shadowglitter | PSL || peter/odin

[ He should pick up the twist of Peter's fingers as a sign of anxiety, the way they clutch at the sheets and tense, because-- because fuck, that's something Odin does whenever he's overwhelmed by something he doesn't want, spiralling the front of his clothes while fear settles in his stomach like wet sand. He should notice, but he doesn't, too far gone under thoughts of wanting to forget, and--

And even after everything they've done tonight, the arch of Peter's back and the way that he pants like that puts him in a light that Odin's never seen him in. It hits Odin all at once, that he might actually, genuinely be really fucking physically attracted to this dude - everything they're doing feels different, suddenly, like something's shifted, now that Peter's beneath him, being worked over by him and taken care of by him, trusting him in a way that he doesn't deserve. He feels - like this really might be something that could be good for him. For both of them, maybe, but mainly for him.

At the very least, hearing Peter make a noise like that-- because of him-- makes the lie a little easier to believe.

He leans down, as he presses his finger further into Peter, slow and methodical, trying to ease him into something Odin's sure he's never felt before. He lowers his lips to the bridge between Peter's shoulder and his neck, tall enough that he doesn't need to strain more than their fucking relationship to do it, and even Odin wouldn't be able to say if he was trying to keep him calm or just trying to hide his face. He clears his throat, a wordless alert for what he's about to do, and then his finger starts to slowly, slowly fuck in and out of Peter, dragging over every soft ridge, steady and rhythmic. He sucks, gently, on Peter's neck, making it pink, leaving a mark - and then he inserts a second finger, stretching him open, fucking him, getting him ready.

He pulls away from the mark he left on Peter's neck and his free hand finds Peter's cock again. He strokes it, back-handed, in time with each gentle in and out of his fingers. ]

Are you, uh... [ He clears his throat, again, and he feels like he's at a fucking job interview, or something. ] Are you feeling-- is this... yeah? Or... nah?

[Peter's breaths can't evolve past shallow gasps while Odin is working his finger in and out of him, the feeling is... unique to say the least and the arching of his back briefly doubles by the introduction of a second digit. But Peter surprises even himself by making it through that fairly easy, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as his head lolls back with an antsy writhing against the bed sheets.

If he's to think on it, which he's not really right now - not while it's happening - it's not a bad feeling. It's new and confusing and a bit terrifying in a way, having his trust in someone else like this but it does feel sort of good. Made more so when Odin pumps his cock in time with his fingers, making Peter's next moan a little more obscene and having it become accompanied with a rocking of his hips. He doesn't know what direction to move in but the movement just comes naturally.

Like the flush of color brightens his face and cascades down his neck, turning him a shade of pink beneath a slight sheen of drunken sweat.] Yeah.

[It's out of his mouth before he registers the question all the way, caught up in wanting more. More touch, more... all of it. He might be in over his head and at risk of drowning but something about this is working for him despite it, even if he can't pretend it's anything else but what it is. Getting finger fucked for the first time by his best friend while he sweats vodka and digs his heel into the mattress to push back experimentally against his fingers.]

J-Jesus Christ, Odin.

[ Peter rolling back to meet his finger makes Odin just-- intensely fucking hard, and his hand actually slows to a stop as he stares, mesmerized, at Peter's hips. He swallows and fingers Peter a little faster once he regains his bearings, but it's softer now, coming in too quick touches that just barely brush over his prostate, barely give him that feeling of fullness. When he draws his fingers back from Peter, he lets go of his cock and gives one sweeping look over his body.

Fuck, he's starting to get in deep.

He moves to kneel back by Peter's ass, slowly stroking his own cock with the lube and the precum he drew out of his best friend. He-- loves that. Loves this. Loves seeing that red in his skin, the heat and the embarrassment and the vulnerability that contrasts so easily to that silver, those slick attempts to be funny so as not to be real. He aligns himself with Peter's hole, swallowing down his nerves and looking at him just once for permission, and -

It's very tentative, when he leans down, anchoring Peter on the head of his cock, pressing past the tip and carefully entering him. He's not sure if this is-- okay, given everything-- but he presses their lips together in a soft, chaste kiss, something slightly possessive about it. This is his and Peter's moment. Fuck Poe. Fuck Jean. This is them. ]

[Peter feels like his face must be a dark shade of scarlet over the pink it really is, what for all the heat that floods there from the shuddering pleasure that has his cock rigid and his gut feeling tense until he relaxes with a slow exhale. That lasts for about half a second as Odin presses into him, reflex making him grunt as he grabs at Odin's arm for something to hold on to.

One second, two second... he relaxes better on three, eyes still scrunched together as he kisses back rather needy for the contact. It's still a little uncomfortable, the full feeling of Odin's cock sliding into him and he finds his breath in little gasps against his mouth. With his fingers curling around the nape of Odin's neck he holds him to him for the kiss, biting at his lip and encouraging a rocking of their hips instinctively.

He wants to feel... something. He wants to feel...] More.

[ He stays steady, fighting the instincts in his body that are (slightly drunkenly) telling him to just drive himself deep into Peter and make him scream his name. He instead presses careful, soothing lips to the curve of Peter's neck, kissing down to his collar, humming gently against the bone. It's hard, laying here just barely, barely stretching Peter open, that tight, oppressive heat gripping the head of him like soft fire, and he focuses on the slightly uncomfortable pain in his arm where Peter's holding him to stay good.

He was ready to wait for Peter to tell him he wants this, but then he's kissing him, hungrier than he's been all night. Odin's breath comes in barely restrained pants, his hands curling tighter on Peter's skin, resisting every fucking urge to just fuck, but then it's getting worse, Peter's taking the lead, being more aggressive, biting him and holding him and moving and Odin's doing his best to keep up with him--

And then he's saying more and Odin fucking grunts as he sinks half of his length into Peter in one quick motion, his toes curling and every thick inch inside of Peter just stretching him apart. ]

Fuck-- fuck, fuck--

[Peter's breath is sucked straight out of his lungs when Odin thrusts into him, giving him what he wanted but perhaps not what he was totally prepared for. His shoulders go rigid but he finds a way to breathe after a pained moment, tucking his face in against Odin's neck after pain and pleasure shoot through his body like a bullet. He's not precisely sure when he did it, but he pushed himself up on his forearm, almost as if bolting upright before relaxing. With a strained noise against his best friend's neck, he tries not to tense up again and focus instead on the feeling of Odin sinking into him.

His eyes tear up but it's fine, it's actually kind of ridiculous that his first gay fuck is with the guy with the ridiculous dick. What did he get himself into here? It's actually rather fucking obscene and he'll laugh at the situation later when he's not currently getting rammed by the aching, turgid member of his bestie. He always gets into shit way over his head, wouldn't be Peter Maximoff if he didn't.]

Fuck. [He echoes, setting his teeth against Odin's neck to bite because that's all he can do aside from working with the motion of their bodies to feel the thrusts. His cock aches and he can't even concentrate, lost to the feeling and curling his arm around Odin's back with an encouraging nudge.]

[ Odin tries to apologize, but he doesn't have the breath. He almost finds it, tilting closer to Peter to whisper the word sorry against him in a short, frenzied gasp, but then there are teeth sinking dangerously close to his throat and he's speechless again. The sharp pain in his nerves fucking jolts his hips forward, making him grunt as he bottoms out in Peter far faster than he should have. This time, at least, he whispers sorry, but it's quiet and hard to hear amongst all the fucking panting and through the clenched jaw.

He tilts his head, meeting Peter's eyeline. He's not really looking at Peter like he's his friend, anymore. He's looking at him like it's his fucking mission to make him lose his god damn mind.

It only lasts for a second, though, this heat of primal energy to turn Peter into a quivering mess of orgasms and bruised bones, because Odin sees the way he tears up and he absolutely cannot have that. He leans forward and presses his lips to Peter's eyelid, making it all better. There.

He wraps one strong arm down behind Peter's shoulderblades and lets the other get tangled in his hair, cradling Peter close while he fucks him. The rhythm he picks up is infuriatingly slow, trying to get Peter used to the feeling of a real dick in his ass sliding in and out of him, but they're chest to chest, which means Peter's cock gets to grind over his abs in a way that might be too rough if they were going any faster but should hit just right like this. ]

Hey--

[ There's hesitation in his voice, now that he finally learns how to speak again. He's-- not sure what this is, not sure why he wants to ask this, why he has to ask this, but he thinks of Poe and he thinks of Jean and he thinks of Peter and he thinks of them and as he drills his cock harder into Peter than before and gently tugs on his hair and looks the other way and he just-- ]

Hey--

You-- love me, yeah?

[Peter gasps hard when Odin sinks fully into him, clutching at his back and staring up at the ceiling for a dazed moment before the motion sucks him back in with a rush of pleasure to ease any pain. He feels heady and weak in the knees, heel digging deeper into the mattress as he rocks back against it with each thrust. The sheets feel hot against his skin and for a moment he realizes how pinned down to them he is, but it doesn't spark any fear in him. He trusts Odin. This isn't a situation that can harm him.

He groans and feels a bit embarrassed that Odin noticed the way his eyes water, brushing their cheeks together to dissuade further attention to it (kisses included,) but he still appreciates it. Just like he does the change of pace, his cock pressed up against Odin with each slide of their bodies together and he shivers from that and the jolts of pleasure each time Odin's cock hits him juuust so that it makes his legs tremble.

Peter's not so prepared for the question, just like he's not prepared for a lot of things that went down today - but they both look in separate directions while a heavy(?) question sits between them. It's heavy, isn't it? It means something, especially like this, when he's hot in the face and in the midst of being fucked. He's said it a million times before but that's different. This is... different, right?

Breathy, light and barely there.] Of course I fucking do. W-What a time to ask, man.

[He snorts, back to being red in the face. Should he feel different about this? He's momentarily side tracked by impromptu confrontations of feelings but he knows he's damn close to blowing his load. But he swallows hard, noticing that maybe something has changed. His heart beats fast and he shifts, sliding his hand along Odin's side while turning his head back in against his neck. He kisses it, lingering with his lip to his skin to murmur something almost indistinct:]

I love you, man.

[Peter can't concentrate on what that means right now, shaking his head gently as he bites at his neck again to leave another bruise and get them back on to something that doesn't require thinking. He bucks his hips, hoping Odin will pick it back up before he has to dwell on what he just said and how it totally is something different. Something to panic over later. Or regret, maybe?]

[ He grins, when Peter pulls away from his stupid affectionate eyelid kisses, goofy and wide and stupid as ever. It fades with the question he asks, fades with the twitch of his abs and the excitement in his stomach when every roll of Peter's hips drags his cock over Odin's skin, and by the time Peter finds his voice, Odin's biting his own bottom lip with his eyes shut tight as he struggles to keep himself steady.

He's heard it a thousand times, but it-- now, it fills him with something. Four words ease all his fucking loneliness, chases away so many fucking shadows. He shifts and he stays quiet, the oppressive but so, so safe weight of him pressing down on Peter as his arms grip his back just a little tighter. He says nothing, not wanting to chase away that memory of I love you, man with his own voice, but the start of a moan catches at the back of his throat and he can feel electricity shoot all the way down to his toes.

He sucks in air through his teeth when Peter bites at him and he fucks forward, his brain thick and foggy from the heat of this. He finds a rhythm that's better for both of them - not slow, but not fast, something stable he can keep constant with each arch of his back and measured slam of his hips. His fingertips are starting to tremble against Peter's skin and he's still silent when he leaves a kiss on Peter's shoulder, but it's still ringing in his head. Peter loves him.

Odin's sense of time feels blurred, but only a few minutes of gentle, easy fucking pass by before he starts to pick up the pace. When he reaches the hilt of himself in Peter he pushes forward, sinking them both into the mattress, and when he pulls back, it's with a groan of effort and lust he doesn't even notice he's making. There are noises in the air - flesh on flesh, obscene things - and he twists his neck to find Peter's and gently sucks on sensitive skin, leaving a mark, something people will see come morning. ]

Fuck--

[ He lowers his head and rests on Peter's shoulder, and when he speaks again, there's far more certainty and volume in his voice than there was in his best friend's. ]

I fucking-- love you. You. I love you.

[Peter feels like he's still floating but just on the cusp of drowning. He can't concentrate for more than a few seconds before he's jarred back against the bed by one of Odin's thrusts, making the bed frame rock and causing his nails to dig into Odin's back. He doesn't know what noises he's making but he's not making an effort to keep them quiet anymore, a near suffocating flood of pleasure building up in him the longer their bodies work together.

There's that moment of relative silence punctuated by groans and lewd noises as Odin picks up the pace and Peter feels like his heart's in his throat. He hears what Odin's saying to him and it feels like a lot, like too much, and it sits in his mind as something he'll digest later. It feels too real over the ache in him that missed that, that wanted to fill a void that's been hurting ever since Jean left. He wanted someone to say that to him but now that he hears the words, his mind clouds up and his breath becomes shallow.

Neck tilted to the side, skin taut under Odin's lips, Peter feels close but not in a way he's been before. He grips at Odin tighter, panting beneath him and writhing - shit, shit, shit.] I...

[ Every noise Peter makes goes off in Odin like a gun. More and more, it's pulled to the forefront of his mind that this is Peter, and this is different. Things with Poe were never so-- he never clawed at Poe like this, desperate to hold on, unconsciously terrified that if he stops holding him they'll fall back to the earth where everything is shitty. Never told Poe he loved him like that, either.

The nails on his back are going to leave a mark, and the thought would make Odin even fucking harder, if he could be. He presses deep into Peter and holds, grunting between the slow and easy kiss that drags away from his shoulder and up to his throat, teeth grazing skin as he clumsily draws his tongue against him. He picks up speed, straining his torso upwards to meet Peter's eyes when he hears him start to speak, and he nods, red and sweat-sheened.

His voice is ragged and tired and strained but it's deep and it's safe. He wants to see Peter's face when he comes, wants to hear how he sounds, and there's too much intensity in his eyes as he watches him. ]

It's okay, man. I've got you.

[It builds and it builds and it builds, up until Peter thinks it's going to be too much to handle - and then it just happens. He comes with a loud gasping noise, a frantic jerking of his body from the stimulus that makes him come harder than he thinks he ever has before. It's intense and it lingers, ebbing out from his core in waves that his body still moves to.

His whimpered groan lingers too, fingers slipping and scraping for a hold of Odin's shoulders as he blinks up at him after briefly scrunching his eyes closed when he came. He's not even aware of the splatter of cum on his chest, just the thudding in his ears and the intensity still in him that pulls Odin in for a kiss. It's sloppy as far as kisses go because Peter's literally half-minded in it, blissful and air headed from his orgasm but the affection still seeps into it despite that.]

God damn. [A breathy laugh.]

[ Odin's fucked enough guys to know exactly what he's doing to Peter - he drags that build up out, dropping his pace to something lingering and steady and rhythmic, focusing on hitting Peter's prostate and doing everything he can to just let that ache boil at the base of Peter's balls until it's forced out of him in one quick thrust. He can feel the tension in Peter's body and the way he shakes both inside and out, and when he comes in turn, he's trying hard not to just hold Peter in place and claim him.

He pulls out, with tremendous difficulty, thinking he should find a towel or something-- Peter's never been with a dude, he's not gonna go all the fuck out on the poor guy-- but it hits him too hard and too fast, his limit reached by the way Peter's suddenly kissing him, and he jerks himself off through his climax, marking Peter's ass and the inside of his thighs before he can help it. He groans when he's done and chases the kiss when Peter pulls back, wanting more than Peter gives him.

He's steadily softening, forehead pressed against Peter's, when that breathy laugh makes his cock twitch once with need. Fuck. ]

That-- yeah. That was-- yeah.

[ He pulls back, gently untangling limbs and helping Peter lay on his back more comfortably, and he thuds down next to him, face in his pillow, blind to the room. He surrenders himself to the darkness without screaming about eldritch horrors along the way, and arches up with a great effort to look at his best friend. ]

I think... I needed that.

[Peter lolls his head back against the bed, still shifting gently as his body tenses and untenses in the wake of his orgasm and Odin lingers close. It makes this moment feel warm as he settles and looks to Odin next to him after a beat. He can start to feel a bit of soreness in him when he shifts, but it's not unbearable - at least not while he's still soaring on this high.

He sees his best friend next to him and it makes all of this a bit more grounded in reality, picking out the details of the situation that stick out. Odin's next to him, meeting his gaze. There's cum still on his skin and he's not even sure what step you're supposed to take about that. He just fucked his best friend? He feels a bit guilty all of a sudden, fearing that they just fucked up what they had for a drunken fuck and maybe they can just pretend tomorrow that this didn't happen.

He feels panic in his breastbone but sucks in a breath and stares at Odin for a moment, swallowing hard before just reaching for his hand. He laces their fingers together and there's a half beat where it's tender and sweet and then he just squeezes tightly, because he might not know what he wants to do about this tomorrow but.]

You're a messy fucking fuck, y'know that? [He smiles, half - laughing before looking up at the ceiling.]

I think I need a fucking shower now, that's what I need. Thanks, jackass.

[ Odin laughs, fully and completely, wetting his lips and pressing them together just to buy time before he has to talk. He can't tear his eyes away from Peter's, watching with a fondness that's always been there, but it's - different, now. He's not going to forget about this tomorrow, even if he should. Things might not go well for them, from here on out. The glass barrier that had been firmly established between their relationship is already starting to splinter, because this-- might not be enough, anymore. What they were. Not for Odin. ]

Sorry.

[ Peter squeezes his hand hard, and Odin squeezes back, but it's softer, still lingering in that brief moment of tenderness that mattered more than it should. He circles his thumb over one of Peter's knuckles and just feels his hand in his own, as if they hadn't done this a thousand times before - but despite that, he's the one to break contact. He sits up and threads his fingers through the spikes of his hair, wipes a line of sweat from his neck and breathes out like he just finished watching a marathon. He doesn't hide the way he stares, when he looks down at Peter, ruined because of him. He doesn't hide the way he likes it, either. ]

You gonna make this gay by asking me to shower with you? 'Cause, I mean. That'd be pretty gay.

Hah, yeah... that'd be pretty gay. [Peter says with a laugh that trails off, because it's kind of hard to face facts here. When Odin lets go of his hand, Peter draws it back and slowly pushes to sit up with a wince as he settles and becomes a bit more aware of just how naked he is. How they both are. It's not intentional how Peter hunches forward a bit, his more lithe frame curling in at the shoulders as he looks down at himself and doesn't even know how to start with cleaning up.

He is not wiping anything off on his sweater, though the thought does strike him. He needs something to wear, either now or tomorrow... the thought of lingering here overnight puts him on the fence. His instincts say bail now but sitting up's reminded him that he's not quite sober, a little hung over and sore from the inside out.]

I uh, I'm pretty fucking serious about the shower though? Is that cool? [You know, if he goes and does that... right now? So he can have a few moments to himself to sort out what just happened and... maybe you can change your bedding a little?]

[ Joke didn't work? Joke didn't work. Odin leans back on his hands and stretches his legs out over the mattress, relaxed and opened and comfortable. It's kind of weird for Peter to just ask him if something like this is cool when he would normally just fuck off and go take care of things, so Odin's nod comes slow and a little hesitant. ]

Yeah, of course.

[ He moves to let him go, a few more awkward and seemingly tension-riddled words slipping between the both of them as Peter stumbles off to the bathroom and Odin tries not to watch, and when he cleans himself down, stacks up his sheets in the corner and finds some pants to slip back into, it all comes fairly easily just so he has something easy and simple to do with his hands.

He'll be back in bed when Peter comes back, reclining on fresh pillows and taking a long breath. He's not sure what to ask, or how to start things-- he figures calling Magnus to come and get him, but that seems like a nightmare scenario waiting to happen, and he doesn't have it in him to start fielding questions. ]

[Peter bites his lip as he grabs his boxers before they slip off the edge of the bed, taking them with him to the bathroom - slowly. Being upright reminds him just how much he drank today and how it's still in his blood. Add a bit of a strained feeling in his guts and y'know, it's surprising how he manages to walk without too distinctly different of a gait.

He takes a hot shower and it's not the longest shower in the world but it's a long enough period of time for him to clean up but more importantly... think. He stares at the tiles of the bath glassy eyed for a few beats as he goes through the ways this situation could go rapid fire in his head. There are a couple of conclusions he draws up by the time he's out of the tub, stepping closer to the mirror to catch a glimpse of himself before gingerly stepping into his boxers and toweling his hair dry as he returns to the bedroom.

Looking at Odin, one eye hidden behind a fold of towel, Peter's quiet for a second. Then, just:] Sorry. That - uh, was a first? I got kinda wigged out by...

[He frowns, looks away. He takes the towel off his head and whips it at Odin before following its trajectory toward the bed.] That was a lot of cum, okay? On me.

PSL || peter/odin

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