vivicidal | open rp / overflow

[ the first bite comes as a surprise — a pleasant surprise, to be sure — pulling a gasp and a breathy sort of laugh. it's becoming evidently clear that quentin likes to bite... and well, peter ain't mad about it. ]

Mm, [ he hums his response, warm acknowledgement as he leans into every scrape and pinch of quentin's teeth, careful to keep the bruise at his jaw from interrupting more important things here. ] We've been awfully busy in that little head of yours— [ peter loops an arm around quentin, hand pressed to his shoulder blade, the other wrapping around his forearm as he matches his pace. he groans lowly, and quickly backtracks because, well... ] Making you, what exactly?

[ pray tell, what was he going to say there? ]

Arch. [ As much a breath as anything, slurring up the line of his jaw and into his hair. ] You making me arch.

Touch me?

Getting there, [ peter murmurs, the corner of his mouth curving upward into an impish little smirk.

the hand at quentin's back follows a path over his shoulder, then hooks lightly under his chin, fingers pressing in at his jaw to create a small space between them. just enough to get a good look at those swollen, pouty lips before claiming them with his own, an edge of greed to the bite that he leaves at the lower. ]

I still have to show you how I like it, don't I? [ he adds — a rhetorical question — while his other hand moves to replace quentin's, focusing only on his cock. down his length with a light grasp, then back up with more pressure, his thumb sweeping over the head. ]

[ His body is reactive in the mildest circumstances. Moaning now is a foregone conclusion. Quentin's hips hitch into the touch, pushes through Peter's guiding grip on his chin to beg for another kiss--cups around his face to kiss him back against the shower wall. He wants to know. He does. But the demanding touch from Peter is--good, surprisingly good for as strange as it is. His only worry--thumb hooking Peter's chin, pressing it open to plunge into his mouth--is keeping up.

[ Show me. His pleased, hungry hum resonates in both their mouths. Show me. ]

[ peter gives way to those insistent lips with an ease not unlike breathing, quentin's need far too compelling and magnetic to deny. he obliges, happily, fingertips trailing down his neck and settling at his collarbone. reactive is good, for all his teasing remarks, reactive is really fucking good and quite possibly... addictive.

he pants lightly against quentin's mouth, just as hungry for every kiss he has to offer. the hand between them slowing its pace — grasp still firm and sure — intent on drawing this out as long as possible.

a moment later, peter breaks the kiss with a husky, ] Let me, [ then slides himself down the wall, all but eager to get his mouth on him that he doesn't afford him the same attention. (he'll make up for that later.) he wastes no time to run the flat of his tongue from base to tip, then pauses to pay special attention to the frenulum. ]

Oh, fuck, Peter. [ It feels Peter drags his soul down to his dick, dropping so quickly and honing in on that sensitive spot. He has thought about this. As he attests, Quentin has too, but he hadn't anticipated Peter being quite so ready.

[ Hopefully ready enough that it doesn't startle him when Quentin jerks forward instinctively. The jolt of pleasure through his hips doesn't leave much room for him to stop himself, and even as he whines-- ] sorry, fuck, I-- [ --his fingers are pushing into Peter's hair, rounding the back of his skull to protect it from the shower wall. He can't stop himself from thrusting, but he can keep it from hurting Peter unnecessarily. ]

[ what if peter was trying to entice quentin into fucking his mouth, hm? what if? 'cause maybe he's a filthy little whore when it comes to sex (especially when the thrill of a hunt is coursing through his veins), but nobody heard that here. heard what? nothing, that's right.

peter's mouth hangs open and inviting, just enough to adapt to the girth of quentin's cock as he pushes himself deeper. he moans around him, his only response, tongue pressed up to the underside as his hands glide to his ass as encouragement.

show me... is this what he expected?

his fingers dig in, pulling quentin deeper until the head of his cock nudges the back of his mouth. ]

[ He's easy with praise, like he can make up for using Peter's mouth by breathing his name, making him well aware that omigod, that's so hot, you're so-- as he finds a steady rhythm. It's tentative when he can feel Peter's nose brush under his belly, Peter's palate go soft when he's in deep. Quentin's fingers tighten around the back of his neck, like the extra control outside is gonna keep him from doing something stupid inside.

[ Rolling his forehead along the shower wall, he drops his other hand to wrap under Peter's jaw, to lift his chin just a hair so that when Quentin eases out along his tongue, he can look down and see, and-- ] Jesuschrist, Peter, that's pretty. [ Fingers stretch along the column of his throat, following Quentin as he fuck back in, tight enough to feel how Peter's throat winds tight and relaxes.

[ Despite the hot water, Quentin shudders. Peter can certainly taste it, but: ] I'm not--I cannot last a lot longer like this, Pete. Fuck.

[ peter takes every bit of it with an ease of experience— his own cock throbbing with the way quentin seems to eagerly accept the silent invitation. not to mention, the praise... if he didn't know he had a praise kink, well, he certainly does now.

he groans lowly when the all too familiar taste seeps across his tongue with every thrust, tempted to swallow him whole, to suck him dry, coming undone by the heat of his mouth alone. instead, peter lifts his gaze and drags one hand forward to wrap around the base, easing him out. the constant stretch of his mouth compounds the pain in his jaw, but he doesn't let it show as he drops his head back, pushing into the hand at his neck. ]

What do you want to do? [ his tone is a little deeper, inflected with unadulterated lust. he's more than ready to finish him off right there... but... the thought of quentin fucking him is what drew him here in the first place.

peter wets his lips as he continues pumping his length, slow, easy, hovering near the peak of his orgasm. ]

[ Arch. ]

...Like this. Open your mouth. [ His fingers push over Peter's to pump himself. Quentin breathes out intentionally, one thumb hooked in Peter's teeth to hold him slack. His head is still heavy on Peter's tongue, shifting with his strokes. As his breath goes low, his voice follows: ] Stop touching yourself.

[ peter keeps his eyes on quentin as his tongue moves in tandem with his strokes, his breath hot with every light pant, ghosting along the length of his cock. peter follows his direction with ease... he's good at that sort of thing, just as good as he is giving it when it suits his desires.

but right now... it's a far better look on quentin.

as much as he finds it intensely attractive, he can't help the soft whine of mild frustration that escapes him. ultimately, he does what he's told, lightly skimming shorn nails along quentin's leg instead. his hand rises higher and higher, following a path to wrap around his balls, gently tugging and massaging, adding to quentin's stimulation. ]

[ He was close enough without the hand, but it puts him over easily. His thumb hooks harder against Peter's teeth as he comes, moaning from his chest. It's slow, a couple deep waves, but holy shit, it's feels good to come to someone else. It feels insane to see his cum on the flat of Peter's tongue. Every nerve feels hooked on the orgasm, and he can only stand watching for a few seconds--a few pulses, before he has to pinch his eyes shut, tilt his head back. ]

Omigod. You look so good. Better than I imagined, you look-- [ Both hands loosen up when the worst (best?) of it passes, smoothing around his temples and palming warmly into his hair. There's an aspect of covering there--he's welcome to spit unobserved. ] --so good, c'mere. Come on, c'mere.

[ His thumbs massage into Peter's jaw, lips press firmly to his brow, next to his nose, the corner of his mouth before Quentin slips his tongue in. One hand fumbles back to turn off the shower. ]

[ peter swallows — always — makes a show of it like a greedy little bottom, humming lightly as he licks his lips. ]

That was fucking hot, [ a small coquettish grin curls into place at one side of his mouth, his own hands smoothing over quentin's hips to keep himself overstimulating him just to hear those sounds again. the touch to his jaw should have peter recoiling but... there's something so erotic about pain when he's aroused as fuck, the intensities commingling at its finest grind.

it makes him ache.

peter meets quentin's tongue with his own, remnants of his orgasm still left behind, his kiss intense, hungry and unbridled. he only breaks for a desperate plea as he pushes himself off the shower floor. ] Touch me, [ a breath, ] Please.

Mmhmm. [ Yeah, yeah, he'll get there. Quentin pulls Peter back to the kiss, smirking, then drops that hand around his waist to bring them snug together. It's easier to move like this, foregoing the towel on the rack completely as Quentin kisses him out of the shower stall and out of the little bathroom still soaking wet. Besides, he can feel Peter hard against his thigh better if they're pressed tight together. His free hand and memory of the apartment guide them clumsily.

[ It's not a long trip to the unmade bed at all; there's barely six steps into the bedroom to reach the foot of it. Quentin doesn't let up from his mouth until he's pressing Peter down to the mattress. He kisses over the hickey left from the shower, arms stretching out over Peter's head. ] I wanna be inside. Is that okay?

[ peter hits the bed with a gasp that sounds all too desperate, his hands quick to return to quentin's body, touching and stroking as much of him as he can for the sole purpose of slaking his own need. he indulges in the press of his lips, and when quentin gives a voice to that request, a soft, breathy moan crawls from the back of his throat.

his body reacts before he does, legs pulling apart, torso pressing up, ] Fuck yes— [ he says on a breath, turning his head to press a light kiss to quentin's temple.

as if he's in any mind to decline such an enticing offer. ]

More than okay, [ purring, one hand trailing up along quentin's back, the nape of his neck, then threading through damp hair. ] I want you inside me.

[ Peter sounds so good that it almost pisses Quentin off not to be able to get it up, even when the invitation honeys his nerves so heavily he can taste it in his mouth. He laughs as he gets his hands back under his shoulders, watches Peter from above for a few enraptured seconds. Even if he's not hard, his eyes and mouth are dark from arousal. ]

You're like a fucking drug, man. How do you do that? [ Laughed, at ends, as he rolls away for the bedstand and the bottle of lube stashed therein. He brings it back with him, into his lap. His hand spreads up the back of Peter's right leg, coaxing it up over his shoulder. Quentin shakes his head with another stupid chuckle. ] More importantly, how the hell are you single?

You are single, right? [ Maybe it's too late to ask when he's slicking up his fingers, blown eyes checking up for Peter's just before pushing two inside him. With the way he said he wants it, gotta assume two is okay. ] Please god tell me you're not married with a bunch of kids?

[ a laugh punches through peter as he drops his head back against the bed, running his fingers through his own hair to smooth it out— probably futile, all things considered. it's a fair question, though, peter doesn't exactly make a habit of talking about his romantic life, or lack thereof... for good reason, he thinks.

but before he can even think to give a proper answer, peter's breath hitches as those fingers ease into him, cock twitching in response to the stretch, to the sensation of being filled. ]

Oh my— Fuck— [ he let out a breathy laugh, and lifts his other knee, heel pressed into the mattress to spread himself wider for quentin. ] You really gonna— ah— [ he then pushes himself up to rest on his elbows, ] ask me that with your fingers inside me?

[ peter gently rocks his hips down in an attempt to plunge them deeper, biting lightly at the corner of his lip, ] I'm single, if it makes you feel better.

I figure it ups my chances of getting an honest answer. But yeah, [ His smile cocks sideways, eyes catch Peter's from below his brow as Quentin angles his wrist and sinks into him deep. His other arm slides around Peter's thigh, hugging it to his shoulder, and under his prick. Quentin spits in his open palm before wrapping around Peter snugly and crooking his fingers inside, pressing in with a long stroke. ] That makes me feel a lot better.

[ his hips stutter as quentin drives that desperate ache through him with a moan, his own hand winding into the sheets while he watches, gaze darkened with salacious detail. it feels— ]

Good. [ an affirmation that leaves him in something of a visceral groan. keep it up, and peter won't last very long. it's fairly easy to fall back into the rhythm, into the tension that had built up in the shower. ] Mm, so good. [ breathless this time, and he drops his head back before the rest of his body follows suit, focusing on squeezing his muscles around the fingers buried deep. ]

[ His mouth drops open when Peter bears down. Shouldn't have blown it in the shower, he fully and violently regrets, feeling the tightness around his knuckles and down his shoulder where Peter's thigh rests. Quentin wets his mouth, nods along silently as he adjusts his grip to skim easy from tip to root, squeeze on the drag back up. The length of his thumb spiders under the head of Peter's cock on the upward strokes. ]

I'll fuck you next time. [ His fingers slip out, thrust back in sharply with a third. He's not hard, but Quentin rocks into Peter's open hips anyway. His breath shudders from the effort of spreading those fingers inside him. ] I wanna be all over you.

[ He can trail bruises from Peter's thighs to his stomach to the dark pool around his ribs and up to his jaw, just above a racing pulse that Quentin only wishes he could put his mouth on. His lips fold against the inside of Peter's knee in lieu of that. His fingers pinch together on the next thrust for depth and discovery, groping for his prostate. ]

[ it surprises peter, the skill that quentin displays with his hands, urging him along effortlessly with every thrust of slick fingers, every squeeze and stroke— ] Fuck me like this? So you can watch how you drive me fucking crazy.

[ the tone of his voice is deep, rough around the edges as he draws closer and closer to his own climax. practically begging for it now with the way precome beads at the tip, and the way his thighs begin to lightly tremble. as quentin adds a third finger, peter almost chokes on an inhale, offering a very clear visual for those fantasies as he arches off the bed. ]

—Right there, Q. [ he gasps, dropping a hand to his own thigh, adding just a touch of pressure to one of the bruises there. ] Fuck, I'm so close.

[ He's focused, so focused on keeping up with Peter's pleasure--slicking his thumb along the slit, dropping his shoulder so that he can keep his fingers right there--that he doesn't bother keeping what's on his mind from just falling out of his mouth. ] Oh, pretty. Oh--

[ It's an ego boost, to say the least, for someone like this to be unwinding in his hands. His mind makes a fuzzy note of where Peter's hands travel, but Quentin is too fixated on the fact that he's doing that. ]

Lemme see. Peter, come on, lemme see you. [ Hoarse, demanded in a breath, working over his cock steady and quick, pulsing into him deep and precise. ] Lemme hear it. Show me. Come on.

[ it should go without saying that peter — like quentin — can be just as reactive, letting himself succumb to the heat that builds in the pit of his stomach, everything drawn tight and swollen. he breathes heavily, moaning his gratification as quentin hits his prostate again and again. ]

Shit, you're good with your hands— [ he lifts his head, watching as they work diligently, balls pulling taut at the mere sight, ] Fuck—ah, fuck.

[ his hips rock forward, time and again, meeting every thrust of those fingers. and that's all it takes to yank him over the precipice, gasping as his cock pulses in quentin's grip. long seconds that pull him apart at the seams, unspooling the tension that had been swelling long before he found himself on quentin's doorstep.

he watches for as long as he can, then drops his head back once more, gaze now set upon quentin's expressions, the intensity in his eyes slowly filtering out as he descends into post-orgasmic bliss. ]

[ When he looks to Quentin's face, Peter will find him gazing right back with a dull smile. ] ...Holy shit.

[ The smile stays, hazy and dazed as he stretches for a tissue off the nightstand. He makes quick work of what could be a mess, wiping Peter's stomach and hip clean, licking stray cum from between his knuckles without any fanfare. He's still glowing-warm from the shower, but softer, looser when he crawls back between Peter's legs, laying over him to catch his mouth in the kiss Quentin wanted to give him so badly just a few seconds ago. ]

Yeah...yeah, definitely. [ Whispered between firm presses of his lips, between sighs. ] Definitely wanna be up here next time.

[ His eyes catch Peter's half-lidded, lips twist up at the corners. ] Catch that? Mmm--set up for next time? Really smooth, right? You can say it. I'm intimidating.

[ He can always talk, but this gives the distinct impression of a child trying not to fall asleep. ]

[ peter greets quentin with a lazy, lopsided smile, still breathless as he encompasses him in his arms, returning every little kiss with a hum of contentment. the attention fills him with warm euphoria, spilling over in gentle, wandering hands, caressing the expanse of quentin's back.

he then brings both hands forward to smooth over quentin's temples, straight into his hair with a soft laugh, weightless, ] Mmm, so intimidating. [ he steals another kiss, ] It was awfully lonely up here—

[ the tips of his fingers stroke lightly, encouraging that call to sleep that so endearingly makes itself known. peter, himself, feels empty of energy, his muscles sated and sleepy, the pleasant sensation seeping through his limbs. ] Without your mouth to keep me company.

open rp / overflow

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jesus that icon tho

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tying a bow on this...