51stcenturyfox | Fic: "The Assist" Rhys/Ianto/Gwen (R)

Title: The Assist
Author:

51stcenturyfox
Characters: Rhys/Ianto/Gwen
Wordcount: 4,330
Summary: Three adorable Welsh people have sex.
Rating: R
A/N: An assist is a football term for the pass or passes which immediately precede a goal.
Credit/blame: A threesome ~~challenge~~ prompt at

touchyerwood that I couldn't resist. Thank you to

neifile7 and

copperbadge for beta magic!

Ianto had never thought of Rhys as that sort of bloke.

They'd been moving equipment from the Hub into a UNIT warehouse over the course of the morning and Rhys had been acting overly macho -- he knew about Jack and Ianto, obviously, and Ianto thought Rhys was trying to prove something, maybe. So when he'd muttered under his breath about the amazing tits on that bird pumping petrol next to their lorry, Ianto joined in.

"I wouldn't mind a bit of that myself."

Rhys turned and lifted an eyebrow. "I thought you and Jack-"

"We are. But I - I'm still interested in women."

"Really?" Rhys let out a low whistle when the woman stepped and bent to retrieve a receipt she'd dropped on the pavement before it was taken further by the gust of wind stirring her black miniskirt.

"Really. Besides, you should be one to talk about other women..." Ianto paused, and blurted the rest without thinking: "...when you've got a fit piece of ass like that at home." As he said the words, Rhys turned to stare and Ianto winced inwardly. He wanted to pull the words back and put them in his pocket, like that woman had done with her receipt. Just then, the UNIT muscle who'd been helping out opened the sliding door to the van and passed in a sack full of bottled water and egg and cress sandwiches and the conversation was effectively over. Thankfully.

Later, after they'd moved the boxes and gear and dropped the private off at a second unmarked warehouse, Rhys turned to him. "About what you said earlier, that thing about Gwen..."

Ianto braced himself. "God, Rhys, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's just-"

"D'you find my wife's arse attractive?"

"Uhm..." He did, now that he thought about it, but Ianto didn't welcome the idea of having his own kicked up and down the road by Rhys Williams. There didn't seem to be a correct response here. "So, Mr Prime Minister, when did you stop lying to the public and stealing from the treasury?"

Rhys laughed as Ianto stepped out of the van. "It's all right, mate. You don't have to answer that. Come to ours for the football and dinner?"

"Sure." Ianto exhaled.

"I'm starving now. Egg salad and bloody watercress sandwiches? What the fuck?" Rhys shook his head as Ianto shut the door.

Later, in the shower, Ianto shook his head and laughed at himself. That had to have been the most awkward conversational moment in recent Torchwood history, and that was really saying something; Ianto hadn't really thought of Gwen like that before... well. All right. But not often, and he thought she certainly didn't think of him like that either. At any rate, no point. She was off-limits.

He rinsed stray soap from his eyes and worked downward as his thoughts flashed to a story Jack had shared recently, about a woman he'd started seeing in the mid-1950's:

"We met at a corner cafe, and she was so out-of-place there, Ianto. Elegant. Plus, there was a tan line where a ring would be. She'd moved to Cardiff from London, but she was from somewhere else... " Jack had stroked Ianto's back as he reminisced. "Brittany, I think. At any rate, we started seeing one another -- always on a weeknight, always in a different hotel, where she'd sign us in as Mr and Mrs." Jack paused.

"And then?"

"And then one time, there was a man waiting when we got to our room. She spoke too fast, lapsing into French. 'My husband, Thierry. He knows everything. He wants to watch us.' And so he did. He took off his shoes and pulled up a chair. He even lit a pipe. It was like he was at the theatre. Then he whipped it out and started to stroke himself as we got into it on the bed."

"You didn't... find that offputting?" Ianto had asked, and Jack had laughed softly.

"Only the first time. I mean, I did invite him to join us, but he liked being a voyeur. It's actually a very common fantasy, seeing your wife with another man."

Ianto had murmured, "Jesus. I'm not sure I could rise to the occasion in that circumstance."

"You'd be surprised. Anyhow, life is short, and a good time was had by every consenting adult... hey! Did I ever tell you about this time I had a threesome with a couple of randy Ffelddoren? They have feathers and flush bright purple in the throes of...

Ianto groaned and turned up the cold water.

*

Dinner was salad, pizza and a few bottles of Stella -- more than a few, actually. Ianto had rung Jack to tell him he was planning to catch the match at Rhys and Gwen's and stay over since he'd been drinking a bit, and Jack sounded relieved about not having to act interested in a sport he wasn't playing himself.

Ianto flopped down again on the sofa, on the other side of Gwen. Rhys tossed him the miniature foam football he'd been fiddling with and Ianto caught it one-handed and lobbed it back. Gwen studiously ignored their antics in favour of the match, until the ball landed in her lap. Without thinking, Ianto retrieved it, fingers scrabbling against the inside of her thigh. She giggled.

"Oi, Ianto. Hands!"

Rhys caught his eye and Ianto felt himself actually blush. Fantastic. "Shit. Sorry, Gwen."

"That's okay, she likes hands, don't you, duck?" Rhys grasped her right knee and threw a wink at Ianto, who poised his fingers just above her left.

"Don't you dare!" Gwen yelped, before they both squeezed and she dissolved in laughter and grabbed a cushion to smack them with as she scrambled to get away, and after a few minutes of dodges and maneouvres Gwen ended up with her head in Ianto's lap and her legs stretched out over Rhys's as all of them collapsed laughing (the beer didn't hurt). She shrieked and covered her face with the pillow as Rhys wiggled his fingers towards her ticklish knees again.

"I won't, don't worry." Rhys pulled at a toe, and then slipped off one of Gwen's fluffy socks, than the other. "Foot rub?"

"If you promise not to tickle," Gwen said, then cast her eyes up at Ianto. "That goes for you double, handsy."

Ianto raised his hands innocently and was rewarded with a lazy smile. At a loss for where to put them next, he rested one arm along the back of the sofa and the other near Gwen's head. When Rhys shifted to one side to face them and massage her instep, Gwen jerked and gave her husband the fisheye, but relaxed when no tickling followed. A moment later, she moaned. "Mmm. That's nice."

Impulsively, Ianto slid a hand to her temple and slipped it gently through her hair. She closed her eyes and arched her neck. "S'nice, too," she said, as he attempted to drag his eyes away from her cleavage and back to the match. He wasn't really succeeding, and kept glancing downward. Jesus. It's not like he was fourteen. Rhys caught him at it once, and Ianto felt himself colour. Until Rhys winked.

Rhys moved to her ankles and pushed up ineffectually at the leg of her jeans. He sighed dramatically.

"You know, Gwen... if you want your calves rubbed, those jeans will have to come off." Gwen looked thoughtful. "That all right, then?" Rhys looked at Ianto, and Ianto felt the corner of his mouth quirk up, unbidden. He wasn't sure what game they were all playing at, but he was, well, game. They were having fun, weren't they? And it wasn't like they hadn't all seen each other in their underwear at some point. Gwen nodded then, as if she could hear his thoughts, and waved a hand at Rhys.

"Okay," she said. "Yes." Rhys sat up and flicked open the button of her jeans, then slowly slid down the zipper. He tugged at the denim to bare her legs and slid the jeans off entirely. Gwen lifted a leg. "That's nice, really good," she murmured as Rhys captured it and began to massage her calf.

Ianto's gaze slid from that up and up, to her pale blue cotton knickers. Bikini-style. He shifted himself at the end of the sofa, raising her to position himself behind her, and took a pull of his bottle before he cupped his palms under her shoulders and slid to rub them. He was rewarded with a drawn-out "Ohh."

He glanced again at Rhys, who grinned at him, breezy and unperturbed, and cast a pointed look at Gwen's chest. Ianto looked down and moved one beer-bottle-cooled hand over her collarbone, down to the front of her v-necked top. He slowly and almost absently traced along a tiny constellation of freckles at the centre of her cleavage before dipping his fingers under the cotton and along the swell of her breast. She gasped, her eyelids fluttered, and Rhys moved his hand up one leg to her thigh, his knuckles grazing the other. She bent one knee and slid her leg up.

Ianto could feel his cock harden beneath the nape of Gwen's neck as she shifted. This was... surreal. He wondered if she could feel it. He licked his lips and went for it: "Are you cold, Gwen?"

"Mmm. No," she answered with a giggle.

"Then maybe you should take off..." he began, and plucked at her sleeve. "I mean, if you want a proper back rub." Ianto swallowed as his fingers stilled, expectant. He expected her to laugh and swat his arm playfully. But then Gwen paused and reached down to pull at the fabric, and Ianto helped to lift it up over her head and free her arms. Ianto went back to kneading and stroking her shoulders, thumbs along her shoulderblades. He could feel her tense, then relax with a sigh. A few moments later Rhys edged a finger under the edge of her knickers and she sucked in a breath.

"Rhys," she said, her voice husky, and Ianto was sure her next words would be: "let's go to bed," leaving him out on the sofa for the last two minutes of the forgotten match with a swelling prick and his hand. But they weren't. "Rhys," she repeated, and then leaned back into Ianto's lap and tilted her head, rubbing it against his cock, ohgod. "Ianto?"

"Mmmhmm," he said, and daringly slipped her bra straps down, then boldly allowed his fingers slide inside one of the cups to graze a nipple.

"Why am I the only one in my underwear?" She asked, half-sleepy, half-saucy. In response, Rhys wasted no time in removing his polo shirt, and stood to take off his jeans. In boxers, he returned to his spot, leaned forward and cradled Gwen's neck, pulling her up.

"You?" Rhys asked Ianto, and Ianto hesitated before he nodded slowly and got up to remove his own shirt and trousers, then laid them on the adjacent chair. He knelt by the side of the sofa and pulled Gwen up by her shoulders, then placed the cushion under her neck. She turned to look at him, eyes hazel and liquid, beckoning. Ianto bent to kiss her, and her lips parted. As the kiss deepened, she swung a hand down the side of the sofa and slipped her fingers inside the front of Ianto's boxers.

"So hard," she said simply, and whimpered then; Rhys had hooked the crotch of her knickers and slipped his thumb against a sensitive spot and his fingers inside. Gwen lifted her face to kiss Ianto again, and he reached to unhook her bra. He dropped his head to her chest and captured a nipple between tooth and tongue. Gwen gripped him tighter in response, and Ianto groaned. Rising to the occasion, he thought.

"Ianto?" Rhys said, and Ianto tore his attention away. "You've got to feel this... " Gwen flushed, and Ianto hoped it wasn't because she was embarrassed. Because. God. This... was. It was hot. He smoothed a hand along her stomach and down and...

"Fuck, yes," Ianto said, his voice thick, though he suddenly felt more than sober, and he could tell the others did, too. Really, the bit of alcohol they'd had just provided a clever pretence at this point - they could blame it on the Stella later, when really this was all about, well, Ianto wasn't sure, but judging from the way Rhys's boxers were tenting and his tone of forced nonchalance, this scenario must have been something he'd thought about before today, something he'd discussed with Gwen, because was Rhys really the type to make cracks about random busty women at petrol stations in between text messages to his wife?

"What would you think of a threesome, love?"

"Oh. I... Hmm. What? I... don't know."

"Not JACK, though," Rhys might have insisted, and Ianto imagined her eyes going wide in the half-dark of their bedroom. Well, of course not. But a bloke? Not some WPC from the Constabulary or one of her bridesmaid girlfriends she'd known since she was fourteen?

"Not Andy either," she might have said, and maybe then she'd turned to Rhys and suggested Ianto, because hadn't she told him he was "just lovely" more than a few times and liked the way it had made him smile? He had a partner too, but a partner who would understand. Ianto was a good mate with a non-jealous partner and who wasn't likely to boil bunnies or bring it up at the Christmas party if it all went pear-shaped.

"But he doesn't fancy women, does he?"

Ianto bit his lip when the penny dropped, but then he surveyed the tableau before him, tweaked Gwen's nipple gently and watched her writhe as her fingertips softly smoothed a drop of pre-come over the head of his painfully erect cock. Then Rhys got up, pulled off his boxers and Ianto raised his eyebrows and Jesus, Rhys was hung and from oh-so-slightly-smug look Rhys gave him back, Ianto could tell he knew it. Gwen leaned up on one elbow and stroked Rhys as Ianto watched, transfixed. Because how often did you get a chance to see your friends do something like this without peeking beneath a windowshade?

Rhys dropped his eyes to Ianto's hand, which had stilled inside Gwen's knickers, then reached up to tug the fabric down. She squeezed her eyes shut as Ianto slipped a finger inside and smoothed it back up to encircle her clit. She grasped his arm and dug her nails in.

"Now that is fucking sexy," Rhys said, eyes hungry, and Ianto laughed in agreement and decided that if he'd been tricked a bit to get here, he really didn't mind at all. Lord knew Jack wouldn't. Mind, that is.

So when Rhys cocked his head, Ianto nodded, pulled his hand away from Gwen and his cock away from Gwen's hand, and she made a frustrated sound. He went to the other end of the sofa, lifted one of her legs over the back cushion, and dropped his thumb down to touch her again, and her mouth opened in a delicate O. Ianto leaned between her thighs and registered the faint chatter of the post-match rundown fading as he licked her with a broad stroke, working her open and laving her with his tongue. And it was good. He was more than satisfied with Jack, but he realised he missed this: going down on a woman, making her thighs tremble, making her swear a bit...

"Oh. Oh, fuck."

Rhys swallowed her words with a kiss, then knelt at the edge of the sofa. Gwen wrapped her lips around Rhys's cock and her hand around his thigh. The other carded through Ianto's hair.

Ianto heard the crinkle of a foil packet and thought he should move away in favour of Rhys, but as he shifted to get up he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Go on, then," Rhys said, his eyes bright and expectant as he handed over the circle of latex. Ianto looked at Gwen and she gazed back with sloe eyes and nodded.

Ianto pushed Gwen forward gently up the sofa to make room and he lowered his mouth again, drawing a shudder and a husky moan.

"Wait," she murmured then, her hand at his ear. "Just... wait." She gently pushed him back, then stood and disappeared down the hall. Ianto watched her retreat, then sat back on his heels and looked up at Rhys, who suddenly seemed as if he hadn't a clue what to with his hands. He swept his eyes to the screen and reached for the remote control and turned off the television.

"Good match," he said, as if they were sitting next to each other at a pub sharing a split-down bag of cheese and onion crisps.

"Yup," Ianto agreed. He clasped a hand around Rhys's wrist, and Rhys let him. "Celebrate?" Ianto asked, as he dipped his head and took a swipe at Rhys's hipbone with his tongue -- just a tentative lick of smooth flesh, and when Rhys didn't pull away, he reached for him with his other hand and stroked not-so-gently.

"I thought on the floor -- Rhys's back. He needs a hard... oh." Gwen said, coming up behind her husband. Her voice trailed off and Ianto disengaged from Rhys and glanced at her. When he closed his eyes and took Rhys into his mouth, Ianto heard her unceremoniously drop all four pillows and the patterned duvet she'd been carrying. "Oh. Holy. Oh."

Ianto felt Rhys ball the fist of his captured arm and tense the muscles in his wrist, and he tightened his grip and smoothed his tongue up and back before opening his throat and taking him in as deep as possible.

"Jesus, Ianto," Rhys bit out through gritted teeth.

"You're going to ruin him for me," Gwen stage-whispered from somewhere behind Ianto's ear.

Ianto pulled away and smiled at her lazily. "Not if the way you wrap your lips around a straw is any indication, Gwen."

Rhys choked back a laugh as Gwen paused. "You!" She swatted Ianto on the shoulder. "Those bloody iced coffees... and on the coldest days! I've put on half a stone!"

"In good places," Rhys murmured. His hand gripped her waist, then slid upward. She leaned in and kissed him soundly, fingers navigating the curve of Ianto's neck and sliding into his hair as he reached for Rhys again.

Ianto wondered idly if Rhys had ever done anything with a man before. He thought not, and then wondered if Gwen had told him about walking in on Ianto and Jack in the greenhouse. "Naked hide and seek" had been a feeble Jack-joke. It was after Gwen had turned down his offer to join them that Ianto had started thinking about what it would've been like if she'd said yes.

Jack, Ianto reflected, was clearly your man if you wanted to put your feet up at the end of a hotel room bed and watch someone satisfy your wife five times while you smoked a pipe, but this was Rhys Williams, not Thierry from Brittany and... well, Ianto didn't think he'd want to watch Captain Jack Harkness fuck his wife either, if he'd had one.

Gwen spun and pulled back the coffee table with both hands, then grabbed the duvet and pillows and positioned them on the floor. She went to her knees then, and reached for Ianto. She glanced up through her fringe and she hollowed her cheeks in a filthily pretty fashion, and he was very glad to be not-Jack today... glad to be chosen.

When his legs began to shake, Ianto stopped her, sank to the floor, and brought Rhys down as well, hand still tight on his wrist. Gwen flipped the remote to stereo and hit play. Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn't mean it, sang a voice, and Ianto grinned.

"Take That, Gwen?"

"It's not... mine," she gasped, as his fingers circled slowly between her parted thighs and Rhys, behind her, smoothed a hand up her waist as Ianto smirked.

"Stuff it, Ianto," Rhys said.

"Have any lube?" Ianto replied, then added hastily, "Gwen. It's for Gwen." She opened her eyes. "Gwen?"

"Mmm?"

"Just..." Ianto reached for his windbreaker and uttered a silent prayer as he felt the pockets. Score. Rhys had stretched out on the floor and tucked a pillow under his head, and Gwen was atop him, attending to his chest and nuzzling at his chin. Ianto scrabbled at the box of condoms -- the first had been lost somewhere and Rhys or Gwen would probably find it when they flipped the sofa cushions -- and he chose two packets. He passed one to Gwen, who bit it open and smoothed it onto Rhys, rose up on trembling legs and sank down up on him with a soft moan. Ianto put his arm around her and kissed her shoulder, then stroked the back of her neck, sliding down to caress each shoulderblade, then her waist and tailbone. One-handed -- the other teasing at a nipple -- he flipped open the cap on the tube of lube he'd rescued from his jacket and slicked his fingertips before he slid them slowly between her cheeks. She stilled, and he slipped one finger inside her and felt her clench as she gasped. Ianto's cock twitched.

"Shh, it's okay, isn't it?" Ianto asked her as he shifted and began to move gently against her. He kissed the side of her neck and she leaned forward and let Rhys catch her upper arms. Ianto shifted behind her, between Rhys's legs, and kept stroking -- a bit deeper each time. He pulled his fingers out completely and added a third, knitted them together and returned them to their task, and Gwen shuddered.

"I can feel that," Rhys said. "Is it good, Gwen?" She nodded and dipped to kiss him as Ianto pulled away again and tore into the condom packet. He slipped it on and slicked on an extra dose of lubricant before edging forward and pulling Gwen's shoulders back gently. He caught Rhys's eye and smiled, then slid his cock along the folds of Gwen's bottom, then in. She waved her hands at Rhys and he caught them.

"Oh god," she said softly, as Ianto made the first few shallow thrusts. When Gwen, tense and rigid, tipped her head back, he kissed her, then stilled as she bent to move with Rhys again, and when Rhys whispered something to her Ianto couldn't quite catch, Ianto felt her relax. He imagined being in her place, and what Jack -- who knew him as well as Rhys did Gwen -- could say to make him go boneless like that, and smiled into the smooth flesh of her back before sliding forward.

"How's that?" Ianto asked, and he could feel Gwen take a breath, then deep friction as Rhys pushed forward beneath her, and Ianto knew he wasn't going to last very long. He slipped a hand in front of her to touch her clit and his fingers bumped into Rhys's.

"Great minds..." Rhys said, with effort, and Gwen laughed. Ianto's hands moved to her breasts instead, and she came first, followed by Ianto, who made a serious effort not to fall forward and make Rhys feel like the bottom layer in a panini press.

Gwen said later she was surprised to find that Ianto was the loudest; she'd thought Rhys was shouty when he came, and thank goodness the people downstairs had gone to the match and were probably still stuck in traffic.

*

"Robbie Williams, Rhys?" Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow as Gwen padded back from the kitchen with glasses of water and settled in between the men, backs against the sofa front.

"Now, that one's Gwen's," Rhys protested.

"You could have just asked, you know," Ianto said.

Gwen's eyes danced. "Would have been awkward, right, if you'd said no? I wouldn't have been able to look you in the face ever again."

"Sure you can now?"

Gwen lifted her head off of Ianto's shoulder and leaned over his chest. She tilted her head and stared into his eyes. "No worries," she said.

"Thing is, though," Gwen continued, "I sort of thought... it'd be strange, after." She took a great interest in her own manicure and picked up the remote control lying forgotten on the sofa behind them. "But it isn't. Is it?"

Rhys reached over and stroked her arm with a knuckle. "I thought it'd be strange during," he said. "Well..."

"It was strange, Rhys, " Ianto pointed out. "But... definitely one for the diary."

"Is this a one-off, then? Or..." Gwen asked. Ianto looked at Rhys. Gwen opened her mouth and closed it again, then looked at Ianto, who turned to Rhys again before they all spoke at once:

"Maybe that's best"
"Yes, I think..."
"Probably so, yeah."

"Are you going to tell Jack?" Gwen asked, and Ianto could tell she was hoping he wouldn't. "Because we wanted it to be you and not... and, well..."

"No," he answered decisively. "Jack would just complain about how he misses everything and whinge that no one had invited him over. He wouldn't understand why you didn't. Why we didn't."

*

"Danish?" Jack asked, waving a box under Gwen's chin.

"No thanks, Jack. Still full from last night."

"Missed the match. Did our boys go the extra mile?" Jack asked nonchalantly as he patted Ianto's back in an attempt to... help him somehow as the laugh he'd successfully stifled turned into an epic fit of coughing.

Ianto caught Gwen's eye as she paused over her coffee. "Yes," she said. She winked at Ianto as he caught his breath and managed a secret smile in return. "It was a very good night for Wales."

Current Music: Robbie Williams - Millennium | Powered by Last.fm

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

tencrush

W00t! A threesome with Ianto that doesn't involve Jack! That was ace. I demand you post this at Ninja Teaboy.

From:

FOXY

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