Oh yeah, big wannabe-dad energy--mm. [ The hair that Peter doesn't catch between his knuckles flicks and plasters against Quentin's temples, dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his neck. His mouth is slack and lazing to one side, eyelashes hugging together as the spray catches him. He doesn't flinch when it runs through his eyes, though--just follows the way Peter tugs at him to look up while he takes a knee. ]
I'm serious. Tell me. [ That lazy smile takes on more lopsided purpose when he skates a palm from Peter's knee to his hip, smoothly wraps around his cock to stroke him slow and easy. ] When did you first think about it?
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I'm serious. Tell me. [ That lazy smile takes on more lopsided purpose when he skates a palm from Peter's knee to his hip, smoothly wraps around his cock to stroke him slow and easy. ] When did you first think about it?