Ianto kisses down his chest and John arches as he rocks forward, eyes fluttering closed as his head presses back into into the pillow.

He feels ruffled, tense like a spring slowly being wound up. Like he's barely restraining himself, fingers carding through Ianto's hair as tries rein in his urge to rock up -- to press more skin against skin again and again.

"Please," he repeats, "Ianto..."

Touch him more, give him more.