I'm Only Sleeping (R)
Oct. 25th, 2008 12:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skidmo_ficTitle: I’m Only Sleeping
Rating: R
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Evan Lorne
Word Count: 405
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me...sadly
Feedback: yes, please.
Summary: Lorne is dreaming
A/N: Just a quick flashfic from the Beatles ‘verse. No plot. Mostly smuttish.
Lorne is dreaming.
This is what he tells himself.
He has to be dreaming, because Jack may be unconventional, but Torchwood is still definitely not that sort of organization.
Not the sort where he could conceivably actually be getting an annual performance review from both Jack and Sheppard while Ianto goes down on him under the conference table.
Definitely a dream.
Even so, Lorne is the sort of man who would want to cover all his bases, so he keeps his hands above the table at all times, and tries his best not to groan when Ianto does that amazing thing with his tongue and Jack tells him that his marksmanship is the best at Torchwood.
This had better be a dream.
Of course, that thought is worrying in itself, because this is the sort of dream that’s likely to come with another sleepwalking episode. It’s that hazy yet vivid sort of dream, and he can smell the coffee sitting in front of him on the table, and he can hear the hum of the Rift manipulator behind him, and he can definitely feel Ianto’s throat as he takes Lorne deep and swallows around him.
He takes a sip of cold coffee to cover that particular sound, but neither Jack nor Sheppard look at him differently. Sheppard just asks him how he’s coming with the combat training rota for the new recruits.
He takes a moment to answer, not just because Ianto’s fingers are stroking his balls, but because Jack and Sheppard seem remarkably at ease with each other. So much so that Jack’s fingers are playing in Sheppard’s impossible hair, and, though he can’t see it through the table, he knows (in the way that you just know things in dreams) that Sheppard’s hand is on Jack’s thigh.
And, because Lorne can worry about anything at any time, even in his dreams, he tries to figure out what it says about him that he’s having a wet dream in which his boss and his former CO are hitting on each other, but before he can think too much about it, Ianto takes him deep again, sucking hard and humming, and Lorne comes hard, shouting Ianto’s name as his eyes snap open and he sits up like a shot in bed.
He’s sweating, and his chest is heaving, and when he pulls back the blankets from his lap, Ianto grins up at him.
“Morning, cariadfab.”
fin
Rating: R
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Evan Lorne
Word Count: 405
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me...sadly
Feedback: yes, please.
Summary: Lorne is dreaming
A/N: Just a quick flashfic from the Beatles ‘verse. No plot. Mostly smuttish.
Lorne is dreaming.
This is what he tells himself.
He has to be dreaming, because Jack may be unconventional, but Torchwood is still definitely not that sort of organization.
Not the sort where he could conceivably actually be getting an annual performance review from both Jack and Sheppard while Ianto goes down on him under the conference table.
Definitely a dream.
Even so, Lorne is the sort of man who would want to cover all his bases, so he keeps his hands above the table at all times, and tries his best not to groan when Ianto does that amazing thing with his tongue and Jack tells him that his marksmanship is the best at Torchwood.
This had better be a dream.
Of course, that thought is worrying in itself, because this is the sort of dream that’s likely to come with another sleepwalking episode. It’s that hazy yet vivid sort of dream, and he can smell the coffee sitting in front of him on the table, and he can hear the hum of the Rift manipulator behind him, and he can definitely feel Ianto’s throat as he takes Lorne deep and swallows around him.
He takes a sip of cold coffee to cover that particular sound, but neither Jack nor Sheppard look at him differently. Sheppard just asks him how he’s coming with the combat training rota for the new recruits.
He takes a moment to answer, not just because Ianto’s fingers are stroking his balls, but because Jack and Sheppard seem remarkably at ease with each other. So much so that Jack’s fingers are playing in Sheppard’s impossible hair, and, though he can’t see it through the table, he knows (in the way that you just know things in dreams) that Sheppard’s hand is on Jack’s thigh.
And, because Lorne can worry about anything at any time, even in his dreams, he tries to figure out what it says about him that he’s having a wet dream in which his boss and his former CO are hitting on each other, but before he can think too much about it, Ianto takes him deep again, sucking hard and humming, and Lorne comes hard, shouting Ianto’s name as his eyes snap open and he sits up like a shot in bed.
He’s sweating, and his chest is heaving, and when he pulls back the blankets from his lap, Ianto grins up at him.
“Morning, cariadfab.”
fin
