[ He stutters out as he shivers under Quentin's attention, body still tense in anticipation of the last three slaps. Maybe seventeen is more than enough, but he was promised twenty, made to prepare for twenty, to want for twenty. When he proves himself strong enough to get there, he can be absolved, set off to do better, to be better - unless Quentin decides he needs more. But less? It feels incomplete, makes him squirm and whine with impatience to just get it over with so that he can give in to the pleasure of his hands, the hair prickling against him, the breath against his hole coaxing him to open up-- ]
Oh--! God...
[ Maybe that's part of the punishment. The hope of relief without actually getting it, a lesson in patience. A test that he's failing despite Quentin's praise, pushing his ass back into his hands and the ache of their firm press, into his tongue that's hot and wet enough to make him tremble in his want for more, but not thick enough to fill him properly. ]
no subject
[ He stutters out as he shivers under Quentin's attention, body still tense in anticipation of the last three slaps. Maybe seventeen is more than enough, but he was promised twenty, made to prepare for twenty, to want for twenty. When he proves himself strong enough to get there, he can be absolved, set off to do better, to be better - unless Quentin decides he needs more. But less? It feels incomplete, makes him squirm and whine with impatience to just get it over with so that he can give in to the pleasure of his hands, the hair prickling against him, the breath against his hole coaxing him to open up-- ]
Oh--! God...
[ Maybe that's part of the punishment. The hope of relief without actually getting it, a lesson in patience. A test that he's failing despite Quentin's praise, pushing his ass back into his hands and the ache of their firm press, into his tongue that's hot and wet enough to make him tremble in his want for more, but not thick enough to fill him properly. ]
I'll be good. I'll be good. I'll be good.