[ Peter sounds so good that it almost pisses Quentin off not to be able to get it up, even when the invitation honeys his nerves so heavily he can taste it in his mouth. He laughs as he gets his hands back under his shoulders, watches Peter from above for a few enraptured seconds. Even if he's not hard, his eyes and mouth are dark from arousal. ]

You're like a fucking drug, man. How do you do that? [ Laughed, at ends, as he rolls away for the bedstand and the bottle of lube stashed therein. He brings it back with him, into his lap. His hand spreads up the back of Peter's right leg, coaxing it up over his shoulder. Quentin shakes his head with another stupid chuckle. ] More importantly, how the hell are you single?

You are single, right? [ Maybe it's too late to ask when he's slicking up his fingers, blown eyes checking up for Peter's just before pushing two inside him. With the way he said he wants it, gotta assume two is okay. ] Please god tell me you're not married with a bunch of kids?