Scars

Taken

Quentin kissed Eliot. He didn't give an explanation. Eliot was happy to oblige.

The two were in the cottage at 3 am. Eliot was still awake, deeply engrossed in study or disappointing internet porn. He looked frustrated enough before Quentin came he guessed it could be either.

Quentin's hair was wet with rain, Eliot ran his hands through it. He'd taken the train back from Julia's, turns out when your a Magician sneaking onto a subway platform was pretty small potatoes. Especially when confronted with the effort of casting another portal home.

Quentin had felt the knife pressing against his side the whole way there. To his credit he hadn't looked at it, which surprised him after he had broken Julia's heart. But she was what he needed after all, a reminder he was the one in the way of everything. He just needed to fucking get over himself and he'd be the person he wanted. The person Eliot wanted.

Eliot had the slightest bit of stubble, it was rough and cool against Quentin's cheek. Kissing him felt natural, and he liked feeling small. He liked that he had to stand on his toes, pull Eliot by his tie to bring him closer to his face.

"Fuck El I'm sorry."

"Save your overthinking for the morning yeah?"

Quentin didn't protest. Instead he let Eliot push him against a wall.

"Your a real tease Coldwater." Eliot laughed.

Quentin was breathing heavily, he ducked out from under him and looked up towards his room, he was then dragged up there so fast he had to stumble.

Eliot started taking his clothes off. He wasn't chiseled like Quentin had half heartedly imagined, he was spindly and soft. Skinny, but you could still tell he indulged in a fair few drinks now and again. Quentin wanted to kiss every part of it.

Eliot looked into Quentin's eyes as he tried pulling his shirt off, asking for permission. Quentin gulped and nodded.

Quentin didn't have that many scars. He was careful about that, and many looked more random. Done with blunt objects at weird angles. Took years before they started looking like anything besides an accident.

Eliot kept kissing him. He tasted like caramel. Quentin took a moment to remember it's been years since he'd been kissed.

"Fuck, El."

Eliot went even further, grabbing him, touching him. Rough and slow. Quentin could barely breathe, he let himself focus on the fact this was Eliot in front of him. Eliot, who wasn't going to hurt him.

Eliot pressed up against him, attacking him hungrily. Pitifully Quentin tried to push him off. But Eliot kept him there at his mercy.

Quentin made himself keep going, he was gonna keep going.

Soon both were just in underwear. Quentin gasping for air. All of it was to much. It was good and bad and sticky and pointless. The floor swayed under his feet.

"Can we, slow down?"

"Really Coldwater? So anxious a minute ago." He teased

"I'm sorry I just haven't.."

"Holy shit. Your actually a Virgin."

"No." Quentin said, attempting a playful punch. It just made him look weak. "But it's been awhile."

"Awhile?"

"Like 2 years."

"Jesus, hell of a dry spell."

"Not that either just uh. The last time I did this I uh.. Fuck I? I didn't chose to."

Eliot sat down on the bed, returning to himself. Quentin felt it vaguely resembled disappointment though, Eliot's disbelief this was really happening had finally caught up with him.

"Shit Q. We don't have to do this then, or don't feel like pressured too.."

"But I want to, with you."

Quentin planted a kiss on his jaw, chaste and slow.

"But Quentin, I don't know how to make you feel..okay I guess."

"Then don't."

"What?"

"I want to do this El, I have to. He's fucked up my life enough. I just need to get over it. Then I'll be okay."

Eliot kissed him again, but it was obvious to him Quentin was still tense, almost shaking. At random intervals he would see his mouth and neck begin to twitch.

"Q I think you may be taking this to fast.."

"No." Quentin giggled, he sounded drunk.

Quentin pushed Eliot onto the bed and straddled him, making Eliot ashamed of how much he liked it.

"This is what you want isn't it?"

"Of course Q, but I think you may wanna, I don't know, talk about this first?"

"Why should we? Can't we just have fun? I'm the only thing in the way."

"Q your kinda.."

"Fragile? Well fuck that."

"I was gonna fucking scaring me Quentin."

"What happened to saving our overthinking for the morning?" Quentin said snuggling up closer to him, but he felt stiff and raw.

"You told me you were what, fucking assaulted? That you haven't had sex in years? I'm okay if you need to stop."

Quentin grabbed Eliot hand and placed it on him. He was laughing, teasing, but it came out like crying. He was fucking terrified. Eliot finally pushed him off him.

"Quentin I'm not doing this tonight okay?" He said calmly, like trying to keep a skittish alleycat from running away. "I really don't want to fuck this up."

"But I want you!" Quentin pouted, but the pain behind his eyes left Eliot convinced Quentin wasn't fooled by his own act anymore.

"Just do it! Just do it please!" He pleaded, banging against Eliot's chest, snot and droll dripping down his face as he lost control.

"You just sleep Q. I'll be right next door."

As soon as he was gone Quentin cursed and punched his headboard. He crashed hard, and his body started to burn as he fell asleep.