( danny's thigh between quentin's legs acts as a roadblock, preventing him from clamping down on anything but more of danny, bettering his leverage to fuck against his ass. they rock forward again, quentin teetering dangerously, seesawing closer and closer to the ground, until he drags a hand up his throat, pulls quentin straight onto his knees, back into danny's warmth, cocooning him against his chest.

his fingers hook his jaw, turns his head to kiss his mouth tenderly. this one is an apology, a shushing, following the zipline crackles of zadza with his tongue, that strange blue light setting quentin's insides aglow. danny gets mud and flowers, quentin gets ozone and glinting electricity. hardly seems fair. )

Shhh, hey, it's okay. You trust me, don't you, Quentin? I got you, it's okay. ( he spits into his free hand and finds quentin's cock, funneling him in tight strokes, dripping open-mouthed kisses into his neck, behind his ear. little fucking slut, so hot and wet in his palm already. none of that secret venom leaks into his voice; it's all thick eroticism, heavy and rawed, i want you so fucking bad underlining every word. ) You're sick, too, baby. Let me take care of it.