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Jack/Ianto (Torchwood)
NC-17

I WROTE THIS FOR MAV. I make no claims as to the quality of it.



His eyes burned when he found himself admiring the shapely form of a woman. His heart thudded quicker in his chest when he woke at night after a heated dream. His palms grew damp and felt ill when he realised that the girl at the coffee shop was being more than just friendly.

But he let Jack fuck him, because it seemed like the only thing he could do that wouldn't be a betrayal to Lisa. When Jack cornered him, looked at him with those eyes that both celebrated life and at the same time mourned it, Ianto couldn't imagine anyone accusing him of being unfaithful. Jack was another catagory all together, unmarked by the rules that everyone else stuck to. And when Jack kissed him, Ianto could think of nothing - a few blissful, stolen seconds of pure nothing, as close to Heaven as Ianto thought he'd probably ever get.

So he wanted more, and he sought out more in the only way he knew how... silently, pleadingly. He lingered when the rest went home and swiped at tabletops that already shined brightly.

"Ianto," Jack said. Ianto stiffened at the hand on his shoulder, both in posture and in his trousers. God, he wanted so badly. Something, anything. "You don't have to do this."

"It's my job, sir." Ianto said, his fingers tightening around the cloth in his hand. "I believe I do."

"I don't mean the dusting." Jack said, and pried Ianto's grip loose. He tossed the rag onto the floor. "You just have to ask."

"I can't," Ianto gasped. Jack's hands moved down his arms, and guided him around. "I can't ask, sir. I can't."

"But if I just... did? You wouldn't stop me?" Jack asked.

Ianto shook his head and closed his eyes. A heartbeat later Jack's mouth was on his, and it was everything brilliant that he remembered.

Jack was smooth. Skilled, perhaps, was a better word for it. He led Ianto into his office and pressed him against a wall, his hands undoing Ianto's trousers and reaching inside. His fingers were slender and cool around Ianto's cock, feather-brushing up and down and around and around and around until Ianto was achingly hard. He started stroking then with his entire fist. Ianto's thighs trembled and one hand reached up to fist in Jack's hair, right at the back of his neck. His head tipped forward and his mouth rested against Jack's shoulder, muffling the soft sounds Ianto made.

"That's it," Jack said, his warm breath against Ianto's ear. "Come on."

Ianto's head came back and his grip tightened, his body thrusting forward into Jack's grip. His mouth fell open and he came hard, splattering onto Jack's shirt and then dripping down his fingers. Jack kept wanking him until the twitching subsided and then he let go.

Ianto reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, handing it to Jack. "I-" He panted softly, eyes shut and leaning his weight against the wall now. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't apoligise." Jack said. His voice was deep with lust, and when Ianto opened his eyes he saw the hard outline of Jack's cock pressing against his zip.

"Should I-"

"No," Jack said, stepped away as he wiped his hand off. "You're not ready for that. But," he grinned suddenly. "But I'll take a raincheck for when you are."
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