Hunger
Title: Hunger
Characters: Jack, Ianto and cameos by a couple of other characters
Excerpt: Jack is aware of the fact that the hunger itself only happens in his head; it's all a question of chemistry....
Word Count: ~2700ish
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mentions of torture, apart from that: food!p0rn, hand!p0rn, mind!p0rn and p0rn!p0rn
Spoilers: Spoilers for everything up to 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang' possible
Disclaimer: Torchwood doesn't belong to me but the BBC, I'm just borrowing.
Beta: wynkat1313 who whipped this biatch like whoa and made me laugh a couple of times in the process
Author's notes: Written for the tw_lucky_7 challenge involving the prompt gluttony and the character Jack.
Eating is one of the most natural things in the world; everyone needs to eat.
Hunger on the other hand is instinct, a trick of nature to ensure the regular intake of energy in the form of food. It's one of the most basic devices of the human brain to ensure survival. Jack is aware of the fact that the hunger itself only happens in his head; it's all a question of chemistry.
Endorphins are released during the eating process, accompanied by a whole array of other messengers and triggers to give the body a certain feeling of satisfaction. They ensure that the brain links food with happiness, providing another reason to eat other than mere survival. The human brain becomes literally addicted to the process of eating.
In a time Jack barely remembers, he used to take his time to savour a good Crème Brule; to smell the sweet bouquet, to listen to the crisp sound it made when he cracked the caramel top with his spoon and to watch the spoon as it sank into the sinfully rich dessert. He loved to feel the silky texture on his tongue, and to let the mix of combined flavours flood his taste buds as it slowly melted on his tongue until all that was left was a last lingering hint of sweetness.
Jack still feels the shadows of his last Crème Brule lingering on his tongue even though he can't recall the last time he had one, mere tricks of mind to distract the body of the gnawing ache.
Hunger is important; it keeps Jack running, quite literally.
But what if the need to consume food in order to survive is gone? Jack feels the hunger, slowly detaching from his body, growing with each pained gasp as he forces himself to swallow torn pieces of dry bread, feeling it slicing his sore throat from the inside and too weak to protest this treatment anymore. He is going to starve, day by day, ever so slowly, sometimes watched by the Master who likes to see the Freak breaking, but most of the time all by himself, condemned to regret, yearn and starve until he dies.
Minute by minute, the hunger grows unbearable while Jack literally feels the throbbing ache as his body digests itself, while he watches the knuckles extending from his fingers bone for bone, poking up through grey and oil smudged skin from the inside and stretching it beyond recognition. Or is the skin sagging? Jack can't really tell. He just feels the sting throughout his skin and the strange sensation of freezing from the inside while his body is trapped in the biting heat. Each night Jack falls asleep, dreaming of a soothing touch on his face and soup to unfreeze the now numb parts of his body.
It doesn't help.
Jack feels the acid rise up his throat, waiting to burn the rest of him while the soaring void in his stomach grows bigger and bigger. Too weak to stand anymore Jack feels the pull of the chains on his wrists and shoulders, suffers the tearing strain because there is no muscle left, no energy to defy gravity anymore. All his abused body is able to do at this point is dangle and hope that the end comes soon.
Jack is angry and slightly insulted by the fact that his tormentor doesn't even take the time to watch Jack's maybe most undignified demise yet before his body springs back to reset. But the hunger doesn't vanish along with the signs of starvation. The mind doesn't just go back to reset.
Jack wouldn't have such a problem if it could.
Even later when those times belong to Jack’s past and all reasons for starvation are eliminated along with the Master, Jack can't deny the alluring appeal of the Retcon in his desk. Small, round and white the pills are stored there, in ordinary orange pill holders which disguise the true power of the thing rather than display it.
Once in a while Jack takes the container with the really strong stuff out, strokes over the smooth surface of the orange tube and tries to remember the time before that year, before the hunger...
But all Jack gets when he closes his eyes are blurred pictures, detached from him like his hunger is from the real need to eat. All it does is burn and churn and gnaw and bite and the hunger just nags and nags and nags until Jack can't tell anymore where he ends and the hunger begins.
He can feel it, deep in his stomach when he sets eyes on the box of cream filled doughnuts Ianto bought for breakfast, growing with each second he stares at the tempting cakey circles until the hunger finally takes over. Jack can't stop a deep sigh when he buries his teeth in the first doughnut as the thick, sloshy, vanilla flavoured cream breaks through the thin, crisp, sugar coated skin and a fluffy white layer of baked dough, and as the cream drizzles onto his tongue and floods the ever demanding maelstrom of HUNGER inside with an instant sensation of satisfaction. Then of course this sensation doesn't last long before the sugar induced endorphin rush is also sucked into the void and the hunger soon returns to demand more.
One isn't enough, can't be enough, won't be enough and so Jack takes one more and one more and one more, chasing one delusional moment of satisfaction after another without much hope for a long term solution.
Of course the body does have to revolt sooner or later under the combined weight of flour and sugar. How many calories are in a box of doughnuts anyway? Quite a lot probably.
Ianto doesn't ask questions when he finds Jack hanging over the bowl in the bathroom. Ianto never asks questions, right? That's the reason why Jack picked him in the first place. Ianto's fingers tremble slightly when he helps Jack cleaning up and Jack can't help wondering what they would taste like if he sucked on them. Jack can't remember. Ianto avoids his eyes when he straightens Jack's collar. Jack can't remember.
Why can't he remember?
Ianto's fingers leave a tingling trail of goose bumps where they brush Jack's skin. The sensation is familiar and part of Jack cries for more while the other part just wants to run and hide. Ianto withdraws his hands in an instant when Jack inadvertently flinches at the sudden intimate contact and steps back. Confused and frustrated Jack barely bites back the urge to do something very stupid like pushing Ianto down and dry hump the surprised man senseless(not very old school) and sends him away instead.
Ianto does as he was told without a word. Jack was wrong though, wasn't he? Ianto does have questions, did ask questions after Jack's return...
Questions Jack didn't dare to give a straight answer to and now things are as they are, distant, even though Ianto answered Jack's request for more with a yes.
There is a new box of doughnuts on the conference table when the team briefing starts and it costs Jack a lot just to stop at one doughnut during the meeting. He can't help noticing the exchanged glances between Ianto and Owen. Ianto told him, of course Ianto told him. Since when did these two become best buddies? Can't help noticing the worry tainted gaze of admiration on Tosh’s face and Gwen's look of well meant but also poorly disguised pity.
Jack grabs another doughnut and takes a demonstrative bite, unsure whether out of simple frustration or as some sort of twisted self directed revenge against his team for questioning his eating habits. The only ones meeting his gaze without hesitation now are Ianto and Owen and Jack swallows the rest of the doughnut with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.
With time Jack starts to develop a system. Chocolate is hidden on strategic spots and tubes of instant whipped cream are stashed under his cot. Each day he gets up at around 5 o'clock, buys a car full of pasties at a nearby bakery and places them at random spots around the main area so that it looks as if someone else bought them and simply forgot about the pasties over the course of the day.
It's easier on the stressful days. No one pays much notice to what and when he eats when the world stands on the brink of its next looming crisis. At nights Jack gets takeout. Burgers are not quite the same but they'll do as long as they're hot, meaty and dripping with grease and sauce.
Bite for bite Jack pushes the stuff into himself, ignoring the rising nausea with each new swallow and forgetting the individual taste of each article as everything blends into an empty feeling of incompleteness.
It's never enough.
At nights he gets himself off while sucking whipped cream off his fingers and wonders if there would be any difference if they were Ianto's, wonders how they would taste on his tongue, warm, skilled, touching, suckable, wonders how many more days of awkward social foxtrot it will take until the tango stage is reached again.
In the end Jack lies there, licking the last remnants of cream off his fingers of one hand and rubbing himself with the other one while he fails to reconnect the him of the present to the Jack who knew how Ianto's fingers tasted. Would that Jack prefer them?
Probably.
It doesn't take long until Ianto notices what's going on. Of course it doesn't. Ianto still flaunts his suit clad ass around the place with his black bin liners as if he was ruling the place, joking and laughing with everyone except for Jack and it isn't entirely Ianto's fault.
Ianto might have changed while Jack was away but he is not the only one who changed. Jack is not the Jack Ianto might want and expect. He is a different Jack, unable to revert to his status quo even though he tries and Ianto's mere presence taunts him with fragmented memories and images of a man he can't be anymore.
This thought scares Jack and he has to eat another chocolate filled croissant to bite back the rising frustration and need when he notices the raised eyebrow which is definitely addressed at Jack and nobody else. The game is up and Jack has to drop the pasties for now.
If there was a point in waiting Jack probably waits in vain for sure.
Ianto doesn't confront him. Not during work. Not after. Not at anytime. Jack kicks an empty can of whipped cream right across the deserted hub when he notices that all of his food stashes are empty. The can hits a window. It bursts and for one moment Jack feels strangely good.
Then he notices Ianto.
Ianto doesn't put up much resistance when Jack slams him against the next flat surface. On the contrary. He just licks his full, glistening lips and smirks in a way that says 'Try it if you're man enough,Captain.'
Bastard.
Ianto's mouth tastes of coffee and chocolate. His groan when Jack sucks on his tongue only makes Jack suck all the harder. Gods. Jack forgot how much he missed that expression on Ianto's face when he helplessly squirms underneath Jack - delectable- and remembers how arousing a strangled gasp can be when he strokes Ianto's cock through the tight fabric of his trousers.
The gasp turns into a moan when Jack clenches his fingers around the constricting material and the "Yes...yes please." when he slides them further up to Ianto's belt buckle is a clear sign that Ianto agrees that there is too much fabric in the way. The intensity of their kiss increases. Ianto would probably tear his trousers down himself if he could but the fact that Jack is still holding his wrists above his head doesn't stop him from pushing his groin into Jack's right hand. Or smirking, Jack notices as he feels the quirk of lips against his.
The smirk is soon wiped away from his smug face as Jack thoroughly reacquaints himself with the smell of Ianto's neck, the salty sweet taste of Ianto's skin on his tongue, the texture of nipple, hard and hot flushed, between his teeth. Ianto throws his head back and curses in an incoherent mix of English and a couple of other languages Jack doesn't bother to recognise - Oh right, Ianto likes that - Jack bites the nipple again, promptly eliciting a similar response.
How could Jack forget that?
Jack can feel Ianto's racing pulse through his fingers and against his face when he kisses his way down Ianto's neck, and chest, to his abdomen. He feels the slight tremble of anticipation in Ianto's muscles when he finally reaches Ianto's groin. Ianto is hard, hot and leaking when Jack rubs the side of his cheek along the length of his cock and Jack kisses the first beads of precum away before he swallows it whole. Gods this is good Jack feels Ianto's hands tightening on his hair as he squeezes, nibbles and sucks, remembering and rediscovering just how to make Ianto moan.
Jack swallows each drop Ianto spills when he groans his release, licks the excess from cock, thighs and balls and turns Ianto around to taste more. Jack didn't think that Ianto would already whimper at the first lick but he does. Jack delves his tongue deeper to get a better taste of all and Ianto mewls once again while Jack licks and pushes and teases the sensitive skin of Ianto's thighs and balls with his fingers until he has Ianto moaning, pushing back and feverishly scrambling for something to hold onto during the ride. His hole is loose and soft when Jack finally pushes in and hot, so hot and Jack thrusts the fingers of his left into Ianto's mouth while he feels Ianto, all of Ianto, melting against Jack, around Jack, with Jack as the world explodes around him in a bright burst of "Yes..
It's so fucking good that he has to bite Ianto's shoulder to keep himself in check.
Jack notices that Ianto is hard again when he rolls of the other man and watches his come drizzling down Ianto's thighs, glistening in the dim lightning of the hub and just too tempting to resist. Ianto comes for a second time, this time with Jack's tongue up his ass.
Jack closes his eyes with his arms around Ianto's still trembling body.
Jack is lying in his cot when he wakes up to the sensation of fingers twisting inside of him. He opens his eyes at the sudden sting of teeth on his skin and is greeted with a teasing "Morning.". Unaffected by the involuntary stir of the recipient, Ianto keeps sucking marks into Jack's right thigh while the fingers of his right hand slowly approach -ah- that spot only to pull away and bring Jack right back to the edge over and over again, always stopping at the last moment, leaving Jack wanting, shaking, begging even.
Ironically, this time Jack comes sucking whipped cream off Ianto's fingers - Ianto groans when Jack licks between them - Sweet. Calendula maybe? Jack didn't expect herbal hand balm (coffee or chocolate maybe) but he likes it anyway. Ianto's fingers are definitely better.
Much better.
The hunger doesn't miraculously vanish. Jack never expected it would. But gradually, it shifts, diminishes, changes its direction and Jack can't help being somewhat scared by the implied consequences of this shift. He is sure that it means something significant. Actually, Jack knows pretty much what the shift means for him, to him. That's what scares him after all. Then again, during moments like these, when he licks body warm honey off Ianto's chest, -Not yet.- Jack can't find himself to care that these comparatively short-lived flashes of satisfaction might condemn him to an eternity of starvation. He grins when Ianto pulls him into a sticky kiss. Not now...
Hunger is a funny thing.
LOL, this story shalt also be known as the p0rn that wrote itself like whoa. I think I never wrote more than 2000 words in one go. It's cool to break the language barrier like that, I hope it happens to me again one day xD
Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated and greeted with self made cookies <3
My other lucky7 challenge fics can be found under the tag :)
Characters: Jack, Ianto and cameos by a couple of other characters
Excerpt: Jack is aware of the fact that the hunger itself only happens in his head; it's all a question of chemistry....
Word Count: ~2700ish
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mentions of torture, apart from that: food!p0rn, hand!p0rn, mind!p0rn and p0rn!p0rn
Spoilers: Spoilers for everything up to 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang' possible
Disclaimer: Torchwood doesn't belong to me but the BBC, I'm just borrowing.
Beta: wynkat1313 who whipped this biatch like whoa and made me laugh a couple of times in the process
Author's notes: Written for the tw_lucky_7 challenge involving the prompt gluttony and the character Jack.
Eating is one of the most natural things in the world; everyone needs to eat.
Hunger on the other hand is instinct, a trick of nature to ensure the regular intake of energy in the form of food. It's one of the most basic devices of the human brain to ensure survival. Jack is aware of the fact that the hunger itself only happens in his head; it's all a question of chemistry.
Endorphins are released during the eating process, accompanied by a whole array of other messengers and triggers to give the body a certain feeling of satisfaction. They ensure that the brain links food with happiness, providing another reason to eat other than mere survival. The human brain becomes literally addicted to the process of eating.
In a time Jack barely remembers, he used to take his time to savour a good Crème Brule; to smell the sweet bouquet, to listen to the crisp sound it made when he cracked the caramel top with his spoon and to watch the spoon as it sank into the sinfully rich dessert. He loved to feel the silky texture on his tongue, and to let the mix of combined flavours flood his taste buds as it slowly melted on his tongue until all that was left was a last lingering hint of sweetness.
Jack still feels the shadows of his last Crème Brule lingering on his tongue even though he can't recall the last time he had one, mere tricks of mind to distract the body of the gnawing ache.
Hunger is important; it keeps Jack running, quite literally.
But what if the need to consume food in order to survive is gone? Jack feels the hunger, slowly detaching from his body, growing with each pained gasp as he forces himself to swallow torn pieces of dry bread, feeling it slicing his sore throat from the inside and too weak to protest this treatment anymore. He is going to starve, day by day, ever so slowly, sometimes watched by the Master who likes to see the Freak breaking, but most of the time all by himself, condemned to regret, yearn and starve until he dies.
Minute by minute, the hunger grows unbearable while Jack literally feels the throbbing ache as his body digests itself, while he watches the knuckles extending from his fingers bone for bone, poking up through grey and oil smudged skin from the inside and stretching it beyond recognition. Or is the skin sagging? Jack can't really tell. He just feels the sting throughout his skin and the strange sensation of freezing from the inside while his body is trapped in the biting heat. Each night Jack falls asleep, dreaming of a soothing touch on his face and soup to unfreeze the now numb parts of his body.
It doesn't help.
Jack feels the acid rise up his throat, waiting to burn the rest of him while the soaring void in his stomach grows bigger and bigger. Too weak to stand anymore Jack feels the pull of the chains on his wrists and shoulders, suffers the tearing strain because there is no muscle left, no energy to defy gravity anymore. All his abused body is able to do at this point is dangle and hope that the end comes soon.
Jack is angry and slightly insulted by the fact that his tormentor doesn't even take the time to watch Jack's maybe most undignified demise yet before his body springs back to reset. But the hunger doesn't vanish along with the signs of starvation. The mind doesn't just go back to reset.
Jack wouldn't have such a problem if it could.
Even later when those times belong to Jack’s past and all reasons for starvation are eliminated along with the Master, Jack can't deny the alluring appeal of the Retcon in his desk. Small, round and white the pills are stored there, in ordinary orange pill holders which disguise the true power of the thing rather than display it.
Once in a while Jack takes the container with the really strong stuff out, strokes over the smooth surface of the orange tube and tries to remember the time before that year, before the hunger...
But all Jack gets when he closes his eyes are blurred pictures, detached from him like his hunger is from the real need to eat. All it does is burn and churn and gnaw and bite and the hunger just nags and nags and nags until Jack can't tell anymore where he ends and the hunger begins.
He can feel it, deep in his stomach when he sets eyes on the box of cream filled doughnuts Ianto bought for breakfast, growing with each second he stares at the tempting cakey circles until the hunger finally takes over. Jack can't stop a deep sigh when he buries his teeth in the first doughnut as the thick, sloshy, vanilla flavoured cream breaks through the thin, crisp, sugar coated skin and a fluffy white layer of baked dough, and as the cream drizzles onto his tongue and floods the ever demanding maelstrom of HUNGER inside with an instant sensation of satisfaction. Then of course this sensation doesn't last long before the sugar induced endorphin rush is also sucked into the void and the hunger soon returns to demand more.
One isn't enough, can't be enough, won't be enough and so Jack takes one more and one more and one more, chasing one delusional moment of satisfaction after another without much hope for a long term solution.
Of course the body does have to revolt sooner or later under the combined weight of flour and sugar. How many calories are in a box of doughnuts anyway? Quite a lot probably.
Ianto doesn't ask questions when he finds Jack hanging over the bowl in the bathroom. Ianto never asks questions, right? That's the reason why Jack picked him in the first place. Ianto's fingers tremble slightly when he helps Jack cleaning up and Jack can't help wondering what they would taste like if he sucked on them. Jack can't remember. Ianto avoids his eyes when he straightens Jack's collar. Jack can't remember.
Why can't he remember?
Ianto's fingers leave a tingling trail of goose bumps where they brush Jack's skin. The sensation is familiar and part of Jack cries for more while the other part just wants to run and hide. Ianto withdraws his hands in an instant when Jack inadvertently flinches at the sudden intimate contact and steps back. Confused and frustrated Jack barely bites back the urge to do something very stupid like pushing Ianto down and dry hump the surprised man senseless(not very old school) and sends him away instead.
Ianto does as he was told without a word. Jack was wrong though, wasn't he? Ianto does have questions, did ask questions after Jack's return...
Questions Jack didn't dare to give a straight answer to and now things are as they are, distant, even though Ianto answered Jack's request for more with a yes.
There is a new box of doughnuts on the conference table when the team briefing starts and it costs Jack a lot just to stop at one doughnut during the meeting. He can't help noticing the exchanged glances between Ianto and Owen. Ianto told him, of course Ianto told him. Since when did these two become best buddies? Can't help noticing the worry tainted gaze of admiration on Tosh’s face and Gwen's look of well meant but also poorly disguised pity.
Jack grabs another doughnut and takes a demonstrative bite, unsure whether out of simple frustration or as some sort of twisted self directed revenge against his team for questioning his eating habits. The only ones meeting his gaze without hesitation now are Ianto and Owen and Jack swallows the rest of the doughnut with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.
With time Jack starts to develop a system. Chocolate is hidden on strategic spots and tubes of instant whipped cream are stashed under his cot. Each day he gets up at around 5 o'clock, buys a car full of pasties at a nearby bakery and places them at random spots around the main area so that it looks as if someone else bought them and simply forgot about the pasties over the course of the day.
It's easier on the stressful days. No one pays much notice to what and when he eats when the world stands on the brink of its next looming crisis. At nights Jack gets takeout. Burgers are not quite the same but they'll do as long as they're hot, meaty and dripping with grease and sauce.
Bite for bite Jack pushes the stuff into himself, ignoring the rising nausea with each new swallow and forgetting the individual taste of each article as everything blends into an empty feeling of incompleteness.
It's never enough.
At nights he gets himself off while sucking whipped cream off his fingers and wonders if there would be any difference if they were Ianto's, wonders how they would taste on his tongue, warm, skilled, touching, suckable, wonders how many more days of awkward social foxtrot it will take until the tango stage is reached again.
In the end Jack lies there, licking the last remnants of cream off his fingers of one hand and rubbing himself with the other one while he fails to reconnect the him of the present to the Jack who knew how Ianto's fingers tasted. Would that Jack prefer them?
Probably.
It doesn't take long until Ianto notices what's going on. Of course it doesn't. Ianto still flaunts his suit clad ass around the place with his black bin liners as if he was ruling the place, joking and laughing with everyone except for Jack and it isn't entirely Ianto's fault.
Ianto might have changed while Jack was away but he is not the only one who changed. Jack is not the Jack Ianto might want and expect. He is a different Jack, unable to revert to his status quo even though he tries and Ianto's mere presence taunts him with fragmented memories and images of a man he can't be anymore.
This thought scares Jack and he has to eat another chocolate filled croissant to bite back the rising frustration and need when he notices the raised eyebrow which is definitely addressed at Jack and nobody else. The game is up and Jack has to drop the pasties for now.
If there was a point in waiting Jack probably waits in vain for sure.
Ianto doesn't confront him. Not during work. Not after. Not at anytime. Jack kicks an empty can of whipped cream right across the deserted hub when he notices that all of his food stashes are empty. The can hits a window. It bursts and for one moment Jack feels strangely good.
Then he notices Ianto.
Ianto doesn't put up much resistance when Jack slams him against the next flat surface. On the contrary. He just licks his full, glistening lips and smirks in a way that says 'Try it if you're man enough,Captain.'
Bastard.
Ianto's mouth tastes of coffee and chocolate. His groan when Jack sucks on his tongue only makes Jack suck all the harder. Gods. Jack forgot how much he missed that expression on Ianto's face when he helplessly squirms underneath Jack - delectable- and remembers how arousing a strangled gasp can be when he strokes Ianto's cock through the tight fabric of his trousers.
The gasp turns into a moan when Jack clenches his fingers around the constricting material and the "Yes...yes please." when he slides them further up to Ianto's belt buckle is a clear sign that Ianto agrees that there is too much fabric in the way. The intensity of their kiss increases. Ianto would probably tear his trousers down himself if he could but the fact that Jack is still holding his wrists above his head doesn't stop him from pushing his groin into Jack's right hand. Or smirking, Jack notices as he feels the quirk of lips against his.
The smirk is soon wiped away from his smug face as Jack thoroughly reacquaints himself with the smell of Ianto's neck, the salty sweet taste of Ianto's skin on his tongue, the texture of nipple, hard and hot flushed, between his teeth. Ianto throws his head back and curses in an incoherent mix of English and a couple of other languages Jack doesn't bother to recognise - Oh right, Ianto likes that - Jack bites the nipple again, promptly eliciting a similar response.
How could Jack forget that?
Jack can feel Ianto's racing pulse through his fingers and against his face when he kisses his way down Ianto's neck, and chest, to his abdomen. He feels the slight tremble of anticipation in Ianto's muscles when he finally reaches Ianto's groin. Ianto is hard, hot and leaking when Jack rubs the side of his cheek along the length of his cock and Jack kisses the first beads of precum away before he swallows it whole. Gods this is good Jack feels Ianto's hands tightening on his hair as he squeezes, nibbles and sucks, remembering and rediscovering just how to make Ianto moan.
Jack swallows each drop Ianto spills when he groans his release, licks the excess from cock, thighs and balls and turns Ianto around to taste more. Jack didn't think that Ianto would already whimper at the first lick but he does. Jack delves his tongue deeper to get a better taste of all and Ianto mewls once again while Jack licks and pushes and teases the sensitive skin of Ianto's thighs and balls with his fingers until he has Ianto moaning, pushing back and feverishly scrambling for something to hold onto during the ride. His hole is loose and soft when Jack finally pushes in and hot, so hot and Jack thrusts the fingers of his left into Ianto's mouth while he feels Ianto, all of Ianto, melting against Jack, around Jack, with Jack as the world explodes around him in a bright burst of "Yes..
It's so fucking good that he has to bite Ianto's shoulder to keep himself in check.
Jack notices that Ianto is hard again when he rolls of the other man and watches his come drizzling down Ianto's thighs, glistening in the dim lightning of the hub and just too tempting to resist. Ianto comes for a second time, this time with Jack's tongue up his ass.
Jack closes his eyes with his arms around Ianto's still trembling body.
Jack is lying in his cot when he wakes up to the sensation of fingers twisting inside of him. He opens his eyes at the sudden sting of teeth on his skin and is greeted with a teasing "Morning.". Unaffected by the involuntary stir of the recipient, Ianto keeps sucking marks into Jack's right thigh while the fingers of his right hand slowly approach -ah- that spot only to pull away and bring Jack right back to the edge over and over again, always stopping at the last moment, leaving Jack wanting, shaking, begging even.
Ironically, this time Jack comes sucking whipped cream off Ianto's fingers - Ianto groans when Jack licks between them - Sweet. Calendula maybe? Jack didn't expect herbal hand balm (coffee or chocolate maybe) but he likes it anyway. Ianto's fingers are definitely better.
Much better.
The hunger doesn't miraculously vanish. Jack never expected it would. But gradually, it shifts, diminishes, changes its direction and Jack can't help being somewhat scared by the implied consequences of this shift. He is sure that it means something significant. Actually, Jack knows pretty much what the shift means for him, to him. That's what scares him after all. Then again, during moments like these, when he licks body warm honey off Ianto's chest, -Not yet.- Jack can't find himself to care that these comparatively short-lived flashes of satisfaction might condemn him to an eternity of starvation. He grins when Ianto pulls him into a sticky kiss. Not now...
Hunger is a funny thing.
LOL, this story shalt also be known as the p0rn that wrote itself like whoa. I think I never wrote more than 2000 words in one go. It's cool to break the language barrier like that, I hope it happens to me again one day xD
Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated and greeted with self made cookies <3
My other lucky7 challenge fics can be found under the tag :)