[ Now, as ever, he's dressed loosely--even more comfortable for the sake of being in his own home. The thin-worn sweatpants make it all the more apparent when his ass tenses in Peter's grip, or make it painfully evident that his blood is running lower when Peter presses the little bit of distance out from between them. Quentin hisses, but he can't ease his erection out of Peter's hip without rocking into his hand. ]

Holy shit, Pete-- [ Quentin's thumbs hook into Peter's hips to put the inch or so between them that they afford. He detangles from Peter's mouth, but he doesn't open his eyes--barely lifts his lips off Peter, his voice still vibrates between them as he rambles. ] --dude, you were just mugged. You're hurt, and I like you--like--I dunno how much, if it's like like, or--which isn't to say this isn't--heh! great, I mean it's great--but I don't wanna--

[ His eyes flutter open, breath rushes along Peter's cheek when he sighs. ] --I don't wanna hurt you, man.