vivicidal | open rp / overflow

[ Lower. Yeah, okay. Peter interrupts an awed holy shit when their lips meet again, but Quentin's more ready. Both his hands brace lower and sweep Peter's ribs. He's seen this body in half-measures, skin peeking out from wide collars, hips hinted at under slinky athletic fabric. It's different under his hands. Same as Peter is different against his mouth, even if he's seen that sideways smile or the steel jaw a hundred times.

[ With a heavy sigh out, Quentin nods up into the kiss, opens up to skim his teeth over Peter's lower lip--to follow the scrape with his tongue. Hands flat on the small of his back, he tugs Peter in surely. When Quentin steps forward, the motion pushes Peter back to the counter. Lower. Okay, yeah. ]

[ the gentle bite is more than enough to coax peter's mouth open, jaw falling partially slack as his tongue delves in after quentin's. he sighs, soft and contented, the taste of him permeating his senses and driving his need even higher.

it's quite a pleasant surprise to find that quentin's audacious nature translates well into situations far more... personal, and hands on. and as he's pulled in, a subtle groan contains itself in his throat, fingertips digging into the nape of quentin's neck when his backside is met with the edge of the counter. quentin's assertiveness is duly noted... then lightly challenged when peter's free hand drops to his hip, trailing a path to his rear.

he's not ashamed to admit that he's stolen more than a few glances, but quentin's choice in loose-fit clothing leaves just about everything up to the imagination. which turns out... is not all that different in terms of soft and pliable. peter squeezes and pulls them even closer (as if they aren't already close enough), hinting at what now might be on both their minds. ]

[ Now, as ever, he's dressed loosely--even more comfortable for the sake of being in his own home. The thin-worn sweatpants make it all the more apparent when his ass tenses in Peter's grip, or make it painfully evident that his blood is running lower when Peter presses the little bit of distance out from between them. Quentin hisses, but he can't ease his erection out of Peter's hip without rocking into his hand. ]

Holy shit, Pete-- [ Quentin's thumbs hook into Peter's hips to put the inch or so between them that they afford. He detangles from Peter's mouth, but he doesn't open his eyes--barely lifts his lips off Peter, his voice still vibrates between them as he rambles. ] --dude, you were just mugged. You're hurt, and I like you--like--I dunno how much, if it's like like, or--which isn't to say this isn't--heh! great, I mean it's great--but I don't wanna--

[ His eyes flutter open, breath rushes along Peter's cheek when he sighs. ] --I don't wanna hurt you, man.

[ it's unmistakable — the press of quentin's erection to his hip — it has his heart pounding just a little harder, head swimming in possibilities and all mixing together in a heady combination. the rush catches peter off guard, and while quentin rambles off in all directions, it's all he can really think about.

it takes a surprising amount of willpower not to claim quentin's lips again, to derail that particular train of thought in an attempt to throw all reason out the window. even more so with their unrelenting proximity, lips so close that with one tug, peter could effectively shut him up. instead, he listens with mild amusement, the tiniest curve settling in at the corner of his mouth as he draws haphazard designs at quentin's neck, trailing just below the collar of his shirt.

finally, he lets out a sigh of his own and nods briefly. ]

I know... I know you don't, I just— got caught up. [ he wets his lips, and lets his other hand settle at quentin's hip, doing nothing to push or pull. just there... as a reminder. ] You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.

—kiss you, I mean. [ and well, everything else that goes along with it, but that's probably blatantly obvious by now. ]

But uh... unless you plan to bring out whips and chains, I think I'll be alright. [ he smiles, lopsided and playful in nature, ] or... if you'd rather play nurse for a while longer, don't let me ruin your plans.

[ He gets a grin for the mention of whips and chains, a laugh that's only part nervous. Quentin noses back to him, kisses gingerly at the curved corner of his mouth. ] Just--let me--lemme get you in the shower.

[ Sucking in a breath, Quentin stretches through his arms, fingers reaching down the sides of his legs and scooping between his thighs. He lets the buzzing in his stomach be excitement as he tips his head to hum in Peter's ear: ] We can decide once I get a look at you. Deal?

[ not in the least bit surprising... he fully anticipated quentin's protective nature to outweigh any selfish needs. that is... until he realizes that peter is mostly okay. just a little banged up. like a man that stumbled into the wrong crowd, and escaped before things got real ugly. ]

Mm, [ peter loops an arm loosely around quentin's shoulders, eyes sliding shut for a moment, while he indulges in the tantalizing shiver that rolls down the length of his back. one that quentin manages to evoke with ease. he turns his head to meet his lips once more, a kiss that's meant to be brief, but he finds himself lingering just a bit longer. ] You have yourself a deal, nurse hard-on.

[ His mind is mostly made up by the time Peter agrees, which might be apparent when Quentin nips a little harshly at his ear for the joke. Even so, he does want to have a look at Peter first, if only to know where to put his hands. Happily, the scrunched apartment means they don't have to be apart for long, just for the time it takes him to turn the music up and dig out an extra towel. That's all, then he's helping out with that shirt (let me--) and those jeans (i got it--), crowding Peter under the stream in the standing shower. ]

So how long have you been wanting to do that? [ Quentin peels out of his own shirt and sweatshirt at once, leaving them on the floor in front of the sink--pants too. He's fit, but soft around the edges, pale except his flushed cheeks and cock and a set of neat, narrow cuts healing on the inside of his right hip. If he's self-conscious about them, it doesn't show; Quentin's focus is on the blood pooled around Peter's ribs, blotchy marks looking even darker in the harsh bathroom light. He clicks his tongue, but the noise is lost under the sound of the water. ] Kiss me, I mean. First time we met? No--it was when you saw me talking to that toddler at the park, huh? Got the biological clock ticking.

[ His hands graze down Peter's chest, fingers pause to outline the worst of the damage. Quentin kisses his mouth shallowly, then the hinge of his jaw--the hollow of his throat--his nipple as Quentin pushes him against the shower wall-- ]

[ a+ for bedside manners.

peter watches quentin with clear interest, hungrily taking in every bit of skin as he strips himself down. he takes note of the markings, but he doesn't dwell... time and a place, and right now, there are far more important things for his eyes to focus on. ]

Oh, am I that predictable? [ he gives a wry little smile, hands lifting to rest at quentin's sides, just above the notch of his hipbones. he almost has half a mind to pull them close again, but the trail of quentin's lips signals another path, one that he eagerly follows. by now, his cock is fully erect, and twitching in response as he's pushed against the wall— sue him, he likes it a little rough. ] I would've swooned if I wasn't worried about a face full of pavement.

[ peter huffs a laugh and draws a hand into quentin's hair, combing through and gripping lightly. ]

Oh yeah, big wannabe-dad energy--mm. [ The hair that Peter doesn't catch between his knuckles flicks and plasters against Quentin's temples, dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his neck. His mouth is slack and lazing to one side, eyelashes hugging together as the spray catches him. He doesn't flinch when it runs through his eyes, though--just follows the way Peter tugs at him to look up while he takes a knee. ]

I'm serious. Tell me. [ That lazy smile takes on more lopsided purpose when he skates a palm from Peter's knee to his hip, smoothly wraps around his cock to stroke him slow and easy. ] When did you first think about it?

[ peter opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a soft sigh as quentin curls his hand around him. the weight of his touch isn't nearly enough, but it's enough to derail his thoughts for a beat. ]

Some time after we met, [ the tip of peter's tongue sweeps across his lips, his hand unfurling to push some of the hair from quentin's face. ] I came to meet you at the bookstore for our usual coffee... no idea what you were doing, taking inventory, maybe? [ his gaze then flits to the hand around his cock, distracting and gradually intensifying his ache for more, ] Scanning the books with a pen to your mouth, dragging the end across your lips.

Right there, against the bookcase.

[ Whoa. The image tightens his gut. That's gonna be a problem next time he's reviewing inventory. Could he have been making out with Peter in the stacks? Is that still up for grabs? He shakes his head and turns his cheek against the shaft in his hand, fingers wrapping snug as he pulls Peter back along his face.

[ See how it would fit? ]

That's hot. [ Simple, chuckling, casual. His free hand spiders around the bruises down Peter's leg, tap at the back of his knee while Quentin pulls back to cup the tip of his cock on his tongue. It's teasing, just the same as dragging Peter along his lower lip, wrapping his mouth loose around the crown just for a second before letting go.

[ Fuck, yeah, okay, it's extremely different not pawing at each other high or drunk in someone's mom's closet. ]

I don't usually, um. Go for guys. Or anyone, it's been--I dunno, I've been doing like an involuntary monk thing for a while, I guess.

[ sorry if I'm bad at it comes through pretty clear, but he can make up for his clumsiness with effort. On the next stroke, he pulls Peter back to his mouth and follows his fist down about halfway, tongue tight underneath him. ]

[ the first touch of quentin's tongue — hot, wet, teasing — pulls the softest of groans, barely audible over the sound of the shower. credit where it's due— most people in quentin's shoes wouldn't be so eager to drop to their knees, instead opting to let things happen to them. truthfully, peter wouldn't have minded.

he smiles lightly, one hand running through wet curls, settling at the crown of quentin's head as a sort of encouragement. perhaps a guide. ]

Don't worry about it, just go slow. [ a part of him expected a level of inexperience, quentin's fairly young and doesn't exactly strike peter as the promiscuous type. though with that face... a toss of the coin, really. ]

If I'm being honest, I thought about a lot more than that, [ he adds, glad to be of service of the invasive thoughts program. here, allow him to contribute a little something extra for those days that seem to drag on and on. everyone has them, might as well give quentin something to think about that just might make the day go by faster. ] I though— fuck... [ he moans breathily as quentin takes more of him into his mouth, fingers curling tightly around his hair, ] dragging you into the back, maybe an aisle where people don't often visit. Thought about— [ a breath, ] how your dick would feel in my mouth, what you'd sound like, trying so hard to keep quiet.

[ The permission to take his time is really relieving. No need to rush and get cocky or clumsy or lazy. He's especially grateful for the clarification when Peter keeps going because it's a little hard to focus when that picture comes to mind. Quentin hums at the thought of it (he'd be impossible to keep quiet, he can barely disguise his reactions in private, nevermind at high risk), mouth buzzing with it when he takes Peter in again. His lips brush his knuckles this time, breath rushing against Peter as Quentin pulls back for a breath, leaning into the grip in his hair.

[ Panting lightly, he smirks and massages his palm around Peter's balls, his other hand dropping between his own knees. ] You been jacking off thinking about me, Pete? Cuz I've been stuck on-- [ Still grinning, he presses a kiss to the base of his prick, licks it back up along the curve of Peter's hip. A sigh rushes along his shaft when Quentin strokes himself once, twice. ] --when I said back and you said--arch. That's gotten, uh. A lot of mileage.

[ His eyes flicker shut, mouth hanging open, lips snagging the fine skin at the underside of Peter's cock. ] You got me. Show me how you like it.

[ peter tips his head back in the wake of those little vibrations, a shuddered breath passing through parted lips as the heat of it coils up his spine. it's significantly... difficult to take things slow when quentin's mouth does such wonderful things.

slow, right— good things come to those who wait, or whatever. ]

Only on days that end in 'y'. [ he laughs lightly, lifting his head to return his attention to the pretty boy on his knees, momentarily distracted by the way he touches himself. ] Oh? [ nothing but pure intrigue in the response, fingers combing through his hair. stroking, really, now that it's mostly — if not, completely — wet. ] That far back, huh?

[ he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about that one.

with his free hand, peter presses his cock a little more firmly against quentin's mouth, rocking his hips to stroke the sensitive point just below the head. it only lasts for a handful of seconds, then he's pulling back and tugging lightly at his hair, ] am I on my hands and knees in that scenario? [ he smiles, ] c'mere.

Edited 2022-10-03 06:30 (UTC)

Or on your back. [ He adds, chasing the pressure as Peter pulls back. His chin nods up, tongue tips to his slit until Peter pulls at his hair. He comes up as called, but not without retracing his steps in bites to Peter's nipple-- ] Or in my lap. [ The hollow of his throat-- ] Or making me--ah--

[ His earlobe, firmer than before, before Quentin moves his head to the opposite side and takes a mouthful of Peter's neck, just below the dark marking along his jaw. Who's going to notice another bruise? It's fine. Long fingers wrap their lengths together to rub in synch, splay across the small of Peter's back. Quentin rocks into him. ] I've had a lot of time to think about it.

[ 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.

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jesus that icon tho

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