"So far," Kyle points out. "And I mean... even when we inevitably have only okay times, in the far future and crap, that'll be fine. I just mean like..." He's babbling, because Quentin's hand is distracting.

"Not crappy," he focuses on. "But nerve wracking. Partly that's my fault for fucking an almost total stranger. But it was also kinda rushed, and kinda scary. It was mediocre. You deserve more than that."

He sighs and trails his fingers along the back of Quentin's neck. "What's comfortable for you? When you like, fuck yourself?"