A Tease in the Office
26th December, 2.30 pm
"That's it. Just go slow and gentle to begin with. And then just think close and repeat, while concentrating on the touch you want repeated. Well? Did it work?"
Ianto opens his eyes somewhat reluctantly. There's something strangely embarrassing about caressing himself so gently in front of Jack. Especially sitting in Jack's office, during a working day, even though he knows the chances of anyone voluntarily turning up to work on Boxing Day are nil. And despite the countless times he's wanked in front of Jack; and all he's done so far is to run a fingernail up his arm from wrist to elbow. It doesn't help that he's stark bollock naked while Jack remains fully clothed, seated behind his desk in a position that screams "in charge" as he steeples his fingers. But Jack's encouraging nod helps him to relax a little, increasing his ability to focus on the ghostly sensation of his fingernail running over his skin again and again.
"Yeah, it's working." He breathes deeply, trying to decide where to go next. This wasn't like having a wank. Jack had warned him enough times: anything too fast and furious would be unbearable after a few repeats, and then there was no way to end it bar orgasm or passing out. Still, he has to do something else, because otherwise that fingernail sweep will get quite irritating. He's still a bit annoyed at Jack's insistence on practising it on himself first, but he'd been utterly inflexible about that, claiming to have learnt control of the technique on himself before ever daring to use it on anyone else.
"Try licking yourself," Jack suggests with a leer, making Ianto roll his eyes.
"I'm pretty limited as to where I can lick myself, Jack. I'm not a contortionist, you know."
"Oh, I don't know, you're pretty flexible. I've managed to bend you into some fairly challenging positions before." Jack's voice purrs as he shifts in his chair, and Ianto can tell that the memories are getting him excited even though he can't see below Jack's waist. Looking at Jack's desk between them, he is accosted by a sudden vision of one of those athletic sessions involving that very piece of furniture, and the memory sends tremors through his body. He feels his cock start to harden, and a wicked plan springs fully formed into his mind.
"Jack? You promise me you'll stay that side of the desk and let me do this all by myself?"
"Of course!" Jack sounds indignant, but Ianto knows him far too well. Much as he loves watching, Jack finds it hard to resist getting involved in the action.
"Oh yeah," Ianto smirks, one eyebrow raised. "And since you're meant to be my instructor you'll need to keep a clear head, so no touching yourself either."
The look of dismay on Jack's face is priceless, and he finds it hard not to grin as slowly and deliberately he lifts his right hand to his mouth, observing Jack's reactions all the time. He licks his lips, thinking open loop, then pushes his middle finger between them, right up to the base. Hollowing his cheeks as he sucks, quietly moaning, Ianto watches Jack's eyes darken and his posture shift. The last vestige of embarrassment melts away as he spots him surreptitiously lick his own lips. Good, let's make him squirm. Put on a proper show for the Captain. He pulls his finger out and strokes it down over his chin, dragging on his lower lip and leaving a saliva trail over his neck right down to the hollow in his collarbone. Closing that loop he starts another, licking both his index fingers and thumbs with blatant swipes of his tongue, thoroughly wetting them before reaching down to his chest and using his slippery fingertips to circle round and over the rapidly hardening nipples. Letting out a lewd groan as he does so, he's gratified to hear it echoed by Jack who has collapsed back into his chair and has his hands clenched around the armrests.
"Ahhh, remember to go easy on yourself there... Oh god!" Jack gasps as Ianto tweaks his nipples with a flamboyant flourish, smirking and fluttering his eyelashes as he closes the loop.
The layers of sensations in his fingertips make him pause for a moment, and Ianto finds he has to concentrate hard to control his breathing. It feels like someone's finger is in his mouth, pressing against his tongue and palate, that somebody else is licking his fingertips, then running a slick finger down his neck as another phantom lover teases his nipples. The thought of being caressed by so many different sets of hands and mouths is electric, sending a bolt of pleasure sizzling down his spine and straight to his balls. His eyes spring open, and he focuses hard on the desk top to try and dispel the illusion.
"Are you alright, Ianto? Not getting too much for you already, is it?"
"I'm fine, just, ah, choosing a toy," Ianto fumbles for the nearest implement which happens to be Jack's fountain pen. The metal end is smooth and rounded, and looks about as good as anything else he can imagine stroking himself with. Should he even be thinking about starting another loop when he wants to last long enough to work Jack into a frustrated frenzy? But then again, it's useful practice, and judging by the audible breathing, Jack's already highly aroused.
And so he lowers the end of the pen to his navel and starts describing slow, graceful spirals, working their way out until they brush his pubic hair. The metal is cold at first, but the heat of his skin soon warms it, and the almost frictionless glide of the smooth surface is surprisingly pleasant. The sensations in his fingertips are just about bearable if he focuses on the touch of the pen, shutting out everything else.
Looking down at himself, he is amazed to see a drop of pre-cum beading at the end of his cock. Fuck, how did he manage to get himself so turned on without even touching there? He closes the loop and places the pen back on the desk top, checking on Jack at the same time. His knuckles are white where he's gripping the chair, and Ianto notices the minute squirming movements that he's probably doing his best to suppress. Locking eyes, Ianto grins, winks, holds up his right index finger and then lowers it, slowly but steadily, down to his cock. Jack's eyes follow the finger, mesmerised, as he strokes up the slit, collecting the drop as it starts to fall. Then raising his finger at the same pace, opening his mouth and licking up the salty fluid.
"Oh fuck, Ianto! You don't know what you're doing to me!"
"I've got a fairly good idea -"
And then that familiar, dreaded sound starts up. Bloody Rift Alarm.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Jack growls, pawing at his wrist-strap and checking the readout. "Whatever it is, it's fairly big and it's come through in the middle of an industrial estate in Penarth. Should be deserted today."
They stare at each other, and this is usually when they have a silent (or not so silent) conversation about whether either of them is past the point of no return, and whether it would be quicker to see it through rather than have to calm down. Having a hard on can really slow you down in responding to Rift alerts.
"Well, I can't stop. You said orgasm or passing out, right?"
"That's right."
"And we can't just take the crown off me to stop it?"
"It'll still transmit. We could destroy it, but it would be such a waste."
So Ianto fists his cock and starts pumping.
"Stop that!" Jack cries, leaping out of his chair and rounding the desk, pushing Ianto's chair back and grabbing his arm. Ianto stares at him, amazed.
"Jack, I've got to deal with this. You'll be alright."
"I won't. I need you. Now!" Jack insists, his voice deep and husky. "Please?"
And then Ianto sees that glimmer in his eyes again, that certain something that makes him feel like more than just a part-time shag, more than just a "friend with benefits". His resolve softens, melts away in the heat of that gaze.
"Please, Ianto? I won't last long, I promise."
"Great line. I bet that's not what you tell all the others."
"What others?" Jack cups his chin and and gives him a searching look. "Ianto, you do know, don't you? There are no others. Haven't been since I got back."
And since the words are backed up with that gaze, that gentle touch to his jaw, and because it's what he really wants to believe, what he really wants to do, Ianto chooses to ignore the insistent beeping of the alarm. Chooses to pull Jack into a hasty, sloppy kiss - still confused by the multiple sensations in his mouth - before turning around and leaning over the desk, raising his arse, spreading his legs, bracing himself with his hands.
"Come on then. Hurry up and fuck me before I change my mind!"
There's a frenzied clatter as Jack searches one of his desk drawers, followed by a satisfied grunt; and then he's there, behind him. A fumbling of buttons and braces, and a ripping sound as the sachet tears. And then that pressure he craves, digging into him, breaching the tight ring of muscle. Forcing a gasp as he realises that Jack's not even going to bother preparing him, just pushing on in with his thick, hard cock. But it's okay, more than okay, because he wants this. Wants to be filled with Jack's heat, to feel nothing more than that; his lover's hands digging into his hips and the hard desk against his chest and cheek as he leans down. Wants to cancel out the ghosts of his fingers and the pen drawing their lines over his body. And then Jack's all the way in, pausing, and it's both too much and not enough. He pushes back into him, hoping for more. Needing more.
"Do it. Hard." He gasps, voice cracking. Feeling Jack slide out slowly before slamming back into him, picking up the pace until the world contracts to the thrusting of hips, panting of breath and rhythmic slapping. His whole attention is absorbed by the exquisite chafing as Jack's cock slides over his prostate relentlessly. But as Jack's rhythm grows erratic, his breathing ragged, Ianto feels a hand grasp his dick and pull roughly. Once, twice...
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh Jack!" And then it's upon him, the white heat of orgasm pulsing through his body, taking him over. He's barely aware of Jack twitching inside him, riding out his own climax moments later with a series of incoherent grunts.
Returning to reality, Ianto pushes himself up on wobbly arms. Feels Jack slipping from him, and turns.
"Hey," he smiles, wondering how Jack can manage to look so normal, just the slight flush in his cheeks and the fact he's doing up his fly to give him away. Whereas Ianto feels like a sticky, sweaty, slippery mess; aching and bruised but in the best possible way. He pulls the crown off his head, relieved to be free of the phantom fingers, and is about to find some wipes and his clothes when Jack pulls him into a hug.
"Thanks," Jack mutters into his hair, his breath teasing his ear.
"S'alright. My pleasure. Now..." feeling those hands slide down his back and cup his buttocks. "Hadn't we better be getting to Penarth? Save those good folk from the alien menace on their doorstep?"
"Mmmm..." Jack hummed contentedly. "You're a hard taskmaster, Mr Jones."
"And you're a terrible influence on me. That alarm's still beeping, you know."
"So it is," Jack pulls his head back, looking at him with such affection that he feels a blush spread across his cheeks. It really doesn't help that he's the one with no clothes on. And then Jack leans in for a kiss; slow and tender and everything that shag hadn't been.
"Come on then. Better get yourself dressed, unless you want to distract me on the drive over." Jack squeezes Ianto's arse, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"You're insatiable, Harkness."
"It's one of my best qualities."
"So you think."
"Tell me: what are my best qualities, then?"
"There's a time and a place, Jack, and this is definitely not it."
"Spoilsport." And Ianto pulls away in search of his clothing, thinking of all the things he loves about this man and will probably never tell him. But he'll show him. He glances at the crown on the table. A time and a place. New Year's Eve? A smile spreads across his face. Oh yeah, that will work.