Malcolm was still trying to work out what Ianto had meant by commenting that Oliver had made him "playful". It had been three days and he had kept his distance, much to Ianto's dismay.

Ianto had tried a few times, to initiate something but Malcom had carefully extracted himself form the situation and now Ianto was quietly festering with rage.

Finally, Ianto had decided that enough was enough.

Malcolm was in the shower, his head tipped back as the water fell onto his face and Ianto was naked pressed against his back before he could slip out of the stall.

Ianto's excitement was evident by the hands, lips and let's not overlook the lovely hard-on pressing between his arse cheeks. Malcom turned to say no and saw the hopeful smile. Damn.

He couldn't say it now. He couldn't turn down such a wanton display of lust, all for him.

Malcolm accepted the administrations of his lover, the mouth on his dick was wonderful, and the finger up his arse helped matters as well. Malcolm gave a lusty cry as he came, Ianto milking him until his knees gave out and he sank to the tiles.

Ianto was climbing into his lap and while still half dazed he said what he didn't mean to say, "Did Oliver do this for you as well?"

Ianto's face fell, open injury evident as he gracefully rose from his knees and began to leave. Malcom caught his ankle with a kick of his foot and Ianto fell. Malcom rolled under him to cushion his fall and held him fast as he snarled and struggled.

"Hey, hey. Stop it, I didn't mean it" Malcolm soothed as he tried to take back the hurt.

The knee to his groin left him gasping with his own pain and Ianto slid on the floor as he made his way to the sparring room. Malcom followed, limping as he gasped and groaned.

The room was softly lit and Malcom realised with a jolt that they were both still naked and wet. The slam across the back of his shoulders also reminded him that he was in entirely the wrong room for love.

As Malcolm lay on the cold, hard floor he looked up to find Ianto standing there snarling.

"My Bow?" Malcolm squeaked, "You just struck me with my own bow?"

"You are lucky I didn't shove it up your tight, clenched arse but I suppose it wouldn't fit with the stick already up there" Ianto growled and Malcolm threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry" Malcolm finally laughed and Ianto fell on top of him, throwing the bow across the room.

"Hey, that's my bow!" Malcolm pouted as Ianto kissed him.

"I'm sorry, I got jealous" Malcolm sighed and Ianto purred softly.

"Fool. I unnerved him, I startled him and he nearly fell off a rooftop, then I left him confused about my intentions" Ianto murmured as he slid his wet body up and down Malcom, the remaining shower gel doing a lovely job. "I think he's a bit intimidated."

"Really? You don't want to … help him with his stick?" Malcolm asked.

"I love your stick, especially if we are referring to a new title for my my dick up your proverbial" Ianto whispered as he bit down on Malcolm's peck.

The floor of the room was heated and Ianto's finger breaching him was lovely really. Malcolm sighed and parted his legs more as another finger joined the first. Lube. The little bugger had lube from somewhere, Malcolm groaned as a third finger greedily stretched him.

Ianto guided his dick into Malcolm and pushed in all the way, settling with their bodies joined. Lips to groins. The kiss was long and searing as Ianto's tongue stroked Malcolm's teeth and gums, his hips canted filling Malcolm with as much of him as was possible.

"Ah, love your bum" Ianto said softly and Malcolm huffed with mirth as Ianto drew back for another stroke.

"Love your stick" Malcom panted and Ianto bit him hard on the side of his neck.

Soon Malcolm's heels were sliding as he tried to cant his hips more, the burn turning to a glorious heat that filled his gut, spiralling up his spine until his head exploded. Hot spunk hit Ianto's stomach as he ground into Malcolm, his own release tantalisingly close.

"Love you Daddy" he sighed as he collapsed, convulsing as he filled Malcolm.

Malcolm held him through his orgasm, rubbing his back and regaining his breath from his own release, watching his face.

Ianto was most beautiful on the downturn of an orgasm.

His snarl fell away and his eyes were glassy, unfocused. The frown was gone and so was the raised eyebrow that told a thousand tales.

In this moment of repose, Malcolm saw the true man. He was perfect.

All his scars, blemishes and the strange little tattoo he wouldn't talk about were faded to pale as Malcolm focused on his eyes and waited.

The light grew, the eyelids widened and …. There.

Beautiful.

Ianto smiled.

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Love you Schuneko, this was your gift.