Standing in the shadows, Jack watched Ianto. Jacket and tie off, shirtsleeves rolled above his elbows, he was shifting heavy boxes, stacking them for sorting. His top three shirt buttons were undone, revealing damp wisps of chest hair; sweat glistened on his face.
As Jack watched, a bead of sweat trickled down the back of Ianto’s neck, disappearing beneath his collar. Licking his lips, Jack longed to lap it up and taste Ianto, salty on his tongue.
He was broken from his reverie by an amused voice.
“You going to lurk there all day or lend a hand?”