3
Rain always makes Ianto horny. He doesn't know why. Maybe it's the boudoir atmosphere of a darkened daytime sky. Maybe it's the sensual patter of the droplets on his skin, or the percussion on the roof and windows. Maybe there's some deep-rooted psychological reason, but whatever it may be, whenever it rains, he wants to get fucked. He doesn't always like getting fucked.
What he doesn't like is getting so close to coming that he can taste it, only to have the guy inside him come first, go soft, and then he has to jack off to finish. Lisa was like that, a greedy and selfish lover who, once done would roll over and go to sleep like he didn't' matter. She was a real bitch, but he loved her… or thought he did. That's annoying. He can jack off by himself. On rainy days, though, he wants the cum fucked out of him/e
"Okay, Ianto, come on it is barely drizzle. I want to check the site" Jack says and groans. He'd rather sit on his leather couch while Jack blows him. It should be obvious, though. Can't he hear it?
Water hitting pavement, plants, each drop the miniaturized slap of sticky body against body. It's fuck music. Ianto step beyond the protection of the caravan's awning into the onslaught of rain. "Rainy days don't make you restless?"
Ianto takes off his sweater vest so that the rain can plaster his button-down shirt to his skin. Turning his face to the sky, he opens his mouth to feel the fresh water run down his throat.
He can't see Jack's expression through the precipitation. He's standing in the doorway, though.
"Damn, Ianto," he says appreciatively, "that's some body I did not expect."
Jack steps out to join him in the rain.
Damn," he says again, drawing close. Jack places a hand on Ianto's chest, right over his beating heart. "Look at that muscle."
Smiling, Ianto guided Jack's hand over his torso so he can feel the hard ridges, his nipples firm under the cotton shirt, the flooded hills and valleys of flesh and skin. Ianto's body is his favourite secret. It's a reward for the lovers desperate enough to be with him. It's a gift for some men's curiosity, like Jack, like now.
Ianto kissed his collarbone.
"Beat me gently," Ianto whispered, dragging my wet lips up to his ear. "Hold me by the throat but don't take my breath. Fuck me and forget me tomorrow."
Jack turns his head to meet Ianto's mouth. His breath is hot and his lips smooth. Now he, too, is intoxicated by the rain's chilly caress. Button by button he works to bare skin, to let the sky drop liquid licks on Ianto's shoulders and chest.
He kisses Ianto softly but without sweetness, and his whiskers brush Ianto's chin. Under Ianto's fingertips Jack's hips are smooth. Ianto pulls Jack's t-shirt over his head and bend to take his nipple in my mouth.
It's aggressive of him, a dominance that the rain hasn't washed away. Neither has the rain had time to erase the taste of salt on Jack's skin. He must have visited Ianto after a visit to the gym.
Jack strokes Ianto's hair when he pushes his athletic shorts and boxers to the ground. Ianto loves a man's hipbones. He bites one, then the other, sinking him teeth into the skin and muscle that surrounds the bone. Jack jumps at first, but he doesn't seem to mind a little pain with his pleasure.
"Do you do this often?" Jack asks. He's amused, surprised at both himself for allowing Ianto to have control and at Ianto for acting such a sexual predator.
"Only when it rains," Ianto responds. His throat is thick, his voice husky. It's pouring harder now. He pushes Jack back so that he sits on the Altar. Ianto is ravenous for his body.
He presses kisses to Jack's shaft, to the covered glans, and to his wrinkled testicles. The rain dilutes everything but the smell of his skin now, clean and musky. His thighs are thick and corded with muscle; I'll bet he really hits that gym frequently.
"Go ahead, baby," Jack says, barely loud enough to be heard over the pattering raindrops. "Take me in your mouth."
Ianto obeys, but not before unbuckling his own wet jeans to touch himself. He touches Jack with trembling, excited fingers, and also touches himself. He tastes the rain, Ianto tastes him when he runs his tongue around the tip, just under the foreskin. Jack sucks air through his teeth and leans back.
Opening his mouth, Ianto sticks out his tongue and tap Jack's cock against it.
"Yeah, fucker," Jack says hotly, "slap yourself with my cock."
So, Jack's a talker. Ianto can handle that. Comes from being an actor, I guess.
"Suck on the tip a little bit," he instructs. Ianto does to the sound of Jack's groan.
Ianto wants to see Jack fully hard, wants to know what's going to be pummeling him, punishing him. Ianto takes him all the way into his throat, until his nose is pressed against Jack's smooth hair free lower gut and shakes his head like a dog worrying a bone.
"Suck on my balls," Jack commands. "Get at them, cocksucker."
Ianto sucks one into his mouth, running hi tongue over the smooth sack. Then he switches to the other one, pulling just a little bit with his teeth, not enough to make it hurt.
Jack's dark head falls back on the stone, exposing his neck to the weather's wet caress. "Shit. So good."
"Will you fuck me here?" Ianto asks.
Jack nods, smiling at Ianto for the first time since they began this.
His teeth are very white in the soft light.
"You bet your arse I will!"
Ianto wants to ride Jack, to feel him pound his arse while the rain pounds my head and back.
Ianto wants Jack to fuck him from below while the sky fucks him with tiny water pricks from above.
In response Jack shoves Ianto down on his cock again, fucking his mouth, using Ianto's short hair to move his head up and down. Eyes closed, Ianto teases his balls with his fingertips; he's getting close, the wrinkled pouch is tightening up.
"Fuck, fuck, yeah, fuck," Jack chants in time to Ianto's mouth.
Ianto is sucking like a vacuum, slurping up precum and rain.
"Fuck, shit, suck it." He needs to come.
Ianto wants him to come, He wants to feel that hot slippery ejaculate coating his tongue.
Ianto whipped his tongue over the veins and the head, inhaling hard.
Come for me, you bastard.
Ianto tugs his balls and take his cock into his throat.
"Aw, fuck," Jack groans, dragging the word out as his balls contract in Ianto's hand, his shaft pulses to release slick cum into Ianto's hungry, waiting mouth.
It's a little sweet, mostly bitter.
Jack's fingers pull Ianto's hair painfully, yanking at Ianto's scalp as he convulses with each ejaculation; his powerful thighs crush Ianto's shoulders repeatedly, arrhythmically.
Ianto sits back, letting the rain wash away all traces of saliva and cum from their bodies. It hasn't poured like this in a long time.
"Swallow my cum, Tiger," he orders.
Ianto does, knowing that Jack can see his Adam's apple bob, and that it will turn him on all over again.
Jack rolls his head to one side and finally notices the camera.
Then he forgets everything as Ianto's breath on his wet inner thigh calls for round two.
Oh fuck.