John lets out a huff of amusement as Ianto shoves his face into his neck, one that descends into quiet shakes of laughter as he paws through layers of clothing. There's just something about Ianto, about his gentle fussiness and grouchiness, that is charmingly endearing. John wants to hold onto him and make sure he never feels unwanted again.

"You taste like fish," John teases, and then tightens his arms around Ianto for a moment to make sure he knows he doesn't care before he pushes back off the bed -- drops to his knees and begins more roughly dragging down his jeans. He hits the thermal layer and smiles up at Ianto, hooks his fingers under it and begins working it down to try and find some skin to pay attention to.