Fairy Stories for a Welshman
Face nestled in the pillow, almost asleep…or what passes as sleep for me. The tip of a finger traces up my left inner thigh making me instantly awake. I turn my head to look over my shoulder where a chin is now propped on my right buttock.
"Boo," Ianto tries to hide a smirk.
As I turn my head back I feel the slightly painful contact of teeth in soft skin and my head whips round again, "Quite biting!"
"That's not what you said earlier. You like me biting," deep blue eyes are levelled at me over the curve of my ass, "Not thinking of nodding off anytime soon, sir?"
"I grab sleep where I can," I mumble. It had been a hell of a few days for us all and we had cat-napped where we could. The finger that previously had traced up my thigh now almost tickled my balls, "Yan, I'm really tired…"
"Completely fucked I'd say," I know he's got that smug almost boyish grin on his face without even looking round, "Bloody hell, does the great Captain Jack Harkness want to admit that he's completely shagged out and admit defeat?"
"For once, yes. Do not broadcast this fact though. Although you may, under the circumstance feel a little pleased with yourself for the time being, Ianto Jones," I try to say as primly as possible.
I nestle back into my pillow as two hands make kneading massaging motions against my sweat-slicked back. Oh…that is nice…
"Jack, you almost purr when I do that."
"I do not purr!"
"I'm afraid you do. I'm aware of all the types of noises you make before, during and after sex…I make it my business to know. I also know the ones you make when you're stressed or tired."
"Uhhhh…"
"Did I just hit a nice little spot there, Jack?"
"Indeed you did. Aren't you going to settle at all though?"
The hands stop massaging and I'm aware of Ianto moving up the bed, his breath by my ear, "Not until you tell me a fairy story…"
Sometimes when he said it, it would almost make me laugh. Most times Ianto would slump fast asleep after sex but on odd occasions, well he was like a big over-eager and over-grown puppy. I turn over to lie on my back so Yan can lay against me, which he does, an arm slung across my stomach. I feel his hair rather itchy against my neck, breath on my shoulder, the light dusting of sweaty chest hair against my side.
"You can suck your thumb if you want…"
A smack on my belly, which stings a bit, "I'd rather suck something else…"
"You already did. Now do you wanna story or not, Mr Jones?"
His head bobs up, a quick kiss on my cheek and his head resumes its previous position, "Story please"
I make sure I'm comfortable and pull my Welshman to me so that we're completely tucked together…and then I start to tell him tales of adventure in other universes. The stories aren't 'fairy stories' at all really, they're true and their mine. There are rules to this cosy piece of sharing though – not too much doom and gloom and death and destruction, not to keep prattling endlessly about The Doctor and no talk of affairs or ex's. I've done things, seen things, and been to places Ianto could only dream of; I've lived an awful long time after all. I always tried to make sure I paint a vivid picture, make the story as interesting as possible. They were my stories but often truly fantastic tales to Yan. We often experienced the fantastic, weird and wonderful at Torchwood but my stories were in another league – light years away you might say. From being the tough guy, my big bruising Ianto who likes to be the boss in bed such a short time before he would cuddle against me sweet and childlike, sometimes laughing at some of the funny stuff but mostly with rapt attention. Then there would come the moment when I'd feel the muscles in his arm twitch, a sure sign he was asleep. A contented sigh from me, a kiss to his forehead, "Night, Yan…"
Now those memories are so precious. Forget the excitement of the Torchwood days, all the heroics from both of us….several galaxies and many years later…I want to remember my beautiful Ianto, lying beside me whilst I tell my love 'fairy stories' to send him to sleep….