He can't deny that the thought is beyond appealing, Scorpius on his knees in front of him, right there in the kitchen -- and the casual way he talks about it, too, has him almost shuddering with pure desire. He digs his teeth into his the side of his neck, just at the juncture of it and his shoulder, sucking hard once before laving his tongue against the skin -- he's stalling for time, pure and simply, as he struggles to decide on an answer.

Finally, his fingers settle into the bare skin of the small of Scorpius's back, and he half-whines again: "Couch?"