Neville wriggled about uncomfortably while Julian left a rather severe love-bite just above his collar.

Julian's irritation at the interruption was clear. "If you could manage to hold still," he began.

"The table is poking me in inappropriate places," Neville pointed out. "Also, your glove has taken on a mind of it's own, and it's wedged itself..."

Neville's voice dropped off dramatically, and Julian lifted his head to look at him properly.

"My glove has gone where?"

Neville mumbled again.

"Pardon?"

"I said, it's gotten wedged between the table and my bum!" Neville shouted.

Julian blinked while Neville coloured.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me about your predilection for my gloves?"

"No, not really."

Julian's raised eyebrow said plenty.

"Well, possibly," Neville corrected.

Julian remained silent.

"I tossed off with them once," Neville confessed. "But it won't happen again."

"Not unless I'm watching, it won't," Julian corrected.