned.
“So I’m not in trouble anymore?”
“Yes you are,” replied Ianto quickly, and Jack’s face fell.
“You threw my favourite tea towel in the bin and you acted like a brat all afternoon,” added Ianto pleasantly, stroking Jack’s arm with deceptive sweetness. “I think that deserves a smack on the bottom.”
Jack blushed and tried not to giggle before realising that Ianto wasn’t smiling. His own smile disappeared, but before he could think about how to put a stop to it, Ianto reached around and smacked him hard on the backside.
Jack gasped and his hands leapt to his bottom. For some reason, that one stinging slap on the seat of his trousers hurt more and felt like more of a rebuke than any of his previous punishments from Ianto.
Ianto smirked at Jack’s reaction before pulling him in for a warm hug.
“Please don’t do it again, Jack,” he said, rubbing Jack’s bottom for him. Jack looked Ianto in the eyes. They were dreamy and kind once more.
“I’ll try,” said Jack with a devilish grin, moving in for a longer, deeper kiss. Ianto responded amorously, allowing Jack to press into him. Soon their arms were around each other, holding each other tight.
They came up for air. Ianto gazed at Jack.
“You’re not allowed to touch me. Put your hands on your head,” ordered Ianto.
Jack, very excited by this order, did as he was told, hoping it wouldn’t make him too frustrated. He watched as Ianto unfastened Jack’s trousers and carefully pulled out Jack’s rigid cock.
“Keep still,” commanded Ianto, gently, his eyes glinting mischievously. Jack tried in vain not to rock his hips as Ianto ran his fist up and down Jack’s shaft at a painfully slow pace. Jack tried not to thrust into Ianto. It was torture.
Ianto crouched down in front of Jack, and Jack emitted a yelp as Ianto’s tongue graced the top of his cock. Then that warm, wet contact disappeared.
“Keep still, Jack,” Ianto warned. “Or I’ll stop.”
“OK” said Jack with a squeak. “Please don’t stop!”
Ianto chuckled and resumed his torturous licking. Jack stayed impressively still but began to voice considerable urgency.
“Ianto! Please!”
Ianto licked Jack as if he were his favourite ice lolly for another few seconds, and then stood up, pulling Jack in tighter. He had his cock once more in his fist and began to pump in earnest. Jack was panting and whining. His hands found their way onto Ianto’s shoulders for balance and Ianto leaned forward to catch Jack’s mouth in a steamy kiss, still frantically working Jack’s leaking erection.
“I’m gonna…” began Jack, still trying not to buck against Ianto.
“I know,” growled Ianto.
“I’m coming!!” cried Jack, face a picture of ecstasy.
“Yeah! Do it Jack!” ordered Ianto, one arm around Jack’s waist while his fist pulled and twisted Jack’s cock. “Come on boss, who’s really in charge around here?” he taunted.
“You are! You are!!” Jack yelled, before he came furiously with a strangled scream, covering them both in copious amounts of semen.
Jack collapsed against Ianto, gasping for air, orgasmic shock waves still causing him shudder. Ianto held him in his arms. Once Jack had caught his breath, he stood up straight, grinning like a dope.
“I told you not to move,” chided Ianto, but with a warm smile.
“Oops,” pretended Jack. Then he saw what he’d done to the front of Ianto’s shirt and trousers. He sniggered.
“Bet you always wanted me to come all over you, didn’t you,” he jested.
“Marking me out as your territory, Jack?” smirked Ianto, and he stepped towards Jack for a good snog.
“Mmmm,” said Jack, eyes heavy lidded. Then he tutted.
“Now look who’s disconcertingly sticky,” grinned Jack. Ianto gave him a withering glare.
“Jack,” he warned. “Go to your room,” but his eyes betrayed humour. And possibly lust.
Jack smiled dreamily, eyes dilated in post-coital bliss.
“OK,” he said compliantly. “You’re coming too, though?”
“I’m coming too,” affirmed Ianto adoringly, as he watched Jack try to walk towards the hatch. He looked around the kitchen. Everything was a mess, not least of which him. He melted into a smug grin. Sometimes it was good to be sticky.