[ It's immensely satisfying watching Quentin come. Even without seeing his face, Tim's own buried in his wavy hair, even ignoring the white-hot sensation of him filling him up and dragging against him when he's already sensitive to the point of trembling in his arms, it's satisfying to be held through it, like that.
It's a tighter grip than before, harder, but he likes that. It feels secure, and abundantly selfless, on Quentin’s part, to hold him through it like he’s some cherished thing. That doesn’t happen with these kinds of chance encounters. This is usually where the shame creeps in, once he’s spent and/or thoroughly defiled, the bodies start to awkwardly separate, he and whoever trying to make themselves decent again as soon as possible.
Quentin keeps holding him. It feels too intimate, tugging at some tender, exposed piece of him that’s supposed to be under lock and key deep in his chest, but must have wormed its way out, with all of tonight’s confusion. Tim should probably squirm away too, but he doesn’t want to. Not yet. ]
Mmhmm. [ A lazy, wobbly reply. His legs feel like jell-o, and his brain much the same. He’s got just enough in the tank to meet Quentin’s small, sweet kisses with his own lips. Nothing deep and hungry like before, just soft, grateful. Trusting enough to ask, ]
Can you stay a few more minutes?
[ So softly. Almost like he's embarrassed to ask. ]
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It's a tighter grip than before, harder, but he likes that. It feels secure, and abundantly selfless, on Quentin’s part, to hold him through it like he’s some cherished thing. That doesn’t happen with these kinds of chance encounters. This is usually where the shame creeps in, once he’s spent and/or thoroughly defiled, the bodies start to awkwardly separate, he and whoever trying to make themselves decent again as soon as possible.
Quentin keeps holding him. It feels too intimate, tugging at some tender, exposed piece of him that’s supposed to be under lock and key deep in his chest, but must have wormed its way out, with all of tonight’s confusion. Tim should probably squirm away too, but he doesn’t want to. Not yet. ]
Mmhmm. [ A lazy, wobbly reply. His legs feel like jell-o, and his brain much the same. He’s got just enough in the tank to meet Quentin’s small, sweet kisses with his own lips. Nothing deep and hungry like before, just soft, grateful. Trusting enough to ask, ]
Can you stay a few more minutes?
[ So softly. Almost like he's embarrassed to ask. ]