Warnings for this chapter: BDSM (but quite fluffy), M/m sex, mentions of torture but nothing graphic.

A Demon in the Basement

31st December, 10.55 pm

"Right, now keep those eyes closed, and no peeking until I say so, and no questions either!" Ianto sounds stern, and Jack is quick to obey. Fun though it is to wind his lover up when he's taking charge, it can be even more rewarding to comply; and after all the mysterious hints Ianto's been dropping, Jack's expecting something quite special. He doesn't even know what level of the Hub they're on, as Ianto used his wicked tongue to keep him pleasantly distracted in the lift. He hadn't stood a chance.

He feels Ianto's hand brushing his, and instinctively laces fingers with him, letting himself be led out of the lift and along the echoing corridor. Really, it's about bloody time the two of them had a bit of peace and quiet together. In fact, the peace and quiet doesn't matter all that much - Jack will quite happily settle for noisy wrestling - but it's always lovely to follow that with some down time. Precious time to just lie in each others' arms, talking lazily; burying his head in Ianto's hair and inhaling that wonderful fragrance that makes him feel like he's come home. Maybe it's about time he told him how much he...

Jack shakes his head. God, he's getting sentimental in his old age. Must be an effect of Ianto having been so busy this last week. Every time he's tried to pin him down for some good, old-fashioned snuggling, the man's gone dancing off - claiming to need to get back to his flat for various lame reasons - and he hasn't been invited, no matter how many unsubtle hints he's dropped. If it hadn't been for the outstanding blow jobs he's been getting every morning when Ianto arrives for work - a good half an hour before the others - then he'd be really pissed off. As it is, he's just fairly frustrated, horribly horny and really looking forward to his New Year's treat. Whatever that might be. And no matter how loud the Rift alarm sounds, tonight it will be ignored. It's usually nothing important anyway. Bit like that crate of 51st century mineral water that landed in Penarth last week. Let the New Year's Eve revellers deal with the alien flotsam and jetsam themselves. Captain Jack deserves a bit of Ianto time.

"Okay, you can stop now, but keep your eyes and mouth shut or there'll be trouble."

Jack hears a key turn in a lock, and tingles run down his spine. The door opens smoothly, and a gust of warm, spicy air, with just a hint of paraffin, envelops them. He hears Ianto chuckle softly as he steps forward, pulling Jack along like a small child. There's soft carpet underfoot, and the laughter doesn't echo, but sounds warm; intimate and inviting. Ianto moves away, and judging by the sounds is shutting the door and then flicking some switches. Then both his hands are taken hold of, and he's led forward another four steps. He feels hands push down his braces, unstrap his Vortex Manipulator, unbutton his shirt and pull it off his arms. Neither resisting nor helping, Jack lets himself be undressed, relishing every feather-light brush of cool fingers against his burning skin.

"I see you're enjoying yourself," Ianto murmurs as he gets to work on the buttons of his fly.

Jack moans as those fingers stroke his erection through the thick cotton of his trousers. The fingers still, their pressure almost unbearable for Jack, and he bites his lip in an effort to stifle any further the hands move again, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he's divested of trousers, underpants, socks and boots. The air in the room is warm enough to feel comfortable naked, without making him unduly sweaty. Ianto really does think of everything.

"Now, I want you to raise your arms in front of you, that's it, keep them there, wrists together." There's a swish of silk, that unmistakable sound of Ianto pulling off his tie. A noise Jack associates with so many good things. A noise that makes his cock twitch with excitement. Then the silk loops round his wrists, deft fingers tying it in a firm yet comfortable knot. He's trembling now, delicious shivers of anticipation running through his body and threatening to knock him off balance.

"Jack, do you trust me?" Ianto sounds a little unsure of himself, so Jack nods vigorously in response. Of course he does. There's no way he'd be here right now if he didn't.

"You can speak."

He finds he needs to swallow a few times before the words will come out. His mouth is drier than the deserts of Boeshane.

"I trust you, Ianto."

"Okay, that's good. I'm going to ask you to do something now, and I want you to trust me that it'll be fine. You'll enjoy it, okay?"

"Uh, okay," he croaks; apprehensive, but in a good way. He doubts that there's anything Ianto could do to him that he hasn't done a thousand times before. Although, come to think of it, the lad did have a few surprises up his sleeve from time to time. Rather pleasant ones at that. He had to give him top marks for creativity.

"Right then, I want you to raise your arms above your head," Ianto's voice is soft and neutral, but Jack still feels a shudder of fear. He raises them, however, and does his best to keep the panic at bay when his hand hits something, setting off a jangling of chains. His heart races, and a cool hand comes to rest on his chest, another stroking his cheek.

"Shhhh, it'll be fine, I promise. You only have to say if it's too much and we'll stop, okay?"

He nods again, letting the slow motion of those hands soothe him. Mesmerised by their downward trajectory, gasping as they brush against his cock - still hard, thank god - and then carry on down his legs, before circling his ankles and moving up the back of his calves. The hypnotic circles reach his buttocks, and there's an appreciative murmur and a gentle squeeze, before those hands move up again, over the muscles of his back, up the sides of his arms, right up to his wrists so that Ianto's whole body presses against him, their cheeks touching. He does his best to concentrate on the insistent pressure of Ianto's erection against his; anything to distract him from the jangling chains and the sensation of tightening around his wrists. He will not give in. He will not think about the last time he was suspended like this. This is different. This is Ianto. Ianto won't hurt him. Not unless he begs him to, anyway.

Finally there's a satisfied grunt as Ianto finishes his work, and Jack releases the tension in his arms, finding the silk binding still comfortable. His wrists are tied up to something, which is a horribly familiar sensation despite all the months that have elapsed since that terrible year. Best not to think about that, though. Best to lose himself in the hot breath on his cheek, the lips touching his, the soft sucking on his lower lip, the tongue pushing it's way into his mouth, the stubble rasping against his chin as the kiss deepens. Those hands stroking his back, pulling him closer. Ianto's body heat evident even through the layers of clothing, his desire obvious as their hips grind together. He moans into the kiss, forgetting everything but Ianto and how amazing he makes him feel.

Eventually Ianto pulls back, leaving Jack panting heavily and decidedly weak at the knees.

"So, how are you feeling?" Ianto's tone is teasing as he strokes Jack's dick. "Think you can cope with a little game? Just something to get you back into the swing of things?"

"I think so. Yeah, I'll be alright."

"Okay then. You can open your eyes."

It takes a moment to adjust to the brightness, even though the room would probably seem quite dim if entered with open eyes. The first thing he sees is Ianto, rolling his sleeves up, unbuttoning the top of his shirt and smiling in a decidedly bashful manner.

"So, what do you think? I've tried to make the place cosy. Less S&M dungeon, more classy brothel." And he actually blushes as he says this, making Jack want to reach out and pull him into a hug.

He looks around. They're in one of the smaller storage rooms, about twenty foot square. It doesn't feel as dank and chilly as it should because of the paraffin heater belching out it's noxious fumes in the corner. A patchwork assortment of colourful rugs covers most of the concrete floor, and a similar array of richly coloured fabrics lines the damp stone walls. The lighting comes from strings of fairy lights suspended from the ceiling. It looks like Ianto's transplanted the contents of one of Cardiff's hippy shops into a basement; which, come to think of it, must be exactly what he's done. The bohemian aesthetic is slightly at odds with the bed, however. Nothing wrong with the brass bedstead, per se. It's the leather cuffs chained to the posts that make Jack raise his eyebrows. And then he spots some similar cuffs hanging at strategic points on the wall before him. He can't help but chuckle. How on earth has Ianto managed to set all of this up without him noticing?

"Ianto, have you ever set foot in a brothel? 'Cause I've been in loads, all over the galaxy, but never one quite like this. Hey, don't worry," he adds hastily, as Ianto's face falls, "I love it! It's, er, just unique. Like you," he grins.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to make it nice for you, to help you relax," Ianto grins back, before stepping towards him and running his fingers up Jack's arms again. Looking up, Jack notices for the first time that the tie is only looped once through the cuffs, and the hitch looks easy to release quickly. Ianto's voice deepens. "I reckon it's about time you got over your issues with the restraints. I've been wanting to do this to you for ages."

Jack's breath catches, and he stares into Ianto's eyes, trying to fathom how deep his feelings run. Whether his own are met with the same intensity. It's hard to believe otherwise when Ianto looks at him like that.

"You should have said," he mutters, not trusting his voice to stay under control.

"I'm saying it now." Ianto turns away and walks to a low table, picking something up and returning. It's the crowns. He'd forgotten all about them in the excitement, but now he recalls Ianto's first request this morning - asking him to program them into master and slave units again – before sucking him off so exquisitely he was quite distracted.

"We'd better hope this is the right way round," Ianto places one on his own head, before crowning Jack with the other. "Mmmm, yes, I think it is. I've been practising. A lot," he smirks.

"Oh, have you indeed?"

"Yeah, well, you said I needed to. Why else did you think I've been going home without you every night?"

"So you've been off masturbating yourself stupid with top quality alien tech, leaving me all on my own?" The idea of it! God, it's making him even harder, though.

"You've always got Myfanwy and Janet for company."

"Yeah, well. They're not as much fun as you are."

"I'll make it up to you right now."

"You'd better." Jack teases.

"Oh, I will. Now," and Ianto's voice suddenly changes tone, businesslike when it had been warm and syrupy. "You need to wear this blindfold, well, okay, tie, and I'm going to play a little game with you."

The second tie blots out his vision quite effectively, as Ianto folds up a handkerchief to stop him peeking under the edge. He smiles ruefully; Ianto knows him far too well.

"Right, this is what's going to happen. You'll get five minutes to tell me what you think I'm using to stroke you with. If you get it right, you get to choose where I'll use my tongue for the next five minutes. If you don't manage to guess, then I'll choose. You'll have to choose a different body part each time. Oh yes, and I'll be looping the stroking but not the licking. Can't have you coming too quickly. In fact, you are not given permission to come until next year, and if you want me to fuck you then you'd better hold on. Is that clear?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so." Thinking is actually proving quite difficult, as the rules of Ianto's little game have reduced his brain to mush. Okay, so the objective is not to come. Right, well, Jack does have legendary self-restraint. The only thing is, Ianto seems to know all the most effective ways to undermine it. He's taught him far too well.

"I'll make it a bit easier for you and give you a clue. They're all things I found in my flat."

"Got it. Okay." That is some help, as Ianto's minimal approach to décor and possessions doesn't allow for much clutter. "Er, how long have we got till midnight?"

"It's only fifty-two minutes. I'm sure you can manage it. So, that's five minutes, and counting," followed by that little click that sends his pulse racing whenever he hears it.

The first touch, when it finally comes, is so light as to be almost imperceptible. Something is gliding up the outside of his right calf. Slowly inching it's way up, raising goosebumps on his thigh, up his flank, over the ribs, making him more and more flustered the closer it gets to his armpit. Focus on it, not the sensation. Is that a sound? A slight rustling? Whatever it is, it's not cold, not too hard, flexible...

"Ah, tissue paper? Paper? Er... oh god!" And he can't stop himself giggling as the mystery object ruffles through the hair under his arm. But there's that rustling again, and as it nears his ear the sound is clearer. "Plastic, something plastic, erm... bubble wrap?"

"Good guess!" Ianto sounds genuinely impressed. "Okay, that was in two minutes, forty five seconds. So, Jack, you'd better choose where you want me."

Oh god. He can think of various places he wants that clever tongue, but as the object is to stay in control, well...

"My back. You can lick my back." Yes, that's a good choice. Not too many nerve cells there.

But even there, the glide of wet tongue over hot skin is tantalising, and there's that damn bubble wrap doing it's maddeningly slow journey up his body. He copes with the slow minutes by trying to think of what's sitting in his in-tray. Always a passion killer, that one. Still, when Ianto moans like that - quite deliberately, the teasing minx - all thoughts of the Inland Revenue fly from his mind. Broad swipes of Ianto's tongue paint moist stripes across his back, his skin tingling as the moisture evaporates. He screws his eyes shut, bites down on his lip, tries not to imagine that tongue sliding down between his cheeks...

He heaves a huge sigh of relief when the stopwatch clicks again, and gratefully gulps from the water bottle Ianto holds to his lips. He's careless, cool droplets running down his chin and splashing onto his burning erection, making him shudder and whimper. But then there's something tickling his left ankle, something soft and puffy and barely there. He knows this one, he's sure. Felt it before. He recites a litany of textiles as the sensation travels up his body, eventually hitting on the right answer, just as the cotton wool ball is beginning it's journey back down his arm.

"My calves. Just there. Definitely not the backs of my knees, though."

And the licking is bearable, just about, although the phantom stroking makes it quite a challenge to keep his mind focused on the Home office memo he received earlier.

The next couple of teases are fairly straightforward, and Jack suspects Ianto of deliberately making it easy for him. The rough scratchy thing moving up the back of his leg could only be a pan scourer, and then there's that bristly sensation that he eventually identifies as Ianto's clothes brush, but not until it reaches his arse, making him squirm and wriggle against his bonds.

Oh fuck. He's running out of safe places to be licked. He chooses his neck, and manages to shut out as much as possible by mentally running through a list of every planet he visited during his stint as a Time Agent. He probably misses a few out, and he's fairly sure he repeats one when Ianto sucks on his pulse point, but he gets through it somehow.

By now his brain is addled by the ghostly strokes, all running up his body at slightly different rates. And when the new one starts, up the front of his left leg, it's almost impossible to focus on it. He shouts out random suggestions, some of which make Ianto chuckle, but even when the pressure starts to circle round his nipple he's no closer to guessing. There's a tsking sound as Ianto finally clicks the stopwatch, ending his torment.

"Hmmm, seems like it's my turn to choose this time."

"Is it midnight yet? Surely it's gotta be?"

"You'll know when it's midnight, Jack. I've made sure of it."

Ianto's voice is coming from lower down, and he starts to tremble as he guesses what's about to happen. He feels his leg being lifted and his thigh placed over Ianto's shoulder. The licking begins on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Fuck, fuck, fuck... His balls feel like they're going to explode, and he bites down so hard on his lip that his mouth fills with a coppery tang. Time to try and remember all the verses to the National Anthem, including that weird one that never gets sung any more.

Ianto nuzzles into the crease where his thigh meets his body.

Jack loses the thread of patriotic dogma, and finds himself imagining the Queen and Prince Philip in bed together. Not good, even if he makes them their current ages. With a supreme effort of willpower he turns his thoughts to Margaret Thatcher shafting the Welsh coal industry, and feels his frenzied panting start to subside. But then Ianto licks his balls, sucking one into his mouth and he's suddenly remembering all the fantastic sex he had with angry, dark-haired coal miners and nearly comes on the spot.

"Ahhhh, can't last... Ianto! Stop, please!"

Ianto's laughter puffs against his cock, shaking his leg and making it tremble even more violently.

"It's okay, Jack. You've made it through another five minutes."

Jack heaves a huge sigh of relief, and doesn't even bother trying to guess the next object. Instead, he loses himself in reciting the Time Agents Code, a set of such complex and paradoxical dictums that they take every last bit of his remaining brain power to piece together. He barely notices when the loop closes, too absorbed in trying to remember the exact wording of the rule about introducing yourself to your ancestors, when his concentration is rudely broken by a pair of hands parting his buttocks and a warm, wet pressure right on his entrance.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

And then a beeping sounds. Rift alarm? Surely not. Jack is only aware of the delicious circling of Ianto's tongue, the overwhelming desire to be fucked raw, to spill himself all over the floor with Ianto inside of him. If he can only hold on till midnight...

"HappyNewYear?" he yells, a small part of his brain still functioning well enough to make a hopeful guess.

And Ianto pulls back, chuckling again and Jack senses him move away. The alarm shuts off. He is given more water. The tip of his cock is pinched firmly, helping to calm him down. Hands move behind his head and the world is revealed again. Ianto's sparkling eyes fixing him with a look of admiration and affection.

"Happy New Year," Ianto responds, punctuating each word with a soft kiss.

And then Ianto's pulling the rest of his clothes off, the heat of lust evident in the way he lets them fall crumpled to the floor, the dark pits of his eyes, the jutting of his cock. Ianto moves closer, runs his hands up Jack's arms, now screaming with the pain of being held up for so long.

"Could you cope with the cuffs, do you think? Just for a little while. I want to fuck you like this, but I don't think my tie will take the strain." His voice rough, deep, trembling slightly.

And Jack just nods, because how can he refuse Ianto anything when he looks at him like that? And so he ignores the pain as the tie is removed and the cuffs strapped around his wrists, flexes his arms to reassure himself he still has the strength for this, and relaxes himself when he feels Ianto's fingers ready him.

Then he's breached, Ianto's hot, hard length filling him slowly, deliberately, and he strains upwards, pulling on the chains to lift up and then sink down, impaling himself fully. He'd forgotten how bloody difficult this was to do, but worth it. Oh, so worth it when he lets himself drop down as Ianto pushes up. Feel his lover's hot breath against his back, his strong hands bruising his hips, his groans vibrating through him as his thrusting grows more urgent. Jack has to hold on, fight back his own orgasm until Ianto has had his pleasure and it won't matter if his arms give way. Concentrating on the agony in his muscles as he pulls upwards, waiting for Ianto...

And as Ianto's movements grow jerky, and he shouts something garbled, Jack lets himself fall one last time, before vision and hearing dissolve into white. His body convulses, the fire pulsing through him; leaving him spent, breathless, dangling. And then arms release his wrists, encircle him, remove the crown, soothe him. But it still feels like something is about to burst inside him. Something needs to get out before it consumes him.

So he says it.

Fuck the consequences. This man is worth it.

*****

Ianto releases Jack's wrists from the cuffs, hugging him close as he collapses, arms hanging limp after their ordeal. Lifts the crowns off both their heads. Raising his lover's hands up, he kisses the chafed skin, tongue darting out to soothe the sore patches. Jack stirs against his shoulder, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like... No, he must have misheard. Couldn't be that.

"Come on, let's get you lying down," Ianto mutters into Jack's hair, pulling him over towards the bed. "God, put some effort into it, will you? You're like a sack of spuds, you great lump."

"Mmmm... Your fault. Wore me out."

They collapse onto the bed together, a tangle of sweaty limbs and sated flesh. Ianto finds himself lying on top of Jack, staring down into smiling blue eyes, heavy lidded but still twinkling.

"Hey there, gorgeous. That was incredible."

Ianto grins, nuzzling into Jack's neck to hide his blush.

"It was my pleasure," he mumbles into Jack's ear, then nips at the lobe, making him chuckle and move his head away.

But then hands are lifting his head up, and he has to look into those eyes, staring with such a naked intensity that he's mesmerised.

"Thank you, Ianto." The words are soft, tender. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to enjoy that again. Not after what happened... I never told you what he did to me. What he made me watch, made me choose..."

Jack's body shudders underneath him, and Ianto strokes his cheek, shushing him.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me. Not sure I really want to know, anyway." He carries on stroking, planting a kiss on the end of Jack's nose which makes him wrinkle it up and smile again.

"What kept me going, though, through all of it, was the thought of getting back to you."

Ianto starts at this, probing those ancient eyes for the truth of it. What he sees there makes him blush again and he moves his gaze to Jack's lips, watching the words as they spill out. He could shut him up with a kiss, but despite the embarrassment he wants to hear more.

"I used to hang there, imagining all the things we could do together when I got back."

"I bet you did, you filthy pervert."

Jack leers, but then his face settles down into something more solemn.

"Not only those sorts of fantasies. Just doing stuff. You know, hanging out, chatting, walking, working. Somehow, even after he... Well, I never lost hope. Always thought there'd be a way." There's a wry chuckle. "What's the use in hanging out with Time Lords, anyway, if they can't reset time for you once in a while?"

Jack smiles enigmatically, and Ianto is aware of something inside him shifting, melting. Parts of him that he thought he'd locked away for good. It's warm, whatever it is that Jack's words have released. Heating him inside and making him want to kiss him and stroke him and say all sorts of stupid things he'll probably end up regretting. He moves his gaze to Jack's neck, tracing lazy spirals over his skin with his fingers. Not wanting to open his mouth in case he says it, then discovers he's mistaken about Jack's meaning.

"What you just said," he eventually begins, choosing his words with care, "If you really mean that..."

"What?" Jack prompts. "You know I mean it, don't you?"

"Then, for every week you manage to convince me that it's true, you'll earn yourself an evening in here."

Jack's eyes widen and a cheeky smile quirks his lips and eyebrows.

"That's my reward is it? I pledge my undying love and you threaten me with torture? You're a cruel man, Ianto Jones. A demon in disguise."

That word again. The one he thought he heard him mutter earlier. Fuck, oh fuck. Can he take him seriously? He searches Jack's eyes for the truth, astonished by what he finds there. Smiling tremulously as the realisation dawns.

And then there's a flurry of limbs and he's pinned under Jack, that superhuman recovery time beating him yet again.

"Well, two can play at that game. I think I noticed some rather handy restraints somewhere just around here..."

"No, you can't do that in here." Putting every last ounce of strength into his voice.

"Oh? And why not, exactly?"

"This is my room. I'm in charge within these four walls. What I say, goes."

"I see. And what do you say, then, Mr Jones?" Jack's voice grows sultry and his hands start to massage Ianto's arms, reminding him that his lover hasn't had a chance to pleasure him properly since Boxing Day.

"I say... Ahhh.... Oh, that's good. Oh, fuck it! Go on then. Do what you will."

"I intend to start the New Year the way I mean it to go on. Loving you."

And Ianto melts, letting Jack coax him to new heights of pleasure. Those words making every kiss sweeter, every touch more sensuous, every scratch and bite that much more exciting.

Who needs an army of lovers, when you've got one Jack Harkness?

Finis.