Eliot's hands are on me before I fully materialize, warm and urgent against my skin. The Mosaic cottage surrounds us, familiar and comforting despite the three hundred years that have passed. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting amber light over Eliot's face - older than I remember, but still undeniably my Eliot.

"You're fading again," he says, voice tight with worry as he presses his palm to my cheek. His touch grounds me, pulls me into solidity. I can feel the magic sparking between us, the same magic that brought me back from nothingness.

"Need you," I gasp, already half-hard from the simple press of his body against mine. My form stabilizes as desire builds - proof that our connection is more than emotional, it's physical, tangible magic.

Eliot's mouth crashes against mine, hungry and desperate. "Always," he murmurs against my lips. "But we don't have much time. Margo will be back soon with the turtle -"

"The what?" I pull back, confused, but Eliot just smirks and presses his thigh between my legs, making coherent thought impossible.

"Long story," he says, grinding against me slow and deliberate. "Later. Right now, you need to be solid for when we confront Todd -"

"Todd? Todd is the Dark King?" My mind reels, but Eliot's hands on my hips, guiding me to ride his thigh, make it hard to focus.

"Not exactly," he says, nipping at my neck. "He's more... a figurehead. There's something darker behind him. But we'll talk strategy after I've fucked you senseless. priorities, Q."

His hand slides between us, wrapping around my cock, and I arch into his touch. The magic between us flares, golden light swirling around our intertwined bodies. I can feel myself becoming more solid, more real, with every stroke.

"Eliot," I whimper, already close. After fifty years together and months apart in death, I've never needed him more.

He kisses me again, deep and thorough, as his hand quickens. "Cum for me, Q. Let me feel you."