He pulls one of the desk drawers open with his toe, plants his foot on it, needing the extra leverage as he strokes himself all the way from root to crown, thrusting up into his hand, just trying to hold on to that sensation, that connection, as long as possible. All the more so now that he knows he's not alone. "Fuckin' yeah, I feel you. I got your six, buddy."
"That's good. That's all I want. To make you feel good. Both of you." Duo can hear it in Quatre's voice now. He's close. But he's holding back. That's just the kind of guy he is. Doesn't want to indulge his own desires until he's seen everyone else satisfied. "I love you both so much."
I love you, too, Duo almost says on reflex but catches himself.
Or else the lump in his throat does. He knows Quatre doesn't mean it with him the same way he does with Trowa, but what does it matter? It's enough to know Quatre does mean it, in his own way. He wouldn't lie about that.