"You don't have to," Quentin says, mouth migrating softly. Well, he'd love to hear all those 'fuck me's and 'please's and 'oh god's and whatever else Corbin wants to give to him while Quentin takes him apart.

The lube warms up. Corbin warms up. Quentin eases the tip of his finger into him, slowly. Everything sweet and slow, for now. He wanted Corbin to feel good for all of this, from this slow, sweet, steadiness all the way until he was fucking him as rough as the boy could take.

"You just enjoy those pretty faces," he murmured, right up against his ear, pressing his still-trapped cock up against him from behind as he sank more of his finger in. "Everything those faces do to me."