When it becomes too trick to keep eye on Kyle's face Quentin closes his eyes to just listen and feel. It's hard not to smile to himself at erratic way Kyle's hips want to twitch under him and his penchant for noticing patterns makes it easy to recognize the correlation between the lewdness of his slurping and the needy pitch of Kyle's voice.

There's a moment of surprise when he comes. In part because Kyle's mind goes blank on him. Like a lightning strike or a power-surge blowing the picture out. He swallows as best he can, but it's admittedly a little sloppier than he intended. Leaving him to debating about whether or not to use his discarded shirt to mop the mess off his chin.

"You good? You look good," he smiles.