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 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.

Not only does Fiyero not mind the possessiveness - it soothes something in him as well. The way Peter grabs onto him just like Fiyero had expected, even hoped, maybe.

All that control and concern and careful attention, so dialled in on Peter's reactions all the time. Giving him a good experience, not hurting him, physically or emotionally. Now that Peter is untied, and he's happy and fine - he's very clearly and obviously fine - the gratitude he shows Fiyero hits hard, and is very appreciated.

He still needs to make sure Peter manages to transition out of that mindset, but he might need that for himself as well. They need to get clean and eat, but... Fiyero lets himself sink into Peter's chest, the way his embrace welcomes him, keeps him close. Peter is happy and nothing is urgent. If something is wrong, then Peter has the power to do something about it himself now. Whether he's mentally able to is different, but he's capable of basic speech and on grabbing onto what he wants, so clearly he's not fully helpless anymore.

Fiyero's glad for the lack of words too. He's a bit mentally exhausted as well. He hums a soft nonverbal response, curling up close. Burying his face in Peter's neck in return, just holding onto him.

There are worries that try to sneak their way in still, concerns about Peter, about how it went, about everything - but they're so easily disproved by how happy Peter is, how welcoming and filled with gratitude he is. It lets Fiyero slowly let his mind and his body rest for a while too.

It seems like they both need each other to get their heads on straight after that. For Fiyero to see he didn’t do any lasting damage, that he didn’t do anything Peter didn’t thoroughly enjoy, and also for Peter to ease down from the ecstatic high Fiyero took him to. Crashing down after something like that…would be difficult.

But they don’t have to; they have time, not that Peter’s in any state to even care about such a thing. They learned their lesson early on, and haven’t repeated the mistake of starting something they don’t have enough time to finish before they have to go out.

Peter smiles as Fiyero relaxes against him, more and more tension bleeding out of him the longer they cuddle. Peter plays with his hair, curling a lock around his finger, then letting it spring free, repeat. Fiyero buries his face in Peter’s neck, and he lets his lips brush against the side of Fiyero’s head, humming quietly.

That was hot - and impressive. Fiyero came more than Peter realized he could, and he can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction that he was able to inspire such a thing. That Fiyero was turned on enough to achieve it…well, it’s not just Peter’s achievement, but he certainly is proud.

“S’good?” Peter murmurs, lips brushing Fiyero’s ear. His hand lazily brushes through Fiyero’s hair, settling, warm and broad, on the crown of his head.

Fiyero smiles softly against Peter's neck as he plays with his hair, that gentle affection he's now able to show with his hands free. Fiyero wouldn't think to stop that quiet sweet fidgeting. He's just glad Peter feels comfortable reaching out for whatever he wants, and for taking a little care of Fiyero in return, even just by showing affection. Both of them are definitely a bit clingy right now.

A smile tugs at his mouth at Peter's question, cheeks shifting against his neck. "So good," Fiyero answers with a happy sigh, pushing himself up a little. only just enough to look down Peter. "You're so good," he emphasises, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Peter's lips.

His hands shift up, sliding across Peter's chest and neck, into his hair as he slowly kisses him again, lazy and sensual.

"Mmmmh," he says, lips barely a fraction of an inch above Peter's. "Is it bad I kind of want to make you come another time?" he asks, only half joking, giving a quiet, warm chuckle. It's like he can't get enough of Peter, of his pleasure.

After all, it's not like that last one left him wanting. It was amazing. And he had two more, one simple one near the start, and then a ruined one. Honestly, he needs to draw... How many more crowns? Two? Did he already draw the first one after he tied him up. His brain feels pleasantly fuzzy now.

It seems to be the natural order of things, that they cling to one another after all of that. It’s happened often enough that distantly, Peter thinks it’s probably…somewhat normal? Normal for them, anyway. It doesn’t feel worrisome, at least - because when the urge dissipates enough that they don’t need to cling to each other, they know they’re coming out of it. Peter’s never had such intense sexual chemistry with someone before - or if he has, they haven't felt the same way. Haven’t given him this, and maybe they should have. Maybe some of the empty, depressing sex he’s had would have been a little easier if they cared enough to hold him after.

But Peter’s not thinking about any of that, smiling against Fiyero’s mouth as he’s kissed, feeling drunk on affection and praise. Fiyero’s words are still able to send a warm flush through him, from head to toe, and his legs tighten around Fiyero’s waist, keeping them close together.

“Not bad.” Peter laughs softly, letting his lips drift to pepper kisses over Fiyero’s cheeks, over the bridge of his nose. He settles, letting his head rest back against the pillow, looking up at Fiyero with ridiculous happiness reflected in his eyes. A gentle hand brushes back and forth through Fiyero’s hair soothingly, the other pressed between his shoulderblades. “M’yours. Anything you want from me…s’yours.”

Peter grins, still slightly loopy from their activities. He closes his eyes with a happy hum. “F’you told me to touch myself…nmm I’d do it. F’you wanna touch me…anything baby…”

Fiyero's smiling happily, both of them seemingly unable to stop, both a little pleasantly loopy. For Fiyero it almost seems to kick in now, that he's able to relax. There's a giddiness to it, both of them feeding each other's light happiness.

He considers Peter's words, undecided at what he wants to ask. If he was capable, he would have suggested they could touch each other, or maybe just rub up against each other while they make out. But Peter does finally have his hands free now, so...

"Would you please touch yourself for me, baby?" he asks, and it does not have the tone of a command. It's a request, the 'please' not just point of politeness. "However you want."

Fiyero's own hands meanwhile stay in Peter's hair, tangled up, holding onto him. Not tight right now, just there, as he leans in to kiss Peter once again. He shifts his hips a bit, legs pushing himself up just enough to give Peter room between them, but besides that he stays right there, claiming his mouth.

Maybe he just wants a simple and intimate orgasm to take them down to normal. It would be difficult to follow that one after all, so why not do it while they're both still so happy? While it doesn't feel like there's any pressure attached to it. Fiyero isn't going to add any rules to it, not make it happen a certain way. The only thing is he might want to participate a bit as well.

This is a good thing, letting them just enjoy the afterglow. There may be difficult emotions that well up later, but as long as they’re present with each other from start to finish, they get to enjoy the fun.

Peter smiles dopily at Fiyero’s sweet request - and it is sweet, even though it’s so very, blatantly sexual - and nods, hair a mess against the pillow. He draws Fiyero into another soft kiss, meeting him as he claims Peter’s mouth. It doesn’t matter that it’s not a command - Peter is only too happy to give Fiyero anything he wants. He always is - whether it’s touching himself or something far more tame, like detouring into a bar - Peter’s been able to see since the beginning that Fiyero is special, and deserves only the best.

Peter’s so engrossed in kissing Fiyero it takes him a minute to figure out he should be touching himself. He makes a soft noise and lets the hand fall from Fiyero’s back to reach between them, unwilling to give up his grip on Fiyero’s silky hair. He grasps himself, stroking slowly, whining softly at the back of his throat at the prickle of sensitivity.

The discomfort doesn’t last long, as Peter’s eyes flutter closed and his head tilts, hand tugging at Fiyero’s hair, deepening the kiss. Arousal comes quickly when Peter hits the right combination, licking his way into Fiyero’s mouth - the heat and scent of him held close, the light scratch of his stubble against Peter’s chin. His strokes get longer, cock hardening in his grip, until Peter moans softly against Fiyero’s mouth. It’s a relatively sedate pace, especially for him - but after all the excitement they’ve had today, the stamina is a gift.

Fiyero doesn't rush Peter, even when he thinks he might almost have forgotten, because it's already so enjoyable to just... bask in each other's closeness. Eventually he might have taken Peter's hand to guide him, but he doesn't have to. Even without watching, he can obviously feel when Peter lets go of him, and his hand shifts between them. He can feel the back of Peter's arm brushing against his stomach, and he stays close, only giving him enough room to stroke himself.

He hums happily at the moan from Peter, the awareness that he's getting into it. Fiyero might not be able to come as often, but he sure enjoys being part of when Peter does.

One hand slips out of Peter's hair, caressing his neck, his chest. Finding one of his nipples and letting his fingers brush back and forth over it, just little touches to help Peter get excited. It's the least he could do, really. When Peter's touching himself, Fiyero's hands are free to touch elsewhere.

After a minute, he shifts his legs, moving a bit against Peter. He's a bit further down in comparison to Peter, which means he can press his groin up against him lightly, his soft cock rubbing up against Peter's balls. It would take a miracle for him to get hard again, but it's been plenty time for him not to be sensitive anymore, which means this just feels pleasant for him. Just lazy rubbing up against one another, helping Peter along.

Fiyero’s hand starts roaming, coaxing Peter’s arousal back to life. It feels like it should be impossible to want someone this much - because sure, Peter can come an absolutely ridiculous number of times in a row. He’s never wanted to, though. With Fiyero…it’s different. He wants him, like he’s never wanted anyone before. Peter doesn’t think he’ll ever want anyone else like this again.

Peter’s lips trail off Fiyero’s mouth to kiss messily over his cheek, until he released a breathy moan into Fiyero’s ear. None of it is performative - his hand is making slow, slick pumps up his length, beads of arousal beginning to dribble from the flush head of his cock where it peeks out from his fist. Fiyero’s body, rolling against his own, the firm heat of his thighs and the soft brush of his cock against Peter’s balls - it’s not just arousing. It makes him feel so utterly cared for.

“Yes, yes, yes…” Peter whines, hips lifting up off the bed towards his hand, towards Fiyero’s lazy grinding. It’s perfect and slow, giving him plenty of time to shake apart. Peter almost feels normal, not fit to burst so instantaneously. There’s no need to hold back, either, so there’s no worry lingering at the back of his mind. Just bliss, hand fisted in Fiyero’s hair, tugging at him to messily bring their mouths back together. “Mmn, ‘yero, Fiyero…”

“All yours. All yours…” Peter pants, hand slowing to stave off how good it feels. “Nnm…for you. S’good?”

His cock is hard against his belly now, and Peter is seeking approval. It feels good, of course, but it’s for Fiyero, and that feels even better.

Peter's noises are making Fiyero feel... he would say aroused, but it's not a physical reaction. He's turned on, but almost in just a mental way, excited by what's happening, happy to hear Peter's pleasure. Fiyero feels like he could happily never come, as long as he could get to help Peter do it instead.

Of course, that's how he feels in the moment. He'll feel different when Peter is the one teasing him, or waking him up with his mouth, or whatever fun thing they'll think of next. But even if he's spent, it doesn't seem like he's ever likely to get bored. Which is basically bliss to Fiyero.

"Always," he answers, a little breathless from all the making out, the wandering lips and lazy grinding. "I want to taste you," he breathes, an impulsive realisation. His hand moves down to still Peter's hand.

"Please.. I barely got to have you in my mouth at all," he says, huffing a laugh, already shifting downwards on the mattress. "Didn't want to accidentally make you come too quick.. It's alright now though.. You can come whenever you'd like to.."

Peter can’t imagine ever being bored with Fiyero. Whether they’re rolling around in bed, having fun, or out in the world - or even just watching a movie, lazily cuddling with one another. The domesticity Fiyero has afforded him, just by virtue of being in his life, willing to share that…dancing with May in the dining room, making her smile. God, the way Fiyero brings so much light to his life - and Peter gets a truly incorrigible amount of orgasms? What lottery did he win?

Peter stills at the touch, squirming a little, but still obedient - and not past the point where the disobedience is involuntary. He blinks, eyes opening as Fiyero starts shimmying down, and a blissed out smile stretches over his face. “S’for you, baby.”

“Anything you want,” Peter hums, carefully releasing his cock; it bobs, curved up towards his belly, flush and wet. He does have to wonder what the upper limit is - a he knows he would only ever try to go there if Fiyero wanted him to. His hand shifts to Fiyero’s face, and Peter lets his thumb smear wetness along Fiyero’s bottom lip, too hornydrunk to care about propriety. “M’all yours. This is yours.”

Fiyero kisses Peter's thumb, already tasting Peter's wetness there, smiling happily as he adjusts, shifting down. Peter's legs move to accommodate, eventually ending up wrapped around his shoulders instead, the bed covers almost covering Fiyero's head and he slips further under them.

"I want to make you feel good," Fiyero answers, a moment of sappy sincerity. "If I get to do whatever I want with you," he continues, his hand reaching under Peter's thigh to find his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Then I want to give you all the pleasure you deserve."

He knows Peter gets turned on by sweetness, but this isn't just something he says to get Peter horny. It's earnest and sweet, and he means it with his whole heart. Peter has had too much pain and hardship in his life. He deserves pleasure and joy and bliss and fun - and orgasms is a particularly fun way to give that to him.

Peter's cock bobs just beneath his face, but Fiyero hasn't even looked at it yet, eyes fixed on Peter's. That last orgasm was intense in every way. It seems good to finish with something sweet. Simple, not rushed, but not drawn out either. But most importantly, he needs Peter to know that while Peter is gifting himself to Fiyero, all he wants to do with that gift is have fun and feel good.

Peter quiets, smile softening at Fiyero's indulgent tenderness. Peter's fingers sweep affectionately along Fiyero's cheekbone while the other hands tangles with Fiyero's; it's so easy to wrap himself around Fiyero, and as natural as anything to want to keep him there. To share Fiyero's space, and be so grateful for his presence. Peter knows Fiyero's not performing for him, either, and it just makes everything better, on every level Peter knows how to count.

"I know, baby." He does know, and he likes that they can talk about what they both so transparently feel. That it's not just lust, but something deeper neither of them expected to happen. Peter's fingers trace the shell of Fiyero's ear, reverent. "You're the only one I want it from."

And that, too, is so honest. It's easy to see, in his honeyed brown gaze, meeting Fiyero's eye. Besides, as they both well know, Peter has never been someone who knew how to say things like that and not mean it.

Fiyero smiles when Peter touches him, when he looks at him like that. Fiyero doesn't count himself as a particularly jealous man, but it still makes him feel warm to know that Peter chose him. Whatever Peter himself may think, Fiyero is pretty sure Peter could have anyone he set his eyes on. And they've chosen each other.

"Lucky me," he answers, entirely sincerely. And then he turns his face down, catching Peter's cock in his mouth, gently sucking on the head like it's the world's most delicious lollipop.

Again - he's not rushing this, really! But neither is he going to hold back too carefully. A leisurely pace, and perhaps not quite as deep this time, but it's a joy to finally get to suck Peter off without worrying about accidentally making him come. It means he can lie there and give a moan of happiness that reverberates through Peter's cock, as his tongue circles the head, before bobbing almost lazily up and down on his erection. And enjoy the taste of him, every sound he makes, every squirm he earns, without having to worry about anything else.

Peter wants to argue - because of course he does, he is very much the lucky one in this equation and he damn well knows it - but Fiyero's steady sucking throws all rational thought right out the window. Peter gasps and jolts against Fiyero's mouth, fighting the urge not to buck. It feels better than anything Peter could have imagined - whether it's because of the physical peak Fiyero has driven him towards, or because of the emotional intimacy...maybe it's a killer combination of all of it.

He quickly devolves into soft moans of approval, hands carefully brushing back through Fiyero's hair. Tugging at him without trying to take control, feeling the pace Fiyero had set for bobbing his head, letting Peter disappear into his mouth a handful of times before he inevitably pulled back to tease the flush, pink head. There's no one else Peter wants to see him like this, writhing in pleasure and need; his whimpers and breathy whines are only for Fiyero. Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

"'yero, nnm, not gonna - last," Peter pants out the warning, trying to think past the radiating pleasure in his groin. The even, constant pace wasn't coming on like sudden a tidal wave, at least, though Peter's grip on himself felt tenuous at best - instead it was like a ripple, growing slowly as it rolled towards the shore. Fiyero did say he could orgasm whenever he needed to, but it seems impolite not to warn him, nonetheless. "Fuck - "

It's probably the sign of a healthy relationship, that both of them consider themselves the lucky ones. Peter's been plenty unlucky in other regards in his life. Fiyero was very lucky, up until recently - though meeting Peter has balanced out a lot of the bad stuff. (Clearly any bad stuff from his life before doesn't really count, given how privileged he was. What did he really have to complain about, right?)

He certainly thinks he's very lucky right now, but alright, if he was on the receiving end of yet another blowjob, he would also defintely be thinking that, so he supposes it's fair.

He wouldn't have blamed Peter one bit if he did buck, now he's no longer tied down. He still thinks he should get to do the opposite sometime - tie Peter up and just give him orgasm after orgasm. Plans for later, defintely. But he was prepared for the possibility of Peter thrusting, so he just enjoys the way he can't help but move, even trying to hold back.

His arms are looped around Peter's thighs, which in turn are looped around his shoulders. One hand is holding onto Peter's hand, the other comes to rest on Peter's trail of hair leading up towards his bellybutton, just holding him while his mouth does all the work. He doesn't really need to worry about touching everywhere, about making it as intense as possible. In a way, this is meant to be relaxing, not too intense.

Fiyero gives an answering hum of acknowledgement, taking Peter a bit deeper in his mouth for the last few moments, fuelled by that needy whining Peter does, happily pushing him over the edge.

He watches through his lashes, Peter writhing, covered in crowns - if Fiyero gets marker on his lips, it's a price he's willing to play. He has enough warning that he can swallow around Peter, giving a happy moan, and drinking down his release. By all accounts, Peter should be drained dry by now, but no, it feels like a perfectly average amount that Fiyero swallows down.

He's panting softly as lifts his head, hand moving to wrap around the base of Peter's cock to hold it steady as he licks it clean, lapping him up. Maybe he's feeling cheeky, or just greedy, but he does go in to suck at the tip of Peter's cock a moment longer, pressing against him with his lips and his tongue. Long enough that he knows it's too much - but not so long that it becomes unbearable, grinning as he pulls back, lips wet and cheeks pink.

"Had enough, or should I go for another round?" he asks playfully, smiling smugly. He's certainly not going to push it, mostly an empty threat. Peter will accept just about any request right now, so Fiyero's not really looking for his actual answer. He's gauging by hesitation versus nervous excitement. Though he really probably should let Peter rest...

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