Torchwood: Fanfic: The bare necessities

[m_findlow]

Title: The bare necessities
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,174 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Juliet316's prompt "Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, there's always variety in the bedroom; well if they make it there" at fic_promptly
Summary: There'll be time for bed after they've exhausted one another elsewhere

Jack's had a long string of lovers over the years and he's never tired of showing any of them a good time, nor they him, so he's collected a long list of enticing things to be done with his lovers in bed. The bedroom is one of his favourite places, not just because sleeping is a good thing, but because the bed is where a lot of the action takes place. It's convenient, and not just because the bed is a big, warm, soft place for conducting a romantic interlude, but because there's so often a need for pillows which come in very handy. There's a lot you can do with a pillow that completely changes the game. If you know how to use it, that is.

The problem with having such a very long list of delectable things he'd like to do to his lover is partly in finding the time, and partly the fact that just thinking about those things and imagining his lover, is more than he can bear. That's the trouble with the overactive imagination. One step too far imagining those blue eyes and that soft smile, and any thoughts of getting just as far as the bedroom are soon quashed by the weight of simply having to have him right here, right now.

And there's the other hitch. For all the world Ianto is a caring, patient and diligent soul when it comes to work, but as soon as those gorgeous lips touch his, he's done for. It's like Jekyll and Hyde. Jack's lover becomes an insatiable demon, desperate for one thing only, and that is for Jack to make love to him, to kiss him, to touch him, to set his body on fire, and finally to douse the flames of burning desire deep within him. And Jack is only too happy to reciprocate, because those said flames have set alight his own desire.

The bed might be miles away, or just a few feet, but who cares when Jack has his tongue doing that thing against the back of his throat, or his hand on that spot on his lower back where he loves to feel that soft caress before it pulls him in closer. He can feel the need rising inside him like a tidal wave, determined to crash down on top of his lover and fill him so completely. Who cares about the bedroom right now?

And there's no so many places to fill that need, each one more exciting than the last. The bedroom is where a lot of the fun happens, but there's a wild lust to being with one another wherever the moment takes them. Sometimes it's simply a need to be satisfied, in which case, any secluded spot will do; a dark corner of the archives, a storage closet, the armory, the cells. And that's lead to other games such as prisoner and warden, pet and owner, master and slave. The themes might be slightly different but the outcome is always the same.

Sometimes it's a matter of desperate need, and seclusion be damned. Ianto has quickly slid the valuable contents of Jack's desk to one side so that Jack can take him right then and there. Jack is the boss after all, so where better for him to stamp his authority than to have Ianto spread out on the desk in front of him, perhaps to inflict some authority.

The autopsy bay is another prime choice, if only for the naughty factor, knowing how much Owen will hate the thought that they've been down here doing all kinds of things on his precious table, under it, or in the morgue drawers. It's kinky because it's wrong, and the relative pain that comes from lying on the cold hard table, or from being squished into the horrendously tight crawlspace, that's really only ever been designed for one occupant, for good reasons, fades away when Ianto has his tongue in Jack's ear and Jack has the rest of himself inside Ianto.

The hothouse is always good for a quiet moment alone, provided you don't mind the plants keeping an eye on you, and some of them will, you can be sure of that. If you're really unlucky, some of them might even cheer you on, and there's always at least once plant in there that's a known aphrodisiac. If that's the case, you know rounds two and three won't get near the bedroom either.

The firing range has become a new favourite recently. With all the practice required to keep their gun and combat skills in check, there's no doubt that in a hand to hand combat session, it's going to be a fine line between overpowering your opponent and being overcome with the need to have them take you right there. The adrenaline is pumping, they're breathing hard, and there can be only one logical conclusion for how it's all going to end. The best part is that because the firing range is such a large open space, their screams and moans echo and reverberate loudly throughout the space, and hearing themselves repeated in the throes of passion only adds to the heat of the moment.

Adrenaline is their worst enemy. Adrenaline has a lot to answer for. They were so wired one night wandering back across the plass after a wild pursuit around the bay, that they only got so far as the invisible lift, and Jack can't remember any time before that when they've had such fun openly having sex with strangers walking right past them, mere yards away. Lucky that perception filter is strong, though he suspects that a stray leg may have been visible for a period of time. It's the kind of reverse voyeurism that really gets Jack off; and Ianto as well apparently, having suggested they could do that again, but with less clothes and more screaming.

Once you've opened up that Pandora's box, that leaves them open for all sorts of things; the spiral staircase, the kitchenette, under the boardroom table, cuffed to the chair in the interrogation room to practice their good cop, bad cop routine, and up in Myfanwy's aerie, provided Myf isn't there, which really gives a literal meaning to the expression "rolling around in the hay".

Then there's the SUV. Oh, that blessed car. Could there be anywhere more awkward and uncomfortable? There's always something in the wrong spot, the seat, the gearstick, the wheel, the weevil. That's the adrenaline again. Who's got time to wait until they get back to the hub when there's victory sex to be had? And the weevil is sedated so it's not going anywhere, either. The others know not to expect them back in a hurry. And uncomfortable and awkward as it is, it's as good an opportunity as any to test out a few of those lesser known skills about how to contort one's body to fit any space and also to maximize pleasure. Once you've got those skills down pat, who needs a bed?

Comments

[bk_forever]

Beds have their advantags, but the boys have always been good at improvising ;)