For doctor_weevil

[stopwatchlover]

Continued from here.

Archive.  Right.  He can do the Archive.  The trouble is actually getting there.  It's difficult with his hands and his mouth occupied.  They almost die twice before Ianto shoves his hand against the wall to open the door.

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[doctor_weevil]

Owen. Just. Laughs. D'awww at the lad with no hand-eye coordination. He's just not going to quit tormenting him. The ache in his jeans and Ianto's bloody pink lips aren't a spur-on, no way, never.

[stopwatchlover]

Yes, very pick lips. That are not at all distracting. Why would they be? Ianto tugs Owen through the door, letting the heavy thing slide back into place itself.

Good, yes. All set. Now just to clear off this table...

[doctor_weevil]

Owen sweeps off the items on the table with a cackle and a grin, leaving them where they fall. This is what you're probably going to have sex with, Ianto. "Too anal-organised to live," he mutters. "C'mon!"

He lets go of the other man with one hand, cheekbones sharp under the bare bulb, tugging at his fly-buttons.

[stopwatchlover]

"There's nothing wrong with organization," he hisses, tugging his shirt out of his pants to help Owen and undoing his tie. CAREFULLY.