Fic: Hidden Treasure (1/1)
Title: Hidden Treasure (1/1)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ten/Ianto
Word Count: 486
Summary: “Yes,” the Time Lord gasped against his navel; “That would seem to be the appropriate term.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: Written for fleta, who requested "Ianto/Ten (Doctor Who) smut" at my Request-A-Drabble Meme.
Hidden Treasure
“Fuck.”
The word fell heavy from parted lips, hard and sharp and strangled as it resonated through the thick film of arousal that had sucked the air clean from the room as he gasped against the last sensations, the wet suction between his thighs, milking what was left as he shuddered in the comedown, his throbbing erection now limp as the fight drained out of him and bliss, absolute bliss took its place. “Fuck.”
“Yes,” came the murmur from around the base of his shaft as the pull stopped and his cock fell from those talented lips, sliding along that attentive and absolutely sinful tongue as sloppy kisses pressed gently up towards his abdomen, leaving a wet trail to fall upon when the equally spent and sated Doctor slumped gratefully onto his stomach. “Yes,” the Time Lord gasped against his navel, licking his lips carefully, savoring the last taste of his lover there before it faded, before he slept, and wrapping his arms possessively around his middle for comfort, for balance. “That would seem to be the appropriate term.”
“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Ianto’s broad hands ran gentle circles through the Doctor’s sweat-drenched chestnut locks, his chest still heaving as he dipped his chin down to narrow his eyes on that sex-mussed hair, watching as the Doctor’s head moved rapidly up and down with his every breath.
“Well,” the Doctor sighed against his skin, the warm stream of his breath tingling against his sensitive flesh, teasing wickedly along the line of his cock and sending a shiver up his spine. Reflexively, the Doctor stroked soothingly along the definition of his ab muscles, drawing lazy patterns against the dark smattering of hair. “I... I hadn’t thought to try it, I suppose.”
Ianto choked out a laugh between slowly-subsiding gasps, wrapping long fingers along the side of his partner’s face and nudging him gently to meet his gaze from where he lay at his midsection. “You hadn’t thought?” he asked incredulously, his fingertips kneading into the soft flesh of his cheek as he grinned down at the face propped languidly across his torso. “Jesus,” Ianto whispered, torn between feeling amazed and half-distressed. “You’ve been holding out on me, love.”
“We could go again,” the Doctor suggested coyly, arching an eyebrow suggestively and propping himself on his palms so that he was steadied on either side of Ianto’s chest; “if it would even the playing field to your liking.”
He was met with a broad smile, bright with all the possibilities that awaited them both, shining with temptation and wanton desire. “I’ve no complaints.”
The Doctor was on top of him, pressed head to toe against his frame and whispering against his lips before he could blink, the taste of him hot and heady all over again: “Brilliant.”
Honest to fuck, he’d never been quite so thankful for that respiratory bypass system before.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ten/Ianto
Word Count: 486
Summary: “Yes,” the Time Lord gasped against his navel; “That would seem to be the appropriate term.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: Written for fleta, who requested "Ianto/Ten (Doctor Who) smut" at my Request-A-Drabble Meme.
Hidden Treasure
“Fuck.”
The word fell heavy from parted lips, hard and sharp and strangled as it resonated through the thick film of arousal that had sucked the air clean from the room as he gasped against the last sensations, the wet suction between his thighs, milking what was left as he shuddered in the comedown, his throbbing erection now limp as the fight drained out of him and bliss, absolute bliss took its place. “Fuck.”
“Yes,” came the murmur from around the base of his shaft as the pull stopped and his cock fell from those talented lips, sliding along that attentive and absolutely sinful tongue as sloppy kisses pressed gently up towards his abdomen, leaving a wet trail to fall upon when the equally spent and sated Doctor slumped gratefully onto his stomach. “Yes,” the Time Lord gasped against his navel, licking his lips carefully, savoring the last taste of his lover there before it faded, before he slept, and wrapping his arms possessively around his middle for comfort, for balance. “That would seem to be the appropriate term.”
“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Ianto’s broad hands ran gentle circles through the Doctor’s sweat-drenched chestnut locks, his chest still heaving as he dipped his chin down to narrow his eyes on that sex-mussed hair, watching as the Doctor’s head moved rapidly up and down with his every breath.
“Well,” the Doctor sighed against his skin, the warm stream of his breath tingling against his sensitive flesh, teasing wickedly along the line of his cock and sending a shiver up his spine. Reflexively, the Doctor stroked soothingly along the definition of his ab muscles, drawing lazy patterns against the dark smattering of hair. “I... I hadn’t thought to try it, I suppose.”
Ianto choked out a laugh between slowly-subsiding gasps, wrapping long fingers along the side of his partner’s face and nudging him gently to meet his gaze from where he lay at his midsection. “You hadn’t thought?” he asked incredulously, his fingertips kneading into the soft flesh of his cheek as he grinned down at the face propped languidly across his torso. “Jesus,” Ianto whispered, torn between feeling amazed and half-distressed. “You’ve been holding out on me, love.”
“We could go again,” the Doctor suggested coyly, arching an eyebrow suggestively and propping himself on his palms so that he was steadied on either side of Ianto’s chest; “if it would even the playing field to your liking.”
He was met with a broad smile, bright with all the possibilities that awaited them both, shining with temptation and wanton desire. “I’ve no complaints.”
The Doctor was on top of him, pressed head to toe against his frame and whispering against his lips before he could blink, the taste of him hot and heady all over again: “Brilliant.”
Honest to fuck, he’d never been quite so thankful for that respiratory bypass system before.