John arches back against him, softly begging him for — what exactly Ianto isn’t sure at first, but it’s a puzzle for him to solve, and he has always enjoyed a challenge. He pulls his head back far enough to be able to catch a glimpse of the other man’s face, eyes pressed shut, head throw back against the pillow behind him, trying to read his desires on his face though he’s not so nearly an open book as he would seem. Or maybe it is simply that he simply wants, as he had said, and it really is up to Ianto to determine how to make that happen.

He shifts to the side just enough to be able to slide a hand between them, wrapping around the other man’s arousal, fondling him for a moment and admiring the weight of him in his hand before stroking him. Setting up a rhythm as he reaches to cup his jaw in one hand and turn his face to kiss him again. Slow and languid, deep and unhurried, even as he works him at a pace with his hand below.