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

Entry tags:

fiyero tigelaar : winkieprince

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

[ aka wicked ii: lost in new york ]

Peter 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.

In a way, Peter really is easy to please. Obviously this whole setup is elaborate, something to indulge fantasies. But the things Peter craves within it are simple, and they're the same things Peter craves outside of this too, at least as far as Fiyero can tell. It makes it easier, to know what to do. Even if Fiyero oversteps in some direction, he also knows what will soothe.

In claiming him like this, Fiyero is satisfying one of his own needs he hadn't even considered. They ability to take care of Peter, to protect and tend to him, without Peter even arguing or feeling embarrassed about it. He accepts every bit of care Fiyero has to offer, and Fiyero hums a content acknowledgement as Peter thanks him.

He sets the glass aside before turning his attention fully back to Peter. He pushes Peter's leg a little bit, making him actually close his thighs slightly more, so Fiyero can scoot him even more, shifting into a different position. He sits down against Peter's side, one leg curled around his back, the other around his leg, close enough that Peter can easily lean sideways against his chest. So Fiyero can reach both Peter's back and front, and even for some more kisses, even though it would be a bit more of an awkward angle.

"Your mouth tastes like me, you know," he points out, voice soft, as he reaches up to wipe at Peter's chin. Then he starts gently massaging Peter's thigh with one hand, and his arm with the other, soothing tense muscles. "Your lips look like I've been fucking you for hours. It's a good look."

He leans down to press a kiss to Peter's shoulder, his hand settling on Peter's chest as the other reaches around his back to massage the other arm. "You'd let me, too. Not because you don't have a choice, but because you're that good," Fiyero says, voice soothing. He keeps talking, and Peter can interject if he wants to, but Fiyero is filling the not-quite-silence without really asking anything of him. "So well behaved. The only thing you didn't do was the thing I sort of hoped you wouldn't. No punishment needed for that, I think you've got enough punishment right here," Fiyero says, and he reaches out to gently tap a fingertip on the tip of Peter's cock, sticking out so vulnerable and easily accessible.

Peter’s a pretty simple person, when it comes down to it. The helplessness factor does bring something special to the table, something Peter never thought he’d get to explore, and that’s interesting - but his needs and desires, they’re as plain as the nose on his face, with or without the bondage and power play. It is nice to not have to think about it, though; to be able to just give himself over to the experience, without thinking about controlling himself. When’s the last time he didn’t think about that? Even this morning, messing around with Fiyero - he’s always modulating his strength.

Fiyero seems to really like this, too, and Peter adjusts easily as Fiyero helps him into a better position for post-facefucking cuddles. It lessens the strain on his thighs, allowing them to close more, and he gladly leans into Fiyero’s side, sighing happily at the amount of skin on skin contact that affords him. Fiyero is warm, solid and comforting against him, and Peter wiggles in his bonds just in an effort to get closer.

He makes a soft sound of gratitude as Fiyero starts rubbing out sore muscles, slowly slumping into him as he talks. The rumble of his voice is soothing, even if the words make Peter blush, keenly aware of his predicament. But Fiyero is pleased with him, and how can anything be wrong with that? It’s strange, to be both mildly self-conscious and proud, at the same time; Peter’s not quite far enough out of his own head that it doesn’t matter, but also not far enough in that it’s unbearable.

“I would,” Peter agrees, head lolling to the side, resting against Fiyero’s shoulder. His neck isn’t as sore as the other muscle aches - will probably clear shortly, as his body repairs itself - but resting against Fiyero gives him an easy excuse to get closer. “As long as you wanted, baby - nngm!”

Peter chokes off in a strangled moan when Fiyero touches him, hips lifting pathetically towards the light touch. He’s so worked up that it won’t take much - he was close, just barely humping the bed. Peter can feel another wave of pre-come slicking up the condom, spurting from the head of his cock at the attention. “O-oh…”

Fiyero welcomes all of Peter seeking closeness and affection, pressing a kiss into his hair as Peter leans his head against him. Even Fiyero's legs curl tighter around him, one thigh resting against Peter's feet and butt, the other leg even slightly draped across Peter's thighs, holding him close.

Fiyero really loves this too - being able to snuggle up. Yes, he's had Peter's mouth wrapped around his cock, and he'll get to shower Peter in as many kisses and touches as he wants, but that's different than full body cuddles. He's enjoying while he can.

"Oh, sweetheart.. " Fiyero says sympathetically as Peter's so affected by just one little touch. It's amusing too, but he's gentle about the humour of it. He reaches over to massage his other thigh for a moment, his other hand wrapped around Peter's shoulders holding him close.

Then he considers Peter for a moment, his flushed face and his flushed cock. How helpless he is and yet so sweet, only seeking affection. His hips betray him, to the tiny extent they even can, but Peter himself isn't asking anything of Fiyero but his attention and his affection.

"You know what? I think I've changed my mind," Fiyero decides, voice sweet. The hand on Peter's shoulder slides down his arm, finding one of his hands and pressing palm to palm, lacing their fingers together. Holding his hand, giving Peter something to hold in return. "I don't think you need any punishment."

Fiyero reaches down, wrapping his other hand around Peter's cock, a warm, firm, comfortingly secure touch, starting to stroke him slowly.

"You're mine. I get to do what I want with you. I want to see your pleasure. I want to see you come, darling," Fiyero states, confident and warm, wanting to overwhelm him with both words and touch.

It really doesn't take much. Fiyero's not teasing, and while he doesn't rush it either, he could probably make Peter come with the lightest touch. But this is solid and steady, working Peter up to that orgasm without wavering, his hand squeezing around the head of Peter's cock. He's watching every expression and twitch, savouring every sound, taking in just what he's doing to Peter - and he keeps stroking through his climax, keeping him going for several seconds longer, drawing it out as much as he can before he finally releases him.

He's still holding Peter's hand, but the one he used to jerk him off, Fiyero reaches up to loop around his neck, hand going into Peter's hair, pulling him in close, hugging him to his chest.

"You don't ever have to earn my love, Peter," he says, voice quiet and full of affection and utter sincerity. Like he's trying to press these words into Peter's very bones, fortified by helplessness and an unexpected ecstatic pleasure. "I give it freely. No matter if you're good or not. I'll take care of you, I promise."

Peter’s enjoying this too, even if he can’t hold Fiyero back. If Fiyero wants him to be a receptacle for his cock, or if he wants him to be a life-size body pillow - he’s all in. If he wasn’t, he never would have let Fiyero truss him up like this. He himself offers a shaky laugh, with a self-deprecating edge to it - he knows what it must look like, though to be fair, Fiyero did work him up on purpose. Knowing how sensitive he is, knowing how much Fiyero turns him on. His hips twitch again, but he forces them to still, more tension relaxing as Fiyero continues his trailing massage. The puffiness in his lips has started to fade a little, but the pink will stick a while yet.

“Sorry,” Peter apologizes softly, knowing he wasn’t supposed to move. He tilts his head, temple still resting comfortably against Fiyero’s shoulder, peeking up at him while Fiyero studies him, chocolate brown meeting darkened blue. He doesn’t know what Fiyero is thinking, what he’ll do next, and that’s part of the thrill of this whole thing, twinging in his gut. Maybe Fiyero will tease him until he can’t even think straight, or maybe he’ll leave him until his erection calms down, just to work him back up again. Maybe he’ll suck hickies into his skin as revenge, watching them heal over and over until Peter’s writhing with need -

The one thing he’s not expecting Fiyero to do is be kind and change his mind.

Peter’s gaze turns politely puzzled as Fiyero takes his hand and states his intention, though there’s no hesitation to fold their fingers together. He gasps at the first firm touch to his aching cock, jerking slightly against Fiyero’s side. It’s as unexpected as it is utterly, toe-curlingly perfect, and in combination with Fiyero’s soft words of affection? It takes Peter barely three strokes before he’s coming, face screwed up in ecstasy. Brow drawn low, lips parted on a breathy, whining moan, Peter shudders against him, neck arched so Fiyero can see his face. It’s not even intentional, but maybe subconscious - something inside of him registering that Fiyero’s only request was that he got to see.

It feels so good. His hand is clenched tight with Fiyero’s, limbs jerking in their bonds, but Fiyero’s pace is perfect, his grip deliciously tight, especially in contrast to the grazing friction he received earlier. The condom was a good idea, because the climax feels endless for a moment, body shuddering as the wave of pleasure crests and rolls through him. Fiyero doesn’t let it end for a moment, and Peter’s reminded of the other day, when Fiyero jerked him twice consecutively, just to see if he could.

Getting held to Fiyero’s chest, a warm hand in his hair, the other still clenched tight in his own? Is it pathetic if Peter admits, in the privacy of his own head, that he would take that over an elongated orgasm any day? He makes a quiet, contented sound, and hides his face in Fiyero’s neck as his partner’s words sink in. He’s never been more at someone’s mercy, but he’s never felt so seen, either, like Fiyero is looking into the deepest part of his heart and reading the most honest desires there. Saying things he didn’t even know he wanted to hear, affirming them with love and care and bodily pleasure, and there’s nothing Peter can do about it. Physically, of course… but there’s nothing Peter can do about Fiyero loving him, either. He just does.

His face is wet against Fiyero’s neck, and Peter presses forward, unexpectedly strong - it pins Fiyero against the pillows, perhaps the first sign that Peter’s starting to lose control. He just wants to be close, and all he can do like this is exert pressure - and hold Fiyero’s hand, which is not going anywhere, not until Peter either comes to or Fiyero asks him to release it. He brushes his lips against Fiyero’s neck, nuzzling at him sweetly. “Thank you…”

It's always beautiful, watching Peter succumbing to pleasure. Knowing how good it feels, knowing Fiyero is doing that to Peter, for Peter. It's no wonder Fiyero is only glad Peter has such a short refractory period, that Fiyero could do that to him over and over? How many times has it been just today? Fiyero will have to count...

The thing is, Peter doesn't have to choose. He can have a fantastic orgasm and be held by Fiyero. And holding him with such intimacy and comfort, in Fiyero's opinion, it's only elevated by following a climax. It's not pathetic. Or if it is, it's fine, because Fiyero really would say the very same thing, if he was asked to choose.

Fiyero's words are both very intentional, but also straight from the heart, not remotely calculated. Perhaps because it's something he himself desperately has missed, and that he can see reflected in Peter. The need to be loved unconditionally, without fear that it will be withdrawn. He needs Peter to know that Fiyero feels that way.

Fiyero doesn't even consciously realise that he makes the decision to stay. Not stay in New York, necessarily, but staying with Peter, whatever that looks like. He's never known anyone like this, and he's not letting that go. He's not letting Peter go.

And that holds true in this moment too, where he stays there, just holding Peter, stroking his hair. The tears against his neck aren't a surprise, nor a cause for concern. He himself cried, he knows how easy it is, how emotional it can get. The fact he can feel not just Peter holding his hands, but their palms sticking together, that's not surprising either, though it is strange to feel it so clearly. And the force with which Peter pins him in place, well, he probably should have expected that too.

"You're so welcome..." Fiyero answers, pressing a kiss against Peter's hair. He can feel himself tearing up too, the overwhelming emotion of the moment, so grateful and proud that he can do this for Peter, that they can have this closeness. "You just relax... I've got you.. My darling Peter..."

And Fiyero does. He just holds Peter, occasionally petting his hair, breathing him in. A cheek resting on top of Peter's hair, legs and arms curled around him. He stays that way for a long time, until Peter feels more relaxed against him. He's not sure how long it is, but it's a while, and Fiyero doesn't mind at all. He feels perfectly at peace here.

Finally he lifts his head, hand slipping down to Peter's cheek, trying to coax his head up at least, without really pulling away much. "Hey, baby.. I'd like to give you some more water," he says. He's very glad he thought to do that before, but Peter should definitely have some more by now. Fiyero too, for that matter.

Peter knows, deep down, that he feels the same way; that maybe he has, in some part of himself, since before he knew how to recognize it. Since before it would have been appropriate; even now, a distant part of his mind wonders if saying it back would freak Fiyero out. It's not a decision that has to be made now; he's not in a place where he's able to express it as eloquently, but that's alright - Peter knows Fiyero doesn't mind, holding him through it. Giving them both the closeness they're craving, that they need - that they've finally found, with each other. The only thing that could possibly get Peter to let Fiyero go now would be Fiyero's desire to leave...

"My 'yero," Peter whispers, inhaling a shuddering breath as he listens, slowly relaxing against Fiyero. Every iota of tension bleeds from his body, the post-orgasm slump, and Peter closes his eyes. He can feel his lashes clumping together with the wetness, sure that Fiyero can feel it, too, but he doesn't seem to mind, doesn't seem alarmed by it. It's release of another kind, and given that Fiyero's experienced it, too, perhaps it's not so alarming. His limbs finally slump, shoulders relaxing, folded up against Fiyero's chest; his legs loosen, a warm tangle with the way Fiyero is wrapped around him. Peter's breathing evens, the only evidence of his tears a soft hiccup, every so often, soaking up the warm fingers carding through his hair, the way Fiyero's holding him. His fingers twitch, where he's still holding Fiyero's hand, thumb lazily stroking against Fiyero's knuckle.

"...mm, okay." Peter agrees quietly, slowly lifting his head up. He turns, pressing warm lips to the meat of Fiyero's palm, reverent. As if Peter wasn't already prepared to worship at Fiyero's altar - he definitely is now, blinking up at him with painfully sweet devotion as he's coaxed out from Fiyero's neck. He smiles, holding Fiyero's gaze as he kisses his palm again more intentionally. "Thanks... for taking care of me."

A week ago, Fiyero would have been terrified to hear the same statement reflected back at him. Now... maybe not. Perhaps it would depend on the context. In the moment, Fiyero wouldn't think much of it, considering it merely a reflection of what he said himself. In a moment where he already felt scared and upset, perhaps it would make it worse. He can't know, really. It's not like he's experienced it before... But he has felt it, from Peter. The unconditional protection and care.

It's what makes it so easy to offer it in return. To grant it, unafraid that the gift will be rejected. Unafraid that he will be rejected. It's reaffirmed in the way Peter says his affectionate nickname, claiming him his in return. And the way he looks up, his devoted eyes giving Fiyero a pang in his chest - especially the way his lashes as still wet with tears.

"You're welcome," he whispers in return, leaning in to press a kiss to each of Peter's cheeks, right under his eyes, kissing away his tears. And then a kiss to his lips as well, another reward, more chaste and not as long, but soft and full of feeling. "Thank you for letting me."

Fiyero feels almost as reluctant to let go of Peter, and he ends up keeping hold of Peter's hand, even as he means he has to awkwardly stretch and lean to reach the nightstand, using Peter for balance. He grabs the other glass, which is still full, only barely avoiding spilling as he straightens up. He holds it to Peter's lips, letting him drink deep from it. And after Peter has taken what he needs, Fiyero finishes off the rest of the glass, giving a satisfied sigh.

He's not done taking care of Peter though, and he sets the glass back, grabbing a banana. Then as he straightens up, he looks at it for a moment, before he huffs a laugh. Between the two of them, they currently have one free hand. So Fiyero reluctantly releases Peter's hand, gently coaxing him to let it go. And then he peels the banana and feeds that to Peter as well. He's certainly not about to take any argument on this part. "Trust me, you'll need your strength," he promises with a playful smile.

So much has happened for them in such a comparatively short amount of time - but given the way Peter's life has gone so far, is he really so surprised? He's the last person on earth who should be looking a gift horse in the mouth, and Fiyero... he really is a gift. An unexpected - and Peter would argue, in his own case, undeserved - gift. Even if he didn't feel the same way, even if they weren't like this... Peter would do anything to keep him safe, happy. And it's not that he needs anything in return for it, but even so; even just the lightness Fiyero has brought into his life is more than enough.

Over his dead body is anyone from Oscorp getting their hands on Fiyero again.

This was already solidified within him, but it cements even more as Peter submits to Fiyero's gentle guidance, smile brightening even more as Fiyero banishes the tears with soft caresses of his lips. Yes, Peter knows what he feels for Fiyero - scary and overwhelming though it might feel at times, it's strong. And it's not going away anytime soon, not by a long shot.

Peter drinks obediently, surprised by how much his thirst has returned when they weren't even doing much - but it's his body rehydrating after everything, using that the repair the aches and pains. He's mostly fine now, the change in him mostly internal, rather than physical. It does beg the question - how much can he endure? Physically, or mentally? Some distant part of his mind casually notes that he'd probably tap out mentally before he tapped out physically...

He snorts and ducks his head, releasing Fiyero's hand so he can fuss with the banana. He parts his lips, the only protest an amused crinkle at the corner of his eye - but he's in no real position to argue, and besides, that part of himself has been neatly quieted, for the moment. Putting himself at Fiyero's mercy - in his care - means that his job is to listen, to be good. Even if he doesn't think he needs the snack, it pleases Fiyero, and that's all Peter's striving to achieve at the moment.

"I'm always strong," Peter teases, chipmunking part of the banana in his cheek and tilting his head to press his forehead to Fiyero's shoulder. He nudges it playfully - but with strength, forcing them both into a more reclined position. Then he turns his head again, cheek resting against Fiyero's shoulder, and opens his mouth for another bite of banana, eyes shining brightly. He can still be obedient and a little bit of a cheeky idiot, apparently.

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