Title: The taste of Ianto
By: lilithangel
Pairings: Ianto/Owen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: m/m sex, rimming
Summary: There isn't one really. Owen's doing the above to Ianto and thinking about it.

***

Ianto always tasted of soap and talcum powder although Owen never asked why. He just loved the choked off noises the other man made as his tongue pressed inside that tightness.

With his doctor training he could recite every gland, every organ involved in what they were doing. He could list every disease they were at risk of contracting and that just made it all the more deliciously wrong.

He knew both of them were fantasising about somebody else in the dim lights of the Hub and he didn’t care.

All he cared about was the trembling under his fingers where they gripped tightly into thigh muscle (biceps femoris, semitendinosis) and buttocks (gluteus maximus), and the whimpers he could pull out of Ianto when his tongue pressed and teased the skin underneath the head of Ianto’s cock (frenulum) dragging down the shaft (corpus cavernosum).

The hands that tangled in his hair tightened when his tongue slid over the balls and licked across the skin beneath (perineum), and he could always pull out a curse when he pushed inside the ring of muscle (sphincter) and sought out the nub that marked that spot (prostate gland).

He loved the Welsh profanities that tumbled from those normally so controlled lips as he impaled his normally sarcastic tongue deep into the taste of Ianto.

All that mattered was forgetting the missing and the dead, stripping control from both of them so that when he pushed his unbearably hard cock inside that spit-slicked passage neither would last long enough to stop the fantasy.

***