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Title: "Quite a List"
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R-ish
Notes/Summary: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ridikuluss, who gave me the prompt and the word limit.
Ianto logged back into the tourist office workstation. He felt curiously light. He supposed it might have something to do with the mind-bendingly fantastic snog Jack had given him in the lift. He felt good. Weird, but good. Lighter than usual.
He took a sip of his coffee and checked his e-mail. There wasn’t much there beyond a bit of office banter, a couple of joke forwards from Gwen (via Rhys), a gossipy note from Toshiko, and an information request from UNIT. He forwarded the UNIT request to Jack with his recommendations, and then absent mindedly smoothed his jacket.
His hand stopped dead over his breast pocket.
Lighter. Ah.
Ianto’s hand was in his jacket in seconds. When it came up empty, he bolted into the concealed passage and dashed toward the lift. He jabbed frantically at the buttons, bouncing on his heels as he waited for the doors to open.
“Come on,” Ianto whispered under his breath, urging the car to rise faster. He was too agitated to notice the sound of footsteps behind him, or the silver button clicking home.
“Five minutes, twenty-two seconds.”
Ianto whipped around. There, arms half-crossed, stood Jack Harkness. The captain’s eyes were on his own free hand, and the antique stopwatch.
He lunged forward, but Jack glided back, tucking the watch into his coat pocket. “Oh no. If I got it off of you that easily, you’re going to have to work just that much harder to get it back from me.”
“Is that a challenge, sir?”
“Might be.”
Ianto sprang at Jack. This time, he managed to catch Jack’s wrist in his grip. He tried to twist away, but Ianto held fast and jerked the larger man off-center. Jack overbalanced and went stumbling back into the wall. Ianto took his opportunity and closed the gap, pressing his mouth hard against Jack’s. His left hand dug into Jack’s chest to keep him in place while he made a grab for the other man’s coat pocket. Jack anticipated him, though, and latched onto Ianto’s hand. He gave it a quick twist and the younger man was face-down and struggling on the ground in seconds.
Jack ground against the other man’s hip, making no attempt to conceal how aroused he was by Ianto’s attempts to squirm out of his grip.
“Fuck, I love you like this,” Jack growled as he ran his free hand down to clutch at Ianto’s waistband and started fumbling with his belt. The buckle gave and Jack’s hand rapidly found its way into the front of Ianto’s trousers.
Ianto bucked hard under Jack’s grip. He managed, with his left hand, to push up enough to slide a knee up. With a grunt, he sent both of them slamming back into the wall. Jack’s grip loosened enough for him to wrench free.
He straddled the captain and took hold of Jack’s throat with his right hand. His fingertips quickly sought out the carotid artery and pushed down hard while he fumbled again for the watch with his other hand. Jack clawed ineffectually at Ianto’s wrist, trying to pry the Welshman’s hand free.
Long fingers closed on smooth metal.
“Two minutes, sixteen seconds!” Ianto shouted triumphantly, releasing his grip on Jack’s throat and hoisting the watch into the air.
“There’s no way that was fair!” Jack protested , rubbing at his throat.
“It was perfectly fair.” Ianto dropped the watch into his pocket with a satisfied look. “Especially after last time.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Jack groaned.
“Nope.”
Ianto stood and brushed experimentally at the dirt ground into his suit. “God, I think we’ve actually ruined this one.” He fastened his belt, and then extended a hand to Jack, who took it gratefully and rose to his feet.
“I’ll send the others home,” he whispered against Ianto’s lips as the archivist traced his fingers along Jack’s braces. “Meet me in the boardroom in twenty minutes.”
Ianto clicked the button on the watch. “Number fifty-four again?”
“Actually, I was thinking thirty-seven. You know, the one with the tie-down straps and the –“
“Nineteen minutes, twelve seconds,” Ianto interrupted, shooing Jack into the lift. “And this time, I’m on top.”
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R-ish
Notes/Summary: For
ridikuluss, who gave me the prompt and the word limit. Ianto logged back into the tourist office workstation. He felt curiously light. He supposed it might have something to do with the mind-bendingly fantastic snog Jack had given him in the lift. He felt good. Weird, but good. Lighter than usual.
He took a sip of his coffee and checked his e-mail. There wasn’t much there beyond a bit of office banter, a couple of joke forwards from Gwen (via Rhys), a gossipy note from Toshiko, and an information request from UNIT. He forwarded the UNIT request to Jack with his recommendations, and then absent mindedly smoothed his jacket.
His hand stopped dead over his breast pocket.
Lighter. Ah.
Ianto’s hand was in his jacket in seconds. When it came up empty, he bolted into the concealed passage and dashed toward the lift. He jabbed frantically at the buttons, bouncing on his heels as he waited for the doors to open.
“Come on,” Ianto whispered under his breath, urging the car to rise faster. He was too agitated to notice the sound of footsteps behind him, or the silver button clicking home.
“Five minutes, twenty-two seconds.”
Ianto whipped around. There, arms half-crossed, stood Jack Harkness. The captain’s eyes were on his own free hand, and the antique stopwatch.
He lunged forward, but Jack glided back, tucking the watch into his coat pocket. “Oh no. If I got it off of you that easily, you’re going to have to work just that much harder to get it back from me.”
“Is that a challenge, sir?”
“Might be.”
Ianto sprang at Jack. This time, he managed to catch Jack’s wrist in his grip. He tried to twist away, but Ianto held fast and jerked the larger man off-center. Jack overbalanced and went stumbling back into the wall. Ianto took his opportunity and closed the gap, pressing his mouth hard against Jack’s. His left hand dug into Jack’s chest to keep him in place while he made a grab for the other man’s coat pocket. Jack anticipated him, though, and latched onto Ianto’s hand. He gave it a quick twist and the younger man was face-down and struggling on the ground in seconds.
Jack ground against the other man’s hip, making no attempt to conceal how aroused he was by Ianto’s attempts to squirm out of his grip.
“Fuck, I love you like this,” Jack growled as he ran his free hand down to clutch at Ianto’s waistband and started fumbling with his belt. The buckle gave and Jack’s hand rapidly found its way into the front of Ianto’s trousers.
Ianto bucked hard under Jack’s grip. He managed, with his left hand, to push up enough to slide a knee up. With a grunt, he sent both of them slamming back into the wall. Jack’s grip loosened enough for him to wrench free.
He straddled the captain and took hold of Jack’s throat with his right hand. His fingertips quickly sought out the carotid artery and pushed down hard while he fumbled again for the watch with his other hand. Jack clawed ineffectually at Ianto’s wrist, trying to pry the Welshman’s hand free.
Long fingers closed on smooth metal.
“Two minutes, sixteen seconds!” Ianto shouted triumphantly, releasing his grip on Jack’s throat and hoisting the watch into the air.
“There’s no way that was fair!” Jack protested , rubbing at his throat.
“It was perfectly fair.” Ianto dropped the watch into his pocket with a satisfied look. “Especially after last time.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Jack groaned.
“Nope.”
Ianto stood and brushed experimentally at the dirt ground into his suit. “God, I think we’ve actually ruined this one.” He fastened his belt, and then extended a hand to Jack, who took it gratefully and rose to his feet.
“I’ll send the others home,” he whispered against Ianto’s lips as the archivist traced his fingers along Jack’s braces. “Meet me in the boardroom in twenty minutes.”
Ianto clicked the button on the watch. “Number fifty-four again?”
“Actually, I was thinking thirty-seven. You know, the one with the tie-down straps and the –“
“Nineteen minutes, twelve seconds,” Ianto interrupted, shooing Jack into the lift. “And this time, I’m on top.”
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