He can't take his eyes off of him. The urge to keep him there, hanging out over the edge comes with warring instincts: self-satisfied and greedy, the desire to make him plead takes up arms against the softer want to hold him there only so that he has more time to give in to every little thing Quentin might ask of him along the way, crest made all the sweeter for the wait.

He settles himself somewhere in the middle. Lets one hand smooth down over Quentin's thigh as he speaks, wrap and grasp. Eye contact unflinching, smirk undeniable.

"Just following directions."