Which is not just a prayer because this is holy fucking hot, but also just some kind of verbal tick that slips out when there's nothing preoccupying his mouth or when something really, truly incredible happens.
Like this.
Like Eliot's hands against his skin, slightly cool despite how hot Quentin feels at the moment. The chest hairs that are curling against Quentin's fingers when he finds a way to shove a hand inside Eliot's impeccable shirt and run his whole hand up his chest just to feel him. How even the fact that Eliot is talking right now is so hot he can't stand it. Who cares if it's true or not, if Eliot ever even looked twice at Quentin like that. The thought is mindblowing, though. Like heat dripping over his skin, fizzing over his nerves like champagne.
"Could you-? Can we-?"
Not even close to making sense, because Quentin gets a hand up to curl around Eliot's neck, holding him anchored against his face as they kiss. Eliot's tongue is doing something deliciously complicated to Quentin's mouth and Quentin can't stop kissing back, lips slip-sliding wetly against each other.
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Which is not just a prayer because this is holy fucking hot, but also just some kind of verbal tick that slips out when there's nothing preoccupying his mouth or when something really, truly incredible happens.
Like this.
Like Eliot's hands against his skin, slightly cool despite how hot Quentin feels at the moment. The chest hairs that are curling against Quentin's fingers when he finds a way to shove a hand inside Eliot's impeccable shirt and run his whole hand up his chest just to feel him. How even the fact that Eliot is talking right now is so hot he can't stand it. Who cares if it's true or not, if Eliot ever even looked twice at Quentin like that. The thought is mindblowing, though. Like heat dripping over his skin, fizzing over his nerves like champagne.
"Could you-? Can we-?"
Not even close to making sense, because Quentin gets a hand up to curl around Eliot's neck, holding him anchored against his face as they kiss. Eliot's tongue is doing something deliciously complicated to Quentin's mouth and Quentin can't stop kissing back, lips slip-sliding wetly against each other.
"Shirt. Get it off-"