bakerstreet | april texting.

[ With the warning issued, there's really nothing left standing in the way of this moment and the next. The difference between his balls on the verge of unloading and the first rope of sticky cum spilling into existence. He cries out as his balls deposit their load, little idea of if Rowan even likes cum in his mouth or if he simply hasn't moved back fast enough.

The way his vision speckles at the edges is confirmation enough of how fit for bursting he'd been to lose control. He doesn't even realise his fingers are gripping tight around strands of the other man's hair until he starts to relax again.

It takes a long few moments for his orgasm to subside, the pulse in his throat clearly elevated as he slumps back into the sofa. ]

[The taste is salty and musky, creamy as it coats his tongue and he draws back to just the head to swallow him down. He can feel the jerk of each pulse, the thickness of the length in his mouth as he sucks at it until the tremors abate and Bob is finished.

Then and only then does he draw back, wiping at the corner of his lip with his thumb as he kneels there between those spread thighs.]

I'd say that took the edge of for you, aye?

[ It takes a little bit, Bob's eyes eventually looking up and fixing on Rowan's face. He grins, lazy, relaxed, and glances down at his softening cock. The urge to nap is there as always, but he forces himself away from it to drop his hands to Rowan's cheeks and cups his face. ]

Yeah. Yeah, you definitely did.

Fuck, your mouth is...

[ He trails off, chef's kisses his fingers and then sits up a bit. He's not without the desire to return that favour. ]

Must be your turn now. Set the bar high, didn't you?

I'm a healer. Tending to the wellbeing of those we come across is second nature. And when that person happens to look fit as all hell when lying blissed out on my couch, it's a pleasure in multiple ways. For the record, I don't require a tit for tat. We could have a drink or nosh on something, and then play a little more. Up to you, darling.

[His hands were smoothing up and down along Bob's thighs as he spoke. And being fae, not that Bob knew that, he was incapable of lying. He would be content to be a caregiver for the night. It was its own form of pleasure. But he certainly wouldn't say no to reciprocity. Just... making the man aware it wasn't a requirement.]

[ The invitation is sweet in a way Bob hadn't really expected, and though he appreciates the reassurance, he does want to give the man even a little of what he's provided. He decides how much sense it apparently makes for a doctor to be good with bodies without really thinking it through. Not enough blood back in his brain yet.

There's probably plenty of doctors that are shit at sex. He's just happened to find a good one. ]

Wouldn't turn down a drink after all that. But then I want to get rid of those.

[ He nods as Rowan's trousers as if they're an unwelcome third wheel in this situation. ]

[He rises to his feet in a fluid movement, holding his hand down to offer assistance up.]

Come join me in getting one. I'm enjoying the way your skin feels and I'm not quite ready to part from it yet.

[That honesty that he'd always enjoyed the fact that he got away with saying and people thought was hyperbole or a jest. The truth wasn't as believable as lies, it seemed. But Rowan was honest, and he wanted to keep feeling the warmth of Bob as he got them a drink.]

[ Warmed in such a different way to the heat of arousal, Bob takes the hand offered and gets up. He doesn't let go as he makes it upright, keeps a light grip on the other man's hand and slides his other to rest at his side. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to those soft lips, grinning into them the moment he feels a flutter of something silly in his chest. ]

How can I say no to that?

[ He wouldn't ever want to. ]

Clearly you can't. All the better for me. Now, my dove, what exactly would those pouty lips like to wrap around other than my own self? Whiskey? Beer? Water?

[He smiled as the man stood with him, just a bit shorter than he, but thicker, stockier. He liked it, and he let his fingers dance up to play with one of those dark ink marks.]

A few fingers, yeah. Of whisky first, then we'll see.

[ The joke makes him grin roguishly, not remotely ashamed, it seems, of anything. Water probably would have been his second choice. Nobody likes to fuck with pints of beer sloshing around, and he's not really that experienced with wine. He doesn't want to get smashed too soon and forget any of this.

So whisky it is, and if it's something he can savour over the course of the next hour, all the better that he has something else to occupy his mouth with too. ]

Of course, I could make you a smoothie. Something with a little extra iron in it.

[He joked, but he was walking backwards towards the wet bar alongside the kitchen, hands not leaving the nude man in front of him, but he did manage to kick off his shoes along the way. Progress.]

Yeah, nah, no way I'm keeping my hands to myself for the whole time you make a smoothie.

And like I said... you're going to need your fingers. Don't need you losing them getting distracted with a blender.

[ Whisky it is, though there's part of Bob that appreciates the thoughtfulness of the offer. Never been to a bloke's house before let alone been offered a smoothie as refreshment between rounds. ]

Well then, I suppose I'll just have to make do with wearing you out enough that you'll need genuine sustenance to keep going. Whiskey it is.

[He lures him over to the wet bar and reaches for a glass decanter filled with a dark amber liquid.]

This comes from not far from my homeland. I think you'll like it. Less of a burn and more of a vanilla oaky flavor.

[Fae liked their spirits, and Rowan was no exception. He poured a few fingers in each glass, then handed one over to Bob.]

Sláinte, mo stór.

[ As tactile as Bob is, he does let Rowan have enough movement to make the drinks. It allows him a moment to look around again, curious as to details he can use to understand the man better.

It's clear he has money. But it's not really that Bob's interested in. He might have grown up in a poor, deprived neighbourhood, but money doesn't mean much to him. Yeah, he steals for a living, but it's not for the pay off he's in it. Just happens his mates are all in it too, and he likes spending time with them.

And at some point he'd become convinced a life of crime is the only thing he knows well enough to survive on.

But his eyes are looking around for any pops of personality or details that help form a better picture of the good doctor. ]

Yeah you keep saying that. If you wear me out that much I'm probably suggesting Maccy D's before reaching for a smoothie.

[ He accepts the glass with a soft 'ta boss' and lifts it, inhaling the scent through his nose first before taking a slick mouthful.

It's nice. Nicer than the swill he'd have picked out if he'd been left in charge. ]

Nicer than JD, I'll admit.

What's that you just said, anyway?

[The furniture and art are setting pieces. They came with the suite and he didn't think he'd be staying long enough to make any effort to change them. A sofa was a sofa, wasn't it? And 'long enough' was a perspective thing, since in his mind, five to ten years was barely a blip, so no reason to set down roots. He'd liked the showcase furniture when he'd been digitally perusing the place, and he'd agreed to the added sum to keep it. So the decor wouldn't give much of a glimpse into him as a person.

It was all clean, though. He liked to keep his things in order, and while they weren't technically his to take pride in, he liked his space to be in good taste. And during large spurts of him needing to be called into the hospital to lend a hand, he had hired help that he could reach out to. He was a prince, after all. Far, far, far down the royal line, but it was there, and he couldn't escape it anymore than he could escape the need to fix what was broken when he came across it.]

Your preference for high sodium foods isn't helping your iron intake. Nor will it keep that exceptional body in shape forever.

[He takes a savouring sip himself, then grins at the question.]

You live a stone's throw from the green isle and you don't know gaelic? Ow. That stings. Cheers, my darling. Sláinte is the cheers part. You're likely familiar enough with that, aye?

[ If he can't confess a love of Big Macs to his doctor, who can he confess to? Bob grins in return, enjoying even the mildest suggestion of a telling off. Maybe he's more into that dynamic than he thought.

He tries not to get too in his head about his inexperience otherwise, and he's still smiling when he replies. ]

I've never been out of England, boyo. Don't even have a passport, do I.

[ And the Irish people he's come across in the past haven't exactly been in a setting to sit down and have a friendly drink. Opposite, really. But that's just London. Everybody's got their own tribe. ]

Think you've got me confused with somebody who's all cultured and shit. Don't really expect much more from a fella whose nickname is 'Handsome Bob', d'ya?

[He takes another small sip, then sets the glass down, reaching out to slide his arms around Bob's waist. He tugs him in closer, hip to hip as he looks him over, as if assessing.]

Oh, you're handsome alright. But culture isn't exactly something to aim for. Cultured swine are the type to look down their noses at the people below them when they have every means to reach down and help. Nothing wrong with being who you are, love. I think you'd find that most people who rely on culture and sophistication are hollowed out husks of humans with no purpose if you took all the glitz and glam away. What then could they have to prove their worth? Surely not any skills.

[ With his drink still in one hand, he lifts it just enough that Rowan's arms can fold around his waist. The man's probably right. Only so long he can eat fast food as often as he does and keep a slim waistline.

He doesn't usually get bashful about anything, but there's a moment he feels exposed and seen, and he can feel his cheeks getting warmer. It's a weird enough experience that he laughs, almost to break the awkwardness he feels over how self-conscious he is about how unsophisticated he is in general. He doesn't usually care, but sometimes he can feel doubt creeping in. ]

Yeah, well. You're probably right. All the fancy arse people I've met before have been absolute cunts.

The mouth on you.

[Said as he laughs. He lets his fingers trace idle designs along Bob's back, smiling still.]

Oh, I can't wait to see what I can do with that beautiful thing.

[And that was the rub with aristocracy and culture. They were born learning how to put people below them, how to make them feel like shit so they swallowed what they were fed and liked it instead of rising up. He'd been in Underhill when the French revolution had decimated the mortal wealthy, and he'd come across a few times to witness. How quickly the lower class forgot how much power they wielded. ]

Mm.

[ He doesn't sit with his fleeting feelings of inadequacy for long. Not when there's important other things to do. Like take another mouthful of the whisky and then slide the glass onto the side. Leaning in is easy, his lips still damp with the spirit as he kisses across Rowan's shoulder and up the side of his neck. ]

Don't want to keep you waiting.

My mouth is ready for you.

[ He presses a firm and somehow still sloppy kiss on the other man's lips and then ducks, dropping to his knees. Fingers work at the fastening of Rowan's trousers, the button then the zip. And only then does he look upwards. ]

[The move is quick, or maybe Rowan's just distracted by the kissing and touching. Bob goes from having his mouth on his, to kneeling in front of him with that beautiful mouth too close to his untouched cock behind his own jeans. He reaches down and let his fingers toy gently with the very short buzz of Bob's hair, smiling.]

Guesting laws require that I ensure my guests have every comfort allowed them. Kneeling on the floor doesn't seem all that comfortable, dove.

[ That pulls a grin to the surface. He likes the phrasing, but he's not uncomfortable at all. In fact, there's something that turns him on about his knees against a hard floor. His own dick stirs in interest after its rest.

Fingers work their way along the warm bulge beneath the man's underwear. The fly of the jeans now peeled open, as if he's venturing towards the juiciest part of a meal. Excitement buzzes beneath his skin as he presses a kiss to the thin fabric, feeling the hot firmness under his mouth. ]

Well well. What have we got here then?

[ He strokes what he can of the length still concealed, not yet making a move to pull Rowan free entirely. ]

[His boxer briefs are black, Rowan liking simple in terms of what he wears, and the touch to them both with the press of fingers against it, then the heat of his breath through the cotton has him biting his lip and holding back the need to make a sound. It catches in his throat, and he has to swallow past it to speak.]

I think you know good and well what you have there, and why it's in the state it is, you tease.

You can tell me all about it.

[ Meanwhile, he'll mouth along the length that he can reach and when he can't stand the suspense any longer sinks a finger beneath the elasticated waistband. Down he drags it until the other man's cock springs free, almost hitting him under the chin.

That makes him giddy with desire. ]

You ever been in a situation where you have to keep talking like nothing's happening but somebody is sucking your cock like it's a Calippo in a heatwave?

[ He's turned on by that hypothetical scenario, something he's still thinking about as he twirls his tongue around the head of Rowan's cock and then licks up from the tip to his pubic bone. ]

Incidentally, I have.

[More than once. And he'd loved every moment of it. It was teasing, edging, having to restrain himself while pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. It strained his control, and he had to be doubly restrained to make sure his glamour didn't waver.

His thumb traced along the outside of the corner of Bob's lips, his breath hitching as he felt that wet heat sending pleasure up along his body from the base of his groin.]

Would you like me to recite anything in particular?

[ Another bolt of arousal that reaches deep into his loins at the mental picture of Rowan having to keep collected. He hums in approval, tongue sliding back to press up against the slit at the very tip of the other man's dick. ]

Whatever's on your mind.

[ It won't matter, because really Bob's listening for a crack in his tone. Stumbling over words. Anything that conveys the man's having a good time. ]

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Mobile tagging so can't see hover text D:

oh no. it's just cheers, my darling.

Ahaha thanks for translating

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