It took a second to process that. Because Eliot wanted it, and he'd been repeating a mantra of what he shouldn't do to himself every time his fingers wanted to trail further.
It's funny that Quentin thinks Eliot's kind when it's the last way Eliot would describe himself. He's caring, maybe, to the people he chooses to care about. But in general he's self-centered and willfully shallow because that's how he built himself to be. He's kind to Quentin because Q's one of those people that Eliot's walls just dropped for, probably because he hadn't believed it would matter. Quentin had been in love with a girl his whole life, then fallen for another one as soon as he got here. There wasn't much danger to Eliot's heart in letting Q close to it when he wasn't going to know it was available to him, or be interested if it was.
Subconscious or not, that might have been a miscalculation. Eliot's brain flatlines when Q's mouth presses against his, light and off-center. But it's still not just friendly, or at least it doesn't feel like it.
Eliot blinks at him, and then smiles, slow and warm. "Hey," he answers, voice soft and low. He's not sure what this means, but given opportunity, he can't resist. He doesn't try very hard, either. His hand slides to cup Quentin's face, and Eliot leans in, kissing him again. It's still soft, but square on Quentin's mouth and deeper than the last one had been, Eliot pressing in closer against him and trying to drink in the moment in case it crashes on him.
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It's funny that Quentin thinks Eliot's kind when it's the last way Eliot would describe himself. He's caring, maybe, to the people he chooses to care about. But in general he's self-centered and willfully shallow because that's how he built himself to be. He's kind to Quentin because Q's one of those people that Eliot's walls just dropped for, probably because he hadn't believed it would matter. Quentin had been in love with a girl his whole life, then fallen for another one as soon as he got here. There wasn't much danger to Eliot's heart in letting Q close to it when he wasn't going to know it was available to him, or be interested if it was.
Subconscious or not, that might have been a miscalculation. Eliot's brain flatlines when Q's mouth presses against his, light and off-center. But it's still not just friendly, or at least it doesn't feel like it.
Eliot blinks at him, and then smiles, slow and warm. "Hey," he answers, voice soft and low. He's not sure what this means, but given opportunity, he can't resist. He doesn't try very hard, either. His hand slides to cup Quentin's face, and Eliot leans in, kissing him again. It's still soft, but square on Quentin's mouth and deeper than the last one had been, Eliot pressing in closer against him and trying to drink in the moment in case it crashes on him.