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“El—I don’t think you should touch it—” Quentin draws in a breath, and the fragrance fills his senses. Not a false fragrance like perfume, but sweet like syrup on pancakes or—he takes in another breath. Whatever it is diffuses through him, fizzier and lighter than the champagne, fuzzy warmth spreading through his nerves, his cells lit from within. When his hand glances against Eliot’s knee, a jolt hits him, like a zap of static electricity running up his arm, turning to flame inside. He can smell Eliot, the scent of his cologne spicy and masculine, mixing with the sweet, burnt sugar scent of the pollen.
“You—do you feel that?” Eliot’s knuckles brush against his and Quentin whimpers at the touch, the hair on his arm standing on end.
“Yeah—oh.” Quentin gasps. He blinks at the shimmering air. It makes everything look like a misty fairytale, and when he glances at Eliot again, a shockwave rolls through him, the muscles in his abdomen clenching, threads of need rolling up and weaving together inside him, swirling in the pit of his stomach. Eliot is—God, he’s exquisite. Quentin wants to worship him—fuck, he was meant to—to fall at his feet, to offer himself, mouth open, to serve him, give him pleasure.
Bookmarked by Ktbugs87
17 Feb 2021
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In the low, silvery light of the moon, Eliot can see Quentin, clearly still asleep, the sheet kicked away from his body. Usually, he sleeps with an undershirt on, but tonight, he’d stripped down to just his boxers—his nipples are crinkled, his mouth open, his cock hard and straining against the fabric of his gray boxer briefs. The little moans falling from his lips are soft and breathy, and his hips are bucking up from the bed, like he’s trying to find something to push against.
Holy fucking gay Jesus—what the fuck—Eliot is going to lose his actual goddamn mind.
Eliot’s watching Quentin Coldwater have an actual sex dream. Here, in his bed, next to him, hair splayed out behind him on his Fillory and Further pillowcase.
Bookmarked by Ktbugs87
10 Feb 2021
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i'll press you to the pages of my heart by hoko_onchi for mixtapestar
Fandoms: The Magicians (TV)
14 Jan 2021
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Quentin does as he’s told, walking mechanically to the comfortable chair in the corner, tucking his knees up and flipping through the pages of the book, his dick twitching as he looks through the spells, which are all accompanied by very graphic illustrations of positions and firsthand accounts of the ‘pleasures of the body.’ By the time Eliot’s done with his shift, Quentin is almost uncomfortably hard, and he’s pliant when Eliot takes him by the hand. He slings his messenger bag over his front and clutches the book to his chest.
“Ready, sweet thing?” Eliot takes him by the hand, and Quentin just looks down at his feet. “You pick something out?”
"I think so."
“Speak up,” Eliot says. “And look at me.”
It’s silly how the image of a king sticks with him, how it springs into Quentin’s mind when he meets Eliot’s gaze. Regal and commanding, making Quentin feel like a serving boy or a villager. “Yes. I chose. One of the first ones. Seems simple.”
“Some of them are surprisingly complex. And we don’t really know each other,” Eliot whispers. “You sure you want this?”
Quentin nods, sheepish.
“I’m taking off, Kady,” Eliot calls, “after I finish helping this customer.”
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Bookmarked by Ktbugs87
29 Jan 2021
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Bookmarked by Ktbugs87
25 Jan 2021
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love it when you need me by miscreants
Fandoms: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
07 Aug 2020
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“I just can’t believe she said that,” Quentin says again, because he’s on a roll now. He fumbles with the glass he’s trying to pick up from the table. He just wants to bring it back to the bar. Be nice. Alice would always say he was being rude. “Like— Like me not wanting to— To push her around was grounds enough to end a three year relationship. And, like, who’s to say she always gave me what I wanted? Like, maybe I want to be pushed around. Did she ever consider that?”
Or: Quentin goes to a nightclub. Penny watches What We Do In the Shadows. Margo lurks at nerd bars.
Bookmarked by Ktbugs87
10 Jan 2021