"Oh, I know, little one," he replies, light and airy and utterly unconcerned. "You were in a rush to get out of there, weren't you?" He takes a deliberate sip from the cup of coffee, sets the bag with his food down to the side - he wouldn't be able to eat it now in the car after all - and watches Monty with a heavy, assessing gaze, noting every little detail, the tension and anxiety and excitement underlying their movements and words.

"Why exactly were you in such a rush though?" The question is clearly rhetorical, a carefully spun thread leading Monty down the path of Justin's choosing, and he pretends to think on it for only the space of a few breaths. "Was it because you were embarrassed of your slutty little cunt soaking into your underwear, enough to show everyone in that cafe exactly what a whore you are?"

The car turns a sharp corner, tilting Monty off-balance to fall against Justin again, and this time, Justin slaps their ass hard, fingertips noting the dampness of their slacks, a quickly spreading warmth and wetness against their crotch.

"Or were you hurrying back to me, little one? Ready to spread your slutty legs for me and beg me to fill your throbbing, desperate, hungry cunt?"