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 ]

It feels like his senses are working overtime, trying to interpret the noises Fiyero makes behind him - the chair, the slide of skin on skin as Fiyero unfolds from the chair to stand, the final clatter of the webshooter against the desk, discarded because Fiyero finally has him right where he wants him. Peter almost jumps a little when Fiyero touches him, eagerly melting into the embrace, a soft sound of approval eking out of his throat. Muscles flutter beneath Fiyero's attention, warm hands sliding down his body, exploring every inch of him - except of course the couple of inches that crave his touch the most.

Which is probably good, because Peter's not so sure he'll last when Fiyero does touch him. He shivers pleasantly, squirming a little against Fiyero's chest; he wonders what resisting would even look like when he's trussed up like this, solely for curiosity reasons - he has no desire to resist, head tilting to give Fiyero better access to his neck. Peter closes his eyes with a happy sigh, the warmth of Fiyero's chest sitting broadly over his shoulders. "That feels nice, baby..."

It does feel nice. With his eyes closed, it feels fucking fantastic; like the deprivation of one sense enhances the others, and the fact that he's tied up makes him even more acutely aware. His fingers flex in their bonds, arms shifting a little - but nothing budges. He's submitted to being Fiyero's plaything, and it's actually working.

They would probably have a blast playing with blindfolds at some point. So far they've been busy exploring everything else, and really enjoying actually seeing each other's reactions to it. But eventually it will probably come up, knowing how they've been so far.

It's very enjoyable getting to touch Peter like this, knowing all he can do is accept it. He can't even reciprocate. Something about showering Peter in affection and pleasure, and he can neither stop it nor return the favour to make up for it. Well - no more than Fiyero allows. Thankfully Fiyero will soon allow some, because his own erection is asking for attention too.

"Mmm... It feels good to touch you.. And I get to do it as much or as little as I want," Fiyero answers with a smile, voice slightly muffled against Peter's neck. He lifts his head, hugging Peter cheek to cheek, as his hand comes up to caress Peter throat, his jaw, then his lips.

"I was considering letting you try the gag as well, even if it would be more of a reminder for you," he admits thoughtfully. "So I can finish fucking your mouth while I've got you all tied up. But I do like feeling your lips too, so I'm not sure. What do you think, darling? With or without?"

Once again, he's leaving another choice up for Peter. This isn't the sort of control where he wants to free Peter entirely of having to think. It's far too ambitious for that, and Fiyero doesn't know Peter's preferences well enough to fully take the lead for that long or something this intense. Though they will build to a point where hopefully Peter's brain will be blissfully (or torturously) empty of thoughts.

There are probably a lot of things they’d enjoy trying together, and Peter honestly gets a little dizzy thinking about it all. Just because he’s not partial to cold sensations doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy other types of sensory play - or in doling it out, on the giving end rather than the receiving, if that was something Fiyero wanted to try. Blindfolds and other toys - that store was huge, even without counting the scarier items. More importantly, the idea that Fiyero would want to stick around long enough to do any of that with him… it means more than Peter can articulate.

“Yeah. Anything you want.” Peter croaks, pleasant gooseflesh rising on his skin as Fiyero nuzzles him shamelessly, a warm hand shifting up to touch him. His lips part under Fiyero’s fingers, a shaky inhalation, eyes fluttering open at the filthy, sensual words. Something about hearing Fiyero’s soft affect saying the words fucking your mouth, feels beautifully uncouth.

“Maybe - um, maybe,” Peter wets his lips, back arching a little to press closer to Fiyero. He can feel his warm chest, cozied up against his back, and the desire to be held only intensifies as he imagines Fiyero fucking his mouth, taking him. “Maybe - no gag, when you’re - fucking me?”

“You can put it in later,” Peter offers, all too sweet, turning his head to nuzzle against Fiyero’s cheek. “Use the ball, instead of the ring?”

Easing into this is probably best for both of them. It’s Fiyero’s first time experimenting with control like this… and honestly, Peter’s first time genuinely submitting. The only way he’s getting out of this is when Fiyero decides - or if he safewords, and Peter is nowhere close to that, right now; he’s right where he wants to be.

Fiyero's never really considered sensory play. It's one of those things he doesn't find particularly hot in and of itself, but would probably enjoy in the right circumstances, especially if they combined it with other fun things. Although on the other hand, sensory deprivation has occurred to him as a kink, not being able to see or hear, just feel, especially combined with being tied up.

The more they play with this stuff, the less scarier it will probably get. Being tied up, blindfolded and with earplugs or something now might be unbelievably hot - or it might end up a bit too scary, or triggering unexpected feelings. The challenge lies in not really know how they'll feel, how they will react to things. Once they know how things feel separately, it will be easier to combine them.

Which is why Fiyero thinks it's a good thing that Peter admits he'd rather not have the gag. It'll still be a lot, Fiyero is fully aware. He hums thoughtfully. "Maybe. But then I can't hear you beg," he says, as if weighing the pros and cons. "Well, at least not verbally," he adds playfully, turning to give Peter a peck on the lips.

He straightens up a little, almost businesslike in his decisiveness. Or at least he's moving with purpose - there's very little that's anything like business in what they're doing right now. He reaches down to Peter's thigh, pushing it. "Turn this way, baby," he guides Peter in shifting on the bed. He's partly manhandling him into moving, partly nudging Peter to do it himself. It's fun picking Peter up and arranging him, but now he's quite tied up, it's also fun to have him try to move and discover how tricky it is.

He makes Peter turn to face the head of the bed, with the towel underneath him. "Spread your legs, all the way," he commands, gentle but firm, getting Peter to practically do the splits. He puts some pillows down in front of Peter, and then he carefully pushes him forward, lowering him down to lie on his front.

He adjusts the pillow underneath Peter's chest so he's propped up and not just with his face pressed into the mattress. Then he reaches under Peter, casually adjusting his cock as well, so it's pressed up against his stomach rather than off to the side. Something about the nonchalant way he does it makes it extra hot. But it's not like Peter can do it himself.

"Comfortable?" he asks gently, taking a moment to caress Peter's arms, his back, his thighs, spread out. His palm stroking up the inside of his thigh, before getting a nice handful of Peter's ass. "Shame we haven't tried fucking each other properly yet. This would be a nice way to do it. Have you all tied up and helpless while I fucked you into the mattress."

For all they've messed around with resisting and holding each other down, this is the first time they're actually testing out restraints. For it to work so well for Fiyero - barring Peter's one hiccup, which was on him, for getting a little too excited - is a good sign. Already, Peter knows he's responding well to being restrained, too. Time will tell if that will hold - if something will be too much, or if repeated strain will eventually break his bonds - but they won't know until they try.

More to the point, Fiyero makes trying... easy. That's what's not scary, knowing that it's Fiyero that's with him, through all of it. He makes everything feel like it's possible, like maybe it all really will be okay.

Peter huffs a laugh and smiles at the kiss, trying very hard not to examine the fact that Fiyero wants him to beg, before obediently turning over. Or - trying to, anyway. It's definitely difficult, with his legs spread as wide as they are and his arms bound and bundled at his back. He has to wiggle a little, ass flexing as his core muscles clench and help him shift around. It probably gives Fiyero a very nice view of his backside, especially when Peter's focused on actually performing the task and not the self-consciousness of it all.

Self-consciousness returns, though, as Fiyero spreads him out to his liking. His thighs spread easily - he could very well be put in the splits, if that's what Fiyero wanted from him. His flexibility isn't anywhere near his limit, at the moment. His cock hangs, heavy and red between his legs, and Peter lays facedown at Fiyero's request, cheeks reddening with the way it pushes his ass up, on display.

A muffled squeak slips from his throat when Fiyero touches his cock to rearrange him, dick drooling in the condom. The surety of his hands is so casual, like Peter's erection is an insouciant afterthought. And there is, indeed, nothing he can do about it - flexible as he is, with his legs spread and his chest propped up by the pillows, his cock simply hangs, suspended. Unable to find any friction, though Peter might be able to get it to brush his own stomach if he twitches his hips hard enough.

"I'm okay," Peter assures him, turning his face to the side to speak, so Fiyero can hear him. Fiyero's hands find his body, exploring eagerly, mapping out every available inch of skin, the binds that criss-cross, leaving him helpless to Fiyero's whims. He groans softly when Fiyero squeezes his ass, cheeks pink at the idea of being fucked like this. Spread wide open, speared on Fiyero's cock - he could go deep like this, bottom out easily...

"I'd like that," Peter admits, and maybe it's easier to admit when he doesn't have to look Fiyero in the eye, when all he can feel is arousal and Fiyero's greedy touches, feeding that arousal. "I'd - put the plug in for you. So you could just - slip it out and have me ready for you."

Peter might not even be aware of how easy he himself makes trying easy. Peter is well aware Fiyero is inexperienced, but there's no shame or ridicule, and he's always ready to answer Fiyero's questions, or just provide information and context when Fiyero seems unsure. He takes things at whatever pace Fiyero is comfortable with, and most of the time when Fiyero has found himself maybe a little bit in over his head, it's because he's insisted and Peter has obliged. Then you add to it the fact that Peter is very strong and capable, quite handy, and familiar with safety precautious and medical care - it all makes it feel very safe to try all sorts of things.

Peter is the helpless one right now though, this also feels safe enough just because Peter is so willing to work with him. Even if Fiyero is the one in charge, Peter isn't expecting him to know everything. And he's so willing to indulge fantasies, even just talking about them like now.

"Yeah? I like the sound of that. Set that thing to vibrate, you'd probably be just as hard as you are now while you waited for me," Fiyero contemplates, his hand still caressing Peter backside and the inside of his thigh. His fingers exploring just a little bit back there, that spot behind Peter's balls, up to his entrance. Just ghosting teasingly around it, and leaving it at that. Something for them to explore at a later day.

Instead he reaches down to Peter's leg, tugging at it - spreading him wider, his hips shifting closer to the mattress as his support disappears a little. Speaking of splits, right? "You could probably come like this even without me fucking you, huh?" he comments, putting his hand on Peter's lower back, pressing down - pushing him down towards the mattress, so his cock across touches the towel he's resting on. "Come on, show me. Think you could rub yourself across the bed till you spilled for me?"

Peter just wants Fiyero to be comfortable and happy with him, and whatever he needs to do to make this relationship between them an environment where that can happen - he's only too happy to do so. And even if they find themselves in an unexpected place - Peter knows they can work it out, help each other, that caring will always come first.

"I'd be hard just opening myself up for you," Peter admits, honest to a fault. His muscles twitch when Fiyero's hand passes over them, a teasing touch to his perineum that implies a whole lot more. It's been a while since Peter had reason to mess around back there - he doesn't really bother, for just himself - and he shivers pleasantly, imagining how it would feel for Fiyero to slick up his fingers and sink them inside. The prep can feel good, when done right, and Peter's sure Fiyero would give it the attention it deserved.

Fiyero's hand closes around his thigh, pressing his legs open ever wider. His hips lower, Fiyero's hand a warm pressure against his lower back, until the head of his cock is brushing the towel beneath him. He can feel his face flushing at Fiyero's words, but he nods, once again honest - yeah, he probably could. Even with the condom on, it's not dulling his arousal, or even sensation much. A little, but not much.

"I can try," Peter murmurs, trailing off in a soft whimper as his hips twitch, seeking friction. He has pathetically little range of motion, with his legs spread so wide - but that doesn't stop him, dragging the head of his cock against the towel dutifully. It's not that it feels particularly good - it's so little friction, trying to get himself off however he can - but it's what Fiyero wants and that is hot. Little flexes of his abs, ass clenching rhythmically - Peter tries, dragging the tip of his cock back and forth against the towel.

Fiyero chuckles when Peter admits how easily he'd be hard, and, well, he's not wrong. The anticipation would probably help a lot too. Just like now, Fiyero's light touch getting a reaction simply because of what it promises.

Honestly, Fiyero has to take a moment just to appreciate the view. Standing over Peter, who's simultaneously spread out and wrapped up tight. With his arms tied to him, he can't even twist properly, so he'd probably have a difficult time even rolling over easily. So vulnerable, blushing red, yet also so eager to please the moment Fiyero asks anything of him. Trying to chase any pleasure he can achieve, because Fiyero told him to. It's kind of ridiculously hot, actually.

Fiyero's standing close enough that he's in Peter's field of vision, even if it's no doubt a little awkward. But Fiyero wants Peter to see, as Fiyero lazily touches himself a bit, a few light strokes to stop himself from flagging after he's been neglecting himself for a moment. In a way it's just as much a display for Peter, where Fiyero is standing there watching Peter try to awkwardly hump the mattress. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathes.

He huffs, moving again, suddenly sitting on the bed right beside Peter. "Alright, you can stop. Don't want you coming yet," Fiyero says, running his hand through Peter's hair - the hand Fiyero was just pleasuring himself with. "Well.. Suppose I could just make you come again, so it wouldn't be that bad," he adds with a grin, before his hand tightens demandingly in Peter's hair, pulling his head back, making him arch his neck as he leans down to lay claim to his mouth, kissing him messily. Just because Peter asked for one more kiss before being tied up doesn't mean it was gonna be the last one.

Peter humps forward, chest pressed into the pillows, chasing the sensation the best he can. He's completely helpless like this - sure, if he really needed to he could buck, probably right himself with enough flailing. Fiyero slides into his view, hand wrapped around his own cock, lazily pumping, and Peter whines softly, hips working harder to chase the feeling. Wanting to please, knowing that it's turning Fiyero on, that he's pleasuring himself just watching...

It kind of starts to feel good.

He finds a decent angle, grinding against the bed, cheeks brilliantly pink. The next hump forward hits the spot just so, and Peter groans, eyes slipping closed. He thinks he could do it, listening to the slick sound of Fiyero's hand, passing over his shaft - knowing that this is what Fiyero wants from him, succeeding is it's own kind of pleasure. Peter shudders again, hips moving faster, rubbing himself against the towel, so very eager to please.

Which also means stopping, right when it starts to feel good.

Peter bites off the noise of complaint, teeth digging into his lower lip, and forces himself to still at Fiyero's command. His cock is throbbing, even more worked up than he was before. His eyes flutter open just in time to watch Fiyero move his hand from his erection to Peter's hair, and he gasps softly when his head is pulled back, forcing him to lean up and meet Fiyero's commanding kiss. His arms pull at his binds on instinct, but there's no give, and the reinforcement that he's truly trapped sends another wave of heat through him. Peter kisses him back, lips parted to invite Fiyero in to ravage his mouth - one more kiss on his term, with hands and affectionate touching, but this? Peter's never going to complain about this.

"Whatever - " Peter's voice is breathless when they part, slightly dazed, lips pink from use. He stares up at Fiyero, moon-eyed. "Whatever you want. If you want to watch me come, I can do it. Anything you want, baby..."

Peter's desperation is sexy just in itself, the little whines from him as he tries to find the right way to move. And then how he stops at Fiyero's command, even if he's probably starting to get quite desperate.

Fiyero's slightly breathless and pink too, but probably not as much as Peter. He does smile warmly when Peter offers anything, feeling so incredibly fond of him and turned on by him at the same time.

"I know, darling," he answers sweetly, his hand loosening so he can brush his fingers through Peter's hair, like petting him with approval. "You're doing so well." He leans forward and presses a kiss to Peter's forehead, before he gets up.

Or rather, he barely gets up, taking just a step to instead sit down at the head of the bed, bunching up the pillows that remain behind himself. He's settling with one leg on either side of Peter's, and suddenly it becomes very clear exactly why Fiyero has placed Peter exactly there, and why he propped him up with pillows. Fiyero's cock is now bouncing lazily almost right in front of Peter's face as he settles on.

"You can try to come while I fuck your mouth," he says, reaching down to grab his own cock, pressing it against Peter's cheek. "Don't rush it, though. I'd love to find out what it feels like if you come while I'm buried in your throat."

Fiyero's being absolutely filthy, and it feels strangely natural when it's like this. Because it's sexy, because he knows it will get a reaction out of Peter - and also because it's what he's been thinking about for a while now. He's got every intention of driving Peter crazy with lust, but first he wants to use him, to take care of his own pleasure. If anything, this will probably really solidify that beautiful headspace Peter is in, making it all the easier to help him lose control afterwards.

Peter soaks up the praise, beaming shyly as his hair is mussed. When Fiyero gives him affection like that, it just makes Peter even more determined to live up to Fiyero's expectations. Not because he feels like he has to, but because he wants to, so badly. His head turns to track Fiyero's movement as his prince slides to sit, eyes widening when the position Fiyero settles into is clear; powerful, commanding, positioned oh-so-conveniently to use Peter's mouth.

"Okay," Peter's voice is soft, accepting without question. Fiyero's cock is red, head shiny with slick arousal, which smears against Peter's cheek in a hot streak as Fiyero presses up against him. He parts his lips, whining softly, and his hips shudder forward, rubbing his dick against the bed again. If it feels filthy, it's probably because it is - there's nothing Peter can do but take Fiyero's cock and helplessly hump mostly air as he tries to get off himself and fuck, that's far hotter than it has any right to be. "Please, please 'yero, please fuck me..."

He manages to tilt his head, brushing his lips against Fiyero's shaft, finally catching the head of Fiyero's cock on his tongue. Peter groans and swirls his tongue around him, hips undulating - it's not enough friction, not nearly enough, but he's getting horny enough now that it hardly matters. He wonders if an orgasm would even be satisfying like this - probably not, and the thought makes his balls feel tight. No, it would probably feel frustrating, too light to prolong the pleasure - the satisfaction would be from knowing he did as Fiyero asked, ideally with his boyfriend sheathed in his throat. Peter's hips twitch again, tongue lavving messily at the cock in his face, begging for Fiyero to press forward and take him.

Fiyero smiles sweetly down at Peter, reaching with his other hand to brush though his hair. "Of course, baby.. Gonna make good use of that mouth," he answers, the last word fading into a groan as Peter manages to wrap his lips around him, sending a soft wave of pleasure through Fiyero. He shifts his hips a little to the side, so he's situated right under Peter's head. With his hips resting on the bed, he's pressed shallowly enough into Peter's mouth that Peter could pull back or turn his head enough to free his mouth - but if he bucks his hips, there's nowhere Peter could really escape. For now he lets Peter work his tongue while Fiyero's pets his hair.

"Remember, baby.. If you need to stop, just make a loud humming sound," he instructs. "If you want my attention, you need to slow down or pause, or you can't hum, just wave your hands like this." He holds up a hand in front of Peter's face, opening and closing his fingers quickly, like a wave. "Show me you can do it." Fiyero's propped up well enough that he can see Peter's back and his hands easily - as well as how he's bucking his hips. Peter's wrists are locked in place, but his hands are free enough.

"Good, darling. You just relax and enjoy yourself, because that's what I'm gonna do. Just gonna use this pretty mouth till I'm satisfied. Nothing you can do about it - nothing you need to do about. Lucky you, there's no wrong answers when you're a toy," he says, huffing a breathy laugh. His voice is getting rougher as he lazily rolls his hips, fucking gently against the roof of Peter's mouth. "You can move however how you, however you're able. If you find a better position to press your dick against that mattress, you just go ahead, sweetheart. If you come a dozen times, I get to watch each one. If you don't come at all, I get to drive you even crazier.. Even if you can't handle me in your throat, I can just fuck you some other way, can't I? Either way I win, huh, Peter?"

However satisfying it would be for both of the to have Peter do as Fiyero first suggested, Fiyero wants to make it clear there's simply no way for Peter to fail him. Peter is safe in that Fiyero will chase his own pleasure, and Peter can't stop him from doing just that. He's helpless to be used however Fiyero chooses. In reality, this means that even if Peter chokes or gets overwhelmed, it doesn't mean that he's let Fiyero down. However vulnerable and helpless Peter is, Fiyero will take care of him. Physically, and emotionally.

And he's also going to have a very good time while doing it, because yes, this is hot. Fiyero's fingers tighten in Peter's hair, holding his head with both hands as he fucks up into Peter's moan, letting out another groan.

Everything about this situation is unbelievably hot, and the way Fiyero has so carefully constructed it really leaves Peter no room to escape by accident. Unless he struggles hard enough that the bonds fail, but so far, they seem to be holding up, and Peter doesn't think they'll fail, regardless. Fiyero's cock sits in his mouth like it's always been meant to be there, a good inch or so pressed against Peter's tongue, but with the way Peter is bound he can't really get enough leverage to bob that much, either.

He whines, then pauses to hum, loud and unmistakable. It has the added benefit of reverberating through Fiyero's cock, and Peter obediently opens and closes his palm, fingers fluttering, to prove that he can. He whines again, eyes flitting up to Fiyero before he has to groan, opening his mouth a little wider as Fiyero's hips lift to fuck into him languorously. Unhurried, unbothered - like Fiyero's just using his mouth how he likes, which he is. Peter can't even suck when he's doing that, made to just... take it. To just be Fiyero's toy, a hole for him to fuck however he likes, and Peter whimpers around him, hips stuttering forward, getting whatever friction he can.

It's not much. The condom isn't dulling the sensation exactly, but it does make it harder to get any traction against the bed. The helpless feeling intensifies as he's caught, suspended in a place where he really can't do much at all. Peter flattens his tongue, making a muffled sound of approval - yes, he wants Fiyero to be pleased, and however he wants to fuck him, Fiyero is the winner here. Peter's just grateful he gets to be there at all...

Fiyero fucks his mouth more intentionally this time, hands finding their way into his hair, and Peter closes his eyes with a groan, no longer trying to look up at Fiyero. It puts his neck at a bad angle for facefucking, which is definitely the priority; tilting his head down helps him open his throat. His arms twitch, but the webbing shows no sign of giving, and his legs tense, still spread wide. His ass flexes again, hips shifting to try and chase friction - he's following Fiyero's pace, each thrust into his mouth getting a press of his cock against the bed. It's maddening in the best way, how good it all feels without being enough; how turned on he is having Fiyero fucking him like this and all he can get for his own erection is a little tease of friction, right at the sensitive head...

It would be that the thing that inspires Fiyero to 'carefully construct' anything would be really specific sex to fulfill one of Peter's unthinkable fantasies. Fiyero's usually found himself on the receiving end of this fantasy, but it turns out to also be extremely hot to be the one in control, to orchestrate it for both of their enjoyment.

Once Peter demonstrates that he can let Fiyero know if something is wrong, it also becomes a lot easier to relax. Both signals are very obvious, and also unmistakable. The flapping wave also a nice way for Peter to show that he needs an adjustment, without necessarily going full stop. A signal that inspires less worry.

Peter doesn't seem to have much worry - for once - so neither does Fiyero. When he's done giving instructions and everything, he can also stop thinking so much, and focus on actually enjoying himself properly. And Peter's making the most beautiful little noises, each one intensifying the sensation of Peter's mouth.

Fiyero gives a drawn-out moan, his hands gripping Peter's hair to make his face meet each thrust. He has to stop himself from going too deep, too fast, but the pleasure is building rather rapidly now he's getting into it.

"Fuck.. Doesn't that feel good, darling? You feel amazing.." he says, voice heavy with lust, his cock rock hard in Peter's mouth. "Tighter, baby. Let me feel your lips and your tongue. Fuck, that's it.. You're mine.. My darling Peter, so gorgeous.. Fuck.."

Fiyero's hips twitch, already pressing up towards the back of Peter's throat before forcing himself to pull back. But he keeps fucking, as deep as he knows he can safely go, before he starts feeling that resistance. It's not just Peter who has trouble holding off this time honestly, Fiyero having to take deep, steadying breaths, his body tense with trying to control the pleasure.

Peter's always been the giving type, in any given aspect of his life. So is Fiyero, in his own way - in the ways he can be, when he sees an opportunity to do so. The times when Fiyero has taken control, yes, it's because he wants to and has fun in his own right; but he also gravitates towards giving Peter things he himself finds fun to experience, or wants to eventually experience. Maybe it makes it less scary, or maybe it just makes Fiyero feel more confident and capable... either way, Peter is not complaining.

Fiyero moans above him, fingers tightening in his hair to pull Peter forward, manhandling him casually to get the most pleasure. Peter's not sure he's ever been more turned on in his life, and he doesn't know what that says about him, but luckily, his mouth is far too full for that kind of thinking. Peter moans and obliges Fiyero's filthy directive, curling his tongue beneath Fiyero's hard cock to create a warm, wet channel for him to fuck. His lips wrap taut around the turgid flesh, Fiyero's words echoing in his ears. You're mine. My darling Peter...

It's all he wants, at the end of the day, at the very embarrassing heart of it all. Someone who wants him, who claims him; someone he can call home. Making Fiyero feel good in exchange? What a privilege, and Peter treats it as such, trying his best to make it as pleasurable as possible. Fiyero edges towards the back of his throat, and Peter squirms - hips still chasing the what little friction he can, arms trapped tight behind his back.

Fiyero could do whatever he wanted, like this. He could choke Peter with his cock, demanding to be pleasured before he'd allow Peter air. The hints of it that he gets, when the head of Fiyero's cock pushes just a little too far, fucking into his red face - Peter shivers, an involuntary reaction, whining around the intrusion. Peter would let Fiyero do whatever he wanted, really. His lips are starting to puff from the steady fucking, slick with spit, messy - but Peter can't worry about what a state he's in, ass flexing again as he grinds towards the bed, sparks of pleasure flickering in his gut with each thrust.

"Do you like this, sweetheart? Being my toy?" Fiyero asks, voice breathless and shaking slightly with the effort. But saying the dirty fantasies aloud makes them more present, and he hopes they'll do the same for Peter, make him fully lose himself to them. "You look so good wrapped around my cock. I could keep you like this, for whenever I wanted to use you. I could put the toy in you too-- Fuck.. Turn it up high, make you come till you lost your mind while I was fucking your other end..."

Fiyero whimpers, his thighs shuddering. He rests his hips against the bed, instead pulling Peter's head up and down, demanding but shallow thrusts as he pulls Peter onto his cock, giving Peter a brief break as he keeps himself hovering on the edge. His legs close in around Peter, shins touching Peter's arms, thighs bracketing Peter's head. Touching more of Peter while also reminding him he can't touch in return.

Another whimper from Peter echoes through Fiyero's cock and then out through his chest, and Fiyero's hips jerk involuntarily, glad he wasn't deep. But he can feel himself getting closer, so this is about as much warm-up as he can let Peter have.

"Alright, baby.. Swallow," he commands, using considerable effort to thrust slowly as pushes deeper, demanding entrance. He holds it for one second, two, before he pulls back - and then thrusting again, staying there another two seconds, before letting Peter breathe again. His cock is aching, sending warm thrills through him, pleasure pulling under his taut abs.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Fiyero moans. "My perfect Peter. You can take it. Can you come like this, baby? Or have I tied you up too good? You wanted this.." Fiyero punctuates his word with another thrust into Peter's throat. "My toy. Nothing you can do about it now," he breathes, before his hips pull back again. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you." His fingers tighten in Peter's hair, possessive and bordering on painful, before thrusting again. "Good boy, just let me use you. My darling Peter.."

Fiyero's head is spinning with the pleasure, so carefully controlled. He's watching Peter so closely, both for any signs of distress, but also for pleasure, as he tries to chase any friction he can get. Fiyero's words are designed to work Peter up, to reassure him while he reminds him of his helplessness, but they're also true. Fiyero's using Peter, and fuck does it feel good, but he's also doing his best to take care of him, to indulge his fantasies. The heady thrill of power he gets from doing so only intensifies his own pleasure, every surge signalling that he's close, starting to hang on by a thread.

The tone of Fiyero’s voice is matched only by the lewdness pouring from his lips, and it all sinks deep into Peter’s consciousness. He normally has so much input, all day, every day, it’s exhausting - but like this, oddly enough, it’s relaxing. Everything is pointed at Fiyero - the taste of him, the feeling of his hands, tight in Peter’s hair; his skin, brushing everywhere; his cock, invading Peter’s mouth and throat. His scent, sweat that forms on them both - Peter can hardly tell what’s Fiyero and what’s himself, until it’s just them. The low, breathless words - sweetheart and toy ringing in his ears. Yes, he likes it very much, clings onto it immediately, drinking it up eagerly. He can endure anything as long as Fiyero keeps pouring such affection into him, keeps touching him and talking to him like he’s treasured. His toy? Peter would be his footstool if it kept him right here, in the warm glow of Fiyero’s favor.

Fiyero, acknowledging his ability to come quickly, frequently, as if it’s a feature? Peter makes an incoherent keening noise that chokes off as Fiyero drags his head down again, stuffing his mouth. He can imagine what it would feel like, waves of inescapable pleasure rolling through him while Fiyero pounded him relentlessly, all while Peter is kept, bound and helpless. Spiderman, helpless? He never thought those words would ever apply, but Fiyero… his prince can bring him to his knees with a single look, and gladly, too. Peter, his plaything; Fiyero’s thighs brush his cheeks, sinking him low on Fiyero’s cock, and he can feel the heat radiating from them. Incredible that he can blush like this after everything he’s done to Fiyero… but it’s different, on the receiving end. Knowing that he wants this, to be Fiyero’s cocksleeve…

Peter’s hips jerk, the scant amount of space that he can in this position, cock drooling and hanging low, desperately hard. He doesn’t think he can get off like this - or maybe he can, but it’s taking far longer than usual. Finally, they’ve found a way to make him last; mercilessly light friction. Fiyero orders him to swallow and he does, air briefly cut off by Fiyero’s thick cock. Peter makes a garbled noise - a moan? - feeling light-headed, though it’s not from the lack of air. You wanted this.

And it’s true - he’s completely at Fiyero’s mercy, to be used at his discretion. The sounds coming out of him are utterly filthy - the wet pass of Fiyero’s cock on his lips, the gasps of breath when he can get air, the wanton moans when Fiyero reminds him that he’s his, a beloved toy who can’t even come on his own. Fiyero’s fingers tighten in his hair, and maybe it should be painful, but it just feels ecstatic. Peter almost wishes it was tighter, harder, faster - anything to give Fiyero more pleasure, even as his own neglected erection brushes tantalizingly against the towel, wrapped in a condom to catch his mess, if he ever manages to make one. Fiyero’s mess, however, will be his to take care of…

"If you don't come now, I'm gonna make you wait real long for it," Fiyero promises, huffing a laugh. "Gonna have-- a lot of fun, driving you crazy, baby.. Fuck..."

His control is faltering, and even holding off this long is a feat for someone who supposedly doesn't bother with self-control. He uses his last bit of restraint to speed up without stuttering, smooth deep thrusts into Peter's mouth, burying himself. Using Peter for his pleasure, exactly what Peter wants, for Fiyero to take what he needs.

"Fuck, darling, I'm gonna--" he croaks, and then he does. It's slow, like it's still fighting against Fiyero's self-control, sending ripples - shockwaves through. Filthy moans pulled out of his throat, certainly not bothering with limiting his volume. This is what Peter has earned, the success of Fiyero's orgasm, and Fiyero won't deprive him of hearing it. His back is arched, his hips pressed up as far as he can go, and he spills right into Peter's throat, and he would worry about it if he could think.

"Good boy," he gasps, and it doesn't even matter if Peter is actually being good or not, he's going to get the praise for what he's endured no matter what. Fiyero pulls back, then thrusts again, a few last staccato fucks into Peter's mouth as he drags out his orgasm, almost involuntarily. He might well be hurting Peter a bit, but he just has to trust that Peter can handle it, that he wants to handle it, everything Peter's promised with both his words and his shameless, needy sounds, telling Fiyero, please fuck my mouth.

Peter couldn’t reliably tell you how long Fiyero’s been fucking him for - five minutes? Ten? It feels like the most perfect, endless instant, a natural progression. He can feel Fiyero building to a crescendo, and Peter’s hips work a little more frantically at Fiyero’s words - whether it be the shiver of turned on fear, at the idea of Fiyero continuing to torment him, or a deep desire to please, to come as Fiyero asked him to. He moans around him again, and Fiyero presses in deep, cutting off the sound as he takes Peter’s throat, using him to peak his own pleasure.

It’s so unbelievably hot.

Peter jerks in his bonds as Fiyero spills into him, eyes rolling back as his lashes flutter. He has no choice but to swallow, unable to even taste Fiyero when he’s that deep, just feeling his release hit the back of his throat. It’s almost too much - he can’t breathe, for a long instant, world narrowed down to Fiyero, to servicing him, to receiving everything he has to give. His hands are clenched in fists - Peter doesn’t want to wiggle his fingers, but he almost does. Almost. Just when the trickle of fear kicks in, Fiyero pulls back, then fucks into him again, allowing Peter a sweet sip of air and the taste of Fiyero’s release, heady on his tongue.

He did ask for this. To be tied down and taken, for Fiyero to fuck his mouth. This is what it would be like, if Fiyero truly fucked him. Peter whimpers around him, hips jerking - the head of his cock catches on a wrinkle in the fabric of the towel, and Peter bucks, trying to chase the friction desperately. It’s still not enough, a whine of frustration ekeing out of his throat. Peter flushes red as Fiyero assures him he was a good boy, like a cherished pet, the praise going right to that warm feeling in the center of his chest - which is doing nothing to help his erection.

He slurps wetly at Fiyero’s cock, which is all he can really do - he can’t get away, not until Fiyero takes himself out of Peter’s mouth. Wide eyes finally open, dazed, looking up at Fiyero - glorious Fiyero, all long, lean muscle, most of Fiyero’s cock still buried in his mouth. He lets his tongue press up against Fiyero’s underside, and his hips jerk forward again - Peter hasn’t managed to come, but fuck if he isn’t horny as hell after that.

Fiyero's flush with pleasure, the tension of the climax leaving him, and his hips drop back on the bed. The moment some semblance of sense returns to him, he's searching Peter's expression or body language for any sense of fear or pain, whether he's signalling or not - he doesn't find any. Peter is tense, definitely, but he's not fighting to get away. In fact he's still trying to slurp Fiyero up.

Fiyero holds Peter's head right there, an inch and a half still resting on Peter's tongue. His grip has loosened, not forceful, but it's a clear signal to stay put.

"Too late now, darling. Lift those hips up for me, that's a good boy," Fiyero commands, a smug, lazy smile on his face, his voice matching it. "Mmmm... You took me so well. I'm proud of you, Peter. Look at that.." He reaches down to run a finger along the corner of Peter's mouth, collecting a small droplet of his come, before licking it off his own finger. "Didn't even need the towel."

He sighs heavily, lazily, brushing his hands through Peter's hair to, scratching gently at his scalp to undo some of the pain of the hair pulling. Fiyero looks very relaxed now, smiling with the afterglow, happy, sated - yet for all his selfish enjoyment, he's actually still very focused on Peter. Still toying with him. His cock is very sensitive now, and it's almost too much, but Fiyero is doing his best to ignore it. It's easier when Peter is still, but then every sound he makes sense a little pleasantly unpleasant shiver up Fiyero's spine.

"Maybe I'll just take a nap like this," he muses, and he lifts his legs crossing his ankles across Peter's back, wrapping his legs around him. His warm thighs hugging Peter's head. "You can wait, can't you, sweetheart? You're not really going anywhere, are you? Maybe if I fall asleep, you can manage to finally rub one out for yourself. Though you'd probably just wake me up when you got close, and then I'd keep you waiting even longer..."

In a way, the words are cruel, teasing him with perpetual denial and service as nothing more than a sheath. But there is a warmth to it, echoed in the sweet touches as he plays with Peter's hair. Fiyero is very obviously pleased and satisfied. After all, even if he neglects Peter's erection, he's not neglecting Peter. He wants him right here with him, curled up close and warm, stuffed up with Fiyero's softening cock. "Mmm, it would be nice, wouldn't it?" he says, closing his eyes and letting his head rest back against the pillows. "Waking up and falling asleep with my cock in your mouth? Sort of poetic..."

He's only pretending, of course. As relaxed and boneless as he might feel, there's no way he could fall asleep. For one thing, he's far too sensitive, every press of Peter's tongue as he swallows to avoid drooling all over would send Fiyero twitching. And even if it weren't for that? He'd be far too worried about Peter's wellbeing, physically and emotionally, to just leave him like that. Certainly not the first time, or without discussing it first. But he's pressing Peter's buttons, working to keep him in that headspace. Where he thinks that not just something Fiyero could do and that he would be well within his rights to, but where Peter himself would enjoy it because he'd be serving his wanted purpose.

Fiyero relaxes against the bed, muscles twitching in the aftermath of his orgasm, and Peter blinks at him, very much enjoying the view. Fiyero meets his gaze, and Peter can't help but flush, cheeks heating - somehow, after Fiyero just used his throat like that, Peter feels more exposed than ever. He pulls out a little bit, but leaves some of his cock still resting heavy on Peter's tongue, hand mussing his hair, keeping him there.

Peter whines, blush intensifying, and reluctantly lifts his hips away from the bed, letting his cock hang, suspended and untouched. Fiyero sounds pleased, like he's happy Peter didn't succeed his task, left engorged and aching, and it does manage to cut through some of the inherent shame he feels at failing. It doesn't even fully occur to him that Fiyero set it up this way on purpose, that there isn't a true way to fail. As long as Fiyero is happy with him, that's good, right?

Good in some ways - his cock throbs, especially when Fiyero keeps talking to him like that, casually filthy. Fiyero's hands in his hair feel good, soothing over any sensitive areas from the harsh tugging, and Peter's body tenses, then relaxes - stopping himself from thrusting. He doesn't get to anymore, Fiyero told him not to. Peter whines again, sucking at Fiyero wetly, if ineptly with the angle and his tongue trapped beneath Fiyero's softening cock. Practicality has no place in fantasy, and in the haziness of his mind's eye, Peter can see it. It's not so difficult to imagine his world narrowed to Fiyero's cock, and his own desperate arousal. With Fiyero's legs curled around him, laid in repose against the pillow - using Peter's mouth as a convenient place to keep warm, while he humps at the bed carefully, trying not to wake Fiyero and also trying to chase his own orgasm. Nearly reaching completion, only for Fiyero to wake up and put it further out of reach, fucking his face as an after-nap delight...

Peter whimpers around him, eyes falling to half-lidded, hips twitching on air because even with as horny as he is, he's far too well-behaved to disobey (at least... for now). He swallows again, lips puffy and slick from prolonged use; he's sure his mouth is wrecked, let alone whatever state his voice is in. Fiyero's thighs tickle his face, keeping him warm, pressed close. If Fiyero fell asleep like this, Peter wouldn't even be able to see anything other than him. Wouldn't be able to move, arms and legs trussed as they are. He'd just be a cockwarmer, a hole for Fiyero to relax in...

Fiyero would gladly indulge this fantasy of using Peter as a cocksleeve for quite a while longer, if it weren't for the fact he's just a little bit too sensitive to be comfortable. Every time Peter whines or whimpers or slurps at him, a pleasantly unpleasant shiver goes up his spine.

It's a shame, because Peter looks so wonderful, blushing brightly, a little out of it with the mix of arousal and submission. The whine is entirely involuntary, Fiyero is pretty sure, especially with the way he keeps doing it without necessarily trying to achieve anything beyond reacting to his body's needs and the images Fiyero puts in his head.

Fiyero hums thoughtfully, looking down at Peter trapped between his legs. "No, it's just too difficult to ignore you when you're so pretty and so well behaved," Fiyero decides, tugging back at Peter's hair as he unwraps his legs and uses them to push himself up, pulling out of Peter's mouth at last. "Think I'd rather keep playing with you. Come on, let's get you up, baby," Fiyero says, sitting up. He reaches under Peter's shoulders, carefully pushing him back up into a sitting position.

Apart from the very hard cock and the little bit of drool on his chin and around his very pink lips, Peter looks no worse for wear. Except for the expression, of course, that simultaneously innocent and hazy aroused look. Peter looks at his face and smiles, fond and pleased, reaching up to cup Peter's cheek.

"There you go, darling. Are you doing alright? You can talk if you want, or not," he says, gentle and caring, petting Peter's hair. He doesn't want to ask much thought out of Peter right now, but he also won't deny him the ability to speak if he wants.

He kind of also wants to see if Peter will even ask for things like water, or if he's too deep in his arousal and subservience. Fiyero plays to give him some in a moment anyway, but it helps to see where Peter's headspace is at. If it will even occur to him.

Thoughts to examine another time, perhaps; it seems they have an endless supply of ideas. How could they ever get bored? Peter eases back when Fiyero directs him to, following the tug of Fiyero's hands to let the softening cock slip out of his mouth. He feels - he doesn't know how to describe it. Relieved and trepidatious, at the same time; grateful for Fiyero's attention, but nervous about failing again. Though, if he fails, he'll just have to find a way to make it up to Fiyero...

Peter rolls with Fiyero's sure hands, thighs aching as he uses them to help push himself up. It's all he can do, with his arms trapped - he can't even clean up the drool on his chin, spit-slick with evidence of his efforts. Peter leans eagerly into Fiyero's touch to his cheek, basking in the attention. It's all he needs, really. He probably wouldn't even complain if Fiyero left his cock throbbing - not as long as he had Fiyero's affection elsewhere.

"Mm - " Peter tries to speak when prompted and coughs, ducking his head to avoid coughing in Fiyero's face. Water is probably prudent, but will it occur to Peter to ask? He clears his throat, which sounds rough on it's own - eyes tipping back up to Fiyero, soft and moon-eyed. He scoots closer, leaning into Fiyero's hand. " - m'okay."

"Was good?" His voice falls to a low murmur, and his eyes close as Fiyero's hand passes through his hair, a contented sigh following. Yes, he likes that. He'd take a thousand facefuckings if it meant Fiyero held him like this afterwards. "...good 'nuff for kiss?"

Of course the one thing he thinks to ask for is a kiss, over even water. That's just Peter, lovable idiot that he is. What? His throat will heal, and so will his mouth...

Fiyero searches Peter's face for any discomfort, physical and emotional. The sore throat is pretty obvious, and to be expected, so Fiyero just waits, gently patient, while Peter clears his throat. His thumb stroking at Peter's cheek, as if comforting him through the pain.

He smiles when Peter says he's okay, and the smile only widens when he asks if he was good, warm and approving. "Very good," he answers, wanting to match Peter's relatively simple speak. He can go off on ramblings when he's painting word pictures for Peter to get lost in fantasies, but when it comes to what's seemingly Peter's biggest need, Fiyero's approval, he wants there to be no way to mistake it.

He almost laughs when Peter asks for a kiss, but he's careful about that now, when Peter's so vulnerable. Still, there is delight in his voice, but clearly joyful approval, not remotely mocking or in on some sort of joke Peter doesn't get. "Good enough for many kisses," he confirms.

He doesn't waste any time, scooting a little closer and leaning in for a kiss, not even bothering to wipe Peter's chin first. He's careful with Peter's abused lips, not demanding or forceful. But still, it's definitely not chaste. A quiet passion, loving and quietly eager. It is a reward, after all. Fiyero's brushes one hand through Peter's hair, the other cupping his cheek, holding him like he's precious, because he is. And because Fiyero wants Peter to feel like he is, humming with happiness.

He breaks the kiss carefully, peppering his cheeks with soft kisses. "There's one reward," he says softly, voice sweet. "I'm gonna get you water," he warns, as he leans away to reach for the nightstand. He keeps a hand resting on Peter's thigh, a point of contact in the meantime. Peter fears abandonment and he craves touch, so Fiyero will make sure to keep touching him as long as he can. "Drink up, darling," he says, holding the glass up to Peter's mouth and helping him drink as much as he needs.

Peter flushes happily at Fiyero's easy approval, pink spreading from beneath the gentle pass of his thumb. He's not even feeling the bonds, the ache of tension in his muscles - it's all temporary, and pushing pain to the side is something of a specialty of his. It's not enough for him to bring up, because his promise to Fiyero from before still stands - he won't let Fiyero hurt him, just because he can endure it.

But then Fiyero's kissing him, and nothing else takes precedence over that.

Peter leans forward to meet him, making a soft noise of gratitude and relief when Fiyero kisses him, basking in his joy, the sultry edge of the kiss that reminds him just how hopelessly hard he is, because his boyfriend is hot. His arms twitch, unable to curb the instinct to reach out - but he can't, simply succumbing to Fiyero's touches, which Fiyero gives out generously. Peter soaks them up greedily, closing his eyes when Fiyero breaks away to shower him in kisses. Fiyero doesn't seem bothered by the messy state Peter's mouth is in, and Peter bites his lip when Fiyero pulls away, turning his head to press his forehead against Fiyero's shoulder. Fiyero touching his thigh is nice, a welcome, grounding and possessive touch - but this is all Peter can do, in return.

He does feel precious, cared for. Claimed, in all the ways he secretly wishes for, and some he hadn't even thought to consider, before. Fiyero wants him, by some miracle, and Peter is only too happy to be his.

Peter obediently turns his head out from Fiyero's shoulder to sip the water, tilting his head up to catch it as he takes a few deep pulls. It's not even meant to be suggestive, but by definition, it sort of is regardless - droplets of water, sluicing from the edges of his mouth, lips pink and puffy on the rim of the glass. Peter parts from it with a satisfied sigh, pressing his lips to Fiyero's shoulder in appreciation. "Thanks, baby."

For the water, the kiss, or fucking his mouth? All of the above, really. Peter leans into Fiyero's side, letting him support some of his weight, craving the closeness. He's even being good, not trying to seek any friction - though his erection hasn't flagged, jutting up from his lap, still encased in the latex.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject