Mucking out the cells was one of Ianto's least-favorite tasks, but at the moment it suited him. The mental image of how he had left Jack in his office, all het-up and under orders not to touch his screwdriver (which was not a euphemism though it sounded like one) kept intruding on his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to focus on other things. He was also so het-up himself that the prospect of sitting at his desk was unappealing. He needed a physical outlet.

He had entertained the thought of going right back up to the office and having his way with Jack, but then discarded it. Though he was fairly certain that Jack, who had to be suffering more than he was, wouldn't mind, it was the principle of the thing. He had started this game, and he would see it through. And part of that was giving the Captain a significant amount of time to stew in his own juices, as it were.

So Ianto changed into an old pair of jeans and an oversized t-shirt proclaiming that it, or he, was the "Property of The Cardiff Blues" that his brother-in-law had given him for Christmas, and headed down to the lower level where the cells were.

Two new Weevils, recently arrived, shared the cell next to Janet. Unlike most Weevils, which were so uniform in appearance they were indistinguishable from one another (except perhaps to another Weevil) these two were were noticeably shorter in stature. Owen had been curious as to whether they were adolescents or perhaps a different species of Weevil altogether, so the Team had kept them rather than employ their customary trap-and-release-elsewhere strategy.

Apart from the obvious difference in size, Ianto hadn't noticed any characteristics that set the new guests apart. Until now.

"Christ, you stink," Owen proclaimed when Ianto emerged from the depths onto the main floor of the Hub forty-five minutes later. "And what the hell is that all over your shirt?"

Ianto looked down and pulled a face. "Weevil dung," he said, with resignation. "A new behavioral quirk that I've discovered. Apparently, the little ones fling it about when they're distressed."

Owen fanned his hand in front of his face. "Well, you shouldn't be distressing them, then, should you? You've been around Weevils enough to know that. What did you do, anyway?"

"Sedated them and attempted to clear out their cell. Apparently they really don't like their crap-and I mean that literally-being disturbed."

Owen laughed. "That'll teach you to move them out of sight first, won't it?"

"You're right, Owen. I should have known better. You'd think I'd have learned after the tantrum you pitched the last time I tided up your desk. It was much worse."

"Bloody hell, we're not on that again, are we?" Owen gave an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, we are, and you still owe me for that dry-cleaning bill. Don't pretend you haven't seen it. I've left one on your desk every day for a fortnight."

"I'm not giving you a fucking red cent. You provoked me!"

"I believe that's what's referred to as "blaming the victim," Owen. But have it your way. I'll put it on your expense report. Perhaps you can convince Jack that assaulting a co-worker with a mug of hot coffee is a justifiable use of company resources."

"I already told you, I was throwing it at the WALL, not you."

"The wall that I just happened to be standing in front of," Ianto pointed out. "I was picking ceramic shards out of my hair all day, you know. It's a wonder I wasn't burnt."

"Keep bitching and I'll do it again," Owen growled.

"The walls are trembling in fear."

"Get the hell out of here!" Owen said, lunging at Ianto.

Ianto dodged, then stopped just out of reach. "Really, I don't know why I bother. I'd get better results talking to the walls. They're more intelligent and have infinitely better social skills." He turned and ambled away.

"Yeah? Well, well... you need a goddamned shower!" Owen called at Ianto's retreating back.

Ianto was already headed to the wardrobe where he kept his spare clothes and didn't bother to reply.

Tosh intercepted Ianto just before he slipped into the locker room, wrinkling her nose but otherwise refraining from mentioning his condition.

"Ianto, Jack's conference call with U.N.I.T..." she began, checking her watch and looking as apprehensive as she always did when it came to their dealings with that governmental agency.

"... Has been postponed," Ianto finished, correctly guessing what she was getting at.

Tosh smiled. "That's good! I mean... he's been a little distracted today, hasn't he? I wasn't sure he'd be up for it." She glanced significantly in the direction of Jack's office.

Ianto wondered if she was going to inquire as to why Jack had been so uncharacteristically quiet the last hour, but she merely asked, "Does he know that it's been postponed?"

"Not yet," Ianto replied, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

Tosh shook her head. "You're terrible." Few things made the Captain more uncomfortable than having to play nice with the brass of U.N.I.T., unless it was worrying about an impending meeting where he would have to play nice with the brass of U.N.I.T.

"I know."

They smiled at each other, and went their separate ways.

An hour and a half after he had left Jack alone in his office. a freshly-showered, shaved, and be-suited Ianto pushed open the door with his foot, his hands being occupied with a tray.

"Good news, Jack," Ianto said. "Your call's been postponed, something about Major General Chatham needing his appendix out. I've brought you some coffee and your favorite..."

Ianto's words trailed off when he caught sight of the Captain. Jack was leaning back in his chair with both feet propped on his desk and the six-in-one screwdriver clutched in his right hand.

"...Biscuits." Ianto finished, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing.

Jack glanced up. "Hey, Ianto. What kind of biscuits? I know I said I like the custard cremes but they've been a bit off lately."

"Jammie Dodgers," replied Ianto, eying Jack's hands. "Your new favorite. I remembered."

"Ah, good man," Jack said, sliding a different tip onto the screwdriver like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like Ianto hadn't specifically ordered him NOT to touch the screwdriver until granted permission.

Ianto deposited the tea tray on a little side table with great care and turned to face Jack. "I remembered," he repeated. "But you seem to have forgotten something."

"Have I?" Jack asked.

Ianto glanced at the screwdriver and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, that," Jack said. "I didn't think you'd mind. It needed a different tip if I'm going swap out the chandelier in the boardroom and I didn't want to waste any more time."

"You didn't want to waste any more time."

"Yes! That's good, isn't it? You're always after us to be more efficient. I thought you'd be pleased." Jack grinned.

"You. Thought. I'd. Be. Pleased," Ianto echoed. Jack's grin dimmed several hundred watts.

"What? I wasn't bothering anybody. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Ianto scowled and closed the distance between them until he was in front of the desk, looming over it. Jack resisted the urge to move his chair back a few feet. Ianto gave such good glower it was alarming.

"What I wanted, Jack, was for you to do as I said. Not what I meant, or what you thought I meant, or what you hoped I meant, but what I said."

Jack swallowed and put on his best innocuous expression. "Yes, well, I just thought... say, is that new cologne you're wearing?"

"Don't try to change the subject, Jack."

Jack sniffed the air. "It is, isn't it? It's crisp and sweet, in a masculine way, of course. Like a... a spiced apple in autumn. It suits you."

Ianto hoped he wasn't blushing. Dammit, it WAS new cologne, and yes, he'd hoped that Jack would notice it. But this wasn't the scenario he'd envisioned, exactly, when he'd bought it.

"Flattery won't get you out of this."

"It's not flattery if it's true," Jack insisted. Ianto rolled his eyes and held out his hand.

"Give it to me."

"If you insist." With a nonchalant shrug, Jack placed the screwdriver in Ianto's open palm, allowing his fingertips to brush Ianto's wrist as he did so.

Their gazes met over the yellow plastic handle. Jack's eyes were bright with mischief and just a hint of a challenge. Ianto's were far more inscrutable-greyish blue and blank as slate.

"Good," Ianto said. He tucked the screwdriver into his breast pocket, next to his pocket square, then put his hands on his hips. "I have to say, I'm disappointed in you, Jack. I asked you to do one thing, one simple thing in an hour and a half, and you didn't do it."

"I..."

Ianto held up his hand. "Don't bother. I don't want to hear it. No excuses. Nor an apology, if that's what you intended." His eyes raked over Jack, who still had his feet propped inscouciantly on the desk. "Though you don't look very sorry."

Ianto had Jack there. He didn't feel very sorry, a fact he emphasized by shrugging and flashing a blithe smile. Ianto regarded him for a long moment.

"You will be, though."

With that, he turned around, exited Jack's office, and closed the door firmly behind him.

Jack stared after him in surprise, the smile slipping a little.

Ianto's footsteps clattered on the gangway as he made his way to the galley kitchen. Once there, he yanked open his odds-and-ends drawer, the same one where Jack had found the screwdriver that had started this whole mess, rummaged until he found what he needed, and then headed back the other way.

"Ianto luv," called Gwen as he neared her area. "Could you get us a refill?"

"Sorry, busy. There's some left in the pot though. Help yourself."

Gwen blinked, then turned to peer at him as he passed by. Owen, who had been perched on the side of Gwen's desk chatting, rose and followed. "Ianto, I was thinking, maybe I was a bit hasty earlier. How much do I owe you again for that dry-cleaning?"

Ianto didn't know if Owen had had an unprecedented change of heart or was trying to bait him into further argument, and he couldn't care less.

"I'll email it to you," he called, not looking back. "Can't talk now. Urgent business with Jack."

Gwen and Owen exchanged a look. Ianto proceeded on his way until he was right outside Jack's office door, then turned around. That three faces were staring at him was not exactly a surprise, but he felt a twinge of annoyance nonetheless. Sometimes having a large, cubicle-free underground base for a workplace was a nuisance. Torchwood Cardiff held many of the Universe's secrets, but for its employees, keeping any of a personal nature was difficult.

Well, he could try. "We are not to be disturbed unless it's a dire emergency. Understand?"

"Everything alright, Ianto?" Gwen inquried.

"Everything's fine. Or it will be, as long as we're not disturbed." She and Owen exchanged another look; the former clearly annoyed at not knowing what was going on, the latter twirling a finger around his temple to indicate what he thought about the state of Ianto's sanity.

It was Tosh who finally spoke. "Sure, Ianto. Whatever you say."

Ianto nodded, then opened Jack's door and disappeared inside.

After the door closed they all started talking at once.

"That was so sweet of you to offer to pay that bill, Owen," Tosh said, beaming.

"Bastard's off his nut," muttered Owen.

"What do you think they're doing?" asked Gwen.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know," said Owen, happy to change the subject from the cleaning bill.

"You don't think they're..." Gwen paused dramatically.

"Shagging?" Owen shrugged. "Probably."

Gwen looked shocked. "In Jack's office? Ianto wouldn't. He's too proper."

"'Course he would. He's a guy, inn'e? What guy is going to be stopped by something stupid like that?"

"Owen! Does that mean that you've... shagged at work?"

"I've been here a long time, Gwen," Owen said with a smirk. "'Course it's easier when you have an office door to close like Jack does but..."

"I've heard enough," Tosh said, hurrying away.

"Oh, Owen, you have not," Gwen said, her cheeks pink, turning quickly back to her monitor.

"If these walls could talk, Gwen." Owen leered in her direction, then headed to the kitchen to get the last of the coffee before anyone else did.

Jack wasn't stupid. He knew he was playing with fire; what he didn't know was just how hot Ianto's fire would burn, once lit. If he threw some more kindling onto it, would he would wind up being merely singed, or scorched beyond all recognition? Ianto had already threatened to withhold oral sex, and Jack knew that he had the self-discipline to make good on it, even though he'd be suffering along with Jack. Why Jack felt compelled to push him farther, even he wasn't sure. Boredom, maybe, or perhaps the fact that Ianto wearing that stern, unreadable expression and giving him orders was really hot.

Jack stared at his closed door for a long moment, then roused himself to action. He had no idea what lay in store for him, but whatever it was, surely it would be better to deal with on a full stomach. The Thai food he had enjoyed for lunch hadn't stuck with him long and the scent of hot, sweet coffee wafting through the office put him in the mind for dessert. Jack swung his feet off the desk and headed over to the side table to see what Ianto had brought him.

He had just resettled himself at his desk, feet in their former place next to his computer monitor, when the door banged open. Jack startled, nearly spilling the coffee that was half-way to his mouth.

'Woah, easy there,' he thought, carefully setting his cup on the desk. Having spent over an hour thinking of little but Ianto, Jack was already on edge and over-sensitized in certain areas. The last thing he needed was hot coffee in his lap.

As Jack positioned his favorite Cornishware mug well away from the edge of his desk, he watched Ianto approach out of the corner of his eye; scanning for any sign of Ianto's intentions. Ianto was carrying a small plastic bag and the quirk of his lips suggested that he was slightly amused, but Jack could have been mistaken about the last part. He gave a mental shrug, selected a biscuit and shoved it in his mouth.

Ianto stopped beside the side of the desk where Jack's feet rested. Jack gazed at his plate, feigning disinterest, and chewed. Suddenly Ianto reached out and with a surprisingly deft move, shoved Jack's feet off the desk. His boots hit the floor and Jack looked up in surprise, his mouth full of crumbs.

"Wha..." he began, then had to stop and swallow lest he choke. He really needed something to wash down the biscuit, but before he could move, Ianto was reaching down and tugging at his Bluetooth earpiece. Jack felt it slide out of his ear and watched it clatter to the desk.

"We won't be needing that," Ianto said.

"We won't?" Jack asked, feeling wrong-footed and like things were moving a little too fast. Neither feeling was one he was accustomed to.

"No. It would only be a distraction. As would this." Ianto plucked Jack's mobile phone from his pocket, switched it off, and set it on the desk next to the earpiece.

"But what if something..."

"Comes up?" Ianto tapped his own earpiece, still in place on his head. "I'll handle it. Like I usually do."

Jack smiled, thinking a little flattery wouldn't be out of place here. "Yes, you usually do, don't you?"

"Always. Now sit back. You're going to be here for awhile."

Jack obeyed with a cocky grin, sliding back until he was resting against the back of the chair, and splaying his legs comfortably. Ianto moved forward and crouched between Jack's legs, placing a hand on his left knee. Jack was so keyed up that his leg bounced at the touch.

Ianto noticed and a small smile crossed his lips. "We're going to work on patience, Jack." He tilted his head and regarded Jack carefully, making sure that Jack was paying attention.

Jack felt a twinge of frustration in his stomach. With his whole body screaming, "now, now now," patience was not a virtue he wanted to get reacquainted with at the present moment.

"That's never been one of my strong suits, Ianto. How about we work on something that I AM good at?" Jack punctuated this with a toothy grin and a lewd shift of his hips forward. Ianto gripped Jack's knee so tight that it hurt.

"Stop it. Don't move."

Jack shook his head in disbelief.

"But..."

"Perhaps you didn't hear me correctly. I said Don't. Move. At. All."

With visible effort, Jack stilled. But he couldn't resist adding, "But you like it when I..."

"Don't talk, either!" Ianto snapped, then huffed and shook his head, as if Jack were a recalcitrant schoolboy who was going to require a great deal of effort to teach the simplest things. "Although technically that falls under "moving", and I shouldn't have to tell you that. Really, Jack."

'No fair,' Jack thought biting down an retort even as he attempted to repress a visible shudder of desire. Ianto knew damn well what effect his Welsh accent had on Jack's libido, and Jack suspected he was exaggerating it now for effect. If so, it was working. Ianto's subtle elongation of the vowels, combined with a masterful tone that brooked no disagreement, was doing things to him that no mere words should be allowed to do.

Jack made a little noise of protest, pleading eyes fixed on Ianto's implacable face.

"Don't," Ianto warned, squeezing Jack's knee again. Jack stared into unyielding blue eyes and, finding no quarter there, dropped his gaze.

Ianto reached out to cup Jack's chin with his other hand, and traced Jack's jawline with his thumb. Jack swallowed hard and then hoped that wouldn't count against him, but really, he couldn't help that, could he? Surely Ianto wouldn't be so strict as to...

Ianto leaned in and brushed his lips against Jack's, and Jack stopped thinking altogether. It seemed like a spark jumped between them, something physical akin to static electricity but far more powerful. Had Ianto felt it? If so, he gave no sign; merely pulled back a few inches and watched Jack impassively. Jack took a a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, hoping the young man would have mercy on him and return.

Ianto did, but the kiss was feather-light; teasing. Jack needed more, much more. He moaned.

"Ianto..."

It was little more than a whisper, but it was enough. Ianto shot to his feet and moved away.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Ianto said, picking up the plastic bag he had set on Jack's desk. "But there will be consequences for disobeying me."

Jack gaped at him.

Ianto took out a roll of duct tape, and held it up for Jack to see. Jack sucked in his breath as he took in the dull silver roll. "What the hell?"

Ianto plucked a pair of scissors from the holder on Jack's desk and cut about six inches of tape from the roll.

"This ought do nicely," he said with satisfaction, returning the scissors to their home and placing the tape on the desk before turning back to Jack.

"Look up," Ianto ordered. Puzzled, Jack did as he was told, and Ianto affixed the length of tape firmly over Jack's mouth.

Jack stared at Ianto in something akin to shock as even his stomach flipped over in excitement.

Ianto pressed his fingers against the tape, securing it in place.

"There. That ought to keep you quiet. Pity about your mouth, though," he murmured. "Now I'll have to find something else to amuse myself with."

Jack had a few suggestions, really good ones in his estimation, but they remained trapped behind the tape.

Ianto knelt down in front of Jack again, and touched Jack's taped mouth affectionately. Then he leaned in and ran his tongue along Jack's jawline and down the side of his neck. Jack gasped, and it got caught in his throat.

Ianto reached the pulse point and planted a kiss there, then began to lap at the area with his tongue.

Jack gripped the arms of his chair tight and struggled not to squirm. Ianto was right in front of him, licking him for godssakes, and the urge to grab his hand, or stroke the exposed skin at the back of his neck, or to slide his hand into Ianto's trousers, was damn near overpowering.

Ianto pulled a small amount of tender skin into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth as he did so, and began to suck, causing shivers to shoot down Jack's spine, into his groin and all the way down the back of both legs. Jack closed his eyes, savoring the sensation. That such a small, innocuous part of his body could be so responsive never failed to amaze and delight him.

Ianto bit down, and the pain was sudden, sharp and sweet. Jack flinched, then cringed inwardly, wondering if he'd blown it. Ianto was apparently willing to overlook it however, for no chiding was forthcoming. He merely let go and lapped soothingly at the reddening skin.

Then he bit down harder, and Jack's hand flexed, then closed around Ianto's wrist.

Immediately Ianto was a meter away, scowling down in disapproval.

"You are really are incorrigible, aren't you, Jack?"

Jack stared at his traitorous hand in consternation.

Ianto shook his head and with the same deliberate care as before, lifted up the roll and cut two more strips of tape, longer than the first.

"I hate to have to do this. But you leave me no choice."

He knelt down in front of Jack and picked up Jack's left wrist. He pressed a kiss to the back of it in an strangely old-fashioned gesture, then laid it down and proceeded to wrap tape around both wrist and chair arm until the wrist was tightly bound. He did the same with the the right wrist, sat back on his heels to examine his work, and gave a satisfied nod.

"Now where were we?"

It's a good thing the question was rhetorical, because Jack wasn't sure he'd have an answer even if he'd been allowed to voice one. He thought he might be hyperventilating; if he'd been able to breathe through his mouth, he probably would have passed out already. As it was he was taking in so much oxygen, suffused with the heady combination of the new cologne and the musky undertone of Ianto himself, that he felt dizzy. He was used to turning all of his considerable energy outward-channeling it into flirting and fighting and other pastimes that started with "f"-not sitting still. He watched Ianto through eyes gone a bit wild and struggled to get his breathing under control.

Ianto, meanwhile, clinically considered Jack's bound body as if he had all the time in the world.

Finally, he seemed to have reached a decision, for he hooked his index finger into Jack's left bracer and slid it down. It brushed the bicep and came to rest in the crook of his elbow, leaving a trial of goosebumps in its wake that were not visible under Jack's sleeve but intensely experienced nonetheless. Ianto did the same with the right bracer, and then turned his attention to the buttons of Jack's shirt.

Jack's heart was hammering so hard he was sure Ianto could feel it rumbling through the cotton like a seismic event.

With practiced ease, Ianto undid the buttons he could reach, and then, with a few deft tugs, pulled the rest of Jack's shirt free of his waistband and make short work of the rest. Then opened the shirt wide, exposing Jack's chest.

Ianto regarded Jack's white t-shirt with a moue of annoyance and Jack thought he might have to reconsider his habit of wearing so many layers, and soon. He was sure that he'd never resented the persistently pluvial Welsh weather and the resulting chill it left in his bones more than he had in this moment.

Ianto pressed both hands to Jack's chest, the tips of his middle fingers brushing Jack's nipples, and Jack mentally cursed the weather some more even as his body soaked up the heat radiating from Ianto' hands. Ianto rubbed circles into Jack's chest, traveling slowly downward, and Jack marveled at how being unable to speak or move his arms seemed to intensify every stroke even as he reveled in each firm but gentle touch that left trails of tingles in its wake.

Ianto's fingertips dipped into the waistband of Jack's trousers, rubbing as they went. This was promising. But then...

'Bastard,' Jack thought, as Ianto's hands stopped just shy somewhere really interesting and traveled upwards again. Jack was so wrapped up in the combination of heady sensation and prolonged frustration that when Ianto pinched his left nipple, his foot kicked straight out.

He immediately returned it to its place on the floor, but the damage was done. Ianto was away and standing with his back to him. Jack stared after him pleading eyes, but Ianto busied himself with the scissors again and paid him no mind.

He turned around with two more long pieces of tape in his hand and a ruthless glint in his eye, and Jack's heart sank.

He had been pushing it, he knew; deliberately pushing things to see what would happen. He'd been pushing it when he'd first picked up the screwdriver despite Ianto's orders, and definitely pushing it when he didn't put it down when he'd heard Ianto's telltale measured footsteps approaching. He'd been pushing it when he had cheekily tried to distract Ianto with suggestive offers; hell, he'd been pushing it when he had breathed Ianto's name after the kiss. He was less sure about when he'd grabbed Ianto's hand, as Ianto had doing his best to make Jack lose control so it wasn't his fault if it had worked, was it? But if pressed he'd probably take responsibility for that too. He had to admit he had been aware of what he was about to do before he did it then, too.

But hadn't been deliberately pushing it this time. He really hadn't. It had just... happened.

Not that Ianto knew, or cared, about such distinctions. He approached with the tape and Jack felt a flicker of anxiety at the thought of being completely restrained, and mute to boot. Helplessness, in any variety, was something he preferred to avoid. He was no stranger to bondage games, of course, but he had usually entered into them with more of an inkling of what was going to happen than this.

He had had no idea that Ianto had this... dominant side, or just how far he was capable of taking things. They weren't following any of the rules here, although "rules" was a rather strong word-perhaps "customs" was better. At any rate, there had been no discussion beforehand of what either of them wanted out of this, and, just as importantly, what they didn't want out of this.

Wait, that wasn't entirely true. Ianto had made it quite clear what he wanted out of this: Jack's obedience. Which so far Jack hadn't done much to deliver. Instead he had been testing Ianto, asking for it. Now he was getting it.

Gazing at the tape, Jack didn't feel frightened, exactly-but after having been held captive innumerable times by beings far less pretty and compassionate as Ianto, with dire results, a certain caution had become part of his reflexes. He was... wary. Curious and incredibly turned on, true, but wary.

Ianto held the tape aloft, arched both brows, and cocked his head to the side.

Jack stared for several long moments until his fevered brain caught up with what he was seeing.

'Damn! He's good.'

Somehow Ianto had picked up on Jack's unease and was tacitly asking for permission to continue. Jack felt a surge of affection for Ianto, and the unease receded. Jack closed his eyes, held them shut for a beat, and then opened them-the closest he could come to a nod without actually moving his head. At this moment, he thought he would have agreed to anything.

Perhaps he had.

Ianto knelt and in no time at all, had rolled up both trouser legs and attached each of Jack's ankles to a chair leg. He pressed hard, securing the tape all around, and then motioned for Jack to try to move his legs. To neither of their surprise, the bonds held tight.

The realization that he was completely and securely bound had a paradoxical effect on Jack: he relaxed. He stopped straining at the tape, slumped a little in the chair, and looked up at Ianto with relaxed features and perfect trust in his eyes.

Ianto looked back at him, implacable as ever.

"Jack, Jack, Jack, whatever am I going to do with you?"

Jack was more open to whatever Ianto had in mind now (not that he had much choice) but it had never, in his experience, hurt to make suggestions.

'You could start by unzipping my fly,' Jack thought, with what would have been a jaunty smile had he been able to crack one. To his dismay, Ianto jumped to his feet.

'Not again! What, is telepathy forbidden too?' Jack thought desperately.

Ianto stepped away. "What did you say?" he asked, voice sharp.

Jack stared, dazed, at Ianto's retreating form and wondered if mind-reading was another hitherto undiscovered talent that this remarkable young man possessed (and reflected that if so, he was going to have to be a lot more careful about securing his mental shields going forward) until he realized that Ianto was speaking into his comm link.