Fic, FAITHFUL, Ch. 25/50?, "The Messiah's Coat"

[loveslashangst]

Story: Faithful
Author: Love! Slash! Angst! loveslashangst
Beta: the blue-and-shivering ophymirage
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.

Okay, so here's the dealio...

Some chapters are just good clean fun. I'm setting up the real plot here and I freely admit this is a slightly gratuitous transitional chapter. After this, things will get REALLY interesting.

Author and Beta's Note:
For those of you interested in the ‘guess John’s mods’ references, here’s a semi-complete list, with more to come as John deigns to show them off. We will warn you now: if there’s a (pic) link, it goes to an NSFW site. No crying to us if your boss fires you for looking at naughty things during work. :D

OM: "Also, thanks to LSA, I now know more about animal genitalia than half a Tijuana brothel." *whimpers*

LSA *grins unrepentantly* "You're welcome. Thanks to a little research I found out that beetles have lethally barbed phalluses (phalli?), the Spiny Anteater has a four-lobed penis that's roughly a third the length of its body (see here for video proof), and few creatures are proportionally as well (or frighteningly) hung as the Argentine Lake Duck. (Again, don't click the link unless you want to see bird schlongs.)"

(On the Spiny Anteater vid, I was particularly amused by the screw-headed sperm of the animal. Anyone who thinks Mama Nature isn't pervy only has to look at some of the ways she thinks up for her creations to get it on.)

Anyway, back to my own perviness:

Andorian Tickler – STAR TREK: ORIGINAL SERIES. I referenced the blue-skinned, white-haired, antennaed aliens that Kirk encounters in the show that started them all, as well as extrapolating from the boys and girls we met on ENTERPRISE, who added movement to their antennae. (pic)


Gallifreyan Surprise – Comes from Rallalon’s wonderful stories, most particularly the final chapter of “Scratching the Itch”, which is a delicious foray into the peculiarities of Timelord physiognomy. (I had fun contradicting my own canon, because in truth, what's the likelihood that the whole universe knows what the Doctor has in his pants?) [O: "Tele-phone, Tele-gram, Tell-a-Jack. All I'm saying."]

‘Thermian’ Caress – GALAXY QUEST. Yup. The squiddy aliens from that beyond-awesome movie. Never was Hentai so sexy as with Jane Doe. [O, to Mel: "guaranteed to make your partner audible only to sonar."] (pic)

Tokyo Treat – As O says, "Because when you’re looking for mods inspiration, you google 'Japanese Sex Toys'." (pic) [O: "Extra Warning - this will probably make you *wibble* and cross your legs. Certainly did me."]

As for the perversion of this chapter, it's mostly up to my own fevered imagination. Except for "Nautilus-but-Nice", which is almost entirely O's fault. [O: "Yeah, I'm not sure which one of us comes off looking like the bigger perv here. Though I have my suspicions."]

On with the show...

"I'm wild again
Beguiled again
A simpering, whimpering child again
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I
...
Lost my heart but what of it?
My mistake I agree.
he's a laugh, but I like it
because the laugh's on me.

A pill he is
But still he is
All mine and I'll keep him until he is
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
Like me.
...
I'll sing to him
Each spring to him
And worship the trousers that cling to him
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I

When he talks he is seeking
Words to get off his chest.
Horizontally speaking
He's at his very best.

Vexed again
Perplexed again
Thank God I can't be over-sexed again
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I."
(Lorenz & Hart, "Pal Joey", performance by Ella Fitzgerald)

(In which John provides back-up, Jack is lead singer, Ianto improvises, and Gwen is Dramatic.)



Jack decided long ago that the best sex is the kind that leaves you in a gibbering, glowing pile on the bed (or, in this case, the tile floor). Hot water pours around him, surging over skin already sensitized by one of the best shags he's had in a VERY long time.

John holds him. Murmurs endearments that are half blissed-out profanity. Ianto sits beside him, eyes closed, face beautiful in the spray of water. Jack snuggles back against John's chest. Folds John's arms around him. Reaches out to caress Ianto's cheek.

When the kid's eyes open, Jack has that odd feeling of time slowing to a stop. It's only happened to him a few times. Many unhappy. Some ecstatic. Some sweet. But the trust and quiet happiness in Ianto's gaze warm him in ways no amount of steam ever could.

He struggles to find the words. To make his mouth say them.

Ianto, still slightly breathless, smiles. "Me too, sir."

It's just the right thing to say. That's one of Ianto's best traits -- when he wants to, he always has just the right words.

"And me," John murmurs in his ear. "Gods and monsters, Jack, you DO know how to pick them."

Ianto stands, unsteady. Leaves, planting each foot with care as though worried every step might land him flat on his arse. (And on these slick tiles, he has a point.) At Jack's look, he says, "Supplies. Be right back."

"We'll be right here," purrs John. "Waiting for you."

With his trademark fleeting smile, Ianto finishes picking his way across the floor and disappears through the archway to the locker room.

John runs a slow hand down Jack's chest. Hums nonverbal happiness in his ear.

Yes, being reduced to a puddle of goo by one's sexy-as-all-fuck lover and one's naughty-and-nice second-in-command is definitely at the absolute top of Jack's list of "stuff that makes me happy". "We need to do this more often."

John presses a kiss to his temple. "Oh, twist my arm."

He turns in John's arms. Nips along the square line of John's jaw. "Can I twist something else?"

John gives him a playful glare. "How many times do I have to tell you, Jack? 'Twist'? Not sexy unless you have a child-proof cap. 'Caress'? Yes. 'Stroke'? Yes."

He reaches down to see if John's kept the Nautilus-But-Nice or shifted back to something else. Strong muscle. Flexible cups, not unlike the suckers on an octopus's tentacle. Disturbing as all fuck the first time he saw it, but my GOD does it do fantastic things to a man's prostate. "How about 'stimulate'?"

"Mmmmmmm. Personal favourite." John blinks, turning the vibrator setting on again. Grins conspiratorially at him as the fascinating textures of that mod hum against his fingertips. He kisses his new/old lover. Revels in the familiarity of him. (So easy to just slide back into this comfort. This closeness. And the addition of Ianto only makes it all the better.) To his surprise, when they part, John presses his cheek to Jack's shoulder. Nestles in. "Knew you'd have a way off this rock, if push came to shove."

If he denies the ship again, can he play it up for more fantastic interrogation sex? It's tempting. Fortunately, Ianto saves him from having to brazen a reply. The kid brings in a loofah and a bar of soap. The showers quickly fill up with the pleasant scent of clean cedar as Ianto lathers up.

"Darling," says John calmly, face still half-buried in Jack's shoulder. "As much as I love to watch you be wet and naked and soapy, what in the ninth Hell of Skaro are you doing?"

"Showering." Ianto avoids both his gaze and John's. "Gwen will be here any minute."

"Sod Gwen," says John.

That earns him a mild glare. Jack decides maybe politic would be best in this situation. "I think what John's trying to say is, surely there's time for a bit of snuggling before we get back to business?"

Ianto looks uncertain and even a bit embarrassed. "I wouldn't want to--"

"Darling," says John, a hint of impatient warning in the calm silk of his voice. "Get your lovely arse over here."

Again, he finds himself softening the blow. "Ianto, honey, we just had really fantastic sex." He smiles his best charming smile. "Come here and enjoy the afterglow with us."

Looking unsure if he should glare or smile or just keep standing there blushing, Ianto relents. Rinses clean. Sets the loofah in a handy niche in the wall. Sits down cautiously on the tile.

It's moments like this that Jack remembers how very young the kid really is. Twenty-five? Sometimes it's easy to forget that most kids Ianto's age are only concerned with getting laid, getting wasted, getting drunk, and getting their sorry arses out of bed every day for the jobs they hate.

Ianto is the power behind the throne of one of the most powerful secret organizations in the world. He catches and cares for monsters most people can't imagine.

Jack pats the tile next to him. Curls an arm around John, who's still almost audibly purring. Ianto comes closer, sliding on the tile. Tentatively pillows his head on Jack's other shoulder. Jack holds the boy close. Kisses his forehead. John reaches out. Runs fingertips over Ianto's lips.

"Beautiful," John murmurs. "Absolutely beautiful."

Ianto kisses Johns fingers. Frowns, listening. "Is something humming in here?"

John chuckles. "That'd be me. Sorry."

Ianto glances down before John has a chance to shift back to something less frightening. To his credit, the boy just stiffens, staring.

"Looks scary," Jack says. "Feels awesome." Ianto's shoulders tense beneath his arm --despite his best efforts, he's probably just scaring the kid worse.

"Hentai," Ianto says succinctly. "Why should I be surprised?"

"Japanese always were ahead of their time," Jack says. When Ianto blanches more, he sobers. "Joke. It was a joke. Bad joke... Here." He reaches out to grasp John's unique phallus. John hums happily. Jack presses a thumb into the main pad. It contracts around him, vibrating pleasantly. Resists his pulling away. "Imagine that on your prostate."

Ianto turns an alarming shade of green. "Erm. Do I have to?"

"Oh, and watch this." Jack strokes the length of the phallus. Gets a rhythm going. Alters the pitch by squeezing harder or more gently. He sings along with the melody. "Row, row, rose your boat..."

"Oh ha ha," says John, scathing. "Bloody hilarious, you are."

"...merrily merrily merrily merrily," he continues.

"Life is but a dream," Ianto sings along tunelessly. He starts to giggle, then laugh, harder and harder. Turns an even more alarming shade of red. Chokes and coughs. Presses a hand to his eyes.

Crying. The boy's crying. Or laughing. Or quite possibly having a minor nervous breakdown.

John, to his credit, immediately looks contrite. Turns the vibrator setting off. Shifts back to his human cock.

Jack throws him a brief smile of gratitude. Reaches out to Ianto.

Ianto recoils. Scoots back until he presses against the wall. Turns away, his tears lost amidst the spray of water.

And doesn't he feel like shit now? "Oh, honey." He swallows hard at the lump in his throat. "Honey, I'm sorry, we..."

Ianto pulls his knees up. Hides his face in his folded arms.

"Honey..."

Ianto sniffs hard, sucking in breath. He doesn't look up, but his voice is calmer. "I can't do this, Jack."

He knee-walks closer to where the kid sits. "Ianto."

"I CAN'T!"

"You can't what?" he says, though he knows it's too early to reach out again. "Talk to me, honey."

"I can't be what you need." The whisper is hoarse, almost lost in the rush of water. "I can't be him. I can't be that. I can't do this..." Ianto's breath hitches. "I j-just... I c-c-"

He pulls Ianto to him. "Shhh." Holds his young lover fiercely. Protectively. "Shhh. I don't want you to be like him -- believe me, one is enough -- I just want you to be like you. It's okay, honey. I promise."

When a woeful Ianto looks up at him, he kisses him. Holds nothing back. No pretences. No masks. After a moment or two, Ianto's arms wind around him. Pull him closer. They end up on their knees. And he kisses Ianto like he hasn't kissed anyone in lifetimes. Not since Estelle. Not since Mary. (Not since a certain Time Lord who jilted him.) Ianto kisses him back. Possessively. Fiercely. For a moment, he worries that pheromones might have gotten the better of the kid. But when he pulls back, Ianto's eyes are clear and determined.

"I would never have left you again," he says, surprised at how much he means it. "I'd always planned to take you with me, when the worst happened."

Ianto nods, and Jack can almost see something heal in his eyes. "You kept the team small."

He nods too. "I couldn't save more than five. I didn't want it to come to that." He looks back at John. "I'm done leaving people behind."

John's smile is genuine, his eyes blue with emotion. "I'll hold you to that, you know."

"I know." And for the first time in a long time, the thought is more warming than worrisome.

Ianto begins to shake again, sobbing afresh.

"What?" He kisses the kid. Hold him close. "It's okay, honey. What is it?"

"I just..." Ianto swallows hard. Buries his face in Jack's shoulder. Hugs him so tight Jack thinks for a moment he might crack a rib. "I never get... to keep..." Ianto lets him go. Scrubs at his eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I... everything's happening so fast."

John kneels up. Slides over to them. Pulls Ianto into a firm embrace. Kisses him. "When things happen, darling, they always happen quickly. Are you sorry for anything we've done?"

Ianto shakes his head no. Sucks in a sob.

John cups Ianto's face in his hands. "Did you like what we did with Jack?"

Blushing crimson, Ianto nods. "Both times, yeah."

"Me too," says John. "Now kiss Jack and tell him you love him."

Ianto looks at him. Uncertain. Wounded. He keeps missing how vulnerable Ianto is. He's come to rely on him so much that it shakes him to see that uncertainty.

And it shakes him more to realize how deep this emotion goes. He wasn't really the marrying kind even before Rose made him what he is, but this...

It's been a long time since he felt anything even remotely like this.

"At the risk of being an ass," says John. "Could you please skip the part where you two stare soulfully into each other's eyes, snog and make up or reassure or whatever will cure the Drama in here? These tiles are murder on a man's knees."

It breaks the tension. Ianto smiles a little. Kisses him. It's raw. Intense. Dizzying in the best sense. He holds his lover. Reassures him with mouth and hands and arms and bodies pressed close together.

A warm hand on his back. He and Ianto turn as one. Welcome John into a kiss that goes on forever.

"Now THAT is better," says John when they part.

Just for the fun of it, he grabs John's face and snogs him breathless. John gives as good as he gets -- the man always did have the most addictive mouth -- and in the end they reach a happy stalemate.

"God, I'm going to Hell," Ianto says.

"Can I come?" says John. "Hear the company's excellent."

Jack ignores him "Why are you going to Hell, honey?"

"I like to watch." Ianto gives a hopeless shrug. "As if everything else isn't freakish enough, now you two have turned me into a voyeur."

"Ifan, darling," says John, his tone confidential. "You work for a man who has every room in the Hub wired for CCTV, 24/7."

"Point," Ianto concedes with a tear-choked laugh. "Good point."

"C'mon, honey," Jack says, urging Ianto to his feet. (And trying not to think too hard about the DVD he burned for later enjoyment.) "Gwen'll be here any minute."

Few things are quite so enjoyable as getting clean with a matched set of lovely, dirty boys. The loofahs feel good, the soap even better. Soon, Ianto's smiling and relaxed again. The three of them only distract each other with the occasional kiss and caress (and admittedly he does have to confiscate the conditioner from John or they would NEVER get anything done), but each touch is like the mint after a fine dinner.

And Ianto even has nice, fluffy towels waiting for them on the heated towel bars in the corner of the locker room. Jack flicks off the showers.

"Ifan, darling?" John towels his hair dry. "What became of my sword?"

Ianto's face falls. "Erm. I... I'm not sure."

"Gwen got the pieces," Jack says. "When we were loading up Weevils. I think it's up in my office."

Ianto throws him a grateful look.

John's face goes dark. "No smith in the universe can replace that."

"I'm sorry," says Ianto. "I know it had... sentimental value."

John tucks the towel around his hips. "And my coat?"

Ianto shakes his head no.

John goes still, startled. "It's gone?"

Ianto shrugs. "The grenade... when it went off... It's shredded. Not even my father could piece it together."

John looks genuinely mournful. "My sword AND my coat?"

"I am sorry," says Ianto.

The muscles in John's jaw tighten. "And we're dead-set against killing the Kapo?"

He lays a consoling hand on John's shoulder. "Day's not over, honey. Maybe you'll get your chance."

When he turns back to Ianto, the kid's gone off, probably to find something for John to wear. (John seems determined to set a new record for "outfits ruined in a 48-hour period".) Jack opens one of the many lockers he's staked out over the years.

John leans a hand against the smooth mahogany beside him. "A crew of five?"

He throws on a t-shirt. (Chilly down here.) "I could keep them alive long enough to contact someone."

"Really?" John leans in so close he can feel the heat of his skin. The man's breath is warm across his ear. "Who?"

And damn him if John doesn't still make him shiver nicely when he does things like that. He avoids the question by shimmying into pants and trousers.

John zips his flies for him. Makes sure he feels every vibration as the zip travels upward. Leans in to brush a whisper of a kiss across his lips. "You've been in contact after all, haven't you? Jack?"

He slips into his shirt. (God, it's been forty years since he dusted this one off.) Kisses John back against the lockers. "Why don't you tell me?" He smiles. "You already knew about the ship."

John grins too. "But it was fun, wasn't it?" He tucks the tails of Jack's shirt in. Slowly. With much gratuitous fondling. (Not that he's complaining.) "Who's out there listening?" John slides one of Jack's braces into place. "For a distress call?"

He slides the other brace up, teasing his lover with the hint of a kiss. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

John spins him. Slams his back against the lockers. (And damn the man if his cock doesn't stand up and beg for more.) Kisses him in fierce bites. "That's why I asked."

The skin of John's back is smooth and hot beneath his hands. He bites back. "Maybe you'll have to interrogate me again."

John grins around the snog. "Now you're talking."

A polite clearing of throat. Ianto, sexy as ever in shirt sleeves and trousers, stands with a stack of neatly-folded clothes. Ianto's usual waistcoat and suit coat depend from the hanger in his other hand.

"Mmmmmmmmm," John says. "Dessert."

Colouring slightly, Ianto sets down the clothes. Hangs up the hanger. Jack and his fellow captain watch the kid don his waistcoat. He starts to feel a bit badly when Ianto's hands fumble self-consciously on the buttons. (Ianto never did do well with being the object of frank lust, much as he and John mean it as a compliment.)

"Care to help me with this?" he murmurs to John.

Another flash of that mischievous smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

They surround Ianto. John teases kisses up the back of Ianto's neck. Jack unbuttons the waistcoat. Smothers Ianto's protestations in another kiss. Re-buttons the waistcoat, correctly this time. Darts his tongue down the front of Ianto's throat. Ianto shivers. Tilts his head back. John slides Ianto's hands into the sleeves of the suit coat. Jack settles it into place. Buttons the usual two buttons. Slips a hand down beneath it. Strokes Ianto teasingly through the smooth wool of his trousers.

Ianto opens his eyes slowly. Smiles that beautiful and increasingly-less-rare smile that lights his eyes from within and makes him glow.

Jack winks at him. "We love you too." He glances at John. "Right, honey?"

John wraps his arms around Ianto from behind. "Endlessly."

Ianto hugs John's arms for a moment. For his part, Jack's just happy to rest a hand at Ianto's waist. Cup his jaw in the other hand. Kiss him and press him more firmly into John's arms.

"Sorry to be the spoilsport, Captains," Ianto says at last, "but we really do need to get moving."

"Let me guess," says John. "You have yet ANOTHER outfit to loan me?"

Ianto looks slightly uncomfortable. "Erm. No. The only clothes left down here were..."

A cool realization shivers down his back. "Owen's?"

Ianto shrugs, though he still doesn't quite meet Jack's eyes. "I've been meaning to clean out his locker. I just..." He touches the stack of clothes, eyes veiled.

John folds his arms. "This is one of those Bad Omen things, isn't it? I put on a dead man's clothes and end up dying heroically?" He raises an eyebrow. "Screw that." He jerks his chin at Jack. "Immortal boy over there can wear the dead man's things. I'll raid his closet. At least his shirts will be roomy enough."

He ignores the implied insult to his weight. "You don't get my coat," he says, amused. "And you've always said you'd rather be caught dead than wear my clothes." He nods at the stack. "Think of this as the next best thing."

John's eyes narrow. "U r prik, Jak."

He makes kissy noises in reply.

"Oh that's mature," John retorts. "And it's true, Jack darling, that I live in hope that someday your wardrobe will join the twenty-first century."

Ianto ducks a smirk as he hands John a pair of boxers. "I've always fancied he'd look well in a white vest and waistcoat."

John drops his towel and rolls his eyes. "Save us from the aging lead singer of a boy band."

Jack buttons the last button on his shirt. "No matter how old I get, honey..." He shoots his cuffs. "I will ALWAYS look better than you."

"Too bad the pudge is immortal too," John muses, inspecting the new pair of jeans.

He glares. "Surprised you haven't taken the Igors up on their treatment for hair loss."

John jerks the denim into place. "Sod off, Jack."

Ianto looks intrigued as he hands John the t-shirt. "The Igors?"

"Pray you never find out." John ducks into the t-shirt. Pulls it into place.

Bold letters proclaim "PORN STAR".

Amused, both of them look to Ianto, who blushes prettily and shrugs. "It WAS Owen's."

They both nod understanding. (And Owen would be laughing his arse off.)

But when Jack spots Owen's leather jacket on the hanger, all the fun drains out of the moment. He swallows hard against the sudden tightness in his throat. "Ianto?"

Ianto doesn't meet his eyes.

"That's not Owen's coat?" Gwen pauses at the end of the row, eyes wide and hair still slightly slick with damp.

"Yes." Eyes set, Ianto takes the coat off the hanger. "The Captain will need outerwear."

Gwen looks about as appalled as one might expect. "So you're loaning him the clothes of the man he killed?"

"I keep telling you," says John. "That was NOT my fault.”

Jack turns on his best charming smile and quashes his own reservations. "Can't have a member of the team freezing to death."

Gwen glares. "Vera is NOT a member of the team."

"Yes he is." And in spite of himself, he's letting Gwen goad him into another of these damn power struggles. "For now."

John raises an eyebrow at Ianto. "They always like this?"

Ianto nods. Holds out the coat. "Pretty much."

"Condolences on the Drama," says John.

"Sod off, you!" Gwen snarls.

John clucks his tongue. "My my. Such language." He takes the coat. Dons it smoothly. "If it makes you feel better, P.C. Do-Right," he says to Gwen, "Helping me is in your best interest. The faster we solve your Cythraul problem, the sooner you're rid of me."

Gwen folds her arms, sullen, but doesn't object further.

John shrugs the coat into place. Sniffs the collar. Looks at Jack. "Erm, not to look a gift horse, but why does it smell like you?"

And that's when he remembers. He glances at Ianto. "Eau De Harkness."

Ianto sucks in his lips, trying not to laugh. But when Jack waggles his eyebrows at the kid both of them lose the battle with the giggles.

John snorts his annoyance. "All right, you pack of halfwit hyenas." He flips up the collar of the coat. "Let's go see the Kapo about Jack's spaceship."

Gwen stares at John as he passes. Looks back at Jack. "Jack has a spaceship?"

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Link to previous Faithful!Verse stories

Crossposted to jackxianto, torchwoodslash