Fic: Four ways 4/4
Title: Four ways 4/4
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Tosh/Ianto/Gwen/Owen, not necessarily in that order.
Summary: One slip and whoops, there's alien sex pheromone all over the floor. And four dozing Torchwood agents.
Note: I had intended this to be the last past, but as it went a slightly different way than I thought it would, there might have to be an epilogue. *shrugs*. Comments are love, and heartfelt thanks to everyone who has been providing them. Now, onto part 4, in which I try to write het...
Part Four: Ianto Jones
I was loved. Ianto Jones told himself this patiently while he held onto Tosh, over and over again. Once, I was loved.
He knew it was true. Lisa had loved him. Before the battle at Canary Wharf, when everything had been good and bright. He'd had a life and a future. Once.
Not so long ago, it had been too painful to remember any of that. He'd allowed Jack to replace Lisa in his thoughts because it was easier and offered a way he could keep on living without too much weight on his chest. It had been a mistake. He'd paid. In agony and loneliness and self-hatred.
Not that he hadn't learned from Jack's advice. Ianto Jones had learned to let go. All the mess of guilt and need and humiliation that was what remained after Jack left them behind- Ianto wrapped it neatly up and put it down, turned his back on it. There was only one place left to go: Lisa. There was guilt there too, but it was simple to deal with that, because he'd given all he could for her. The shame and regret he felt was much less than the soul-destroying agony it would have been if he'd abandoned her. People had died because Ianto had done what he had to do. He could live with that, maybe, if he tried. Just.
Right now, Tosh was asleep on him, which was touching, really. It was nice that she trusted him and felt safe enough to do that. Of course, she didn't want him. She wanted a woman more, and it was obvious, but Ianto didn't really mind. The need to be needed usually ruled Ianto's life with an iron fist, but it was okay now. There was a solution.
The woman on top of him sighed. Ianto allowed himself to enjoy the feel of a woman under his hands for a moment. Tosh was totally right to want it. He breathed deeply too, taking in the scent of Tosh's shampoo, her sweat and the lovely smell of sex. And the sweet acid boiled lolly scent of orange flavoured condoms, so much better than regular lube and latex. Very much worth it even if you didn't get the treatment Gwen had received earlier.
He rested his cheek against Tosh's hair. In the same way, he'd let himself touch his face to her neck and run his nose along the soft skin under her jaw. What he'd really have liked to do was bury his face between her breasts and stay there, but Tosh was a small woman, and even when he'd picked her up he couldn't reach without pushing her away. Still, it didn't matter. Ianto had memories, and Lisa had been tall.
Tomorrow he'd buy a rose and leave it on her desk- Tosh's, that was. Not a red one, maybe white would be best, or yellow, and Owen would be a cock about it, but Tosh might smile. She'd understand that it was a thankyou, even if she didn't have the reason quite right. The sex had been nice, certainly, very satisfying and calming, but it was the reminder Ianto wanted to say thanks for.
Lisa. Lisa, warm and wet and wanting to bring him all the way inside her. Heat and salt and slickness and being held in that. That was it, the perfect memory of her needing him deep right there, now, with her legs wrapped around him so tight and her fingernails, fuck, he'd forgotten how incredible it was to have sharp nails dig into you because someone just had to have you closer and harder.
It was a world away from Owen's greedy grabbing hands. He wasn't sorry about their little rough-and-tumble, though. At the very least, it had helped him last longer for Tosh, and to focus on her instead of his own needs. That was a good thing. And, really, seeing Owen naked was a huge relief. Not because he'd wanted Owen in particular, in any way. Ianto didn't understand Gwen's attraction to the man at all. He was a complete dickhead in every way that counted, and in Ianto's book that did not make him sexy. It made him a dickhead.
But God, the relief. After Jack- flawless, perfect Jack- it was a rush of clean cool sanity to see that normal men had uneven stubble and unruly body hair and- yes! the occasional pimple. Oh, thank Christ for that. Just to see the plain fact was far better than the second-rate orgasm Owen's careless pumping had given him. Ianto could have wept with relief. He wasn't ugly, or at least, no uglier than other regular, everyday people. Real people were flawed, it was alright. He was alright. Not special, but alright.
It helped. He could put the comparison between himself and beautiful Jack in the desk drawer with the stopwatch and other things that didn't signify anything any more. Whatever the sharp stabbing pain meant, it wasn't important.
Right now, he could hold Tosh and let her sleep, and even enjoy the warmth of Owen's body pressed against his. In a little while, when they woke up- which might be a while in Gwen's case, by the perplexed look on her face she was dreaming- he'd move without regret, and let them all go. And he'd go home and shower them off his skin. No shame and no malice, no anger there. He'd wash their smell of his skin and take one of Lisa's t-shirts out of the wardrobe. Technically they belonged to Torchwood, but Jack had never asked and as far as the London office was concerned they were in a storage locker with the rest of her belongings. A loose t-shirt could be used just like a pillowcase, Ianto knew, and he could go to sleep with Lisa's scent around him. If he chose the old dark blue one, it would be like the time he'd fallen asleep with his head on her chest in the dappled summer sun of Hyde Park, back when summers still existed.
Maybe, because the alien sex pheromone hadn't completely worn off and two orgasms didn't seem like enough for one day, he be able to remember Lisa properly again. It could be that he'd be able to forget the cold metal and all the blood at the end for a little while. He try to let go of that along with the months of Lisa's unrelenting pain and his own terrible powerlessness.
He'd been loved. If he tried hard enough he could remember and go back there to lay his head on her thigh- she hated her thighs, said they were chubby, but Ianto loved everything about them. The warmth and the feel of them and how could anything be so soft in this world. He'd rest there, kneeling between her legs. She was sitting on the bed completely relaxed but for a subtle sense of anticipation. Waiting for him. Knowing what was coming and thrilled just by that alone. Ianto would take his time, because he loved her so much and she was perfect. This was perfect. He was safe.
He could still be safe. All he had to do was let go, but not of Lisa. Everything else could just drift away, because everything else hurt, or would inevitably hurt in the end. He'd be lonely, yes, and there was an element of the pathetic in his choice that Ianto couldn't deny- a stronger man would want to heal- but it was alright. Grief was a safe place, and he could stay there if he wanted to.
Tomorrow he'd buy Tosh a white rose and Gwen a yellow one, and a bright pink gerbera daisy for Owen. He'd make the coffee and clean up the shit and sign Jack's name on a whole stack of papers and maybe even put some energy into avoiding the weevil claws when they grabbed for him, because once, he'd been loved.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Tosh/Ianto/Gwen/Owen, not necessarily in that order.
Summary: One slip and whoops, there's alien sex pheromone all over the floor. And four dozing Torchwood agents.
Note: I had intended this to be the last past, but as it went a slightly different way than I thought it would, there might have to be an epilogue. *shrugs*. Comments are love, and heartfelt thanks to everyone who has been providing them. Now, onto part 4, in which I try to write het...
Part Four: Ianto Jones
I was loved. Ianto Jones told himself this patiently while he held onto Tosh, over and over again. Once, I was loved.
He knew it was true. Lisa had loved him. Before the battle at Canary Wharf, when everything had been good and bright. He'd had a life and a future. Once.
Not so long ago, it had been too painful to remember any of that. He'd allowed Jack to replace Lisa in his thoughts because it was easier and offered a way he could keep on living without too much weight on his chest. It had been a mistake. He'd paid. In agony and loneliness and self-hatred.
Not that he hadn't learned from Jack's advice. Ianto Jones had learned to let go. All the mess of guilt and need and humiliation that was what remained after Jack left them behind- Ianto wrapped it neatly up and put it down, turned his back on it. There was only one place left to go: Lisa. There was guilt there too, but it was simple to deal with that, because he'd given all he could for her. The shame and regret he felt was much less than the soul-destroying agony it would have been if he'd abandoned her. People had died because Ianto had done what he had to do. He could live with that, maybe, if he tried. Just.
Right now, Tosh was asleep on him, which was touching, really. It was nice that she trusted him and felt safe enough to do that. Of course, she didn't want him. She wanted a woman more, and it was obvious, but Ianto didn't really mind. The need to be needed usually ruled Ianto's life with an iron fist, but it was okay now. There was a solution.
The woman on top of him sighed. Ianto allowed himself to enjoy the feel of a woman under his hands for a moment. Tosh was totally right to want it. He breathed deeply too, taking in the scent of Tosh's shampoo, her sweat and the lovely smell of sex. And the sweet acid boiled lolly scent of orange flavoured condoms, so much better than regular lube and latex. Very much worth it even if you didn't get the treatment Gwen had received earlier.
He rested his cheek against Tosh's hair. In the same way, he'd let himself touch his face to her neck and run his nose along the soft skin under her jaw. What he'd really have liked to do was bury his face between her breasts and stay there, but Tosh was a small woman, and even when he'd picked her up he couldn't reach without pushing her away. Still, it didn't matter. Ianto had memories, and Lisa had been tall.
Tomorrow he'd buy a rose and leave it on her desk- Tosh's, that was. Not a red one, maybe white would be best, or yellow, and Owen would be a cock about it, but Tosh might smile. She'd understand that it was a thankyou, even if she didn't have the reason quite right. The sex had been nice, certainly, very satisfying and calming, but it was the reminder Ianto wanted to say thanks for.
Lisa. Lisa, warm and wet and wanting to bring him all the way inside her. Heat and salt and slickness and being held in that. That was it, the perfect memory of her needing him deep right there, now, with her legs wrapped around him so tight and her fingernails, fuck, he'd forgotten how incredible it was to have sharp nails dig into you because someone just had to have you closer and harder.
It was a world away from Owen's greedy grabbing hands. He wasn't sorry about their little rough-and-tumble, though. At the very least, it had helped him last longer for Tosh, and to focus on her instead of his own needs. That was a good thing. And, really, seeing Owen naked was a huge relief. Not because he'd wanted Owen in particular, in any way. Ianto didn't understand Gwen's attraction to the man at all. He was a complete dickhead in every way that counted, and in Ianto's book that did not make him sexy. It made him a dickhead.
But God, the relief. After Jack- flawless, perfect Jack- it was a rush of clean cool sanity to see that normal men had uneven stubble and unruly body hair and- yes! the occasional pimple. Oh, thank Christ for that. Just to see the plain fact was far better than the second-rate orgasm Owen's careless pumping had given him. Ianto could have wept with relief. He wasn't ugly, or at least, no uglier than other regular, everyday people. Real people were flawed, it was alright. He was alright. Not special, but alright.
It helped. He could put the comparison between himself and beautiful Jack in the desk drawer with the stopwatch and other things that didn't signify anything any more. Whatever the sharp stabbing pain meant, it wasn't important.
Right now, he could hold Tosh and let her sleep, and even enjoy the warmth of Owen's body pressed against his. In a little while, when they woke up- which might be a while in Gwen's case, by the perplexed look on her face she was dreaming- he'd move without regret, and let them all go. And he'd go home and shower them off his skin. No shame and no malice, no anger there. He'd wash their smell of his skin and take one of Lisa's t-shirts out of the wardrobe. Technically they belonged to Torchwood, but Jack had never asked and as far as the London office was concerned they were in a storage locker with the rest of her belongings. A loose t-shirt could be used just like a pillowcase, Ianto knew, and he could go to sleep with Lisa's scent around him. If he chose the old dark blue one, it would be like the time he'd fallen asleep with his head on her chest in the dappled summer sun of Hyde Park, back when summers still existed.
Maybe, because the alien sex pheromone hadn't completely worn off and two orgasms didn't seem like enough for one day, he be able to remember Lisa properly again. It could be that he'd be able to forget the cold metal and all the blood at the end for a little while. He try to let go of that along with the months of Lisa's unrelenting pain and his own terrible powerlessness.
He'd been loved. If he tried hard enough he could remember and go back there to lay his head on her thigh- she hated her thighs, said they were chubby, but Ianto loved everything about them. The warmth and the feel of them and how could anything be so soft in this world. He'd rest there, kneeling between her legs. She was sitting on the bed completely relaxed but for a subtle sense of anticipation. Waiting for him. Knowing what was coming and thrilled just by that alone. Ianto would take his time, because he loved her so much and she was perfect. This was perfect. He was safe.
He could still be safe. All he had to do was let go, but not of Lisa. Everything else could just drift away, because everything else hurt, or would inevitably hurt in the end. He'd be lonely, yes, and there was an element of the pathetic in his choice that Ianto couldn't deny- a stronger man would want to heal- but it was alright. Grief was a safe place, and he could stay there if he wanted to.
Tomorrow he'd buy Tosh a white rose and Gwen a yellow one, and a bright pink gerbera daisy for Owen. He'd make the coffee and clean up the shit and sign Jack's name on a whole stack of papers and maybe even put some energy into avoiding the weevil claws when they grabbed for him, because once, he'd been loved.