[ it should go without saying that peter — like quentin — can be just as reactive, letting himself succumb to the heat that builds in the pit of his stomach, everything drawn tight and swollen. he breathes heavily, moaning his gratification as quentin hits his prostate again and again. ]
Shit, you're good with your hands— [ he lifts his head, watching as they work diligently, balls pulling taut at the mere sight, ] Fuck—ah, fuck.
[ his hips rock forward, time and again, meeting every thrust of those fingers. and that's all it takes to yank him over the precipice, gasping as his cock pulses in quentin's grip. long seconds that pull him apart at the seams, unspooling the tension that had been swelling long before he found himself on quentin's doorstep.
he watches for as long as he can, then drops his head back once more, gaze now set upon quentin's expressions, the intensity in his eyes slowly filtering out as he descends into post-orgasmic bliss. ]
no subject
Shit, you're good with your hands— [ he lifts his head, watching as they work diligently, balls pulling taut at the mere sight, ] Fuck—ah, fuck.
[ his hips rock forward, time and again, meeting every thrust of those fingers. and that's all it takes to yank him over the precipice, gasping as his cock pulses in quentin's grip. long seconds that pull him apart at the seams, unspooling the tension that had been swelling long before he found himself on quentin's doorstep.
he watches for as long as he can, then drops his head back once more, gaze now set upon quentin's expressions, the intensity in his eyes slowly filtering out as he descends into post-orgasmic bliss. ]