"Oi, Jack! We're under attack from some sort of Triffid! Get the herbicide out!"
"Yes, thank you Owen. A little help would be appreciated." The voice emerges from the profusion of blooms that seem to be growing out from the pinstriped trunk like an improbably diverse crown of blossoms.
"Oh Ianto! You shouldn't have! And there's me, not so much as bought you a card."
Ianto scowls as Jack's smirking face appears through a gap in the floral screen.
"Surprisingly enough, Jack, not one of these bouquets is for you. No, they all seem to be for a Ms. Cooper."
"You're buying Gwen flowers now, are you? Should I be jealous?"
"You should probably make more of an effort, Jack, rather than relying on your personal charms to keep me coming back for more."
"Oh, but I can be extremely charming, you have to admit," Jack's voice drips with syrup. "I'll prove it to you later. I'll give you a–"
"Oi! I'm still here you know, and I really don't want all the sordid details, thank you very much." Owen glares at Jack, who just smirks. Ianto rolls his eyes. Jack does try to be discreet most of the time, but taking the flirt out of him would be like taking the fizz out of champagne. It would still get you drunk, but it wouldn't be half as much fun.
*****
Ianto grumbles to himself as he tries to think of the best place in the archives to stow the alien device that Jack has finally given up on. After two weeks of intermittent tinkering, the most he'd been able to determine was that it made a farting noise when you touched it. Ianto suggested that it was simply a joke toy, but Jack had been unwilling to accept the simple elegance of his explanation.
He hears the footsteps behind him, recognising the confident gait, and sighs. He's really not in the mood, having spent most of the morning cleaning fetid blobs of exploded alien corpse out of the Autopsy Bay, between having to run upstairs to answer the Tourist Office door for yet another delivery of chocolates, flowers or singing teddy bears from Rhys. Then, to make matters worse, he'd found mice in one of his filing cabinets, busy making a nest out of his meticulously cross referenced files. To top it all off, a new mysterious item that Jack was investigating seemed to need all manner of unusual tools to be fetched from the archives, and he'd spent most of the afternoon trudging through the network of musty basements, longing for a little sit down in the sunshine somewhere. Not Cardiff, obviously. It was hardly ever sunny here in February.
So when hands cup his buttocks and hot breath tickles his neck, he doesn't make his usual response. Not even when Jack's hands start exploring.
"Hey, what's the matter, Ianto? You not pleased to see me?"
"I can't see you, Jack, and it should be pretty clear to you from where you've got your hands that no, I'm not that pleased."
"I'm sure I could make you pleased." That voice sounds so rich, so tempting, that in spite of his fatigue, Ianto does start to respond. But no, his brain cuts in and chastises his overeager body.
"No Jack. Not now, okay? I'm tired, pissed off, my feet are sore and we're stuck in a cold, damp, windowless basement. It just doesn't put me in the mood, alright?"
"You'll feel better later; I'll make sure of it." Jack sounds disappointed, but also rather confident which stirs the rebel in Ianto.
"Will I? I don't know. I was thinking that I need an early night. Alone," he adds emphatically, removing Jack's hands from his crotch.
"Okay, okay. I can take a hint."
Ianto waits until Jack's left the room before muttering, "Funny, you can't usually," and slamming the drawer shut.
*****
"Ianto? I need a bowl of warm water up here. Right away, please. A washing-up bowl should do it."
"Care to tell me what your last slave died of? Alright, alright, I'm coming."
Muttering and grumbling as he trudges along the endless corridors, Ianto wonders why he always seems to be at Jack's beck and call. Okay, the man is his boss, but Ianto isn't the cleaner and odd-job man any more. He's meant to be more than that now: Chief Archivist (only archivist, a mean little voice tells him) and trusted Field Agent. Yet here he is, fetching bowls of water for a man too self-important to leave his office for such a menial task. No doubt Jack will have something he needs him to clean. Why he can't do it himself, he has no idea. Probably doesn't want to wrinkle his perfect Fifty-first Century skin.
These thoughts still circle in Ianto's head as he enters Jack's office, half-full washing-up bowl held carefully in front of him.
"Ah, Ianto! Just the man I wanted to see. Here, let me take that." Jack lifts the bowl of water, setting it down on the floor by his desk.
Ianto isn't about to be mollified by one helpful gesture.
"Is there something you wanted me to clean?"
"Huh? Clean? Is that why you think I've called you up here?" Jack grins, taking hold of Ianto's shoulders and steering him to the chair. "Now sit down and try to relax, why don't you? You've been scurrying around all day – I've barely caught a glimpse of you, and I do so love being able to feast my eyes on your manly attributes." Jack sneaks a quick squeeze of Ianto's arse before pushing him down into the chair, and sinking to his knees in front of him.
"Er, Jack? Everyone's still here, and in case you hadn't noticed, your office has windows."
"Really? Well, I'll certainly have to remember that in future. Nothing like having an audience to spice things up," Jack purrs, unlacing one of Ianto's shoes and pulling it off, along with the sock, before cradling the now-naked foot and licking a stripe from big toe to ankle.
"Ahhh! God, Jack, don't! My feet must stink. I've been walking around all day. That can't possibly taste good," he adds, with a horrified expression, as Jack sucks on his toes. Still, it's hard to remain mad at him when he's doing that.
"Hmmm, maybe a little cheesy, but nothing I can't handle. I do love a bit of cheesiness."
"You are pretty cheesy."
"It's what you love about me."
"Do I?"
"Oh yeah, you do." Jack gets to work on the other foot, freeing it from the restrictive layers of sock and shoe leather, pushing up the trouser leg and gently running a finger over the imprint from the elastic and down to the arch of Ianto's foot. "You know, you have beautiful feet."
"Beautiful? I don't think men's feet can be beautiful, can they? Handsome, maybe."
"Well, yours are beautiful – lily white, slender, long toes. Just enough hair on the top to stop them looking ladylike." Jack takes another lick, making Ianto squirm in his chair.
"Why exactly have you taken my shoes off, Jack? It wasn't just to woo my hairy, skinny, smelly feet with your silver tongue, was it? Ohhh–" This last word uttered as his feet are lowered into warm liquid. He flexes his toes, luxuriating in the unexpected caress of the water. "Mmmm, that feels good."
He's dimly aware of movement behind him as he closes his eyes and sinks back into the chair's embrace. Then fingers are on his scalp, giving firm yet soothing pressure that feels incredible. Jack moves his fingers every so often, each new position sending him deeper into a state of extreme relaxation. For a moment Ianto has no idea of where he is, conscious only of the warm liquid around his toes, the steady pressure on his temples and the heady scent of the man he loves. He sighs, melting further down into his seat.
"Good, huh?" Jack asks, amusement sparkling in his voice.
"Mmmm... Ah!" Ianto feels the cold air hit his feet as Jack lifts them out of the water, before mercifully wrapping them in a soft towel. He opens his eyes to find Jack sitting opposite, cradling his towel-cosied feet in his lap. Jack's eyes gleam as he gently rubs the towel over Ianto's damp feet.
"I suppose I should get back to work," Ianto sighs, unwilling to move now that his muscles seem to have given up all their tension.
"Oh, no you don't. I haven't finished with you yet." Jack unwraps his feet, taking a small bottle from the desk and dribbling an amber liquid onto his palm before rubbing his hands together. Eyes widening, Ianto watches as Jack cups his foot in his palms, using his thumbs to circle over the top. His head starts to float and his eyelids flutter closed, the whole universe contracting to the sensation of Jack's hands on his skin. A deep sigh of contentment escapes with his next exhalation, and his body sinks even deeper into the chair. Is it possible to meld with a chair? It feels possible, anyway.
And then Jack starts on his toes, and Ianto discovers just how intimately linked they are with the rest of his body. Thrills of pleasure flow up his legs towards his groin; every movement of Jack's fingers thrumming along the nerves and setting up a corresponding movement in his trousers. Moaning now, he shifts slightly, opening his eyes to study Jack. His masseur currently seems intent on imparting pleasure to his foot, and Ianto grins as a wicked thought occurs. All ideas of a quiet, early, solitary night flee, chased off by that horny little devil of his lust. Good to see him back again. Ianto burrows his free foot into Jack's crotch, and the circling fingers still for a moment.
"Hmmm, this is meant to be a relaxing experience, Mr. Jones. I wasn't expecting to get you excited quite so soon."
Ianto slides his foot against the growing evidence of Jack's erection.
"But you were aiming to stir me up, right?"
"I was aiming to get you out of your grumpy mood. No ulterior motive, I – ah!" Jack exclaims, as Ianto demonstrates just how flexible his long toes can be.
"I don't believe that for one minute," he says, observing how Jack's face is transformed by a salacious smile as he twitches and curls his toes again. "By the way, did you know that I used to be able to build Lego with my feet. No, seriously! I have very dexterous toes and quite legendary self-control – no smirking, Harkness! I could build spaceships. I'll show you later, if you like. I've still got some of my Lego."
"I'd rather you showed me something else."
"Once you've admired my spaceship to my satisfaction, perhaps. I'll make you an Arkan leisure cruiser."
"Is that your idea of foreplay, Ianto? That's kinda weird."
"It's what you love about me."
Jack's face suddenly becomes more serious; brows lowered, gaze intense.
"It's one of the many things."
Any remaining trace of grumpiness melts away under the blaze from Jack's eyes.
"Yeah," he responds softly. "I know."
*****
"So what did Jack say?"
"I, uh, didn't ask."
"Tosh! It was a pretty simple request. I can't go myself while I'm in the middle of this," Owen gestures to the spread out heap of stinking goo and tentacles that he's currently attempting to dissect. "I really don't want to risk this one exploding too. You should have seen the look on Ianto's face last time. He'd kill me even deader than I am already."
"I didn't forget, Owen. He was, er, otherwise occupied."
"Oh, you have got to be joking. Not during work hours in his bloody office. Have they no shame?"
"What's this?" Gwen asks, breezing in to the Autopsy Bay.
"Tosh just caught Jack and Ianto banging each other's brains out in his office."
"Oh my god! You didn't!" Gwen's eyes widen to saucers and she claps a hand over her mouth. "What were they doing? Come on, I want details! Who was the man? It's gotta be Jack, hasn't it?"
"You're as bad as they are," Owen grumbles.
"It wasn't like that." Tosh shakes her head emphatically. "Jack was just giving Ianto a foot rub."
"A foot rub?" The two voices exclaim in perfect synchrony.
"Yes, a foot rub. It was sweet. Rather romantic, actually."
"Awww! I always thought Jack was the romantic type. Quite the gentleman in bed... I imagine."
"Well, I think it's creepy and if you two want to carry on gossiping you can do it somewhere other than my Autopsy Bay, thank you very much."
"Alright, Mr Grumpy-pants. God, you can tell someone didn't get a Valentine's card, can't you?"
Toshiko trails after Gwen, picturing the red envelope she'd tucked into the pocket of Owen's leather jacket, and the look on Jack's face as Ianto had done something with his free foot. She smiles to herself.
*****
"Okay, I reckon this is gonna work this time," Jack smirks, propping himself up against Ianto's wardrobe with his legs spread wide.
"Oh yeah, that's much more comfortable." Ianto sinks down onto the edge of his bed, stretching his feet out towards Jack. "Perfect distance. Now, do you want to try lube or oil this time?"
"Hmmm, decisions. Wait, the lube's just here. Ooh! It's the strawberry flavoured one." Jack unscrews the cap and applies a liberal amount to his cock and Ianto's feet.
"Ahh! That's cold!"
"It'll soon warm up, once you get going."
"Oh yeah..." Ianto rubs his feet together, then, with a wicked grin, starts to tease Jack with his toes, running them all over his erection, until the frustrated whimpers build to such a pitch that he takes mercy, gripping him between the arches and sliding up and down. He's only slightly put out that Jack can't reach him from his position on the floor, making up for it with his own hand and getting off on the sight of his lover's delirious excitement.
Sitting on the bedside table, the only witness to the increasingly noisy and frantic activities, a small plastic spaceman perches on his Lego craft. A rather basic, but nevertheless impressive space vehicle. Especially if you'd seen it being built. There's nothing quite like the sight of a naked man building Lego with his feet. Jack can attest to that, it being the last image to pass through his mind before everything dissolves into glorious light.
Afterwards, when Jack's panting breath is almost back to normal he pushes himself up on wobbly legs.
"Jack! You could at least wipe my feet with something! I can't walk to the bathroom like this and I really don't want to have to steam clean the c-ahhh! Th-think you'll get out of trouble that way, do you?"
Jack pauses licking for a moment, looking up with twinkling eyes. "What? I'm cleaning your feet, aren't I?"
"Oh, you're such a dirty boy."
"It's one of the many things you love about me."
"Mmmm... That's true. Ahhh, that tickles! I, uh, have some other parts of me that need cleaning when you're done with my feet."
"It would be my pleasure."
Ianto collapses back onto the bed. Who needs cards, flowers, fancy meals, boxes of chocolate or any of that nonsense? No, the way to this man's heart is definitely through his feet.
Finis.