Title: Taste Test
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: NC-17
Table: 11
Prompt: 28, Dinner
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Jack Harkness. Please do not sue.

***

Ianto hurried down the hallway to his apartment, a slight smile curving his lips. The Doctor would be waiting for him, and he was anticipating a long weekend locked away in the confines of their bedroom. He didn't think he'd ever looked forward to something so much in his life.

Ianto had to smile at himself inwardly and shake his head as he pulled his keys out of his pocket to unlock the front door. It was never just the bedroom, somehow -- though there were still some places that he wanted to "christen" with the Doctor. Hmmm. They hadn't managed to have shower sex yet .... that idea definitely bore thinking about.

Fumbling with his keys in his hurry to get into the apartment, Ianto nearly dropped them before finally managing to insert the front door key into the lock and turn it. He couldn't help thinking that the Doctor was the perfect lock to fit his own key as he did so, another smile breaking over his features.

When the door finally opened and he could step inside his apartment, Ianto breathed a sigh of relief. He headed for the bedroom, shedding his suit jacket as he did so. Jack might think he looked good in a suit -- but he couldn't wait to be out of these clothes, curled naked in bed with his love.

He frowned slightly as he made his way down the hall to the bedroom he shared with the Doctor, turning in the direction of the kitchen. Was the Doctor .... cooking? It certainly smelled as if he was. So. Ianto smiled again, turning back towards the bedroom and loosening his tie before pulling it off. The Time Lord hadn't been exaggerating when he said he could cook.

Minutes later, Ianto emerged from the bedroom in shorts and a t-shirt, making his way to the kitchen. He hadn't expected to be greeted by the Doctor making dinner, but it was a nice little domestic touch. Unexpected, but delightful -- something that he hadn't thought he would ever want in his life.

He had to admit that if it kept the Doctor here longer -- kept him safe here in Cardiff -- that he didn't mind the domesticity at all.

Ianto called down the hallway, not wanting to startle the Doctor. "What on earth are you cooking? It smells wonderful."

He couldn't keep another smile from spreading over his face when the Doctor's voice came to his ears. "Nearly done. Come and see."

Ianto peered through the kitchen door a little cautiously, expecting to see what looked like an explosion in his kitchen and breathing a sigh of relief when that didn't appear to be the case. No, it actually looked more organized than when he cooked -- the Doctor most definitely seemed to know what he was doing.

The Time Lord was leaning against the edge of the sink, facing the doorway -- and the first thing Ianto noticed was that he appeared to be shirtless. Well, it was an unseasonably hot day -- so perhaps being in the kitchen wearing shorts and no shirt wasn't all that unusual.

But where in the hell had the Gallifreyan found that frilly pink apron?

Ianto regarded the Time Lord for a few seconds, trying desperately to keep a straight face. When he finally spoke, he had a hard time not laughing.

"I definitely appreciate the view -- but don't you think bright pink is the wrong color for you?" he managed to choke out before a giggle worked its way through the words.

"Oh, I don't know .... I thought the pink was rather appropriate," the Doctor replied, winking at Ianto before turning to the dishes in the sink.

Ianto's breath caught in his throat, his muscles tightening, eyes widening. His palms were suddenly sweaty, his heart beating double-time, his mouth dry and unable to form words if he'd tried. And his brain was dangerously close to short-circuiting.

Scratch what he'd thought about the Doctor wearing shorts under that frilly pink apron.

The Doctor wasn't wearing anything.

Ianto crossed the room in a daze, sliding strong arms around the Time Lord's waist and turning the Gallifreyan to face him. His hands slid down the slender back to cup the Doctor's ass, pulling the other man against his body.

"The dishes ...." the Doctor murmured weakly, his voice breathy, sounding as though he couldn't care less about whatever he'd been doing seconds ago.

"Fuck the dishes," Ianto said succinctly, lifting the Doctor onto the kitchen counter and reaching for the sash of the pink apron. When the knot refused to give way under his fingers, he tugged relentlessly until the fabric gave way, ripping it away from the Doctor's body and tossing it onto the floor in ruins.

Ianto made short work of his own clothes, lifting his shirt over his head and shimmying out of his shorts. Within a few seconds, both men were naked, Ianto's hands moving down the Doctor's body, over his hips, pushing his thighs apart.

Lube. He needed lube. Ianto's eyes raked over the kitchen counter for something he could use, alighting on the bottle of olive oil. Olive oil as lube? He'd never heard of it being used before, but -- there was a first time for everytyhing.

The Doctor was leaning back on his elbows, eyes closed, an inarticulate moan coming from his throat as Ianto's fingers trailed down the softness of his inner thigh, the young man's knuckles barely brushing against his balls. The Doctor spread his thighs more, abandoning himself to that touch, inviting Ianto to do what he pleased.

Working as quickly as he could, Ianto uncapped the bottle of oil, spilling some in his haste as he poured it over his fingers. At this point, he didn't care if he had olive oil all over the kitchen floor. His only thought was of how badly he needed to sheath himself inside the Doctor's body -- now.

But his own needs were no reason to ignore foreplay, Ianto told himself, easing first one lubed finger, then a second, into the Doctor's body, watching the Time Lord's face as he did. He moved both digits in and out slowly, savoring the sound of the Doctor's breath catching, then rasping in soft, throaty gasps, his hips bucking up off the counter.

By now, Ianto was so hard it was almost painful; his own breathing was becoming heavy, almost panting. He had to swallow hard before each time he pressed his fingers back into the Doctor's body, his hand starting to shake so much that he knew it would be impossible to keep up the foreplay for more than a few minutes.

The counter was a little higher than he'd expected -- but that was no problem. Ianto reached for the Doctor's hips, pulling the slim Time Lord down as he bucked his own hips upward, penetrating the Doctor in one quick, hard thrust.

The Time Lord's head fell back, a cry ripped from his throat at the suddenness of the invasion, his long legs wrapping around Ianto's waist. His nails dug into the Welshman's back, his head falling forward onto his lover's shoulder as each thrust pounded into him.

Ianto couldn't even manage a cry; all of his energy was directed at thrusting into the Doctor's slender body at an even rate, his hips flexing with every breath he took. Every time they made love, it got better and better, he thought dazedly, his grip tightening on the man clasped in his arms. He'd never imagined that sex could be this perfect.

The Doctor was like a molten pool of lava that he was falling into, fusing himself into such an exquisitely tight heat that he couldn't separate himself from the body in his arms any longer. Were they two, or one? Ianto didn't know any more; all that mattered to him were the incredible sensations enveloping him.

Ianto could feel his orgasm starting to steal over his body, knowing that he was fast approaching the point of no return. He hoped that the Doctor was close, too; the last thing he wanted to do was to leave his love unsatisfied. He could hear the Time Lord's ragged breathing in his ear, the little whimpers that punctuated every breath.

He gripped the Doctor's hips again, crying out as he thrust one last time into that tight heat, letting himself go and clasping the Doctor tight against him. He didn't try to keep moving; he only held the Doctor against him, feeling that slim body shaking in his arms, mirroring his own shudders as his climax swept over him.

Ianto pulled out of the Doctor slowly, easing the other man back down onto the counter. The Doctor's eyes were dark and fathomless, filled with a hurt and reproach that the Time Lord couldn't hide.

A wave of remorse washed over the young Welshman. Selfish. He was a selfish bugger who didn't deserve the Doctor. Of all the times they'd made love, this was the first time that Ianto had thought of his own orgasm before his lover's. The Doctor was still hard, his body shaking from head to foot, and obviously still in need.

Ianto wrapped his arms around the trembling Time Lord, kissing him deeply before one hand moved between the Doctor's thighs. His hand wrapped around the Time Lord's straining penis, his thumb rubbing over the tender tip, before his head followed the downward motion of his hand to take the Doctor's length into his mouth.

He'd given a few blow jobs to other men -- but no one he'd ever been with had tasted like the Doctor; no one else had ever unleashed this raw power in him, this feeling that he could be a sexual Superman. Ianto's eyes closed, his cheeks hollowed out; he put his all into pleasuring the Doctor as much as he possibly could.

He was rewarded only a few moments later by a soft groan and the expected hot rush of the Time Lord's release. Ianto kept his eyes closed, his hands resting on the Doctor's hips, his head bobbing with each convulsive flex of his lover's hips against his face.

Finally, Ianto let the Doctor's softening penis slip from his mouth, moving his lips up the Time Lord's body as he pressed gentle kisses against the Gallifreyan's silken skin. The wounded look in the Doctor's eyes had been replaced; Ianto couldn't put a word to it, but he was sure that the Time Lord was much more satisfied than he'd previously been.

He allowed himself a little inward smirk. He could almost say that the Doctor looked sated. For once.

Well, that was only the beginning. Might as well get an early start to their weekend.

Ianto lifted the slender Time Lord into his arms, turning towards the kitchen door. "I hope whatever you made for dinner is something that we can warm up later," he said softly, his dark eyes meeting the Time Lord's gaze.

"Much later," the Doctor agreed, his own voice a little breathless. "Though you may want to do a taste test on it later."

"I have more important things to taste at the moment," Ianto whispered in reply, lowering his lips to the Doctor's soft mouth as he made his way to the bedroom, his lover in his arms.

***