Quentin didn't seem bothered other than the tears, though. He made a content noise when Randall got down on his level, and when he asked what he could do, Quentin just smiled, dreamy and sweet. "Could kiss me," he said, still hoarse, but in a normal way. An I-definitely-got-my-throat-fucked-be-jealous way.

He could still feel the aphrodisiac simmering, poking at him with its little fingers, but he was satisfied for a moment, he'd be able to do the necessaries like getting his clothes off and getting to a bed. Right now, the desire to be used had been satisfied, and Quentin's natural love of having his limits and endurance pushed were taking him the rest of the way to his current happy, dreamy state.