[ Lower. Yeah, okay. Peter interrupts an awed holy shit when their lips meet again, but Quentin's more ready. Both his hands brace lower and sweep Peter's ribs. He's seen this body in half-measures, skin peeking out from wide collars, hips hinted at under slinky athletic fabric. It's different under his hands. Same as Peter is different against his mouth, even if he's seen that sideways smile or the steel jaw a hundred times.
[ With a heavy sigh out, Quentin nods up into the kiss, opens up to skim his teeth over Peter's lower lip--to follow the scrape with his tongue. Hands flat on the small of his back, he tugs Peter in surely. When Quentin steps forward, the motion pushes Peter back to the counter. Lower. Okay, yeah. ]
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[ With a heavy sigh out, Quentin nods up into the kiss, opens up to skim his teeth over Peter's lower lip--to follow the scrape with his tongue. Hands flat on the small of his back, he tugs Peter in surely. When Quentin steps forward, the motion pushes Peter back to the counter. Lower. Okay, yeah. ]