John J. Rambo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theydrewfirstblood) wrote2023-10-30 01:38 pm
theydrewfirstblood) wrote2023-10-30 01:38 pm
he can't be trusted
IAN:
Where are you right now?
JOHN:
Just got out of the shower. Why?
IAN:
Take off your clothes and get into bed.
IAN:
Please.
John blinks down at his phone, a little thrill zipping across his nerves--and a laugh bubbling up as he leans back against his bedroom door in a beat up pair of pajama pants he uses to stay decent commuting from the bathroom to his room. He has no idea what's going on, but he's...curious?
And he's seen Ianto take charge. The 'please' to try and soften it is pretty cute, too.
John considers his options for a moment, absently tapping the flat of his phone against his palm...then fiddles with it for a minute or two to try and remember the whole 'selfie' thing to take a picture of himself leaning back against the door, barechested in his low slung loose pants and sends it back.
JOHN:
Or I could just stay here. Up to you.
The little bubble that means someone is typing lingers for what seems like ages.
IAN:
That will do nicely, thank you.
IAN:
God, you are absolutely gorgeous to look at. I can see why Jack loves your chest, but I so love those beautiful shoulders.
IAN:
I've fantasized about riding you, getting my hands on them. Gripping so tight I leave marks.
John's breathing a little harder now, because he can picture it. Buried deep in his body, running his fingers over Ianto's chest. Such a rough, gorgeous contrast of thick dark hair to Jack's smooth muscle...
John has to pause to adjust himself--and can't resist squeezing a little, teasing his hardening cock just a little.
JOHN:
What are you doing?
IAN:
You've not learned about sexting yet?
JOHN:
What? Like phone sex, but like this? Seems like a pain in the ass to try and type while you're jerking off.
IAN:
Then don't type. Just touch yourself and read--you don't have to reply unless I ask you to.
IAN:
If that's all right?
John continues to trail his fingers over the line of his cock through thin cotton, staring at the screen with heat pooling low in his belly. He doesn't have anything else going on--he needs to pack for a trip to Torchwood Two for a few days (he's spoken to Archie on the phone before and he doesn't know what everyone's bitching about, he likes the guy) but he can always do that later.
He wants to see where this goes--and maybe try it with Jack later. And it's a nice, casual way to try this--see how it feels, letting Ianto be in charge a little. If it's good? Could be another scene to try...
John takes a breath, then slides his hand away from his cock to find one of the more sensitive scars on his chest, making his hips jerk reflexively as he lets his nails catch on the edge.
JOHN:
You're good, lover. I'm touching my chest.
JOHN:
Keep going.
JOHN:
Please.
Where are you right now?
JOHN:
Just got out of the shower. Why?
IAN:
Take off your clothes and get into bed.
IAN:
Please.
John blinks down at his phone, a little thrill zipping across his nerves--and a laugh bubbling up as he leans back against his bedroom door in a beat up pair of pajama pants he uses to stay decent commuting from the bathroom to his room. He has no idea what's going on, but he's...curious?
And he's seen Ianto take charge. The 'please' to try and soften it is pretty cute, too.
John considers his options for a moment, absently tapping the flat of his phone against his palm...then fiddles with it for a minute or two to try and remember the whole 'selfie' thing to take a picture of himself leaning back against the door, barechested in his low slung loose pants and sends it back.
JOHN:
Or I could just stay here. Up to you.
The little bubble that means someone is typing lingers for what seems like ages.
IAN:
That will do nicely, thank you.
IAN:
God, you are absolutely gorgeous to look at. I can see why Jack loves your chest, but I so love those beautiful shoulders.
IAN:
I've fantasized about riding you, getting my hands on them. Gripping so tight I leave marks.
John's breathing a little harder now, because he can picture it. Buried deep in his body, running his fingers over Ianto's chest. Such a rough, gorgeous contrast of thick dark hair to Jack's smooth muscle...
John has to pause to adjust himself--and can't resist squeezing a little, teasing his hardening cock just a little.
JOHN:
What are you doing?
IAN:
You've not learned about sexting yet?
JOHN:
What? Like phone sex, but like this? Seems like a pain in the ass to try and type while you're jerking off.
IAN:
Then don't type. Just touch yourself and read--you don't have to reply unless I ask you to.
IAN:
If that's all right?
John continues to trail his fingers over the line of his cock through thin cotton, staring at the screen with heat pooling low in his belly. He doesn't have anything else going on--he needs to pack for a trip to Torchwood Two for a few days (he's spoken to Archie on the phone before and he doesn't know what everyone's bitching about, he likes the guy) but he can always do that later.
He wants to see where this goes--and maybe try it with Jack later. And it's a nice, casual way to try this--see how it feels, letting Ianto be in charge a little. If it's good? Could be another scene to try...
John takes a breath, then slides his hand away from his cock to find one of the more sensitive scars on his chest, making his hips jerk reflexively as he lets his nails catch on the edge.
JOHN:
You're good, lover. I'm touching my chest.
JOHN:
Keep going.
JOHN:
Please.