Title: Queen of the Weevils
By: lilithangel
Pairings: Ianto/Owen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Before the whole king of the Weevils storyline starts I thought I’d do my own version. A king needs a queen after all...

***

“Owen…” his voice urgent Ianto backed up against the alley wall as the Weevils pressed in close.

Two stepped aside and Owen moved through.

“Owen, what’s going on?” Ianto said as the other man came right up to his face and sniffed his neck.

“They won’t hurt you,” Owen said, “They know you, what you are, what I am.”

“And what are you?” Ianto tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice as Owen proceeded to lick the side of his neck.

“Their king and a king needs a mate.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Ianto tried to press further into the wall.

“Don’t be silly Ianto; you must have known.”

“Known what?”

“All the suggestions I’ve made. You can’t have thought I was making them about Tosh? She’s like my little sister. All the fights we’ve gotten into. Didn’t Torchwood teach you psychology 101?”

“I would have thought Gwen would have been your choice.”

“Not interested in soiled goods.”

“Aren’t I soiled goods?”

“Jack’s got good taste but I haven’t had a chance to soil you yet, and I don’t share.” The growl was pure weevil and Ianto swallowed convulsively, disturbed by his own response to Owen’s possessiveness. “We’re going now,” Owen said and the Weevils formed up on either side of him. He held out a hand to Ianto and Ianto knew it wasn’t a request.

“The others are going to come looking,” Ianto tried to reason with Owen.

“They will after they’ve finished chasing down the twenty Weevil sightings at different ends of the city,” Owen said smugly, his hand stroked Ianto’s arm possessively.

“Jack’s not going to be happy,” Ianto tried again.

“Jack’s never happy unless crap is happening so this should make him ecstatic.” Owen snorted.

The Weevils lead the way to a sewer entrance and Ianto’s face screwed up. “Down there?” he asked forlornly.

“It’s not much but its home,” Owen said with another disturbingly feral grin.

They were being very careful not to allow Ianto any chance of escape, but Ianto was beginning to wonder if he wanted to. Having Owen’s complete focus was strangely exciting and arousing. The few times he’d experienced it from Jack had been exhilarating, but it never lasted. Jack had too many things on his mind, a history Ianto couldn’t even comprehend or share in and Ianto knew he was only one of many loves in Jack’s life that would continue far beyond his own.

The part of the sewer they were in appeared to have been disused for a long time, at least for its intended use. Instead hundreds of Weevil roamed the area, most not wearing the boilersuits Ianto was used to seeing and he blushed at the display.

“They find our clothing too restrictive,” Owen said, “but upstairs is too cold for them so they found a warehouse full of boilersuits. Their intelligence levels are linked to their empathy and instincts. It’s quite fascinating really.”

For a moment he sounded like normal Owen and Ianto wondered if he could try reasoning again. Then a strange growl started from Owen’s throat and was picked up by all the Weevils. It shivered through Ianto’s body like a living thing and he couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping.

Owen smiled and reached up to caress Ianto’s face. “You can feel it can’t you? All the controlled rage and need in them. Such an army they would make, with the right leader.”

“Is that leader you Owen?” Ianto asked shakily.

“They would let me, which is why I need a mate to restrain me,” Owen leered at the words and wrapped one of Ianto’s hands around his wrist, “I don’t want to rule the world or even Cardiff. They need me though, and I need you Ianto.”

The look in Owen’s eyes finished Ianto. Nobody had needed him like that since Lisa had screamed for him at Canary Wharf. Not for what he could do for them but just for him.

The Weevils roared when Ianto kissed Owen and Owen pushed Ianto against a wall pressing against him as if trying to climb inside. Ianto felt the graze of teeth on his lip and opened to let Owen in.

“You taste as good as you smell,” Owen murmured into Ianto’s mouth. Ianto’s hand is still wrapped around Owen’s wrist and Owen pulled it around his back so that Ianto was now holding him. Ianto liked the feel of fragile bones grinding under his fingers as his other hand traced the angular features, and it was obvious that Owen liked it too.

Owen pulled back from the kiss but didn’t let Ianto release his grip and led them to an alcove in front of which stood two large throne-like chairs. Owen shrugged at Ianto’s quizzical look and looked a bit embarrassed. “They like them.”

Inside the alcove was completely different. Covered in velvet curtains and strewn with cushions it looked like a bad porn set, but Ianto was grateful for the cushions when Owen threw him down and landed on top of him.

Hands and mouths were everywhere as clothes were discarded and Ianto realised he was naked with Owen. Owen who was all harsh angles both physically and mentally. Owen who would tear him verbally to threads easier than making small talk about the weather. Owen who wore his heart on his sleeve and it was a heart Ianto had never expected to be given to him.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Owen growled, sliding down his body and effectively stopping all thought as hot wet lips wrapped around the head of the erection he had been ignoring. Hands pushed his legs up and spread his thighs. Thumbs slid across his flesh and teased across puckered sensitive skin and he couldn’t think anything at all as that mouth took more of him down.

Thumbs and fingers opened him up and he groaned, thrusting into the hot mouth and back against the blunt fingers. He gasped a protest when his cock was released and looked up into lust-fogged eyes. He could taste himself on Owen’s tongue when the other man took his mouth again.

Then he felt something thicker pressed against his entrance, slick with something he hadn’t even noticed Owen reach for. Then he was filled, hot slick and tight just on the right side of pain. Owen’s teeth were in his shoulder worrying at the flesh there. All he could do was pull Owen in closer and curse him for neglecting his own cock. Owen laughed into his shoulder and drove hard and fast into him. He could feel his balls tighten as Owen’s movements kept a constant pressure on his prostate. His hands grabbed at flesh, scratching skin as he tried to pull Owen closer and lay his mark on the other man as well.

Owen’s roar of completion was pure Weevil and it was enough to send Ianto shivering over the edge slicking their skin with a cry.

“Mine,” Owen said with satisfaction, “my mate, and my consort.”

“If you call me your queen the relationship is off,” Ianto warned.

Owen laughed and kissed Ianto languidly. “I’ll call you a lot of things but never a queen and never tea boy again.”

Ianto sighed with pleasure at the comforting weight of Owen on his chest. This wasn’t the career direction his mother would have wanted, but he could live with it.

***

Next story in series - Royal Audience.