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 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.

There's many who would argue against having a good boyfriend was in any way undeserved. Both Peter and Spiderman separately deserve that. Considering he's the same person, it's frankly ridiculous how good of a boyfriend Peter deserves. Fiyero would be first in line to argue that. But as it is, he just tries to be the best boyfriend he's capable of being. To the extent he even knows how.

He's learning as he goes, and so us Peter, even if it's too a lesser extent. They're both in uncharted water right now, but so far it's going very well. About as well as they could possibly hope for, really.

Fiyero laughs as Peter shoves him, less worried about laughing when Peter's the one actively being playful. "Well, you don't always have to be," Fiyero points out, kissing the top of his head before feeding him another piece of the banana. It's finished in a flash, and Fiyero tosses the empty peel aside.

"Anything else you need, or want, before we continue?" Fiyero asks, his arms comfortably settled around Peter, fingertips stroking at his bound arm. "Besides kisses," he adds playfully. Peter can never have enough of those, it seems.

Fiyero is very good at being a boyfriend; or maybe Peter’s just easy to please, but is that so bad? All he needs is for Fiyero to try his best, and that’s more than enough. They’ll learn things together, about each other, how to be with each other. That’s all part of the fun.

Peter’s expression softens at Fiyero’s gentle reminder, quietly finishing off the banana as bidden. It’s not something he’s used to, obviously, but like this… what choice does he have? And Peter chose this, giving in to it, giving in to him.

Peter snorts and tucks his face into Fiyero’s neck, licking the last of the banana from his lips as he finishes and swallows. He shakes his head, letting his nose trail up Fiyero’s neck until he can press a sweet kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Mm, no. I’m okay. Bounce back quick. I’m ready… for whatever you want, baby.”

"Mmm, what do I want..." he muses with a smile, tilting his chin up a little to allow Peter to kiss him. He enjoys that Peter keeps trying to seek and give affection however he's able, with his very limited options. He's going to limit those options even more, so it feels good to allow it while he can.

Then he nudges gently at Peter to sit up and allow Fiyero to move. He doesn't go far though, pushing himself up and looking like he's about to get out of bed, only to instead settle on Peter's lap. His legs wrapped around his hips, his arms wrapping around his shoulders, one hand back in his hair to tug his head backwards.

Just so he can kiss his brains out for a while. It's a reward, a bit of care, and something to tide him over - and also a way to work him up again. It starts slow and sensual, but it gets quite steamy soon enough. His tongue exploring Peter's mouth, sucking on Peter's own tongue and on his lip, gently biting and tugging at his lower lip.

He's clinging tightly onto Peter's, simultaneously giving him as much skin contact as is possible. His hips shift as his legs tighten around Peter, and it makes his ass rub against Peter's softened cock, still wrapped in latex. Making sure to banish any thoughts Peter might have except what they're doing right now - and what they're about to do.

Peter’s pretty comfortable, all things considered. His legs aren’t spread as wide, his arms are pulled behind his back - but it’s an easy stretch for the preternaturally flexible, especially now that he’s not fighting against it, taut with arousal. Fiyero’s in kissing distance, offering a long stretch of unblemished skin for Peter to lavish with attention and he does, nuzzling up against Fiyero’s jaw with a happy sigh.

Until he’s prodded to shift, which he does, eyes widening when he gets a lapful of prince. There’s nothing he can do to hold Fiyero, but luckily Fiyero does it for him, draping himself over Peter’s lap and winding his arms around Peter’s neck for balance. Slowly, Peter melts into the kiss - the longer it goes, the less self-conscious Peter is about the arrangement; forgetting his bonds, about anything other than Fiyero’s lips on his. Peter makes a soft sound and parts his lips, inviting Fiyero in; his tongue, hot, wet, claiming every inch of Peter’s mouth; teeth, nipping and scraping against his lip until Peter whines, tipping his head up to get more. His hands itch to bury in Fiyero’s hair, greedily wishing to hold him close, tighter - but it’s up to Fiyero to do so, and blessedly he does, clinging to Peter as tight as he likes.

Fiyero is a really great kisser.

Peter’s already very happy with everything happening, but Fiyero, rubbing up against him like that? Grinding, pressing Peter’s softening cock between his cheeks - it won’t take long for him to perk back up, a low moan muffled against Fiyero’s mouth. As if his mind could be preoccupied with anything else when he has his prince in his lap like that, toying with him however Fiyero likes. Peter’s hips twitch, finding it easier to help grind now that his legs aren’t as spread; he presses up against Fiyero, lifting him off the bed with each roll, tilting his head to bump their noses together and kiss Fiyero messily, excitement evident.

Kissing is one of the few things Fiyero has at least some practice with, and goodness knows they're getting a lot of practice just the two of them. They've really learned the collaborative effort with the push and pull of the kiss, matching each other's pacing, inviting and exploring. The fact that Peter loves it so much only makes Fiyero enjoy it all the more.

It's always impressive how quickly Peter's dick can wake up, but what's surprising is how much leverage he can get to buck his hips even with his thighs and shins strapped to each other. He really only has his feet to work with, but he's sure taking advantage of what little he has. Fiyero neither stops, nor chides him, nor does he pull away. He allows Peter what extra pressure he can manage to chase, for this moment.

Until of course he doesn't, breaking the kiss and climbing off Peter. He keeps a hand in his hair, a point of contact to show he's still there, grinning down at Peter, panting quite a bit to catch his breath after that.

"Alright, baby. Time to get you comfortable. I've got plans for you," he says happily, himself quite excited. He grabs Peter's thigh, pulling it towards him, and then the other one. Turning Peter towards the edge of the bed - he doesn't outright ask for Peter's help, but he does expect his cooperation, at the very least. Even if it's with displeased whining at not being kissed anymore.

Kissing feels really damn good. It’s an easy way to show affection, and getting to learn what Fiyero likes - when Peter tilts his head just so, grazes his teeth against Fiyero’s lip in a way that makes him shiver - it just makes him feel closer, more attuned. He does love it, particularly because it’s Fiyero he gets to kiss.

Fiyero is generous with how much leeway he gives Peter, until he decides he’s let it go on long enough. Peter’s mostly erect again by now, breath coming in harsher pants as Fiyero pulls away. His pupils are dilated, tracking Fiyero’s movements as his head tips back into Fiyero’s warm hand, something fond in his chest at the way Fiyero keeps contact, keeps touching him, a reminder that he’s there even when the point is that he’s letting Peter go, for the moment.

“Yessir,” It’s supposed to be a tease, but it comes out a little breathier than intended. Peter laughs softly at himself, wriggling to help rearrange as Fiyero bids - sliding closer to the edge of the bed. Using his toes to stick and shift is easy, and maybe that helps explain how easy it still is for him to move around a bit - he could balance on one finger if he had to. He has in the past - if Fiyero wants him truly immobile, well, that’s what the posts are for.

“Is it even worth asking?” Peter grins at him, sitting up a little straighter as Fiyero helps arrange him. “Or is it all a surprise?”

"Well, it shouldn't be that surprising," Fiyero answers with a smirk, reaching out to briefly cup Peter's cheeks. "After all, it's what you asked for. You want to be teased until you can't even control yourself anymore?" He leans down and kisses the tip of Peter's nose. "Well, let's just say that was the only orgasm you're gonna have until I decide I'm done with you."

It's the fun mix of playful and seductive, teasing and honest. Fiyero grins as he lets go of Peter to rearrange pillows behind him - and then he carefully pushes him back onto them, lowering him the last bit just to avoid him landing badly on his hands or bumping his head or something like that.

He reaches under Peter's back, adjusting a pillow to lie basically along his spine, so it takes some of the weight off his arms, making sure they're not pinched under him, that his hands are comfortably flat against the bed. Then a couple pillows under his head, to prop his head up comfortable enough that he can easily watch Fiyero. Finally, he goes to grab the webshooter one last time, stepping up in front of Peter.

Peter can’t stop smiling as Fiyero cups his cheeks, eyes closing briefly as Fiyero brushes a sweet kiss over the tip of his nose. He feels - cherished is the cheesiest word for it, but it’s true. He smiles, cheeks rosy at Fiyero’s casual description of what he’s planning to do. “I meant how, but… I’m all yours. Whatever you want…”

Fiyero arranges him carefully, and it’s sweet, the tenderness with which he takes to it. He could toss Peter around and he’d be fine, of course; he’s both flexible and sturdy - but Fiyero doesn’t do that. He treats Peter like he’s precious, tucking pillows around him and ensuring there’s no additional strain as he sets Peter down among them. His bangs flop into his face, but Peter doesn’t bother with them, helping by lifting his back, his legs, whatever Fiyero needs as he settles Peter into the position he wants.

“If I’m…” Peter hesitates, looking up at Fiyero - from here, he looks gorgeous (he always looks gorgeous), the dark hair on his chest trailing down to the vee of his hips, groin hidden from view by the arrangement of Peter’s legs. “…if it’s too much, or I break something, it’s okay to stop, ‘yero. I’ll be okay if we have to.”

The webbing has held up so far… but teased past the point of being able to think straight? Of being able to control himself, the wild strength that flows through his limbs? Peter has no idea what will happen, and the last thing he wants to do is accidentally hurt Fiyero if his construction work doesn’t hold up. If Fiyero notices something slipping - the rebar groaning, the bonds snapping - Peter doesn’t want him continuing on just for the sake of not leaving Peter high and dry.

"Ah, well - mostly just a lot of kissing and touching," Fiyero answers with gentle amusement. He does have some more specific thoughts. If he's up for it, he might fuck Peter's mouth again, but he certainly doesn't want to promise that. If really does mostly revolve around showering Peter in affection while avoiding the places he'll want it the most. Beyond that, as well as taking his sweet time, he just plans to see what works, and what he feels like.

Peter is a very willing subject after all, and they have very specific safeguards for when he's no longer able to cooperate. It's very easy to make things comfortable for him, while giving Fiyero all the access he could want.

He pauses when Peter speaks up, and smiles softly, feeling warmed by his words. It is a bit of a relief, really. A reminder that not only does it not have to be perfect - if doesn't even have to be successful. If something starts to go wrong, with the equipment, or how much Peter can handle - or even how much Fiyero can handle. They've already enjoyed themselves so much. They can just cool down, and then finish up whatever way seems best when they've settled.

"That goes for you too," Fiyero answers, sitting at the edge of the bed and resting a hand on Peter's thigh. "If you want to stop, or it's upsetting you, or you need a break - you let me know. I won't be disappointed either." His soft smile widens into something warmer. "After all, this has already been so much fun. Everything else is just a bonus, right?"

“Oh, well, if there’s kissing involved…” Peter giggles a little and turns his head, squirming lightly against the bed. There’s not much room to duck his head or turn away - he’s completely spread out before Fiyero, for whatever he’d like to do. But there’s clearly no protest, and Peter settles against the pillows, the way it props his hips up at a comfortable angle to avoid pressure on his hands. This is the only sign of anxiety - the way his fingers curl in the sheets, worrying at them lightly.

At least it’s hidden out of view, and Peter makes a conscious effort to relax, especially as Fiyero seats himself on the edge of the bed, warm palm resting on his inner thigh reassuringly. Fiyero is so sweet, and that makes this easier. Peter’s not worried about what they should or shouldn’t have, what lies ahead - and that’s good, that’s the point of enjoying the now, while they have the time, because who knows what will happen. Peter nods, gaze flitting up to meet Fiyero’s genial blue. “I remember the safeword.”

“Oh I’m… definitely enjoying myself.” As if his hard-on isn’t evidence enough, first release streaking the inside of the latex, the pink head of his cock visible beneath the mess. Peter squirms enough for his knee to brush Fiyero’s leg, his own form of reassurance. “Everything with you is fun.”

And already so much more than Peter could have ever expected… but at least he has enough presence of mind not to say that part out loud.

Well, Fiyero will at least be kissing. Whether it will be anywhere Peter can actually kiss back, well, he'll just have to wait and see. Maybe occasionally. Maybe not. Part of making him feel helpless might be even depriving him of even the ability to kiss or return the favour in any way.

Fiyero smiles at the way Peter nudges him, still trying to do exactly that, to return the comfort and reassurance. Fiyero certainly doesn't doubt his enjoyment.

"Time to put your other handiwork to the test, then," he says, getting to his feet once again. He presses his palms down against the insides of Peter's thighs, getting him to spread them almost as far as they can do. Peter really can do the splits, and it feels like he crashes with the mattress before he really reaches the point where he can't stretch further.

Finally, Fiyero starts strapping Peter down to the bed. He shoots the web rope first to the web already attached around Peter's thigh, before he stretches it over to one of the corners of the bed. He attaches it low, close to the mattress, so it's near the frame and less chance of bending the bedposts. The another web rope going from the same time, to the other bedpost at the head of the bed. Giving two anchor points for each leg, both for the sake of strength, evening the strain out, and for stability. This way, Peter can't tug himself on one direction or there other. He's pinned right where he is on the bed.

Fiyero then repeats the process on the other side, tying Peter's other leg to the bottom of the bed the same way. He looks focused and deliberate, very careful to not add extra pull or leave it too slack, but exactly the amount of tautness to keep his legs spread wide, with minimal wiggle room.

Once the last one is secured, waiting for a moment for it to strengthen and set, Fiyero steps back between Peter's legs, looking down at him. "How's that, baby?"

The most challenging part of this is definitely Peter’s propensity to perceived equity, to returning the favor however he can. He gives, but like this, he’s simply forced to receive. This, of course, seems to be a boon for Fiyero, though it’s taking time and repetition for Peter for it to sink in.

He lets his legs fall open, pressed wide, just about flat against the bed. The webbing keeps him there, and Peter watches Fiyero’s hands as they weft and weave to tie him down the way he wants to. He can feel himself hardening even further, turned on by the sure way Fiyero handles him, and the indecency of the whole situation. His gaze eventually settles on Fiyero’s expression, watching him concentrate on getting things just the way he wants them… and Peter can admit to himself that that’s a turn on, too.

When he’s done, Peter’s fully spread, pinned down with hardly any room to shift. He tests it by trying to close his legs, thighs straining against the tension. Nothing happens, no budging, and Peter bites his lip and exerts a little more strength - no dice. He’s not desperate yet, which will add more power behind his struggles - but so far, it holds. The bars, too, seem stable; he was worried they might fold under the pressure, but Fiyero was smart to double rope them, distributing the pressure more evenly rather than allowing one point of failure.

“Can’t move,” Peter reports, chewing on his lower lip. His hips squirm against the pillow, but like this, there’s no chance for incidental friction - no bed to grind against, just empty air above him. Only whatever Fiyero allows, and Peter’s gut clenches just thinking about it, cock curving upwards. “…I think it’s working.”

Fiyero watches as Peter strains, and sure, he's watching any listening for any creaking or weakness in the bondage... But his attention is mostly drawn to Peter's muscles tensing, the way this position leaves him wide open for Fiyero to explore and torment. The subtle change in Peter's expression as he seems to realise this too.

"Mmm... Totally helpless, ready for me to play with," Fiyero observes, his voice practically a purr. He's got that hungry look in his eyes again. Now that the practical parts are covered, he can once again focus on how fucking hot this is.

Fiyero sets the webshooter down on the desk, and pushes the chair further out of the way with a loud scrape against the floor. There's something almost reckless in his movements, that display of confidence and purpose. He reaches down with one hand, pinching the edge of condom, and tugs it off Peter, freeing his cock. He doesn't say anything as he tossed the condom in the trash can, before he leans down over Peter, gripping his legs for balance - and he starts licking Peter's cock clean. Long, firm drags of his tongue, lapping up every drop of come that didn't go with the condom. Hot, wet, firm attention - the only such Peter will probably get for a while.

The change in Fiyero’s voice is subtle, but felt - Peter’s eyes widen, watching the downright devious expression take over Fiyero’s face. There’s no need to be careful now, and the noise of the chair makes Peter jump - though of course, he can’t go very far, successfully pinned down. He gasps, back arching against the bed as Fiyero pulls off the condom, as eager as a kid on Christmas, unwrapping a present.

The hot tongue is equally unexpected.

Peter moans helplessly, jerking against his bonds. What’s the point in holding back? He can’t move, and it’s delicious, the ability to wriggle without worrying about it. He’s still a little cautious, but that hesitation will surely evaporate soon because he can’t move. Fiyero’s mouth feels incredible, long, hot stripes up his shaft, and Peter’s erection rises to stand at full mast, pink and slick with Fiyero’s saliva as he’s cleaned up. Just in time to make another mess…

“Fiyero - Fiyero - !” Peter shivers, thighs tight with tension, outlining the muscle, but there’s no escape. He can’t close them a single inch, spread and open for as long as Fiyero wants him to be. At most, he can lift his hips a tiny bit off the bed, pressing up towards Fiyero’s hot mouth - but it’s just his teasing tongue, lapping up drips left from the condom. He won’t be getting any suction or relief until Fiyero decides he wants to grant it.

Fiyero's intentionally starting off with some intensity, something that will make Peter struggle. He can feel the way his thighs flex, and already his voice sounds full of pleasure and arousal as he calls Fiyero's name. The roughness from when Fiyero's fucked his throat has faded, which is good, even if they probably both miss the evidence of it.

He finishes off by wrapping his lips around the head of Peter's cock, giving maybe a second's worth of suction before it escapes his mouth with a pop, bouncing freely over Peter's stomach.

"I'll be right back, you just stay there," Fiyero teases cheekily, as he licks his lips and straightens up, turning to grab something from the table. With his back to Peter, he swaps the ring for the ball in the gag, though he holds it behind his back as he turns back and crawls into bed over Peter.

With one knee on either side of Peter's waist, his shins pressed against Peter's thighs, Fiyero leans down to kiss Peter once again. "Don't you taste good?" he asks in between kisses, smiling and breathy, moaning softly into Peter's mouth. His hips are posed too high above Peter's - though occasionally Peter's erect cock will brush against Fiyero's, still mostly soft, but definitely starting to get a bit more firm now, waking back up.

Is it intense? God, yes it is. Peter cries out when Fiyero sucks at his head, blood rushing in his ears - it’s over far too soon, leaving his breathless and a little light-headed, cock throbbing as he’s forced to settle back against the bed. He groans quietly, dick leaving a smear of wetness along his belly, and turns his head to track Fiyero’s movements. Peter can’t see him when he moves too far from the bed, and he turns his gaze up to the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. How on earth did he get here?

Fiyero’s back in a tick, and Peter’s eyes flutter open as his boyfriend climbs on top of him, none the wiser about Fiyero’s possession of the gag. Skin brushes here and there, warm and shiver-inducing, but Peter’s distracted by the kissing once more, tasting himself on Fiyero’s tongue. It’s filthy enough to turn his ears red, but Peter still answers with a breathy moan and a Yes, ‘yero, so good in between the soft sounds of their lips, moving in sync. His dick gets some friction - not enough, bumping against Fiyero’s thigh, or sometimes his own soft shaft - but enough that it keeps Peter very engrossed in making out with his boyfriend, muffling noises against his lips. He whines, drawing his tongue over the seam of Fiyero’s lips; requesting entry, licking the taste of himself out of Fiyero’s mouth. Anything to get more of Fiyero, to chase that quick-witted tongue and encourage the stirring he can feel in his boyfriend. Maybe Fiyero won’t be able to get it up again, but if he can, Peter wants.

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