Quentin fell back til his backside landed on his heels, at which point he knelt in a rare moment of having to regain his composure. He was silent by now, but his chest was still rising and falling deeply and in his lap his cock was damp, limp and idly oozing to dirty the top of his thighs with his mess. His hands had dropped her leg, leaving her thighs to close together if they so desired. Indeed, for a few moments he was quite content to just rest there and gather himself, and gave her the space to do whatever she cared to with herself; albeit with his eyes distracting her a little by flickering from her gooey snatch to her sumptuous tits.<br/><br/>After he'd caught his breath fully and finally dragged his mind back to the present - much as he'd welcomed those few moments of reliving their rather fervent fucking - he picked himself up and walked rather inelegantly on his knees to her side. It was hardly an agile movement, but by leaning forward and pulling at Zoey's far shoulder he angled her so that her chest finally pushed up against his groin, letting him somewhat successfully wipe away what was left of his mess on her chest. He dropped her afterward, and pulled his trousers back into place.<br/><br/>"You're getting rather good at that, Pet. We'll resume later... For now clean the mess, and go tell the kitchen to prepare my dinner." With little effort he pushed himself back and rolled up to his feet, looking down at her for a moment later. "You're not off the hook, mind. Don't even -think- of sneaking off to clean yourself up, or to dally for even a moment."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>