Not too soft. [ Raising his hands to touch Quentin too, fingertips grazing over solid muscle, wiping away drops of water, forgetting to breathe for a moment as he watches more drip from his curls and onto his chest. ] But you are sweet, and patient, and generous.
[ The things that he likes about Quentin, that keep him drawn in his direction despite how strange this arrangement feels if he lets himself think about it for more than a second. They let Tim trust him enough to ask this of him at all, or assume that Quentin understands what it is he needs when he struggles to verbalize it himself. He can forgive him for the wrong he's done, all the poor decisions, the recklessness, the moments of doubt and despair and the self-indulgence of wallowing in it, but can he punish him for it, too? The forgiveness won't mean anything if it hasn't been earned.
Rising to the challenge, Quentin makes him gasp with the yank of his hair, pulling Tim's eyes to meet his. He winces slightly, quickly. A faint flush of pink starts blooming onto his cheeks at the same time. ]
no subject
[ The things that he likes about Quentin, that keep him drawn in his direction despite how strange this arrangement feels if he lets himself think about it for more than a second. They let Tim trust him enough to ask this of him at all, or assume that Quentin understands what it is he needs when he struggles to verbalize it himself. He can forgive him for the wrong he's done, all the poor decisions, the recklessness, the moments of doubt and despair and the self-indulgence of wallowing in it, but can he punish him for it, too? The forgiveness won't mean anything if it hasn't been earned.
Rising to the challenge, Quentin makes him gasp with the yank of his hair, pulling Tim's eyes to meet his. He winces slightly, quickly. A faint flush of pink starts blooming onto his cheeks at the same time. ]
I am. Prove me wrong.