Reading Harry is next to impossible for Jack, and that's saying something. Being disbelieved is part and parcel of being Torchwood, not that they tell many people as much as he has Harry tonight. If ever called out on why he did, Jack would make as many innuendos as it took for any official questioning to end. For professional interrogators, Jack has found it take surprisingly few. Maybe he just wants someone to know. Hell if he knows.

"Except for me," he agrees quietly even as he tilts his head back to the touch of fingers through his hair. It's like dealing with a huge cat. "Not yet, but who knows? I found a grey hair last month."

Another of those sneaky kisses to Harry's chest comes as he wriggles more against the other's side. His fingers slide warming against his skin, mouth tracking along their path as long as Harry allows it.

"What about you and Eggsy? Going to tell me something or no?" he asks, breathing warmly against where his tongue had just wettened.