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d8rkmessngrIt's Sunday, late overnight shift so hubby's not home for dinner, kids are having sleepover at neighbor's and my cats are staring at me. I took 15 minutes to write a ficlet for Smut Sunday. With all this around me, this was the result. Again, free writing, sadly unbetaed.
Title: Moments #5
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: janto
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What are our boys doing right now.
Warning: Not betaed, SMUT
Ianto was certain a miniature Rift opened up in his kitchen.
Warm pressure curled then flattened down the underside of his cock, firm and slick as a tongue traced the vein underneath.
Correction: the Rift was here, opened up and soon, a naked Nether god was sure to be stomping around Cardiff again.
Ianto gripped the edges of the counter he braced against. He looked at a spot above his door, at the odd, glittering purple artifact the Doctor mysteriously sent them for Boxing Day with the alarming and infuriatingly vague warning not to eat pudding in front of it.
The artifact wasn't particularly fascinating (it looked like something their Weevils leave behind whenever Owen feeds them bad curry) but it was either look at that or down to the lush mouth currently trying to pull him inside out. Pink, swollen lips, hollowed cheeks, blue, blue eyes staring up unblinking at him, the corners of that stretched mouth still able to quirk up at the corners.
If he looked, he might choke Jack again because God, how can he not thrust into that mouth?
Jack's lips--red from their previous kissing and one forceful jerk of Ianto's hips that left Jack sputtering--thinned as Jack relaxed his throat further and--
"Oh my god," Ianto breathed/whimpered/sobbed and his back slid down from the support of his counter. But Jack surged up--on his knees and with a suckling motion over his cock that made Ianto curl his toes--and suddenly, Ianto was arched backwards, his shoulder blades banging against the coffeemaker on the counter.
His palms burned vaguely as he tightened his grips. His hands occasionally slipped off the edges, his palms sweaty. Jack grazed his teeth gently over the head of his cock and Ianto ended up fisting Jack's hair, his hips stuttering forth into Jack's wet mouth, his own mouth agape as Jack coyly brushed a finger against his opening.
The noise Ianto could hear himself making was obscene and there was a distant thought that his neighbor Mrs. Potts was hearing far more from them than the usual greetings he gives her every morning. But Ianto was beyond caring when he felt the taunt give before the subtle pop his hole made as Jack worked two fingers in, down past his first knuckle to rest over his prostate. But not touching. Blast, Jack's fingers settled in his like he was slipping on a glove, so close to reaching that spot in him, Ianto could feel the heat of Jack's fingers so close.
Jack released his now erection bobbing nearly desperately out of his undid trousers. The zipper, the coarse band of his boxers was a poor substitute for the boiling heat and texture of Jack's tongue.
Ianto cried out Jack's name as he rutted into Jack's hip as his captain rose to his feet. Jack's fingers were now three, massaging Ianto from the inside even as his other hand cradled his balls, his thumb caressing each sac with an archeologist's care. After the inspection was complete, Jack wrapped his hand around his cock, his fingers inside Ianto now jabbing deeper. Lightning jolted up from the base of his spine.
Sagging forward, Ianto thrust into Jack's loose fist, his face smashed into Jack's shoulder, his chest heaving with exertion. He let Jack support him up, knew Jack would always hold him up as he piston into that warm hand. His trousers were pooled around his ankles now. His pace became erratic, blindingly unstopping, thready, breathless moans twisting out of his throat. Jack's fingers inside him matched his pace, his aim accurate, hard and--
With a shudder, Ianto came all over Jack's trousers, shirt and he mewled when Jack gave a twist of his fingers inside. His ass spasmed, his insides quivered and somehow Jack convinced Ianto's body to come again.
Despite the spots in front of him, Ianto fuzzily was able to make out Jack putting his cum coated fingers to his mouth. Unblinking blue eyes on him, Jack licked each finger clean with deliberate strokes of a moist pink tongue.
Ianto pulled Jack to him and smashed his mouth over Jack's. Teeth clashed. Tongues twined. Ianto could taste himself in Jack's mouth.
Jack pulled back. He eyed the pot Ianto was going to pour sauce into before Jack interrupted. Who had turned off the oven?
"So," Jack drawled, an eyebrow up, "What's for dessert?"
Ianto growled under his breath. His mouth tingled with the salty bitterness under his tongue. He slipped his fingers into Jack's waistband and with a hard yank, tore them apart. The button skittered off somewhere. The zipper was a lost cause.
"You," Ianto breathed as he pushed Jack onto the kitchen table, his mouth closing in on the anticipatory smirk on Jack's face.
Title: Moments #5
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: janto
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What are our boys doing right now.
Warning: Not betaed, SMUT
Ianto was certain a miniature Rift opened up in his kitchen.
Warm pressure curled then flattened down the underside of his cock, firm and slick as a tongue traced the vein underneath.
Correction: the Rift was here, opened up and soon, a naked Nether god was sure to be stomping around Cardiff again.
Ianto gripped the edges of the counter he braced against. He looked at a spot above his door, at the odd, glittering purple artifact the Doctor mysteriously sent them for Boxing Day with the alarming and infuriatingly vague warning not to eat pudding in front of it.
The artifact wasn't particularly fascinating (it looked like something their Weevils leave behind whenever Owen feeds them bad curry) but it was either look at that or down to the lush mouth currently trying to pull him inside out. Pink, swollen lips, hollowed cheeks, blue, blue eyes staring up unblinking at him, the corners of that stretched mouth still able to quirk up at the corners.
If he looked, he might choke Jack again because God, how can he not thrust into that mouth?
Jack's lips--red from their previous kissing and one forceful jerk of Ianto's hips that left Jack sputtering--thinned as Jack relaxed his throat further and--
"Oh my god," Ianto breathed/whimpered/sobbed and his back slid down from the support of his counter. But Jack surged up--on his knees and with a suckling motion over his cock that made Ianto curl his toes--and suddenly, Ianto was arched backwards, his shoulder blades banging against the coffeemaker on the counter.
His palms burned vaguely as he tightened his grips. His hands occasionally slipped off the edges, his palms sweaty. Jack grazed his teeth gently over the head of his cock and Ianto ended up fisting Jack's hair, his hips stuttering forth into Jack's wet mouth, his own mouth agape as Jack coyly brushed a finger against his opening.
The noise Ianto could hear himself making was obscene and there was a distant thought that his neighbor Mrs. Potts was hearing far more from them than the usual greetings he gives her every morning. But Ianto was beyond caring when he felt the taunt give before the subtle pop his hole made as Jack worked two fingers in, down past his first knuckle to rest over his prostate. But not touching. Blast, Jack's fingers settled in his like he was slipping on a glove, so close to reaching that spot in him, Ianto could feel the heat of Jack's fingers so close.
Jack released his now erection bobbing nearly desperately out of his undid trousers. The zipper, the coarse band of his boxers was a poor substitute for the boiling heat and texture of Jack's tongue.
Ianto cried out Jack's name as he rutted into Jack's hip as his captain rose to his feet. Jack's fingers were now three, massaging Ianto from the inside even as his other hand cradled his balls, his thumb caressing each sac with an archeologist's care. After the inspection was complete, Jack wrapped his hand around his cock, his fingers inside Ianto now jabbing deeper. Lightning jolted up from the base of his spine.
Sagging forward, Ianto thrust into Jack's loose fist, his face smashed into Jack's shoulder, his chest heaving with exertion. He let Jack support him up, knew Jack would always hold him up as he piston into that warm hand. His trousers were pooled around his ankles now. His pace became erratic, blindingly unstopping, thready, breathless moans twisting out of his throat. Jack's fingers inside him matched his pace, his aim accurate, hard and--
With a shudder, Ianto came all over Jack's trousers, shirt and he mewled when Jack gave a twist of his fingers inside. His ass spasmed, his insides quivered and somehow Jack convinced Ianto's body to come again.
Despite the spots in front of him, Ianto fuzzily was able to make out Jack putting his cum coated fingers to his mouth. Unblinking blue eyes on him, Jack licked each finger clean with deliberate strokes of a moist pink tongue.
Ianto pulled Jack to him and smashed his mouth over Jack's. Teeth clashed. Tongues twined. Ianto could taste himself in Jack's mouth.
Jack pulled back. He eyed the pot Ianto was going to pour sauce into before Jack interrupted. Who had turned off the oven?
"So," Jack drawled, an eyebrow up, "What's for dessert?"
Ianto growled under his breath. His mouth tingled with the salty bitterness under his tongue. He slipped his fingers into Jack's waistband and with a hard yank, tore them apart. The button skittered off somewhere. The zipper was a lost cause.
"You," Ianto breathed as he pushed Jack onto the kitchen table, his mouth closing in on the anticipatory smirk on Jack's face.
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no subject
Date: 2010-05-23 04:24 am (UTC)Thank you. I want a glittering purple thing now...
no subject
Date: 2010-05-23 11:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-23 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-23 07:46 pm (UTC)Guh, that was hot! *melts*
no subject
Date: 2010-06-02 12:55 am (UTC)*grins*