It takes Ianto a moment to realize what's happened to the lights, and he smiles against the other man's skin in response to it. Mood lighting, he thinks to himself, as he rocks back against the other man. He's already reached his own release but that's no reason that he can't find pleasure in this as well. John is always so -- maybe not certain, but it's the way he holds himself, all of his training, it's like there's a wall between him and the world. An armor of his own making. It's something else to see him like this. Naked and wanting, slowly coming undone, and all because of. Him?
He presses a gentle line of kisses back up the line of John's neck, nipping at the underside of his jaw. Sliding gentle fingers over the panels of his chest, pinching his nipple again, where he knew he'd gotten a reaction last time, and rocking forward again.
"Yes, John," he murmurs softly against the other man's skin, as much an answer to his words as he is coaxing him on.
In public John's affections run toward cool, detached. A hand on a shoulder, a idle touch here and there that might seem like it means something but which he plays off like nothing. Like the kind of thing he'd do with anyone, some meaningless gesture.
Here, now, there's no mistaking the heat of his skin. Ianto's fingers are light over his chest, his teeth tease at his neck and John is dimly glad he's on his back already because he doesn't think he'd be able to hold himself up under the assault. He feels breathless and he doesn't know why, because Ianto is barely doing that much but somehow it's still enough to make him feel crazy. The slow, teasing burn of them moving together. He fumbles to skim a hand down, rubs it up and down Ianto's side in a weirdly gentle, sweet sort of gesture as he rocks up against him again. Something that contrasts with the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the intensity of his frown as he holds Ianto into his neck.
"Please," he whispers, and John doesn't know what he's pleading for -- anything, anything in truth. Anything Ianto would give him.
Ianto had originally intended to return the favor and take him in his mouth, but the way that John holds him, he isn't sure that's what he wants from this anymore. Not when he can have this, skin against skin, the other man pliant in his hands. Hot and needy and oddly gentle all in the same breath. His, and his alone.
What I want is you. The words light a fire all of their own in Ianto's chest, and he wishes on one hand that he hadn't finished quite so soon, that he had more of himself to offer in this moment. That what he can give isn't too much in the same breath. John does seem... Taken up in the moment as it is.
Shifting slightly, he kisses a trail down John's breastbone, mouthing against his chest as he rocks forward again. Using his weight and the press of his body against John's hips in his favor as he moves.
Ianto kisses down his chest and John arches as he rocks forward, eyes fluttering closed as his head presses back into into the pillow.
He feels ruffled, tense like a spring slowly being wound up. Like he's barely restraining himself, fingers carding through Ianto's hair as tries rein in his urge to rock up -- to press more skin against skin again and again.
John arches back against him, softly begging him for — what exactly Ianto isn’t sure at first, but it’s a puzzle for him to solve, and he has always enjoyed a challenge. He pulls his head back far enough to be able to catch a glimpse of the other man’s face, eyes pressed shut, head throw back against the pillow behind him, trying to read his desires on his face though he’s not so nearly an open book as he would seem. Or maybe it is simply that he simply wants, as he had said, and it really is up to Ianto to determine how to make that happen.
He shifts to the side just enough to be able to slide a hand between them, wrapping around the other man’s arousal, fondling him for a moment and admiring the weight of him in his hand before stroking him. Setting up a rhythm as he reaches to cup his jaw in one hand and turn his face to kiss him again. Slow and languid, deep and unhurried, even as he works him at a pace with his hand below.
He lets himself be turned into the kiss, bucking into Ianto's hand as his grip coaxes him onward. His touch is hot, fuels John's desire coiling desire. It's simple, far from revelatory or world-changing sex but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because John is sticking to the sheets with sweat anyway, is digging his heels into them to try and brace himself and he wants this. He wants anything Ianto will give him, like a man in the desert in search of water John is hanging on to any drop of sustenance he can get.
His muscles begin to go tense, and John breaks the kiss with a gasp -- curls fingers into Ianto's skin and bucks into his hand again.
"Ianto," he says again, but this time there's a note of warning to it. John's not sure how long he can take such quick, decisive stimulation. If that's what Ianto intends then fine, but if it isn't he should back up a little.
Ianto slowly eases off, keeping his fingers wrapped around John's arousal even as his hand stills in place, pressing his face against the side of his face. Smiling against his skin as he feels John struggling against him. As the other man's fingernails bite into his flesh and his body quakes underneath his own.
"That's my name," he teases, cheekily. Turning his head to press another kiss in the crook of the other man's neck, giving him a moment to collect his breath enough to respond -- or not, he supposes -- before he moves to play his fingers along the line of his inner thigh.
It's just enough of a break for John to gather himself back under control, to flex fingers holding onto his hair and rub his other hand slowly up and down Ianto's back.
"Yeah," he responds absently, "it is."
His name. Ianto. Taking a shaky breath he lets it out slowly, bucks up against Ianto again to encourage him back into action. The light touch of fingers along his thigh is making him shiver, and he craves more contact -- more of the firm encouragement his hand was giving before.
This may be the first time that Ianto's done this with John, but he can read the other man's body language easily enough. Bucking up against him is a pretty clear sign that John wants more out of this situation, even if he isn't outright asking for it -- not yet anyway.
Ducking his head to trail another line of kisses along the line of John's collarbone, Ianto trails his hand to cup him in hand, caressing, the touch of his hand teasingly light before he wraps his fingers back around his arousal to offer him another firm encouraging stroke again.
"Say it again," he murmurs roughly, moving his other hand up to tangle in the other man's hair.
"Ianto," John repeats, and this is nice -- this gentle caress is nice but it isn't enough. He needs that pace again, the build up of pressure. He needs to feel Ianto's lips and hands working him.
"Don't make me beg," he adds, because he would if he had to but he doesn't want to. Not right now. He just wants the attention, wants the relief that comes after reaching it. John turns his head more into the hand holding onto his hair, arches up again and quietly hopes Ianto has some sense of mercy.
Ianto huffs the breath of a laugh against John's skin. No, as delicious as that might be, he's not really in the mood to drag this out that long. He raises head again, smoothing his hand through the other man's hair before fisting it to turn his head into another searing kiss. Lingering in the press of John's lips against his own, nipping at his bottom lip before slowly resuming the pace of his hand below.
"Your wish is my command," he murmurs huskily, which is honestly a pretty terrible line but he doesn't really care about any of that in the moment, all things considered.
John doesn't really care about the line -- he's more focused on the feel of Ianto's hand, the way his fingers grip his hair. His muscles twitch again, and the mix of teeth on his lips and skin pressed against his own has his breaths come rough and shaky once more.
"Ianto," he repeats, because he seemed to enjoy the sound of his name and if saying it over and over will encourage more of this so be it. John doesn't care if it's borderline close to begging, it's just safe enough that he can tolerate it. He squirms and the sheets stick to his skin, toes curling as he bucks up into Ianto's touch and tries to draw him closer.
There it is. The response that Ianto was hoping for, John squirming and bucking under his touch, the sound of his breathing rough and heady, and if it weren't for the fact that Ianto had already finished himself he'd have a hard time concentrating on the task at hand. It's already a challenge enough as it is.
"Yes," he breathes, mouthing his way along the line of John's jaw. Moving as John directs him, pressed as tight as he can against the other man while still giving himself the space enough to continue. "Is this what you like?"
John lets out a shaky, breathy laugh at that. He feels almost light-headed, for something so simple the whole thing feels overwhelming. Is that what you like? As if he normally does this, when in reality his touch is normally so much quicker and rougher. His hand drops from Ianto's back and grips at the sheets, fingers curling hard into them until it bunches, and John's whole body begins to telegraph building tension.
"Yeah," he manages, and then more emphatically -- "fuck."
Ianto huffs the breath of a laugh against the other man's skin. This is good. So good, to know that it isn't just John who has this effect on him, but that he can turn it around on the other man too. To turn his whole world upside down the the press of his lips and the smooth of his hand, in just the right way.
He can feel the tension building in John, and this time he doesn't pull back but allows it to keep climbing. Continuing the pace of his hand as he holds his head in place with the other. Tilting it back a little so that he's able to mouth his way along the more sensitive parts of his neck and jaw.
"That's it," he breathes, as John rocks and arches against him. "That's it."
That's it, Ianto whispers, and it is. The combination of his gentle, affectionate laughter along with his lips and hand -- it's too much. John feels his breath hitch roughly, the tension in his muscles climb until with a suppressed, bitten back sound he finally lets go with a shudder into Ianto's hand. Warmth rolls through his body, and slowly the tension melts away until all that's left is the sound of John's ragged breathing. His fingers loosen in the sheets and John paws at the man over him, sapped of strength but wanting to hold onto him for a moment.
"Hey," he manages after a moment, but that's about as far as he can get through a sentence.
Ianto presses his lips against the corner of John's jaw and rides his climax with him, working him with his hand until he knows the other man has spent and is lying finished, liquid and boneless beneath him. He keeps his hand wrapped around the other man for a moment longer before he releases him and moves to wipe his hand on the sheets -- hardly the most delicate of actions, but they're going to have to request new after this anyway.
He moves when John grabs for him, wrapping an arm around the other man's chest and settling his head on his shoulder. The position makes him seem more vulnerable than he might otherwise like, but. He doesn't mind so much, with John. In fact, he rather enjoys it. This loose-limbed sprawl of theirs, just the pair of them together, skin to skin, soaking in the other man's warmth. And how warm he is just now...
"Hey," Ianto replies, tilting his head to glance up at John and flicking him a smile. He smooths his hand across John's chest. "Alright?"
"Yeah," John manages, and he opens his eyes long enough to blearily check how much of a mess he's made. Satisfied it's not too bad, he tugs Ianto more comfortably into his arms -- settles himself holding onto the other man and lets out a satisfied sigh. "M'good," he manages, and rubs his face against Ianto's shoulder. "Stay."
Not that he thinks he's planning to leave, but... all the same. Ianto likes the reassurance, he knows, and John is content giving it to him.
Ianto lets out another warm huff of laughter against the other man's skin. He does appreciate the reassurance of the other man's affections as well. Especially when they are so new and unknown.
"Happy to," he replies, circling his hand in place along the other man's ribs. It's not as though he has another bed to slink off to anyway, what with the way they've rearranged the room.
He shifts his head on the other man's shoulder, pressing a kiss into the closest patch of skin he can find.
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He presses a gentle line of kisses back up the line of John's neck, nipping at the underside of his jaw. Sliding gentle fingers over the panels of his chest, pinching his nipple again, where he knew he'd gotten a reaction last time, and rocking forward again.
"Yes, John," he murmurs softly against the other man's skin, as much an answer to his words as he is coaxing him on.
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Here, now, there's no mistaking the heat of his skin. Ianto's fingers are light over his chest, his teeth tease at his neck and John is dimly glad he's on his back already because he doesn't think he'd be able to hold himself up under the assault. He feels breathless and he doesn't know why, because Ianto is barely doing that much but somehow it's still enough to make him feel crazy. The slow, teasing burn of them moving together. He fumbles to skim a hand down, rubs it up and down Ianto's side in a weirdly gentle, sweet sort of gesture as he rocks up against him again. Something that contrasts with the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the intensity of his frown as he holds Ianto into his neck.
"Please," he whispers, and John doesn't know what he's pleading for -- anything, anything in truth. Anything Ianto would give him.
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What I want is you. The words light a fire all of their own in Ianto's chest, and he wishes on one hand that he hadn't finished quite so soon, that he had more of himself to offer in this moment. That what he can give isn't too much in the same breath. John does seem... Taken up in the moment as it is.
Shifting slightly, he kisses a trail down John's breastbone, mouthing against his chest as he rocks forward again. Using his weight and the press of his body against John's hips in his favor as he moves.
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He feels ruffled, tense like a spring slowly being wound up. Like he's barely restraining himself, fingers carding through Ianto's hair as tries rein in his urge to rock up -- to press more skin against skin again and again.
"Please," he repeats, "Ianto..."
Touch him more, give him more.
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He shifts to the side just enough to be able to slide a hand between them, wrapping around the other man’s arousal, fondling him for a moment and admiring the weight of him in his hand before stroking him. Setting up a rhythm as he reaches to cup his jaw in one hand and turn his face to kiss him again. Slow and languid, deep and unhurried, even as he works him at a pace with his hand below.
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His muscles begin to go tense, and John breaks the kiss with a gasp -- curls fingers into Ianto's skin and bucks into his hand again.
"Ianto," he says again, but this time there's a note of warning to it. John's not sure how long he can take such quick, decisive stimulation. If that's what Ianto intends then fine, but if it isn't he should back up a little.
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"That's my name," he teases, cheekily. Turning his head to press another kiss in the crook of the other man's neck, giving him a moment to collect his breath enough to respond -- or not, he supposes -- before he moves to play his fingers along the line of his inner thigh.
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"Yeah," he responds absently, "it is."
His name. Ianto. Taking a shaky breath he lets it out slowly, bucks up against Ianto again to encourage him back into action. The light touch of fingers along his thigh is making him shiver, and he craves more contact -- more of the firm encouragement his hand was giving before.
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Ducking his head to trail another line of kisses along the line of John's collarbone, Ianto trails his hand to cup him in hand, caressing, the touch of his hand teasingly light before he wraps his fingers back around his arousal to offer him another firm encouraging stroke again.
"Say it again," he murmurs roughly, moving his other hand up to tangle in the other man's hair.
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"Don't make me beg," he adds, because he would if he had to but he doesn't want to. Not right now. He just wants the attention, wants the relief that comes after reaching it. John turns his head more into the hand holding onto his hair, arches up again and quietly hopes Ianto has some sense of mercy.
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"Your wish is my command," he murmurs huskily, which is honestly a pretty terrible line but he doesn't really care about any of that in the moment, all things considered.
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"Ianto," he repeats, because he seemed to enjoy the sound of his name and if saying it over and over will encourage more of this so be it. John doesn't care if it's borderline close to begging, it's just safe enough that he can tolerate it. He squirms and the sheets stick to his skin, toes curling as he bucks up into Ianto's touch and tries to draw him closer.
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"Yes," he breathes, mouthing his way along the line of John's jaw. Moving as John directs him, pressed as tight as he can against the other man while still giving himself the space enough to continue. "Is this what you like?"
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John lets out a shaky, breathy laugh at that. He feels almost light-headed, for something so simple the whole thing feels overwhelming. Is that what you like? As if he normally does this, when in reality his touch is normally so much quicker and rougher. His hand drops from Ianto's back and grips at the sheets, fingers curling hard into them until it bunches, and John's whole body begins to telegraph building tension.
"Yeah," he manages, and then more emphatically -- "fuck."
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He can feel the tension building in John, and this time he doesn't pull back but allows it to keep climbing. Continuing the pace of his hand as he holds his head in place with the other. Tilting it back a little so that he's able to mouth his way along the more sensitive parts of his neck and jaw.
"That's it," he breathes, as John rocks and arches against him. "That's it."
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"Hey," he manages after a moment, but that's about as far as he can get through a sentence.
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He moves when John grabs for him, wrapping an arm around the other man's chest and settling his head on his shoulder. The position makes him seem more vulnerable than he might otherwise like, but. He doesn't mind so much, with John. In fact, he rather enjoys it. This loose-limbed sprawl of theirs, just the pair of them together, skin to skin, soaking in the other man's warmth. And how warm he is just now...
"Hey," Ianto replies, tilting his head to glance up at John and flicking him a smile. He smooths his hand across John's chest. "Alright?"
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Not that he thinks he's planning to leave, but... all the same. Ianto likes the reassurance, he knows, and John is content giving it to him.
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"Happy to," he replies, circling his hand in place along the other man's ribs. It's not as though he has another bed to slink off to anyway, what with the way they've rearranged the room.
He shifts his head on the other man's shoulder, pressing a kiss into the closest patch of skin he can find.