He's, um, curious? Yeah, curious, he'll go with that. (He's curious in the "will it make me hard and excited and enjoy myself more" kind of way.) 

Unfortunately he's also a little bit (more than a little really) flustered, so what he says is "you can make more suggestions? If you want?"

"Well, um." Now she's blushing. "It seems to me that. There's an obvious solution, if the problem is that you might accidentally, um, make emissions, into an inconvenient place, well, then, you could just," she bites her lip and ducks her head shyly, "emit them somewhere more convenient, instead." She's really going after that lip. "Um. Somewhere like my mouth."

Well, he was wondering if she was going to give him suggestions that made him hard and excited. It turns out he has his answer (and wow what an answer. Fuck).

Unfortunately, it's also making him blush furiously. "I might, um, like that," he says, blushing and hiding his face in her shoulder. "I um. I might not be. Um. Fast enough to take my pants off in time, though?" He has something specific in mind here but he doesn't know how to ask for it. (He's stupidly hard thinking about it, though.)

"Well. That's fair. But I'm sure this is a logistical problem we can solve if we put our minds to it." She hugs him. He's so cute and also warm and huggable and also really attractive.

He hugs her back, kissing her gently on her shoulder. She really really likes him. (And also wants him. Holy fuck does she want him. And he really wants her, too.) "Did you um, have any ideas on how to solve such a complex problem, then?" he asks, still not actually asking for the thing he wants and hoping that Rosy will suggest it so he doesn't have to. 

Blush. Nuzzle.

"The solution that springs to mind is, if I was already there, as the moment approached..."

He buries his face into her shoulder and the pillow. "I think that might just work," he says, muffled. (Aaaaaa he's going to get a blow job he's going to get a blow job why is he so scared and embarrassed (though he's also extremely excited and hard and has a good reason for that one) he should be making this happen instead of hiding his face!)

"You're so cute," she says, hugging him. "You're so cute and I love you so much." Happy wiggle. "Kiss me?"

Oh, that he can do. That he can definitely do. He picks up his (still blushing) face from her shoulder, looks at her (eager, passionate, loving) smile, and kisses her, with possibly a little bit too much hunger (she likes it though, with how she's kissing him back, and that just encourages him to kiss her harder), pressing his lips into hers feeling her love and desire and giving her his feelings (desire, horniness, more desire, want) back. 

Okay yep she's getting distracted by kisses.

Very distracted.

So, so very distracted.

He just—has this mouth—and she gets to taste it—and—

She's looking a little dazed by the time she finally manages to pull back a little, and look up at him with love and trust and shyness and desire, and whisper, "Tell me what to do?"

For several moments he's too kissdrunk to understand what she's asking about. (Look her kisses are very good.) Then he realizes. Or thinks he realizes. "Tell you, um, how to do the thing? With your mouth?" He asks, using that at least partly an excuse to collect his thoughts and figure out logistics (what is the best place to do this really?).

"Mhm. If you want. I—" Blush. Lipbite. "I want—to be—not just doing it because we decided on it for logistical reasons—I want to do it because you told me to."

Well if he wasn't hard before (he was) he is now!! 

"Okay," he says, and kisses her one last time, thinking about how to do it, how he wants to think about it, how he wants to act, how Rosy wants him to act (his kiss gets more powerful, more possessive as he changes his mindset, his hands roaming her body idly become more focused, less tentative, because she's his, and he's going to tell her what to do...) 

And then, with a small spike of fear (what if she doesn't like it?) (No, she's his) easily quelled, he lifts up his face, and gets partly up off of her, and says, with a commanding mindset and voice, "get on the floor. On your knees." (And then the part of him that is being commanding has to fight off the part that winces because he isn't sure how she's going to react, but wincing and worry isn't the right mindset...) 

His voice hits her like an ocean wave crashing on the shore. She feels she could drown in it.

She bites her lip hard enough to bruise, holding back a yes my lord that's out of place because he's not her lord (yet, yet!), and nods very emphatically, and scrambles off the side of the bed to kneel on the floor and look up at him with something very akin to reverence.

Well fuck that's hot. Fuck that's hot. He turns toward her, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at her as he fumbles with the zipper on his pants, the tent extremely obviously visible. (Will he able to do this sitting down? Or will he need to stand?) Her face is full of awe and desire, and that's only making it harder to get his pants undone. "Open," he commands, buying a little time for him to get himself together. 

There's that voice again. She sways a little with the impact, and draws a shaky breath through her open, yearning mouth, ending in the tiniest little whimper.

Watching her sway and hearing her whimper (and looking at her open, eager little mouth) is one of the hottest experiences he's ever had in his life. 

He finally manages to get his pants undone and gets his cock free, standing up momentarily so he can pull everything down past butt to his ankles. And then he looks down at her, trying to determine what's next. 

It's not quite literally the case that her vision goes dark at the edges. It just feels that way. She still has peripheral vision, she just doesn't want to. She doesn't want to look at anything else. She doesn't want to see anything else, except maybe his face, but she finds that when she tries to tear her eyes away and look up, it doesn't work the first time, and that's hot enough that she doesn't make a second attempt.

Fuck, he can practically feel her desire as she stares at his cock. She's so incredibly focused and full of desire and... fuck!! 

"You want this?" asks the commanding part of his brain, before the more careful part can stop it (he's not sure if teasing like that is okay, damnit!). It's probably fine. 

"Please," she says, her voice soft and faint but somehow still full of desperate intensity.

Yup, it was fine. It was completely and utterly fine. 

"Th-then lick it," he says, stammering slightly as he dispels the remnants of worry to get back in the right headspace. "Lean forward" he scoots forward as well for easier access "and give it a nice, slow, lick. Sh-show" there it is again damnit, he takes a deep breath. "Show me how much you want it," he says, with complete (outward) confidence and command. 

She needs an extra half-second to process what he said, because he keeps saying it in that voice that lands with a thunderous crash and rolls up the shore of her mind in a long broad rush of surf, soaking everything in its path.

Right. Yes. Good. Good plan.

Shivering with desire, she obeys.

Her eyes flutter half-closed as she breathes in the scent of him, and she's so, so achingly grateful, leaning forward and whimpering softly again, so grateful to run her tongue along his hot hard shaft and feel it and taste it, so enthralled by the way it brushes against her lips. She wants more, but she wants to wait for it. She wants to wait for his permission. She wants to wait for his orders. So, even though her mouth is watering, she pulls back a little as her tongue leaves the tip.

"Please?" she says again, full of awe and longing.

This is the hottest experience he's ever had in his life. Bar none. (And it's only going to get hotter!) He can feel her desire and delight from the way she runs her tongue up his length (soft and wet and hot and good) and he shudders with pleasure as he does so, a hot pulse of lust moving through his body and washing out his vision with white flashes of heat and his hearing with the pulse of blood in his ears like thunder. 

Which is why it takes him several seconds to realize that a request has been made. Fuck. "Right. Yes. Suck." he says, flustered. But he says it all wrong. "Wait, I mean," he breathes and says it right. "Suck. Now. Swallow it." wait too much "Take it as deep as you can, and suck. Now." There, that worked. Mostly. 

A hint of a fond, adoring smile flickers across her face, from how incredibly inimitably John he's being, but then she's too busy recklessly burying her face in his crotch to think about that. She knows he corrected himself but she's too eager to care; she wraps her mouth around his cock and slides down until it hits the back of her throat and then tries as hard as she can to keep going, even though it makes her gag, even though her whole body shudders with a futile effort to reject the thing she wants most in the world, even though her eyes fill with tears and choked little whimpers keep bubbling out of her throat through what little space is left. They're good tears and good shudders and good whimpers and she just barely has room left in her overwhelmed mind to hope he knows that.