Previous part of The Undeniable.

***

Owen waited until Jack had disappeared into his office before he turned back to Ianto. He sat on the edge of the sofa, body rigid and face deathly white. Tosh perched anxiously beside him, a hand upon his arm.

"Okay," Owen began, though he wasn't sure what to say next. He looked around uncomfortably. "Uh..."

"Ianto," Tosh said, when he'd trailed off into silence, "what Jack was saying..." She glanced at Owen before valiantly pressing on. "I mean, did he...are you...?"

"Why did you stand up for me?" Ianto asked abruptly, still frozen in place, gaze cast downwards.

Owen rolled his eyes. "Because you looked like you were about to have a heart attack. Or a panic attack. Or any kind of attack that no self-respecting doctor could stand by and let happen." When Ianto didn't respond, he moved around the table and loomed over the other man. "Look, I enjoy watching a lover's tiff as much as the next guy-"

"Owen!" Tosh protested.

"-but when someone's about to keel over then it's kinda my duty to step in." He then gave a cruel smile. "Shame though. It's not often we get to see you lose it like that."

"Owen!" Tosh said again. "You're not helping!"

He shrugged. It was true; he'd always found pleasure in seeing Ianto's cool facade crack even just a little and, considering that fact wasn't exactly a secret, it seemed stupid to pretend otherwise. "Anyway you've stopped gasping for breath now, so come on, downstairs."

Ianto looked up, his eyes wide with alarm. "What?"

"Downstairs," Owen repeated. "I need to check you over."

"No!" Ianto shook his head firmly, then seemed to realise the abruptness with which he had answered. "There's no need, I'm fine."

But Owen wasn't about to accept his word on that right now. "Jack mentioned bruises and rope burns, so there is too a need." He'd also mentioned whip marks, but Owen couldn't bring himself to tackle that particular thought just yet. "I'm not taking no for an answer," he went on, when Ianto failed to respond.

"I'm fine," Ianto insisted again. He stood hurriedly and looked for a way past his colleagues, which only served to heighten his appearance of guilt.

Owen's mind took that observation and ran with it; forming the scene of Ianto being whipped that he'd been trying hard not to imagine. Oh to hell with good manners, he decided, just seconds before he blurted, "A sadist? Really?"

Ianto looked like an animal trapped in the headlights of a swiftly approaching mindfuck. Owen smirked at his own analogy, then noticed the younger man was trying to sidle out of reach. "I mean I know they say it's always the quiet ones, and I also realise you can't have been boffing Jack without being at least a little twisted inside, but I can't say I ever imagined you dolled up in rubber with a ball gag in your mouth."

"Owen!" Tosh gasped once again, but he ignored her, far too amused by Ianto's expression of horror to worry about her feeling offended on Tea-Boy's behalf.

The abuse, however, seemed to rattle something loose in Ianto's mind and he stopped edging backwards. "How have I not thrown you off a building yet?" he asked darkly and Owen couldn't stop himself from wincing at the threat. The idea of being alive in a broken body disturbed him even more than dying for good; trust Ianto to figure that out and use it against him.

"How have I not seen your photo online, tied up and begging like a little bitch?" Owen shot back at him.

"Oh so you've been trawling the porn sites again, have you?" Ianto said without missing a beat. "Guess I'm going to have to put the parental locks back on the computers."

"SHUT UP!"

The two bickering men fell silent and turned to find Tosh looking between them with pained eyes. "Don't argue," she pleaded, before settling her attention on Ianto. "You promised things weren't going to fall apart."

The whispered words had as much of an effect on Ianto as Owen's insults and his entire body slumped, as though the weight of the world had just fallen onto his shoulders. He sighed tiredly. "They're not," he said, unable to meet her gaze. "They won't. I won't let them."

With a faint shake of his head, he flicked his eyes briefly at Owen. "Okay," he said, and moved ahead of the doctor towards the autopsy bay.

---

"Fuck," Owen declared, falling into the chair in front of Jack's desk. Even the act of dropping down with a loud thump gave his numb body no pleasure and his scowl deepened. "Fucking-bloody-fuck."

Jack looked at him with an empty expression. "You found something then?"

His tone caused Owen to narrow his eyes suspiciously. "You weren't sure," he guessed.

"No." The Captain sighed. "I hadn't really seen anything for myself." He looked to his window into the Hub, though it was unlikely he could see anyone outside from that angle. "He didn't give me many details either, but I got the gist of it."

Owen shook his head. "This is seriously fucked up. For all the loose screws we've got around here, I thought his at least were tighter than anyone else's."

"That's the problem; they were too tight. He got wound up, too accustomed to being in control all the time, and the moment that control started to fail everything else followed suit." Jack sighed again. "Go on."

Taking that as a request for his official report, Owen slumped down even further, lifting a foot and bracing it against the desk.

It had taken him barely any time at all to conduct his examination. Knowing that he was looking for something out of the ordinary, and not just the usual Weevil scratches or rashes from alien pods, he'd been able to spot the tiny clues quickly.

A voice in the back of his head had spat a vivid string of curses the entire time he was working, angry that he'd apparently missed something that had been right under his nose every time Ianto had recently needed patching up. The intricacies of the Welshman's private life weren't exactly high on Owen's lists of interests – unless it provided him with decent ammunition for teasing – but being the team doctor meant that he should have noticed any injuries sustained at all.

"There are signs of restraints being fixed around his wrists and ankles," he began, "though whatever was used wasn't rough enough to cut into the flesh. They've rubbed and irritated his skin, and his limbs were probably sore after removal, but there's no damage caused by the bindings. On his back, particularly at the sides where the skin is thinner across the ribs, there are a few fine scars from flagellation. Again, however, I doubt the skin was frequently broken and probably only then by accident.

"There are also scratches upon his upper chest which did draw blood, caused by fingernails I would guess, which are healing well thanks to Ianto's own ministrations. And to top it all off, there's a fresh bruise on the side of his neck."

Jack blinked slowly, ageless features revealing nothing of his thoughts. "Bruise?" he repeated and Owen smiled wryly.

"Love bite," he confirmed with a mixture of reluctance and dark humour. In spite of what he'd discovered that day, he couldn't help but find some amusement in Ianto of all people having a hickey.

Jack gave a grunt and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms defensively across his chest. "No damage, no lasting marks," he muttered quietly, almost to himself.

He said nothing more and Owen actually began to feel disturbed by the silence. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Stop him," Jack said firmly.

"You think you can?" Owen glanced needlessly back at the closed door behind him. "This is Ianto we're talking about."

The expression of resolve upon Jack's face did not slip for even a moment. "I'm not going to just ignore this, Owen."

"How then?"

Jack gave a grim smile. "He stops altogether or he does it under my conditions. Those are his two options and I'll make sure he realises I won't accept anything else if he wants to stay a part of Torchwood."

"Right," Owen agreed dubiously, not because he doubted Jack's abilities, but because he could clearly imagine the fierce resistance Ianto would put up when faced with such an ultimatum.

---

Tosh stood in the middle of the autopsy bay, hugging herself and shifting her weight uneasily. She stared at Ianto sitting upon the metal bed as though looking away would cause him to disappear. The enormity of the situation had not completely settled in her mind, the notion so dark and disturbing that her thoughts shied away from any solid contemplation of what Ianto had admitted, Jack had insinuated, and Owen had discovered during his examination.

Instead she focused only on the fact that Ianto was in trouble and could come to harm if he were left to his own devices. She had no fear that he would hurt himself, but it was clear that whatever he was doing with the man he and Jack had argued about, it was not something to be encouraged.

"Do you think it's fair for Jack to dictate what I do in my free time?" Ianto asked, after a long five minutes of silence. His gaze was distant but Tosh knew he was fully aware of her presence in the room, though she'd been quiet since arriving to watch over him whilst Owen talked to Jack.

"I don't think I know enough to judge that," she replied softly.

"He doesn't have the right to run my life," Ianto went on, as though she hadn't spoken. "He doesn't own me."

Tosh bit at her lip, pained by the absence of Ianto's usual cool tone. "He's worried for you. We all are."

The young Welshman sighed, before jumping to his feet and straightening his jacket. "I wonder if anyone will ever care for my opinion," he said. Lifting his head, he turned to face Tosh, where she hovered between him and the tiled steps. "Are you planning to help him keep me here, locked up like an animal?"

"Ianto..."

He stared at her expectantly, chin lifting so it seemed more than ever that he looked down at her. It wasn't often these days that someone could make her feel small, in presence or stature, but Tosh felt barely three inches tall beneath Ianto's dull gaze. There was no battle to be had – even if Ianto had been acting entirely normal, Tosh would still have given way to him – but as she stepped aside to let him pass, he turned his back on her and ascended the steps behind him instead, snubbing even her delicate attempt at empathy.

---

As Ianto reached the top of the steps, Jack and Owen appeared before him, like a rehearsed step in a dance they hadn't been invited to join.

"I'm going to need your mobile and PDA," Jack informed him without any preamble. He held out his hand as though Ianto would simply surrender them, just like that.

"That isn't necessary," he said, glancing at Owen to gauge his thoughts on this matter. The medic seemed torn between glaring at him or the wall, with the wall winning out when Ianto looked his way.

"It is, actually, because I know what you can do with them." The Captain's tone was all business, suggesting that whatever he'd just heard from Owen had knocked all the emotion from him. "I'm merely pre-empting a situation we'd undoubtedly face further down the line."

"Tosh, you need to lock him out of all essential systems too," Owen said, shifting his attention away from the wall as she climbed up beside Ianto.

"Right," she murmured, troubled and unsure, but, after a confirming nod from Jack, she ducked from the triangle of solemn men to do as he'd said.

"So, are you going to stick me in with the Weevils or the slugs?" Ianto asked, lifting his hands and pressing his wrists together, the very image of a criminal awaiting his cuffs. "Because either way it's going to ruin my suit. And I really do like this suit."

There was no notable reaction on either Jack or Owen's face; although Owen seemed able to look at Ianto again now, perhaps more comfortable with the familiar sarcasm.

"You could have a cell to yourself, if you really wanted," said Jack. "But I was thinking more of the rooms up here."

Well, Ianto admitted to himself, at least Jack wasn't assuming he'd bed down where he usually stayed. "If I gave you my word that I wouldn't see Alex again, or anyone else who offers...that kind of thing...would you even believe me?"

Jack studied him closely. "I'd want to. But I'm not sure a promise would be good enough anymore."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means there's a guy out there with a hard-on for you, literally, and I don't think he'd let you get away so easily."

Ianto sighed. Sometimes talking to Jack felt like banging his head against a wall of narcissism. He thought about arguing, about pointing out for the nth time that the arrangement with Alex was purely business, but he was so tired of repeating himself. Instead, he just stood there, waiting for the explanation that would undoubtedly follow his weary silence.

"I don't know what rules you think you established with that man," Jack began, as Ianto had expected, "but you didn't see the look in his eyes when I interrupted him." Jack's stance slipped from commanding to pleading, a rare look for him, especially when he was trying to get his way. "It wasn't a professional look, Ianto, and believe me I've seen a lot of unprofessional looks in my time."

Ianto lifted a hand and pressed his thumb into one closed eye and fingers into the other; he could feel a migraine forming and wasn't that just the icing on the cake for this shitty day? "You're going to Retcon him, aren't you?" The delay in responding told Ianto all he needed to know. "Of course you are," he went on, "that's your solution to everything."

"You were wrong before," said Jack, ignoring Ianto's accusation. "I hadn't looked for any info on him. Why would I? Until today I thought he was just a guy you were screwing."

Sceptical though he was, Ianto's fingers dropped from his eyes to his lips, his mind turned away from the headache to Jack's words. After the threat he'd made earlier that day about looking up Alex for himself, Ianto had assumed Jack had gone ahead and done so, especially as he'd felt the need to follow Ianto after their brief quarrel.

To hear the claim that Jack had actually kept his snooping to a minimum – including the fact he'd only burst into Alex's flat upon hearing Ianto's cry of protest – gave Ianto data he didn't know quite how to interpret. Despite all the talk of lacking faith in the young Welshman, had Jack perhaps been trying to trust him?

And if so, what did that mean precisely?

"But I have now," Jack said, interrupting Ianto's jumbled thoughts, "and he's dangerous. Too dangerous to be allowed his memories of you." The Captain paused, then declared, "He's done it before."

Ianto, who had been staring blindly at Jack's boots, now glanced up. "Done what?"

"Taken an infatuation too far." Jack held his gaze intently. "I found a police report from twelve years ago; an eighteen year old claiming he'd been held captive and abused for six months straight by your friend."

"He doesn't have a record," Ianto protested. "I checked."

"There was no evidence to support the kid, and the fact that he did have a record meant the police were quite happy to forget the accusation." Shrugging, Jack folded his arms across his chest. "Considering his current occupation, I'd be inclined to think there was at least some truth in the story."

"Then that'd be rather narrow-minded of you," Ianto pointed out. "To made an assumption like that isn't very Fifty-First Century, is it? I'd say it was biased, more than anything else."

Jack stared at him, not at all put off by that judgement. "You didn't see his reaction-"

With an exasperated sigh, Ianto waved for him to stop. "Okay, fine, Retcon him then, if you're so worried about my safety." He knew Jack would have done so with his permission or not, but somehow saying it still made him feel like he'd just robbed a man of a piece of his life.

"And what about me?" he added, to distract himself from the guilt. "You said earlier you just wanted a promise that I'd stop. Now it seems you're not going to let me leave the Hub even if I sign a contract in blood! Are you planning to keep me here for the rest of my life?"

"Just until I can be sure you're not going to run off and do anything stupid," Jack said. "Owen suggested finding you a thera-"

"No!" Ianto interrupted, horrified by the idea. He glared at the doctor, who didn't look too thrilled by it either.

Jack took the protest in his stride, perhaps having expected Ianto's opposition to revealing such details to a complete stranger. "Then you stay here until I'm satisfied you've accepted the danger of what you were doing, or until we've come to an agreement of our own."

Ianto narrowed his eyes suspiciously at that final comment, but something kept him from asking what the immortal meant. He wasn't sure he could handle that right then. Instead he simply pulled out the contents of his pockets – phone, keys, loose change, everything – and set them down with a metallic clatter on the coffee table. A few coins immediately rolled off the edge and under the couch to be lost forever.

There was really no point in arguing anymore; Ianto knew talking would do him no good, at least not until Jack had calmed down and was more likely to accept reason. He was currently outnumbered and he knew it was time to concede before Jack was forced to take further action to contain him.

"I'm going to assume you won't stop me from doing my usual work here," he said, mentally crossing his fingers that Jack would consider the Hub a secure enough prison without having to keep Ianto on a short leash as well.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Jack replied. If he was surprised at all by Ianto's surrender, he didn't show it.

Ianto merely smiled blandly and got as far away from the older man as he possible could.

---

Later that evening, after Tosh had gone home, Owen had stomped off to the Hub's gym, and Jack had vanished for a flit around the rooftops, Ianto dug out one of the spare mobiles that everyone else seemed to have forgotten existed – which was ridiculous considering how frequently they lost or broke them during the more physical of their alien encounters.

Still, their absent-mindedness meant that Ianto's first act of defiance was incredible easy to execute. He wasn't being insolent on purpose (okay, maybe just a little) but it was purely good manners to check on the man his lover had almost beaten to a pulp that afternoon.

Granted, once Jack had Retconned him, Alex wouldn't remember either the attack or any subsequent remorse, but Ianto had always been a firm believer in decorum no matter what the situation.

As he dialled the number, Ianto checked his watch. He didn't think Jack would try to deal with Alex that night – there being no real urgency with Ianto safely in the Hub – but he supposed pig-headedness could lead him there anyway.

"Yes?" The word came along the line muffled and slow, the speaker either tired or drugged or both.

Ianto hesitated, reassessing his theories about Jack's determination. "It's Ianto," he said eventually, figuring he could always pass it off as a wrong number if Alex didn't recognise the name.

There was silence. Then a grunt of laughter. "You took your time," Alex said. "I've been waiting for an apology all day."

"Ah." Ianto grimaced. "Sorry. And, yeah, sorry about earlier too. Are you all right?"

"I've got a fractured cheekbone, a black eye, broken nose and a split lip." Alex grunted again, the thickness of his voice apparently due more to swelling than either fatigue or medication. "But I've had worse. You can tell your buddy not to try any of that shit next time you're here though, 'cuz I won't be so civil if I see him again."

"Ah," Ianto said again, "about that. I'm not going to be able to get over there for a while."

Another brief silence. "Why?"

"Work mostly." Ianto leaned heavily on the shelving unit behind which he was lurking, though he was already in a secluded room deep in the Hub. He hadn't really thought about having to explain himself to Alex, but in hindsight he supposed it was inevitable the other man would ask. "Something's come up and I'll be busy for the time being."

"Work," Alex echoed. "Not your overprotective boyfriend then?"

Ianto closed his eyes. "It really doesn't mat-"

"Actually it does," Alex cut in, his voice still thick but full of anger now. "You can't listen to him, Ianto, he doesn't understand you. If he did he wouldn't stop you from getting the help you need."

"I'm sure it won't be for long..."

"You need to leave him. You need to stop letting him make bad decisions for you and listen to someone with experience."

Ianto was strangely unnerved by that declaration. "Like you?" he guessed.

"I do this for a living, remember?"

The hand holding the phone to Ianto's ear dropped slightly, his arm leaden with both physical and mental exhaustion. Though it was undeniable he had the occasional urge to let someone else take charge of his actions, that did not mean he wanted to be told what to do every moment of the day. "Look," he said, sighing as he lifted the mobile again, "I appreciate your dedication, but I think it best if I take a break from all that for now. You said other clients sometimes stop because of changes in their lives, so you know this is not a reflection on you, right?"

A harsh laugh sounded along the line. "I told you, you're not a client anymore," Alex said.

Ianto frowned, recalling with sudden clarity the other man saying that shortly before shoving his hand down Ianto's trousers. But that had all been an act; one Ianto hadn't sanctioned perhaps, but an act nonetheless. "There's no point in all that now," he said, his fatigue making him impatient. "I'm sorry but I'm sure you'll have no problem filling my timeslot."

"Shut up!" the other man barked at him. "Stop all this bullshit and get over here right now!"

"Alex-"

"No! I demand you come here and finish what you started earlier!"

The fury in his voice left Ianto speechless for a few seconds, overwhelmed by the unquestionable sincerity with which Alex spoke. "I can't," he murmured, whilst a sinking feeling swept across him.

"I'm not asking, Ianto. I'm telling you. Get. Here. Now!"

Oh God. Ianto's chin dropped to his chest, the energy draining from his body. He'd been right, Jack had been right about this man and Ianto had been so desperate for help that he hadn't noticed any of the signs lurking right before his eyes.

"Ianto," Alex growled. "If you don't come here, I'll come and find you instead. I have contacts, powerful people who can find anyone, anywhere, you hear me?"

Ianto almost laughed at the threat; it was technically impotent, considering how much more power Ianto had at his own fingertips, but the determination in Alex's voice held back the young man's mirth. "I'm sorry," he said again, pulling the phone from his ear and disconnecting the call, just as a loud rant began to issue from the earpiece.

Fully alone and in silence now, Ianto slid to the floor, heedless of the dust and dirt around him. It wasn't so horrifying that Jack had been right about Alex – Ianto was mature enough to admit when he'd made a mistake – but what really troubled him was the fact that, Retconned or not, he'd just lost his one safe outlet for his unsettling needs...

***

Ianto was down in the room with the glass tank again, where he'd relocated the alien slugs earlier that week. They weren't exactly the best of company, but at least they didn't watch him with suspicion and disgust, and for that he was immeasurably grateful.

For the past three days he'd been trapped inside the Hub, unable to leave, call anyone other than his teammates, or even head up to the Tourist Office and man the desk for a while. The physical act of being in the Hub for so long was not really that much of an ordeal – he'd spent far longer than seventy-two hours straight down there in the past – however the constant scrutiny of his colleagues was almost more than he could bear.

Picking up the bucket of lettuce by his feet, Ianto slid open a hatch in the side of the large tank and threw the leaves in. They fell to the bottom of the container, joining the layer of curling, brown vegetables already rotting away down there. The creatures hadn't touched any of it, and what few tests Owen had managed to run suggested they didn't actually have the facilities to consume that kind of food, but Ianto felt far better making the useless gesture than not even attempting to feed them.

Looking after the slugs (or pretending to, as the case may be) was a poor way to assuage his guilt over essentially stealing the last few months of someone's life, but it was all he could do; especially after he'd confirmed for himself Jack's claims about Alex's past. It wasn't as though he'd be able to change Jack's mind, after all; it was nigh on impossible to make a valid case for someone who'd taken a business agreement too far, ignored his wishes and then threatened to hunt him down, particularly when they had a history of kidnapping and abusing others on top of everything else.

If, for that matter, he would even want to attempt making such a case.

Jack hadn't actually said anything about when or how he'd Retconned Alex but even if he hadn't (and Ianto didn't doubt for a second that he'd done it) but even if he hadn't, Ianto wasn't convinced he be fighting all that hard on Alex's behalf anymore. The last conversation he'd had with the older Welshman had shocked him, causing his faith in the impersonal arrangement to fracture into a thousand pieces. Being betrayed by a man he'd thought it safe to trust made it very hard to argue with Jack about using Retcon on someone who wasn't strictly associated with Torchwood and the secrets they needed to keep.

Sighing, Ianto turned away from the tank with reluctance and left the room. There was only so much time he could spend in the vaults before someone came looking for him, though what they thought he could be doing down there that wasn't visible on the CCTV was beyond him.

Not far from the slugs' chamber, he was brought up short by one of Jack's theatrical appearances in the middle of the hallway. The young man stopped, silently cursing just how much of a prisoner he'd become if he warranted one of those displays.

"Afraid I'd dug a tunnel out of here?" he asked, with an idle wish that such an endeavour was actually possible. "Next you'll be hiding all the spoons."

Jack grinned at the sarcasm, which only served to annoy Ianto further, and then indicated the room out of which he'd stepped. "Let's have a chat."

Ianto looked from the other man to the doorway and then back again. "Is there any point?"

"Like it or not, Ianto, you're going to have to deal with this sooner or later. I won't let you leave the Hub until I can be sure you're not going to get yourself maimed or something just because of a kink."

Kink. Ianto was really starting to hate that word. "The only reason I'm still here is because I haven't tried to leave yet," he told Jack, perhaps embellishing his own abilities a little but feeling no shame at all for doing so.

"Why haven't you then?" Jack countered smoothly.

Ianto rolled his eyes and didn't bother to answer. What good was running away when Jack would undoubtedly come after him? Whether it was to drag him back or to Retcon away his knowledge of Torchwood, there was nowhere in the world he'd be able to hide; meaning that he wasn't choosing between Jack and Alex, he was choosing between Torchwood and his... (his mind tripped over the word kink again) ...therapeutic masochism.

Ianto smiled wryly to himself, realising the folly of that thought. If he had no memory of what had happened over the last few years, he wouldn't need to flee from those demons anymore, and thus wouldn't need therapy of any kind, let alone bondage and the like.

In reality there was no decision to make at all; even if he could keep possession of his past, Ianto would never willingly give up Torchwood, and yet that still left him with the problem of his ever-decreasing discipline.

"It's in your best interests to admit defeat now," Jack was saying, suspiciously haughty as he watched Ianto's expression. "This is the only way it can be and you know it."

"This way being you or nothing?" Ianto asked bitterly. "Why, I'm practically spoilt for choice."

"Do you realise how immature you sound?"

Ianto merely shrugged in response; of course he knew, but that didn't stop him from wanting to express his anger at the other man. Even if it was only with words instead of actions.

Jack took a step forward and Ianto instantly took one back. "Look," the Captain started, "you can try to give it up cold turkey, and I'm sure for a while you'll manage it, but the manner of this thing..." He trailed off and sighed. "Ianto, I've seen people try to repress certain elements of themselves before, only to fail and end up in even more danger than ever. If you bottle everything up, I'm worried what might happen when you can't hold it back any longer."

Ianto frowned as he searched Jack's eyes for the words he wasn't saying. "You think I'll hurt myself?"

"I think you'll lose your control entirely, which, yes, might lead to you being hurt. Whether by your hand or someone else's...I'd hate to hazard a guess."

Again, Ianto was silent. The concern Jack was showing – that of quiet worry instead of selfish jealousy – confused him. The tone was too gentle, hinted at too much emotion, and Ianto wasn't comfortable to hear it.

"I promise I can help," Jack said in a low voice. "I promise you can believe in me."

The words bled into the tight little knot of denial in Ianto's heart and he closed his eyes, feeling himself weakening against his will. "You know I already do," he murmured back. "I always have."

"Even though you wouldn't share your secrets with me?"

"You don't share yours with me," Ianto immediately countered. As he spoke aloud that fact, the brief vulnerability vanished once again. He fixed Jack with a steady look. "Besides, we're not about that, are we? Pillowtalk and hearts on our sleeves. Why does it bother you so much that I have a life outside of this place?" He frowned. "Or perhaps I should say had."

Jack scowled as the other man's barriers slammed back up into place. "If it were only a 'life' I wouldn't have a problem at all. But that's not the case, is it? You were abusing...no, paying someone to abuse your body." He shook his head, a pained look on his face. "You deserve better than that." Jack lifted a hand, cupping Ianto's cheek tenderly and the young man swallowed down a sudden rush of unwanted emotion.

"I told you why-"

"Yes, you told me," Jack interrupted. "You told me it was because of what I had done that you needed a stranger to hit you and fuck you and whatever the hell else he did to you."

Ianto froze, lips parted to protest, but the words caught in his throat as he realised what Jack was trying to say. The immortal thought he was to blame for sending Ianto to Alex, because of the way he'd continued to tease his body whilst the alien in Ianto's head made him feel pain at each touch.

"If I'd only resisted," Jack continued quietly. "If I'd actually stopped and thought for one damn second..." He grimaced. "I didn't want to hurt you, Ianto. I knew what it was doing to you, but I couldn't help myself." He slid his hand down slightly, to run his thumb across Ianto's bottom lip. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did that to you."

Ianto brought up his own hand and covered Jack's. "It isn't your fault," he reassured him, barely registering the hypocrisy as he tried to comfort the older man. "It's obviously the twisted way my brain is wired; you just happened to be nearby when it short-circuited." The troubled expression on Jack's face remained in place despite Ianto's attempt at humour and he carried on without thinking. "Anyway, it's really not a bad thing, you know. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Alex said lots of people cope with their troubles by going to someone like him and forgetting themselves for a while."

Jack winced at the mention of the other man and pulled away his hand, perhaps a little too sharply. "But you were still too ashamed to come to me with it."

"That wasn't shame," Ianto told him. "That was..." He paused to consider his words. What was the best way to explain without giving away the fact that his feelings for the other man were truly to blame? "It just isn't something one imposes on their..." he only just caught himself before he could say anything incriminating, "...their boss."

"Their boss," echoed Jack quietly. He nodded to himself as though something he'd suspected had just be confirmed. "Okay," he went on, more firmly now. "I suppose I can see the logic in that." His gaze flicked briefly to Ianto's lips and then back up again a second before he lunged forward.

Ianto stumbled back, caught off balance, and his surprise allowed Jack to grab hold of his upper arms and pin him against the corridor wall. "Hey!" he cried in alarm.

"But what if you didn't impose on me?" Jack asked. "What if I just took matters into my own hands?"

"Let go," responded Ianto, trying not to notice to the way that resolute tone made his entire body quiver.

"No."

"Jack..."

"It's okay, Ianto." The immortal pressed closer, his gaze intense. "I want to do this for you."

"I don't want it," Ianto quickly told him. "I'm fine."

"You've been on edge for days because the truth is out. People are watching and worrying over you, which I know you hate, and I've stopped you from seeing that bastard by locking you in here. Seems to me that if ever you needed some release or escapism or whatever you want to call it, it would be now."

Ianto clenched his eyes shut against Jack's determined expression. "You don't..." he stuttered weakly, "...you can't just..."

Jack leaned in, his cheek brushing against Ianto's. "Tell me what you need," he murmured.

Ianto shook his head in denial and tried to pull away, but Jack wouldn't let him go.

"Tell me what to do, Ianto," he urged. "Let me be a part of this."

Just hearing those beseeching words made the young man shudder and he turned his face away to hide whatever truth might lie bare upon it. He couldn't tell Jack what he wanted because then the Captain would act upon it, and if he did that Ianto didn't think he'd be strong enough to resist him.

"Ianto," Jack said softly, full of compassion. "Ianto, please."

Ianto's breath caught sharply. He didn't want to hear that depth of emotion, not when he was so close to giving in to Jack's offer. He arched his back, bringing the full length of their bodies into contact, and prayed it would be enough to turn Jack's thoughts aside to something far easier to handle.

The grip of Jack's hands loosened almost immediately, the act of submission encouraging him, and he pressed his lips to Ianto's jaw. "That's it," he muttered between kisses. "Let me in."

Ianto's head thudded back against the wall. Jack clearly didn't understand at all; his gentle persuasion and the fact he'd relaxed when Ianto seemed to give in simply proved that he had no idea what Ianto really wanted. And even though he asked that Ianto direct him, what point was there in commanding when one wanted command taken from them?

Jack's mouth slid over Ianto's, the younger man instinctively opening to him, and for a few minutes the heat between them rose, hands beginning to roam and soft gasps twisting around each other's tongue.

"What do you want?" Jack whispered against Ianto's lips and the younger man shook his head, refusing to answer. "Do you want me to tie you up?"

"Don't," Ianto protested, trying to lose himself in the kiss again. He could deal with sex with Jack, it certainly wasn't a hardship to give into that physical lust, but he couldn't deal with the other man trying to make him verbalise his desires.

"What should I-"

"Just kiss me," Ianto interrupted, pulling Jack closer and doing his best to silence him. The older man relented briefly, sweeping his hands up Ianto's sides before moving inward to tug his tie loose.

"There's rope and handcuffs in the room behind us," Jack went on after a while, oblivious to Ianto's attempts at deflection. "I didn't know what you'd prefer so I brought a few things for you to choose from..."

"I said don't!" Ianto cried, abruptly shoving Jack away. "Don't talk about it like that!"

Jack stared at him with uncertainty as he regained his footing. "Like what?" he asked.

"Like it's that easy!"

The young man pushed himself from the wall but Jack caught his arm as he tried to pass. "If I'm not doing it right you have to tell me," Jack growled. "I'm not a fucking expert on this kind of thing, you know."

Ianto yanked his arm free. "You don't have to be an expert," he retorted. When Jack tried to grab him again, Ianto elbowed him swiftly in the stomach and hurried away before the Captain could recover. "But you do have to use some bloody common sense!"

He vanished around the corner, leaving Jack alone and mystified over what he'd done wrong.

***

It took nine more days for Ianto to crack completely, meaning he'd lasted twelve days in total of being constantly watched by unsubtle eyes and whirring cameras; his every move tracked as though he were a criminal instead of a man who'd earned his companions' respect through hardship and loss.

That lack of faith grated increasingly on Ianto as the days, nay, the hours passed. His nerves, already shot from months of confusion regarding the development of his 'need', were strained even further by persistent shadows which followed wherever he dared venture.

The one consolation was that Jack had failed to see through his threat to keep Ianto confined completely to the Hub and it was perhaps only for that reason he hadn't snapped earlier.

When, on the previous Tuesday, the Rift had decided to spit out another dozen of the strange over-sized slugs – a number of which had been glowing in a decidedly non-slug-like manner – the entire team (those that weren't in cryo that is) had been needed out in the field. Expecting to be left behind in the Hub, from which he was increasingly sure he could escape if he tried hard enough, Ianto had been rather vexed to learn that Jack had apparently come to a similar conclusion and insisted he accompany them to collect the aliens. It wasn't that Ianto planned to run and leave Cardiff forever, his entire life was there and he wasn't ready to give up on it just yet, but after a week of having his freedom compromised on Jack's orders he was eager for even just a few hours away from the oppressive atmosphere currently swamping the team.

Occasionally he was permitted to go back to his apartment, to fetch clean clothes for the most part, but he never made those trips alone. Tosh was his most frequent warden, whilst both Owen and Jack had accompanied him only the one time each. The journey with Owen had become a battle of sharp snarky comments that had caused everyone to suffer the moment they'd returned to the Hub, whilst the journey with Jack had been an altogether different kind of skirmish...

That Friday had marked a full week since Ianto had almost given into Jack's poor attempt at 'helping'; a week since he'd even been close to experiencing the release that had helped him in recent times. In the morning he'd allowed himself a small measure pride that so many days had passed and he'd managed to keep his mask of cool composure in place and not outwardly become the quivering wreak he sometimes felt inside.

He had also allowed himself to relax his guard somewhat; no longer fearing that Jack would attempt to force discussion of the matter upon him, because it seemed the Captain had now decided to let Ianto ride out whatever turbulent emotions had taken hold since the unveiling of his dark little secret.

The day started so well that Ianto had even begun to wonder if he could be rid of his inconvenient need with simple abstinence. But then, the moment he had led Jack into his apartment, everything crashed down again.

For some reason Jack had apparently decided that a week was long enough to hold his tongue. The questioning had started up again, gentle and persistent and with Ianto's lightened mood he'd actually felt himself weakening again, on the verge of letting his guard slip, but then a hand had landed on his shoulder, a hand which slipped rapidly to the nape of his neck.

That touch had brought Ianto sharply back to himself. Unwanted and tender, it was the last thing he'd needed at that particular moment and he had reacted with a burst of startling rage. Jack had left the apartment with a fat lip and Ianto had followed silently in his wake, wondering why his chest was tight with disappointment.

Almost as though he'd been hoping for more than a kindly stroke of the neck.

---

Advanced facial recognition programmes in the Hub's internal CCTV meant that Jack had eyes on Ianto at all times. A dedicated screen in his office flicked automatically to a new camera whenever Ianto moved between rooms and Jack watched on avidly, attempting to gauge his current mood. He'd already misjudged Ianto's temper once; taking his improved disposition to mean he was ready to open up, only to discover that wasn't the case at all.

Sunday morning saw the young Welshman in a state of deep agitation. He was restless, prowling the Hub like a trapped animal. Of course he had technically been trapped for the past twelve days, but surprisingly this was the first time it had really been evident. The fact that he was starting to exhibit signs of tension that anyone, not just Jack, could see, was like a siren to the Captain; an alarm that marked the downward spiral of Ianto's grasp on his control.

He started off in the Tourist Office – from which Jack had unsuccessfully tried to keep him – and within a couple of hours every inch of the tiny space had been dusted, cleaned and rearranged. Twice.

Shoulders tight with both resignation and the need to do more, he moved down to the kitchenette and repeated the process there. Washing and tidying as though expecting a visit by someone who would be mortally offended if there were any stray specks of grease left on the cupboard shelves. He managed a round of coffee at this point (Jack suspected he couldn't be near the machine without automatically switching it on) but each mug was delivered with jerky movements and awkward silence.

Next he moved to the boardroom, where he proceeded to polish the long table three whole times, his hand moving in neat steady circles over the gleaming surface. Whilst Jack watched this almost hypnotic display of domesticity, Owen appeared suddenly in the corner of the screen, a dark glower upon his expressive face.

Jack switched off the mute button just in time to hear Owen demand, "What did you do with my tray of cultures?"

Ianto's hand stilled and he stared at the tabletop. "Nothing. Why?"

"It's gone."

The Welshman tilted his head and considered the doctor for a moment. "And?"

Owen stalked closer, his hands balled into fists upon his hips. "And I can't help noticing you're in one of your OCD moods."

"I didn't touch your cultures," said Ianto tightly, straightening up and facing Owen. "Why would I?"

"Well I don't bloody know, do I? All I know is you've been doing your best this week to piss everyone off, but now you've gone too far. I've been working on those things for a month!"

Ianto glowered at the other man. "I've been doing no such thing."

"Riiight," Owen drawled. "Because you always stomp around the Hub in a foul mood and give everyone the cold shoulder." He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Look, mate, you gotta get over this. Jack isn't going to let you go off to get your perverse little kicks in someone's back room..." Owen lifted a hand. "Not a euphemism." He ignored Ianto's murderous glare and went on. "Honestly, you might as well just accept it and try to forget all about that stuff, 'cuz you aren't going to win this one."

On the monitor, Jack could clearly see the disbelief in Ianto's stance as he stared at the doctor. He could also tell by the bunching of his shoulders that he was verging on a violent attack of anger that could end very badly indeed for the fragile man inexplicably provoking him.

"And for fuck's sake," Owen went on carelessly, "give me back my damn cultures!"

The side of Ianto's fist slammed down on the table at the precise moment that Jack lifted his comm. to his ear. He knew Ianto wasn't wearing his – for which he was suddenly very thankful – but that the doctor was. "Owen, back off," he barked upon opening the channel. "Leave him alone and get out of there."

The image of the lifeless man cocked his head minutely to the side as he received Jack's command, though the rest of his body remained still. Even if he had moved a hand to his ear in response to the communication, Jack doubted Ianto would have seen it, for he was now bent over, shaking fist pressed hard into the table, eyes cast downwards and his back rising and falling with fast explosive gasps for breath.

"I mean it, Owen," Jack went on. "You don't know what he might do if you push him too far."

A part of the Captain's mind was amazed that he had to warn another of his team to be wary of Ianto. When things had started to unravel two weeks earlier, he'd told Tosh and Owen not to force Ianto into talking about it, but he'd never felt any concern over their safety until the second the young man's fist had crashed into the table with unmistakable force.

Jack hadn't been completely ready to view Ianto's restlessness that day as solid proof of an impending breakdown, but the violence with which he'd hit the table told him all he needed to know.

"Owen..." he warned, inwardly praying that the doctor wouldn't resist his orders purely out of pride.

Owen scowled darkly, his eyes darting towards the discrete camera in the ceiling so that he was glaring out at Jack through the monitor. "Fuck this," he growled, still staring at the lens, before turning on his heel and storming out into the hallway.

The image became almost static as Ianto remained hunched over, struggling to regain control of himself. His hands clenched and opened on the table, clenched and opened, clenched and opened, a rhythm matched by the movement of his back with every breath he dragged into his lungs.

"Doesn't he know what he's doing?" Owen raged into Jack's ear a moment later. "The childish bastard has Tosh convinced he'll get himself killed and he doesn't give a damn! He needs help, Jack, he needs fucking shock therapy or something!"

Jack ignored the angry tirade, his attention fixed solely on Ianto's back as the young man began to methodically polish the spot on the table he had just struck.

---

The archives were blissfully quiet and dark whether it was day or night and, of late, Ianto didn't have a more favoured spot in the entire Hub.

Since being confined to the underground base by Jack's ultimatum, Ianto had only been able to find solace in the one area that the Captain conceded was his domain. Everywhere else was swamped in the heavy shadow that had hounded him all week, especially when Jack – who usually lightened Ianto's mood considerably whenever nearby – was present.

Ianto hauled another handful of manila folders out of a filing cabinet and set them in the box by his side. After the run-in with Owen he'd decided it was probably for the best that he kept out of everyone else's way for the rest of the day and had returned to the project he'd been working on sporadically ever since starting at Torchwood Three. Ironically enough he'd managed to copy more of the old hand-written records into the database in the past twelve days than he had in all his time working there. It turned out he was even more productive when he worked through the night and paused only for a few hours of restless sleep when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

He glanced at the box and added another couple of bulging folders to it, mentally calculating that he had enough now to see him through to the early hours of the morning. As he straightened up, the air shifted behind him and he turned sharply, expecting to find that a particular unwanted visitor had materialised in the room yet again. But there was no one there and the muscles that had started to gather upon his brow in preparation for an almighty frown relaxed in confusion. Was he starting to imagine things as well now?

Sudden pressure on his back knocked him against the open drawer and his arms were captured in a vice-like hold just above the elbow.

Ianto blinked, one eye bare millimetres away from the corner of the metal cabinet, and his mind caught up abruptly with what had just happened. He immediately began to twist in the solid grasp. "Let go," he said, when he managed to gain nothing from his squirming.

The hands moved, but instead of disappearing they slid down to his wrists, still tight and bruising, and forced Ianto's arms to bend upwards so that they met in the small of his back.

"Jack," Ianto growled. "Let the fuck go."

The Captain's body pressed him harder into the cabinet and a soft tut clicked into his ear. "Such language," Jack murmured, forcing Ianto's arms further up his back so he could grip both wrists with one large hand.

"I don't know what you think you're-" Ianto began, only to break off as something cold and metallic was clamped around one of his wrists. His eyes widened with panic and he turned his head to the side, all pretence of composure gone as he realised what was happening. "No," he said, "don't do this."

"But I want to," Jack countered simply, snapping the second cuff into place.

Ianto twisted again, but he had no chance of escaping the strong hold Jack had upon him. "I told you I didn't want you to be a part of this," he said through gritted teeth, struggling as best he could when trapped between the cabinet and the older man.

"And I don't think you have a choice."

The immortal's tone was laced with both threat and humour and Ianto was troubled by how to react to that. Did the faint trace of teasing mean that if he truly put up a fight Jack would stop? Ianto grimaced as he wiggled, unsure of the answer. The fact that Jack was trying something as bold as forcing him into this position after all of the Welshman's protests suggested he had reached the limit of his patience.

"Jack," he said, unable to simply give in, despite knowing very well how determined the other man could be when he set out upon a particular path. "Jack, if you do this I'll never forgive you."

Jack leaned in even closer. "You don't want this?" he murmured and Ianto shook his head quickly, seeing hope in the Captain's question.

"No!"

A hand clamped over Ianto's nose and mouth whilst the last trace of the word was still leaving his lips and his head jerked back in surprise, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge it. Jack's free arm wrapped itself tightly around his waist, which proved a wise move, for when Ianto realised there was a damp cloth within the hand, his efforts to escape increased dramatically.

His cries of anger and fear were muffled by the material but they, and his squirming, quickly died down as the fumes he inhaled started to take effect.

"I don't believe you," Jack informed him casually, a moment before the young man slumped into his arms, unconscious.

***

Ianto's head throbbed as though he'd spent a long night out on the town, and he had to blink at least a dozen times before realising that his vision wasn't actually blurred; he was just extremely close to whatever he was looking at.

After that initial problem had been solved, Ianto became aware of pressure against his cheek, the unforgiving sensation of something solid beneath his face. He lifted his head slightly, wincing first as pain struck his temples like a hammer, and then again when his skin reluctantly peeled away from the smooth surface.

"Uhn," he groaned, mind reeling as he tried to remember what the hell he'd been doing to end up sprawled across a...desk? He squeezed his eyes tightly shut before checking again, but his impromptu bed remained an inanimate piece of office furniture.

Confused, he tried to push himself up, only to find his arms wouldn't obey the command. He frowned, staring blearily at the dark bands of...something...that wrapped about his wrists before disappearing over the edge of the desk. A quick tug confirmed that this was the source of his immobile limbs and whilst one part of his brain was searching his memories for the origin of these curious restraints, another part was helpfully pointing out that he was fucking tied up!

"What?" Ianto asked helplessly, trying again to straighten up, despite knowing full well that it was impossible. He redirected his attention to the rest of his body, realising that if the top half was slumped over the desk, then the rest of it was hanging off the side.

Still fighting the cotton wool in his head, Ianto shakily regained his feet, feeling the pull of strained muscles from the unnatural position, along with a rather different pull from another set of restraints about his ankles – restraints which held his legs uncomfortably wide apart.

"Jack," the Welshman said, though the 'J' got caught in the dryness of his mouth. He swallowed, licked his lips, opened them again to call the man he presumed responsible for this, but the word never came out.

All thought of speech vanished from his mind as he realised the arms he'd been staring at were bare. He cast his eyes down at himself. His chest was bare too. He twisted to look further down and...yep, his legs, his feet, his god-damned everything was bare.

Ianto pulled a face and tried to ignore the mental image of himself naked in such an indignant pose. "Jack," he said again, forcing out the name instead of the multitude of curses that jostled for freedom.

Every tiny detail of the confrontation down in the archives flooded back into Ianto's head and panic finally started to set in – because, apparently, waking to find he'd been tied up just wasn't alarming enough anymore.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, pulling hard on the restraints. "Untie me, Jack!" he said, louder this time as he turned his head to search the room for the older man. He couldn't allow this to happen, couldn't let Jack do this to him, no matter how much he ached for it.

The Captain appeared silently before the desk and Ianto craned his neck to look up, eyes sweeping over the familiar greatcoat towards his lover's face, but faltering when they reached his hands. Jack was wearing black gloves, the fitted kind that spoke of quality leatherwork, and he was holding a – dear lord – a riding crop. Ianto frowned; where the hell had he got a riding crop from?

Jack apparently noticed the focus of Ianto's attention and slapped the tongue of the crop against his empty palm, the sound jolting the young Welshman out of his daze and causing his wide eyes to dart immediately to Jack's face.

Once there, Ianto suffered another shock as he saw, perched firmly upon Jack's head, a cap that matched his nostalgic outfit perfectly. Ianto's mind almost went entirely blank; almost, because he was suddenly very curious as to how Jack could have owned such an item without Ianto ever having seen it before. It had certainly never made an appearance in any of their previous...costume-related encounters and, judging by the knot forming low in his stomach, that was a very disappointing thing indeed.

Ianto felt his cheeks warming, becoming even more flushed than they already were, as he realised with shame that he was allowing himself to be distracted by the man who stood before him, when he should be fighting with everything he had to escape this situation.

"Untie me," he forced himself to say, pulling harder on the bindings as he tried once more to straighten up.

Jack grinned at him, teeth and eyes flashing with almost feral brightness. "No." He slapped his palm again with the crop. "I like this view."

"Jack, I'm not kidding."

"Neither am I." The Captain began to pace across Ianto's field of vision, hands behind his back and the riding crop sweeping like a tail in his wake. "It seems to me we've reached an impasse," he said imperiously. "You refuse my help and I refuse your refusal. Therefore only one course of action remains." He glanced sidelong at Ianto, the grin still upon his lips. "That would be this course right here, in case you were wondering."

Ianto glared at him. "I don't want this," he said, with all the calm he could possibly muster. "I want you to untie me right now and let me leave. On my own."

The pacing continued whilst the immortal made a show of considering the request. "Again, no," he finally replied. "You see, I've realised the mistake I made this past week. I kept expecting you to give in and ask me to help with this little issue of yours." The thoughtful expression turned wry as Jack came to a halt and loomed over Ianto. "Naturally I was wrong to ever assume you'd do any such thing. Of course you wouldn't ask for help, you're you. The point of this is to have control taken away from you and having to beg for my assistance wouldn't really fit that criteria, would it?"

Ianto shook with restrained anger, fear and – though he was loath to admit it even to himself – excitement. Something in the Captain's blunt assurance, the power that he portrayed with only a few words, stirred the secret part of Ianto's heart that had yearned for this precise situation.

"I would never beg," he informed the other man tightly.

"Oh, come now," Jack purred, leaning over so Ianto was forced to twist his neck even further to keep eye-contact. "I've heard you beg plenty of times." Ianto said nothing, merely glowered at him, and the older man chuckled warmly in response. "Okay, fair enough, those were rather different circumstances."

Jack brought the riding crop out from behind him and ran the fingers of his free hand along the thin rod. Ianto's eyes were drawn to the movement, the slow stroke almost hypnotic, and when Jack flicked the crop's tongue with his fingertips, Ianto twitched, imaging the leather striking his bare skin. He cursed silently, hating that his body reacted so easily when his mind so ardently wished against it.

It felt as though months had passed since he'd last been able to fully let himself go in a safe environment; that his last visit with Alex had ended so badly only made it worse and the fact his colleagues and friends now knew his secret meant the past twelve days had been a personal kind of hell for him. Everything had conspired to push and push at his defences and as a result he was now walking a very fine line between resistance and utter submission.

Jack finished fondling the crop and let his gloved hand drop to Ianto's arm, fingers brushing over his skin with the same slow motions, tracing a winding path from elbow to wrist. "I hope I've tied these tight enough," Jack said casually. "I just know you're going to struggle." He stroked the back of Ianto's hand lightly before returning to the coarse material of the bonds. "Although the more you fight, the more you'll mark your own skin."

The words struck Ianto hard, the vision of enduring red bands wrapped around his wrists filling his mind with an alarming thrill of need. Evidence of his previous activities had always been hidden on his back, with only the occasional glimpse of colour around the side of his chest, but never had he allowed Alex to use anything other than padded restraints on so visible an area as his arms. To be marked in such a way that would leave telling signs that lasted for days, if not an entire week, managed to set the young man's heart racing even faster than before.

Jack made his way around the end of the desk, trailing his fingers along Ianto's arm to his shoulder. Spurred into action by the movement, Ianto placed his hands flat upon the desk and pushed himself as far upright as he could manage. Jack's caressing continued, unhampered by the young man's wary shifting, leather gloves gliding over the shaking muscles of Ianto's back to the opposite shoulder.

The position meant that Jack now leaned into his side, face close to Ianto's own, though the Welshman refused to look at him at such a distance; fearing that – as often happened – mere eye-contact would cause Jack to kiss him.

"You may be surprised to hear this," Jack told him. "But I haven't actually done this kind of thing much in the past." His warm breath swept over Ianto's cheek as he laughed softly. "Even then, it wasn't for any psychological reason, so you'll have to tell me if I'm not doing it right."

Ianto swallowed. "And what if I tell you, in all seriousness, to stop?"

"Try it and see."

He drew in a shaky breath. "Please stop this."

The tongue of the short whip traced over Ianto's bicep; the dark leather contrasting with his pale skin. Ianto watched it moving, absently aware of the other gloved hand creeping towards his neck.

"No."

Shutting his eyes in despair, Ianto resisted the urge to throw a full-bodied tantrum; to yell out and yank on his restraints, to turn and bash his forehead into Jack's nose, but he doubted that would do him any good. At some point, in the past day or so, he had apparently pushed the older man too far, and now Jack seemed determined to make things right by forcing the issue, no matter what Ianto said or did.

Of course, technically, this was precisely what Ianto needed...he just hadn't wanted his lover to be the one to administer the treatment and that lack of choice struck him as both ironic and frustrating.

"You've been a very bad boy recently," said Jack, abruptly pulling back and breaking all contact with Ianto's body.

The young Welshman, so tense was he, barked out a weak laugh at the clichéd line and the loud slap of leather against skin echoed around the office. Ianto jumped at the sound and a second later the sting of a sharp blow registered upon his hip.

"Don't laugh at me," Jack commanded.

Ianto blinked in surprise, having never truly believed Jack would hit him until that moment, but beyond the shock was something far more overwhelming; his reaction to that tone of voice, the Captain-tone. His breath caught to hear it at this precise time, whilst he was tied up and helpless, and blood rushed to stain his cheeks with a deep flush of shameful delight.

"You've been a very bad boy," the immortal said again, and this time Ianto made no noise at all. "You've caused all kinds of trouble. Do you know how selfish you've been?"

Ianto remained silent, terrified to give into the game.

"I asked you a question, Ianto." The crop struck his hip again, a blow that was made more effective through humiliation rather than just pain. "Do you know how selfish you've been recently?"

"I wasn't doing anyone any harm," declared Ianto in defiance.

"Don't lie." Another hit landed across the top of his back. "You know very well how you've caused Tosh to worry. Even Owen's been troubled by your behaviour. And as for me..." Jack moved behind Ianto, leaning into his other side before he continued. "I've been torn between concern and fury."

"Fury?" Ianto echoed the word to himself; of all the emotions he might have expected to awaken within the Captain, fury was not one of them. Jack was rarely spurred to anger, much less rage, so to think that his actions of late had managed to do just that... Ianto gulped down a sudden lump in his throat. How had he allowed this situation to get so out of hand that others were suffering because his own weaknesses?

The leather whip slapped almost playfully, yet firmly, down Ianto's spine to the swell of his buttocks and the young man flinched in memory of Alex's spanking, his heart pounding in his chest. Jack leaned over to speak into his ear again.

"You need to be taught a lesson in humility, Ianto Jones," he said, lips brushing against Ianto's skin. The leather tongue slipped into the crack of his ass and Ianto's entire body jerked as it passed over his hole.

"Ah!" he cried out in sudden alarm. "No!"

The crop continued downwards, over the sensitive perineum, until it rested against his testicles. "Yes," Jack corrected, almost as an afterthought.

"No, no," Ianto chanted, screwing up his face as though he could block out the sensations that way. "Not there, never there."

He jerked again when the tongue started to move, rubbing at his balls. He shook his head as his body responded swiftly to the stimulation, the leather hard and unyielding and a silent threat of pain.

Jack tilted his head in feigned confusion. "Never?" He clicked his tongue. "You told me yourself he touched you here. In fact, I even saw it for myself, didn't I?"

"It isn't about sex!" Ianto wailed, his voice lifting in desperation. He'd always feared Jack wouldn't understand his motivation and now it seemed he was right to have worried.

"I know that," the immortal assured him. "It's about humiliation and vulnerability. Now tell me, as I'm doing this to you, you're embarrassed, aren't you? You're vulnerable."

Ianto dragged in a huge breath – he refused to acknowledge it as a sob – as he recognised that statement as almost exactly what Alex had said to him during their last full session. It might have sexual overtones, but Ianto couldn't deny that the current situation certainly robbed him entirely of control.

The only problem was that when it had been Alex's hands upon him, he hadn't felt even a fraction of what he now felt with Jack's ministrations – Jack, who wasn't strictly even touching him, and yet who had him hard and aching from a few restraints and a riding crop. He whimpered pathetically, sensing his resolve unravelling before him, spiralling away into a black hole from which it could never return.

If he allowed Jack to finish this, he knew for sure there would be no going back.

Ianto realised with a start that, as he'd been lamenting, his hips had begun to rock with the movement of the leather tongue, urging more pressure against the delicate skin surrounding his balls. Jack was chuckling hot breath into his ear, his free hand lifting to pinch Ianto's nipples.

The young man gasped and tried to move away from the firm touch, only to be brought up short by his bonds. He let out a cry of panic, the sound made hoarse by his escalating pleasure. "Stop! Red! RED!"

The entire scene froze at his cry; the crop still pressed to his testicles, the gloved fingers splayed on his chest, the heat of Jack's body burning along his left side.

"Red?" Jack repeated thoughtfully. "Is that your safeword?"

Too mortified to speak, Ianto merely nodded.

"Hmm, red for 'stop'. Clever. I guess green means 'more' then, yes? What's yellow though? 'You're pushing your luck if you think I'm going to do that'?"

Ianto didn't respond. His arms were beginning to shake from holding himself up, his knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the desk, but he knew if he allowed his body to move an inch it would cause the crop to rub against him once more and he'd be done for.

Jack laughed at his own words, the sound warm and familiar. It was one Ianto had heard many times in the past, sometimes even when he'd been sprawled half-naked across this very desk, but never had he imagined hearing it whilst he was completely trussed up like this.

"Not going to tell me? Oh well." Jack began to slide his free hand down over Ianto's quivering stomach muscles.

"W-wait! I said to stop!"

"You've been saying 'stop' for a while now, Ianto, what makes you think I'll listen this time?"

Even as he spoke, Ianto realised that he was in more trouble than he'd imagined. With Alex there had always been the safeword to fall back on, a way to bow out if things became too much for him to handle, but this...this wasn't the same as a session with the professional sadist; this was something that Jack had taken upon himself without Ianto's express permission.

Fingers curled around Ianto's weeping cock, the leather digits cool and smooth, and his hot flesh twitched eagerly at the contact. Ianto blushed ever harder, betrayed by his body, and entirely unable to think of what he could say that would make Jack stop.

The crop started to move again, synchronising with the pumping of the Captain's hand. Ianto yanked fiercely at his restraints, gasping aloud at the mix of pleasure and pain, and then came suddenly, as fast as a teenager who'd just discovered the wonders of his own fist.

Jack continued to work Ianto's cock, milking it, covering it in the thick liquid he'd caught in his hand before stroking the rest of the young man's seed up over his bare chest. The tongue of the riding crop vanished and Jack's other hand cupped Ianto's balls tightly, squeezing as he twitched and shuddered his way down from the coerced orgasm.

"Are you happy now?" Ianto managed to say a few minutes later, breathless and yet clearly angry. "You got to dress up and help."

Jack removed both hands from the other man's body and absently licked one of his fingers. "I don't think I've helped much yet," he said, "so no, I'm not happy. Maybe when you give into me completely I will be." He peeled off his gloves and let them drop to the floor with a damp slap, then leaned over to press his lips to Ianto's shoulder.

"I promise I won't stop until then," he murmured against the sweat-slicked skin.

***

Jack pulled back, watching the muscles quivering beneath the spot he'd just kissed.

He still couldn't help but feel conflicted over his decision to take this step, but he truly believed it was the only way to resolve the issue, to bridge the gap that had opened up between them, and once and for all draw Ianto out from the consumptive gloom which had clung to him for so long now.

Though it hurt to push Ianto to the absolute brink, it equally pained Jack to see the way he was slowly sinking into himself and away from the world around him. The façade he still hid behind might fool most, but Jack could see beneath the mask, he knew how to recognise the pain now, the nameless need, and if answering that need filled the hollow slowly engulfing Ianto, then Jack was willing to do whatever it took to answer it.

It was for that reason he was determined to keep going, no matter what Ianto said, though he remained conscious of the other man's reactions, both verbal and, in particular, physical. Jack hoped that he would be able to tell before things went too far, for he wanted only to show Ianto the abyss, to take him to the edge and let him peer into the shadows, before gently easing him back into the light.

Suppressing a sigh, Jack removed his cap and tossed it onto a nearby chair. His greatcoat swiftly followed, as he conceded that Ianto had been right to mock his outfit. He'd dug the gloves and cap out from his box of tricks for all the wrong reasons, naively believing this kind of play demanded such props. Instead he'd managed to cheapen the experience, to give across the tone of insensitivity, as though he found the matter trivial; nothing more than a game.

The intent had been there, however, the wish to mark this occasion with something that made it personal, something that would distinguish him from Alex. At the time, becoming the 'Captain' seemed the ideal solution, but Jack now saw the folly in that notion.

He glanced towards the chair. It really was a shame he'd been so hasty. He'd been saving that cap for a while now, tucked away with the riding crop amongst a collection of items that he hoped to surprise Ianto with at random points in the future. He had even made sure to keep them safely hidden in his bunker, the one place he refused Ianto permission to tidy – a man had to take some pride in his own home – but after all that effort, he'd just used them without true consideration of what was best for such an affair.

Jack set his jaw and began to roll up his shirt sleeves. It was too late for that now, just as it was too late to fully prepare for this. Having only realised what he had to do earlier that day – whilst watching Ianto polish the boardroom table for the fourth time – it hadn't left much time for research, especially as he'd first had to send the others away and then reroute the Rift alarms so they went directly to Tosh and Owen's comms. and thus wouldn't interrupt Jack at a pivotal moment.

After a few minutes, Ianto started to regain his composure, pushing himself back up on shaking arms. Jack waited, expecting any number of sharp insults or demands for freedom from the Welshman, but there came nothing and he wondered if he'd finally started to get through to Ianto.

Reaching out, Jack trailed his fingers through the younger man's hair, down the side of his face to his chin and tilted it around to better see his expression. Ianto's lips were pressed tightly together, his eyes directed firmly aside.

Jack smiled faintly at his lover's stubbornness. He hadn't expected any different and he would have been surprised, if not suspicious, had Ianto given in so easily. Releasing the other man's face, Jack moved his hands back onto Ianto's shoulders and began to gently knead the rigid flesh.

"You're still very tense," he observed. "You need to learn to relax, Ianto. Remember how I'm always telling you to relax...?" He said the last in a purr, pushing his hips just slightly against Ianto's backside.

Ianto stiffened even more, but he remained silent, which simply served to drive Jack to work harder for a reaction. He slid his hands down a little, pressing his thumbs into the muscles running alongside the young man's spine whilst his fingers skimmed gently over the heated skin.

"It's amazing that you have no obvious scars here," the Captain commented idly. "It takes skill to whip someone without breaking the skin too deeply."

The comment hung in the air and Jack fancied he could actually feel the intrigue building within the muscles he lightly massaged.

"What do you know about that?" Ianto finally asked. His voice was tight, like the question had been unwillingly torn from his lips.

Jack gave a short and bitter laugh. "I've been whipped in my time. It was a favoured punishment in some of the places I visited for the Agency. Of course they weren't trying to avoid leaving marks."

Again the heavy pause, whilst Ianto's curiosity struggled against his stubbornness. "You haven't got any scars on your back."

"No," Jack agreed, "not anymore. Fortunately the Agency had access to some rather clever medical tools that took care of them."

"Why were you-"

"That isn't a story for right now," Jack cut him off, digging his fingers harder into the flesh of Ianto's lower back. "And you aren't going to distract me by asking to hear it."

There came a grunt of discomfort at the increased pressure. "Jack, please," Ianto said quietly, "you can stop now."

Jack didn't even pretend to consider the suggestion. "Nope, don't think so." He briefly continued to work at the tense muscles, before dropping his hands abruptly to Ianto's ass and grabbing it hard. The younger man's body jerked but he made no noise nor protest and Jack marvelled at the continued obstinacy.

"It's fascinating," Jack declared absently, kneading Ianto's buttocks as he spoke, "all the times I've touched you in the past, all the times I've been back here with you spread before me..." He paused, giving the memories the time they deserved. "All those times, and you never once trembled like you're trembling now."

Ianto remained silent, though his head dipped as though too heavy to hold up any longer.

"I'm curious," the Captain went on. "Is it because you're tied up? Is it because I'm not being gentle?" he asked. "Or is it because you want me to keep going?" His thumbs slid closer together as he continued to massage Ianto's ass, passing dangerously close to his twitching hole, and the sharp intake of breath that followed told Jack all he needed to know.

He freed one hand and brought it around to Ianto's face. "Suck them," he ordered in a low voice, curling his fingers towards the other man's mouth.

Ianto moved his head back, away from the presented digits, refusing to comply.

"Suck them or I'll stick them in dry." Jack let the words hang in the air for a moment, realising too late that the threat might not be suitable to encourage Ianto's cooperation. He moved his other hand down between Ianto's legs, grasping his testicles and causing him to spasm once more in surprise.

"Do it," Jack urged, squeezing Ianto's balls to make clear the consequences of further disobedience.

The Welshman was evidentially not prepared to risk quite that level of pain just yet and he opened his lips to take Jack's fingers into his mouth.

"Good," the older man purred, working his fingers in and out of the wet heat as Ianto dutifully wrapped his tongue about them. Jack's other hand continued to cup the young man's balls, massaging them as he'd massaged Ianto's shoulders.

"When it's on your terms, it doesn't feel like this, does it?" Jack eyed the slick skin of the captured man's back, tempted to taste the dampness there. "Even though you gave him control over your body, you were still ultimately calling the shots. You let him know what you wanted, what he could do to you and the limits of your tolerance."

Ianto's arms were shaking again by the time Jack withdrew his fingers from his mouth.

"It makes me wonder if being utterly out of control would come as a shock to you." Jack shifted position and pressed two wet fingers firmly into Ianto's ass, then gave into the lure and ran his tongue over the glistening shoulder blade beneath him. He hooked his other hand beneath Ianto's stomach, holding him up as his entire body rocked with each rough pass over his prostate.

"Ah!" Ianto gasped, his head dropping as his back arched and his hips surged forwards, seeking escape. His thighs crashed against the edge of the desk, pushing him back onto Jack's fingers and merely compounding the issue.

Jack refused to grant him any reprieve, encouraged by the physical responses to his touch, especially as Ianto's cock once again hung heavily between his legs, engorged and dark with blood. He added a third wet digit and took another lick of the sheen upon Ianto's skin before pulling back a little, watching his fingers plunging into the tight ring of muscle and considering how to push his lover even further towards the edge.

His eye caught upon the riding crop he'd discarded earlier, lying abandoned on the floor by his feet. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully and abruptly removed both his hand from Ianto's stomach and the fingers from his ass.

The young man crumpled onto the desk with a cry of surprise as he was released, panting at the sudden freedom. Jack gave him no time to recover, however, as he straightened from retrieving the crop.

"What do you suppose this would feel like...?" he asked, trailing the handle of the short whip up the back of Ianto's thigh.

Ianto jumped, yelping gracelessly at the unexpected touch. He lunged forward, instinctively trying to get away and managing only to scrape his legs against the edge of the desk. Jack leaned in and hooked his arm beneath Ianto's torso again, pulling him back up as he dragged the thin leather shaft over the swell of his backside.

Ianto struggled violently, guessing his intent. "No," he said. "No!"

The Captain chuckled and held on tighter to the squirming man.

"Jack!" Ianto cried. "Haven't you done enough?"

"You tell me," Jack countered. "How much does it take for you to really let go?" He flattened his hand, crop handle rolling beneath his palm across the firm flesh of Ianto's buttock.

There was a moment of tense hush, broken only by Ianto's ragged breathing, and for a brief second Jack thought that he might have finally asked the right question at the right time; that perhaps Ianto would now let him know what he really wanted.

But then the Welshman shook his head violently. "I'll kill you," he declared through gritted teeth, and Jack was taken aback by the sudden hostility. "If you don't stop right now, I will kill you the second you untie me." Ianto tilted his head slightly, as though to glance back over his shoulder at the other man, but evidentially could not bring himself to look Jack in the eye. "And when you come back to life, I'll kill you over and over again until you admit what a fucking idiot you are for doing this to me!"

Jack's hand stilled at the dark words. He was surprised, but also he felt something stir within him at the angry threat from the most unlikely source. He wet his lips, now confident that they were getting somewhere.

Pulling away, Jack abruptly broke all contact with Ianto's body and stepped back from the desk.

"Okay," he said.

---

Ianto's head whipped around, alarmed at the desertion, which had come so unexpectedly that all the bluster, all the fierce hostile words, vanished from his mind in an instant. Surely that couldn't be it; surely Jack wouldn't give up now, after everything he'd done, from a mere threat of violence?

He watched in amazement as a silent Jack moved to the front of the desk, one hand drifting to the nearest of Ianto's bound wrists, as though to unfasten it. Surely not. Surely not. Ianto stared up at him, eyes wide with confusion and panic, and as Jack settled his hand lightly over Ianto's, his own eyes flickered up to meet the unnerved gaze of the younger man.

The knowing glint in those blue eyes was offset by familiar warmth and humour and Ianto suddenly became aware of the perfect display of manipulation he'd just witnessed. He hadn't expected Jack to stop, especially after he'd ignored all of Ianto's other pleas, and the undisguised fear that had been revealed upon Jack's surrender had completely put to rest any doubts about Ianto's feelings on the matter.

He had been played. His desire lured out not with gentle encouragement but with an indelicate feint and now he laid bare before the Captain, no longer able to deny that he wanted this, wanted Jack to own him, that Jack already owned him and always had done, right from the moment they'd met.

Ianto mentally chided himself. No, that wasn't right. When they'd met he had belonged to Lisa still; he'd pledged his life to her and promised that nothing would stand in the way of bringing her back to him. It was after her death, after Jack had killed her but refused to kill Ianto, that was when it had happened.

That was when Ianto had realised the void in his heart, a void that had been growing ever since Lisa had been caught by the Cybermen, could be filled by Jack, by loyalty to Jack, and he could live again, really live, because that devotion gave his life meaning, a purpose for his existence in the universe.

"So," Jack murmured, his low husky voice bringing Ianto crashing back into the moment, "what shall we do next?"

There was another question hidden beneath those words, lurking in the brightness of his eyes that hadn't been there before. Jack had proven, to both Ianto and to himself, that he'd done the right thing; he'd exposed Ianto's true desire for this scenario with one word, and now all that remained was to see if Ianto would accept Jack's triumph or continue to fight him.

Of course, as far as Ianto was concerned, his answer had been given the moment he'd shown his dismay at Jack's act of capitulation. What good was there now in trying to deny it had happened, when he knew that the truth had been scripted across his face for anyone to see?

The silence dragged on and Ianto was unable to do anything but stare up at Jack, his mind numb with defeat after being bested by the unquestionably stronger man.

"Answer me," Jack insisted, a little more authority in his tone this time and a lot more satisfaction in his expression, as it became clear that Ianto finally realised he had nowhere left to hide.

A curious lightness settled over the young Welshman, a mix of both acceptance and relief. It was over, the fight had been lost, and Ianto felt like he'd been broken into a thousand pieces with no idea how to start gathering all the shards together again.

He said the only thing that made sense.

"Whatever you want."

"Oh?" Jack asked, leaning forward with interest. "Behaving now, are we?"

Ianto's gaze drifted to the side, unable to counter the strength in Jack's intense eyes and particularly unwilling to see the image of himself reflected within them. He did not reply, the answer so plain it hardly needed reiterating.

Fingers combed through Ianto's hair to his neck and Jack tipped the young man's head back. "Well in that case, I want a kiss," Jack said, bringing his face down towards Ianto's. "I want a nice, convincing, kiss."

Ianto immediately opened his mouth, just in time for Jack's to crash hard against it. The Captain went about the kiss with the same enthusiasm he always employed for such activities, massaging Ianto's lips with his own until they tingled with sensitivity. There was no resistance as Jack snuck his tongue inward, flicking mischievously at everything it encountered, never lingering, and Ianto responded automatically to the well-known sensation.

There might have been some obstinate part of Ianto's mind still opposed to the liberties Jack was taking with his body, but it stood no chance at being heard beneath the roaring in Ianto's ears, as his heart began to race with the intensity of Jack's kiss. There was always such feeling in Jack's ministrations, and this was certainly no exception; though it was the first contact they'd engaged in that night which could be considered intimate.

The hand upon Ianto's cheek was warm and the fingers curled around his neck stroked gently at the short hairs there, sending a shiver along his spine that only heightened the already overwhelming feeling of the kiss.

Little by little Jack pulled back, forcing Ianto to follow, and when they broke apart, gasping against damp lips, Ianto found himself leaning up on fully extended arms, straining forward. He remained there, breathless, eyes hooded, betrayed by his physical desire for more of the Captain's touch.

Jack grinned down at him, smug at the reaction he'd drawn out. "Good," he murmured, tilting Ianto's head just a faction further upwards, as though to reiterate the needful position into which the young man had allowed himself to be moulded. Jack licked his lips. "Very good."

The praise warmed Ianto just as much as the devouring kiss, but at the same time the pleasure he felt at hearing that approval made his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He wanted to jerk away, but it seemed the gentle hold Jack still had upon his face was enough to keep his muscles from obeying his brain's commands.

"I think you've finally learnt," Jack went on, exploring Ianto's face with light fingertips that left designs of fire upon his cheeks. He leaned forward; not to kiss, but to whisper against Ianto's lips. "Here endeth the lesson."

The Captain's tongue darted out again to taste him and Ianto mindlessly reached to capture it, but he met only air as Jack backed off without warning. Ianto's mouth formed an 'O' of surprise, another ice-cold thrill of panic surging through his veins as yet again it seemed everything was about to end.

With a knowing leer, Jack took advantage of the young man's confusion to move around once more to the other side of the desk, where he plastered himself to Ianto's back, covering the naked body with his own. He wrapped strong fingers around Ianto's bound wrists and pushed his lips against one red ear. "But the night has just begun," he growled hotly. "And I couldn't stop now if I tried."

Ianto gasped, body jolting as rising disappointment was swept away with those simple words. His head fell back, hitting Jack's shoulder and the immortal licked greedily at his damp neck whilst rocking his still-clad groin against Ianto's ass.

"Ah!" yelped the young man, the past few hours of satisfying distress now morphing into something new and wonderful. "Jack!"

Chuckling, the sound deep with lust and need, Jack quickly unfastened his trousers to release his burning erection. It was the first time Ianto had been aware of Jack's hardness, and when he later looked back on the incident, the more rational part of his mind would suspect it was also the first time Jack had responded physically that night, but for the time being all Ianto could think of was how Jack was about to claim his reward for his evening's work.

His hole, already partly stretched and slick, was still tight around the head of Jack's cock as he guided himself in without further delay. The older man didn't wait for the muscles to adjust, instead sliding in with determination and hunger.

Ianto's hands moved clumsily forward to grip the edge of the desk, seeking an anchor to counter Jack's immediate powerful thrusting, and his thighs were bashed into the wood again, hard enough to bruise, not nearly hard enough to make Ianto cry out in protest.

Each inward push, though smoothed by sweat and experience, reached so deep that Ianto was convinced he was about to split right up the middle. His insides churned, making him feel almost nauseous at the intrusion, but the sensation of being so thoroughly filled, of hard flesh rubbing over his prostate with every plunge, twisted that ache around and lifted him higher than ever.

Jack grabbed at his hips, using the leverage to change his angle, making his thrusts even longer and deeper and Ianto's body tried to fold back on itself, simultaneously seeking and retreating from the source of such delicious torment. The dried semen on his chest pulled the skin painfully tight and his cock, raw with over-attention, stung with every accidental brush against the desk.

"I have a confession," Jack said suddenly, and, though he continued to fuck Ianto with an incredible amount of enthusiasm, his voice was only just showing signs of breathlessness.

Ianto gave a strangled sound of objection, unable to form real words as he was slammed repeatedly against the unrelenting furniture, but also unwilling to hear any declaration that could come to Jack's mind at a time like this. Why couldn't he just grab the poor neglected dick jutting out in front of Ianto and focus on the task at hand?

"Back then," the immortal went on, directly into Ianto's ear, so that warm air accompanied each word and made him shiver at the new stimulation. "When you were in pain and I couldn't stop myself..." Jack slipped his hands around beneath the bound man, pinching hard at abused nipples. "When I hurt you and you loved it..." He pulled back further than usual and for one horrendous moment Ianto was terrified he was about to withdraw completely. "When I made you cry out with pleasure and pain..." Jack thrust in so deeply that Ianto was forced up onto his toes, ankle restraints cutting into his skin, and then froze, holding a tableau of unexpected, incomplete, impossible need.

Lips moved against Ianto's ear, so close it seemed the words travelled no distance at all before swelling to fill his mind.

"I loved it too."

The final push: fast jolts over the last line of pain, contraction, nerves set afire and muscles pushed too far. The air broke with a strangled moan loud enough for two or else the combination of entwined lovers. White fingers gripped the edge of the desk, warm fingers caressed spent flesh that tingled as though sparks of electricity danced across the damp skin.

Lazy circles of hips, the descent of fervour, perhaps reluctance to finish, and a kiss to the sensitive spot behind an ear.

Satisfaction.

Agonizing, absolute, satisfaction.

***

Ianto awoke with great effort, struggling up into consciousness as though swimming through treacle. He was warm, surrounded by comforting heat, and the idea of further sleep beckoned loudly. It was only the weight of an arm draped possessively over his side that stopped him from drifting off again.

It was Jack's arm, no doubt about it, and the rest of his body was pressed along the length of Ianto's back. His breathing stirred the hairs at the nape of Ianto's neck, tickling lightly at his skin. The Welshman knew the cadence of that even breath, had heard it before on the nights Jack slept instead of merely dozed, and he was infinitely glad that this was one of those rare occasions.

Ianto stared at the rough wall in front of him, soaking in the normality of the situation whilst he could. He knew the moment Jack woke reality would crash down upon him and he'd be forced to admit to himself what had happened the night before.

The man behind him shifted, one hand idly running over Ianto's stomach before he settled again. Ianto swallowed hard; who was he kidding? There was no way he could stop from thinking about what they'd done, what he'd allowed Jack to do to him, whether his lover was awake or not.

Ianto's chest tightened as he recalled the feeling of helplessness he'd experienced; tied to the desk and held ready for whatever whim took the Captain's fancy. There had been pain, as he'd hoped, but it had been interspersed with moments of intense pleasure, as he'd imagined. He'd felt freedom and shame and ecstasy and all of it countless times better than anything he'd felt at Alex's hands.

With a gentle sigh, Ianto's eyes slid shut. He felt none of those things now; instead there was only something he'd been hoping to avoid, though deep down he knew it'd been unavoidable from the start. In not fighting Jack harder, in relinquishing his control and exposing every dark corner of his being to the older man, Ianto had allowed his tarnished heart to open once more, after promising himself it would never happen again.

Though he'd been fighting the inevitable all along, there was no doubt about it; by giving himself so entirely to Jack, he'd fallen that last fateful step into love.

A sharp breath caught in Ianto's throat (not a whimper, definitely not a whimper) and a great sense of sadness washed over him. It wasn't love itself with which he had a problem – though in truth he'd had more than his fair share of bad experiences in that area – it was instead the fact there was no chance of it ending well for him.

There were only two directions in which such an emotion could take him in this particular scenario; Jack would either grow bored with him, find another lover and Ianto would fade into the background, or else he'd leave all together, disappearing off with his Doctor back to the stars amongst which he belonged. And that wasn't self-pity talking either, Ianto told himself, it was a very distinct possibility. For all that Jack claimed to have returned to Earth for good after his vanishing act earlier that year, he still kept a very determined ear to the ground for any information that might suggest the Doctor had appeared again.

So Ianto knew he was setting himself up for a fall; he'd been aware of the risk for some time now, but had valiantly kept a wall around his heart, holding his emotions firmly in check to minimise the pain when it all broke apart. The young Welshman bit his lip to keep from groaning in frustration. If only he'd been able to control his perverted needs, Jack wouldn't have found out and insisted upon being a part of it, and Ianto wouldn't have ended up baring his soul to the immortal.

And now that soul belonged to the one person in the world who couldn't promise the same in return.

"I can hear you thinking," Jack mumbled suddenly and Ianto's eyes shot open again in panic. He wasn't ready for this, he needed more time to reign in his emotions and hide them from the older man.

Jack pressed his nose to Ianto's neck and drew in a deep breath. "How're you feeling?"

Like I want to both scream and kiss you senseless.

"There's no use playing sullen now," Jack went on, his voice still thick with sleep. "You can't deny I've proven my point."

Ianto mulled that over for a minute until he was finally unable to resist asking; "What point is that, then?"

"That it's better with me than a stranger."

Lips touched Ianto's skin and the hand upon his chest drifted south a little. The younger man gave a noncommittal grunt and resumed staring at the concrete wall. "It was different," he conceded, and rather bitterly at that.

Where Alex had been professional, Jack had been like a whirlwind. Ianto felt as though he'd been picked up and dropped from a great height. Of course that wasn't entirely unusual when dealing with the Captain, however this time he'd had the additional sensation of hitting the ground as well, rather than being caught just in time as normal.

"It was better," Jack repeated. "And it worked, didn't it? We're having what could pass as a conversation for the first time in weeks."

"Must be fatigue," Ianto muttered.

Jack gave a quiet laugh, pulling his lover tighter to his chest before turning serious again. "I'll always help when it gets too bad," he said solemnly. "You just tell me, or give me some sign, and I'll make sure you don't have to suffer alone again."

Ianto squeezed his eyes shut at the heady vow. It really wasn't helping his weak attempts to suppress his emotions when Jack said things like that. Dammit, did he even know how that sounded? Was he aware that such a promise could only ever be an empty one?

In that moment Ianto suddenly understood how close love and hate really were.

He might love Jack – impossibly and irrefutably – but he also hated that the older man had taken the very last private thing of Ianto's without a thought for the consequences. He had bound Ianto to him without realising that when the time came to part ways, he would leave behind an entirely broken man.

Ianto sighed, not caring if Jack heard. Perhaps it was his own fault; not being more careful with his secrets, or more convincing with his lies. He really should have been able to stop Jack earlier as well, but he hadn't done a very good job of trying. Even tied up, there had been plenty of opportunities for him to hurt the other man in order to get his point across, and yet he'd taken none of them.

He could have done more, but he hadn't. He'd practically invited Jack to step over that line, and whilst he refused to take all of the blame, he had to at least share it.

Ianto sighed again, to himself this time, and then there was gentle pressure on his shoulder. He rolled over without protest to meet Jack's questing lips, all the while considering the possibility that he was emotionally masochistic, as well as physically.

***

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