Ianto takes the bottle back from the other man once he holds it out to him and sets it against his knee for a moment, considering his words. Peripherally, he understands that the military isn't exactly tolerant of -- well, this. The world in general still isn't all that tolerant of it, truth be told, but. Reported and discharged, really?
"And that's why you'd never done anything quite like that before, then," he hazards aloud, studying the other man's expression as he does. "You've spent most of your adult life in the military, after all."
He plays with the bottle between his fingers for a moment, taking a careful swallow before setting it back against his knee. John had still come up with the idea himself despite that, though. He'd still seemed to enjoy it, up until the point where some switch had flipped and the moment had gone from a playful ruse to an uncomfortable trap.
"But... You've. Experience with other men even despite that, yeah?" he hazards, glancing back up at him as he hands the bottle back across to John. "A little?"
"A little," he agrees, and takes the bottle back. "You have to be careful. There's a Clinton policy in place that's meant to... you know, stop you being forced to incriminate yourself but. All people need is some small thing to trigger an investigation and you're out. If people hate you enough they'll grab at anything they can, sometimes people run the plates of cars outside bars. You know."
The wrong kinds of bars. He takes another swig of from the bottle, takes a deep breath.
"And if you're discharged it's not like... being fired from a job. If they don't give you an honourable discharge, which they don't have to, you risk losing all your benefits and having a mark on your permanent record that anyone who wants to employ you can see."
John holds out the bottle, hesitates.
"Anyway. I know it's -- stupid, there's no... well, no reason to be careful here we know about."
It's just... weird, as much as he's constantly reassured other people he can't seem to break the habits himself.
"But you've had to be careful all your life," Ianto infers for him. His eyes are a deep blue as he sits back to study him, observant and watchful. Looking for any sign of regret or frustration. Reaching to take the bottle for him after a moment and taking another healthy swig of his own before taking a breath to respond.
"It's not stupid," he reassures him quietly. "I wish you'd have told me earlier, so that maybe we might have found a better way to have gone about things, but. I'm not angry at you for it, or anything. It's not like. That's exactly me either, you know? Groping you in the hallway and. Honey."
He swirls the drink around in the bottle a little. Really starting to feel the warmth of it now and maybe it's that, that gives him the courage himself to go on. "No matter what you might think, I'm not asking for you to be someone you're not, you know. Believe it or not, you're the one that interests me."
He's not especially frustrated, John is mostly still on the edges of being tense and uncomfortable. Talking about this is uncharted territory for him, and he's only managing it through the slowly descending fog of alcohol.
Still.
Once Ianto stalks talking about groping in the hallway and honey John rolls his eyes a little, winces.
"I was exaggerating a little for the audience," he says, "but I just --"
He trails off, takes a slow breath. He just wanted to do something wild to prove he wasn't afraid to touch Ianto, that he could be something like normal.
"Anyway, it's not you."
That's the key point. His eyes dart away uncomfortably again to some vague point that isn't looking at Ianto.
Ianto nods for a moment, playing the bottle against his knee and taking another swig again before moving to hand it back to the other man again.
"But you are," he asks, after a second's hesitation that only just shows on his face as he does. "Interested, I mean? In me, that is. I -- I know that I'm not..." He trails off, hesitating again as he tries to find exactly the right words. "Not a lot of people are, I know. They haven't been, anyway. So I hope..."
He hopes at the end of the day, putting himself through the anxiety of fighting against something as ingrained as what he's describing, it really is something he wants for himself as well. And not, as he'd hinted at the day before, just because he thinks it would make him happy.
Not a lot of people are. What's that supposed to mean? Hadn't he been sleeping with his boss? Wasn't Kirk flirting with him? It doesn't add up to a person nobody is interested in. He takes the bottle off Ianto, re-caps it and sets it aside again.
"Of course," he assures him, and reaches to cup his face. "Ianto, I... don't know why I wouldn't be, I..."
He takes a deep breath, lets it out shakily. God, he's such an asshole. He shouldn't have let it drag out this long, just because he's stupid and doesn't know how to -- it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because he can still fix this. That's all Ianto needs, something to hold onto. John can give him that. He moves his weight fully onto the bed, eases Ianto into a kiss and drops one hand to brace the small of his back.
Ianto himself can think of a hundred and one reasons why a person might not be interested in him, but they all pretty much go right out of his head as the other man reaches for him. Leans in to kiss him and slips a hand around his back to brace him there. Ianto can think of a hundred other reasons why he might put on a show or use him for a bit of fun to get access to the computer panels in the Central, but for god's sake no one in their right mind should be kissing him like this unless it's what they want.
He reaches to brace one hand on the bed behind himself and clasp the other around John's jaw. Steadying himself into the kiss and letting out a soft noise of surprise and pleasure at this development. He had really enjoyed himself earlier, for all the disaster it had ended in. And if he's understanding correctly, it had been the audience to ruin the experience, not the kiss itself? If he's understanding correctly.
There's certainly been nothing to suggest otherwise. John is kissing him slowly this time, less of an air of desperation to it. There's no rush, nobody watching -- it's just them after all. His hands move after a moment, fumble for the front of Ianto's fleece and reach to unzip it -- to scrape it aside and try to pull up the layers underneath to get at skin. There's too many layers, though, the right amount from a practical 'it's snowing' perspective but too many when he wants them out of the way.
John pulls back from the kiss so he can concentrate a moment, drops his eyes and gives up on skimming up layers further to work undoing Ianto's belt instead.
"Let me prove it to you," he murmurs, because that's exactly what he plans to try and do.
It's certainly a different approach from how John has gone about this before, but Ianto doesn't mind. In fact, it's quite the opposite. His hand shifting to wrap around the back of the other man's neck, tightening in his hair as he feels John moving to reach and unzip his fleece.
He's breathless by the time the other man pulls away, his heart leaping in his chest as John reaches for his belt and offers to prove his interest to him. It's about at this point that he remembers he's not only got his thermal shirt on underneath his fleece here, but thermal trousers on underneath his jeans as well. No wonder he's feeling warm, after all the alcohol and the other man's attentions besides.
"Prove it to me," Ianto repeats, his hands braced on the other man's shoulders as he glances down to where John is working on his belt. "What... What did you have in mind?"
"Was the part where I'm undressing you not a clue?"
He feels it should have been a pretty solid clue. Fingers fumble open Ianto's belt and then John is beginning to paw open his jeans too, rubbing the heel of his hand against Ianto through them before trying to shift layers around to get his hand inside them. Ianto is warm and so close, so nice to just run his hands over. John can't help a momentary fantasy of the man writhing under him, of how he'd look spread out. Of how he'd feel.
John surges up into another kiss, this one a little more eager, and begins to coax him more to life with firm, efficient touches.
Whatever hesitation John might have had in the Central is certainly missing now. Ianto's hands tighten against John's shoulders and he reaches for him, fisting his hand back into the other man's hair as he moans softly into the kiss.
John doesn't need to work very hard to get a response from him. It's no secret that Ianto wants him too, after all. Of course, now that John really is touching him, he's a little bit stunned as to how to react. All reason shocked from his mind at the touch of John's lips to his mouth and the press of his hand -- somewhat lower.
He breaks free from the kiss again, after a few moments, and tucks his face against John's shoulder. Catching his breath and gathering his thoughts before he circles his hand around to tug at the zipper at the front of John's shirt, pressing his lips against the freshly exposed skin of his neck as he does.
He's vaguely aware of the fact that he's one, far too over-dressed for how warm he's starting to feel, and two, wearing quite possibly the most unflattering thermal underwear and John is about to become intimately aware of that fact as well. He gropes for something, anything to say in his defense, but his brain seems to be a bit otherwise preoccupied.
John lets out a huff of amusement as Ianto shoves his face into his neck, one that descends into quiet shakes of laughter as he paws through layers of clothing. There's just something about Ianto, about his gentle fussiness and grouchiness, that is charmingly endearing. John wants to hold onto him and make sure he never feels unwanted again.
"You taste like fish," John teases, and then tightens his arms around Ianto for a moment to make sure he knows he doesn't care before he pushes back off the bed -- drops to his knees and begins more roughly dragging down his jeans. He hits the thermal layer and smiles up at Ianto, hooks his fingers under it and begins working it down to try and find some skin to pay attention to.
There's something about your partner laughing in the middle of feeling you up that is decidedly unsexy, Ianto determines. That, followed up with the comment about how he tastes like his chowder and fish sandwich (the latter of which he half realizes is half-finished and forgotten on the bed somewhere beside him), rather makes him feel like crawling into a deep, dark hole for a while.
It's the motion of John dropping down off the edge of the bed in front of him that has him staying put right where he is, though. Leaning back on his hands to brace himself on the bed and shifting his hips so that John has better access to tug his jeans down, flushing brightly in response to the smile that John gives him as his thermal underwear is exposed.
"Listen, I..." he makes his best attempt to say. "It's cold out there, you know. Some of us mere mortals aren't -- acclimated to these extremes..."
He laughs again, a less restrained laugh -- a low, rough sort of sound as he tugs Ianto's jeans down further and peels down his thermal layer.
"Mere mortals," he repeats, and smiles up at him as he finally exposes some skin. "Pretty sure I'm mortal too, Jones."
For that matter, he's pretty sure they're both very aware of that. He settles himself in between Ianto's legs, begins kissing at patches of exposed thigh and running his hands over them. Nuzzling his face into his hip to see if he can coax him into responding.
"I'll keep you warm," he murmurs, even though Ianto feels like he's already warming up without much help.
He rather is aware of John's mortality, yes. But that experience is about the furthest thing from his mind that it can be right now, as the other man eases the thermals further down his legs and settles between his thighs in front of him. Ianto has to look away from him after a moment, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling and let out some slow, deep breaths. His own embarrassment with his body warring inside him with the overwhelming wave of desire for how much he wants this. I'll keep you warm, John says, and he's right. Ianto's pretty sure he could cook an egg on his face alone just now, if he tried.
"Christ..." He shifts after a moment, moving to struggle his way out of the fleece jacket that John had unzipped but never quite actually pushed off of his shoulders. He's too damn hot, the whole room is too hot -- if John only knew what he's doing to him already, he thinks to himself, helplessly.
John smiles and draws back a little as Ianto struggles out of his fleece, skims his own off over his head and lets his black t-shirt follow it -- dumps them on the ground and grabs up the bottle he discarded earlier. He unscrews the cap and takes a swig -- holds it out to Ianto and squeezes his thigh gently with his other hand.
"You okay?"
Since he just started moving, really, didn't stop to ask. He doesn't think Ianto is in any way not into this but he might need a minute or two. Might prefer something else, for that matter, to John between his legs this way. Which is fine, he can adapt.
Ianto lets out the bark of a laugh at John's question and following offer of more alcohol. Alright, so he is a bit worked up, he can see that. He doesn't mean to -- everything seems to work in stops and starts with John so far at least, and it's not that Ianto's complaining exactly. It's just taking him a moment to wrap his head around the fact that actually yes, John's interested. Interested enough to be kneeling in front of him with clear intentions of going down on him, in fact.
"I'm -- I'm fine," he manages, knowing that he doesn't sound very convincing as he does. To hell with it. He reaches for the bottle John's holding out to him, tipping back a healthy swallow or two. "I'm fine." There, much better. "Just. Just give me a minute." So he doesn't punctuate this moment with a spectacular premature finale and pretty much put the icing on the cake of his embarrassment for the day.
He knocks back another mouthful of the alcohol, giving himself a moment to take a couple of deep breaths before he hands it back and reaches for him. Tugging John in close with a hand cupped around the back of his neck to pull him into a hungry kiss. Shifting to sit forward to the edge of the bed, grappling his hands across the bare skin of John's back to drag him closer, to press against him. He needs to give himself a moment to touch and feel and taste in turn before John pulls back again out of reach or else he might go mad with the sensation of it all, so he figures he can at least allow himself this. Fish breath be damned.
He lets himself be pulled up, reaches out to carefully take the bottle from Ianto before it spills and sets it to one side. Then John's hands move up to skim under Ianto's tops, to paw at his stomach and around to his back. The feel of his muscles twitching only heightens how much John wants him, wants to make him squirm and he pulls back again after a moment -- presses kisses down Ianto's neck and mouths at his pulse.
"I want you," he murmurs, and he's pretty sure there's no ambiguity in there. "Let me do this."
Or, at least, let him try. He reaches down and teases his fingers along the inside of Ianto's thighs, waiting for permission to go back to what he was doing a moment ago.
Ianto palms at his back for another moment, kneading against the solid warmth of muscle he finds there -- god, his skin feels so good underneath his hands, he has to wonder how it would feel pressed against his, but that can come at another time. He lets himself believe that there will be another time, running his hand up John's back and through his hair before he nods against the side of his head.
"Yes," he replies in turn, somewhat breathlessly -- he's being very distracting. "God, yes. You'll not hear a complaint from me." Like he would ever say no to the tease of John's fingers on his bare skin or the promise of his mouth pressing down there as well. The idea that he wants this -- he wants it? -- sending quiet shocks of pleasure straight through him all on its own.
Good. Good, because John wouldn't want to turn back now. He slinks back down to his knees again and begins kissing along his thigh, takes him in hand and steels himself against any waves of panic. This is something he's not exactly experienced in, but he wants to try. He wants to taste Ianto and see him squirm, to see him come undone.
His head lowers and John begins mouthing at soft, sensitive skin -- teasing the base of his shaft and trying to let his mind quiet of anything else. To just focus on the taste of it, the feel of Ianto in his hand and the heat of him.
Ianto forces himself to sit back and let John take over most of the action again. It's not really a scenario that lends itself to much participation on his end, but John doesn't seem to mind that much. Ianto's breath catching slightly as he mouths his way towards his arousal. He hardly needs to do much to get him going, the sight of John alone -- kneeling shirtless between his legs, mouth and hands intent on pleasuring him -- is enough to have him aching.
He reaches out to run a hand through John's hair, already mussed from his attention earlier, splaying his fingers across the back of his neck to hold that contact with him as he does.
"Tease," Ianto grinds out, a little playfully though there's something of a warning in his tone. He won't be able to take too much of that. Not when he wants this as bad as he does.
The hands in his hair and on his neck help, they soothe him and help him narrow his focus to what he's doing. He hears the edge to Ianto's tone, though, and there's something gratifying about how he's barely had to put effort in to get him so aroused. John lifts his eyes to study his expression a moment, drinking in the flush on Ianto's cheeks and the dilation of his eyes as he slowly works his shaft with one hand. He's gorgeous like this, and it's difficult to believe Ianto really thinks nobody would want him when everything about him is perfect to John. Thermal layering included.
Then he's squaring himself up, taking Ianto into his mouth and working the base of his shaft with firm, insistent motions.
He meets John's eyes as the other man pulls back, and he can only imagine what he must look like to him in return. He quite enjoys how John looks himself though. His hair mussed from his continued attention, his own eyes dark with arousal and focus, and his mouth reddened already from their continued kissing and the use of his mouth against Ianto's own skin.
And then John lowers his mouth over him and it's too much to sit still and watch. His fingers tighten against the back of John's neck and it's all he can do not to push up into his mouth or press John's head down further against him. Instead he leans himself back into the bed against his other hand, tilting his head back and letting out a slow breath, cursing softly as he does.
His fingers flex into Ianto's thigh and John makes a muffled, low sound of pleasure as Ianto's fingers grip him tighter. John is not exactly a porn star, he's sloppy but clearly putting in effort -- keeping his hand working Ianto as he pulls back every so often to catch his breath and wet his lips again. He's not about to try and fancily deep-throat Ianto or something he's pretty sure he can't do, but he can give him enough attention to coax him over the edge. That's all he needs, Ianto to give in and let go. He lets his fingers flex into the tense muscle of Ianto's thigh again, then moves his hand to drag his nails along it slowly.
Ianto doesn't really need John to be a porn star, or to pull off all the fancy tricks that honestly Jack might have, in order to send him careening towards the edge. All of that is well and good but all he needs is the attention. Attention from John, this proof that the other man really does desire him -- a man could fake such a thing in a kiss, but there's no way to fake it going down on him like this. Not a man like John who seems to wear everything on his face, at any rate. And then there's the simple fact that no one has touched him for the better part of what must be a year now, and he's twenty-four years old and in the prime of his life and it honestly really isn't going to take much.
John flexes his fingers against his thigh, dragging his nails along the line of his skin there and Ianto nearly jumps out of his skin. It's all he can do to stop himself from thrusting his hips forward to seek out that final pleasure that the other man's mouth and hand are promising. Tightening his hand against John's neck and arching under the building pleasure instead, he lets out a long, low moan that ends in the other man's name. Another warning. This really won't take much. Distantly, he hopes that John's alright with that. Distantly, he's glad he's made it this far.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"And that's why you'd never done anything quite like that before, then," he hazards aloud, studying the other man's expression as he does. "You've spent most of your adult life in the military, after all."
He plays with the bottle between his fingers for a moment, taking a careful swallow before setting it back against his knee. John had still come up with the idea himself despite that, though. He'd still seemed to enjoy it, up until the point where some switch had flipped and the moment had gone from a playful ruse to an uncomfortable trap.
"But... You've. Experience with other men even despite that, yeah?" he hazards, glancing back up at him as he hands the bottle back across to John. "A little?"
no subject
The wrong kinds of bars. He takes another swig of from the bottle, takes a deep breath.
"And if you're discharged it's not like... being fired from a job. If they don't give you an honourable discharge, which they don't have to, you risk losing all your benefits and having a mark on your permanent record that anyone who wants to employ you can see."
John holds out the bottle, hesitates.
"Anyway. I know it's -- stupid, there's no... well, no reason to be careful here we know about."
It's just... weird, as much as he's constantly reassured other people he can't seem to break the habits himself.
no subject
"It's not stupid," he reassures him quietly. "I wish you'd have told me earlier, so that maybe we might have found a better way to have gone about things, but. I'm not angry at you for it, or anything. It's not like. That's exactly me either, you know? Groping you in the hallway and. Honey."
He swirls the drink around in the bottle a little. Really starting to feel the warmth of it now and maybe it's that, that gives him the courage himself to go on. "No matter what you might think, I'm not asking for you to be someone you're not, you know. Believe it or not, you're the one that interests me."
no subject
Still.
Once Ianto stalks talking about groping in the hallway and honey John rolls his eyes a little, winces.
"I was exaggerating a little for the audience," he says, "but I just --"
He trails off, takes a slow breath. He just wanted to do something wild to prove he wasn't afraid to touch Ianto, that he could be something like normal.
"Anyway, it's not you."
That's the key point. His eyes dart away uncomfortably again to some vague point that isn't looking at Ianto.
no subject
"But you are," he asks, after a second's hesitation that only just shows on his face as he does. "Interested, I mean? In me, that is. I -- I know that I'm not..." He trails off, hesitating again as he tries to find exactly the right words. "Not a lot of people are, I know. They haven't been, anyway. So I hope..."
He hopes at the end of the day, putting himself through the anxiety of fighting against something as ingrained as what he's describing, it really is something he wants for himself as well. And not, as he'd hinted at the day before, just because he thinks it would make him happy.
no subject
"Of course," he assures him, and reaches to cup his face. "Ianto, I... don't know why I wouldn't be, I..."
He takes a deep breath, lets it out shakily. God, he's such an asshole. He shouldn't have let it drag out this long, just because he's stupid and doesn't know how to -- it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because he can still fix this. That's all Ianto needs, something to hold onto. John can give him that. He moves his weight fully onto the bed, eases Ianto into a kiss and drops one hand to brace the small of his back.
no subject
He reaches to brace one hand on the bed behind himself and clasp the other around John's jaw. Steadying himself into the kiss and letting out a soft noise of surprise and pleasure at this development. He had really enjoyed himself earlier, for all the disaster it had ended in. And if he's understanding correctly, it had been the audience to ruin the experience, not the kiss itself? If he's understanding correctly.
no subject
John pulls back from the kiss so he can concentrate a moment, drops his eyes and gives up on skimming up layers further to work undoing Ianto's belt instead.
"Let me prove it to you," he murmurs, because that's exactly what he plans to try and do.
no subject
He's breathless by the time the other man pulls away, his heart leaping in his chest as John reaches for his belt and offers to prove his interest to him. It's about at this point that he remembers he's not only got his thermal shirt on underneath his fleece here, but thermal trousers on underneath his jeans as well. No wonder he's feeling warm, after all the alcohol and the other man's attentions besides.
"Prove it to me," Ianto repeats, his hands braced on the other man's shoulders as he glances down to where John is working on his belt. "What... What did you have in mind?"
no subject
He feels it should have been a pretty solid clue. Fingers fumble open Ianto's belt and then John is beginning to paw open his jeans too, rubbing the heel of his hand against Ianto through them before trying to shift layers around to get his hand inside them. Ianto is warm and so close, so nice to just run his hands over. John can't help a momentary fantasy of the man writhing under him, of how he'd look spread out. Of how he'd feel.
John surges up into another kiss, this one a little more eager, and begins to coax him more to life with firm, efficient touches.
no subject
John doesn't need to work very hard to get a response from him. It's no secret that Ianto wants him too, after all. Of course, now that John really is touching him, he's a little bit stunned as to how to react. All reason shocked from his mind at the touch of John's lips to his mouth and the press of his hand -- somewhat lower.
He breaks free from the kiss again, after a few moments, and tucks his face against John's shoulder. Catching his breath and gathering his thoughts before he circles his hand around to tug at the zipper at the front of John's shirt, pressing his lips against the freshly exposed skin of his neck as he does.
He's vaguely aware of the fact that he's one, far too over-dressed for how warm he's starting to feel, and two, wearing quite possibly the most unflattering thermal underwear and John is about to become intimately aware of that fact as well. He gropes for something, anything to say in his defense, but his brain seems to be a bit otherwise preoccupied.
no subject
"You taste like fish," John teases, and then tightens his arms around Ianto for a moment to make sure he knows he doesn't care before he pushes back off the bed -- drops to his knees and begins more roughly dragging down his jeans. He hits the thermal layer and smiles up at Ianto, hooks his fingers under it and begins working it down to try and find some skin to pay attention to.
no subject
It's the motion of John dropping down off the edge of the bed in front of him that has him staying put right where he is, though. Leaning back on his hands to brace himself on the bed and shifting his hips so that John has better access to tug his jeans down, flushing brightly in response to the smile that John gives him as his thermal underwear is exposed.
"Listen, I..." he makes his best attempt to say. "It's cold out there, you know. Some of us mere mortals aren't -- acclimated to these extremes..."
no subject
"Mere mortals," he repeats, and smiles up at him as he finally exposes some skin. "Pretty sure I'm mortal too, Jones."
For that matter, he's pretty sure they're both very aware of that. He settles himself in between Ianto's legs, begins kissing at patches of exposed thigh and running his hands over them. Nuzzling his face into his hip to see if he can coax him into responding.
"I'll keep you warm," he murmurs, even though Ianto feels like he's already warming up without much help.
no subject
"Christ..." He shifts after a moment, moving to struggle his way out of the fleece jacket that John had unzipped but never quite actually pushed off of his shoulders. He's too damn hot, the whole room is too hot -- if John only knew what he's doing to him already, he thinks to himself, helplessly.
no subject
"You okay?"
Since he just started moving, really, didn't stop to ask. He doesn't think Ianto is in any way not into this but he might need a minute or two. Might prefer something else, for that matter, to John between his legs this way. Which is fine, he can adapt.
no subject
"I'm -- I'm fine," he manages, knowing that he doesn't sound very convincing as he does. To hell with it. He reaches for the bottle John's holding out to him, tipping back a healthy swallow or two. "I'm fine." There, much better. "Just. Just give me a minute." So he doesn't punctuate this moment with a spectacular premature finale and pretty much put the icing on the cake of his embarrassment for the day.
He knocks back another mouthful of the alcohol, giving himself a moment to take a couple of deep breaths before he hands it back and reaches for him. Tugging John in close with a hand cupped around the back of his neck to pull him into a hungry kiss. Shifting to sit forward to the edge of the bed, grappling his hands across the bare skin of John's back to drag him closer, to press against him. He needs to give himself a moment to touch and feel and taste in turn before John pulls back again out of reach or else he might go mad with the sensation of it all, so he figures he can at least allow himself this. Fish breath be damned.
no subject
"I want you," he murmurs, and he's pretty sure there's no ambiguity in there. "Let me do this."
Or, at least, let him try. He reaches down and teases his fingers along the inside of Ianto's thighs, waiting for permission to go back to what he was doing a moment ago.
no subject
"Yes," he replies in turn, somewhat breathlessly -- he's being very distracting. "God, yes. You'll not hear a complaint from me." Like he would ever say no to the tease of John's fingers on his bare skin or the promise of his mouth pressing down there as well. The idea that he wants this -- he wants it? -- sending quiet shocks of pleasure straight through him all on its own.
no subject
His head lowers and John begins mouthing at soft, sensitive skin -- teasing the base of his shaft and trying to let his mind quiet of anything else. To just focus on the taste of it, the feel of Ianto in his hand and the heat of him.
no subject
He reaches out to run a hand through John's hair, already mussed from his attention earlier, splaying his fingers across the back of his neck to hold that contact with him as he does.
"Tease," Ianto grinds out, a little playfully though there's something of a warning in his tone. He won't be able to take too much of that. Not when he wants this as bad as he does.
no subject
Then he's squaring himself up, taking Ianto into his mouth and working the base of his shaft with firm, insistent motions.
no subject
And then John lowers his mouth over him and it's too much to sit still and watch. His fingers tighten against the back of John's neck and it's all he can do not to push up into his mouth or press John's head down further against him. Instead he leans himself back into the bed against his other hand, tilting his head back and letting out a slow breath, cursing softly as he does.
"Christ..."
no subject
no subject
John flexes his fingers against his thigh, dragging his nails along the line of his skin there and Ianto nearly jumps out of his skin. It's all he can do to stop himself from thrusting his hips forward to seek out that final pleasure that the other man's mouth and hand are promising. Tightening his hand against John's neck and arching under the building pleasure instead, he lets out a long, low moan that ends in the other man's name. Another warning. This really won't take much. Distantly, he hopes that John's alright with that. Distantly, he's glad he's made it this far.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)