Oneshot: Painting With Love
Dec. 21st, 2010 11:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galadriel1010Title: Painting With Love
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Genre: Fluff
Rating: T
Era: Series 2
Series: Schmoop 'verse
Summary: Ianto uses Jack as his canvas to send a message
Contains: Chocolate body paint, silk binds and an alien language. Prompt: Love Letter
Dedication: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thebuttonontop
Beta:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Jack tugged at the silk binding his hands and let his wrists relax back against the pillows again. Ianto was tying his left ankle down to the foot of the bed, and ran his fingertips up the arch of Jack's foot once he was sure it was secure. Although he jerked at the sensation, Jack's foot stayed where it was, within an inch or so, and Ianto stayed safe and unkicked. He smirked and held out his hand for Jack's other foot, squeezing his ankle when Jack rested it in his palm. “You're very tense, Jack,” he commented, running his thumb across the ball of his foot firmly enough that it didn't tickle. “Are you alright?”
Jack poked him in the side with his toe. “I'm fine, I'm just tied to the bed. Hurry up before I get cold.”
“You're so impatient,” Ianto chided. “Impatience needs to be punished, don't you think?”
He pretended to think about this, tilting his head to the side and studying the crack in the light shade above the bed. “How about I cancel the punishment out by replacing that light shade?”
Ianto sighed and wrapped the other end of the silk binding around Jack's ankle, then pulled on both so that it slid through the material to where it emerged for the final time from the carvings it was wound through. He trailed one hand up Jack's leg to hold his knee still and wrapped the silk around his ankle a few more times, then wound it back through the carvings to secure him in place. Jack tugged on his other ankle and it stayed right where it was, without even the slightest pull on the ankle Ianto still held – his ankles were more securely tied than his wrists, which Ianto had left tight enough that he couldn't move them, but not so tight that he couldn't unfasten them. He didn't need to try it, he just knew that that was how Ianto worked – how they both worked.
“I'm fine,” he assured Ianto before he could even open his mouth to ask.
“Good.” Ianto picked up another length of silk, this one shorter, and crawled up the bed with it clutched in one hand. He bent his head and kissed the corner of Jack's jaw, the curve of his cheek bone, his eyelid, then trailed butterfly kisses down to his lips. “Ready?”
He swallowed and tilted his cheek towards the silk brushing against it, letting the cool feeling seduce him. “Ready.”
Ianto's fingers smoothed the silk out over his eyes then, and one hand lifted his head so that he could pass the trailing ends behind it and tie them together off to one side. He kept touching Jack after that; gentle strokes across his stomach, a hand on his thigh, one knee pressed to Jack's calf. As the smell of chocolate permeated the room, Ianto's hand swept up from groin to throat once more and then across his chest before soft brushstrokes started on his left shoulder.
Jack stayed as still as he could, fighting against the urge to squirm under the torturous sensations of the brush against his chest and stomach. It got worse when Ianto apparently decided that he'd done something wrong and erased it the best way he could, with broad strokes of his tongue followed by a firm swipe with the pad of his thumb.
This was either heaven or a new and wonderful form of hell.
Eventually, Ianto decided that he was finished and, with a final brush stroke on Jack's hip, he scrambled away from the bed. Jack was in a haze of lust and, actually, relaxation. Part of him wanted to untie himself and pin Ianto to the wall, whilst part of him just wanted to lie there forever. The part that was actually in control decided that the latter option would keep Ianto happy, and keeping Ianto happy usually made Jack happy, so he let his mind drift away on a fog.
And then Ianto finished with whatever he was doing and started licking Jack clean. It didn't take long after that for Jack to tumble over the edge into bliss.
Ianto delivered the first coffee of the day with a smile, a daring kiss and a sealed envelope. “You might need to run that through the computer first,” he informed Jack, pressing his finger onto the flap of the envelope to stop Jack opening it just yet. “But I think you'll have time.”
Jack eased the envelope out from under his finger and eyed it. “Will I have fun, as well?”
“Oh, probably.” Ianto tapped his fingers against Jack's desk once more and stood up. “And don't forget that you need to do that letter to Winifred, it needs to go off this week at the latest.”
He left quietly, hard soles ringing across the metal grating the only accompaniment to his departure, whilst Jack slid his finger under the flap to rip it open and slide the contents out. Inside he found a glossy photograph of himself, bound hands and feet to the bed with red silk and with a bold stripe of red blindfolding him. He was flushed and begging, lips parted and hands wrapped around the binds on his wrists, and his chest and stomach were daubed with dark chocolate in whorls, dots and lines.
Looking closer, he realised that it was a message painted on his body, and he pulled a pencil and a pad of paper towards himself to copy out the patterns, so that he could run it through the translation software.
The translation software took some time to run, so he left it talking to itself whilst he wrote back to Former Brigadier Winifred Bambera's letter. He'd bonded with her husband over the despair of being out of one's time, and they'd kept in touch ever since, even when he became persona non gratis with UNIT – fortunately, this occurred less frequently than it had done with the other branches of Torchwood.
His computer pinged to tell him that it had finished doing something, and a glance revealed that it was the translation. He pulled the results up and read through them whilst they printed out behind him.
“Sunrise, starrise, moonhour constant, forever love. Life beyond death, I wait. You I love.”
Ianto was behind him, waiting. “It's not the easiest language to use, but the signs are so beautiful.”
“They are,” Jack agreed. “It's a beautiful message.”
“I'm not good with words.” Ianto approached him and leaned against the desk. “But there weren't that many to work with.”
“Good choice then.” Jack reached out and rubbed a thumb against the inside of Ianto's wrist. “I loved it.”
“Good.” Ianto ran fingers through his hair and turned away. “That's the closest you're getting to a love letter.”
Characters: Jack/Ianto
Genre: Fluff
Rating: T
Era: Series 2
Series: Schmoop 'verse
Summary: Ianto uses Jack as his canvas to send a message
Contains: Chocolate body paint, silk binds and an alien language. Prompt: Love Letter
Dedication: For
thebuttonontopBeta:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Jack tugged at the silk binding his hands and let his wrists relax back against the pillows again. Ianto was tying his left ankle down to the foot of the bed, and ran his fingertips up the arch of Jack's foot once he was sure it was secure. Although he jerked at the sensation, Jack's foot stayed where it was, within an inch or so, and Ianto stayed safe and unkicked. He smirked and held out his hand for Jack's other foot, squeezing his ankle when Jack rested it in his palm. “You're very tense, Jack,” he commented, running his thumb across the ball of his foot firmly enough that it didn't tickle. “Are you alright?”
Jack poked him in the side with his toe. “I'm fine, I'm just tied to the bed. Hurry up before I get cold.”
“You're so impatient,” Ianto chided. “Impatience needs to be punished, don't you think?”
He pretended to think about this, tilting his head to the side and studying the crack in the light shade above the bed. “How about I cancel the punishment out by replacing that light shade?”
Ianto sighed and wrapped the other end of the silk binding around Jack's ankle, then pulled on both so that it slid through the material to where it emerged for the final time from the carvings it was wound through. He trailed one hand up Jack's leg to hold his knee still and wrapped the silk around his ankle a few more times, then wound it back through the carvings to secure him in place. Jack tugged on his other ankle and it stayed right where it was, without even the slightest pull on the ankle Ianto still held – his ankles were more securely tied than his wrists, which Ianto had left tight enough that he couldn't move them, but not so tight that he couldn't unfasten them. He didn't need to try it, he just knew that that was how Ianto worked – how they both worked.
“I'm fine,” he assured Ianto before he could even open his mouth to ask.
“Good.” Ianto picked up another length of silk, this one shorter, and crawled up the bed with it clutched in one hand. He bent his head and kissed the corner of Jack's jaw, the curve of his cheek bone, his eyelid, then trailed butterfly kisses down to his lips. “Ready?”
He swallowed and tilted his cheek towards the silk brushing against it, letting the cool feeling seduce him. “Ready.”
Ianto's fingers smoothed the silk out over his eyes then, and one hand lifted his head so that he could pass the trailing ends behind it and tie them together off to one side. He kept touching Jack after that; gentle strokes across his stomach, a hand on his thigh, one knee pressed to Jack's calf. As the smell of chocolate permeated the room, Ianto's hand swept up from groin to throat once more and then across his chest before soft brushstrokes started on his left shoulder.
Jack stayed as still as he could, fighting against the urge to squirm under the torturous sensations of the brush against his chest and stomach. It got worse when Ianto apparently decided that he'd done something wrong and erased it the best way he could, with broad strokes of his tongue followed by a firm swipe with the pad of his thumb.
This was either heaven or a new and wonderful form of hell.
Eventually, Ianto decided that he was finished and, with a final brush stroke on Jack's hip, he scrambled away from the bed. Jack was in a haze of lust and, actually, relaxation. Part of him wanted to untie himself and pin Ianto to the wall, whilst part of him just wanted to lie there forever. The part that was actually in control decided that the latter option would keep Ianto happy, and keeping Ianto happy usually made Jack happy, so he let his mind drift away on a fog.
And then Ianto finished with whatever he was doing and started licking Jack clean. It didn't take long after that for Jack to tumble over the edge into bliss.
Ianto delivered the first coffee of the day with a smile, a daring kiss and a sealed envelope. “You might need to run that through the computer first,” he informed Jack, pressing his finger onto the flap of the envelope to stop Jack opening it just yet. “But I think you'll have time.”
Jack eased the envelope out from under his finger and eyed it. “Will I have fun, as well?”
“Oh, probably.” Ianto tapped his fingers against Jack's desk once more and stood up. “And don't forget that you need to do that letter to Winifred, it needs to go off this week at the latest.”
He left quietly, hard soles ringing across the metal grating the only accompaniment to his departure, whilst Jack slid his finger under the flap to rip it open and slide the contents out. Inside he found a glossy photograph of himself, bound hands and feet to the bed with red silk and with a bold stripe of red blindfolding him. He was flushed and begging, lips parted and hands wrapped around the binds on his wrists, and his chest and stomach were daubed with dark chocolate in whorls, dots and lines.
Looking closer, he realised that it was a message painted on his body, and he pulled a pencil and a pad of paper towards himself to copy out the patterns, so that he could run it through the translation software.
The translation software took some time to run, so he left it talking to itself whilst he wrote back to Former Brigadier Winifred Bambera's letter. He'd bonded with her husband over the despair of being out of one's time, and they'd kept in touch ever since, even when he became persona non gratis with UNIT – fortunately, this occurred less frequently than it had done with the other branches of Torchwood.
His computer pinged to tell him that it had finished doing something, and a glance revealed that it was the translation. He pulled the results up and read through them whilst they printed out behind him.
“Sunrise, starrise, moonhour constant, forever love. Life beyond death, I wait. You I love.”
Ianto was behind him, waiting. “It's not the easiest language to use, but the signs are so beautiful.”
“They are,” Jack agreed. “It's a beautiful message.”
“I'm not good with words.” Ianto approached him and leaned against the desk. “But there weren't that many to work with.”
“Good choice then.” Jack reached out and rubbed a thumb against the inside of Ianto's wrist. “I loved it.”
“Good.” Ianto ran fingers through his hair and turned away. “That's the closest you're getting to a love letter.”
