Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

eliot waugh (kingshit) wrote in somerealityrpg,

Eliot stiffened as soon as he was tugged into Q’s embrace. It was short-lived, but he was pretty damn certain time had slowed to a near stop. An eternity seemed to transpire around them before he finally allowed Quentin’s undeniable warmth to replace the cold that still lingered around the edges of their bubble. Fuck it.

If he’d learned anything in his quest to save the world? It was that running away, while convenient and his usual MO, only prolonged the inevitable.

Swallowing hard, he mimicked Q’s actions, his arms finally lost their heavy weights and wrapped around the other man tightly. It was a rush of familiarity that he’d forgotten existed. How had he forgotten this feeling of coming home? If he focused on it too much, he would logically come to the conclusion it was because he forced himself to forget.

It was easier that way, and totally another method of running.

For so long, he’d tried to distance himself from his feelings that revolved around Quentin Coldwater, and if it had been any other day? He may still have done so, but he was physically exhausted. More importantly? He was tired of said running. "What the fuck are you doing here, Q? How the fuck are you here?"

Despite his line of questioning, he made no moves to pull away from him. Not yet.