TW Fic: The Heart Wants (1/1)
Nov. 12th, 2010 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lizzledpink Title: The Heart Wants
Author:lizzledpink
Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Ianto(/Gwen)
Warnings: infidelity, depending on your definition of infidelity
Summary: Ianto doesn’t know if this is okay, or if it crosses a line, but it feels right. Good enough.
A/N 1: The phrase “bizarre sexless love affair” is shamelessly stolen from Price bysam_storyteller . Very good fic which, until I went back to find the link, I had forgotten was also Jack/Ianto/Gwen. Go read it.
A/N 2: I felt really really bad for posting such DARK DARK DARK fic, so I quickly cleaned this up and decided to post it. I hope it puts a smile on somebody’s face!
Beta: None. As always when such is the case, let me know if you see a mistake and I’ll be forever grateful!
Disclaimer: I don’t own, I don’t make money, please don’t sue.
:::
One day, Ianto looked at Gwen, and she caught him looking. She looked back, and then gave him a teasing smile, before returning to her work documenting the eating habits of the rat-like species that had crashed the previous week.
Ianto blinked, and realized he had looked at Gwen, by which he meant he had looked at Gwen. Yes, Gwen, was – but she – Rhys – Jack?
He knew about Jack’s bizarre sexless love affair with Gwen. Who didn’t? And yes, they’d spoken about her. Vaguely. In that sort of we-fail-at-communication way. But it’d always been in terms of Jack. They’d agreed that Gwen was attractive, that nothing would ever happen, and moved on.
But this – this actual looking, this was new.
Ianto paused, and thought.
Okay, not that new. To be honest, he’d been looking at Gwen for a while now, probably a week or two. Only, he hadn’t even noticed. It was Gwen, after all. She just sort of belonged there, in sight, ready with a smile and an overdose of compassionate rainbows and unicorns. Still, it was new enough. It was sudden, and rather mind-boggling. He was looking.
At risk for an identity crises, Ianto decided this was to-be-thought-of-later.
Gwen looked over, and smiled at him, the way she often did to Jack. Joyful, and a little bit covetous.
Which was also not new. Oh. Oh.
Right. Work. Alien… stuff. Coffee.
He could do coffee.
Ianto went to get the mugs.
:::
“Jack, when did Gwen fall in love with me?” Ianto asked.
Jack, who was used to Ianto’s mid-coitus speculation (“Is there anything out there in the stars that doesn’t want to kill us?” “Owen’s a bastard.” “Am I too feminine sometimes?’) licked the skin under his lover’s ear and smiled.
“Friday, three weeks ago,” he answered. “You fell in love with her the Monday after.”
“Oh, good. So I didn’t just miss it or anything,” Ianto grunted, thoughtful.
It was a strange quirk of Ianto’s that Jack had very quickly discovered. Sex was one of very few activities that left Ianto entirely uninhibited – not even alcohol could loosen Ianto’s tongue quite the way intercourse did. Body, mind, and soul: with enough foreplay Ianto would become entirely unwound, which revealed all the things Ianto suppressed on a daily basis, and often life-changing questions were included on that list.
Actually, it was a bit of turn on, for Jack; in all honesty few things weren’t. Jack loved knowing that he was the only one privileged with seeing Ianto like this, and given such trust.
He laughed, although the laugh went a little breathless in the middle, because oh-God-Ianto-hit-that-spot-just-right…
“No, you didn’t miss it.”
“So, what do we do?”
“She’s still Gwen, and still married to Rhys,” Jack said. “I don’t see what changes.”
“Yes, but Gwen’s in love with us, and we’re both – no, Jack, don’t even try to deny it.”
“Deny it? I wasn’t going to deny anyggggggh… You play dirty, Jones.”
“Only with you, sir. And good. So, what, we continue as usual?”
“I don’t see why not. And we look out for her. Gwen’s important.”
Ianto gave him a slightly dreamy smile and a brief, chaste kiss (which was utterly paradoxical given the, the, what he was doing with his fingers at the time). “Yes, she is.”
“We’re talking about Gwen in bed. Wasn’t that one of your rules?”
“Yes, but then I realized how fucking gorgeous her breasts were. Did you see those freckles, that time when we had to strip, with the chartreuse alien goo?”
“Ianto-”
Ianto gave an incoherent, loud noise, and then things were very, very sticky-wet and the discussion quite abruptly ended. Neither of the two felt like complaining.
:::
It was a kind of courtship, a flirtation, only one that was never meant to go further.
Innocent touch to her shoulder, soft and kind and ever so friendly. A tight hug which of course included no brief groping, a kiss on the lips which was the kiss of those closer than siblings, not of lovers, not of those intending to become lovers.
Every motion screamed head-over-heels between them. Jack found himself endlessly amused, and now that Ianto was actually aware of this game he had been playing, the rules had not changed. However, Ianto’s general state of arousal at work had. It was as though the young man’s stamina had doubled, or at the least his restraint had been stripped to its barest limits.
Sometimes, incredibly, Ianto was hornier and more insatiable than he. For a human lover, that was a first.
Jack was simply happy that his immortality meant he would likely never require any form of Viagra.
Rhys also appeared to be benefiting. His wife could not get enough of him, and if he suspected Ianto or Jack for having anything to do with it, there was not a complaint to be heard. All was well.
Once, Ianto and Jack and Gwen all went out for coffee. All throughout, Ianto, normally shy of public displays of affection, would edge his thigh up against Jack’s or turn his head for a brief but searing kiss, after which he would continue on as if nothing had happened. Jack and Gwen followed suit.
It was like dating, only not in the least. They all learned more about each other. Jack shared some of the more twenty-first century adaptable tales of his childhood. Ianto spoke about how he was the smart math kid, but more often talked about his time with Lisa. It hurt, but it was also a relief. The poison was finally bleeding away from the wound, and Jack and Gwen learned of people – Mark, Natalie, that strange woman from the geometrically-challenged fourteenth floor – that they had never known existed, because they were Torchwood One and nobody at Three wanted to hear. But Jack and Gwen did. Gwen told stories about dating Rhys, who was adorable and bumbling and sharp as knives sometimes, Rhys, who should have been more than a lorryman.
Also, apparently, she didn’t have a gap in her teeth until she was about twelve or thirteen, when she swam with her eyes shut during a friend’s poolside birthday party, and ran her face into one of the metal ladders. Painfully.
It was a ménage a trois avec le deux, or something like that. Ianto’s French was rusty.
The dating-not-dating continued, as did life in general, and Gwen did not cheat on Rhys, because she loved Rhys. She just loved Jack and Ianto too. It made work interesting, if nothing else, having fallen for both of her coworkers.
Tricky.
:::
Ianto had long ago given up on trying to fathom or form any lines. Lines, like labels, appeared to be for the mere twenty-first century population, and not for Torchwood in general. Upon blurting this to Jack, Jack replied, “Finally,” although that may have been because Ianto had stopped teasing and actually begun to prepare him with two very deft fingers.
Now they were just Jack and Ianto, and Gwen. Only sometimes, they were Jack and Ianto and Gwen, but mainly when they were being a team, not lovers. Mainly.
They were in the cells, making love in front of Janet, who had by now grown used to this strange ritual of throwing one another against the thick glass of the opposite cell and shortly divesting themselves of attire. Jack saw her first, and Ianto found himself tipped off by the presence of a tiny little smirk.
“Gwen?”
“Yes,” she said, one hand tucked under her chin with a sort of disinterested fascination. The other hand had slipped past the waistband of her jeans, and likely past her panties as well, which Ianto absently imagined were black and lacy simply because he could.
“Oh. Did you – ooh – need anything?”
“No, no. Got bored. Paperwork.”
“I know the feeling,” Jack mumbled, only just comprehensible against Ianto’s neck.
Gwen hummed, agreeing, and they all three fell silent for the next minutes, part from various grunts and other sounds of no articulation.
It felt natural. He remembered that one day, so long ago. The day she had discovered Flat Holm, Gwen had been far less subtle, far less comfortable, walking in. Things had changed quite a bit since. He wasn’t even embarrassed. It was Gwen, who had seen them before, who had watched the CCTV, no doubt, multiple times. Look, don’t touch, had become a steadfast rule which was easily obeyed, and perhaps this crossed a line. Perhaps not.
With a sense of rightness and arousal and contentedness, because they were Torchwood, for they were a team, Ianto threw his head back and let go.
:::
Jack had this funny little habit.
“Are we doing the right thing?”
Ianto gave a tired shrug, and curled into Jack’s chest, feeling arms tighten warmly around him as he did.
For whatever reason, after sex, Jack occasionally got philosophical. One time he’d asked if Ianto actually existed, or was simply a figment of his imagination; Ianto had logically postulated back that of course he existed, because if he didn’t exist, neither could Myfanwy. You couldn’t just make up a pteranodon, after all. That settled, Ianto had promptly fallen asleep.
Today, apparently, Jack was considering morality.
“We fight aliens that intend us harm and keep humanity from advancing scientifically before morality can advance and catch up. Sounds right to me.”
“No, I mean Gwen.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. Better than denying anything, and besides, we’re Torchwood. It’s different.”
“But does that make it right?”
“It’s not like we’re trying to break Gwen and Rhys up. If she tried to leave Rhys for us, we’d just yell at her until she stopped.”
“Yes or no?”
“I don’t know,” Ianto said. “Dunno if it’s right. Feels like it is.” He pressed his lips to Jack’s knuckles. “We’ve had this conversation before, Jack. Things are what they are.”
“Okay. Tired, or another round?”
Ianto assessed his situation, and thoughtfully tilted his head. “Yes,” he answered, and he felt Jack perk up beneath him. Ianto chuckled and moaned as they began again, and he felt pretty happy. This was good. He loved Jack, and he loved Gwen.
Great. Good.
Author:
lizzledpink Rating: R
Pairing: Jack/Ianto(/Gwen)
Warnings: infidelity, depending on your definition of infidelity
Summary: Ianto doesn’t know if this is okay, or if it crosses a line, but it feels right. Good enough.
A/N 1: The phrase “bizarre sexless love affair” is shamelessly stolen from Price by
sam_storyteller . Very good fic which, until I went back to find the link, I had forgotten was also Jack/Ianto/Gwen. Go read it.A/N 2: I felt really really bad for posting such DARK DARK DARK fic, so I quickly cleaned this up and decided to post it. I hope it puts a smile on somebody’s face!
Beta: None. As always when such is the case, let me know if you see a mistake and I’ll be forever grateful!
Disclaimer: I don’t own, I don’t make money, please don’t sue.
:::
One day, Ianto looked at Gwen, and she caught him looking. She looked back, and then gave him a teasing smile, before returning to her work documenting the eating habits of the rat-like species that had crashed the previous week.
Ianto blinked, and realized he had looked at Gwen, by which he meant he had looked at Gwen. Yes, Gwen, was – but she – Rhys – Jack?
He knew about Jack’s bizarre sexless love affair with Gwen. Who didn’t? And yes, they’d spoken about her. Vaguely. In that sort of we-fail-at-communication way. But it’d always been in terms of Jack. They’d agreed that Gwen was attractive, that nothing would ever happen, and moved on.
But this – this actual looking, this was new.
Ianto paused, and thought.
Okay, not that new. To be honest, he’d been looking at Gwen for a while now, probably a week or two. Only, he hadn’t even noticed. It was Gwen, after all. She just sort of belonged there, in sight, ready with a smile and an overdose of compassionate rainbows and unicorns. Still, it was new enough. It was sudden, and rather mind-boggling. He was looking.
At risk for an identity crises, Ianto decided this was to-be-thought-of-later.
Gwen looked over, and smiled at him, the way she often did to Jack. Joyful, and a little bit covetous.
Which was also not new. Oh. Oh.
Right. Work. Alien… stuff. Coffee.
He could do coffee.
Ianto went to get the mugs.
:::
“Jack, when did Gwen fall in love with me?” Ianto asked.
Jack, who was used to Ianto’s mid-coitus speculation (“Is there anything out there in the stars that doesn’t want to kill us?” “Owen’s a bastard.” “Am I too feminine sometimes?’) licked the skin under his lover’s ear and smiled.
“Friday, three weeks ago,” he answered. “You fell in love with her the Monday after.”
“Oh, good. So I didn’t just miss it or anything,” Ianto grunted, thoughtful.
It was a strange quirk of Ianto’s that Jack had very quickly discovered. Sex was one of very few activities that left Ianto entirely uninhibited – not even alcohol could loosen Ianto’s tongue quite the way intercourse did. Body, mind, and soul: with enough foreplay Ianto would become entirely unwound, which revealed all the things Ianto suppressed on a daily basis, and often life-changing questions were included on that list.
Actually, it was a bit of turn on, for Jack; in all honesty few things weren’t. Jack loved knowing that he was the only one privileged with seeing Ianto like this, and given such trust.
He laughed, although the laugh went a little breathless in the middle, because oh-God-Ianto-hit-that-spot-just-right…
“No, you didn’t miss it.”
“So, what do we do?”
“She’s still Gwen, and still married to Rhys,” Jack said. “I don’t see what changes.”
“Yes, but Gwen’s in love with us, and we’re both – no, Jack, don’t even try to deny it.”
“Deny it? I wasn’t going to deny anyggggggh… You play dirty, Jones.”
“Only with you, sir. And good. So, what, we continue as usual?”
“I don’t see why not. And we look out for her. Gwen’s important.”
Ianto gave him a slightly dreamy smile and a brief, chaste kiss (which was utterly paradoxical given the, the, what he was doing with his fingers at the time). “Yes, she is.”
“We’re talking about Gwen in bed. Wasn’t that one of your rules?”
“Yes, but then I realized how fucking gorgeous her breasts were. Did you see those freckles, that time when we had to strip, with the chartreuse alien goo?”
“Ianto-”
Ianto gave an incoherent, loud noise, and then things were very, very sticky-wet and the discussion quite abruptly ended. Neither of the two felt like complaining.
:::
It was a kind of courtship, a flirtation, only one that was never meant to go further.
Innocent touch to her shoulder, soft and kind and ever so friendly. A tight hug which of course included no brief groping, a kiss on the lips which was the kiss of those closer than siblings, not of lovers, not of those intending to become lovers.
Every motion screamed head-over-heels between them. Jack found himself endlessly amused, and now that Ianto was actually aware of this game he had been playing, the rules had not changed. However, Ianto’s general state of arousal at work had. It was as though the young man’s stamina had doubled, or at the least his restraint had been stripped to its barest limits.
Sometimes, incredibly, Ianto was hornier and more insatiable than he. For a human lover, that was a first.
Jack was simply happy that his immortality meant he would likely never require any form of Viagra.
Rhys also appeared to be benefiting. His wife could not get enough of him, and if he suspected Ianto or Jack for having anything to do with it, there was not a complaint to be heard. All was well.
Once, Ianto and Jack and Gwen all went out for coffee. All throughout, Ianto, normally shy of public displays of affection, would edge his thigh up against Jack’s or turn his head for a brief but searing kiss, after which he would continue on as if nothing had happened. Jack and Gwen followed suit.
It was like dating, only not in the least. They all learned more about each other. Jack shared some of the more twenty-first century adaptable tales of his childhood. Ianto spoke about how he was the smart math kid, but more often talked about his time with Lisa. It hurt, but it was also a relief. The poison was finally bleeding away from the wound, and Jack and Gwen learned of people – Mark, Natalie, that strange woman from the geometrically-challenged fourteenth floor – that they had never known existed, because they were Torchwood One and nobody at Three wanted to hear. But Jack and Gwen did. Gwen told stories about dating Rhys, who was adorable and bumbling and sharp as knives sometimes, Rhys, who should have been more than a lorryman.
Also, apparently, she didn’t have a gap in her teeth until she was about twelve or thirteen, when she swam with her eyes shut during a friend’s poolside birthday party, and ran her face into one of the metal ladders. Painfully.
It was a ménage a trois avec le deux, or something like that. Ianto’s French was rusty.
The dating-not-dating continued, as did life in general, and Gwen did not cheat on Rhys, because she loved Rhys. She just loved Jack and Ianto too. It made work interesting, if nothing else, having fallen for both of her coworkers.
Tricky.
:::
Ianto had long ago given up on trying to fathom or form any lines. Lines, like labels, appeared to be for the mere twenty-first century population, and not for Torchwood in general. Upon blurting this to Jack, Jack replied, “Finally,” although that may have been because Ianto had stopped teasing and actually begun to prepare him with two very deft fingers.
Now they were just Jack and Ianto, and Gwen. Only sometimes, they were Jack and Ianto and Gwen, but mainly when they were being a team, not lovers. Mainly.
They were in the cells, making love in front of Janet, who had by now grown used to this strange ritual of throwing one another against the thick glass of the opposite cell and shortly divesting themselves of attire. Jack saw her first, and Ianto found himself tipped off by the presence of a tiny little smirk.
“Gwen?”
“Yes,” she said, one hand tucked under her chin with a sort of disinterested fascination. The other hand had slipped past the waistband of her jeans, and likely past her panties as well, which Ianto absently imagined were black and lacy simply because he could.
“Oh. Did you – ooh – need anything?”
“No, no. Got bored. Paperwork.”
“I know the feeling,” Jack mumbled, only just comprehensible against Ianto’s neck.
Gwen hummed, agreeing, and they all three fell silent for the next minutes, part from various grunts and other sounds of no articulation.
It felt natural. He remembered that one day, so long ago. The day she had discovered Flat Holm, Gwen had been far less subtle, far less comfortable, walking in. Things had changed quite a bit since. He wasn’t even embarrassed. It was Gwen, who had seen them before, who had watched the CCTV, no doubt, multiple times. Look, don’t touch, had become a steadfast rule which was easily obeyed, and perhaps this crossed a line. Perhaps not.
With a sense of rightness and arousal and contentedness, because they were Torchwood, for they were a team, Ianto threw his head back and let go.
:::
Jack had this funny little habit.
“Are we doing the right thing?”
Ianto gave a tired shrug, and curled into Jack’s chest, feeling arms tighten warmly around him as he did.
For whatever reason, after sex, Jack occasionally got philosophical. One time he’d asked if Ianto actually existed, or was simply a figment of his imagination; Ianto had logically postulated back that of course he existed, because if he didn’t exist, neither could Myfanwy. You couldn’t just make up a pteranodon, after all. That settled, Ianto had promptly fallen asleep.
Today, apparently, Jack was considering morality.
“We fight aliens that intend us harm and keep humanity from advancing scientifically before morality can advance and catch up. Sounds right to me.”
“No, I mean Gwen.”
Ianto rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. Better than denying anything, and besides, we’re Torchwood. It’s different.”
“But does that make it right?”
“It’s not like we’re trying to break Gwen and Rhys up. If she tried to leave Rhys for us, we’d just yell at her until she stopped.”
“Yes or no?”
“I don’t know,” Ianto said. “Dunno if it’s right. Feels like it is.” He pressed his lips to Jack’s knuckles. “We’ve had this conversation before, Jack. Things are what they are.”
“Okay. Tired, or another round?”
Ianto assessed his situation, and thoughtfully tilted his head. “Yes,” he answered, and he felt Jack perk up beneath him. Ianto chuckled and moaned as they began again, and he felt pretty happy. This was good. He loved Jack, and he loved Gwen.
Great. Good.
