Ianto, in Jack's opinion, was a very kissable man.
His lips seemed to have been made for the activity, his cheeks were too smooth to be denied the attention, and his neck was absolutely tantalizing. His forehead, his nose, his jaw… Ianto's hands, too, strong and capable, begged to be held and caressed. To Jack, it would have been a crime not to kiss every inch of skin that Ianto displayed so freely.
But then—then—was the part of Ianto that was so expertly hidden.
Jack wanted to kiss his shoulders, his long, perfect collarbones, the hollows of his hipbones. He wanted to map out every inch of Ianto there was, both with his hands and with his mouth.
And with every little kiss, every time he could get close enough to do so, Jack would get just a little closer to his goal.