Work Text:
It was amazing how Ianto managed to sneak up on him every time, even when he wasn't trying.
This time though, he obviously was trying, and John nearly jumped out of his skin as a hand covered his mouth while another one on his upper arm dragged him aside.
John jerked out of his grip and turned around. “Eye Candy! What–!”
“Shut up,” Ianto ordered, shoving him back against the desk.
John spent a lot of time in the archive these days, helping sort things out, but it was still and always Ianto’s domain, and John wasn't allowed near his desk.
Clearly, that didn't apply when Ianto wanted to push him around.
“What are you–” John tried again, but Ianto slapped him across the face, hard.
“I said shut up!” he hissed. “You better be quiet if you don't want me to stop.”
His cheek stung like hell but he still opened his mouth to ask again before Ianto reached for his belt and swiftly undid it, and John got the idea.
He let Ianto open his trousers and shove them down unceremoniously, went willingly as Ianto turned him around and bent him over the desk. He could handle a few harsh rules if it finally let him fuck Ianto after months of waiting and flirting.
Ianto slapped him across his newly exposed cheeks this time, just as hard, and John managed to bite his tongue at the last moment to stop from yelping, letting out a strangled sound instead. Ianto didn't punish him for this one – either he was okay with John's first little mess up (unlikely), or John was allowed to make quiet, wordless sounds.
That was a relief. There was no way John would be able to get through this without a few moans.
He heard Ianto undo his own trousers but didn't dare turn around to look. Then something hard but spongy slid between his cheeks.
He felt big, but John had never been the best judge of size based on touch. Still, his insides clenched in anticipation. He was almost dripping with arousal at this point.
John had never been particularly submissive; even when he was, he enjoyed fighting his dom at any opportunity, bratting away to his heart's content. Some people have tried to beat it out of him, but unfortunately for them, John had a masochistic streak a mile wide, and it only made him brattier.
This time, however, John wasn't going to do anything that could compromise making Ianto want him.
Even if it meant simply steeling himself as Ianto spit in his hand, stroked himself a few times, and forced the head of his cock through the tight rim of John's hole.
Ianto seemed to think better of it, pulling back, but john could hardly sigh in relief, hole already stinging, before Ianto roughly and swiftly tugged John's shirt and jacket over his head.
John tensed, then forced himself to relax. The way Ianto was acting, he was unlikely to ask about the scars – if he even cared in the first place.
John's hands settled at the edge of the desk above his head, gripping it with the knowledge of what's to come as Ianto lined himself back up, not even bothering to spit again, pushing roughly but slowly inside.
John bit his lip, knuckles whitening from the strength of his grip. As masochistic as he was, he still preferred at least the act of penetration itself to be pleasurable. A little sting was fine, but this was a harsh burning, the kind that heralded blood.
Ianto’s hips met John's. John did his best to relax, using this small respite to adjust and hope the pain dissipates before Ianto moved again.
Instead, Ianto pulled back in short, jerky motions, and John couldn't hold back the gasp as he felt his insides tear.
Ianto just kept moving until he had almost slipped out, then thrust back in harshly. His hands were gripping John's hips tight enough to bruise, and despite the pain John knew he would cherish those marks as long as they lasted, even as Ianto's thrusts picked up the pace, lubricated by John's own blood, which he knew would soon dry, only roughening the friction even more.
Ianto's hand suddenly disappeared from his hip and reappeared on his neck, gripping it harshly and forcing his face down against the table at an uncomfortable angle, his other hand releasing the harsh grip on his hip to grip his shoulder just as tightly. His thrusts didn't relent as the hand on John's neck climbed into his hair, but John's grip on the table tightened in anticipation.
Ianto's hand tightened in his hair, pulling his head back as far as it could go in this uncomfortable position, scalp stinging and neck aching with the strain, then slammed his head down harshly against the table.
John bit his tongue. Not to stop the scream this time, but because the harsh crack of the desk against his chin forced his jaw to slam shut, and John hadn't prepared as well as he should have. His mouth filled with blood, and he did his best to swallow it down without choking, even as Ianto's hand tightened in his hair and pulled him back up again.
This time, Ianto angled John's head on the downstroke, and it was his left brow that hit the table first. Warmth spread across his face from the site of the impact a moment before the pain began to radiate out, and he wasn't sure if it was from the impact, a probable concussion, or yet more blood.
He hardly had time to consider it before Ianto lifted his head and slammed it down again. John's nose made a sickening crunch, and his sinuses filled with as much blood as his mouth. John gasped, gurgling and choking, his chest tightening on instinct.
He could still breathe. He knew he could, if Ianto just let him angle his head the right way, if he relented his thrusts just enough to give john a moment of respite.
But he couldn't trust that Ianto would do that. This wasn't a pre-negotiated scene, after all. They hadn't discussed safety, hadn't gone over the risks, and now John was drowning in his own blood, choking on it even as black spots danced around his vision.
He was no longer aroused, but Ianto clearly was, thrusting faster and harder, and John could barely register the pain in his arse through the pounding in his head, but he knew that didn't make it any less terrible.
Then Ianto came with a grunt, smashing the side of John's head against the table. His ears were ringing, but he could still hear Ianto rasp as he leaned down,
“You won't tell anyone about this. Not one word – or I won't ever do this again.”
And the most damning thing of all was that they both knew that threat would work.