Fic - Dream On...
Another Torchwood ficlet. Less angst, more... something or other;)
Title: Dream On
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Setting: Slightly pre-Cyberwoman
For smut_69 - prompt #67, Writer's choice - tongue
My Jack/Ianto Smut Table
Dream On… #1
"That's a good look for you." Jack laughs, moving in close to brush away the thick strands of cobwebs clinging to Ianto's hair. "A little… dirty. Mussed up. Close your eyes for a moment."
Soft warm breath on his face, gently blowing at the dust.
"A very good look. Only, maybe…" Jack cups Ianto's cheek in his palm, tilting his head slightly. "Maybe you could just lick your lips a little?"
"Do it for me, then." Ianto startles himself with his blurted response; doesn't dare open his eyes.
"Well alright!"
Warm moist tongue, slowly tracing across his lips; fingers tugging at his tie, undoing the top button of his shirt.
"Let me in, Ianto."
Jack's words vibrate against his mouth, make his nerve endings tingle. His lips part obediently, but he seems to have forgotten how to breathe.
"Good boy" Jack whispers, slipping inside. Tongue against teeth, exploring, feeling its way; fingers now digging into the cloth of Ianto's jacket, bruising their way through to his skin.
Ianto's arms hang uselessly at his side. He wants to touch him, but can't seem to move. But Jack's hands are moving, up to his throat, down to his groin. He tries to swallow, but the heel of Jack's thumb is making it difficult. And making him harder.
"Full of surprises tonight aren't we?" Jack approves, squeezing the bulge in Ianto's suit pants a little more insistently. His mouth fastens on Ianto's once more; hard, soft, wet. Teeth nibbling, tongue probing.
That couldn't be him whimpering, could it? Oh god, it must be! Jack'd never let him live it down!
But the hands are moving on, are resting lightly on his shoulders.
"No, don't stop!" he screams inside, mouth too full and busy to let the words escape.
"Hey, Ianto! Go home, get some decent sleep."
Ianto's head jerks up from the desk, hands desperately clutching at the arms of his chair like a shipwrecked man clinging to the flotsam. Mouth dry, tongue thick, hair tousled, face flushed. A disturbing sense of infidelity lingering even as the dream fades.
"That's a good look for you." Jack laughs. "You're kinda cute when you blush."
On to #2
Title: Dream On
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Setting: Slightly pre-Cyberwoman
For smut_69 - prompt #67, Writer's choice - tongue
My Jack/Ianto Smut Table
Dream On… #1
"That's a good look for you." Jack laughs, moving in close to brush away the thick strands of cobwebs clinging to Ianto's hair. "A little… dirty. Mussed up. Close your eyes for a moment."
Soft warm breath on his face, gently blowing at the dust.
"A very good look. Only, maybe…" Jack cups Ianto's cheek in his palm, tilting his head slightly. "Maybe you could just lick your lips a little?"
"Do it for me, then." Ianto startles himself with his blurted response; doesn't dare open his eyes.
"Well alright!"
Warm moist tongue, slowly tracing across his lips; fingers tugging at his tie, undoing the top button of his shirt.
"Let me in, Ianto."
Jack's words vibrate against his mouth, make his nerve endings tingle. His lips part obediently, but he seems to have forgotten how to breathe.
"Good boy" Jack whispers, slipping inside. Tongue against teeth, exploring, feeling its way; fingers now digging into the cloth of Ianto's jacket, bruising their way through to his skin.
Ianto's arms hang uselessly at his side. He wants to touch him, but can't seem to move. But Jack's hands are moving, up to his throat, down to his groin. He tries to swallow, but the heel of Jack's thumb is making it difficult. And making him harder.
"Full of surprises tonight aren't we?" Jack approves, squeezing the bulge in Ianto's suit pants a little more insistently. His mouth fastens on Ianto's once more; hard, soft, wet. Teeth nibbling, tongue probing.
That couldn't be him whimpering, could it? Oh god, it must be! Jack'd never let him live it down!
But the hands are moving on, are resting lightly on his shoulders.
"No, don't stop!" he screams inside, mouth too full and busy to let the words escape.
"Hey, Ianto! Go home, get some decent sleep."
Ianto's head jerks up from the desk, hands desperately clutching at the arms of his chair like a shipwrecked man clinging to the flotsam. Mouth dry, tongue thick, hair tousled, face flushed. A disturbing sense of infidelity lingering even as the dream fades.
"That's a good look for you." Jack laughs. "You're kinda cute when you blush."
On to #2