[Their roles feel so entirely reversed right now as Ianto finds himself obsessed with the heat of his skin, the flush he can see rising in it, the pulse increasing beneath his lips. He frees up his hands long enough to fumble for the lube on the bedside table and slick up the fingers he then reaches down to begin working inside him. There's heat there too that doesn't usually exist and he keeps his face buried against his neck, desperate to see what sort of reactions he can get from him as he begins to work at him.]