Disclaimer: I checked. I still don't own Jack & co.
*.*.*
Jack just would not shut up.
Most of the time, Ianto hung on every word. He was usually enraptured in Jack's stories, in the mesmerizing baritone of his voice.
He hadn't been back to his nice, relaxing flat for nearly a week now. Between the currently epileptic Rift and Jack's odd brand of clinginess, he hasn't been able to break away from the Hub long enough to pick up lunch from the chip shop north of the Plass, let alone to get any peace and quiet at home.
And every waking minute was filled with Jack's incessant chatter. It did his head in.
Ianto knew it was mostly about being exhausted. He was a man who enjoyed sleep and needed to be rested before a long day of feeding pterodactyls and stun-gunning aliens. But the Rift gave not a single damn about who needed a kip. Not to mention how Jack was completely bloody oblivious to the fact that "I'm tired" didn't mean "Be quick about it, then."
Even then, when Ianto couldn't string two words together through the haze of pleasure, Jack wouldn't stop talking. There was always a litany of whispered endearments, praise, instructions and oh god, oh god, oh gods.
Tonight, he pushed his lover's face down into the pillow, just to muffle the sound before it made him completely soft.
But now, now, Ianto was going to fucking lose it. He had never, in all his life, felt as close to strangling someone to death as he did in that very moment.
They were in Jack's dark bunker, on the awful, uncomfortable camp bed that was too small for one man of their height, let alone both of them. The metal ladder was digging into his back. The weight of his Captain's head had put his left arm to sleep. And Jack was talking.
In his sleep.
He was murmuring, really. Some half-baked speech about Adipose breeding habits and lube.
Ianto shook off the urge to wrap his fingers around his lover's throat and unceremoniously pushed him from his numb shoulder. Twisting in the cramped space, he reached under the over glorified cot and shuffled his fingers around until they found what he was after.
With a silent a-ha, he pounced. He straddled Jack's slim hips, capturing now-flailing wrists and cuffing them to the metal bed frame.
"Ian'o? Wha' the hell?"
Ianto took advantage of Jack's talking and shoved a small ball gag into his mouth. The older man was wide awake now and half-panicking. He tried to buck Ianto off, but his knees were planted too well and the space was too small.
He flicked open his mobile, letting the brightness fill up the bunker. He could just make out the stormy blue of Jack's wide, sleep-hazy eyes.
"I'm tired, Jack. I'm exhausted," he started. "I haven't been home in days."
Ianto planted one hand on the cool concrete wall and wrapped the other around the lowest rung of the ladder, just in case Jack started bucking again.
"I need sleep. I need quiet. Do you know what quiet is, Jack?" He ran his fingers over Jack's chest, just the barest of touches. Jack moaned through the gag. "It's the absence of sound. No talking. No laughing. No moaning. Silence."
Jack's breathing was quicker now and Ianto could feel him trying to grind his erection upwards, desperately seeking friction. He rose up, keeping his body far enough away to deny that touch and slid down to straddle Jack's knees. He bent at the waist and ghosted warm breath over sensitive flesh.
"So what we're going to do," Ianto said when his mobile's light switched itself off, "is wear you out. I'm going to wear you out until you're too exhausted to even think about talking. And you're not going to make a single sound while I do it."
*.*.*
A/N: Haha. So, the Day 12 prompt was, of course, "talkative."