Quentin couldn't help raising his eyebrows in appalled amusement. Oh, was that how they were playing it. "Uh, if by minding your own business you mean kissing a stranger and dragging him home to suck your dick, then like, yeah, I guess you were minding your own business."

He leaned in for a kiss and angled his hips as he did, both pressing down on Randall's dick and arching into those hands under his boxers. Twenty minutes, indeed. He let the kiss linger, hands running up Randall's stomach, over his chest. "You can nap if you want," he murmured. "Long as your dick's awake." He pressed down again, a bit more insistently.