vivicidal | open rp / overflow

[ 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.

...You're drifting. [ Quentin smiles against his cheek. He's taking Quentin along, too; the ghosting touch, the alluring heat and calm in his muscles, and the powerful temptation to wrap arms around his waist and hang tight till they both drift off call Quentin like a siren song. Even as he shudders from the fingers in his hair, though, he knows better than to give in. His thumb brushes the bruise along Peter's jaw, forehead bumps into his temple. He keeps himself from curling around Peter the way he wants to. ] Think you can fall asleep?

I gotta have a smoke. Go ahead. I'll follow you down after.

Probably... [ peter hums lowly, the sound of it vibrating through his chest, almost like he's purring as he gradually surrenders himself to the lull of sleep.

truthfully, he'd much rather fall asleep like this, made evident by the way peter envelops quentin in his arms once more, holding the weight of him against his body. but if there's one thing he knows — confirmed by what's plastered all over quentin's walls — his relationship with sleep is rocky, at best.

with a deep, slow sigh, peter tips his head to press a chaste kiss to the corner of quentin's mouth, ] Go— I'm not going anywhere.

[ His mouth says he understands, but his arms feel like a really tempting trap. Quentin sighs along with Peter, body going lax against him for a few indulgent seconds. Just a few seconds of wishing he could shut his head off as easily as his body, stay like this, held like this.

[ Then, Quentin pushes up on his elbows and up to his knees before slipping off the bed. His hand skims Peter's leg, loops around his ankles for a last moment before going for Quentin's sweatpants on the floor. With a murmured apology, he tugs the coverlet out from under Peter and drops it over him. Soon after follows light drifts of smoke--marijuana and tobacco, spicy and warm and thick till the cool air snatches it up--from the window next to the bed where Quentin leans to smoke. He doesn't turn the radio off, but it's lower while he works through the spliff and the book in his lap. He doesn't follow Peter down for another two hours, but he sleeps close when he does, wakes when Peter stirs, settles deep when he settles.

[ He's not used to sleeping so heavily and safely in his own place. ]

open rp / overflow

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tying a bow on this...