Fic: Dirty Girl
Title: Dirty Girl
Rating: NC-17, FRAO, take your pick…
Word count: ~1460
Beta’d by:
et_muse
Timeline/spoilers: Set sometime in series 2, absolutely no spoilers for anything whatsoever.
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Jack/Ianto
Disclaimer: I make no money from this.
Warnings: Sex, with absolutely no redeeming values. Blowjobs, handjobs, explicit language, cross-dressing, and mild (very mild) hints of D/s.
Summary: He is mesmerising, so pretty and so eager to please.
Notes: I did it. I wrote smut. Porn with absolutely no redeeming value whatsoever. This never happens. Behold and rejoice, for it shall most likely never happen again…
He kneels before me, lips shiny with gloss, long eyelashes defined by mascara, skirt modestly arranged about his knees. There is a glimpse of stocking beneath; the heels have been discarded. He isn’t used to walking in them.
He is hard beneath the skirt, but my eyes are drawn to that pretty mouth, to the lips that are pressed together as if to hold back his pleas. I wonder if he will beg like the pretty little tart he looks like.
“What do you want?” I asked. I already have a pretty good idea; I unzip my flies, undo my belt, wriggle my hips a little to let my trousers fall to my knees, and his beautiful made-up eyes follow my movements eagerly.
“Please,” he gasps, words let out at last from behind those pretty lips, “please, I want, let me…” I push my briefs down and stroke my cock a few times; his mouth hangs open, eager to be used, and I know what he wants. Still, I will make him say it. He is doing so well, but I will make him work for it.
“What do you want?” I ask again, and lift my hand from my cock to run my fingers through his soft hair. He sways forward, mouth still open, and I smile. “My pretty little slut,” I murmur. “Such a little whore, all tarted up for me.”
“Please, I want your cock,” he manages, looking up at me, blue eyes framed so nicely by the mascara. He licks his lips, and I want to see those lips stretched wide around my cock as much as he wants to do it. “I want to suck you, I want to taste, I want you, please.”
The pleading ceases and I nod, using my hand on his head to guide him close. His mouth opens, beautifully obscene, and the first touch of his tongue to my flesh is bliss. He is so good at this, my little cock-sucking tart, and I tell him so as he takes more of me into his mouth, tell him what a slut he is even as I gasp at the flutter of his tongue against the underside of my cock.
“All dressed up like a pretty girl,” I murmur. “Such a pretty girl, such a dirty little whore.” He hums agreement, and the vibrations add an extra sensation to the warm, moist suction of his mouth. I lean back against the desk, staring down at him, at his mouth stretched around my cock. His lips glisten with the lip gloss, and I want to see his beautiful face covered in my come.
He watches me, my pretty girl, his cheeks hollowed as he sucks my cock as if that’s what he was made for. I push forward just a little to see what he will do. He does not disappoint, his mouth opening even more as he lets me use him. This is what he wanted, for me to use him as the slut he is. He wants me to fuck his mouth, and the wet heat of his mouth is enough to make me want nothing else.
My hands leave his head to grip the edge of the desk and I thrust my hips forward again so my cock almost hits the back of his throat. He doesn’t choke.
“That’s it,” I say. “Perfect little cock-sucker.” He moans again, and one of his hands lifts to clutch at the material bunched around my knees to hold himself still. His skirt is displaced now, the plain fabric not quite covering his cock, and he looks even more debauched like this.
I thrust forwards again and again, using his mouth the way he wants me to use it. He doesn’t suck now, or use his clever tongue, just sits there with his mouth stretched wide and his jaw slack. His lips are slick with saliva now, and I pull back to rub those pretty lips with the head of my cock, pre-come painting over the lip gloss, and then I slide back into his mouth.
It doesn’t take long, I’m too hard and his mouth is too warm and wet, and when I come I pull out of him again to let my semen splash across his face. His lips are covered, his cheeks are painted with my come, and he licks around his mouth to taste it.
“Whore,” I breathe, leaning back against the desk. He looks obscene, my pretty little cock-sucking slut. His hips are moving, his own erection craving attention beneath that prim skirt, but he keeps his hands on my knees. He is waiting for permission, but he’s going to have to beg for it.
“Tell me,” I order him, and I reach out a hand to trail through the mess on his cheek. “Tell me what you want.”
His beautiful mouth opens and words spill from his lips. “Please, let me come,” he begs, and his hands clench around the cloth at my knees. He rises up to bring himself closer to me, and I can smell him, all sex and come and sweat. “Please let me come,” he begs again, and I smile.
“How?” I ask him. “How do you want to come?” I clean my fingers on his hair, and he leans into my touch as if he has never been touched before. He looks filthy, sluttish, desperate for release and I love him like this. “Do you want me to fuck you?” I murmur. “Flip up your skirt and have you over the desk? Hm?” He is shaking, quivering with need but he will do nothing until I allow it. “Or shall I watch while you get yourself off?”
“Anything, anything,” he whispers, breathless with anticipation. “Please, just touch me.”
He is mesmerising, so pretty and so eager to please. I sit back on the desk and gesture for him to stand up, and then I turn him around, pull him flush against me so he is practically sitting in my lap. His head lolls back against my shoulder, and I reach around him to lift the skirt up around his waist.
“Please,” he murmurs, leaning against me. He is trembling, and I bend my head to kiss his neck, sucking and biting as he groans. The groan becomes a gasp as I touch his cock at last, stroking my fingers up and down from base to head. I grip him loosely and increase the friction, twisting my wrists as I reach the head of his cock on each upstroke.
He is moaning and writhing in my lap now, my come drying on his face and his breath hot against my neck. I want to see him come apart, want him to fall apart in my lap because I am touching him. I want him to come to pieces because I have dressed him up in women’s clothing and put make-up on his face and used him like a little slut.
I move faster now, and he moans my name over and over as he presses himself into my hand. He arches his back when he comes, semen coating my hand. I lift it to his mouth, slide my fingers past his lips and he eagerly licks my hand clean.
“Good girl,” I murmur, and with my clean hand I stroke his side gently. He is still shaking, but he is relaxing now, coming down from the high. “My good little slut,” I praise him, and he sighs happily, nuzzles against my neck, and lies boneless against me. I let him lie for a while, until our bodies have cooled and the sticky come on his face and body must be growing uncomfortable.
“Come on,” I say then. “Downstairs. Shower.”
He smiles and hums again, pushes himself off me and stretches. The skirt falls modestly about him now, hiding the evidence of his orgasm, and I have to smile. He looks perfect in a skirt; I’d keep him like this always if I could.
“Thank you,” he says softly, and he leans down to kiss me. He tastes of sweat and semen, but underneath there is his own peculiar taste, unlike anything else.
“Trust me,” I breathe against his mouth, “this was as good for me as it was for you, Jack.” I rise, pull my trousers up over my hips, and nod at the manhole behind the desk. “Share the shower?”
Jack’s grin is salacious, insatiable, and I know I will come again tonight.
“Love to,” he says, and I follow him down into his quarters. The shower will wash away his mascara, his lip gloss, and the whitish coating to his face. I don’t mind; this won’t be the last time this happens.
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