[ peter opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a soft sigh as quentin curls his hand around him. the weight of his touch isn't nearly enough, but it's enough to derail his thoughts for a beat. ]

Some time after we met, [ the tip of peter's tongue sweeps across his lips, his hand unfurling to push some of the hair from quentin's face. ] I came to meet you at the bookstore for our usual coffee... no idea what you were doing, taking inventory, maybe? [ his gaze then flits to the hand around his cock, distracting and gradually intensifying his ache for more, ] Scanning the books with a pen to your mouth, dragging the end across your lips.

Right there, against the bookcase.