Cocky

Chapter 18

Bit of mention of sex with women, which I was once told in a review was disgusting and inappropriate when this is supposed to be slash, which I think is rather odd and kind of antifeminist, but here is a warning anyway… I write for the people not their sexuality…

Ianto POV

It was a dismissal, clear and blunt. I'd provided the service, received my payment, transaction over. But it was so good to just sleep. Sleep without the sound of stomping feet and laser bolts, sleep without the smell of charred flesh, sleep without seeing my co-workers, my mates, their faces twisted in pain and still in death.

How can lying in his arms feel so natural? How can a man who's every action draws him closer to death, feel eternal, like he could hold me forever? But the woman who might only have moments calls. So I shower quickly and rush to see her. She is the one I love, she is the one who when all this is over can hold me, we will shield each other against the darkness in loving arms.

I fool myself that it's the sound of machines, or water, or rats. It's not, it's a human woman crying to herself in the darkness. I explore comfort and contemplate forever, while she rusts in her metal shell and feels the minutes of her life ticking by.

"What's wrong cariad?" I ask. It's so hard to tell, pain hides in her metal shell, tears can't even form in her bionic eyes.

"It hurts, it's bad. I waited, you didn't come. I thought…" she pauses and looks at me with dry brown eyes, "I thought you weren't coming back."

"I'm sorry," I say, but I can't explain. There is no reason. So I do all I can to help her; check drug levels, scan her for internal bleeding, clean flesh, and oil cyber connections. Then I hold her. Hold her hand, kiss her lips, the softest part.

It used to start with the kissing, softly, slowly, until I could feel it, slightly more pressure from her tongue, her small hands, grasping my back. So I would stroke downwards along her sides, along the curve of hip, upwards towards her breast. Her breasts were so soft, I'd squeeze them lightly and flick with my thumb until that hard bud formed. I would roll her nipples in my mouth like boiled sweets, taste her succulent flesh. And then would come the moment when she would guide my hand down to touch that other bud, gently flick it with my fingers, slowly, so slowly, waiting, waiting, for that word. The pressure would build, until I felt I couldn't contain it any longer but still, we would lie entwined suspended. Waiting.

"Now Ianto." she would say and I could enter her sweet moisture, still slowly, but it was liberating. She liked it when I moved against her clit, slow grinding thrusts. And inevitably my waiting, holding myself back, holding myself in would be rewarded; I'd feel her breath pick up, grunts and groans showing I'd won. Soft hands would grip me tight, nails burying into my back and she would pull me towards her. "Hard, hard," she'd say and I'd be free, pumping and thrusting my way towards the finish line. Hear her shout.

"I got a bit carried away there," she'd say like I'd think less of her, like she didn't do that every time.

She'd expect me to hold her afterwards, gently stroking her while cum dried on my dick. She was my first, my only. That's what sex with women is like, I guess; holding yourself back for a moment of freedom. But with Jack, there's no holding back, because he's right there with me leading me on. But there's no comfort, no softness, no time to sleep. I guess that's what sex with men is like.

Thanks for reading – please review, particularly if you can give me a clue as to how I should continue…