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Story: Faithful
Author: Love! Slash! Angst!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
loveslashangst
Beta: the well-caffeinatedophymirage
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Captain John Hart, Ianto Jones
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, violence, Hearst-level-decadent bathrooms, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did there would be no doubt who Jack came back for, Gwen would stick with the man who loves her, we'd have regular doses of Unexpected!John, and everyone would cheer the f*** up.
Spoilers: AU. If you haven't seen the first two series of Torchwood, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon, especially when it pisses me off. The PROLOGUE takes place right after "Countrycide" in series 1. The rest of the story, from Chapter 1 on, takes place about three weeks after "Exit Wounds", the end of Series 2.
Summary: Torchwood OT3 ZOMG! Jack/John/Ianto. The Rift is active, the Weevils are acting weird, and Captain John Hart is back in town. Let the crack-tastic smut ensue. I think there's a happily ever after in here somewhere, but until then, enjoy the insanity.
BETA'S NOTE: So, in re-coding old entries, I had occasion to ride the Way-Back Machine on our sister IJ site, and realized that LSA and I had hit an anniversary of sorts. On 1/5/08, I set up an LJ feed for her IJ - "the first time I ever intervened on LJ to setup something related to your fic." Dearest LSA: Happy 1 year of an awesome writing/betaing partnership - for whom else could I spend the SAME evening alternately researching Victorian plumbing components and the Blitz in Cardiff?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: They say if you're gonna steal, steal big, so there are some oblique (and not so oblique) references in this chapter. Have fun finding them -- I'll come clean and cite my sources in the next chapter. [I will be seriously curious to see if anyone gets ALL of them. -O]
Now, as I said in a reply to a comment in the previous chapter, because one of my Cardinal Rules of Smut is that no good porn is complete without a good shower scene...
On with the show...
"You're the cream in my coffee
You're the salt in my stew
You'll always be my necessity
"I'd be lost without you...
"You give life savour,
Bring out its flavour
So this is clear, dear
You're my Worcestershire, dear.
"You're the sail of my love boat
You're the captain and crew
You'll always be my necessity
I'd be lost without you."
(Marlene Dietrich)
(In which John is Captain, Ianto is First Mate, Jack is Shipwright, and Gwen is the Figurehead... and in which LSA should be congratulated for not making a "poop deck" joke.)
(O, "Who's the Cabin Boy?")
(LSA, "Rhys of course.)
(Owen *breathes a sigh of relief*)
(LSA, "See? Now aren't you glad they killed you off before I could play with you?")
(Owen *ignores LSA and goes back to enjoying his afterlife*)
"Worse than a tomcat, you are," says Gwen.
Just when Jack thought he couldn't feel any warmer or more content. He offers Gwen his arm. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
She chuckles with him. Gives his arm a light slap. "You."
He escorts her back to the Conference Room. Opens the door for her.
Gwen stops in her tracks. "Oh. My. God."
It's all he can do to keep a straight face. John is sprawled on his back on the conference table, his robe wide open and fanning around him. He's purring and mostly naked and reeking of sex and cinnamon. A very relaxed Ianto sits in a chair beside the table, sipping from a cup with the smug smile of a young man whose blowjobs are almost as good as his coffee.
Jack clears his throat pointedly. Ianto pales. Stands. Abandons his mug on the table. Grabs the tray. Tries to block and distract by pouring two fresh mugs of coffee. "Cuppa?"
"Mmmmmmmmm," comes John's afterglow-blurred reply. "Iz guud ja, darling."
Ianto leans back a little. Taps John's shoulder. Flicks his eyes at the door. "Gwen, Captain."
"Wha--?" John cranes his head backward. Spots them. Grins from ear to ear. "O hai!" He rolls off the table, closes his robe, and lands on his feet in one smooth motion. "We were just waiting for you."
Jack snorts. "I don't think 'waiting' is in your vocabulary."
"And neither is 'appropriate'," says Gwen. "People actually have to do work here."
John takes a long, sensuous swallow of coffee. "Tell that to Jack's desk."
Gwen coughs on her first mouthful. Swallows quickly before she can lose it. Glares, sputtering and laughing, at John. "That's the only free shot you get, Vera. Enjoy it while you can."
John chuckles. Gives her his best bedroom eyes. "Oh believe me I am... enjoying... it."
He and Gwen have the same thought at the same moment. Both of them look at the coffee pot. (Ianto wouldn't actually... would he?)
Gwen, now slightly green, examines her cup with a jaundiced eye. "And what kind of coffee did you say you were brewing while you were waiting for us?"
John swallows hard. Narrowly avoids a spittake. "And you call ME disgusting."
Gwen smirks. Jack takes a long taste from his own mug. Rolls the coffee on his tongue, testing. Nope. Nothing he can identify as decidedly John.
John rolls his eyes. "Oh get over yourself, W.P.C. Comeshot. I didn't wank in your coffee if that's what you're thinking. It'd be sacrilege anyway when I could just come in Ianto's--"
"CAPTAIN," says Ianto, a little sharply. He's still wearing his usual calm smile, but there's the warning flare in his lovely blue eyes. Ianto offers the pot again to John. "Refresher?"
Gwen pauses halfway through a sip. Narrows her eyes over the rim of her mug.
"... office and get some creamer," John finishes. "And no, darling, I'm good. Thank you for asking."
Okay, Jack just can't resist. "John would never add anything to your coffee, Gwen," he reassures her.
John salutes him with his mug in thanks.
He waits until his beloved psychopath has taken a large enough swig. "Metallic taste ruins the flavour."
Just when he thought his morning couldn't get any more fun, he has the pleasure of making three people spew coffee in unison.
Jack laughs at John's insulted look. Giggles into his mug as John makes a great show of handing out the serviettes Ianto has produced from God knows where. It's been easy to forget how much fun "Captain Hart" can be, especially now that he has carte blanche to torture him.
"John and I have been discussing the future," says Ianto as he wipes the outside of his own cup clean with a serviette.
Gwen is laughing, though whether at herself, John, or Ianto's furious blush he can't tell. She sets her mug down. "How so?"
"I'd never anticipated having this many Weevils in the Cells," says Ianto. "Practically speaking the Hub has the capacity to handle them for the short-term, but I'm concerned about the prospect of long-term storage. Or upkeep -- it would require an extraordinary amount of feed."
"Now you mention it," says Gwen. "What DO you feed Weevils?"
"Iguana Chow," says Ianto.
Everyone, including Jack, stares at the kid.
"Mixed with a bit of raw minced beef three times a week," Ianto elaborates. "They need the extra iron and protein or they get shaky and sick."
Okay, he'll bite. "How did you arrive at IGUANA Chow?"
"Trial and error," says Ianto.
John sets his mug down firmly. "As stimulating as it isn't to discuss the feeding habits of the footsoldiers of the most terrifying threat to the universe since some nutter of a Time Lord invented supermassive black holes, I really think it's time to include Gwen in on the plan." He waggles a lascivious eyebrow at Gwen. "Unless there's something else you'd rather be included in on?"
Gwen rolls her eyes.
Ianto clears his throat. "The problem with the Cythraul is not the Cythraul at all."
Gwen looks unconvinced. "Despite the fact that they're the most terrifying threat to the universe since...?" She looks to John.
"Some nutter of a Time Lord invented supermassive black holes," John supplies. "And thank you for not misquoting me."
"But that's the point," Ianto says. "It's not the Cythraul, or -- indeed -- even the Kapo which is the problem. It's the army of footsoldiers. Remove them and you remove the immediate threat."
It's logical as only Ianto's thinking can be. "So..." Jack says slowly, "you're suggesting we get rid of the Weevil army?"
Ianto nods. Sips his coffee. "I'm proposing we speak to our Kapo. See if he'll be willing to act as a liaison for the Weevils. Joh-- Captain Hart speaks their language well enough to translate, as, I believe, do you, sir."
John clears his throat and coughs with something that sounds remarkably like "outworlder".
Ianto ignores him. "Maybe we can convince them to consider another planet, sir. A new homeworld, maybe? Surely there's some unoccupied world in the universe somewhere that would be hospitable."
It's insane, but the plan might work, so long as the Cythraul don't come after them. (It's actually something of a miracle that they've been safe this long.)
"Well," says Gwen, "That's no madder than any of the other plans we've had. But how do you plan to get the Weevils off this planet and to wherever they're going?"
John holds up his right wrist. "We cheat with a little fifty first century tech." He wriggles his fingers to draw attention to his wrist strap. "Hello."
Gwen tilts her head, intrigued. "Can you transport all of them with that little wrist strap of yours?"
"It's not little." John shakes his head no. "If only. No. To give us the boost we'll need, we'll likely have to hard-wire this into the guidance system of the ship."
He, Ianto, and Gwen all speak as one. "The ship?" (Surely Ianto hasn't found...)
"What ship?" says Gwen.
"Well," says John, who never misses a chance to sound patronizing, "When Ianto said 'offworld' I didn't assume we were walking. It'd be a bit of a hike, and me without my anti-absolute-zero parka."
"Okay, so space it is," says Gwen. "But if it's extra-terrestrial transport you're looking for, I'm afraid my husband won't be able to help you." She sets down her now-empty mug of coffee. "You're on your own this time."
"Gwen?" Jack says. She stops most of the way to the door. "Where are you going?"
She grins. "Need to get washed up before we go negotiate with the Kapo. You boys need a spritz too. I'll give you twenty before I come in after you." She winks at him and leaves.
"And that--" Ianto stands "-- is that." He collects the dishes onto the tray. Hoists it to his shoulder. "Please follow me, gentlemen."
"Always elegant," John remarks. "No wonder you wanted to shag his well-behaved arse." He waves Jack forward with one courteous hand.
"Do I really want you following me?" he says, only half kidding.
"Like it's my fault you're so edible in khakis?" John says. "Now get going so we can strip you and scrub you."
That thought, on top of all the other adventures this morning, is enough to have Jack instantly hard and throbbing. Grinning, he heads for the door and what promises to be a fantastic shower.
*******
Ianto stows the tray in the galley kitchen and makes his way down to the showers. His hands are shaking, though with nerves or anticipation he can't be sure. John warned him that this will take no small amount of finesse. As wretchedly awful as Jack can be about protecting secrets, he's even more inclined to be defensive and stubborn when cornered about telling them.
And the plan is for him and John to make Jack tell the biggest secret of them all.
He's positive Gwen doesn't know. (She seldom asks too many questions about anything, which, Ianto supposes, is part of the reason Jack fancies her.) Tosh suspected, mostly because it was impossible to keep anything technological a secret from her for long. Owen couldn't be arsed to care even if he knew. And Ianto believes Suzie not only knew but would sneak away to help with the occasional systems check. It was something he envied, right from the start, and made him that much more determined to become indispensable to Jack. (Deep in his heart, he's held onto the admittedly romantic notion that if Jack needed him enough, there might come a day when Jack would tell him his deepest secrets.)
The narrow little spiral stair down to The Showers gives no hint about the magnificent facility it hides. Have to hand it to the Victorians -- they always did think on a grand scale.
He flips the switch outside the main door to the "Gentlemen's Washroom and Water Closet". The remarkably-efficient boilers belch to life and start to cycle hot water through the pipes beneath the tile floor. With any kind of luck, in about five minutes it'll warm to pleasantly hot. (Some ancient Roman innovations are still the very lap of luxury.) He's always fancied The Showers, with their rows of mahogany lockers, brass showerheads, and hand-painted tile. Apparently, when Torchwood Three was founded, they had plenty of Her Majesty's money to burn. (Pity they lost the Ladies' Washroom and Water Closet in the war. From the few photos that survive in the archives, that facility was even more lavish and lovely.)
He pauses by the built-in, cedar-lined linen closet. Selects a couple of loofahs. Three of the large towels. Should already be shampoo and conditioner in the shower. (Hopefully John won't object to Jack's usual brand.)
"Ahhhh, there you are," says John.
Two captains peek out from the other end of the rows of carved mahogany lockers. John is now clad only in a spotless white towel, tucked low at his waist to draw the eye to his beautifully-toned abs. (And the weird thing is, his vanity only makes him more attractive.) John sidles up to him. Takes the supplies out of his hands. Sets them on the bench. Enfolds him in a tender embrace. "We were wondering when you'd show up."
Ianto glances over at Jack, who's leaning against one of the lockers. Jack grins like the kid who's spotted Father Christmas. Begins to strip out of his braces. Waggles his eyebrows. (And yes, Jack's ego also only makes him the more tempting.)
John bends close to Ianto's ear, the sweet warmth of his breath sending pleasant shivers down his spine. "What say," breathes the Captain, "we go teach that boy some humility?"
Bondage. John's undoubtedly talking some kind of bondage. Under the hot showers? Ohhhh. He'd certainly be up for that. His heart beats a little faster as he bends close to John's ear. "I think we should make him confess."
John chuckles, a low sound that suggests sweat and heat and pleasure. "I love the way you think, darling."
They move as one. Jack's grin falters for a moment at the intensity of their advance, then returns, broader than ever. As he strides, John nods to Ianto, who takes it as his cue to snatch the belt from his own robe. Warm, moist air isn't always the best encouragement for a half-hard erection, but the possibilities for what John might do with the belt have Ianto's full attention. He smiles at John, who returns it before turning the full intensity of his gaze on Jack.
"We want the ship," says John.
Jack's smile disappears again. "What ship?"
John loops the belt around Jack's shoulders. Pulls him close. "The ship you've got stashed somewhere." He brushes Jack's lips with his. "Nearby."
"Sorry to disappoint you, honey." Jack kisses John fiercely. "There is no ship."
"Ifan, darling." John never takes his eyes off Jack's. "Jack's wearing a bit too much clothing, don't you think?"
A flush runs up and down him. "Yes, Captain."
John lets go of the belt. He and John move as one. John rips open Jack's shirt. Ianto pulls it down over Jack's arms, trapping them behind him.
Jack's breathing speeds, but he never drops his gaze. "Love this, but there really is no ship."
Ianto breathes in the sugar-and-spice scents of the two captains. John yanks Jack's belt out of its loops. Ianto makes quick work of Jack's flies. John slips a hand down the front of Jack's trousers.
"Ship," John repeats.
"Mmmmm... isn't one." Jack shivers. Gives John his signature cocky grin. "Though if you want to keep torturing me, I won't object."
"I'll bet you won't." Whatever John's got his hand on makes Jack gasp, either in surprise or pleasure. "And when I want the opinion of a gorgeous slut, I'll give it to him."
Jack hums happily. "I love it when you give it to me." He gives John the kind of serious look Jack only reserves for his most blatant lies. "But there is no ship."
They strip Jack in a few curt motions. (The lacing on his shoes was half-assed anyway.) They abandon Jack's clothes, Ianto's robe, and John's towel on the bench. John distracts Jack with a deep kiss. Catches Jack's wrist in one hand. His hair in the other. Pulls his head roughly back and down. Ianto's about to object when Jack snogs John like he wants to eat him alive.
"You remembered," Jack murmurs.
"It's a curse," John says. He frots Jack slowly from behind, his gaze molten, his eyes never leaving Ianto's. (See, darling? This is how we do it.) John bites Jack's shoulder. Jack hisses in pleasure. John pulls back. Yanks Jack's hair harder. Twists his arm up behind his back. Nods to Ianto. "Lead on, my love."
There is definitely something wrong with him, because the thought of topping Jack the way John seems to intend has Ianto shaking with anticipation. He leads them through the doorway into the main room. Two rows of Victorian splendour, decades ahead of their time in terms of water pressure and heat. One switch to activate them. Steam fills the room.
"Ooooh," says John. "Isn't this a fun little playground?"
Even though his head is bent at an odd angle because John has him by the hair, Jack's chuckle sounds as casual as if he were lounging. "I recommend naked hide-and-go-seek."
John yanks Jack's head back, mouth by his ear. "Did I SAY you could speak? Keep testing me and I'll show you what I think of your attitude."
And Ianto would object, but it's kind of hard to miss the tightening of Jack's nipples and the bob of his erect cock as clear signs that he does indeed like it this rough.
John binds Jack's wrists with the belt from Ianto's robe. Leads Jack down the row to the centre of the showers, where the jets of steaming water will surround them. Ianto follows, salivating at the thought of whatever John's got planned. (Though, if John goes too far, Ianto will untie Jack and get them out of here and why is he making escape plans? Isn't this the fantasy he always wanted but could never quite get right?)
John loops one end of the belt over the base of one of the showerheads. "These are absolutely lovely, Jack. Rare antiques, even in this time. But so help me, Jack, if you pull too hard and damage one, I WILL take it out of your hide. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Captain." It's a voice Ianto's never heard before, a throaty murmur without any of Jack's usual wryness or humour. There's a silvery edge of wanting to it too. (Please, show me how to make him sound like that.)
Ianto looks silently to John -- no sense saying the wrong thing and ruining the mood. God knows all the times he's tried to be rough with Jack have either ended in comic disaster, or with Jack telling him with affectionate condescension that maybe they should try something else.
John suddenly grabs Ianto by the wrist. Pulls him close. Caresses his hair. Ianto blinks to keep the water from dripping down into his eyes. Savours the slow, sensual kiss. Rubs back when John begins a slow frot against him. (God, the man has a lovely cock.)
Jack makes a needy, groaning sound.
"QUIET," John commands. His face softens when he looks back at Ianto. "Stand here, darling, or lean against the wall if standing becomes tiresome. Your job will be to tell me which one to use next."
"Which one?" he says.
"Oh yes, please," says Jack.
John slaps Jack's face. HARD. Looks him square in the eyes. "You enjoy this when I say you enjoy this, SLUT. Until then, you are obedient and silent, or you tell us where the goddamn ship is. Do you understand?"
Jack nods.
John grabs Jack by the cock. Teases the glans with his thumb. Jack shivers, smiling. Pulls against his bonds. The shower head creaks a bit.
John glares. "I meant what I said about the fixture," he says, deadly calm. "Damage it and--" he digs his nails into the shaft of Jack's cock, "--there will be Hell to pay."
Jack hisses, the flush on his cheeks not from the water. Instead of being furious, he's... enjoying it? "Yes, Captain."
John takes his hand off Jack's cock. Turns back to Ianto, smiling. "So which one shall we use first?"
Knowing his luck, he'll say the wrong thing and ruin this, but he has to know what on Earth John's talking about. "I'm sorry, Captain?"
John's grin is genuine. "I never showed you?"
He shakes his head no, more puzzled than ever.
"Not even on the night only you remember?" John says.
He can't help feeling a bit foolish, standing here naked and dripping wet under the spray of water, trying to remember. "I'm sorry."
John presses closer to him. "Never be sorry, my love, unless you have cause to be, and you have no cause to be."
He kisses John in silent gratitude. The Captain usually tastes like a guilty dessert, but now there's a comforting warmth to that cinnamon musk.
"You're going to love this," John murmurs. "I hope."
John takes his hand. Curls his fingers around John's cock. It's just as thick and alive as Ianto remembers from last night. Then the shape of it changes in his hand. Thinner. Longer. He looks down, startled. John's erection now sports a head of slender, flexible, fleshy prongs. He stares, first at the bizarre penis, then at John.
"Andorian Tickler," says John with a wink. "Favourite with the ladies."
He blinks, too stunned to speak.
For the first time since Ianto's known him, there's the trace of uncertainty in the Captain's blue-grey gaze. If he didn't know better, Ianto would think John was holding his breath, waiting for his reaction. "Body modifications are a bit more... thorough... in the fifty-first," says John.
"Apparently." Curious, he caresses the length. John's eyes darken, though he's still smiling reassurance. Just as Ianto starts to adjust to the bizarre appendage, the prong-like things ripple against his hand. He shrieks, startled.
Jack tries and fails to smother the laughter. John laughs his ass off. Cheeks burning, Ianto backs off. Shit, they'll probably ask him to leave now so they can be alone -- John obviously knows what Jack wants far better than he ever will.
John's face softens, though he's still chuckling. He glares hard at Jack. Slaps his other cheek. "Did I SAY you could laugh?"
Jack sobers right up. Looks down, as close to demure as Ianto's ever seen him. "No, Captain."
Ianto wavers. He's never been this far out of his league. Eyes contrite, John holds out a hand to him, entreating. "I'm sorry, Ifan. That was a prickish thing to do -- pun intended -- but I couldn't resist. Now come here, darling, and let me introduce you properly."
Wary but still painfully curious, he takes the proffered hand. Lets John pull him forward. John snogs him, reassuring and encouraging in turns. Runs Ianto's hand down his chest to that strange phallus. Curls his fingers around it. Pulls back from the kiss so Ianto can look down.
The "prong" things are smooth, yet turgid. They move gently against his palm. Caress Ianto's fingers back as he touches them.
"See?" says John with a wink. "He's a very friendly boy, when you get to know him."
He can't take his eyes off the thing. It's -- all at the same time -- the most fascinating, most disturbing, and most oddly intimate thing he's experienced since joining Torchwood.
Then he realizes what John said. Choose. John wants him to choose. Knowing John, his lover must have more than one of these "modifications". And, knowing how well his lover knows Jack, John must intend to use his whole arsenal until Jack relents. The thought shouldn't make him shiver pleasantly, but Ianto's own cock is both intrigued and enthusiastic at the prospect. His cheeks warm. "You want me to choose?"
John smiles a lazy, dangerous smile.
He has to swallow hard before the words will come. "Wh-what are my choices?"
"Andorian Tickler?" John indicates his current shape. "Or Gallifreyan Surprise?" John's cock shifts again as Ianto watches. Shorter. Thicker. When he caresses upward, a fine layer of cilia-like things cling to his fingertips like living velvet. He pets down and the shaft is smooth.
Jack looks alarmed. "Gallifreyan--?" He bites his lip hard at John's warning glance, but looks uneasy all the same. (Something Ianto will have to ask about later.)
The choice should not be turning him on this much. "Andorian," he says at last.
Jack relaxes. Throws him a grateful look.
John's cock shifts back. The prongs wave one more hello before John takes his place behind Jack. John catches his hand in Jack's dripping hair. Pulls his head roughly back. "I taught you too well for you to think you're fooling anyone, Jack."
"There is no ship," Jack insists, though he's panting hard. Jack's cock bobs, wanting. Ianto's twitches in sympathy.
John curls his free hand around Jack's hip. Jack holds his breath. Breathes out in a shuddering sigh -- Ianto can only guess that the surreal appendage John calls a cock is teasing and tracing... He presses his hands to the cool tiles behind him. This kind of thing should not be turning him on like this.
John licks up the side of Jack's exposed neck, a slow slide of tongue on wet skin. "I taught you to always have a back way--" he thrusts forward sharply. Jack gasps. "-- out of any situation."
He should stop this. He should say something and stop this before John gets out of control. (I shouldn't want you to show me how to make Jack shudder like that.)
"You don't get to come," says John calmly in Jack's ear. "Until you tell me where the ship is."
Jack shudders another sigh. "...wish I could tell you..."
John lets go of Jack's hair. Holds him, hands hard on Jack's hips. Thrusts in slow, twisting motions. Jack moans. Gasps. Pulls at his bonds. Rocks back to meet John. Shivers. "God yes please!"
The shower head gives a distressing squeak.
John withdraws. Slaps Jack's buttock, a wet strike that makes empathetic shivers skitter over Ianto's skin.
"That's for vandalism," says John. He adds three more sharp spanks. "And you may NOT speak unless you're going to tell us what we want to know."
Jack bites his lip hard. Nods understanding. Inhales sharply as John comes close again.
Ianto can't resist. He pushes off the wall. Moves over to where he can watch John trace the cleft of Jack's arse with the sentient prongs of his cock.
John is watching him with veiled eyes and a trace of amusement. He tilts his head slightly in what Ianto can only assume is a polite interrogative. (Want to see another one, darling?)
How his mouth can be dry with this much hot water around he's not sure. He swallows again. Nods.
"Choose," John murmurs. "Thermian Caress?" His cock shifts again to a thick-based shaft with five flanges, each slightly narrower than the one below. "Or Tokyo Treat?" The flanges contract into a series of three ball-like things like miniature maces, each studded with spiky nubs.
He should run screaming. He should let Jack down so they can both take turns with him. He should attack John and find a convenient closet someplace to shag and be shagged. (And he is damn well going to have John demonstrate the full arsenal.) Instead, he reaches out to caress the studded cock. It's strangely hot. Alive. Better than any sex toy could be. The shaft moves in his hands. Rolls along his palm, prickly and sensuous at once.
John shifts it back to the Thermian cock. Each flange ripples along his fingers and palm like a separate tongue. Ianto's whole body tightens in a desire that really should scare the hell out of him, if he had any sense.
John's low, seductive chuckle blends with the rush of the water. "Thermian it is."
"Let me see." Jack strains at his bonds. "Please, Captain, let me see."
John thrusts Jacks head down so he can't move it. Grins triumphant approval at Ianto. Glares back at Jack. "Tell me what I want to know or I come on your back and go shag our lovely Ifan somewhere you can't watch him come screaming in the throes of pleasures he's literally never imagined."
When Jack doesn't reply at once, John nods to Ianto. He returns to his place, leaning against the wall. John presses against Jack. Again, Ianto can imagine the way those flanges would feel...
"Yes, darling," John purrs as Ianto takes his own cock in his hand. "Touch yourself."
Jack sneaks a look at him. Ianto looks back through half-lidded eyes. Strokes himself, slowly at first. Teases his own glans.
Jack moans, deep in the back of his throat.
"See what you could have?" John says in Jack's ear. "If only you'd cooperate?"
"N-n-no ship."
In the entire time he's known Jack, Ianto's never heard him stutter like that.
Ianto meets John's eyes. "Do it."
John thrusts hard. Jack cries out. There's a high flush on his cheeks that Ianto's never seen. (For all his smiles and flirtations, Jack's usually incredibly guarded.)
"No ship at all?" John moves with lithe grace. Rocks Jack onto the balls of his feet with every stroke.
Ianto strokes himself, imagining the way John would feel if it were him bound at the wrists and not Jack. The fingers of his other hand drift lower. (The smooth-hard tickle of those prongs.) Caress his balls. (The rough friction of every flange as John pulls back to thrust again.) He rolls his sac in his palm...
Jack hangs his head. "I... I can't."
"You can." John pauses, buried deep inside Jack. (Ianto can only imagine how each flange would tease and caress.)
But this isn't going to work. No matter how fantastic John feels, there are some things Jack just won't tell him.
Ianto cups Jack's head in his hands. "Please, Jack. For me."
The gamble pays off. Jack's eyes fly open. He must've tightened involuntarily, because John shudders hard. Gasps something obscene in an alien-sounding language.
"I know you." Ianto kisses Jack gently. "I have to believe you wouldn't have left us again." Uncertainty is a knot in his stomach. "Would you?"
Jack returns the kiss. Slowly. Deeply. "Not again. Never again."
He smiles. "Promise?"
Jack's kiss is fiercer. "I never should've left you at all."
Relieved, Ianto takes a step back. Runs a slow hand down his own body. Teases back his foreskin. "Tell us where the ship is, sir... and I'll let you taste this."
Jack looks at him for a long time. Only the creasing of his brow gives any sign of the war of emotions that must be going on behind that flawless face.
Ianto glances at John, who nods encouragement. Ianto strokes himself, a teasing slide. He pinches his nipple. Twists it. Gasps at the spike of pleasure.
"No ship," John murmurs. "And we'll watch Ifan wank until he comes on your chest. Then I'll come on your back and we'll both go off and leave you while we fuck like minks where you can't watch."
A shiver seizes Jack. He moans. "Not fair."
"Nope." John begins to thrust again, leisurely. "Neither is this."
Ianto shivers at the thought of the flanges. Sliding in and out. Each teasing as it slips free. Each caress hot and alive. He strokes himself harder. Faster. Reaches down to cup his sac. His fingers slips farther back. He aches to be filled, an almost literal pain.
"Isn't he beautiful?" John murmurs.
He can hear the slow slap of John's hips as he fucks Jack. Ianto circles his own entrance with his fingertips. Strokes his own cock faster. More lightly. The teasing strokes should bring him... soon...
"Don't know how much more Ifan can take," John purrs. "Getting close myself."
"You would never." He slips a finger inside. Presses in. Strokes in rhythm with John. Close. So close. His balls are tight. Hot. Full. "N-never leave me again."
Jack's breath releases in a rush. "It's below Cardiff Bay."
It's all Ianto can do to yank his own hands off himself. He presses his palms to the wall behind him, panting. "The bunker?"
Jack nods, beaten. "I forged the report. The bomb missed by a good fifty yards."
John grins at Ianto, triumphant. Caresses the line of Jack's jaw.
There's a low humming. At first, Ianto can't tell where it's coming from. Jack's eyes fly open in surprise and pleasure. He moans. Rocks back. Curses and begs, only half-coherent. Throws himself backward onto John's cock again and again.
Ianto can only stare at John. "You have a vibrator setting?"
"Wouldn't you?" John meets Jack at the apex of each thrust. John pulls the belt, releasing Jack. "Good boy. Take what you deserve."
Jack throws the belt aside. It lands in a sodden heap. Jack surges forward on the next thrust. Draws Ianto into his mouth fiercely. Ianto cries out. Shudders sweetly as that smooth-rough tongue teases the underside of his glans. Jack sucks him hard. His strong fingers caress Ianto's balls just right. Ianto parts his legs to resume stroking himself. Jack blocks his hand. Sinks knowing fingers inside. (Inside, oh GOD! Yes, inside!)
Jack gently massages his sac with one hand. Angles the fingers of the other just right to hit the sweet spot. Presses his thumb between. (Please don't let me come yet. Not yet. Don't let it end!) Jack draws his cock deep down his throat. Ianto moans. Sobs. Loves John's grunts of pleasure as he fucks Jack harder and faster. Jack's head bobs on his cock. Beautiful. Brutal. Desperate. And the fingers inside. Just right. Just right. JUST RIGHT!
John arches hard. Smiles, face clear and beautiful. Jack's scream is muffled by Ianto's cock. His fingers drive deep. Press in and up and OH YES PLEASE. He lets go of everything. Surges into Jack's mouth again and again. Convulses around his fingers. Screams as pleasure lightnings through him.
And as they ease each other to the floor beneath the seemingly endless spray of hot water, that rare emotion comes again...
Happy.
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jackxianto, torchwoodslash
Author: Love! Slash! Angst!
loveslashangstBeta: the well-caffeinated
ophymirageCharacters: Captain Jack Harkness, Captain John Hart, Ianto Jones
Rated: Adult for slash, bisexuality, mature content, language, violence, Hearst-level-decadent bathrooms, and lots and lots of sex (multiple pairings/groupings)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, 'cause if I did there would be no doubt who Jack came back for, Gwen would stick with the man who loves her, we'd have regular doses of Unexpected!John, and everyone would cheer the f*** up.
Spoilers: AU. If you haven't seen the first two series of Torchwood, you WILL be spoilered. I like to mess with canon, especially when it pisses me off. The PROLOGUE takes place right after "Countrycide" in series 1. The rest of the story, from Chapter 1 on, takes place about three weeks after "Exit Wounds", the end of Series 2.
Summary: Torchwood OT3 ZOMG! Jack/John/Ianto. The Rift is active, the Weevils are acting weird, and Captain John Hart is back in town. Let the crack-tastic smut ensue. I think there's a happily ever after in here somewhere, but until then, enjoy the insanity.
BETA'S NOTE: So, in re-coding old entries, I had occasion to ride the Way-Back Machine on our sister IJ site, and realized that LSA and I had hit an anniversary of sorts. On 1/5/08, I set up an LJ feed for her IJ - "the first time I ever intervened on LJ to setup something related to your fic." Dearest LSA: Happy 1 year of an awesome writing/betaing partnership - for whom else could I spend the SAME evening alternately researching Victorian plumbing components and the Blitz in Cardiff?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: They say if you're gonna steal, steal big, so there are some oblique (and not so oblique) references in this chapter. Have fun finding them -- I'll come clean and cite my sources in the next chapter. [I will be seriously curious to see if anyone gets ALL of them. -O]
Now, as I said in a reply to a comment in the previous chapter, because one of my Cardinal Rules of Smut is that no good porn is complete without a good shower scene...
On with the show...
"You're the cream in my coffee
You're the salt in my stew
You'll always be my necessity
"I'd be lost without you...
"You give life savour,
Bring out its flavour
So this is clear, dear
You're my Worcestershire, dear.
"You're the sail of my love boat
You're the captain and crew
You'll always be my necessity
I'd be lost without you."
(Marlene Dietrich)
(In which John is Captain, Ianto is First Mate, Jack is Shipwright, and Gwen is the Figurehead... and in which LSA should be congratulated for not making a "poop deck" joke.)
(O, "Who's the Cabin Boy?")
(LSA, "Rhys of course.)
(Owen *breathes a sigh of relief*)
(LSA, "See? Now aren't you glad they killed you off before I could play with you?")
(Owen *ignores LSA and goes back to enjoying his afterlife*)
"Worse than a tomcat, you are," says Gwen.
Just when Jack thought he couldn't feel any warmer or more content. He offers Gwen his arm. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
She chuckles with him. Gives his arm a light slap. "You."
He escorts her back to the Conference Room. Opens the door for her.
Gwen stops in her tracks. "Oh. My. God."
It's all he can do to keep a straight face. John is sprawled on his back on the conference table, his robe wide open and fanning around him. He's purring and mostly naked and reeking of sex and cinnamon. A very relaxed Ianto sits in a chair beside the table, sipping from a cup with the smug smile of a young man whose blowjobs are almost as good as his coffee.
Jack clears his throat pointedly. Ianto pales. Stands. Abandons his mug on the table. Grabs the tray. Tries to block and distract by pouring two fresh mugs of coffee. "Cuppa?"
"Mmmmmmmmm," comes John's afterglow-blurred reply. "Iz guud ja, darling."
Ianto leans back a little. Taps John's shoulder. Flicks his eyes at the door. "Gwen, Captain."
"Wha--?" John cranes his head backward. Spots them. Grins from ear to ear. "O hai!" He rolls off the table, closes his robe, and lands on his feet in one smooth motion. "We were just waiting for you."
Jack snorts. "I don't think 'waiting' is in your vocabulary."
"And neither is 'appropriate'," says Gwen. "People actually have to do work here."
John takes a long, sensuous swallow of coffee. "Tell that to Jack's desk."
Gwen coughs on her first mouthful. Swallows quickly before she can lose it. Glares, sputtering and laughing, at John. "That's the only free shot you get, Vera. Enjoy it while you can."
John chuckles. Gives her his best bedroom eyes. "Oh believe me I am... enjoying... it."
He and Gwen have the same thought at the same moment. Both of them look at the coffee pot. (Ianto wouldn't actually... would he?)
Gwen, now slightly green, examines her cup with a jaundiced eye. "And what kind of coffee did you say you were brewing while you were waiting for us?"
John swallows hard. Narrowly avoids a spittake. "And you call ME disgusting."
Gwen smirks. Jack takes a long taste from his own mug. Rolls the coffee on his tongue, testing. Nope. Nothing he can identify as decidedly John.
John rolls his eyes. "Oh get over yourself, W.P.C. Comeshot. I didn't wank in your coffee if that's what you're thinking. It'd be sacrilege anyway when I could just come in Ianto's--"
"CAPTAIN," says Ianto, a little sharply. He's still wearing his usual calm smile, but there's the warning flare in his lovely blue eyes. Ianto offers the pot again to John. "Refresher?"
Gwen pauses halfway through a sip. Narrows her eyes over the rim of her mug.
"... office and get some creamer," John finishes. "And no, darling, I'm good. Thank you for asking."
Okay, Jack just can't resist. "John would never add anything to your coffee, Gwen," he reassures her.
John salutes him with his mug in thanks.
He waits until his beloved psychopath has taken a large enough swig. "Metallic taste ruins the flavour."
Just when he thought his morning couldn't get any more fun, he has the pleasure of making three people spew coffee in unison.
Jack laughs at John's insulted look. Giggles into his mug as John makes a great show of handing out the serviettes Ianto has produced from God knows where. It's been easy to forget how much fun "Captain Hart" can be, especially now that he has carte blanche to torture him.
"John and I have been discussing the future," says Ianto as he wipes the outside of his own cup clean with a serviette.
Gwen is laughing, though whether at herself, John, or Ianto's furious blush he can't tell. She sets her mug down. "How so?"
"I'd never anticipated having this many Weevils in the Cells," says Ianto. "Practically speaking the Hub has the capacity to handle them for the short-term, but I'm concerned about the prospect of long-term storage. Or upkeep -- it would require an extraordinary amount of feed."
"Now you mention it," says Gwen. "What DO you feed Weevils?"
"Iguana Chow," says Ianto.
Everyone, including Jack, stares at the kid.
"Mixed with a bit of raw minced beef three times a week," Ianto elaborates. "They need the extra iron and protein or they get shaky and sick."
Okay, he'll bite. "How did you arrive at IGUANA Chow?"
"Trial and error," says Ianto.
John sets his mug down firmly. "As stimulating as it isn't to discuss the feeding habits of the footsoldiers of the most terrifying threat to the universe since some nutter of a Time Lord invented supermassive black holes, I really think it's time to include Gwen in on the plan." He waggles a lascivious eyebrow at Gwen. "Unless there's something else you'd rather be included in on?"
Gwen rolls her eyes.
Ianto clears his throat. "The problem with the Cythraul is not the Cythraul at all."
Gwen looks unconvinced. "Despite the fact that they're the most terrifying threat to the universe since...?" She looks to John.
"Some nutter of a Time Lord invented supermassive black holes," John supplies. "And thank you for not misquoting me."
"But that's the point," Ianto says. "It's not the Cythraul, or -- indeed -- even the Kapo which is the problem. It's the army of footsoldiers. Remove them and you remove the immediate threat."
It's logical as only Ianto's thinking can be. "So..." Jack says slowly, "you're suggesting we get rid of the Weevil army?"
Ianto nods. Sips his coffee. "I'm proposing we speak to our Kapo. See if he'll be willing to act as a liaison for the Weevils. Joh-- Captain Hart speaks their language well enough to translate, as, I believe, do you, sir."
John clears his throat and coughs with something that sounds remarkably like "outworlder".
Ianto ignores him. "Maybe we can convince them to consider another planet, sir. A new homeworld, maybe? Surely there's some unoccupied world in the universe somewhere that would be hospitable."
It's insane, but the plan might work, so long as the Cythraul don't come after them. (It's actually something of a miracle that they've been safe this long.)
"Well," says Gwen, "That's no madder than any of the other plans we've had. But how do you plan to get the Weevils off this planet and to wherever they're going?"
John holds up his right wrist. "We cheat with a little fifty first century tech." He wriggles his fingers to draw attention to his wrist strap. "Hello."
Gwen tilts her head, intrigued. "Can you transport all of them with that little wrist strap of yours?"
"It's not little." John shakes his head no. "If only. No. To give us the boost we'll need, we'll likely have to hard-wire this into the guidance system of the ship."
He, Ianto, and Gwen all speak as one. "The ship?" (Surely Ianto hasn't found...)
"What ship?" says Gwen.
"Well," says John, who never misses a chance to sound patronizing, "When Ianto said 'offworld' I didn't assume we were walking. It'd be a bit of a hike, and me without my anti-absolute-zero parka."
"Okay, so space it is," says Gwen. "But if it's extra-terrestrial transport you're looking for, I'm afraid my husband won't be able to help you." She sets down her now-empty mug of coffee. "You're on your own this time."
"Gwen?" Jack says. She stops most of the way to the door. "Where are you going?"
She grins. "Need to get washed up before we go negotiate with the Kapo. You boys need a spritz too. I'll give you twenty before I come in after you." She winks at him and leaves.
"And that--" Ianto stands "-- is that." He collects the dishes onto the tray. Hoists it to his shoulder. "Please follow me, gentlemen."
"Always elegant," John remarks. "No wonder you wanted to shag his well-behaved arse." He waves Jack forward with one courteous hand.
"Do I really want you following me?" he says, only half kidding.
"Like it's my fault you're so edible in khakis?" John says. "Now get going so we can strip you and scrub you."
That thought, on top of all the other adventures this morning, is enough to have Jack instantly hard and throbbing. Grinning, he heads for the door and what promises to be a fantastic shower.
*******
Ianto stows the tray in the galley kitchen and makes his way down to the showers. His hands are shaking, though with nerves or anticipation he can't be sure. John warned him that this will take no small amount of finesse. As wretchedly awful as Jack can be about protecting secrets, he's even more inclined to be defensive and stubborn when cornered about telling them.
And the plan is for him and John to make Jack tell the biggest secret of them all.
He's positive Gwen doesn't know. (She seldom asks too many questions about anything, which, Ianto supposes, is part of the reason Jack fancies her.) Tosh suspected, mostly because it was impossible to keep anything technological a secret from her for long. Owen couldn't be arsed to care even if he knew. And Ianto believes Suzie not only knew but would sneak away to help with the occasional systems check. It was something he envied, right from the start, and made him that much more determined to become indispensable to Jack. (Deep in his heart, he's held onto the admittedly romantic notion that if Jack needed him enough, there might come a day when Jack would tell him his deepest secrets.)
The narrow little spiral stair down to The Showers gives no hint about the magnificent facility it hides. Have to hand it to the Victorians -- they always did think on a grand scale.
He flips the switch outside the main door to the "Gentlemen's Washroom and Water Closet". The remarkably-efficient boilers belch to life and start to cycle hot water through the pipes beneath the tile floor. With any kind of luck, in about five minutes it'll warm to pleasantly hot. (Some ancient Roman innovations are still the very lap of luxury.) He's always fancied The Showers, with their rows of mahogany lockers, brass showerheads, and hand-painted tile. Apparently, when Torchwood Three was founded, they had plenty of Her Majesty's money to burn. (Pity they lost the Ladies' Washroom and Water Closet in the war. From the few photos that survive in the archives, that facility was even more lavish and lovely.)
He pauses by the built-in, cedar-lined linen closet. Selects a couple of loofahs. Three of the large towels. Should already be shampoo and conditioner in the shower. (Hopefully John won't object to Jack's usual brand.)
"Ahhhh, there you are," says John.
Two captains peek out from the other end of the rows of carved mahogany lockers. John is now clad only in a spotless white towel, tucked low at his waist to draw the eye to his beautifully-toned abs. (And the weird thing is, his vanity only makes him more attractive.) John sidles up to him. Takes the supplies out of his hands. Sets them on the bench. Enfolds him in a tender embrace. "We were wondering when you'd show up."
Ianto glances over at Jack, who's leaning against one of the lockers. Jack grins like the kid who's spotted Father Christmas. Begins to strip out of his braces. Waggles his eyebrows. (And yes, Jack's ego also only makes him the more tempting.)
John bends close to Ianto's ear, the sweet warmth of his breath sending pleasant shivers down his spine. "What say," breathes the Captain, "we go teach that boy some humility?"
Bondage. John's undoubtedly talking some kind of bondage. Under the hot showers? Ohhhh. He'd certainly be up for that. His heart beats a little faster as he bends close to John's ear. "I think we should make him confess."
John chuckles, a low sound that suggests sweat and heat and pleasure. "I love the way you think, darling."
They move as one. Jack's grin falters for a moment at the intensity of their advance, then returns, broader than ever. As he strides, John nods to Ianto, who takes it as his cue to snatch the belt from his own robe. Warm, moist air isn't always the best encouragement for a half-hard erection, but the possibilities for what John might do with the belt have Ianto's full attention. He smiles at John, who returns it before turning the full intensity of his gaze on Jack.
"We want the ship," says John.
Jack's smile disappears again. "What ship?"
John loops the belt around Jack's shoulders. Pulls him close. "The ship you've got stashed somewhere." He brushes Jack's lips with his. "Nearby."
"Sorry to disappoint you, honey." Jack kisses John fiercely. "There is no ship."
"Ifan, darling." John never takes his eyes off Jack's. "Jack's wearing a bit too much clothing, don't you think?"
A flush runs up and down him. "Yes, Captain."
John lets go of the belt. He and John move as one. John rips open Jack's shirt. Ianto pulls it down over Jack's arms, trapping them behind him.
Jack's breathing speeds, but he never drops his gaze. "Love this, but there really is no ship."
Ianto breathes in the sugar-and-spice scents of the two captains. John yanks Jack's belt out of its loops. Ianto makes quick work of Jack's flies. John slips a hand down the front of Jack's trousers.
"Ship," John repeats.
"Mmmmm... isn't one." Jack shivers. Gives John his signature cocky grin. "Though if you want to keep torturing me, I won't object."
"I'll bet you won't." Whatever John's got his hand on makes Jack gasp, either in surprise or pleasure. "And when I want the opinion of a gorgeous slut, I'll give it to him."
Jack hums happily. "I love it when you give it to me." He gives John the kind of serious look Jack only reserves for his most blatant lies. "But there is no ship."
They strip Jack in a few curt motions. (The lacing on his shoes was half-assed anyway.) They abandon Jack's clothes, Ianto's robe, and John's towel on the bench. John distracts Jack with a deep kiss. Catches Jack's wrist in one hand. His hair in the other. Pulls his head roughly back and down. Ianto's about to object when Jack snogs John like he wants to eat him alive.
"You remembered," Jack murmurs.
"It's a curse," John says. He frots Jack slowly from behind, his gaze molten, his eyes never leaving Ianto's. (See, darling? This is how we do it.) John bites Jack's shoulder. Jack hisses in pleasure. John pulls back. Yanks Jack's hair harder. Twists his arm up behind his back. Nods to Ianto. "Lead on, my love."
There is definitely something wrong with him, because the thought of topping Jack the way John seems to intend has Ianto shaking with anticipation. He leads them through the doorway into the main room. Two rows of Victorian splendour, decades ahead of their time in terms of water pressure and heat. One switch to activate them. Steam fills the room.
"Ooooh," says John. "Isn't this a fun little playground?"
Even though his head is bent at an odd angle because John has him by the hair, Jack's chuckle sounds as casual as if he were lounging. "I recommend naked hide-and-go-seek."
John yanks Jack's head back, mouth by his ear. "Did I SAY you could speak? Keep testing me and I'll show you what I think of your attitude."
And Ianto would object, but it's kind of hard to miss the tightening of Jack's nipples and the bob of his erect cock as clear signs that he does indeed like it this rough.
John binds Jack's wrists with the belt from Ianto's robe. Leads Jack down the row to the centre of the showers, where the jets of steaming water will surround them. Ianto follows, salivating at the thought of whatever John's got planned. (Though, if John goes too far, Ianto will untie Jack and get them out of here and why is he making escape plans? Isn't this the fantasy he always wanted but could never quite get right?)
John loops one end of the belt over the base of one of the showerheads. "These are absolutely lovely, Jack. Rare antiques, even in this time. But so help me, Jack, if you pull too hard and damage one, I WILL take it out of your hide. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Captain." It's a voice Ianto's never heard before, a throaty murmur without any of Jack's usual wryness or humour. There's a silvery edge of wanting to it too. (Please, show me how to make him sound like that.)
Ianto looks silently to John -- no sense saying the wrong thing and ruining the mood. God knows all the times he's tried to be rough with Jack have either ended in comic disaster, or with Jack telling him with affectionate condescension that maybe they should try something else.
John suddenly grabs Ianto by the wrist. Pulls him close. Caresses his hair. Ianto blinks to keep the water from dripping down into his eyes. Savours the slow, sensual kiss. Rubs back when John begins a slow frot against him. (God, the man has a lovely cock.)
Jack makes a needy, groaning sound.
"QUIET," John commands. His face softens when he looks back at Ianto. "Stand here, darling, or lean against the wall if standing becomes tiresome. Your job will be to tell me which one to use next."
"Which one?" he says.
"Oh yes, please," says Jack.
John slaps Jack's face. HARD. Looks him square in the eyes. "You enjoy this when I say you enjoy this, SLUT. Until then, you are obedient and silent, or you tell us where the goddamn ship is. Do you understand?"
Jack nods.
John grabs Jack by the cock. Teases the glans with his thumb. Jack shivers, smiling. Pulls against his bonds. The shower head creaks a bit.
John glares. "I meant what I said about the fixture," he says, deadly calm. "Damage it and--" he digs his nails into the shaft of Jack's cock, "--there will be Hell to pay."
Jack hisses, the flush on his cheeks not from the water. Instead of being furious, he's... enjoying it? "Yes, Captain."
John takes his hand off Jack's cock. Turns back to Ianto, smiling. "So which one shall we use first?"
Knowing his luck, he'll say the wrong thing and ruin this, but he has to know what on Earth John's talking about. "I'm sorry, Captain?"
John's grin is genuine. "I never showed you?"
He shakes his head no, more puzzled than ever.
"Not even on the night only you remember?" John says.
He can't help feeling a bit foolish, standing here naked and dripping wet under the spray of water, trying to remember. "I'm sorry."
John presses closer to him. "Never be sorry, my love, unless you have cause to be, and you have no cause to be."
He kisses John in silent gratitude. The Captain usually tastes like a guilty dessert, but now there's a comforting warmth to that cinnamon musk.
"You're going to love this," John murmurs. "I hope."
John takes his hand. Curls his fingers around John's cock. It's just as thick and alive as Ianto remembers from last night. Then the shape of it changes in his hand. Thinner. Longer. He looks down, startled. John's erection now sports a head of slender, flexible, fleshy prongs. He stares, first at the bizarre penis, then at John.
"Andorian Tickler," says John with a wink. "Favourite with the ladies."
He blinks, too stunned to speak.
For the first time since Ianto's known him, there's the trace of uncertainty in the Captain's blue-grey gaze. If he didn't know better, Ianto would think John was holding his breath, waiting for his reaction. "Body modifications are a bit more... thorough... in the fifty-first," says John.
"Apparently." Curious, he caresses the length. John's eyes darken, though he's still smiling reassurance. Just as Ianto starts to adjust to the bizarre appendage, the prong-like things ripple against his hand. He shrieks, startled.
Jack tries and fails to smother the laughter. John laughs his ass off. Cheeks burning, Ianto backs off. Shit, they'll probably ask him to leave now so they can be alone -- John obviously knows what Jack wants far better than he ever will.
John's face softens, though he's still chuckling. He glares hard at Jack. Slaps his other cheek. "Did I SAY you could laugh?"
Jack sobers right up. Looks down, as close to demure as Ianto's ever seen him. "No, Captain."
Ianto wavers. He's never been this far out of his league. Eyes contrite, John holds out a hand to him, entreating. "I'm sorry, Ifan. That was a prickish thing to do -- pun intended -- but I couldn't resist. Now come here, darling, and let me introduce you properly."
Wary but still painfully curious, he takes the proffered hand. Lets John pull him forward. John snogs him, reassuring and encouraging in turns. Runs Ianto's hand down his chest to that strange phallus. Curls his fingers around it. Pulls back from the kiss so Ianto can look down.
The "prong" things are smooth, yet turgid. They move gently against his palm. Caress Ianto's fingers back as he touches them.
"See?" says John with a wink. "He's a very friendly boy, when you get to know him."
He can't take his eyes off the thing. It's -- all at the same time -- the most fascinating, most disturbing, and most oddly intimate thing he's experienced since joining Torchwood.
Then he realizes what John said. Choose. John wants him to choose. Knowing John, his lover must have more than one of these "modifications". And, knowing how well his lover knows Jack, John must intend to use his whole arsenal until Jack relents. The thought shouldn't make him shiver pleasantly, but Ianto's own cock is both intrigued and enthusiastic at the prospect. His cheeks warm. "You want me to choose?"
John smiles a lazy, dangerous smile.
He has to swallow hard before the words will come. "Wh-what are my choices?"
"Andorian Tickler?" John indicates his current shape. "Or Gallifreyan Surprise?" John's cock shifts again as Ianto watches. Shorter. Thicker. When he caresses upward, a fine layer of cilia-like things cling to his fingertips like living velvet. He pets down and the shaft is smooth.
Jack looks alarmed. "Gallifreyan--?" He bites his lip hard at John's warning glance, but looks uneasy all the same. (Something Ianto will have to ask about later.)
The choice should not be turning him on this much. "Andorian," he says at last.
Jack relaxes. Throws him a grateful look.
John's cock shifts back. The prongs wave one more hello before John takes his place behind Jack. John catches his hand in Jack's dripping hair. Pulls his head roughly back. "I taught you too well for you to think you're fooling anyone, Jack."
"There is no ship," Jack insists, though he's panting hard. Jack's cock bobs, wanting. Ianto's twitches in sympathy.
John curls his free hand around Jack's hip. Jack holds his breath. Breathes out in a shuddering sigh -- Ianto can only guess that the surreal appendage John calls a cock is teasing and tracing... He presses his hands to the cool tiles behind him. This kind of thing should not be turning him on like this.
John licks up the side of Jack's exposed neck, a slow slide of tongue on wet skin. "I taught you to always have a back way--" he thrusts forward sharply. Jack gasps. "-- out of any situation."
He should stop this. He should say something and stop this before John gets out of control. (I shouldn't want you to show me how to make Jack shudder like that.)
"You don't get to come," says John calmly in Jack's ear. "Until you tell me where the ship is."
Jack shudders another sigh. "...wish I could tell you..."
John lets go of Jack's hair. Holds him, hands hard on Jack's hips. Thrusts in slow, twisting motions. Jack moans. Gasps. Pulls at his bonds. Rocks back to meet John. Shivers. "God yes please!"
The shower head gives a distressing squeak.
John withdraws. Slaps Jack's buttock, a wet strike that makes empathetic shivers skitter over Ianto's skin.
"That's for vandalism," says John. He adds three more sharp spanks. "And you may NOT speak unless you're going to tell us what we want to know."
Jack bites his lip hard. Nods understanding. Inhales sharply as John comes close again.
Ianto can't resist. He pushes off the wall. Moves over to where he can watch John trace the cleft of Jack's arse with the sentient prongs of his cock.
John is watching him with veiled eyes and a trace of amusement. He tilts his head slightly in what Ianto can only assume is a polite interrogative. (Want to see another one, darling?)
How his mouth can be dry with this much hot water around he's not sure. He swallows again. Nods.
"Choose," John murmurs. "Thermian Caress?" His cock shifts again to a thick-based shaft with five flanges, each slightly narrower than the one below. "Or Tokyo Treat?" The flanges contract into a series of three ball-like things like miniature maces, each studded with spiky nubs.
He should run screaming. He should let Jack down so they can both take turns with him. He should attack John and find a convenient closet someplace to shag and be shagged. (And he is damn well going to have John demonstrate the full arsenal.) Instead, he reaches out to caress the studded cock. It's strangely hot. Alive. Better than any sex toy could be. The shaft moves in his hands. Rolls along his palm, prickly and sensuous at once.
John shifts it back to the Thermian cock. Each flange ripples along his fingers and palm like a separate tongue. Ianto's whole body tightens in a desire that really should scare the hell out of him, if he had any sense.
John's low, seductive chuckle blends with the rush of the water. "Thermian it is."
"Let me see." Jack strains at his bonds. "Please, Captain, let me see."
John thrusts Jacks head down so he can't move it. Grins triumphant approval at Ianto. Glares back at Jack. "Tell me what I want to know or I come on your back and go shag our lovely Ifan somewhere you can't watch him come screaming in the throes of pleasures he's literally never imagined."
When Jack doesn't reply at once, John nods to Ianto. He returns to his place, leaning against the wall. John presses against Jack. Again, Ianto can imagine the way those flanges would feel...
"Yes, darling," John purrs as Ianto takes his own cock in his hand. "Touch yourself."
Jack sneaks a look at him. Ianto looks back through half-lidded eyes. Strokes himself, slowly at first. Teases his own glans.
Jack moans, deep in the back of his throat.
"See what you could have?" John says in Jack's ear. "If only you'd cooperate?"
"N-n-no ship."
In the entire time he's known Jack, Ianto's never heard him stutter like that.
Ianto meets John's eyes. "Do it."
John thrusts hard. Jack cries out. There's a high flush on his cheeks that Ianto's never seen. (For all his smiles and flirtations, Jack's usually incredibly guarded.)
"No ship at all?" John moves with lithe grace. Rocks Jack onto the balls of his feet with every stroke.
Ianto strokes himself, imagining the way John would feel if it were him bound at the wrists and not Jack. The fingers of his other hand drift lower. (The smooth-hard tickle of those prongs.) Caress his balls. (The rough friction of every flange as John pulls back to thrust again.) He rolls his sac in his palm...
Jack hangs his head. "I... I can't."
"You can." John pauses, buried deep inside Jack. (Ianto can only imagine how each flange would tease and caress.)
But this isn't going to work. No matter how fantastic John feels, there are some things Jack just won't tell him.
Ianto cups Jack's head in his hands. "Please, Jack. For me."
The gamble pays off. Jack's eyes fly open. He must've tightened involuntarily, because John shudders hard. Gasps something obscene in an alien-sounding language.
"I know you." Ianto kisses Jack gently. "I have to believe you wouldn't have left us again." Uncertainty is a knot in his stomach. "Would you?"
Jack returns the kiss. Slowly. Deeply. "Not again. Never again."
He smiles. "Promise?"
Jack's kiss is fiercer. "I never should've left you at all."
Relieved, Ianto takes a step back. Runs a slow hand down his own body. Teases back his foreskin. "Tell us where the ship is, sir... and I'll let you taste this."
Jack looks at him for a long time. Only the creasing of his brow gives any sign of the war of emotions that must be going on behind that flawless face.
Ianto glances at John, who nods encouragement. Ianto strokes himself, a teasing slide. He pinches his nipple. Twists it. Gasps at the spike of pleasure.
"No ship," John murmurs. "And we'll watch Ifan wank until he comes on your chest. Then I'll come on your back and we'll both go off and leave you while we fuck like minks where you can't watch."
A shiver seizes Jack. He moans. "Not fair."
"Nope." John begins to thrust again, leisurely. "Neither is this."
Ianto shivers at the thought of the flanges. Sliding in and out. Each teasing as it slips free. Each caress hot and alive. He strokes himself harder. Faster. Reaches down to cup his sac. His fingers slips farther back. He aches to be filled, an almost literal pain.
"Isn't he beautiful?" John murmurs.
He can hear the slow slap of John's hips as he fucks Jack. Ianto circles his own entrance with his fingertips. Strokes his own cock faster. More lightly. The teasing strokes should bring him... soon...
"Don't know how much more Ifan can take," John purrs. "Getting close myself."
"You would never." He slips a finger inside. Presses in. Strokes in rhythm with John. Close. So close. His balls are tight. Hot. Full. "N-never leave me again."
Jack's breath releases in a rush. "It's below Cardiff Bay."
It's all Ianto can do to yank his own hands off himself. He presses his palms to the wall behind him, panting. "The bunker?"
Jack nods, beaten. "I forged the report. The bomb missed by a good fifty yards."
John grins at Ianto, triumphant. Caresses the line of Jack's jaw.
There's a low humming. At first, Ianto can't tell where it's coming from. Jack's eyes fly open in surprise and pleasure. He moans. Rocks back. Curses and begs, only half-coherent. Throws himself backward onto John's cock again and again.
Ianto can only stare at John. "You have a vibrator setting?"
"Wouldn't you?" John meets Jack at the apex of each thrust. John pulls the belt, releasing Jack. "Good boy. Take what you deserve."
Jack throws the belt aside. It lands in a sodden heap. Jack surges forward on the next thrust. Draws Ianto into his mouth fiercely. Ianto cries out. Shudders sweetly as that smooth-rough tongue teases the underside of his glans. Jack sucks him hard. His strong fingers caress Ianto's balls just right. Ianto parts his legs to resume stroking himself. Jack blocks his hand. Sinks knowing fingers inside. (Inside, oh GOD! Yes, inside!)
Jack gently massages his sac with one hand. Angles the fingers of the other just right to hit the sweet spot. Presses his thumb between. (Please don't let me come yet. Not yet. Don't let it end!) Jack draws his cock deep down his throat. Ianto moans. Sobs. Loves John's grunts of pleasure as he fucks Jack harder and faster. Jack's head bobs on his cock. Beautiful. Brutal. Desperate. And the fingers inside. Just right. Just right. JUST RIGHT!
John arches hard. Smiles, face clear and beautiful. Jack's scream is muffled by Ianto's cock. His fingers drive deep. Press in and up and OH YES PLEASE. He lets go of everything. Surges into Jack's mouth again and again. Convulses around his fingers. Screams as pleasure lightnings through him.
And as they ease each other to the floor beneath the seemingly endless spray of hot water, that rare emotion comes again...
Happy.
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