I tore at his pajama bottoms, ripping them, desperate to get them off him. Quinn shoved my boxers down and out of the way.
We were both oozing precome when finally—finally—I got our c***s lined up.
The relief as slick, hot flesh slid together was only momentary. I needed more. I needed to give Quinn more. Before I could do anything, though, Quinn had both hands wrapped around our c***s, imprisoning them.
I buried my face in the curve of his neck and shuddered. Braced on knees and forearms, I thrust strongly into his snug grip, fighting the urge to come right then.
“That’s…that’s it, Mark. Let go.”
I had no intention of letting go, not until I was ready to. I wedged my hand between us, pressed the pad of my thumb onto the tip of his c**k, and smeared the drops of precome over the crown
