Disclaimer- I do not have the pleasure of owning Torchwood. If I did, there would be less aliens and more beautiful Welsh vowels. As you can tell by the aliens, the BBC has the honour of owning the show.

Spoilers- None- for once this is absolutely, completely and utterly AU

Rating- T

General Notes- Ok, so this is short and sweet; but the last couple of chapters have been longer than normal anyway. Hopefully the length won't deter from your enjoyment. This one's for TracyLynn- I hope her demands have been suitably met. Enjoy, and thanks again for reading and reviewing!

Chapter Notes- Where I reference 'the classic Hollywood kiss', think a slightly less chaste version of the one between Carrie and Jack in 'Hop, Skip and a Week' of Sex and the City, Season 6.

-

-

-

Moonlight Kisses

-

"Where to now?" Ianto enquired, breathless, as he leaned on the railings overlooking the bay.

Jack grinned and checked his watch. "You surely can't have the energy to go clubbing after a meal like that?" he teased. "You couldn't even manage cheesecake!"

Ianto smirked. "The vanilla put me off."

"Is that so?" Without any warning, Jack grabbed the Welshman by the waist and dipped him into the classic Hollywood kiss, doing something wicked with his tongue that had the violinist moaning into the model's mouth. Both were flushed and breathless when Jack finally let Ianto up for air.

"So… Vanilla, am I?" the American enquired with a smirk.

Ianto answered with a smirk of his own. "Not bad. But classic Hollywood hardly borders on the avant-garde."

Jack was not sure whether to be intrigued or insulted. "So it's the avant-garde you're looking for, hmm? I didn't notice the orange handkerchief."

"I thought it would clash with the shirt."

"Ooh, tricky dilemma! I have to say, Mr Jones, the shirt looks very good on you."

"If you follow that up with a line about how it would look better on your bedroom floor, I'm out of here."

The American chuckled. "When your name's been in the press a few times, start counting the number of cheesy chat-up lines that get spun on you and you'll quickly learn to hide from the type of people that use them."

"Is that so?" Ianto smirked. "Hello, I'm a thief and I'm here to steal your heart."

Jack looked incredulous. "And you're calling me cheesy?!"

The Welshman chuckled. "No, actually, you were the one who called you cheesy. I said you picked the wrong word."

"And what might the right word be?"

Ianto considered. "Hmm, arrogant; egotistical… bloody hopeful?"

The American pouted. "Oh, just shut up and kiss me already!"

Grinning, Ianto slipped his arms round the model's neck and obliged, fluttering tantalising closed mouthed butterfly kisses on Jack's lips, making him moan in frustration.

"There's a time and a place for that kind of kiss, Mr Jones, and it is neither now or my lips."

Without waiting for a reply, he pulled the Welshman flush against him and kissed him hotly, sweeping the tip of his tongue over Ianto's lips to beg entrance. The violinist's mouth obeyed without consulting his brain, lost in the exquisite sensations of the American's tongue forcefully exploring. All too soon, he pulled away regretfully.

"There's a time and a place for that kind of kiss, Mr Harkness, and it's five dates from now and behind closed doors, where we can't be arrested."

"Kissing in public isn't prohibited under Welsh law," the American pointed out with another pout.

"No, but what I will end up doing to you if you continue kissing me like that is," Ianto retorted with a grin, kissing away the pout tenderly.

"Promises, promises…" Jack grinned when they broke apart. "I suppose I'd better get you a cab then."

"That might be a good way to avoid arrest for indecent exposure."

"I'll bear that in mind for next time I'm tempted to strip in public."

Ianto chuckled. "Do you count a photographer's studio as public?"

Jack considered. "Insofar as any workplace is."

The Welshman laughed. "In which case, you're fully planning to strip in public next month then?" he asked innocently.

The American rolled his eyes. "When I'm modelling underwear, Ianto, I'm not indecently exposing myself."

"I suppose not; but you are corrupting the minds of millions of teenage girls and probably a few thousand teenage boys," Ianto returned.

"You speak as if from experience," Jack smirked back.

"I refuse to respond on the grounds that I might incriminate myself. But I was not responsible for all the magazine cut-outs wallpapering my student digs."

The American chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "I was your student wallpaper? Ah well, better than being the frontispiece of the cheesecake fridge, I guess."

"Indeed..." Ianto leant closer, so that his lips were almost brushing Jack's earlobe as he murmured huskily: "Because I have a feeling that you are everything but vanilla, Captain Harkness..."

The model leapt back as if he had been electrocuted. "Taxi!"

"Damn, that's effective," Ianto grinned wickedly, slipping his hand into Jack's as the pair headed back for the road.

The American made no reply. It was going to be a long seven dates.