For doctor_weevil

[stopwatchlover]

Continued from here.

Archive.  Right.  He can do the Archive.  The trouble is actually getting there.  It's difficult with his hands and his mouth occupied.  They almost die twice before Ianto shoves his hand against the wall to open the door.

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[doctor_weevil]

Owen. Just. Laughs. D'awww at the lad with no hand-eye coordination. He's just not going to quit tormenting him. The ache in his jeans and Ianto's bloody pink lips aren't a spur-on, no way, never.

[stopwatchlover]

Yes, very pick lips. That are not at all distracting. Why would they be? Ianto tugs Owen through the door, letting the heavy thing slide back into place itself.

Good, yes. All set. Now just to clear off this table...

[doctor_weevil]

Owen sweeps off the items on the table with a cackle and a grin, leaving them where they fall. This is what you're probably going to have sex with, Ianto. "Too anal-organised to live," he mutters. "C'mon!"

He lets go of the other man with one hand, cheekbones sharp under the bare bulb, tugging at his fly-buttons.

[stopwatchlover]

"There's nothing wrong with organization," he hisses, tugging his shirt out of his pants to help Owen and undoing his tie. CAREFULLY.

[doctor_weevil]

"I think you'll find..." he sing-songs, dragging Ianto into another kiss. What? He's warm, and he tastes good.

[stopwatchlover]

"That I'm right!" Ianto murmurs in between kisses. Owen is absolutely perfect at it. There. He thought it. Ianto nudged his lips up again, nearly purring as he scooted up on the table.

[doctor_weevil]

He barges his way between Ianto's legs, stroking the soft bits of hair behind the other man's ears with his fingertips and infinite care. "That's right. Up you get," he grins.

[stopwatchlover]

Ianto wants to tell Owen to shove it, but the way that he touches hair that curls if left to grow any longer makes him shiver. So instead of making fun of his height again, he presses his knees against his thighs and leans down to suck a gentle kiss from his lips. He's not in a rush. This feels too good to rush.

[doctor_weevil]

He goes along with the kiss for a bit and then breaks it off with a sniff. Quick and dirty can feel just as good as slow and, Jesus, tender, he figures, hand fumbling around his lab coat for protection and lube. Coats hide a multitude of sins.

[stopwatchlover]

Yes. Ianto notes that with a smirk. Good. Interesting. He likes new things and leaning back, he watches Owen get ready. He can do quick and dirty too. That's just fine with him.

[doctor_weevil]

"Such an arse," Owen mutters, well - more of a hoarse whisper. "Quit staring, making me do all the work - " he grinds their crotches together, waiting for the very, very wrong to turn into sweet Torchwood so-wrong-it's-right. Ianto wants this, he'd said, he'd said he wanted this.

[stopwatchlover]

"Usually I'm to sit out of the preparation and just handle the clean up." That is why typically becomes of him. Likely because every time he's involved in a mission, he gets a bit injured. Sidelines Jones. That's his new name. "'Sides. I like to watch."

[doctor_weevil]

"That's not what you said last time." He wriggles, loosens his belt and his jeans fall around his knees. Moving stiffly - his centre of gravity seems to have completely disappeared, let alone just gone downwards - he prys away at Ianto's suit pants.

[stopwatchlover]

Right then, back to business. "I say a lot of things, mostly to see if anyone's listening." There, he'll help but Jesus, Owen, these trousers are expensive!

[doctor_weevil]

"I listen," he says. "Mostly because it's just amusing to prick up the ears and tune into an audio thesis on coffee while I'm doin' a slice 'n' dice - " i.e., rudely and quite wrongly implying with lots of words that Ianto talks of nothing else. He paws at the trousers.

"And Jack would be a moron if he didn't. Listen, I mean."