[Peter orders the porterhouse -- rare, but is totally unable to tear his gaze away from Roman. Those words still bouncing around in his head, and Roman isn't the only one that's a mess. He takes a drink of water, tries to calm his nerves, and somehow once the waiter leaves, he still ends up saying the most dumbfuck thing possible, even if it's still couched in the eroticism of a foreign tongue.]
Roman, je veux sucer votre bite.
[When he gets up to head to the bathroom, he's not sure if he's running from the way his heart's pounding as he looks at his green eyes, or if it's an invitation. Maybe both. Probably both.
He splashes water on his face and curses at his reflection.]
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Roman, je veux sucer votre bite.
[When he gets up to head to the bathroom, he's not sure if he's running from the way his heart's pounding as he looks at his green eyes, or if it's an invitation. Maybe both. Probably both.
He splashes water on his face and curses at his reflection.]