"El-" he's almost choking on the words, breath catching like a hook in his throat because -fuck. They are, and almost undressed, with his pants digging in to his ass and Eliot's perfect hand wrapped tight around him, and Quentin's hips jerk, pushing his dick through that tight fist.

"El-Eliot-- please-" Quentin's hands fall to Eliot's shoulder as his head tips forward, pushing their foreheads together so he can look down and jesus, it almost looks hotter than it feels. Eliot's hand on him, and Quentin is already dizzy with it, already so ready and wanting and yeah, this is probably a bad idea. Like, the worst idea, because they're friends and this is the kind of thing that can ruin that. This want and there's just no way that Quentin can ever look at Eliot again and not want this.

Cupping Eliot's face with both hands, Quentin kisses him, all needy lips and desperate noises.