Amy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
such_heights) wrote2009-08-13 01:51 am
such_heights) wrote2009-08-13 01:51 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Enclosed [Torchwood, Jack/Gwen/Ianto, adult]
Enclosed
Torchwood ; Jack/Gwen/Ianto ; adult ; no warnings ; 1500 words
For a long moment, everything is still, Jack and Gwen's hands entwined over Ianto's rapidly-beating heart, and Ianto doesn't know what happens now.
For the 'confined/caged' square on my![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo card. Thanks to xtricks for the beta!
They land awkwardly inside the container. Jack plummets down and hits the ground with a thump, then Gwen falls on top of him. Ianto struggles with their captors as they shove him after them, but it's only a few moments before he's falling backwards onto Gwen. The lid slides shut overhead, and Ianto can almost feel the metal passing his face, it's so close. Everything goes black.
"Hey!" Ianto yells, but he knows it's useless.
"Save your breath," Jack mutters.
Ianto snorts softly, and tries to stay as still and relaxed as possible. Now is not a good time to have a muscle spasm, or use unnecessary air, or do himself or Gwen some kind of permanent damage. He focuses on keeping his breathing shallow while the others talk.
"The others'll find us, won't they?" Gwen asks.
"If Tosh doesn't hear from us every hour, she and Owen will come bust us out," says Jack.
"Okay, so that's how long?"
Ianto becomes aware of the soft blue glow of Jack's manipulator in his peripheral vision.
"Forty minutes, give or take. Make yourselves comfy, kids."
Ianto shifts a little. He's trying to remain calm, but it's hard to escape the fact that it's uncomfortably hot and close and cramped. He arches up as much as he can, his chest brushing the top of the box, giving Gwen a chance to adjust herself beneath him. When he settles back down, he tries to balance his weight away from anywhere that would make the situation any more awkward, but it's mostly guesswork.
"It's fine, Ianto, don't worry," says Gwen, and blindly pats his shoulderblade.
"All right up there?" Jack asks, sounding a little winded.
"Given the circumstances," says Ianto. He starts to trace out the space, the metal above his head cool to the touch. He runs his hand down the left of the container, passing the leather of Gwen's jacket before he finds Jack's arm. Even here, Jack's got his coat on. Much as Ianto winces for Jack's discomfort, the feel of the wool is reassuring. His fingers brush against Jack's wrist, and Jack flexes slightly in response.
Ianto listens to their mingled breath, Jack's pulse beating against his palm. He can feel Gwen's chest expand and contract below him, and Jack's low breathing is both familiar and strange as it echoes in their metal cell. As Ianto stays like that, there's movement on his right side. Gwen reaches up to curl her hand loosely in his, and he smiles in the darkness.
"So," Gwen says conversationally, but she doesn't finish the thought. The pause turns loaded. Ianto squeezes her hand a little.
Slowly, Gwen raises her hand to Ianto's cheek. He can hear her knuckles bump against the metal by his face, and then she drags her fingers along his parted lips. He sucks in a quick, involuntary breath, and her hand hovers beside him, a quiet question.
"Gwen," he murmurs, both invitation and acquiesce.
Her hand moves lower, resting on the loose knot of his tie. The sound of shifting fabric is unmistakable, and so Jack's the next to move. He raises his arms carefully, his elbows clanging against the sides so that he can bring his hands in, exploratory, running over Ianto's chest until he finds Gwen. For a long moment, everything is still, Jack and Gwen's hands entwined over Ianto's rapidly-beating heart, and Ianto doesn't know what happens now. Under normal circumstances he'd have any number of ideas, but here, like this, his movements are so limited that it's out of his hands. He doesn't dare break the silence either, because that seems a surefire way to stop whatever this fragile thing is.
Jack moves first, reaching for Ianto's hips and working at his belt, which sounds out loudly as the open buckle scrapes across the lid and falls down to the side. Ianto struggles to keep his breathing steady, to make himself stay still. This is Jack; this, at least, is familiar. But there is metal inches from him in all directions, and he can feel Gwen's warm breath passing over the back of his neck.
Jack strokes the soft skin at the jut of Ianto's hips, light enough to be almost-ticklish, and Ianto hisses. He feels Gwen shudder under him, just a little, and then in one fluid motion she pushes his shirt away and slides a hand into his boxers, oh fuck.
He's thought about this before, and even talked about it with Jack, about taking Gwen to bed with them, because they love her and she loves them and sometimes things really can be that simple. This isn't precisely what he had in mind, but it feels amazing with Jack's broad palms splayed under his shirt and Gwen bringing her knees up a little to cradle his thighs as she starts to bring him off with slow, sure strokes. Ianto's pinned by their touches and by the confines of the box, unable to move and unwilling to speak.
He tilts his head back as much as he's able, looking for more intimate contact than the amorphous press of bodies he can feel beneath him. He turns his head to the side and his cheek brushes Gwen's hair, so he strains just a little, awkward and clumsy, until he's pressing his mouth to the hollow of her throat in a sideways kiss, feeling the heat blooming in her skin.
"Wait," Jack grunts, and then he's moving Ianto, pushing him up at the waist and sliding a hand into the small gap between him and Gwen.
Ianto bites his lip as he hears a zipping sound, and then Jack pulls him back down, the small of his back covering Jack's hand as he starts to trace circles over Gwen's clit - Ianto can feel it, god, every movement. Jack starts a steady rhythm and it reverberates through all of them, Gwen picking it up too, until Ianto feels surrounded by them, Jack and Gwen and their hands and bodies, keeping him close in a way entirely different from the box they're stuck in.
He rolls his hips, making Jack press down hard against Gwen, and in turn her grip tightens on his cock, her thumb brushing over the head. Ianto wishes he could turn and see the expression on Gwen's face, to find out whether her eyes are tight shut or wide open with pleasure, but then her rhythm on him stutters and he guesses that she's close. The thought of that alone is enough to bring him right up to the edge, and after that it only takes a few more strokes before he's clenching up and coming, still half in his trousers.
His shoulders slump as tension flows out of him in waves, but he rolls to the side as much as he can. It isn't much, but he curls his knees in awkwardly until they touch the side and it gives Jack a little more room for manoeuvre. Gwen reaches out into the darkness until she makes contact with his arm, where her fingers dig sharply into his bicep. That point of contact and the sounds he can hear are the only clues Ianto has to what's going on. Gwen starts to let out a series of low, quiet cries, her grip on him tightening then loosening. Ianto's imagination is more than vivid enough to make up for his lack of vision as he pictures the sheen on Gwen's face, the flush creeping down over her collarbone and down to her breasts.
The rhythmic sounds Jack's been making stop. Everything goes still and quiet save their breathing again, breaths that are slowly evening out, all three of them slowing to the same rhythm.
Ianto twists so he's facing inward, his shoulder wedged against the top. He reaches down to find a good angle to get to Jack, but Jack stops him.
"It's fine," Jack says, sounding hoarse. "Make it up to me later, yeah?" He laughs, a little strained.
Ianto has no idea whether Jack means him, or Gwen, or both, and the ensuing silence suggests that he's not the only one wondering.
Gwen still hasn't said a word, and Ianto hopes she isn't already writing this off as a terrible mistake. She answers that for him by taking his shoulder and rolling him back down flush against her again, and this time they're face to face. He pushes himself up until his head bumps the ceiling, trying to make her out in the dark, but he can't see a thing. She wraps a hand around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss, long and slow.
He presses one hand against the side of the container, cold against his palm as he opens his mouth to her, scraping his teeth along her bottom lip. He strokes the soft hair at the nape of her neck and Jack kisses them both there, Ianto's fingers and Gwen's skin. His arms loop around Ianto, Gwen between them, keeping them close and safe, and it's good, it's perfect.
Torchwood ; Jack/Gwen/Ianto ; adult ; no warnings ; 1500 words
For a long moment, everything is still, Jack and Gwen's hands entwined over Ianto's rapidly-beating heart, and Ianto doesn't know what happens now.
For the 'confined/caged' square on my
kink_bingo card. Thanks to xtricks for the beta!They land awkwardly inside the container. Jack plummets down and hits the ground with a thump, then Gwen falls on top of him. Ianto struggles with their captors as they shove him after them, but it's only a few moments before he's falling backwards onto Gwen. The lid slides shut overhead, and Ianto can almost feel the metal passing his face, it's so close. Everything goes black.
"Hey!" Ianto yells, but he knows it's useless.
"Save your breath," Jack mutters.
Ianto snorts softly, and tries to stay as still and relaxed as possible. Now is not a good time to have a muscle spasm, or use unnecessary air, or do himself or Gwen some kind of permanent damage. He focuses on keeping his breathing shallow while the others talk.
"The others'll find us, won't they?" Gwen asks.
"If Tosh doesn't hear from us every hour, she and Owen will come bust us out," says Jack.
"Okay, so that's how long?"
Ianto becomes aware of the soft blue glow of Jack's manipulator in his peripheral vision.
"Forty minutes, give or take. Make yourselves comfy, kids."
Ianto shifts a little. He's trying to remain calm, but it's hard to escape the fact that it's uncomfortably hot and close and cramped. He arches up as much as he can, his chest brushing the top of the box, giving Gwen a chance to adjust herself beneath him. When he settles back down, he tries to balance his weight away from anywhere that would make the situation any more awkward, but it's mostly guesswork.
"It's fine, Ianto, don't worry," says Gwen, and blindly pats his shoulderblade.
"All right up there?" Jack asks, sounding a little winded.
"Given the circumstances," says Ianto. He starts to trace out the space, the metal above his head cool to the touch. He runs his hand down the left of the container, passing the leather of Gwen's jacket before he finds Jack's arm. Even here, Jack's got his coat on. Much as Ianto winces for Jack's discomfort, the feel of the wool is reassuring. His fingers brush against Jack's wrist, and Jack flexes slightly in response.
Ianto listens to their mingled breath, Jack's pulse beating against his palm. He can feel Gwen's chest expand and contract below him, and Jack's low breathing is both familiar and strange as it echoes in their metal cell. As Ianto stays like that, there's movement on his right side. Gwen reaches up to curl her hand loosely in his, and he smiles in the darkness.
"So," Gwen says conversationally, but she doesn't finish the thought. The pause turns loaded. Ianto squeezes her hand a little.
Slowly, Gwen raises her hand to Ianto's cheek. He can hear her knuckles bump against the metal by his face, and then she drags her fingers along his parted lips. He sucks in a quick, involuntary breath, and her hand hovers beside him, a quiet question.
"Gwen," he murmurs, both invitation and acquiesce.
Her hand moves lower, resting on the loose knot of his tie. The sound of shifting fabric is unmistakable, and so Jack's the next to move. He raises his arms carefully, his elbows clanging against the sides so that he can bring his hands in, exploratory, running over Ianto's chest until he finds Gwen. For a long moment, everything is still, Jack and Gwen's hands entwined over Ianto's rapidly-beating heart, and Ianto doesn't know what happens now. Under normal circumstances he'd have any number of ideas, but here, like this, his movements are so limited that it's out of his hands. He doesn't dare break the silence either, because that seems a surefire way to stop whatever this fragile thing is.
Jack moves first, reaching for Ianto's hips and working at his belt, which sounds out loudly as the open buckle scrapes across the lid and falls down to the side. Ianto struggles to keep his breathing steady, to make himself stay still. This is Jack; this, at least, is familiar. But there is metal inches from him in all directions, and he can feel Gwen's warm breath passing over the back of his neck.
Jack strokes the soft skin at the jut of Ianto's hips, light enough to be almost-ticklish, and Ianto hisses. He feels Gwen shudder under him, just a little, and then in one fluid motion she pushes his shirt away and slides a hand into his boxers, oh fuck.
He's thought about this before, and even talked about it with Jack, about taking Gwen to bed with them, because they love her and she loves them and sometimes things really can be that simple. This isn't precisely what he had in mind, but it feels amazing with Jack's broad palms splayed under his shirt and Gwen bringing her knees up a little to cradle his thighs as she starts to bring him off with slow, sure strokes. Ianto's pinned by their touches and by the confines of the box, unable to move and unwilling to speak.
He tilts his head back as much as he's able, looking for more intimate contact than the amorphous press of bodies he can feel beneath him. He turns his head to the side and his cheek brushes Gwen's hair, so he strains just a little, awkward and clumsy, until he's pressing his mouth to the hollow of her throat in a sideways kiss, feeling the heat blooming in her skin.
"Wait," Jack grunts, and then he's moving Ianto, pushing him up at the waist and sliding a hand into the small gap between him and Gwen.
Ianto bites his lip as he hears a zipping sound, and then Jack pulls him back down, the small of his back covering Jack's hand as he starts to trace circles over Gwen's clit - Ianto can feel it, god, every movement. Jack starts a steady rhythm and it reverberates through all of them, Gwen picking it up too, until Ianto feels surrounded by them, Jack and Gwen and their hands and bodies, keeping him close in a way entirely different from the box they're stuck in.
He rolls his hips, making Jack press down hard against Gwen, and in turn her grip tightens on his cock, her thumb brushing over the head. Ianto wishes he could turn and see the expression on Gwen's face, to find out whether her eyes are tight shut or wide open with pleasure, but then her rhythm on him stutters and he guesses that she's close. The thought of that alone is enough to bring him right up to the edge, and after that it only takes a few more strokes before he's clenching up and coming, still half in his trousers.
His shoulders slump as tension flows out of him in waves, but he rolls to the side as much as he can. It isn't much, but he curls his knees in awkwardly until they touch the side and it gives Jack a little more room for manoeuvre. Gwen reaches out into the darkness until she makes contact with his arm, where her fingers dig sharply into his bicep. That point of contact and the sounds he can hear are the only clues Ianto has to what's going on. Gwen starts to let out a series of low, quiet cries, her grip on him tightening then loosening. Ianto's imagination is more than vivid enough to make up for his lack of vision as he pictures the sheen on Gwen's face, the flush creeping down over her collarbone and down to her breasts.
The rhythmic sounds Jack's been making stop. Everything goes still and quiet save their breathing again, breaths that are slowly evening out, all three of them slowing to the same rhythm.
Ianto twists so he's facing inward, his shoulder wedged against the top. He reaches down to find a good angle to get to Jack, but Jack stops him.
"It's fine," Jack says, sounding hoarse. "Make it up to me later, yeah?" He laughs, a little strained.
Ianto has no idea whether Jack means him, or Gwen, or both, and the ensuing silence suggests that he's not the only one wondering.
Gwen still hasn't said a word, and Ianto hopes she isn't already writing this off as a terrible mistake. She answers that for him by taking his shoulder and rolling him back down flush against her again, and this time they're face to face. He pushes himself up until his head bumps the ceiling, trying to make her out in the dark, but he can't see a thing. She wraps a hand around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss, long and slow.
He presses one hand against the side of the container, cold against his palm as he opens his mouth to her, scraping his teeth along her bottom lip. He strokes the soft hair at the nape of her neck and Jack kisses them both there, Ianto's fingers and Gwen's skin. His arms loop around Ianto, Gwen between them, keeping them close and safe, and it's good, it's perfect.
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