Or, more likely, since their relationship had begun and developed, Jack had taken great joy in these creative paperwork attempts, if only to see Ianto's reaction to each and every one of them. But really, a hundred years of the same type of files and one got sick and tired of them so Jack could hardly be blamed for his lack of interest in that part of his job. He made up for it in other ways.
And that? Jack knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. He knew that Ianto would feign annoyance, tell him he was sleeping on the couch for a night -- but at some point there would be another body curled up against him. The other part of that whole... thing, was Jack could rarely resist Ianto anything. Sure, he kept up the appearance he could, but Jack was a man who was completely lost and wrapped around the little finger of his lover; a place he rather liked being if he were wholly honest with himself.
Jack didn't want Ianto regaining any of his control. He liked doing these things that pushed his lover that extra few centimetres into the point of lack of control. Yes, there were nights he liked to take his time with Ianto... and there were times like this that he was mad with want and just needed. Jack didn't care that he was on his knees in the dusty archives, not if it meant that Ianto was in his mouth. Truth be told, Jack loved to give head. Loved the way his lover's cock felt in his mouth, the taste, the things he could make Ianto say and do.
Like right now. Jack growled softly, a sound that would vibrate along the length of Ianto's cock. That was what he was waiting for: the Welsh. He didn't ask for a translation, merely parted his lips to take him completely into his mouth. Teeth grazed lightly along the underside while Jack's hands moved everywhere: along his thighs, rubbing his bollocks, pushing back just along the cleft of his arse -- all the while just beginning to apply varying degrees of suction.