Christ, Sasan was nearly thanking him. ...For taking his favorite pair of sunglasses. The way that finger was wandering, though, could you blame him? This guy could turn the celibate into freaking nymphos. That voice? Those hands? They were just so many promises, building up and burning fire in all the places that it usually took at least ten minutes with boxers pooled around ankles to achieve. But, um, no. Robin just emanated it. It was fantastic."

He might have mumbled something vaguely nearing English under his breath, that sounded something like, 'oh, God, fuck me', before he fully opened his mouth, for a second or two before he actually spoke. Anything? Now? Sex? Please? "Coffee, sometime?" he asked, the universal symbol for sex, asked in a voice that was struggling to keep from wavering. Couldn't help himself, that finger was just Dear Jesus, if you knew what he meant.