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FIC: Insight Like Ashes (Owen/Ianto/Tosh)

[personal profile] zvi organized [community profile] 3_ships 2010. I was assigned to Keine, who requested a Torchwood fic with Owen/Ianto/Toshiko, and Owen is not even sure if zombies can have sex.

Title: Insight Like Ashes
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Torchwood
Ship: Owen Harper/Ianto Jones/Toshiko Sato
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Staring not at each other, but in the same direction.
Notes: Set between S1 and S2.

The summer waned on, and Jack didn't return. Tosh set a face-recognition worm tunneling through CCTV. Not a worm, but more like a fractally-oriented alien caterpillar. Late at night, she swiveled in her chair, eyes flitting from one monitor to the next, waiting for a ping that didn't direct her to those damn Ralph Lauren billboards. She considered bribing Ianto to help her wrangle a sofa over to her station, because it might be more comfortable than this night-in, night-out craning.

It was half past midnight when an espresso entered her field of vision. "You are a god," she opined.

Ianto chuckled. "Only after the sun sets."

"Tempting." Tosh said, sweeping Ianto with a curious glance. Then she clasped the cup and sipped it gratefully. "How long have I been sitting here?"

"Long enough that Owen suggested we sedate you," Ianto replied.

Tosh snorted and set her empty espresso cup down, hopping out of her chair to stretch. She raised her arms too quickly, though, and tipped sideways. Ianto caught her about the waist, and she laughed.

"Maybe," he suggested, "you should relax. For a while."

"Like how?" Tosh asked. She settled her hands on his shoulders and, smiling, Ianto guided her backwards in an odd waltz, until she wilted onto one of the sofas, beaming up at him. She caught his hand before he could retreat. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough that Owen threatened to sedate me," Ianto admitted.

Tosh tugged, and Ianto settled on the sofa next to her. She wiggled around to set her back against his shoulder, and he rested his cheek against her head. Tosh closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, Owen was smirking at her.

"Isn't this adorable," he remarked, dropping to the sofa next to her feet. "Aren't you supposed to call me when you need a snuggle?"

"Ass," Tosh said lazily. She poked his side with her foot.

"It's one of my most endearing qualities," Owen responded. He divested her foot of its shoe, stroking the length of her shin swiftly. "I like these," he said, complimenting the fishnet pattern of her stockings before setting his thumbs against her instep to great effect. He smiled at her moan, and pulled off her other shoe before returning to his task. "Your program find anything?" he asked.

"Mmmm," Tosh replied.

"Not so far," Ianto filled in. His breath ruffled Tosh's hair. Owen hit a particularly sensitive spot, and Tosh arched. Ianto's hand settled at the small of her back, and Tosh liked the expression that flickered over Owen's face. She bit her lip, and when Owen's eyes darkened, she pressed her other foot against his lap.

Owen's groan sounded strangled, and Ianto's fingers flexed against Tosh's back. She rested her hand low on her stomach, twisting to rub her foot more effectively over Owen's cock. "Long day," she noted idly.

"It is at that," Owen replied. His hands slid higher up her legs, and she parted her knees as Owen kneeled between them. "Still not over," he continued, his hands tunneling under her skirt, yanking her stockings off. Ianto braced Tosh as she wriggled to assist Owen, his body shifting so she slid against his chest.

Even as Owen drew her stockings down her thighs, she pulled her skirt higher, hooked her fingers in the elastic to tug her knickers off.

Owen paused, leaving her stockings dangling from one foot. He licked his lips. "Yeah, Tosh?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Seriously?" She tipped her head back. "Ianto, got any condoms?"

Ianto hummed, his body lifting under hers as he dug something out of his pockets.

"Really?" Owen asked, his hands tugging open his trousers. "Even with Jack not around?" He shoved his trousers down his hips. "Can zombies even have sex?"

"Charming," Ianto replied, foil crinkling as he handed the condom to Owen.

Owen smirked, and Tosh smacked him on the arm. "Hey," she chided. Owen rolled his eyes, and Tosh hooked her ankle around his waist, pulling him over her. "Be nice," she instructed.

"I'll do my best," Owen replied. His cock slid against her thigh, and he slid two fingers over her sex, teasing and then delving inside her. "Fuck, Tosh."

"I am trying," she complained, bucking her hips higher. Ianto's laugh was a soft rumble next to her ear.

"Right," Owen said, withdrawing his fingers when Tosh grasped his cock. He braced himself over her, and she kissed him as he plunged in, in, in.

Ianto rubbed his hands down her arms as Owen thrust, and Tosh tore her lips from Owen's and reached behind, underneath her, trying to yank open Ianto's trousers. Owen muttered, "God," and Tosh circled her hand around Ianto's cock. She stroked awkwardly until he shifted under her again, and his hand settled over hers, guiding her into a rhythm that matched Owen's.

"Tosh," Owen panted, his mouth dropping to her throat. His jeans were rough against her thighs, and she clutched his shirt with her free hand, her nails digging into the fabric. Ianto's chest heaved beneath her, choked whimpers stalling in his throat.

Owen lunged forward, then stilled inside her. Tosh moaned her protest, but Owen only ground against her, perfectly and too slow. He rose on his knees and curved over her, his lips grazing Ianto's jaw.

"Yeah," she whispered, and then they were kissing, Ianto's hand falling slack from hers. She writhed between them, jerking Ianto off more quickly, their mingled groans sweetly harsh to Tosh's ear.

Then Ianto's hand caught against her again, squeezing harder, and he twisted under her, wet warmth jetting against her fist.

She pushed against Owen's chest. "Now," she insisted, and he pulled away from Ianto and laughed, reared back and pounded into her again, until the knot inside her pulled tight and shattered, and she came wailing, Ianto murmuring against her temple.

Owen grunted as he plunged jaggedly into her, his pace faltering until he grabbed her hips, his own jerking hard against her. She stroked the back of his neck as he slumped onto her, gasping.

"Ianto?" she asked after a long moment.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Got a handkerchief?" she raised her hand, still sticky with come.

Owen's laugh was sharp, and she couldn't help giggling, herself.


Tosh woke when Gwen strolled in bearing a pastry box. "Morning," Tosh said, and Gwen stumbled to a halt. She eyed the three of them, tangled on the sofa, mostly dressed, if disheveled. Tosh adjusted her glasses and smiled. "You brought danishes?"

Gwen cleared her throat. "To celebrate." She raised her left hand, waggling her fingers. "Rhys proposed!"

"Congratulations," Tosh exclaimed. She sat up, tugging her collar, and Owen rolled off her legs and onto the floor.


A/N: Title and summary adapted from Frank Bidart's To the Dead. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.

Originally archived here.

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