Caliban smirks wider when that door closed and the other certainly seemed to followed exactly what he'd asked in telling him what the other was craving and needing from him in one of the backrooms of this bar. A hand reaches up to brush along the back of Quentin's head as that head pressed against his bare chest and his body leans forward into the other's touch, more than allowing him to explore what he wanted to do with those hands.
"My, that is quite the fun option.." And just like that his hand was going to curl into that long hair and tugged it back sharply because...well, why wouldn't he use that long hair.
"Then open my pants like a good little boy and find out what exactly you will be taking, sweet mortal.." He purred those words- his tone easily already taking the reign's from the other, making it less his choice and more what the Dominant expected. To have those thoughts narrow on Caliban rather than whatever they were already swirling around in on.
Quentin made a little noise when his head was pulled back, letting Caliban move him, eyes falling shut as he did. "Yes," he breathed out, stopping just short of calling the other 'sir.' He was probably going to, once they got going.
He took his hands back long enough to unzip his jacket and his hoodie and strip them off, letting them fall to the ground and leave him in a t-shirt. Then he dropped to his knees and started undoing those pants, obediently spreading the placket open and pulling out what was inside. His eyes widened a little at it, and he looked up at Caliban like he was checking if it was real, but he didn't seem put off. God, he was going to choke to death on this thing. (Not the worst way to go.)
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"My, that is quite the fun option.." And just like that his hand was going to curl into that long hair and tugged it back sharply because...well, why wouldn't he use that long hair.
"Then open my pants like a good little boy and find out what exactly you will be taking, sweet mortal.." He purred those words- his tone easily already taking the reign's from the other, making it less his choice and more what the Dominant expected. To have those thoughts narrow on Caliban rather than whatever they were already swirling around in on.
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He took his hands back long enough to unzip his jacket and his hoodie and strip them off, letting them fall to the ground and leave him in a t-shirt. Then he dropped to his knees and started undoing those pants, obediently spreading the placket open and pulling out what was inside. His eyes widened a little at it, and he looked up at Caliban like he was checking if it was real, but he didn't seem put off. God, he was going to choke to death on this thing. (Not the worst way to go.)