Fic: Different Strokes (me and 51stcenturyfox!)
Title: Different Strokes
Fandom: Torchwood
Authors: xtricks and 51stcenturyfox
Pairing: Jack/Ianto (genderswitched)
Rating: NC-17
Length: 6,000 words
Summary: An alien "Party Favour" has been accidentally activated, which resulted in some members of the team, including Jack and Ianto, switching physical sex instantly. This vignette is PWP
Spoilers: None (S2 AU)
A/N: This story sprang from RP and the POVs do shift back and forth as a result.
Different Strokes
by xtricks and 51stcenturyfox, beta by neifile7
Ianto kept startling him. Well, everyone was, because new figures and voices and faces tickled Jack's warning sense of strangers in the Hub -- everyone even smelled different. Even he smelled different; Jack kept imagining he'd had sex with a woman recently and hadn't showered.
Ianto. Walking temptation. Jack wanted to know how Ianto felt, tasted, how to undo him wearing this flesh (both of them) instead of what they were used to. Jack wanted to take his own new nerve endings and sensitivities out for a joyride and -- in another time -- he might have hit up the bars. It would have been easy. As easy as he was.
But he wanted Ianto. Not a friendly stranger.
It had never really been Ianto's fine Welsh ass, or his accent or even his suits that had kept Jack's attentions. He still had a fine ass and that Valleys accent and suits were easy to come by, and it was still Ianto that Jack wanted.
With everything on hold until Tosh could take a look at things in the light of day tomorrow, Ianto called his brain cells to an executive meeting and ordered them to take a break. It was late.
He sat next to Jack and gently liberated the glass from his hand. "D'you mind?" He asked, and without waiting for an answer, downed the remaining finger of whiskey. "That's definitely a perfect warmer." He hefted the glass and then leaned forward and placed it on the table, where it registered a faint but decisive clink as it nudged the bottle.
Ianto felt a bit unmannerly -- as if taking liberties with a stranger. This is still Jack, he reminded himself. He turned sideways. "So..." And he'd meant to quiz Jack about the history of the tech that had done this, the Party Favour, but he saw Jack's expression -- with lips slightly parted, he looked hungry. And pretty. No. Sexy. He was both foreign and familiar and Jack and... he was really goddamned pretty.
Ianto realised he was thinking too much.
Watching Ianto steal his glass and drink -- the tip of his head and the smooth slide of his throat -- turned Jack's desire from idle anticipation to insistent now.
"Y'know," Jack reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair back behind Ianto's ear, thumb tracing the new line of his cheekbone, palm warm against the smoothness of Ianto's skin. Normally, this late, Ianto's face was rough with stubble and Jack wondered -- if they couldn't solve this problem -- if he'd come to miss that. "We have this remarkable chance to seduce each other all over again."
This close, he couldn't help but lean a little closer, attention drifting to the curve of Ianto's mouth, the line of his collarbone, the shape of his hands before returning to Ianto's face. Jack's expression translated to his new face easily enough: invitation and desire.
Ianto closed his eyes and leaned into Jack's touch. It was delicate. Different.
He fought a smile by biting his lip, and failed utterly. "Now that... feels nice," he said. And it did. He slicked his hands down the cotton scrubs on his thighs to his knees and leaned in for a quick kiss.
It was nice to know that despite things -- everything -- going mad, he still held Jack's interest.
Ianto pulled back slightly at the echoing sounds of activity from the breakroom; someone was making cappuccino and the frothing arm was churning, the blast shockingly loud.
"Want to go somewhere a little less... public?" he whispered. His quick, sidelong glance was probably more coy than he knew, now, and sweet enough that Jack had to lean forward to press his lips to Ianto's temple, breathing in the smell of his skin. His other hand wandered, certainly not by accident, to Ianto's leg, stroking his knuckles before tipping inward to press fingertips against his knee -- a small touch.
"Hey," Jack murmured in protest, chasing Ianto's too-swift kiss. Ianto's smile, his eagerness, were more than enough yes and Jack slid a hand to cup the nape of his neck, fingers catching briefly on his hair, and frowning in disappointment when Ianto leaned back.
"I want to go wherever you are," Jack leaned to whisper in Ianto's ear, breath and lips warm against his skin. "Because you're lovely in those utilitarian scrubs, but I think you'll be better without them."
"But if you're feeling shy," Jack leaned back and flashed Ianto a grin, because there were times when Ianto was anything but shy, often in alleys, "I know just the place. Cosy. Has a sort of homespun charm and, most importantly, a bed."
Jack blinked, then laughed; he had a low and sultry laugh now, to match the velvet voice. "I bet my bed will seem roomy now, since we've both lost a little size."
"'Homespun charm', now that's a generous description, Jack," Ianto said. He twined his fingers with Jack's and squeezed, and he finally twigged why he was so turned on. It wasn't (just) that it was Jack, or Jack as a gorgeous woman, but the subtle predation behind the façade. Absolutely typical for Jack, it was... unusual coming from the female of the species: Ianto was used to women letting him steer a bit. Of course girlfriends had initiated sex often enough, but there had always seemed to be some sort of unspoken pretence that it was really Ianto's idea. He'd think about what that meant. Later.
What it boiled down to now was that Ianto was used to Jack's pursuit, but not this Jack's pursuit. And he liked it. And if Jack wanted to chase, then fine.
"Sounds like a plan, testing that bed space theory," Ianto said. He suddenly stood and began to move towards Jack's quarters. "I thought I was tired out, but now I'm not." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "Coming?"
"I think we can find ways to keep you alert and entertained," Jack straightened up eagerly, snatching the whisky bottle before following Ianto up to his office and passage to his bunker. He slowed down enough to watch Ianto take the stairs ahead of him, smiling at the stir of his own want as he watched Ianto move. "I'm right behind you," Jack teased. "Nice position to be in."
Jack immediately loved the high flush on Ianto's cheeks and his dark eyes. Jack wanted to watch him tonight, to see everything. It was definitely going to be lights on for the evening.
"Oh, I want to take your clothes off," he said, voice a husky, unfamiliar contralto, already imagining the slide of fabric down Ianto's hips, and the shape of his calves against Jack's palms. "I really do, Ianto." The little fantasy drew a sharp-sweet ache up through his belly, a clench of heat and stirring damp that made Jack draw in a startled breath at the sheer newness of his own lust. When Ianto glanced at him, Jack gave him a smile that was surprised, fascinated and hungry all at once.
"This is going to be fantastic," Jack said.
Ianto paused at the steps leading to Jack's room and gestured at Jack to descend first, reaching out for the bottle of single malt so he could hand it down once his boss had reached the bottom rung.
He laughed to himself, and caught Jack's bemused expression on the way down. "Ladies first. Um... that was instinctive." He lowered a hand to pass the whisky over and slowly took the ladder himself.
Jack shook his head. "That's going to get you in trouble, one day." He tilted his head and watched Ianto climb down, smiling lazily. "But you'll get no complaints from me tonight."
"Yeah, well you're old," Ianto said with a smile, and amended his words as Jack opened his mouth to reply. "Old-fashioned. You know you love playing at that outdated chivalry shit." Once upon a time he'd have been cuffed for failing to open the door for his mum. Not that the present company in any way resembled Mrs Jones.
As Ianto descended, Jack caught sight of the dragging trousers and bit his lip to hide a smile; it was probably driving Ianto crazy. He reached out and wrapped his hand -- not as big as it used to be -- gently around Ianto's ankle, gathering the fabric against his wrist as he slid up his calf, stroking him as Ianto paused on the ladder, halfway down.
Ianto was slender now, and long-legged, and the scrubs were loose enough that Jack could stroke his thumb against the warm fold behind his knee. He leaned forward to kiss Ianto's hip. Ianto still smelled good and the feel of his skin against Jack's palm made him want to roll around naked with him all day.
"These don't suit you," he nuzzled along the waistband of the scrubs, trying to push the shirt aside to get at bare skin. Defeated, Jack bit Ianto's thigh lightly, then stepped back to let him the rest of the way down, trailing his hand back along Ianto's bared calf as he retreated.
"Could say the same for you," Ianto murmured. Feet finally on solid ground, he moved forward to slide his hands over the utilitarian cotton covering Jack's shoulders. He wondered if the changes they'd all gone through had affected erogenous zones as well, and stepped closer. He inhaled deeply at the faint tinge of body soap and the whisky on Jack's breath and his new scent underneath -- so different. Heady.
He skipped his fingertips lightly over the edge of Jack's top and around the nape of his neck, then pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just beneath Jack's left earlobe, felt a tremor at the touch and smiled. "Not exactly a fitting... frock," he whispered, then darted his tongue in a slick slide along the smooth shell of his ear.
His skin felt so much more alive and Jack arched with a shiver when Ianto stroked the nape of his neck, then licked his ear, a damp touch framed by the brush of warm lips and the tremble of his breathing against Jack's skin.
Lust didn't change; but the weight of his breasts, the tightening prick of his nipples and a sort of yearning, aching warmth between his legs -- these gave lust a new shape. It made him restless. Jack pressed close, breath catching ... breasts, hips, hands, his nose against the fall of dark hair, mouth pushing at the pulse in Ianto's throat. He wasn't getting hard. He was getting wet.
"Hey," Jack murmured, idly, "we get to go shopping." He edged his fingertips under Ianto's shirt to trace light patterns along his skin above the waistband of his scrubs.
Ianto inhaled as he felt the soft touch of exploring fingertips at his waist. "Yeah," he breathed. "For shoes, right? Now who's perpetuating a stereotype?" He leaned away for a moment, feeling Jack's other hand at the small of his back, and slid the heel of his palm upwards along the middle of Jack's chest, into the valley of his cleavage, and then smoothed one finger delicately over the swell of one breast and laughed softly, quirking a brow. "Or a tight angora jumper, maybe. Cold, are you?"
Ianto burned at the thought of peeling a soft sweater off of Jack's body, sliding his hand beneath a skirt -- a cool waterfall of silk -- and then along the sweep of a hot and trembling thigh to find lace knickers underneath... or nothing. God, yes.
He leaned in and captured Jack's lips as his hands worked the scrub top upward, then disengaged to pull it over Jack's head. With a quick glance up to see parted, damp lips and dilated pupils and it wasn't dark down here, he dipped his face to the invisible path his hand had traced, then teased at a nipple with breath first, then with a brush of lips, then tongue, then the barest, gentlest hint of teeth.
He felt Jack shake a bit and grasped his hips tighter. Raising his head, Ianto waited for Jack to open his eyes and turned his head slightly to indicate the bed, though his mouth seemed unable to form the word "bed" at the moment.
"I'm not cold," Jack complained, but lost the thread of what he was saying at the slide of Ianto's thumb across the rise of his breast. Jack's hips shivered forward, head tilting back to let Ianto slide his top off. Ianto's gaze drifted down and his own eyes followed. The breath he took, the flick of his tongue, told Jack what Ianto was thinking in the moment he bent his head and Jack arched for his touch.
Another quick breath, the stroke of his tongue, the draw of his mouth and Jack caught a cry in his throat at the press of teeth to the ache of his nipple, an ache that seemed directly connected to his cunt. Pleasure pulled at him, a drawing, internal hunger as Ianto looked back at him, eyes wide, mouth sweet, as the turn of his head bared the line of his throat and Ianto's hair brushed across Jack's skin.
Jack's grip slid along Ianto's shoulders down to his waist and he nodded, leaning in to catch Ianto's mouth in a brief, urgent, kiss. "Yeah," he breathed, "yeah. Let me- " Jack tugged and Ianto urged and Jack slid down, pressing his face to Ianto's belly as he sat on the bed. He mouthed one of Ianto's breasts through the cotton scrub and couldn't wait a moment longer.
"Let me undress you," he said huskily. "Let me see you, Ianto."
Ianto's mouth quirked, and he lied through his teeth: "Seen one set, you've seen them all..."
"No," Jack said, closing his eyes for a moment, leaning forward, listening to the beat of Ianto's heart. "Oh, no. It's never the same."
Pulse racing, he captured Jack's hands, stroked the delicate skin over his knuckles and met his gaze. Ianto felt need -- familiar yet so, so different -- bank low in his gut.
If there was anything Ianto loved, it was the first time with a partner. He wanted time... he wanted to stretch out with Jack, map the new country of this body, mark new flesh, savour every curve and hollow. Tosh would "fix" this, turn things right in the morning, or the morning after, Ianto felt sure. He didn't want to waste time, but he didn't want to waste this first time with a fast tumble, either.
"We have all night," he whispered. "Don't we have-" As Jack's mouth opened, to protest, Ianto was sure, he leaned forward again with a smile, freeing Jack's hands. "Go on, then."
Jack slid his hands under Ianto's shirt, fingers splayed, palms warm against hot skin. The undercurve of his breasts were very warm, the skin soft and tender and Jack stroked his thumbs against them, trailing up to brush over tight nipples before moving on to pull his shirt off in a rush of static and dark flyaway hair.
"Ahhh." Jack's smile was pleased, almost dreamy as he brushed his fingertips along the curve of Ianto's left breast. "Same freckle." He kissed the familiar mark on new skin before letting his tongue wander further. He smoothed his hands along Ianto's waist, measuring his pleasure and his nervousness, taking the time to let them both get used to the difference of it all.
The curve of Ianto's waist needed a lighter touch to make him sigh and shift closer, but he still loved the stroke of Jack's tongue along his collarbone and the bite of teeth at his pulse. Jack slid his hands into Ianto's scrub bottoms, groaning at the smooth feel of his arse in his hands, and the press of his breasts to his own as they leaned into each other.
It was easy to lay Ianto down, tug the trousers free and lean above him, palm stroking steadily on his belly as he took in the sight of him now. His skin was warm under Jack's touch and that same flush that always betrayed Ianto's desire left him pink from nose to nipple. Jack grinned, bent, and kissed one. Ianto's breath hitched.
"Those scrubs weren't exactly to your advantage," Jack said, then pressed his tongue against the tight rise of Ianto's nipple before going on. "This is much better. In fact," he shifted his attention to the warm space between Ianto's breasts, murmuring open mouthed against his skin. "I'm feeling a bit overdressed myself."
Jack wiggled his way out of his trousers as well, stretching out with an inviting grin.
Fresh out of wisecracks, Ianto struggled to control his breath as Jack's hands slipped and roved, stilling finally to wrap around his back. But they weren't Jack's hands; warm, strong, yes... but slimmer, with finer bones and fingertips and delicate wrists.
Stripped to nothing and stretched out on the bed, the customary moment of chill after disrobing in Jack's quarters quickly disappeared as Jack nuzzled his skin softly.
Ianto twisted to face him and reveled in the first shock of flesh to flesh. He ran his hand slowly along the curve of Jack's thigh, then over his hip, and pulled him closer before lowering his face to the crook of his neck and nipping gently.
"God, you taste good," Ianto murmured.
He stroked the nape of Jack's neck and looked into his eyes before closing his own and pulling him in for a languorous kiss. He felt a fresh wave of need, and twisted to slip one leg between both of Jack's. Deepening the kiss, he followed it with his fingers, dancing them along the soft skin of Jack's inner thigh upward -- oh god, so warm, and wet -- and was rewarded with a soft gasp.
"And you feel great," he whispered, before catching Jack's mouth with his again.
"Ah." Jack was startled into wordlessness for once. He'd had a lot of sex, and all sorts of ways but -- honestly -- he'd pretty much always been himself. He knew the patterns of his own desires but this was... this was so much the same and so utterly different at the same time. He pushed up against Ianto's touch -- "Fuck, fuck -- Ianto -" the anticipatory flutter of his own cunt, the wet eagerness slick against Ianto's fingers and his own thighs had Jack as eager as a teenager.
He rolled up against Ianto, kissing him breathlessly, hiking his knee along Ianto's thigh to open himself up and groaned low in his throat. Even the chill of the air on his skin was a turn-on. The heat of Ianto's thigh against his own felt so good and he caught his breath in little noises at the patient nip of Ianto's teeth on his skin. He stroked his fingers through Ianto's hair and down to the slim nape of his neck, fingers sliding along the dip of his spine to tease along the top of his arse. And he pressed himself, his cunt, against Ianto's fingers, rocking gently, laughing in pleasure when Ianto shivered, body arching sharply to him. He spread a palm gently against Ianto's back, urging him closer, until their breasts played softly against each other, tight nipples brushing against soft skin.
This close, the smell of Ianto's skin was ... familiar and strange and even the tips of his ears were flushed pink. Jack lipped one, tonguing the curve then closing his teeth on the lobe. "You blush so prettily like this," he breathed, licking again. "Makes me want to spread you out and lick you open and watch you come for me." Jack's voice shook, some of his usual assurance lost to the strangeness of it all and the way the touch of Ianto's hand made his breath catch.
Sensory overload, Ianto thought, blinking in the familiar surroundings of Jack's quarters, the same old bed, as Ianto felt the sweep of Jack's hands along the length of his back, pulling him nearer. Ianto smiled into the side of his neck, maneouved his wrist and curled his fingers just so.
"You. First," he said softly, his voice a low hum against skin as Jack's hips bucked against the curve of his. Ianto stilled the movement of his fingers, slid them up along Jack's folds and the petal-like tissue above and down again, before he pulled his hand away to a whimper of protest. He gripped Jack's hips in both hands, pushed him upward on the bed.
Ianto's dark-eyed hunger as he pressed Jack insistently up the bed kindled a sharp, aching pang and Jack scrambled to obey. The camp bed wasn't any less awkward now than it had been yesterday, but Jack had been fucking in it for decades and was used to it. He lay back, spreading his knees unhesitatingly under Ianto's attention. The touch of cool air between his legs dragged a sharp shudder through him. Jack arched up, thighs wide, head back for a moment -- loving the strange new feel of his own body.
"Wow," he murmured, a shiver turning to a sensuous roll of his hips as he slid a hand down his own belly. "Even spreading my legs feels good."
He tucked his fingers against his own new cunt, eyes wide, breath catching at the pleasure. He stroked in, sensation curling through him, deep in his belly, at his nipples -- they ached so pleasurably -- at the bud of his clit which felt nothing at all like a cock. He was slick and hot and he knew that feeling but not like this, not from the inside and it dragged a sound out of him, half moan, half cry.
"Put your fingers here," Jack panted, Ianto was above him, gorgeous, and Jack could smell the lust in him, it made his mouth water. His eyes were the exact same shade of blue they'd been yesterday, in a different face. "Ianto, gods, put your hands on me."
"Can't keep my hands off you," Ianto breathed. "You're just so," he paused, "bossy."
He wanted to smirk but his face wouldn't move the way he wanted it to at the moment, wouldn't do coy, or sly or anything other than... feral, probably.
"Let's make it last; probably never have this opportunity again, will we?" he asked, half-serious but half-not, as he walked his fingers along the inside of Jack's thigh, watched a muscle in his leg twitch tellingly and the intake of breath before Jack moaned, frustrated, and flexed his hips, pushing closer. "You're going to buck me onto the floor and then where will you be?"
Jack's eyes were still boring into his as he paused before finishing. "On the bed."
Ianto gripped Jack's hips, dropped his head and let his hair fall forward, concentrated on the indent of Jack's navel, inhaled the familiar scent of their same-brand shower soap tinged with the very new and complex bouquet of arousal, and licked experimentally. He felt a satisfying tremor and an even more satisfying gasp when he kissed his way down to the apex of Jack's thighs and nuzzled and nipped before grazing the soft skin with his knuckles and slipping his fingers into the hotslicktightwet, "Oh god, Jack," moving them faster as he worked his tongue along his folds and finally closed his lips over Jack's clit.
This time, Jack didn't buck... his head fell back and Ianto felt long fingers wind into his hair, then clutch and pull. This, he was used to, and he didn't mind at all.
"The floor's okay too," Jack mumbled, staring up at the familiar uneven tiles as Ianto breathed his way down Jack's body. "Oh."
The stroke of Ianto's fingers in was good, so good - a stretch and a touch and the sliding awareness of his own body - Jack drew his knees up instinctively, toes curling against the rumpled sheets as the tickle of Ianto's hair along his belly drew a long shudder from him.
Ianto's mouth then, his tongue warm where Jack was aching in anticipation as Ianto nosed closer to lip at his clit, head bent between his legs. Jack twitched, thighs shivering; it wasn't like before, the feel of Ianto's mouth was almost too much for a moment - pleasure like a sudden shock. The following stroke of his tongue left Jack pliant, breathless as he curled his hands in Ianto's hair, tugging because everything Ianto did made Jack greedy for more. That wasn't any different.
Heat rolled under his skin, gathering with a maddening slowness that made Jack's breasts ache, his clit, and a tension inside that he was desperate to have touched somehow. The flick of a quick tongue, the pull of Ianto's mouth made Jack's hips twitch up helplessly. Movement tilted his pleasure in all sorts of ways and Jack did it again, a slow roll of his hips. The push of Ianto's fingers went deeper.
"Ah, there - yes," Jack managed, panting. It was hard to speak, hard to focus and Ianto, blissfully, thankfully, wouldn't stop. Jack swept a hand up to pinch one of his nipples, a sharp little spark of sensation amid the warm insistence of everything else.
It felt like forever as Ianto played him, mouth and hands and the nip of teeth on the newly tender skin of his thighs and Jack couldn't catch his breath, couldn't be quiet - didn't care to try. He stirred restlessly, held right at the maddening edge in a way that just didn’t happen when you had a cock. Jack's thighs trembled against Ianto's shoulders, hot and sweat-damp.
It was one of Ianto's things when all was as normal as things ever were at Torchwood -- taking Jack to the edge of orgasm and slowly, so slowly, easing back, watching his fists curl and tighten and his breath skip...
But he wasn't really trying to do that tonight.
Ianto raised his head and surveyed the sharp yet delicate line of Jack's jaw as his neck arched backward, and for a moment, just one, intensely wished he had a cock, still, that he could clamber over Jack's limbs and just fuck him into the floor right now, feel the silken hot clutch of him like that but-
He couldn't, and it didn't matter -- feeling the frantic pull of Jack's hands in his hair, the hot wet ache between his own thighs, he focused, hands busy and intent, lowered his face and felt Jack shudder, hard.
The press of Ianto's mouth, the hot stroke of his tongue, had Jack writhing on the bed, breath coming in short pants. He felt his climax gathering low in his belly, rising slow under his skin ... slow, slow, maddening, compelling and Jack stiffened, heels digging into the mattress, crying out when Ianto stroked two fingers deep into his cunt. The ache that wound through him broke free then, oh, finally, finally -- he came.
"Ianto … Ianto -" his voice went thin, ragged, lost in a surprised sounding cry as he tumbled into orgasm, cunt fluttering hard around Ianto's fingers, belly and thighs shuddering as he arched against the mattress and lost in it all for a long, breathless moment.
Jack sank down with a gasp, fingers curled gently in Ianto's hair. "Oh, oh -- " He panted weakly, still shivering in blissful aftermath. "Oh, fuck...."
He smoothed his fingertips over Ianto's scalp, smiling dreamily at the heavy breathing he could feel along his belly. He pressed his palm to Ianto's face, it was flushed hot, his mouth slippery. Jack felt swollen, overheated and messily wet between his legs. Irregular flutters of muscle low inside made him twitch, biting his lip at the strangeness. Everything felt strangely tender and exposed and he couldn't stop the way his thigh shook, or his breath still hitched.
"Ianto," he murmured throatily, smoothing a thumb along Ianto's soft mouth. "C'mere, beautiful."
Ianto grinned at Jack lazily before crawling up the length of his body slowly, pausing to slide his tongue into the delicate dip of Jack's navel and again to nip playfully at one tightened nipple. Jack was still shaking, and Ianto was immodestly gratified to find that lack of recent contact hadn't meant he was actually out of practice with women's bodies.
He guessed it was like riding a bike, which, well, was probably a piss-poor analogy, but a temporary lack of facility with clever similes could probably be excused under the circumstances. Watching Jack writhe under his attentions, he'd come close to orgasm himself. Still, every bit of his skin tingled as he pressed against Jack's body on the way up.
Jack was right; there was more room on the narrow camp bed with two considerably more compact bodies. Ianto shifted to curl around Jack, facing him, and took his face in both hands before leaning in to brush his lips against Jack's.
"So. Liked that, did you?" Ianto asked lightly. His hands tightened around Jack's trim waist before leaning in again and deepening the kiss.
Ianto's mouth was hot and different and there was the taste of Jack's own biochemistry -- except not at all. Still, it was good, drawing throaty little sounds out of him as they kissed. Jack felt languid and warm, all the tension sprung free, and he wanted to lie back and luxuriate. But Ianto was shivering against him, little impatient movements of hips and hands, catches in his breathing when Jack stroked a hand down the back of his thigh, and the quick leap of his pulse when Jack moved to kiss this throat.
"Hmm," Jack licked along the crest of Ianto's breast, "you couldn't tell from all the yelling and writhing around?" Ianto's nipples were a pretty tawny pink and Jack licked around one before biting gently, Ianto squirmed and Jack rolled him back, laughing against his skin. "Next time I'll yell louder."
Ianto was long and lovely and the scrubs had hid it well but his breasts were really something, Jack cupped them in his hands and sucked on his nipples, flicking them with his tongue then scooted down with a last kiss. Nudging between Ianto's knees, Jack leaned back for a moment to savor Ianto spread out on the camp bed before him. He looked understandably distracted, and brave, as he let Jack stroke his hands up the hot skin of his inner thighs and Jack was ambushed again by that frightening ache of affection.
After everything, all they'd done to each other, it seemed impossible that Ianto was here, still. Jack had to look away, hand shivering slightly on Ianto's skin, because there were times when the disbelief the Master had beaten into him crept back to poison moments he most wanted to savour. He bent to kiss Ianto's knee instead, smoothing a hand at the crease of his thigh, brushing into dark hair that clung wetly to his fingertips. "You have the most incredible legs," he murmured. He stroked again, along the flushed lips of Ianto's pretty cunt, it was easy to press deeper, open him gently, and feel the shiver of his thigh against his cheek.
Ianto reached above his head and looped his fingers back into the cool metal lip of the narrow bed's frame.
"Oh, fuck, that's-" he panted. "Jack..."
After Jack had edged his way downward, his weight and balance so different to before, mapping Ianto's temporary body again with mouth and hands, he'd sensed a shift in the air somehow, a pause, and saw Jack lift his head for a moment, turn his unseeing gaze at the far wall, thinking again, thinking so much, too much. Ianto wondered if (maybe) he was thinking about the last woman he'd been with and if it had ended badly, as things sometimes do, or if it was something else. Someone else, perhaps. Who knew? Sometimes Jack went a million miles away and a hundred years back.
Ianto nudged a toe along Jack's bared hip and flexed his own upward, smiled when he felt the ticklish brush of long hair along his skin when Jack glanced up again, then gave himself over to Jack's touch, shut his eyes and gasped. "There. I'm-"
Jack pressed his mouth open against the slight rise of Ianto's mons as Ianto muttered and panted above him, teeth nibbling gently before he shifted to work his tongue against the clit tucked away amid crisp hair and folds of warm flesh. The pungent heat, the lips of Ianto's sex as yielding as a mouth under him had Jack flushing hot again, kissing along slippery skin, open-mouthed and eager. He pushed his tongue where his fingers were, greedy, groaning at the deep taste as Ianto shuddered and arched. Jack wished he could watch him and do this at the same time.
Ianto trembled at the edge and Jack paused for a breath to look up at his face, delighted by the way giving Jack pleasure had turned him on, then leaned in for more explicit thanks. He nuzzled up to flick his tongue at Ianto's clit, chuckling briefly when Ianto's thighs clamped on his shoulders, then licking soothingly. He settled in, fingers stroking, mouth coaxing while sweat prickled along his hairline and Ianto grew breathless and noisy above him.
Jack could feel the flutter of approaching orgasm around his fingers, in the urgent way Ianto tilted his hip, in his own belly - a thread of memory and anticipation both. He pressed deeper, grazed his teeth delicately against the bud of Ianto's clit, licked insistently.
His breath coming faster, Ianto met Jack's eyes for a moment and it was partly that -- he loved to watch Jack, the way he always concentrated -- but also the sure slide-stroke-press-circle of lips and knowing fingers right there, there at that spot there, that compact bundle of nerves with stunning timing because of course Jack is Jack. Unsurprisingly expert at reading his responses, getting him off, no matter the difference in equipment.
Ianto felt his skin flush again, the not-unfamiliar internal rush to match a rising constriction fluttering beneath his flesh, but still novel, incomparable. And then all rational thought ceased and he loosed his grip on the bed, tangled his numbed fingers into Jack's hair and let go, shuddering hard as he let the wave crest.
Almost too much, and he groped for words stop, enough but Jack persisted and it didn't end, still didn't end; the wave came round again, shocking pleasure washed over him like white water and Ianto cried out.
He felt the tension leave his shoulders first and slumped backward, barely aware of the soft press of Jack's lips to his navel, then his ribcage, as they shifted and stretched out together again on the narrow bed.
Jack swiped a quick hand across his mouth as he slid up from between Ianto's legs, lingering for a moment at belly and chest, breathing in the smell of Ianto's skin, sucking a kiss just below his breast. He smelled great, he tasted great and Jack just wanted to lean into him and breathe. Ianto looked dark eyed and stunned. Jack grinned briefly at him, pleased, before settling down against his back.
Ianto liked to sleep after sex. Jack didn't mind the chance to nose in against his hair, to rest, to pretend he could sleep too. He closed his eyes and it was almost like sleeping; the beat of Ianto's heart against Jack's palm, his slowing breathing ... he cupped a hand against the weight of Ianto's breast and blew a strand of hair from his mouth. This wasn't who they were, not really, but they still fit together well enough.
END
Fandom: Torchwood
Authors: xtricks and 51stcenturyfox
Pairing: Jack/Ianto (genderswitched)
Rating: NC-17
Length: 6,000 words
Summary: An alien "Party Favour" has been accidentally activated, which resulted in some members of the team, including Jack and Ianto, switching physical sex instantly. This vignette is PWP
Spoilers: None (S2 AU)
A/N: This story sprang from RP and the POVs do shift back and forth as a result.
Different Strokes
by xtricks and 51stcenturyfox, beta by neifile7
Ianto kept startling him. Well, everyone was, because new figures and voices and faces tickled Jack's warning sense of strangers in the Hub -- everyone even smelled different. Even he smelled different; Jack kept imagining he'd had sex with a woman recently and hadn't showered.
Ianto. Walking temptation. Jack wanted to know how Ianto felt, tasted, how to undo him wearing this flesh (both of them) instead of what they were used to. Jack wanted to take his own new nerve endings and sensitivities out for a joyride and -- in another time -- he might have hit up the bars. It would have been easy. As easy as he was.
But he wanted Ianto. Not a friendly stranger.
It had never really been Ianto's fine Welsh ass, or his accent or even his suits that had kept Jack's attentions. He still had a fine ass and that Valleys accent and suits were easy to come by, and it was still Ianto that Jack wanted.
With everything on hold until Tosh could take a look at things in the light of day tomorrow, Ianto called his brain cells to an executive meeting and ordered them to take a break. It was late.
He sat next to Jack and gently liberated the glass from his hand. "D'you mind?" He asked, and without waiting for an answer, downed the remaining finger of whiskey. "That's definitely a perfect warmer." He hefted the glass and then leaned forward and placed it on the table, where it registered a faint but decisive clink as it nudged the bottle.
Ianto felt a bit unmannerly -- as if taking liberties with a stranger. This is still Jack, he reminded himself. He turned sideways. "So..." And he'd meant to quiz Jack about the history of the tech that had done this, the Party Favour, but he saw Jack's expression -- with lips slightly parted, he looked hungry. And pretty. No. Sexy. He was both foreign and familiar and Jack and... he was really goddamned pretty.
Ianto realised he was thinking too much.
Watching Ianto steal his glass and drink -- the tip of his head and the smooth slide of his throat -- turned Jack's desire from idle anticipation to insistent now.
"Y'know," Jack reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair back behind Ianto's ear, thumb tracing the new line of his cheekbone, palm warm against the smoothness of Ianto's skin. Normally, this late, Ianto's face was rough with stubble and Jack wondered -- if they couldn't solve this problem -- if he'd come to miss that. "We have this remarkable chance to seduce each other all over again."
This close, he couldn't help but lean a little closer, attention drifting to the curve of Ianto's mouth, the line of his collarbone, the shape of his hands before returning to Ianto's face. Jack's expression translated to his new face easily enough: invitation and desire.
Ianto closed his eyes and leaned into Jack's touch. It was delicate. Different.
He fought a smile by biting his lip, and failed utterly. "Now that... feels nice," he said. And it did. He slicked his hands down the cotton scrubs on his thighs to his knees and leaned in for a quick kiss.
It was nice to know that despite things -- everything -- going mad, he still held Jack's interest.
Ianto pulled back slightly at the echoing sounds of activity from the breakroom; someone was making cappuccino and the frothing arm was churning, the blast shockingly loud.
"Want to go somewhere a little less... public?" he whispered. His quick, sidelong glance was probably more coy than he knew, now, and sweet enough that Jack had to lean forward to press his lips to Ianto's temple, breathing in the smell of his skin. His other hand wandered, certainly not by accident, to Ianto's leg, stroking his knuckles before tipping inward to press fingertips against his knee -- a small touch.
"Hey," Jack murmured in protest, chasing Ianto's too-swift kiss. Ianto's smile, his eagerness, were more than enough yes and Jack slid a hand to cup the nape of his neck, fingers catching briefly on his hair, and frowning in disappointment when Ianto leaned back.
"I want to go wherever you are," Jack leaned to whisper in Ianto's ear, breath and lips warm against his skin. "Because you're lovely in those utilitarian scrubs, but I think you'll be better without them."
"But if you're feeling shy," Jack leaned back and flashed Ianto a grin, because there were times when Ianto was anything but shy, often in alleys, "I know just the place. Cosy. Has a sort of homespun charm and, most importantly, a bed."
Jack blinked, then laughed; he had a low and sultry laugh now, to match the velvet voice. "I bet my bed will seem roomy now, since we've both lost a little size."
"'Homespun charm', now that's a generous description, Jack," Ianto said. He twined his fingers with Jack's and squeezed, and he finally twigged why he was so turned on. It wasn't (just) that it was Jack, or Jack as a gorgeous woman, but the subtle predation behind the façade. Absolutely typical for Jack, it was... unusual coming from the female of the species: Ianto was used to women letting him steer a bit. Of course girlfriends had initiated sex often enough, but there had always seemed to be some sort of unspoken pretence that it was really Ianto's idea. He'd think about what that meant. Later.
What it boiled down to now was that Ianto was used to Jack's pursuit, but not this Jack's pursuit. And he liked it. And if Jack wanted to chase, then fine.
"Sounds like a plan, testing that bed space theory," Ianto said. He suddenly stood and began to move towards Jack's quarters. "I thought I was tired out, but now I'm not." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "Coming?"
"I think we can find ways to keep you alert and entertained," Jack straightened up eagerly, snatching the whisky bottle before following Ianto up to his office and passage to his bunker. He slowed down enough to watch Ianto take the stairs ahead of him, smiling at the stir of his own want as he watched Ianto move. "I'm right behind you," Jack teased. "Nice position to be in."
Jack immediately loved the high flush on Ianto's cheeks and his dark eyes. Jack wanted to watch him tonight, to see everything. It was definitely going to be lights on for the evening.
"Oh, I want to take your clothes off," he said, voice a husky, unfamiliar contralto, already imagining the slide of fabric down Ianto's hips, and the shape of his calves against Jack's palms. "I really do, Ianto." The little fantasy drew a sharp-sweet ache up through his belly, a clench of heat and stirring damp that made Jack draw in a startled breath at the sheer newness of his own lust. When Ianto glanced at him, Jack gave him a smile that was surprised, fascinated and hungry all at once.
"This is going to be fantastic," Jack said.
Ianto paused at the steps leading to Jack's room and gestured at Jack to descend first, reaching out for the bottle of single malt so he could hand it down once his boss had reached the bottom rung.
He laughed to himself, and caught Jack's bemused expression on the way down. "Ladies first. Um... that was instinctive." He lowered a hand to pass the whisky over and slowly took the ladder himself.
Jack shook his head. "That's going to get you in trouble, one day." He tilted his head and watched Ianto climb down, smiling lazily. "But you'll get no complaints from me tonight."
"Yeah, well you're old," Ianto said with a smile, and amended his words as Jack opened his mouth to reply. "Old-fashioned. You know you love playing at that outdated chivalry shit." Once upon a time he'd have been cuffed for failing to open the door for his mum. Not that the present company in any way resembled Mrs Jones.
As Ianto descended, Jack caught sight of the dragging trousers and bit his lip to hide a smile; it was probably driving Ianto crazy. He reached out and wrapped his hand -- not as big as it used to be -- gently around Ianto's ankle, gathering the fabric against his wrist as he slid up his calf, stroking him as Ianto paused on the ladder, halfway down.
Ianto was slender now, and long-legged, and the scrubs were loose enough that Jack could stroke his thumb against the warm fold behind his knee. He leaned forward to kiss Ianto's hip. Ianto still smelled good and the feel of his skin against Jack's palm made him want to roll around naked with him all day.
"These don't suit you," he nuzzled along the waistband of the scrubs, trying to push the shirt aside to get at bare skin. Defeated, Jack bit Ianto's thigh lightly, then stepped back to let him the rest of the way down, trailing his hand back along Ianto's bared calf as he retreated.
"Could say the same for you," Ianto murmured. Feet finally on solid ground, he moved forward to slide his hands over the utilitarian cotton covering Jack's shoulders. He wondered if the changes they'd all gone through had affected erogenous zones as well, and stepped closer. He inhaled deeply at the faint tinge of body soap and the whisky on Jack's breath and his new scent underneath -- so different. Heady.
He skipped his fingertips lightly over the edge of Jack's top and around the nape of his neck, then pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just beneath Jack's left earlobe, felt a tremor at the touch and smiled. "Not exactly a fitting... frock," he whispered, then darted his tongue in a slick slide along the smooth shell of his ear.
His skin felt so much more alive and Jack arched with a shiver when Ianto stroked the nape of his neck, then licked his ear, a damp touch framed by the brush of warm lips and the tremble of his breathing against Jack's skin.
Lust didn't change; but the weight of his breasts, the tightening prick of his nipples and a sort of yearning, aching warmth between his legs -- these gave lust a new shape. It made him restless. Jack pressed close, breath catching ... breasts, hips, hands, his nose against the fall of dark hair, mouth pushing at the pulse in Ianto's throat. He wasn't getting hard. He was getting wet.
"Hey," Jack murmured, idly, "we get to go shopping." He edged his fingertips under Ianto's shirt to trace light patterns along his skin above the waistband of his scrubs.
Ianto inhaled as he felt the soft touch of exploring fingertips at his waist. "Yeah," he breathed. "For shoes, right? Now who's perpetuating a stereotype?" He leaned away for a moment, feeling Jack's other hand at the small of his back, and slid the heel of his palm upwards along the middle of Jack's chest, into the valley of his cleavage, and then smoothed one finger delicately over the swell of one breast and laughed softly, quirking a brow. "Or a tight angora jumper, maybe. Cold, are you?"
Ianto burned at the thought of peeling a soft sweater off of Jack's body, sliding his hand beneath a skirt -- a cool waterfall of silk -- and then along the sweep of a hot and trembling thigh to find lace knickers underneath... or nothing. God, yes.
He leaned in and captured Jack's lips as his hands worked the scrub top upward, then disengaged to pull it over Jack's head. With a quick glance up to see parted, damp lips and dilated pupils and it wasn't dark down here, he dipped his face to the invisible path his hand had traced, then teased at a nipple with breath first, then with a brush of lips, then tongue, then the barest, gentlest hint of teeth.
He felt Jack shake a bit and grasped his hips tighter. Raising his head, Ianto waited for Jack to open his eyes and turned his head slightly to indicate the bed, though his mouth seemed unable to form the word "bed" at the moment.
"I'm not cold," Jack complained, but lost the thread of what he was saying at the slide of Ianto's thumb across the rise of his breast. Jack's hips shivered forward, head tilting back to let Ianto slide his top off. Ianto's gaze drifted down and his own eyes followed. The breath he took, the flick of his tongue, told Jack what Ianto was thinking in the moment he bent his head and Jack arched for his touch.
Another quick breath, the stroke of his tongue, the draw of his mouth and Jack caught a cry in his throat at the press of teeth to the ache of his nipple, an ache that seemed directly connected to his cunt. Pleasure pulled at him, a drawing, internal hunger as Ianto looked back at him, eyes wide, mouth sweet, as the turn of his head bared the line of his throat and Ianto's hair brushed across Jack's skin.
Jack's grip slid along Ianto's shoulders down to his waist and he nodded, leaning in to catch Ianto's mouth in a brief, urgent, kiss. "Yeah," he breathed, "yeah. Let me- " Jack tugged and Ianto urged and Jack slid down, pressing his face to Ianto's belly as he sat on the bed. He mouthed one of Ianto's breasts through the cotton scrub and couldn't wait a moment longer.
"Let me undress you," he said huskily. "Let me see you, Ianto."
Ianto's mouth quirked, and he lied through his teeth: "Seen one set, you've seen them all..."
"No," Jack said, closing his eyes for a moment, leaning forward, listening to the beat of Ianto's heart. "Oh, no. It's never the same."
Pulse racing, he captured Jack's hands, stroked the delicate skin over his knuckles and met his gaze. Ianto felt need -- familiar yet so, so different -- bank low in his gut.
If there was anything Ianto loved, it was the first time with a partner. He wanted time... he wanted to stretch out with Jack, map the new country of this body, mark new flesh, savour every curve and hollow. Tosh would "fix" this, turn things right in the morning, or the morning after, Ianto felt sure. He didn't want to waste time, but he didn't want to waste this first time with a fast tumble, either.
"We have all night," he whispered. "Don't we have-" As Jack's mouth opened, to protest, Ianto was sure, he leaned forward again with a smile, freeing Jack's hands. "Go on, then."
Jack slid his hands under Ianto's shirt, fingers splayed, palms warm against hot skin. The undercurve of his breasts were very warm, the skin soft and tender and Jack stroked his thumbs against them, trailing up to brush over tight nipples before moving on to pull his shirt off in a rush of static and dark flyaway hair.
"Ahhh." Jack's smile was pleased, almost dreamy as he brushed his fingertips along the curve of Ianto's left breast. "Same freckle." He kissed the familiar mark on new skin before letting his tongue wander further. He smoothed his hands along Ianto's waist, measuring his pleasure and his nervousness, taking the time to let them both get used to the difference of it all.
The curve of Ianto's waist needed a lighter touch to make him sigh and shift closer, but he still loved the stroke of Jack's tongue along his collarbone and the bite of teeth at his pulse. Jack slid his hands into Ianto's scrub bottoms, groaning at the smooth feel of his arse in his hands, and the press of his breasts to his own as they leaned into each other.
It was easy to lay Ianto down, tug the trousers free and lean above him, palm stroking steadily on his belly as he took in the sight of him now. His skin was warm under Jack's touch and that same flush that always betrayed Ianto's desire left him pink from nose to nipple. Jack grinned, bent, and kissed one. Ianto's breath hitched.
"Those scrubs weren't exactly to your advantage," Jack said, then pressed his tongue against the tight rise of Ianto's nipple before going on. "This is much better. In fact," he shifted his attention to the warm space between Ianto's breasts, murmuring open mouthed against his skin. "I'm feeling a bit overdressed myself."
Jack wiggled his way out of his trousers as well, stretching out with an inviting grin.
Fresh out of wisecracks, Ianto struggled to control his breath as Jack's hands slipped and roved, stilling finally to wrap around his back. But they weren't Jack's hands; warm, strong, yes... but slimmer, with finer bones and fingertips and delicate wrists.
Stripped to nothing and stretched out on the bed, the customary moment of chill after disrobing in Jack's quarters quickly disappeared as Jack nuzzled his skin softly.
Ianto twisted to face him and reveled in the first shock of flesh to flesh. He ran his hand slowly along the curve of Jack's thigh, then over his hip, and pulled him closer before lowering his face to the crook of his neck and nipping gently.
"God, you taste good," Ianto murmured.
He stroked the nape of Jack's neck and looked into his eyes before closing his own and pulling him in for a languorous kiss. He felt a fresh wave of need, and twisted to slip one leg between both of Jack's. Deepening the kiss, he followed it with his fingers, dancing them along the soft skin of Jack's inner thigh upward -- oh god, so warm, and wet -- and was rewarded with a soft gasp.
"And you feel great," he whispered, before catching Jack's mouth with his again.
"Ah." Jack was startled into wordlessness for once. He'd had a lot of sex, and all sorts of ways but -- honestly -- he'd pretty much always been himself. He knew the patterns of his own desires but this was... this was so much the same and so utterly different at the same time. He pushed up against Ianto's touch -- "Fuck, fuck -- Ianto -" the anticipatory flutter of his own cunt, the wet eagerness slick against Ianto's fingers and his own thighs had Jack as eager as a teenager.
He rolled up against Ianto, kissing him breathlessly, hiking his knee along Ianto's thigh to open himself up and groaned low in his throat. Even the chill of the air on his skin was a turn-on. The heat of Ianto's thigh against his own felt so good and he caught his breath in little noises at the patient nip of Ianto's teeth on his skin. He stroked his fingers through Ianto's hair and down to the slim nape of his neck, fingers sliding along the dip of his spine to tease along the top of his arse. And he pressed himself, his cunt, against Ianto's fingers, rocking gently, laughing in pleasure when Ianto shivered, body arching sharply to him. He spread a palm gently against Ianto's back, urging him closer, until their breasts played softly against each other, tight nipples brushing against soft skin.
This close, the smell of Ianto's skin was ... familiar and strange and even the tips of his ears were flushed pink. Jack lipped one, tonguing the curve then closing his teeth on the lobe. "You blush so prettily like this," he breathed, licking again. "Makes me want to spread you out and lick you open and watch you come for me." Jack's voice shook, some of his usual assurance lost to the strangeness of it all and the way the touch of Ianto's hand made his breath catch.
Sensory overload, Ianto thought, blinking in the familiar surroundings of Jack's quarters, the same old bed, as Ianto felt the sweep of Jack's hands along the length of his back, pulling him nearer. Ianto smiled into the side of his neck, maneouved his wrist and curled his fingers just so.
"You. First," he said softly, his voice a low hum against skin as Jack's hips bucked against the curve of his. Ianto stilled the movement of his fingers, slid them up along Jack's folds and the petal-like tissue above and down again, before he pulled his hand away to a whimper of protest. He gripped Jack's hips in both hands, pushed him upward on the bed.
Ianto's dark-eyed hunger as he pressed Jack insistently up the bed kindled a sharp, aching pang and Jack scrambled to obey. The camp bed wasn't any less awkward now than it had been yesterday, but Jack had been fucking in it for decades and was used to it. He lay back, spreading his knees unhesitatingly under Ianto's attention. The touch of cool air between his legs dragged a sharp shudder through him. Jack arched up, thighs wide, head back for a moment -- loving the strange new feel of his own body.
"Wow," he murmured, a shiver turning to a sensuous roll of his hips as he slid a hand down his own belly. "Even spreading my legs feels good."
He tucked his fingers against his own new cunt, eyes wide, breath catching at the pleasure. He stroked in, sensation curling through him, deep in his belly, at his nipples -- they ached so pleasurably -- at the bud of his clit which felt nothing at all like a cock. He was slick and hot and he knew that feeling but not like this, not from the inside and it dragged a sound out of him, half moan, half cry.
"Put your fingers here," Jack panted, Ianto was above him, gorgeous, and Jack could smell the lust in him, it made his mouth water. His eyes were the exact same shade of blue they'd been yesterday, in a different face. "Ianto, gods, put your hands on me."
"Can't keep my hands off you," Ianto breathed. "You're just so," he paused, "bossy."
He wanted to smirk but his face wouldn't move the way he wanted it to at the moment, wouldn't do coy, or sly or anything other than... feral, probably.
"Let's make it last; probably never have this opportunity again, will we?" he asked, half-serious but half-not, as he walked his fingers along the inside of Jack's thigh, watched a muscle in his leg twitch tellingly and the intake of breath before Jack moaned, frustrated, and flexed his hips, pushing closer. "You're going to buck me onto the floor and then where will you be?"
Jack's eyes were still boring into his as he paused before finishing. "On the bed."
Ianto gripped Jack's hips, dropped his head and let his hair fall forward, concentrated on the indent of Jack's navel, inhaled the familiar scent of their same-brand shower soap tinged with the very new and complex bouquet of arousal, and licked experimentally. He felt a satisfying tremor and an even more satisfying gasp when he kissed his way down to the apex of Jack's thighs and nuzzled and nipped before grazing the soft skin with his knuckles and slipping his fingers into the hotslicktightwet, "Oh god, Jack," moving them faster as he worked his tongue along his folds and finally closed his lips over Jack's clit.
This time, Jack didn't buck... his head fell back and Ianto felt long fingers wind into his hair, then clutch and pull. This, he was used to, and he didn't mind at all.
"The floor's okay too," Jack mumbled, staring up at the familiar uneven tiles as Ianto breathed his way down Jack's body. "Oh."
The stroke of Ianto's fingers in was good, so good - a stretch and a touch and the sliding awareness of his own body - Jack drew his knees up instinctively, toes curling against the rumpled sheets as the tickle of Ianto's hair along his belly drew a long shudder from him.
Ianto's mouth then, his tongue warm where Jack was aching in anticipation as Ianto nosed closer to lip at his clit, head bent between his legs. Jack twitched, thighs shivering; it wasn't like before, the feel of Ianto's mouth was almost too much for a moment - pleasure like a sudden shock. The following stroke of his tongue left Jack pliant, breathless as he curled his hands in Ianto's hair, tugging because everything Ianto did made Jack greedy for more. That wasn't any different.
Heat rolled under his skin, gathering with a maddening slowness that made Jack's breasts ache, his clit, and a tension inside that he was desperate to have touched somehow. The flick of a quick tongue, the pull of Ianto's mouth made Jack's hips twitch up helplessly. Movement tilted his pleasure in all sorts of ways and Jack did it again, a slow roll of his hips. The push of Ianto's fingers went deeper.
"Ah, there - yes," Jack managed, panting. It was hard to speak, hard to focus and Ianto, blissfully, thankfully, wouldn't stop. Jack swept a hand up to pinch one of his nipples, a sharp little spark of sensation amid the warm insistence of everything else.
It felt like forever as Ianto played him, mouth and hands and the nip of teeth on the newly tender skin of his thighs and Jack couldn't catch his breath, couldn't be quiet - didn't care to try. He stirred restlessly, held right at the maddening edge in a way that just didn’t happen when you had a cock. Jack's thighs trembled against Ianto's shoulders, hot and sweat-damp.
It was one of Ianto's things when all was as normal as things ever were at Torchwood -- taking Jack to the edge of orgasm and slowly, so slowly, easing back, watching his fists curl and tighten and his breath skip...
But he wasn't really trying to do that tonight.
Ianto raised his head and surveyed the sharp yet delicate line of Jack's jaw as his neck arched backward, and for a moment, just one, intensely wished he had a cock, still, that he could clamber over Jack's limbs and just fuck him into the floor right now, feel the silken hot clutch of him like that but-
He couldn't, and it didn't matter -- feeling the frantic pull of Jack's hands in his hair, the hot wet ache between his own thighs, he focused, hands busy and intent, lowered his face and felt Jack shudder, hard.
The press of Ianto's mouth, the hot stroke of his tongue, had Jack writhing on the bed, breath coming in short pants. He felt his climax gathering low in his belly, rising slow under his skin ... slow, slow, maddening, compelling and Jack stiffened, heels digging into the mattress, crying out when Ianto stroked two fingers deep into his cunt. The ache that wound through him broke free then, oh, finally, finally -- he came.
"Ianto … Ianto -" his voice went thin, ragged, lost in a surprised sounding cry as he tumbled into orgasm, cunt fluttering hard around Ianto's fingers, belly and thighs shuddering as he arched against the mattress and lost in it all for a long, breathless moment.
Jack sank down with a gasp, fingers curled gently in Ianto's hair. "Oh, oh -- " He panted weakly, still shivering in blissful aftermath. "Oh, fuck...."
He smoothed his fingertips over Ianto's scalp, smiling dreamily at the heavy breathing he could feel along his belly. He pressed his palm to Ianto's face, it was flushed hot, his mouth slippery. Jack felt swollen, overheated and messily wet between his legs. Irregular flutters of muscle low inside made him twitch, biting his lip at the strangeness. Everything felt strangely tender and exposed and he couldn't stop the way his thigh shook, or his breath still hitched.
"Ianto," he murmured throatily, smoothing a thumb along Ianto's soft mouth. "C'mere, beautiful."
Ianto grinned at Jack lazily before crawling up the length of his body slowly, pausing to slide his tongue into the delicate dip of Jack's navel and again to nip playfully at one tightened nipple. Jack was still shaking, and Ianto was immodestly gratified to find that lack of recent contact hadn't meant he was actually out of practice with women's bodies.
He guessed it was like riding a bike, which, well, was probably a piss-poor analogy, but a temporary lack of facility with clever similes could probably be excused under the circumstances. Watching Jack writhe under his attentions, he'd come close to orgasm himself. Still, every bit of his skin tingled as he pressed against Jack's body on the way up.
Jack was right; there was more room on the narrow camp bed with two considerably more compact bodies. Ianto shifted to curl around Jack, facing him, and took his face in both hands before leaning in to brush his lips against Jack's.
"So. Liked that, did you?" Ianto asked lightly. His hands tightened around Jack's trim waist before leaning in again and deepening the kiss.
Ianto's mouth was hot and different and there was the taste of Jack's own biochemistry -- except not at all. Still, it was good, drawing throaty little sounds out of him as they kissed. Jack felt languid and warm, all the tension sprung free, and he wanted to lie back and luxuriate. But Ianto was shivering against him, little impatient movements of hips and hands, catches in his breathing when Jack stroked a hand down the back of his thigh, and the quick leap of his pulse when Jack moved to kiss this throat.
"Hmm," Jack licked along the crest of Ianto's breast, "you couldn't tell from all the yelling and writhing around?" Ianto's nipples were a pretty tawny pink and Jack licked around one before biting gently, Ianto squirmed and Jack rolled him back, laughing against his skin. "Next time I'll yell louder."
Ianto was long and lovely and the scrubs had hid it well but his breasts were really something, Jack cupped them in his hands and sucked on his nipples, flicking them with his tongue then scooted down with a last kiss. Nudging between Ianto's knees, Jack leaned back for a moment to savor Ianto spread out on the camp bed before him. He looked understandably distracted, and brave, as he let Jack stroke his hands up the hot skin of his inner thighs and Jack was ambushed again by that frightening ache of affection.
After everything, all they'd done to each other, it seemed impossible that Ianto was here, still. Jack had to look away, hand shivering slightly on Ianto's skin, because there were times when the disbelief the Master had beaten into him crept back to poison moments he most wanted to savour. He bent to kiss Ianto's knee instead, smoothing a hand at the crease of his thigh, brushing into dark hair that clung wetly to his fingertips. "You have the most incredible legs," he murmured. He stroked again, along the flushed lips of Ianto's pretty cunt, it was easy to press deeper, open him gently, and feel the shiver of his thigh against his cheek.
Ianto reached above his head and looped his fingers back into the cool metal lip of the narrow bed's frame.
"Oh, fuck, that's-" he panted. "Jack..."
After Jack had edged his way downward, his weight and balance so different to before, mapping Ianto's temporary body again with mouth and hands, he'd sensed a shift in the air somehow, a pause, and saw Jack lift his head for a moment, turn his unseeing gaze at the far wall, thinking again, thinking so much, too much. Ianto wondered if (maybe) he was thinking about the last woman he'd been with and if it had ended badly, as things sometimes do, or if it was something else. Someone else, perhaps. Who knew? Sometimes Jack went a million miles away and a hundred years back.
Ianto nudged a toe along Jack's bared hip and flexed his own upward, smiled when he felt the ticklish brush of long hair along his skin when Jack glanced up again, then gave himself over to Jack's touch, shut his eyes and gasped. "There. I'm-"
Jack pressed his mouth open against the slight rise of Ianto's mons as Ianto muttered and panted above him, teeth nibbling gently before he shifted to work his tongue against the clit tucked away amid crisp hair and folds of warm flesh. The pungent heat, the lips of Ianto's sex as yielding as a mouth under him had Jack flushing hot again, kissing along slippery skin, open-mouthed and eager. He pushed his tongue where his fingers were, greedy, groaning at the deep taste as Ianto shuddered and arched. Jack wished he could watch him and do this at the same time.
Ianto trembled at the edge and Jack paused for a breath to look up at his face, delighted by the way giving Jack pleasure had turned him on, then leaned in for more explicit thanks. He nuzzled up to flick his tongue at Ianto's clit, chuckling briefly when Ianto's thighs clamped on his shoulders, then licking soothingly. He settled in, fingers stroking, mouth coaxing while sweat prickled along his hairline and Ianto grew breathless and noisy above him.
Jack could feel the flutter of approaching orgasm around his fingers, in the urgent way Ianto tilted his hip, in his own belly - a thread of memory and anticipation both. He pressed deeper, grazed his teeth delicately against the bud of Ianto's clit, licked insistently.
His breath coming faster, Ianto met Jack's eyes for a moment and it was partly that -- he loved to watch Jack, the way he always concentrated -- but also the sure slide-stroke-press-circle of lips and knowing fingers right there, there at that spot there, that compact bundle of nerves with stunning timing because of course Jack is Jack. Unsurprisingly expert at reading his responses, getting him off, no matter the difference in equipment.
Ianto felt his skin flush again, the not-unfamiliar internal rush to match a rising constriction fluttering beneath his flesh, but still novel, incomparable. And then all rational thought ceased and he loosed his grip on the bed, tangled his numbed fingers into Jack's hair and let go, shuddering hard as he let the wave crest.
Almost too much, and he groped for words stop, enough but Jack persisted and it didn't end, still didn't end; the wave came round again, shocking pleasure washed over him like white water and Ianto cried out.
He felt the tension leave his shoulders first and slumped backward, barely aware of the soft press of Jack's lips to his navel, then his ribcage, as they shifted and stretched out together again on the narrow bed.
Jack swiped a quick hand across his mouth as he slid up from between Ianto's legs, lingering for a moment at belly and chest, breathing in the smell of Ianto's skin, sucking a kiss just below his breast. He smelled great, he tasted great and Jack just wanted to lean into him and breathe. Ianto looked dark eyed and stunned. Jack grinned briefly at him, pleased, before settling down against his back.
Ianto liked to sleep after sex. Jack didn't mind the chance to nose in against his hair, to rest, to pretend he could sleep too. He closed his eyes and it was almost like sleeping; the beat of Ianto's heart against Jack's palm, his slowing breathing ... he cupped a hand against the weight of Ianto's breast and blew a strand of hair from his mouth. This wasn't who they were, not really, but they still fit together well enough.
END