Shy anon is still shy...but more pornographic this time!
Wanking, voyeurism, and a dash of femmeslash to round it out. Absent!Jack Made Them Do It!
---
"Tosh," Gwen had said -- almost the first thing after Jack left, left for two months to work undercover with UNIT, and Ianto was already looking depressive -- "Can you do something for me? It's a little above-and-beyond, but..."
"I can try," Tosh had said, because whatever other issues Gwen had (legion), she was a good leader. "What did you need?"
"It's Ianto. I'm sure he'll be fine, he knows Jack's coming back, but..." Gwen looked worried. "You know he sometimes gets moody about it. And he'll never show it."
"Moody," Tosh said, remembering the time after Lisa, when she'd heard Ianto's internal misery even as he cheerfully asked if she wanted coffee. "Yeah."
"Can you just keep an eye on him for me? Make sure we don't lose track of him? Know where he is, that kind of thing."
"Oh!" Tosh had said, smiling. "That's no problem at all."
This was not what she had expected.
Granted, it had been her own bright idea to write a little macro into mainframe to notify her of Ianto's comings and goings, and to bring up a camera of the archives when he was down there filing. And so far he'd just been filing, so she'd keep one eye on him and put the rest of the attention on her work.
Then he'd finished work for the day, a week into Jack's absence, and leaned up against a filing cabinet, and --
"Oh, my god!" she said, before she thought about it.
"What?" Gwen asked.
Tosh spent a split-second wondering if she should tell Gwen, or if she should protect Ianto's privacy, but frankly...well, they all lived in each other's pockets anyway, and she sort of felt that in an odd way Gwen deserved to see.
"Come here," she said, lowering her voice and jerking her head at the computer screen. Gwen frowned and joined her at her desk. After a second, her eyes went gratifyingly wide.
"Oh my god!" Gwen agreed.
Ianto had one hand on the drawer of the filing cabinet and his forehead pressed against it, eyes closed, lips parted slightly. He might have been crying or in pain, except...
His suit coat was off, sleeves rolled up, and his trousers hung open, belt dangling down, a hint of white on the grainy CCTV to show where his briefs had been shoved low on his hips. His right hand was moving rhythmically, and Tosh found herself wishing his trousers were just a little lower. She could see the dark head of his cock, but not much more --
For shame, she thought, objectifying a colleague! And yet...
"He's fit under the suit, isn't he?" Gwen asked, eyes glued to the screen. Ianto sucked in a sharp gasp of air. "I see why Jack keeps him around."
"Gwen!"
"Not like that!" Gwen said. "Just...well, he's very pretty."
"And size does matter," Tosh murmured. Gwen giggled. Ianto, oblivious to his audience three floors above, bucked his hips sharply. Tosh made a soft little noise.
"Wish we had audio," Gwen said idly. Tosh glanced at her, and found her frowning. "But it's...sort of sad, isn't it?"
"He doesn't look sad," Tosh observed. Ianto looked anything but sad, with his long dark lashes against his cheeks and his mouth open wider now, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
"Having a wank down in the archives, I mean. He must miss Jack terribly, but he can't be very comfortable. Standing up and dressed and everything."
On the screen, Ianto ducked his head lower and his shoulders heaved.
"Maybe he needs a hand," Tosh said, meaning it as a joke. As if he'd heard her, Ianto bucked again.
"Would you? If you thought Jack wouldn't mind?" Gwen asked.
"Me? I don't think Jack would mind. But I don't know that Ianto'd be interested."
"He's twenty-five. Trust me, he's interested," Gwen said, and then made a horrified noise. "I don't mean like that, Tosh! I just mean -- I'm sure he'd find you very appealing."
Tosh bit her lip to keep from laughing. Sometimes, Gwen was unintentionally hilarious. Ianto was shifting now, still leaning against the file-cabinet but constantly moving, hips thrusting into his hand, fingers of his other hand flexing and uncurling against the metal.
Girl Talk 1/2 (Ianto!Wank, Gwen/Tosh, Gwen/Tosh/Ianto)
Wanking, voyeurism, and a dash of femmeslash to round it out. Absent!Jack Made Them Do It!
---
"Tosh," Gwen had said -- almost the first thing after Jack left, left for two months to work undercover with UNIT, and Ianto was already looking depressive -- "Can you do something for me? It's a little above-and-beyond, but..."
"I can try," Tosh had said, because whatever other issues Gwen had (legion), she was a good leader. "What did you need?"
"It's Ianto. I'm sure he'll be fine, he knows Jack's coming back, but..." Gwen looked worried. "You know he sometimes gets moody about it. And he'll never show it."
"Moody," Tosh said, remembering the time after Lisa, when she'd heard Ianto's internal misery even as he cheerfully asked if she wanted coffee. "Yeah."
"Can you just keep an eye on him for me? Make sure we don't lose track of him? Know where he is, that kind of thing."
"Oh!" Tosh had said, smiling. "That's no problem at all."
This was not what she had expected.
Granted, it had been her own bright idea to write a little macro into mainframe to notify her of Ianto's comings and goings, and to bring up a camera of the archives when he was down there filing. And so far he'd just been filing, so she'd keep one eye on him and put the rest of the attention on her work.
Then he'd finished work for the day, a week into Jack's absence, and leaned up against a filing cabinet, and --
"Oh, my god!" she said, before she thought about it.
"What?" Gwen asked.
Tosh spent a split-second wondering if she should tell Gwen, or if she should protect Ianto's privacy, but frankly...well, they all lived in each other's pockets anyway, and she sort of felt that in an odd way Gwen deserved to see.
"Come here," she said, lowering her voice and jerking her head at the computer screen. Gwen frowned and joined her at her desk. After a second, her eyes went gratifyingly wide.
"Oh my god!" Gwen agreed.
Ianto had one hand on the drawer of the filing cabinet and his forehead pressed against it, eyes closed, lips parted slightly. He might have been crying or in pain, except...
His suit coat was off, sleeves rolled up, and his trousers hung open, belt dangling down, a hint of white on the grainy CCTV to show where his briefs had been shoved low on his hips. His right hand was moving rhythmically, and Tosh found herself wishing his trousers were just a little lower. She could see the dark head of his cock, but not much more --
For shame, she thought, objectifying a colleague! And yet...
"He's fit under the suit, isn't he?" Gwen asked, eyes glued to the screen. Ianto sucked in a sharp gasp of air. "I see why Jack keeps him around."
"Gwen!"
"Not like that!" Gwen said. "Just...well, he's very pretty."
"And size does matter," Tosh murmured. Gwen giggled. Ianto, oblivious to his audience three floors above, bucked his hips sharply. Tosh made a soft little noise.
"Wish we had audio," Gwen said idly. Tosh glanced at her, and found her frowning. "But it's...sort of sad, isn't it?"
"He doesn't look sad," Tosh observed. Ianto looked anything but sad, with his long dark lashes against his cheeks and his mouth open wider now, tongue darting out to lick his lips.
"Having a wank down in the archives, I mean. He must miss Jack terribly, but he can't be very comfortable. Standing up and dressed and everything."
On the screen, Ianto ducked his head lower and his shoulders heaved.
"Maybe he needs a hand," Tosh said, meaning it as a joke. As if he'd heard her, Ianto bucked again.
"Would you? If you thought Jack wouldn't mind?" Gwen asked.
"Me? I don't think Jack would mind. But I don't know that Ianto'd be interested."
"He's twenty-five. Trust me, he's interested," Gwen said, and then made a horrified noise. "I don't mean like that, Tosh! I just mean -- I'm sure he'd find you very appealing."
Tosh bit her lip to keep from laughing. Sometimes, Gwen was unintentionally hilarious. Ianto was shifting now, still leaning against the file-cabinet but constantly moving, hips thrusting into his hand, fingers of his other hand flexing and uncurling against the metal.