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“WAKE UP, ASSHOLES!”
Quentin opened his eyes to complete darkness and banging sounds. He was disoriented for a few seconds, not sure what was happening or why he was awake in what appeared to be the middle of the night. Then, he saw the hallway light flip on, illuminating the crack under his bedroom door.
He considered rolling over and going back to sleep, but then the noises grew louder until the voice, definitely belonging to Margo, became closer and more audible.
“I don’t care if you’re dressed; team meeting downstairs NOW,” she shouted from down the hall. Clearly, she meant business.
Now that Quentin was fully awake, it was all coming back to him; that night, there had been yet another party, and he spent it pining over Eliot.
Q had only moved into the Physical Kids Cottage two weeks ago, but the increased proximity to his incredibly attractive student tour guide only made his crush more intense. Quentin and Eliot went from having the occasional heated interaction across campus to running into each other several times a day.
The two of them had actual conversations on a regular basis now, over meals and after returning home from class. They mostly chatted about trivial things like schoolwork and whatever Quentin was currently reading, but then Eliot would go from critiquing Quentin’s wardrobe to sharing deep, dark secrets from his childhood out of nowhere. Maybe Quentin had a perpetual hard-on for emotional intimacy, or maybe there was something different about the way Eliot lit up Quentin’s soul during their heart-to-hearts. Either way, getting to know Eliot better and being trusted with that information only solidified the fact that Q was irrevocably smitten with him.
The Physical Kids’ parties, which started out as a source of anxiety for Quentin, surprisingly became something he looked forward to. He quickly learned that Eliot always needed assistance preparing for guests and was more than happy to let Quentin help. And once people started arriving, Eliot seemed to actually want Q to stick around.
For half of this particular night, Quentin was positively delighted that Eliot kept flirting with him. He counted every time Eliot’s unfairly graceful hands rested on him (18). He even tried to resist the urge to melt whenever their eyes met, but it was a losing battle.
Unsurprisingly, someone hotter and more interesting came along, so Quentin spent the rest of the night trying not to get caught as he watched El bartend and socialize from across the room. Of course, his very attractive friend wasn’t going to entertain Q the entire night; Eliot had to play host and catch up with his other friends and make sure everyone had drinks. Quentin was completely fine with that.
That knowledge, however, did not stop Q from going to bed early and grumpily wishing that Eliot had invited him up to his room instead.
Suddenly, another loud thump shattered him back out of wallowing in self-pity. “E. Mer. Gen. Cy. I’m serious. Quentin, get out here,” Margo yelled as she reached the outside of Quentin’s room, slamming the heel of her fist against his door.
He could hear the shuffling of more feet outside as he got up, climbing out of bed and pulling on the pants he had dropped on the floor earlier that night. Quentin turned the handle and opened his door, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the drastic change in light.
The other Physical Kids and their overnight guests were begrudgingly following Margo downstairs in various states of undress, looking absolutely miserable but clearly knowing that there was no use in arguing with her. Most of them were people he recognized as other students with Physical disciplines, though as he stepped out into the hallway, he was surprised to see Julia rounding the corner.
“Jules?” Quentin croaked, his voice even less awake than the rest of him. It took a minute for his sleep-addled brain to realize why she seemed out of place, and then it occurred to him that she was a Knowledge student and this is not where she usually slept.
With her hair wild, she looked up to meet Quentin’s confused gaze. “Oh! Hey, Q,” she grinned and gave him a kind of awkward wave hello, cheeks going rosy as she walked confidently down the hall. Right behind her, Penny (also not a Physical Kid) and then Kady turned the same corner, and Quentin got moving before he could get in an enormous amount of trouble for connecting those dots in too obvious of a way.
They eventually all piled into the living room of the cottage, finding seats on the various chairs and couches. Quentin tried not to scan the room for Eliot in the hope that he wouldn’t have to find out who ended up sleeping with him, so he kept his focus on his feet as he made his way across to the mom-jean chair and sat down.
Nobody dared to address Margo, who stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips. The only sound beyond the occasional hushed whisper wondering what the fuck was going on was the noise of her high heeled shoe tapping impatiently on the hard floor. But once everyone had shuffled in, she went ahead and let them know why she had woken them up.
“We have a problem, fuckers. I’m suffering from what appears to be a permanent case of blue balls. Earlier tonight, I was unable to rise to the occasion. I couldn’t shoot off my wad. My load refused to blow. I couldn’t COME, you cuntwits,” Margo said to the group without a hint of hesitation or embarrassment. “And to make matters worse, I wasn’t even able to bring my partner to climax.”
She began to walk around, looking each person in the room straight in the eye one by one. And apparently, she had more to share. “I tried everything. Oral, anal, you name it, I put a dick in it. I’m gonna have to visit Lipson for a carpal tunnel relief spell after all the work my hand’s put in tonight. And this is NOT normal procedure. NO ONE leaves Mama’s bed unsatisfied, least of all Mama.”
Quentin’s face was suddenly burning and around him, the rest of the room responded in a chorus of annoyed muttering and frustrated sighs.
“Why is she telling us this?” Penny groaned, leaning his head back on the couch and complaining to the badly-levitated objects stuck in the ceiling.
“While the satisfaction of your sexual partners may not be something that concerns you, something must have gone horribly wrong in this house in order to cause that,” Margo insisted.
“Can we just go back to bed, please?” A tiny voice barely squeaked out; Quentin looked up to see that it was an absolutely mortified Alice, wrapped in— was that Margo’s robe?
Margo continued on as if she hadn’t heard the request; clearly, going back to bed was not an option she was willing to entertain. “Immediately, I considered all possible explanations, and then it hit me — citrus.”
A gasp came from across the room. “Ohhh,” Eliot said, identifying himself as the only person who even remotely understood what that meant. Quentin snuck a glance and saw that Eliot was, surprisingly, sitting alone.
“Nobody else knows what I’m talking about? Seriously?” Margo called out, then sighed and began to explain. “ Someone must have fucked up while casting an edging spell. I’ve seen it happen before; instead of only affecting one person, nobody in a certain radius can finish until the modified spell is reversed. Aside from the obvious, the mistake can be identified by one weird side effect; the unexplained taste of citrus.”
Quentin immediately froze in place as the people around him erupted in varying levels of concern and frustration. Luckily, everyone else’s panic seemed to distract them from noticing his constant inability to play it cool. He did, however, manage to spare a look up at Julia who appeared to be visibly relieved. That’s… more than Q needed to know.
“Now, I’m not gonna ask who did it, but I am going to need cooperation from all of you if we’re going to set this right in a timely manner,” Margo spoke up again, taking control of the discussion back.
“What if we think this is made up bullshit?” Penny asked, now in a near-permanent state of eye rolling.
This recent development seemed to please Margo. “Oh yeah? Tell me, Adiyodi. Before I called this emergency meeting, how successful were you in shooting off?”
At that, Penny looked more intimidated than Quentin had ever seen him. He stared her down for a few seconds, then crossed his arms as he leaned even farther back into the couch cushions. “Fine. How do we fix this so I can go the fuck home?”
“That’s what I thought,” Margo replied, looking extremely satisfied by that before she continued to explain. “In order to lift the curse, one of the affected needs to cast Rasputin’s Unbinding on behalf of the group.”
Alice suddenly perked up after an extended period of looking like she might actually explode. “I think I’ve read about this, actually — I’ll be right back,” she said before rushing off and running up the stairs in a blur of white-blond hair.
Then, Quentin heard a throat clear and found himself looking back at Eliot; he’d been trying hard not to pay too much attention to his crush up until now.
Though, now that he was looking, Quentin was awfully glad that he had. El was lounging on the window seat, impossibly long legs propped up like he was on a two-page fashion magazine spread. He was still mostly dressed from the party, just taken apart a bit; his shirt was unbuttoned and he’d abandoned his vest somewhere. His curls had been tousled from the meticulous coif he showed off at the party. On top of that, he looked as cool as a cucumber, sobered up and totally unphased by the nature of the middle-of-the-night conversation.
“The counter spell is really not difficult, just… intimate,” Eliot shared in a deep, quiet voice. “I’ve done it before at Encanto. You… probably wouldn’t be surprised to learn how often this happens there.”
“Great, then one of us will perform the unbinding,” Margo decided. “Since we have prior experience.” The two of them shared a knowing look that, as usual, nobody else in the room could decipher.
“Hang on — if only one of us has to cast it, then why the fuck are we down here getting lectured on sex spells? Couldn’t one of you have done the spell and gotten it over with when you figured out what was happening?” Kady broke her silence from where she sat on the back of the couch, leaning on her bent legs and hunched over behind where Julia had settled.
Right on cue, Alice returned downstairs with an open spellbook and the answer. “The caster needs to adjust the circumstances to suit the number of people who were affected and cast it in a central location between them in order for the unbinding to reach everyone,” she spoke clearly, joining Margo in the middle of the room.
“Exactly,” Margo said. “Hence the emergency meeting. First, I’m gonna need everyone to be honest with me or we’re gonna screw up the math. How many of you mysteriously couldn’t get off tonight?”
Slowly, hands around the room began to rise. Penny, Margo, Eliot, and Kady’s arms went up with no problem. Other Physical Kids who Quentin hadn’t officially met yet joined in. After a few seconds, Julia looked around and subtly held up a hand as well. Margo walked across the room pointing, counted Alice even though she hadn’t made any outward indication, and then she stopped in front of Quentin. Alice took notes on a sheet of blank paper that she had tucked into the pages.
“Q,” Margo scolded. Quentin could picture the exact face he knew she was making, despite the fact that he was absolutely not going to look her in the eye right now. “Did you have any problems jerking off tonight, baby?”
This was it. Quentin was finally going to combust. His entire body was on fire; he wouldn’t be able to show his face in this house again. Despite being absolutely mortified, he somehow managed to raise his hand with a huff.
“Everyone? Well well well,” Eliot said with a grin that Quentin could practically hear. “I’m proud of us.”
“Actually,” Todd piped up from seemingly out of nowhere. “You forgot to ask me but that’s okay. I hadn’t had a chance tonight, but if you just give me five minutes, I can run to the bathroom and —”
“Todd, get out!” Margo and Eliot yelled in unison.
Jumping up from his seat, Todd didn’t waste a single second. “Okay! Um, night everyone!” he waved, then he headed back upstairs.
Margo sighed, then turned away from Quentin and walked back to the middle of the room. “Onto the next order of business, Alice?” she asked.
“It says here that the one-handed tut has to be performed - sorry, this book is old - I’m not sure I’m - it has to be performed ‘inside of a human sheath’, whatever that means.” Alice says, squinting at the yellowing pages.
“That means a rectum, Alice,” Eliot said with a sigh, like it was the most normal sentence he could have uttered.
“Yeah, NOPE,” Penny said, climbing up off the couch.
Ignoring him, Margo began to explain. “The technical name is Rasputin’s Unbinding but most people just call it —”
“The Butt Tut,” Eliot and Margo said in unison.
The room practically burst in response to that particular development. Laughter, discomfort, and complete denial came from every corner of the cottage’s main floor, except for where Quentin sat. For a moment, he hoped that the jean chair would absorb him entirely, never to be seen again. He liked denim well enough.
“Literally speaking, we need a willing asshole. Who’s volunteering so we can return to our business?” Margo projected her voice over the clamor.
“I can do it,” Quentin found himself saying before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. His voice was quiet due to pretty heavy embarrassment, but he was worried that someone else would volunteer first so he just went and blurted it out without fully considering the consequences.
When he dared to look up, the first thing he noticed was that Margo’s eyes had absolutely lit up. Without fully meaning to, he also caught the fact that Eliot’s jaw was practically on the ground.
“Interesting,” Margo said with an impressed smile on her face.
“No way , man. I have seen this dude’s dreams and I am definitely out,” Penny said as he finally headed for the front door.
Alice turned to him as he passed. “Don’t go too far. The spell won’t reach you if you’re outside the bounds,” she let him know quietly.
“Goddamnit,” Penny said, instead settling for a seat in the empty dining room.
Quentin’s entire world was crashing down around him; he could practically see fireworks. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
Eliot, who was apparently attempting to solve some kind of puzzle in his head, spoke up. “Wait a second. So is this a hero complex thing, taking one for the team in the name of saving the day, or are you actually into —”
“If you have to ask that question, you have not been paying attention, man,” Penny called from the other room.
“Thanks for that, Penny,” Q yelled back as he leaned forward in the chair and put his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. The next time Margo comes banging on his door in the middle of the night, Quentin would not be getting up. He’d just have to cast one of Alice’s light-bending spells, curl up under the sheets, and let someone else handle the crisis.
“Well, this is certainly an exciting turn of events. As for who will be performing the spell, like I said, it’s either El or me, unless someone else really wants to get up Coldwater’s ass,” Margo said with a wink back in Q’s direction. “How will we ever decide?”
Eliot immediately shot Margo a desperate look, clearly trying to communicate something.
“Oh, so you’re all business and ‘hurry up’ until it’s emotional torture time for Quentin, then?” Q muttered to himself, sitting back and crossing his arms like that would somehow keep him from making this any worse for himself.
“Well, I don’t know; you do seem really eager to get fisted. Normally, I would just let El have this one, but I have to admit that I am strangely intrigued,” Margo spoke in her precise, melodic tone. “My hands are much smaller; that might be more comfortable for you if you’re less experienced.”
“Why wouldn’t I want the bigger hands?” Quentin asked, meaning for it to come out sarcastic but now that he heard it out loud, he couldn’t tell if it was really landing the way he’d intended.
Eliot’s eyes widened and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then, he collected himself as he sat up and turned towards the group. “Bambi, how much fisting have you really done? I think we both know that when it comes down to technique, this is more in my wheelhouse,” Eliot pointed out as he leaned just slightly forward so his open shirt exposed a bit of fine, dark chest hair.
“I think that depends on whether Quentin can handle your ridiculous giraffe hand,” Margo responded.
“Giraffes don’t actually have hands,” Alice kindly pointed out as Quentin practically shouted, “Oh, I can fucking handle it.” His leg started to bounce.
Over on the window seat, Eliot looked positively delighted at this recent development. “Just out of curiosity, where did all of this come from?” Eliot asked, motioning toward Quentin as a whole.
“Guys, Q has always been real bi. And a total brat. I don’t know how it took you until now to notice,” Julia piped up from her spot on the couch where she sat wrapped up in an oversized cardigan, hands barely poking out of the sleeves.
Quentin acknowledged his childhood best friend’s addition to the conversation with an awkward set of jazz hands.
After carefully studying Eliot’s face, Margo turned back to the rest of the group. “This is how it’s going to work. Alice and I will set up the ritual; luckily, we should have all of the ingredients we need around here. Then we’ll leave and Eliot will cast the spell inside Quentin. I’ll be outside ready to go for attempt number two if it fails the first time,” she said. “Everyone else can go back to bed as long as you stay relatively nearby to make sure you end up within the spell’s radius once it is cast.”
With that, most of the tired group began to disperse. Julia quietly patted him on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging thumbs up before heading back upstairs and he thought he saw Kady shoot him an impressed look. Eventually, only Margo, Alice, and Eliot remained around him.
“The ritual needs to be done in a location as close to central as you can get without knowing where it originated. By my approximation based on the layout of the house, Q, that means your room. Hope your sheets are clean,” Margo said.
Alice stepped forward as her eyes darted around the floor, clearly finding this awkward as she struggled to mention another detail. “There’s um, one more thing. It says here not to use any prep spells until the spell is cast; they can mess with Quentin’s… internal circumstances.”
Eliot was clearly making a great personal effort not to comment on Quentin’s internal circumstances, settling on a professional nod in her direction. Then, he got up from the window seat, graceful as ever, and he was suddenly looking right at Quentin. With a look of unmistakable heat and possibly even nervousness, Eliot headed straight for where Quentin had burrowed himself into the jean chair. He gave a barely detectable quiver of hesitation, then reached those long, graceful arms toward Quentin. Q swallowed nervously and reached up to take Eliot’s hands, feeling their warmth and strength as El helped to pull him into a standing position.
Meanwhile, Quentin’s hands were shaking . He honestly couldn’t believe this was happening. Tonight’s events were maybe not exactly the way he had imagined getting to be with Eliot, but the result was in the general category of what he wanted. So why was he suddenly so nervous?
“Hey,” Eliot said very gently, still holding Quentin’s hands. He was looking down at him with those beautiful hazel eyes, trying to figure Quentin out. “You alright, Q?” he asked under his breath, just for him.
Quentin looked around the room; Margo and Alice had already gone upstairs, leaving the two of them alone. Thankfully . His eyes darted back up to Eliot’s face, finding kindness and understanding there among his sharp jawline and long eyelashes and that soft, perfect mouth. “Yeah, I’m — just nervous, I guess,” Quentin said, letting go of one of Eliot’s hands so he could anxiously tuck his long hair behind his ear.
At that, Eliot reeled him in and wrapped his arms around Quentin, tucking Q’s head under his chin and holding him tight. “I’ve got you. I’ll take good care of you; I promise,” Eliot said.
Now, Quentin could feel Eliot’s heart racing. He fit perfectly here, with his cheek against Eliot’s chest. On top of everything else, this man even smelled incredible; like a comforting mug of spiced mulled wine. Q took a deep breath in, then let go of him because if he didn’t say something soon, he was going to lose his nerve.
“So um, do you want to come upstairs with me?” Quentin went right out and asked, because if it were him and this were a normal situation, he’d want Eliot to ask him.
Eliot cracked a slightly confused smile, like that was the most absurd thing Quentin could have said. “Of course I do,” he answered once he seemed to recover from his amusement, voice low. “Lead the way?”
“Oh! Um, right,” Q said, turning and heading to the staircase as El followed close behind. He felt Eliot’s hand slip into his again and he squeezed it.
They decided they each needed a few minutes to get ready, so Quentin stopped in the hallway bathroom and then went back to his room to clean up. He was collecting some clothes and throwing them into a hamper in his closet, trying not to step on or knock over the ritual Margo and Alice had set up on his floor, when he heard hushed voices and then a knock.
“You can come in,” Quentin called out, making a flustered grab at the hair on the back of his head. He quickly looked around the room to make sure he hadn’t left out anything embarrassing like his Fillory action figures or the pleasantly silky underwear he may have purchased for himself from the women’s section while pretending it was a gift. Then, he finally turned around to find Eliot standing just outside his doorway, searching Quentin’s face for something before he stepped in and clicked the door shut behind him.
Eliot towered over that corner of the room, holding the spellbook and a handwritten page of Alice’s notes. On his opposite shoulder was a bag, which he tossed to the floor. “I brought some supplies,” Eliot said as he walked over and put the spellbook down near the meticulous ritual setup.
“I think Margo and Alice already gave us everything we need for the spell,” Quentin pointed out, still standing over by his closet. He wasn’t sure what to do with his arms — why hadn’t it ever occurred to him that he should have a plan for his arms in these situations?!
At that, a fond smile appeared on Eliot’s face. “No, Q; these are for you,” he explained before he bent down and opened the bag. The first thing he pulled out was a silky-soft blanket, a nice one. Eliot began to spread it out over Quentin’s bed, taking extra care to smooth out the corners. Quentin found himself staring at the muscles in Eliot’s forearms as he worked, pulling out a few candles next and setting them up around the room. With a few elegant twists of his wrist and fingers, Eliot lit them with fire he pulled right out of the air. Then, with another motion, he magically dimmed the lights.
Quentin felt a rush of warmth in his belly and a growing interest between his legs as he watched. This was one of the hottest things that had ever happened to him, and they had barely even touched yet. He tugged at the bottom edge of his well-worn t-shirt, attempting to hide what would soon be a visible erection as he imagined one of those skilled Magician’s hands working its way inside him.
The last thing Eliot took out of the bag was a bottle of lube, which he left within reach of the bed. Then, he began removing the rings from his fingers one by one and he placed them carefully on Quentin’s nightstand.
That reminded Quentin that, oh right, he should probably do something other than stand there awkwardly staring at this incredible man. It was a challenge, apparently, because Eliot had thought so far beyond the task at hand that he was redecorating Quentin’s room in an attempt to try and make this even better for him.
So Quentin half-stumbled over to the bed, grabbing for the hem of his t-shirt and starting to lift it up as he said, “I should probably — erm.”
“Okay, stop,” Eliot called out, chuckling softly at the look on Quentin’s face as he froze. Then, Eliot took a tentative step forward and said, “This is never going to work if you’re not enjoying yourself, so come here.”
Quentin’s face did something funny, like he was both confused and amused by the suggestion that he somehow wasn’t going to like this. But he stepped closer anyway, and before he could question his better judgment, he opened his mouth and said, “Eliot, why do you think I volunteered for this?”
Apparently, it wasn’t clear to everyone in the room how much Quentin wanted it up the butt. You would think that his… admittedly desperate performance downstairs would have cleared that up.
After considering the question for a moment, Eliot replied with a calmly deliberate, “Fair. But even though you didn’t choose for it to be me, I want you to know that I’m going to do my best to keep you comfortable the whole time.”
Quentin took another step towards Eliot, swallowing hard as he worked up the courage to say what he was thinking. “Well, um... I’d hoped, to be honest,” he mumbled, looking off to the side.
“You’d —” Eliot started and a brief expression of terrified disbelief flashed across his face, as if someone had just informed him that his entire closet was on fire. “You’d hoped it would be me,” he clarified with a very un-Eliot-like squeak.
A careful swallow. Another tentative step forward. “Uh huh,” Quentin nodded, looking up into Eliot’s eyes with all of the bravery he could muster. Maybe it helped that Eliot seemed to be as nervous and flustered as he was, after weeks of assuming he wasn’t good enough for this perpetually poised party king. Maybe Quentin was just impatient to finally touch Eliot after all of this lead-up.
Eliot cleared his throat, gathering himself and standing even taller. “Well, that changes everything,” he stated as he carefully considered what to say next. Then, Eliot lowered his voice and admitted, “I... thought it was a long shot, but out of everyone, I’m really glad that you were the one to volunteer, Q.”
Quentin perked up, drawing a surprised breath inward. That was not what he was expecting. His crush on Eliot was mutual.
The two of them stood there, a few feet apart, working up the courage to do something about it. And since Quentin was still feeling a bit high off of his last confession, he gave it a go.
“D-do you think you could start off by kissing me?” he suggested, finding the eye contact to be too much and looking down at his feet.
Eliot stepped closer; Quentin could feel the heat coming off of his body now. He reached forward and gently tilted Quentin’s jaw upward. “Oh, I think we could arrange that,” Eliot said with the tiniest hint of a smile, just hanging there in the corner of his mouth.
They looked at each other for a few seconds, presumably to make sure that this was really happening. Then, Eliot closed his eyes and dipped his head down, softly pressing his mouth to Quentin’s.
Kissing Eliot was everything Q had imagined; he loved the feel of Eliot’s lips and the taste of his tongue as it cautiously brushed against his mouth. They felt each other out at first, but after a few seconds, their mouths were open and that initial nervous spark lit into a roaring flame. Quentin surged upward, tugging on Eliot’s button-up and trying to get closer to him. Eliot slid one hand to the back of Quentin’s neck and squeezed there, holding him tightly in his massive hands.
For a few minutes, Quentin even forgot why they were here. The elation he felt at finally getting this kind of attention from Eliot took over. He loved the way Eliot towered over him, how Eliot had to duck down to wrap his long arms around him. It made Quentin feel safe. He excitedly shivered at the touch of Eliot’s broad hand against his bare back as El reached under his shirt.
Then, with a quick tug and a whoosh of telekinetic magic, Eliot pulled Quentin’s t-shirt off of him in one swift motion. Quentin’s eyes widened in awe, and two seconds later they were kissing again as a newly shirtless Quentin wriggled up close to Eliot.
“Mmm, you’ve gotta show me how you do that,” Quentin said into Eliot’s mouth, then went back in to nip at El’s bottom lip with his teeth.
“Another time,” Eliot responded with a pleased laugh as he stepped back and removed his own shirt, then he got down on his knees to unbutton Quentin’s wrinkled pants.
“Oh, um — sorry about that,” Quentin said, blushing when he realized that Eliot was about to come face-to-face with the half-boner Q had attempted to hide for the last ten minutes.
Eliot nuzzled the section of exposed hipbone peeking out as he expertly unzipped Quentin’s fly and pushed his pants down around his ankles.
“Q, we’re gonna have to discuss boundaries here,” Eliot said, slightly out of breath as he pulled back, looking directly at Quentin’s erection which was threatening to escape the bounds of his boxers. “Are we, is this — do you want me to just get in and get the spell done, or can I make this really good for you?”
“God, El,” Quentin whined, running a hand roughly through his own hair in an effort to get ahold of himself as he stepped out of his pant legs. “How are you even real?” he continued, utterly in awe of how considerate that was and how much self control it must have required. And somehow, that managed to distract him from the fact that he hadn’t answered Eliot’s question.
“Quentin,” Eliot scolded, throwing Q’s pants across the room before running his hands up the backs of Quentin’s legs and asking more directly. “I would really like to touch your cock right now. Is that okay?”
Q was nodding excitedly before Eliot could even finish his sentence and in seconds flat, Eliot had carefully removed Quentin’s underwear so he could wrap his perfect, ridiculous hand around him and give him just the most wonderful-feeling stroke.
The softest little “Ohh” sound fell from Quentin’s mouth as Eliot slid his hand up and down. “ Fuck , you can do literally whatever you want to me right now,” Quentin mumbled, closing his eyes. “That feels so good?”
Eliot, who looked absolutely delighted, let out a laugh as he gave Q’s cock a squeeze and lightly grazed his thumb over Quentin’s glans before he went back to full base-to-tip strokes. “There’s more where this came from,” El said. “Here, lie back.”
Quentin, who didn’t need to be asked twice, backed onto the bed and laid down. Eliot’s blanket felt incredible against his bare skin; it was so much better than his own sheets. He noticed that Eliot was undressing the rest of the way, so he looked up at the ceiling to give him some privacy.
It took Eliot a minute to join him, but when he did, he climbed right on top of Quentin and bracketed him in his long limbs. His lovely bare skin was soft and warm in all the right places, sliding deliciously along Quentin’s legs, arms, and stomach.
Quentin looked up at the beautiful man in his bed with a shy smile. “Hi,” Q said, trying not to be too obvious about the way he noticed Eliot’s trim shoulders and chest. He was definitely too nervous to sneak a glance lower.
“Hey,” Eliot said, looking Quentin up and down in a much less subtle way. Then, he let out a little growl from the back of his throat and lowered himself so he could go back to enthusiastically kissing Quentin.
Q felt totally surrounded like this; every inch of him was covered in Eliot. Even the blanket underneath him was Eliot’s and it made him feel deeply cared for. The way Eliot held him, licking into his mouth and humming these quiet, earnest sounds, reminded Quentin that somehow, against all odds, Eliot wanted him too.
And then it occurred to him that he could feel Eliot’s very hard cock rubbing up against his hip and belly. It felt big, like it was in his fantasies. If it was even close to proportionate to Eliot’s huge feet and hands, his gorgeous long legs; fuck, Quentin wanted to see it. He didn’t know if Eliot would let him touch it, since it wasn’t really necessary for this spell, but the odds of him getting a good look at it seemed pretty high right now.
So, he took a deep breath right in Eliot’s space, kissed his cheek, and pulled back just a little. “There’s… can I try something?” Quentin whispered, carefully twisting one of Eliot’s curls around his finger. “I know we’re — the spell, but...”
“Anything,” Eliot whispered back into his ear, then he gently bit down on Quentin’s earlobe.
Quentin gulped. Well, that was easier than he thought it would be. For some reason, he’d assumed that Eliot would disguise a ‘no thanks’ with a ‘tonight is about you, baby’.
He placed his hand on Eliot’s bare shoulder and slowly pushed him, rolling them both onto their sides facing each other on the bed. Then, gathering all of his courage, Quentin let his eyes drift downward and took Eliot’s frankly incredible cock into his hand.
It was beautiful: long, symmetrical, and rosy pink. In fact, it looked like the kind of dick you’d see in a painting — the kind Quentin had assumed didn’t really exist in real life. The skin there was like velvet, gliding up and down as Quentin touched him. He watched as a glistening pearl of precome gathered at the tip and he got an immediate urge to get down there and lick it off, but he was quite honestly out of energy when it came to terrifying, bold moves at the moment, so he didn’t.
“Look at you,” Eliot said fondly, and when Quentin looked back up, he found that Eliot was staring right into his eyes with this impossibly sweet expression on his face, like this was everything El had ever wanted. Q knew it couldn’t be quite that dramatic, but he could feel it nonetheless.
“Don’t stop, ” Eliot laughed, and they both looked down between them again as Quentin unfroze and went back to stroking that hard, blood-warm cock.
Then, Eliot reached forward and he was touching Quentin again, giving him all of that skilled attention that had felt so good earlier.
The two of them were so close together that Quentin could feel Eliot’s hot breath on his face. They occasionally bumped hands as they jerked each other off, so giddy about this newfound discovery and the ridiculous circumstances that brought them here that they kept letting out bursts of laughter among the occasional moans.
But thanks to the spell gone wrong, they were only bringing each other closer to an orgasm that would never come. Eventually, the sensation became overwhelming and, for Quentin, unbearable.
“Fuck, it’s — okay, stop, it’s too much,” Quentin said, letting go of Eliot and squeezing his eyes shut.
Eliot seemed like he was better able to handle the steadily rising levels of sensitivity without any hope of either of them getting to release it, and as he let go of Quentin, he slowly let out a deep breath. “I almost forgot about the curse. Here, take a minute — you’ll come back down soon,” Eliot reminded him, his voice deep and full of empathy.
They laid there, not touching, for a little while. And just as Q was thinking that he might be able to go again, Eliot leaned in and nuzzled his cheek with that big, wonderful nose. “Better?” he asked, pressing his lips to Quentin’s jaw and lightly grabbing onto his arm.
Quentin nodded, remaining silent otherwise. He wasn’t sure what to do next, but luckily it seemed like, as usual, Eliot had a plan.
El immediately started kissing his neck, burying himself in the warm cavern between Quentin’s jawline and his shoulder. Then, with an audible breath in, Eliot slowly trailed his hand from Quentin’s arm all the way down his naked body. The touch drove chills up Quentin’s spine and he squirmed happily in response.
He stroked along Quentin’s hip, stopping to press his palm into the divot there. Next, he cupped Q’s ass in his hand and gave him a soft squeeze. Then, eventually, he reached down between Quentin’s legs and let the pads of his fingers drift back.
“Oh!” Quentin breathed out in surprise as Eliot found his hole, rubbing circles around the furled little muscle.
Eliot kissed his face and then rubbed his cheek up against Quentin’s stubble. “Feel good?” he asked Q as he continued to massage that spot over and over, working into it until he could feel Quentin’s body start to relax.
“Yeah,” Quentin said, nodding. Sparks of pleasure coursed through him, and combined with the knowledge that this is Eliot, his Eliot, caressing his most hidden parts, it made him feel so good inside and out. He felt utterly wanted.
But sometimes, Q needed a reminder before his own mind talked him out of believing that.
“Eliot?” he asked.
For a second, Eliot paused his motions on Quentin’s ass. “Yes?” he asked, eyebrows shifting into an expression of concern.
Quentin swallowed back the lump in his throat. “Can you tell me —” he started, then his voice trailed off as he lost his nerve.
A grin slowly appeared across Eliot’s face. “Tell you what?” Eliot encouraged him playfully, waiting for him to elaborate while he resumed his gentle touches.
Letting his eyes drift shut, Q quietly mumbled, “Tell me you want me.”
“Q —” Eliot breathed out, then he leaned in and spoke in Quentin’s ear. His words were crisp and effortless, every hard consonant placed with care. “I want you so badly, my fingertips ache.”
Quentin’s heart leapt. He felt like he was glowing; a smile took over his whole face. And then, it was immediately clear to him exactly what he needed. “I’m ready, El,” he said softly, looking up again and finding himself staring right into Eliot’s eyes, trusting him. “I want to feel you inside me.”
That tall, lovely man leaned in to kiss his lips one more time, turning Quentin’s body gently to help him lay back against the blanket. And when they pulled apart, wet and hot and hurried, they looked at each other with a physical hunger that Quentin could feel all over.
Then, Eliot was moving again; this time, he was making himself comfortable between Quentin’s legs. Once he was settled, objects began telekinetically flying around the room — first, a wedge-shaped pillow made its way over to them from the bag on the floor. Eliot grabbed it mid-air, then carefully lifted Quentin’s lower half and slid the pillow underneath him. El reached a hand up at exactly the right time to catch the bottle of lube that had been on the nightstand, and Quentin thought he saw some kind of flying silicone toy join the supplies at the foot of the bed.
“We’ll work you open first, nice and gentle, then the ingredients on the floor will come into play before I can cast the spell, okay?” Eliot explained.
“Okay,” Quentin said with a brave nod. He felt so exposed like this, with his ass in the air and his still very hard erection bobbing when he moved; he knew that Eliot would be able to see everything from this angle. The person who he admired most was staring down his underside, watching his dick twitch in interest, making a mental plan of how best to touch him, and all Quentin could do was lay there and let him.
He really wanted to let him, Quentin realized. For once, he was desperate to be truly seen. With that thought lit up in his brain, he sneaked a glance down at Eliot. The man of his dreams was unapologetically checking him out, grinning from ear to ear.
As Eliot intentionally arranged Quentin’s legs into a comfortable position, he quickly found that Q was eager to be placed however Eliot wanted him. When Eliot was involved, Quentin was always warm and pliant and willing, it had just taken Eliot until now to figure that out.
Quentin heard the click of a bottle popping open and a squirt, followed by Eliot rubbing his hands together. He didn’t know if he should watch what Eliot was doing, but then he felt Eliot rubbing circles around his hole again and the anxiety surrounding where to look evaporated into thin air.
And then, Eliot’s finger gently pressed just inside his hole. He stretched the little muscle so carefully, making small circles there until he felt Quentin relax so he could slide in further.
“There you go,” Eliot comforted him, using his other hand to rub up and down Quentin’s thigh. He leaned over and kissed Quentin’s knee.
Quentin let out a shaky breath, remembering that he loved the way this felt. For some reason, the sensation was a surprise to him every time. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, concentrating completely on what Eliot was doing to the inside of his body.
Another slick finger slowly joined the first one, stretching Quentin open and occasionally brushing up against his prostate. Quentin let out a happy squeak and shivered.
Eliot clearly knew what he was doing; at some point, he’d learned exactly where to rub and when to bend his fingers, seeking out the places Quentin liked to be touched and giving them just enough attention to keep him coming back for more.
“You’re beautiful like this,” Eliot said as he twisted and turned his fingers, getting to know Quentin’s private places so intimately.
Quentin let out a mildly embarrassing sound only for Eliot to repeat the exact motion that had caused it only a second later. It was like he was listening and paying attention to what made him feel good; Eliot was easily the most attentive person he’d ever had sex with.
Whatever he was doing down there felt amazing; even if he knew that he couldn’t come until they completed the spell, Quentin’s whole body was tingling. He gave a wiggle, unable to control the way he was reacting to every touch.
Then, Eliot added another finger; Quentin could feel the stretch and bore down against it.
“That’s perfect , sweetheart — just like that,” said Eliot, his voice so low and sexy that Quentin vaguely wondered if he could get him to keep speaking like that to him. Every time, the praise made his heart soar.
Eventually, Eliot’s fingers slowed and he pulled them out carefully. Quentin whined, lifting his pelvis up off the pillow to communicate his protest since he was beyond using words to express himself at this point in the night.
Eliot let out a gentle laugh. “Easy there — I’m going to plug you up to keep you nice and open while I get everything ready,” Eliot said as he opened up the lube again, slicking up what must be that sex toy Quentin caught a glimpse of earlier.
Quentin nodded, and then he felt the familiar pressure of a plug going in. Though, he usually did this himself and there was something different about allowing someone to insert it for him.
He felt the cool air rush in when Eliot got up off the bed and Quentin resisted the urge to complain about it. As nervous as he was about this particular part of the night, Q remembered that the newness of it was what drew him to volunteer in the first place. If anything, he was becoming overwhelmed by the various sensations and his racing mind. Quentin barely even paid attention to what Eliot was doing on the floor; he was maybe speaking an incantation while grinding up some kind of paste, but Q definitely couldn’t repeat it to you if you’d asked.
And then Eliot was back on the bed, dipping his clean hand into the bowl and painting careful, wet lines onto Quentin’s bare chest. What Quentin noticed most was the intense focus in Eliot’s eyes and the way his face shifted when he was concentrating on something.
Then, Eliot put the bowl down and took a deep breath. He let it out as if he were blowing out a bunch of candles, in a slow and measured way. “You ready, Q?” he asked, not sounding like he was entirely ready for this himself. It was maybe the most hesitant and unsure that Quentin had seen him; Eliot was usually incredibly confident, especially when he was being watched.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Quentin said, blinking his eyes a few times. He was suddenly grateful that all he had to do was lay on his back while Eliot worked literal magic.
Eliot grabbed onto the plug. “Bear down for me?” he asked softly, and when Quentin did, he slowly removed the silicone toy.
More lube was added to the equation and then Eliot was pressing two fingers back inside. He seemed pleased at how easily Quentin took him this time; Q caught the corner of his mouth curling up.
They were quiet for the next few minutes while Eliot worked more and more of his slick, wet fingers into Quentin’s ass. Q kept breathing and pushing back when he needed to, trying his best to relax and stay calm.
Eventually Eliot, who was four fingers deep, spoke up. “All right, I’m going to give this a go. You need to tell me if I’m hurting you,” he said seriously, looking Quentin directly in the eye. “I can stop and work you back up to it.”
“I will,” Quentin promised as his heart began to race.
Nothing happened for a moment while Eliot appeared to have some kind of silent battle in his head. So Quentin lowered one slightly shaking hand and tried to reach for something, anything belonging to Eliot. He settled for the top of El’s head, petting over his curls which had long since fallen out of their neat style.
“I trust you,” Quentin said softly, then he took his hand back and grabbed onto a handful of blanket beside him.
With that, Eliot began to reach the rest of his hand into Quentin’s body, drizzling lube down to his wrist as he went.
Quentin felt full; so full. There was a lot of pressure as his body stretched to accommodate the welcome intrusion, but it wasn’t the bad kind and the fact that it was Eliot made his stomach flutter and warm fuzzies spread through his veins.
It took a few tries for Eliot to get his hand all the way in, and Quentin could tell that he’d gotten there when Eliot started to move his fingers in a way that was distinctly unique from the motions meant to please him earlier. El was casting inside his body.
Q got an immediate rush from it; he could feel the magic in a way he never had before. When he looked down at Eliot, he saw that he was smiling again, staring intently between Quentin’s legs as he made the final few motions with his fingers. Quentin tried to imagine what the tut looked like, especially since he loved watching Eliot cast, but feeling it like this deep inside him for the first time made up for it.
And then a wave of magic rippled outward, starting low in Quentin’s belly and blasting out through the walls of his bedroom. The ground vibrated beneath them for a few seconds (which only added to the overwhelming sensations Quentin was experiencing) and then everything settled back into a middle-of-the-night calm.
They froze for a few seconds, waiting to see if something else would happen.
“...Did it work?” Quentin asked, afraid to move.
And then they both realized — there was only one way to find out.
Quentin sat up, reaching for Eliot’s face and kissing him with everything he had in him. He licked into Eliot’s mouth and sunk his fingers into that thick, dark hair, pulling him closer. The angle was awkward due to the fact that Eliot was still wrist-deep in a very horny Quentin, but Q didn’t care; he needed to show Eliot what this night had meant to him.
It seemed like Eliot was equally as ravenous, leaning forward and humming happily into the kiss. After a few seconds, though, he broke away laughing. “Just… give me a second here, Q — I don’t want to hurt you,” Eliot said with an amused chuckle.
Oh. Right.
Eliot slowly pulled his hand out of Quentin, taking care to be as gentle as possible. Then, once his hand had been wiped clean (El had thought of everything when he packed that bag, apparently), they were back at it. Quentin took the lead this time, getting up on his knees so he could reach Eliot better and setting their frantic pace to keep up with his racing heart.
He opened up immediately for Eliot this time, loving the way El dipped his tongue inside to taste him. Quentin moaned into Eliot’s mouth and his torso gave an uncontrollable shake at the mere thought of where they were headed now.
When they pulled apart to catch their breath, Quentin didn’t waste any time worrying about what to do next. He decided at that moment that he was going to go with his gut as long as Eliot was okay with it, before he could give himself an opportunity to get nervous. And what he wanted more than anything right now was to get his mouth on Eliot as soon as possible.
Of course, coherent sentences were not Quentin’s strong suit when he was this worked up over the idea of a mouthful of Eliot’s cock. Luckily, he didn’t need words while basically falling face first onto Eliot’s dick and starting to give him a very enthusiastic blow job.
“Q, oh my God,” Eliot gasped, resting both of his hands on Quentin’s back. “Where did you even come from, baby?”
Quentin didn’t answer; he was too busy sucking at the tip of Eliot’s gloriously thick cock and happily moaning like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. He did take note of the way that pet name made his belly feel, though.
He reached down and grabbed hold of Eliot’s hips with both hands, swirled his tongue around Eliot’s dick, then took him in a little deeper. He felt the warm, hard weight of it nudge the back of his mouth and Quentin moaned, letting Eliot know just how much he liked it. He was overwhelmed by the way it stretched his lips and the strong, salty taste of it.
Quentin felt so close to Eliot like this. He realized that he could reach out and touch anywhere he wanted from down here, so he let his shaking hands explore tentatively. Eliot’s bare skin was so clear and lovely and sensitive; he could hear Eliot’s gasps and moans occasionally shift to laughter when Quentin’s light touch grazed over the right places.
Pulling his mouth off with a wet ‘pop’, Q looked up at Eliot’s face with a smirk. “Sorry — ticklish?” Quentin asked, though he already knew the answer as he intentionally increased the pressure on his fingertips.
“Yes, but don’t stop,” Eliot insisted as he combed his hand through Quentin’s hair. He leaned down to kiss the top of Q’s head.
Quentin nodded, then he smoothed his hands around Eliot’s hips and grabbed two palmfuls of El’s confusingly juicy ass; you couldn’t really tell it was this round through the meticulously tailored trousers Eliot wore.
He was so excited by the discovery that he leaned back a little and pulled Eliot forward, coaxing him onto his knees on the bed in front of Q. This gave him much better access to that gorgeous rear end, so he spread his fingers out and squeezed.
He then returned his focus to the heavy, full dick bobbing right in front of his face. He could see it so well like this, better appreciate the thatch of neatly-groomed curls at the base and the way Eliot’s balls were starting to draw closer to his body. He licked at the wet tip and sunk right back on, wrapping his lips around its girth and humming with delight.
“Q, your mouth is just unfair,” Eliot whined, drawing in a deep breath and gripping the back of Quentin’s neck. He had adjusted immediately to the change in position Quentin had encouraged; Eliot seemed to be more than game for whatever Q had in mind.
They went on like that for a bit longer, holding onto each other as if it would all be over as soon as they let go. It was all so new and exciting and fragile, like the bond they had formed over the last hour could break at any moment.
Q wanted to do this for Eliot so badly. All of those nights of flirting and sexual tension had been building for weeks. Quentin had imagined what this would feel like so many times, but through all of the pining and dreaming, they had made it here and he finally had a chance to show Eliot how good he could make him feel. He wasn’t going to waste it.
“Oh fuck — I’m close,” Eliot warned him. In response, Q wrapped his arms around Eliot’s thighs and held on tight as he sucked harder and moaned, sending delicious vibrations through that big, perfect cock.
Eliot’s hips were shaking, like he was trying not to thrust forward into the heat of Quentin’s mouth. Q kept going, feeling the weight of Eliot’s dick on his tongue and swallowing around him. Now, all he could do was hope that the spell worked.
“FUCK,” Eliot gasped for air and froze up with his eyes squeezed shut, then he was coming in hot spurts down Quentin’s throat. He let out a bright peal of laughter, filling the room with the most delightful sound.
When Quentin pulled off and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. He watched Eliot happily flop backwards onto his bed, still laughing.
“You are something else, Quentin Coldwater,” Eliot said once he had a chance to catch his breath.
Q smiled. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Looks like the spell worked though.”
“I’ll say,” El laughed, gloriously unashamed by his nakedness as he continued to lay on his back.
Quentin, however, was kind of curled up in a ball; his knees were pulled up to his chest and his feet were crossed. Sprawled out in the nude was never really going to be a natural state for Q. Not without some coaxing, anyway.
Eliot sat up again and carefully studied Quentin’s face. Just the corner of his mouth twitched slightly upward and then he opened it to say something, pausing before any sound came out. “Well, it’s your turn,” he said gently. “What can I do for you?”
Every recent dirty fantasy flashed before Quentin’s eyes, dreamed up before he’d even considered that being like this with Eliot would be possible for him. There were so many things he wanted to try — whether he’d never done them before or he was just curious to find out if Eliot would blow his previous partners out of the water.
Quentin really hoped that they would have plenty of time to test that out; he felt like this newly discovered spark between them wasn’t the kind to just fizzle out when the sun came up.
But even if this was their last chance at something more than just close friendship, even if it had only been about the spell, Quentin’s thoughts kept returning to one thing.
His eyes flickered over in Eliot’s direction to find El staring back with that lovely, earnest expression that made him feel like the most important person in the world. Then, he bit at his lower lip just before admitting, “I really want to be held right now.”
Eliot could have made fun of him. He could’ve thought up all manner of jokes at Quentin’s expense. Given the gamut of sexual positions and activities, his response warranted at least a laugh.
But Eliot did none of those things. Instead, he pulled over a few pillows, then reached forward and took Quentin into his arms.
After some maneuvering, Eliot managed to get them into a position that allowed him to surround Quentin in either his own warm, strong limbs or something soft that propped them up just so. He pulled Q’s legs up into his lap, let Q’s head rest in the crook of his right arm, and bent down to kiss him senseless.
It felt entirely natural, in this position, for Eliot to reach down and take Quentin’s cock into his hand. And there, Eliot stroked him and kissed his cheeks and made him feel utterly, entirely safe and loved.
“You did so well for me tonight,” Eliot spoke into his ear as he rubbed his thumb just under the head of Quentin’s dick.
Quentin let out a frankly embarrassing little squeak in response, unable to control the noises that were falling out of him at this point in the night. They were so close together that Quentin could feel Eliot’s breath on his face.
Eliot chuckled as he gave Quentin three or four good pulls from base to tip. “I know these circumstances were far from the usual,” he went on, apparently ignoring the fact that this kind of thing happened all the time at Brakebills. “But I hope you’ll still want to do this kind of thing with me when the fate of the entire cottage isn’t at stake.”
That pushed him over the edge and suddenly, Quentin was coming all over the both of them. It hadn’t taken him long at all and here he was, wrapped up in Eliot Waugh, feeling better than he had in years. He closed his eyes and let the waves of sensation wash over him as Eliot continued to touch and hold him.
“I’m guessing that’s a yes?” Eliot asked when it seemed like Q was coherent again.
Quentin laughed. “Of course that’s a fucking yes,” he replied, untangling himself from Eliot’s limbs so they could take care of the mess.
When the cleanup was done, Quentin took hold of Eliot’s forearm and tugged him over to the head of the bed so he could bring him under the covers.
“So you’re a cuddler, huh?” Eliot asked, not seeming at all upset about the way Quentin answered by burrowing himself into his chest: a warm, compact little weight pressed against his pounding heart.
“Please stay,” Quentin asked quietly, feeling slightly awkward about telling Eliot what he wanted.
“I’m here,” Eliot assured him as he wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss into his hair.
Suddenly, Margo’s voice broke through their bubble. “Sounds like it worked?” she called through the door, making Quentin jump.
Then, they both broke out into laughter. “I didn’t realize she was still out there,” Quentin whispered as he tried to catch his breath from how hard he was laughing.
“Bambi gets shit done,” Eliot said, then he called out to her. “It worked! You can go back to fucking Alice now.”
“Eliot!” Quentin scolded, still a bit giddy given the events that had taken place over the last few hours.
“They both deserve it,” Eliot rationalized, his voice soaked in unmistakable fondness.
They laid there together for a moment, enjoying the quiet, curled up in each other’s arms.
“I wonder who fucked up that edging spell in the first place,” Eliot mentioned.
Quentin’s cheeks turned bright red, then he swallowed with a gulp. “I think it might have been me?” he admitted, looking away and scratching the back of his head.
At that, Eliot gasped and immediately sat up so he could see Quentin better. “Quentin, you dirty boy!” he grinned. “What were you doing in here?”
Despite the fact that Eliot had just seen every part of him splayed out, Quentin felt the urge to hide. He started to shrink down under the covers, pulling his sheets up over his nose. “Nothing… weird,” Quentin managed to get out, muffled by the fabric.
“Come on, don’t ruin this for me,” Eliot said. “I’ve only imagined what you do in here when you’re alone like, daily since you got here.”
Quentin raised his eyebrows, a little expression of hope peeking out from under the covers. “You… wait, you’re not making fun of me? You think this is hot? ”
“Of course I think it’s hot, Quentin; that’s because it’s fucking hot,” Eliot said, his smile now taking over his entire face. “Now tell me what kind of masturbation escapades resulted in you cockblocking the entire cottage.”
Q gave Eliot a bratty look, you know the one, then took a breath. “I… might have been jerking off while I thought about you,” Quentin confessed.
“Can you be just a little more specific?” Eliot asked nicely, resting his chin in his hands.
Quentin groaned and looked away again, embarrassed as hell but admittedly interested in the idea that Eliot was getting off on this. “Specifically about what it would’ve been like if you’d taken me upstairs with you after the party,” Quentin elaborated. “And I was just, really worked up after you kept flirting with me and then I had to watch you flirt with those guys all night. I wanted it to last longer, so… I tried an edging spell I overheard a few people talking about.”
When he looked up at Eliot again, he found undeniable heat in the way Eliot was staring back at him; his eyes had gone dark.
“Do you think you could go again tonight?” Eliot asked hurriedly, under his breath.
Quentin’s dick twitched. “...Uh huh?” he said because frankly, he now had enough material to keep him going for weeks.
Very slowly, Eliot scooted back against the headboard where he could get the best view, then he opened his mouth to make one more request.
“Show me.”