"You're doing good," Quentin says, voice soft and deep, almost soothing. He runs the crop between Eggsy's legs, nudging at his balls and up against the swell of his cock. There is a certain temptation to fuck him, especially when he's already panting and needy, leaving a bit of a wet spot on the front of his underwear.

Quentin steps in close to him again, nose nudging behind Eggsy's ear. After a few breaths, he leans the crop on the wall and puts his hands on Eggsy, tracing over each sharp bruise and welt he's left, each pink streak, pressing in on the smarting discomfort of each one in turn. He brings his hands down to Eggsy's hips and slowly slides one of them to cup Eggsy's cock.

"Is this what you want?" He hums slightly. "If you ask nicely..."