Quentin smiles, and it's softer this time. He kisses Corbin again, relishing in soft, warm boy skin, the just barely musky smell. He's young enough that it's not really a teenagery smell, though he knows Corbin's a teenager. Quentin promptly stops thinking about that. The less he thinks about it, the better.

He rubs his slick fingers along the cleft of Corbin's ass, smearing the cool slick there, circling the tight pucker of his hole. Not pressing in but spreading it and warming it up.

"Are you going to be sweet and talk," Quentin asks softly, "or is that a lost cause?"