[ He doesn’t expect the touch to his hand, so when it comes, his eyes fly open and follow the tug as Quentin lifts his hand away. It’s only then that his gaze focuses on Quentin again, and rather than remain as he’d been, the magician leans forward. Eliot’s heart flies up his throat.
He shifts, just barely, in time to meet Quentin’s lips properly back, reciprocating as meekly as he can so as not to scare Quentin off. (There’s always that fear now.) He closes his eyes again, instinct for a moment he wants to safeguard in his heart, in case it’s the last. ]
♥
He shifts, just barely, in time to meet Quentin’s lips properly back, reciprocating as meekly as he can so as not to scare Quentin off. (There’s always that fear now.) He closes his eyes again, instinct for a moment he wants to safeguard in his heart, in case it’s the last. ]