John turned to look at him, eyes fixed on Bobby's mouth. The mouth that had just explored him in that most intimate of places, and even though as he was still panting, he had Bobby up against the counter himself quick-smart, and kissed him deep and long to taste himself on those lips. Bobby was pretty fucking hot as far as he was concerned.

Taking a ragged breath, John turned away and swallowed: "...I am not cooking tonight," he declared, with just the hint of a grin. "But I think we should order pizza, and then I should blow you." John ran such a sophisticated household.