Ianto had ignored Owen's first two attempts to get Jack on the comm but the third one was so loud and so profanity-laced that it was painful to both the ear and Ianto's sensibilities that he realized he was going to have to deal with this, now. "Ignore him until he goes away" had never been a strategy that worked on Owen-only a direct approach would do.

And just when things were getting so interesting. Ianto forced himself to move away from Jack.

"What did you say?"

Irritation at the interruption made his voice sharper than he intended. Maintaining his unflappable facade while he methodically took Jack apart was putting his self-control to the test, and he was afraid it could start fraying around the edges at any time. He'd have to be very careful with Owen. He didn't give a damn what the insufferable medic thought, but Jack was a meter away and Ianto could feel him soaking up everything he did; doubtless analyzing it with that clever, improvising brain of his. It wouldn't do to show any weakness.

"You heard me, you miserable tosser," Owen was growling into Ianto's ear. "I know Jack's there. Get him on the comm. It's important."

Ianto went into secretary mode. "What is this regarding, please?"

"None of your goddamned business! Stop fucking around and get Jack."

"As I told you before, we're not to be disturbed unless it's a dire emergency. Jack's orders, not mine." That last bit wasn't exactly true, but it was a white lie, the kind personal assistants told all the time, and besides, Jack wasn't in any position to correct him at the moment.

"It just so happens it IS a dire emergency, and it's for Jack's ears only. Put him on or I'm coming in there!"

Ianto thought fast. Owen was perfectly capable of breaking down the door to carry out his threat, and while it was tempting to let him do so just to see the look on his face, it probably wouldn't be good for Team morale for the Second-in-Command to see their leader taped to a chair by his PA. Besides, Ianto wouldn't do that to Jack. (Although knowing Jack, he'd not only survive the humiliation unscathed, but also find a way to turn it to his advantage, but that wasn't the point.)

Then there was the off-chance that there really was an emergency. Although he had a strong feeling that Owen was just messing with them, he was too much of dedicated employee to tell him to bugger off and let the chips fall where they may. No, Owen would have to be allowed to talk to Jack.

But how? Ianto didn't want Jack to have his earpiece back until he was damn well good and ready to give it to him. Ianto had made an educated guess-based on the profound sense of disconnection that he felt whenever he went without his own comm link for any length of time-that that being cut off from the Team, unable to bark orders or get information on demand, would make the Captain feel vulnerable in a way that even binding him to his chair couldn't accomplish. Ianto wasn't ready to relinquish that delicious control just yet, emergency or no emergency.

He didn't want to give Jack his mobile back for the same reason. It was a ridiculous how they'd all become dependent on them, so much so that not having one's mobile handy at all times felt like a limb was missing, but they had.

Ianto made his decision.

"If it's for Jack's ears only, the comm isn't really the place to discuss it, is it? Call him on his extension."

"What?"

"The phone? On his desk? We all have one, even though they're largely neglected because everyone prefers to send emails these days. Jack's extension number is '69', in case you've forgotten."

It was, too. Jack had set it himself.

Owen hung up with a muttered curse.

Ianto pressed the button in his ear that muted his mike and returned to his captive.

"Listen up, Jack. You're going to do exactly what I say, and only what I say, or you can't even begin to imagine how you'll regret it. Do you understand?"

Jack blinked, which Ianto took for assent.

"The phone is going to ring. It will be Owen. I'm going to remove the tape from your mouth and hold the phone up to your ear. You are going to speak to him about his "emergency" and only about his "emergency". When it's resolved, you are gong to say "goodbye, Owen," and I'm going to hang up the phone. Got that?"

Jack blinked again.

"Good," Ianto said, just as the phone rang.

Ianto ripped the tape off Jack's mouth. Jack winced, then licked his lips cautiously, as if checking for damage. Or perhaps to soothe the sting that he had to be experiencing. His intent probably wasn't to drive Ianto mad with desire, yet that was the effect it had. That, and the little bit of white adhesive sticking to the side of Jack's mouth, right beside the slightly upturned corner. Ianto fought down an urge to lick the spot himself, and instead picked up the receiver and shoved it against Jack's ear.

Jack cleared his throat. "Harkness," he answered, managing to sound both brusk and bored. Ianto was impressed.

"Hello, Owen." Jack continued. "What's the emergency?"

Ianto thought he detected a bit of a strain in Jack's voice; perhaps it was a half-step higher than usual, but he doubted that Owen would notice. For the most part, Jack sounded like a disinterested boss taking a report because he had to; no more, no less. Ianto was even more impressed.

"I see. Your special project in the greenhouse. Of course I remember. How's that coming?"

Jack caught Ianto's gaze and rolled his eyes, and Ianto almost burst out laughing. With Herculean effort, he managed to limit himself to a slight upturn of his lips instead.

"Good, good. Of course you have my permission to continue. I'll tell Ianto that I'll sign off on whatever new supplies you need. Yep, just go ahead and order them. Goodbye, Owen."

Ianto placed the receiver back in the base. Their eyes met again, Jack's sparkling with mischief, and Ianto knew if he didn't break the moment immediately they would both start cracking up. Ianto's stern facade would be in tatters, and all of Jack's hard-won obedience would be lost. Ianto was enjoying having Jack at his mercy far too much to let it all go just yet, so he schooled his features into a blank expression, closed his eyes, and didn't open them until he knew they would give away as little away as his face.

The mischief faded from Jack's eyes and Ianto knew he had succeeded. Ianto almost felt sorry for him.

Jack had, after all, done well on the phone call. Such progress should be acknowledged.

Ianto brushed Jack's fringe off his forehead with gentle fingertips.

"Very good, Jack. You stuck to the script and did exactly as I ordered you to. That deserves a reward."

Jack closed his eyes, savoring the touch. Ianto stroked his hair and felt something in his heart clench, painful and sweet all at once.

After a few moments, Ianto removed his hand and and went over to the coffee table. When he returned with a cup of cooling coffee and a few biscuits, Jack's eyes were still closed. He hadn't, Ianto noted, said a word since the call.

"Look at me, Jack."

Jack glanced sidelong at him, looking up through his lashes in a beguiling way that had melted far harder hearts than Ianto's. But Ianto had fallen victim to that very look far too many times to let it get to him now.

"I interrupted your tea earlier, didn't I," he inquired calmly. "You must be hungry. Would you like a biscuit?"

Jack nodded, and it was the barest of moments. He was learning.

Ianto broke off a piece of Jammie Dodger and held it in front of Jack's face. Jack opened his mouth, and Ianto fed it to him. Jack chewed, swallowed, and waited, staring straight ahead. Ianto gave him another piece, which he consumed in the same manner. Then a final one, and the biscuit was gone.

Ianto picked up the mug. "The coffee no longer hot, I'm afraid. Would you like some anyway?"

Another tiny nod, and Ianto held the mug while Jack sipped from it. If the Captain had any complaints about the temperature, he didn't voice them.

Ianto watched Jack's throat work and felt his hands tremble. How that man could look so sexy merely swallowing was beyond him. He took a deep breath and let it out as he broke another biscuit into pieces.

Two more biscuits and an empty mug of coffee later, Ianto deemed that Jack's tea was over. He returned to the tray, set the mug on it, then picked the whole thing up.

"Time these went back to the kitchen. See you in a bit."

He paused to let the words sink in. Jack's eyes went comically wide and his mouth dropped open a little.

'Gotcha,' Ianto thought. Jack hadn't been expecting him to leave again.

"However, if you're very good while I'm gone, I'll give you even better reward when I get back. Would you like that?"

Jack nodded, a bit of a wild look in his eyes. No, he definitely hadn't been expecting this. For that matter, Ianto hadn't either. He was playing this by ear, guided by an instinct he must have always had but never had occasion to use before.

Now instinct was giving him a new idea. He'd planned to think about the promised "reward" while he was out of the room, but he realized that there was no need. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. And how he was going to make Jack earn it.

"Very well."

Ianto set the tray down, picked up the scissors, and crouched down before Jack again. He held up the scissors and looked Jack in the eyes. Jack stared back, eyes raking Ianto's face for any sort of clue as to his fate.

"You'll have to do something for me while I'm gone, then, Jack. I have to make sure that you really deserve this reward. It's a very good reward, you see. I know you'd love it. But I can't give it out to just anyone. Only someone who is capable of following my orders."

Jack swallowed hard, and Ianto did his best to ignore that bobbing Adam's apple. He let his voice drop lower.

"I have something in mind that you weren't able to manage before. But I think you might be sufficiently motivated to do so now. Will you do it?

Jack was nodding before Ianto finished the question.

'This would probably be a good time to ask for a raise, too,' Ianto thought, then suppressed the idea and the giggle that threatened to accompany it.

"All right, then," Ianto continued, absently impressed with how dispassionate his own voice sounded. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to free your right hand and give you the screwdriver. You are going to take it. Then I'm going to position your hand and you're going to hold the screwdriver in that position the whole time I'm gone. Do you understand?"

Another nod.

Ianto opened the scissors and, taking care not to cut Jack's skin in the process, cut through the tape on Jack's left forearm.

Ianto ripped the tape from Jack's arm, taking more than a few dark hairs with it.

'That had to sting,' Ianto reflected, as he tossed the scrap in the bin under Jack's desk. Jack, however, had not made a sound, shook his arm, or done anything else to indicate he was in pain. He merely returned his arm to its place and looked at Ianto expectantly.

Ianto offered Jack the screwdriver, tip down.

"Take it."

Jack did. Ianto positioned Jack's arm so that his elbow rested on the chair arm and the screwdriver hovered over his lap, the tip of it centimeters away from the obvious tenting in Jack's trousers. Ianto suppressed a grin. It had a certain symmetry that pleased him.

He stood and regarded his work, intending to fix the image in his memory so that he'd know if Jack moved but as he did so he had another idea.

Ianto dug in his pocket, fished out a five-pence coin, and balanced it on the base of the screwdriver. It would take effort to keep it there; not a lot, but enough to keep Jack's attention focused the whole time he was gone.

"There. That'll keep you honest," Ianto declared. "Not that I doubt your intentions, Jack. But I know how easily you get distracted." He leaned over and kissed Jack on the cheek, then scooped up the tea tray and left without looking back.

At least they weren't all staring at him this time.

Ianto made his way around the water tower and through the maze of workstations, where his colleagues were to all appearances, hard at work, each peering at a computer screen.

Owen, Ianto observed as he neared the medic's area, was either running a program that analyzed the amount of alien particulates in the air or playing looked surprisingly similar from a distance, but Ianto had his suspicious as to which it was.

His suspicions were confirmed when he paused at Owen's workstation and watched him get killed halfway through level three.

"Pity," Ianto observed. "And you were doing so well, too."

"Dammit! Look what you made me do!"

Ianto snorted. "Me? If you're that easily distracted, remind me not to stand anywhere near you the next time we have weapons practice."

Owen muttered something inappropriate for the workplace and started a new game.

Ianto rested the tray against his hip and watched.

"So what happened to your dire emergency," he ventured after a few moments of watching colored blocks descend.

"Sorted," Owen replied without taking his eyes off the screen.

"So quickly? How convenient. I know that Jack's efficient, but really, that's got to be some sort of record."

"Bullocks!" Owen swore, as his screen filled with blocks and the game ended. He spun in his chair to face Ianto.

"Are you implying something by that, Ianto? Because I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

The edge in Owen's voice suggested that not only did he know exactly what Ianto meant, he was thisclose to getting into a punch-up about it. Ianto suspected that had more to do with the failure of his little ruse than a botched video game, but then again, with Owen it was hard to tell. He was angry so much of the time it was hard to keep track of why.

"Sure you don't. And Gwen's not watching me out of the corner of her eye either, looking for clues as to what Jack and I were doing all that time."

"I wasn't..." Gwen uttered, startled.

"Did you find any hairs out of place or any buttons I've missed?" Because I think I got them all, but you never know. You know how distracted one can be... after."

Gwen flushed and looked away.

"I'll take that as a "no"," Ianto pressed on, aware that he sounded peevish and feeling guilty even as he said it. But it was too late to take it back, so he turned and headed for the kitchen.

"You're a fuckin' bastard, you know that, right?" Owen called.

"Pot, meet Kettle," Ianto replied over his shoulder, determined that Owen not get the last word. Great, now he was resorting to childish insults as well. It was times like these that almost made him long for the early days when they had all but ignored him.

'Well, no, not really', he reflected as he did the washing up, because he'd been miserable then, for all sorts of reasons, isolation being but one of them (the rest he wasn't going to think about).

To be honest, he enjoyed the camaraderie he had with his teammates now, and embraced being a fully-fledged member of Torchwood. The way they all came together when faced with a crisis, each using their own talents to complement each other, made for a level of belonging that he'd never before experienced. It was the downtime that was a problem. Sooner or later someone inevitably ended up playing a prank that went horribly wrong, starting a fight or an ill-advised affair, or taping their boss to his desk chair.

Ianto laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all, and wondered how Jack was faring in his absence.

There was no clock in Jack's office, a fact that Ianto had remarked on more than once. The conscientious assistant was too discreet to voice his disapproval of this fact directly, but his repeated offers to help Jack pick out a suitable timepiece had conveyed his feeling quite well. The third time he had approached the topic, wielding a half-dozen office supply catalogs, Jack had pointed out that there were digital clocks in his computer and mobile and if he needed to know the time that badly he'd consult them. Ianto had pressed his lips into a thin line, nodded once, and dropped the subject. Jack had considered it a moral victory.

Now, he was regretting his flippant attitude towards chronology. He had no idea how long he'd been waiting but it seemed ages. Without the aid of his devices, there was simply no way to measure the passing of time in his office. He had a wall made of glass and two windows, but they all faced the interior of the Hub, and their blinds were down. At some point late in the evening the lights would dim automatically, but he sincerely hoped he wouldn't still be sitting here when they did.

His arm was getting stiff from being in one position for so long and his elbow ached where it pressed into the plastic arm of chair. These were minor complaints, but with nothing else to do, they became a big part of Jack's world. Especially because focusing on them kept him from focusing on the complaints from other parts of his body. He ached with need, physically and emotionally. He had never felt Ianto's absence so keenly.

There was a noise in the hall. Jack looked up, and the screwdriver wavered ever-so-slightly. Jack returned his gaze to it, righting it before the coin could slip.

'Oh no you don't,' he thought. That had been close.

Someone opened his door. Jack's heart leaped, but he kept his eyes fixed on the coin, willing it to stay in place a little longer. No way was he going screw up now, right at the moment of discovery; not after balancing it perfectly for so long.

Ianto came in, closed and locked the door, and approached the desk without a word. He stopped a couple meters away. All Jack could make out without lifting his gaze were two polished black shoes and one dark gray trouser hem, neatly cuffed.

Ianto seemed to be studying him, and Jack felt his cheeks redden. No doubt he made quite a sight. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything at this point but doing what Ianto wanted. He'd sit here holding the bloody screwdriver all night if that pleased him-so long as Ianto didn't leave again. Jack decided that he hadn't liked that part very much.

"Very good, Jack," Ianto said, his voice warm with approval. Jack started at the sudden noise after all the silence and the screwdriver swayed dangerously. The coin, miraculously, stayed put.

"I knew you could do it if you put your mind to it." Ianto moved forward and stroked Jack's cheek.

Jack felt a surge of pride that was somewhat absurd given the circumstances. After all, he'd risked life and limb to save the world from alien invasion countless times and felt far less afterward. Nevertheless, it made the whole ordeal, every second he'd sat sweating it out alone, worthwhile.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Ianto asked, and the tenderness in his voice very nearly made Jack weep. He shook his head "no".

Ianto plucked the coin from the edge of the screwdriver and dropped it into his jacket pocket.

"I think I'll keep this. For luck."

He took the screwdriver from Jack's hand and placed it on the desk in front of Jack. "This, you can have back. You've earned it."

While Jack flexed his hand to work out the cramps, Ianto moved between chair and desk and leaned against the edge, and cocking his head to the side. Watching.

"You're gorgeous like this, you know. All trussed up and nowhere to go. All mine."

A shiver went down Jack's spine and he felt himself nodding again. He'd done so much nodding he felt like one of those Drinking Bird desk toys, but it was working for him so he was not about to stop now.

'Yes, yes, all yours.' It didn't occur to Jack to say this out loud. He'd not been granted permission, after all.

Ianto smiled. He unbuttoned his jacket, then wriggled onto the desk so that he was seated comfortably. Jack gaped at the view that his slightly spread legs afforded. That Ianto was as aroused as he was was now obvious, and it was a glorious sight indeed.

Ianto hooked the leg of Jack's chair with his foot and pulled Jack over to him, the rollers sliding over the floor with a squeak until Jack was sat right in front of him. Ianto picked up Jack's free hand and placed it over his groin. Jack felt smooth wool and the warmth of Ianto underneath and stifled a groan.

"You like that, don't you Jack?"

Jack nodded so vigorously it's a wonder he didn't get whiplash.

Ianto chuckled, and pressed himself against Jack's hand. His visibly sucked in his breath at the contact but when he continued speaking his voice was as calm as ever.

"I thought you might. Unzip me, then."

Jack hastened to comply, fumbling with the zipper, and when did he get so clumsy, anyway? Divesting people smoothly of their clothes was one of his trademarks, after all.

"You know," Ianto continued conversationally, exactly like Jack hadn't just succeeded in lowering the zipper at last and was resting his fingers against the silk of his boxers, "If you hadn't been able to follow orders, I would have taped your hand back down and you'd be watching me do this myself from way over there. With nothing to do but watch."

It was a cruel thought indeed.

"But you were very, very good, so I'll let you help me as your reward. You've only got one hand free, and that's a pity, but you've done more with less. I'm sure you'll be brilliant. You want to be brilliant for me, don't you, Jack?"

Jack did, very much so.

"Then do it."

Ianto gasped audibly when Jack slid his fingers into the fly of his boxers and skin touched skin, indicating that he might not be quite the disinterested party he was pretending to be.

Jack needed no further motivation, or instructions. He palmed Ianto's length, working it free of the fabric, and rubbed his thumb over the tip, savoring the dampness there. He'd use that to smooth his way. He started with light strokes of his fingertips, and was rewarded when Ianto spread his legs further apart, placed his hands behind him on the desk, and leaned back.

"Go on."

Ianto's voice now held a tremor that he no longer bothered to hide. Jack began his work in earnest.

It didn't take long. Ianto had been flatteringly aroused, and Jack was very good at what he did. "Even with one hand tied behind my back. Or... whatever," he thought, allowing himself a brief moment of smug satisfaction.

Mostly, however, he felt grateful, so very grateful for being allowed to touch this beautiful boy who was perched on his desk, head thrown back, quietly but unabashedly coming into his hand. Grateful, and amazed.

'How did I get so lucky?'

He had no idea.

Ianto allowed himself one long, low groan at the moment of climax, but other than that he had been silent, thinking it suited the persona he had adopted. He could suppress his erotic exclamations as well as he could suppress all his others-sometimes too well. It had been Lisa who had taught him that a little noise in bed was not only not a bad thing but actually a turn-on, and Jack had certainly seemed to agree. Jack himself made enough noise for a zoo.

Ianto had not controlled his physical responses, however, at one point grinding himself shamelessly against Jack's palm while Jack stroked all the right spots. Damn if that man didn't know exactly how to touch him; Ianto didn't bother to try to hold back. He'd been wanting this for hours now, ever since he'd first approached Jack in his office and come under the influence of those dastardly pheromones. (If he was honest with himself it had really been since he'd walked into the Hub at 07:00 sharp and found Jack tinkering with the hinges of the shower room door, but that made him feel so easy.)

Ianto shuddered and stilled, eyes closed to better enjoy the pleasure that spreading through his body, suffusing it with warmth and languor.

When he thought he was capable of it, he pushed himself upright and grinned lazily at Jack. When he got answering grin in return, he grasped Jack's wrist and squeezed affectionately.

"Well done," he said, and if it came out more a croak than the clinical observation he was trying for, well, so be it.

He glanced down and quirked a brow. "You can let go now."

Jack did, and Ianto adjusted his clothing, putting it and himself to rights.

Keeping his suit on while they played was something that he had never done before, even though he knew that Jack fantasized about it, for Jack had told him so, numerous times and in graphic detail.

In the beginning of their affair, the mere thought of being intimate while so attired was disturbing. Ianto wasn't a prude by any means, but he'd found himself slapping Jack's hand away the first time he'd gone to touch Ianto in an intimate way through his work trousers, to both of their surprise. As badly as he'd wanted that touch, the idea of doing it that way had made him panic a little. And no, it wasn't OCD run amok, despite what Owen seemed to think about Ianto's penchant for pristine suits.

They had been his way of keeping Torchwood Three separate from the rest of his life, a distinction had been all-important, once. But now his old life was gone and his private life had merged so completely with TW3 that it hardly seemed to matter anymore.

And the dry-cleaners could take care of the rest.

Ianto pushed Jack's chair back and knelt in front of it. "Your hand's all sticky," he observed. "We should probably do something about that."

Jack regarded his hand, then Ianto, and raised his eyebrows in a question. Ianto nodded. Jack lifted his hand to his mouth and proceeded to lick his fingers, one by one.

Ianto had known what he was going to do, but the sight still made him weak. It was so utterly filthy and so devastatingly erotic at the same time.

When Jack was done, he held his now clean hand up for inspection, and Ianto nodded his approval.

"Very nice. I didn't even have to give you an order that time. You're learning to anticipate what I want. See, it's not that hard to be good, is it?"

Jack shook his head.

"I'm very proud of you, Jack."

Jack beamed.

Ianto pushed up Jack's right trouser leg and traced the top edge of the tape with his fingertips. It was still firmly affixed to Jack's ankle and the lower part of his shin. He rubbed the side of Jack's calf, then began to knead it with strong fingers. Jack always carried tension in his calves, little knots that formed around the edges of the well-defined muscles. Ianto slid his fingers behind the knee and pushed and pressed at a knot there until he felt it break apart.

Jack sighed in appreciation. Ianto moved on to another, feeling a sense of satisfaction when it too released under his ministrations. The last time he had tried to do this for his Captain he had been cut short because Jack, with a wicked grin, had removed his hand after about two minutes and put it on a more intimate place. Ianto hadn't minded much, figuring he was going to get there eventually anyway, but he was good at the other kind of massage too. Now Jack had no choice but to sit back and enjoy it.

Jack seemed to be doing just that, if the easy smile and closed eyes were any indication. For once, he seemed to savor what he was given and wasn't trying to rush on to the next thing.

It was a beautiful sight. Jack was, literally and figuratively, in Ianto's hands.

Ianto finished the right calf and moved on to the left, where several more knots waited. He took his time, savoring the way heat and energy flowed from Jack's calves and blended with his own, until he felt he was holding a ball of power in his hands.

When he was finished, he turned his attentions to the tape itself.

"This is going to sting when I rip it off. A lot."

He touched it, and it felt cool and unyielding. He frowned.

"I don't want to hurt you more than necessary, especially because you're being so patient. I have an idea, though, that will make it better. Do you trust me?"

Jack nodded, but it wasn't necessary. His serene expression said it all.

Ianto started to unbuckle Jack's belt, and the man's sudden, sharp exhale made Ianto smile.

Ianto worked the belt open and unbuttoned Jack's fly. He was wondering, not for the first time, why Jack preferred period-accurate trousers when zippers were so much more convenient, when he
realized that Jack was going commando.

'Oh, Duw!'

Blood rushed to Ianto's cheeks and to his groin, even as some distant, logical part of his mind noted that having one less layer of fabric to negotiate would make his task easier.

Ianto leaned down and ran his tongue along the side Jack's length and Jack's response rang with relief and sheer, utter need. Ianto lifted his head and smiled like the cat that got the cream.

"You have my permission to speak now, Jack. I rather like it when you say my name."

Ianto wrapped his hand around the base of Jack's cock and applied his mouth in earnest, and Jack wound up shouting not only Ianto's name, but also a slew of dirty words in English, Welsh, and several languages that Ianto didn't recognize. He suspected they were alien.

When Jack's breathing was ragged and his legs were trembling in a way that indicated he was close, Ianto pulled his mouth away. Jack fairly howled in frustration, and Ianto put a finger to Jack's lips.

"Shhh. Patience, remember?" He turned his concentration to Jack's left ankle, reached down, and fiddled with the tape there. He started unwrapping it, leaving Jack to stare down at the top of his head in disbelief.

With a sudden, sharp moment, Ianto ripped the tape off, and Jack's whimper turned into a squawk. It was cut off, however, when Ianto promptly returned his attention to Jack's member, which he teased with tongue and fingers until he was sure that the stinging on Jack's leg melted into something more pleasurable.

He worked the tape off the other leg with one hand while increasing his attentions to Jack's cock. When he ripped tape free of skin, Jack's cry was one of delight as the combination of the sharp bite of pain and Ianto's relentless ravishing pushed him over the edge.

"Oh, fuck! Iantooo!"

Jack came in a hot rush, shouting at such a volume that made Ianto glad that the office was soundproofed.

He waited until Jack had stilled and slumped in his seat before sliding his mouth free and wiping it with the back of his hand, throwing Jack an impish look as he did so. Jack looked decidedly dazed as Ianto moved forward and unwrapped the final piece of tape around his wrist. He didn't react when Ianto pulled it free. He barely seemed to know where he was.

Ianto leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, and Jack parted his lips to allow Ianto's tongue in. He let Ianto do most of the work at first, but then seemed to return to himself and kissed back with more fervor.

Ianto pulled back and searched Jack's face. There was sweat on his brow, his hair was tousled, and the inside of his lower lip was red where he had been biting it while he had concentrated on the coin earlier, but the habitual furrows across his forehead were nowhere in evidence.

'He looks younger, somehow. Carefree. And so utterly beautiful,' Ianto thought.

Aloud he said, "You O.K.?"

"Yeah." The brief, throaty reply conveyed volumes of feeling, and was quite a change from Jack's usual swagger.

"Come on then, let's get you up."

He helped Jack out of the chair, hooking an arm under his shoulders to keep him upright while he regained his balance.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Jack said.

"Ow?"

"Pins and needles," Jack explained, standing on one leg to shake the other one out, then switching, leaning on Ianto as he did so. "Hurts almost as much as that bloody tape did coming off."

Ianto chuckled. "That sounds serious. As is the fact that that "bloody tape" left all sorts of sticky residue on you. I think a hot shower is order."

He inclined his head to the hatch leading to Jack's lair under the stairs, where a shower stall awaited. It was just big enough for two, if you squeezed.

"Come to think of it, I'm a bit sticky myself."

Jack smiled and detached himself from Ianto's arm. "Go and get the water hot. I'll be right there."

"Are you sure you're OK? It's a long drop if you fall off the ladder. Wouldn't want you to injure yourself."

"Ianto, I've been climbing down that thing since before you were... for a long time, alright? Don't worry about me."

"Fine. I won't." Ianto smiled back.

Ianto opened the hatch, positioned himself on the ladder, and started his descent. Jack went around turning off all the lights, hoping to head off anyone else who thought to disturb them. He spotted the screwdriver, resting on the desk where Ianto had left it.

Jack picked it up and placed it reverentially in a drawer.

'Sure got my money's worth out of that thing," he thought. "Or rather, Torchwood's money's worth.'

He just might have to retire it to his safe. It hardly seemed fitting to use it for such mundane tasks as fixing things anymore.

Then he spied the roll of gaffer tape.

'Now THAT might come in handy later.'

He slid it onto his arm like a piece of oversized costume jewelry.

'Or sooner.'

He grinned to himself, and followed Ianto down the hatch.