Too Good by PopePrincess
Ianto could feel the moan welling up in his chest before it escaped from his mouth. He could feel Jack's cock, every vein and curve, as it slid along intimately against his sensitive inner channel. Everything was so much more fucking intense with Jack. He felt like he was going to explode or spontaneously combust or die or something. The feelings his boss were creating inside of him was just too much. Before he knew it another stream of moans was escaping.
Before he could comprehend it, Jack was pulling out. He whimpered, fucking whimpered like a girl when Jack withdrew his entire length out of him. Soft and malleable, he didn't put up one iota of resistance as Jack turned him over so he was on his back on the desk. He just moaned again as Jack stood above him. He was so gorgeous. Like his dick. Ianto could feel the saliva collecting in his mouth as he studied the magnificent piece of flesh that only seconds ago had been inside him. It curved elegantly towards his stomach, emerging from a trim bush of black hair. The head was a lovely deep red colour that Ianto desperately wanted to suck on. He wanted to lap at the cum that dripped like honey from the tip, he wanted to flick his tongue in the slit and swallow the liquid before it could escape.
Either way, he wanted it inside of him. "Jack," he murmured, his sexual neediness coating every syllable, "please."
"Hold on gorgeous," Jack muttered, pushing Ianto's legs up and hooking them over his shoulders. "I'm going to make you scream." It was so bloody unfair that Jack could from whole sentences when he was a gibbering pile of goo. All he felt capable of expressing in words were cries of 'fuck me' and pleas of 'more' and 'harder'.
Jack was stroking Ianto's dick now. Firm, confident strokes that excited him but didn't fire up his blood the way Jack's own penis churning inside of him did. "Jack," he whined, "fuuuck mee!" He thrashed wildly, knocking a stack of papers to the floor. "Fuck ME! Pleeeeeeease."
But Jack was in control of this and he knew it, ignoring Ianto without even a hint of having heard him. Ianto couldn't argue, too lost in sensation. Jack's hand jerking him off wasn't his preferred path to orgasm, but it was taking him there regardless. As the fire surging through his body gathered like a fireball in the pit of his stomach he lost the ability to make words at all. He panted loudly as he writhed, approaching the verge of orgasm, wanting to jump over it into pleasurable oblivion.
Before he knew it, he was being pushed over that edge. Just as the waves of sensation peaked, Jack surged back into him. And Ianto screamed just like Jack has said. His back arched so much that his head, hanging off the edge of the desk, could see where the wall met the floor. He jerked around as his body was stimulated beyond belief. Jack's knob caressed his insides so perfectly, bumping and massaging his prostrate with deadly precision. The waves of pleasure crested after several long, blissful minutes, slowly fading. He was brought back to himself gently, suddenly incredibly tired despite the enthusiasm with which he'd thrashed around before.
So tired... Ianto felt his eyelids slide shut. He was in a warm cacoon. The pain of being bent over a desk and thrust into repeatedly was non-existent for the moment as endorphins flooded him. So soft and warm and happy... and tired.
"Ianto," Jack muttered. When Ianto didn't respond, he gave him a little shake. "Ianto." His erection was a burning beacon in his awareness. And the soft, warm body underneath him felt so good around his cock. But fucking Ianto while he had no idea what was going on was tantamount to rape. Well maybe not rape, because even unconscious Ianto would probably want it. Horny slut, he though affectionately. Gripping the sides of the desk tightly and focusing on the pain, he withdrew from Ianto. It didn't help that he felt the muscles of Ianto's canal quivering delicately with humming-bird speed around each centimetre of his cock as if begging him to stay. He let out a shuddering breath when he was finally out all the way, resisting the urge to thrust back in, plunge and plunder that delectable ass.
"Ianto, wake up," Jack muttered starting to worry a little. Ianto let out a small groan and shook his head as if trying to fight back awareness. "Come on, Ianto, they'll be back soon from lunch!" He let out a small, desperate laugh, "And I need to come. Get up!"
Ianto let out another groan, managing to sit up. "Wuzzat?"
Jack laughed at Ianto's adorableness, finishing a second before he heard the sound of doors opening and closing. "Get up! Dressed!" All Jack had to do was tuck himself back into his trousers and zip up. The idea of wearing underwear had vanished with the notion of not fucking Ianto at every possible opportunity. Ianto however, had his stylish trousers and a pair of tighty-whities puddled around one ankle. His vest was open, and his shirt was shoved up to his armpits. Fuck, Jack wanted back inside of him.
But Ianto still seemed barely conscious, so Jack begun the not entirely unpleasant task of re-dressing his lover.
"Jack?" came Gwen's voice.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Jack muttered furiously, pressing one last quick kiss to Ianto's stomach before he tugged his shirt down.
"Jack? Oh there you are," she said, her smile in her voice. Jack had just managed to shove Ianto into a desk chair before turning, Gwen appearing directly behind him. "Is- is Ianto alright?"
Jack turned back to him. The man looked understandably rumpled. His shirt was untucked, his vest unbuttoned. At least his belt was done up. His usually perfect hair was ruffled as if someone, possibly a more experienced and devastatingly gorgeous lover, had carded his hands through it as he pounded him face-down over the desk... no, no, that line of thought wasn't helping Jack any with the uncomfortableness of his fully matured erection constricted in his slacks.
"Yes, he's ill," Jack announced as the other two turned up beside Gwen. He strode behind the chair, clapping his hands on the younger man's shoulders. Ianto groaned, and the others took it as a sign of his sickness. Jack however assumed it had more to do with the feeling of Jack's hands on him as Ianto leant back, rolling his head against Jack's stomach and maximising all unnecessary contact.
"Oh, dear," murmured Gwen. "It's not anything... alien or anything?"
"Oh, no. Just normal flu. I'll take him home and get him to bed." Jack let loose one of his infamous charming smiles.
"Of course," Owen said. "Make sure he's alright and all that before coming back."
Jack nodded, lifting Ianto from the chair and slinging one arm around his shoulders.
Ianto slipped back into sleep as they drove to his home. It only lasted ten minutes or so before he inhaled deeply and straightened up.
"Well," Jack said brightly, "I've never fucked anyone so hard they passed out before."
Ianto suddenly stiffened and blushed. "Oh, god. What happened?"
"I told the others you were ill and I'm taking you home now."
"Oh, okay." Ianto didn't seem to know where to look. His eyes skidded to the front of Jack's pants before his eyes widened comically. Jack's erection had gone down a little initially, but being in a confined space with the scent of his lover; the unique smell of Ianto, his semen and their combined sweat had him rock hard again in no time.
"You're hard again," Ianto blurted.
"No, I never came," Jack informed but made sure Ianto saw him smiling so he would see there were no hard feelings.
"Oh," Ianto muttered. "Sorry."
"Not your fault," Jack informed him, rolling his shoulders. He liked the way Ianto's eyes couldn't seem to part with the bulge in his pants.
"Let me make it up to you," Ianto murmured silkily.
"Oh, yeah, you're going to- Ianto, what- wait- oh my gosh..."
Jack's cock sprang free the second Ianto pulled back the zipper far enough. He gasped, swerving momentarily into the other lane when Ianto ducked his head and fastened his mouth around the head and sucked.
"Ianto, that may not be the best idea- fuck," Jack cried as he went through a red light, barely noticing as he fought his eyeball's urge to roll up into the back of his head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He skidded into the emergency lane and hastily put the car in park.
"Oh, Ianto," Jack moaned, burying his hands in Ianto's hair to hold him there although it sure felt like Ianto wasn't going anywhere soon. He tossed his head to the side, seeing faces flash by in passing cars. Most were oblivious but some saw, either giggling and guffawing or frowning. Jealous fuckers. Just because they didn't have a drop-dead gorgeous guy pulling on their cock like he wanted to swallow it whole. "Oh, you fucking sexy bitch."
"Oh, yeah, Ianto- I'm gonna- I'm gonna-" Some deeply-buried gentlemanly urge had him tugging at the brown locks occupied over his lap. Ianto did pull back at Jack's insistence, but too late.
Jack almost came all over again when Ianto sat up, pearly white streaks painting his face.
"Motherfucker," Ianto gasped, licking his lips automatically and lapping up the cum there.
Jack laughed. He couldn't resist uttering "Taste good?" before he shifted the car back into drive.
"Now you're going to have to make that up to me," Ianto growled. He'd gone to wipe up the liquid with the cuff of his designer sleeve but decided against it last minute. There were no tissues in the ever-professional company car. He couldn't think of anything to do but sit there, Jack's cum cooling on his face. The only other alternative was to rub his face over Jack's jacket, but even though Jack probably wouldn't mind all that much, Ianto did love that jacket.
"Sure sweetheart," Jack cooed. "I'll fuck you sideways 'til the only thing in the world that matters is my cock and my cum is what you depend on to live."
Ianto shuddered, staring out his window so Jack wouldn't see the blush spreading over his cheeks. But from Jack's amused chuckle, he knew. "Bastard," Ianto muttered without venom. Maybe if he was extra good Jack would fuck him so expertly, so perfectly that he'd pass out from pleasure again.
Author's note: Ianto can't be dead! Blah to season 3's crappy ending. Jack X Ianto forever.
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