Wonderful Life
FESTIVE TITLE BITCHES YO: Wonderful Life
RECIPIENT WHO HAD BETTER BE GRATEFUL BECAUSE I SPENT TIME THAT I COULD HAVE BEEN DRINKING WRITING THIS SHIT: 51stcenturyfox
SUMMARY: No one, anywhere, was dead of alien technology tonight.
BETA: DEFINITELY NOT FOXY - uh, no, definitely not.
RATING: NAUGHTY
WARNING: IMMA REALLY CRAP WRITER AND YOU'RE ALL MUCH BETTER THAN ME
SPOILERS: JESUS PEOPLE IT'S JUST ABOUT THE TORCHWOOD TEAM DRINKING EGGNOG
DISCLAIMER: THEY'RE NOT MINE. EXCEPT WHEN THEY ARE. IN MAH PANTS.
It could have been a total cock-up, and with two years of Torchwood behind her, Gwen had pretty much been expecting that. With just the three of them now, too little, too late had become the norm. But, at the end of the night, they were sitting in a grimy little pub, underneath glitter covered plastic mistletoe, and Gwen hadn't drawn her gun once. A little army of shot glasses were assembled on the table while Jack described an ambush - or was it a con? - from 1868 with slightly slurred relish and Gwen had her hand clenched tight around the Chelean id-manifestation device (therapeutic, Jack swore) they'd been chasing for the last eighteen hours. She'd bought it off a teenage girl with fifty quid and a kiss. The girl's mouth had tasted pleasantly of beer, or maybe that had been her own; Gwen felt flushed and light. Jack was a bit drunk and even Ianto looked relaxed. And no one, anywhere, was dead of alien technology tonight.
"It's a win," Ianto said to his glass of cheap house vodka, with a bit of wonder in his voice. Gwen watched him finish the last of his drink; the secretive bob of his throat just above the knot of his tie (a little loser now, this late), and the way he closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the their unusual moment of triumph.
Gwen was working on what she knew had to be her last glass of porter, the sort of stand-a-spoon-in-it porter coalmen used to have instead of breakfast before heading to the mines to work for eighteen hours in smothering darkness. Ianto was polishing off his glass, letting secrets slip with every swallow, like the way Gwen could hear his posh accent slip, when he was tired, or terrified. She'd been a copper and she'd lived in Wales all her life, by now she could place Ianto's family nearly to the block. It was his secret and it was hers. Maybe it was Jack's secret too and the real secret was that everyone knew.
Jack, of course, was drinking very expensive whisky. The amber warmth of it, peaty and rich, suited him, Gwen decided in a moment of alcohol induced introspection. With all the blood he'd shed all over Wales and the centuries he'd spent breathing its earth, he should be a whisky man. They'd been drinking most of the night, on Jack's orders. Supposedly, alcohol interfered with the device and so they'd dutifully bellied up to the bar in pub after pub as they searched for it. They'd been toeing that wavering line between drink stupid and functional most of the night and Gwen was pretty sure they were all still on the right side of it.
Jack's nose was very pink and he had his index finger pressed to the bottom of an upturned shot glass, nodding solemnly at it. "So here's, Adler and he's standing on the ammo dump taking the last piss of his life - I hope it was a good one - "
"That's enough, Jack, yeah?" Gwen reached out and laced her fingers with his, tugging them away from the glasses and the bottle. Ianto had told her once that, according to the archives, Jack had been a raging drunk for something like twenty years. They never teased him about the water he drank, when they went to pubs together (used to, they never had time anymore). Jack sprawled back, smiling at the ceiling and reaching across the table to wrap his fingers around Ianto's wrist. Ianto blinked bemusedly down at the touch.
"Look!" Jack straightened up, making Gwen twitch towards her gun but he just tugged on he hand and leaned in against her shoulder, breathing warm and redolent against her cheek. "Mistletoe!" Jack's grin widened, displaying all those perfect teeth to best effect. "Time for some of that holiday tradition."
"It's plastic," Ianto pointed out. "And just as well, since mistletoe is deadly toxic - "
"I can have a real kiss though," Jack said, the curve of his mouth and the tone of his voice softening to something like yearning as he held Gwen's gaze. He was still holding Gwen's hand and Ianto's too. "For the season."
"You can't stand Christmas," Gwen murmured, nose to nose with Jack and swimming in the blue of his eyes. She was married, Jack was ... dabbling in a passive aggressive two step with Ianto she didn't even try and understand anymore, and that old longing in Gwen's belly sparked to life as if it had never gone. It was overlain by friendship now, and memories and choices made, but still burned warm and steady somewhere between her heart and her pussy.
"No, I can't," Jack said as softly. "How about a kiss for victory instead? Everyone ..." his voice deepened, as if every word he spoke meant something, " ... lived."
Gwen didn't want to know what story was behind those words, not when most of Jack's stories - the true ones - were tragedies. Instead, she leaned that last inch in and kissed Jack gently - one for victory. She felt the tremor in him, as he sighed against her mouth and didn't turn the kiss raunchy like she expected, just touched the tip of his tongue to her lips as if all he wanted was to taste the beer on her mouth. The very gentleness of it made Gwen ache to devour him right now, on the sticky pub table. Instead, she leaned back, casting one worried glance to Ianto. He was watching them both, lips parted and with a dark-eyed flush that Gwen couldn't possibly mistake as anything but pole-axed lust.
"Maybe we're a little too drunk," Gwen offered and watched Ianto visibly collect himself with a pang of regret. Maybe it was sitting so close to Jack and his opportunistic desire but Gwen found herself wondering what Ianto would be like, all undone. No tie, no waistcoat ... no clothes at all.
"We are drunk," Ianto agreed and was the first to manage standing. He pulled on Jack's arm and Gwen pushed, until they'd gotten their Captain standing, bright eyed and very pleased with himself.
"A cheap drunk is a fun drunk," Jack listed one way, then the other, as they made their way thought the forest of tables and chairs. "I think we're just relaxed for the first time in ... a long time. Old soldiers. We're," he sighed and for a moment the tipsy cheer faded, "all old soldiers now."
Outside the unseasonable - but not alien - cold made Gwen's breath smoke and Ianto pull in on himself, shivering visibly. Jack drew him against the heavy folds of his coat without even looking and it made Gwen bite her lip at the tenderness of the gesture. Old soldiers, she thought, Ianto wasn't even thirty and none of them, one way or another, were ever gong to grow old.
"Home again, home again," Jack said wistfully, resting his cheek against her hair as he drew her into his warmth as well. He took two steps that aimed them all towards a slush filled rut beside the road and when Gwen slid an arm around his back to steady him, she met Ianto's doing the same thing. He wasn't even thirty, she thought again, and tightened her fingers on his.
"Come home with us," Ianto blurted, looking as startled as Gwen felt. But he didn't stammer out an excuse or apology when Gwen leaned around Jack to stare at him.
"With you?" she asked. "With you?"
"I'm not actually from the 1950's," Ianto complained, "I just dress like it."
"You're not from the 51st either," Gwen glanced up at Jack who was motionless between them, arms around them both and strangely without a quip, or a joke or even a leer when Gwen looked up to his face. "And neither am I."
"It's not for Jack. Not just for Jack," Ianto amended. "You're my ... we are ...."
Best mate, Gwen silently supplied the words Ianto couldn't say, closest friends, bound together by blood and fear and courage and so much more. She'd had her hands in Ianto's guts, last month, trying to hold him together and never told Jack that he'd cried while she fought for his life, terrified to die. Last week, Ianto had stepped in front of a Nixi blast with nothing but a bit of Tosh's theory pinned to his jacket, to save her life. Old soldiers, she thought again, yes. Tonight they had a bit of victory in their hands and Gwen wanted to hang onto it a little longer.
"Yeah," she said, the decision leaving her strangely light, as if she'd been waiting a long time for the chance to say 'yes'. "Yeah, okay." She glanced up at Jack who was showing so much tact that Gwen wondered if he was drunk at all but then he shuffled a little, swaying, and somehow the three of them were just that much closer together. That was Jack. Gwen rolled her eyes at his supposedly subtle machinations as Ianto snickered. "He's too pretty when he's drunk."
"Hey," Jack protested, "I'm always pretty. And witty - "
"No, Jack, no musicals," Ianto groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Just no."
"And bright ...!" Gwen sang, laughing as Ianto groaned again.
Jack, despite the sway in his step, did a fancy two step that would have put Maria to shame, finishing the chorus in his lovely baritone. Then he turned back to hold out both hands and take them home.
She spared only a brief thought for Rhys, and no guilt weighed her down. Gwen couldn't promise him a lifetime, a family, not even tomorrow, not when Torchwood could steal her life away in a single night, but she'd promised him one thing. As long as she could, however far she wandered, she'd always come home to him. At the end of it all, that was what Gwen gave Rhys and no one else, and at the end of it all, that was the one thing Rhys wanted.
Jack yelling Torchwood at the cabbie didn't help matters much and Ianto stayed behind with a tip while Gwen elbowed Jack out of the seat and towards the apartment building. She discovered Jack had keys to Ianto's apartment and she felt another moment of slightly tipsy glee. They were in a relationship … of some kind. Some kind where they invited her back for … for … well, something that never showed up in Miss Manners advice columns that was for sure.
"I should start up on Dan Savage, shouldn't I?"
Jack just gave her a blank look and Ianto chuckled behind her. "He still doesn't make any sense," he said, nodding at Jack. "Half the time."
"This from the culture that invented the Snuggie," Jack said, throwing his coat on Ianto's grey pinstriped couch, then sprawling on top of it with a grin. Gwen fidgeted. Jack waggled his eyebrows. Gwen rolled her eyes, fighting back a grin. Jack patted the couch next to him with a leer.
"If you insist," she said primly and sat. She had no idea what she was doing but that was her life, the last couple of years, and there was something about that first step beyond everything she knew and understood … something tempting, like Jack was tempting, like the first look at an alien was tempting, like every star in a sky full of life was tempting. That first step, so long ago, and Jack had smiled just like that then too and held out his hand. All she had to was take it.
Gwen reached out. Jack met her halfway.
This was it, she thought with a little rush of nerves and desire that reminded her ridiculously of university and the first boy she'd invited to her student flat. But Jack's warm hands weren't a uni boy's sweaty, nervous grab. He cradled her face in his palms, stroking her temples with his thumbs and kissed her slowly.
"Oh," Gwen breathed, leaning against his shoulder. Just one kiss and "- oh."
"A century of dedicated study," Jack said smugly and Gwen clenched her hands on his shirts and kissed him again, because kisses were better than listening to his bad jokes. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, drawing her hair up, biting her lip gently then soothing it with a warm stroke of his tongue. Jack kissed like he had forever, lingering, slow and sweet, and Gwen could do this all night; the press and give and tease and satisfaction of his mouth on hers. The rock of the couch behind her made Gwen break free with a gasp. Ianto.
"Ianto," Jack hummed, bringing Gwen's forehead to rest on his shoulder.
"Yes, sir," Ianto's voice was softy and blurry and Gwen swallowed back a wide-eyed groan at the sir. Suddenly every day at work with him had a whole different meaning.
Behind her, Ianto leaned closer, brushing against her back and Gwen shivered, then closed her eyes with another little gasp as she felt Ianto's mouth press warm to the bared nape of her neck. Jack kissed her again, and Ianto, each of them a point of warmth and wetness and Gwen squirmed between them, breath catching in little points of pleasure. Jack's mouth stopped being quite so polite.
It was Ianto who slid his hands under her jumper, up to cradle her breasts in his hands, pressed close by Jack's chest. The pinch of his fingers made Gwen arch and she let him pull her back until she rested against him. She could feel Ianto's heart beating against her back in a steady rhythm.
She opened her eyes to see Jack watching her - watching them - as Ianto's hands moved under her jumper, stroking over her hardening nipples. The tilt of Jack's mouth was what she expected, an unrepentant leer, but the look in his eyes was more complicated; honest and tender and strangely distant. It made Gwen aware for a moment of how different Jack was from them; old and ageless and eternal. More alien than some of the aliens they met.
Ianto bit her neck, kissed her ear with a wet stroke of tongue. "Don't think," he whispered. "Don't think, Gwen."
Gwen shivered and shifted her knee, spreading her legs as she arched back against Ianto's body and watched the desire settle on Jack's face, chasing away the strangeness. There was something amazing about watching Jack want her so. It was almost, but not quite, as good as wanting him back.
"Take off your clothes," Gwen told Jack, cupping her hands over Ianto's to encourage him on.
"Thought you'd never ask," Jack replied, hands already in motion. She had to laugh at the speed. Jack grinned at her. "Plenty of practice."
"Did you time that?"
Ianto stiffened behind her and Gwen gave a startled crow. "You did, didn't you? Pervs, the both of you!"
"We'd better give you a hand," Jack murmured, sliding a hand up her thigh, "since you've not got our expertise."
Gwen stretched out in the luxury of allowing two eager men strip her and took her first kiss from Ianto's mouth while Jack was tugging her jeans down her legs. Ianto traced the edges of her bra, then stroked his fingers over the fabric, lifting her breasts in his hands while Jack's chin dug into her thigh and he watched them both. The feeling of being displayed, shown off, made Gwen squirm, a hot little ache sweeping up from her pussy. When Jack nuzzled closer with a groan of his own, Gwen spread her legs, looking down - past Ianto's shifting, sweet touch - to where Jack had his nose pressed to her knickers. Was he smelling her? Gwen wiggled, flushing, but no ... no, he was sucking at her, his tongue pushing against her pussy through the fabric and she was wet and he was wet and her knickers were suddenly paper thin and in maddeningly the way. Gwen had her hands in Jack's hair without thinking and she arched, pushing against him. Jack cupped his hands against her arse and lifted her closer with a pleased hum she could feel all the way through her.
"He can take them off with his teeth," Ianto said, sounding almost (not quite and Gwen delighted in the breathlessness) conversational. He was watching Jack bite at her gently. And then Jack did.
The sight of Jack, naked, with her knickers in his teeth was going to stay with Gwen for a long time and then there was only Ianto left, prim and proper, still in his tie. Gwen remembered, again, how she'd wanted to see him unbuttoned.
"Oh, that's not right," Gwen pulled Ianto in by his tie and kissed him again. The silk under her hand was slippery and drew her up to his throat and the pulse that raced there. His kisses were less polished than Jack's but he made these wonderful, eager, noises and he couldn't seem to keep his hands from her breasts, tracing lines down her belly and back again. She'd watched those long fingers file paperwork and make coffee and shoot things and now she knew he was careful and clever in the way he touched her. The brush of calluses on her nipples made her bite his lip and Ianto's mouth went open and needy and wet all of a sudden and he arched as if begging. It made Gwen wonder, in a hot rush, if Lisa had ever made him get on his knees. She had no doubt Jack did.
Gwen didn't let the warm slide of Jack's tongue up her spine distract her from Ianto's pants. Ianto hung onto her shoulders, flingers flexing, as she eased him free and discovered one reason why Jack liked him so much.
"Quite a sight, isn't he?" Jack murmured, hands sliding lazily around her waist and dipping towards her pussy.
"Oh, god," Ianto groaned, pressing his face to Gwen's hair, a blush burning bright across his face. "Please, no commentary."
"I want to see," Jack was speaking very carefully, as if trying out a new language, "Ianto fuck you. With that beautiful cock."
Gwen sucked in a breath and stroked the cock in question, feeling Ianto shiver and twitch in her grip. He was all the way hard, foreskin drawn back to bare the red crown of his cock, Gwen stroked a bit of wetness down the length to the nest of dark pubic hair and the hang of Ianto's balls. Jack's cock was nudging the small of her back, leaving little damp spots. Each nudge made Gwen shiver a little, aching for a touch between her legs, inside her. Jack's fingers were sliding in her pubic hair now and lower, to where she was slick and wet, touching her clit for the first time. It was like electricity, that touch, and Gwen arched between them, pushing against Jack's fingers, muscles clenching down inside.
"Yeahh," Jack sighed, drawing his fingers up then down, slipping inside, holding her steady as Gwen jerked, hips rocking. "He'll make you feel great, Gwen. Promise. I know how good Ianto can be."
"Oh, oh, god -" Gwen shuddered, imagining Ianto riding Jack, his legs spread, that cheerful, overconfident smugness lost as he writhed and moaned and Ianto sweated and drove in and - "somebody fuck me already."
Ianto bent to tongue at her breasts, biting gently at a nipple as his fingers joined Jack's, both of them pushing into her until she felt sweetly stretched and full. Wanting more, she tugged at Ianto's trousers until he got the idea and skimmed out of them. There were too many hands, for a moment, as Ianto eased into a condom and Jack tried to help him, until they had to open a second package while Gwen ran a teasing fingertip along Ianto's ear.
This time it was Ianto against her chest, kissing her, and Jack at her back, pressing open mouthed bites along her shoulders, still two fingers deep inside her. Getting her ready for Ianto, she thought and scratched down Ianto's side to grip his hips and pull him closer. She was ready, oh, she was so ready. Ianto scrambled closer and Jack was tight to her back and the two of them were kissing over her shoulder, breathing heavily while Gwen panted for breath.
The hair on Ianto's chest scratched lightly against her skin, and the heat of their bodies so close left Gwen breathless and burning. There were aliens in the sewers, a time traveler panting against her neck and she was about to have Ianto's unexpected, spectacular, cock inside her. This was Gwen's life and she clutched at Ianto's shoulders and groaned, laughing, and lifted her hips. Jack arched holding her up.
Gwen cupped her hands against Ianto's face so she could watch sweep of pleasure across Ianto's face as he pushed close, closer and inside her. Gwen couldn't hold back her cry, the ache felt so good, and she didn't try. Jack breathed out sharply behind her, as if he felt it too, Ianto pushing in.
"Gwen," Ianto breathed, flushed and tumbled and as beautiful as she'd imagined, undone, and watching her watch him. "Gwen ... oh, so good."
She wondered if he was his first woman since Lisa, would never ask, but the thought made her hips go supple, her heart ache, and she rolled up to meet the length of him. Ianto thrust with a groan.
Jack rocked against Gwen's back and it was like the most glorious ride in the world as the two of them rocked her between them. They had her well in hand and all she had to was enjoy it all. They kissed, Jack and Ianto, Gwen and Ianto, Jack and Gwen, and every time Gwen tightened around Ianto, he thrust deep and Jack groaned. Jack's heart beat hard and rapid against Gwen's back and Ianto's cock throbbed inside her and she clutched at them both. She couldn't hold still, straining up to take Ianto deep, arching and pushing against Jack, twisting her head to kiss his chin, his mouth, anything she could reach. Ianto's arms were around her waist and she could see Jack's hard grip on Ianto's biceps - pulling him closer - as he thrust against her back, his cock pressed tight to her sweat slick skin.
Someone's hand - Jack's - slid down Gwen's shivering belly, working down to where Ianto stretched her open. Jack pressed there, on her clit, kindling a fierce, anticipatory heat as she clenched down on Ianto's moving cock, the feel of him, thrusting, and Jack's hand working her in steady counterpoint was bringing Gwen up, turning the dull throb inside sharper and sharper.
"-fuck, fuck, fuck - "Ianto was cursing, mouth moving against her throat, driving faster, and Jack was whispering in her ear, breathless and wicked.
"That's right, my beautiful girl -" he said and Gwen came with a wail.
Ianto jerked, thrusting hard up, making Gwen yell as she climaxed hard around the solid length of his cock. He thrust again, twice more, clumsy now and Gwen held him tight as she felt his breath hitch and his body shudder when Ianto came, cock twitching inside her. She would have worried about Jack, not that she could really worry about anything, really, but she could feel come sliding down her back where he was pressed close and trembling.
Gwen cupped her hand at the nape of Ianto's neck and met Jack's hand. She laced her fingers with his. Their breathing slowed, in tandem.
"My knees," Ianto whispered, breathless and regretful a few minutes later. Jack leaned back with a sigh, letting a draft of chilly air hit Gwen's back and she shuddered.
It could have been awkward; arms and legs everywhere and they'd never even made it to Ianto's bed but Jack spread his coat across the floor and held out both hands for them.
Gwen worked in a top secret base, a man who'd nearly destroyed the world for love made her coffee every morning and they all hunted aliens for a living. She took Jack's hand and Ianto took the other. This was her life.
END
RECIPIENT WHO HAD BETTER BE GRATEFUL BECAUSE I SPENT TIME THAT I COULD HAVE BEEN DRINKING WRITING THIS SHIT: 51stcenturyfox
SUMMARY: No one, anywhere, was dead of alien technology tonight.
BETA: DEFINITELY NOT FOXY - uh, no, definitely not.
RATING: NAUGHTY
WARNING: IMMA REALLY CRAP WRITER AND YOU'RE ALL MUCH BETTER THAN ME
SPOILERS: JESUS PEOPLE IT'S JUST ABOUT THE TORCHWOOD TEAM DRINKING EGGNOG
DISCLAIMER: THEY'RE NOT MINE. EXCEPT WHEN THEY ARE. IN MAH PANTS.
It could have been a total cock-up, and with two years of Torchwood behind her, Gwen had pretty much been expecting that. With just the three of them now, too little, too late had become the norm. But, at the end of the night, they were sitting in a grimy little pub, underneath glitter covered plastic mistletoe, and Gwen hadn't drawn her gun once. A little army of shot glasses were assembled on the table while Jack described an ambush - or was it a con? - from 1868 with slightly slurred relish and Gwen had her hand clenched tight around the Chelean id-manifestation device (therapeutic, Jack swore) they'd been chasing for the last eighteen hours. She'd bought it off a teenage girl with fifty quid and a kiss. The girl's mouth had tasted pleasantly of beer, or maybe that had been her own; Gwen felt flushed and light. Jack was a bit drunk and even Ianto looked relaxed. And no one, anywhere, was dead of alien technology tonight.
"It's a win," Ianto said to his glass of cheap house vodka, with a bit of wonder in his voice. Gwen watched him finish the last of his drink; the secretive bob of his throat just above the knot of his tie (a little loser now, this late), and the way he closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the their unusual moment of triumph.
Gwen was working on what she knew had to be her last glass of porter, the sort of stand-a-spoon-in-it porter coalmen used to have instead of breakfast before heading to the mines to work for eighteen hours in smothering darkness. Ianto was polishing off his glass, letting secrets slip with every swallow, like the way Gwen could hear his posh accent slip, when he was tired, or terrified. She'd been a copper and she'd lived in Wales all her life, by now she could place Ianto's family nearly to the block. It was his secret and it was hers. Maybe it was Jack's secret too and the real secret was that everyone knew.
Jack, of course, was drinking very expensive whisky. The amber warmth of it, peaty and rich, suited him, Gwen decided in a moment of alcohol induced introspection. With all the blood he'd shed all over Wales and the centuries he'd spent breathing its earth, he should be a whisky man. They'd been drinking most of the night, on Jack's orders. Supposedly, alcohol interfered with the device and so they'd dutifully bellied up to the bar in pub after pub as they searched for it. They'd been toeing that wavering line between drink stupid and functional most of the night and Gwen was pretty sure they were all still on the right side of it.
Jack's nose was very pink and he had his index finger pressed to the bottom of an upturned shot glass, nodding solemnly at it. "So here's, Adler and he's standing on the ammo dump taking the last piss of his life - I hope it was a good one - "
"That's enough, Jack, yeah?" Gwen reached out and laced her fingers with his, tugging them away from the glasses and the bottle. Ianto had told her once that, according to the archives, Jack had been a raging drunk for something like twenty years. They never teased him about the water he drank, when they went to pubs together (used to, they never had time anymore). Jack sprawled back, smiling at the ceiling and reaching across the table to wrap his fingers around Ianto's wrist. Ianto blinked bemusedly down at the touch.
"Look!" Jack straightened up, making Gwen twitch towards her gun but he just tugged on he hand and leaned in against her shoulder, breathing warm and redolent against her cheek. "Mistletoe!" Jack's grin widened, displaying all those perfect teeth to best effect. "Time for some of that holiday tradition."
"It's plastic," Ianto pointed out. "And just as well, since mistletoe is deadly toxic - "
"I can have a real kiss though," Jack said, the curve of his mouth and the tone of his voice softening to something like yearning as he held Gwen's gaze. He was still holding Gwen's hand and Ianto's too. "For the season."
"You can't stand Christmas," Gwen murmured, nose to nose with Jack and swimming in the blue of his eyes. She was married, Jack was ... dabbling in a passive aggressive two step with Ianto she didn't even try and understand anymore, and that old longing in Gwen's belly sparked to life as if it had never gone. It was overlain by friendship now, and memories and choices made, but still burned warm and steady somewhere between her heart and her pussy.
"No, I can't," Jack said as softly. "How about a kiss for victory instead? Everyone ..." his voice deepened, as if every word he spoke meant something, " ... lived."
Gwen didn't want to know what story was behind those words, not when most of Jack's stories - the true ones - were tragedies. Instead, she leaned that last inch in and kissed Jack gently - one for victory. She felt the tremor in him, as he sighed against her mouth and didn't turn the kiss raunchy like she expected, just touched the tip of his tongue to her lips as if all he wanted was to taste the beer on her mouth. The very gentleness of it made Gwen ache to devour him right now, on the sticky pub table. Instead, she leaned back, casting one worried glance to Ianto. He was watching them both, lips parted and with a dark-eyed flush that Gwen couldn't possibly mistake as anything but pole-axed lust.
"Maybe we're a little too drunk," Gwen offered and watched Ianto visibly collect himself with a pang of regret. Maybe it was sitting so close to Jack and his opportunistic desire but Gwen found herself wondering what Ianto would be like, all undone. No tie, no waistcoat ... no clothes at all.
"We are drunk," Ianto agreed and was the first to manage standing. He pulled on Jack's arm and Gwen pushed, until they'd gotten their Captain standing, bright eyed and very pleased with himself.
"A cheap drunk is a fun drunk," Jack listed one way, then the other, as they made their way thought the forest of tables and chairs. "I think we're just relaxed for the first time in ... a long time. Old soldiers. We're," he sighed and for a moment the tipsy cheer faded, "all old soldiers now."
Outside the unseasonable - but not alien - cold made Gwen's breath smoke and Ianto pull in on himself, shivering visibly. Jack drew him against the heavy folds of his coat without even looking and it made Gwen bite her lip at the tenderness of the gesture. Old soldiers, she thought, Ianto wasn't even thirty and none of them, one way or another, were ever gong to grow old.
"Home again, home again," Jack said wistfully, resting his cheek against her hair as he drew her into his warmth as well. He took two steps that aimed them all towards a slush filled rut beside the road and when Gwen slid an arm around his back to steady him, she met Ianto's doing the same thing. He wasn't even thirty, she thought again, and tightened her fingers on his.
"Come home with us," Ianto blurted, looking as startled as Gwen felt. But he didn't stammer out an excuse or apology when Gwen leaned around Jack to stare at him.
"With you?" she asked. "With you?"
"I'm not actually from the 1950's," Ianto complained, "I just dress like it."
"You're not from the 51st either," Gwen glanced up at Jack who was motionless between them, arms around them both and strangely without a quip, or a joke or even a leer when Gwen looked up to his face. "And neither am I."
"It's not for Jack. Not just for Jack," Ianto amended. "You're my ... we are ...."
Best mate, Gwen silently supplied the words Ianto couldn't say, closest friends, bound together by blood and fear and courage and so much more. She'd had her hands in Ianto's guts, last month, trying to hold him together and never told Jack that he'd cried while she fought for his life, terrified to die. Last week, Ianto had stepped in front of a Nixi blast with nothing but a bit of Tosh's theory pinned to his jacket, to save her life. Old soldiers, she thought again, yes. Tonight they had a bit of victory in their hands and Gwen wanted to hang onto it a little longer.
"Yeah," she said, the decision leaving her strangely light, as if she'd been waiting a long time for the chance to say 'yes'. "Yeah, okay." She glanced up at Jack who was showing so much tact that Gwen wondered if he was drunk at all but then he shuffled a little, swaying, and somehow the three of them were just that much closer together. That was Jack. Gwen rolled her eyes at his supposedly subtle machinations as Ianto snickered. "He's too pretty when he's drunk."
"Hey," Jack protested, "I'm always pretty. And witty - "
"No, Jack, no musicals," Ianto groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Just no."
"And bright ...!" Gwen sang, laughing as Ianto groaned again.
Jack, despite the sway in his step, did a fancy two step that would have put Maria to shame, finishing the chorus in his lovely baritone. Then he turned back to hold out both hands and take them home.
She spared only a brief thought for Rhys, and no guilt weighed her down. Gwen couldn't promise him a lifetime, a family, not even tomorrow, not when Torchwood could steal her life away in a single night, but she'd promised him one thing. As long as she could, however far she wandered, she'd always come home to him. At the end of it all, that was what Gwen gave Rhys and no one else, and at the end of it all, that was the one thing Rhys wanted.
Jack yelling Torchwood at the cabbie didn't help matters much and Ianto stayed behind with a tip while Gwen elbowed Jack out of the seat and towards the apartment building. She discovered Jack had keys to Ianto's apartment and she felt another moment of slightly tipsy glee. They were in a relationship … of some kind. Some kind where they invited her back for … for … well, something that never showed up in Miss Manners advice columns that was for sure.
"I should start up on Dan Savage, shouldn't I?"
Jack just gave her a blank look and Ianto chuckled behind her. "He still doesn't make any sense," he said, nodding at Jack. "Half the time."
"This from the culture that invented the Snuggie," Jack said, throwing his coat on Ianto's grey pinstriped couch, then sprawling on top of it with a grin. Gwen fidgeted. Jack waggled his eyebrows. Gwen rolled her eyes, fighting back a grin. Jack patted the couch next to him with a leer.
"If you insist," she said primly and sat. She had no idea what she was doing but that was her life, the last couple of years, and there was something about that first step beyond everything she knew and understood … something tempting, like Jack was tempting, like the first look at an alien was tempting, like every star in a sky full of life was tempting. That first step, so long ago, and Jack had smiled just like that then too and held out his hand. All she had to was take it.
Gwen reached out. Jack met her halfway.
This was it, she thought with a little rush of nerves and desire that reminded her ridiculously of university and the first boy she'd invited to her student flat. But Jack's warm hands weren't a uni boy's sweaty, nervous grab. He cradled her face in his palms, stroking her temples with his thumbs and kissed her slowly.
"Oh," Gwen breathed, leaning against his shoulder. Just one kiss and "- oh."
"A century of dedicated study," Jack said smugly and Gwen clenched her hands on his shirts and kissed him again, because kisses were better than listening to his bad jokes. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, drawing her hair up, biting her lip gently then soothing it with a warm stroke of his tongue. Jack kissed like he had forever, lingering, slow and sweet, and Gwen could do this all night; the press and give and tease and satisfaction of his mouth on hers. The rock of the couch behind her made Gwen break free with a gasp. Ianto.
"Ianto," Jack hummed, bringing Gwen's forehead to rest on his shoulder.
"Yes, sir," Ianto's voice was softy and blurry and Gwen swallowed back a wide-eyed groan at the sir. Suddenly every day at work with him had a whole different meaning.
Behind her, Ianto leaned closer, brushing against her back and Gwen shivered, then closed her eyes with another little gasp as she felt Ianto's mouth press warm to the bared nape of her neck. Jack kissed her again, and Ianto, each of them a point of warmth and wetness and Gwen squirmed between them, breath catching in little points of pleasure. Jack's mouth stopped being quite so polite.
It was Ianto who slid his hands under her jumper, up to cradle her breasts in his hands, pressed close by Jack's chest. The pinch of his fingers made Gwen arch and she let him pull her back until she rested against him. She could feel Ianto's heart beating against her back in a steady rhythm.
She opened her eyes to see Jack watching her - watching them - as Ianto's hands moved under her jumper, stroking over her hardening nipples. The tilt of Jack's mouth was what she expected, an unrepentant leer, but the look in his eyes was more complicated; honest and tender and strangely distant. It made Gwen aware for a moment of how different Jack was from them; old and ageless and eternal. More alien than some of the aliens they met.
Ianto bit her neck, kissed her ear with a wet stroke of tongue. "Don't think," he whispered. "Don't think, Gwen."
Gwen shivered and shifted her knee, spreading her legs as she arched back against Ianto's body and watched the desire settle on Jack's face, chasing away the strangeness. There was something amazing about watching Jack want her so. It was almost, but not quite, as good as wanting him back.
"Take off your clothes," Gwen told Jack, cupping her hands over Ianto's to encourage him on.
"Thought you'd never ask," Jack replied, hands already in motion. She had to laugh at the speed. Jack grinned at her. "Plenty of practice."
"Did you time that?"
Ianto stiffened behind her and Gwen gave a startled crow. "You did, didn't you? Pervs, the both of you!"
"We'd better give you a hand," Jack murmured, sliding a hand up her thigh, "since you've not got our expertise."
Gwen stretched out in the luxury of allowing two eager men strip her and took her first kiss from Ianto's mouth while Jack was tugging her jeans down her legs. Ianto traced the edges of her bra, then stroked his fingers over the fabric, lifting her breasts in his hands while Jack's chin dug into her thigh and he watched them both. The feeling of being displayed, shown off, made Gwen squirm, a hot little ache sweeping up from her pussy. When Jack nuzzled closer with a groan of his own, Gwen spread her legs, looking down - past Ianto's shifting, sweet touch - to where Jack had his nose pressed to her knickers. Was he smelling her? Gwen wiggled, flushing, but no ... no, he was sucking at her, his tongue pushing against her pussy through the fabric and she was wet and he was wet and her knickers were suddenly paper thin and in maddeningly the way. Gwen had her hands in Jack's hair without thinking and she arched, pushing against him. Jack cupped his hands against her arse and lifted her closer with a pleased hum she could feel all the way through her.
"He can take them off with his teeth," Ianto said, sounding almost (not quite and Gwen delighted in the breathlessness) conversational. He was watching Jack bite at her gently. And then Jack did.
The sight of Jack, naked, with her knickers in his teeth was going to stay with Gwen for a long time and then there was only Ianto left, prim and proper, still in his tie. Gwen remembered, again, how she'd wanted to see him unbuttoned.
"Oh, that's not right," Gwen pulled Ianto in by his tie and kissed him again. The silk under her hand was slippery and drew her up to his throat and the pulse that raced there. His kisses were less polished than Jack's but he made these wonderful, eager, noises and he couldn't seem to keep his hands from her breasts, tracing lines down her belly and back again. She'd watched those long fingers file paperwork and make coffee and shoot things and now she knew he was careful and clever in the way he touched her. The brush of calluses on her nipples made her bite his lip and Ianto's mouth went open and needy and wet all of a sudden and he arched as if begging. It made Gwen wonder, in a hot rush, if Lisa had ever made him get on his knees. She had no doubt Jack did.
Gwen didn't let the warm slide of Jack's tongue up her spine distract her from Ianto's pants. Ianto hung onto her shoulders, flingers flexing, as she eased him free and discovered one reason why Jack liked him so much.
"Quite a sight, isn't he?" Jack murmured, hands sliding lazily around her waist and dipping towards her pussy.
"Oh, god," Ianto groaned, pressing his face to Gwen's hair, a blush burning bright across his face. "Please, no commentary."
"I want to see," Jack was speaking very carefully, as if trying out a new language, "Ianto fuck you. With that beautiful cock."
Gwen sucked in a breath and stroked the cock in question, feeling Ianto shiver and twitch in her grip. He was all the way hard, foreskin drawn back to bare the red crown of his cock, Gwen stroked a bit of wetness down the length to the nest of dark pubic hair and the hang of Ianto's balls. Jack's cock was nudging the small of her back, leaving little damp spots. Each nudge made Gwen shiver a little, aching for a touch between her legs, inside her. Jack's fingers were sliding in her pubic hair now and lower, to where she was slick and wet, touching her clit for the first time. It was like electricity, that touch, and Gwen arched between them, pushing against Jack's fingers, muscles clenching down inside.
"Yeahh," Jack sighed, drawing his fingers up then down, slipping inside, holding her steady as Gwen jerked, hips rocking. "He'll make you feel great, Gwen. Promise. I know how good Ianto can be."
"Oh, oh, god -" Gwen shuddered, imagining Ianto riding Jack, his legs spread, that cheerful, overconfident smugness lost as he writhed and moaned and Ianto sweated and drove in and - "somebody fuck me already."
Ianto bent to tongue at her breasts, biting gently at a nipple as his fingers joined Jack's, both of them pushing into her until she felt sweetly stretched and full. Wanting more, she tugged at Ianto's trousers until he got the idea and skimmed out of them. There were too many hands, for a moment, as Ianto eased into a condom and Jack tried to help him, until they had to open a second package while Gwen ran a teasing fingertip along Ianto's ear.
This time it was Ianto against her chest, kissing her, and Jack at her back, pressing open mouthed bites along her shoulders, still two fingers deep inside her. Getting her ready for Ianto, she thought and scratched down Ianto's side to grip his hips and pull him closer. She was ready, oh, she was so ready. Ianto scrambled closer and Jack was tight to her back and the two of them were kissing over her shoulder, breathing heavily while Gwen panted for breath.
The hair on Ianto's chest scratched lightly against her skin, and the heat of their bodies so close left Gwen breathless and burning. There were aliens in the sewers, a time traveler panting against her neck and she was about to have Ianto's unexpected, spectacular, cock inside her. This was Gwen's life and she clutched at Ianto's shoulders and groaned, laughing, and lifted her hips. Jack arched holding her up.
Gwen cupped her hands against Ianto's face so she could watch sweep of pleasure across Ianto's face as he pushed close, closer and inside her. Gwen couldn't hold back her cry, the ache felt so good, and she didn't try. Jack breathed out sharply behind her, as if he felt it too, Ianto pushing in.
"Gwen," Ianto breathed, flushed and tumbled and as beautiful as she'd imagined, undone, and watching her watch him. "Gwen ... oh, so good."
She wondered if he was his first woman since Lisa, would never ask, but the thought made her hips go supple, her heart ache, and she rolled up to meet the length of him. Ianto thrust with a groan.
Jack rocked against Gwen's back and it was like the most glorious ride in the world as the two of them rocked her between them. They had her well in hand and all she had to was enjoy it all. They kissed, Jack and Ianto, Gwen and Ianto, Jack and Gwen, and every time Gwen tightened around Ianto, he thrust deep and Jack groaned. Jack's heart beat hard and rapid against Gwen's back and Ianto's cock throbbed inside her and she clutched at them both. She couldn't hold still, straining up to take Ianto deep, arching and pushing against Jack, twisting her head to kiss his chin, his mouth, anything she could reach. Ianto's arms were around her waist and she could see Jack's hard grip on Ianto's biceps - pulling him closer - as he thrust against her back, his cock pressed tight to her sweat slick skin.
Someone's hand - Jack's - slid down Gwen's shivering belly, working down to where Ianto stretched her open. Jack pressed there, on her clit, kindling a fierce, anticipatory heat as she clenched down on Ianto's moving cock, the feel of him, thrusting, and Jack's hand working her in steady counterpoint was bringing Gwen up, turning the dull throb inside sharper and sharper.
"-fuck, fuck, fuck - "Ianto was cursing, mouth moving against her throat, driving faster, and Jack was whispering in her ear, breathless and wicked.
"That's right, my beautiful girl -" he said and Gwen came with a wail.
Ianto jerked, thrusting hard up, making Gwen yell as she climaxed hard around the solid length of his cock. He thrust again, twice more, clumsy now and Gwen held him tight as she felt his breath hitch and his body shudder when Ianto came, cock twitching inside her. She would have worried about Jack, not that she could really worry about anything, really, but she could feel come sliding down her back where he was pressed close and trembling.
Gwen cupped her hand at the nape of Ianto's neck and met Jack's hand. She laced her fingers with his. Their breathing slowed, in tandem.
"My knees," Ianto whispered, breathless and regretful a few minutes later. Jack leaned back with a sigh, letting a draft of chilly air hit Gwen's back and she shuddered.
It could have been awkward; arms and legs everywhere and they'd never even made it to Ianto's bed but Jack spread his coat across the floor and held out both hands for them.
Gwen worked in a top secret base, a man who'd nearly destroyed the world for love made her coffee every morning and they all hunted aliens for a living. She took Jack's hand and Ianto took the other. This was her life.
END