Where Numb Thoughts Keep Tingling
Title: Where Numb Thoughts Keep Tingling
Characters: focus on Ianto with strong emphasis on Jack/Ianto
Summary: It's raining and Ianto is cold
Word Count: ~600ish
Rating: R
Warnings: implied sex
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Torchwood doesn't belong to me, I don't get money for any of this.
Author's notes: Written for constantinepain who requested a rain-storm Janto-smut-fic with an angsty beginning at my drabble!meme. I'm not quite sure whether this is what you wanted but I hope this covers your request hun.
Cold wind licks his damp skin, sending nasty shivers into each and every inch of Ianto's soaked body whilst big, heavy drops of rain hit his face, coldly, cruelly, relentlessly. Washing all away with each ’drip, drip, drip’.
Ianto shivers again, trying to guard his fingers, trembling under this cruel, biting chill. The world hidden behind a veil of never-ending rain Ianto feels exposed, naked. Isolated in a reality where everything sounds the same, looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same and amidst this world which depraves him of every sense of orientation he can't help this feeling of loneliness dripping. From his soaked hair, over his face, through the drenched shirt and seeping, seeping, seeping through to a part of him where the numbness keeps building. Silently, steadily, rising to the point where nothing is left but a wailing silence.
And then there is warmth. Warmth in form of simple touches on that spot barely above his belly button. Warmth in form of a sigh, resonating through every single cell of his weak and trembling flesh.. Warmth in form of lips, full and soft, soothing the biting cold in one simple movement over and over again. Warmth in form of fingers, gentle and experienced, stroking, caressing and kneading their way into his core only to replace the numbing silence with a different form of numbness... a better one.
Numbness rising from the pit of his stomach, tracing the trails of each touch, radiating through his body in a relentless tingle from everywhere to everywhere and concentrating right there where it feels good, so good, too good. Invading his mind in one single push, filling his thoughts, occupying his thoughts, claiming them like mumbles, never quite grasped, murmured against the back of his head; like simple gazes, locking in an apparently random fashion or this moment where everything seems so clear and yet so blurred that nothing seems real anymore.
His name hits the rain in a litany he doesn't know. Ianto can't think. Building and threatening to burst all out of the young man with each thrust, each "Ianto..." caressing the back of his neck and each stroke bringing him closer to the release of this bittersweet pressure, the tingle keeps gnawing on the pit of his stomach. From the insides of his thighs to his groin and up to this incoherent mess once called mind one single thought keeps forming. Less thought than a deeper knowledge, actually, latching itself onto each unit of his system, gaining significance as the numbness reaches his lips.
Keens and whimpers dangle on the edge, insignificant voices, echo through his head, frame that though, follow each "Please..." and cling to each moan. This thought, this numbness, this...feeling... It hurts in a way that it doesn't, aches so sweetly that the almost painful stretch of final realization loses significance, scorches and consummates all of him until there is nothing left but an out-cried "JACK!!!" and trembling flesh. All flesh, all trembling, not cold, just… Jack's.
The young man can't quite grasp the meaning of this feeling, is not sure whether it would be wise to grasp it at all but then it is there and having sex in the open during a rain storm isn't the most sensible thing either. He doesn't understand why Jack wraps his coat around him or even attempts to carry him to the SUV - a task slightly(but only just slightly) hindered by the muddy ground and Jack's drenched boots (lots of staggering involved)- but then he sees the smile on Jack's face and calls himself a liar.
Eerh, I realize that the actual request was outdoor-Janto-smut in the open during a rainstorm which starts out angsty...
I have to say it turned out to be quite introspective and feels more like a sibling to A Vain Hope Of Preservation where the focus lies on Jack than the smutty kind of smut... Can't fight the bunnies. *shrugs* I hope I did okay with this fic, feedback would be love and cookies <3.
On a completely different note, it's mid-autumn in the chinese calendar so enjoy the wonderful full-moon tonight everyone^^
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Characters: focus on Ianto with strong emphasis on Jack/Ianto
Summary: It's raining and Ianto is cold
Word Count: ~600ish
Rating: R
Warnings: implied sex
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Torchwood doesn't belong to me, I don't get money for any of this.
Author's notes: Written for constantinepain who requested a rain-storm Janto-smut-fic with an angsty beginning at my drabble!meme. I'm not quite sure whether this is what you wanted but I hope this covers your request hun.
Cold wind licks his damp skin, sending nasty shivers into each and every inch of Ianto's soaked body whilst big, heavy drops of rain hit his face, coldly, cruelly, relentlessly. Washing all away with each ’drip, drip, drip’.
Ianto shivers again, trying to guard his fingers, trembling under this cruel, biting chill. The world hidden behind a veil of never-ending rain Ianto feels exposed, naked. Isolated in a reality where everything sounds the same, looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same and amidst this world which depraves him of every sense of orientation he can't help this feeling of loneliness dripping. From his soaked hair, over his face, through the drenched shirt and seeping, seeping, seeping through to a part of him where the numbness keeps building. Silently, steadily, rising to the point where nothing is left but a wailing silence.
And then there is warmth. Warmth in form of simple touches on that spot barely above his belly button. Warmth in form of a sigh, resonating through every single cell of his weak and trembling flesh.. Warmth in form of lips, full and soft, soothing the biting cold in one simple movement over and over again. Warmth in form of fingers, gentle and experienced, stroking, caressing and kneading their way into his core only to replace the numbing silence with a different form of numbness... a better one.
Numbness rising from the pit of his stomach, tracing the trails of each touch, radiating through his body in a relentless tingle from everywhere to everywhere and concentrating right there where it feels good, so good, too good. Invading his mind in one single push, filling his thoughts, occupying his thoughts, claiming them like mumbles, never quite grasped, murmured against the back of his head; like simple gazes, locking in an apparently random fashion or this moment where everything seems so clear and yet so blurred that nothing seems real anymore.
His name hits the rain in a litany he doesn't know. Ianto can't think. Building and threatening to burst all out of the young man with each thrust, each "Ianto..." caressing the back of his neck and each stroke bringing him closer to the release of this bittersweet pressure, the tingle keeps gnawing on the pit of his stomach. From the insides of his thighs to his groin and up to this incoherent mess once called mind one single thought keeps forming. Less thought than a deeper knowledge, actually, latching itself onto each unit of his system, gaining significance as the numbness reaches his lips.
Keens and whimpers dangle on the edge, insignificant voices, echo through his head, frame that though, follow each "Please..." and cling to each moan. This thought, this numbness, this...feeling... It hurts in a way that it doesn't, aches so sweetly that the almost painful stretch of final realization loses significance, scorches and consummates all of him until there is nothing left but an out-cried "JACK!!!" and trembling flesh. All flesh, all trembling, not cold, just… Jack's.
The young man can't quite grasp the meaning of this feeling, is not sure whether it would be wise to grasp it at all but then it is there and having sex in the open during a rain storm isn't the most sensible thing either. He doesn't understand why Jack wraps his coat around him or even attempts to carry him to the SUV - a task slightly(but only just slightly) hindered by the muddy ground and Jack's drenched boots (lots of staggering involved)- but then he sees the smile on Jack's face and calls himself a liar.
Eerh, I realize that the actual request was outdoor-Janto-smut in the open during a rainstorm which starts out angsty...
I have to say it turned out to be quite introspective and feels more like a sibling to A Vain Hope Of Preservation where the focus lies on Jack than the smutty kind of smut... Can't fight the bunnies. *shrugs* I hope I did okay with this fic, feedback would be love and cookies <3.
On a completely different note, it's mid-autumn in the chinese calendar so enjoy the wonderful full-moon tonight everyone^^
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