[ The permission to take his time is really relieving. No need to rush and get cocky or clumsy or lazy. He's especially grateful for the clarification when Peter keeps going because it's a little hard to focus when that picture comes to mind. Quentin hums at the thought of it (he'd be impossible to keep quiet, he can barely disguise his reactions in private, nevermind at high risk), mouth buzzing with it when he takes Peter in again. His lips brush his knuckles this time, breath rushing against Peter as Quentin pulls back for a breath, leaning into the grip in his hair. 

[ Panting lightly, he smirks and massages his palm around Peter's balls, his other hand dropping between his own knees. ] You been jacking off thinking about me, Pete? Cuz I've been stuck on-- [ Still grinning, he presses a kiss to the base of his prick, licks it back up along the curve of Peter's hip. A sigh rushes along his shaft when Quentin strokes himself once, twice. ] --when I said back and you said--arch. That's gotten, uh. A lot of mileage. 

[ His eyes flicker shut, mouth hanging open, lips snagging the fine skin at the underside of Peter's cock. ] You got me. Show me how you like it.