Hurt So Good - Kink-las entry 6.
Story Title: Hurt So Good.
Kink Prompt: Striking with implement
Rating R
Character/Relationships: Owen Harper/Ianto Jones
Contains: Bondage, floggers.
Summary At the most basic level, and if he were really pushed to give an answer, Owen would have to say that it's the reassurance that, although there's pain there is also the certain knowledge that it will end and that afterwards he'll be cared for and wanted.
A/N This is the fic that I thought I would lose with, to my surprise I didn't.
The flogger falls with a precise crack, the soft, knotted leather strands raising thin pink lines across Owen's already marked back.
Owen grunts, the sound almost lost amidst the deep bass drumbeat of the music that fills Ianto's living room, as he tenses his muscles, preparing for the next strike.
His wrists are fastened together in leather cuffs, the short metal chain that links them looped over a hook in the wall. It's a little too high for comfort, and Owen is forced to stand with his heels slightly off the floor to relieve the tension in his arms.
The room is hot and dimly lit, and sweat runs down his back, the thin trails stinging where they cross the welts. It's uncomfortable, but it's not meant to be about comfort, not yet anyway.
At the most basic level, and if he were really pushed to give an answer, Owen would have to say that this is about the reassurance that, although there's pain there is also the certain knowledge that it will end and that afterwards he'll be cared for and wanted.
It all comes down to need. And he needs this.
The throb and pound of the music seems to merge with his heartbeat, the rush of blood in his veins and the ache spreading through his body.
It's the fight or flight adrenaline rush subverted into something sexual, something primal. It's everything in his life distilled into a single act. It's pain and lust, and perhaps even love, although he'll probably never admit to that.
Another stinging strike raises fresh lines across his arse and Owen swears, the blow a little to heavy for comfort.
Putting down the flogger, Ianto caresses the reddened skin, fingertips tracing the raised welts. “Had enough?”
“Arms getting tired, are they?” Owen asks sarcastically, liking the fact that even though he's the one who's bound the dynamic between them hasn't really changed.
Ianto responds by pinching one of the reddest patches of skin. “I could go on all night. You though -” Ianto reaches up and unhooks Owen's cuffs. “-wouldn't be any good for anything if I did.”
Owen gives a sigh of relief as he lowers his arms, and the rubs his wrists.
There's a brief pause, a moment of stillness between them, before Owen pulls Ianto into a fierce kiss.
Later there'll be gentler touches, Ianto making sure that every mark on him is properly treated, for now though there's this.
Kink Prompt: Striking with implement
Rating R
Character/Relationships: Owen Harper/Ianto Jones
Contains: Bondage, floggers.
Summary At the most basic level, and if he were really pushed to give an answer, Owen would have to say that it's the reassurance that, although there's pain there is also the certain knowledge that it will end and that afterwards he'll be cared for and wanted.
A/N This is the fic that I thought I would lose with, to my surprise I didn't.
The flogger falls with a precise crack, the soft, knotted leather strands raising thin pink lines across Owen's already marked back.
Owen grunts, the sound almost lost amidst the deep bass drumbeat of the music that fills Ianto's living room, as he tenses his muscles, preparing for the next strike.
His wrists are fastened together in leather cuffs, the short metal chain that links them looped over a hook in the wall. It's a little too high for comfort, and Owen is forced to stand with his heels slightly off the floor to relieve the tension in his arms.
The room is hot and dimly lit, and sweat runs down his back, the thin trails stinging where they cross the welts. It's uncomfortable, but it's not meant to be about comfort, not yet anyway.
At the most basic level, and if he were really pushed to give an answer, Owen would have to say that this is about the reassurance that, although there's pain there is also the certain knowledge that it will end and that afterwards he'll be cared for and wanted.
It all comes down to need. And he needs this.
The throb and pound of the music seems to merge with his heartbeat, the rush of blood in his veins and the ache spreading through his body.
It's the fight or flight adrenaline rush subverted into something sexual, something primal. It's everything in his life distilled into a single act. It's pain and lust, and perhaps even love, although he'll probably never admit to that.
Another stinging strike raises fresh lines across his arse and Owen swears, the blow a little to heavy for comfort.
Putting down the flogger, Ianto caresses the reddened skin, fingertips tracing the raised welts. “Had enough?”
“Arms getting tired, are they?” Owen asks sarcastically, liking the fact that even though he's the one who's bound the dynamic between them hasn't really changed.
Ianto responds by pinching one of the reddest patches of skin. “I could go on all night. You though -” Ianto reaches up and unhooks Owen's cuffs. “-wouldn't be any good for anything if I did.”
Owen gives a sigh of relief as he lowers his arms, and the rubs his wrists.
There's a brief pause, a moment of stillness between them, before Owen pulls Ianto into a fierce kiss.
Later there'll be gentler touches, Ianto making sure that every mark on him is properly treated, for now though there's this.