Quentin shushes Corbin gently, soothing the worried ramble of his voice. He was teasing, and he doesn’t mean anything cruel about it. If anything, he thinks the smear of come on the dresser is a nice reminder for the rest of the nice. It’ll be cute to watch him try and clean it up when it’s dried and stained into the fake wood.

He kisses him sweetly, again and again, because Corbin wants to. Quentin doesn’t care one way about kissing, but Corbin seems to like it, and he’s so young and sweet and Quentin can give him that.

Slowly, he eases his fingers out of him. They’re messy and his fingers and wrist are a bit stiff, and he’s sure that Corbin’s ass looks delicious. He can’t wait to sink his cock in him and fuck him until he shakes like a leaf.

“Come on,” he whispers, coaxing him to the bed. “Which one is yours, baby?”