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Summary
Quinn takes a moment. “Kirill… are you…” he trails off. Kirill’s breath is heavy. It’s hard not to assume.
Kirill hums in question but it doesn’t come out low and sure like it usually does. It’s high and needy. He speaks then, a whiny “Quinny,” falling from his lips. Quinn can practically hear the pout in his voice. The unspoken request.
Shaking his head, Quinn sits up on the bed. “Kirill.” He warns. “I have no idea when Jack will be back.”
“We’ll just have to be quick then.” Kirill reasons.
