Blind (John/Ianto)
Title: Blind
Summary: John is a teaser. Ianto knows it. Will he play along?
Characters: John Hart, Ianto Jones
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all the characters belong to Russell T. Davies and the BBC. No copyright infringement intended, although a custody battle seems appropriate after this season. No money is being made.
A/N: Well, this little sacene got stuck in my head even before I went back to writing the story after my John Hart teaser. That one I posted back in May. At some point of that story, these scene makes sense in my head... And John Hart is I'm just to impatient to wait...
"Honey, I'm home!" John's voice flies in among the alarms and the rolling of the cog door. There goes the idea of peaceful afternoon. Next time, Ianto will have to send John further afield. Scrap that; with that bloody wriststrap of his, it wouldn't make a difference. "Where's his Immortalness? Out gallivanting again?"
Deep breaths. He's not playing into John's little mindgames. John is an expert when it comes to manipulating, coercing and, in general, pushing people's buttons to get what he wants. But he's been around long enough for Ianto to learn his tricks and how to avoid his traps.
"Doing some real work. Unlike some." He gives John his best frown and displeased look; not playing into his games doesn't mean he can't have a bit of fun of his own. John grins like the cat that got the cream as he gets closer, the heels of his boots clattering on the floor. "And no, you can't have coffee. I'm just finishing the washing up." Ianto pointedly dries the last mug and places it in the cupboard. John shoots him a death glare. He does get quite scary when something (or somebody) comes between him and his caffeine fix, but, just like Jack, his bark is much worse than his bite. At least with Ianto. He smiles back, that polite, almost mocking smile he knows John hates. John smirks back.
"You really think you can keep everything under control, don't you, Eye Candy?" John takes a couple of steps; he loves invading other people's personal space just as a way to intimidate them. Well, it doesn't quite work with Ianto. At least not the way John intends it to. "I'm gonna have to show you just how much fun it is when you are not. I know you'd love that."
"Yes, John, about as much as looking after the Weevils." Ianto rolls his eyes; John holds his gaze, that feline air of his that makes Ianto feel like the prey that will be served as dinner. But he won't give John the satisfaction of knowing that. The collar of his shirt feels way too tight, and Ianto finds it hard to resist the urge to adjust it. "You," Ianto finally finds his voice, "are going to get out of the way while I finish around here." John stands on tiptoe, trying to gain some height, like every time he confronts Ianto. "Don't make me lock you in the vaults again." Not that John doesn't enjoy he vaults, with all those possibilities... No, don't go there. It wouldn't make it any easier to deal with John.
"Oh, I love it when you get bossy, Eye Candy." And Ianto hates that he just took a step back from John. "But today, I'm in charge." As if. Sorry, John, but it isn't that easy. A hand trails up the buttons of his waistcoat, barely there, and Ianto's breath hitches and gives him away. He aims for another annoyed look, but they are a bit past that now. John smirks. Deft fingers undo the top button. "Close your eyes." No. John's not getting his way that easily. "Close." One more button, not even touching. "Your." And another one. "Eyes." And another. Deep breaths. "Thank you."
He undoes the last button. Ianto nearly curses. Damn John Hart and his mermaid voice with that ever-present promise of pleasure, and connection, and all those things one can never get enough of. He's done it. Again. Well, not exactly again, but... close enough. Damn John Hart.
"Now, if you stay just where you are, eyes closed and quiet, you'll get a treat you won't forget. And I'm not bragging, Eye Candy." Ianto tries to keep his breath even, to calm down, but John knows what he's doing. Walking around him, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. "Hell, who am I kidding, I love to brag! But trust me, Ianto, this time, I'm not." Soft voice, barely a whisper, barely audible over the clatter of boots on the floor. "You'll enjoy it." Breath warm on Ianto's nape.
For a moment, he considers putting an end to this. Opening his eyes, glaring at John, and walking away. A tug at the collar, the swishing sound of silk sliding over cotton, and a shiver runs down his spine. John should better taking good care of that tie, it's one of Jack's favourites. Ianto swallows hard. John's hands seem to radiate heat as he slowly undoes two buttons of his shirt.
"Fascinating thing, the human body." Clattering of steps again as the heat of those hands disappears. "Especially the brain." A finger, a single bloody finger, traces a line down his right arm. "It processes information from every nerve in the body, every single second we are away." A few more steps, and Ianto really should get out of here before it is too late. "Taste." Hands tug at the collar from behind. He struggles not to move as cold air hits his neck. "Smell." Don't think about the heat all around. "Touch." Fingers barely ghosting down his back. "Hearing." A hot puff of air in his ear. "Sight." John undoes another couple of buttons. "Take away one of the senses, and, suddenly," yet another swishy sound, leather over wool this time, "the mind has more time to process everything else. Which results in more... intense experiences."
Having lost his belt, the trousers slide down a good inch. John snorts, and Ianto can picture that sardonic smile of his, the one he always wears when he's won. A bit early for that, he hasn't won, not just yet. Hands sneak between the shirt and the waistcoat, slowly sliding it over his shoulders, down his arms... John takes a few steps away, towards the railings. Surely he learnt his lesson the first (and only) time he rumpled one of Ianto's suits. And it wasn't even one of the good ones.
"This is one of the things I like about you, you know?" John's in front of him again, undoing the rest of the buttons of his shirt. "You could leave." Slowly pulling it out of his trousers. "You could just open your eyes, and it would all be over." Undoing the cuff on his right wrist. "But you are intrigued." Left wrist. "So you stay." Hot hands push the shirt halfway off. Steps clatter until John is behind him. "I will admit, Eye Candy," he pulls the shirt the rest of the way, "that I like that." Hot breath on his neck.
And then nothing. Ianto hasn't heard him walk away, can't even hear him breathe, even though he's got to be close by... Deep breaths. Calm down. He knows this trick. Leaving him alone for a few minutes, so he can notice every inch of his skin itching to be touched, every ragged breath, every muscle twitching, cold air curling around him. He swallows hard. It works every bloody time.
"Right leg up." The shoe slides off his foot. He didn't notice the laces being undone, but they must be. A few tugs and the sock is off as well. "Left." Why is he even playing along? He's in the middle of the Hub. Jack could come back any minute now. Or even worse, Gwen. Jack would probably just complain about not being invited to the party; Gwen would ask questions. Plus there is the internal CCTV to take care of. "And stop thinking, will you?" Ianto can't help but raise an eyebrow. "I can hear the cogs from here." Of course, John Hart and his eerie ability to read people as an open book. "Just for once," hot breath on the back of his neck again, "let go."
He could walk away. He could still walk away from this with some dignity. Shreds of, but still some dignity. Somehow, he knows he won't. John can be very... persuasive when he is in the mood for it. John hasn't laid a finger on him yet, and he's shivering with anticipation and want and need and already hard. This time, he curses. Out loud. John chuckles. Hot breath hits his neck.
"Yes, a fascinating thing, the human brain." A tug on the front of his trousers, so close, and he can't help his hips moving towards a hand that is no longer there. John laughs. His trousers slide down and pool around his ankles. With a deep breath, he steps out of them. "Oh, what I'd give to see what pictures your mind is painting right now..."
A rustle of material as John puts the trousers away. Ianto swallows hard, all too aware of everything around him – cold air, John's warm body, the trickling of water down the tower, the distant screeching of Myfanwy – and of every single nerve on his body. This is why he sometimes lets John get things the way he wants them – because he knows what John can do to him. Because he knows that, at least when it comes to sex, John can be trusted to deliver what he promises and even more.
"I know you, Eye Candy." A finger on his forehead, sliding down his nose, ghosting over his lips, and his whole body twitches. "I know how to make you writhe and moan and squirm." Down his chin, down his chest... A second finger joins when the first one reaches his stomach, each tracing his line towards his sides, and he's positively panting. "Yet I don't know whether right now," fingers hook on the waistband of his way too tight underwear, "you are hoping I'll get on my knees for you, and please you and tease you until you don't know which way is up," cotton slides down, down his thighs, down his calves, and it feels so good to be naked, "or you'd rather be on your knees yourself, hands behind your back, eyes closed, and just taking it." Yeah, well, he's not even sure himself. "Cos I know both work for you, Eye Candy."
He's not even sure how he manages to keep his balance as he steps out of his pants. It's all cold air and John's breath warm on his hipbone, way too far away yet welcome all the same, and his body rocking back and forth seeking contact. Flashes in his head of him and John, of everything they've shared and every promised pleasure in John's half murmured nonsense while they fucked. A hand on his left shoulder, all heat. Flashes of John and Jack, that oh so guilty feeling the first time he watched them, all want and passion and a bit of tenderness disguised as anger, so much history between they seem to know what the other needs before the thought is even born. Hot lips on his right shoulder, then teeth, biting deeply, and he presses back trying to get close, but John's out of reach. Flashes of him and Jack, from those tentative first encounters where everything he thought he knew about his own body was challenged to their wildest times together, to the liberating feeling of having a lover who never as much as raises an eyebrow when he asks for something in bed. A hand tracing patterns on his back, barely there, yet driving him crazy and making him squirm. Flashes of the three of them tangled up and sweaty, the feeling of too many hands on his body, of being taken apart and the seams by pleasure and need and that satisfying sex that only left him wanting more.
"So tell me, Ianto," his name rolls out of John's lips in a way that shouldn't be allowed, voice barely a whisper in his ear, "what is your head painting for you right now?" Another bite, harder this time, and he hisses, equal parts pleasure and pain. "What has so hot and bothered and hard when I have barely touched you?" He's pretty sure he's blushing. He must be, judging by John's quiet laugh. "Maybe I should take you down to my domains, and bring out the cuffs." He bites his bottom lip, yet a moan escapes him all the same. "I know you like cuffs... either end of them." Don't think about it. Don't think about John tied to his own bed, making the most interesting noises and pulling at his restrains. "Or think of something a bit more... imaginative."
He's losing it, and he knows it. John takes a step away and he just stands there, rocking slightly, wanting, waiting. Trembling from head to toe. Trying to clear his mind. As if. Wondering why John finds this so amusing, but resolved to find out – he'll most definitely use this on John at some point. When he's least expecting it. Assuming John is ever not expecting somebody to pounce on him and...
"Not going to share?" Ianto shakes his head. "Pity." A hand cups his cheek, and he leans into the touch. His own hands come up and fist on John's t-shirt, pulling him closer, but he's having none of it. "Needy, aren't you, Eye Candy?" He gives John an innocent smile. He gets a bite over his collarbone for his troubles. Damn the day John found out he enjoys the occasional bite. Maybe he should make Jack pay again for telling John. "Well, if you are not sharing, maybe I should."
He swallows hard as fingers travel randomly over his skin, sometimes barely there, sometimes gripping so tightly he'll be bruised in the morning – not that he minds. John's steps clatter loudly on the floor as he keeps walking around him, never breaking the contact but never really touching where he wants him to, murmuring things his brain doesn't really register further than 'sexy voice promising Very Enjoyable Things', and it is driving him insane. Because John has this way with words that just make it so easy to see what he's talking about, even when he's sure his brain short-circuited a long time ago.
"Just bloody do something!" His voice comes out all needy and ragged and low and broken, and John stops in front of him and tuts. He rolls his eyes. The last thing he wants now is John tutting at him.
"Manners, Ianto. Manners." A finger traces his earlobe, then a lazy line down his neck. "Now, again, what was that you just said?"
"Just bloody do something." He swallows. "Please." Pleading or commanding, he's not sure. Probably a mixture of both. He can see John's triumphant smile. The tiny spark of Ianto's brain that may still be functioning starts plotting revenge.
"Oh, but, Ianto, I am doing something." A gentle touch on his lips, tentative, tender, leaving a trail of fire behind. "I'm playing with your mind, rather than your body." A finger pushes past his lips. He sucks, his head imagining many much more interesting things he could be doing with his mouth. John lets out a strangled noise that could be anything from encouragement to a curse but shoots straight through his body, down to his groin. "And you are going to be grateful for it." He smiles; John's voice is wavering, and he pulls his hand away from Ianto's lips a bit too hastily. "I'm sure you will." Steps clattering around him again.
Then silence. The cracking of a joint. Is John really...? A puff of hot air on his hip. A trail of wet, sloppy kisses and licks. Fingers digging on his thighs. And suddenly John's mouth is on his cock, a hand cupping his balls, the other on his ass, and he comes, just like that, knees giving away under him, breath ragged, brain melted. John holds him steady, lips still wrapped around him, drinking him down. When he eventually stands up and pulls him in for a hug, Ianto is still not sure which way is up.
"Open your eyes." The soft voice in his ear makes him tremble. The smirk on John's face when he finally looks at him makes him look like the Cheshire Cat, but with better cheekbones. John gives him a meaningful look and raises an eyebrow.
"Wow." Not much more he can say right now. John pats him on the back, smile widening, if that is even possible, saying way too much with those little gestures he saves for moments like this.
"Told you you would like it." John kisses him again, pressing his body against his, erection rubbing against his thigh. Then he takes a step away and points to his clothes, all neatly hanging from the railings. "I'd get dressed if I were you. It's cold in here." With a smile, he starts walking towards Jack office. "Palace Under The Pavement with no bloody central heating, whose bloody idea was that?"
"My tie is missing! And don't you want...?" John raises a hand, dismissive, pulling the tie out of his pocket, and turns around just enough to give him a wicked smile.
"Jack. Sneaky silent bastard when he wants to." John winks. Ianto curses as he grabs his clothes. No chance in Hell he's missing the show. Much as he enjoys blind pleasure, sometimes it's good to just watch.