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

Entry tags:

fiyero tigelaar : winkieprince

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

[ aka wicked ii: lost in new york ]

Fiyero’s cock thickens in his mouth, and Peter does his best to swallow around him, saliva wetting his mouth easily, lips slick around Fiyero’s dick. It feels so good to be full like this - full of Fiyero’s affection, the proof of it tangible, physical. Fiyero’s fingers brush lightly against his side, making him wish to squirm - but Peter holds fast, lightly trembling as he submits to his situation. Fiyero can use him as long as he likes, and Peter won’t complain. Won’t ask for more, taking pleasure in serving him. Unless there’s a problem - in which case, Peter will let him know, make it known, at Fiyero’s request, so he won’t hurt himself.

Fiyero pulls his hips back and Peter whines, craning his neck to try and keep the cock in his mouth. He’s sluggish to realize it’s just so Fiyero can keep him from choking, but settles back down on his pillow, swallowing around Fiyero again - thick, delightfully hot in his mouth, Peter whimpers and quiets, eyes half-lidded. Fiyero’s words, the kisses up the inside of his thigh - Peter’s whole body feels flush, slowly ramping back up. The desire was never gone, but this is a slow, intense burn, working them both up sensually, despite the utter debauchery occurring.

Peter can taste him, stronger now on the back of his tongue, and he sucks slowly, savoring it. Fiyero doesn’t want to move, happy to luxuriate in Peter’s mouth, and Peter doesn’t want him to move. Doesn’t want to let him go, wants to keep him there for as long as he’s allowed to - making Fiyero happy with him. Pleasing him. His own cock drools against his stomach, but Peter feels disconnected, focused solely on Fiyero. Maybe he’ll get to come again - maybe Fiyero will ruin it, maybe he won’t get another satisfying orgasm - but he wants Fiyero’s.

Peter hollows his cheeks with another soft mewl, starting a slow, wet, rhythmic suck around Fiyero. His tongue undulates, massaging his prince, lavishing him with attention. Fiyero’s balls hang in his face, nearly brushing him, and Peter’s only regret is that he can’t shower them in equal attention as he slurps around Fiyero’s cock. His arms twitch, as if he’s trying to anyway - not really trying to get out of his bonds, but absently, movements he would have made otherwise. It goes to show how gone he is, completely consumed with Fiyero.

Fiyero groans appreciatively, soft and deep in his chest. Letting Peter know his efforts are worth it, that Fiyero is enjoying himself. Even if he didn't make it known like that, Peter is the only one who would be able to hear Fiyero's heartbeat ramping up, his breaths getting deeper and faster. But Fiyero is generous with his noises, little sounds of pleasure, tiny moans and whimpers and hums as Peter keeps going, the pleasure building inside him.

He doesn't want to rush it, for either of their sakes, but he does start rolling his hips after a minute or two. Not quite thrusting, but slipping maybe half an inch in and out of Peter's mouth, making himself moan deeper.

"That's it, darling... You're doing great," he encourages, his voice deep and soft, heavy with breath. "Mmmhh.. That's perfect..."

And it is. Thrills of pleasure shooting up through Fiyero's spine, gathering in his belly. Not too overwhelming, not too little, just building at a steady pace. Not urgent, just enjoying the ride. Letting himself take advantage of what Peter's offering, trusting him to let Fiyero know of his boundaries, if they're approached.

But Fiyero's not doing anything extreme. If he were to push at Peter's boundaries, it would probably simply be because of how long they've been doing this. The build-up of need from all the teasing and the refused pleasure. Peter has had one satisfying orgasm, and that's probably a good thing now. If it weren't for that, he's not sure how Peter could be holding it together.

"Fuck, that's good..." Fiyero breathes, sounding like he's talking to himself, but of course it's for Peter. Even Fiyero using him, it's just as much for Peter, if not more. He knows how fulfilling it can be, having learned pretty quickly in the last few days, and he hopes Peter is feeling that satisfaction of being wanted and needed and useful.

There's tension building in Fiyero's body, and he finally pushes himself up - off of Peter, no longer snuggling him, but needing to have the leverage of his arms supporting him as well.

"Your mouth feels so good, Peter. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. Just let me fuck your mouth, that's it, baby," Fiyero rambles, reassuring Peter. Making him know he's not pulling away to deny him - it's only so he can serve his purpose better. And it's evidenced by the way Fiyero’s hips start moving more, shallow thrusts into Peter's mouth. Pressing against his tongue, approaching the back of his mouth, but not yet pushing into it. Warming him up.

Fiyero presses deeper, and Peter feels his self-consciousness start to slip away even more than it already has, bit by bit. Like Fiyero is fucking him deeper and deeper into this space where Fiyero’s cock is the only thing that matters - the noises Peter gets out of him, each a reward; the ache in his own body something floaty, disconnected. Fiyero’s using him, and it’s starting to get difficult to remember a time when he hasn’t. When this wasn’t Peter’s purpose, because it feels so good that it must be, right? Fiyero murmurs to him - and it is for him, but his cock twitches at the casual nature of it, how it sounds so incidental. Fiyero’s just enjoying his mouth, fucking down towards his throat, like it’s what he’s meant for.

Fiyero lifts up and Peter whines helplessly in protest, tears pricking his eyes when he thinks Fiyero might move away. No! He wants it, so badly. He would beg for it if he could, and the whimpers around Fiyero’s dick sound like he very well might be begging, pathetic and needy. He wants Fiyero more than he wants his own release, more than he’s wanted anything in a long, long time.

And of course, Fiyero is dedicated to giving him what he wants. Peter should have known, but he’s slowly getting more disoriented, losing track of how long he’s been trapped there. Just let me fuck your mouth, is clear enough instruction, and Peter makes a soft noise of assent, swallowing around Fiyero and easing up on the suction to make it easier for Fiyero to fuck him. He relaxes into the pillow, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut as Fiyero picks up a rhythm, rocking his hips into Peter’s face.

It’s hands down the dirtiest, sexiest thing Peter has ever done, and it starts to feel unbelievably good. Peter’s noises trail off into lewd, wet sounds and tiny, reedy whimpers, pulled out of him with each thrust of Fiyero’s cock, as he works deeper and deeper. Slowly, Peter goes pliant - keeping his teeth out of the way, his tongue up to provide an easy, wet slide back and forth - but otherwise malleable, drooling around Fiyero’s dick.

If the two of them a week ago could have gotten a glimpse into the future of what they were doing now, they would no doubt be so embarrassed and shocked they'd both want to sink into the ground, beet red and mortified and probably secretly turned on in some deep part of them. It's strange how it now feels so easy, so right.

Fiyero is perfectly in tune with Peter's body, but he's not worried about him. He can feel the way he relaxes, the way he submits himself to Fiyero's needs. If anything, he might be worried about how deeply he's sunk - but Fiyero has sunk deeply in his own way too. He'll take care of Peter. It's what he's meant for to. To have Peter, to enjoy him in every way, to care for him and use him and play with him. Nothing bad is going to happen to Peter while Fiyero's looking after him, and in return, Peter makes Fiyero feel like this.

Fiyero groans roughly, panting now. Occasional swears slip out, in amongst Peter's name, thoughtless praises and encouragements, and sounds of pleasure. His hips thrust deeper, demanding more of Peter, but also feeling exactly how far he can push, like they're synced. "Swallow, darling," he moans, and Peter is obeying everything without question or hesitation.

Fiyero's moan when he fucks into Peter's throat is loud and shameless. It takes some effort to control his pace, but he does it. While Peter is giving up control, Fiyero is tightly hanging on to his.

"I could make you come right now," he says, his voice rough with harsh breaths. "Just to see what it would feel like when I'm buried in your throat." An orgasm for Peter where his pleasure was incidental to the real purpose of increasing Fiyero's pleasure - it's intoxicating. He could even ruin it, just to see how the frustration would impact Peter, how it would crash against his satisfaction at being used.

But no, Fiyero's only talking, only sharing dirty fantasies to excite them both. While some part of him imagines he has the right to do whatever he wants with Peter, that still doesn't mean he'd be reckless with his wellbeing.

"I bet it would feel amazing... See you shaking under me, because of me, while I'm buried inside you," he continues, rambling even as he's almost forcing the words out, feeling himself getting closer. "But I'd rather see your face, darling. When I let you come, I want to see your pleasure. Fuck, Peter, you're amazing... So beautiful.. So good for me.."

Oh God, if the Peter Parker of a week ago knew about the absolute sex-bomb Fiyero would unleash on his life - he wouldn’t believe it, for starters. Wouldn’t even dream of it. It feels like his dreams didn’t start start until Fiyero showed him what was possible, what they could be together. As the sex gets easier, so does the rest of it. Peter wants Fiyero’s pleasure - but he wants his smiles, too. He wants to hold Fiyero’s hand when they walk down the street, wants to see him laughing in the sunshine. He wants to take Fiyero back to that ferris wheel and when Fiyero has that awe on his face again, Peter wants to kiss him stupid.

But first, he has a cock to suck.

Fiyero bids he swallow, and he does, holding himself still so Fiyero has the best opportunity to fuck him, as deep as he cares to. As much as Peter can take, he gets, choking lightly when Fiyero pushes deeper. His fingers clench and unclench, captured behind himself, but his mouth stays lax, able to take the fucking.

Fiyero casually mentions making him come, just to feel the way Peter would clench around him, and he offers a throaty moan, clearly on board. Anything Fiyero wants from him, he can have. If he wanted to ruin it, even, to listen to the way Peter would cry around his cock, milking it for every last drop of Fiyero’s pleasure. The image alone is enough to crank up the heat, Peter moaning helplessly beneath him, cock flush and turgid against his belly. It’s not the denial necessarily, but that it would be Fiyero denying him, deciding what he’s allowed. Using even his ruined pleasure to further his own…

Peter whines and gags eagerly around Fiyero, forcing himself to relax again so Fiyero can chase his pleasure to the final finish. Fiyero’s praise is getting more strained, quicker as he tries to hold on, and Peter hums, deep, letting the sound vibrate around Fiyero’s cock. Anything to give him more, to help him over that edge into bliss.

For Peter's it's not the denial that's sexy, just like for Fiyero it's not the selfish use that's sexy. It doesn't turn Fiyero on to be taking advantage of Peter while he's helpless, exactly. It's the fact Peter has given himself over to Fiyero, allowed himself to be helpless, because of that trust and that care. Just like Peter would get upset if it ever felt mean, so would Fiyero too. It's a gift they're giving each other.

This right now, that's what's hot. Peter seems to have given himself over completely, no resistance, no concern for his own need. His only focus seems to be on doing what Fiyero wants, on letting Fiyero take his pleasure. And it wouldn't be hot if it weren't Peter there under him, lovely, wonderful Peter who wants to give him everything.

Fiyero's orgasm takes him a little by surprise as well, and it's more the emotion of it all that gives the final push. Or maybe it's the hum - he doesn't know. But it happens quick when it does, that wave of pleasure washing over him, making his muscles tense, a rough cry of ecstacy torn from his throat.

His only remaining control goes into managing those last few thrusts, stopping himself from pushing too deep as ejaculates into Peter's throat, then still spilling into his mouth as he pulls back for a last thrust. Peter will still get to taste the orgasm he earned for Fiyero, no worries there.

Fiyero stills, hips pulled back but with half his cock still resting in Peter's mouth as he pants heavily. "Good boy," he breathes, the only thing he can manage right away. But probably the most important thing too, so it will have to be enough.

There’s no verbal warning that Fiyero is about to come, but the physical signs are more than enough warning, especially when Peter is this close to him. This close to trembling thighs, hips that quicken as Fiyero’s pleasure intensifies. Peter’s so turned on he can’t even fully fathom it, enjoying the symphony of Fiyero falling apart around him, inside of him. His thrusts are harsh, staccato, a stuttering handful as Fiyero cries out and shoots down his throat - but never too deep, always careful. Peter feels warm all over, moaning wantonly around him, hoping to elongate Fiyero’s pleasure as much as he can.

The taste of his release floods Peter’s mouth, and his own hips jerk, cock slapping his belly. It’s so hot, everything about it driving Peter out of his mind with desire. He swallows greedily, drinking Fiyero’s gift down without hesitation, and moans again, eyes hazy and unfocused as Fiyero pulls his hips back - God, he’s so fucking sexy, from every angle. The praise sends a wave of heat to his cheeks, and Peter makes a happy noise, tipping his head up to take as much of Fiyero’s cock as he’s allowed to reach before he sucks. Deep, intentional, the closest he can get to a nonverbal thank you.

He was good, and Fiyero rewarded him. His good boy. Peter swallows again, hollowing his cheeks, and letting his tongue press up against the underside of Fiyero’s cock. He’ll be clean, by the time he slips free from Peter’s lips. A good boy wouldn’t leave him with a mess…

Fiyero trembles as the last waves of pleasure wash over him, the moans and suction sending little sparks, Peter doing a very good job drawing out every bit of pleasure. Peter's thank you is rewarded with a soft whimper, bordering on too much - but so good.

He leans down to press a kiss to Peter's hip, another thank you and reassurance, as he's about to pull away.

"Alright, relax, darling," he says, voice still heavy, but the tone is sweet. "That's enough, thank you." He shifts, pushing himself up to pull out and swing his leg back over Peter. But as soon as he's capable, he makes sure to be touching Peter, staying close. He has no idea what state of mind Peter is even in by now.

His limbs feel heavy, the afterglow flooding his body, making him relaxed and content. And it's nothing compared to seeing the expression on Peter's face, flushed and dazed, but also happy, maybe proud. His eyes don't even fully seem to focus, but Fiyero smiles warmly at him anyway.

"How lucky I am to have you, baby," he says, kneeling besides Peter as both his hands cup Peter's face. "So good for me. My darling Peter."

He leans in and presses his lips to Peter's, another reward for him. It's sweet and sensual, full of affection. Giving them a moment to ground them both, to look at each other and feel each other. Tasting each other and breathing each other in, Fiyero's hand weaving lovingly into Peter's hair, petting him. Before, when Fiyero had been teasing him, Peter had been desperate for this connection. Fiyero wants to make sure he doesn't even have to ask - if he even thinks to at this point - that he barely has a chance to release he needs it before it's granted.

Peter takes the direction beautifully, to relax, that it’s enough. Fiyero has had his fill, and now he wants to rest. Peter mumbles something incoherent as Fiyero pulls out of his mouth, lips puffed and pink from being fucked. He’s glad he doesn’t need to move, glad he’s already in repose because all of his limbs feel loose, divorced from the tension in his lower half - the arousal that burns, distant, second to the warm glow of Fiyero’s approval.

And it is warm, as Fiyero settles next to him, all long lines and sweaty, flush skin. Peter lolls his head towards Fiyero, staring at him, pulled in by Fiyero’s magnetism. By the power he’s handed over to him, power that needs to be slowly given back to ease Peter out of this place he’s in, of pure worship.

He gets a kiss, even, soft and slow, honeyed praise poured over him from Fiyero’s lips. It’s so much, Peter almost feels overloaded just from that - from Fiyero’s kind words, affectionate kisses, gentle hands, through his hair. It makes him tremble, some deeper, hungrier emotion pitting in his stomach, greedily absorbing the attention. But Fiyero doesn’t let him - keeps offering it to him, even as the tears well in his eyes without spilling over. Fiyero doesn’t let the intensity of anything scare him away - not their circumstances, and not this. Not Peter.

Peter sighs happily against Fiyero’s mouth, slowly going boneless again, peaking at overwhelmed and winding back down into deliriously happy. It’s like Fiyero knows just how to play him, how to toe the line on too much - physically, emotionally - and reel Peter back from it. They’ve been learning a lot about each other, and Fiyero is putting it to use.

Peter looks helpless in a completely different way now. Not just physically, trapped by bonds, but helpless to control himself, his movements or his emotions. Perhaps this is the loss of control he wanted to chase?

Whether Fiyero has succeeded in that regard or not, he isn't going to push it any more now. He's going to let Peter come, he's going to slowly untie him, he's going to soothe and clean and feed him, he's going to do everything to make sure Peter is alright. He might actually make Peter come more than once. Not consecutively, not to overwhelm him when he's sensitive. But simply to work out all of the built up tension. To get that proper release.

Fiyero feels very pleasantly full now too, happy to see Peter happy, to be so close to him. To share this ridiculous moment, feeling good physically and emotionally. It's a lot, and it could easily he overwhelming to Fiyero too. But he has almost too much control over himself in this moment. Perhaps it'll catch up with him later, but right now he has to take care of Peter.

Right now he does so by settling in next to Peter, cuddling up like he had before. Bodies pressed in close, head resting on the pillow next to Peter's, their faces hovering within kissing distance, whenever Peter wants to seek out more of them, or simply press their faces together.

He thinks to ask Peter how he's doing, but part of him almost doesn't want to make Peter think about it too closely. Like making him aware of aching muscles might make that ache more unbearable. He knows Peter can physically take so much, so he's more scared of hurting him emotionally than to injure him in some way.

Instead he lets Peter have a moment to come down from whatever emotional peak he's at, for everything to settle for a moment. Comforting him simply with his closeness, and of asking absolutely nothing of him for a few minutes.

"You've been such a good boy.. You can keep relaxing, baby," Fiyero whispers sweetly, once it feels like Peter has settled enough. "Just enjoy your reward. I just want to feel you close to me while you come." His hand wanders down Peter's side, lifting to wrap gently around his cock. "You can move if you need to, it's okay. Or just relax while I take care of you, Peter."

Peter had thought, perhaps, that they would test physical limits - and they have, to a certain extent. He can't get out of these bonds, not without going feral. Which...is definitely possible. Peter's been there, in life or death situations, unlocking a deeper strength than he thought he was capable of. If Fiyero truly worked him up past the point of no return - it's very possible that Peter rips a post from the bed, or pushes the webbing past it's resistance point. What he hadn't anticipated was how he would react, mentally, to being helpless, vulnerable. Vulnerable and safe, which is a rare thing for someone who often experiences vulnerability when he's getting his ass kicked. Desperation tastes different when it doesn't come bloody.

Fiyero snuggles up to his side, and Peter leans as close to him as he can - it pulls at the other half of his body strangely, proof of his interminable flexibility, until Fiyero gets him to settle. Peter nuzzles at Fiyero's jaw, working his way back to Fiyero's lips to take another kiss, after only a brief hesitation. Fiyero doesn't tell him he can't, and the offer seems implicit - so he does, relaxing when it becomes clear that Fiyero doesn't mind. That he just wants to lay there and snuggle, lazily making out when the urge strikes - which might be every thirty seconds for a minute or two, but given that Fiyero's the one that encouraged him to this needy place, he really only has himself to blame.

But Peter does settle, eventually; his breathing evens, his heartbeat slows. Not entirely - there's still a bit of a jump, a skip when Fiyero's hands brush over his stomach, skirting around his cock - but they're relaxing, just resting together. He still hasn't tried to speak, alternating between staring at Fiyero and lazing with his eyes closed whenever Fiyero decides to pepper him with kisses.

It's in one of those drowsy moments that Fiyero makes his move, wrapping a warm palm around Peter's fattened cock. He gasps, eyes fluttering fully open, hazy, staring up at Fiyero adoringly. His hips jitter, like he's trying not to move, but he seems to relax about it when permission is given. Splotches of color appear high in his cheeks, pupils wide, eating most of the brown.

"P-leease," The word is a whine, rough from Fiyero using him. It will heal quick with some water; his lips have already started, still pink, but the puffiness beginning to die down. Peter hasn't asked for water though - he doesn't want it. He wants to feel the roughness, the proof that he was good for Fiyero; he wants Fiyero to hear it in his voice when he's finally allowed to come. "Nnnm..."

Fiyero returns the kisses Peter seems out, leaning into them, silently encouraging him to chase what he wants. Any commands have been lifted at this point, except the command to relax - which is really to make him stop chasing previous commands. They'll take them one at a time, showing Peter can move, that he can ask, that he can chase his pleasure whether with his hips or his mouth.

It's the first step to giving him back his freedom and his control, lifting the verbal restrictions on him. Letting him ease back into getting to choose what to do, to take what he needs. It helps that Fiyero himself has experienced a bit of how out of it you can get. How difficult it can be to want to even do anything, to know that you can. He's seen it in Peter before too. After something this intense, he knows not to rush it, but also not to deny any requests Peter might have at this point. He's earned everything he wants to ask for, and more.

Fiyero's reward is the way Peter looks at him. Adoration and trust, fully earnest and open. Nothing hidden, no lies, no doubt. Just looking at Fiyero like he's the most perfect thing in the world, making Fiyero feel like maybe it could be true.

"You don't have to beg, baby," he offers sweetly, his hand moving slowly, his grip gentle. "I'm gonna let you come, properly this time. You just let it happen when you're ready."

He leans in to kiss Peter again, soft and sweet. Not claiming his mouth, not demanding the kiss even be returned, but offering it. His hand keeps moving, grip getting a little firmer, slow and steady. He might vary the pace, a few quick strokes followed by some slow, long ones, hand wrapping around the sensitive head. But he's not letting go, and he's not stopping. He doesn't expect it to take very long, even keeping a relatively relaxed pace. And if against all expectation, it does start to take a while, making him more desperate, well, he'll be more than happy to ramp up. But until then, he's just enjoying getting to watch Peter, feel his body against his.

“Want to,” Peter murmurs, lips parting on a low moan as Fiyero’s hand pumps him - God, it feels incredible. Not quite enough to get him there, not yet, but a pleasurable sensation at the hands of someone he cares so very much for? Peter’s in Heaven. He wets his lips, staring up at Fiyero with pure, almost innocent admiration. “I want…to beg for you. Good boys say please…”

Fiyero rewards him with a kiss, and Peter tries his best to reciprocate - but he’s easily distracted, gasping against Fiyero’s mouth when his grip gets tighter. He thinks it might actually kill him if this orgasm gets ruined - not that he thinks Fiyero would do such a thing after he already said he was going to let Peter come - but because he can already sense how intense it’s going to be.

“Yess, please, please ‘yero - ” Hips jerk up towards his hands when Fiyero presses up against that bundle of nerves with the firm curve of his hand, driving Peter wild. His slit drools eagerly, wetting Fiyero’s hand shamelessly. No, he won’t take long like this, worked up and desperate for it. In fact, the only reason he hasn’t come yet is Fiyero’s steady pace - not speeding up, nor slowing, keeping him steady, too.

“T-tell me,” Peter whimpers, and it feels depraved to ask, but he wants it and he’s too horny at the moment to think straight about how embarrassing it might be in retrospect. “Tell me to come, please? I want to come for you.”

He feels perverted for asking, but he also wants it so badly. He wants to be good, to get off while being Fiyero’s good boy. He got a taste of it before, but in the wake of what they just did…Peter can’t deny it turns him the hell on, and right now he’s just about fit to burst.

Fiyero will easily accept that Peter simply wants to beg - but he can't hide the soft surprise on his face as Peter says that good boys say please. It manages to be incredibly dirty and extremely innocent at the same time, somehow. But the surprise is quickly replaced by a warm, slightly wicked smile, and he nods, encouraging him.

He's also thrilled that, despite just how devoted Peter clearly is to be a good boy just now, he doesn't take it as an order not to beg. That he's able to state what he wants. It makes Fiyero feel surprisingly proud at how he's managing to walk the line between controlling Peter without making him feel like he can't ask for things.

Even more so, when he asks Fiyero to tell him to come. It makes his cock twitch, a muscle tensing despite being completely spent and soft at this point. That Peter doesn't even want this freedom, he wants Fiyero to choose. That the reward not just be granted, but be granted exactly according to Fiyero's wishes.

"You want me to choose when, huh?" Fiyero asks, voice syrupy. "Alright, but you're giving up your chance to choose when. I could keep you like this for ages, if I wanted... You're lucky I'm feeling generous." He leans in close, nuzzling into the side of Peter's head, pressing his lips to Peter's ear. "Beg me to come. Good boys say please..."

Peter is relatively simple in most areas, sexuality included. Fiyero has been awakening things in him Peter didn’t even realize were there, and this is no exception. The surprise on Fiyero’s face makes him feel flush, the sting of self-consciousness threatening - but Fiyero doesn’t let it consume him, encouraging and brilliant, after a beat.

“If that’s - what you want.” Peter agrees, blushing at the very idea. Another time, perhaps, when Fiyero can tie him up and keep him there for hours. Would he even soften? Keeping him hard and aching, making him shoot all over himself - the pleasure empty until Fiyero allows it to be anything else…

But that’s not today, and Peter squeaks happily when Fiyero leans in to murmur in his ear, goosebumps rising on his skin. His hips hump up frantically towards Fiyero’s hand - as much as they can when he’s still tied down, which isn’t a lot, but highlights his desperation nicely.

“Please, Fiyero,” Peter’s begging is sweet, full of innocent desire and frenzied, hoarse babbling. “Please let me come. I’ll be so good for you, baby. I’ll come so pretty for you.”

He squirms, Fiyero’s hand hitting that sensitive nerve again, the flush tip of his cock engorged and red as it peeks from between Fiyero’s fingers. God, every time he thinks he can’t get harder, he does. That’s just what Fiyero does to him. “Please, I’ll be so good. I’ll be the best, I’ll - I’ll lick your hand clean, I’ll do anything you want baby, please let me come - ”

Fiyero's honestly amazed Peter's able to form words, much less beg this prettily. Promising things, whatever he thinks Fiyero might want, whatever it seems like you should be doing when you're a good boy.

"Not yet, baby... Not until I say.." Fiyero answers, whispering dirtily into Peter's ear. Pushing him to the edge, challenging him, forcing Peter to hold the orgasm back, to even make him try to escape his grasp because Fiyero is forcing him to come when he's not allowed to.

... At least that's what Fiyero wants it to feel like, at least for a few torturous moments. In reality, Fiyero is paying more close attention than he has to anything in his life. Watching Peter's reactions, gauging his desperation, keeping his strokes measured in a way that allows for very steady, slow stimulation, even with Peter's squirming. And of course, ready to order Peter to come the moment he sees it happening. He's doing his best to set Peter up for success.

But even so, he doesn't push his luck. He lets Peter have a few moments of desperation, of thinking he's not going to be able to hold on, that he's going to fail Fiyero.

"Now, come for me, Peter," he orders, his voice firm and sweet and wicked all at the same time. And as he commands it, he tightens his hand around Peter's head, his thumb rubbing across the red tip, his strokes turning more intense, irresistible. He even presses his thigh up between Peter's legs, pressing up against his balls - and he moans right into Peter's ear.

Peter whimpers, shivering pleasantly as Fiyero's low, filthy whisper washes over his ear, breath hot on his neck. He's so close it's almost dangerous, but he wants that mental pleasure, too, that comes from obeying. Both, at once? He'll lose his mind. But not yet, not yet, he has to hold his shit together and not come.

Which is easier said than done.

For a moment, Peter thinks he's going to fail again. The hand on his cock is just a little too good, and tears of frustration well preemptively in his eyes as he shudders, trying to hold it together. Even if Fiyero does keep stroking him, doesn't decide to punish him by ruining it, it won't feel good to disobey. His begging has faded back into needy whimpering, fingers fisted in the bedding beneath him. "Please, F-Fiyero..."

Then Fiyero finally, finally tells him to come, and Peter obeys instantly. His whole body jerks up into the blissfully tight grip Fiyero's offering him, release flooding through him, a rubber band snapped. He shoots over Fiyero's fist, all over himself for the second time - Peter wouldn't be surprised if some of it hit him in the face, honestly. He's too far gone to even notice, moaning shamelessly, head tipped back against the pillow as the orgasm rips through him. The thigh rubbing against his balls, Fiyero's throaty moan directly in his ear - Peter's hips thrust up towards Fiyero's hand, gaining more leeway than he has before. They snap back to the bed due to the webbing holding them in place, but he writhes anyway, chasing every last ounce of pleasure.

He feels insane, like it's lasting forever, an endless instant. His front is a mess, cock dribbling over Fiyero's fist, like his body is making up for the disappointing orgasm from earlier. Peter groans wordlessly, feeling dizzy, hips stuttering into little circular motions as a secondary, soft shudder rolls through him - more come, spurting gently over Fiyero's fist. As if, by virtue of Fiyero making it a command, his body has decided to obey and wring everything it can out of him.

"That's it, baby, well done, come for me. You're so gorgeous, so good for me. I've got you, darling, you deserve this, you deserve to feel good, sweetheart, you earned this..." Fiyero babbles warmly through Peter's orgasm. And even if Peter fully process it, maybe some of the words will sink in anyway, and if not, at least there's the sound of his voice and the warm approval.

It's perhaps impressive that Fiyero can manage to speak too, because he's transfixed by Peter's pleasure, the release of so much pent up pleasure. And some much come, really, even though he's been dribbling so much. (The most ambitious thing they could ever try might make giving Peter a dry orgasm. That seems like it might be impossible.)

Fiyero feels a wonderful sense of second-hand pleasure as well, the satisfaction of making Peter lose it this bad. Like every moan is an achievement, and Fiyero wants to get as much as he can out of Peter.

His grip loosens, but he keeps stroking him for what feels like ages for him too, gently guiding him through what might be a secondary, smaller orgasm. He only stops stroking when Peter's hips stop chasing him. And even then he sits there holding Peter's cock for a moment, like a reassuring hug, while he whispers sweet murmured praise into his ear, gently shushing up, shepherding him down from the high.

Peter looks utterly wrecked, and it's a beautiful sight. He looks like he's not even sure where he is anymore, blissfully disoriented. Covered in a mess, flushed, small noises coming out of him that he might not even be aware of himself anymore. His voice still has a hint of scratchiness from when Fiyero fucked him, not healed from the way he's been begging and moaning constantly.

Fiyero gently lets go at last, lifting his hand up to Peter's mouth. He rests the back of his fingers, messy with Peter's pleasure, against Peter's lips. A wordless direction to do what he'd promised. Fiyero's not sure if it's a reward or another task for him to accomplish, but in reality it's probably both.

"Well done, darling. Just relax. I'm here," Fiyero whispers sweetly. He shifts, pushing himself up just a bit with his free arm, but only so he can snake his hand behind Peter's neck, wrapping his arm around behind him. Pulling his head in close, cradling him, his clean hand petting Peter's hair as he kisses Peter's forehead. Holding him protectively, lovingly. Fiyero's body still pressed warmly up against his side, keeping him close. Letting him catch his breath in safety.

The words aren’t quite processing, but Fiyero’s tone and the patter of his words is soothing. It’s enough for Peter to understand that he did well, that Fiyero is pleased with him, and the warm glow of Fiyero’s approval only intensifies the release. Peter’s smiling dopily by the time it’s over, head lolled against his pillow. His hips slow, bumping up into Fiyero’s hand until he stops, finally going lax against the mattress. Fiyero keeps going for a second, ensuring he’s well and truly spent - it almost feels like too much for an instant, but the careful way Fiyero squeezes and releases him brings him back down easy.

He feels ecstatic, the aches and pains of being in one position, writhing and tensing and falling apart - they’re all faded into the background, hidden beneath the happy buzzing feeling. Peter can’t even fully register anything aside from the familiar murmur of Fiyero’s voice, the blue of his eyes and the vague outline of his face. He hums lazily, still smiling, and feels Fiyero shifting - not further away, though, just moving him, and Peter doesn’t resist, mostly boneless against him. He feels Fiyero’s hand brush his lips and slowly blinks his eyes open from their half-lidded position; it takes a second for him to figure out what Fiyero’s asking. No - commanding, taking Peter up on his babbled, horny offer. He flushes lightly, some distant part of his brain recognizing the debauchery, but there’s no hesitation present as Peter parts his lips, tongue peeking out to lap up his own release, cleaning Fiyero’s hand. His gaze settles on Fiyero, staring adoringly up at him - all of Peter’s affection, his gratitude, his desire and disoriented pleasure - all of it aimed squarely at Fiyero, the architect of it all.

Fiyero presses up against him, soft skin and firm muscle, cradling him with so much care it almost hurts. He mumbles incoherently, tongue making an extra pass over Fiyero’s hand, ensuring he’s fully clear of Peter’s spend. The hand in his hair is very nice, soothing, and soon Peter settles, lips brushing against Fiyero’s hand. He feels drunk on Fiyero’s attention, kisses pressed against his forehead.

“Hnm…” Peter murmurs, exhaling against Fiyero’s hand. The only thing that could make this better is being able to curl fully into Fiyero, but Peter’s content with as much of Fiyero’s cuddling as he can get.

Fiyero has this warm satisfaction filling him up, in a way where it feels like delayed afterglow from his earlier orgasm. He feels so utterly content, blissful in a way where he's still sharply aware of everything - the exact opposite of Peter - but it all looks beautiful.

Peter looks beautiful. Sure, objectively, he's a mess, no matter how handsome he is. But that smile on his face? The way he looks up at Fiyero, with open adoration? Peter has no fear of rejection, of humiliation or judgement. He looks completely at peace, safe and trusting and resting. That's what's beautiful.

Fiyero just holds him, soaking in Peter's happiness. Peter might think of Fiyero as the sun, but right this moment he feels like the moon, reflecting Peter's glow. Smiling sweetly down at him, like he just can't stop smiling.

He slowly turns his hand over as Peter licks it clean, making sure he barely has to use any effort to do so. He doesn't really want to ask much of him right now, though he still enjoys the blush he seems to call forth. At this point Peter has so many reasons to turn red, it's easier to tell by the briefly embarrassed expression.

After that, he just wraps his arm around Peter's chest - and if there's a bit of release smudging there too, Fiyero really couldn't care less. He just wants to hold Peter, keep him safe and let him rest.

He also wants Peter to hold him in return, and he wants to clean him off and make him comfortable. But right now, it feels like the worst thing he could do would be to let go of Peter, and so he doesn't.

Fiyero just watches him settle, stroking through his hair, holding him. Giving a soft hum and a sigh of contentment, his heart a steady beat against Peter. He watches until the first signs of discomfort start appearing - a shiver, a slight frown, a small squirm against tight bonds. That's what finally nudges him into action.

"Thank you for being so lovely and good for me, Peter," he says, voice soft and gentle as he shifts a little. "I'm going to untie you and clean you up now. Is that alright, baby? I'm not going anywhere."

Peter's release is salty, milder with all the fruit they've been eating recently. It leaves an aftertaste in his mouth, cut through with the taste of Fiyero's skin - salty sweat and Fiyero's natural musk. Not only is the act of licking Fiyero clean heady in it's own right, but his preternatural senses make it even more. But Peter doesn't mind, especially as Fiyero seems pleased with his efforts and lowers his arm to pull Peter into an embrace. No, he really doesn't want to be let go of, just yet - not when the thing he wants most after all of that is Fiyero's recognition.

Peter's eyes flutter closed, just basking in Fiyero's presence - his whole body feels like a live wire, but not in a bad way. Like this, he can savor Fiyero's body heat, the steady thrum of his heart. Peter wriggles just enough that he can lay his ear against Fiyero's collarbone - it's not quite over his heart, but more than close enough for Peter. That, more than anything, makes his limbs slump in their bonds.

But awareness does start to return, with the cooling of various fluids on his skin, the heavy-limbed exhaustion of being so tense for so long, the discomfort of how it pulls at the webbing. Peter blinks open dazed eyes when Fiyero speaks, watching him as he moves to extricate himself. Untie him. Clean him up. Probably means a nap and a cuddle session, hands free to hug Fiyero back? He manages to find the logic after another slow blink, and Peter nods, head lolled against the pillow. Words feel difficult - not for any physical reason, though he's sure his voice is a hoarse wreck after that, at least until he gets a snack and some water - but just because the idea of thinking too hard is exhausting right now.

"Stay," Peter whispers, fingers twitching behind his back. It's perhaps more vulnerable than he meant it to be, because Fiyero's not leaving, he just said he wasn't...but he might, one day. In this headspace of single-minded desire, all he knows is that he wants Fiyero to stay with him. Peter can't conceive of letting go of someone who makes him feel like this - not simply the pleasure, but someone who makes him feel safe. He closes his eyes again, brow furrowing, and his legs pull at the webbing - yes, freeing him is probably a smart call. "With me..."

Fiyero's smile widens as Peter asks him to stay, mixed with concern and sympathy at the signs of discomfort. "I'm right here, Peter," he answers, voice soft and reassuring. "I'm not going anywhere without you. You can relax..."

Part of him means forever as well. He might not fully know it yet - but he does.

He presses another kiss to Peter's forehead, gently untangling himself and pushing himself up to sitting. His own limbs feel tired after all this, but he can't relax quite yet. He makes sure to always have a point of contact to Peter, so part of their bodies touching even when he needs to use both hands. Some reassuring presence even if Peter's eyes are closed.

He reaches over for the can of solvent, making sure that he's holding it correctly. "Going to untie your legs now," he says, quietly narrating his actions so Peter has warning and knows what's happening. The very first thing is to spray part where the ropes to the bed are attached to Peter's legs, making sure his legs are not pulled so taut anymore. It crumbles easily, and Fiyero breathes a sigh of relief.

He doesn't rush it, gently manhandling Peter's tired body, moving his legs together slowly. Peter might be supernaturally flexible, but that doesn't mean Fiyero knows all the details of how sturdy he is. Fiyero would be very stiff after being stuck like that for however long it's been, so he errs on the side of caution. Even if Peter might physically handle it, Fiyero also simply doesn't want to cause Peter unnecessary pain. He doesn't even ask Peter to move, doing it for him so he doesn't have to think.

He undoes the bindings keeping his legs folded up, making sure Peter can gently stretch out his legs as well. He doesn't bother with cleaning off all the webbing, focused on freeing Peter first and foremost.

"I'm going to clean you just a little, and then I'll untie your arms," he says, and he reaches for the towel that's underneath Peter's hips. He gently pulls it out from under him and starts wiping down his torso. Again, it's not meticulous, and he'll no doubt be sticky (with remnants of fluids both natural and artificial) and in need a bit of a wash, but he's prioritising comfort and practicality.

He balls up the dirty towel, and discards it on the floor. By now he can stretch out Peter's legs to rest his feet on the floor, giving the leverage to pull him up. "I'm going to sit you up now," he says, wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulders, carefully pulling him upright. He presses a quick kiss to the side of Peter's head, just because he can.

And then finally he sprays at Peter's wrists, freeing them as well. He also makes sure to sit nicely within hugging reach - he's expecting Peter to be a bit clingy at this point, and he'll gladly welcome it. Whether he thinks to do it himself, or whether he needs to be guided to it, Fiyero figures they're going to be holding onto each other for a while.

Peter smiles softly at Fiyero’s words of comfort, brow smoothing out from the deeper furrow. There’s still some tension, but it’s easily dispelled as Fiyero shifts and starts to release him from the bonds. Peter can track his movements with the sound of him shifting, and the touch of Fiyero’s hands, gently sliding on his skin. Peter peeks open his eyes, half-lidded and still watching Fiyero arm himself with the solvent spray. It works, blessedly - otherwise, Peter would be stuck like this for quite a while, and though it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, it would likely stress Fiyero out to high Heavens - and Peter makes a soft noise of appreciation when his legs are able to relax against the mattress.

It doesn’t hurt, really; Peter can take an extraordinary amount of punishment, and on the scale of positions he’s been stuck in, this was practically a vacation. His limbs are loose, moving wherever Fiyero indicates to him, though his muscles give a light throb in relief when Fiyero carefully stretches out his legs. Peter’s not focused on the physical, however, too consumed with how gentle Fiyero is being. Gratitude wells up in his chest, thick and cloying, as Fiyero wipes him down and sits him up, always so gentle. Light kisses and sweet words - Peter sits patiently, obediently, ignoring any of the pinpricks of discomfort that arise; the pull of stickiness on his skin, the ache of used muscles. Fiyero is taking care of him, and Peter definitely isn’t complaining. He manages to use the sticky leverage in his feet to help Fiyero seat him upright on the bed, leaning his forehead up against Fiyero’s chest.

Wrists freed, Peter’s first free move is predictable. His arms feel prickly, the rush of blood and movement where before none was allowed, but he wraps them immediately around Fiyero’s middle, hugging him tightly. It’s a tight squeeze at first - perhaps even a shade too tight, his super strength peeking through - before Peter makes a soft noise and lessens his grip. Just enough that he seems to recognize he needs to be careful with Fiyero, as careful and gentle as Fiyero was with him.

“Please…” Peter murmurs, peppering light kisses up the side of Fiyero’s neck. His hands flatten on Fiyero’s back, and it’s probably good Fiyero cleaned him up a little or the mess would be all over both of them. Lips trail up to Fiyero’s jaw, nuzzling at him - all the affection Peter wasn’t able to return to him, spilling out now that he can. He whimpers quietly, the sound lost against Fiyero’s skin, kissing his way up to Fiyero’s lips. “Please?”

Maybe his mind is still stuck on the begging - or maybe he’s just asking, and one word is the most expedient and mindless way to do it. Peter’s lost track, mouth grazing the corner of Fiyero’s, like he’s not entirely sure he’s allowed to move much further.

Fiyero gives a slight 'oof' which turns into a warm laugh when Peter grabs him, but it's not like he's surprised. He can deal with being squeezed a bit - in fact it feels absolutely wonderful to have Peter's arms back around him again, that undeniable physical sensation of being wanted. He drops the solvent behind him on the floor somewhere, his focus entirely elsewhere as he wraps his arms around Peter in return, the two of them clinging together.

"Of course," Fiyero answers, the only word he has time to get out before he's kissing Peter in return. A little clumsy and urgent at first, like they've been been missing being able to make out on equal grounds, holding and being held. Then it settles into something more pleasant, sensual and sweet but not particularly coordinated.

Especially as Fiyero starts trying to maneuver them, awkwardly as he doesn't want to stop giving Peter exactly what he wants, and what he himself wants and needs in return. It feels so fucking good to be held by Peter, to feel his gratitude. Yet somehow, through awkward movements and little hums of communication, he manages to steer them into lying down on the bed.

He tugs at Peter's legs to guide them apart, and sure, he's had his legs apart for so long, maybe he'd prefer something else now. Except for how it allows Peter to wrap his legs around Fiyero as well, to cling onto him with every limb possible. Fiyero's also not hovering over Peter this time, but pressing their bodies fully together, lying on top of Peter like can't get enough skin contact.

He awkwardly fishes with his foot until he can tug the covers within reach, fumbling to spread them over himself, over both of them. All the while mostly kissing Peter, like he too needs it more than air. Sure, he's going to make sure Peter has some water and a snack, and then a shower or a bath - but this is obviously far more urgent.

Kissing Fiyero soothes the ache in his chest, a balm to the swell of emotions Peter wasn’t fully anticipating. Lips move with urgency that slowly eases into languid enjoyment; Peter’s hands clench, holding Fiyero to his chest. There’s a certain amount of possessiveness that Peter can’t deny, bleeding through the action. He doesn’t think Fiyero minds, though, kissing him back messily. It feels good, the way they tumble over together - Peter feels a soft laugh stirring in his scratchy throat, muffled against Fiyero’s lips.

They fall into the sheets, and Peter doesn’t hesitate to wrap his legs around Fiyero, thighs squeezing his hips. He welcomes the cuddles, peppering kisses over Fiyero’s cheek as he draws the covers over them both. Grasping hands slide up to Fiyero’s shoulders, enfolding him in a warm embrace.

“Thank you,” Peter breathes, nudging their noses together. The kisses are less frantic, lazy and indulgent, now, making out like teenagers. But Peter wants Fiyero to feel his gratitude, his affection, wants to shower him in it completely. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

For the orgasm, or for his care? For the kiss, or for his praise? Peter lets a hand drag up into Fiyero’s hair, nails grazing his scalp adoringly. Even after all that, after Peter let Fiyero use him to his heart’s content, emptying himself in Peter’s mouth - Peter’s thanking him, filling Fiyero’s cup with his admiration.

Peter finally settles, panting softly against Fiyero’s neck, one hand entwined with Fiyero’s hair at the back of his head. The other rubs a lazy circle against Fiyero’s back, welcoming him to relax against Peter’s chest. Yes, cleaning up and fueling up are paramount, but so is this, connecting after such an intense experience.

“My ‘yero…” Peter hums nonsensically, still quiet, beyond the bounds of particularly coherent speech. He doesn’t think Fiyero minds that, either; and it’s kind of nice, to feel his brain be empty for a little while. Alright, maybe not empty - he’s pretty consumed with thoughts of Fiyero, taking up all the room in his mind at the moment. But it is nice, not having the space to worry about anything else, for however long it lasts.

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