That's it, Ianto whispers, and it is. The combination of his gentle, affectionate laughter along with his lips and hand -- it's too much. John feels his breath hitch roughly, the tension in his muscles climb until with a suppressed, bitten back sound he finally lets go with a shudder into Ianto's hand. Warmth rolls through his body, and slowly the tension melts away until all that's left is the sound of John's ragged breathing. His fingers loosen in the sheets and John paws at the man over him, sapped of strength but wanting to hold onto him for a moment.

"Hey," he manages after a moment, but that's about as far as he can get through a sentence.