"There it is," Quentin sighs, soft, sweet praise. He spreads his fingers inside Corbin as he comes, keeps him spread and loose despite the sweet clench of his ass. Oh, to be inside him when he comes. He'll plan it for the next one. He can already practically feel it.

His cock twitches inside his jeans, a little desperate.

He kisses, everywhere he can get. Praising, adoring, complimenting. "You did so good, you did so, so good, Corbin. Oh, my handsome boy, my good boy."

His fingers don't stop moving, don't stop fucking him, still milking over his prostate, prolonging his pleasure, making it a little oversensitive, a little desperate. Quentin scrapes his teeth at his earlobe, at his neck, just gently. Not leaving marks where someone might see.

"You did so good for daddy, didn't you? My good boy." He pressed his clothed cock against him. "Do you want to keep going, or wait?"