He jerked back to awareness. Jack had pulled over in front of Ianto's flat. Of course, he would know Ianto's address. He'd researched him thoroughly, after all.
"Penny for them," Jack said. "Thinking about me?"
And christ how did Harkness know Ianto was thinking about him? Hell, he probably assumed everyone was always thinking about him. Ianto wanted to punch the confident grin off Harkness' face. Wanted to kiss him senseless and finish what they'd started in the warehouse. Wanted to flee into his flat and touch what warm human skin was still left on Lisa's tortured body. He lunged forward, clumsy, shaky, and he missed Jack's mouth, just catching the edge of his jaw. Stubble under his lips, salt on his tongue. Jack stiffened, actually moved his hand towards that antique pistol of his, but then he relaxed and turned his face to Ianto, and Ianto sealed his mouth over Jack's.
It wasn't what he was expecting. He wasn't sure exactly what he had expected, but it wasn't this simple tumbling heat, this desire focused tightly down to the hot slide of Jack's lips against his, this want narrowing until he could feel nothing but Jack. Jack's tongue was sly and insinuating, hard to pin down, but Ianto captured it. He uttered a long moan when Jack let him suck hungrily on it, and was suddenly, dizzingly hard.
"I don't want you. I don't," he gasped into Jack's mouth, and then panic flared through him at what he'd let slip.
Jack broke the kiss, thumbed Ianto's jaw, cheekbones, lips. "You don't. Want. Me."
Jack's hand slid up Ianto's leg and brushed featherlight along his prick. Jack made a humming noise, smiling, and pressed hard with his hand, and Ianto's cock surged forward of its own accord.
"What do you want, then, Ianto Jones?" asked in a whisper, hot breath in his ear, Jack's hand opening his flies. Ianto meant to answer, he did, but then Jack was touching him, rough palm against his naked flesh, and it was so good, so real and full of the drag and heat of living cells against living cells, that the only thing to leave his mouth was a painful, desperate groan.
When Jack bent to take Ianto's cock into his mouth, Ianto was certain beyond all reasonable doubt that he was going to lose his mind. Nothing had ever felt this good, not Lisa, oh god not Lisa, not any one of a dozen casual encounters in backseats or at glory-holes or on someone's dingy futon. Jack was slow with it, agonizingly slow, the hot slickness of his tongue gliding along the rim of the head, pressing, lapping everywhere, the soft relentless pressure of his lips containing and encircling.
Jack slipped his hand down and gathered Ianto's balls and Ianto surged up, pushing his cock deeper into Jack's mouth. Jack's hand was squeezing gently, knuckles rubbing over and over against the sensitive place behind his balls, and all the while Jack's mouth was sucking, tugging, licking everywhere, Ianto helpless beneath his assault.
And then Jack was sucking hard on the head of Ianto's cock while his tongue did something unfathomable on the underside, and oh god no, it was happening, his chest was breaking open, all of his secrets were spilling out, spilling into Jack's open, grasping, avid mouth, and Ianto let them call out Jack's name as he came.
An eternity later, he lifted his head and opened his eyes to see Jack licking his lips clean of Ianto's come, his hands busily tucking Ianto's cock away behind the barriers of clothing and once-again-separate flesh.
"Don't want you," Ianto managed to gasp through the buzzing in his head. "I just want a job."
Jack leaned back and laughed out loud. Good, Ianto thought, keep him laughing. Always make them laugh. Leave them wanting more. And any other show biz cliches that applied here, he thought wryly, or maybe desperately. He had to get the hell out of this car, away from this sublimely dangerous man who was now his boss. He sat up, tugged his suit jacket straight, and opened the car door.
"Jack. Captain Harkness." Ianto hesitated, halfway out. "What should I call you?"
Jack looked at him steadily. "Maybe it would be best if you just called me 'sir'."
Ianto held Jack's eyes and nodded once, firmly. "First thing Monday morning, then, sir."
Re: Torchwood: Ianto/Jack, first time, SUV. Part II.
He jerked back to awareness. Jack had pulled over in front of Ianto's flat. Of course, he would know Ianto's address. He'd researched him thoroughly, after all.
"Penny for them," Jack said. "Thinking about me?"
And christ how did Harkness know Ianto was thinking about him? Hell, he probably assumed everyone was always thinking about him. Ianto wanted to punch the confident grin off Harkness' face. Wanted to kiss him senseless and finish what they'd started in the warehouse. Wanted to flee into his flat and touch what warm human skin was still left on Lisa's tortured body. He lunged forward, clumsy, shaky, and he missed Jack's mouth, just catching the edge of his jaw. Stubble under his lips, salt on his tongue. Jack stiffened, actually moved his hand towards that antique pistol of his, but then he relaxed and turned his face to Ianto, and Ianto sealed his mouth over Jack's.
It wasn't what he was expecting. He wasn't sure exactly what he had expected, but it wasn't this simple tumbling heat, this desire focused tightly down to the hot slide of Jack's lips against his, this want narrowing until he could feel nothing but Jack. Jack's tongue was sly and insinuating, hard to pin down, but Ianto captured it. He uttered a long moan when Jack let him suck hungrily on it, and was suddenly, dizzingly hard.
"I don't want you. I don't," he gasped into Jack's mouth, and then panic flared through him at what he'd let slip.
Jack broke the kiss, thumbed Ianto's jaw, cheekbones, lips. "You don't. Want. Me."
Jack's hand slid up Ianto's leg and brushed featherlight along his prick. Jack made a humming noise, smiling, and pressed hard with his hand, and Ianto's cock surged forward of its own accord.
"What do you want, then, Ianto Jones?" asked in a whisper, hot breath in his ear, Jack's hand opening his flies. Ianto meant to answer, he did, but then Jack was touching him, rough palm against his naked flesh, and it was so good, so real and full of the drag and heat of living cells against living cells, that the only thing to leave his mouth was a painful, desperate groan.
When Jack bent to take Ianto's cock into his mouth, Ianto was certain beyond all reasonable doubt that he was going to lose his mind. Nothing had ever felt this good, not Lisa, oh god not Lisa, not any one of a dozen casual encounters in backseats or at glory-holes or on someone's dingy futon. Jack was slow with it, agonizingly slow, the hot slickness of his tongue gliding along the rim of the head, pressing, lapping everywhere, the soft relentless pressure of his lips containing and encircling.
Jack slipped his hand down and gathered Ianto's balls and Ianto surged up, pushing his cock deeper into Jack's mouth. Jack's hand was squeezing gently, knuckles rubbing over and over against the sensitive place behind his balls, and all the while Jack's mouth was sucking, tugging, licking everywhere, Ianto helpless beneath his assault.
And then Jack was sucking hard on the head of Ianto's cock while his tongue did something unfathomable on the underside, and oh god no, it was happening, his chest was breaking open, all of his secrets were spilling out, spilling into Jack's open, grasping, avid mouth, and Ianto let them call out Jack's name as he came.
An eternity later, he lifted his head and opened his eyes to see Jack licking his lips clean of Ianto's come, his hands busily tucking Ianto's cock away behind the barriers of clothing and once-again-separate flesh.
"Don't want you," Ianto managed to gasp through the buzzing in his head. "I just want a job."
Jack leaned back and laughed out loud. Good, Ianto thought, keep him laughing. Always make them laugh. Leave them wanting more. And any other show biz cliches that applied here, he thought wryly, or maybe desperately. He had to get the hell out of this car, away from this sublimely dangerous man who was now his boss. He sat up, tugged his suit jacket straight, and opened the car door.
"Jack. Captain Harkness." Ianto hesitated, halfway out. "What should I call you?"
Jack looked at him steadily. "Maybe it would be best if you just called me 'sir'."
Ianto held Jack's eyes and nodded once, firmly. "First thing Monday morning, then, sir."