Torchwood fic: 'Slow Hand' Jack/Ianto NC-17
Title: Slow Hand
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: D/s
Rating: NC-17, 4,250 words
Summary: Hmm. Toys? Assplay? Is that a thing? Post-Countrycide
A/N: Jack trains Ianto to be his submissive.
1st part - First Punishment
2nd part - Second Error
3rd part - Needs
4th part - Wants
5th part - Rules
6th part - Hard at Work
7th part - Strapped In
They had come back from the Brecon Beacons and dropped everyone off in turn. Tosh met his eyes, insisting she was "fine, just needed a good soak in a bubble bath," Owen was fidgety and quiet (for once), and Gwen seemed shellshocked. She had been shot. She was also realizing that sometimes things just happened, and there was no reason for them. There was no reason for what had happened at Torchwood One either, and finally understanding that made Ianto feel about a thousand percent better. Clouds happened. But there were silver linings, too.
He hadn't thought of silver linings in a good, long while.
Jack turned to Ianto in the SUV when he pulled up in front of his flat, leaning in, asking instead of ordering: "Do you want me to..."
"No, it's fine." Ianto offered up a smile. "I'm fine, sir. Just need some sleep." And Ianto did -- he slept for a solid fourteen hours. Jack left him alone the entire weekend; Ianto thought back, wondered if he'd expected Ianto to say "Jack" when he was asked who he'd kissed last, but as far as he was concerned, it wasn't anybody's business. If it had been a stranger at a bar, he'd have probably said so. It wasn't personal.
Ianto wondered if Jack might have felt insulted that Ianto hadn't invited him up when he dropped him off, but he actually had been extremely tired, not to mention the fact that he'd come close to death. He figured Jack would live without a couple of days of sex.
By Sunday night, Ianto wondered whether he would. But he was resolute. Let Jack reach out first, since he wanted to be the boss.
On Monday morning, Jack called and told him what to wear. Ianto agreed. Game on.
Ianto stocked the postcard display in the tourist centre, but it was tough to concentrate. Whenever he'd lean over to pull more cards out of the boxes (who knew Cardiff postcards would be printed in China? He wondered if the chamber of commerce, trade and industry knew about this) he'd be reminded of what he was wearing.
The item was made of smooth latex and it wasn't very large, but it was distracting, and so were the leather straps around his thighs - the harness holding it in place. Per Jack's instructions, he wasn't wearing pants under his trousers, and he'd been half-hard for the three hours he'd already been at work. He was looking forward to takeaway for lunch, but he'd probably eat it standing up, because the last time...it had been fairly hard to ignore. He looked up then -- Owen and Gwen were heading out, with Tosh.
"We're going to lunch, do you want to come?" Tosh asked.
"Uh," It was nice to be included, but Ianto couldn't ignore the harness he was wearing. "No, thank you."
"Okay," Tosh smiled, and followed Owen and Gwen out. Gwen was giggling, and Owen pinched the back of her neck.
Ianto had been thinking about sex a lot during the past several weeks after months of self-denial, and as he watched them walk away down the wooden ramp, he realized that Gwen and Owen were obviously fucking. He didn't think Tosh had noticed yet, or maybe she had and it was her turn to practice denial. Ianto wondered when it had started - before the Beacons - had they come back only the other day? Owen had said they'd kissed before, so...who knew?
Ianto squinted after them and wondered if they were kinky at all. He imagined Gwen tying Owen up in complicated knots, stuffing a ball gag in his mouth. Maybe? Tosh? Could be. He wondered what she could be into...scarification? Diapers and pigtails? Dressing up in a lion suit? Or maybe they were all very vanilla and did it in the missionary position only, with all the lights off.
Ianto shook his head. He'd never thought that he was particularly kinky either, until Jack. He wondered when Jack had discovered what buttons to push, but he must have had Ianto pegged from the start. So to speak.
He was considering this when his mobile rang, vibrating insistently in his front pocket, on the side where he dressed. Ianto cursed, "Fuck!" And answered sedately. "Yes."
"Sir," Jack purred in his ear.
"Yes sir," Ianto corrected himself. Jesus Christ, how did Jack know?
"How's it going?" Jack asked.
"Fine, sir," Ianto answered, trying to sound nonchalant as he hefted another box of cards. His cock grazed the inside of his flies, and he bit his lip.
"Think you can last all day? Last time you-" Jack's voice was teasing rather than demanding. It was making Ianto nervous. He missed being ordered around; it was part of the...his kink.
"Yes, sir," Ianto tried to stay still. It had been three hours already. What was another oh, seven or so? He clutched the phone harder.
"Well, it's lunchtime. The others went out, right?"
Ianto nodded. "Yes, they...yes sir."
"...but you are coming up to my office now. Close up shop." Click. There it was. The stern voice Ianto liked. His cock twitched. Just like the last time, Jack couldn't wait all day either.
Ianto kept his face neutral, in case Jack was watching the video feed from his post. Hell, it was likely.
Ianto put up the "out until" clock sign in the Tourist Centre window and headed for the elevator, feeling the straps against the joints of his thighs as he walked, his stiffening cock sliding against fabric, and the pull against the plug seated in his ass. He used to be able to go an entire day without thinking about anything below his waist unless he had to take a leak, but this...sex apparatus Jack had instructed him to wear again made that impossible. Would he ever get used to it? Was that the plan? Get used to it, like kids get used to wearing shoes?
When he arrived, Jack motioned at him to shut the blinds. Ianto took it upon himself to lock the office door, too, just as Jack said, "Take off your clothes. All of your clothes."
Ianto's throat moved against his tie as he swallowed. "Yes sir." He loosened the tie first, then took off his shirt and trousers.
"Socks too," Jack ordered, not sounding mellow and teasing now, and Ianto obeyed with a shiver. Bare, except for the leather harness around his cock that hooked to the thonglike bit holding in the bullet, and his chain and tiny padlock pendant, he stood in front of Jack. He wondered if Jack would ask him to spread out on the sofa, or bend over the chair. He was supposed to always be ready for Jack when he came over to his flat, but...Ianto was unsure what he was supposed to do now, except stand here with his cock stiffening under Jack's gaze.
Jack eyed a bruise on Ianto's ribcage, from the Beacons, and searched his face. Ianto shook his head almost imperceptibly. It didn't hurt anymore. It didn't matter.
Jack nodded. "Do you have that stopwatch?" Ianto turned to the chair where his trousers were and fished out the watch. "Good, start it and tell me when ten minutes are up. I'm giving you a break."
Ianto clicked the button and held the watch as Jack got up from his desk and approached him. He slid his hand along Ianto's thigh, and unbuckled the leather straps, freeing his cock first, before pressing a hand hard against his back. Ianto took the hint and bent forward, putting his palms on Jack's desk. Jack's knee insinuated itself between his thighs and Ianto leaned over more, spreading his legs, obedient. No matter how far he'd spread his legs, Jack always wanted more. Jack pulled the plug from his ass, and slipped the harness off.
"Ahh, good." He reached his hand between Ianto's thighs and grazed his fingers against his balls before giving his cock a light stroke; it was now fully at attention. Ianto whimpered. "Quiet," Jack warned him sternly. Ianto glanced between his thumbs on the desk at the stopwatch. One minute had passed.
"Hmm," Jack pondered behind him. "I don't like the idea of you just leaning over my desk, naked, with nothing to do. How boring." Ianto felt his cheeks being separated roughly, and the click of a cap. Jack's lubed finger entered him, moving slowly. "Nice," Jack said admiringly. Another finger followed, and Ianto felt a bit of stretch - the plug he'd been wearing was only the width of a thumb. "Your ass is so tight, Ianto, so hot and tight," Jack said. Ianto could feel his breath against his back. "We're going to send you back to work with a bigger plug when your break's up. Get you ready for more."
Bigger? Ianto could barely concentrate this morning as it was. He didn't know if he could stand being that...full and trying to act normally. Feeling his heart start to race, he glanced at the watch. 2 and a half minutes.
Jack kept pushing his two fingers in and out, sliding, and Ianto wanted to beg. For what, he didn't know. More fingers? Jack's cock, hard and relentless while he gripped the desk and enjoyed the ride? Jack's hot mouth around his cock, sucking him dry? All of it, really. Anything but this tentative, gentle stroking. He'd been trussed up for three hours trying to ignore the goddamned harness and this teasing wasn't cutting it.
Reading his mind, perhaps, Jack slid another finger inside him and pumped them all the way in, stretching him slowly, over and over and over, his other hand tight on Ianto's hip. Ianto wanted to cry out -- the subtle nudge against his prostate felt so good his legs trembled. "Stop. Squirming," Jack ordered, his voice low, and dabbed in another generous squeeze of lube. Ianto locked his knees and attempted to stay still. Jack pulled his fingers out abruptly and Ianto heard the unmistakable slide of a zip (five minutes, ten seconds) and a different, smooth pressure behind him. He smiled to himself, lowering his chin; Jack was so hard. He could feel the breach as the head of Jack's cock pushed against his asshole, and he tried to accommodate the entry as best as he was able without moving a muscle - Jack didn't like him to move or make any sounds unless he told him it was allowed.
Jack had his hips by both hands, and he gave Ianto little shallow thrusts, just a tease, the head. After the little bullet plug on the harness, and Jack's fingers, his cock felt so smooth, and large. Ianto wanted to push back, feel Jack all the way, pounding him as he clutched the desk with sweaty hands, but he waited, well-trained. If he asked, Jack might get angry, he might punish... (six minutes thirty).
But with Jack's cock making too-gentle little thrusts inside him for what seemed like forever, though the ticking hand told him otherwise, Ianto groaned inwardly. What if Jack didn't let him come, just harnessed him up again when the ten minutes were up and sent him out to spend the rest of the day in the Tourist Office with instructions not to dare bring himself off? He started to panic inwardly. "Sir..." he started. "Sir, please."
"What?" Jack's voice was sharp, and Ianto felt cool air as Jack pulled his cock away.
"Sir," Ianto gasped. It had been days, and he was dying for release. He didn't care anymore about being good. "Please, more please...just...fuck me harder."
Jack's hands loosened on his hips, and Ianto's ass felt suddenly, appallingly empty. "No," Jack said gruffly. "And you know better by now than to make demands."
Eight minutes.
"I'm sorry, sir," Ianto said, not moving, until Jack gripped him by his upper arm. He grabbed his omnipresent zipped black bag on his desk, and pulled out a wrapped personal wipe. Ripping it open, he swiped it around his cock, wincing, then threw it on his desk.
"Faster, harder," Jack growled. "Come over here." He directed Ianto to the sofa and sat down himself on the front edge of the leather cushions. "Facedown over my lap," he ordered, tucking his cock back into his trousers. Ianto hid his disappointment well, he thought; he rested his left knee on the sofa and eased himself over Jack's lap, feeling his rock-hard dick slip against the fabric of Jack's leg. He felt a little pull in his gut. He'd really fucked this scene up. Would Jack spank him again?
Jack shifted himself on the sofa, widening his legs so that Ianto's cock dipped between them. Ianto pressed his own legs together, suddenly nervous, and Jack moved back in his seat, shifting Ianto so both of his knees and elbows were on the sofa, not saying a word. Jack slid his hand up through the back of Ianto's thighs, urging him to spread his legs apart again. Ianto felt Jack shift and heard him rifle through the bag. Jack roughly spread Ianto's cheeks apart with his fingers, and he felt cold lube drizzle in a long stripe along the inside of his crack. He couldn't help flinching, but Jack didn't do anything except hold Ianto's trembling flesh open, as wide as he could, and Ianto could feel the cool lubricant oozing into his hole and down the crack of his ass toward his balls. Jack must have been keeping the lube in the refrigerator; it didn't hurt exactly, or feel bad - it was just a shocking feeling, and Ianto would of course have preferred the slick warmed from Jack's pocket - the sort he'd used when Ianto had been leaning over the front of the desk. He definitely regretted saying anything now; if he'd lasted the ten minutes, if he'd behaved, maybe Jack would have been banging him on the floor at this point, grunting into his shoulder, pulling his hair, instead of letting him suffer. Jack wasn't going to fuck him, and god, now he wasn't even going to touch him. Why hadn't he kept his mouth shut? He gritted his teeth.
Ianto figured the stopwatch must have hit ten minutes by now. He lay very still across Jack's thighs, and felt his own cock stir again, trapped between them. Jack didn't touch him save for the one hand, but he could sense Jack's gaze on his lubed-up crack, and he felt very exposed. He willed Jack mentally to make him stand up and lean against the desk again, to fuck him on the sofa, something, anything, but he didn't. Ianto bit his lip hard and wondered how long Jack would make him wait here, his hand spread motionless, fingertips holding him wide open and dripping. He tightened his stomach muscles a little, and felt the plastic tip of the chilled lubricant tube enter him.
"Don't close up." Jack warned. Ianto was quiet, waiting.
Jack sighed loudly and a generous squirt of slippery fluid pushed into his ass. Ianto gasped silently with a tiny flinch, and started to worry about what Jack was planning to do -- why would he need so much lube?
Finally, the chill wore off, and Jack's hand tightened on his skin, the fingers of his other hand smoothing along the flesh of his buttocks. Jack ran the tip of a finger down his asscrack, and Ianto heard a squelch as he slipped it inside. Jack began fucking him shallowly with his index finger, still holding all the way open with his other hand. Ianto knew better than to tighten the ring of muscle around Jack's fingertip, though he wanted to get some kind of friction, or he probably would earn a vigorous spanking. He forced himself to relax, and felt his shaking knees slide along the leather sofa as his legs stretched out.
"So nice and wet now, your asshole," Jack murmured. "Like a hot, juicy cunt, ready for cock." Ianto screwed his eyes shut as Jack circled the pucker outside of his hole over and over, then commenced the agonisingly slow fingering. As much as Ianto wanted Jack to fuck him senseless, to tongue him, to blow him, to force Ianto's head down on his cock, he closed his eyes again, and accepted the almost imperceptible motion of Jack's finger, even though he wasn't hitting his hotspot -- Jack wasn't trying to get him off, after all. Ianto understood now that this was a completely logical punishment for moving and speaking at the desk, wanting a fast, satisfying fuck, for his impatience, was this...slow, languorous torture. He wanted more, now, to be fucked rough and fast so badly, and Jack had prepared him for it; his slo-mo stroking was driving Ianto mad.
His cock was throbbing now and he thought he might shoot off on Jack's leg anyway. He tried to breathe deeply, enter a state of Zen.
Jack kept up the barest motion, like a delicately-calibrated machine. "You'd better get used to this," Jack said, sounding nonchalant. "Because I think you need some training to learn patience. I might keep you spread out and wet and finger-fuck your slick little ass all day, nice and slow. I don't have any important plans, so I could keep you right here, make the others wonder what's happening for the rest of the afternoon." Ianto chewed his lip to keep from moaning. All day?
"Or I'll just tell them you're busy in the archives, or that you pleaded a backache and I sent you home, but you'll be trapped right where you are now, spread naked across my lap, being a submissive little slut under my hand for hours and hours while everybody else does the work."
Ianto thought he probably would, too...keep him here until seven without letting him come... He felt the lock pendant pressing under his chin and remembered that he'd signed up for this. He wondered again what Jack would have done if he'd said, "Jack. It was Jack," when he'd been asked who he'd last kissed, in the Beacons. This was probably not the best line of thought to distract himself. He though of
"I wonder if you could be trained to enjoy spending all day like this, while I touch you however I want to?" Jack spread slick around Ianto's opening before slipping two fingers inside deeply, then pulling out. Jack was using one fingertip again, teasing him even more slowly. "You may answer."
"Yes sir, I would. You can..." Ianto whispered, his face burning hot. "I like it."
"Like what, Ianto?" Jack asked sharply.
"When you touch me," Ianto's cock was painfully hard.
"Be more specific."
"I like it when you finger me, sir, finger my ass," Ianto panted helplessly. "You can touch me any way...you want to. Sir." It was humiliating to say it out loud, but he was Jack's, and Jack could tell -- he knew that he could keep Ianto over his lap the rest of the afternoon, and Ianto would go home and come back tomorrow for more of the same, and and the next day, even if Jack didn't ever properly fuck him again and he exploded from testicular buildup. He tucked his face towards his outstretched arm on the sofa and gripped the side of the cushion.
"Your ass is mine," Jack hummed. "As fast or slow or hard as I like. Or not. And don't forget it." Jack pulled his hands away and reached into the canvas bag again -- Ianto could hear him rifling through it.
"Ianto, answer me; is that enough lube?" Jack asked.
"Oh yes, sir," Ianto raised his head. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "It's enough. So wet." He felt like he was full of slick. Jack made an indignant noise above him, spreading him open again, and Ianto felt another squirt of lubricant deep inside. Jack pressed his buttocks together. Ianto moaned helplessly at the spreading chill, the feeling of wet fullness. He fought to relax as he felt himself being held open again, some fiddling about with something else flicking against his skin -- Jack was pressing something smooth and solid, something thicker than his fingertip, against his very wet opening.
"Ah," Jack breathed. "Answer me, you feel that?"
"Sir...yes," Ianto started, and took advantage of the permission to speak. "Wh-what is it?" The object pushed inside.
"Ianto, that's enough," Jack said softly. "Be quiet again." Ianto could feel stroking again, and then another mercifully-room-temperature object easily push past his snug ring of muscle and into his ass. He had to bear down a little to let it in, and risked the movement. Ianto felt the stretch as Jack edged it in by tiny increments before he stopped. Ianto liked the pressure, and he knew better than to beg, but silently urged Jack to please push it in deeper, fuck him with whatever that was, hit his prostate, give him a reacharound, let him come, please. Jack's fingers slid around his rim and he gently pushed. Ianto bucked and gasped against the cushions. His cock was so hard it was painful.
"Sorry sir," Ianto said hurriedly, but felt his ass stretching again. and was rewarded with something else...another slow entry -- what was it? It felt so good and thick, almost like Jack's dick, and there was so much now-warm slick in his ass that it slid in comfortably, almost like being fucked for real, even if the pace was glacial. Ianto closed his eyes and imagined Jack on top, driving in. He couldn't stop himself from clenching around the item as it entered him.
"Such an impatient little slut," Jack said, sounding hoarsely amused. "You just love having that ass filled, don't you?"
Ianto, panting, nodded into the sofa, breathing in the scent of old leather. He was getting close, but fighting it. Jack's voice and dirty talk weren't helping, and neither was his other hand; Jack had slid it beneath Ianto's chest to pinch the nearest nipple.
"Beads, Ianto. Three down, two more to go, each a little bigger than the last."
Ianto was shaking, and he couldn't stop.
"You like it slow now, huh?" Jack sounded ragged now himself. "Good. Tonight I'll lube you up good and wet, take my time, tease you for a long while, put you to bed with your ass up for me to play with, if you're good. Or I might stay up all night fucking you with a vibrator, so slowly, while you suck me off, might-"
Ianto felt his stomach tense, and then with another incredibly slow entry of a rounded object in -- he felt so full - and then yet another indolent, smooth push deep inside, Ianto jerked. He felt a tug, and then another; Jack was pulling out the string of beads...slowly. Ianto balled his fists against the sofa arm and came hard; his muscles tensing as he shot pulses of hot come between Jack's legs - definitely on his trousers, and likely the floor. Ianto didn't care either way, and moaned aloud into the cushion. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sir," Ianto apologized desperately, almost crying with the relief of finally coming. He felt Jack's arms tighten on him as he recovered, and he hoped he wouldn't be punished. Jack had spanked him before for moving too much, making too much noise when Jack toyed with him, coming too soon. Jack had made his ass redden before with hard, open-handed slaps, and it had been painful to sit for hours. It reminded him to mind the rules when they played this game. Ianto liked the rules, even though he fought against them sometimes. He couldn't help it. He wasn't perfect.
Jack just paused. "It's all right," he said. "But you're not finished."
Ianto managed a deep, shaky breath. He could take almost anything now that he'd finally got off, even a spanking. "Yes, sir," he said, choking back a gasp as Jack pulled out the last bead. Ianto felt stretched, and dripping wet.
"Get up - stand for a second," Jack ordered, and Ianto did, watching as Jack, still seated, motioned him down. "Clean up my trousers."
Ianto glanced at the tissue box on the short filing cabinet next to the sofa, hesitated for only a second, then knelt, and began to lick the warm stain he'd left on the wool as Jack watched intently. Jack leaned back on the sofa, hastily undoing his flies, who was impatient now? pulling out his cock again, stroking it.
"Now suck me off."
Ianto edged forward to lick up the side of the shaft, then swirled his tongue around the head, to the tip. He looked up to see Jack's head tilt upward, and hear his breath go ragged.
"Stop," Jack ordered, then stood and pulled his own trousers down and pushed them down to his ankles. Jack kicked off his shoes, and threw the trousers and pants on the floor in a pile. He leaned back on the sofa. "Sit on my cock," Jack told him, and scooted forward as Ianto scrambled to kneel over Jack until he felt insistent hands on his waist, and Jack pushing him down on his lap, hard, all the way. "Liked watching you come like that" Jack hissed, rough and dirty, as he fucked Ianto, gripping his waist and hips. "Fuck, yes."
After he'd delivered Jack some fresh clothes from his quarters, and was cleaned up and dressed himself, Ianto checked the time on the stopwatch. It had only been an hour and fifteen minutes.
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Warnings: D/s
Rating: NC-17, 4,250 words
Summary: Hmm. Toys? Assplay? Is that a thing? Post-Countrycide
A/N: Jack trains Ianto to be his submissive.
1st part - First Punishment
2nd part - Second Error
3rd part - Needs
4th part - Wants
5th part - Rules
6th part - Hard at Work
7th part - Strapped In
They had come back from the Brecon Beacons and dropped everyone off in turn. Tosh met his eyes, insisting she was "fine, just needed a good soak in a bubble bath," Owen was fidgety and quiet (for once), and Gwen seemed shellshocked. She had been shot. She was also realizing that sometimes things just happened, and there was no reason for them. There was no reason for what had happened at Torchwood One either, and finally understanding that made Ianto feel about a thousand percent better. Clouds happened. But there were silver linings, too.
He hadn't thought of silver linings in a good, long while.
Jack turned to Ianto in the SUV when he pulled up in front of his flat, leaning in, asking instead of ordering: "Do you want me to..."
"No, it's fine." Ianto offered up a smile. "I'm fine, sir. Just need some sleep." And Ianto did -- he slept for a solid fourteen hours. Jack left him alone the entire weekend; Ianto thought back, wondered if he'd expected Ianto to say "Jack" when he was asked who he'd kissed last, but as far as he was concerned, it wasn't anybody's business. If it had been a stranger at a bar, he'd have probably said so. It wasn't personal.
Ianto wondered if Jack might have felt insulted that Ianto hadn't invited him up when he dropped him off, but he actually had been extremely tired, not to mention the fact that he'd come close to death. He figured Jack would live without a couple of days of sex.
By Sunday night, Ianto wondered whether he would. But he was resolute. Let Jack reach out first, since he wanted to be the boss.
On Monday morning, Jack called and told him what to wear. Ianto agreed. Game on.
Ianto stocked the postcard display in the tourist centre, but it was tough to concentrate. Whenever he'd lean over to pull more cards out of the boxes (who knew Cardiff postcards would be printed in China? He wondered if the chamber of commerce, trade and industry knew about this) he'd be reminded of what he was wearing.
The item was made of smooth latex and it wasn't very large, but it was distracting, and so were the leather straps around his thighs - the harness holding it in place. Per Jack's instructions, he wasn't wearing pants under his trousers, and he'd been half-hard for the three hours he'd already been at work. He was looking forward to takeaway for lunch, but he'd probably eat it standing up, because the last time...it had been fairly hard to ignore. He looked up then -- Owen and Gwen were heading out, with Tosh.
"We're going to lunch, do you want to come?" Tosh asked.
"Uh," It was nice to be included, but Ianto couldn't ignore the harness he was wearing. "No, thank you."
"Okay," Tosh smiled, and followed Owen and Gwen out. Gwen was giggling, and Owen pinched the back of her neck.
Ianto had been thinking about sex a lot during the past several weeks after months of self-denial, and as he watched them walk away down the wooden ramp, he realized that Gwen and Owen were obviously fucking. He didn't think Tosh had noticed yet, or maybe she had and it was her turn to practice denial. Ianto wondered when it had started - before the Beacons - had they come back only the other day? Owen had said they'd kissed before, so...who knew?
Ianto squinted after them and wondered if they were kinky at all. He imagined Gwen tying Owen up in complicated knots, stuffing a ball gag in his mouth. Maybe? Tosh? Could be. He wondered what she could be into...scarification? Diapers and pigtails? Dressing up in a lion suit? Or maybe they were all very vanilla and did it in the missionary position only, with all the lights off.
Ianto shook his head. He'd never thought that he was particularly kinky either, until Jack. He wondered when Jack had discovered what buttons to push, but he must have had Ianto pegged from the start. So to speak.
He was considering this when his mobile rang, vibrating insistently in his front pocket, on the side where he dressed. Ianto cursed, "Fuck!" And answered sedately. "Yes."
"Sir," Jack purred in his ear.
"Yes sir," Ianto corrected himself. Jesus Christ, how did Jack know?
"How's it going?" Jack asked.
"Fine, sir," Ianto answered, trying to sound nonchalant as he hefted another box of cards. His cock grazed the inside of his flies, and he bit his lip.
"Think you can last all day? Last time you-" Jack's voice was teasing rather than demanding. It was making Ianto nervous. He missed being ordered around; it was part of the...his kink.
"Yes, sir," Ianto tried to stay still. It had been three hours already. What was another oh, seven or so? He clutched the phone harder.
"Well, it's lunchtime. The others went out, right?"
Ianto nodded. "Yes, they...yes sir."
"...but you are coming up to my office now. Close up shop." Click. There it was. The stern voice Ianto liked. His cock twitched. Just like the last time, Jack couldn't wait all day either.
Ianto kept his face neutral, in case Jack was watching the video feed from his post. Hell, it was likely.
Ianto put up the "out until" clock sign in the Tourist Centre window and headed for the elevator, feeling the straps against the joints of his thighs as he walked, his stiffening cock sliding against fabric, and the pull against the plug seated in his ass. He used to be able to go an entire day without thinking about anything below his waist unless he had to take a leak, but this...sex apparatus Jack had instructed him to wear again made that impossible. Would he ever get used to it? Was that the plan? Get used to it, like kids get used to wearing shoes?
When he arrived, Jack motioned at him to shut the blinds. Ianto took it upon himself to lock the office door, too, just as Jack said, "Take off your clothes. All of your clothes."
Ianto's throat moved against his tie as he swallowed. "Yes sir." He loosened the tie first, then took off his shirt and trousers.
"Socks too," Jack ordered, not sounding mellow and teasing now, and Ianto obeyed with a shiver. Bare, except for the leather harness around his cock that hooked to the thonglike bit holding in the bullet, and his chain and tiny padlock pendant, he stood in front of Jack. He wondered if Jack would ask him to spread out on the sofa, or bend over the chair. He was supposed to always be ready for Jack when he came over to his flat, but...Ianto was unsure what he was supposed to do now, except stand here with his cock stiffening under Jack's gaze.
Jack eyed a bruise on Ianto's ribcage, from the Beacons, and searched his face. Ianto shook his head almost imperceptibly. It didn't hurt anymore. It didn't matter.
Jack nodded. "Do you have that stopwatch?" Ianto turned to the chair where his trousers were and fished out the watch. "Good, start it and tell me when ten minutes are up. I'm giving you a break."
Ianto clicked the button and held the watch as Jack got up from his desk and approached him. He slid his hand along Ianto's thigh, and unbuckled the leather straps, freeing his cock first, before pressing a hand hard against his back. Ianto took the hint and bent forward, putting his palms on Jack's desk. Jack's knee insinuated itself between his thighs and Ianto leaned over more, spreading his legs, obedient. No matter how far he'd spread his legs, Jack always wanted more. Jack pulled the plug from his ass, and slipped the harness off.
"Ahh, good." He reached his hand between Ianto's thighs and grazed his fingers against his balls before giving his cock a light stroke; it was now fully at attention. Ianto whimpered. "Quiet," Jack warned him sternly. Ianto glanced between his thumbs on the desk at the stopwatch. One minute had passed.
"Hmm," Jack pondered behind him. "I don't like the idea of you just leaning over my desk, naked, with nothing to do. How boring." Ianto felt his cheeks being separated roughly, and the click of a cap. Jack's lubed finger entered him, moving slowly. "Nice," Jack said admiringly. Another finger followed, and Ianto felt a bit of stretch - the plug he'd been wearing was only the width of a thumb. "Your ass is so tight, Ianto, so hot and tight," Jack said. Ianto could feel his breath against his back. "We're going to send you back to work with a bigger plug when your break's up. Get you ready for more."
Bigger? Ianto could barely concentrate this morning as it was. He didn't know if he could stand being that...full and trying to act normally. Feeling his heart start to race, he glanced at the watch. 2 and a half minutes.
Jack kept pushing his two fingers in and out, sliding, and Ianto wanted to beg. For what, he didn't know. More fingers? Jack's cock, hard and relentless while he gripped the desk and enjoyed the ride? Jack's hot mouth around his cock, sucking him dry? All of it, really. Anything but this tentative, gentle stroking. He'd been trussed up for three hours trying to ignore the goddamned harness and this teasing wasn't cutting it.
Reading his mind, perhaps, Jack slid another finger inside him and pumped them all the way in, stretching him slowly, over and over and over, his other hand tight on Ianto's hip. Ianto wanted to cry out -- the subtle nudge against his prostate felt so good his legs trembled. "Stop. Squirming," Jack ordered, his voice low, and dabbed in another generous squeeze of lube. Ianto locked his knees and attempted to stay still. Jack pulled his fingers out abruptly and Ianto heard the unmistakable slide of a zip (five minutes, ten seconds) and a different, smooth pressure behind him. He smiled to himself, lowering his chin; Jack was so hard. He could feel the breach as the head of Jack's cock pushed against his asshole, and he tried to accommodate the entry as best as he was able without moving a muscle - Jack didn't like him to move or make any sounds unless he told him it was allowed.
Jack had his hips by both hands, and he gave Ianto little shallow thrusts, just a tease, the head. After the little bullet plug on the harness, and Jack's fingers, his cock felt so smooth, and large. Ianto wanted to push back, feel Jack all the way, pounding him as he clutched the desk with sweaty hands, but he waited, well-trained. If he asked, Jack might get angry, he might punish... (six minutes thirty).
But with Jack's cock making too-gentle little thrusts inside him for what seemed like forever, though the ticking hand told him otherwise, Ianto groaned inwardly. What if Jack didn't let him come, just harnessed him up again when the ten minutes were up and sent him out to spend the rest of the day in the Tourist Office with instructions not to dare bring himself off? He started to panic inwardly. "Sir..." he started. "Sir, please."
"What?" Jack's voice was sharp, and Ianto felt cool air as Jack pulled his cock away.
"Sir," Ianto gasped. It had been days, and he was dying for release. He didn't care anymore about being good. "Please, more please...just...fuck me harder."
Jack's hands loosened on his hips, and Ianto's ass felt suddenly, appallingly empty. "No," Jack said gruffly. "And you know better by now than to make demands."
Eight minutes.
"I'm sorry, sir," Ianto said, not moving, until Jack gripped him by his upper arm. He grabbed his omnipresent zipped black bag on his desk, and pulled out a wrapped personal wipe. Ripping it open, he swiped it around his cock, wincing, then threw it on his desk.
"Faster, harder," Jack growled. "Come over here." He directed Ianto to the sofa and sat down himself on the front edge of the leather cushions. "Facedown over my lap," he ordered, tucking his cock back into his trousers. Ianto hid his disappointment well, he thought; he rested his left knee on the sofa and eased himself over Jack's lap, feeling his rock-hard dick slip against the fabric of Jack's leg. He felt a little pull in his gut. He'd really fucked this scene up. Would Jack spank him again?
Jack shifted himself on the sofa, widening his legs so that Ianto's cock dipped between them. Ianto pressed his own legs together, suddenly nervous, and Jack moved back in his seat, shifting Ianto so both of his knees and elbows were on the sofa, not saying a word. Jack slid his hand up through the back of Ianto's thighs, urging him to spread his legs apart again. Ianto felt Jack shift and heard him rifle through the bag. Jack roughly spread Ianto's cheeks apart with his fingers, and he felt cold lube drizzle in a long stripe along the inside of his crack. He couldn't help flinching, but Jack didn't do anything except hold Ianto's trembling flesh open, as wide as he could, and Ianto could feel the cool lubricant oozing into his hole and down the crack of his ass toward his balls. Jack must have been keeping the lube in the refrigerator; it didn't hurt exactly, or feel bad - it was just a shocking feeling, and Ianto would of course have preferred the slick warmed from Jack's pocket - the sort he'd used when Ianto had been leaning over the front of the desk. He definitely regretted saying anything now; if he'd lasted the ten minutes, if he'd behaved, maybe Jack would have been banging him on the floor at this point, grunting into his shoulder, pulling his hair, instead of letting him suffer. Jack wasn't going to fuck him, and god, now he wasn't even going to touch him. Why hadn't he kept his mouth shut? He gritted his teeth.
Ianto figured the stopwatch must have hit ten minutes by now. He lay very still across Jack's thighs, and felt his own cock stir again, trapped between them. Jack didn't touch him save for the one hand, but he could sense Jack's gaze on his lubed-up crack, and he felt very exposed. He willed Jack mentally to make him stand up and lean against the desk again, to fuck him on the sofa, something, anything, but he didn't. Ianto bit his lip hard and wondered how long Jack would make him wait here, his hand spread motionless, fingertips holding him wide open and dripping. He tightened his stomach muscles a little, and felt the plastic tip of the chilled lubricant tube enter him.
"Don't close up." Jack warned. Ianto was quiet, waiting.
Jack sighed loudly and a generous squirt of slippery fluid pushed into his ass. Ianto gasped silently with a tiny flinch, and started to worry about what Jack was planning to do -- why would he need so much lube?
Finally, the chill wore off, and Jack's hand tightened on his skin, the fingers of his other hand smoothing along the flesh of his buttocks. Jack ran the tip of a finger down his asscrack, and Ianto heard a squelch as he slipped it inside. Jack began fucking him shallowly with his index finger, still holding all the way open with his other hand. Ianto knew better than to tighten the ring of muscle around Jack's fingertip, though he wanted to get some kind of friction, or he probably would earn a vigorous spanking. He forced himself to relax, and felt his shaking knees slide along the leather sofa as his legs stretched out.
"So nice and wet now, your asshole," Jack murmured. "Like a hot, juicy cunt, ready for cock." Ianto screwed his eyes shut as Jack circled the pucker outside of his hole over and over, then commenced the agonisingly slow fingering. As much as Ianto wanted Jack to fuck him senseless, to tongue him, to blow him, to force Ianto's head down on his cock, he closed his eyes again, and accepted the almost imperceptible motion of Jack's finger, even though he wasn't hitting his hotspot -- Jack wasn't trying to get him off, after all. Ianto understood now that this was a completely logical punishment for moving and speaking at the desk, wanting a fast, satisfying fuck, for his impatience, was this...slow, languorous torture. He wanted more, now, to be fucked rough and fast so badly, and Jack had prepared him for it; his slo-mo stroking was driving Ianto mad.
His cock was throbbing now and he thought he might shoot off on Jack's leg anyway. He tried to breathe deeply, enter a state of Zen.
Jack kept up the barest motion, like a delicately-calibrated machine. "You'd better get used to this," Jack said, sounding nonchalant. "Because I think you need some training to learn patience. I might keep you spread out and wet and finger-fuck your slick little ass all day, nice and slow. I don't have any important plans, so I could keep you right here, make the others wonder what's happening for the rest of the afternoon." Ianto chewed his lip to keep from moaning. All day?
"Or I'll just tell them you're busy in the archives, or that you pleaded a backache and I sent you home, but you'll be trapped right where you are now, spread naked across my lap, being a submissive little slut under my hand for hours and hours while everybody else does the work."
Ianto thought he probably would, too...keep him here until seven without letting him come... He felt the lock pendant pressing under his chin and remembered that he'd signed up for this. He wondered again what Jack would have done if he'd said, "Jack. It was Jack," when he'd been asked who he'd last kissed, in the Beacons. This was probably not the best line of thought to distract himself. He though of
"I wonder if you could be trained to enjoy spending all day like this, while I touch you however I want to?" Jack spread slick around Ianto's opening before slipping two fingers inside deeply, then pulling out. Jack was using one fingertip again, teasing him even more slowly. "You may answer."
"Yes sir, I would. You can..." Ianto whispered, his face burning hot. "I like it."
"Like what, Ianto?" Jack asked sharply.
"When you touch me," Ianto's cock was painfully hard.
"Be more specific."
"I like it when you finger me, sir, finger my ass," Ianto panted helplessly. "You can touch me any way...you want to. Sir." It was humiliating to say it out loud, but he was Jack's, and Jack could tell -- he knew that he could keep Ianto over his lap the rest of the afternoon, and Ianto would go home and come back tomorrow for more of the same, and and the next day, even if Jack didn't ever properly fuck him again and he exploded from testicular buildup. He tucked his face towards his outstretched arm on the sofa and gripped the side of the cushion.
"Your ass is mine," Jack hummed. "As fast or slow or hard as I like. Or not. And don't forget it." Jack pulled his hands away and reached into the canvas bag again -- Ianto could hear him rifling through it.
"Ianto, answer me; is that enough lube?" Jack asked.
"Oh yes, sir," Ianto raised his head. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "It's enough. So wet." He felt like he was full of slick. Jack made an indignant noise above him, spreading him open again, and Ianto felt another squirt of lubricant deep inside. Jack pressed his buttocks together. Ianto moaned helplessly at the spreading chill, the feeling of wet fullness. He fought to relax as he felt himself being held open again, some fiddling about with something else flicking against his skin -- Jack was pressing something smooth and solid, something thicker than his fingertip, against his very wet opening.
"Ah," Jack breathed. "Answer me, you feel that?"
"Sir...yes," Ianto started, and took advantage of the permission to speak. "Wh-what is it?" The object pushed inside.
"Ianto, that's enough," Jack said softly. "Be quiet again." Ianto could feel stroking again, and then another mercifully-room-temperature object easily push past his snug ring of muscle and into his ass. He had to bear down a little to let it in, and risked the movement. Ianto felt the stretch as Jack edged it in by tiny increments before he stopped. Ianto liked the pressure, and he knew better than to beg, but silently urged Jack to please push it in deeper, fuck him with whatever that was, hit his prostate, give him a reacharound, let him come, please. Jack's fingers slid around his rim and he gently pushed. Ianto bucked and gasped against the cushions. His cock was so hard it was painful.
"Sorry sir," Ianto said hurriedly, but felt his ass stretching again. and was rewarded with something else...another slow entry -- what was it? It felt so good and thick, almost like Jack's dick, and there was so much now-warm slick in his ass that it slid in comfortably, almost like being fucked for real, even if the pace was glacial. Ianto closed his eyes and imagined Jack on top, driving in. He couldn't stop himself from clenching around the item as it entered him.
"Such an impatient little slut," Jack said, sounding hoarsely amused. "You just love having that ass filled, don't you?"
Ianto, panting, nodded into the sofa, breathing in the scent of old leather. He was getting close, but fighting it. Jack's voice and dirty talk weren't helping, and neither was his other hand; Jack had slid it beneath Ianto's chest to pinch the nearest nipple.
"Beads, Ianto. Three down, two more to go, each a little bigger than the last."
Ianto was shaking, and he couldn't stop.
"You like it slow now, huh?" Jack sounded ragged now himself. "Good. Tonight I'll lube you up good and wet, take my time, tease you for a long while, put you to bed with your ass up for me to play with, if you're good. Or I might stay up all night fucking you with a vibrator, so slowly, while you suck me off, might-"
Ianto felt his stomach tense, and then with another incredibly slow entry of a rounded object in -- he felt so full - and then yet another indolent, smooth push deep inside, Ianto jerked. He felt a tug, and then another; Jack was pulling out the string of beads...slowly. Ianto balled his fists against the sofa arm and came hard; his muscles tensing as he shot pulses of hot come between Jack's legs - definitely on his trousers, and likely the floor. Ianto didn't care either way, and moaned aloud into the cushion. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sir," Ianto apologized desperately, almost crying with the relief of finally coming. He felt Jack's arms tighten on him as he recovered, and he hoped he wouldn't be punished. Jack had spanked him before for moving too much, making too much noise when Jack toyed with him, coming too soon. Jack had made his ass redden before with hard, open-handed slaps, and it had been painful to sit for hours. It reminded him to mind the rules when they played this game. Ianto liked the rules, even though he fought against them sometimes. He couldn't help it. He wasn't perfect.
Jack just paused. "It's all right," he said. "But you're not finished."
Ianto managed a deep, shaky breath. He could take almost anything now that he'd finally got off, even a spanking. "Yes, sir," he said, choking back a gasp as Jack pulled out the last bead. Ianto felt stretched, and dripping wet.
"Get up - stand for a second," Jack ordered, and Ianto did, watching as Jack, still seated, motioned him down. "Clean up my trousers."
Ianto glanced at the tissue box on the short filing cabinet next to the sofa, hesitated for only a second, then knelt, and began to lick the warm stain he'd left on the wool as Jack watched intently. Jack leaned back on the sofa, hastily undoing his flies, who was impatient now? pulling out his cock again, stroking it.
"Now suck me off."
Ianto edged forward to lick up the side of the shaft, then swirled his tongue around the head, to the tip. He looked up to see Jack's head tilt upward, and hear his breath go ragged.
"Stop," Jack ordered, then stood and pulled his own trousers down and pushed them down to his ankles. Jack kicked off his shoes, and threw the trousers and pants on the floor in a pile. He leaned back on the sofa. "Sit on my cock," Jack told him, and scooted forward as Ianto scrambled to kneel over Jack until he felt insistent hands on his waist, and Jack pushing him down on his lap, hard, all the way. "Liked watching you come like that" Jack hissed, rough and dirty, as he fucked Ianto, gripping his waist and hips. "Fuck, yes."
After he'd delivered Jack some fresh clothes from his quarters, and was cleaned up and dressed himself, Ianto checked the time on the stopwatch. It had only been an hour and fifteen minutes.