It's like seeing a shooting star, or like a bird landing on his hand, the breathless thrill of knowing Stephen is about to lose it--lose it for him. Quentin cusses clumsily, slides his fingers from Stephen's mouth to scoop around his thigh and pull him in. He doesn't need to last another minute; scraping precum off him, biting in his shoulder through his shirt, Quentin strips him relentlessly to drive him somewhere safer so he can turn him around and see what this is doing to Stephen.

"Give it to me. Come on, Stephen, give it to me."