Ianto smiled down at John. The expression was not returned; John's eyes were closed, his face beaded with sweat. He twitched again, arms tensing and hands twitching in the shackles.

Having made the rest of Torchwood leave (except for Jack, who was no doubt watching from the office) Ianto had chained John hands and feet to a metal table in the middle of the Hub. He gave John a nonchalant hand job, sweeping soft strokes up the shaft that rose eagerly even in the cold air, like a puppy begging for attention. The choked-off, guttural sounds John made as he fought to stay calm were rather pleasing; but Ianto was more pleased by the desolate groan as he left John unfulfilled to go and start his latest self-appointed job.

Ianto gave the wall another stroke of paint, every movement conscientious. He couldn't have it streaking, after all. His back was to John as he stood at the side of the Hub, and he smiled. He knew his deliberate statement of fearlessness, that John was not a threat, must be galling and yet so titillating.

He remembered the first time he'd fucked John. The smaller man had sworn and bucked, not broken to the bit like now. He'd pushed and spat and even bitten, though Ianto quite calmly reminded him that he'd be punished later. Finally Ianto came to a decision.

He lent down and bit into John's neck: right at the front, over his Adam's apple. John arched up in response, his skin pinched between Ianto's teeth. His vulnerability, held still and silent and strained, pierced by cock and suspended by teeth, had pleased Ianto. He bit down harder, and John came.

He'd been woozy in the aftermath of that climax, soft like melted butter. Sleepy blue eyes, blinking at the clink of metal as Ianto replaced the restraints, hadn't even remembered to look angry.

Dammnit. Ianto had caught a smudge of paint on his perfectly pressed black suit jacket. He slipped it off.

There was a noise from behind him.

He turned to look at John. His cock was still hard even in the cool of the Hub, and his hair was gone to curls. Ianto walked closer, measuring out each step; every time he brought a foot down he saw his sub flinch.

He stepped right by the table, at John's hip, close enough that the other man could feel his warmth. He smiled kindly down at John and said, "did you say something?"

John's eyes flickered, like a rat calculating its chances of escape. Ianto knew he didn't have the first idea of what Ianto wanted him to say; say yes and be told off for speaking without permission, say no and be punished for lying. Either way made it less likely he'd come tonight.

Ianto put his left hand out over John's body, tantalisingly close to his cock. It twitched in response, pre-cum starting to accumulate now. John gave a bitten-off moan and thrust his hips up as much as he could. His blue eyes were open now, and staring at Ianto in lascivious desperation, too far gone for any disingenuous innocence.

He began to fondle John's cock, his touch growing in intensity as he watched John react; every muscle in his strong arms and torso clenching and relaxing, biting down on that pouting lower lip, head starting to thrash from side to side as he approached the edge. He couldn't stop himself from thrusting up into Ianto's hand, even with the restraints strapping him down.

Ianto had a policy: one orgasm a night for John, but it was always a good one now he was starting to behave himself. He wasn't going to end the fun so soon. Ianto brought his hand back up to the swollen head, swiping a smear of pre-cum across it with one broad thumb; then he let go completely and stepped back from the table.

John's eyes opened in disbelief, a strangled yell of mixed disappointment and outrage escaping his bitten lips. "Bring back the bvvt!" John yelled.

Ianto frowned at him. "What have I told you about speaking strange alien languages? English all the time."

For a moment John's face twisted into a contemptuous sneer, the one he'd worn the first time Ianto saw him - back when he was clothed, and armed, and vicious. Then he saw Ianto reach for the metal box that held all his toys and John's face went slack and frightened.

"Hey, no need to get testy is there, I didn't mean..."

"Hush," Ianto said mildly, opening the box. It was off on the side, and John couldn't see what was inside. "You've been told before."

"I wasn't paying attention, on account of your mouth was – "

Ianto turned his head to meet John's gaze. After a moment, John swallowed. His whole body seemed to go smaller.

Ianto picked three items from within his metal box (which had come from the Lotus Nebula, according to John, and had very nice compartments so he could keep all his sex toys organised) and turned back to the table. He held them by his hip, so John couldn't see them from the angle he was at. The first item he became aware of was the blindfold, when Ianto placed it firmly over his eyes.

"Hey!" John spluttered indignantly, "get this thing off me, Eye-Candy, get it off – "

Ianto bent down and whispered "ssh," into John's ear, soft and kind, his warm breath rolling over John's skin. He knew John was frightened when he couldn't see, that even when they were lovers Time Agents weren't above handing each other over to enemies; so he let that reaction go. John already knew he was helpless.

He smiled and picked up the second item. It was a very pretty silver cock-ring; the best thing was that it didn't have a clasp, but extra metal encased within it, that could be drawn out to make it bigger – like some bracelets. This also meant that it could be tightened just a fraction with no warning at all.

Ianto didn't want John coming tonight until he himself was ready to let him. John had a very bad habit of coming without permission and then pouting and hoping for a spanking as punishment. It was not a tendency to be encouraged.

The last item was an extremely nice space-invention: the self-lubricating condom. Friction made it produce lube. Ianto put it to one side, then slipped the cock-ring to the base of John's cock before tightening it. John yelled, obscenities blurring into each other in a fine meld of blistering fury and aching arousal. He carried on even as Ianto lengthened the chains leading to the wrist cuffs. It wasn't until Ianto was standing at the foot of the table and John somehow picked up the sound of the zipper above his own shouting that it stopped.

For a moment the silence grew heavy; Ianto watched the first few goosebumps appear on John's skin, perfectly content to wait. John's quick, angry breaths got heavier and heavier, until he was rasping, drawing in great heavy breaths and panting them out, shifting on the cold metal surface as his desperation grew.

Ianto put a hand on both John's hips and dragged him down the table, listening with some amusement to his gasp at the chill of the metal. Ianto pulled until John's arse was right at the end of the table, nearly pressed against the cradle of his hips, and John's arms were stretched right out, each muscle etched in his pale skin.

Ianto pulled his slacks down to his thighs, and rolled on the condom. He quickly lubed up a finger from the tube he kept in his trouser pocket (John had leered once and called him a Boy Scout) and slipped it into John. He stretched John the way he did everything: calm, quiet, unassuming, but with devastating thoroughness.

He didn't spend too long stretching him; quite frankly Ianto had been waiting a long time too, even for someone with his legendary self-control.

He pressed into John slowly, feeling his hole open around Ianto; each movement mirrored in the way John's mouth, at first pursed in reluctance and perhaps some touch of fear, slowly relaxed and then opened.

Ianto stopped, finally fully sheathed inside his alien brat. He wished he could see John's eyes, but his mobile mouth had a language all its own; he pulled back and began to thrust in earnest, hands clenched on John's haunches. John opened like a flower under the rough touches, grunts issuing from his mouth as Ianto fucked him more roughly. He kept going, thrusting harder and harder, just to watch John fall apart under him.

"Gotta... gotta c-come," John panted, voice going thin and reedy in desperation. Ianto squeezed his cock and he arched off the table with a hoarse yell, collapsing back as the longed-for hand backed off, leaving him still unfulfilled.

Ianto looked down with the deadpan expression that always accompanied his better puns. He reached down and rolled John's swollen balls in his hand; they were tight against his body and looked rather painful, that colour getting worse. "Pretty blue balls."

"Ohh." John moaned, the deep, hoarse sound broken like his voice was scraping past shattered glass.

And that was it. Ianto hissed, "you want to come?" and at John's helpless, supplicating noises, appealing for mercy from this human man, he unsnapped the cock ring. He kept thrusting into John's heat, mindless now, watching him crack and break beneath this assault, and wanking his cock in time with every thrust now, both of them moving and thrusting and shifting together, and then Ianto bit down and John's body bowed uncontrollably and they came, in one long burst of white light like fucking inside a bright star.

When Ianto came back to himself, he was practically lying on John (but not quite, so his waistcoat was saved). Still panting, he lifted himself up and tucked himself away, drawing all the trappings of his calm, reasonable life back around himself like a cloak – only of course his life wasn't calm or reasonable at all, even before this bright, destructive comet smashed into it and set so much of what he'd known ablaze.

Ianto moved away from the table, leaving John still chained and blindfolded, to put his suit jacket back on. He'd deal with the paint smudge later. For now, he had to finish this coat before the other three came in tomorrow morning.

"You gonna let me up now?" John's voice sounded from his position. It was cool, amused; but Ianto saw him tense a little while the request was considered.

Ianto looked at him. John's hair was even curlier now, his muscles loose and relaxed. His hole was reddened and gaping, and whiteness was sprayed across his chest. The blindfold still kept him in the dark, the place he'd chosen; and it made him so alluring.

"Don't be silly, John," he said. "A decoration as pretty as you is just what I need to inspire me while I work out the new layout."

Ianto whistled as he got back to work. The Hub really did need redecorating, and he thought a nice blue might help calm down his sub.