[ the first touch of quentin's tongue — hot, wet, teasing — pulls the softest of groans, barely audible over the sound of the shower. credit where it's due— most people in quentin's shoes wouldn't be so eager to drop to their knees, instead opting to let things happen to them. truthfully, peter wouldn't have minded.

he smiles lightly, one hand running through wet curls, settling at the crown of quentin's head as a sort of encouragement. perhaps a guide. ]

Don't worry about it, just go slow. [ a part of him expected a level of inexperience, quentin's fairly young and doesn't exactly strike peter as the promiscuous type. though with that face... a toss of the coin, really. ]

If I'm being honest, I thought about a lot more than that, [ he adds, glad to be of service of the invasive thoughts program. here, allow him to contribute a little something extra for those days that seem to drag on and on. everyone has them, might as well give quentin something to think about that just might make the day go by faster. ] I though— fuck... [ he moans breathily as quentin takes more of him into his mouth, fingers curling tightly around his hair, ] dragging you into the back, maybe an aisle where people don't often visit. Thought about— [ a breath, ] how your dick would feel in my mouth, what you'd sound like, trying so hard to keep quiet.