Jack doesn't sleep, so he says. But he does dream. And not in a good way.
When he's like this - not awake, not sleeping - he twitches and sweats, and Ianto tries to ignore the strange noises he makes. It isn't easy. He moves to his side, torn between shaking him back to awareness and letting him ride out the storm.
Jack senses him there, his presence breaking through the chaos in his mind. He finds it calming, settling, and as his jumbled thoughts refocus he wonders if having a little piece of Ianto could be distraction enough to ease him through a difficult night. Just this once.
He is certain that he's crouching down beside him; that his oh-so cute face will be all the more enticing for the small frown of concern he is sure to be wearing as he silently watches, lips slighty parted. Hell, he can even feel his breath now, warm against face, as he leans in a little closer. And as the subtle scent of HM plays over him, with its almost edible tones of jasmine and chocolate, he wills Ianto closer still, but is resigned to it not happening.
It can't stop Jack imagining, of course, and as he does he groans and shifts on the narrow couch. All the things he could do to him; all the incredible, inventive ways… His night terrors give way to altogether more pleasurable visions, making him forget, making him hard.
As Ianto considers moving away, strong fingers are suddenly biting into his wrist, holding him back. Ianto gasps in shock; Jack's eyelids flutter open, as if he has acted without conscious intent and is bemused by what he appears to be doing. But those eyes betray him. Ianto can see the need, the hunger. He holds his breath.
The flirting is playful during the day, can easily be laughed off. This is so very different. Ianto knows that if Jack asks, if he tries, then tonight he'd be willing. Maybe they both could achieve that sweet oblivion that they desperately desire. Just this once.
Jack swallows hard. "Sorry, I'm sorry" he mutters, voice thick and heavy. He releases his grip, looks away, doesn't see the flicker of disappointment. "I could really use some of your coffee magic about now."
Silence for a beat. Two beats. Three. "Of course, sir."
Jack groans again, swings his legs to the floor, sits hunched on the edge of the couch, runs his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. Make it worse, why don't you?! Calling me sir. Man, that is such an aphrodisiac! He watches Ianto busying himself, clears his throat, tries to sound brighter. "Where would we be without you, huh?"
Ianto's back stiffens. "I don't know, sir."
Jack forces himself to move across the floor, lightly rests his hand on Ianto's shoulder, feels the tension, carefully withdraws it.
It would have been wrong, he tries to convince himself. It would have been perfect…