Show Me, Don't Tell Me | Dirty Talk

[amuly]

Title: Show Me, Don't Tell Me
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 575
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jack and Ianto's first date after YTNW
Warnings: none
A/N: Written for kausingkayn  over at my prompt fill. The prompt was: Jack/Ianto, of course. ^_^ Their first date, after John Hart. But can it be a complete disaster?

 

Jack was stabbing the tablecloth with his knife. Stabbing the tablecloth. With his steak knife. At a five-star restaurant.

Ianto glared. He continued to glare at the knife as he took a sip of his wine and set the glass back down. He continued to glare at the knife even as the waiter brought them their entrees, and both men let the food just sit in front of them. Jack was stab, stab, stabbing the table, refusing to meet Ianto's eyes. And Ianto was glaring.

“Ahem.” Ianto coughed none-too-delicately. Jack's head shot up, taking one look at Ianto's glare and following it to his knife. With a sheepish grin, Jack set the knife neatly down on the table.

Some semblance of manners achieved, Ianto set about trying to take full advantage of the date. Too soon, Ianto found that without the distraction Jack's stabbing at the table had offered the two of them, he had nothing to say. Their eyes skittered over each other's as they both poked half-heartedly at their food, before setting their utensils down entirely and staring blankly around the restaurant. Ianto took another swig of his wine. The waiter appeared at his elbow and refilled it.

“So...” Jack's eyes followed the waiter as he left, before turning back to Ianto. “So. Do...” he stopped, fiddled with his knife, set it down, stared at the ceiling, glanced at Ianto, then smiled crookedly. “I'm going to say this, but promise you won't storm out right away, okay?”

Ianto arched an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. A nervous jolt went through him, but he nodded, keeping his face as stoic as he could.

“Wouldn't you just rather... er... fuck?”

Ianto counted to ten, and didn't walk out. He had nodded at Jack's request not to, after all. Giving himself thirty seconds to contemplate Jack's nervousness and examine his own feelings on the matter, Ianto finally found a response. “A bit,” he admitted. Though when Jack seemed ready to rise out of his seat, Ianto arched an eyebrow.

Jack slowly settled back down. “Well?” he questioned. “What are we doing?”

Ianto sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair and looking around the restaurant. “I don't know, Jack,” he grumbled. “What are we doing?”

Jack frowned at that, obviously picking up on the double-meaning of Ianto's question. Before he could reply – surely to spout some nonsense about 51^st century mores and the wave of the future – Ianto continued.

“I thought maybe you wanted to go on a date with me to show me that you... I dunno,” Ianto grumbled, “cared. God forbid.”

Jack frowned, eyes soft. “But I do. That's... that's why I asked. Because that's how you people show it, right? The dates, and food, and,” Jack glanced around the restaurant, “fancy waiters. All that.”

“That's...” Ianto paused, considering this. As he was thinking, Jack leaned across the table and covered Ianto's hand with his. Serious blue eyes stared across the table at Ianto as Jack spoke again.

“When I said I came back for you, Ianto, I meant you. All of you, sure. But you in particular.”

Ianto pulled his hand away from Jack's decisively, raising his hand for the waiter. “Prove it to me,” he challenged Jack. “How you would prove it,” he added at Jack's confusion, “not how you think I want you to prove it.”

With a grin, Jack slapped several hundred pounds down on the table and stood, offering his arm to Ianto. “Let me show you.”

Title: Dirty Talk
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Word Count: 806
Rating: R
Summary: Ianto's first time rimming requires quite a bit of convincing on Jack's part.
Warnings: rimming
A/N: Written for xrai_namere  over at my prompt fill. The prompt was: Jack/Ianto - rimming, first time. With Ianto doing the rimming, please. :)

 

“This must be so unsanitary.”

Resting against the headboard, Jack huffed out a laugh. Ianto peered up from between his thighs, nose wrinkled up as he considered the task before him.

“No, honestly: how has no one caught e. coli from this?”

Jack shrugged one shoulder lazily, the other rolling as he continued to stroke his erection. “Never happened with anyone I know. And I've done it to you.” Jack licked his lips, the motion and memories sending a shiver down Ianto's spine. “You didn't seem to mind.”

As an avoidance technique Ianto cast his eyes down, only to be confronted with the source of his trepidations. So he moved his eyes to a spot on Jack's bunker wall instead, carefully avoiding look at the other man. “Yeah, well,” Ianto grumbled. “Heat of the moment, and all. Wasn't about to stop you...”

A teasing foot poked at Ianto's back, coaxing a small smile out of him and encouraging him to glance back down at Jack. He grinned up at Ianto. “It was good, wasn't it?”

Ianto sighed. “Yes. It was good. Of course it was.”

Jack's foot continued to trace comforting lines up and down Ianto's back. “And I kissed you afterward, didn't I?”

Ianto flushed. To his hazy recollection – and through all the orgasms and arousal and lust, his memory was definitely wanting in those moments – he did seem to recall a kiss or two afterwards. He pressed his lips together tightly before answering, eyes not quite meeting Jack's. “Yeah, well: I'd come twice in as many minutes then. Can't be held responsible for my actions under such circumstances.”

Absently Ianto noted that Jack's cock had started leaking, his hips thrusting more noticeably as they talked. If Jack was getting off on talking about it, the main event probably wouldn't even take very long. So Ianto could only hope.

“You've gone down on women before, haven't you?” Jack continued on to a different point in his argument.

“I have a feeling any woman would take great offense in the comparison,” Ianto pointed out dryly. “After all, a vagina doesn't have fecal matter pushed through it daily.”

“Oo, Ianto,” Jack teased, stroking his cock faster, “You're so hot when you talk dirty. Mm, say something else.”

Ianto slapped Jack on the flank for his cheek, only to inspire a very real groan to fall from Jack's lips. Ianto sighed, gazing down at his objective. Jack was going to talk him into this: Ianto just knew it. Before this night was out, Ianto would most definitely know what Jack Harkness' arsehole tasted like. And honestly, the thought was doing nothing for Ianto.

“I've just showered. You were there, after all.”

Ianto shook his head. “I still find it disgusting. I don't know how anyone ever thought to do this.”

Ianto expected Jack to have another argument, or point, or teasing jab to try and make Ianto acquiesce. But to his surprise, Jack stopped stroking his cock, unwrapped his legs from around Ianto's thighs, and rolled onto his stomach. “Fine,” Jack huffed.

Ianto blanched. He might not want to do it, sure, but he figured he'd give in eventually. He certainly hadn't expected Jack to stop trying. “Jack,” he started.

“No, no.” Jack's voice was muffled into the pillow, but the grouchy tone was still clear as day. “You don't want to, fine. Not going to make you do something you don't want.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. Like that was true. There was the time they had sex on the invisible lift: definitely not something Ianto wanted to do, but Jack had just reached in and started them going, leaving Ianto little choice but to comply. Then there had been the cross dressing: not remotely a fetish of Ianto's, but Jack had wanted to, so fine, not like Ianto was going to protest too much something that made Jack's eyes go all dark like they did and resulted in a rather fantastically thorough fucking. And of course, the rope bondage: Ianto didn't see the point to all that slow, careful rope-wrapping, but Jack had insisted it was quite erotic, so whatever. Ianto had gone along with all of those things. And he had been prepared to go along with this, too.

With a sigh, Ianto licked his lips, moistening his mouth thoroughly. “Jack.” Ianto used his stern voice, the one that had Jack begging every time. Sure enough, Jack twitched almost violently against the covers, though he refused to turn over. Without another word, Ianto straddled Jack's thighs and bent down: both hands parting Jack's cheeks as he darted his tongue out and touched there for the first time.

When Jack came howling two minutes later, soaking the sheets with his sweat and come, Ianto immediately jumped up and ran to the bathroom for some mouthwash. It wasn't intolerable, but he still wasn't about to risk e. coli if he could help it.