Given permission, even if it's the non-verbal kind, Eliot just lets his brain shut off in favor of feeling and doing what he wants to do. And what he wants to do is wrap an arm around Quentin as he rolls onto his knees, pulling him flush against Eliot's chest. His other hand is still on Quentin's face before it slides into his hair and the kiss presses deeper, sweet warmth edging into something hungrier and dirtier.

Eliot has very few memories of doing this, and he'd made it out to be something that hadn't happened. Something he'd been there for, but had been more about Q and Margo. Sense memory now is telling him otherwise, because his brain doesn't remember, but his hands remember Q's skin and his mouth remembers Quentin's lips.

Eliot's hand flattens against the small of Q's back, pressing him in even closer together, and he groans, soft but audible, into Quentin's mouth.