Ianto's eye were shut and he had been biting his lip to keep from making too much noise. But he gave in to Jack's words, a subtle surrender at the soft whisper that left him pliant against the older man, moaning throatily as Jack stroked him. "God, Jack...da iawn...so good," he was barely aware of what he was saying, his lover's words allowing him to let go of him self-control, so that he was left moaning and begging in a broken mixture of English and Welsh