Actions

Work Header

A Quest for Love

Work Text:

Why the hell not? Quentin thinks, sipping the strange brew Eliot had just handed him. He bends forward and presses his lips right onto those tempting ones so close in front of him. He’s done this before. Kissing Eliot. But he was not in his right mind back then, kind of drugged, or so he thought. Anyway, now, now is different. Now they’re alone on a quest. And the attraction he feels towards the man seems to be a hundred times stronger in this strange place. In Fillory! He feels like a moth - bad example - drawn to the light. Eliot is all that he isn’t. Smart, witty, famous amongst the other students at Brakebills, tall and very handsome. It’s like Quentin can hardly concentrate on their magical puzzle. His gaze is drawn now and again towards his companion. His stomach is doing somersaults as soon as El steps closer. His brain jumps back to their first night together, not knowing what was real back then and what was just a hazy dream.

He pulls back just as quick as he had moved forward, holding his breath, staring at the man of his dreams in the dim torch light, waiting, his heart hammering in his throat.

Eliot is surprised for but a fraction of a moment. Quentin kissed him. Quentin. Kissed. Him. It's not the first time of course. But it's the first time he dares believe it to be genuine, not the result of a bad spell under the influence of alcohol.

Under any other circumstances and in any other place he would have likely made some bad joke in poor taste before running for the hills. He doesn't know why he does that. He has no issue with fucking every cute boy that so much as looks his way. He doesn't even have a problem with falling in love -which he does regularly and eagerly- but those crushes go as quickly as they come. And when they don't, when those feelings linger like some bad smell, only growing stronger instead of fading away, that's when he gets cold feet. That's when he backs off. Normally.

But they're in Fillory. They've been doing this stupid puzzle for a whole fucking year! in this realm. And it's just them …

He blinks, tearing himself away from his whirling thoughts and back to the moment. To that kiss… And he doesn't hesitate a second longer as he slides his hands into Quetin's hair and wraps his lips over the other's soft warm mouth.

This is what I want! What I always wanted, deep down. Eliot kissing me. Holding me. Enveloping me with his great calmness. Quentin hums into the kiss as it deepens, shuffling closer on those freaking tiles into his friend’s embrace. They’ve spent a year together. One fucking year! All on their own, trying to solve this mosaik. They’ve yelled at each other -usually he started the yelling, he must admit-, pondered, discussed, silently fumed, cursed. And yet, Quentin doesn’t regret one second of it. In fact, it was the best year of his life.

He dares to twirl his fingers into El’s soft curls, trailing the side of his neck with the fingertips of his other hand. “Thank you, El,” he murmurs, “for being so patient,” before resuming the wonderful lip lock.

El snorts at that. No-one has ever called him patient before! But Q seems to bring this whole new side of him to the fore. Or is it an old side, one that he had buried deep under his sassy flair all to hide his own insecurities. Q makes him feel safe. Safe enough to peel away those layers and show him this raw part of himself.

He doesn't answer though. Rather he slowly pushes the other man backwards onto the tiles whilst never breaking the kiss that he had spent so long longing for.

Quentin feels very hyper and wants to ask a thousand questions but that exploring tongue convinces him to stay quiet and enjoy the moment. El! sings his brain. Eliot! His hands start to get a mind of their own and wander from the nape of El’s neck across the broad expanse of his shoulders and shoulderplates towards the man’s slim hips. He’s always admired the tall, sexy, one year older student. He just never really considered himself in his league. Nerd extraordinaire, which he was himself. Yes, El was always very tactile with him, but he got the impression that he was like this with everyone. Especially with Margo. But it was clear from the start, that there was nothing romantic between these two, rather a deep, unique friendship.

But here and now was a different time and place. Eliot and him had clicked. Their dynamic works. They’ve done a thousand variations of the puzzle, being in each other’s space day in day out, yet they didn’t get tired of each other. On the contrary, Quentin sighs into their kiss, encouraging El further, sucking at his tongue, bumping his crotch into the other’s to show him how much he appreciates that there is finally not an inch of a distance between them anymore.

"Ooh…" Eliot moans softly when he feels the hard arousal greet him eagerly. He wants this too! He hadn't been sure up until that point which way Quentin really swung. Other than that drunken romp with him and Margo he had never seen the guy show any interest in other guys. And he thought those furtive glances and close moments between them had just been wishful thinking on his part. "Q …" he breathes into Quentin's mouth, loving those hands in his hair, on his neck, on his hips. "Ooh Q …" He's lying on top of the younger student now, the damned tiles beneath them shifting as they grind together needfully.

Even though Quentin is painfully aware of the damn mosaic tiles beneath him, he doesn't want this to stop now. "I need you, Eliot," he whispers feverishly, nipping at El's Adam's apple, trying to unbutton the other man's expensive shirt. The feeling of their hard cocks rubbing together makes him moan loudly in ecstasy.

"Need me how?" El grins, pushing himself up on his elbow, brushing Quentin's long hair from his forehead. He takes a moment to admire his man from up close, lying underneath him, his pupils already wide with desire, his lips swollen from their frantic kissing. He is beautiful. He is just so completely perfect.

“I… I don’t know,” Quentin smiles unsurely all of a sudden. “It’s … it’s nice to be this close,” he whispers, “the kissing.” He moves quickly up and steals another one just as he did earlier. “And this,” he chuckles, moving his hips up again. “Everything… it’s wonderful to have you all to myself,” he admits shyly, blinking.

"Fuck, you're adorable," Eliot chuckles softly. He grinds his hips down to meet Quentin's interest. "I need you too." He bends down again and kisses the other magician eagerly and deeply.

Quentin gets lost in the kiss and the precious feeling of El on top of him for a few long moments. But then the hard tiles beneath his back and head make themselves known despite the blanket beneath him.

"Wanna try this on a mattress maybe?" he asks awkwardly.

This… Does he really…? Eliot nods, the words getting stuck on his normally quick tongue. His heart is beating loudly as he scrambles to his feet and holds out his hand to Quentin, smiling lovingly at him. "Lead the way."

Quentin takes Eliot’s hand and lets himself get pulled up, leaning against his tall frame for a moment before walking towards their small hut. The only bed in the corner which they already share for sleeping is worn and old. Q quickly scrambles onto it, getting back into the position he was in before and pulling Eliot back on top of him. He'd already missed the warm weight of his body for the few steps they had to take to get inside their little house.

Why didn't I have the guts to kiss El earlier? A year, really! Did I still not want to admit to myself the whole time how much I enjoyed … loved? our first hazy encounter? Quentin feels a rare, broad smile tuck at the corners of his mouth as he sees the confused, but loving look in Eliot's eyes.

Eliot allows himself to drown in that smile. He's never felt this warm tingle before that now teases its way along his spine. He feels shaky and drunk but it's only on the way Q looks at him, desires him! He seeks his mouth again, massaging their lips together, his tongue slipping inside that warm mouth and curling around the other's. Their arousal lies hot and almost painful between them and he groans at the friction when they push against each other.

"Can… can we get those clothes off?" Quentin asks hesitantly, breaking the almost magical lip lock briefly. He feels such a hot rush inside himself, such a deep longing for the man who can make him laugh, who takes his tantrums in his stride and still manages to come up with a thoughtful resolution.

"Hell yeah!" Eliot beams, finally finding his tongue again. He jumps off the bed with a speed and grace that would shock a deer and begins to pull off his clothes, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the man lying in front of him, frantically trying to shed his own trousers.

Quentin laughs loudly as he pulls his shoes from his feet to free his legs. He throws away his jumper, itching to get his hands on the bare flesh El is revealing. "Come back to me, sexy," he teases as he leans back again on his elbows, wearing only his faded, grey boxer briefs.

Eliot laughs too and doesn't need to be told twice. He scrambles back onto the bed in just his designer briefs. "Fuck Q," he mutters as they lock themselves in a tangle of limbs and heated kisses and friction through thin cloth that makes him crazy with want. "Wanted to do this with you for so long!" he admits as his hand slips into the other's pants to caress his arse.

“How... how long?” Quentin asks kinda stupidly just to say something as his brain completely shuts down at the touch. Feeling El’s cock almost skin to skin with his lets sparks fly behind his eyes. He rubs his palms over that delicious expanse of bare flesh that is Eliot’s back and shoulders. He doesn’t dare yet to slip his fingers into the waistband of El’s fancy underwear.

Eliot bites his lip. And then Quentin's lip. Since the first moment I saw you! He's not sure whether that sounds either too shallow or too cliché and so he doesn't answer the question, but instead distracts his friend and now lover by trailing his tongue down his chest until he licks a long wet stripe along the outline of that beautiful cock that he is so desperate to put his hands on.

“Holy fuck!” Quentin exclaims, bucking into the touch, “oh El!” He cards his fingers through Eliot’s hair. “I wanted to do it again, ever since we… well ever since we ended up in bed together …” and you fucked me senseless. He couldn’t say that because he still wasn’t sure if that ever happened or if the fucking part was only a fiction of his dazed up memory. He bends his spine towards the exploring mouth.

El looks up at Quentin through his lashes, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Good," he grins self assuredly, before he smoothly pulls down these grey pants to set his man free. "Fuckyes," he praises as he admires that perfect rod for a moment. "Gorgeous!" He repeats the motion with his tongue, this time over the hot flesh of Q's taut erection.

The sounds that escape the younger man’s throat are guttural and almost animal-like. Knowing that no one can hear them sets his inhibitions free and he gives in to Eliot’s ministrations freely, not holding back. It feels like his cock is as hard as it has never been before. “Love your tongue,” he mutters hotly.

Encouraged by Quentin's exclamations Eliot takes his lover's heavy dick in his hand, weighing it appreciatively. "Love your cock," he retorts and while keeping his eyes locked with Q's wide ones he sucks that delightful organ deep into his mouth.

“Eliot!” Fuckfuckfuck I cannot come prematurely just now only because he’s trying to give me a blow job! Man up, man! Quentin pinches his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, holding his breath to not ruin the moment. “S… sl… slow, I… I gonna…” he exhales, “I’ve waited so long…” He grabs the blanket beneath him to concentrate on something else for a second than that soft, moist mouth around his cock head.

Eliot raises an eyebrow briefly, hesitating a second or two whether to answer that desperate plea to go slow. Fuck it, we've got all night. No scratch that, we've got all year if things carry on the way they have been! "Come," he murmurs as he slides his tongue over that glistening soft crown, licking up the sweet droplets of precum. "Wanna taste you!" He gulps Q down again as deep as he can, sucking and licking and massaging his drawn up balls with his free hand.

Quentin can’t resist that one word plea and that agile tongue. He shoots his juice into Eliot’s mouth, crying out his pleasure and rocking himself into the inviting cavern. His fingers grabbing his lover’s shoulders hard and he feels unbelievably relieved that the older man didn’t laugh at him and his very brief stamina, but even encourages him. “Fuckthat’sgood,” he mewls, his dick convulsing again and again down El’s throat.

Eliot swallows. He is feeling rather smug that he made such an explosive impact on the man he had had wet dreams of ever since he first laid eyes on him. Quentin tastes as pure as snow and as sweet as honey to him. Only when the little tremors pulsing on his tongue finally cease does he drop that lovely dick from his mouth, licking his lips like a content cat. "You're delicious, babe," he grins.

Quentin can’t believe that he feels a blush coming up his neck, “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he stammers forlornly as he gazes into those beautiful brown eyes, filled with so much lust. He pulls at Eliot to move up to him and simultaneously bends forward a little to taste himself on El’s lips. He engages him in another full, dirty kiss, feeling the other’s still covered erection press against his thigh. He finds the courage to finally slip his fingers into Eliot’s underwear and caress his naked arse.

"Fuck, you're hot," Eliot sighs into the kiss. "Please touch my dick," he huffs, trying to push his underwear down as his cock strains painfully against them.

Quentin is very eager to comply. He wraps his fingers around that hot shaft, instantly loving the heavy weight of it and the way it pulses for him. "You're so hot yourself, Eliot," he mutters, trying to kiss his lover once more but also watch the pure pleasure wash over those handsome features.

Eliot groans into the touch and lies himself onto his side, his pants still around his thighs as he begins to thrust himself slowly into that warm fist. He kisses Quentin feverishly again, knowing that he'll hardly last much longer than his inexperienced bed partner now that he finally has him touching him like this. "Good! Fuck that feels good, oh Q!"

“I… do you want me to… ?” Quentin stutters again, stumbling over his own tongue. He decides to take action though, shuffling down on the bed and licking along El’s shaft, just as he did with him just moments earlier. “Want to taste you too!” he huffs out eagerly between little curious nibbles.

"Oh damn you're just so perfect!" Eliot beams, leaning himself back comfortably as he gives himself to the long-desired treat. "Fuck that's good!"

Quentin kneels beside Eliot to get the best access to that delicious cock. “Hmm…” he hums, circling his tongue around the crown tentatively, dipping it into El’s slit. One of his hands gripping the base firmly. His other hand digging into one well admired thigh muscle.

"Oh love…" Eliot shocks himself, but it feels so good! "I... Do you want ….? I mean we can just … " He tangles his fingers into Quentin's hair, battling with himself which pleasure to chase first.

Love! Quentin repeats the word in his head and it makes his whole body tingle with warmth and excitement. He smiles inwardly at how lost for words he makes the usually eloquent man. The quivering of El’s cock against his lips tells him that he’s on the right track and he gets bolder, sucking the tip into his mouth, humming appreciatively with pleasure. He’s surprised at how much he enjoys giving hopefully as good as he got.

Fuck fuck fuck! Eliot's curriculum vitae is impressive when it comes to bedsports. There have been few, however, who've made him glow from more than sexual heat. There's something so profound about Quentin. He still cannot put his finger on what exactly, but the man is unlike anyone he's ever met - certainly unlike anyone he's ever slept with! He's not the most skilled lover perhaps, but already sex with him feels so intense! And yet at the same time he feels completely at ease in the presence of the other magician. Not his normally highly strung self. He doesn't feel like he has to outperform or impress the other. He can just enjoy himself, enjoy this wonderful person who makes him feel on top of the world - whichever world that may be.

"Oh babe, it's so good, fuck! I would… I wanna make love to you! If … If you want to, that is…" He bites his lip, hoping he hasn't overstepped the mark, hasn't scared off the other, who for all he knows might have never done that before. "Q?"

“Make love?” Quentin reluctantly stops what he’s doing, leaning back on his hunches and locking his gaze with Eliot’s. “I… I mean, not that I do not know what that means…” he keeps stroking that hard shaft while he’s speaking. “I, I thought we’re already at it,” yet again he feels the most stupid blush cover up his whole body. “I loved how you made me come,” he whispers, bathing in El’s lustful but also loving glance.

Shit! Fucking shit! Eliot feels his cheeks colour. "Yes. I love it! I love what you're doing! C-continue please." He gives a nervous smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean … It feels real good, babe. I'd love to come like this." Please don't bolt! I didn't mean to be impatient. Or ask for something you're not comfortable with.

“Why are you sorry?” Quentin asks, straddling Eliot’s hips, smiling. “I think this is a misunderstanding.” He pushes his groin against El’s, feeling how his own cock gets already interested again. “I didn’t mean I don’t want to,” he slides his body flush up Eliot’s torso so they’re nose to nose, feeling goosebumps cover his flesh as he does so. “What I meant was that the foreplay already feels like making love…, “ he nibs at his man’s desirable lips, “my love.”

"Oh!" Eliot's eyes begin to sparkle at that and a dazzling smile appears as around his lips. He grabs Quentin's face between his hands and kisses him fiercely. "I'm sorry I'm such a bumbling idiot tonight! I'm not normally this awkward!" Or this sober! "You're so special to me, Quentin!" He kisses him again, long and deep. "And I …." He swallows, wets his lips, and drowns himself in the way Quentin looks back at him full of patience and expectations and …. "I …"

"You…?" Quentin feels himself melt at an Eliot lost for words. And wait You're so special to me...Woaahhh! He bends down for more kissing. He just can't get enough, now that he's started this. His hands roam over every inch of skin he can reach. Those arms, that neck, those shoulders, that beautiful chest. He's got El memorised, even though he didn't want to admit that to himself in the past. It's completely different now. He wants this man, needs him like water in the desert or like he needs magic in his life.

He tries to roll himself on his back, pulling his new lover with him, "Make love to me, please, Eliot."

Eliot swallows his words, not ready to say them yet. For now he wants to concentrate on the physical side, on how Quentin begs him, offers himself to him. He kisses him again, stroking the heated skin he feels beneath him. He feels how Q is growing hard for him again! Nice! and pushes a little with his knee to spread the other's legs.

"Shit!" He suddenly bolts upright. He abandons his desire for a moment as he scrambles for his trousers and rummages through the pockets. When he comes up empty he curses more and dives for the little wooden bedside cabinet, yanking open the drawers. "Shit shit shit!"

Quentin leans up on his elbows again, looking bewildered for a moment until it dawns on him what El is looking for. He gets up himself and pads into the small cooking area, rummaging on a shelf there. He opens a little box and pulls out the only condom he had saved from his own jeans a long time ago. "Are you looking for something like that?" he smirks triumphantly.

Eliot falls back on the bed laughing. "You dark horse! Yes!" He moves his long elegant fingers quickly to magic the little square treasure out of Quentin's hand and towards him, where he plucks it out of the air. "I wonder where in this cursed place we might find a drugstore to stock up…" he winks teasingly as he carefully tears open the package. "As I have no intention of this being a one-off! Come here!" he beckons, as he rolls down the condom.

Quentin can't get his eyes off of Eliot's fine weapon. When Eliot looks up to meet his gaze, he feels caught and a furious blush creeps up his neck. "Ehm … You're … gorgeous," he stutters, quickly walking back to the bed. "I ehm…. I've never …" He throws his arms around his lover's neck and pulls him onto him again, panting, "Fuck El, I want to though!"

Eliot beams back at the man underneath him. "I want you so much!" He strokes Quentin's hair out of his face and kisses him softly, quite in contrast to the boiling heat he feels. "I'm guessing there wasn't any lube in your little box there?"

Quentin shakes his head, “Unfortunately not.” He bites his lip, frowning, “Don’t… don’t you know a spell for that?” The question was quicker out of his mouth as he wanted it to. But the famous El had a reputation after all. He blinks up at him.

"Darling, hell yes I do!" Eliot laughs. "What good is being a magician if it can't help you to, have the best sex?!" He pushes himself back onto his hunches, grinning wickedly at Quentin before he lets his eyes glide down his half hard cock and balls and towards the treasure hidden in the shadows of his legs. He puts his thumb and forefinger together, making a slow elegant twist with his wrist, concentrating hard on the delicate target of his spell. "Give it just a moment," he smirks at his man as he waits for the magic to take effect.

Quentin lets his eyes roam over the super sexy being that is his Eliot, wondering what will happen next. His arousal clearly is growing as he feels those mesmerizing eyes on him. And all of a sudden his pucker feels funny. It’s tingling, but not in a bad way and he spreads his legs slowly, wanting for El to see all of him now. He feels himself loosening up, like a cramp he’s had softening again, like a tranquilizing liquid warming up his insides. ‘ts a nice spell,” he mutters, “you wanna give it a try?” he licks his parted lips in anticipation. His eyes darting from those aristocratic chiseled features towards that also perfectly sculpted torso, adorned with soft hair. He moves his legs and holds his knees with his hands, hoping it’s an inviting gesture.

"Oh my….!" Eliot breathes out. "You are just delightful!" He sucks his fingers into his mouth and brings them to that exposed rose, teasing over the rumpled edges. "Beautiful…" Slowly, encouraged by the soft mewling of his sweet lover and friend, does he slide two fingers inside. "Is that okay?"

Quentin can only grin and nod. It’s a strange, full, but not unpleasant feeling. He grasps those fingers with his inner muscles, shuffling himself down a fraction, more onto them, testing. “Feels good,” he rasps out after a few moments.

Eliot moves his fingers slowly in and out for a few more strokes, watching Quentin as he gets used to him. Then he pulls back only to replace the intrusion with the press of his cockhead. Quentin tenses for a moment in reflex. But with a few murmured words of encouragement -and a little magic- he opens up to him. "Oh Q fuck yes!" Eliot moans as he slides onto and into the younger man, finally!

“It’s magic!” Quentin exclaims when he feels the man of his dreams fully inside of him for the very first time. “OhEl!” he sighs deeply, wrapping his limbs around the tall body. His backside feeling just a tiny bit out of order, the spell highlighting sensations he didn’t know he’d be able to feel. Or was that his normal, euphoric body reaction of El’s cock inside him? “So good!” He moans before pulling that luscious mouth onto his again.

Eliot holds still. Really really still. Because right now the sensations, the emotions that he's feeling are completely overwhelming him. It's not just the wonderful friction, the tightness and the heat that grip his sensitive member whilst at the same time Quentin plunges his tongue back into his mouth. This is making love. Like he never has before. Like he didn't know the meaning of the word before. He takes a shuddering slow breath before answering that deep kiss again. Allowing his body to feel, to truly be one with the man who has inspired him, whom he admires so much. "Q …" he whispers, nudging inside just a little more. He presses their foreheads together, his now long hair curtaining the both of them. "Are you okay?"

"Ye… yes," Quentin stammers, absolutely loving the way Eliot covers his body with his. Soso close! And inside me! He feels his straining cock nudge something very sensitive inside him which makes him quiver and moan. The warm gush of breath against his mouth makes him beg for more. His hands outline yet again every inch of El's subtle muscles.

Eliot takes the shuddered answer as approval for him to start moving. Slowly at first. Relishing every tremble, every gasp, every clench of muscles around his swollen cock. But soon they are each losing their initial shyness, their apprehension at not knowing how the other will respond. Faster movements, followed by bodies slapping together wildly, teeth pulling at skin and blunt nails scratching his back. He could come on the noises Quentin makes alone, on the pleasure that vibrates through his vocal cords. "Oh baby, you feel so amazing!" he cries out, feeling his orgasm begin to build deep inside.

“And you!” Quentin isn’t able to form coherent words anymore, “Oh Eliot! Fuck!” He shudders and shakes with every inward stroke, feeling nerves and nerve endings he’s never felt in his body before. Beautiful, breathtaking, mind blowing sensory overload. His dick had filled again a long time ago and chaves deliciously against El’s abdomen, each time he moves. Everything is slippery and sloppy from precum and saliva. His man’s love making noises are meeting his soul at the very core and he’s never heard anything more arousing before.

“Gonna come, babe,” he gasps between kisses, his insides already contracting pleasurably around that beauty that spoils him so thoroughly.

Eliot blinks and moans in surprise when Quentin's insides contract around his dick, squeezing him wonderfully. When he feels the hot wet splash of cum on his abdomen and chest it's all that he needs to send him crashing over the edge. "Oh fuck Q FUCK!!"

Quentin can’t stop coming. It’s like he’s never had a climax ever before. Having El inside of him is like a miracle. The older student wants him. Desires him. Melts between his hands like ice cream in the summer sun. And he’s just the same. Where El goes, he goes. They’re on a quest. And this quest now seems to have become their lives. Intertwined, together. Just like their bodies just now. He presses his heels onto Eliot’s fine arse to keep him where he is, flush against him that is. Buried as deeply inside of him as possible. “So hot,” he bites the side of El’s neck gently. “Loved it,” he admits.

"Love you," Eliot murmurs into Quentin's ear, utterly love drunk and mellow on his explosive orgasm.

Quentin's eyes grow wide at the admission and he thinks he didn't hear right. He wraps his arms around Eliot's neck to pull him flush against his front, listening to their bodies humm together. Really? The question is stuck on his tongue because he doesn’t want to ruin the perfect moment. Am I ready to say this back to him? His too rational brain kicks in all of a sudden and he decides to pretend he didn’t hear the soft words. Not yet at least. He makes a non conforming noise that sounds rather like the purr of a cat but he doesn’t care.

Fuck, did I say that out loud?! Eliot cringes when he realises that if he did Quentin didn't return it. He opens his mouth to explain himself, or make a joke out of it - probably the latter! But then he bites his tongue. He's had the best sex with the man he's been head over heels with for well over a year. And if nothing else he's finally admitted that to himself! If Quentin isn't ready to say that back to him, he can wait. After all, they have all the time in the world here.

He nuzzles his face back into the crock of Quentin's neck, breathing in the scent of his heat. I love you. Fuck, Q, I fucking love you! he repeats in his head and smiles. He's no longer afraid of that feeling. When Quentin pulls him close and makes a sort of rumbling noise, something like a cat purring, he feels a peace fall over him that he hasn't felt before. I'm home. With this man, this crazy nerdy motherfucker, and in this fucked up place I'm finally home.

F I N