Water Is Taught By Thirst (1/2)
Title: Water Is Taught By Thirst
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If I owned Jack and Ianto, they'd be naked a lot more.
Summary: Meetings are boring...
Author's Note: My first attempt at a 'Sexually Frustrated Saturday' posting. Conclusion coming tomorrow for Smut Sunday. Title is from an Emily Dickenson poem.
‘God, this is boring,’ was the only thought running through Captain Jack Harkness's mind as he doodled on his notepad. Glancing to his side he noted that Ianto was doing a slightly better job of appearing interested in the proceedings but Jack recognised the subtle signs; Ianto was just as bored as he was.
The meeting had been a good idea, in theory - gathering all of the alien-related organisations across the globe to ensure future co-operation and agree on emergency protocols only seemed sensible after the latest Dalek attacks - but all of the truly important decisions had been made and the details ironed out what felt like hours ago, and the UNIT commander was still talking. Jack was beginning to envy Gwen, who had decided not to attend, spending the weekend at home with Rhys and minding the Hub instead.
A long exhale drew his attention back to Ianto. His tongue was peeking out of his lips as he concentrated on appearing attentive, and the sight sent a jolt of lust and affection straight through Jack. An idea started to form in the back of his mind, and he had to hide his smile as it developed. Surreptitiously gazing at Ianto out of the corner of his eye, he wrapped his foot around the younger man’s ankle, slowly stroking his lower leg with his own. He was rewarded with a sharp inhale from Ianto, his eyes briefly flying to Jack’s as he steeled his expression back into calm indifference. Moments later, Jack’s arousal skyrocketed as he felt Ianto’s foot twine with his, stroking back. Someone else was speaking, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to listen as he enjoyed the surprisingly powerful sensations of Ianto’s clothed calf against his own.
Before he met Jack Harkness, Ianto would have been horrified at the very idea of playing footsie in an official meeting. A couple of years - and several outrageous situations - later, he found himself enjoying it. Smirking internally, he stealthily dropped his left hand from the table, still scribbling studiously with the other. Inclining his head slightly, he could watch Jack’s reaction as he covertly smoothed his palm across his lover’s thigh. Jack’s breath hitched, and Ianto knew he was becoming pretty turned on himself. He was relieved that the meeting seemed to be wrapping up when Jack oh-so-casually dropped his pen, sweeping a warm hand up the bottom of Ianto’s trouser leg as he retrieved it.
Both men were brimming with impatience as final remarks were made and handshakes were exchanged between the attendees.
Ianto and Jack entered the hotel lift barely five minutes later, but the sexual frustration rushing through their veins made it feel significantly longer.
“I thought that would never end,” Jack murmured in Ianto’s ear as he stood pressed against the Welshman’s back.
“Me too,” Ianto replied, twisting his head to meet Jack’s eyes, the arousal evident in them matching his own. “But it’s over now, there’s a big bed in that room upstairs, and we have the rest of the evening all to ourselves.”
Continues with smut this way...
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: If I owned Jack and Ianto, they'd be naked a lot more.
Summary: Meetings are boring...
Author's Note: My first attempt at a 'Sexually Frustrated Saturday' posting. Conclusion coming tomorrow for Smut Sunday. Title is from an Emily Dickenson poem.
‘God, this is boring,’ was the only thought running through Captain Jack Harkness's mind as he doodled on his notepad. Glancing to his side he noted that Ianto was doing a slightly better job of appearing interested in the proceedings but Jack recognised the subtle signs; Ianto was just as bored as he was.
The meeting had been a good idea, in theory - gathering all of the alien-related organisations across the globe to ensure future co-operation and agree on emergency protocols only seemed sensible after the latest Dalek attacks - but all of the truly important decisions had been made and the details ironed out what felt like hours ago, and the UNIT commander was still talking. Jack was beginning to envy Gwen, who had decided not to attend, spending the weekend at home with Rhys and minding the Hub instead.
A long exhale drew his attention back to Ianto. His tongue was peeking out of his lips as he concentrated on appearing attentive, and the sight sent a jolt of lust and affection straight through Jack. An idea started to form in the back of his mind, and he had to hide his smile as it developed. Surreptitiously gazing at Ianto out of the corner of his eye, he wrapped his foot around the younger man’s ankle, slowly stroking his lower leg with his own. He was rewarded with a sharp inhale from Ianto, his eyes briefly flying to Jack’s as he steeled his expression back into calm indifference. Moments later, Jack’s arousal skyrocketed as he felt Ianto’s foot twine with his, stroking back. Someone else was speaking, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to listen as he enjoyed the surprisingly powerful sensations of Ianto’s clothed calf against his own.
Before he met Jack Harkness, Ianto would have been horrified at the very idea of playing footsie in an official meeting. A couple of years - and several outrageous situations - later, he found himself enjoying it. Smirking internally, he stealthily dropped his left hand from the table, still scribbling studiously with the other. Inclining his head slightly, he could watch Jack’s reaction as he covertly smoothed his palm across his lover’s thigh. Jack’s breath hitched, and Ianto knew he was becoming pretty turned on himself. He was relieved that the meeting seemed to be wrapping up when Jack oh-so-casually dropped his pen, sweeping a warm hand up the bottom of Ianto’s trouser leg as he retrieved it.
Both men were brimming with impatience as final remarks were made and handshakes were exchanged between the attendees.
Ianto and Jack entered the hotel lift barely five minutes later, but the sexual frustration rushing through their veins made it feel significantly longer.
“I thought that would never end,” Jack murmured in Ianto’s ear as he stood pressed against the Welshman’s back.
“Me too,” Ianto replied, twisting his head to meet Jack’s eyes, the arousal evident in them matching his own. “But it’s over now, there’s a big bed in that room upstairs, and we have the rest of the evening all to ourselves.”
Continues with smut this way...