queliot on the second week of social distancing with each other in their apartment.
Quentin flopped down into what Eliot had been lovingly referring to as their Sex Nest for days. The Sex Nest, for the record, was a mass of pillows and blankets all piled together where the coffee table used to be. Easier access to the kitchen, Eliot had said, and honestly, he hadn’t been wrong. Angled just right, his telekinesis could refill their water glass and fetch snacks from the fridge without either of them having to move. They only had to leave the Nest for bathroom breaks and showers. He had to admit, being quarantined had its advantages.
Quentin snuggled against Eliot’s chest with a sigh. “Do you think we should get some fresh air or something?”
Eliot kissed the top of Quentin’s head. “You saying you want me to fuck you on the balcony?”
Quentin huffed a laugh. “Maybe.” He gazed up into Eliot’s eyes. “But I was thinking more about how we haven’t been outside in… ten days?”
“Not true,” Eliot said with a smile. “I picked up our takeout in the hallway last night. I was technically outside of the penthouse then.”
Quentin considered him with a smirk. “Pretty sure that doesn’t count, El.”
Eliot sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I have a not insignificant amount of Hoberman’s finest stashed away. You wanna go get stoned?”
“We said we weren’t smoking until this was over, remember?”
“Right,” Eliot groaned softly. “How could I possibly forget I haven’t had a cigarette in… so long.”
Quentin hummed, pressing a kiss to the center of Eliot’s chest. “Haven’t heard you complaining,” he said, and Eliot shot him a grin.
“Hard to complain when I’ve got your dick in my mouth instead.”
A fit of silent laughter rolled through Quentin. “Yeah. You’re welcome,” he said, then sighed, settling back against Eliot’s chest. “We could make magic brownies.”
Eliot considered this for a moment. “That sounds like so much work.”
“Yeah,” Quentin said. “Too much.”
Eliot pressed a kiss into Quentin’s hair. “Maybe later.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Quentin shut his eyes. Eventually, something might come along more tempting than the comfort of Eliot’s sleep-warm body. Maybe. For now, he was content to stay just like this, Eliot’s heart thumping slowly in his ear. Warm, strong hands on his skin, tracing circles into his back. The gentle push-pull of Eliot’s breath slowing as he drifted into dreams.
[send me Soft Queliot headcanons/asks/prompts]
