Shit, well. Things weren't going to be boring, at least. It was good Victor seemed to know what he wanted, because Daniel had had enough alcohol to make thinking more than a step ahead short out his brain. Instead of trying, he let that pull forward inspire him, moving forward a few steps until Victor was caught between Daniel and the back of the Doctor's couch.

It gave him the extra stability, at least, to encourage Victor with a forward arch of his hips, now a bit irritated with his own clothing choice. Pants were suddenly one of the more irritating creations known to man and they needed to be gone. The generally reserved veterinarian was not nearly so quiet or prone to stick to the sidelines when it came to the bedroom.

He gave a lopsided grin, one hand on the back of the couch and the other working at his own pants, rather than Victor's. It made sense in his head. These were familiar. He knew how to get them off. He had decades of practice taking his own pants off. Strangely, he could not remember a time when he had needed to take anyone else's off of them.

Thinking made his head hurt, so he shut it off with another kiss. Did strangers usually kiss this much when sleeping with someone they picked up at a bar? He shouldn't dwell on that too long or he'd remember he knew absolutely nothing about Victor beyond that he was apparently a Doctor and he had very nice hands.