Last time on Leave It To Derleth! (Backdated log.)
Eliot & Tim
Last week, before and after the karaoke party | Tim's Room | NSFW
There's a lot about Eliot's past Tim doesn't know. Eliot would very much rather they focus on their
present.
⚠Some smut, some feels, mentions of character death.
Margo was right. Eliot should have grown a clit ages ago. Yes, waking up another gender was drastic, and yet Eliot took to it almost immediately. Clothing had been a challenge, but once Eliot found things that fit him close enough, a small tailoring spell hemmed and tapered things where they needed to be for the most flattering fit possible.
He wished Rita were here to see him. The fun they would have had.
She was hopefully better off back home. Eliot pushed the thought aside. Friends would come and go. He would be happy for most when they did. Most. There were two very notable exceptions.
Eliot tried not to think too hard about what he would do if Quentin or Tim disappeared. They had nowhere to go, no real options. Maybe that fact would help them stay longer.
Stay longer, pretend to have it all, not worry about what he stood to lose. Again.
Instead it was better to focus on that marvelous first day spent in Tim’s bedroom. Simple pleasures, a simple uncomplicated relationship. They rarely had fights, they rarely spoke about the horrors of their past. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them to simply live in the moment.
Or was it denial?
After the monolith, Eliot was shaken, but made a good show of putting on a smile and pretending everything was fine. He’d been afraid to go to sleep that night, afraid the nightmares would follow him there, but woke up the next morning relieved that they hadn’t.
His eyes opened, Tim was safe in bed next to him (Eliot mostly slept in his room now). Everything was okay.
By the time they’d gone to bed the night before, Tim was aware of what was happening to the other Magicians while they slept -- was it even really a sleep? More like the fucking monolith had KO’d all of them where they stood.
Nightmares. Horrible things. Margo had vaguely mentioned hers to Tim when she came to check on Eliot, but he’d seen what was mentioned on the network. So it was safe to assume the same had happened to Eliot, though he wasn’t much for the idea of pushing the topic if it didn’t want to be discussed. He’d been in that same sort of situation enough times himself to know better.
That still didn’t stop him from worrying, though. His own sleep had been fraught throughout the night, flecked with anxiousness and worry that maybe Eliot was going to slip into something he couldn’t wake him up from again, though he’d been assured that wasn’t the case.
As far as either of them knew, at least.
So when he felt Eliot stir beside him, his arm loosely wrapped around her small waist, he pried open an eye and gave her a tired smile. “Morning, gorgeous.” His voice was thick with sleep and he inhaled a slow breath, curling up against her to press a kiss to her shoulder. He’d gotten so comfortable, so quickly, in sharing a bed with Eliot that this just seemed like a normal routine by this point. “How did you sleep?”
It wasn’t a trick question, but Eliot paused to think about the answer anyway. Her lips curled slightly, mostly in relief. The night had been uneventful and she wasn’t a morning person but when forced to think about it, she felt tired.
“Better,” she said. It was honest, with the added bonus of not having to explain what she was doing better than.
“You know,” Eliot turned on her side to face Tim, this time her face lit up with a slightly more natural style. “Between this week and the week you had a mild case of gigantism I’m starting to kind of like waking up in your big strong arms. Not that they aren’t otherwise lovely but I may be slightly less insecure whenever I’m not the tall one in the relationship.”
She was partially joking, but there was just enough truth in what Eliot was saying to make it even funnier to her.
“You should really wake up one week as a woman, I highly recommend it.”
Tim watched as she rolled over and he smiled, thankful for the ‘better’ part of her answer. That was about all he could ask for, though he couldn’t help wondering what sort of nightmares the monolith had given her, still.
Lifting a hand up, he gently tucked a bit of hair back behind her ear, smirking a bit to himself as he listened to her. “Good to know my arms are only big and strong when you’re smaller than me,” he replied, clearly amused by the subject. “What’re you insecure about though, love? I’m not that much shorter than you under normal circumstances...”
That intrigued him. Eliot always seemed to have such an air of confidence that the idea of him being insecure surprised him a little. “Though I suppose if I did wake up a woman one week, then maybe I would have a better understanding.” Tim grinned and leaned over into her, stealing a quick, sweet kiss. “I suspect it would be preferable if I stayed a man though, hm? Even if I am terribly curious as to what being a woman feels like regarding more… hm, intimate endeavours.”
“Oh, we would have fun if you woke up a woman for the week,” Eliot said, nodding, not realizing that might be a revelation to TIm. While Eliot did lean toward men, he could have one night stands with men, he had a string of female lovers in his past, too. Margo being chief among them. Fen, too.
“Margo’s always on me to grow a clit, and naturally, she was right all along.” Eliot smiled through that sweet kiss, returning it slowly. “Honestly, I think everyone should try it at least once.”
She had paused on answering questions about her insecurities, of which Eliot had many. It didn’t matter how good she was at hiding them. But if they were going to have this conversation and she was going to be vulnerable, Tim might as well make it more tolerable.
Eliot pushed him onto his back, saddled his hips, and guided one of his hands between her legs. There. Now they could do this. The weirdest fucking heart to heart ever, but then, Eliot was always a bit bossy in bed.
“It’s just that, typically, in relationships, I’m the taller, prettier top and my partner is the shorter, handsomer bottom. And I know that sounds petty, and maybe I get a little insecure about it--” Eliot had to close her eyes and pause when Tim did something particularly nice with his hands. “--but then I have the brainpower to overthink about everything else in my relationship.”
Hey, if that’s what Eliot needed to be able to open up more, Tim certainly wasn’t going to argue. Hell. He’d be an idiot to even consider it with how beautiful of a woman Eliot made. He chuckled softly as she pushed him onto his back and when his hand found the warmth between her legs, he couldn’t resist a grin.
His eyes briefly wandered her petite, soft figure as she spoke before landing on her face again to watch her expressions. Tim’s fingers slid and curled at just the right spots, his thumb moving in slow circles against her more sensitive areas.
“I suppose that makes sense, though I don’t particularly understand why you would get insecure about that. Though if it leads to insecurity over other things…” His voice trailed then and he focused his attention momentarily on what his hand was doing instead. “I quite like you being the pretty top,” he added with a grin. “Though I appreciate that we’re comfortable with switching.”
Eliot answered in the affirmative but it was more of a soft, pleased vocalization than an actual word, nodding her head. Her hips shifted and rolled against his fingers, until she had to lean forward, and hold herself up with one hand planted near his shoulder.
“We’re very flexible that way,” Eliot finally managed. Her toes curled involuntarily. The intensity would have almost been painful, but now it radiated throughout her core. There was a delicious ache, too. A sort of desire that layered on top of the pleasure.
Her free hand reached down for the length of him, to see what sort of state he was in, stroking him so that she could saddle him properly.
Eliot lowered her face to his so she could kiss him, nibbling on his lower lip, humming each time he made her need more urgent.
To say that Tim was enjoying every moment of this was an understatement. Morning sex was always a win in his book, but somehow he’d gotten lucky enough to (probably?) be the first (and only?) person Eliot would sleep with while temporarily stuck as a woman.
Multiple orgasms were a difficult thing to achieve as a male just because of how things worked, but as a woman? Well…
Tim had a goal in mind.
“Yeah, we are,” he groaned softly in reply, grinning against her lips when she lowered herself down to him for a kiss. His fingers kept working and he could feel the progress he was making, which only added to how absolutely fucking hot this was and was clear by the state of his arousal.
Eliot had competing goals of her own, which may or may not add a layer of difficulty to Tim’s when she lined up her hips with his and slowly sank onto his length, sheathing him in her. If she’d exhausted him, they could nestle back to sleep.
But it was clear, the way that she angled her hips down and then back up, then down, they were in a playful race now. Who could make the other lose it first. She would say she was at a disadvantage, having Tim’s thumb and cock to contend with, she was easily overwhelmed. But this wasn’t their first time together this week, and they both had experimented with what felt best to the other in their new roles.
“You first,” she teased. So this was what it was like to be a power bottom?
Even through their experimentation the morning before, Tim had taken more of his time, testing the waters with Eliot’s new body and seeing what sort of limits there were. They’d settled into a groove then, but now it almost felt completely natural, playful.
He groaned softly as her hips began to move, his hips rocking a little at an upward angle to meet her own, though his thumb continued to put all of its focus entirely on her clit. A bright grin pulled at his lips and he half-propped himself with his free arm, elbow digging into the mattress as she continued to ride him. “No, you first,” he teased right back.
As much as he teased though, he found morning sex never lasted quite as long as he would’ve liked no matter what and he truthfully wasn’t sure just how long he would last.
Eliot felt herself building toward a climax. She tried to slow her pace, but Tim’s hands were relentless. Her cries were more frequent, slowly climbing in pitch, which would naturally only encourage Tim.
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…”
- - -
“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” A few days later, after the night of the party, the same words carried different weight. Eliot, as the MC and host of the party, had stayed longer than Tim had, and it was now she wondered if that had been a bigger mistake than entrusting the evening to Fen. She tried to keep a fist sized ball of anxiety bottled in her stomach.
The alcohol helped. She was also a little drunk.
Eliot knocked on Tim’s door. The hour was late, it was a bad idea. Shouldn’t she have waited until the morning? Maybe cooler heads would have prevailed. Maybe they would have refused to acknowledge the songs and the party like none of it had happened.
And there was a younger version of Eliot that would have tried just that. That would have been defensive if called out on his behavior. But this Eliot liked to think she’d evolved since then. And also? Did she owe Tim an honest explanation?
She didn’t knock loud. If he was already passed out… Then, she hedged, it would be appropriate to give him space.
When Quentin and Eliot had gone up to sing, he hadn’t been sure what he expected. Of course, neither had they. By that point, everyone knew that the machine was choosing for you. That it seemed to read your feelings, your mind, and force you to express whatever those were through song. But whatever it was that Tim had even unknowingly been expecting, it wasn’t that.
It wasn’t that song, and the way they nervously looked at one another, or the way Quentin seemed to grow more and more anxious as the song went on.
No. Tim felt like an idiot. After the way Eliot had been acting after the other magician’s arrival, he should have guessed, and maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he’d known. Denial was a powerful thing.
But how could he deny it now?
He took his turn singing and once he was done, he quietly made his escape, though not without two more drinks in his hand first. Mostly Jack in each with a splash of Coke. Those should get him through the rest of the evening before he’d fall asleep, and whether Eliot decided to come find him… well. He hadn’t been in the mood to even say goodnight to her before he’d left the party and maybe he should have. He also wasn’t particularly in the mood to care.
The knock to his door managed to pull him out of whatever thoughts were at the forefront of his mind, the TV in his room on, but the volume down. Background noise, mostly, while he did nothing but stare blankly at the ceiling from the couch. It took him a moment but he finally managed to convince himself to get up, dragging his feet as he went to go and open the door.
This was one of those times Eliot wished she were more himself. Then Eliot could make eye contact and any regret or sadness in her face would look less like a mask. She wasn’t trying to pout her way back to forgiveness.
“We should probably talk…” Eliot started. “It doesn’t have to be right now, but probably not in the hall….”
She was trying to gauge how upset he was, if he was angry, if he was merely sad. His song seemed sad, but there had been time and likely alcohol between then and now.
“...I just thought it was important to tell you that I want to talk. About what happened. And if you’d prefer space or time first, I completely understand but I didn’t want to go to sleep without you knowing that I wanted to talk. This is sort of a first for me, the whole, talking about feelings willingly, so… I’m going to shut up now and let you go next.”
Eliot half expected Tim to close the door on her.
The thing was, Tim wasn’t angry. Not at Eliot. How could he possibly be angry at her for something that clearly was Before Him? From El’s world and not just Derleth. He’d thought about it already since coming back to his room and, even though he didn’t want to admit it to anyone, let alone himself, he knew he’d be a hypocrite for being upset over this if Sasha had arrived.
Tim was just angry at himself for not realizing it before.
Still. That didn’t stop him from being hurt. That didn’t stop him from wondering if Eliot had ever intended on telling him just who Quentin was to him. Friends, sure, but there was more.
He stood there quietly with the door half-open as he looked down at her, listening to what she was saying as best he could with his mind buzzing with drink. His eyes were red, a little puffy -- had he been crying? Yes. Was he going to mention that? No.
What he did instead was step to the side enough to open the door further, a silent invitation for her to come in if she wanted to. Tim wasn’t sure what there was to say yet, but she was at least right about the fact that whatever this conversation was going to be, it didn’t need to be done through a doorway and in the hall. “I don’t know how talkative I’m going to be,” he finally said once he’d closed the door behind her, turning to face her after another beat, hands slipping into the pockets of his pajama bottoms.
Eliot nodded, brushing off the front of her dress. Either impressed by Rtia’s style, or perhaps missing her, she looked like a tribute to the former Derleth resident.
“Quentin and I have history, and I am sorry I didn’t tell you everything. It wasn’t my intention to keep some sort of secret from you, more like I … I will always love him, but I don’t think I can allow myself to be with him. He died, and I mourned, and I have seen just how fucked up things can get when someone refuses to move on.”
Eliot paused, not sure how much Tim would accept or understand what he was saying.
“...When someone refuses to move on and they think they can use magic to fix things. Not to downplay the more psychological, personal harm done by not moving on. Um… I am explaining this badly.”
Eliot took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Quentin and Alice are also an item and they also love each other. Q got together with Alice before he was ever with me. When they were on a break, Q and I ended up in a sort of alternate timeline and grew old together and raised a family. And it was beautiful and that’s something not a lot of people can say that they’ve had, right?
“Only when we got out of that timeline and returned to our own, I knew I wasn’t exactly his first choice and he and Alice would get back together. Only they didn’t, and by the time I figured out they wouldn’t, I was possessed by a god killing monster for almost a year and Quentin died fixing that and saving the world. I guess somewhere in there he did get back together with Alice? I wasn’t exactly present so…”
Eliot wasn’t even sure what she was saying anymore. It was more like rambling.
“Q and I had our happy lifetime. At a minimum, I don’t know if I trust myself being more than just friends with him. If he disappears… I can’t do that to myself. And, I also really like you. The circumstances are fucked up, I know, but the two of us, we deserve some semblance of happiness, don’t we?”
Eliot was starting to reconsider to have this conversation when they were both probably still a little drunk.
Everything she said was exactly what he needed to hear and also exactly what he didn’t want to hear. They had a history, they’d had a lifetime together, even if it was an alternate timeline. Eliot loved him still, she always would. Tim had heard everything, yet it all almost felt like too much at once.
He moved away from the dormitory door and quietly made his way back over to the couch, sinking into the spot he’d been in before.
There were a few long moments as he tried to gather his thoughts. How was he supposed to respond to any of that? Tim took a slow breath in and held it for one, two, three… and then let it out just as slowly as he’d inhaled. His throat was tightening again and he could tell that maybe, just maybe, his emotions were trying to get the better of him. He wasn’t sure he was going to win that battle, but he’d at least try.
“I, erm, appreciate you telling me.” His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat, chin dipped a bit so his gaze would stay lowered. There was one question at the front of his mind, playing on his tongue, and he wasn’t sure how to ask it. Rip the proverbial plaster off and deal with the consequences?
“Do… do you want to be with him? Because I think it’s pretty obvious that he’s definitely in love with you, and, y’know. If he died and this is another chance for you guys, I don’t, um… I don’t really want to stand in the way of that. Fucked up circumstances or not.”
Eliot walked into the living area, but did not take a seat on the couch next to Tim, giving him his space for the time being.
“My friends and I had to destroy Fillory. After Q died, Fillory was fucked up once again and… we tried our best but couldn’t save it. A powerful magician had become the new ruler of Fillory and he was conned into using his power and position to bring his long dead lover back to the world of the living. … Yes, a part of me would love to get back together with Q. I just don’t think it’s a good idea? Not after everything else I went through, not after what I saw.”
Eliot nibbled on her lower lip just slightly.
“I miss him. I want his friendship. I would never judge him or Alice if they decided to take the time they had together and make another go of it. I just… I don’t know that I can do that to myself.”
Tim understood what Eliot was saying -- there was fear of what she’d seen in her world, or in Fillory, that kept her from thinking it was a good idea to try and pursue anything with Quentin. That much he got. But he also couldn’t help feeling that it was just a neatly wrapped way of saying that if those circumstances hadn’t existed, well…
He was always going to be second to Quentin in a way, wasn’t he?
Leaning forward, Tim let his arms rest against the tops of his thighs, head still hanging. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at her just yet. He felt so utterly foolish.
“At this point, maybe this is a stupid question to be asking,” he started, having to pause to give himself a moment. Then he swallowed and brought a hand up, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t really know what we are, I suppose? You say that you like me, but I’m starting to think that maybe I misunderstood and let myself get in too deep. Which is my fault, honestly. I should’ve known better. I should’ve realized and not--”
The words started to catch in his throat and he had to stop again, finally leaning back, though looking away still. He just knew if he looked at her he’d break.
“Well... “ Eliot started, “I sort of hoped you were my boyfriend.”
She wasn’t sure what else she was supposed to say. Eliot frowned.
Ha, great. Now he felt like even more of an idiot.
That response seemed to hit him harder than it probably ought to have (thanks, alcohol) and Tim’s face started to crumble. Shit, shit, shit.
He brought a hand up over his eyes and wiped at them, attempting to stave off the sudden tears he felt. Was it going to work? Probably not, but he needed to try. And when that failed, he breathed out a quiet ‘fuck’ and pulled the collar of his Derleth University t-shirt up to soak them up, squeezing his eyes shut tight.
Eliot moved, kneeling down in front of where Tim sat, covering his hands with her own.
“Hey…” Eliot said softly. “I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I never intended to hurt you with… I have a lot of baggage. A lot of baggage. And I guess I liked the idea of having sort of a clean slate? And… that sounds like a very lame excuse right now.”
Eliot didn’t try to force eye contact at this point.
“...Do you want me to go?”
Tim’s response to her question was almost knee jerk, in a way, but not unwelcome. He shook his head and pulled the collar of his shirt down, moving her hands so that he could lean forward and pull her in. He just wanted to hold her, arms wrapped around her small frame.
“No, please don’t go,” he replied quietly. He felt pathetic, desperate almost.
After a few beats, he turned his head, moving it so that he could press his forehead to her own gently. “I didn’t mean to— I was scared. The more you told me, the more it got into my head that you were going to… choose him? Fuck, that sounds stupid.” He sniffled and had to fight off another rush of emotion for a moment, swallowing hard. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll end up regretting, Eliot. I want you to be happy.”
Eliot shifted, and pushing Tim back, situated herself in his lap and curled in toward his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. She guided his arms around her waist and then she threaded her arms around his.
“I know,” she said.
Eliot didn’t dwell long on the question of her happiness, or her ability to make choices that lead to nothing but regret. She didn’t think that would instill much confidence in Tim. So it was better not to say anything at all.
What would it take for her to be happy? She’d have both of them, for one. Q could still be with Alice. Margo would occasionally guest star. No one would ever die or be in danger of going back home.
But that was a selfish fantasy. Eliot rocked Tim gently and kept those to herself.
When she crawled up onto his lap and curled into him, guiding his arms around her, he pulled her into him close and closed his eyes. A quiet fell between them and he let his cheek rest gently against her head, just taking a few minutes to enjoy this. She wasn’t leaving, she wanted to be with him — wanted him to be her boyfriend, even.
Wait.
He opened an eye then and turned his head, slowly, to press a soft kiss against her hairline. “So I’m your boyfriend, huh? I guess I kind of thought that’s what you were too, but we never really said anything, so…”
Tim sank a little more into the couch, curling a bit into the corner as he held onto her. “Not that things need to be said, but having the clarification when my head is… well, doing what it does sometimes, is nice.”
Then he paused and let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry for that, by the way. I think I had too much to drink tonight.”
“You and me both,” Eliot said. She smiled at that. “Baby, let’s go to bed. I’m sure we’ll both feel better in the morning, hm? One day of being mild to moderately hungover, and then a reset will do us both good.”
It wasn’t as if it could get much worse than the alien bug things that were attracted to noise? With everything that had happened, Eliot was hoping for a break. She pressed a couple of kisses into the side of Tim’s face, trying to coax him into agreement, regardless of if she needed to or not.
Even if she hadn’t needed to coax him, the kisses were welcome and he felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. Then he turned his head enough to catch her mouth with his own, kissing her with a bit of intensity, though it only lingered for a few seconds before breaking.
“Bed sounds good,” he breathed against her lips, sealing it with another, softer kiss. His arms moved then, one staying around her waist and the other hooking under her legs, shifting away from the couch enough so that he could stand and carry her to the bedroom.