[ It's all too brief, but for a few achingly perfect moments, Matt feels they're completely in sync. He can only tell where his body begins when Quentin thrusts into him, when the impact pushes his cock into the ring Quentin's hand makes around him, when Quentin speaks to him between hot, wet kisses. Everything else is friction and flow. The blessed ache of thrusts turning fiercer, piercing him to the core. Matt grinds down to meet Quentin's cock, his own movements sloppy, desperate as he seeks the angle that will bring him to the edge.
And then--
Everything heats, condenses. Quentin's teeth snap on his lips in a bite that sings with pain, and Matt cries out ecstatically, the sound muffled against his mouth. Quentin's thrusts quicken; he pulls Matt down, his erection seeming to swell inside him. Matt bucks helplessly, barely able to move for Quentin's grip on him, but it doesn't matter. Moments after Quentin comes, Matt follows him. The mirror shows how he spills all over Quentin's fingers, his own belly and chest, his mouth locked with Quentin's in that searing kiss. He moans, a sound so low and filthy he barely recognizes it as coming from him. ]
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And then--
Everything heats, condenses. Quentin's teeth snap on his lips in a bite that sings with pain, and Matt cries out ecstatically, the sound muffled against his mouth. Quentin's thrusts quicken; he pulls Matt down, his erection seeming to swell inside him. Matt bucks helplessly, barely able to move for Quentin's grip on him, but it doesn't matter. Moments after Quentin comes, Matt follows him. The mirror shows how he spills all over Quentin's fingers, his own belly and chest, his mouth locked with Quentin's in that searing kiss. He moans, a sound so low and filthy he barely recognizes it as coming from him. ]