Eliot's eyes widened in shock, and eventually closed after a second. He softly kissed him back, his thin hands resting on Quentin's hips. His cigarette was still burning in his hand, the end facing away from Q and sending smoke up into the air. After a few seconds, El pulled back and looked up into Quentin's eyes with a soft, vulnerable look in them, before quickly masking that. He cleared his throat, not breaking eye contact with Quentin. "I'll try, Q. For you," He murmured, lifting the cigarette up to his lips, his other hand still resting comfortably on Q's side.<br/><br/>His mind and heart were racing, and he could feel his pulse in his fingertips. He and Quentin had kissed before, but this had felt like so much more. He loved him, Quentin loved him. It didn't feel real, and probably wouldn't for a while, but at that moment, he relished in their close proximity. With his free hand, El reached up and tucked some of Quentin's hair behind his ear, clenching his jaw. He held out his hand with the cigarette, offering it to Quentin.<br/><br/>Eliot sat up straighter, leaning his back against the edge of the bed and searching Quentin's face for something. Maybe he was joking. Maybe he was just caught up in their shared experience in Old Fillory, maybe he was experimenting because Alice had rejected him. Who knew. Eliot knew that he shouldn't humor it, but he had always been a selfish man, and he wanted Quentin to be his, even if it was fleeting. Eliot swallowed and watched Q silently.