Adult Content Warning
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Summary
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.