elιoт waυgн (itcomesfrompain) wrote in wtnvic, @ 2018-11-08 20:47:00 |
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Sunlight streaming through the window of the Cottage was what woke Eliot up. His memory of the night before was hazy at first, until he registered the presence of another body in his bed and glanced down to see Quentin sprawled across the bed next to him, arm draped over his waist. After that, it all came back quickly. Drinking with Quentin and talking about the things they hadn't taken the time to discuss since the lifetime that both had and hadn't happened. Then kissing and falling into bed together in a way that felt painfully familiar even though they'd never actually done this, save that one drunken night with Margo. He watched Quentin silently for a long moment, just appreciating the view, before turning on his side to face him and gently stroking his fingers along the bare skin of his back, tracing along the freckles and moles that dotted his skin. He felt calm and content in a way he hadn't in far too long and he wanted nothing more than to hold on to this moment for as long as possible before life inevitably fucked it up. Part of him wanted to just let Quentin sleep, to spend as long as possible just soaking in the moment, but he'd never been especially patient. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to Quentin's shoulder with a sigh. "Wake up, sleepyhead." |