Warnings for sex, violence, and language, as well as my first attempt at on screen smut.

Jack sat in his office, a cold cup of coffee at his elbow as he flipped through a file on his desk that he only half saw. He was having trouble concentrating, given the events from earlier, but he also knew that he would not be able to sleep either no matter how hard he tried. It had happened again: one of his team had hidden a secret from the rest of them, endangering the base as well as the quite possibly the planet. And once again Jack had been forced to hurt one of his own people, this time Tosh, beautiful lovely Tosh, who had made the honest mistake of falling for the wrong person. Or alien.

While Jack knew he had done what was necessary, still he hated it, all of it. Why was this happening? Why was his team falling apart? First Suzie, then Ianto, now Tosh. Who would betray him next? Owen? Gwen?

He was interrupted by an angry whirlwind bursting into his office, fury written across its face.

"You're a real arsehole, you know that, right?" Ianto demanded, slamming the door to Jack's office hard enough to rattle the window.

"Sorry?" said Jack, glancing up from the report he was trying to read yet again. It was the middle of the night, and Ianto was dressed in casual clothes instead of the suit he had left in: jeans and a dark red button-down shirt, with the black leather jacket Jack remembered from the first time Ianto had accosted him for a job not six months earlier. In spite of the anger clearly evident in every line of Ianto's body language, Jack couldn't help but think that the man looked just as good out of a suit as he did in one.

"You," Ianto practically spat, pointing a furious finger at him. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Jack leaned back and crossed his arms on his chest, running through any number of things that might have upset Ianto; there were quite a few, given their recent history. "Tell me," he said. Ianto narrowed his eyes and stormed over to the desk, slamming his palms down on the wood.

"How could you do that to her?" he hissed. "How could you do that to Tosh? You're like…like a father to her, or a brother…and you just up and send someone she cared about into the fucking sun?"

Jack let out a long, slow breath. "Right. That."

"Yes, that." Ianto threw his hands up in disgust and stalked away. "How could you be so callous, so cruel?"

"Her girlfriend was an alien, and that alien was a hostile," Jack said. "She used Tosh to infiltrate the Hub—"

"This isn't about Mary," snapped Ianto, and Jack couldn't help but bristle. He had rarely seen Ianto so agitated, so upset, so angry. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed, worried, or wary of another strong right hook. He stood and walked forward, feeling cowardly and confined sitting behind his desk as if it was a shield.

"What's it about?" asked Jack, coming around and leaning against the back of his desk to face Ianto.

"It's about Tosh, you bloody prick!" Ianto exclaimed. He was still gesturing somewhat wildly with his arms. "I just left her flat. She called me because she didn't want to be alone. It took her forever to fall asleep, and that was on the couch because she didn't want to go back to her own bed after what happened with Mary. She's confused and upset and feels guilty—"

"She should," Jack interrupted, however reluctantly. "She allowed Mary to use her."

"Jesus, Jack!" Ianto exclaimed, turning and staring at him. "It's not Tosh's fault that she was lonely, that cared, that she believed. You didn't have to do that to her."

"Do what?" asked Jack. "I had to neutralize the threat." He wasn't sure what Ianto was so angry about. When he had left Tosh, she had been upset, yes, but not so much that Ianto would burst into the Hub at half past midnight to rail at him for it. What was this really about?

"You killed Mary, Jack. You murdered her lover in front of her. You could have just lied and told Tosh you'd sent her home, but instead you had to rub salt in an already open wound."

"That alien was a murderer and a threat," Jack said. He heard the defensive tone to his voice and recognized that for once, it was wrong. "I had no choice."

"You had a choice when it came to what you told Tosh," Ianto snapped. He took two quick steps forward and actually pushed Jack in the chest. "And you chose to hurt her, even if she won't ever say anything about how much."

Jack felt his face moving, but he didn't know what to say; Ianto was right. He was absolutely dead right. Jack had been so caught up in the alien and the pendant and his own anger over another betrayal, another threat, that he had forgotten about Tosh and her feelings. He let his head fall to his chest, shame rising in his gut, only to hear a bitter laugh from Ianto.

"Oh, now you feel bad? That's just great, Jack. You kill another lover, and now you feel guilty for it? Brilliant."

Jack's head whipped up. "Another?" he asked, completely thrown off by the accusation.

"Yes, another," said Ianto. "Going to make it a habit of killing Torchwood partners? Should I put a protective detail on Rhys Williams, perhaps?"

Jack felt the blood drain from his face as he stood up straight and faced Ianto in the center of the room. "You bastard," he hissed, his guilt fueling an equally angry response.

Ianto stood just as tall and stared him down. "No, you're the bastard. Seriously, Jack, is that what you do around here to make sure none of us have normal lives? Kill the ones we love so that we have no hope left?"

"This isn't about Tosh," said Jack as he understood where all the anger was actually coming from.

"It's about you." Ianto nodded and made a dismissive gesture. "And how you seem to enjoy killing the people we care about without an ounce of remorse or regret."

"No, it's about you," snapped Jack. "It's about you and me and Lisa. About us."

"There is no us," said Ianto, his lips curling into a sneer. "You don't care. You don't care about anyone or anything, do you, Jack? Just yourself." Ianto shook his head this time. "No wonder you're such a lonely son of a bitch."

Jack couldn't help it; he instinctively lashed out as his right hand balled into a fist, but Ianto was quick and blocked his punch as if he had been goading Jack and expected it. They stood that way for several seconds, arms shaking against the strain, both of them breathing heavily as they stared at one another before Jack wrenched his hand away. "Get out," he snarled. His mind was no longer filled with thoughts of violence against the man before him, but something else equally as dangerous.

"No," said Ianto. "Tell me how you're going to fix this. Tell me how you're going to make it right for Tosh. For all of us."

Jack stared at him again before he stepped back. "I can't," he ground out. "I can't make it right." The air felt charged with the tension between them, and Ianto was gazing at him with dark eyes that Jack found impossible to look away from. "And I'm sorry."

Trying to shake off the spell that seemed to have enveloped him, Jack turned away, but a strong hand on his shoulder pulled him back around. "You're sorry?" Ianto demanded. "That's all? You're sorry?"

Jack felt his face harden against the continued accusations. "I am. And it's all I have to offer." Ianto's hand was still on his shoulder, and Jack felt an almost electric tingle at the man's continued touch. He closed his eyes against it, fighting the desire stirring within him to reach out to the broken man before him and settle things between him in the only way he sometimes knew how. "Go home, Ianto. Before this goes too far."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Too far?" he asked, his voice seeming to mock Jack's tenuous hold on control. "As in—"

"Too far to go back," Jack snapped as he closed the short distance between them. He stopped just short of Ianto's lips, breathing heavily as he stared into steel blue eyes. Ianto didn't even flinch, but smirked instead, mouth curling into a crooked half smile that almost looked like a dare. Jack growled as he slammed his lips to Ianto's, gasping in surprise when the other man responded immediately and kissed him back just as hard. Ianto opened his mouth and let Jack's tongue in, grasping the front of Jack's shirt and pulling him closer.

"You're still an arsehole," Ianto gasped. He let his head fall back, and Jack licked hot kisses along the man's jaw.

"And you're still a bastard, barging in here like that," Jack murmured breathlessly. He bit back a groan as Ianto's hands roamed across his chest and over his shoulders, pushing his braces down so that they hung loose to his knees.

"You killed her," said Ianto as his hands worked furiously on the buttons of Jack's shirt. It was obvious that Ianto wasn't talking about Mary anymore. As Ianto pulled the shirt from Jack's trousers and pushed it from his shoulders, Jack did the same with Ianto's leather jacket, clothing tossed carelessly on a nearby chair. Then he claimed Ianto's mouth once more in a fervent kiss, nipping along Ianto's lower lip and inhaling sharply when the other man bit back. He pulled away, staring wide-eyed at Ianto's lips.

"And I'm sorry I had to," Jack breathed into Ianto's mouth before they kissed again, tongues still warring for dominance. "I will always be sorry." He started to tug on Ianto's shirt, then paused when the man stepped back and looked him straight in the eye.

"I know," he said. Ianto's voice was quiet, with no hint of accusation. Jack let his head fall to the man's shoulder and tried not to break down. They stood like that for a moment, breathing raggedly with clothing untucked and half undone. And then Ianto placed his hands on Jack's face and pulled him up and toward him for another rough kiss. "But that doesn't make it right. What are you going to do to make it right?"

Jack had no idea, but he returned the agressive kiss and pulled Ianto's shirt over his head, plunging back in to trail more kisses along the man's bare neck and shoulders before Ianto did the same and flung Jack's undershirt across the room. Chests pressed close together, the touch of skin on skin was almost enough to send Jack into a mind-numbing frenzy of lust and desire.

"Tell me, Jack," Ianto demanded as he undid Jack's belt, then began to work on the button and zip to Jack's trousers. "What are you going to do?" He palmed Jack's extremely tight erection through too-tight pants as he held Jack's eyes, and Jack groaned as he let his head fall back. Ianto began to suck on his neck, tongue and teeth worrying at Jack's overly sensitive skin as his hand continued to massage Jack's cock.

"I don't know," Jack said, feeling tears prick at his eyes as he was almost overcome by more than Ianto's touch. What the hell? He was half naked and hard with Ianto Jones in his office, and the guilt was overwhelming everything else going on. Dammit, he needed to control himself.

"But I would do anything to make it different, to make it better," he whispered, then grabbed Ianto around the waist, pulling their hips together and maneuvering them toward the sofa while trailing kisses down the man's neck. Yet Ianto resisted when Jack tried to push him down.

"Anything?" he asked. His pupils were blown, his voice hoarse. Jack tugged at Ianto's belt, undoing it quickly even though his hands were shaking. He leaned in to kiss the other man as his fingers fumbled with the front of snug jeans, but Ianto turned his head, his eyes hard. "Anything?" he repeated.

Jack found himself unexpectedly reeling from the simple question. He was caught up in too many emotions to process at once: guilt, lust, shock, desire, regret, and an intense self-loathing that stopped the answer in his throat. He hated that this was happening now, under these circumstances; he had once imagined any number of scenarios for seducing Ianto Jones, until they had found the cyberwoman hidden away in the basement. And then Jack had been overwhelmed by the deep sense betrayal, the shame of being conned, the guilt of overlooking one of his team and having to destroy Ianto's life.

Yet now Ianto was here, bare chest inches from his own, lips swollen and eyes bright with all of those same emotions. Jack wanted him more than anything at that moment, but he didn't want it like this, not angry and bitter, full of rage and resentment.

"Anything," he finally replied, letting his hands fall from the front of Ianto's trousers even though it was one of the hardest things he'd done in a long time. "But not now, not like this."

Ianto's eyes flashed in the dim light of the office, and before Jack could react, the other man had turned them around and pushed Jack down onto the sofa, straddling him more forcefully than Jack had ever imagined and taking his mouth once again.

"Fuck you, Jack," he breathed as they kissed with almost frantic, heated passion. Jack moaned at the taste of Ianto's lips on his once more and the sound of that voice, low and harsh, rushing through him and straight to his cock. "That was the wrong answer."

"Christ, Ianto," said Jack as Ianto let his tongue roam across Jack's jaw line toward his earlobe. "This isn't going to make it right."

"You killed her," Ianto rasped, punctuating it with a bite to Jack's ear that had him thrusting upward without thought, pleasure mixed with pain coursing through his veins as his erection met Ianto's through their trousers. "You have to make it right."

"I can't," Jack groaned as Ianto claimed his mouth once more and ran long fingers up and down his chest. "Ianto, we can't do this, not now, not like this…" But god, he wanted to more than anything he'd wanted in years. He wanted Ianto Jones, and he wanted to make it right in any way he could, for both of them.

Ianto abruptly pulled back with a wet pop as their lips disentangled, and it was all Jack could do to stop himself from following those lips and falling forward. Ianto narrowed his eyes, gaze moving between Jack's eyes and mouth, before he stood with a brusque grace and turned his back.

"You really are a fucking arsehole." Ianto stalked around the office, grabbing first his shirt and then his jacket before turning on Jack. The man's face was a mottled mask of anger mixed with hurt and shame. "You're a fake, Jack," he continued, his voice icy. "A goddamn fake and a pathetic liar, too." He spun and walked through door without looking back.

Jack swore under his breath as he zipped his trousers. He didn't bother with a shirt as he followed Ianto into the Hub. "Ianto!" he called. "Wait!" The other man had already thrown on his shirt and was pulling on his jacket as he practically ran down the stairs toward the cog door, trying to escape. He stopped at the sound of Jack's voice, back stiff.

"Leave me alone, Jack," he replied without turning around, his hand over the button. "Go back to your office and have a good wank while thinking about what a hero you are for saving the world again." His voice dripped with a bitter sarcasm that cut Jack to the bone, freezing him on the spot.

"I'm not a hero," Jack said, his voice thick as he stared at Ianto's tense shoulders, tight beneath the leather jacket.

"No, I suppose you're not."

"I'm not a monster, either," Jack said just as softly.

Ianto turned, his normally straight face darkened by an almost cruel sense of victory. "You were tonight." It was as if he had reached into Jack's chest and ripped out his heart.

Jack felt his fury explode once more, and he surged forward toward this man who brought forth such complicated and confusing emotions. Ianto did not even flinch when Jack raised finger to the man's face, sputtering his rage.

"You have no idea what my life is like," he hissed. "What I go through, what it does to me to hurt you—any of you." He stepped back, breathing heavily as he glared at the man before him. "You don't know."

Ianto stared back, anger mixed with infinite sadness clear on his face, so young and so broken. "Then just make it right, Jack," he whispered.

"I can't," Jack replied, letting his eyes fall closed. "I can't make it right, I can't make it better, I can't do anything." He laughed bitterly, his head falling forward to his chest. "I can only make it worse."

"No, Jack," Ianto said, blue eyes intense as he moved closer. "Make it right."

Jack felt the anger building again, his voice rising. "Dammit, Ianto, I can't. Stop pushing!"

"Then make it right!" Ianto shouted, waving his arms at Jack and taking another step closer. Jack found himself involuntarily moving forward as well.

"Tell me how!" Jack's voice was loud, curt, and clipped. "I can't bring them back, Ianto! None of them! I can't do anything to fix this." He was close enough to feel the heat of Ianto's anger once more. "I can't fix you."

He didn't see it coming: the fist caught him in exactly the same place as it had on the Plass so many long weeks ago, and he stumbled backwards, his shins catching on the steps behind him so that he landed heavily on his arse, holding a hand to his jaw in shock even though he should have known it would come to this. It seemed their passions ran high and toward violence.

"You broke me," said Ianto, hands balled into fists at his sides. "London, Torchwood, all of this." He gestured around him, then gazed down at Jack, his lips twisted into a dark, angry grimace. "You, Jack. And you can't make it right. So fuck you. I'm done."

Ianto turned to leave, but Jack pressed several buttons on his wrist strap, stopping the door from rolling open. He stood to face what he knew would be another round of broken wrath, but Ianto didn't even turn around. When he spoke, his voice sounded dead.

"Open the door, Jack."

"No," Jack said, stance wary because he could not predict the other man's reaction, not then. This was a side to Ianto Jones that he had only seen once before, this cold fury focused so intently on him.

"Open the fucking door."

"I'm not letting you leave."

Ianto turned, but his face was blank. "You can't keep me here."

"Yes, I can."

"You have no right to keep me."

"I have every right. You're Torchwood."

The mask rippled and broke, replaced instantly by furious resentment once more. Two steps forward and Ianto was pushing Jack away, once, twice, a third time, forcing him back against the steps.

"Fuck Torchwood!" he shouted. "Torchwood did this—took everything and ruined it all!"

Jack pushed back, his own face twisting with cruel delight at the look of surprise on Ianto's face. "You. Are. Torchwood," he said, his voice low and cold. "Always."

Ianto threw another punch, but Jack was ready this time, blocking it hard and letting his own fist fly back. Ianto just barely moved his head out of the way, Jack's fist connecting with his chin instead of his jaw and snapping his head around. With a growl he fought back, shouting and swearing as he lashed out at Jack, and Jack let go of his own restraint and returned each blow, both of them pouring their pain and anger into the physical release of a common pub brawl right in front of the cog door.

Jack got in another strong hit that connected solidly with Ianto's jaw, drawing blood from his upper lip this time. Ianto froze, hand moving to his mouth and coming away stained with red. He spit onto the floor before throwing himself at Jack with a guttural sound that shocked Jack for its primitive ferocity.

They fell backwards against the steps, Jack's head hitting the concrete hard as Ianto landed on top of him. For a moment, Jack literally saw stars and let his eyes close, expecting to be laid out unconscious due to his inability to fight back through the fog. Yet when he opened his eyes, Ianto was not beating him senseless, but staring down at him with a look Jack had not seen yet that night: fear.

Jack couldn't help but smirk in spite of his pounding head. Was Ianto scared that he had hurt Jack? Killed him, even? The man above licked his lips as he met Jack's eyes; oh, maybe that was it. Jack shifted his hips and felt Ianto move with him, hard against Jack's thigh. Jack grinned again, but it was wiped off his face as Ianto grabbed his wrists and splayed them on either side of his body. Ianto lowered his head until their lips were ghosting against one another.

"I hate Torchwood," he whispered. His voice was low and hoarse with the pain and anguish of the truth.

"So do I," Jack murmured, mesmerized by the accent and the lips and the hard cock against his thigh. And it was true: sometimes he hated Torchwood, hated what it did to him and to others, but it was all he had.

"I hate you," Ianto continued, tongue teasing along Jack's lips with each word.

"You know what they say about fine lines," Jack whispered, daring the man to do it, to finish whatever it was they had started, however twisted it might be. He could feel Ianto's chest heaving against his own, the leather jacket smooth against his still bare skin. Biting back a moan, Jack held Ianto's eyes until he knew he had won: the Welshman swore and pressed his lips to Jack's, plundering Jack's mouth with his tongue once more, the tang of blood bursting on Jack's lips.

Jack's eyes slid closed, and he brought his knee up toward Ianto's groin, caressing it until Ianto moaned and dropped his head to the crook of Jack's shoulder to nip at the sensitive skin. After allowing himself to enjoy it, Jack wrenched his arms free and tipped Ianto to the right, so that he was quickly straddling those tight jeans on the cold concrete of the Hub. Ianto looked both surprised and furious by the loss of control.

"Get off me," he hissed. Jack leaned down to silence him with a fierce kiss that Ianto did not reject but returned just as forcefully. Oh, they both wanted it, even if they were going to play at denying it with anger and violence. But they would have it. They were too far gone now, and it was the only way to release the tension between them without coming to quite possibly fatal blows.

"No," Jack said as he moved lower to suckle a love bite into Ianto's collarbone. Ianto protested as he struggled beneath him, but if was a half-hearted effort, not nearly enough to push Jack away. He could have if he had wanted to, but it was clear that resistance was part of the game now. Jack grinned against Ianto's skin, letting one hand move up under the jacket, beneath the red shirt, running through wiry chest hair to tweak at peaked nipples until Ianto groaned beneath him.

"Make it right, Jack," he said, staring into Jack's eyes with a look so raw, so intense that Jack felt it as if an electric shock had shot right through him. With a sharp intake of breath, he tossed away rational thought in favor of simply losing himself in the moment, whatever it was, whatever the consequences. He tugged at Ianto's belt, unbuttoning jeans and pushing them down over slim hips. Struggling to stay connected at the lips, he raised himself up on his arms so Ianto could do the same, moaning into the other man's mouth when cold hands slipped beneath the warm confines of Jack's boxers and freed his erection, taking it one step further. A new round of punishing kisses left them both breathless, until Jack sat up, still straddling Ianto on the stairs. He grinned down at Ianto as he removed the man's jacket and shirt, then slipped Ianto's own boxers down to his ankles. Pressing skin against skin, Jack reveled in the feeling of Ianto's cock against his, then took it in hand and began stroking slowly.

Ianto let his head fall back against the stairs, his eyes closed as he rocked his hips in time with Jack's expert handling. Jack heard his name murmured and leaned down to silence the man beneath him once more, Ianto moaning wordlessly into his mouth as they kissed slowly at first, in rhythm with Jack's hand moving on Ianto's cock, then faster as Jack increased his pace. He snapped his wrist with well practiced moves, letting fingers dance over the tip and caress Ianto's balls before returning to his thick shaft and eliciting a sharp gasp that told him Ianto was close, very close.

Ianto pulled out of the kiss and literally slapped Jack's hand away. Jack grinned and sat up, letting his cock jut forward almost obscenely. Ianto stared at him, his eyes flickering from Jack's face and back down to the erection before him. Jack momentarily considered raising himself to Ianto's mouth, but decided he would let Ianto make that move first, when he was ready. Instead, Ianto lined himself up with Jack's cock, taking them both in hand and stroking slowly, letting his other hand roam freely up and down Jack's thigh and around the curve of his arse, teasing as long fingers trailed heat along exposed skin.

Jack let him explore, enjoying the change in pace, though the leisurely tempo left him desperately wanting more after the sharp speed and passion from moments earlier. Placing his hands on either side of Ianto's body and forcing himself to remain steady, Jack lowered himself to steal languid kisses from lips swollen and increasingly desperate for more. Each time he pulled away, teasing it out, Ianto arched toward him, until with a muttered curse he left off with their cocks and wrapped his arms around Jack's waist, locking him in place. Hands moved to caress his arse and held him tight. As if reaching the same conclusion, they immediately began moving against one another, adjusting their rhythm to match, kissing left off as heat and friction built between them.

And then the rhythm was lost as they both surged almost frantically toward their release, Ianto coming first with Jack's name on his lips and fingers digging deep into the skin of Jack's lower back. He swore under his breath, eyes shut tight, and it was that voice coupled with the look of complete abandon to the moment that brought Jack to the edge and over, his own release spurting over Ianto's as he moaned the other man's name and leaned down to capture Ianto's lips in one last messy kiss.

Arms beginning to tire from holding himself up on the cold stone, Jack sat up and rolled to the side, lying on the steps panting with Ianto next to him, equally as disheveled, dirty, and breathless. They'd just got off on the floor of the Hub, and though Jack felt deliciously drowsy and relaxed now, the anger from earlier pumped off onto Ianto's chest, he was not sure how Ianto would react. They'd not only snogged one another senseless, but just about beat the shit out of each other as well.

Sex and violence. Definitely his kind of night.

Jack became aware of Ianto shaking beside him and sat up, thinking for a moment that he might find the other man in tears. Instead, Ianto was lying with his eyes closed, chest heaving with suppressed laughter. Jack raised a curious eyebrow when Ianto opened his eyes and looked at him

"What the hell did we just do?" Ianto asked, shaky voice slightly higher than normal. Jack spontaneously leaned over for another long kiss that, to his surprise, Ianto did not resist; he half expected Ianto to pull away now that it was all over, slink off into the night in embarrassment. He still might, but his tongue told another story at that moment.

"We had a fight and we made up," Jack murmured as he sat up. "And it was pretty damn good, if you ask me." He looked around for something to clean up with, but they were on the floor beside the cog door, so there was nothing. Standing with a silent shake of his head at the utter absurdity of it all, he pulled up his trousers, not bothering to zip them as he walked over to the coffee station for a pile of napkins. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.

"The fight or the make-up sex?"

"Whichever you prefer." Jack grinned as he wiped himself clean, but held back a wink. "I know which one I like."

An inelegant snort was all the answer he received.

Most of his mess had ended up on Ianto, so he hurried back and let the man clean himself in as dignified a manner as possible as he straightened his pants. Once again Ianto surprised him, since there wasn't much dignified about sitting on the floor sticky and half undressed. Ianto grimaced a bit, let slip another short laugh, but eventually he stood, tucking himself back in, zipping his jeans, and glancing around for his shirt. It had been tossed rather far, and instead of stalking after it and fleeing, he stood with hands on his hips, gazing at Jack with an unreadable look on his face.

"Yeah, it was good," Ianto finally replied. With another shake of his head, he moved to collect his shirt and jacket. "Never done that before, that's for sure."

"There's always more—" started Jack.

"—where that came from," finished Ianto, nodding as he pulled on his shirt, but leaving it unbuttoned. "I knew you were going to say that."

"Interested?" asked Jack, trying not to sound needy, desperate, or hesitant. He knew he was interested; he had been for long a time. He had certainly not expected it like this, but now that he'd experienced a taste, he knew he wanted more. Ianto let his eyes slide closed with a sigh.

"You're still a bastard," he said.

"You keep saying that," said Jack.

"It's still true," Ianto pointed out.

"After all that?" asked Jack, offering a fake pout. This was what he was used to: the teasing banter he'd always assumed would lead to their first time together, not the hateful anger of earlier. This was comfortable, this was who they were, deep down: flirtatious with an edge. Then again, they had been through a lot, separate and together, so perhaps rage would be a part of their relationship as well now.

Ianto was silent as he stared at his feet. "It doesn't make anything right," he answered.

Jack nodded. "I told you I couldn't."

"I know," said Ianto, looking up and meeting Jack's gaze. "But for just a few moments, it was better."

"That's something then," Jack replied, letting his hands go to his pockets as he waited, willing himself not to want it so badly. Ianto was right, though: for just a few moments, Jack had surrendered to the release, and it had been better.

"Yeah, it was definitely something," Ianto murmured, looking away again. "All right then, yes."

"Yes?" asked Jack, confused as Ianto climbed the stairs, stepped around him with a grin, and tossed his jacket on the sofa before heading toward the medical bay.

"Yes, I'm interested," called Ianto.

"Oh," said Jack, grinning to himself before turning around and following. "And it's the medical bay this time?"

"Probably more comfortable than the stairs." Ianto was rummaging around for something, but Jack heard another distinct snort. "I need ice."

"Oh, kinky," said Jack.

"For my face, sir," said Ianto, standing and glancing up at Jack, but there was no real rancor to his tone, not like before. In fact, the honorific was so coy it sent a jolt of desire through Jack's body and straight to his cock. "So do you. We probably look like we—"

"Went three rounds with a Weevil?" suggested Jack. Ianto rolled his eyes as he shut the small refrigerator and came back up to Jack, offering an ice pack that Jack didn't need but took anyway.

"Not quite," Ianto murmured. "But I'm sure there will be questions tomorrow."

"We'll worry about it tomorrow, then. I've got questions tonight." Jack stepped closer, pitching his voice low. "Such as what, where, and when?"

Ianto's breathing hitched just the slightest as his lips parted on the exhalation. He held an ice pack to his jaw and was staring at Jack's lips. Leaning closer, he dropped his answer in the form of a short but fiery kiss that set Jack's skin tingling with the promise of more.

"Anything and everything, your office, now."

Jack stole a longer kiss before they stumbled and groped their way back to Jack's office, where it had all started in a fit of passionate anger fueled by guilt, loss, and loneliness. Maybe it wouldn't make it right, but for however long the moment lasted, it might make it better.

Jack only hoped that in the end, it didn't make things worse.

Author's Note:

This story is for Tamaar, who wanted to read some rough and/or angry sex one night, so I set out to write both. I took the beginning from my story Maybe it Was, where Owen spells out a scenario for Jack and Ianto's first shag that leaves Tosh and Gwen a bit speechless. And it just continued from there rather quickly. I've been sitting on it for quite a while, though, as it's not my usual. I even thought about posting it under a secret screen name, but in the end, I decided I've read too many really questionable hook-up fics and that mine deserved the light of day just as much. Hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading!