Malcolm was angry. Not frustrated style angry, no. He was "stomp a mud puddle and then whomp it dry" kinda angry.
Ianto was quietly cleaning the kitchen when the penthouse door slammed, announcing Malcolm's return from his meeting. Ianto turned to greet him and found himself slammed back against the counter.
"What the fuck do you want from me?" Malcolm snarled, body slamming him harder against the counter, Ianto feeling it bite into his lower back.
"Sir? Have I done something?" Ianto gasped with pain.
"Done something?" Malcolm snarled thrusting his face inches away from Ianto's, "Done something? No Mr Jones. On the contrary. You've done fucking nothing!"
Malcolm punctuated the last word with a solid slap across Ianto's face that reverberated around the penthouse like a gunshot.
Ianto gave a bark of pain as Malcolm followed it with a solid punch to the gut. Ianto fell forward against Malcolm's shoulder and he took the chance to fling Ianto across the middle island and onto the floor.
Ianto struggled to rise as Malcolm stalked him around the bench.
"No. You didn't update the files like I asked," Malcolm growled, "you didn't inform me that the meeting was delayed by an hour so I had more time to fix your fucking lapse of good judgement no Ianto. You did NOTHING!"
Ianto gasped for air and pulled himself to his hands and knees as Malcolm reached him.
"Not. A. Fucking. Thing. I. Asked." Each word was a kick to the gut and Ianto fell back to the floor with grunts at each kick.
Malcolm turned his back and gripped the counter, his whole body shaking with rage at the waste of time and money when his mark had finally turned up late with different figures to Malcolm's he had looked like a right fool. Months and hundreds or thousands of dollars lost in a moment of lost credibility. Trusting an unknown entity not even a month in his home!
"Unforgivable!" he roared into the empty air.
Finally he realised he was the only one in the room and he stalked into the study to find Ianto slumped at the desk.
"Updated as asked, less than twenty minutes after you left. Your server pinged, your phone updated. Why did you not upload the changes?" Ianto muttered as he banged the mouse down angrily.
Malcolm stepped behind him and noted the documents and times of send. Oh. He did do it.
Ianto turned and reached silently into Malcolm's coat pocket and Malcolm realised he had never hung it up but in his anger was still wearing it.
Flipping open the phone Ianto began to scroll. With a nod he handed it to Malcolm and gingerly rose from the chair to leave. Malcolm fumbled it and looked stupidly at the screen. Oh.
Malcolm became aware of two things with mind blowing clarity. He had failed to check his messages which would have shown the updates and meeting change and more importantly, Ianto was limping for the door without speaking.
"Ianto?" his voice was quieter than he would have liked, sounded a bit needier than he thought it would too. Had he gone too far?
"If you will excuse me Sir, the dinner is burning and as I can't do a fucking thing right perhaps I should just turn it all off and order room service!" Ianto threw over his shoulder as he departed.
Malcolm followed Ianto into the bedroom where he was ripping clothes of hangers and throwing them on the bed then he stopped, looking from his hands full of shirts to the clothes on the bed and he threw them on the floor.
"These are yours. All fucking yours!" Ianto roared and began to tear his own shirt off.
Buttons skidded across the floor and a ripping filled the air as Ianto shredded his shirt and added it to the pile.
"Your fucking suit too," he panted, tears welling as he unfastened the belt and began to unbutton his trousers.
"Well, your underpants as well, you want them too?" he demanded, his hands on his hips, "well? Do you want me to walk out of here completely naked?"
Kicking the trousers off, he flicked them up onto the bed with one foot and looked about the room like a trapped animal.
"Ianto?" Malcolm followed the limping figure back into the kitchen, "Are you going to leave?"
"Isn't that what this is?" Ianto spun to face Malcolm and then gave a bark of pain as his back bit at the sudden movement. "You want me to leave so you do this?"
Malcolm opened his mouth but nothing came out.
"Well? Sir?" funny how Ianto can make a title of dominance sound so … low. Especially standing there in his cotton boxers.
"Ianto … I'm sorry … I …" Malcolm waved his arms and shrugged.
"Yes, well. Me too Sir, me too." Ianto sighed.
"If you want me to go, just say." Ianto whispered with a pained voice," I understand I must be tiring and … boring to you after your usual fare. You could just say I'm done"
Malcolm saw the pain flitter cross Ianto's face before it was gone.
"Is that what he did?" Malcolm stepped over to him, "deflect when he was bored and trapped"
Ianto nodded silently and to his horror began to weep quietly into his hands.
"Ianto" Malcolm sighed, pulling him onto his arms, "God, I'm a bastard used to getting his own way. I never meant to hurt you. I can't believe I just did that."
Ianto sobbed into his shoulder and Malcolm rubbed his back, kissing his hair, neck, cheek, and earlobe.
"I'm sorry sweets, I didn't mean it," he murmured. "I'm no good at relationships. Too selfish."
"You hurt me!" Ianto mumbled with a gasping sob.
"I didn't mean it, I know you're efficient" Malcolm declared.
"No!" Ianto pulled away and ran his hands over his ribs, "You HURT me!"
Malcolm could see the bruises already blooming on Ianto's creamy skin and he felt sick.
"Oh god, I've hurt you!" he moaned, reaching to touch the skin.
Ianto hummed and leaned back into him. Malcolm realised that Ianto had not once fought back. Used to being knocked down, pushed aside. Like a dog beaten so often that cringes when you try to pat it.
"My back really hurts Mel" he sobbed. "God, I hate sounding like a whiney girl!"
Malcolm laughed and kissed Ianto.
"Believe me babe, the way you were balls deep in me last night? You are not the girl!" he pulled him back against him and rocked him gently.
No, Malcolm thought to himself. Obviously the diva in tonight's display of hysterics known as Merlyn was well and truly a bitch!