Odin (Owain) | Fire Emblem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shadowglitter) wrote2017-12-31 07:23 pm
shadowglitter) wrote2017-12-31 07:23 pmPSL || peter/odin
JUST... JUST,, JUST TWO BROS -- JUST TWO, TWO BROS, BEING, BEING STRAIGHT
shadowglitter) wrote2017-12-31 07:23 pm
no subject
I noticed something lately splinters through him like a bullet through bone. A terrible, embarrassed heat runs up Odin's spine and he tentatively shakes his head, as if he were watching a fucking train crash in the distance and had no idea how to help but sure as shit knew how to quake in the shadow of imminent disaster. He considers bailing again - running downstairs, hiding in the lobby until the rain ends - but then Peter keeps going, and all of this snowballs, and things take an unexpected god damn turn, and by the end Odin is left just standing there sort of dumb with a mouth unwilling to work. ]
More than... just?
[ He wants to tug Peter's hands away from his face so he can get this, but fuck, even the way he's hiding sends a skip through Odin's heart he barely knows how to handle. Adorable? Fucking. God damn it. Fuck this adorable piece of shit. Odin wants to see him blush? It has suddenly become his life's mission to make Peter Maximoff stammer and blush and not know where to look or how to handle himself and-- just--
Wait, okay, no, wait, the whole-- the whole friendship ruining conversation. Right. Priority. Fuck. God damn. ]
Do... you...
[ Odin takes a breath. Tugs on his shirt again. Considers taking it off, just to be an asshole, but doesn't. He smooths it down onto his skin, unwittingly wetting even more of the fabric with leftover raindrops. Making it cling even tighter. ]
Do you want... that? For me to be more than "just"?
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He drags his hands down his face and drops them to his sides, eyes still fixated on a glowy bullshit piece of plastic star but his lips start to form words that die before he gives them breath. Mechanically, he starts to straighten up, looking down at Odin with the most fearful, skittish look he's ever given anyone in his life.
With Jean he just went for it, maybe he and her were farther past this point? Or he just went on impulse quicker, when he didn't have to struggle through this confusing hedge maze of sexuality confusion because he's never... looked at a guy this way before? He was always comfortable with himself enough to admire a dude, maybe, but that was surface value? This is, honest... attraction.
He lets out a breath almost comically, cheeks puffed and his face a flushed mess.] My brain says it's a bad idea. I just... I just went through all these motions like, a month ago? Two? Got my heart ripped out, stomped on and destroyed... still aren't really all that put together again, sufficiently recovered... enough that that heart's being a fucking stupid goddamn asshole right now but you know? That's me.
[Dry laugh.] My life: As overly complicated as possible, right?
[That doesn't answer the question. I don't knows don't answer the question.]
I don't wanna fuck up the best thing I've got going for me.
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More than anything, he wants to just fucking fix Peter's heart. Wherever that leaves them.
He's said it time and time again, but Peter deserves so much more than what he's had. He bites his bottom lip and looks down and away, concentrating on a knot in the floor so he doesn't have to look anywhere else. He thinks of Jean, and for the first time, there's a flare up of jealousy in his chest when he pictures the two of them together, and that twists under a thousand layers of guilt and self-flagellation as he reminds himself that she's gone and Peter's heart got ripped out, stomped on and destroyed and he's being a fucking scumbag. He twists his hands in his shirt and nods as if he's listening, even though he stumbled past most of it, thoughts of Peter kissing someone else stuck in his head and-- and it should be him, not her, that's not--
Cool. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Definitely something emotional here. He'd thought that might be the case, but cool. Cool. Great. Cool and great. ]
... Man. I'm not gonna push anything, but.
[ He chews on the inside of his cheek, bites down a little too hard to punish himself for being like this. The best thing I've got going for me. His heart hurts, and he looks up at Peter, and then away when it suddenly aches too much to see that stupid, perfect face staring back at him. ]
I... had a crush on Poe for about two weeks before I felt like I was in love with him. And, like - I didn't have any history with him? Not like I do with you. We were just friends, and then it - changed, him and me. Where as you-- like. You've been everything to me since I got here? I was barely finding my footing before Magnus introduced us.
[ He chews his cheek again, then wets his lips, dragging his tongue over the bottom one. ]
And I'm just saying this because, like - I know myself? I know how easy it is for me to just, like - obsess over someone, when I feel like this. So - so if I'm falling for you - which I think I might be - then. I'm already gonna fuck this up. It's gonna go hard and fast and in a week I'm not gonna be able to look at you without wanting to cry because of how happy I feel just being able to see you, and-- and like, I'm gonna just wanna be everything to you? All the time? And cry when I can't be? Until you feel too guilty to stay around me and just-- like.
It'll just-- be a mess. So.
[ He's red, embarrassed by all the stupid shit he's rambling the fuck on about, but he takes a breath and looks back up to Peter. Determined. ]
Sorry. I think.
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He doesn't like hearing about Poe, it brings back sour memories from space and beyond that - the hurt that guy put Odin through and how it pisses Peter off in ways he can't describe. How you could hurt Odin like that is beyond him, it's wrong and Peter starts to wonder how many of his feelings are defensive as they are jealous.]
So like, it might end terribly. But like, is this something you can... get over? I - I mean, I'm not telling you to get over but like... I'm just saying if it's gonna be bad either way, like...
[What's he saying? He blanks.] I just mean, why not... ?
[STILL NOT ANSWERING QUESTIONS OR FINISHING STATEMENTS: PETER MAXIMOFF]
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Peter just... Peter's so fucking stupid. Odin looks at him, at that red face, at the mix of panic and joy in his expression, at the general blank dead fish-ness he has going on. He decides Peter is... uncertain, and Odin's going to have to fucking guide him through his own emotions, because apparently he only ever falls for men who don't know how to fucking use their fucking god damn words and fucking think through their fucking bullshit. He takes a breath. He'll just-- help him figure out what it is he wants.
Which is a good thing, maybe. Odin can't act on instinct anymore and just hope for the best. Not as readily as he used to. ]
Do... you want me to get over it? I can try, if you do. But.
[ He hesitates. Looks away from Peter, finally. ]
I don't really get over things. I follow everything through to the end and then just, like-- hang onto them, 'cause I suck at letting go. If this gets as bad as I think it will, then. Yeah. But if you want me to get over it, I'll try. We can spend some time apart and I can go on dates with randoms and just-- yeah.
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Peter's shoulders just kinda slump in defeat. 'Oh my god, I'm an idiot' type of defeat.]
I like being near you. That - shit, that sounds really... [Gay? He looks down at his feet, bumps his legs up against the bedding a few times and just kind of processes his feelings and he's nowhere as good at it as Odin, maybe, but he has far less experience with having to. He was a solitary creature and now he's not, exploring the world for the first time and falling into every goddamn pitfall there is.
He clears his throat.] But it's true. I like being near you.
[He wants to fan himself off and get rid of the nauseating heat in his face but he can't, he can only laugh at shit that's not funny to alleviate the stress in his chest. He slinks forward on one knee, sliding onto the bed toward Odin with no real roadmap here. He's just - trying this out. No biggie? No biggie.
He reaches out for Odin, grabbing him by the stupid shirt like its a set of Christmas lights and yanks him forward. He dips in and hesitates, finding this easier when he was drunk. Wasted. God, he was so wasted on Christmas? He wishes he was even a thirteenth as drunk right now.] I wanna kiss you I just - don't know how? This feels weird. Can you...
[sdfjkl?] Do - do you remember how you kissed me at the party?
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He can't let himself get carried away. He can't turn this into more than what it is. He needs to stay grounded, and he does his best, staying silent as Peter slumps his shoulders, but he looks up at him with a kind of mystified joy that he doesn't know how to handle. He scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms and laughs, awkward and watery and weird, but given that Peter laughs like that all the fucking time, he's not too embarrassed. ]
I, um. I like being near you, too.
[ He's got half his face hidden behind his hand now, peering over his thumb, and he stays like that even as Peter grabs him, though he finds himself warming progressively redder. He's biting his lip behind his palm, lowering it once Peter looks like he's about to kiss him, and when he stops, keeps some distance between him, he... smiles, biting down harder as he tries not to, leaving indentations. ]
Are...
Are you too fragile for me to be all, like, "if you want me to kiss you, you're gonna have to say please"? 'Cause I like teasing hot dudes about shit like that.
[ boom. called Peter a hot dude. if he had a mic, he would drop it. He has a TV remote, but by the time he thinks about dropping that, he remembers that this is a pretty fucking serious situation and he's letting his nerves and the way Peter always makes him so fucking excited run away with him again. ]
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Which is just kiss Odin, sealing their leaps together with a fierceness as he pushes the weight of his body against him for something to ground him in a not chaste and not quick kiss. It's heated, but also tentative after a beat because he's not sure once he's stubbornly past the part where he started sucking face what he wants to do next.
Other than curl his fingers around the back of Odin's neck and shift closer, trying to feel this out through the awkward shifts on the bed and the fact he has no idea where else to put his hand. Shoulder? Arm? Twist it in his shirt? He does the latter, gripping Odin's stupid wet shirt for a hold.]
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The kiss starts out okay, with gentle pressure that he steadily deepens, but it actually doesn't come easy for Odin, either, and so much of his excitement just drains along with his confidence. He doesn't get it - he's done this dozens of times by now, between Poe and a few other imports, but it's... it's different with Peter, different than it's ever been, even though it's hardly their first time making out. There's this weird mix of feeling relaxed, like he knows no matter where this goes, everything will be okay, because it's Peter, and then just an overwhelming, intense fear that he won't be good enough, that Peter will leave, that this is too much.
He pulls back from the kiss pretty quickly, stammering a nervous u-u-uhhh as he stares at Peter like a deer in headlights. He swallows and threads his fingers through Peter's hair, catching his breath. ]
Don't tell me if I'm bad at this? I'll, like. Leave. If you do. So. Just-- blindly compliment me. Okay? Okay.
[ Okay. ]
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If you sucked I wouldn't have asked you to kiss me like you did before. [He murmurs, breathless and shuddering from the feeling of fingers in his hair - an involuntary movement that has him kiss at Odin again, biting at his lip because he knows there's more to this. There's more to the feeling - there's more fire in him that needs out.
He just doesn't know how, at least until his hand slips and touches Odin's side and he realizes that's exactly what he wants. Needs. He presses Odin back against the wall harder, his hand sliding down to scoop under the wet nasty napkin of a shirt and thumb over warm skin. He feels himself redden a bit, he's never quite been so forward before - took ages to get there with Jean - but he just feels this pang of lust in him that needs satiating.]
So kiss me. Asshole.
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But fuck, that hand on his side, that heat. When Peter bites him he gasps into the kiss and unwittingly bucks his hips upwards, grinding his steadily hardening cock against whatever part of Peter it can reach. He reddens, but this is starting to feel more natural than not, and his confidence gradually builds with every shudder he pulls from Peter's lips. He scratches his nails lightly through Peter's scalp and down the back of his neck, stroking his thumb in reassuring circles over bone and nerves, and then he pulls back, eyes dark. ]
If you want me to kiss you like I did before... then.
[ He swallows. There's no counter to prop Peter up on this time, not unless they took this to the kitchen, and that touch on his side really fucking makes Odin want to stay in bed. He shifts and breaks apart, moving to sit a little straighter (haha) against the wall, and then he tugs on Peter's pants, guiding him closer. It's clumsy and awkward, at first, but he grips his arms around Peter's hips and just fucking lifts him, manhandling him into sitting in his lap, dragging him over with a strength he normally keeps to himself.
Odin doesn't hide how hard he is, his cock pressed into Peter's ass from below, and maybe he should be more careful so he doesn't spook him off, but he's not sure he can help himself. His fingers dig white marks into Peter's sides as he holds his hips tight to keep him pinned down on his waist, and he leans forward to press a needy kiss against his chest, moving upwards. His lips meet Peter's throat and he sucks hard, bringing blood to the other side of his flesh, staining his skin pink with the hickey and letting everyone know that from now on, Peter's his.
When he finally kisses Peter again, it's a lot more like it was at Christmas. He's holding his sides tight enough to bruise just to keep him from moving, and he's almost silently instructing Peter on how to do this - he dips his tongue against Peter's before pulling back and softly biting at his lip, just enough to hurt. The heat of his breath ghosts against skin in the few short, infrequent moments where Odin pulls back for breath - but most of the time it's just this, long and aching kisses as he grinds up against Peter from below, hands pressing harder and harder into flesh. ]
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He's breathing hard, heartbeat feeling like its shaking every rib in his cage with each heavy beat while Odin's mouth is on his chest moving up. At first he doesn't quite settle as solidly onto Odin's lap as he could, not able to not notice what else he's sitting on - but a scrape of nails and the sucking on his throat makes him grind down without thinking.
None of this is thinking. Or he would, yes, get a bit spooked. He should get spooked by the way Odin pins his hips down, but it doesn't freak him out - actually, it's a bit hot. So he uses his leverage to grind, biting back at Odin's kiss and exploring what it feels like to be in this position for a change. He can't think too far ahead or he'll blank out, he has no idea what he's doing aside from dry humping his best friend, but he feels that swell of heat in his chest keep growing and he knows he's getting harder and harder for it.]
Fuck. [He groans, lips dragging against Odin's mouth with a panting breath. He opens his eyes and stares Odin in the face, his blush faded some but his expression mixed. A little scared, but more excited - adventurous, trusting and well. Horny.]
I don't know how to do this. Don't let me like, fuck it up. [Peter says hoarsely, gyrating his hips experimentally while looking down between them. He's not sure what he's doing, what he wants to be doing or if what he definitely wants to do might be too much - friends with boners have to do something, right?]
And just... if it's cool, keep it slow?
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He's just-- awestruck, by Peter. There's a flutter in his heart, a shine in his eyes. Like he can't fucking believe how lucky he is to be here.
But he doesn't want Peter to be scared. He sees the fear, more than the lust and the urge to experiment, and he presses his lips to Peter's neck again, slow and careful. It's softer, more soothing, less lost in the moment as the last hickey was; he's gentle and he eases his grip on Peter's waist, moving palms over skin to find the small of his back. His lips leave a trail up to Peter's jawline, and then to his ear, and his teeth reach the shell of it, biting down with just the barest trace of pressure.
He's whispering against Peter's ear when he can ground himself enough to speak, his voice harsher than he intends it to be, rough with need and a barely contained urge to turn this into something more. ]
You won't fuck anything up. All I want is you. Everything you do is gonna be right, 'cause it's you. Okay?
[ Peter twists his hips in a way that rubs Odin in just the right way, and he grunts, bucking upwards. His fingertips curl and scratch just at the base of Peter's spine, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop from crying out. It's so, so fucking tempting to slip his hands beneath Peter's waistband, find his cock and just-- do everything he wants to it-- but Peter's comfort is his priority, and he's not gonna rush this. Even if that ends up being what they both want. ]
Just-- gonna keep doing this. Something like this. Clothes on.
[ He moves Peter further down his lap, separating the two of them by a few more inches, and he reaches beneath his own waistband, adjusting his cock. He's tenting upwards, and he bites his bottom lip, meeting Peter's eyes. He takes a breath.
With Peter still straddling his thighs, Odin carefully aligns their cocks through their clothes. He's hesitant, at first, but it doesn't last - when he frots against him, grinding their lengths together through thin layers of fabric, he hisses air in through his teeth, overwhelmed by the feel of it. It's not the most comfortable thing he's ever done with another guy, but the soft cotton of Peter's sweatpants rubs against his head and makes his hips jolt up far further than he intended, and he can feel how hard Peter is against him. He gets into a rhythm, dry fucking Peter, holding him in place, pinning him with too much strength in that way that he doesn't realize he shouldn't. His eyes are dark and half-lidded as his hips roll, but he doesn't tear them from Peter. Still just watches every fucking reaction. ]
This... this okay?
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He really likes the feeling of Odin's mouth on his neck and cranes it to allow more access, to better facilitate each drag of teeth and suck of skin. It makes him rut a little harder, a little more needy, and he digs his nails into Odin's arm. How fucking hot he feels is a little insane for what they're doing, something his brain can conceive as ridiculous considering if he were messing around with a girl his hands would already be between her legs but here he feels... like slow is better. But still, kinda ridiculous?
When he sees Odin readjust, it makes him swallow hard, hesitating on a desire to stick his own hand down either of their pants but settles for just slipping lower down Odin's side. Inching closer to his waist, his fingers fumble over the waistband but don't dip under. Instead, after a few more - to be quite honest - humps, Peter's fingertips clumsily grope at Odin's cock through his clothes. It's probably not the best way to go about it but baby steps. This is the first time he's rubbed someone else's cock (in a serious way,) and it relights the fire in his face. This boy is embarrassed.
Odin has experience, he has none, this is pathetic Peter.] Is... this okay?
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He's anchored by that moan. Anchored by wanting to hear more of that, hear every noise Peter can make, see how taut his tendons and his muscles might strain when he comes. When Peter takes all of this even further by actually touching him-- Odin grunts and pushes hard up into his hand, fucking right up against Peter's cock when he does it. Everything feels dizzy and only half-real and he meets Peter's eyes with more of that haze. ]
Jesus... Christ.
[ It's not an answer, and he seems to realize that. He doesn't want to make Peter doubt himself, but he's overrun with everything he's feeling, and words aren't making as much sense as they normally do. He kisses Peer's chest again, grazing teeth softly over collarbone, humming against his throat when his voice starts to work again. ]
I-I mean, yeah, it's... you're okay. Can I-- touch you like that?
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Peter rests his palm against Odin's shoulder, sliding it up from his arm to cup one side of his neck. He wants to kiss him again but he thinks he needs some space to breathe, so after letting a deep breath out slowly he nods his head.] Yeah. Do you want... something better than okay?
[He's asking, clueless, because okay is fine. They can do okay. But he doesn't want to be giving Odin something subpar, even if he's not sure how comfortable he is in amping it up. But there's this jump in his stomach at the thought, a nervous excitement that peaks every now and then like it did before. He gets the flickering thought to stick his hand down Odin's sweats but he doesn't do it.]
Just - tell me what's good. Like I said, don't know what the fuck I'm doing here. You don't even have tits to grab? [He asks, voice surprisingly gentle and amused as his palm swipes up over Odin's chest for emphasis. And then he does the only thing he knows how to do and leaves a harsh hickey on Odin's neck in the most non-subtle spot.]
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He leans against the hand on his neck and shuts his eyes, swallowing down nerves as the heat on his skin gets to him just as much as the exploratory touches to his cock. Peter's only fucking with him when he does it, but the hand over his chest makes him jolt, rolling his cock forward. Less about-- the feeling, more just-- being touched, unexpectedly. By Peter. His best friend.
The hickey on his neck fucking ruins him, and it's the thought that everyone will see it that almost drives him over the edge. He has to will himself to calm down, and he does, but he was seconds from just pinning Peter down and taking this too far, fucking him into the bed until he can't even breathe. There's a second of quiet as he tries to pick out a handful of words from the foggy cloud of arousal choking his brain that might actually make sense. ]
Dude... you gotta stop worrying so much about what I want or about-- about what you're doing or about-- or about the grabability of my nonexistant tits. [ He smiles, and it's half an attempt to be reassuring, half just-- happy, because he always is with Peter. He moves to hold Peter's hand, the one slowly beating him off through his sweats, and he brings his knuckles up to his lips to kiss each one just like he did in space. ]
I just want-- you. Anything. As long as I'm doing this with you.
[ He meets Peter's eyes for emphasis, one last lingering meeting of their lips passing between them as Odin surges forward. He decides, during that kiss, that he'll try and take the lead on this a little more so Peter doesn't feel like he's floundering.
He guides Peter's hand back down to his cock, hesitating about what he wants to do but ultimately just-- leaving it there, over his clothes, a low and shuddering breath escaping him as he grinds himself against the softness of Peter's palm through the fabric. He then-- slowly, carefully-- goes back on his resolve to keep this easy, and with a bite of his bottom lip he hooks both thumbs on Peter's waistband and carefully lowers it down enough to fish out his cock.
He doesn't ask if this is okay, even though he wants to, because it's more important to him that Peter feels confident and bold and unrestrained in his comfort and he's trying to set an example. He locks their eyes and doesn't look away as he exposes Peter's cock to the air and curls his fingers over his length, the head already slick with pre that Odin gently smears over with his thumb. Each twist and tug of his hand comes steady, but it's-- firm, masculine, and Odin is hyperaware that this might be too much for Peter in the face of how new this is to him. ]
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Just do what feels natural, Peter. That's all he reminds himself to do, falling into focus just in time to notice Odin's hand pulling him out of his sweats after sliding them down his hips far enough. A moment ago this might've been too much but he aches to the touch and it drops away the barriers for him one by one as Odin's fingers curl around the length of his cock.
He sees Odin differently now; a spectrum of new color opened up to his eyes - expanding from earlier's curiosity to this. This - feeling of warmth in him, this desire to connect that has him heatedly kiss Odin as his hips jut forth, rocking into his hand with a wanton noise. It's that fury that fuels him, groping at Odin's hip for a grip while his other hand rubs through his clothes a moment longer before the frustration sets in and he does as he promised himself he'd try to do: what feels natural.
His palm slips up to rest against Odin's belly, fingers snaking downward into his pants to feel him. A tentative touch, but not surprisingly strange. A dick is a dick and while it may the first dick he's touched that belonged to someone else, he does know how they work. Just as clumsily as he started, he uses his other hand to paw down Odin's pants further to slouch a little more room for his hand to move and stroke him, eventually pulling his cock out as well.
All the while he doesn't break the kiss, needing something to ground him and keep his courage going.]
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Whatever Peter gives him is worth giving, but when he touches Odin's bare skin and takes his fingers further down, beneath his waistband - fuck. Odin breaks the kiss long enough just to whisper something encouraging - a quick fuckkk, yes, Peter, just like that through clenched teeth that should feel cornier or more awkward to say than it does - and then he's kissing him a little harder, catching at his bottom lip with his teeth and pulling Peter further and further into it, taking things deeper, his need for this making him use too much tongue until he pulls back with a breath and works hard on making sure this feels perfect.
His kisses come softer after that, slow and easy with electricity through tenderness rather than desperation and a sense of begging for contact like before. His hand falters around Peter a few times, the steadiness of each stroke coming to a stop when Peter puts just the right amount of pressure on his cock and makes Odin lose himself to the feeling of it, but he stays focused, rhythm escalating, pace accelerating.
His other hand trails up Peter's side, finds his chest, which he gently runs reassuring strokes over with his thumb. He breaks the kiss, and he looks at Peter with an almost nervous hesitation. He decides, mostly on a whim, that vulnerability might make this easier, and that if direction is something Peter needs, he should try to give it to him. So. ]
I... uh.
[ He swallows. Flicks his eyes away, then back, the red of his face getting more pronounced, even in the cool light of the mostly dark room. He has to speak up to be heard over the rain, but he can't quite bring himself to do that, which means he's distant and hard to hear. ]
I liked the... hickey. I liked when you kissed me there? 'Cause, it's like-- fuck, I'm Peter's. Everyone knows I'm his. Kind of thing. Not that I'm saying I'm yours in, like-- [ fuck. ]
Like, a romantic way? If that's not what this is? I just-- just meant, like, for the night, it's like-- yeah, I'm Peter's. Here's proof, dawgs! That kind of thing.
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He wants to fuck into Odin's hand harder and faster but there's a lulled moment that he both hates and appreciates - something that edges him a little as he slows his hips to listen and finds himself smiling.]
You're mine? [He asks, or confirms, voice husky as he kisses at the underside of Odin's chin and follows the curve of his neck downward. Over the adams apple and to another section of skin where he can forcefully suck another purpled mark to match the first, liking the idea of leaving marks people will see. Something they'll have to explain away, maybe, but that's tomorrow's problem. Later them's problem?
He gives Odin a long, slow pull as if to put them back on track.] I like it too. Fuck up my neck if you want too. I don't care.
Just. [Jutting forward again, resuming his faster rolls of his hips. A little more and he's gonna come.]
Just keep going, too.
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It's strong. Embarrassingly strong, like he's a virgin and this is his first time being touched. He grunts and fucks hard into Peter's fist, bottoming out in it, everything slipping just out of focus as he rakes in breath and tries not to come. He crashes his lips to Peter's again and bites the poor dude's bottom lip hard enough to sting, leaving indentations, another mark. So much of his nervousness and restraint is just gone, thanks to those two words, like a switch in him has been flipped - there's too much tongue again, too much teeth, and when he pulls back he wipes his lips on the back of his hand.
Gonna do it, then. Gonna mark Peter, gonna make him his. Gonna leave bruises that sting and darken and make everyone ask questions and he's just gonna smile and know why they're there.
He twists his palm over Peter's tip, getting his hand slick with precum and grinding against the most sensitive part of him. Even over the rain, the sound of his hand on Peter's wet cock hits him hard, and Odin glides his fist as fast as his wrist will allow. He squeezes, dragging pressure from base to head and then back down again, and he rocks himself harder and faster into Peter's touch as he does.
And then he fucks Peter's neck up. The kisses come clumsy and hard, small pink bites and grazes of teeth against every inch of him, sucking until there's a mark. It looks like he's been choked on one side by the time his lips press hard over Peter's throat, and his free hand grips hard enough over his unmarked skin, leaving streaks of white under calloused, war-worn fingers. ]
I'm gonna--
[ He cuts himself off, seeing the pink on Peter's skin slowly darken to red, and he leans in to kiss something soothing against it. Even as he sucks and swipes his tongue over it, even as he bites. He leans back, hips rolling faster. ]
You gonna come for me? 'Cause-- 'cause I'm gonna, if you keep-- going.
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His eyes just close at Odin's forceful attack against his throat, groaning and clutching one hand to the back of his head to hold him there as the pain rolls with the waves of pleasure from pinched and pulled skin. He can't tell how bad it is yet but it's fine, in fact he could go for more.
Definitely more of his hand, Peter's thrusts into it a little more frantic as he falls a little out of sync with how he moves his own hand. He fights to keep it up but he's so fucking close that his brain starts focusing on that, leaving his fingers curled firmly around the base of Odin's cock as he tips back his head with a hissing sigh.]
Yeah - yeah, fuck. I am. [Move your hand, Peter. He does again, steady pulls as he tries to not just abruptly stop but that's hard to do when you're on the cusp of blowing your load. When he does, a moment later after some hard thrusts of his hips forward, he pretty much chokes on the noise and slumps up against Odin.]
Shit.
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He doesn't stop anything he's doing as Peter comes, angling his dick up a little to paint Odin's chest and stomach in ropes of cum while leaving the sweats he's borrowing unstained. Conscientious, that Odin. He loosens his grip and pumps Peter through it until he slumps, and only then does he pull away from his neck and from his cock, letting both of his hands drop to his side so Peter can recover in peace.
But he's still hard, throbbing in Peter's hand, the climax that had been building up steadily abating through the staggered handjob he's been given. He doesn't mind, and Peter's kept him pretty fucking close to the edge, to the point that a few quick pumps might make him shoot - but. Because he's still just stupidly fucking horny, he doesn't really think about how this might be weirder to Peter rather than exceptionally sexy or whatever as he draws his finger to his lip and gently sucks clean some of the cum that landed there.
This, he figures, is when he should give Peter the opportunity to just wrap this up and ask Odin to leave, because-- he'll get it, if after blowing his load, the guy doesn't feel like he wants this anymore. Odin just wants to kiss him, wants to shoot his load while his hands are tangled in Peter's hair and he's whispering broken words of affection right up against him, but he-- gets it, he'll get it. He takes a breath. ]
You okay? You wanna stop?
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He peels back slowly, gripping Odin's arm to sliver in some space between them and looks at him just in time to see him lick cum off his fingertips with another tug in his gut. It doesn't repulse him, in fact it's... hot. He doesn't stop to think when he dips in to kiss Odin again, gently lip to lip as his hand once again grips his cock at the base in a moment of reluctant pause.
Don't be shitty, Peter. You finish what you've started - even if you feel like a pile of melting bones. He's lazy at heart and he knows what he'd do in this situation for a girl and he's a little too lust-soaked to overthink it, so Peter pushes down Odin's sweats even further and gives him a hard shove back against the bed. He meets his eyes.]
Lay down. [A demand, not a request.]
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It's getting harder and harder to convince himself that falling for Peter is still something he can avoid when his heart is breaking at the thought they might be done before this can even become something.
A quick "sorry, I'll just grab my shit and get outta here" is dancing right on the edge of his lips when Peter shoves him back and he hits the mattress with a thud. There's a second where he has no idea what Peter's doing, but then he's achingly hard after connecting the dots. He wants to make a shitty, joking comment about how Peter's acting like a big tough dude all of a sudden, but the eye contact sends a shiver through him and all he can do is nod.
He drops his head down to lay flat, using his own arm as a pillow as he stares up at the ceiling. He feels rigid and tense and he doesn't know what to do other than shut his eyes and listen to the storm, so he does that, waiting anxiously, legs straight. ]
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