sariagray

Title: Meeting: Postponed or More Action Than UNIT's Seen In Decades
Author:

sariagray
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC17. YES. Your eyes do not deceive you.
Word Count: ~1234
Spoilers: None!
Warnings: Sexy times. Language. Lotsa language, actually. More comm!sex. Looks like Saria has a new kink, yes?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. No monetary compensation has been or will be garnered from this endeavor. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is no way intended to disrespect the creators/owners/actors/cameramen/costume designers, etc. of Torchwood.
Author's Note: This is the sequel to

thebuttonontop 's lovely story that she wrote at my ~~prompting~~ ~~insistence~~ extremely drunk begging. Read it first: Ianto's Eventful Meeting with UNIT. It is lovely and this follows directly from where it left off. And YES. I wrote smut. This is a very rare occurrence and may never ever happen again so please let it be marked in the annals of history. Or something. Eek. *Hides face behind hands*

Meeting: Postponed

or

More Action Than UNIT's Seen In Decades

He gave a silent prayer to some nameless, faceless deity that the bathroom remain unoccupied and practically threw the door off of its hinges. He closed it quickly and turned the bolt lock with a resounding clunk that echoed off of the grey tiles.

He could kill Jack right now; in fact, he hadn’t completely ruled out the possibility yet. They were supposed to be a professional organization, not some fly-by-night, disorganized, rag-tag group of misfits with more delusions of grandeur than quality results. It was no wonder high-profile groups like UNIT chose to snicker behind their hands instead of giving them the time of day.

But, then, here he was in an anonymous beige-and-grey bathroom that was sanitized within an inch of its life (he gave another prayer of thanks for that), bathed in flickering fluorescent yellow light as grating synthesized music bounced around like a bothersome gnat.

And sure, there were other more luxurious facilities that were less distracting and, while they didn’t exactly set the mood, certainly didn’t detract from it, either. But they were in far more public hallways and he couldn’t afford to have anyone think he was talking to himself locked in a stall (and that was the best case scenario).

He dropped his briefcase and adjusted his comm. before quickly removing his jacket.

“Still there?” Ianto already knew the answer, but it seemed polite to check.

“Hmm. Where are you? You’re echoing.”

“Bathroom.”

Jack let out a small laugh, but didn’t comment. Ianto rolled his eyes instinctively.

“Well?” he pressed. “Keep talking. Finish what you started, then.”

“I can’t have been forgiven that easily.”

Despite the completely innocuous nature of the conversation, the low register of Jack’s voice sent a jolt through him and he groaned. Ianto figured that so long as Jack kept using that voice, he could talk about the weather for all he cared.

“No, you haven’t been. You’re still going to be punished. This is just penance.”

Jack growled low in his throat and Ianto had to bite back a moan at the simple sound. He loosened his tie more by habit than for any semblance of comfort; there wasn’t time for comfort, not if Jack kept making those sounds. He imagined Jack, seated somewhere, his large calloused hand languidly stroking his hard cock as he leaned back. And it was a good image, but he needed more.

“Where are you?” he asked softly as he closed his eyes.

“Office. But if I had known you’d run out of your meeting like that, I would’ve been there waiting.”

“Oh?”

Ianto rolled his shoulders and felt the tension in them ease at it fled for other, more insistent parts of his body.

“Yeah. As soon as you walked in, I’d press you up against the wall…”

Ianto moaned and Jack chuckled, his breath hitching on the sound.

“You like when I do that, don’t you? I’d kiss you and slowly trail my hand down to cup your cock while I held you there. You’d try to push against me, but I’d pull away before you could do anything.”

He copied Jack’s proposed actions, his hand gently tracing the outline of his erection before he unzipped his trousers. He growled slightly as he nudged his cock out from the confines of cloth and sighed with temporary relief.

“God, the sounds you make,” Jack groaned softly before continuing. “I’d place my hands on your hips and crouch down. I’d unzip your trousers and tug them off before nuzzling your cock. You’re so hard, aren’t you, Ianto?”

There were many times when the way Jack said his name grated on his nerves to no end. Then there were times like these when the way Jack’s accent drawled out his name reduced him to something akin to a weak-kneed schoolgirl. He hated and loved it simultaneously.

“Yes,” he hissed as his hand wrapped around his cock and pumped once, tentatively, as though testing the waters. He could already tell that he wasn’t going to last long at this rate. He leaned forward against the wall, his forehead and left hand pressed firmly against the cool tiles.

“Good. I’d pull down your boxers…which ones are you wearing?”

And sometimes he really hated Jack’s inability to focus.

“The red ones,” he muttered, his face flushing. Because now was clearly the time to be embarrassed about his choice of undergarments. Like he was some blushing virgin.

“Fuck,” Jack murmured. “I’d take out your cock. I bet it’s leaking already. I’d pump it with my fist, hard, before taking it in my mouth. You’re too gone already for formalities, aren’t you?”

“Hmm,” he agreed. He had already worked up a steady rhythm as counterpoint to the rolling meter of Jack’s voice and was panting quietly as tiny beads of sweat broke out on his face from the exertion.

“I can feel your hands gripping my hair, I can picture you with your head down and your eyes closed, your mouth open and gasping. I love the way you look when you’re coming undone. I can taste your cock, can feel its weight in my mouth. I’d suck you so hard; there’s time for more careful exploration later. Right now I just want you to come so hard you can’t see straight.”

“Fuck,” Ianto moaned and increased his speed, his fist working his cock in quick, shallow pumps.

Occasionally he’d run his hand over the head, wet with pre-cum, and he would hiss. He imagined Jack’s mouth sucking him dry, the warm wet heat a perfect contrast to the cold wall. And oh God, that tongue swirling around his cock.

“Fuck,” he repeated, his breath coming as quick and shallow as his hand was moving. “I’m close….”

“Yes,” Jack rasped. “Come for me, Ianto. Come for me.”

Well. Ianto was always well-adept at following orders. He gave a resolute tug on his cock and came, hard, against the wall. The fingers of his free hand tried to curl around and grab at the flat surface as he shouted Jack’s name as quietly as he could manage.

Jack must have been waiting for Ianto’s release to trigger his own. As soon as Ianto began to come back to reality, Jack grunted out his name in staccato and gave a resoundingly shuddering breath that made Ianto’s cock twitch slightly with interest. He scowled down at it disapprovingly before giving a shaky chuckle.

“Well then. I suppose I should get back to my meeting,” he reminded himself as he pulled a bit of tissue from a roll with which to wipe off the wall.

“Yeah. When are you coming home again?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. And don’t forget – you’re still not forgiven.”

“Oh, trust me,” Jack chuckled. “I didn’t forget. Call me tonight?”

Ianto tried to suppress the smile that was threatening to take over his face. “Of course. Now get back to work.”

“Right. Have fun at your meeting.”

He grinned to himself as he readjusted his clothing into a much more presentable state. As he walked out of the stall to wash his hands, he glanced in the mirror. The redness of his face was receding, which was good, but there was also a distinct cross-hatch pattern from the tiled wall on his forehead. He glanced down at his hand to find a matching mark against his skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered before washing up. It was going to be difficult to explain that.

To be continued....