Quentin slows to a stop, but doesn't pull his fingers out. He stays still, waits. Patient. Poised. He showers Corbin in sweet, affectionate kisses. It's hard to keep his hand still when they're standing like that. It would be harder to make Corbin move, no doubt, so it's better to treat him.

This time.

He leers against his ear.

"What are we gonna do about that mess you made, sweetheart?"