TITLE: Entwined (3/5)
AUTHOR: Merucha
CHARACTERS: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
DISCLAIMER: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is written for the Long Live Ianto Cliché Bingo. The prompt is: This is the wild card. I call it Coils
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is utter and complete crack. I dare you to find something more crac

A few months after Jack has moved his belongings into Ianto's flat, he finds out – courtesy of an overheard conversation between an unusually brusque Tosh and her UNIT counterpart – that there is a pool on the date he will tire of his naïve young lover and go looking for a more sophisticated companion. He tells Ianto about it that night as they curve into each other in the big four-poster bed, panting softly into each other's mouths, hands soothing the shivers running through their muscles. Ianto laughs and pushes his face into the curve of Jack's neck, licking the sensitive skin until Jack hums and tilts his neck, offering more surface.

Ianto knows what that sound means. In spite of the wild rumours, some of them cheerfully spread by the man himself, Jack Harkness is an uncomplicated bloke when it comes to sex. Faced with a choice between novelty and pleasure, he'll go for pleasure every time. The ideal, though, is to have both, and when Jack finds it, he indulges in it in the same way he indulges in fifty-year-old Glenfiddich or the especially made truffled chocolates that are delivered each year, beautifully wrapped, on Armistice Day: infrequently and with such sexual absorption that it makes Ianto hard just to watch.

Being the focus of that adamantine concentration can be overwhelming, but Ianto has his own aces to play. He's not worried about Jack walking away. They have Torchwood, and terrible memories, and physical need, and when one of them is drowning in the knowledge that he is forever separated from his own kind by death or time, the other offers a shoulder and an comforting embrace. There are couples that remain married for decades with much less in common.

The sex is pretty mind-blowing, too.

He starts slowly, allowing his legs to fuse into a thick, muscular tail. Jack immediately tries to wrap his legs around it. The rasp of Jack's skin on his scales is unberably arousing; he won't last long if Jack keeps moving. He forces his tail underneath Jack's knees and coils around him, holding him in place. Jack's hum intensifies, his eyes close slowly, and his heartbeat increases. Ianto loves that sound. He tunes his bones to it as his tongue flicks rapidly over Jack's shoulders, letting the smelltaste of Jack's skin, his fifty-first century pheromones, sink deep into his senses. He drags his coils across Jack's pelvis, stroking his erection, feeling Jack's precum moisten the sensitive skin hidden under his scales.

Jack's hum turns into a moan, and he thrusts against Ianto's soft underbelly, trying to hasten the pace. Ianto clamps around him, forcing him into stillness, feeling Jack's muscles quiver as their skins rub against each other. Slowly, slowly, he allows the transformation to reach his head and he flares his hood, wrapping Jack into its folds. Jack babbles words like please and now and Ianto releases his grip just enough to let Jack tilt his hips upwards, offering himself. Jack is still slick from their earlier, human coupling, and Ianto extrudes his first hemipene and thrusts deeply. Jack convulses as he comes, his contractions squeezing Ianto dry. Ianto watches and waits and just as Jack begins to breathe again he pulls out and thrusts his second hemipene in. This time the moan is a scream and Jack's eyes roll in his head as he comes again, harder. Ianto cuddles him in his coils, gentling Jack's racing heart with his own as they slide into sleep.