Ro didn't really need to do anything. Not tonight. They'd been spending the better part of a week at an international conference on medical ethics and patient rights, and Cai had been forced to forego most of the lovely plans they discussed in favor of long evenings of research for roundtable discussions that taxed even his expertise to the limit. That was after two weeks of consulting on some of the most difficult, complex surgeries of his lengthy career, and assisting on one of them after a series of complications required immediate medical attention to save the patient's life. Cai was mentally and physically exhausted, his brain almost demanding the release of relaxation, and they were in the company of a small group of friends that shared their particular fetish for erotic hypnosis. They were sitting on the patio in front of a fire, enjoying a few glasses of a very nice white that their old friend Georges St Martin had brought from his own personal vineyard, and the convivial atmosphere had lulled Cai halfway into trance already.
Ro didn't really need to do anything to drop his lover. But he liked to go the extra mile.
"Would anyone like another glass?" Marie asked, springing to her feet and glancing around the small circle of medical and legal experts. Cai knew from previous visits to Chartres that she and Georges practiced service submission, sending the maids and butlers away on nights like this so that the demure woman with the short dark hair could have the pleasure of waiting on her friends herself. He would have loved to accommodate her, but the wine and the warm night air was going to his head and he didn't want to overindulge. Not when he was hoping for at least one night with Ro before they had to fly out to their respective jobs in the morning.
"None for me, thanks," he said, waving her off politely. "If you had any of those lovely little mushroom tarts, though, I wouldn't say no. The cooking was lovely, by the way--all you, or did Georges step into the kitchen and dazzle you with his knife skills?" That brought a chuckle around the group--when he wasn't hosting a private party for Ro and Cai and their friends the Magnussons, Georges St Martin was widely known as one of the three best heart surgeons in the entire world. If he could neatly cut his way around the superior vena cava without nicking anything, slicing a few portobellos would be child's play by comparison.
Marie smiled graciously in response. "This one was all on me," she murmured modestly, her blush showing in the firelight as she shivered with arousal at the praise. "Anyone else, wine or hors d'ouvres?" She glanced around, anticipation glittering in her eyes at the hope of serving her husband a bite of food or a glass of wine.
He didn't take her up on it, but Astrid Magnusson reached down to the floor from where she lay with her head in her wife's lap and just barely managed to scoop her glass up before it toppled over. "More for me, please," she said, her voice sounding slightly slurred. All of them knew, though, that it had little to do with her modest consumption of the evening's alcohol. Hilda was busily massaging the muscular blonde's forehead, and they'd all seen enough of each other at events like this to know that the statuesque woman dropped like a rock at the slightest touch of her wife's hypnotic fingers. She'd be lucky if she was still awake when Marie came back with the wine.
Cai tried not to envy her. "And how is this year's crop coming in, Georges?" he asked, acutely aware of Ro's warm body sitting just inches behind him. "Hoping for another 2019?" The nearness of his lover tantalized him, but Cai couldn't quite bring himself to suggest they slip away from the group and off to the bedroom just yet. Not when he knew that giving away his vulnerability would only make Ro tease him that much more before he inevitably dropped the older man into a deep, potently sexual trance and used him like the slut he so desperately wanted to be.
Georges chuckled, but before he could answer, Ro reached out and began to tug gently on Cai's long white ponytail. "You'll have to get us a bottle if it's that good," he said, playfully tightening his grip on the older man's hair as if he didn't notice the way his hands chose to occupy themselves. "I'm sure we could find a nice occasion to savor it, couldn't we, darling?" Cai almost missed the question. His attention was suddenly focused on the electric mingling of pleasure and pain in his scalp.
