The Thing About Men
Title: The Thing About Men
Rating: Oh…this is NC-17 right from the start kids.
Pairings: Owen/Ianto, (implied Jack/Ianto)
Spoilers: If you’ve seen series one you’re going to be fine.
Summary: Owen Harper is straight, he knows it, the whole world knows it. So why the hell does he want Ianto Jones so much?? And more importantly, will he ever get him?
Disclaimer: Regrettably I own nothing, none of the characters, zip. Wish I did though.
Author’s Notes: I have come to the conclusion that writing smut is one hell of a lot easier when drunk, and that pretty much is how I came up with most of this fic (that and a prompt I found from the fringe festival in Edinburgh). Anyways, I have to thank initially naddypants for having a quick read of the intro and giving me faith, and then of course my ownto beta (and queen :P) thehubsitter for reading the whole thing and suffering the resulting brain melt, LOL. And as always, I hope you guys enjoy this! :)
I owe the title and my initial bunny to this pictured flyer I picked up at the start of the Fringe Festival in Edinburgh. Sadly I did not get to see the show, but hey, at least it resulted in smut. :P
Well, what can I say? This is written forthehubsitter . Why? Because I am hugely proud of her to be honest, and she knows why. I have no way of showing her that than my fic writing, so I just hopes it be enough. Awesome you are angel, don’t go forgetting it!
Owen Harper was straight.
He knew it, every woman he had slept with since his first quick fumble at 15 knew it. He didn’t mind people being gay, but he himself, well he was always going to be about women. Their soft bodies, their even softer skin, the unsurpassed feeling when you ran your hand down their curved waists and onto those delightfully inviting hips. He loved everything about them, how they tasted, how they moaned, how their bodies arched in often silent prayer for that little bit more pressure, for that little bit more depth. They were exotic, erotic and everything that came in between. In Owen’s eyes, women were just the pure embodiment of sex itself.
And yet for the past three weeks, all Owen could think about was men. One particular man in fact. Ianto fucking Jones. The exception it seemed, to every rule.
He wasn’t completely innocent when it came to sex with men. University had given him the perfect opportunity to develop his tastes. He was adventurous, a try-sexual, and so after the odd drunken night of course he had experimented with his openly bi-sexual flat mate. It had been fun, rough and afterwards they’d just sprawled out on the carpet of their living room with a few beers. No awkwardness, no fuss. And yet at the same time, Owen had never really seen what they were doing as sex. It was just another layer to their relationship, their friendship, and although fun he never really found himself thinking about his flatmate sexually between fucks. Ergo, he was straight, just with a taste for exploring that a little further than most.
Yet Owen kept an open mind. After starting work in his first hospital he’d had a little growing up to do and it had been there where he had met Jason. It had been casual at first, the odd drink, the odd fuck, the odd joke about each other’s bedside manner. They were very similar, and Owen decided that maybe a relationship with a man might work after all. So they started their twisted relationship, managed a few dates and even managed to spend the whole night together upon occasion. They lasted a whole month too, until Jason found Owen in bed with Elise, a trainee nurse. That had been the moment when Owen realised. Sure, men had their upsides, but he didn’t get the same satisfaction from them as he did from women.
So he was straight. Exploration done, finished. Simple.
Except with Torchwood, nothing was simple.
Jack had been gone four months, two weeks and five days. Not that anyone was counting of course, apart from Gwen, who was already checking the days off on some kind of calendar. No one knew why, but at the same time no one asked. They had each been shaken by Jack’s sudden departure, and if this was the way that she wanted to deal with it then the others saw no reason to try and stop her. Aside from that, life in the Hub was functioning as normal. Ianto’s coffees would always arrive on the hour, Toshiko’s programming always achieved what it set out to do and Owen’s autopsy reports were of course, always meticulously accurate. In some ways it seemed as though the Hub has benefited from Jack’s absence, as everyone found it so much easier to throw themselves into their work rather than actually talk to one another.
All that changed one demure enough evening. He’d been sleeping at half past eleven when his mobile had buzzed into life, Ianto’s name blaring out across the screen. Ever since Jack had been gone, Owen had quickly become Ianto’s first port of call for investigating any weevil sightings and so these late night phone calls were almost becoming something of a tradition. His cynical side would always claim that Ianto picked on him each night just so that he could be sure that Owen had as little of a life as he did, but that was a merely a suspicion. Besides, Owen’s pride would always stop himself from ever telling Ianto to go call one of the girls instead anyway. And so, each time Ianto called, rain or shine, Owen would be shoving on his army style boots and be out of his front door within five minutes flat.
That night however it had been a false alarm. The weevil was nowhere to be found and after and hour and a half of searching both men decided to call it a night. Much to Owen’s surprise however, Ianto then asked Owen to come for a drink, politely of course and the medic hadn’t seen the harm in agreeing to it. He used his initiative and led Ianto to a club that he knew would be open, ordering them both a line of shots each and charming two young and most likely underage girls out of their booth seats so that they could sit down. They swallowed shot after shot in complete silence, the heavy handed primitive bass assaulting their eardrums enough all ready. Ianto, Owen noticed, looked completely out of place surrounded by the glittering, flickering lights and yet at the same time he looked the most relaxed Owen had ever seen with every fresh measure of alcohol he poured down his throat. What shocked Owen even more was the fact that he actually liked seeing Ianto more relaxed, found himself smiling as Ianto’s dexterous fingers reached up to loosen the top two buttons of his shirt. The action exposed more of Ianto’s long, pink throat, his Adam’s apple profound beneath his skin and Owen found his eyes unexpectedly drawn to the spot, the sudden urge to see more sparking through him. He decided then and there that he liked this side to Ianto, and in a deft move, he went and made sure that neither of them would run out of drinks for the rest of their evening.
The early hours of the morning shook them as they both staggered from the club, Owen actually shocked for a moment to find that he was now holding up his colleague. Ianto’s body felt heavy in his hands, his arms shaking slightly from the chilled air that assaulted both their bodies. He couldn’t remember why, but they were both laughing as the wandering to the end of the street, their voices loud, high and without care. Owen couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like this through his alcohol induced haze, and similarly he couldn’t recall a time when he had heard Ianto laugh so much, if at all, either.
“I....I need my phone...” Owen breathed between laughs, propping Ianto up against the wall the best he could, his left hand supporting his chest whilst his right hand fumbled around in his jacket pocket pulling the device out triumphantly.
“Why?” Ianto managed to slur, beaming at him.
“We need a taxi...get you home safe.”
“What about you?”
“I live near here remember...it isn’t that far.”
“Good.” Ianto’s eyes were suddenly on him, his voice calmer, more serious. “Take me home with you.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” The Welshman smirked softly, his right hand stroking a deliberate if shaky line up Owen’s left arm. “I want you to take me home with you.”
“Ianto...you’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So...I don’t want to get it in the neck in the morning when you wake up next to me.” Owen tried to laugh light heartedly, although he could feel his pulse thundering in his wrist. It was any wonder that he had any blood left there at all, his groin already becoming uncomfortably hard. He blamed the alcohol of course, after all, what else could make Ianto so irresistible? “You’re not thinking straight Yan.”
“Oh really?” The world blurred into a heady cloud as Ianto’s hands both shot out, grabbing Owen’s shoulders and spinning them around without hesitation. The cold damp from the wall was seeping through Owen’s jacket as he felt his back be pressed hard into the wall, although when Ianto’s mouth landed on his Owen simply did not care. It was as if Ianto was an all new assault on his senses, his taste was intoxicating, his lips the perfect mixture of soft and yet rough at the same time. His tongue was dominant yet submissive; his hands deliberate as they roamed the expanse of Owen’s chest, sliding beneath his jacket so that only a thin layer of fabric separated his skin from the exquisite touch. Owen was numb, his brain stunned, not even responsible for the groan that passed his lips as Ianto tilted his head, deepening the kiss further and bringing Owen’s mouth even closer than he thought possible. When they finally did part, panting and breathless, the words leaving Owen’s mouth were clear, distinct.
“You better be fucking sure about this.”
It had been one of the fastest walks back to his flat in existence, an awkward silence growing in intensity between them both. He had no idea what had possessed Ianto when he pushed him into the flat, almost slamming the door behind him before moving his attentions to ravaging Owen’s mouth once again, his body flush against the wall. They’d not bothered with the lights as they had staggered into Owen’s bedroom, the medic reasserting his dominance by making sure that Ianto was the one to be pushed to the mattress first. He made quick, executed work of Ianto’s shirt, barely resisting the urge to rip it from his body as he pushed the folds of fabric away. He was barely even thinking as he launched an enthusiastic assault upon Ianto’s chest, licking, kissing and nipping in all the places that he knew drove him insane when done to him. Deliberately he moved his mouth across to one of Ianto’s nipples, his tongue flicking across the tip as his hands began to fumble with Ianto’s trousers, unzipping them quickly. Working his mouth up to Ianto’s neck and exquisite throat now he softly sucked at where it joined his slender shoulders, one hand pushing into Ianto’s boxers ready to tease him past to a point of no return. However, as soon as Owen’s hand reached Ianto’s cock it was obvious that no such action was desired, Ianto’s hand quickly shooting down and taking hold of his wrist.
“I-I thought…” Owen gave Ianto a quizzical look, for the first time suddenly feeling so nervous about his abilities. “Is…Is it me?”
“No…” Ianto shook his head, biting his lip anxiously, visibly unable to meet the medic’s gaze. “It’s me. I just…can’t.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know…” Ianto sighed softly, blinking hard, his eyes fixed to the ceiling. “I thought I could…but, I can’t do this.”
“Then why did you kiss me?” The confusion and anger were shining through Owen’s voice more than he would have liked, but he was unable to hide them either way. He was always going to feel used, but like this, when Ianto had brought him so close, made him want him so much that it physically hurt…
“Jack…I…” Ianto sighed softly.
“Oh great.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I knew this was a bad idea.” Owen rolled his eyes, lying back on the bed, his hands propped behind his head.
“It really isn’t your fault, Owen.”
“Sure it isn’t.” The medic scoffed slightly. “I don’t know what ideas you have about me, but I really don’t do this often you know.”
“You’re always on the pull…-”
“Women Ianto, women.”
“Oh…” The Welshman paused, taking in a deep breath. “I didn’t think.”
“I’m not gay, Yan.” The medic said bluntly.
“Neither am I.” Ianto replied with a soft laugh. “So what the hell are we doing?”
“Fuck knows.” Owen rolled his eyes, deciding that it was better to let the confusion lie amidst the alcohol already clouding his brain. He rolled over deliberately, finally meeting Ianto’s gaze. “Mates right?”
“Yeah, mates.”
What infuriated Owen was that now, three weeks later, he was still thinking about Ianto. In that way. Not in a ‘mates looking out for each other’ way but in an ‘I would fuck you into my desk if the girls weren’t around’ way. And for the life of him, Owen had no idea what exactly it was that had suddenly changed all his perceptions, suddenly made him crave something that he had decided against years ago. It was almost as if kissing Ianto, being that close, that intimate with him had unlocked something, had been the missing piece of the puzzle. After all with his flat mate, Owen had just been in it for the sex, for the experience. With Jason Owen had simply wanted to try it because he felt he should. But with Ianto…suddenly Owen felt attracted to the man. He wasn’t sure why, or how, but suddenly this rippling attraction was there and even worse it was bordering on undeniable. Silently of course, it was quickly driving him insane. Every meeting they had, he’d find himself staring at Ianto’s pink lips, wanting to taste them again, wondering how they would have felt on his skin. Every time Ianto bent over a desk, stooped to pick something up off the floor, Owen’s eyes would be there, marvelling at the curves of his arse, watching how the fabric of his clothes tightened across his back and shoulders. And every time Owen would simply have to find yet another excuse to hide behind his desk for that little bit longer.
And yet Owen thought that his attraction was completely one sided…
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It was a particularly late night, and a weevil hunt had taken them once again into the very small hours by they time they locked the beast away in one of their holding cells. Owen had been in the middle of working his way down a bottle of Jack Daniels when Ianto had called him, and although not drunk, his brain had the soft, warm feeling of being ever so slightly out of focus, in some ways calmed. The air in and around the cells was cold, the dull tingle of it against his skin strangely relaxing as he stood watching Ianto, his back to him, his hands quickly recording the location, size and relative resistance of their newest weevil. Once again Owen was happy to take in his body, unbeknownst to Ianto of course, his eyes scaling the full length of his long legs, past his hips and then up to the back that Owen knew had its own special curve beneath his shirt. The medic could practically feel Ianto’s skin on his fingers, could almost feel his lips, taste them, feel his tongue whirl gently through his mouth. And suddenly, amongst all this feeling, the attraction Owen felt was all too much. His need was suddenly too strong, strengthened by whisky and the false sense of confidence that that provided. Suddenly he wanted answers, wanted to know why on earth Ianto didn’t want him like this too, why he couldn’t.
Suddenly he just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why couldn’t you sleep with me Yan?” The words rolled too easily off his tongue, shaking the air around them as soon as they hit it. He watched as Ianto’s tensed, the movements of his arm stilling instantly.
“What?”
“I want to know.”
“I already told you.” He heard Ianto sigh, his posture unchanging. “Jack…”
“So you wanted to replace him with me…and I didn’t fit. Right?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what it sounded like.”
“Owen…” Ianto paused, staring at Owen’s reflection in glass of one of the empty cells. “Why do you care anyway? What you said…-“
“Was complete bollocks.” Owen scoffed slightly. “Maybe I don’t want men, but I do want you.” He took a hesitant step forward, watching as Ianto still did not move in the slightest. “Now tell me…why don’t you want me too?”
“I-I do. But that night…it was all too familiar. I was drunk and…” Ianto paused, clearly struggling for the words with which to explain himself. “I needed something…but it had to be different. I just didn’t see it then.”
“Different…” Owen smirked, the affirmation enough for him to finally allow his imagination to run wild with fantasies he could now fulfil. He quickly stepped forward again, wrapping his arms around Ianto’s waist and breathing into the back of his neck. “I can do that.”
“Owen…” Ianto’s voice was barely audible as the medic’s hands reached round, slowly but surely teasing open the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest to the chilled air. He made no move to struggle as Owen gently pushed the shirt from his shoulders, shuddering from the cold before Owen pressed himself harder into his back. A soft moan left his mouth as Owen’s fingers raked across his chest, his nails digging slow trails across the almost quivering skin, creeping across a nipple which was rewarded with one of the most indecent sounds Owen had heard in months. He smirked, pressing slow, testing kisses across the back of his shoulder, adding the odd nip to where the skin felt the softest and he was no longer able to resist. In front of him he could feel Ianto’s hands moving up to remove his tie, but Owen’s own hands quickly prevented this.
“No…” He whispered, his breath tickling against Ianto’s skin as he watched their reflection in the glass. “I like that.” As if to make a point he ran a hand down the delectable satin of the tie, giving it a gentle tug which earned him the most wanting look from Ianto he could imagine reflected in the glass. He laughed, already feeling impatient as he returned his attentions to the skin of Ianto’s shoulder, his hands reaching down and quickly undoing Ianto’s trousers. He was secretly praying this time as he pushed his hand into the other man’s boxers, a grin breaking out across his features when he found conclusive proof that yes, Ianto wanted this just as much as he did. Slowly he took his cock into his hand, the pace tauntingly gentle, the touch light and barely even there. The body wrapped up in his arms shuddered, Ianto throwing his head back, his eyes closed in a heightening ecstasy. Owen smirked at the sight, rewarding Ianto with a decisive twist of his wrist, his pace building as he allowed himself a brief moment of pleasure when he pushed his own hips forward against Ianto’s arse. With this action Owen could feel his own need, his own desperation rise, the temptation for him to keep rocking his hips and seek out more of the delightful friction all too much. But somehow, he found his resolve, biting his lip and resisting, instead channelling all his energy into his right hand, quickening the pace and loving the feeling of Ianto’s body becoming tenser within his arms. The reflection in front of them was one he could have watched for hours, Ianto’s torso exposed, his red and black tie hanging down and almost drawing the eye to his groin, his hips jerking slightly as he began to lose his control. For those brief few moments Owen suddenly found himself appreciating this form of sex more than he ever had done before, his thoughts suddenly seeing Ianto laid out, imagining the variety of other things they could do to purely lose themselves in each other. That idea in itself was one that simply made him strain harder against his trousers with every passing second.
“Owen…..please……stop.” Ianto managed to breathe between moans, his body so tense in the medic’s arms that he knew that he was close. “Please…”
“Why?” Owen’s hand didn’t still, but he did give Ianto’s reflection a quizzical look, hoping beyond hope that history wasn’t about to repeat itself.
“Because…..I don’t want to come in front of a weevil…” Ianto managed to half laugh, his voice husky and barely even there as he spoke. Owen himself laughed too, giving Ianto’s reflection a warm look.
“Well…that’s too bad. You wanted different…” He didn’t continue with words, merely content to increase the pace of his hand that little bit more and watch as Ianto had no choice but to embrace what was about to happen. His threw his head back again, shuddering and groaning as he finally came, his whole body leaning back against Owen’s as if in any moment his legs might give way. Even after the groans of his climax had finished Owen still held him, supported him, waiting for him to catch his breath and for his eyes to reopen before he spoke again. “Was that different enough for you?”
“Possibly.” Ianto smirked, turning himself round in Owen’s arms, a surprisingly mischievous look suddenly spreading out across his features. “You do realise that I have to get revenge now though, right?”
“Possibly.” Owen grinning, mirroring his words as he finally leant in to kiss him, savouring his lips, enjoying the tastes that were once again swirling against his tongue. “My place or yours?”
“Yours.” Ianto nodded decisively. “If you don’t mind?”
“Polite as always.” Owen rolled his eyes, laughing softly as he bent down to pick up Ianto’s shirt before handing it to him. “My place then…as long as you aren’t too exhausted.”
“Please…” The Welshman scoffed, palming Owen’s groin briefly, a beam dominating his face as he watched the medic’s features momentarily contort with pleasure. “I think you’ll be surprised by my stamina.”
And Owen was. One night with Ianto and out of nowhere he had managed to come twice, his head spinning as he laid back on his bed, the covers drawn up around his waist. Beside him Ianto was sleeping, or at least pretending to, his back to Owen, skin a soft grey in the dimmed light of the room. Owen risked him a small glance, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he remembered their night together, remembered how Ianto had managed to fuck him so senseless that there was no longer any need to think. He’d forgotten it all, his life, Torchwood, hell, he’d probably even had forgotten his name by the time his second orgasm hit him. But none of that mattered, because for the first time in three weeks he was finally sure.
Owen Harper was straight. He was all about women, unless of course Ianto Jones was involved. Because Owen had discovered one thing in particular that night. The thing about men was: they could be full of surprises.
New style, new smut, same old pairing. But what did we think? As always I love to read your thoughts, so if you can and aren’t put off by my blatant asking, then please, drop me a comment and say hello. :)
Just Being Me a.k.a Sisi
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Rating: Oh…this is NC-17 right from the start kids.
Pairings: Owen/Ianto, (implied Jack/Ianto)
Spoilers: If you’ve seen series one you’re going to be fine.
Summary: Owen Harper is straight, he knows it, the whole world knows it. So why the hell does he want Ianto Jones so much?? And more importantly, will he ever get him?
Disclaimer: Regrettably I own nothing, none of the characters, zip. Wish I did though.
Author’s Notes: I have come to the conclusion that writing smut is one hell of a lot easier when drunk, and that pretty much is how I came up with most of this fic (that and a prompt I found from the fringe festival in Edinburgh). Anyways, I have to thank initially naddypants for having a quick read of the intro and giving me faith, and then of course my ownto beta (and queen :P) thehubsitter for reading the whole thing and suffering the resulting brain melt, LOL. And as always, I hope you guys enjoy this! :)
I owe the title and my initial bunny to this pictured flyer I picked up at the start of the Fringe Festival in Edinburgh. Sadly I did not get to see the show, but hey, at least it resulted in smut. :P
Well, what can I say? This is written forthehubsitter . Why? Because I am hugely proud of her to be honest, and she knows why. I have no way of showing her that than my fic writing, so I just hopes it be enough. Awesome you are angel, don’t go forgetting it!
Owen Harper was straight.
He knew it, every woman he had slept with since his first quick fumble at 15 knew it. He didn’t mind people being gay, but he himself, well he was always going to be about women. Their soft bodies, their even softer skin, the unsurpassed feeling when you ran your hand down their curved waists and onto those delightfully inviting hips. He loved everything about them, how they tasted, how they moaned, how their bodies arched in often silent prayer for that little bit more pressure, for that little bit more depth. They were exotic, erotic and everything that came in between. In Owen’s eyes, women were just the pure embodiment of sex itself.
And yet for the past three weeks, all Owen could think about was men. One particular man in fact. Ianto fucking Jones. The exception it seemed, to every rule.
He wasn’t completely innocent when it came to sex with men. University had given him the perfect opportunity to develop his tastes. He was adventurous, a try-sexual, and so after the odd drunken night of course he had experimented with his openly bi-sexual flat mate. It had been fun, rough and afterwards they’d just sprawled out on the carpet of their living room with a few beers. No awkwardness, no fuss. And yet at the same time, Owen had never really seen what they were doing as sex. It was just another layer to their relationship, their friendship, and although fun he never really found himself thinking about his flatmate sexually between fucks. Ergo, he was straight, just with a taste for exploring that a little further than most.
Yet Owen kept an open mind. After starting work in his first hospital he’d had a little growing up to do and it had been there where he had met Jason. It had been casual at first, the odd drink, the odd fuck, the odd joke about each other’s bedside manner. They were very similar, and Owen decided that maybe a relationship with a man might work after all. So they started their twisted relationship, managed a few dates and even managed to spend the whole night together upon occasion. They lasted a whole month too, until Jason found Owen in bed with Elise, a trainee nurse. That had been the moment when Owen realised. Sure, men had their upsides, but he didn’t get the same satisfaction from them as he did from women.
So he was straight. Exploration done, finished. Simple.
Except with Torchwood, nothing was simple.
Jack had been gone four months, two weeks and five days. Not that anyone was counting of course, apart from Gwen, who was already checking the days off on some kind of calendar. No one knew why, but at the same time no one asked. They had each been shaken by Jack’s sudden departure, and if this was the way that she wanted to deal with it then the others saw no reason to try and stop her. Aside from that, life in the Hub was functioning as normal. Ianto’s coffees would always arrive on the hour, Toshiko’s programming always achieved what it set out to do and Owen’s autopsy reports were of course, always meticulously accurate. In some ways it seemed as though the Hub has benefited from Jack’s absence, as everyone found it so much easier to throw themselves into their work rather than actually talk to one another.
All that changed one demure enough evening. He’d been sleeping at half past eleven when his mobile had buzzed into life, Ianto’s name blaring out across the screen. Ever since Jack had been gone, Owen had quickly become Ianto’s first port of call for investigating any weevil sightings and so these late night phone calls were almost becoming something of a tradition. His cynical side would always claim that Ianto picked on him each night just so that he could be sure that Owen had as little of a life as he did, but that was a merely a suspicion. Besides, Owen’s pride would always stop himself from ever telling Ianto to go call one of the girls instead anyway. And so, each time Ianto called, rain or shine, Owen would be shoving on his army style boots and be out of his front door within five minutes flat.
That night however it had been a false alarm. The weevil was nowhere to be found and after and hour and a half of searching both men decided to call it a night. Much to Owen’s surprise however, Ianto then asked Owen to come for a drink, politely of course and the medic hadn’t seen the harm in agreeing to it. He used his initiative and led Ianto to a club that he knew would be open, ordering them both a line of shots each and charming two young and most likely underage girls out of their booth seats so that they could sit down. They swallowed shot after shot in complete silence, the heavy handed primitive bass assaulting their eardrums enough all ready. Ianto, Owen noticed, looked completely out of place surrounded by the glittering, flickering lights and yet at the same time he looked the most relaxed Owen had ever seen with every fresh measure of alcohol he poured down his throat. What shocked Owen even more was the fact that he actually liked seeing Ianto more relaxed, found himself smiling as Ianto’s dexterous fingers reached up to loosen the top two buttons of his shirt. The action exposed more of Ianto’s long, pink throat, his Adam’s apple profound beneath his skin and Owen found his eyes unexpectedly drawn to the spot, the sudden urge to see more sparking through him. He decided then and there that he liked this side to Ianto, and in a deft move, he went and made sure that neither of them would run out of drinks for the rest of their evening.
The early hours of the morning shook them as they both staggered from the club, Owen actually shocked for a moment to find that he was now holding up his colleague. Ianto’s body felt heavy in his hands, his arms shaking slightly from the chilled air that assaulted both their bodies. He couldn’t remember why, but they were both laughing as the wandering to the end of the street, their voices loud, high and without care. Owen couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like this through his alcohol induced haze, and similarly he couldn’t recall a time when he had heard Ianto laugh so much, if at all, either.
“I....I need my phone...” Owen breathed between laughs, propping Ianto up against the wall the best he could, his left hand supporting his chest whilst his right hand fumbled around in his jacket pocket pulling the device out triumphantly.
“Why?” Ianto managed to slur, beaming at him.
“We need a taxi...get you home safe.”
“What about you?”
“I live near here remember...it isn’t that far.”
“Good.” Ianto’s eyes were suddenly on him, his voice calmer, more serious. “Take me home with you.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” The Welshman smirked softly, his right hand stroking a deliberate if shaky line up Owen’s left arm. “I want you to take me home with you.”
“Ianto...you’re drunk.”
“So?”
“So...I don’t want to get it in the neck in the morning when you wake up next to me.” Owen tried to laugh light heartedly, although he could feel his pulse thundering in his wrist. It was any wonder that he had any blood left there at all, his groin already becoming uncomfortably hard. He blamed the alcohol of course, after all, what else could make Ianto so irresistible? “You’re not thinking straight Yan.”
“Oh really?” The world blurred into a heady cloud as Ianto’s hands both shot out, grabbing Owen’s shoulders and spinning them around without hesitation. The cold damp from the wall was seeping through Owen’s jacket as he felt his back be pressed hard into the wall, although when Ianto’s mouth landed on his Owen simply did not care. It was as if Ianto was an all new assault on his senses, his taste was intoxicating, his lips the perfect mixture of soft and yet rough at the same time. His tongue was dominant yet submissive; his hands deliberate as they roamed the expanse of Owen’s chest, sliding beneath his jacket so that only a thin layer of fabric separated his skin from the exquisite touch. Owen was numb, his brain stunned, not even responsible for the groan that passed his lips as Ianto tilted his head, deepening the kiss further and bringing Owen’s mouth even closer than he thought possible. When they finally did part, panting and breathless, the words leaving Owen’s mouth were clear, distinct.
“You better be fucking sure about this.”
It had been one of the fastest walks back to his flat in existence, an awkward silence growing in intensity between them both. He had no idea what had possessed Ianto when he pushed him into the flat, almost slamming the door behind him before moving his attentions to ravaging Owen’s mouth once again, his body flush against the wall. They’d not bothered with the lights as they had staggered into Owen’s bedroom, the medic reasserting his dominance by making sure that Ianto was the one to be pushed to the mattress first. He made quick, executed work of Ianto’s shirt, barely resisting the urge to rip it from his body as he pushed the folds of fabric away. He was barely even thinking as he launched an enthusiastic assault upon Ianto’s chest, licking, kissing and nipping in all the places that he knew drove him insane when done to him. Deliberately he moved his mouth across to one of Ianto’s nipples, his tongue flicking across the tip as his hands began to fumble with Ianto’s trousers, unzipping them quickly. Working his mouth up to Ianto’s neck and exquisite throat now he softly sucked at where it joined his slender shoulders, one hand pushing into Ianto’s boxers ready to tease him past to a point of no return. However, as soon as Owen’s hand reached Ianto’s cock it was obvious that no such action was desired, Ianto’s hand quickly shooting down and taking hold of his wrist.
“I-I thought…” Owen gave Ianto a quizzical look, for the first time suddenly feeling so nervous about his abilities. “Is…Is it me?”
“No…” Ianto shook his head, biting his lip anxiously, visibly unable to meet the medic’s gaze. “It’s me. I just…can’t.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know…” Ianto sighed softly, blinking hard, his eyes fixed to the ceiling. “I thought I could…but, I can’t do this.”
“Then why did you kiss me?” The confusion and anger were shining through Owen’s voice more than he would have liked, but he was unable to hide them either way. He was always going to feel used, but like this, when Ianto had brought him so close, made him want him so much that it physically hurt…
“Jack…I…” Ianto sighed softly.
“Oh great.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I knew this was a bad idea.” Owen rolled his eyes, lying back on the bed, his hands propped behind his head.
“It really isn’t your fault, Owen.”
“Sure it isn’t.” The medic scoffed slightly. “I don’t know what ideas you have about me, but I really don’t do this often you know.”
“You’re always on the pull…-”
“Women Ianto, women.”
“Oh…” The Welshman paused, taking in a deep breath. “I didn’t think.”
“I’m not gay, Yan.” The medic said bluntly.
“Neither am I.” Ianto replied with a soft laugh. “So what the hell are we doing?”
“Fuck knows.” Owen rolled his eyes, deciding that it was better to let the confusion lie amidst the alcohol already clouding his brain. He rolled over deliberately, finally meeting Ianto’s gaze. “Mates right?”
“Yeah, mates.”
What infuriated Owen was that now, three weeks later, he was still thinking about Ianto. In that way. Not in a ‘mates looking out for each other’ way but in an ‘I would fuck you into my desk if the girls weren’t around’ way. And for the life of him, Owen had no idea what exactly it was that had suddenly changed all his perceptions, suddenly made him crave something that he had decided against years ago. It was almost as if kissing Ianto, being that close, that intimate with him had unlocked something, had been the missing piece of the puzzle. After all with his flat mate, Owen had just been in it for the sex, for the experience. With Jason Owen had simply wanted to try it because he felt he should. But with Ianto…suddenly Owen felt attracted to the man. He wasn’t sure why, or how, but suddenly this rippling attraction was there and even worse it was bordering on undeniable. Silently of course, it was quickly driving him insane. Every meeting they had, he’d find himself staring at Ianto’s pink lips, wanting to taste them again, wondering how they would have felt on his skin. Every time Ianto bent over a desk, stooped to pick something up off the floor, Owen’s eyes would be there, marvelling at the curves of his arse, watching how the fabric of his clothes tightened across his back and shoulders. And every time Owen would simply have to find yet another excuse to hide behind his desk for that little bit longer.
And yet Owen thought that his attraction was completely one sided…
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It was a particularly late night, and a weevil hunt had taken them once again into the very small hours by they time they locked the beast away in one of their holding cells. Owen had been in the middle of working his way down a bottle of Jack Daniels when Ianto had called him, and although not drunk, his brain had the soft, warm feeling of being ever so slightly out of focus, in some ways calmed. The air in and around the cells was cold, the dull tingle of it against his skin strangely relaxing as he stood watching Ianto, his back to him, his hands quickly recording the location, size and relative resistance of their newest weevil. Once again Owen was happy to take in his body, unbeknownst to Ianto of course, his eyes scaling the full length of his long legs, past his hips and then up to the back that Owen knew had its own special curve beneath his shirt. The medic could practically feel Ianto’s skin on his fingers, could almost feel his lips, taste them, feel his tongue whirl gently through his mouth. And suddenly, amongst all this feeling, the attraction Owen felt was all too much. His need was suddenly too strong, strengthened by whisky and the false sense of confidence that that provided. Suddenly he wanted answers, wanted to know why on earth Ianto didn’t want him like this too, why he couldn’t.
Suddenly he just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why couldn’t you sleep with me Yan?” The words rolled too easily off his tongue, shaking the air around them as soon as they hit it. He watched as Ianto’s tensed, the movements of his arm stilling instantly.
“What?”
“I want to know.”
“I already told you.” He heard Ianto sigh, his posture unchanging. “Jack…”
“So you wanted to replace him with me…and I didn’t fit. Right?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what it sounded like.”
“Owen…” Ianto paused, staring at Owen’s reflection in glass of one of the empty cells. “Why do you care anyway? What you said…-“
“Was complete bollocks.” Owen scoffed slightly. “Maybe I don’t want men, but I do want you.” He took a hesitant step forward, watching as Ianto still did not move in the slightest. “Now tell me…why don’t you want me too?”
“I-I do. But that night…it was all too familiar. I was drunk and…” Ianto paused, clearly struggling for the words with which to explain himself. “I needed something…but it had to be different. I just didn’t see it then.”
“Different…” Owen smirked, the affirmation enough for him to finally allow his imagination to run wild with fantasies he could now fulfil. He quickly stepped forward again, wrapping his arms around Ianto’s waist and breathing into the back of his neck. “I can do that.”
“Owen…” Ianto’s voice was barely audible as the medic’s hands reached round, slowly but surely teasing open the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest to the chilled air. He made no move to struggle as Owen gently pushed the shirt from his shoulders, shuddering from the cold before Owen pressed himself harder into his back. A soft moan left his mouth as Owen’s fingers raked across his chest, his nails digging slow trails across the almost quivering skin, creeping across a nipple which was rewarded with one of the most indecent sounds Owen had heard in months. He smirked, pressing slow, testing kisses across the back of his shoulder, adding the odd nip to where the skin felt the softest and he was no longer able to resist. In front of him he could feel Ianto’s hands moving up to remove his tie, but Owen’s own hands quickly prevented this.
“No…” He whispered, his breath tickling against Ianto’s skin as he watched their reflection in the glass. “I like that.” As if to make a point he ran a hand down the delectable satin of the tie, giving it a gentle tug which earned him the most wanting look from Ianto he could imagine reflected in the glass. He laughed, already feeling impatient as he returned his attentions to the skin of Ianto’s shoulder, his hands reaching down and quickly undoing Ianto’s trousers. He was secretly praying this time as he pushed his hand into the other man’s boxers, a grin breaking out across his features when he found conclusive proof that yes, Ianto wanted this just as much as he did. Slowly he took his cock into his hand, the pace tauntingly gentle, the touch light and barely even there. The body wrapped up in his arms shuddered, Ianto throwing his head back, his eyes closed in a heightening ecstasy. Owen smirked at the sight, rewarding Ianto with a decisive twist of his wrist, his pace building as he allowed himself a brief moment of pleasure when he pushed his own hips forward against Ianto’s arse. With this action Owen could feel his own need, his own desperation rise, the temptation for him to keep rocking his hips and seek out more of the delightful friction all too much. But somehow, he found his resolve, biting his lip and resisting, instead channelling all his energy into his right hand, quickening the pace and loving the feeling of Ianto’s body becoming tenser within his arms. The reflection in front of them was one he could have watched for hours, Ianto’s torso exposed, his red and black tie hanging down and almost drawing the eye to his groin, his hips jerking slightly as he began to lose his control. For those brief few moments Owen suddenly found himself appreciating this form of sex more than he ever had done before, his thoughts suddenly seeing Ianto laid out, imagining the variety of other things they could do to purely lose themselves in each other. That idea in itself was one that simply made him strain harder against his trousers with every passing second.
“Owen…..please……stop.” Ianto managed to breathe between moans, his body so tense in the medic’s arms that he knew that he was close. “Please…”
“Why?” Owen’s hand didn’t still, but he did give Ianto’s reflection a quizzical look, hoping beyond hope that history wasn’t about to repeat itself.
“Because…..I don’t want to come in front of a weevil…” Ianto managed to half laugh, his voice husky and barely even there as he spoke. Owen himself laughed too, giving Ianto’s reflection a warm look.
“Well…that’s too bad. You wanted different…” He didn’t continue with words, merely content to increase the pace of his hand that little bit more and watch as Ianto had no choice but to embrace what was about to happen. His threw his head back again, shuddering and groaning as he finally came, his whole body leaning back against Owen’s as if in any moment his legs might give way. Even after the groans of his climax had finished Owen still held him, supported him, waiting for him to catch his breath and for his eyes to reopen before he spoke again. “Was that different enough for you?”
“Possibly.” Ianto smirked, turning himself round in Owen’s arms, a surprisingly mischievous look suddenly spreading out across his features. “You do realise that I have to get revenge now though, right?”
“Possibly.” Owen grinning, mirroring his words as he finally leant in to kiss him, savouring his lips, enjoying the tastes that were once again swirling against his tongue. “My place or yours?”
“Yours.” Ianto nodded decisively. “If you don’t mind?”
“Polite as always.” Owen rolled his eyes, laughing softly as he bent down to pick up Ianto’s shirt before handing it to him. “My place then…as long as you aren’t too exhausted.”
“Please…” The Welshman scoffed, palming Owen’s groin briefly, a beam dominating his face as he watched the medic’s features momentarily contort with pleasure. “I think you’ll be surprised by my stamina.”
And Owen was. One night with Ianto and out of nowhere he had managed to come twice, his head spinning as he laid back on his bed, the covers drawn up around his waist. Beside him Ianto was sleeping, or at least pretending to, his back to Owen, skin a soft grey in the dimmed light of the room. Owen risked him a small glance, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he remembered their night together, remembered how Ianto had managed to fuck him so senseless that there was no longer any need to think. He’d forgotten it all, his life, Torchwood, hell, he’d probably even had forgotten his name by the time his second orgasm hit him. But none of that mattered, because for the first time in three weeks he was finally sure.
Owen Harper was straight. He was all about women, unless of course Ianto Jones was involved. Because Owen had discovered one thing in particular that night. The thing about men was: they could be full of surprises.
New style, new smut, same old pairing. But what did we think? As always I love to read your thoughts, so if you can and aren’t put off by my blatant asking, then please, drop me a comment and say hello. :)
Just Being Me a.k.a Sisi
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