[ He's easy with praise, like he can make up for using Peter's mouth by breathing his name, making him well aware that omigod, that's so hot, you're so-- as he finds a steady rhythm. It's tentative when he can feel Peter's nose brush under his belly, Peter's palate go soft when he's in deep. Quentin's fingers tighten around the back of his neck, like the extra control outside is gonna keep him from doing something stupid inside.
[ Rolling his forehead along the shower wall, he drops his other hand to wrap under Peter's jaw, to lift his chin just a hair so that when Quentin eases out along his tongue, he can look down and see, and-- ] Jesuschrist, Peter, that's pretty. [ Fingers stretch along the column of his throat, following Quentin as he fuck back in, tight enough to feel how Peter's throat winds tight and relaxes.
[ Despite the hot water, Quentin shudders. Peter can certainly taste it, but: ] I'm not--I cannot last a lot longer like this, Pete. Fuck.
no subject
[ Rolling his forehead along the shower wall, he drops his other hand to wrap under Peter's jaw, to lift his chin just a hair so that when Quentin eases out along his tongue, he can look down and see, and-- ] Jesuschrist, Peter, that's pretty. [ Fingers stretch along the column of his throat, following Quentin as he fuck back in, tight enough to feel how Peter's throat winds tight and relaxes.
[ Despite the hot water, Quentin shudders. Peter can certainly taste it, but: ] I'm not--I cannot last a lot longer like this, Pete. Fuck.