"Jesus," he moaned, fumbling for buttons, shrugging off his shirt and kicking his pants into the corner. He really had come here to talk, maybe make some dinner, have a drink, but this seemed far, far more important. Nathan was kissing any inch of skin he could reach, sucking and nipping and leaving behind marks like he hadn't dared to in weeks. "You're a horrible influence," he grinned, his hand going for Jim's belt. "Here I was going to have a respectable evening."