[For someone who'd carefully and artfully crafted every perspective of their life to look exactly the way it did, Quentin certainly like to throw curve balls into Eliot's perfectly coiffed life. Eliot held no sanctions for real emotions or attachments beyond Margo and his Bambi was a very different story. She'd been his secret keeper and mainstay since their freshman year.
Why was it when this freshman looked at him through the shaft of his hair, did Eliot's stomach and more clench in a very ungentlemanly manner. Oh fucking well. Tonight was about debauchery at its finest, and they were about to enjoy being debauched together.]
I could easily call you something else if you prefer, Q. It was merely what rolled off the tongue easily. You really are so sensitive. [He teased and leaned over across the couch to run a finger along skin that had no right to be so damn soft. Tracing Quentin's cheek, and then the side of his neck, he let his digit wander all the way down the male's clothed chest and then rest on his thigh, where it met the rest of Eliot's fingers and they squeezed.]
I could tell you what they all meant, but then I'd have to kill you. [He said in a hush, but then burst out laughing as he often did at the expense of his own stupid jokes.] I don't actually know this time around. I didn't make these. My signature is cocktails. Jello is a little below my grade, but it sure is fun.
@ repairofsmallobjects
[For someone who'd carefully and artfully crafted every perspective of their life to look exactly the way it did, Quentin certainly like to throw curve balls into Eliot's perfectly coiffed life. Eliot held no sanctions for real emotions or attachments beyond Margo and his Bambi was a very different story. She'd been his secret keeper and mainstay since their freshman year.
Why was it when this freshman looked at him through the shaft of his hair, did Eliot's stomach and more clench in a very ungentlemanly manner. Oh fucking well. Tonight was about debauchery at its finest, and they were about to enjoy being debauched together.]
I could easily call you something else if you prefer, Q. It was merely what rolled off the tongue easily. You really are so sensitive. [He teased and leaned over across the couch to run a finger along skin that had no right to be so damn soft. Tracing Quentin's cheek, and then the side of his neck, he let his digit wander all the way down the male's clothed chest and then rest on his thigh, where it met the rest of Eliot's fingers and they squeezed.]
I could tell you what they all meant, but then I'd have to kill you. [He said in a hush, but then burst out laughing as he often did at the expense of his own stupid jokes.] I don't actually know this time around. I didn't make these. My signature is cocktails. Jello is a little below my grade, but it sure is fun.