Pairings/Characters: Ianto/John, referenced John/Jack, Jack/Ianto
Contains: rough sex, tiny bit of breath play, some violence, language, loads of angst.
Author's notes: Set after 'Exit Wounds'. Written for treacle_tartlet for the lover100 prompt: beg (of which there is none, whoops!).
Beta: dogsunderfoot ran a quick eye over it.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by RTD and BBC. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Title and summary a quote from Benjamin Disraeli.

Ianto Jones stopped outside the door of the shitty hotel room. He leaned against the wall, wearily rubbing his hand across his face. What was he doing here? What was he thinking? Every part of him hurt; he was aching and raw and... This was such a very bad idea.

He ignored the prickling of his skin, the itching in his mind that had led him here, that urged him to take back what he'd lost, and pushed off the wall, turning back the way he'd come.

Three steps and he paused once again. What was he going to do now then? Head to Turnmill to see if there was any microscopic trace remaining of Owen? Go back to the Hub to clean up pools of Toshiko's blood? Comfort a man who'd made it painfully clear he didn't want any comfort?

Ianto pressed a hand to his chest – pressing down on the open, weeping wound that used to be his heart - and closed his eyes tightly. He couldn't deal with Jack's rejection,Toshiko and Owen's deaths tonight, not when he was so close to falling apart. He knew if he let himself go now, he'd shatter into a million irreparable pieces.

He'd let himself feel his losses tomorrow because right now, he was consumed by the burn of frustrated anger. He was furious with Grey for turning a child's mistake into a vendetta, and with Jack for bringing Grey into their lives. He was pissed off with Gwen for being so fucking human she was able to go home to her normal fucking husband and her normal fucking life and find some respite. He was angry with himself for being so damn impotent while Jack suffocated over and over and over, and Tosh bled out, and Owen melted into nothingness. It should have been him at the reactor, him spilling his life all over the grubby Hub floor. He knew it should have been him, but he was so bloody thankful that it wasn't, and he hated himself for it.

Most of all, he was angry with John Hart because he'd been the one to bring all the pieces of this cataclysmic puzzle together. Without him, none of this would have happened.

Ianto looked over his shoulder at the peeling door. 204. Behind that door was the answer to his problem. He needed to cast out this bitter enmity; he needed to leave it behind because it was going to eat away at whatever humanity he had left. And he could only think of one way to rid himself of the swirling rage inside of him, to regain the cool control he'd been stripped of so crudely.

Ianto reached under the back of his jacket and pulled out his gun. As he walked back towards the door, he thumbed the safety off. With one final deep breath, he knocked sharply, lifting the gun to head height.

The door was flung open. The only indication of surprise was a quirk of a well-shaped eyebrow. 'Eye Candy,' John Hart drawled, a half-smile on his face.

Ianto stepped closer, the end of the barrel pressing between John's eyes. 'Well,' John said, eyeing the gun a little nervously as he raised his hands. 'This seems familiar. Only it was me wielding the pistol last time.'

'Get inside.'

John stepped back, allowing Ianto to brush past him. 'Don't tell me Jack sent you to do his dirty work?' John said, eyes flicking to the door then back to Ianto. 'He used to enjoy this part.'

Ianto didn't say anything, still doubting the wisdom of this decision. He pushed the door shut with his foot then stared at the dishevelled man before him. He wasn't bad looking - not half as handsome as he thought he was, but certainly not unattractive. Not that it mattered right now because Ianto didn't need something pretty to inspire wonder, he didn't need something that smelled sweet to make him dizzy with want. He needed something rough, something filthy, something he'd be ashamed of needing for the rest of his life.

He needed John.

Decision made, Ianto held up the gun, making certain John saw his finger shift away from the trigger. The other man's shoulders relaxed a little, his brow still creased with confusion as he studied Ianto.

'Jack doesn't know you're here, does he?' he said thoughtfully, cocking his head. 'Are you here to kill me, Yan-toe?' A sly smile crept across his face. 'Or are you here to take me up on my offer? We're a few bodies short for an orgy, but...'

'Don't talk,' Ianto growled, slamming the gun down on the cheap plywood dresser. He raised a hand to his tie, loosening the knot as he stalked towards John. 'I don't want you to talk; I don't want you to kiss me. I just want you to hurt me and let me hurt you. Can you do that?'

They were almost nose to nose, Ianto breathing hard. He could see the calculation in the other man's eyes, could see him weighing up what was in it for him. Ianto needed this, needed it so much he was almost gagging on the sour, bitter taste of it, but he wasn't going to beg. He'd lost enough of himself already.

They stared at each other for a long moment before John nodded - just once. 'Yeah,' he murmured, touching a finger to Ianto's chin. 'I can do that, Eye Candy.'

Then he pulled back and punched Ianto hard in the jaw.

Ianto's head snapped to the side and blood burst across his tongue, the coppery tang filling his mouth. His hand rose to touch his rapidly swelling lip as he slowly turned back to face John. He spat at the other man's feet, bright red saliva spraying across the stained carpet. He looked at John's smug face and smiled before swinging his fist up and catching the other man's cheekbone in a left hook.

John staggered two steps back under the force of the blow then barked out a short, sharp laugh. 'Not bad,' he said, wincing as he probed the bruised bone. 'Pretty and a nice left hook. No wonder Jack likes you.'

At the mention of Jack's name, fury flooded Ianto and he lashed out, slamming his fist into John's perfect, fifty-first century smile then kicking his right leg out from under him. John folded, dropping to the floor with a startled grunt. 'Shit,' he rasped out, blood and spit dribbling down his chin as he struggled to sit up. 'Maybe I was trying to convince the wrong bloke to come away with me.'

Ianto watched as John pulled himself to his feet, tentatively putting weight on his busted leg. John shook his head and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. He gazed at Ianto, new respect in his eyes. 'I like a man who isn't afraid to play dirty,' he said, lips pulling back in a grin that showed all his blood streaked teeth. 'I do have one question, though.'

Ianto flexed his hand, gritting his teeth against the needle-sharp pain that spiked up his arm. 'What?'

John's smile turned malicious. 'Did Jack reject you tonight or is he just not man enough to give you what you need?'

'Don't say his name again!'

John's eyes glittered and he raised his bloodied chin defiantly. 'Or perhaps he's busy comforting Miss Heart-on-her-sleeve? You know, I don't know how you put up with them making eyes at each other all the time, but then, I am the jealous kind...'

Ianto fisted his hands in John's jacket and threw him into the wall. His hand closed around the other man's throat, applying firm pressure to pin him there. John let out a strangled sound, his face slowly turning pink, and Ianto felt a thrill of pleasure. This was what he'd come here for. This was what he needed. To take control back from he who'd wrested it away from him, he who'd taken Ianto's power and made him too weak to stop Gray, too weak to help Jack or Owen or Tosh.

Ianto's cock was hard and throbbing when he finally leaned in, lips brushing John's ear. 'I am going to fuck you until you can't stand straight,' he whispered, loosening his grip on John's throat before biting down hard on his earlobe.

John yelped then surprised Ianto with a wide sweep of his leg, cutting Ianto off at the knees and felling him. Ianto lay on the ground for a long moment, winded by the suddenness of the attack, then a firm body was pressing against his, hands everywhere, and a mocking voice rasped, 'Promises, promises.'

Adrenaline surged through him and he twisted his hips and shoulders, upending John onto the carpet before rolling over on top him. He forced a knee between John's thighs, pushing up against his balls a little too hard, but the greedy bastard - such a fucking slut for this violence, this perversity - rocked up against it, his own arousal obvious.

'I hate you,' Ianto muttered, shoving John's shirt up to bunch around his chest. 'I hate you so much.' He bit a mark into John's hip, breathing in the scent of musk and sweat and male. His stomach lurched as he was viscerally reminded of Jack, but he forced the emotion down, deep down where it belonged, where he wouldn't have to examine it, where it couldn't rip his guts apart and make him bleed.

John's hands were on his own belt, tearing the zip open to allow his cock to jut from between the metal teeth. Ianto's lips curved into a smug smile. 'Mine's bigger than yours, Princess,' he sniped, fingers making fast work of his own belt and buttons.

'Jacky-boy never had a complaint,' John simpered, fluttering his eyelashes as he stroked himself lewdly. 'In fact, he used to rave about how very good my cock felt in his gorgeous arse. Tell me, Eye Candy, does he talk about me while you're screwing him? Does he close his eyes and pretend you're me?'

Ianto slapped him across the face, the sting easing the dark stirring of jealousy at the thought of Jack and John fucking, of Jack thinking of the other man while Ianto was inside him. 'Jack never mentioned you,' he hissed, dragging his pants down far enough to allow his angry-red cock to bounce free. His lip curled contemptuously. 'Not ever.'

He seized John's hips and flipped him onto his stomach, hooking his fingers under the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down to sit under the curve of his arse. He slapped the pale, firm skin, refusing to admire the tight flesh as he spat into his cupped hand. 'This is going to hurt,' he said coldly, slathering the spit and his already spilled pre come down his shaft. 'There is nothing in this for you. Remember that. This isn't about you or us or Jack. This is for me. There is nothing in this for you.'

'Whatever,' John said, pushing himself to his hands and knees before twisting his upper body to look at Ianto with a suddenly intense gaze. 'You're going to regret this, Eye Candy. You're going to regret coming to me because it's going to be just one more secret you have to keep from Jack and, eventually, you'll either break and tell him and he'll think just that little bit less of you for being so pathetic...' He smiled grotesquely and Ianto's skin went cold at the sight. 'Or you'll break the two of you apart with the pressure of holding it in.'

Ianto growled, but John just chuckled cruelly. 'That's what I'm getting out of this, sweetheart.' He gestured to Ianto's erection. 'Apart from the obvious.'

Ianto smacked him across the back of his head and shoved him down face first into the carpet. 'You don't know the first thing about our relationship,' he snarled, roughly parting John's buttocks. He spat a glob of bloody saliva into the crease then sloppily swiped it over the rim of John's hole with the head of his spit-slick cock.

'I know you're here with me instead of with him,' John wheezed, his words contorting into a groan of mingled pain and pleasure as Ianto's cock breached his hole. 'You gonna fuck me bare, Eye Candy?'

For the first time, Ianto hesitated then he gave a fatalistic shrug. 'Not like I'm going to see out my twenties anyway,' he retorted before snapping his hips and filling John with one vicious thrust.

John's back arched and he let out a high, keening cry even as he ground down onto Ianto's dick. Ianto gave him no respite, pulling out until only the head was inside the grasping hole then shoving back into the tight, hot embrace. His fingers twisted in John's shirt collar, using the leverage to force the other man back onto his cock harder and faster. Now that he was here, now that he was doing this, he suddenly needed to get this over with as quickly as he could.

He pounded into John, eyes closed, ignoring everything but the climb towards climax, towards sweet oblivion, even if only for a few short seconds. He didn't see John reach underneath himself to pump his own cock, didn't hear the other man's quick, sharp breaths or his own grunted exhales, forced from his lungs. He tried to lose himself in the rhythmic slapslapslap of flesh on flesh, in his own mounting orgasm but, instead, he saw Gwen's tear-stained face, Jack slumped and defeated, shoulders shaking with sobs, and was haunted by his own inability to do anything to help.

Ianto gasped as grief rolled over him and thrust up into John ruthlessly, clenching his eyes shut as he reached for a release that, when it came, was wrenched from his balls along with a cry of utter anguish. It was unsatisfying, it hurt, and, as he pumped pulse after pulse of come into John, Ianto wanted Jack so badly every single cell ached with it.

He bent over John's sweaty back, stomach roiling as the other man shouted out his orgasm. His spent cock slid from John's body, a thin thread of come joining their bodies before it snapped - taking the last frayed remnants of Ianto's control with it.

His choked back sob sounded loud in the now quiet room as he stumbled away from John. He tucked his flaccid, sticky cock away, zipping up fast; ashamed, now, of his partial nudity. He snatched up his gun and wiped his arm across his face, letting the expensive fabric of his jacket soak up his sweat and blood and tears as he made his way to the door.

'He might hate me right now, Eye Candy,' John said with disorientating softness. 'But he loved me once. And he left me, just like he'll leave you one day. I know him, I know how he thinks. He doesn't belong to this place. He doesn't belong to you.'

Ianto swallowed back bile then turned to look at John, who was now stretched out on his back on the carpet, watching for Ianto's reaction. 'I know,' he said, voice hoarse and scratchy with tears. 'I know. But the difference between you and me is that, when the time comes, I'll let him go.'

As he closed the door behind him, his phone trilled. He closed his eyes, considering for one second not answering it before pulling it from his coat pocket with a trembling hand. 'Yes?' he said, voice cracking.

'Ianto, come home.'

Hot tears filled Ianto's eyes at the gentle tone, and he lost his breath, staggering until his back hit the corridor wall. 'Jack,' he whispered then, unable to stop himself, 'I fucked John.'

A thick silence stretched out between them. Ianto began to shake apart, a wail of grief and loss burning in his throat, and then Jack said softly, 'I know. Come home now.'

So Ianto did.

fin.