The young man whined as Mikkel pressed his wrists up over his head, struggling lightly, but not not enough to convey any true sense of distress at Mikkel's aggressive display. "You must be quite satisfied with yourself, then," Quinn teased, grinning even as he felt the rough press of the doctor's fingertips into his pale skin. "You have me here. You've endeared me with food and wine, tempted me with subtle, irresistible suggestions."<br/><br/>The older man's fingers trailed down Quinn's naked torso, teasing. A long, rumbling groan, held in only by a barrier of teeth escaped as knowing fingers wrapped around his stiffened arousal. Again, Quinn thought about how desperately he wished for all these pesky layers to melt away between them, leaving them free to slide their unburdened bodies against one another. Patience was key in building up an erotic atmosphere, for stoking the fire between two interested parties. But now the flames inside of Quinn were raging, making it more and more difficult to focus on anything other than the feel of Mikkel pressed hard against him. Patience would soon wear thin, and Quinn would want nothing more than to devour every inch of Mikkel's trim form.<br/><br/>"This seems a bit unfair, doesn't it?" Quinn mused, eager to get more from the sensual older man. "I have been willfully divested of power while you, Doctor Ostergaard, remain quite dreadfully clothed. As lovely as your wardrobe is, I have no desire to continue to stare longingly at the rich threads of your shirt. I can feel you. You want me as I want you, don't you, Mikkel?"<br/><br/>He grinned, jutting his hips, grinding his sex against the doctor's open palm. He moaned softly with the effort, eyes closing as he tilted his head back against the wall, exposing the creamy, vulnerable expanse of his throat. "You could ravish me much more effectively on the bed, Doctor."