He doesn't just feel Kyle watching him when he fucks himself there beneath him, he can see himself in Kyle's mind too. He can feel the spike in Kyle's own arousal when the man hones in on some embarrassing little feature of Quentin's pained expression, like the wrinkle in his brow or the flush on his cheeks. There's a note of humiliation in being watched so intensely, but it only adds to the drunken feeling that already gone to his head.

He tries to recreate he particular position of them every time he bears down against the hips that press up into him. It amounts to an awfully slight motion as he's pinned there against the mattress, but it's determined and firm enough to leave him whimpering for Kyle. right there right there right there plays in his head one repeat. "fuck me. fill me. fucking fill me. I can take it. I can take all of it. all of you. give it all to me. give it to me Kyle. give it.

He buries his face against the soft, fuzzy side of Kyle's fresh haircut and gasps when he hits him just right again. "Fuuh—ah I'm gonna cum, Kyle. Fuck me like you wanna before I cum"