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 ]

Fiyero watches as Peter finally gets back to work, and he draws in a deep slow breath, like trying to ground himself. Looking down at himself, it's... Oz, it's a lot. His cock just sort of hovering there between his spread legs, the black rope against his thighs.. He can't even see the rest, but thanks to Peter, he's not got a very clear mental image of exactly what he looks like...

Leaning his head forward is a bad idea though, as he feels a tiny bit of drool make its way over his lower lip and down his chin before he has a chance to turn his head up. His shoulders are pulled back in this position, so he can't really wipe it off either, so.. Another thing that adds to the blush.

He shifts his position a bit, finding the most comfortable way to sit, and then he just... sits. Eyes closed, listening to the noises of Peter working and the music still playing, occasionally opening his eyes at the louder sound of the drill.

It's surprising how calm he feels. That pleasant haziness has settled something inside him, letting him just focus on the moment. Of the sensation of the ropes against his skin, the gentle ache of being stuck in his position. The arousal still thrumming quietly through him. Yes, he wants Peter come to play with him some more - but in the meantime, he's resigned to his fate.

A sudden thought pops into his head - someone just wants to play with all the new toys - and he suddenly imagines if that were true. If Peter had put that plug inside Fiyero, playing with the vibrations while he was sitting here, helpless and desperate. Making sure there was absolutely no way for him to relax, but also not enough pleasure to push him over the edge. Even knowing he's not supposed to distract, Fiyero makes a soft noise just at the thought. He can't help it.

When Peter turns back to Fiyero at the noise, he looks to be lost in sensation, maybe, imagination? His lashes are a dark blur against his skin, wetness on his chin and Peter hasn't even started. It also strikes Peter as oddly cute, between the light flush and the defenseless nature of Fiyero's current position. Peter holds onto the fond swelling in his chest at the sight, movements quiet as he sets down the tools and returns to Fiyero's side. If his touch comes as a surprise, perhaps it only heightens whatever Fiyero's thinking about - be it fantasy or physical.

His fingertips graze Fiyero's cock, brushing along the shaft. His prince is still fairly hard, nowhere close to soft enough to rest against his leg; Peter lets his touch trail upward, skirting the rope to feel up Fiyero's abdomen, his chest, his neck. Peter's hand pauses there, palm flat on the back of Fiyero's neck, his gaze fixed singularly on Fiyero. "I'm going to take that as, 'I'm excited for my reward.'"

"Very excited," Peter wipes away the wetness with his thumb, releasing Fiyero to tuck his fingers in the waistband of his boxers, still obstructing Fiyero's view to his reward. Peter grins playfully, dragging them down a few inches to reveal the cut of his hip, the suggestive outline of his erection in relief. What's more, there's absolutely nothing Fiyero can do to stop the dorky, stupid, somehow-still-kinda-sexy pun. "Practically gagging for it."

Peter doesn't opt to remove his boxers, instead moving to free Fiyero's tied arms from the back of the chair. It allows Fiyero the freedom of movement to bend his upper half as he had before, but Peter leaves his arms bound together, legs spread, suspended. Frankly, Peter's probably strong enough to hold the back of the chair and leave Fiyero tied to it - to use his mouth upside down. Another time, maybe. Peter winds a hand in Fiyero's hair and circles back to face him; Peter's grip, formerly teasingly light, becomes a demand, a direction, tugging Fiyero to bend forward.

Peter's confident that Fiyero will both go willingly and stay, so his hands return to shimmying his boxers down, a striptease for a particularly captive audience. Finally, Peter pushes them off, fabric pooling at his feet and cock immediately springing to attention, directly in front of Fiyero's face.

Fiyero doesn't notice Peter returning to his side, so he startles just a little at the sudden touch, letting out a surprised whimper as his cock twitches in response. The surprise settles into yearning very quickly, giving a shuddering breath as Peter's hand brushes across his skin. There's an almost electric tingle following the touch, but not because Peter is doing anything special. It just feels like his nerves are extra sensitive.

He gives an agreeing hum, nodding a little as Peter wipes his chin. He hadn't realised that much time had passed, and now-- Oh, yes... Fiyero can feel his mouth watering at the promise of his reward, and the way Peter teases it. It's probably a sign of the headspace he's in and how aroused he is, he doesn't even seem to react much to the pun.

He sits quietly, patient, as Peter messes with the ropes. The pressure against his arms doesn't loosen, but he realises quickly that Peter's detached him from the chair. The way his hand in Fiyero's hair tightens only works to solidify Fiyero's headspace as a beloved toy for Peter to play with and fuck to his heart's content.

Fiyero doesn't take any effort to pull down, following quickly and happily. The only resistance is that he needs to lift his arms back to move over the back of the chair. Peter pulls him just far enough that his hands more or less rest on the back of the chair. The ropes tying his arms together only goes down to just past the elbows - avoiding his strained wrists - so while he can't pull his arms apart, he does have a little bit of freedom of movement in the wrists. It allows him to turn his hands so he can actually grip the back of his chair, steadying himself. Just in time for Peter's cock to bob in front of him.

While the bottom of his mouth is wet with spit, the roof of it as well as the pad of his tongue has dried. He wets the tip of his tongue to lick the roof of his mouth as best he can - it's not easy with his mouth this far open. Fiyero's brand new to giving blowjobs in general, and already he's being given new challenges. He's not complaining though.

In fact, by the way he sticks his tongue out invitingly towards Peter's cock and makes a soft encouraging noise, he's as happy as can be.

Fiyero leans forward easily, eagerly, eyes intent on his prize. Being the subject of his enthusiasm is heady, and Peter grips himself, palm rubbing a quick stripe up his shaft. Touching himself, right in front of Fiyero, to Fiyero, openly and boldly. The way he's leaning, Fiyero has to whine for him, tongue beckoning, tempting him in; he can't get any more than what Peter gives him. Peter groans in response, jacking himself casually; He lets the head of his cock bump Fiyero's tongue, then smears it against Fiyero's lower lip. Fiyero might be new to oral - new to everything in some sense - but practice made perfect, and Peter did not mind helping out.

"Instead of letting me touch you," Peter hums, slowly feeding his cock through the gag; Fiyero just has to take it, make use of his tongue and throat, and allow Peter to set the pace. He fucks in shallowly, letting his cock bump against Fiyero's tongue, the inside of his cheek. His mouth is a little dry from being left to hang open, but he'd start drooling soon enough, with something to suck on. "You wanted this. You wanted to be held open and fucked..."

Peter's hands find Fiyero's hair, tugging on it as he rests in Fiyero's mouth, about a third of his cock sliding against Fiyero's tongue. His hips set a steady pace, lightly fucking into his boyfriend's waiting mouth until it started to become easier, saliva easing the way. He's letting Fiyero's body dictate for the moment, pressing in until he's fucking at least half his cock back and forth against Fiyero's tongue.

"So good for me, fuck baby - " Peter pets through Fiyero's hair with one hand, the other coiled tightly in his locks already, pulling lightly. He doesn't have to be particularly rough for it to be effective - just rough enough to be commanding, while hopefully not detracting from the way the ropes all pulled at Fiyero, keeping him strung up and helpless to Peter's whims. "Just relax, let me have your mouth. It's mine. You're mine, and you're so very good at it - oh, yes..."

Beloved toy indeed, as Peter starts to speed up a little, Fiyero's mouth wet, warm, and tight around him. They can't do anything crazy deep from this angle, but that's not a requirement; it still feels incredible. Peter's watching Fiyero for any sign that it's too much, fingers sliding to the back of his head, adjusting his grip to help him press forward. If Fiyero had the plug in while they were doing this... or, once again, trapped beneath his desk with a full mouth, something to muffle the whimpers as Peter cranked the vibration again...

"They sell a cock attachment for this gag," Peter's pace slows again, not wanting to build up too quickly; he's wound tight himself, honestly. "Instead of a ring, or the ball. You look so pretty with a cock in your mouth, maybe next time we'll get you one."

Peter just standing there touching himself in front of Fiyero, when his mouth is right there, is rather rude. Especially knowing that Peter is sensitive and comes easily, and he's been hard for a while now too. Why waste it with his hand, when Fiyero's mouth is right here?

Obviously to tease him, and he's very predictable, because it's working. All he can really do is wiggle a little, maybe lean further forward if he lets go of the back of the chair, but then he starts getting too low. Thankfully Peter doesn't keep taunting him like that for too long, giving Fiyero what he's practically begging for.

His body might object, his cock dully aching with need, but Fiyero has no regrets as Peter reminds him that this is what he requested. Bent over like this, his erection is brushing lightly up against his stomach. It's almost worse than before, the grazing tongues just reminding him what he can't have, making him all the more aware of his denial. Yet what he's really craving is exactly this, letting Peter fuck him and take his pleasure, and he gives an appreciative moan to let Peter know as much.

It's a surprisingly different experience... He can't quite close his lips around Peter to suck, at least not until he's deeper in. He also can't move spit around his mouth the same way, having to rely on Peter's cock to literally slick up against the tip of his tongue. What he can do is press his tongue up against him, alternating between the entire flat surface, or the tip of his tongue. He's not really thinking about it consciously, but preventing him from doing certain things lets him really focus in on the things he can do.

That's just the physical aspect though. Mentally... It's even stronger than when Peter was fucking him into the pillow. Peter's hand in his hair ensures he can't move, but having his mouth so firmly propped open by the metal against his teeth is a little dizzying. Peter could literally choke him on his dick, and Fiyero would be helpless to do anything to stop him. He wants it, a little, to have Peter press deep into his throat, force him to hold his breath, to wonder just how long he's going to keep him there as his lungs start burning.

It's probably best he doesn't, at least not yet. Fiyero's already ecstatic just getting to taste Peter's dick, to feel his hand in his hair, to hear his voice and his sweet words, the way his breath picks up...

Fiyero lets out a drawn out groan, humming around Peter's cock filling his mouth up. His eyes are closed, too bent forward to be able to really look up at Peter anyway, but he tries to bend his neck back as far as he can, to let Peter go deep. He can already feel the drool going down his chin now. Peter calls him his, and Fiyero whines with need. It's all he can really do, all he has is his noises and his tongue. He relaxes his jaw, opening his mouth further around the gag - even without being pinned between his teeth, it stays secure by the straps. Fiyero's swallowing, trying to give as much space as possible for Peter's cock, almost trying to invite him in. If anything, Fiyero's giving signs that it's not enough.

He whines once again, though whether it's because Peter slowed down or because he's talking about strapping a cock into Fiyero's mouth, is unclear, including to Fiyero himself. That sure would be a way to train him to keep a cock in his mouth, wouldn't it? His dick twitches a little at the thought. As resistant as he seems to be to challenges and behaving, the thought of Peter training him is still really hot...

Fiyero is definitely telegraphing his enjoyment, moaning and writhing in his bonds as much as he can. So grateful to be taken, when Peter finally stops teasing him and gives him his reward - Peter's lucky he doesn't blow it right there, on the first press into Fiyero's waiting mouth. He knows he won't last long, but this is what Fiyero wants - to be a vehicle for Peter's pleasure. To be taken, used, trapped in his own arousal. Held open like this, Fiyero can barely control anything - he can't suck properly or use his lips, can't meet Peter's thrusts with the bob of his head, can't move much at all.

He chuckles at the high whine Fiyero gives him, taking that as an approval and a protest. Funny how it can be both at the same time; but Fiyero seems to have adapted well to his impromptu lesson so far. If this was fun, maybe Fiyero will discover behaving has it's perks - or maybe that's a fun punishment, nursing a fake cock instead of a real one... or it could be used to occupy him when Peter's too sensitive himself... the options for things they could try really are endless.

Saliva and wetness start to collect on Fiyero's chin, the way forward getting easier to push through with the additional lubrication. Peter can feel Fiyero's throat fluttering, swallowing enticingly, like if he proves he's thirsty enough, Peter will indulge and bury himself in Fiyero's throat.

How is he supposed to resist an invitation like that?

"My Fiyero," Peter groans, tipping his head back and rocking forward, fucking Fiyero's face in one long, slow stroke. His legs are shaking a little with the effort it's taking to hold back; it feels too good, and he's a hair trigger on a good day. The motion presses him deep, but slowly enough that Fiyero will feel it coming; as Peter said, he doesn't have to be rough, and the casual nature of his manhandling confidently sexy, while also ensuring he's not giving Fiyero more than he can handle. They're not trying to push limits, they're just trying to enjoy themselves.

When Peter's almost fully seated in Fiyero's mouth - which does probably cut off his air, at least for this brief moment - he runs a hand through Fiyero's hair possessively and gives him a simple command: "Swallow."

"This what you want, baby? Just me, as deep as you can have me, hm?" Peter hums sweetly, grip tightening at the sensation - oh, he really is right on the razor's edge of blowing it, fuck. "That's it - 'yero I'm going to - I can't - "

Peter pulls his hips back, giving Fiyero air again, but doesn't take his cock out of Fiyero's mouth. Instead, he starts thrusting, humping Fiyero's face and chasing release with a shaky need churning in his gut. It doesn't take more than three pumps of his hips before he's coming with a choked cry, spilling into Fiyero's warm mouth.

It's proving to be a very effective way of taking Fiyero out of his own head, and that's probably what he's so desperate for. Submitting to Peter, to his helplessness. There is nothing he can do, and there is nothing he's expected to do. All other thoughts fade away, even more so than before. A blissful emptiness, just swimming in the sensory experiences and his own internal need.

The more Peter fucks his mouth, the less of an active participant Fiyero gets. His muscles relaxing, held up by the ropes and Peter's hand in his hair. It might have been worrying, the way he relaxes, if it weren't for the moans and needy little whimpers. If he wanted to escape, he could make that easily very clear just by actually struggling, even if he didn't remember to hum. The more Peter fucks his mouth, the noisier he also gets, in a completely unintentional unselfconscious way.

Finally Peter pushes all the way in, Fiyero drawing an instinctive breath through his nose before he can't. The command seems to go straight to his motor reflexes, bypassing his brain entirely, making him swallow Peter down. Helpless not only to Peter, but to his own body's responses.

It aches in his throat, stretching him out to fit Peter's cock. His lips finally manage to wrap around Peter's cock at the base, but there's no way for him to suck now. So Fiyero doesn't do anything, suspended in a moment that feels like it lasts forever. Literally suspended between ropes and possessive hands. Terribly helpless and vulnerable, trapped and breathless, but also completely safe.

He doesn't answer Peter's words, not really hearing them beyond the comforting warm sound, just letting out a breath along with Peter's cock, then a soft gasp as his body remembers to breathe. It wasn't nearly long enough for his lungs to start burning, which is probably for the best as he quickly catches his breath as Peter fucks more quickly into his mouth.

He knows that Peter's going to come, though whether that's because of the warning or because he recognises those desperate movements, it doesn't really matter. The cum hits his tongue and the back of his throat, and he swallows as best he can. But without the ability to wrap his lips around Peter and suck it all down, a fair amount comes dribbling down his chin.

Fiyero should feel embarrassed about that. He's a complete mess. Flushed, covered in spit and cum, looking more than a little out of it. Trussed up by his own volition, probably the least respectable he could ever look. But any shred of vanity has gone along with the rest too. It doesn't matter if he looks gross or if he's nothing but a passive receptacle for Peter's cock. Peter still cares for him, protects him, cherishes him...

That's what all of this is ultimately for, isn't it; release, in more ways than just the obvious. Submission to circumstances outside of Fiyero's control, a method of playing with force that is in no way violating. Fiyero has had too much of that already in his time here; but with Peter, he is safe. Cared for, appreciated - the objectification of Fiyero as a toy is just a game, not how Peter truly feels. Not how the scientists truly view him, as nothing more than a lab rat... even if this isn't something either of them are consciously thinking about, the why this feels so freeing is evident.

Fiyero's utterly shameless, moans garbled around the cock in his mouth, but he's perfectly pliant as he swallows, as he gives himself over to Peter's pleasure and allows Peter to shudder into his mouth without complaint, only encouragement. Peter pulls out carefully when the dizzying pleasure ebbs enough that he can gather himself, letting his cockhead swipe against Fiyero's lower lip. Messy, the drool and cum mix as they slide down Fiyero's chin, several drops pooling on the empty space of the chair, where Fiyero's legs have been spread wide. He's filthy in every way a person can be, and Peter doesn't know if he's ever been more turned on in his life.

"So good, baby, that was so good..." Peter pets through Fiyero's hair as he showers him in babbling praise, carefully guiding Fiyero to sit up again. He's trying to be conscientious of Fiyero's muscles, which probably tired and taut from holding the position, even for the brief time he was in it. Peter's hands smooth along Fiyero's arms, rubbing firmly along his biceps as he settles. "There you go, just rest here for me, okay?"

Peter snags the camera with nimble fingers after a moment of lightly stroking through Fiyero's hair, lining up and taking a couple of pictures, as promised - before he disappears to the kitchen, the sound of the sink turning on the only indication of what he's doing. He announces his return with a warm towel, wiping up Fiyero's chin - again, from behind, the same way he did the gag. Sensual and reverent, Peter cleans away the bodily fluids, swiping the cloth over Fiyero's chest, the wood of the chair. He nuzzles into the side of Fiyero's head affectionately, before taking a brief moment to wipe his own thighs, discarding the towel when he's done.

Whether or not Fiyero even noticed Peter taking the photos, he'll hardly be able to avoid them. Peter perches himself on Fiyero's bound thigh, his weight light in the way he balances, casually using Fiyero as his personal chair without adding extra stress. He winds an arm around Fiyero's shoulders, other hand occupied holding the camera, showing off the before photos they'd taken. He flips through them without comment, before the new photos - Fiyero, thoroughly debauched, used, claimed. The marks from earlier combined with the cum, the dazed look on his face and the flush in his cheeks, and how terribly, mercilessly hard his own cock was, ramrod straight with no potential for friction in sight; not unless Peter provided it. Allowed it. The cock he's still ignoring, now, because that was never part of this reward.

"Look at you," Peter murmurs, turning his face into Fiyero's neck, kissing his throat. "You're gorgeous, and you're all mine."

The thing about his objectification with Peter is that is has very clear boundaries. So far it's been very obvious to them both when exactly it's in play, and when it isn't. There's a conscious decision to agree to certain rules and actions. There may be surprises within that play, but even then, there's always a way out, if something turns out to be not as fun as they thought it would be. And if those boundaries start slipping, when they flirt and chat and come on to one another, then there's still care and attention paid to make sure it doesn't go bad.

And even if Peter was completely convincing in his objectification, if both of them were so deep in it - Peter cares for his toy. He would never break Fiyero, never give him more than he could handle. So even within the game itself, Fiyero is safe. It might be why they're both so firmly set in that affection comes first and foremost.

Even through Fiyero's hazy mind right now, that affection is what comes through strongest. The sweet praise, gentle touches, and careful guidance. Fiyero's almost limp in Peter's arms, using just enough core strength to keep himself upright. It's easy for Peter shift him back, his arms getting to relax, comparatively speaking, resting against the back of the chair rather than stretched up behind him. Peter's purposeful touches against his arms feel good on several levels.

He's only vaguely aware of his body's various aches, but they're mild. Some expected redness just around the ropes, but nothing beyond that. No evidence that he can't easily endure this a while longer - physically, at least. Mentally, it might depend on what's asked of him. He feels pleasantly out of it, though he's settling a little now that he's fulfilled his purpose for the moment. He gives a soft noise as Peter tells him to rest, proving he's not fully gone.

It does take him a moment to realise Peter is doing something. One of the last photos has Fiyero looking towards Peter, and by extension the camera, his eyes half-lidded but his expression one of uncomplicated calm and openness. In sharp contrast to the gag forcing his mouth open and the mess dribbling down his chin, a few drops falling down on his stomach now.

Fiyero doesn't fully process it right away - but being cleaned, that's simple enough that it makes sense. He lets out a grateful sigh, head leaning back against Peter, swallowing some of the cum and spit still left in his mouth. The taste is familiar now, something that triggers arousal - if he had room for any more. He's even harder now than he was in the pictures Peter took before. However much he softened while he was left alone has clearly come right back while being used again.

Peter sitting more or less in his lap is unexpected, and Fiyero gives a soft noise that may be interpreted as such. But oh, does it feel nice to feel Peter's body more fully against his, and he leans into, seeking his warmth. It takes him a second to even realise Peter is holding up the camera for him to see. He's not... sure how he feels about the photos, neither the earlier ones nor the new ones. He's not sure how he's supposed to feel, either. Though what he does feel, is Peter's pride and affection. It's more evident in the fact that Peter is showing him these in the first place, and the way he leans in to kiss his neck, giving him compliments.

Fiyero answers with a soft tired whine, turning his face towards Peter. Seeking out that affection after being used so casually and possessively.

Suddenly, the gag feels very in the way. He wants to kiss Peter back, wants to nuzzle against him without drooling everywhere. He wants to not be propped open anymore, to be allowed to relax. He wants it off him.

He gives a very brief unhappy sound, before he vaguely remembers Peter telling him something about humming. So he gives a more purposeful hum, and while he sounds uncomfortable he doesn't sound distressed, but it's a clear signal even if he doesn't sustain it very long. To make it more obvious what he's objecting to, he draws his neck back, pulling his jaw back and opening it as much as he can like he's trying to get the gag out, tonguing at the metal ring.

Peter lets his kisses trail up Fiyero's cheek when he turns, free hand winding into Fiyero's hair soothingly. What he wants, what he's trying to get across without words, it doesn't take Peter long to cotton on. If the disgruntled noise isn't enough, the signal and subsequent tonguing of the ring is enough. Peter makes a soft, pacifying noise, setting aside the camera on the desk behind him so he can have both hands free to deal with the gag.

"Stop, 'yero." Peter says firmly, catching Fiyero's chin with unyielding fingers, commanding stillness. He doesn't know if Fiyero can hurt himself trying to get the gag out, but Peter isn't inclined to let him try (not after he already fucked up with Fiyero's wrists, especially). He unbuckles the straps and pulls the gag forward, nudging Fiyero's jaw to get him to open wider when the ring can come free, from behind his teeth. Peter drops it on the towel, hands returning to Fiyero's face - his fingertips rub, gentle but sure, at the muscle of Fiyero's jaw. Hopefully it will help mitigate any soreness, though Peter's sure some is inevitable. Whatever he can do, these little gestures - of course he's going to do them. He'd do them anyway, but - after that? If Fiyero wants back massages for a week, he can have them.

"Better?" Peter draws Fiyero into a soft kiss, hands still cupping his face. He lets them part, but stays close; Fiyero might not be able to hold him like this, but that doesn't stop Peter from cuddling him. Peter closes his eyes with a soft smile, slightly pink himself, but he has to admit: "That was really fucking... hot."

Nothing Fiyero doesn't already know, judging by his desperately hard erection, but Peter would be remiss if he didn't say it aloud, make sure that he knew. Fiyero might think he's the lucky one, that Peter is willing to do all of this for him, with him - but Peter knows he's the one who won the lottery, here, and he's unlikely to forget anytime soon.

Fiyero freezes at Peter's firm command, just in time for Peter to grab his chin. His eyes maybe widen a little at the sternness, though it's not fear, if the increased pinkness in his cheek and the slight dribble from his cock is anything to go by. He sits perfectly still while Peter reaches around to unbuckle it, his only movement opening his jaw wider.

At least until Peter starts massaging his jaw muscles, and Fiyero melts a little bit into his hands, closing his eyes with the relief. He's a little sore, but it was the restriction that suddenly felt like it was too much, and that disappears immediately. He no longer feels stretched out and spread open - despite the fact that most of him still is. It isn't bothering him at all at the moment, feeling surprisingly comfortable. Perhaps because the gag had done its job, but there's still reason for the rest of him to be tied up.

He hums a soft acknowledgement at the question, not quite ready for words, though his lips purse into returning the kiss. He feels a warmth inside at Peter's words, like Peter is pleased with him. Not even his achievements, because Fiyero doesn't feel like he did anything. But simply existing was enough.

Even if he can't hold him in return, Fiyero's clearly craving the cuddles. He can still lean against him, trying to press as much skin up against Peter as possible. He's not even trying to do anything about his erection right now. This is just the comfort, the aftercare for being a fucktoy. Fiyero doesn't make any verbal requests, but he tilts his head a little, leaning down to bury his face in Peter's neck as best he can.

He's fully aware - to the point that he's fully aware of anything at the moment - that their game isn't done. He's not quite counting rewards and how much is left to do on the bed, but even like this, some pattern recognition remains. There's rewards, then there's a break. This is probably the end of the reward, which means Peter will leave soon to finish work - and then another reward? Yeah, it seems unlikely for Peter to leave him like this, or to untie him without doing something about his erection.

But completely separate from the rewards, Fiyero can't stop himself from seeking out a moment of comfort. If this counts as distraction, then so be it. It almost feels like he needs it more than he needs to come. Though, give him a quick few strokes, and it's entirely possible he'll change his mind on that point.

It's not that Fiyero's reaction to Peter's order goes unnoticed, just... unremarked on. For the moment. Peter files it away, preoccupied with ensuring Fiyero is comfortable and uninjured in his struggles. It's like Fiyero likes to test boundaries, and likes it even more when Peter defines them specifically... hm. Interesting.

They neck quietly for a moment, just taking comfort in the slide of skin on skin, Peter tucking himself up against Fiyero's chest, arms wrapped around Fiyero's shoulders. Fiyero tilts his head, face pressing into Peter's neck, and one hand cradles the back of Fiyero's head, helping him hide there. Warm fingers stroke through Fiyero's hair, silently encouraging the closeness. As if he'd ever deny Fiyero this, particularly when he so clearly craves it - even more than release, and with how hard he is, Peter knows just how important it really is.

He wants it too, of course; after spewing dirty talk, using Fiyero for his own pleasure, however much it was consented to - Peter needs this, too. He presses a kiss to the top of Fiyero's head, letting his cheek rest against Fiyero's mussed hair.

"One more reward for the taking," Peter murmurs, fingertips trailing down Fiyero's neck - they dance over his shoulder, a light, nonsense pattern. Touching for the sake of it, memorizing the warm texture of Fiyero's skin. "It'll be my turn to have my mouth on you. Properly, this time. You won't be able to move, won't be able to touch... my toy and my lollipop. It'll feel so good, sweetheart."

Peter tilts his head, breath hot against Fiyero's ear. His lips graze just the side of Fiyero's jaw, a teasing flick of tongue against his skin; as if Fiyero needs the reminder of the heavenly wet warmth that awaits him inside Peter's mouth. He gently nudges Fiyero out of his neck, greeting him with another soft kiss, though it quickly turns heated when Peter drags his teeth against Fiyero's lower lip.

"And then," Peter whispers it like it's a secret between the two of them, squirming closer, pressed up against Fiyero's chest. "The bed will be done, and we can do anything we like..."

Fiyero probably doesn't even fully realise just how much he needs this kind of closeness right now, a moment to come down from being used like that, from the intensity of that headspace. If Peter had cleaned him up, given him a kiss and then walked off to finish working, Fiyero probably would have taken it without complaint. In all likelihood, it simply would have kept him in that headspace for longer, like a toy put back on the shelf.

But this is already far more intense than anything he's ever done, in so many ways. And being neglected and denied love is something that could truly wreck Fiyero, if it becomes too real in a moment of vulnerability. Neither of them really knows Fiyero's exact boundaries when it comes to sex - but Peter knows enough to know that that's a particular point of heartbreak for Fiyero. He knows that, while Fiyero's interested in playing around with adjacent or milder things, that's not something too push too strongly.

And Fiyero might not know how much Peter needs to share in the affection and reestablish their emotional connection after something like that, after being the one who's taking advantage - he does know that Peter wants it, and that's enough. Enough that he feels no guilt or worry about simply resting against Peter for a while, accepting his comfort and affection.

He feels more steady, once Peter starts quietly talking. He's still a little out of it, but whatever volatile feelings made him reject the gag so strongly afterwards seems to have been soothed. And Peter's little touches, and then describing exactly what the next reward will be, it definitely starts awakening that need inside him again. Not like it really needed awakening - but it's brought more to the forefront.

Fiyero shivers pleasantly at the lick to his jaw, lifting his head as Peter coaxes him out. The kiss earns a soft noise, which turns into a quiet whine as the heat intensifies briefly. He's not feeling particularly verbal, but clearly it's still easy enough to get noises out of him. It feels vaguely while he's forgotten how to use his lips properly while being gagged, but that's probably just how generally hazy he feels. It doesn't stop him from returning the kiss, until Peter breaks it again.

It's strange, but Fiyero has problems sort of thinking outside of their current game. Yes, there was a point to them doing this to the bed. Yes, Fiyero had some ambitious plans - which he still absolutely wants to do. But it's a distant idea at the moment, not something tangible, not something that registers as another reward at the end of it. If he was going to try to construct any sort of plan for 'doing anything they like' afterwards, it would probably just be cuddling and taking a nap. He's not even thinking practically enough that food and drink makes it into his mental list.

Later, Peter will read about subspace, domspace, and all the things that go along with it in that book of his; he has a vague concept of both, of what aftercare can consist of, and so far they've been doing a decent job taking care of one another. Peter's not sure he's capable of walking away after sharing something like that, unless that's the point, knowing that he'll come back later to offer intimacy. Which it's not, in this instance, and so Peter is free to shower Fiyero in attention and affection.

Fiyero still seems a little out of it, but not in a concerning way. He's still responsive, still content, it seems, now that the gag is out. Peter strokes gently over his face, a comforting response to Fiyero's pleading little whines. Patience, Peter knows, will reward them both. After all, they do have the rest of the evening - a date night in, since it's not really safe to take Fiyero much of anywhere. Even if he could, Peter's not entirely convinced Fiyero wouldn't want to stay right here; the excitement of being with each other still hasn't worn off. Give it a week, and maybe he'll want more out of a date than takeout and sex...

Peter parts from Fiyero slowly, hands dragging down his skin, and finally Peter slips off Fiyero's lap to stand again. His palms wander, brushing over Fiyero's thighs, ghosting his fingertips against Fiyero's cock once more. Peter collects a bead of wetness on the pad of his forefinger and parts his lips to lick it off delicately with his tongue. "Mm, I'm looking forward to this. Just a little bit longer, baby. Just relax, and I'll be right there."

Nude now, Peter doesn't bother putting his boxers back on. He'll just be careful not to have any hanging bits in the way, which seems unlikely given his task. Peter ducks his head, picking up the last piece of metal and sorting out the screws he needs. Which would be quicker - Peter finishing this final post, or Fiyero, when he finally got Peter's mouth on him? Peter smiles to himself, lining up the metal and setting to the task. It's a lot easier to focus when he's not ragingly hard, and so has fewer mistakes that he needs to pause to correct - but Peter's not exactly gone totally soft, either, when he's still hyper-aware of Fiyero and the arousal he's been neglecting.

Fiyero soaks in as much of Peter's touch as he can get, and he's grateful that Peter doesn't break it off abruptly. It gives him enough time to adjust and prepare himself for the separation, Peter's hands sliding across his skin, reassured that he'll be back soon.

The fingertips brushing over his cock definitely makes sure Fiyero knows exactly what awaits him once Peter returns. Watching Peter lick his finger, it almost like he can feel his tongue against his cock. How Peter manages to be quite this sexy - while also being unaware he's capable of it - is a mystery to Fiyero.

"Mmkay," he manages softly, proving he's not fully beyond words. He doesn't plan to use them very much, still aware he's supposed to be waiting patiently.

This time, Fiyero finds himself watching Peter more attentively. Watching him bend over to pick something up off the floor, his ass fully on display? The flexing of his muscles as he lifts the metal into place? How cute he looks as some hair falls across his forehead and he blows a puff of air at it rather than reach up to brush it aside? Fiyero's enjoying his view immediately. At least Peter didn't have him face the other way around.

It's both more and less difficult to wait patiently this time. Yes, he's absolutely overflowing with unfulfilled arousal, and it's honestly impressive he's been able to sustain an erection for this long - however long it's been. The position is starting to get mildly uncomfortable, but he can shift a little to put the weight somewhere else, or stretch out his muscles and joints a little bit. The wiggle room was probably a good idea for that reason as well. Physically, his body is getting more and more impatient.

Mentally, however, he seems to have gotten used to this. Perhaps he's still in more of a submissive state than he's aware, subduing the desire to misbehave. Maybe he's got enough distractions that he simply can't get bored. Maybe it's because the end is in sight. (Metaphorically and literally, whenever Peter bends over.) Maybe the cuddling soothed that need for attention and acknowledgement enough that he's not quite as needy. Maybe the promise and knowledge of what exactly awaits him calms the nervous anticipation.

Whatever it is - probably a combination of many of those - Fiyero manages to sit quietly. It's only when Peter starts looking like he's finishing up that he starts getting a little antsy, shifting in his seat. When Peter finally turns back, he'll be greeted by an attentive and softly eager expression on Fiyero's face.

Fiyero seems okay, each time Peter looks to him - actively watching, blue eyes always catching Peter's whenever he glances over, bringing a soft flush to his cheeks - so Peter just ducks his head and continues his work, worrying the screws with his tongue. One, two, three, four - he falls into a rhythm, finishing the final puzzle piece neatly; briefly zoning in, as he had with the webbing, intelligent focus on display as much as his ass is. A Peter Parker special, then. He turns back to Fiyero, rising to stand and giving the metal a dull thunk with his knuckles. "All done, look at that."

"No distractions, too." Peter crosses back over, setting the drill aside on the desk. He moves to kneel in front of Fiyero, sinking down and letting his hands roam up Fiyero's thighs slowly. Peter grins crookedly, tilting his head cheekily at Fiyero. "Well, maybe a few minor ones..."

"Like how very," Peter punctuates his words with kisses along Fiyero's inner thigh, creeping forward with brushes of his hands, until he's as close as he can get with the chair still between them. His lips hover near Fiyero's cock; close enough to feel the puff of his breath, but not quite close enough for contact, yet. "very sexy you are."

"The very thought of you distracts," Peter teases, offering Fiyero a slow lick of his tongue, curling it over the head of Fiyero's cock, wet and warm. "Having the taste of you in my mouth and wanting more... it's all terribly distracting."

"We managed it though." Peter lets his lower lip drag up Fiyero's shaft, smearing some wetness against his mouth. If Fiyero is the picture of sin, Peter's gunning for a close second. "You did it. And now, your reward. Are you ready, baby?"

Peter hooks two fingers in the rope on Fiyero's thighs, on either side of his lap. He dips his head, laving a wide, wet stripe up the underside of Fiyero's erection. Eyes bright, Peter starts mouthing along his skin, pouring worshipful attention over him. He laps at the head of Fiyero's cock, groaning deeply as he slurps him again, taking to this new task with relish.

Fiyero straightens up a little as Peter starts walking over - as much as he can, his legs fairly locked into place. Peter didn't fasten his arms back to the chair, but he doesn't really need to, unless he wants to stop him from leaning forward. But it's not like leaning forward is going to prevent nor cause anything Peter wants to do to his cock, which is looking even more eager than Fiyero himself.

He smiles as Peter points out there were no distractions, nervous energy filling him as Peter kneels. Even just the touch against his thighs seems to tingle, making Fiyero flex his legs in anticipation, then spread his thighs encouragingly.

He's almost holding his breath as Peter kisses his way up Fiyero's thighs. He looks so gorgeous and so sexy like this, it's kind of mind-blowing. So he makes him huff a soft laugh as Peter says that's the same thing Fiyero is doing to be distracting.

"Can't help that," he manages playfully, his voice shaky and all breath. His entire body seems suddenly wound up tight with anticipation, as well as trying to steel himself so he doesn't just come immediately.

How successful he'll be remains to be seen, but it probably won't take too long. At least judging by how that first long lick has him whimpering shamelessly, leaning back in the chair, thrusting his hips out as far as they can go. Which isn’t much, but it does spread his thighs out wide. The weight of his upper body helps him remain in that position though, ropes digging into his thighs.

Another needy noise escapes him as Peter lets his lips drag against his cock, asking him if he's ready. He nods eagerly, chin pressed down towards his chest, watching Peter with rapt attention.

"Yes please," he breathes, which is probably the last coherent words that will come out of him for a while - with the possible exceptions of Peter's name and some swearwords. The tongue that follows immediately after drags a deep appreciative groan out if him.

The teasing build-up of the last minute was nothing. The noises pulled out of Fiyero were just as much to do with the anticipation and the lack of self-consciousness, and maybe trying to communicate his arousal and excitement to Peter. When Peter laps at the extremely sensitive head, groaning as he wraps his lips around him with a slurp, that's when Fiyero actually starts losing it.

He thinks he might come right there, but thankfully he's not as close as he feels like he is. Every lick and kiss feels like it's setting his nerves on fire in the best way. Fiyero writhes, arching and curling his back, twisting his torso, almost kicking his legs as he whimpers and moans.

It takes him a minute to acclimatise to it, already panting and swearing under his breath, but realising he's going to last longer than he thought. Which is still probably not very long, but enough to give Peter a chance to really drive him crazy...

The tension ramps higher with each moment Peter spends inching closer, building up his touches as he situates himself for the main event. Fiyero's stomach flutters with the tightness, the way Fiyero's gone rigid in some places bringing an irrepressible grin to Peter's lips. "No... you really can't, hm?"

Fiyero's need is all but palpable at this point, rock hard and ramrod straight. Fiyero squirms in the chair as he's made to endure the sensations Peter's mouth affords him, thighs shaking beneath Peter's hands. He tugs at the rope, using it to help restrict Fiyero; though at this point, it's not as if he's going much of anywhere. But it's a reminder and a tease, letting Fiyero feel the dig of the rope as Peter licks another long stripe, curling his tongue over Fiyero's weeping head.

"I could do this for hours," Peter hums, licking Fiyero again, each brush of his tongue a maddening, delicious tease. As much as Fiyero wants to struggle, there's nothing he can do to get more of Peter's mouth, and the power is a heady thing to be responsible for. Every noise out of Fiyero is music to his ears, and Peter gives him a brief chance to recover as he dips his head to pay attention to Fiyero's balls, sucking one into the heat of his mouth, then the other, releasing them with a wet pop.

"Maybe I should," He levers himself up to a comfortable position, propping an arm up on Fiyero's thigh so he can focus on small licks to Fiyero's oh-so-sensitive cockhead. "You taste so good, sweetheart. Feels good too, doesn't it? I could keep you, just like this, hard and ready for me..."

Peter wraps his lips around Fiyero's tip, tongue pressing to the bundle of nerves just under the head, and sucks. He groans happily, tugging on the rope again - pulling Fiyero's legs open, pinning them effectively to the seat. He can struggle all he wants, he's not going anywhere. Peter starts bobbing his head, messy, shallow bobs that fuck Fiyero's cockhead against his tongue, but don't take more of him in just yet. Peter continues like that until he's all but out of breath, red-faced and panting.

"Such a good boy for me," Peter praises, turning dark eyes up to Fiyero, taking in his visage. Between the desperately hard cock in front of his face and the flush, wide-pupil'd look on Fiyero's, Peter's sure he's driving him absolutely nuts. "My Fiyero..."

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and opening his mouth. Saliva pooled, Peter starts to sink down on Fiyero - finally taking him into the promised heat, swallowing about half of him. His hand fists at Fiyero's base, covering the rest of him, stroking up to meet his lips. With a lewd, wet suction sound, Peter starts bobbing his head - sucking Fiyero's length, providing unrelenting pleasure after holding back for so long.

It's almost unbearable. The amount of build-up combined with being so completely tied up and having his face fucked and everything - it's made him incredibly sensitive. Just not necessarily in a way where he's actually that close to orgasm. Perhaps it's partly in his head. Being unable to control the intensity might in itself intensify it. It's impossible to think too hard about it, when he's busy enduring it.

Despite the fact it's occasionally veering into pleasure-pain, he's not complaining. No matter how overwhelming it feels, there's that physical need and desperation that's making him keep going - or allowing Peter to keep going, rather. And the trust and care between the two of them is what lets him give into something this strong.

He's far beyond speech already, but fuck, Peter's words really helps him fall right back into that helpless state. Imagining enduring hours of this just for Peter's entertainment... Just another kind of toy, really, not for physical pleasure, but for fun. Till he lost all semblance of time or anything outside of being Peter's plaything - even when he wasn't being played with. The thought of it makes him whimper in the way where it's not fully clear if he's even enjoying it.

The high moans and gasps and deep groans definitely makes it clear that he is. Even having Peter sucking on his balls, something Fiyero's never really thought much about or thought he enjoyed, has him shuddering with a different kind of pleasure. He can't respond, but he manages a rapid nodding at the question of whether it feels good. No matter how overpowering it is and part of him thinking he can't handle it, he desperately doesn't want Peter to stop.

Peter sucking on his cock-head like that definitely has the potential of earning them a noise complaint... His thighs are shaking under Peter's hands, throwing his head back with a loud, helpless cry of pleasure, before his breath catches in his throat. Tiny little gasps coupled with his whole upper body twitching forward. He's as red-faced and breathless as Peter, or more, by the time he pauses.

His head drops forward at the praise, looking down at Peter in a way where it looks like he's having trouble keeping his eyes open and his mouth closed, softly panting. His body briefly going almost limp with exhaustion as he's afforded a tiny break. He's too out of it to smile, but when Peter calls him his, he still nods. Yes, Peter's Fiyero. Completely.

Fiyero has the brief warning of Peter taking a breath, yet there's really no way to prepare himself. His head drops back and his back arches as he lets out a shameless wanton moan. Every time Peter sinks down on Fiyero's cock, it pulls a helpless noise out of his chest, and all he can do is lean back and take it. At this point, even if there's still pleasure-pain, the pleasure part outweighs the pain so solidly, it feels like it fills his entire body, radiating out from his groin.

He can't quite tell when he starts coming. It's, perhaps surprisingly, the opposite of explosive. Like he's already so tense and the pleasure just keeps building in a way where the waves of the orgasm just become part of the storm already happening. His exhausted aching thighs feel like they're on fire in the best kind of way, but it seems to ripple through his whole body, his bound arms in particular, and all the way out to his fingers and toes.

For Peter, it might be difficult to see where it begins as well - but the strongest tells is when the little spurts of pre-cum become bigger spurts, except there's several rather than just one or two. Like Fiyero has a dozen smaller orgasms, all adding up to a drawn-out climax where his mind seems to white out entirely. Unaware of the obscene noises he's making.

What is sudden is when it's enough, too much, as Fiyero's entire upper body jerks forward with a yelp, and his struggles suddenly turn briefly desperate. He's too lost to tell Peter to stop, at least right away, but it's unmistakable. He hadn't asked Peter to keep going this time, and if he could think, he would be glad he didn't - but then if there's one think Fiyero does know, it's that Peter has the power to do whatever he wants to him.

It's a complicated, tightrope of a line to walk, mixing fantasy with the reality of physical limitations. They've definitely been edging Fiyero for a while now - Peter probably should have set a timer, or a stopwatch, to know for how long. He's honestly surprised by how well Fiyero is holding out, even as his noises become louder, muscles quivering under Peter's ministrations. Peter doesn't let himself second-guess; Fiyero will safeword, or make it obvious when it's too much. That, Peter hopes, won't happen until after Fiyero has had his well-deserved orgasm...

Peter almost chokes himself on Fiyero in his eagerness, head bobbing fervently, dragging lips and tongue along his shaft, hand twisting up to meet his lips with each stroke. The noises coming out of him are just as filthy - if not as loud - as Fiyero; wet, muffled moans of desire. Fiyero's ring in his ears, each one a new thrill; Peter's free fingers curl against the rope and Fiyero's straining thighs, his other hand's grip squeezing, providing tightness as well as friction as he presses Fiyero's cock into his throat over, and over.

There's a pleasant hum at the back of Peter's hearing, so similar to his spidey sense it's almost like it's hitting the same frequency. Maybe it's just his own elation, buzzing across his skin; regardless, Fiyero's noises fuel the sensation, until Peter closes his eyes with a deep groan, putting all his focus on his rhythm, the feeling of Fiyero's body writhing beneath him, the din of his slurping and Fiyero's vulnerable whimpers taking over the whole of his attention.

Fiyero's orgasm is a slow thing, waves that grow shorter in between, staccato punches of release that elongate his pleasure, filling Peter's mouth with the taste of him. Peter takes Fiyero into his throat and swallows, brow furrowing as he tries to relax, to make sure he doesn't gag. Letting Fiyero ride out the climax in as much of Peter's mouth as he can manage to take...

The flow of Fiyero's release slows, and Peter's throat flutters around him one final time, preparing to pull back. Fiyero hits the eject button a second before Peter can, the desperation having a frantic quality rather than an ecstatic one, and Peter quickly pulls his head up, lips glistening and freshly pink from their activities. His hands quickly mould to Fiyero's hips, stilling him calmly, but decisively. "'ey - hey, nm - got you. I got you, baby."

His voice is very obviously strained from the blowjob, but Peter spares no concern to taking stock of himself when Fiyero is his chief preoccupation. Peter's hands fall to the ropes, loosening Fiyero's binds; the game is over, and Peter knows what Fiyero needs most after that is to rest, not remain strung up. The ropes at Fiyero's ankles come apart, and Peter slides it from Fiyero's lower half, discarding it to the side. His hands slide up Fiyero's legs, light squeezes along Fiyero's calves, his thighs. Fiyero's hands are still tied, but without his legs affixed to the chair, it would no doubt be easier to relax.

Peter reaches to untie Fiyero's arms, picking blindly at the knot, but his skills remain true and he locates the piece that helps it all come apart, freeing Fiyero's hands. He rises to a slight crouch, palms coming up to Fiyero's cheeks, cupping his face. Gentle fingers run through Fiyero's hair, pushing it out of his face affectionately. "You okay, sweetheart?"

Fiyero is very unaware of the specifics of Peter's efforts. He just knows whatever he's doing, it's working. The hot, wet, delicious pressure and friction - Fiyero doesn't know how deep Peter is swallowing him down or anything like that. He's just reaping the benefits and is grateful. Blissful, even. Not just because of the orgasm, but on broader level, having someone this devoted to showing him a good time.

The reassurance is similar, in that the sound of Peter's voice is calming, even if he doesn't quite register the words. Even after Peter has pulled back, Fiyero twitches a couple times with the aftershocks. He's jerked far enough forward that he's almost how he was positioned when he was getting his mouth fucked by Peter, his arms propped up on the back of the chair rather than down behind it.

His feet land on the floor heavily as Peter unties his legs, as Fiyero's now kind of slumped against Peter. His head leaning on Peter's shoulder, still catching his breath. Again, Peter's efforts pay off, quickly massaging Fiyero's legs, helping him transition into no longer being tied up, even if he's only vaguely aware of what's happening.

His arms fall down to his sides, limp for the moment as he doesn't quite think to move them yet. His eyes flutter open as Peter cups his face, his gaze a little unfocused. But he swallows and nods a little, conscious enough at least to understand him, leaning heavily into Peter's touch. If something is wrong, he's not aware of it yet.

His muscles will no doubt be exhausted. There's red marks across his arms and legs, indents with the texture of the ropes. They'll no doubt stick around a little while, but nothing that looks concerning. Just evidence of their fun, which they'll both probably enjoy looking at until it fades.

His heartbeat and breath is slowly steadying, and he finally reaches up to rest his hands against Peter's chest. Not quite having the strength or purpose to do more than that, but enough to show that he wants the closeness. He feels exhausted, but he also feels pleasantly fuzzy, physically and mentally. Carefree and spent, knowing he doesn't have to worry or think about anything. Still fully trusting Peter to take care of him.

Fiyero slumps against him, totally spent, and Peter bears his weight with a comforting shoulder, offering a soft smile when Fiyero's eyes flutter open to look at him. It looks like it's taking effort on Fiyero's part, but it soothes some of the nerves that inevitably churn in Peter's stomach, knowing he's alright enough to indicate it, even if he's not up for speaking quite yet. Peter makes another comforting noise at the back of his throat, hand cupping Fiyero's cheek so he can pepper his face with light kisses. "Good, good... you're alright. I've got you, baby."

Peter holds Fiyero for a moment, letting him rest up against his chest, heart swelling when Fiyero curls into him. One arm encircles Fiyero's shoulders, burying in his hair, nails grazing his scalp soothingly as they both wind down, breathing slowing, heartbeats evening out. His lips feel tingly, no doubt puffed and used, though the physical marks won't last nearly as long on Peter as they will on Fiyero. An hour max, given that Peter's not busted up elsewhere and has been eating pretty regularly. He almost wishes it would stay, the mark of being with Fiyero; which is easy to say when he doesn't have to deal with the consequences, but as a concept outside of embarrassing himself in public - Peter finds it very hot indeed.

"Come on," Peter murmurs, though it's not really a direction Fiyero has to do much with. His hand supports Fiyero's shoulders, and he slides the other under Fiyero's legs, preparing to lift him. It's smooth, easy; Peter transfers Fiyero from the chair to the bed, helping him stretch out, on his back. Peter snags the towel from where he'd discarded it to wipe the corner of his mouth and give Fiyero's crotch a once-over, and then he climbs in to join his boyfriend, opening his arms to provide Fiyero with space to slot himself into.

Fiyero smiles a little as Peter covers him with gentle kisses. There's a lot of stuff swirling inside him, most of it good, but still a lot. Peter's making sure that Fiyero has a soft place to land, while his entire mind and body comes down from the high. It's been an extreme high too, not just the pleasure, but the heightened everything.

Peter's hands goes into Fiyero's hair, soothing him, and Fiyero turns his face to bury it in Peter's neck once again. Everything feels a bit bright, the music now suddenly feels loud, the air cold. He wants to bury himself under a pile of blanket, though for now, snuggling against Peter will more than suffice.

He gives a soft noise as Peter pulls slightly away, though he's starting to get a bit more used to Peter simply picking him up. It's a relief, to finally sink into the bed. His joints are definitely sore, and it hurts to stretch out his legs, but it's also very needed. He does flinch very slightly as Peter gently wipes his crotch, but it's over in a moment - and then Peter is there.

Fiyero rolls into Peter's arms as if pulled by a magnet, attaching himself to Peter, trying to press as close as possible. He doesn't feel like talking, but he does loop an arm around Peter's back, hugging him close. He gives a soft kiss against Peter's chest, before he simply presses his scratchy stubbly cheek against him and breathes deep. He might not have a lot of grip strength at the moment, but if Peter decides to move or detach? There will definitely be whining.

Neither of them are really sure how he'll react to all this. There's some small surges of emotion - embarrassment and shame that he couldn't explain even if he tried, coupled with hints of fear. Overwhelming affection he doesn't know what to do with. He's clearly processing, whether it's chemical and physical or mental and emotional, or more likely both. He weeps a little, soft and quiet, making Peter's shoulder kind of wet. But he also holds him close, emotionally needy. Perhaps this is just part of it, when you do something so demanding as this.

Fiyero latches on immediately, and Peter presses warm hands to his back, his shoulders, holding him as close as Fiyero wants to press. Peter sighs softly, a happy exhalation, twitching slightly at the sensation of Fiyero's stubble catching on soft skin. It feels good, the drag of warm lips and Fiyero's quiet breathing against his chest.

Peter definitely has nowhere more pressing to be at the moment, and doesn't try to pull away for anything. When Fiyero is ready to let him move, he'll relax - perhaps then they can both drink some water, they're sure to need it. Peter makes a quiet, deep-sounding humming noise at the back of his throat; he can feel it healing, recovering from the hoarseness.

Fiyero shakes against him, the quiet, trembling shake of someone trying to cry without being too loud, and Peter makes a soft noise of distress, hold tightening on Fiyero. Plush lips find Fiyero's temple, and Peter closes his eyes as he pours every ounce of affection he has into Fiyero, hand sure and ever-present against his back.

"You were amazing," Peter murmurs, when Fiyero settles into a brief lull, his shoulder still drying with hot tears. Peter nuzzles against the top of Fiyero's head, legs bumping, loosely tangling them together. "You are amazing."

"So good for me," One hand pets down Fiyero's spine slowly, a reassurance to the neediness that bleeds out of him, telegraphing exactly what it is he needs out of Peter - to be held, to be taken hold of and made safe, for however brief a time. "You did so well..."

"Nobody else could do that," Peter praises, awe shining through. Every positive feeling he has about Fiyero is so easily called to the surface; if Fiyero bleeds need, Peter has a neon sign up offering to supply. He shifts on the pillow, turning his body to give Fiyero more surface area to get comfortable. "Not that I'd even want anyone else to - I'm gonna go back to the part where I talk about how special you are, and how hopelessly attracted I am to you..."

Peter lapses into embarrassed silence with a soft snort, hand still making a smooth sweep down Fiyero's spine. Yeah, he'll find a way to stick his foot in his mouth even when he's the only one talking, but that's just the Peter Parker way. Besides, Fiyero knows what he was trying to say, voice hushed and husky.

Fiyero definitely needs water, and probably some of that food they brought back with them, but right now the relaxing and the comfort are far more pressing needs. Both of which are being admirably satisfied by Peter. Fiyero's not even trying to be quiet now - at least not consciously. But historically he's generally had to cry quietly, so that sort of thing sticks.

Historically he hasn't had a lot of comfort while crying though, but he's already learned that there is absolutely no way Peter is going to let him cry alone if he can help it. Even when Fiyero was lashing out, Peter approached carefully, but persistently. It's why he feels safe crying against Peter now, or as safe as he can feel while upset.

Though.. he's not sure if he is upset. Part of him is aware there's nothing to be upset over. Even so, Peter's reassurances and praise is extremely appreciated. Perhaps, when given in a moment of vulnerability like this, it'll have a better chance of sinking it properly.

He doesn't respond yet, but he does huff a wet laugh as Peter wanders dangerously close to putting his foot in his mouth before course correcting. Yes, Fiyero knows what he's trying to say. The meaning is clear, regardless of clumsy word choices, and Fiyero gives Peter's waist an appreciative squeeze.

"You were amazing too," he manages, voice soft and a little raspy. "I'm not.. This isn't cause.." he continues, stumbling himself, because he's not sure how to explain himself. He just wants Peter to know this crying isn't because Fiyero is dissatisfied or that he did something wrong. Probably the opposite. "It was amazing," he finishes, leaving it at that for now and hoping that is enough.

He does let go of Peter for a moment to fumble awkwardly for the covers, to pull them over them both. "C'nyou stop the music?" he asks softly. It isn't nearly as loud as it felt a moment ago, but he'd still like to snuggle up in the dark and quiet while only listening to the sounds of Peter's breathing and heartbeat.

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