Title: Ill Met By Moonlight
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: NC-17
Table: 10
Prompt: 8, Dark Alley
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own Ianto Jones or the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor looked up at the streetlight, chewing at his lower lip as he contemplated the choices in front of him. There appeared to be several.

He could always call a taxi -- but without the convenience of one of those nifty little 21st-century cell phones, that was out. He could turn back towards Torchwood and wait, more or less patiently, until the team came back from .... well, from wherever they were. He wasn't entirely sure what had sent them running out of the office.

He'd frowned at Ianto's admonition for him to stay put, but he'd obeyed. That is, until he'd begun to pace the perimeter of the office so much that the could have sworn the soles of his shoes were beginning to feel worn down.

So, he'd taken it upon himself to walk back to the apartment they shared.

There was only one small problem. The Doctor had gotten completely turned around, somehow finding himself hopelessly lost in the tangle of streets surrounding the building that Ianto lived in.

It was horribly embarrassing to admit that he, a Time Lord with abilities that some humans couldn't even begin to comprehend, could be so utterly confused by a labyrinth of streets that any of the neighborhood children could navigate.

It was ironic, he thought wryly, that he couldn't merely materialize the Tardis for something as mundane as what should be a casual stroll that only covered a few blocks. But the Tardis had a way of not cooperating when he was set on something like that, and he'd given it up as a bad business quite a while ago.

The Doctor turned around in a slow circle, an almost petulant frown settling on his handsome features. Why in the world couldn't he remember which street he should be on? They all looked the same, somehow. A feeling he didn't often have.

Sighing, he headed towards the only thing that looked familiar. An alleyway that he was fairly sure connected the street that Ianto's apartment was on to the sidewalk he was standing on now.

He hesitated for a moment before heading into the alley, telling himself that it couldn't possibly look as long -- and as dark -- as his perception was telling him it was. He shouldn't be afraid of the dark, the Time Lord admonished himself inwardly. Of all his fears, that one was the most unsubstantiated.

The Doctor made his way down the darkened alley as quickly as possible, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Perhaps this hadn't been the best of ideas -- it did seem rather frighteningly dark.

He was completely unprepared for the hand clamping down over his mouth, the grip on his wrists that dragged his arms behind his back, the arms that spun him around and pressed him against the brick wall.

The Doctor tried to scream, kick, anything to lash out at his assailants. His struggles were in vain. He was easily pressed to the wall, the four men surrounding him moving in so closely that he could almost feel their heartbeats.

He blinked and squinted as some sort of bright light was flashed into his face; the brightness momentarily blinded him, rendering the faces of his captors nothing more than black, blank shadows against an already dark background.

"Hey, he's pretty," one of them ground out. A Welsh accent, unsurprisingly. Of course. This was Cardiff, after all. What in the hell had possessed him to walk blithely into a dark alleyway in this city? He must not be thinking straight. And now he was paying the price for his own thoughtlessness.

"This must be our lucky night." Another voice, rougher than the first. "Nice body, too."

The Doctor squirmed in his captors' grasp, trying desperately to pull his wrists free from the punishing iron grip. The hand over his mouth tightened, as did the bruising grasp on his wrists. If only he could manage to free his mouth, to scream -- or even to reason with them. Not that these men would likely see reason ....

A cold fear began to creep over the Doctor as it dawned on him just what sort of situation he was in. Were they bent on robbery? A beating? Or .... something more sinister?

He definitely knew from experience that rape wasn't a fate intended only for the opposite sex. He'd endured different forms of it often enough to have that information firsthand.

The crushing hand on his mouth was unexpectedly removed -- only to be replaced a second later by a cloth shoved into his mouth, making him choke and cough against it. Another cloth was tied over his mouth to hold the gag in place, rendering it impossible for him to make any sound other than a muffled squeak, let alone a full-fledged scream for help.

The Doctor was spun around again and pressed against the wall, his wrists tied together behind his back by what felt like a length of rough rope, chafing at the tender skin of his wrists when he tried to pull free. The Doctor kicked desperately at one of the men, hoping against hope to be able to surprise them enough to get a head start and run.

No such luck. "None of that, now," one of them said in a decceptively soft voice, grabbing a handful of the Doctor's hair and pulling his head back. "Be a good boy, and we'll take what we want and be on our way."

Bollocks to that. He had no intention of being their concept of a "good boy," whatever that might entail.

The Doctor was turned around again, facing his assailants and the narrow alley, his back pressed into the bricks of the wall. Hands reached for the fly of his trousers, the buttons of his shirt, opening his clothes and exposing his slim body to the night air.

No. No. The Doctor could feel the panic rising at the back of his throat, threatening to choke him more thoroughly than the gag ever could. Not again. He couldn't keep his sanity through another attack like the last one.

And this time it wasn't just one body being forced onto him. It was four. Four men bent on ravaging him in blind lust.

The Doctor yanked at the ropes that bound his wrists, trying in vain to loosen them enough for him to squirm free. It was useless; he was bound too tightly to even hope to escape.

Hands were moving over his exposed flesh, tracing circles around his taut nipples, stroking the length of his cock, cupping his balls. He closed his eyes, steeling himself for whatever was to come. It was inevitable. And he'd walked right into this, with his eyes wide open.

He was dragged a few stumbling feet to where a rough wooden box was turned on its side; shoved against it, pushed down, bent over. One of the men kicked his ankles apart, spreading his legs, nearly sending the Doctor sprawling.

The Time Lord made a soft sound, a strangled whimper from behind the cloth gag, squeezing his eyes shut. One of the men was behind him, thumbs traversing down the crack of his ass, cupping and spreading his cheeks, exposing him still more to their hungry gazes.

"Who gets him first?" The voice was full of lustful glee.

"Bet he's tighter than a virgin on her wedding night," one of them quipped, reaching between the Doctor's thighs to squeeze his balls.

"Hah! Bet he is a virgin." Another voice, one that he hadn't heard before.

"One way to find out." The first voice again. A finger pushed inside him, making the Doctor wince at the sudden unexpectedness of the invasion.

He prayed they were civilized enough to use lube. Otherwise, it would take him quite a while to heal from this. Again, an experience that he wasn't unfamiliar with, and one that he didn't care to repeat.

The Doctor held his breath, waiting for the inevitable penetration.

There was a scuffle at the front of the alley, a voice. Then, a gunshot that seemed to ring out all around him.

Suddenly, miraculously, the invading hands were gone from his body, the weight of bodies pressing him down removed. Footsteps scuttling away, running for their lives, from the sound of it. What the hell ....?

"Get away from him!"

Ianto's voice.

The Doctor sagged against the rough wood in relief. Not a moment too soon. It was almost like a scene out of a bad b-movie.

Ianto was beside him, his lover's hands on his body, pulling the knotted gag loose, removing the cloth from his mouth, slashing through the ropes with his pocketknife. He wanted to fall into Ianto's arms, lose himself in oblivion.

Never mind that his pants were still around his ankles, his body exposed to whoever might happen to peer into the alley.

Ianto knelt, reaching for the Time Lord's trousers and pulling them up. He zipped the fly, then began to fumble at the buttons of the Doctor's shirt. After a few seconds, he gave up, gathering the slender figure into his arms and burying his face in the Doctor's soft hair.

"Oh god," he whispered, his voice sounding choked and broken. "Oh god ...." He gulped, the sound an intake of sobbing breath.

He clasped the Time Lord in his arms for long moments, finally pulling away slightly to move his fingers across his love's swollen mouth, his eyes searching the Doctor's face for any sign of bruises.

"They didn't .... they didn't .... hurt you, did they?" Ianto's voice was more fearful than the Doctor had ever heard it.

He shook his head, his own voice sounding very faint and far away. Delayed reaction, he told himself, realizing that he was trembling from head to foot. "No. They didn't have time to do anything."

"But they would have," Ianto choked out, wrapping his arms around the Time Lord again. "They would have ...." He left the sentence hanging.

"They would have," the Doctor agreed, his voice hoarse and raspy, mouth dry from the gag.

"Let's get you home," Ianto whispered. He turned towards the front of the alley, keeping one arm around the Time Lord's slim waist as he guided the Gallifreyan to the street and to safety.

"How did you find me?" the Doctor whispered, cursing himself for the hundredth time for not staying in the Hub until Ianto was back.

Ianto held up a flashing device that the Doctor could only assume was some sort of beacon employed by Torchwood. "Tracking device," he murmured, confirming his lover's suspicions. "I took the liberty of having one attached to the key ring I gave you."

"I'm glad you did," the Doctor said softly, stopping and turning to his lover. "Ianto .... I'm so sorry, love. I should have done as you told me and stayed put."

The young Welshman reached out to cup the Doctor's cheek, relief evident in his eyes. "You're not hurt. That's the important thing."

"I won't do anything like that again." The Time Lord shuddered, glancing back at the alley and shrinking away from the thought of what had almost been done to him. "In fact, I think I'll stay at home for the next few days."

Ianto guided the Doctor to his car, opening the door and helping his love inside. "I think that may be a very good idea," he said softly, going to the driver's side to slide into the car and start the engine.

Neither of them looked back as Ianto expertly merged the car into the late-night traffic.

***