Let's try this.

[betweenthesheets]

The echoing of steps sounded against the walls of the physical kids cottage as Elliot paced back and forth. He fumbled, and fingers caught on the edges of his coat as he reached for his never-ending flask just one more time. His mind was fresh with images of the night several weeks earlier when he, Margo and Q had. Well, what exactly had they done. And yes, there it was. His throat began to tighten, palms began to sweat and oh shit, his yes, well, his male parts still functioned even though he wished to the gods that they currently didn't. He couldn't make any sense of what was going on in his mind, let alone his heart-- and so this hallway was where he'd been working the tile, wait, no, wood for the past several minutes. No. Wait. Hours. Days? Perhaps. Time had no meaning when Elliot was like this. All he knew was that there was no comfort in anything, least of all the things that he'd always found solace in before. Parties bored him, and Margo -- he still loved her with all his heart, but she was a total bitch right now. Yes, maybe that was normal, but it was particularly annoying given that they could die at any moment. Fuck that night. Fuck the beast. Fuck Margo and Fuck Quentin. By the gods, he wish he could again. Oh those lips, that hair that seemed to know just where to settle on a brow that always seemed furrowed lately. There he went again, and the flask made it to his lips once more as Elliot unintentionally, yet very intentionally flung his back against Quentin's door with a loud thud.

Comments

[floppyhaired]

Everything had been weird since they’d all slept together. Actually things weren’t that weird with Margo but they were definitely weird with Eliot. The other had invaded his mind even more than Alice had of late. He’s doing anything but sleeping when Eliot thumps against his door but he didn’t know it was eliot at first. But as he opened the door he both worried and hoped that Eliot would be there.

“What are you doing, Eliot?”

[betweenthesheets]

Elliot pretended to be surprised, not that it was convincing in any manner, shape or form. His brow wrinkled for only a moment before he caught himself and thought about any age that he might add to his young years with such an action and rubbed the grimace away with his hand in a candid attempt to appear bemused and perhaps slightly drunk. He could very well be the latter, but he wouldn’t admit it. “Ah, Quentin, I didn’t realize I was so loud”. Liar. He knew it too, as Elliot carefully and casually eased himself past the younger male and into the room. “I didn’t wake you did I? I was just having a nightcap, care to join?” Elliot closed the gap between the door and the bed in a few brisk strides of his delightfully long, sexily leather clad legs—Because leather was in right now somewhere in the world and Elliot knew how to make it look really fucking good. The bed bowed under his weight, creaking just as older beds in places such as these do— weighing heavily into the now increasing awkward tension Elliot was aware of in his very soul as he offered up his flask with a delicate and very practiced flick of his wrist. Why did Quentin have to look so sexy and disheveled? Why did Elliot suddenly have this incredible lurch in his loins once more, one that he grabbed a pillow quickly to hide before quirking a lip as he tried yet one more fake smile for the younger.