"Oh, there it is." Quentin's voice is heavy, thick, praising. He scrapes his teeth briefly on Corbin's shoulder and keeps doing what he's doing with his fingers, encouraging Corbin to move, to fuck back on his fingers now that he's started. That gasp, that swear, the way he's starting to open up? It's all fucking good.

Quentin sinks down to his knees behind Corbin. He keeps moving his fingers insistent. He starts to tease with a third finger, and leans in to tease his tongue against him too.

"What a good boy," he murmurs between sweeping brushes of his tongue. "Getting hard for me. Getting ready for me."