newyorknative | Yes I want you, and that’s the way it is

Entry tags:

fiyero tigelaar : winkieprince

Yes I want you, and that’s the way it is

[ aka wicked ii: lost in new york ]

Peter thinks he's been successful at getting Fiyero out of his own head, whatever emotions might have been simmering there - expressing them was important, but whatever was going on... Peter didn't want Fiyero to have to languish for no reason. Not when he was right there - it wasn't like the bed task was urgent, after all. They're supposed to be having fun.

And it is fun - more fun than Peter had anticipated, listening to Fiyero gasp, impressed and maybe a little awed at the casual feat of strength. Okay... maybe Peter is getting a little ego boost with it, but is that such a terrible thing? His boyfriend thinks he's hot, as evidenced by the soft, oh-so-tantalizing moans Peter muffles with his mouth, licking his way past Fiyero's lips. He laughs warmly when Fiyero yelps in surprise, taking the opportunity to spin them around - it's a sedate circle, not wanting to pull on any of Fiyero's bonds accidentally in the wrong direction - before he carefully sets Fiyero's chair back down, facing the bed again.

"Five more minutes," Peter lifts a hand under Fiyero's chin, tipping it up towards him. His thumb brushes Fiyero's mouth, pushing in just a little to touch the pad of his thumb to the warmth of Fiyero's lip - he knows Fiyero will open his mouth for him, and that sends a little zing right down into his gut. "Then, your reward."

Peter releases Fiyero's chin and runs his hand through Fiyero's hair again, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of his head before he steps back once more. Patience and build up, but God, he's only human and Fiyero looks like a present in desperate need of unwrapping. Peter readjusts himself in his own pants, already sporting half a chub - and there's no reason to be subtle about it when it's just the two of them, his gaze cutting over to Fiyero - before he sets to work with the first post.

It's pretty simple, and the others will go quickly, now that the frame is done. Peter takes the rebar and squares it on the inside of the new frame, running it along the current wooden corner. Four screws in the bottom, a few along the post - Peter has to turn his back to Fiyero to hold everything in place, which gives him a nice view of Peter's rippling back muscles, at least.

Peter is being unbearably sexy, but he's also being very playful. Not remotely a strict teacher, not when he doesn't need to be. Listening to Peter's laugh makes him feel light and airy inside, like it makes complete sense Peter can just pick him up like that.

Fiyero's still smiling and catching his breath as Peter touches his chin, and there's definitely no strength necessary to tip it up. Fiyero's lips purse, kissing Peter's thumb, but also entirely ready to wrap around it if Peter had pushed it further. There's no argument this time as Peter promises to finish soon.

Fiyero closes his eyes as Peter kisses the top of his head. He actually misses Peter adjusting himself, still eyes closed, a faint smile still on his face as Peter looks over.

It's easier this time, to simply settle in the moment. Not necessarily sitting patiently, as he finds himself squirming a couple times, but this time it's the anticipation. Not any other worries or the wrong kind of overwhelm. He alternates between watching Peter, and simply sitting there with his eyes closed, just feeling the sensation of the ropes, the position he's locked in. This time he is doing what Peter had suggested - imagining what the reward might be.

He's not actually sure. He knows it's going to be fun. There's definitely going to be at least one orgasm in there. Will he keep him in the chair, or do something else? Fiyero really doesn't know, and that uncertainty is exciting too.

One drawback he's realising is that he can't really see the rope himself. Perhaps it's vanity, wanting to see it across his skin, or maybe he just wants both the sensation and the visual. (Perhaps he'll have to do some posing for Peter at some point.) But on the other hand, he gets some really wonderful views of Peter.

"You look so good," he says impulsively, the thought just slipping out. He presses his lips together, as if he's aware that's probably easily slipping into distraction. But he's not whining, not demanding attention! There's simply a limit to how much he can keep his thoughts in. At least now, after Peter's bursts of affection, he's less worried about having fucked up.

Lucky for Fiyero, Peter's done with the post by the time Fiyero comments; depositing the power drill on the bed, smile quirking the corners of his mouth as he turns back around. Fiyero's done exactly as he asked this whole time, so Peter will let it slide. This little game they're playing isn't really about throwing the book at Fiyero - they're just having fun. His smile widens as Fiyero clamps his mouth shut, like that will retroactively take back the slip.

Not a bad slip, either - distracting would be saying that while he was actively working the power tool. Peter hooks his thumbs through his belt loops again, cocking his hips to the side as he studies Fiyero - Peter wants Fiyero to know he's looking, to maybe feel exposed in more ways than just the vulnerability of the ropes.

"Yeah?" Peter lets his own hand rise, grazing his stomach, a slow, sensual touch to draw the eye. He's kind of winging the whole strip tease thing, but it seems Fiyero is appreciating it, so he endeavors to grab the confidence with both hands. Peter carefully thumbs open the button on his own pants, shimmying them off with a fluid roll of his hips, the bulge in his boxers more pronounced, without his pants in the way to dampen it. "Not a bad view from where I'm standing, either..."

"Are you ready for your reward?" Peter teases gently, stepping out of his pants and into the open vee of Fiyero's bound legs. He lets his hands run through Fiyero's hair fingertips sliding sensually down his bare shoulders, ramping up the anticipation. Finally, Peter grins, then climbs into Fiyero's lap, seating himself right on top of Fiyero's groin. His arms link around Fiyero's neck, forearms pressing against the back of the chair to help give him the leverage he needs to start rocking - grinding - against Fiyero's lap.

"Just relax, baby," Peter presses his forehead to Fiyero's, hips rolling, giving him some well-earned friction. He doubts it's enough to get off to, but that's not the point - it's about building them both up. Fiyero still has three rewards to go, after all... "You were so good for me, being so patient. Enjoy it, mm?"

Peter's smile reassures whatever residual worry there might have been, so warm, and amused rather than disapproving. Peter proves the observation immediately too, the way he seems to pose, even before he starts touching himself.

The way he studies Fiyero definitely brings a little pink to his cheeks, but Fiyero - who is used to encouraging and soaking in people's attention - can't help but spread his legs a little to give Peter more to look at. He nods definitely to reiterate that he absolutely means if, and Peter returns the favour by stroking his stomach in a way that makes Fiyero's mouth water.

Fiyero is obviously eager to shower Peter in compliments, by the way they burst out of him, but sometimes he doesn't even need to. His undivided attention says enough as Peter slowly strips. Fiyero's never quite felt this way about someone's appearance before. Peter was always beautiful, but the more they get to know each ofher, the sexier Peter seems to get to Fiyero. And while Fiyero doesn't need to say it, Peter's compliment is immediately confirmed by the growing erection in his underwear. The feelings are mutual, that much is obvious.

It's such a relief, when Peter finally touches him again. Not even from a sexual standpoint - just a longing to be close, to feel his skin. And then it's very sexual, Fiyero letting out a drawn-out sigh that ends in a moan of appreciation.

If Peter kept it going long enough, he might manage to come. There's been a fair amount of arousal built up already, even without being touched there. Still, the jeans muffle it enough that they're in no immediate danger, even if the moans might indicate otherwise.

His hips twitch and jerk a little, but he really is trying to relax. He could press up firmer, if he wanted, his hips free enough to move - but what he really wants is for Peter to give it to him. "Thank you.." he breathes, pressing his face against Peter's. Not kissing, simply being close. Closing his eyes and enjoying whatever Peter wants to give him.

Fiyero stares, and it makes Peter feel warm all over. Their connection is so unlike anything he’s ever experienced before - placing himself as an object of desire before Fiyero, precisely because Fiyero desired him. Which would have seemed laughable to Peter just a short while ago, and an ineffable truth, now. Even if this doesn’t last - whether Fiyero goes back to Oz, or stays and finds he tires of Peter’s company - Fiyero wanted him, once. Several times, in fact… in several different positions.

So he sets aside self-consciousness, basking in Fiyero’s eager want. Fiyero’s inviting him closer with the way he widens his legs, the way he strains, however subtly, however much he’s trying not to, against his bonds. It’s hot, and for once Peter’s letting himself enjoy it, too.

“You earned it,” Peter teases lightly, bumping his nose against Fiyero’s as the prince closes his eyes, giving himself over to the pleasure of the moment. Fiyero’s moans raise goosebumps on Peter’s arms, and Peter keeps grinding, setting a leisurely pace - not too slow, but once again not frantic, enjoying the way the motion brings their bodies together. Fiyero is solid against him, hardness warm against his backside, the slide of his warm and intoxicating with each roll of Peter’s hips.

Peter tucks his face into Fiyero’s neck after a moment, moaning softly in return - he’s really enjoying this, too, the front of his tented boxers gently brushing Fiyero’s stomach. He starts mouthing at his neck after another beat, lazy, slow, until he makes it up to Fiyero’s ear, soft pants exhaled against the side of his head, fingers curling in Fiyero’s hair. “You know… this is what it would be like if I was riding you…”

Fiyero is starting to warm up a little to the idea of earning rewards through good behaviour. Depends on the challenge, of course. Though teasing and frustrating, and surprisingly a little emotional, this hasn't been unpleasant. It easily could have - the kind of unpleasant he would hate, being neglected.

Enduring pain or exhaustion or overstimulation, that he thinks he could actually handle easier. Challenges that might be physically taxing, but not emotionally or mentally. Or at least not in the same way. Unless it was done with cruelty, he doesn't think it would upset him. After all, he's already endured quite a bit, the other times Peter has held him down or tied him up.

He'll happily endure this teasing as well. Peter is showering him in attention - and also using him for his own pleasure, something which delights Fiyero. Rather than thrust his hips, Fiyero arches his back on the next roll of Peter's groin against him. Fiyero's abs taut, he presses his stomach against Peter's dick through his underwear. He doesn't have a lot of opportunity to return the attention - but he's sure going to try to when he can.

Fiyero lets out a soft, needy noise at Peter's words. Replies come to mind - jokingly questioning whether he'd be tied up then to, or saying he'd want to be holding Peter. Dirtier words, describing what it would be like, Peter impaling himself on Fiyero's dick. Saying how much he wants that.

None of the words seem to come out. He is imagining it though, like Peter wanted him to. Just like this, Fiyero helplessly tied to the chair, or the bed, with Peter relentlessly riding his cock. Driving Fiyero absolutely insane. An intoxicating vision of Peter refusing to stop until he's brought himself to orgasm. Or -- fuck, the opposite. Peter still riding him, except Peter's hands are tied behind his back with webbing, and he's not allowed to stop, while Fiyero jerks Peter off. There's so many delicious ideas, and just the thought of it coupled with the way Peter is grinding against him makes Fiyero whimper softly into his neck.

Maybe it’s like a little bit of exposure therapy; and maybe it’s not so terrible, when combined with the knowledge that Peter will come back. That he’s not ignoring Fiyero, but rather… letting him simmer, with the promise of a boil on the horizon.

And it is a boil - a rolling one, if the way Peter’s hips are moving is any indication. If Fiyero is in want of a challenge, he might just get one when Peter stops. It feels good in the moment, but when it starts to feel too good, that will be Peter’s cue. Enduring sexual frustration is the name of this game…

Fiyero’s abdomen tenses, back arched, and Peter lets out a soft whine at the friction he gets in return - even more intense, given that the only barrier for him is his boxers. The fact that Fiyero is choosing that over lifting his hips to press into Peter’s ass is oddly sweet - which as Fiyero is well aware by now, turns Peter on like nothing else.

“Good boy,” Peter murmurs, because the term is not exclusive to him, and if he’s bestowing it, Fiyero will know he means it. Peter grasps at Fiyero’s hair, rocking back, forward, edging closer to simulate really riding Fiyero, as opposed to just grinding. “Just like that, baby. So hard for me, fuck, I could ride you all day - ”

He’s babbling a bit, that jittery, excitable dirty talk that spews out of him sometimes - but Fiyero certainly doesn’t seem to mind. Peter kisses at Fiyero’s jaw, open-mouthed, letting Fiyero curl into his embrace - face buried in his neck, Peter’s hands fisted in Fiyero’s hair. He switches up his grinding motion, going for a bounce instead - Peter presses Fiyero’s bulge between his cheeks, and now he’s definitely simulating a cowboy position.

Peter slows from there, gently slowing his pace until he’s simply seated on Fiyero’s lap, slowly circling his hips with Fiyero pressed right up against his ass. Peter nudges at Fiyero’s cheek with his nose, coaxing him up to kiss him, something sweet and smoldering. It feels like the most difficult thing in the world right now to focus on the task at hand - but he’s still got three more posts to drill.

“Next reward,” Peter murmurs, fingers carding slowly through Fiyero’s hair; he’s reluctant to get up, but he’d have to anyway if they were going to continue what he’s started. “I’ll take down your zipper with my teeth.”

It's both easier and more difficult to sit there and be made to wait, after being worked up like this. The sexual frustration is building, but he feels the furthest thing from neglected. This might be a very effective way to play when Fiyero wants to have sex but Peter has stuff he needs to do, really. Of course, it would take a lot shorter without the breaks, but where's the fun?

At least Fiyero gets to give Peter some pleasure in return too. Pressing against him, mouthing at his neck, breath hot. Getting some of Peter's noises in return, that filthy babbling, it only makes Fiyero harder. And Peter praises him for it too, which means he's absolutely going to keep trying.

His erection feels intense trapped in his jeans, which are unbearably tight right now. As Peter bounces, he finds himself more and more longing for proper friction, the slick slide of skin against skin. He imagines is cock enveloped by Peter warm ass, and he groans into Peter's neck.

It takes him a little while to realise that Peter isn't going to speed up again, once he's slowing more and more down. A needy little moan escapes him, his hips twitching up, trying to squirm against him. It doesn't make nearly enough difference - but it doesn't stop him from returning the kiss, a bit more intense than Peter makes it.

Then Peter reveals what the next reward will be, and Fiyero lets out a soft laugh, a deep chuckle, warm in his chest with a hint of a growl. Full of enjoyable frustration and anticipation and arousal. Oz, he doesn't want Peter to pull away - but he lets it happen without complaint. Being a good boy... at least this time.

He looks more than a little ravaged. Face flush with half-lidded eyes, hair a complete mess, nipples hard, and the bulge in his jeans is probably as big as it can get. He shifts in his seat, trying to adjust to the idea of just sitting there waiting for however more many minutes. Relaxing back into a position where he's not pulling at the ropes anymore.

After a moment, he frowns a little, taking stock as he twists his wrists inside the ropes. His hands are a little bit tingly and cold. Not bad, and he bites his lip, intending to ignore it, to endure. Don't ask for things, stay quiet, be patient.

Before he remembers that's the sort of thing he's supposed to bring up. Not the intended kind of torture. He hadn't even noticed until Peter left him to stew, so it's not too bad, but he's been sitting here a while now. Between the alternating attention and breaks - Fiyero has even less concept of how much time has passed, but it must have been a bit.

"Peter?" he speaks up softly, but he has the good sense to do it while Peter's not holding a power tool or right in the middle of doing something. "Could you.. My hands are a bit numb," he says sheepishly. It's clear from his tone at least that this is not needy impatient whining.

Peter stands, taking in his handiwork with dark eyes. Fiyero looks thoroughly debauched, and Peter knows he is, those little moans and twitches of Fiyero's muscles still echoing in his mind. He knows they're both still having fun, though, too; Fiyero's laughter lodges something warm in Peter's chest that isn't going away. How whole body feels pleasantly tingly, eager to keep going just as much as Fiyero is... but patience, he reminds himself, patience will reward them both in the end. Maybe he should take a picture though...

Peter's sure he looks quite the state himself - mostly naked, boxers taut at the front, a little bit of a wet spot beginning to form. Peter smiles, ruffling Fiyero's hair before he reluctantly returns to his task - taking the opportunity once he's facing away to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Fiyero certainly knows by now he's affecting Peter, but one of them has to keep it together, or the game may go unfinished (and the bed).

It shouldn't take terribly long, at least; this is the easy part. Peter picks up another piece of rebar, checking it against the lower corner of the bed - but that's as far as he gets before Fiyero pipes up, soft and polite; not the tone of intentional misbehavior, as if Fiyero wouldn't have his full attention even if it was. Whatever Fiyero was expecting Peter to do when he tips his head up, eyes seeking Fiyero's sheepish expression, it's probably not tossing the metal aside onto the bed - abruptly dropping everything and rounding Fiyero's chair.

He sees the problem immediately - the rope has twisted, leading from Fiyero's feet to his hands, and with the extra tugging from Peter's surprise reward, it's tightened it beyond what it should. Peter lifts the chair with one hand, focused on untwisting the rope - and once that's done, he sets the chair down and picks at the knot he created, loosening it until he's finally able to tug at the loose end and pull it apart completely.

The rope falls from Fiyero's wrists - it doesn't look like too much friction occurred; at least they were saved that much from the fact that the rope was made for this exact thing - but there are bruises that shouldn't be there, from all the tugging and tightening. Peter's hands immediately find Fiyero's, carefully drawing them around to Fiyero's front as he slides to kneel in front of him.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry," Peter frowns, brow drawn in worry; he still has one of Fiyero's hands captured in his own, gently rubbing feeling back into them to stimulate the blood flow. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have picked up the chair - "

The guilt is intense, written all over his shoulders as his thumbs sweep down to Fiyero's wrist, massaging one hand until he hastily switches to the other, so focused on fixing his mistake that he hasn't even looked up yet, anxiety thickening. Thank God Fiyero spoke up - it doesn't look like it did any lasting damage. Did it? What if it did? Peter might be... quietly freaking out a little, thumb sweeping over a broken capillary on Fiyero's wrist. "Fuck, fuck..."

Fiyero definitely wasn't expecting that much urgency. Concern, yes, of course. Peter worries too easily. The sudden shift of the chair does catch him by surprise though, and he can feel Peter's worry. It's maybe for the best that Fiyero is too horny to feel guilty about speaking up. (As if it wouldn't have been way worse if he had waited until it was more of a problem.) As far as he's concerned, the main downside is not being tied up anymore. But he's sure Peter can think of alternatives.

It is a relief when the ropes slack, even so. It hadn't been bothering him, but now it's gone, he can feel the difference. It still doesn't seem too bad to him, but he realises quickly that Peter seems to disagree.

His concern sends another wave of emotion through Fiyero. Not guilt. Just a deep fondness, gratitude, sympathy, mirrored concern. He lets Peter look after him, the warm touch comforting. Fiyero's hands are a little cold from the limited blood flow, but they're not discoloured, and they're not totally numb. Just a slight tingle as Peter massages them, not the stabbing needles of an asleep limb waking up.

Yet Peter is still freaking out, and it kind of breaks Fiyero's heart. "Hey, hey," he says sweetly, soft but speaking up over Peter's fretful cursing, reaching up with his free hand to cup Peter's cheek. "I'm okay, darling," he says, tilting Peter's head up to get him to look at Fiyero.

The look on Peter's face, panicked and guilt-ridden, definitely breaks Fiyero's heart.

"Hey.. It's okay, sweetie, I'm fine. Everything's okay, you did nothing wrong, I'm good, I'm happy," Fiyero insists, only breaking his verbal reassurances off as he leans down to pull Peter into a kiss, sweet and intent. The kind that grounds him - except this time it's not just the kiss.

Fiyero's feeling a million different emotions, many of them strong, but he has one clear purpose. To reassure him, to comfort him, to banish that guilt that Peter has far too much of. It's okay. Calm down. Everything is fine. It's okay. It's okay.

Discomfort would have gotten plenty of concern on it's own, but in particular what Fiyero called out was numbness, while he's tied like this... Peter knows precisely how bad that can get. He's researched it extensively for Spiderman purposes, testing his webbing efficacy to make sure it's not too strong, that it will dissolve in the right amount of time so the people he transports can get to the police station but also not experience any lasting side effects - and he's always so careful not to wrap it too tight, not to cause any harm.

And maybe Peter was getting into this a little more than he expected, too, because the bubble of guilt feels heavy, like maybe he's invented a new way to fail. He's supposed to be taking care of Fiyero when they do something like this and he got too excited and look what happened...

Fiyero reaches up to touch his face, and Peter looks up at him with wide eyes, disquiet and remorse written all over his expression. Fiyero shouldn't be the one calming him down, he's the injured party here, from Peter's stupid mistake -

He's not given a chance to argue, which is probably a good thing. Fiyero kisses him, and Peter leans into it, still holding Fiyero's other wrist, warming Fiyero's hand between his own. The kiss is sweet, full of compassion and comfort, meant to soothe. Peter can feel the tension easing, bleeding away, shoulders slumping slightly as he calms and starts to kiss Fiyero back, slow and apologetic. It's okay. Everything's fine...

Peter presses forward, stomach bumping against the edge of the chair in a subconscious bid to be closer. He feels... odd. It takes him a second to realize that he doesn't think that kiss was entirely just Fiyero managing to pacify him, but that there might have been some influence there. Peter embraces it, breaking the kiss with a slow breath, letting his head dip to rest against Fiyero's shoulder. Powers or not, it's all Fiyero, and that will never be a bad thing.

"I'm sorry," Peter says quietly, finally lifting his head; his pupils are dilated, though whether that is residual from the panic or from arousal, it's hard to say. He reaches up to take Fiyero's hand, lifting the other with it, so he can cup both in his own and kiss them penitently. "You're okay? It doesn't hurt?"

Fiyero can feel Peter relaxing against him, and it's a relief. Fiyero is far too sexed up to quit now - although, that's just another kind of denial that would no doubt make it very intense when they picked back up later. But they both know, it needs to be fun. Which means they need to get rid of this guilt and worry first. Though, as it turns out, comforting Peter is very rewarding in its own way.

Fiyero wraps an arm around Peter's shoulder as he breaks the kiss, hugging him closer. His other hands has shifted to holding Peter's as he warms it. He whispers another quiet "It's okay.." into Peter's ear. Just holding each other.

Peter lifts his head and Fiyero does too, looking at him. There's no blame or annoyance or hurt in his eyes, just pure affection, with a lingering hint of arousal. (He's still very hard, no danger there.) Peter looks so sweet as he takes both of Fiyero's hands in his.

"I'm okay," Fiyero answers softly, sincerely. "I'm very okay, actually," he adds with a playful soft grin. "You absolutely should have picked me up, that was really hot and fun." He presses a quick kiss to Peter's cheek. "And if it was bad, I would tell you. I did tell you," he reminds Peter. "Which, if you want to give me another reward for that, I think I deserve it."

His tone is light, sweet, playful. Full of reassurance, but also happiness. The interruption hasn't ruined anything, just given a little time to breathe. He feels... grateful, to be able to be there for Peter like this. Grateful that everything is okay. Not just physically, but between them.

Fiyero seems genuinely okay, eyes light, unbothered by this hiccup. Truly unbothered - Peter can see the desire still lingering there, unable to be banished entirely even from this moment. It makes him smile, however tentatively, under the sunny glow of Fiyero's affection. Like he's not entirely sure he's allowed, still kicking himself somewhat for his mistake... but there's only so much Fiyero's powers can do, when the hero complex runs as deep as it does with Peter. Not to worry - if Fiyero won't blame him, Peter's got enough inward condemnation for the both of them.

But now is not the moment - not when Fiyero has helped stop the swell of panic in it's tracks, when he's still so happy and playful. Peter manages a smile, squeezing Fiyero's hands gently in return. He believes him, of course; hard not to, when the evidence that Fiyero was having a very good time is right in front of him. "Yes, you did. I'm glad you did, 'yero. I never want to hurt you."

"Never, okay?" Peter's voice softens even more, almost painfully vulnerable. No, hurting Fiyero was non-negotiable. Peter dips his head to kiss Fiyero's hands again - first the backs, then flipping them over to kiss his palms. It's not unlike a kind of worship, reverence and care evident in his motions. He lets his lips brush gently over the bruising on Fiyero's wrists, carefully guiding Fiyero to loop his arms around Peter's neck.

"You definitely deserve it," He hums softly in agreement, finally tipping his head back up to make eye contact with Fiyero, some of the lightness returning to his expression. Seeing how happy Fiyero is makes it easier - how he really is okay, that it's not a lie for Peter's benefit. His own hands drift, sliding up Fiyero's thighs sensually, until he can rest a warm hand at Fiyero's button, pulled taut with the tension in his jeans. "But do you think you can behave?"

"I'd like to keep my hands free, to touch you," Peter thumbs open the button casually; the tension is no issue when he has enough strength in his pinky to hold himself up in a full handstand. He leans forward, breath washing over Fiyero's abdomen - he did say he wanted to pull Fiyero's fly down with his teeth. "But if I have to hold you down, baby, I won't be able to do other things..."

Perhaps it helped Fiyero's own guilt that he wasn't interrupting in the middle of passion and pleasure. Their game is put on hold, sure, but Peter was about to do constriction, not in the middle of fucking him. As long as they can find their way back to the enjoyment, and Peter isn't panicking, it's not that bad.

"I know," Fiyero answers softly, leaning down to kiss Peter's forehead. If Peter's kisses are reference and worship, then Fiyero's kiss is a blessing, forgiveness, absolution. He hugs Peter warmly as Peter guides his arms around him.

Silently he thinks that Peter would only ever hurt him as much as Fiyero wants him to. Like the expected pain and ache of being tied - he wants that, and Peter will grant it, if it's safe, if it's careful and intentional. But he doesn't bring that up right now. They're not really playing with that right now anyway. Just restriction and teasing.

It's amazing just how quickly his arousal returns in force, the moment Peter starts touching his thighs. He's a little worried about Peter being okay, but... Being able to make up for things seems to reassure Peter anyway. It seems pointless to deny him with more fretting. However, Fiyero will be sure to shower him with returned affection.

He draws in a breath as he feels Peter's warm breath against his abdomen, and oh yes, he is definitely horny still. His eyes darken with excitement, cock suddenly aching with anticipation.

"Depends.." Fiyero answers honestly, voice suddenly deeper, more sensual. "Depends what you mean by behave. I don't think I can stop myself from touching you..." He runs a hand through Peter's hair affectionately. "But if you want to tie me up some other way, I can be a very good boy to help with that."

Truth is, Fiyero was rather enjoying being tied up, and doesn't really want to stop. He knows why, and that it's probably a bad idea to tie his wrists again, at least the same way. Even just for the reason that he might worry Peter. But given how many thoughts Fiyero has swarming around his head, he's pretty sure he has some usable ideas. And, well.. He might be taking some of the burden of decision making away from Peter. While still letting them having the kind of fun they planned for.

It's comforting, knowing they can have these pauses. That Fiyero won't get angry, or change his mind - Peter's been in situations like that before, with people that only wanted him for one thing; that didn't want him enough to put up with hesitation or reservation. Powers aside, it's Fiyero's reaction that makes it okay to continue; sure, if they stopped now they'd both be wound up, but Fiyero wouldn't be mad at him.

Peter's smile starts to ease into something more relaxed as Fiyero inhales sharply, eyes glued to his expression. No, this didn't ruin the mood, and that's a relief. Fiyero is still just as interested, just as accepting and eager as he was before. Peter's appreciation blossoms, disgustingly fond; he can only hope when the situation is reversed, he doesn't stick his foot in his mouth - that he'll be able to make Fiyero feel just as accepted and comforted.

In the meantime, though, putting his mouth to work sounds like a good way to show his gratitude.

"Touching is fine," Peter nuzzles his head up into Fiyero's wandering hand, liking the way his fingers drag through fluffy hair. "I like it when you pull my hair. But we're going at my pace, baby."

Peter leans forward just enough to get his mouth on Fiyero's exposed hip, pressing him back in his seat. His hands find Fiyero's sides, touching him, brushing over the bruises and love bites from earlier - yes, he likes having his hands free to touch. With teeth, tongue, and the tantalizing drag of his lips, Peter follows the jut of Fiyero's hip back down to the open button, breath hot against Fiyero's pelvis. He pauses there - a test - and tilts his head up, looking at Fiyero through his lashes. "Think you can handle that?"

Peter is definitely not tying Fiyero's wrists again - not right now, at least, privately wondering if he should pause to check Fiyero's ankles, too. He could tie Fiyero's upper body to the back of the chair, loop it across his chest. Or his biceps, winding the rope through the slats of the chair... or a third, fourth, fifth option. If Fiyero has an idea, he's welcome to share with the class; this is a playful exchange of power, not a particularly intense encounter. The only rule is that Fiyero can't distract him...

Edited 2025-11-26 20:09 (UTC)

Fiyero can't imagine getting angry at Peter for something like this. Disappointed or frustrated, maybe. Maybe he would change his mind, but only temporarily. But angry? He would have to be in a really worked up emotional state to begin with. And even then, it's difficult to even wrap his head around reacting with anger when Peter is all concern and apology and guilt and care.

Though Fiyero is grateful that Peter wants to keep going. It would be a different kind of tease and denial, sure, and no doubt be more intense later. Relaxing with food and snuggles wouldn't be terrible, but Fiyero would rather have their fun first. And it doesn't seem like Peter is just pushing stuff down and pretending, just to please Fiyero.

Well, he might be pushing stuff down, but that doesn't mean he's faking his enjoyment. Because just like Peter never wants to hurt him, Fiyero never ever wants to make Peter do something he doesn't want to, something he doesn't enjoy.

Which doesn't seem to be a danger right now.

Fiyero does his best to keep his hips still as Peter explores with his mouth. It's manageable now, but once Peter wraps his lips around his cock? Highly unlikely. Also not necessarily a challenge he wants to try. It's one thing not being distracting, but letting Peter set the pace without meeting him halfway might be too much. And then Peter would have to hold down his hips, not leaving his hands free for other things.

"....Mmmhh," Fiyero answers thoughtfully, clearly turned on, running his hands affectionately through Peter's hair. "Based on previous experience, it seems unlikely," he says with an amused huff, smiling down at Peter.

He licks his lips, considering logistics for a moment. He'll need to be able to get his jeans off. They're tight enough that they can't really slip off very far, with his legs spread like this. Enough to free his erection, but just barely. But if Peter wants to open his jeans with his teeth, who is Fiyero to deny him? He doesn't know what other rewards Peter has in mind, and whether they require being tied to a chair, but Fiyero was enjoying the experience. He'd happily experiment some more with that.

"How about this," he suggests after a moment's consideration. "You untie my legs too, and I'll try my best to keep myself firmly planted on this chair for as long as I can... And when I fail--" He grins. "You can stop and we can figure exactly how to keep me still."

He intentionally includes himself in the process of restricting him to the chair. Fiyero gets to pick his poison, and Peter doesn't have to bear all the responsibility. And this way, Fiyero can have a challenge where it's explicitly alright to fail, where the punishment is also a reward.

"Well, at least you're self-aware." Peter laughs, delightfully surprised by Fiyero's honest admission - how matter of fact it is. He can definitely respect the frankness, the cheeky bluntness. For someone that hides his true nature from most people, Fiyero giving Peter the truth so easily makes him feel - special. Like Fiyero's mask is a million miles away, and Peter's the one that gets to see the real him.

He hums quietly, enjoying Fiyero's fingers in his hair for a beat. It's terribly tempting to just say fuck it and suck Fiyero off here - but that would ruin the game, of course. As for his rewards? He's still kind of winging it, with a few nebulous ideas... the first one seemed to go pretty well, so he's rolling with it. Peter nods his assent to Fiyero's plan, amusement lighting up his eyes. "How long do you think you'll last? I'd hate to be - interrupted."

Peter grins, hands sliding down Fiyero's body - they slip off, going for the ropes at his ankles. Those are simple to undo now that his wrists aren't tied, and Peter deftly frees his boyfriend, once again lifting the chair slightly to ensure the rope doesn't get caught beneath the leg. He can't quite help the way his hands move to Fiyero's ankles, gently rubbing them the same way he did Fiyero's wrists - just in case.

"This was going to be more dramatic, with you being tied up," Peter huffs, offering Fiyero a lop-sided smile before he finally lowers his head, nuzzling against Fiyero's groin. It takes a few tries to catch the small zipper between his teeth, but that's kind of the point. All the while, the friction of his face against Fiyero's lap is unpredictable, and ideally, slightly maddening. His hands rise, groping at Fiyero's thighs, up to his sides again, anywhere he can reach.

Peter finally catches the zipper, pulling it down with his front teeth. He nudges the jeans apart, groaning when he reaches Fiyero's underwear - before he's mouthing along the outline of Fiyero's cock, mouth wet, hot, insistent but still muffled by the fabric.

Which again - kind of the point.

Peter's not just teasing Fiyero with this - he's teasing himself, too, mouth watering at the idea of finally getting to suck on Fiyero, to feel him heavy on his tongue. He smells of crisp salt, the headiness of arousal, and Peter's never thought of himself as particularly turned on by the specifics of sex - but sex with Fiyero? Peter really, really wants to taste him.

Patience, Peter reminds himself, pressing his face into Fiyero's lap, moaning against the side of his shaft, the fabric of Fiyero's underwear starting to cling now, under Peter's attention. His hands slide around to Fiyero's back, one creeping down to cup his ass - groping lazily, anything to distract himself from the way he wants to just peel Fiyero out of his jeans and have him.

Peter is definitely getting the real Fiyero. He hides less and less, able to be more open, not just to Peter, but also to himself. It's not fixed in a day, but given how little time he's actually been here, it's like his heart has been dramatically cracked open.

He's still performative, but then so is Peter sometimes. During sex, they've used their performance to great effect. But after the moment of worry and reassurance, the intimacy and sweetness seems to stick. It feels natural to be honest, while keeping things light. And if it makes Peter laugh, even better.

"Probably not long enough for you to finish," Fiyero answers, keeping his honesty. There will be an interruption. That was kind of the point. Fiyero's willingly encouraging the teasing and edging.

The way Peter rubs at his ankles is sweet, Fiyero having no objection to it. It also makes it feel less empty, when the ropes are suddenly gone. Thankfully Peter is determined to make up for it, and Fiyero returns the smile. Like they need more drama! Fiyero is just happy to have Peter nuzzling against his crotch, building the need and pleasure inside him far too slowly.

Fiyero keeps stroking Peter's hair, though his hands start caressing whatever part of him he can easily reach. His shoulders, his arms, smoothing his palm across Peter's skin or gently dragging his nails. Just showing his appreciation by touching, without getting in the way or what Peter wants to do.

It definitely gets more difficult staying still once Peter finally opens his jeans and starts mouthing at his erection. It's intense, especially with the moaning that seems to shake through him, making him moan in return. Fiyero's thighs tense and relax, his abs flex as he leans forward, his feet shift against the floor - his hips stay where they are.

"Fuck, Peter..." he breathes, tugging lightly at his hair. "Yeah, I'm not-- You're definitely gonna have to tie me down soon, baby," he warns with a warm, breathy llaugh. He'll keep trying for as long as he can, but it's a losing battle. But hopefully he can hold back long enough for Peter to drive him a little insane - and for Fiyero to regret having moved.

It's definitely been a whirlwind, for them both, but Fiyero especially. Healthy or not, the relationship the two of them found together when Peter softened Fiyero's landing... it's important and it's real. If Peter had to guess one way or another, he'd have to say they're both better off for it. Even with the moment of worry... he feels good. Not because Fiyero compelled him that way, but because that's just the way Fiyero makes him feel.

Fiyero's hands on his skin just make the urge to get at him that much more potent. Peter whines quietly, the sound almost lost entirely to Fiyero's pants, but his own hands grip tighter, the telltale drag of his stickiness making itself known in subtle drags against Fiyero's skin. Fiyero's moans echo in his ears, and Peter mouths at him with renewed fervor, hands squeezing against Fiyero's backside.

He comes up for a breath at Fiyero's breathless warning, cheeks red, eyes bright, tufts of his hair peeking out from between Fiyero's fingers. "Just a little more, baby?"

The excited tone to his voice almost makes it sound like he's the one asking permission, and Peter levers himself up a little higher to kiss at Fiyero's flexing abs instead. He lets his lips down, showering Fiyero in attention, one hand coming up to assist when he gets back to the waistband of Fiyero's underwear. He tucks two fingers in the elastic, tugging it down and using his mouth to coax Fiyero's cock free - mouthing at him with abandon, dragging his lips all over turgid flesh with just a hint of tongue, until Fiyero's erection finally springs free. Peter groans happily, the hand on Fiyero's ass falling to grip the chair - if nothing else, Peter may keep Fiyero pinned with his own enthusiasm.

Peter tucks the band under Fiyero's balls, taking the opportunity to give him a wide lick - he starts from the base, dragging a long, lavish trail all the way up to the flush head, the tip of his tongue teasing against the sensitive nerve bundle. His eyes turn up to Fiyero to watch his reaction, playful challenge in his expression - can Fiyero hold on, or is he going to need to be tied down?

The sensations are amazing, but what really works Fiyero up is just how hungry Peter seems to be for him. The eagerness, the little noises, it's almost like Peter is more desperate to go further than Fiyero himself.

Almost. Because Fiyero is definitely getting very worked up. The flushed and excited look in Peter's face sends a thrill of arousal through him. "I'll try, for you, darling," he promises.

Once Peter's lips touch his cock directly, it's a lot more difficult. Fiyero's head drops back with a drawn-out, pleased moan. Until now, he's managed to occasionally relax, but how his hips seem almost locked in place by his own determination. Like a coiled spring ready to snap.

His legs twitch as Peter's tongue drags across his erection. Little jerks in the muscles, not lifting him off the seat nor moving him much at all, except for the sudden flexing of muscles. It's clear he's struggling to hold on, and it's only made more obvious by his expression. Needy, horny, a hint of desperation intermingled with pleasure. His mouth fully open with hot breath, closing as he lets out a whine.

He doesn't have much more restraint left in him. Not after the teasing he's already had, especially if you count at the sex shop. The only deciding factor is how much longer Peter is planning to go. Maybe he can hold out a minute, maybe two. Sooner or later, Peter's either going to stop and drive Fiyero mad that way, or he's going to push him that little bit more where his body fights him wins.

Either way, he'll probably suggest being tied up. At this point, while he might feel accomplished at holding back, it would feel like a disappointment to not get roped up again.

Fiyero knows exactly what he's doing to him with all the sweet touches, and the use of the pet name brings a whole new wave of heat to Peter's face. Fiyero's learning his buttons and is all too happy to press them, and Peter can't even pretend he's not completely down bad about it. He returns to his task with elation, very pleased when he earns a finger-curling moan out of Fiyero for his efforts. The tension is obvious in every line of his body, like Peter took a wrench and cranked all of Fiyero's joints tighter.

He's doing so well though - holding himself as still as possible, aside from the uncontrollable muscle twitches that tell Peter just how very badly Fiyero is trying to hold on. This focus on being good and holding himself back leaves his expression unguarded - need and rapture the dominant emotions broadcasting there. Peter drinks it in, painfully hard in his own boxers - but far too preoccupied touching Fiyero, coaxing more of those little whines and noises out of him - to care about his own pulsing need. All in due time...

Peter lets his tongue make a slow circle around the head of Fiyero's cock, hand shifting to grip him in a warm fist and give him some pressure. He pulls back for a second, pupils dilated in what is most certainly arousal this time as he looks up at Fiyero, giving him a few firm strokes - still pleasure, but a break from the heat of his mouth.

"You taste perfect," Peter hums, ducking in again to kiss Fiyero's balls, on display above the underwear. "I just want you to fill my mouth - "

Which is precisely what he does - whoops, break over. Peter parts his lips, letting his hand guide Fiyero into his mouth, with two quick, eager bobs of his head. He groans around him, tongue pressing up against Fiyero's underside, and on the third bob Peter gives him a long, needy slurp. Wet heaven, the unrelenting heat of his mouth, tongue flexing against Fiyero's shaft - Peter's not holding anything back.

Fiyero isn't even consciously trying to push Peter's buttons right now. At least not to make him horny. This is just affection, gratitude, comfort - that and wanting to have his hands all over Peter. Might as well take advantage of it while he can, right? It'll make being tied up again all the more deliciously frustrating - or at minimum, when Peter goes back to work.

Though he's quickly realising that if Peter doesn't make him come - which (with a few rewards yet to go) Fiyero doesn't expect him to do quite yet - he's going to need to be tied up just to be able to remain seated and not touching himself while waiting for Peter to finish construction. Unless 'going to do something completely different' counts as not being distracting. All he knows is his hands need to be busy with something else, whether that's being out of reach, or doing something.

Fiyero's unaware what his expression is even doing, nor the noises he makes. Both are strained, his muscles taut in a way that makes every sound coming out of his chest just a little bit choked. But they're also fully natural, no artifice or performance. It makes him a little quieter, but it also means every moan or whine is fully earned.

Everything Peter does seems to built that pleasure inside him, even his hand. His muscles briefly relax, building exhaustion from the tension. Amazing how just sitting here is a workout. Somehow even just the look on Peter's face sends a thrill through him, making him shiver a little. He looks so gorgeous...

It only makes it more intense as Peter does exactly what he years for, and Fiyero lets out a soft, choked cry as he drops his head back in response to feeling the warmth of Peter's mouth wrapping around him.

Fiyero's hands have tightened to a probably painful grip in Peter's hair, his back arched, his body shuddering with effort. The slurp is obscene, the groans and whines shaking through him, and his control slips. As Peter's head pulls back, Fiyero's hips follow, chasing the pleasure, trying to push deeper.

Maybe that's why this is pushing his buttons even harder...

Fiyero's quiet, especially under the music - but it's not as though Peter has to struggle to hear him. He's locked in, focus zeroed in on the quickening whoosh of Fiyero's breathing, the soft gasps and keening whines, the thrum of his heart. He doesn't know what the neighbors are doing, and he could care less. It's incredible, the way Fiyero can capture every single ounce of his attention; it truly is a feat, and something Peter is grateful for because it means he can relax.

Perhaps slurping him down so obscenely wasn't fair, but it gets a gorgeous reaction. If Fiyero's grip is painful, Peter doesn't notice - what's a little pain, when you've been shot and stabbed and beaten, time after time? If anything, it just sharpens his focus, his own arousal, knowing he's made Fiyero so aroused he can't control himself. And control himself... it seems Fiyero really can't, hips pressing forward, fucking his cock back into Peter's retreating mouth.

He doesn't fight the first thrust, enjoying the way Fiyero claims his mouth - he lets Fiyero fuck about half of his cock back in, up against his tongue - before Peter pins him, hand turning to iron and forcing Fiyero's hips back in the chair. It's gentle but firm, and Peter pulls his mouth away with a lazy pop.

"Seems like someone needs the rope again," Peter teases, voice husky. Fiyero's cock bobs in front of him, hard, wet, and utterly perfect. Peter smiles, pressing a kiss to the head - the softest brush of his lips, what might be an apology, if he weren't teasing the thing Fiyero wants most in this moment. "Mm, I'll be back for this... bed's not going to build itself."

God, he wishes it would though.

Peter collects the rope in his hands and looks up at Fiyero thoughtfully. Fiyero might have a suggestion on how he'd like to be tied, or Peter can come up with something. Not his wrists, though Peter does think if he tied Fiyero's wrists and webbed the rope to the ceiling, he could string him up pretty well... another time. Maybe he's see how weak he could make Fiyero's knees in a scenario like that...

It's another kind of freedom, that even without being tied back, Fiyero doesn't need to hold back with Peter. He can't really accidentally hurt him in any way that matters, and if it was more painful than Peter wanted, he would simply hold him back. There's no chance of Fiyero enthusiastically overpowering Peter. Really, the only way Fiyero could force Peter into something would be to emotionally manipulate him - and that's not exactly likely to happen by accident. At least he didn't thrust when Peter already had him deep in his mouth. Fiyero tries to control himself, but unlike Peter, he doesn't need to be scared of what might happen if he didn't.

Even without the ropes, it's intoxicating when Peter pins him down. When that pleasure suddenly disappears, and a whine crawls its way out of his throat. He hates and loves it at the same time. Physically, it's infuriating, the sexual frustration flooding him. His cock throbs with need, where even just the sensation of Peter's lips brushing against him makes his legs twitch.

And yet he loves not having a choice in the matter. It only makes it hotter. Knowing Peter is building him up, in a way Fiyero could never manage on his own. Restraint has never quite been his strong suit. And that's okay. It does something to him, relinquishing the control and the responsibility, knowing he'll enjoy himself and be taken care of.

It's why there's no complaint, no matter how desperate Fiyero looks to have Peter continue. He's flushed and panting, need painted across his face, he but doesn't object. His grip of Peter's hair looses, and he brushes through it once as an apology, letting go when Peter stands up. Fiyero intentionally grips the sides of the chair just to hang on to something for the moment, taking a second to breathe.

He looks up to see Peter standing there with the rope, contemplating. "I do, I do need it," Fiyero answers and licks his lips, then gets to his feet - his muscles object, but even if he feels shaky, his balance is fine. He doesn't need to undo the jeans, but he does reach down to push both the jeans and the underwear aside in one smooth motion, kicking them aside.

Then he immediately sits back down, positioning himself. Spreading his legs quite wide, scooting forward a little on the seat, then pushing his feet back on either side of the chair, so they're resting on his tip toes closer to the back legs. "You could do here, and here," he suggests, pointing from his ankle to the back legs of the chair, and then from his thighs to the back leg or the spindle that connects the legs. If it's quite far up his thigh, he would definitely have no ability to thrust, nor to pull his legs together. Peter would have free reign to touch wherever he wanted, too.

He's been debating whether he should tie his arms back, but honestly, he both wants and needs it. So additionally, he leans back and pulls his shoulders back, putting both his arms over the back of the chair. Drawing them closer together behind his back, as well as behind the back of the chair, and he laces his fingers together. "Just my upper arms would be enough," he says, his voice earnest and trembling a little.

Once again, it's clear that Fiyero has plenty of ideas. Like he's arranging himself for Peter's enjoyment. Sometimes, perhaps he wants Peter to fully take control of everything, to make all the decisions. To completely inhabit the dominating role. Other times, like this, he's perfectly ready to share the burden. To let Peter know exactly what he wants and needs, and let Peter give it to him.

Peter's hair is an absolute mess as he rises from the floor, looking pretty obscene himself - sex hair, lips pink and puffy, boxers with a wet spot on the front that would continue expanding the longer they left them on. Fiyero looks - Peter just wants to get right back on his knees and keep going, to keep that beautiful flush on Fiyero's face - and his grip on the rope tightens to stop himself from touching. Not yet. Patience.

That's easier said than done, when Fiyero starts arranging himself.

Peter's worried for a brief moment, wondering if Fiyero will wobble when he stands so suddenly - but he doesn't fall, shucking his clothing and discarding it elsewhere on the floor. Peter can't focus on that, eyes dark as Fiyero positions himself in the chair. It's a complicated series of knots Fiyero is suggesting, but it's not too dissimilar from a hogtie; or at least, Peter thinks he can visualize which knots to use to execute it safely. It would mean Fiyero was pinned completely, no leeway to shift his hips or get anything more - just struggling, at Peter's mercy.

God, his boyfriend is hot.

Peter leans down to kiss him, one hand moving to tilt Fiyero's head up. It's a sweet, happy kiss, and Peter parts with a gentle brush of his thumb against Fiyero's cheek, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I like the way you think."

He crouches, deftly looping the rope under Fiyero's calf, and begins tying his knots. He holds Fiyero's ankle delicately - he doesn't put him quite on his toes, two fingers tucked between the rope and Fiyero's skin to gauge the tension. He wants it tight but comfortable, and with maybe a little room to squirm. The squirming can be very fun, after all.

"You're unfairly attractive, you know that?" Peter teases gently, running his fingertips over Fiyero's thigh before he loops the rope beneath Fiyero's leg, tightening it to fit. "Is this good?"

When both of Fiyero's thighs are tied to the chair, Peter gives the rope a pull, letting Fiyero feel the tension, the way it would be if he strained against it. He rises, hand dragging over Fiyero's bare skin - up his thigh, his shoulder - until Peter can wrap his arms around Fiyero's neck, tucking his chin over Fiyero's shoulder. The view is something else - ropes contrast against Fiyero's skin, his cock standing at eager attention. Peter presses a kiss to Fiyero's cheek, hands sliding down Fiyero's arms until he starts tying up Fiyero's biceps, too.

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