Fic: Pas De Trois p5/? [R/NC-17]HL/TW x-over
I settled next to them, welcomed by a hot and hungry kiss from Jack, who whispered,
“What did you *do* to him?” Trembling, I undid my watch, leaving the circular scar on my wrist naked and unhidden.
“Reminded him of this...” The s hissed through my teeth as Methos stole my breath just by having one finger trail around the scar; I whimpered when his mouth followed, making my cock jump in response, and bit my lip at the challenge in his eyes. The touch of his lips against that scar was like throwing down a gauntlet; daring me to take more, daring me to take everything. The expression in his eyes hinted that he wasn’t sure if I could. I met them stare for stare, answering the unspoken challenge with nothing more than a quirk of a smile and felt his lips curve in response against my skin. There was a small sound from Jack, not quite a moan, not quite a sob. He probably recognised the expression on my face; after all it was usually him on the receiving end. His hand was in my hair, dragging my face round toward his own so he could plunder my mouth hungrily. I moaned helplessly into the kiss as Methos nipped delicately at my wrist. Jack and I broke apart, panting and Methos obligingly stopped savaging my skin; I could tell I would have a bruise there to remind me of tonight, and found myself relishing that. For an infinite moment we sat; still, silent. The only sound was our laboured breathing, though I felt that they should have been able to hear the pounding of my heart and the desire singing through my blood. Jack stared at us both, one hand cupping my face, the other resting gently against Methos’ neck, who trembled slightly at the touch. His eyes drifted shut for a moment and he took a deep breath, expelling it in a rush. He removed his hands from us. I couldn’t believe how bereft that made me feel, despite the hot press of Methos’ fingers against my own. His hand returned to tilt my chin up so I was looking in his eyes, and he kissed me again, with tenderness rather than unbridled passion, brushing a thumb across my swollen lips.
“God, Ianto. You look good enough to eat.”
“Then why...” I trailed off, puzzled by the near imperceptible shake of his head and gentle smile on his face.
“Maybe later. Right now I...” He turned to meet Methos’ eyes, obviously asking a question I couldn’t perceive as he was given a slight nod in answer. He turned back to me. “Right now I want you to take what you need.” He reached behind him, searching for something. I was too busy drowning in the unfathomable expression in his eyes to pay much attention until he pressed the familiar weight of a bottle of lube into my hand. My eyes dropped to glance at the lube, then shifted to gaze at Methos with a hunger I couldn’t deny before returning to Jack, still questioning. He curled my fingers around the bottle. “What *you* need,” he reiterated, “All of it.” I darted another hungry glance at Methos, licked dry lips. “I’m not going anywhere.” Jack whispered, “I need this too.” He had my full attention then, as I searched his face for the true meaning of his words. I think I understood; we were usually so careful of each other, albeit not always physically, he had as much need to see me lose that as I needed to do it, even if it wasn’t with him. I lunged in for a quick but intense kiss before turning my attention solely to Methos. I put the lube to one side, I wasn’t ready for it *just* then; a bloody lie of course, my body was more than ready for me to dive straight in and fuck us both senseless, but *I* wanted more from Methos before I took that final step. I let the fingers of one hand trail down his face, brushing the contours of cheekbone and jaw.
“Anything I want.” I whispered, naked lust warring with god only knows what other emotions inside me. “Everything I need...” Methos captured my hand, holding it against his face.
“Think you can handle it?” His voice was pitched low, intense; full of promises and threats. I met his eyes.
“I can; can you?” Bit of a stupid bloody question to ask, I suppose. This was Methos: Methos, for fuck’s sake; the oldest living man on earth; Death. Of course he could handle a 20-something non-immortal Welsh guy. Pity my brain was unable to tell me this... I didn’t care about stupid; my lust, my need, my obsession had driven me way beyond sense and Jack’s burning presence only fuelled that internal fire. Methos just smiled up at me; predatory, challenging. I took possession of that smile and wiped it off his face with my lips and teeth and tongue. Battle was joined.
“What did you *do* to him?” Trembling, I undid my watch, leaving the circular scar on my wrist naked and unhidden.
“Reminded him of this...” The s hissed through my teeth as Methos stole my breath just by having one finger trail around the scar; I whimpered when his mouth followed, making my cock jump in response, and bit my lip at the challenge in his eyes. The touch of his lips against that scar was like throwing down a gauntlet; daring me to take more, daring me to take everything. The expression in his eyes hinted that he wasn’t sure if I could. I met them stare for stare, answering the unspoken challenge with nothing more than a quirk of a smile and felt his lips curve in response against my skin. There was a small sound from Jack, not quite a moan, not quite a sob. He probably recognised the expression on my face; after all it was usually him on the receiving end. His hand was in my hair, dragging my face round toward his own so he could plunder my mouth hungrily. I moaned helplessly into the kiss as Methos nipped delicately at my wrist. Jack and I broke apart, panting and Methos obligingly stopped savaging my skin; I could tell I would have a bruise there to remind me of tonight, and found myself relishing that. For an infinite moment we sat; still, silent. The only sound was our laboured breathing, though I felt that they should have been able to hear the pounding of my heart and the desire singing through my blood. Jack stared at us both, one hand cupping my face, the other resting gently against Methos’ neck, who trembled slightly at the touch. His eyes drifted shut for a moment and he took a deep breath, expelling it in a rush. He removed his hands from us. I couldn’t believe how bereft that made me feel, despite the hot press of Methos’ fingers against my own. His hand returned to tilt my chin up so I was looking in his eyes, and he kissed me again, with tenderness rather than unbridled passion, brushing a thumb across my swollen lips.
“God, Ianto. You look good enough to eat.”
“Then why...” I trailed off, puzzled by the near imperceptible shake of his head and gentle smile on his face.
“Maybe later. Right now I...” He turned to meet Methos’ eyes, obviously asking a question I couldn’t perceive as he was given a slight nod in answer. He turned back to me. “Right now I want you to take what you need.” He reached behind him, searching for something. I was too busy drowning in the unfathomable expression in his eyes to pay much attention until he pressed the familiar weight of a bottle of lube into my hand. My eyes dropped to glance at the lube, then shifted to gaze at Methos with a hunger I couldn’t deny before returning to Jack, still questioning. He curled my fingers around the bottle. “What *you* need,” he reiterated, “All of it.” I darted another hungry glance at Methos, licked dry lips. “I’m not going anywhere.” Jack whispered, “I need this too.” He had my full attention then, as I searched his face for the true meaning of his words. I think I understood; we were usually so careful of each other, albeit not always physically, he had as much need to see me lose that as I needed to do it, even if it wasn’t with him. I lunged in for a quick but intense kiss before turning my attention solely to Methos. I put the lube to one side, I wasn’t ready for it *just* then; a bloody lie of course, my body was more than ready for me to dive straight in and fuck us both senseless, but *I* wanted more from Methos before I took that final step. I let the fingers of one hand trail down his face, brushing the contours of cheekbone and jaw.
“Anything I want.” I whispered, naked lust warring with god only knows what other emotions inside me. “Everything I need...” Methos captured my hand, holding it against his face.
“Think you can handle it?” His voice was pitched low, intense; full of promises and threats. I met his eyes.
“I can; can you?” Bit of a stupid bloody question to ask, I suppose. This was Methos: Methos, for fuck’s sake; the oldest living man on earth; Death. Of course he could handle a 20-something non-immortal Welsh guy. Pity my brain was unable to tell me this... I didn’t care about stupid; my lust, my need, my obsession had driven me way beyond sense and Jack’s burning presence only fuelled that internal fire. Methos just smiled up at me; predatory, challenging. I took possession of that smile and wiped it off his face with my lips and teeth and tongue. Battle was joined.