[TW fic] Spa Day (Jack/Ianto, NC-17)
Title: Spa Day
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Jack/Ianto/OC
Rating: NC-17
Stuff you should know: Written for kink_bingo. Prompt: shaving/depilation.
Beta: The entire damn Internet. Your lesson for today: never, ever, try to edit fic on a Blackberry. Thank you all.
“Ianto, a moment,” Jack says as the rest of the team files out.
Ianto waits quietly; Jack will say what he has to say when he's ready to say it.
“I booked you in at two,” Jack says, sliding a business card across the conference table.
Ianto glances down at Jack's fingers perches on the edge of the card, but doesn't move to take it. He knows what this is about and knows there's no getting around it unless he wants to make a really big deal about it, but that doesn't mean he's eager.
“I'll come with if there aren't any fires, but don't count on it.”
“I wouldn't,” Ianto says, and it comes out sharper than he's intended.
Jack arches and eyebrow at him and says nothing, the silence lasting long enough that Ianto finally has to move his eyes from the card on the table to meet Jack's.
“If you want to safeword, safeword. But do it now. Professional courtesy and all that.”
“Jack --”
“I mean it. I know you don't want to do this, but I also don't want to listen to you wheedle and worry right now.”
“The point of a safeword --”
“Trust me, I'm informed. I'll be there if I can. And you will be fine. We both know it. So buck up already.”
“What've you told them?” Ianto asks, suddenly panicked.
“They're fully informed. You don't have to do much more than get yourself there.”
“How fully?”
“Don't worry so much, Ianto. They're used to this sort of thing.”
Ianto snatches the card up from the table and slides it into his jacket pocket.
“Good boy,” Jack says fondly, before he gets up and strolls out of the room, leaving Ianto sitting there alone and awkward. The only reason he's not angry is because he thinks this is probably how he's supposed to feel.
*
It's not like Ianto's never been to a spa before. Lisa had insisted it would be pleasant and relaxing a time or two, and she hadn't been wrong, but it had still made him tense until it didn't. It seemed, back then, like the sort of thing that could get his masculinity called in to question way too easily, even if it was London and no one cared there at all the way they would have back home.
Now, he feels even stupider for being bothered by it. It's not like he's talked to Rhi in months or is actively keeping up with some supposed heterosexual existence. Still, his - well, whatever Jack is, it seems more complicated by the damn day - made a waxing appointment for him, and it's not like it's for something even slightly reasonable like his chest. Oh no. Jack likes that part of him hairy.
He thinks, not for the first time as he picks at the belt of the terry cloth robe they had him change into, that he really, really should have safe-worded. One day he'll convince himself that embarrassment is not an unreasonable reason to want out of a scene. Too bad today isn't that day.
“Hey, sorry I'm late,” Jack says, dropping onto the couch next to him, far too loud for for a space referred to, somewhat ridiculously under these circumstances, as the Relaxation Room.
Ianto can't believe how glad he is to see him. Instead of telling Jack so, however, he informs him that he's overdressed.
Jack shrugs. “Sorry. But I'm not the one getting anything done. How you doing?”
“Working on denial,” Ianto says with a casualness he doesn't feel. “Wait. Isn't this going to seem weird?”
“What?” Jack asks.
“You. Coming in there with me. Still dressed.”
“Trust me, they're used to it,” Jack says, and while the tone is casual, Ianto knows it means he's not intended to ask any more questions right now.
*
“Hey, I'm Thomas” the aesthetician says, shaking Ianto's hand, before immediately turning to Jack. “What are we getting done today?”
Ianto doesn't even hear Jack as he answers. It doesn't matter though, he already knows. What he somehow hadn't realized, however, despite Jack having made it clear in his own way, is that Thomas is absolutely and completely clear on this situation. Not only does he know that Ianto and Jack are fucking; he is also, Ianto is sure, perfectly aware that this this is all happening at Jack's order.
“He ever done this before?”
“He's right here,” Ianto points out, somewhat annoyed at being treated like a child or a piece of furniture; while Jack may at times disregard his insecurities, he never disregards his presence. Ianto sees Thomas flick a glance towards the other man, and Jack nods minutely, giving permission, it seems, giving permission for Ianto to be spoken to like an actual person with actual choices.
“Sorry about that,” Thomas says, casually. “A lot of times, jobs like this, blokes don't want me talking to their --”
“Right, so just hop on the table or what?” Ianto says, cutting the bloke off because he really, really does't want to know what noun he was going to use back there.
“Ianto,” Jack growls quietly, and he has to stop himself from snapping at Jack, even though he wants to. But having an argument in front of a third party, especially in this of all contexts, is absolutely not on.
“Sorry,” Ianto says to Thomas. “Just a bit nervous.”
“He's new at this,” Jack adds, and Ianto knows he doesn't just mean the waxing.
Thomas smiles. “That's all right. And yes, up on the table if you would.”
The whole matter is awkward in an entirely different way than Ianto would have imagined. Clinical, completely embarrassing and Thomas isn't half bad looking besides; Jack being a quiet, almost-steadying presence isn't helping keep him from being half-hard either, as Thomas has to repeatedly move Ianto's cock out of the way to apply the wax. It's not too bad, until they get to his balls.
“Okay,” he says, trying to breathe through it. “That hurts. Fuck.”
Jack gives a small sympathetic chuckle from where he's leaning against the wall.
“You're doing better than a lot of my clients,” Thomas says, quietly, and Ianto's oddly grateful for the remark, as it's the first thing anyone has said to him since he got here that seems sincere or kind or for something other than show.
“Thanks,” Ianto says weakly through gritted teeth as more wax is applied.
“Okay, roll over, time to do the other side.”
Ianto moves instinctively and looks up at Jack in the process. “You've got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Do I look like I'm kidding?” Jack asks, arms crossed over his chest and amused.
Ianto drops his head back down on the table, and this time it's Thomas who chuckles.
Ianto bites back a curse as Thomas rips off the wax around his hole. “That hurt,” Ianto explains when Jack steps forward to run a hand over his hair.
“Almost done now,” Jack says soothingly, and it's that gentleness that's exactly not what Ianto needs to hear right now. Because it's getting him hard, being good for Jack while some stranger holds his cheeks apart to examine his handy work.
There's a bit of touch up work, here and there, some with wax. Some, ridiculously, with tweezers, and that's the worst of it, because Ianto is over-sensitized now and his endorphins aren't really blocking the pain, just making it interesting.
“He's all set,” Thomas says, adjusting Ianto's robe so that it covers him again. He's talking to Jack again because it's clear Ianto's checked out. “I'll give you two a moment before I let the desk know you're done,” he adds.
“Thanks,” Jack says quietly. “You can stay. If you want.” It's in that tone Jack uses that's supposed to be no pressure, that's supposed to imply that Jack doesn't care what you choose because he's going to have a great time anyway.
Ianto moans softly on the table.
“I... would get in to an incredible amount of trouble,” Thomas says, but it's clear he's thinking about it.
“I'm pretty good at getting people out of trouble. Trust me?”
Thomas inclines his head. It's neither yes, nor no, but it's clear he's not going anywhere and just angling for plausible deniability instead.
Jack leans down over Ianto. “You took that so well. Will you be good for us and say thank you?”
Ianto nods and swallows, and doesn't say a word, which is exactly how Jack wants it.
He beckons Thomas over to them. “Convenient height you keep these tables at,” he said, reaching for the button on Thomas's jeans.
“He okay with ---”
“You already know the answer to that,” Jack says, even as he does vaguely appreciate the formalities.
He undoes the man's zip then, and reaches in to pull his cock out, sighing happily at the feel of it. He has to coax the other man closer to the table, but Ianto is ready, opening his mouth and tilting his head back as they feed Thomas' cock into him.
“Fuck his mouth as hard as you want,” Jack says softly as Ianto begins sucking as best he can at the weird angle.
Ianto moans, Thomas whimpers, and Jack heads down to the middle of the table, caressing Ianto as he goes. He flips up the back of Ianto's robe, and massages his ass briefly before looking around the small treatment room for something to use as lube.
Thomas, who Jack figures probably only has about three braincells left right now, nods towards a shelf. Gotta love spas, Jack thinks. Moisturizer everywhere. A moment later he's rubbing his slicked up thumb over Ianto's now hairless hole.
Ianto whimpers and tries to push back for more. It's enough for Thomas to grab his hair and actually take what he wants.
“That's it,” Jack says, praising them both as he twists his thumb into Ianto's ass.
Thomas gives a choked off cry as he spills into Ianto's mouth.
“Make sure he swallows,” Jack says, even though Ianto always, always does.
Ianto whimpers as he ruts himself against the table. Jack makes an admonishing noise. “Oh no you don't, not until tonight,” Jack says and withdraws his thumb. Ianto goes boneless against the table in something that's almost like relief.
Thomas takes a deep breath and steps back to lean against the wall, moving, finally do up his flies. “Fuck. Thanks. That was....”
“Incredible?” Jack supplies.
“Unexpected,” Thomas says.
Ianto laughs weakly, but it's obviously heartfelt.
Thomas crouches down in front of him so that they can be eye to eye. “Thank you,” he says. “And be good for him, yeah?”
Ianto blinks at him slowly, unprepared to deal with that particular sweetness from a stranger, and he nods, not trusting his voice.
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Jack/Ianto/OC
Rating: NC-17
Stuff you should know: Written for kink_bingo. Prompt: shaving/depilation.
Beta: The entire damn Internet. Your lesson for today: never, ever, try to edit fic on a Blackberry. Thank you all.
“Ianto, a moment,” Jack says as the rest of the team files out.
Ianto waits quietly; Jack will say what he has to say when he's ready to say it.
“I booked you in at two,” Jack says, sliding a business card across the conference table.
Ianto glances down at Jack's fingers perches on the edge of the card, but doesn't move to take it. He knows what this is about and knows there's no getting around it unless he wants to make a really big deal about it, but that doesn't mean he's eager.
“I'll come with if there aren't any fires, but don't count on it.”
“I wouldn't,” Ianto says, and it comes out sharper than he's intended.
Jack arches and eyebrow at him and says nothing, the silence lasting long enough that Ianto finally has to move his eyes from the card on the table to meet Jack's.
“If you want to safeword, safeword. But do it now. Professional courtesy and all that.”
“Jack --”
“I mean it. I know you don't want to do this, but I also don't want to listen to you wheedle and worry right now.”
“The point of a safeword --”
“Trust me, I'm informed. I'll be there if I can. And you will be fine. We both know it. So buck up already.”
“What've you told them?” Ianto asks, suddenly panicked.
“They're fully informed. You don't have to do much more than get yourself there.”
“How fully?”
“Don't worry so much, Ianto. They're used to this sort of thing.”
Ianto snatches the card up from the table and slides it into his jacket pocket.
“Good boy,” Jack says fondly, before he gets up and strolls out of the room, leaving Ianto sitting there alone and awkward. The only reason he's not angry is because he thinks this is probably how he's supposed to feel.
*
It's not like Ianto's never been to a spa before. Lisa had insisted it would be pleasant and relaxing a time or two, and she hadn't been wrong, but it had still made him tense until it didn't. It seemed, back then, like the sort of thing that could get his masculinity called in to question way too easily, even if it was London and no one cared there at all the way they would have back home.
Now, he feels even stupider for being bothered by it. It's not like he's talked to Rhi in months or is actively keeping up with some supposed heterosexual existence. Still, his - well, whatever Jack is, it seems more complicated by the damn day - made a waxing appointment for him, and it's not like it's for something even slightly reasonable like his chest. Oh no. Jack likes that part of him hairy.
He thinks, not for the first time as he picks at the belt of the terry cloth robe they had him change into, that he really, really should have safe-worded. One day he'll convince himself that embarrassment is not an unreasonable reason to want out of a scene. Too bad today isn't that day.
“Hey, sorry I'm late,” Jack says, dropping onto the couch next to him, far too loud for for a space referred to, somewhat ridiculously under these circumstances, as the Relaxation Room.
Ianto can't believe how glad he is to see him. Instead of telling Jack so, however, he informs him that he's overdressed.
Jack shrugs. “Sorry. But I'm not the one getting anything done. How you doing?”
“Working on denial,” Ianto says with a casualness he doesn't feel. “Wait. Isn't this going to seem weird?”
“What?” Jack asks.
“You. Coming in there with me. Still dressed.”
“Trust me, they're used to it,” Jack says, and while the tone is casual, Ianto knows it means he's not intended to ask any more questions right now.
*
“Hey, I'm Thomas” the aesthetician says, shaking Ianto's hand, before immediately turning to Jack. “What are we getting done today?”
Ianto doesn't even hear Jack as he answers. It doesn't matter though, he already knows. What he somehow hadn't realized, however, despite Jack having made it clear in his own way, is that Thomas is absolutely and completely clear on this situation. Not only does he know that Ianto and Jack are fucking; he is also, Ianto is sure, perfectly aware that this this is all happening at Jack's order.
“He ever done this before?”
“He's right here,” Ianto points out, somewhat annoyed at being treated like a child or a piece of furniture; while Jack may at times disregard his insecurities, he never disregards his presence. Ianto sees Thomas flick a glance towards the other man, and Jack nods minutely, giving permission, it seems, giving permission for Ianto to be spoken to like an actual person with actual choices.
“Sorry about that,” Thomas says, casually. “A lot of times, jobs like this, blokes don't want me talking to their --”
“Right, so just hop on the table or what?” Ianto says, cutting the bloke off because he really, really does't want to know what noun he was going to use back there.
“Ianto,” Jack growls quietly, and he has to stop himself from snapping at Jack, even though he wants to. But having an argument in front of a third party, especially in this of all contexts, is absolutely not on.
“Sorry,” Ianto says to Thomas. “Just a bit nervous.”
“He's new at this,” Jack adds, and Ianto knows he doesn't just mean the waxing.
Thomas smiles. “That's all right. And yes, up on the table if you would.”
The whole matter is awkward in an entirely different way than Ianto would have imagined. Clinical, completely embarrassing and Thomas isn't half bad looking besides; Jack being a quiet, almost-steadying presence isn't helping keep him from being half-hard either, as Thomas has to repeatedly move Ianto's cock out of the way to apply the wax. It's not too bad, until they get to his balls.
“Okay,” he says, trying to breathe through it. “That hurts. Fuck.”
Jack gives a small sympathetic chuckle from where he's leaning against the wall.
“You're doing better than a lot of my clients,” Thomas says, quietly, and Ianto's oddly grateful for the remark, as it's the first thing anyone has said to him since he got here that seems sincere or kind or for something other than show.
“Thanks,” Ianto says weakly through gritted teeth as more wax is applied.
“Okay, roll over, time to do the other side.”
Ianto moves instinctively and looks up at Jack in the process. “You've got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Do I look like I'm kidding?” Jack asks, arms crossed over his chest and amused.
Ianto drops his head back down on the table, and this time it's Thomas who chuckles.
Ianto bites back a curse as Thomas rips off the wax around his hole. “That hurt,” Ianto explains when Jack steps forward to run a hand over his hair.
“Almost done now,” Jack says soothingly, and it's that gentleness that's exactly not what Ianto needs to hear right now. Because it's getting him hard, being good for Jack while some stranger holds his cheeks apart to examine his handy work.
There's a bit of touch up work, here and there, some with wax. Some, ridiculously, with tweezers, and that's the worst of it, because Ianto is over-sensitized now and his endorphins aren't really blocking the pain, just making it interesting.
“He's all set,” Thomas says, adjusting Ianto's robe so that it covers him again. He's talking to Jack again because it's clear Ianto's checked out. “I'll give you two a moment before I let the desk know you're done,” he adds.
“Thanks,” Jack says quietly. “You can stay. If you want.” It's in that tone Jack uses that's supposed to be no pressure, that's supposed to imply that Jack doesn't care what you choose because he's going to have a great time anyway.
Ianto moans softly on the table.
“I... would get in to an incredible amount of trouble,” Thomas says, but it's clear he's thinking about it.
“I'm pretty good at getting people out of trouble. Trust me?”
Thomas inclines his head. It's neither yes, nor no, but it's clear he's not going anywhere and just angling for plausible deniability instead.
Jack leans down over Ianto. “You took that so well. Will you be good for us and say thank you?”
Ianto nods and swallows, and doesn't say a word, which is exactly how Jack wants it.
He beckons Thomas over to them. “Convenient height you keep these tables at,” he said, reaching for the button on Thomas's jeans.
“He okay with ---”
“You already know the answer to that,” Jack says, even as he does vaguely appreciate the formalities.
He undoes the man's zip then, and reaches in to pull his cock out, sighing happily at the feel of it. He has to coax the other man closer to the table, but Ianto is ready, opening his mouth and tilting his head back as they feed Thomas' cock into him.
“Fuck his mouth as hard as you want,” Jack says softly as Ianto begins sucking as best he can at the weird angle.
Ianto moans, Thomas whimpers, and Jack heads down to the middle of the table, caressing Ianto as he goes. He flips up the back of Ianto's robe, and massages his ass briefly before looking around the small treatment room for something to use as lube.
Thomas, who Jack figures probably only has about three braincells left right now, nods towards a shelf. Gotta love spas, Jack thinks. Moisturizer everywhere. A moment later he's rubbing his slicked up thumb over Ianto's now hairless hole.
Ianto whimpers and tries to push back for more. It's enough for Thomas to grab his hair and actually take what he wants.
“That's it,” Jack says, praising them both as he twists his thumb into Ianto's ass.
Thomas gives a choked off cry as he spills into Ianto's mouth.
“Make sure he swallows,” Jack says, even though Ianto always, always does.
Ianto whimpers as he ruts himself against the table. Jack makes an admonishing noise. “Oh no you don't, not until tonight,” Jack says and withdraws his thumb. Ianto goes boneless against the table in something that's almost like relief.
Thomas takes a deep breath and steps back to lean against the wall, moving, finally do up his flies. “Fuck. Thanks. That was....”
“Incredible?” Jack supplies.
“Unexpected,” Thomas says.
Ianto laughs weakly, but it's obviously heartfelt.
Thomas crouches down in front of him so that they can be eye to eye. “Thank you,” he says. “And be good for him, yeah?”
Ianto blinks at him slowly, unprepared to deal with that particular sweetness from a stranger, and he nods, not trusting his voice.