fic: Eight Hours 8/? [NC-17] Highlander/Torchwood crossover
Author: A Lanart
Title: Eight Hours
Fandom: Torchwood/Highlander
Characters: Jack/Ianto/Methos
Rating: This part NC-17 for m/m/m 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: There is smut in this, but it's more the cerebral inside your head type stuff than particularly graphic and for some reason it was bloody difficult to write. Still getting an adult rating though.
Previous parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Methos and Ianto worked in tandem, gently but thoroughly tearing Jack apart kiss by kiss and touch by touch. When the electric like tingle that Methos’ fingers left in their wake became too much and threatened to overwhelm him, Ianto was there to soothe his skin with lips and tongue; when Ianto’s mouth became too demanding and his internal barriers were about to fracture, Methos’ feather light touches would shore them up before tenderly taking them back down again. Every action and reaction bared his soul and Jack found he could hide nothing, found he *wanted* to hide nothing. He was being devoured, sacrificed, resurrected with every caress and his blood sang through his veins in celebration. Right, not wrong; unique, not a freak; forgiven and not damned. The pain and fear and darkness that had stained his soul from the previous year were dragged into the light and diminished by its brightness, though not destroyed; they were part of him now.
The slow burn of desire was almost secondary, but a delicious and ever present counterpoint; the dancing touches across his body gradually setting him afire, the slide of skin on skin, the moist sound of hungry mouths asking of each other no more than they did of him. Jack was unsure where he ended and the others began so tangled up in each other they’d become; or he was until Ianto grabbed and held his attention in time honoured fashion. The strangled and breathless whimper that seemed to be the only sound he could produce nevertheless described how he was feeling as Ianto smiled around his cock. He barely had time to process that before lube-slick fingers were pressing into his body, wrenching another inarticulate moan from him. Jack was tingling all over and he felt like he was ready to explode, not just through his cock in Ianto’s mouth, but through every pore in his hyper-sensitive skin. He really didn’t care if he survived the aftermath or not but he wanted and needed even more. Somehow, from somewhere, he dredged up the power of speech.
“Ianto. Stop.” Ianto acquiesced, letting Jack slide from his mouth with a lust filled, but still concerned looking glance. Jack gave him a shaky smile to reassure him as he gasped for the breath to speak again. He only half succeeded. “Ianto. Need... Want...” Ianto appeared to understand exactly what was meant as he gave Jack an incandescent smile, slithering up his body to capture his mouth in a brief but bruising kiss before moving away from him, but only far enough to lie back against the pillows in a position that demanded ‘fuck me’ louder than any words ever could. Jack felt as much as heard Methos’ low and needy growl, then his fingers were gone and Jack found himself almost shoved in Ianto’s direction. He would have laughed at Methos’ lack of subtlety if he’d had the breath to but he was too busy losing himself in the scent of Ianto’s skin and the taste of his mouth. Methos’ body was hot against Jack’s back, arms encircling him, insistent fingers slicking him up ready to possess and be possessed, encouraging him, guiding him until Jack buried himself in Ianto with a moan that was more than half-sob.
Even then Jack felt curiously bereft until he felt the press of Methos against him and in him, closing the connection between them all with one smooth thrust into his body. For a brief moment suspended in eternity they held motionless, then Jack began to move. With each roll of his hips he celebrated being alive, and the life that all three of them still had, and so very nearly had lost. There were no words to describe how he was feeling, and he had no breath to utter them even if he’d found them, so he did the only thing he could and gave them himself. As his climax gave him physical release, Jack poured the essence of his life, his immortality into the kiss he shared with Ianto and from the electric tingle against his face, with Methos. Instinctively he half broke the kiss with Ianto in order to suck on those demanding fingers, and shattered into pieces as the rush of Methos’ quickening flooded his already besieged senses. His last rational thought was that he hoped they would follow him.
Sandwiched between his two lovers, with Ianto’s heart pounding beneath his cheek and Methos’ breath hot between his shoulder blades Jack realised he had found at least part of what he’d been searching for at the end of the universe. He rubbed his face into the soft fuzz of Ianto’s chest and mumbled the word to himself as if he’d only just discovered what it meant. Maybe he had.
“Home...” A barely perceptible tightening of arms and legs around him was the only indication he received that they’d heard him, but it was all the confirmation he required as he drifted into sleep.
Title: Eight Hours
Fandom: Torchwood/Highlander
Characters: Jack/Ianto/Methos
Rating: This part NC-17 for m/m/m 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: There is smut in this, but it's more the cerebral inside your head type stuff than particularly graphic and for some reason it was bloody difficult to write. Still getting an adult rating though.
Previous parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Methos and Ianto worked in tandem, gently but thoroughly tearing Jack apart kiss by kiss and touch by touch. When the electric like tingle that Methos’ fingers left in their wake became too much and threatened to overwhelm him, Ianto was there to soothe his skin with lips and tongue; when Ianto’s mouth became too demanding and his internal barriers were about to fracture, Methos’ feather light touches would shore them up before tenderly taking them back down again. Every action and reaction bared his soul and Jack found he could hide nothing, found he *wanted* to hide nothing. He was being devoured, sacrificed, resurrected with every caress and his blood sang through his veins in celebration. Right, not wrong; unique, not a freak; forgiven and not damned. The pain and fear and darkness that had stained his soul from the previous year were dragged into the light and diminished by its brightness, though not destroyed; they were part of him now.
The slow burn of desire was almost secondary, but a delicious and ever present counterpoint; the dancing touches across his body gradually setting him afire, the slide of skin on skin, the moist sound of hungry mouths asking of each other no more than they did of him. Jack was unsure where he ended and the others began so tangled up in each other they’d become; or he was until Ianto grabbed and held his attention in time honoured fashion. The strangled and breathless whimper that seemed to be the only sound he could produce nevertheless described how he was feeling as Ianto smiled around his cock. He barely had time to process that before lube-slick fingers were pressing into his body, wrenching another inarticulate moan from him. Jack was tingling all over and he felt like he was ready to explode, not just through his cock in Ianto’s mouth, but through every pore in his hyper-sensitive skin. He really didn’t care if he survived the aftermath or not but he wanted and needed even more. Somehow, from somewhere, he dredged up the power of speech.
“Ianto. Stop.” Ianto acquiesced, letting Jack slide from his mouth with a lust filled, but still concerned looking glance. Jack gave him a shaky smile to reassure him as he gasped for the breath to speak again. He only half succeeded. “Ianto. Need... Want...” Ianto appeared to understand exactly what was meant as he gave Jack an incandescent smile, slithering up his body to capture his mouth in a brief but bruising kiss before moving away from him, but only far enough to lie back against the pillows in a position that demanded ‘fuck me’ louder than any words ever could. Jack felt as much as heard Methos’ low and needy growl, then his fingers were gone and Jack found himself almost shoved in Ianto’s direction. He would have laughed at Methos’ lack of subtlety if he’d had the breath to but he was too busy losing himself in the scent of Ianto’s skin and the taste of his mouth. Methos’ body was hot against Jack’s back, arms encircling him, insistent fingers slicking him up ready to possess and be possessed, encouraging him, guiding him until Jack buried himself in Ianto with a moan that was more than half-sob.
Even then Jack felt curiously bereft until he felt the press of Methos against him and in him, closing the connection between them all with one smooth thrust into his body. For a brief moment suspended in eternity they held motionless, then Jack began to move. With each roll of his hips he celebrated being alive, and the life that all three of them still had, and so very nearly had lost. There were no words to describe how he was feeling, and he had no breath to utter them even if he’d found them, so he did the only thing he could and gave them himself. As his climax gave him physical release, Jack poured the essence of his life, his immortality into the kiss he shared with Ianto and from the electric tingle against his face, with Methos. Instinctively he half broke the kiss with Ianto in order to suck on those demanding fingers, and shattered into pieces as the rush of Methos’ quickening flooded his already besieged senses. His last rational thought was that he hoped they would follow him.
Sandwiched between his two lovers, with Ianto’s heart pounding beneath his cheek and Methos’ breath hot between his shoulder blades Jack realised he had found at least part of what he’d been searching for at the end of the universe. He rubbed his face into the soft fuzz of Ianto’s chest and mumbled the word to himself as if he’d only just discovered what it meant. Maybe he had.
“Home...” A barely perceptible tightening of arms and legs around him was the only indication he received that they’d heard him, but it was all the confirmation he required as he drifted into sleep.