4
Ianto almost expected him to say back the words, replacing his name with Ifan's, except he doesn't.
"Ianto," Jack says in his deep and rough voice.
The sound of his name on Jack's lips makes him aware of the uncomfortable bulge in his trousers, pressing up against Jack's ass.
Below them, some folks emerge on their balconies—singles finding strangers, couples seeking to share heat with their other halves.
Normally, unwarranted jealousy would course inside Ianto's veins, pushing him to do something he would come to regret, like wandering into a crowded bar.
Tonight though, he is not alone. He has Jack.
We have each other.
Ianto detaches himself from Jack. He turns towards Ianto, looking at him with lost and vulnerable eyes. Jack reminds him of an injured, scarred grizzly in the woods you can't help but want to pull into a hug, even though its dangerous.
"Let me take care of your need," Ianto says.
"Don't make offers you'll regret later on," he answers in a rough voice.
"I won't regret this. I'm a hundred percent sure. Are you?" Ianto challenges.
Jack snarls. "Has no one ever taught you to never provoke an angry lion the jungle, little boy?"
If he thinks Ianto will be offended by that, then he's severely mistaken his resolve. Ianto tells him in plain and simple words, "one night, no rules or promises."
Desire, thick and raw, flickers across his gaze and Ianto knows he has him now. Jack closes one large hand over his wrist.
Ianto's pulse jumps at his touch, both in fear and in anticipation. When Jack smiles, Ianto can see a hint of his teeth.
Have I bitten more than I can chew?
Jack growls out two words in response. "Bedroom. Now."
Ten steps, then fifteen.
They fumble at each other like animals and lose their clothes along the way. The less fabric there is the way, the more he doesn't want to cease touching Jack.
Where should I start, when every inch of him is golden and muscled perfection?
Ianto is not ashamed to show it's been awhile for him, because Jack's acting the same. Hunger is imprinted in each of his caresses.
"Kiss me," Ianto demands.
Jack doesn't refuse. He shoves Ianto against the wall a couple of feet from the master bedroom and pins his arms above his head.
Jack leans in close and takes Ianto's lips.
Their chests, stomachs and thickening members touch. Ianto's insides turn to jelly. He doesn't think any man has ever reduced him to this—a quivering mess only capable of taking what he chose to give.
Jack's heat and taste floods down Ianto's throat. He nips and sucks, eager to take, but Ianto is ready to be consumed by his need.
Ianto opens his mouth and lets him deepen the kiss.
They grind our sweat-slicked bodies together, igniting heat when the rest of the outside world remains frozen in winter's embrace.
When he releases Ianto, they are both panting and looking at each other. Wordless, but they've already said all they needed to. Clothes flitter to the floor like the snowflakes outside, releasing excited bodies.
Keeping one hand over Ianto's wrists, Jack reaches between their bodies. He flicks the pre-cum gathered at Ianto's knob, then begins gliding his fist around Ianto's length.
Up and down. Slow and fast.
A moan escapes Ianto, but Jack shuts him up by mashing his lips against Ianto's. He peppers kisses down the side of his neck, his breath warm.
"Jack," Ianto whispers, but he places a finger to his lips.
"Don't speak. I'm barely holding onto my control."
After he lifts his finger, Ianto nips at his earlobe. "Let go."
Jack snarls, his hand movements gaining momentum. He lowers his head to Ianto's left nipple. Circles his tongue over the bud until it hardens, before taking it in his mouth and biting down.
Ianto gasps, eyes widening at the slight pain. Dark knowledge fills Jack's eyes. He knows a little bite can push Ianto to the edge. Jack tends to the right nipple. Leaves an imprint of his teeth marks there, and the knowledge that he's wearing Jack's marks is enough for the pressure inside Ianto to break.
"Come," Jack commands with the surety of a man who knows what is truly his.
Ianto lets out a shuddering breath. It's damn erotic, coming all over his fingers and having his gaze trained on the expression on his face.
Standing so close, Jack's privy to each of Ianto's dirty secrets and the moment he' truly exposed and vulnerable.
"Perfect," he says. Even dazed, heat crawls to Ianto's cheeks and neck.
"Nah. You haven't fucked me yet."
"You're fucking crass, Ianto."
"Don't like it?"
"Don't you fucking dare change a damn thing." Jack miraculously produces a packet of wet wipes from one of the drawers in the living room and cleans then both up. Then he grabs Ianto's arm and leads him to his bedroom.