The flurry of kisses and the long, sultry look the boy had given him almost almost too much to bear. He was, after all, no longer a young man and too much of a good thing, as they said, was often bad. But the pleasure was not yet enough, not even beginning to satisfy the craving in the pit of his stomach, a craving that he knew was not for rich sweets or fine roasts from the kitchens but was, by certain standards, far more base.
"You like the sound of a reference, dear boy?" He asked, although his voice was no longer steady or controlled, his fingers having tightened fast in the boy's hair. "No doubt we could get you a very comfortable, well-paid position in the Ministry, something that made use of all your talents. Yes, I think I know just the thing." Slughorn told him, as if these words, the promises and guarantees would be payment for the illicit act the boy preformed, and would hopefully continue to preform. His tongue was so hot, after all, so hot and wet as it flickered over him, his lips light but hungry as they pressed against rigid flesh. It was almost more than Slughorn could take.