[There's water spilling out around them, sloshing onto the floor, and it sounds like the sea, sounds like an early morning with the sun just rising, and when Quentin leans in, breathes sweetness and desire into the space between them, Koby nearly tastes the salt on his tongue. He chases after Quentin's mouth again, his own parting on a shuddery gasp at the slide of one hand down between them, at the rush of relief and eagerness and the slightest bit of nerves. Not fear, there isn't room for fear, not with Quentin's mouth leaving searing sweet heat over Koby's shoulders, his throat, his chest, not with the heavy silk of Quentin's hair tangled in his fingers. More like -- anticipation. Down in the Underworld, there had been liquor and lights and some sort of unearthy magic that even now Koby's forgotten entirely about, and everything had been delirious and a touch unreal.
But this is -- he's awake, he's so awake, every nerve alive, every throb of his heart aching in his chest when Quentin guides his cock to slip, press, slide in, and Koby is undone he's making a sobbing, shuddering sound and pressing his forehead against Quentin's shoulder, breathing in and in and in. Even without the water, he's so damn wet that there's almost no resistance, that it doesn't hurt, it's just the steady glide of Quentin filling him for the first time, and Koby's making sounds he didn't know he was capable of. Half of them are swear words picked up in seedy saloons, sounding filthier coming from his usually sweet mouth, the others are breathy, whimpering gasps of Quentin's name.]
Mmmn, y-yeah, you -- s-slow, slowly, l-lemme just... [A shift of his hips, another of those shuddery inhales, his gaze going unfocused, hazy, stomach shivering with the effort of holding back -- because Koby still is, even though his thighs are quivering with strain and every time he breathes it shifts Quentin inside him, so deep, so full so much. Like he was made for this, and the thought sends Koby panting against the side of Quentin's neck, mouthing and worrying where it meets his shoulder and pleading in an almost-sob:] C-Can -- can I -- can I please, please, Quentin, I n-need--
[Koby pulls back with an effort, eyes big and teary and cockdrunk and heated, chest heaving with each breath, cunt throbbing like a bruise around Quentin's cock. He looks up, pleading and desperate to obey and absolutely wrecked, and begs:] Please c-can I -- come, can I please?
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But this is -- he's awake, he's so awake, every nerve alive, every throb of his heart aching in his chest when Quentin guides his cock to slip, press, slide in, and Koby is undone he's making a sobbing, shuddering sound and pressing his forehead against Quentin's shoulder, breathing in and in and in. Even without the water, he's so damn wet that there's almost no resistance, that it doesn't hurt, it's just the steady glide of Quentin filling him for the first time, and Koby's making sounds he didn't know he was capable of. Half of them are swear words picked up in seedy saloons, sounding filthier coming from his usually sweet mouth, the others are breathy, whimpering gasps of Quentin's name.]
Mmmn, y-yeah, you -- s-slow, slowly, l-lemme just... [A shift of his hips, another of those shuddery inhales, his gaze going unfocused, hazy, stomach shivering with the effort of holding back -- because Koby still is, even though his thighs are quivering with strain and every time he breathes it shifts Quentin inside him, so deep, so full so much. Like he was made for this, and the thought sends Koby panting against the side of Quentin's neck, mouthing and worrying where it meets his shoulder and pleading in an almost-sob:] C-Can -- can I -- can I please, please, Quentin, I n-need--
[Koby pulls back with an effort, eyes big and teary and cockdrunk and heated, chest heaving with each breath, cunt throbbing like a bruise around Quentin's cock. He looks up, pleading and desperate to obey and absolutely wrecked, and begs:] Please c-can I -- come, can I please?