"We'll pick up my jacket and dry clean the lot," he says, with an indication back to where he'd put his lovely linen cream jacket. Right now, he's too occupied with the feel of Daniel's hips rocking against his, the feel of his strength, and simply giving in.

There's a shy, almost tentative look as he stares at Daniel, hopeful as he brings up the idea of simply being told.

"You're in charge," he murmurs, as close as he can get without whispering 'maitre' even though every part of him yearns to. "Tell me what you want of me. Tell me who you want me to be."