[ He keeps going, pausing each second to make sure he can still breath, up until he can't move any further and still get hair. A deep pull fills his lungs, and Quentin draws both hands to Petre's thighs, fists them loosely in his trousers. Zadza lights up his closed eyelids, the hollow of his cheek as he forces his jaw loose and takes the last bit of Petre's length till his nose brushes under his navel. ]
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fuck it