It was Rhys’s first trip in the SUV when the gray box activated for the last time. They were still in the garage; Rhys, Gwen and Ianto in the SUV, dark heads bent over an alien device that had latched itself to Gwen’s ankle and the floor of the vehicle. Jack had run into the Hub to get a tool he said he knew would do the trick. Rhys had only been trying to increase the interior lighting, but when he hit the gray box instead, it lit up one light and emitted a golden mist.
He frowned up at the box. “Um, Gwen? I think I may have accidentally done something a little wrong.”
Gwen sneezed. “Oh, my God.” Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt and Rhys gaped as Ianto turned his wife’s face towards him and kissed her deeply.
“Hey! Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Rhys protested loudly, sneezed himself, and then found himself being kissed quite soundly by Ianto. To his shock, it felt really, really good. Only Ianto was wearing way too many clothes and he pushed at the other man’s jacket even as he was vaguely aware of Gwen undoing Ianto’s belt.
When Ianto’s fingers tugged on his own belt buckle, though, he shook his head hard, trying desperately to think clearly. “Something weird is going on,” he muttered, pulling his shirt off over his head.
Ianto grunted, and helped him slide his jeans and boxers down his legs. “It’s Torchwood. Relax, Rhys, we are clearly under the influence.” He pinched Rhys’s bare arse cheek between his fingers, and Rhys yelped.
Gwen laughed. “And look, it freed my ankle!” She slipped her foot out of its binding. “Help me get out of my jeans, will you, love?”
Rhys nodded, and felt his resistance melting in the presence of her smile, as always. He breathed in deeply, growing harder and harder. Ianto gave him an appreciative look, and tugged at Gwen’s boots as Rhys attacked her jeans. The moment she was freed of her clothes she pinned him in the corner of the backseat and practically impaled herself on his cock. Rhys barely had a moment to feel bad for Ianto, all alone in the other corner when the back seat shifted and fell flat. Gwen fell off him with a curse. “Fuck, what is this?”
“Just giving us a little room to maneuver. Jack designed it.” Ianto slid up close behind her and began to nibble an earlobe as one hand fondled one of her breasts. He had a tube of lube in his other hand.
“Way to be prepared, Ianto mate, but I want to fondle Gwen’s breasts.” Rhys pushed himself out of the corner and over to them. Ianto smirked at him, but dropped his hand from Gwen’s breast and uncapped the tube of lube. Rhys ran his thumbs over Gwen’s nipples and she gasped. He swallowed heavily. He had never seen her so wet and aroused before. He slid into her, eyes widening as he realized that he was not alone inside his wife. Ianto’s fingers were stretching her arsehole, and she moaned, a low keening sound that sent a wave of desire through his own cock. He thrust into her, hard, and she threw her head back against Ianto’s neck. “More. More, Ianto.”
Rhys heart clenched at the tender way Ianto kissed his wife’s neck and shoulder blades, and then he felt the other man’s cock, so close to him and he surprised himself by almost coming right then and there. Gwen shook her head. “No, not yet. Make it last,” she gasped. “I want it to last,” she almost cried.
Rhys’s eyes met Ianto’s over her shoulder and they began to move slowly, so slowly, each movement bringing a whimper or moan from one or all three of them. They were just establishing a rhythm when the door opened and Jack poked his head in, brandishing what looked like wire cutters. His jaw dropped.
Torchwood, Rhys/Gwen/Ianto/Jack -- SUV Sex Part 3A
It was Rhys’s first trip in the SUV when the gray box activated for the last time. They were still in the garage; Rhys, Gwen and Ianto in the SUV, dark heads bent over an alien device that had latched itself to Gwen’s ankle and the floor of the vehicle. Jack had run into the Hub to get a tool he said he knew would do the trick. Rhys had only been trying to increase the interior lighting, but when he hit the gray box instead, it lit up one light and emitted a golden mist.
He frowned up at the box. “Um, Gwen? I think I may have accidentally done something a little wrong.”
Gwen sneezed. “Oh, my God.” Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt and Rhys gaped as Ianto turned his wife’s face towards him and kissed her deeply.
“Hey! Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Rhys protested loudly, sneezed himself, and then found himself being kissed quite soundly by Ianto. To his shock, it felt really, really good. Only Ianto was wearing way too many clothes and he pushed at the other man’s jacket even as he was vaguely aware of Gwen undoing Ianto’s belt.
When Ianto’s fingers tugged on his own belt buckle, though, he shook his head hard, trying desperately to think clearly. “Something weird is going on,” he muttered, pulling his shirt off over his head.
Ianto grunted, and helped him slide his jeans and boxers down his legs. “It’s Torchwood. Relax, Rhys, we are clearly under the influence.” He pinched Rhys’s bare arse cheek between his fingers, and Rhys yelped.
Gwen laughed. “And look, it freed my ankle!” She slipped her foot out of its binding. “Help me get out of my jeans, will you, love?”
Rhys nodded, and felt his resistance melting in the presence of her smile, as always. He breathed in deeply, growing harder and harder. Ianto gave him an appreciative look, and tugged at Gwen’s boots as Rhys attacked her jeans. The moment she was freed of her clothes she pinned him in the corner of the backseat and practically impaled herself on his cock. Rhys barely had a moment to feel bad for Ianto, all alone in the other corner when the back seat shifted and fell flat. Gwen fell off him with a curse. “Fuck, what is this?”
“Just giving us a little room to maneuver. Jack designed it.” Ianto slid up close behind her and began to nibble an earlobe as one hand fondled one of her breasts. He had a tube of lube in his other hand.
“Way to be prepared, Ianto mate, but I want to fondle Gwen’s breasts.” Rhys pushed himself out of the corner and over to them. Ianto smirked at him, but dropped his hand from Gwen’s breast and uncapped the tube of lube. Rhys ran his thumbs over Gwen’s nipples and she gasped. He swallowed heavily. He had never seen her so wet and aroused before. He slid into her, eyes widening as he realized that he was not alone inside his wife. Ianto’s fingers were stretching her arsehole, and she moaned, a low keening sound that sent a wave of desire through his own cock. He thrust into her, hard, and she threw her head back against Ianto’s neck. “More. More, Ianto.”
Rhys heart clenched at the tender way Ianto kissed his wife’s neck and shoulder blades, and then he felt the other man’s cock, so close to him and he surprised himself by almost coming right then and there. Gwen shook her head. “No, not yet. Make it last,” she gasped. “I want it to last,” she almost cried.
Rhys’s eyes met Ianto’s over her shoulder and they began to move slowly, so slowly, each movement bringing a whimper or moan from one or all three of them. They were just establishing a rhythm when the door opened and Jack poked his head in, brandishing what looked like wire cutters. His jaw dropped.