soft (torchwood: jack/ianto, nc-17)
title: soft
author: phinnia
rating: nc-17 for sexy sexiness
pairing: jack/ianto
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel i, a thing of shreds and patches. i own nothing.
author's note: titles are not my friends lately. but the fic's pretty good despite it, if i do say so myself. :)
He runs his fingers through the hair on Ianto's chest, stretching forward and following the path forged by his fingers with his tongue; tracing over and around the pebbled surface of first one nipple and then the other, then along the folded-closed wings of his collarbone, up one side of the neck to the acute angle between the neck and chin.
Jack has an inordinate fascination with body hair. He has dozens of kinks, but this was one of the earliest to bloom - in his time it was a rarity to see much more than an elegantly sculpted bush and maybe a tuft under each arm. The removal of excessive body hair was one of the first purely aesthetic genetic modifications to come along, and by the time Jack was born it was well ingratiated into the base stock.
Those geneticists didn't know what was good. He climbed over Ianto and curled up behind him, slotting their hips together, burying his face in the crook of Ianto's neck. He breathed in deeply, delighting in the smell of manliness and musk.
"Tickles."
Jack's lips curved into a smile. "Sorry. I can't help myself. You're gorgeous."
"Hardly."
"Stop that." Jack murmured thickly into Ianto's shoulders. "You are."
Ianto's hips slide back and Jack kisses the back of his neck, nipping the skin gently. His cock slips forward in between Ianto's cheeks; Ianto groans, a soft sound that echoes in the dark and sends shivers up Jack's spine.
They rock together, tangling in the sheets. Jack's legs wrap around Ianto's hips and pull him close, closer still; his tongue chases a bead of sweat trickling down between the arched wings of his shoulder blades. Ianto shoves his hips back - impales himself on the precome-slicked head of Jack's cock - twin sharp gasps for breath cut through the dark.
"God." Ianto whispers. "Oh -- Jack --"
"Come on." Jack's hips take up their own unstoppable rhythm. He reaches around Ianto's hip and takes him in hand, gives him a rolling squeeze, just the way he likes it - firm, with a little twist at the top. Ianto shudders, rocks back on Jack's cock and forward into his hand with a blissful, jerky motion - trying to be in both places at once; Jack sinks his teeth into the curve of Ianto's shoulder, hips stuttering, and an escalating moan escapes from Ianto's lips as warm come spills between Jack's fingers and down the back of his hand. The spasms of pleasure squeeze every last drop out of Jack's cock, and they collapse together, spent, sweaty and sticky.
Jack pulls his hand away, sucks the salty wetness off of his fingers, breathes warm endearments into the shell of Ianto's ear. Ianto laughs softly and they lay together for a long moment.
Then Jack threads his fingers through Ianto's chest hair again and sighs happily. Ianto chuckles. They drift off to sleep, still holding each other.
author: phinnia
rating: nc-17 for sexy sexiness
pairing: jack/ianto
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel i, a thing of shreds and patches. i own nothing.
author's note: titles are not my friends lately. but the fic's pretty good despite it, if i do say so myself. :)
He runs his fingers through the hair on Ianto's chest, stretching forward and following the path forged by his fingers with his tongue; tracing over and around the pebbled surface of first one nipple and then the other, then along the folded-closed wings of his collarbone, up one side of the neck to the acute angle between the neck and chin.
Jack has an inordinate fascination with body hair. He has dozens of kinks, but this was one of the earliest to bloom - in his time it was a rarity to see much more than an elegantly sculpted bush and maybe a tuft under each arm. The removal of excessive body hair was one of the first purely aesthetic genetic modifications to come along, and by the time Jack was born it was well ingratiated into the base stock.
Those geneticists didn't know what was good. He climbed over Ianto and curled up behind him, slotting their hips together, burying his face in the crook of Ianto's neck. He breathed in deeply, delighting in the smell of manliness and musk.
"Tickles."
Jack's lips curved into a smile. "Sorry. I can't help myself. You're gorgeous."
"Hardly."
"Stop that." Jack murmured thickly into Ianto's shoulders. "You are."
Ianto's hips slide back and Jack kisses the back of his neck, nipping the skin gently. His cock slips forward in between Ianto's cheeks; Ianto groans, a soft sound that echoes in the dark and sends shivers up Jack's spine.
They rock together, tangling in the sheets. Jack's legs wrap around Ianto's hips and pull him close, closer still; his tongue chases a bead of sweat trickling down between the arched wings of his shoulder blades. Ianto shoves his hips back - impales himself on the precome-slicked head of Jack's cock - twin sharp gasps for breath cut through the dark.
"God." Ianto whispers. "Oh -- Jack --"
"Come on." Jack's hips take up their own unstoppable rhythm. He reaches around Ianto's hip and takes him in hand, gives him a rolling squeeze, just the way he likes it - firm, with a little twist at the top. Ianto shudders, rocks back on Jack's cock and forward into his hand with a blissful, jerky motion - trying to be in both places at once; Jack sinks his teeth into the curve of Ianto's shoulder, hips stuttering, and an escalating moan escapes from Ianto's lips as warm come spills between Jack's fingers and down the back of his hand. The spasms of pleasure squeeze every last drop out of Jack's cock, and they collapse together, spent, sweaty and sticky.
Jack pulls his hand away, sucks the salty wetness off of his fingers, breathes warm endearments into the shell of Ianto's ear. Ianto laughs softly and they lay together for a long moment.
Then Jack threads his fingers through Ianto's chest hair again and sighs happily. Ianto chuckles. They drift off to sleep, still holding each other.