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quentin toma NOTES: sailor, navigator, loverboy, war-bringer. THREAT LEVEL LIKABILITY LEVEL SCANDAL LEVEL FASHION LEVEL WEALTH LEVEL

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[ in all their fumblings he's never seen tim so worked up, so desperate and quentin aches in a new way, too. his own cock throbs between his thighs as his mouth meets every needy jut of tim's hips until he reaches to press a single finger against tim's hole, breaching that fluttering ring of muscle and sliding his tongue against it as well.

at least until he hears it. ]

Ah, is that what you want? [ a hum against the wet skin of his ass, his index finger pressing slowly, stretching him on the slick of his spit and nothing more until he's in up to the knuckle. he laughs a low rumbling sound as tim ruts against the sheets, his ass pushing back. he clicks his tongue, disapproving. ] And here I was going to reward you for your behavior, then you had to go and break the rules.

[ and that's all he gets before his hand pulls away, before quentin's rising up onto his feet and gliding the hard line of him against the cleft of tim's sore ass. ] You want me to fuck you so terribly? Well, I'm feeling lazy.

[ he lines his dick up with tim's entrance, just enough to let the head of him press against him, but not further. he drags the nails of his free hand along the red, sore skin of tim's ass. ] You'll have to take what you want, since you like moving so very much. Go ahead, sweets.

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[ Tim muffles another shocked gasp against the sheets, as if he's been smacked on the ass again, not because he’s been struck, but because he’s been chastised. Rules? He’s forgotten the rules, he hasn’t been thinking, only feeling, begging for Quentin and chasing pleasure.

Ah. That. It’s for Quentin to give out, to decide when and how much, isn’t it? Tim wipes his eyes against the sheet, flushed and tearful with the embarrassment of having forgotten such a simple instruction. Punishment and penance can’t be rushed, so there’s a practical lesson, fucking himself on only spit. He can do that, he has to do that, needs to earn the sweetness back, take back the praise that tickles his brain, his spine, his cock. With a shuddering breath, Tim picks himself up so that he’s on all fours again instead of shamelessly pressing himself to the bed and scoots back, angling into position with the hot head against his hole. ]

I’m sorry. [ A soft, needy sob, cock hanging heavy and red from lack of attention. He gasps further at the track of his nails across his ass, searing hot and painful. Necessary. ] I’m sorry. I didn’t–I’ll do better.

[ He moves his hips back slowly, accepting Quentin inside him with a wince at the sharp stretch. It stings, but not nearly as badly as losing his praise. ]

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[ something about tim apologizing gnaws at him in spite of their little game. he allows tim to move back and take him in and he groans, unable to process anything but the tight, velvety heat that consumes him at first. he reaches an arm down to tim's hips, stopping him from moving any further. a kindness, letting himself sit pressed deep into him to stretch, to settle.

his mouth slides along tim's shoulder in the meantime, pressing soft kisses against his skin, worshipful in a way. ]

Apology accepted.

[ he moans again just from the way he feels like he's being consumed by the other man's body. ] You've done so well. So very well.

[ his free hand slides round tim's front as well, softly palming the aching, hard line of tim's dick as he draws out of the man slowly, hand following the motion as he pushes back in just as slowly. ]

Let me take care of you now, hm? You've done well. You listened, you took everything you deserved. So good.