"Oh shhhhit." The tongue scraping up his pulseline throws him for a loop. Gator knocks into him and it sends him spinning. Quentin's legs wind tight around his sides, grinds up to him because-- "Jesus christ, yeah."
And then Gator looks him straight in the eye and leaves him flat out like an asshole. For a split second, cold without his shirt or the heat radiating off the other man's body, uncomfortably and embarrassingly hard in his half-open jeans, he has an image of Gator leaving. Laughing. Just flat shooting him, who knows, but the ice in those eyes reminds him of something awful. For a second, it feels like he's the one in a trap.
The rattle of buckle and polyblend snaps him back to the moment, the negging snaps him back to the moment. It feels a hell of a lot more comfortable than the look he's getting, so Quentin wets his mouth, cheeks puffing up as he slides off the desk. "Sorry about your prom date." Another sly remark, but by the last word, his breath is rushing against the base of Gator's cock. He punctuates it with his tongue--tit for tat--scraping root to tip with the help of his hand. For now anyway.
Both hands squeeze the back of Gator's knees, eyes come back up to his full of challenge. "Put me in the fucking cuffs."
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And then Gator looks him straight in the eye and leaves him flat out like an asshole. For a split second, cold without his shirt or the heat radiating off the other man's body, uncomfortably and embarrassingly hard in his half-open jeans, he has an image of Gator leaving. Laughing. Just flat shooting him, who knows, but the ice in those eyes reminds him of something awful. For a second, it feels like he's the one in a trap.
The rattle of buckle and polyblend snaps him back to the moment, the negging snaps him back to the moment. It feels a hell of a lot more comfortable than the look he's getting, so Quentin wets his mouth, cheeks puffing up as he slides off the desk. "Sorry about your prom date." Another sly remark, but by the last word, his breath is rushing against the base of Gator's cock. He punctuates it with his tongue--tit for tat--scraping root to tip with the help of his hand. For now anyway.
Both hands squeeze the back of Gator's knees, eyes come back up to his full of challenge. "Put me in the fucking cuffs."