[The bath does limit things -- Koby wants to be able to see everything Quentin's doing, wants to see what he looks like over and beneath and behind, wants him to feel the effect he's having, sure that he'd be dripping into the palm pressed against his cunt -- wait. Palm. There's an almost comical moment when Koby registers that he's not grinding against Quentin's cock anymore, and he actually frowns in annoyance, brow knitting, full lower lip pulling into a pout. He shifts his hips impatiently, very nearly ready to reach down and tug Quentin's hand away.
But then Quentin says his name. And the nicknames are fun, delightful in a way that Koby can't quite untangle, making him fluster and blush, but the sound of his name (his, entirely Koby's, chosen for himself, the first thing he'd ever chosen) has him almost immediately disobeying the following request. There's a shivering little inhale, both Koby's hands finding their way to grab onto Quentin's broad, beautiful shoulders, steadying himself.
Try something for me, Quentin says, and Koby's immediately ready to do it, anything, anything he's asked, no matter how impossible. And not finishing, not coming just from the delicious press of Quentin's finger inside him, feels incredibly impossible at that moment. Koby's honestly not sure he'll last through another searing press of their mouths together, that he'll withstand the aching need to release the coiling heat that's been building in him since the arena.
But he nods, of course. Because Quentin's asking it -- not commanding, not demanding, but requesting, with that curl of a smile, with the soft heated force of his eyes fixed on Koby, with the palm of his hand promising to be a hell of a lot better than Koby's own quick, hasty experiences getting himself off. Koby nods, gnaws his lower lips (a near-constant habit, that and the fidget of his fingers, tapping where Quentin's neck and shoulder meets), rolls his hips again, experimentally, the shivery length of his chest, his stomach, his hips sealing against Quentin's chest for a long, lingering moment.]
Y-Yeah, I can -- try. [Another of those huffy sounds, a shifting grind of his cunt against the calluses he's becoming very fond of, and Koby's eyes flutter shut, thighs shivering with the feeling.] You really don't make that easy, though, you know.
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But then Quentin says his name. And the nicknames are fun, delightful in a way that Koby can't quite untangle, making him fluster and blush, but the sound of his name (his, entirely Koby's, chosen for himself, the first thing he'd ever chosen) has him almost immediately disobeying the following request. There's a shivering little inhale, both Koby's hands finding their way to grab onto Quentin's broad, beautiful shoulders, steadying himself.
Try something for me, Quentin says, and Koby's immediately ready to do it, anything, anything he's asked, no matter how impossible. And not finishing, not coming just from the delicious press of Quentin's finger inside him, feels incredibly impossible at that moment. Koby's honestly not sure he'll last through another searing press of their mouths together, that he'll withstand the aching need to release the coiling heat that's been building in him since the arena.
But he nods, of course. Because Quentin's asking it -- not commanding, not demanding, but requesting, with that curl of a smile, with the soft heated force of his eyes fixed on Koby, with the palm of his hand promising to be a hell of a lot better than Koby's own quick, hasty experiences getting himself off. Koby nods, gnaws his lower lips (a near-constant habit, that and the fidget of his fingers, tapping where Quentin's neck and shoulder meets), rolls his hips again, experimentally, the shivery length of his chest, his stomach, his hips sealing against Quentin's chest for a long, lingering moment.]
Y-Yeah, I can -- try. [Another of those huffy sounds, a shifting grind of his cunt against the calluses he's becoming very fond of, and Koby's eyes flutter shut, thighs shivering with the feeling.] You really don't make that easy, though, you know.