(Fic) Intimacy
Feb. 20th, 2010 01:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lullabelleAuthor: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_lullabelle_
Sin: Lust
Word Count: 950ish.
Rating: R. Here thar be sex. And language. (Describing sex.)
Character: Ianto
Summary: Ianto has intimacy issues. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tw_lucky_7.
The first time Ianto Jones seduces Jack Harkness, he plans to be coy. Bashful enough to convey that this is his first time with a man, but with enough confidence to reassure that yes, this is exactly what he wants to be doing and exactly who he wants to be doing it with. He will make the initial overtures, drop the appropriate hints to get the ball rolling, and then let Jack take the lead. Putting Jack in the driver's seat, so to speak, will keep him occupied, and then Ianto's role will be simplified to providing the appropriate reactions, faking them if he has to, though he kind of doubts he'll have to. One doesn't get a reputation like Jack's by being a lousy lay.
That is the plan.
The reality is pushing Jack back against the desk, kneeling over him, and fucking him like a porn star. It makes Ianto's brain turn off, and keeps him one step ahead of the guilt. And it works marvelously.
Jack is certainly very, very distracted.
***
When Ianto looks at Lisa, trapped in her metal skin amidst a nest of circuits, his stomach twists and clenches. He loves her with an intensity he had once thought only existed in fairy tales.
When he looks at Jack, his stomach twists in a very different way. He thinks this feeling has nothing to do with love, but once upon a time, he'd felt it when he looked at Lisa.
He wishes he could experience one sensation without associating it with the other. His desire for Jack doesn't belong in the same story as his love for Lisa.
But he already knows this isn't a fairy tale. It's a Shakespearian tragedy with aliens and robots and dinosaurs and a Byronic captain he can't seem to stop fucking.
***
Ianto's heard that some men won't kiss hookers on the mouth. He's not sure how true this is, or if it's common practice, but it's a policy he briefly considers implementing with Jack. But the snogging cat's already out of the bag, so to speak, and even though Jack has been indulgent with Ianto's (occasionally neurotic) bedroom practices so far, Ianto's not sure how he'd react to being equated to a hooker.
It is an accurate, if muzzy gauge of where Jack falls in the ranking of Ianto's affections. He means more to him than a prostitute, but less than a fond memory of his dead girlfriend.
He tries to avoid too much introspection when it comes to Jack, but it's like being told not to think of a pink elephant. He concentrates so hard on not analyzing that analysis is exactly what happens. Ianto has always been guilty of thinking too much.
He doesn't want to think about why he keeps falling into bed (or more often onto desk) with Jack despite the fact that looking for his kicks elsewhere might be less... complicated. Less potential for messiness later.
But something about Jack keeps him there. Something more than Jack just being familiar territory.
Ianto finds himself enthralled by Jack's hands. They are deft and dangerous and strangely graceful. They could jerk him off just as easily as they could choke him to death. Ianto can't help but think of the thousand places he wants Jack to put them, all the places he wants them to pin him against, all the ways in which Jack's hands can hold him down. He thinks about how they looked when they pulled the trigger that killed his girlfriend.
Ianto's eyes are frequently drawn to Jack's hands. In the boardroom, he finds himself staring at them almost as often as he stares at his own.
***
Ianto is still gasping in the aftermath. He feels boneless and raw and good, and in the moment, aching in all the right ways. He stretches, sweat cooling on his neck and chest, and tries to catch his breath.
Jack leans over to catch his mouth. Ianto would rather just bask in the afterglow, but he kisses back diligently. The kiss is slow and lazy and sweet, and a year ago it would have had Ianto in a puddle, but now it just leaves him a little impatient. He opens his eyes, and if he was wearing his watch, he would be checking it.
Jack's eyes are open, too. Meeting Ianto's gaze, so close their eyelashes are nearly brushing. Jack's eyes are clear and intensely blue.
It's far too much.
Ianto pushes Jack off of him and stumbles quickly out of Jack's tiny bed. He pulls his pants back on, bundles the rest of his clothing under one arm, and practically launches himself up the ladder into Jack's office. He spares one glance behind him, worried about having hurt Jack's feelings. But instead of pain on Jack's face, he only sees concern, and for some reason that's worse.
***
Ianto is being dragged by his legs across the filthy, blood streaked floor. The hands on him are rough, groping everywhere they can reach, and their owner is grinning too broadly, and if Ianto's not rescued soon, there is going to be sex, and it may or may not involve an aluminum bat.
He realizes that, even though he never wanted affection from Jack, he's always depended on it. Because this? This is not what he wants. As many times as he's told himself that all he wants to be used and dismissed, when faced with the stark reality of it... it's not what he wants at all.
The man kicks him in the back of his legs. If I get out of here, he thinks, I am going to--
A kick to his back, near his kidneys. I am going to let him kiss me until I can't breathe.
The stomach, this time. Ianto doubles up, twists his head and vomits.
If I live through this, I am going to keep my eyes open.
_lullabelle_Sin: Lust
Word Count: 950ish.
Rating: R. Here thar be sex. And language. (Describing sex.)
Character: Ianto
Summary: Ianto has intimacy issues. Written for
tw_lucky_7.The first time Ianto Jones seduces Jack Harkness, he plans to be coy. Bashful enough to convey that this is his first time with a man, but with enough confidence to reassure that yes, this is exactly what he wants to be doing and exactly who he wants to be doing it with. He will make the initial overtures, drop the appropriate hints to get the ball rolling, and then let Jack take the lead. Putting Jack in the driver's seat, so to speak, will keep him occupied, and then Ianto's role will be simplified to providing the appropriate reactions, faking them if he has to, though he kind of doubts he'll have to. One doesn't get a reputation like Jack's by being a lousy lay.
That is the plan.
The reality is pushing Jack back against the desk, kneeling over him, and fucking him like a porn star. It makes Ianto's brain turn off, and keeps him one step ahead of the guilt. And it works marvelously.
Jack is certainly very, very distracted.
***
When Ianto looks at Lisa, trapped in her metal skin amidst a nest of circuits, his stomach twists and clenches. He loves her with an intensity he had once thought only existed in fairy tales.
When he looks at Jack, his stomach twists in a very different way. He thinks this feeling has nothing to do with love, but once upon a time, he'd felt it when he looked at Lisa.
He wishes he could experience one sensation without associating it with the other. His desire for Jack doesn't belong in the same story as his love for Lisa.
But he already knows this isn't a fairy tale. It's a Shakespearian tragedy with aliens and robots and dinosaurs and a Byronic captain he can't seem to stop fucking.
***
Ianto's heard that some men won't kiss hookers on the mouth. He's not sure how true this is, or if it's common practice, but it's a policy he briefly considers implementing with Jack. But the snogging cat's already out of the bag, so to speak, and even though Jack has been indulgent with Ianto's (occasionally neurotic) bedroom practices so far, Ianto's not sure how he'd react to being equated to a hooker.
It is an accurate, if muzzy gauge of where Jack falls in the ranking of Ianto's affections. He means more to him than a prostitute, but less than a fond memory of his dead girlfriend.
He tries to avoid too much introspection when it comes to Jack, but it's like being told not to think of a pink elephant. He concentrates so hard on not analyzing that analysis is exactly what happens. Ianto has always been guilty of thinking too much.
He doesn't want to think about why he keeps falling into bed (or more often onto desk) with Jack despite the fact that looking for his kicks elsewhere might be less... complicated. Less potential for messiness later.
But something about Jack keeps him there. Something more than Jack just being familiar territory.
Ianto finds himself enthralled by Jack's hands. They are deft and dangerous and strangely graceful. They could jerk him off just as easily as they could choke him to death. Ianto can't help but think of the thousand places he wants Jack to put them, all the places he wants them to pin him against, all the ways in which Jack's hands can hold him down. He thinks about how they looked when they pulled the trigger that killed his girlfriend.
Ianto's eyes are frequently drawn to Jack's hands. In the boardroom, he finds himself staring at them almost as often as he stares at his own.
***
Ianto is still gasping in the aftermath. He feels boneless and raw and good, and in the moment, aching in all the right ways. He stretches, sweat cooling on his neck and chest, and tries to catch his breath.
Jack leans over to catch his mouth. Ianto would rather just bask in the afterglow, but he kisses back diligently. The kiss is slow and lazy and sweet, and a year ago it would have had Ianto in a puddle, but now it just leaves him a little impatient. He opens his eyes, and if he was wearing his watch, he would be checking it.
Jack's eyes are open, too. Meeting Ianto's gaze, so close their eyelashes are nearly brushing. Jack's eyes are clear and intensely blue.
It's far too much.
Ianto pushes Jack off of him and stumbles quickly out of Jack's tiny bed. He pulls his pants back on, bundles the rest of his clothing under one arm, and practically launches himself up the ladder into Jack's office. He spares one glance behind him, worried about having hurt Jack's feelings. But instead of pain on Jack's face, he only sees concern, and for some reason that's worse.
***
Ianto is being dragged by his legs across the filthy, blood streaked floor. The hands on him are rough, groping everywhere they can reach, and their owner is grinning too broadly, and if Ianto's not rescued soon, there is going to be sex, and it may or may not involve an aluminum bat.
He realizes that, even though he never wanted affection from Jack, he's always depended on it. Because this? This is not what he wants. As many times as he's told himself that all he wants to be used and dismissed, when faced with the stark reality of it... it's not what he wants at all.
The man kicks him in the back of his legs. If I get out of here, he thinks, I am going to--
A kick to his back, near his kidneys. I am going to let him kiss me until I can't breathe.
The stomach, this time. Ianto doubles up, twists his head and vomits.
If I live through this, I am going to keep my eyes open.
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