Torchwood IMs: Gwen's Party #1
Jul. 16th, 2009 01:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_silver_storyTitle: Gwen's Party #1
Chapter: 55
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_silver_story
Genre Humour,
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: M.M implied
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Fun, competitive and telepathic.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
55 |
’How’s it going with the kids?’
’I want to go home. Jack ... please tell Gwen I’m ill but too polite to tell her and that she has to send me home.’
‘You look fine to me. And we’ve only been here five minutes.’
Jack still couldn’t help but smirk to himself. He’d been given Picnic Hamper Guarding duty to make sure no one had food before they were supposed to – while Ianto was already being inundated with around fifteen children aged between 9 months and 11 years. Rhys had been sent to buy some more oranges to make fresh orange juice, and he’d been left alone, high and dry. The parents of said children had scarpered over to the gazebo where Gwen was starting to put out drinks and nibbles. Ianto was abandoned. And Jack found it endlessly entertaining.
‘Please come over here and help me, Jack! Just until Rhys gets back?’
Their telepathic communication devices were working, but Ianto wasn’t using them how Jack wanted him to. Jack had hoped he’d be allowed a glimpse into what Ianto was really thinking – about him, about their relationship, about what he wanted from Jack – but all he was allowed was a reminder of how little Ianto really let on about what he wanted for himself. The Captain had sent him several fun and very sexy fantasies of his own, hoping to tempt his shyer partner into doing the same He had intended to make them a reality for him, as Jack had no idea what Ianto’s sexual desires were. He always did what Jack wanted him to. The UNIT-form, the bondage, the games, the toys ... that UNIT-form! – were all for Jack. What did Ianto want? What could Jack do for Ianto?
‘I’ve got to guard the hamper from hungry earthlings.’ Jack thought to him. ‘You’re doing fine ... see! – that kid loves you so much, he’s trying to eat you!’
‘The little bastard is biting me and it bloody hurts!’ a very whimper-y Ianto said into his head.
Jack watched as Ianto assumed his commanding “I’m talking now, children. And you will listen.” voice and the kids all froze. He smiled to himself. ‘Good job.’ he congratulated him.
‘Piss off and guard your hamper.’
~*~*~*~
The games started after everyone had eaten. There were many, many guests; between them they had around twenty-five children and only Rhys and Ianto to try and keep them organised.
Eventually, Ianto’s nagging paid off and Jack was sent by Gwen to help with the growing population of children. Ianto kept sending evil laughs through the comms. Jack did nothing but grumble. The kids were split easily into three teams of nine – ten including Jack, Ianto and Rhys as Team Captains – and as the adults sat on the grass forming an audience, they began to prepare for the “Friendly” games and races Gwen had organised. They picked out team names, and Gwen wrote them on a big piece of card where she was going to keep score.
Rhys had chosen “Slaughterers of the Irrelevant” for his team name. Jack had gone for the slightly more toned down “Juvenile Territorial Army”. Ianto simply went with “Ianto and the Victorious Coffee Beans”.
Unfortunately, Gwen had thus far forgotten how competitive men could be. Even in a kiddies’ race.
Jack was psyching out with Rhys while Ianto was holding a rugby-scrum by the start line of the first race – a relay sack race – and was basically telling them to play as dirty as possible. One of Jack’s Juveniles was pulling the hair of one of Rhys’ Slaughterers, and two of Ianto’s Coffee Beans were keeping out of the kerfuffle and unnoticeably sneaking worms into the other teams’ crisps.
Rhys had given his team nicknames from pro wrestling. As the first leg of the race began, his bellows of “Take over them, Undertaker! Beat them into the ground!” could be heard above the row of cheering parents. The sacks were passed on to the next child, then the next – and Ianto’s Coffee Beans were winning, closely followed by Jack’s. Rhys’ lot just kept falling over. Obviously, Rhys hadn’t bothered to discuss technique with them, Ianto thought.
Ianto’s littlest Coffee Bean threw himself over the line just in time, and his team took the point. Obviously, Jack didn’t think it was fair. “My other kids didn’t have as powerful legs as those did!” he whined. Gwen rolled her eyes and told him that if he complained again, she’d be knocking points off his team. When he curtly told her his team had no points yet, she reminded him there was such a thing as negative numbers. Jack sulked off, sending little insults through his comm. that made Ianto snigger.
~*~*~*~
The final race was a running race. The kids were getting tired, so this one was for the team captains. Ianto and Jack’s teams were drawing, so the last race was just between them. They prepared themselves for the run: Ianto’s shirt was unbuttoned a little way, his sleeves rolled up and his tie round his head like Rambo. Jack had taken off his coat and overshirt, leaving his braces in a heap next to them.
There were some obstacles for them to overcome during the run, too. Some piles of bags that they had to jump over, a flag they had to climb a tree and pull down each, and also a hollow log they would have to crawl through. Ianto was not happy with the physical requirements of the task, but he desperately wanted to win. He couldn’t let his little Coffee Beans down. He’d got quite attached to them.
“You’re going down, Jones.” Jack told him. His supporters cheered him on, a couple of them chanting ‘You’re going down, Jones! You’re going downnnnnn!’. Ianto smiled to himself.
“The only way I’m going down is if I’m going down on you.” He shot back. A couple of the adults seemed a little alarmed at the innuendo, but the chanting stopped and Jack couldn’t think of a comeback so the race was about to begin.
“On youuuuuur MARKS!” shouted the umpire – a middle aged man everyone seemed to call ‘Crunkle’.
“Gettttt SET!”
“GOOOOOO!”
They shot forward. Jack was in the lead, throwing in everything he could. Ianto was a bit cleverer, going a little slower and allowing himself to conserve energy for the final home run. He couldn’t let Jack tear away too much, though. He upped his speed slightly – much to the delight of his Coffee Beans – and caught up with Jack a little.
Leaping over the piles of bags and coats like hurdles, Ianto began to put a devious little plan into action. He clearly pictured in his head, through his own eyes, how it felt to be inside Jack. The water tower loomed up in his mind’s eye, and he let the memory of the hot and cold sensations of Jack’s body and the bubbling, icy water flood down his telepathic channel and pour into the Captain’s head.
Jack stumbled slightly and Ianto saw the falter. They were past the make-shift hurdles now, and he was getting in front of Jack towards the tree where he needed to pull down his team’s flag to take back to the finish post. He was hanging on to the tree with one hand and reaching up for the bit of material when Jack made his response.
Ianto felt his nerve-endings tingle, his breath catch and his skin flush. He could see himself, lying below Jack, through Jack’s eyes. He was coming onto himself as Jack pounded into him, holding his legs wide and watching him and drinking him in. Ianto’s hand slipped from around the branch it was grasping and he tumbled to the ground as Jack jumped over him to get to his own team’s flag.
Already Ianto was reaching his flag again, and this time his fingers curled around the cotton just as Jack began tearing away. He shot after him, appreciating the accidental extra time Jack had given him to catch his breath slightly, and began formulating a new distracting thought. These thoughts were of cages and red rope and inflatable sex toys.
Ianto caught up to Jack and managed to dive into the hollow log before he did, crawling and clambering as fast as he could before the memory of what sex with Jack felt like – or more what sex with Ianto felt like – would come to bombard his nerve-endings and disrupt his conscious mind.
It seemed Jack had decided to play fair for the home run. They were neck and neck, slowing to a jog rather than a run now that they were getting tired, and both were just as keen on winning. The finish line was in sight, and Ianto was ready to push himself further to reach it first. Then Jack’s voice echoed through his head.
‘What’s your ultimate sexual fantasy?’ it asked. The running, the adrenaline, the tiredness – they all came together to make it impossible for Ianto not to instantly see the image of it in his mind.
A beach, a sunset and Jack. Naked on the sand, Jack on top of him, hands and fingers running though his hair as the water lapped around them and the tide began to ebb in.
Another one: in Ianto’s bed together. The covers pulled around them, cocooning them like Jack had done once before. Ianto was on top this time, Jack moaning beneath him and clenching around him. Jack would then pull him down and hold their bodies together and he would bite and suck and lick a love-bite into Jack’s neck where Gwen would see it and know it meant Jack was his.
Ianto couldn’t believe the thoughts had fallen through into Jack’s mind. He’d been so embarrassed about his fantasies – they were so tame and romanticised compared to what he did with Jack routinely. He felt a little betrayed that Jack had got them out of him in such a sneaky way. Unfortunately for Jack, the annoyance spurred him on rather than slowed him down.
‘I’m so angry at you right now!’ he thought viciously. He sped himself up, though his legs were becoming heavy. Only a few feet to go ...
Jack stopped dead. Ianto tumbled over the line, but made no show of victory celebrations. He glared at Jack as the Coffee Beans danced and cheered around him, and Gwen came over and gave him and his team little paper rosettes Rhys had been forced to make.
~*~*~*~
For the rest of the afternoon, Jack and Ianto pushed their little mini-spat aside for the sake of Gwen’s party. After the physical races, there were games to be played. Pass the parcel was won by one of the Slaughterers and musical statues had a joint winners from the Coffee Beans. Pin the tail on the Donkey found a Juvenile victor, and as the final round of Tongue Twisters was coming to a close, everyone was ready to go home and get ready for the costume party later.
The guests had three hours from then until the start of the second leg of the do, and Jack and Ianto went off together without a word to Gwen. They sat in the SUV in silence for a couple of uneasy minutes.
“Soooo ....” said Jack. Ianto had earlier given his half of the comms back, so Jack had to use vocal communication.
“I can’t believe you did that.” Muttered Ianto. “Really, I can’t. That was so ... private ...”
“Sorry.” Jack looked at him. He didn’t glance back. “But ... I always tell you my fantasies.”
“Yours are so much more exciting than mine.” Said Ianto bitterly.
“Yours were exciting.” Jack replied, chancing a hand on Ianto’s thigh and squeezing gently. Ianto glanced at it, then covered it with his own.
“They weren’t. They’re silly. They’re ... god ... I dunno ...” he turned to look out of the window. “They’re naive. They’re ... they don’t fit us. Our sex life ... I don’t ... they’re ... that’s not what our sex is about, is it? Romance and sunsets or ... couply ... thi-“
Jack cut him off by pulling him into a kiss. It was none insistent, and their tongues barely touched.
“I know a nice beach somewhere hot. There’s no people. It’s privately owned – part of a friend’s villa. We’d be left alone.” He said, peppering Ianto’s cheek with kisses as he did. Ianto blushed a little. He wasn’t used to the idea of someone knowing his fantasies, let alone trying to make them real. “As for the second one ... we’ve got three hours before we’re needed again. And I do miss your bed the second I get out of it.”
Ianto started the car.
~*~*~*~
They hardly stopped kissing as they tried to get up the stairs to Ianto’s flat. The lift was broken, and they were falling over each other and tumbling onto the steps as they messily navigated their way up. They got to the corridor Ianto’s front door was on just as a middle-aged woman with a cat on her head (seriously) was exiting one of the flats next door. She gave them an odd look, and waited for them to realise that Ianto’s attempts to slide his key into the yale lock without looking nor facing in the direction of the door were all in vain.
Jack had lifted him up, leaning him against his door with Ianto’s legs wrapped around him and their hips grinding together. Ianto felt the woman’s eyes burning into him, and flicked his eyes open mid-kiss to see the disapproving look on her face. He broke apart from the kiss, gasping slightly, but still held firmly by a now looking-round-to-see-what’s-happening Jack.
“Er ...” said Ianto. “He’s .... my .... boss?” he offered. Jack sniggered and turned the key in the lock. They tumbled in, Ianto landing painfully on his side, but they continued kissing deeply on the floor until they heard the woman walk away muttering about how ‘it’s just not natural’ and that ‘Satan will have them ...’
When she’d gone, Ianto untangled himself and shut the door. He sat on the sofa silently, and Jack hauled himself to his feet.
“Ianto?”
“I ... er ... I ... I’ve lost the mood.” He said.
“You care what the crazy lady with a cat on her head thinks of you?”
“No.”
“What’s the matter then?” Jack sat beside him and draped a comforting arm around his broad shoulders.
“I don’t have the energy for this.”
“You? You don’t have the energy for sex?”
“It’s going to be a hard day. Even harder than usual. I’m going to be beyond exhausted later if I don’t get a nap now. And I want us to have sex after the party.”
Jack put his chin on Ianto’s shoulder and kissed his cheek when he turned his head closer. “We’ll get some jammies on and have a nap now, then?” he said. Ianto smiled at him, rose and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom.
They showered quickly and changed (without even getting an erection) and snuggled into the round bed together. The dark green covers looked beautiful shrouded around Ianto, Jack thought. He remembered the little silver comms, and asked Ianto if he wanted to use them again. Ianto yawned and nodded, licking his lips slightly and pulling Jack’s arm over him to make him spoon into his back.
Jack watched him sleep for a short while, before the rhythm of Ianto’s heart and the steady pace of his breathing became the lullaby that lured him into his own dreams.
FIN
This part, and the next one, has been written to cheer upzsazsa4168.
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Chapter: 55
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Author:
a_silver_storyGenre Humour,
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: M.M implied
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Fun, competitive and telepathic.
FIRST PART | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
PREVIOUS | Torchwood Index/Masterlist
55 |
’How’s it going with the kids?’
’I want to go home. Jack ... please tell Gwen I’m ill but too polite to tell her and that she has to send me home.’
‘You look fine to me. And we’ve only been here five minutes.’
Jack still couldn’t help but smirk to himself. He’d been given Picnic Hamper Guarding duty to make sure no one had food before they were supposed to – while Ianto was already being inundated with around fifteen children aged between 9 months and 11 years. Rhys had been sent to buy some more oranges to make fresh orange juice, and he’d been left alone, high and dry. The parents of said children had scarpered over to the gazebo where Gwen was starting to put out drinks and nibbles. Ianto was abandoned. And Jack found it endlessly entertaining.
‘Please come over here and help me, Jack! Just until Rhys gets back?’
Their telepathic communication devices were working, but Ianto wasn’t using them how Jack wanted him to. Jack had hoped he’d be allowed a glimpse into what Ianto was really thinking – about him, about their relationship, about what he wanted from Jack – but all he was allowed was a reminder of how little Ianto really let on about what he wanted for himself. The Captain had sent him several fun and very sexy fantasies of his own, hoping to tempt his shyer partner into doing the same He had intended to make them a reality for him, as Jack had no idea what Ianto’s sexual desires were. He always did what Jack wanted him to. The UNIT-form, the bondage, the games, the toys ... that UNIT-form! – were all for Jack. What did Ianto want? What could Jack do for Ianto?
‘I’ve got to guard the hamper from hungry earthlings.’ Jack thought to him. ‘You’re doing fine ... see! – that kid loves you so much, he’s trying to eat you!’
‘The little bastard is biting me and it bloody hurts!’ a very whimper-y Ianto said into his head.
Jack watched as Ianto assumed his commanding “I’m talking now, children. And you will listen.” voice and the kids all froze. He smiled to himself. ‘Good job.’ he congratulated him.
‘Piss off and guard your hamper.’
The games started after everyone had eaten. There were many, many guests; between them they had around twenty-five children and only Rhys and Ianto to try and keep them organised.
Eventually, Ianto’s nagging paid off and Jack was sent by Gwen to help with the growing population of children. Ianto kept sending evil laughs through the comms. Jack did nothing but grumble. The kids were split easily into three teams of nine – ten including Jack, Ianto and Rhys as Team Captains – and as the adults sat on the grass forming an audience, they began to prepare for the “Friendly” games and races Gwen had organised. They picked out team names, and Gwen wrote them on a big piece of card where she was going to keep score.
Rhys had chosen “Slaughterers of the Irrelevant” for his team name. Jack had gone for the slightly more toned down “Juvenile Territorial Army”. Ianto simply went with “Ianto and the Victorious Coffee Beans”.
Unfortunately, Gwen had thus far forgotten how competitive men could be. Even in a kiddies’ race.
Jack was psyching out with Rhys while Ianto was holding a rugby-scrum by the start line of the first race – a relay sack race – and was basically telling them to play as dirty as possible. One of Jack’s Juveniles was pulling the hair of one of Rhys’ Slaughterers, and two of Ianto’s Coffee Beans were keeping out of the kerfuffle and unnoticeably sneaking worms into the other teams’ crisps.
Rhys had given his team nicknames from pro wrestling. As the first leg of the race began, his bellows of “Take over them, Undertaker! Beat them into the ground!” could be heard above the row of cheering parents. The sacks were passed on to the next child, then the next – and Ianto’s Coffee Beans were winning, closely followed by Jack’s. Rhys’ lot just kept falling over. Obviously, Rhys hadn’t bothered to discuss technique with them, Ianto thought.
Ianto’s littlest Coffee Bean threw himself over the line just in time, and his team took the point. Obviously, Jack didn’t think it was fair. “My other kids didn’t have as powerful legs as those did!” he whined. Gwen rolled her eyes and told him that if he complained again, she’d be knocking points off his team. When he curtly told her his team had no points yet, she reminded him there was such a thing as negative numbers. Jack sulked off, sending little insults through his comm. that made Ianto snigger.
The final race was a running race. The kids were getting tired, so this one was for the team captains. Ianto and Jack’s teams were drawing, so the last race was just between them. They prepared themselves for the run: Ianto’s shirt was unbuttoned a little way, his sleeves rolled up and his tie round his head like Rambo. Jack had taken off his coat and overshirt, leaving his braces in a heap next to them.
There were some obstacles for them to overcome during the run, too. Some piles of bags that they had to jump over, a flag they had to climb a tree and pull down each, and also a hollow log they would have to crawl through. Ianto was not happy with the physical requirements of the task, but he desperately wanted to win. He couldn’t let his little Coffee Beans down. He’d got quite attached to them.
“You’re going down, Jones.” Jack told him. His supporters cheered him on, a couple of them chanting ‘You’re going down, Jones! You’re going downnnnnn!’. Ianto smiled to himself.
“The only way I’m going down is if I’m going down on you.” He shot back. A couple of the adults seemed a little alarmed at the innuendo, but the chanting stopped and Jack couldn’t think of a comeback so the race was about to begin.
“On youuuuuur MARKS!” shouted the umpire – a middle aged man everyone seemed to call ‘Crunkle’.
“Gettttt SET!”
“GOOOOOO!”
They shot forward. Jack was in the lead, throwing in everything he could. Ianto was a bit cleverer, going a little slower and allowing himself to conserve energy for the final home run. He couldn’t let Jack tear away too much, though. He upped his speed slightly – much to the delight of his Coffee Beans – and caught up with Jack a little.
Leaping over the piles of bags and coats like hurdles, Ianto began to put a devious little plan into action. He clearly pictured in his head, through his own eyes, how it felt to be inside Jack. The water tower loomed up in his mind’s eye, and he let the memory of the hot and cold sensations of Jack’s body and the bubbling, icy water flood down his telepathic channel and pour into the Captain’s head.
Jack stumbled slightly and Ianto saw the falter. They were past the make-shift hurdles now, and he was getting in front of Jack towards the tree where he needed to pull down his team’s flag to take back to the finish post. He was hanging on to the tree with one hand and reaching up for the bit of material when Jack made his response.
Ianto felt his nerve-endings tingle, his breath catch and his skin flush. He could see himself, lying below Jack, through Jack’s eyes. He was coming onto himself as Jack pounded into him, holding his legs wide and watching him and drinking him in. Ianto’s hand slipped from around the branch it was grasping and he tumbled to the ground as Jack jumped over him to get to his own team’s flag.
Already Ianto was reaching his flag again, and this time his fingers curled around the cotton just as Jack began tearing away. He shot after him, appreciating the accidental extra time Jack had given him to catch his breath slightly, and began formulating a new distracting thought. These thoughts were of cages and red rope and inflatable sex toys.
Ianto caught up to Jack and managed to dive into the hollow log before he did, crawling and clambering as fast as he could before the memory of what sex with Jack felt like – or more what sex with Ianto felt like – would come to bombard his nerve-endings and disrupt his conscious mind.
It seemed Jack had decided to play fair for the home run. They were neck and neck, slowing to a jog rather than a run now that they were getting tired, and both were just as keen on winning. The finish line was in sight, and Ianto was ready to push himself further to reach it first. Then Jack’s voice echoed through his head.
‘What’s your ultimate sexual fantasy?’ it asked. The running, the adrenaline, the tiredness – they all came together to make it impossible for Ianto not to instantly see the image of it in his mind.
A beach, a sunset and Jack. Naked on the sand, Jack on top of him, hands and fingers running though his hair as the water lapped around them and the tide began to ebb in.
Another one: in Ianto’s bed together. The covers pulled around them, cocooning them like Jack had done once before. Ianto was on top this time, Jack moaning beneath him and clenching around him. Jack would then pull him down and hold their bodies together and he would bite and suck and lick a love-bite into Jack’s neck where Gwen would see it and know it meant Jack was his.
Ianto couldn’t believe the thoughts had fallen through into Jack’s mind. He’d been so embarrassed about his fantasies – they were so tame and romanticised compared to what he did with Jack routinely. He felt a little betrayed that Jack had got them out of him in such a sneaky way. Unfortunately for Jack, the annoyance spurred him on rather than slowed him down.
‘I’m so angry at you right now!’ he thought viciously. He sped himself up, though his legs were becoming heavy. Only a few feet to go ...
Jack stopped dead. Ianto tumbled over the line, but made no show of victory celebrations. He glared at Jack as the Coffee Beans danced and cheered around him, and Gwen came over and gave him and his team little paper rosettes Rhys had been forced to make.
For the rest of the afternoon, Jack and Ianto pushed their little mini-spat aside for the sake of Gwen’s party. After the physical races, there were games to be played. Pass the parcel was won by one of the Slaughterers and musical statues had a joint winners from the Coffee Beans. Pin the tail on the Donkey found a Juvenile victor, and as the final round of Tongue Twisters was coming to a close, everyone was ready to go home and get ready for the costume party later.
The guests had three hours from then until the start of the second leg of the do, and Jack and Ianto went off together without a word to Gwen. They sat in the SUV in silence for a couple of uneasy minutes.
“Soooo ....” said Jack. Ianto had earlier given his half of the comms back, so Jack had to use vocal communication.
“I can’t believe you did that.” Muttered Ianto. “Really, I can’t. That was so ... private ...”
“Sorry.” Jack looked at him. He didn’t glance back. “But ... I always tell you my fantasies.”
“Yours are so much more exciting than mine.” Said Ianto bitterly.
“Yours were exciting.” Jack replied, chancing a hand on Ianto’s thigh and squeezing gently. Ianto glanced at it, then covered it with his own.
“They weren’t. They’re silly. They’re ... god ... I dunno ...” he turned to look out of the window. “They’re naive. They’re ... they don’t fit us. Our sex life ... I don’t ... they’re ... that’s not what our sex is about, is it? Romance and sunsets or ... couply ... thi-“
Jack cut him off by pulling him into a kiss. It was none insistent, and their tongues barely touched.
“I know a nice beach somewhere hot. There’s no people. It’s privately owned – part of a friend’s villa. We’d be left alone.” He said, peppering Ianto’s cheek with kisses as he did. Ianto blushed a little. He wasn’t used to the idea of someone knowing his fantasies, let alone trying to make them real. “As for the second one ... we’ve got three hours before we’re needed again. And I do miss your bed the second I get out of it.”
Ianto started the car.
They hardly stopped kissing as they tried to get up the stairs to Ianto’s flat. The lift was broken, and they were falling over each other and tumbling onto the steps as they messily navigated their way up. They got to the corridor Ianto’s front door was on just as a middle-aged woman with a cat on her head (seriously) was exiting one of the flats next door. She gave them an odd look, and waited for them to realise that Ianto’s attempts to slide his key into the yale lock without looking nor facing in the direction of the door were all in vain.
Jack had lifted him up, leaning him against his door with Ianto’s legs wrapped around him and their hips grinding together. Ianto felt the woman’s eyes burning into him, and flicked his eyes open mid-kiss to see the disapproving look on her face. He broke apart from the kiss, gasping slightly, but still held firmly by a now looking-round-to-see-what’s-happening Jack.
“Er ...” said Ianto. “He’s .... my .... boss?” he offered. Jack sniggered and turned the key in the lock. They tumbled in, Ianto landing painfully on his side, but they continued kissing deeply on the floor until they heard the woman walk away muttering about how ‘it’s just not natural’ and that ‘Satan will have them ...’
When she’d gone, Ianto untangled himself and shut the door. He sat on the sofa silently, and Jack hauled himself to his feet.
“Ianto?”
“I ... er ... I ... I’ve lost the mood.” He said.
“You care what the crazy lady with a cat on her head thinks of you?”
“No.”
“What’s the matter then?” Jack sat beside him and draped a comforting arm around his broad shoulders.
“I don’t have the energy for this.”
“You? You don’t have the energy for sex?”
“It’s going to be a hard day. Even harder than usual. I’m going to be beyond exhausted later if I don’t get a nap now. And I want us to have sex after the party.”
Jack put his chin on Ianto’s shoulder and kissed his cheek when he turned his head closer. “We’ll get some jammies on and have a nap now, then?” he said. Ianto smiled at him, rose and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom.
They showered quickly and changed (without even getting an erection) and snuggled into the round bed together. The dark green covers looked beautiful shrouded around Ianto, Jack thought. He remembered the little silver comms, and asked Ianto if he wanted to use them again. Ianto yawned and nodded, licking his lips slightly and pulling Jack’s arm over him to make him spoon into his back.
Jack watched him sleep for a short while, before the rhythm of Ianto’s heart and the steady pace of his breathing became the lullaby that lured him into his own dreams.
FIN
I know I don't really need to say it here, but no spoilers in comments please.
This part, and the next one, has been written to cheer up
zsazsa4168. 
