fic: Eight Hours 9/11 [NC-17] Highlander/Torchwood crossover
Author: A Lanart
Title: Eight Hours
Fandom: Torchwood/Highlander
Characters: Jack/Ianto/Methos
Rating: This part NC-17 for smut
Warnings/Spoilers: None/TW S1, KKBB and DW S3.
Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to Aunty Beeb. Methos belongs to Panzer/Davis productions
Summary: Temporal Displacement? Makes your tongue tingle...
A/N: Do you know how difficult it is to write when you can't bloody breathe properly? I don't recommend finding out either. Wanting to finish this fic before the end of tomorrow and not sure if the old body will co-operate. *grumble*
Previous parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
~*~
Ianto and Methos were still wrapped around him when he woke, though they’d settled themselves, and him, more comfortably in the bed. Judging by the fact that he wasn’t uncomfortably stuck to anyone they’d also cleaned him up. He smiled, shifting slightly; it felt good to have been looked after. A soft chuckle from behind him told him that Methos was awake; a quick glance in the other direction showed him that Ianto was still deeply asleep. He turned over as carefully as possible in order not to disturb Ianto and met the smile on Methos’ face with one of his own. Methos reached out to cup his cheek, and Jack turned into the caress to brush his lips against Methos’ skin.
“Do you realise I’ve never had the opportunity to watch you sleep before?” Methos murmured.
“Never?” Jack queried. He knew he didn’t sleep that much but he hadn’t realised he only slept when his lovers did.
“Not once; you’ve always been awake before me. I feel...” Methos leaned in to kiss him, “...privileged, I suppose. But at least you don’t manage to unnerve me like *he* does.” Jack turned his head to follow Methos’ glance. Ianto was smiling gently in his sleep; he looked so trusting, so vulnerable and so damn *young* that Jack had no trouble understanding what Methos meant.
“Sometimes he scares me too, Methos. I try not to think about it.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe we *both* should.” Methos had wriggled closer and his words were a whisper against Jack’s skin. Jack held him close and mumbled into his hair.
“Maybe. But not here, and not now. I just... I’m...” He trailed off; it was difficult to find the words to describe his current state of mind, and even more difficult to admit to feeling that way. He was sure Methos would understand without the words; he usually did.
“Too vulnerable?” The question was accompanied by the gentle stroke of fingers across his skin; soothing, reassuring and insistent. Jack captured the questing fingers in his hand, and raised them to his lips for a brief kiss.
“Too *raw* actually; but vulnerable kind of covers it.” Methos didn’t reply immediately, but the touch of his hands told Jack that he understood completely, and that it didn’t matter to him; he would still be around in 2 days, 2 years, or 2 centuries. Then the soft brush of skin on skin paused, and Methos squirmed even closer; his touch becoming suggestive rather than soothing making Jack realise that certain parts of him were very much awake.
“I can always kiss you better... if you want...” Methos whispered into Jack’s ear gently tracing the curve of it with the tip of his tongue, sending a shiver of pleasure through Jack in its wake.
“I want...” Jack gasped into Methos’ skin. As if he would have refused when Methos was doing *that* with his mouth, though he appreciated the thought behind technically giving him the option to say no. He turned his head to capture Methos’ lips.
Their kisses might have lacked the finesse and frenzied passion of earlier in the night but they were no less enthusiastic for all that and Jack found something reassuringly heart-warming in their sloppy inelegance. Like another piece to the puzzle, he found himself further grounded in the normal and mundane, or what passed for that in his life at least, separating him further from things that only he could remember. There was beauty and healing in the unhurried normalcy of their touches, a reaffirmation of the familiarity between them, of similarities that had gone too long unacknowledged in Jack’s absence. It was about acceptance and sharing and reconnecting with each other. Jack revelled in the slowly ascending spiral of desire Methos’ hands and mouth produced while finding a deep and quiet joy in the warm and sleepy weight of Ianto against his back. Jack came first, in and over Methos’ fist, smothering his cries by burying his teeth in the immortal’s neck and tipping him over the edge in the process. He smiled as he gently laved the bite, Methos’ pulse pounding beneath his lips as he shuddered through the last remnants of his own climax, it was the one reaction of his body that Methos seemed to have no control over whatsoever and Jack loved that. There were more soft kisses as they came back down until Jack felt himself drifting once more, only vaguely aware that Methos was cleaning them both up. He jerked back to panicky awareness when Methos moved away, only to be soothed by the touch of familiar fingers carding through his hair and Ianto’s soft breath against his shoulders.
“Sshh. It’s ok. Let yourself go. We’ll still be here in the morning.”
“You sure?” Jack muttered, more than half asleep but needing the reassurance. Methos’ lips and breath brushed his cheek.
“Completely and utterly certain. Now go back to sleep.” Jack found he needed no further urging; he felt good - sated and trustingly cradled in warmth and safety - and it was easy to obey a command that made so much sense. He surrendered to sleep once more, Methos and Ianto a comforting presence around him holding his darkness at bay.
Title: Eight Hours
Fandom: Torchwood/Highlander
Characters: Jack/Ianto/Methos
Rating: This part NC-17 for smut
Warnings/Spoilers: None/TW S1, KKBB and DW S3.
Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to Aunty Beeb. Methos belongs to Panzer/Davis productions
Summary: Temporal Displacement? Makes your tongue tingle...
A/N: Do you know how difficult it is to write when you can't bloody breathe properly? I don't recommend finding out either. Wanting to finish this fic before the end of tomorrow and not sure if the old body will co-operate. *grumble*
Previous parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
~*~
Ianto and Methos were still wrapped around him when he woke, though they’d settled themselves, and him, more comfortably in the bed. Judging by the fact that he wasn’t uncomfortably stuck to anyone they’d also cleaned him up. He smiled, shifting slightly; it felt good to have been looked after. A soft chuckle from behind him told him that Methos was awake; a quick glance in the other direction showed him that Ianto was still deeply asleep. He turned over as carefully as possible in order not to disturb Ianto and met the smile on Methos’ face with one of his own. Methos reached out to cup his cheek, and Jack turned into the caress to brush his lips against Methos’ skin.
“Do you realise I’ve never had the opportunity to watch you sleep before?” Methos murmured.
“Never?” Jack queried. He knew he didn’t sleep that much but he hadn’t realised he only slept when his lovers did.
“Not once; you’ve always been awake before me. I feel...” Methos leaned in to kiss him, “...privileged, I suppose. But at least you don’t manage to unnerve me like *he* does.” Jack turned his head to follow Methos’ glance. Ianto was smiling gently in his sleep; he looked so trusting, so vulnerable and so damn *young* that Jack had no trouble understanding what Methos meant.
“Sometimes he scares me too, Methos. I try not to think about it.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe we *both* should.” Methos had wriggled closer and his words were a whisper against Jack’s skin. Jack held him close and mumbled into his hair.
“Maybe. But not here, and not now. I just... I’m...” He trailed off; it was difficult to find the words to describe his current state of mind, and even more difficult to admit to feeling that way. He was sure Methos would understand without the words; he usually did.
“Too vulnerable?” The question was accompanied by the gentle stroke of fingers across his skin; soothing, reassuring and insistent. Jack captured the questing fingers in his hand, and raised them to his lips for a brief kiss.
“Too *raw* actually; but vulnerable kind of covers it.” Methos didn’t reply immediately, but the touch of his hands told Jack that he understood completely, and that it didn’t matter to him; he would still be around in 2 days, 2 years, or 2 centuries. Then the soft brush of skin on skin paused, and Methos squirmed even closer; his touch becoming suggestive rather than soothing making Jack realise that certain parts of him were very much awake.
“I can always kiss you better... if you want...” Methos whispered into Jack’s ear gently tracing the curve of it with the tip of his tongue, sending a shiver of pleasure through Jack in its wake.
“I want...” Jack gasped into Methos’ skin. As if he would have refused when Methos was doing *that* with his mouth, though he appreciated the thought behind technically giving him the option to say no. He turned his head to capture Methos’ lips.
Their kisses might have lacked the finesse and frenzied passion of earlier in the night but they were no less enthusiastic for all that and Jack found something reassuringly heart-warming in their sloppy inelegance. Like another piece to the puzzle, he found himself further grounded in the normal and mundane, or what passed for that in his life at least, separating him further from things that only he could remember. There was beauty and healing in the unhurried normalcy of their touches, a reaffirmation of the familiarity between them, of similarities that had gone too long unacknowledged in Jack’s absence. It was about acceptance and sharing and reconnecting with each other. Jack revelled in the slowly ascending spiral of desire Methos’ hands and mouth produced while finding a deep and quiet joy in the warm and sleepy weight of Ianto against his back. Jack came first, in and over Methos’ fist, smothering his cries by burying his teeth in the immortal’s neck and tipping him over the edge in the process. He smiled as he gently laved the bite, Methos’ pulse pounding beneath his lips as he shuddered through the last remnants of his own climax, it was the one reaction of his body that Methos seemed to have no control over whatsoever and Jack loved that. There were more soft kisses as they came back down until Jack felt himself drifting once more, only vaguely aware that Methos was cleaning them both up. He jerked back to panicky awareness when Methos moved away, only to be soothed by the touch of familiar fingers carding through his hair and Ianto’s soft breath against his shoulders.
“Sshh. It’s ok. Let yourself go. We’ll still be here in the morning.”
“You sure?” Jack muttered, more than half asleep but needing the reassurance. Methos’ lips and breath brushed his cheek.
“Completely and utterly certain. Now go back to sleep.” Jack found he needed no further urging; he felt good - sated and trustingly cradled in warmth and safety - and it was easy to obey a command that made so much sense. He surrendered to sleep once more, Methos and Ianto a comforting presence around him holding his darkness at bay.