Uncut

or

The First Time Jack Sees Ianto Naked

Jack watched Ianto finish folding his trousers and laying them across the seat of the chair. His back was turned to Jack, which left the older man with the glorious view of Ianto's long, muscular legs, a back broad in the shoulder and narrow at the waist. Between back and legs lay the beautiful twin cheeks of Ianto's firm, white arse. Jack watched silently as the muscles in Ianto's back and legs flexed as the man removed his socks, the last item of clothing left.

A finger of anticipation skittered down Jack's back – he'd been waiting for this moment now for far too long, ever since Ianto had not kissed him back in Myfanwy's warehouse.

Taking a moment from the present, Jack flashed back on that particular night, on the feeling of Ianto's arms gripping him firmly as he rolled them across the floor several times to escape the crushing bulk of a dinosaur that was about to fall on them. He remembered the sharp thrill of excitement as they lay together on the dirty floor, Ianto atop him, pressed against him from belly to toe.

Jack particularly remembered the sensation of Ianto's hard groin pressed against his own. Closing his eyes for a second, Jack relived the intense shot of awareness that had spiked through his belly as he felt Ianto's erection actually growing harder as it pushed against Jack's own bulging cock.

He remembered feeling Ianto's breath, hot, heavy and clean, panting against his face as they lay together. Jack could still smell Ianto's minty toothpaste or mouthwash – didn't matter which, it smelt good and it smelt of Ianto. Even today, several months later, he would start to grow hard every time Ianto innocently breathed that fragrant, minty breath against his neck or cheek.

Now, the fantasies he'd dreamt about and the pornographic images that he'd conjured in his mind, all of them were about to come true.

As Ianto bent over to tuck his socks into his shoes, the muscles of his buttocks grew taut under his skin, and Jack's breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched, so anxious to caress that white skin, to stroke the planes of his hips – Jack had to clench his hands into tight fists to keep from reaching out and touching the man standing before him.

Unaware that Jack's entire being was focused on his naked body, Ianto pulled in a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and prepared to turn around to face his soon-to-be-new-lover for the very first time.

In his mind, Ianto clearly recalled standing next to Jack at that warehouse door, and inhaling that intoxicating scent drifting into his mouth and nose. He thought he had murmured something about aftershave to Jack, but he was sure that Jack had told him that he was smelling 51st century pheromones. He remembered a small part of his eidetic brain looking up the word 'pheromone' in his mental dictionary, and being intrigued when he read that it was an chemical scent produced by animals – and now apparently by one man – designed to influence the sexual behaviours of a potential mate.

Jack had been teasing him with that 'chemical scent' now for weeks on end; every time Ianto had looked over Jack's shoulder or had stood next to him on the invisible lift, the singular aroma that his brain and cock instantly identified as 'Jack' would wind its way through Ianto's consciousness. Actually, if the truth be told, Ianto admitted to himself, his cock was the first to react to Jack's scent; his brain was usually a few – no, it was always many seconds behind.

Even now, just thinking about the way Jack smelled was enough to send Ianto's erection from half to three-quarters mast. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. There it was, Jack's scent, hanging in the air like an invisible haze. He pulled in a second deep breath, pulled it in as deeply as he could into his lungs, wanting to absorb that scent into every cell of his body.

Feeling his cock suddenly bouncing against his belly, Ianto opened his eyes wide and looked down at himself. He'd always thought he had been blessed in the cock department; he had a very good length and was certainly more than one hand could go around. As he watched himself proudly twitch and bob, Ianto knew he couldn't wait any longer. Time to face the music. Time to face…

Jack.

Slowly, Ianto pivoted on one heel, rotating his body towards Jack one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. He tried not to notice that his palms were suddenly sweaty and that his breath was coming and going erratically. He'd be very surprised if Jack couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. Finally, Ianto stopped moving and stood before Jack, hands resting on his hips, legs slightly apart, eyes darkened with lust, cock thrust proudly upwards and outwards.

"Oh, Ianto…" Jack breathed out his young Welshman's name as if it were a fervent prayer of gratitude.

Jack was suddenly so parched that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, making further words impossible. He tried to lick his dry lips, but got nowhere. Instead he just sat and gazed raptly, spellbound by the sight before him. Jack's imagination – amazing as it was – had not done Ianto proper justice.

Ianto's hair was tousled; he'd clearly run his fingers through the strands more than once, something Jack knew he only did when he was nervous. His eyes were half-hidden by long lashes, pupils blown dark by lust leaving only a small ring of blue around the outside; the lines of his cheek and jawbones were less sharp in the softly lit room.

Jack's eyes rested on Ianto's lips for a moment – he knew they could be soft, hard, pliant, punishing, giving, demanding – but right now, they were a pink Cupid's kiss full of promise. Ianto's neck was strong and graceful, rising up from his shoulders – Jack had already knew discovered just where to lick, where to kiss, where to bite on that neck – the places that would turn Ianto into a mewling, wanton sexual dynamo.

Continuing his perusal of the masculine form stood before him, he saw that Ianto's pale Welsh skin was glowing in the soft light. Jack's gaze roamed across muscular shoulders to a broad chest. He looked at Ianto's nipples, dusky rose in colour and already hardened into tiny peaks. He yearned to lick those hard nubs, nip at them and then suck them into his mouth.

Across Ianto's chest, between his nipples, lay a smattering of downy-soft hair, the kind that Jack just knew would brush gently across his eyelids and tickle his nose as he suckled at those nipples. His nose wrinkled slightly in anticipation.

Following the line of chest hair led Jack's eyes down to Ianto's abdomen, where the outline of a classic six-pack was fairly visible beneath his skin, inviting one's fingers to feel around for it, to seek it out, muscle by muscle. Jack liked the fact that Ianto was not one of those rock-hard-ab guys he'd seen at the beach – there was nothing remotely pliable about them. Jack really adored the fact that Ianto had a little bit of flesh on his body that he would be able to sink his fingers into as he gripped him from behind. Jack's hips rocked forward slightly; he was tired of waiting, he wanted to delve into that supple flesh now.

Needing to control his body's urges, Jack shifted his gaze to Ianto's feet and then moved slowly up his legs. Long and lean, his calves were well-toned and his thighs were muscular from all the running they did chasing after Weevils and whatnot. Jack could already feel those legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly, pressing him into Ianto's body, urging him to go deeper.

With nowhere else to go and only one place left to look, Jack's eyes finally rested upon Ianto's groin. Centred between those strong thighs, sheltered in a nest of dark hair and stood proudly at attention, he saw Ianto's cock. A predatory growl started deep inside Jack's chest as he took in the man before him. Jack already knew that Ianto was well-endowed, judging by the size and feel of the bulge in his trousers that night in the warehouse. But this? This was an amazing, arousing, breath-taking sight, and Jack could feel his own cock become viciously demanding, desperate to be touched.

Long, thick, and heavily veined, Ianto's manhood throbbed with a pulse of its own. The sac hanging below had the same light dusting of hair as his chest, and Jack ached to bury his face into Ianto's crotch and breathe in deeply. 21st century males had their own type of pheromones, not as strongly developed as Jack's, but if one knew where to look for them the reward was worth the search. Jack's body always reacted instantly when he smelled Ianto's personal body aroma. Tonight Ianto's heady scent was particularly strong, amped up by the anxiety and anticipation of his first encounter with Jack.

Jack's own cock danced frantically inside its fabric prison, excited by the revelation that Ianto, unlike ninety-seven% of the males Jack had shared sexual meetings with over the last one hundred some odd years on Earth, Ianto was uncut.

Jack knew that in another hundred years or so, humans would stop the automatic circumcision of their male infants. It had finally been ruled too inhumanely painful for a baby; the choice of whether to be cut became a rite of passage when a young man reached adulthood. As a result, the practice had all but died out except among a few religious purists.

There were very, very few things in Jack's imagination that spiked his libido more sharply than the velvety softness and luscious suppleness of the foreskin of an uncircumcised human penis. So seeing Ianto standing before him, his foreskin intact, the very tip of his swollen head peeking out the top, a quivering pearl of pre-cum at the tip…

…well, it was Jack's undoing.

Suddenly, Jack's body began to tremble, his thighs clenching and unclenching, his cock swelling in his trousers, and before he could stop himself, Jack Harkness, intergalactic playboy from the 51st century and master of thousands of sexual escapades throughout the galaxies, came in his pants. He could feel pulse after powerful pulse slamming through his cock, driving stream after stream of hot wet cum out of his body to soak into the fabric of his pants and then of his trousers. He saw his vision begin to grey out as his orgasm crashed over and through him like a tidal wave, driving all coherent thought from his mind with its intensity.

After several moments, Jack's body was finally finished with its orgasm, leaving Jack out of breath, his chest heaving as he sucked in oxygen, his muscles aching from holding himself upright. He looked down at his lap and at the wet spot growing bigger as his cum finished soaking through the layers of material. Then Jack looked up at Ianto, his eyes enormous, his mouth opening and closing silently; he was vaguely embarrassed and quite amazed by his unexpectedly adolescent lack of control over his body.

Rather than the look of shock, disgust or disappointment on Ianto's face that Jack was expecting, Ianto instead wore a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. Walking the few steps forward that placed him in the V between Jack's legs, Ianto reached his hand down and palmed the wetness of Jack's trousers, his fingers seeking, finding and then caressing the rapidly re-hardening flesh growing beneath his fingertips.

"Maybe I could join in next time?" Ianto asked, sinking to his knees and opening Jack's button and flies, pushing the moist fabric out of his way as he freed Jack's cock. He leaned forward and began to clean Jack's now rock-hard-again-flesh with his tongue – slowly, methodically, painstakingly licking every inch of skin he could find. Ianto smiled to himself and hummed with satisfaction.

He'd been worried sick that he would be the one to embarrass himself in front of Jack. Fighting back a fit of the giggles, Ianto pulled Jack into his mouth, his actions suddenly brazen and bold, inspired by the knowledge that right now, at this moment, he – Ianto Jones, Tea-Boy extraordinaire – held all the power. The thought was absolutely intoxicating and he intended to get as drunk as a proper Welshman could from it tonight.