Quentin edged and edged inside her, until he couldn't talk anymore, until he couldn't think, until there was nothing but her and the ache. He took longer breaks as needed, but eventually, as he pressed inside her again, he just whimpered and pulled back immediately.
"Can't," he managed to gasp into her shoulder, clutching her close and shaking. He'd been shivering for a bit, and it was only getting worse.
He nodded, keeping his arms around her and away from himself. He turned his head, giving his sweaty face some cool air. Once he was over the shivers a shower was definitely in order. "Fuck, it hurts," he whined softly. "Hurts so fucking good, my lady, thank you, thank you for..."
Quentin didn't know how to articulate anything this complex right now, really, so he fell back on something reliable. "Good boys don't come," he whispered. "Good boys don't come."
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"Can't," he managed to gasp into her shoulder, clutching her close and shaking. He'd been shivering for a bit, and it was only getting worse.
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It's gentle and she presses her lips to his temple, then the top of his head. "Lay with me. Don't touch yourself."
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Quentin didn't know how to articulate anything this complex right now, really, so he fell back on something reliable. "Good boys don't come," he whispered. "Good boys don't come."