Quentin Coldwater

He yells roughly into the gag, inarticulate urgent sound, the muscles of his abdomen taut and trembling. He blinks fast, panting into the gag after. It hurts, bright and deep at once, and it doesn't feel good, exactly, but it feels right, a strange and vicious relief. His hands curl into fists and then release as he sinks into the feeling, hungers for more of it.

He tips his head back on the bed and closes his eyes, giving himself over to Quentin's teeth.