Title: Sex on Fire

By: amy. j x

Pairing: Jack/Ianto

Rating: NC-17

AN: Seems like the only fic ideas I'm getting these days are from song lyrics, so another song fic was the only solution. Ha-ha. As always hope you enjoy, and reviews are loved dearly and rewarded with cyber cookies and hugs. Bold font is Jack POV, regular is Ianto POV, lyrics are in italics. Hopefully I haven't confused you all too much. Xx

Summary: Song fic based on Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon. Jack/Ianto, in various smutty situations. Quite short.

***

Lay where you're laying. Don't make a sound.
I know they're watching, they're watching.

I continue thrusting mercilessly, his moans only encouraging me, as I pound relentlessly into his oh so willing body. His sweat smears on the conference table, as his lithe body slides along the surface he spent hours polishing. Suddenly he's crying out, and I know this will be the highlight of Tosh and Gwen's night when they replay it on the CCTV. They don't think I know, but I've seen them giggling as they hurriedly close windows on their computer screens.

It doesn't take long for Ianto's body to begin trembling around me, encasing my hard length further in the tight heat of his delicious body, and he's screaming out in ecstasy, collapsing on the table.

It's no longer just sweat smeared on the tabletop.

Dark of the alley. The breaking of day.
Head while I'm driving, I'm driving.

Of course I love it when it's slow and sensual, his body looming over me, sweat dripping down his forehead, as he rocks back and forward causing my mattress to creak ever so slightly. I love it when it's fast and ferocious, our cries shamelessly filling the air as he fucks me in to the bed.

But most of all, I love it public. When the need is too strong to deny that he simply shoves me into the nearest backstreet and takes me against the wall. The rough bricks only add to the pleasure as they scrap my back, ripping screams of a strange and delightful mixture of pleasure and pain from the very back of my throat.

I'm in no doubt that our guttural cries can be heard for miles. But I couldn't care less.

Soft lips are open. Them knuckles are pale.
Feels like you're dying, you're dying.

Ianto had very little confidence in his sexual performance at the start of our relationship. Now it couldn't be more different. His libido is almost as high as mine. And, god, when he's confident, he's amazing. He can push me toward the edge with just a few strokes of that masterful tongue as I fuck his mouth.

My fingers pull so hard on his hair, that it must cause him pain, but I know he likes it when I'm rough, and he never once complains. I clench my hands in to fists so hard that my knuckles go as pale as the magnolia walls of Ianto's bedroom.

Yes, he definitely knows what buttons to press.

Hot as a fever. Rattling bones.
I could just taste it, taste it.

God, I'm lucky I'm not prone to being the jealous type, because Jack must have learnt those skills from somewhere. I sometimes wonder what he thinks of my performance, but when I hear him gasping, panting, calling my name, I've no doubt to his enjoyment.

I love drinking up the signs of his pleasure, licking up the sweat with my tongue, sharing the taste with him as we kiss, our tongues entwining as our breathing becomes increasingly rapid. My fingers running over his rippling muscles as he trembles with delight, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through his veins as he rides through his orgasm.

Your sex is on fire.

I could say it was the obvious things about sex that I loved with Ianto, his facial expressions as I fuck him, or the feel of his hard cock in my mouth, but that wouldn't be truthful. I love the fact that he's always willing to learn, so open to new experiences it sometimes leaves me shocked. I love the feeling of his hand clasped tight around my cock, his languid strokes bringing me ever closer to the edge, his movements smooth, but his skin calloused, a sign of his work for Torchwood. I can't get enough of the numerous contrasts contained within my Welshman. But most of all I love the sound of my name tumbling from his lips. Those four letters never sounded so good as they do coming from his mouth.

I could pick so many things about sex with Jack that I love, but there are a few that spring to mind. I love how he always keeps unfaltering eye contact with me as he strips me, he makes me feel so at ease so effortlessly. I love the taste of him on my tongue, the smell of him in my nostrils as we lie tangled up in each other's bodies. I love the way he holds me when we make love, and the way he never holds back when he fucks me, he treats how I want to be treated, I'm not some precious doll, and he knows it. But most of all I love the sigh of pleasure that escapes his mouth when he first thrusts in to me, the way he needs a second to compose himself. For some unknown reason, I've never found any feeling in the world that beats how I feel in those few seconds.

And that's why I'll never be able to get enough of him.

And that's why I'll never be able to get enough of him.