[ He does pull back, if only because he needs some air, and when he does his gaze is searching. He's not uncertain, just unsure, but Eliot hasn't pulled away enough to look like he doesn't want it.
He breathes out, lips parted, gaze locked onto Eliot. He should say something. He should stop and think this through, think this out--but instead, Quentin leans back in, carefully stroking the other's hair. ]
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He breathes out, lips parted, gaze locked onto Eliot. He should say something. He should stop and think this through, think this out--but instead, Quentin leans back in, carefully stroking the other's hair. ]