[ oh, it's delicious watching matt work himself to the rhythm quentin sets for him. he's done a lot of things in his colorful life, and this variation is new - the mirror, the commands, the easy way his thumb massages the little furl of muscle between matt's cheeks. that's all he does for a moment, knowing how hot and hard they both are. there's something beautiful in watching matt temper the waves of his body.

he could sit on the bed, could just tug matt's hips back and work him open that way, but he likes being where he can watch from this angle, where he can pepper the soft curve of skin between thigh and ass with biting little kisses, sucking soft marks into the outside of his thigh, just as he presses his forefinger slowly past that perfect ring of muscle. ]

You can move, if you want to. I'll allow it - you look too enchanting when your hips move. Fuck into your hand, but only a little - and back on my hand. Help get yourself nice and ready for me, hm?

[ one arm hooks around matt's leg, palm sliding up to his inner thigh, nails gently dragging against the skin, helping stabilize him. ]

And don't hide those noises from me, little bird. I want to hear the songs you sing.