There was little that could distract Quinn from his fascination with Mikkel's lovely little collection of bones, but it seemed the surgeon knew precisely what to do to take hold of Quinn's attention with the most casual of efforts. The young man melted easily in the doctor's hand, looking into the older man's deep eyes with a raw desire unfamiliar to Quinn. Their list of common interests seemed to grow with each passing minute, and as Quinn stood there, feeling the heat of Mikkel's fingers through the silky fabric of his shirt, he wondered just how uncouth it would be suggest they postpone dinner and continue their tour into the only room of the house Mikkel hadn't ventured--the bedroom. A flush rose to Quinn's cheeks at the thought. The artist was no prude, but never before had he been so<i>desperate</i>to feel another man on top of him, and the need left him embarrassed.<br/><br/>"Dinner, of course," Quinn repeated, resting his free hand delicately against Mikkel's chest. He imagined he could almost feel the man's heartbeat beneath the layers of fine clothes, faint and misleadingly calm. "You undoubtedly put an impressive amount of effort into this meal. It would be blasphemy to skip it." He briefly tapped his fingers against Mikkel, offering him a sly little grin before pulling away, severing their heated connected.<br/><br/>"Come, Dr. Ostergaard. Wouldn't want to ruin dinner by letting the meat get overcooked." As if he had memorized the entire layout of Mikkel's home without a single tour, Quinn led the way back downstairs, sipping happily from his wineglass as he went. He looked natural here in this lavish and expertly decorated home, as if he designed it himself, much more comfortable with his surroundings than with the simple middle class family home his parents had purchased so many years ago. Simple homes like that had never meshed well with Quinn's expensive and cultured tastes, far too mundane and banal for his liking.<br/><br/>The dining table had already been set for two. Quinn had no complaints about this, enjoying seeing how prepared Mikkel had been for this little date of theirs. Whatever reservations Quinn may have had about Mikkel being nothing more than another older man with a taste for young artists with an exotic edge was quickly dissipating like smoke in the night sky, rising high only to be carried away by a cool breeze. Quinn placed his glass down at a spot, turning back to Mikkel with his hands clasped in front of him. "Now, Mikkel, is there anything you wish me to assist you with or would you prefer me to wait here like a good boy for you to pamper and spoil me? I'm perfectly satisfied to play either role. I am happy to say I'm remarkably versatile in that way."