shadowglitter | PSL || peter/odin

PSL || peter/odin

JUST... JUST,, JUST TWO BROS -- JUST TWO, TWO BROS, BEING, BEING STRAIGHT

[ Peter's always been an influence over him. He helped Odin find his feet in America, helped him embrace a more confident side of himself that would have stayed buried or locked away in Nohr. Taught him about blasphemous curses and processed food. He's been a part of Odin long before today.

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. ]

['Dude... you gotta stop worrying so much about what I want', yeah that's easier said than done. Peter parts his lips to reply but loses the words, his hand guided back to Odin's cock after lips are skimmed over his knuckles and he feels Odin position against it again. Feels the weight of him grinding in against his palm and rubs back, trying to give something worth giving while inexperience keeps taunting him from the back of his head.

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.]

Edited 2018-02-02 04:48 (UTC)

[ He doesn't see the kiss coming, and again, it makes his stomach flip like it's falling. Kisses like that don't come all too often for him, and he's smiling into it, face warm and pink up to the tip of his nose. He keeps his hand still when Peter fucks into it, letting him set the pace he feels most comfortable with, and only after a good thirty seconds does Odin start to move again, rolling his palm over skin and squeezing tight at the base.

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.

[Shaky breaths, Peter's fingers keep a firm grip and he tries to do what he thinks feels right - it renews the feelings from his first time fooling around with a girl but isn't as unnerving. Screwing around with your best friend makes this easier, even if it leaves you kind of breathless and with a mouth full of sloppy shared spit from kisses with too much tongue but just enough need.

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.

[ The affect that you're mine? has on Odin--

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.

Edited 2018-02-02 08:58 (UTC)

[Peter grunts, kissing Odin fiercely and getting a hot flip in his gut from the roughness of his bite and how he can feel the bitten indent on his lower lip after he pulls away. He's of two minds - the half that wants to butt heads and bite back and the side that wants to just lose it at being marked, to submit a little to a strong touch. He's always had a thing for being bossed around by dominant chicks but maybe it's more than just that.

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.

[ Odin feels like there's acid burning just under his skin when Peter holds him in place. He stays there, lapping at his skin with his tongue and sucking hard to draw blood to the surface, obedient to Peter's touch despite how so much of what he's doing is about dominance, mentally speaking. Claiming ownership.

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?

[Peter groans, rocking through his orgasm gently with his forehead coming to rest against Odin's shoulder and his breath in shallow pants. It's weird but he's fooled around with people here but it feels like ages since he's gotten off properly, gotten off hard like this, where he feels such a euphoric rush through him it makes him feel like jelly. Makes him need a moment to recover, even though he knows his hand should be moving for Odin's sake.

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.]

[ He drops his head to rest against Peter's, breathing soft and even breaths. When his bro peels back, Odin lets him, still cautious, still convinced that Peter's about to bail, a fear that seems to be legitimized by the way Peter holds his arm and pulls back, by the way his hand hesitates around Odin's cock. The kiss is nice and makes his heart flutter, but he's ultimately disappointed? He doesn't let it show on his face - after all, his attraction to Peter is just supposed to be physical - but it hurts, to maybe not be wanted. To maybe be someone's experiment that went a little too far.

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. ]

[As Odin settles back, Peter tucks himself away and looks down at him from a kneeling position that slithers between his legs. A week ago if he walked in on Odin with his cock out in bed he would've averted his gaze and made a swift exit. Today he's flushed in the face and leaning forward to part his knees, palms against Odin's thighs feeling the heat through flimsy fabric as he takes in a breath.

He doesn't know if it helps that when he glances up to see Odin's face, his eyes are closed. He feels strange and uncertain and hesitates - he could bail, he really could, but that would be the most terrible thing he could do? Yeah, it'd be laughed off as okay, there's no pressure here, only there is. But it's put upon him by himself because- he wants to do something for Odin. He wants to do this.

Just you know, not shittily?

Fuck, it's gonna be shitty no matter what he does so when he pumps Odin by hand, it's slow and firm motions to hopefully distract from how awkward he feels settling down to run his tongue along the tip of Odin's cock. He swirls around the head, trying to mirror what he knows would be good to receive and listens for Odin's response before he'll step it up and part his lips wider to take the tip of him into his mouth with a furrowed brow of concentration.

Please don't gag me is the only thing going on in his head.]

[ It takes a tremendous amount of willpower for Odin to just lay there, passive, and let Peter explore him at his own pace. He wants to just-- fuck up as hard as he can into that slick, wet warmth, and his moan comes out desperate and a little impatient as he covers his eyes with his forearm and tries to stay quiet. His back arches and rises off the bed, his legs straightening, his toes curling, and it's been a second yet Peter's already fucking ruining him.

His breath picks up when Peter takes him, abs tightening under his skin as his chest and stomach rise and fall a little faster. He doesn't know what to do with his hands... he drops his arm back to his side, staring up at the ceiling - he scrubs his fingers through his hair, trying to steady himself from blowing too early. Nothing seems to feel right, too many nerves crawling in his skin like ants, and he ends up propping himself semi-upright on his elbows to just... watch.

Peter looks fucking beautiful, and Odin watches him in a mystified silence. He hesitates, fearing, again, that this might be too much, but he reaches out to grip his fingers in Peter's hair. He wants to say something, but his tongue feels heavy and fuzzy in his mouth, and he's scared he'll just say something pathetic and stupid and ruin this. ]

[Lips around the head of Odin's cock, Peter's eyes are closed if not downcast as he tries to stumble through this for the first time - realizing just how clunky it is to have a cock in your mouth and just how fucking wide his jaw has to be to accommodate it. It always looks so easy from the other side, but of course... you're always watching with someone's mouth on your cock, so anything's probably great from that perspective. Speaking of which, Peter's eyes dart up to peer through a veil of disheveled silver bangs to see Odin watching him.

Surprisingly, he doesn't freeze up. It doesn't give him too much of an embarrassed jolt and if anything, meeting gaze briefly and seeing the expression on Odin's face in this quick glimpse makes Peter feel connected. Like he's making an impact here, with the slow pumps of his hand from the base of Odin's cock to how he tries to bob forward and take more than just the tip past his lips. Only - not much farther than that because - shit, yeah, don't gag. Don't gag, Peter? Don't. Gag.

It's a sloppy and pretty wet blow but he keeps it up, not quite having thought far enough ahead toward what he's going to do when Odin blows but - he works toward getting him there nonetheless, not shying away from the feeling of a hand in his hair. Frankly, that was one of the best parts from the whole Christmas Eve kissing fiasco that got them here.]

[ All the clumsiness makes this better, in its own way, because Peter's trying and he's trying for him. The too quick lashes of Peter's tongue over his tip and the gentle suction from his throat makes Odin lose his mind, and his breathing comes louder and more ragged, the storm finally starting to break into clearer weather and making every grunt and twist so much easier to notice.

He doesn't pull on Peter's hair, exactly, but he doesn't have enough willpower to avoid guiding him at least a little. When he does something Odin likes, his grip in silver tightens and carefully tugs him in place, keeping him there with a fuck, fuck oh my god, fuck, peter, fuck like he's about to be completely ruined if this keeps up. He always eases off and gently strokes through Peter's scalp after a couple of seconds, loving and careful and clearly trying to be soothing, even as his other hand clenches in the mattress and struggles to stay relaxed.

Only a few minutes pass before there's a heat rolling in from the base of his gut and he can feel his orgasm climbing, so he digs his fingers into Peter's sheets, tangling them up and making a mess. He knows he's gonna come soon, and his mouth drops open in a silent moan that cracks from the back of his throat as he tries to find his voice. He grabs Peter's hair and pulls, not quite shoving him down on his cock but making it so Peter will really have to pull away from him if he's not ready to swallow. ]

Wait, fuck-- fuck, stop, I'm gonna--

[Mixed signals. Mixed fucking signals.

Peter's eyes widen when Odin firmly pulls him forward, holding him in place while simultaneously telling him to stop what he's doing and it sort of puts arrest to his motion for a few beats as he tries to figure out what to do. He doesn't pull back but... he gets it, what's happening and now's about the time he thinks he really should've been more prepared.

He grips Odin's thigh, trying to get a hold and sliding up to the curve of his hip instead while his other hand firmly resumes pumping him. He pushes just a bit farther down on Odin's cock, really testing the limit of his gag suppression before pulling back and repeating.

Just don't choke - seriously, that's his only wish here and however unprepared he is to swallow, he'll give it a go with a silent prayer to any listening God (not you, Frey,) to just save him the wretched and or wretching badend to this route.]

[ In this moment, Odin becomes a worshipper of Frey.

He lets Peter anchor him to the bed, but he's starting to convulse, the kind of guy who thrashes and writhes a little when he's gonna come this hard. He's digging one of his knees into Peter's side without realizing, his other leg stretched taut with his heel off the end of the bed, and he drops both hands to the sheets that he desperately pulls onto just to find a grip on something.

It builds and it builds and it builds and then something snaps and he throws his head back against the mattress, fucking up hard into Peter's mouth as he shoots, neck arched back and throat exposed. He comes harder than he ever has in his fucking life, flooding Peter's tongue with too much cum, screaming pretty god damn loud over the dying rain and almost certainly causing a scene for the neighbours in the floors above and below them.

He slumps when he's done, like someone's cut his strings, laying foggy and hazy-eyed back against the bed as he stares up at the spinning ceiling. Did Peter choke? Peter might have choked. He might have gagged him when he fucked so hard into his throat just now? He might have done that.

He stares up at the ceiling and waits for everything to stop swimming before he checks. ]

[Of all the things he wasn't prepared for, it's Odin's thrashing that startles him most but in an appetizing way. To think that he's causing that makes him feel another flutter inside, a pleasure that would make him smile if his lips weren't sealed around the guy's cock still. Peter gets a kick out of seeing his partners enjoy something, seeing them want something he can give them - having them, if even for a brief moment, really want him.

Okay and having Odin thrust his cock up so suddenly was also a bit surprising, Peter's eyes wide again as he desperately tries to not gag on a mix of what he's pretty sure was Odin's cock hitting the back of his throat before ropes of cum fill the void as Peter pulls back his head to try to like, not die. He gets as much of it in his mouth as he can, some of it already half-swallowed instinctively before he works on the rest.

Hand cupped over his mouth he manages, though he coughs - a wet, cummy sort of cough that nearly makes him gag. But Peter wipes at the spit an dribbled cum on his chin, pushing back up onto his knees and wanting to flop down in exhaustion but is giving himself a moment. A moment to make sure he's not gonna heave. A moment to look at Odin as he feels his own heartbeat start to slow down, the world in a much clearer focus than before.]

[ Odin's sweaty and tired and a little bit broken, head pounding with the remnants of his climax as the world starts to smooth out around the edges. The first thing he notices when he feels back in his body is that he's fucking cold, because its been raining all day and he's been naked through most of it and Peter's rapidly cooling cum is still sort of all over him. When he shifts himself to sit upright, though, it's not to find clothes. It is entirely to check on Peter.

He wipes himself down on Peter's sheets (sorry not sorry) and looks up from the bed with apprehension twisting in his stomach. His cock is still steadily softening and he feels slightly embarrassed about having it just whipped all out there now that they've both gotten through the heat of this, and he stumbles over a few different thoughts when he gets the balls to meet Peter's eyes. ]

D'you wanna, like, lay down and be close or-- or like, are you okay? Your face is weird. D'you want me to go? Or.

[ He hesitates. Swallows. In a cum-less, normal way. ]

I didn't-- hurt you? Your neck. Or-- just now? Fuck. I'm sorry.

It's - fine. [He says, his voice sounding hoarser than he expected it to but he can still feel the fluttery feeling at the back of his throat of his body tempting itself with the desire to vomit while his mind rapidly tries to suppress that urge, swallowing again before it starts to settle down.

He'd lost some of the redness to his face but it flares up again, washing up his neck and across his cheeks as he wonders how he must look. Your face is weird kind of sits at the forefront of his mind as he glances back to Odin, eyes flicking over him as he tries to form a response. Do I want you to go? Why would - he want that?

That'd be weird.] I'm good. Uh...

[Speaking of weird, would it be weird to kiss him now? The taste of a mouthful of cum still lingering, knowing just where his mouth had been and feeling the cool chill settle in where realization that this happened drips down into the moment like the rain streaking down the panes of glass to the side of them.

He looks to the window as if he just realizes, because he does, that they're there. So large. So uncovered.] I wonder if anyone saw us. Didn't think about that before.

[Aherm, still kind of. Got that thickness to his throat.] Don't go.

Are... uh.

[ Are you sure catches in his throat like so much sTEADILY CONGEALING SEMEN, and Odin watches Peter like he's scared something's shifted between them too far to be fixed. He looks out the windows when Peter addresses them, and he chuckles, despite himself. Easy, quiet. Happy. ]

Fuck, don't say that? You're gonna make me hard again.

[ Boy's got a fetish. He grins up at Peter, cheeky and stupid, but it-- fades, into something more real, when Peter tells him not to go. He tries not to let it show how just fucking insanely, overly happy those words make him, but it's the same as when Peter said you're mine - the reaction comes so strong and so intensely that it's hard for him to bite down. Misty eyes, red cheeks, a rapid set of nods. He hides his face behind his palm for a second until he cools down, and then he makes a startled, goat-like noise. He slaps his hand to his forehead and bolts upright. Fucking idiot.

He scrambles from the bed and into the kitchen, still totally naked despite the whole... warnings of exhibitionism he was so lovingly given beforehand. Peter's the kind of guy who stocks his fridge with cans of soda, so it doesn't take long for Odin to find a drink amongst unsorted boxes of pizza and chinese, and when he comes back and kisses Peter softly as he passes the drink to him, he doesn't really think twice about what he's doing until it's done. ]

... Oh, uh.

[ He stares. He can taste the cum on his lips, but he kind of likes it. ]

Sorry. Is that-- was that alright? Kissing you. [ He hesitates. ] Drink the-- drink that. Sorry. You gotta wash your mouth out? 'Cause of all the-- like. Because I-- [ stares. ]

Like, 'cause I came in you? Which-- jesus. Good job, by the way. Nice work.

[Peter snorts at the exhibitionism joke, feeling a warm vibe to a cooling moment that sort of shatters the crust of ice that had begun to form. Makes it feel the way it did before, a lot less confusing and new and just... them? Naked them, but still. He shifts, leaning on one arm and watching Odin scramble away with knit brows - rubbing at his arm while he waits on the bed and running his tongue over his teeth in the sliver of time before Odin returns.

He felt kind of weird sitting alone until he did, a subtle reinforcement to how he asked Odin to stay - would that have been how he would've felt if he'd ushered him away? Nervous and alone, left in his own head? He leans into the kiss once it's upon him and licks at his lip after pulling back, taking the soda can with raised brows.]

That's - fine, I wasn't sure if it was cool to... [kiss you, he doesn't finish what he's saying and instead cracks open the can because surely a carbonated drink in the mix should help things. He sort of half-laughs again, pink from the 'compliment' before slapping at Odin and ultimately tugging him back onto the bed by the wrist.

He takes a sip, finding it actually kind of... cuts through the feeling in his throat.] Do I get a gold star or what?

[ There's a nervousness to the way he frowns, letting Peter pull him back down to the bed. The slap is good, the pink cheeks are good, everything about Peter is good, but there's-- hesitance, and Odin doesn't like it. It's fine for him to feel nervous, but Peter? No. Peter deserves joy and confidence and stability, and Odin leans up to kiss him once he's taken a sip of his drink, firm and full of purpose, trying to show how much he wants this. When he eases back, he doesn't go far. ]

I still just... want you. Anything you do is-- perfect, for me? Because you're Peter. If something feels right to you, it'll feel right to me as well, I think. 'Cause I just want... like, I want you to kiss me all the time, and hang out with me all the time, and be happy with me all the time, and I think that's what you want too? Maybe. Definitely the hanging out all the time and being happy all the time parts, at least.

[ He rests his cheek on Peter's shoulder and mumbles something non-committal and distant, shuffling in closer to use him as a pillow. He should put on clothes, maybe.

Magic, at least, gets its time to shine here, as it always does when there's an opportunity for Odin to show off. The mention of a gold star finally sinks in, and still spooning Peter's side, he lifts one arm. He opens the palm of his hand and lets it glow gold, a perfect, shimmering star floating a few inches above his slightly coiled fingers. The star is made of light but bursts into dust, the words peter's good at sucking dick glittering in the afterimage for a moment before fading away like transient glitter. He drops his arm back down. ]

... You wanna talk about what this meant?

[Peter reaches to set the can on the shitty bedside table, slouching back onto the mattress and avoiding any sticky spots to listen to Odin talk and say the things that are actually running through his own mind. A jumble of feelings and wants as well as a sea of confusing, tangled questions that he doesn't really know how to get started on delving into.

Kissing and touching is so much easier and it shows with how Peter's better at focusing into the physical side of things, reclining back against the bed with Odin pulled near and no shyness to touch even if there's... a lot of bare skin. And words dancing in the air about what he just did, making Peter feel a flare of stupid embarrassment, face flushing redder than ever as he turns in to look at Odin helplessly.]

Well, I did just - suck your dick. I think that means we're... not just friends anymore. It's also probably not something I can pretend I didn't do, but... that's okay, though? [He's not sure it's something he wants to broadcast to the world but it's not something he's necessarily ashamed of. Despite what his heated cheeks and flushed neck might suggest.]

Are we like, f-w-b now or...? [This very moment they really are the fucking definition of it. But he's not sure what that means for them moving forward. Odin sounds ready for... more, Peter's still kind of stunned he didn't regurgitate a mouthful of cum. He's not sure what he wants but this isn't necessarily bad.]

[ It must be far too early for the two of them to have this conversation, and Odin reads into Peter's helplessness as confirmation of that. He's a sensitive enough dude to see how touch might be anchoring Peter, so when he rests his hand on his chest to smooth careful lines over bare skin, and when he presses a kiss to the base of his jawline, it's done with a need to reassure as much as with a need to just-- touch.

Honesty is all that matters here, in the end. Odin strokes his thumb over Peter's neck. The bruises he left there, getting darker in the overcast sunset. It's funny - the fast-paced frantic jerking off like they were just stupid teenagers, the making out, the fucking blowjob - even at the height of things, none of it felt as precarious as this moment, where Odin might have to drive a wedge between them in the interest of protecting them both.

He looks at Peter. Admires, again, the hickeys on his skin, the claims of ownership he was so willing to dive into. Here we go, then. ]

I can't... do the friends with benefits thing with you.

[ His hand stops, just for a moment, but then he's back to smoothing his palm over warm flesh, keeping his voice low and steady, locking out any emotion. ]

Poe fucked me up, man. Nobody's ever hurt me that bad. After space I had all these stupid hookups with my friends and with natives and it only got worse when he left for good? I don't think I have it in me to just-- stay in the middle of two endings anymore. We're either friends or we're dating. If I try to hover, I'm just gonna get pulled apart again.

[ He flicks his eyes down, away from Peter. He's asking for commitment, one way or another. That's not fair, when Peter's sudden interest in dudes alone is so new to him. ]

I said at the start of this that, like - I know I'm going to ruin things between us? 'Cause I know how this is gonna go. I know the shit I have for you in my chest is just gonna get, like. Big. And, like.

Like - I don't know. I think we either need to set up boundaries so I can get over this before it gets worse, and we can stay friends, or we can do something. Be something. It's up to you.

[It's a weird fucking roller coaster that Peter feels he's on because as confused as he is about the path they're taking, he can't help but notice the flips and dips in his stomach at what Odin does. From fleeing the room without a word to say something like how he can't be FWB that make Peter feel jolted? Afrad of what comes next or uncertain as to what's unfolding, fearful for a fraction of a second long enough to make goosebumps spread over his skin and a chill shudder through him.

This is rapidly becoming a game of you choose, Peter and that does feel a little unfair? He licks at his lip and chews on it soon after, not sure how exactly to pick and feeling like he's pulled in two directions. The safe one, where they return to being friends even though that feels compromised now and then this... scary new direction where they try something and the world feels like it closes in on him at the thought because there are way more elements involved in that than just them.

And that scares him. A little? A lot.] What if...

[He closes his eyes and exhales gently, focusing on the feeling of Odin's fingers against his skin. If he focuses hard enough he can almost feel the ridges of his fingertips, feel the tension in his skin as they skirt across it and touch upon sore bruised patches on his throat.]

Can we, just for a week... not decide? Not label, not... call this anything? We just - for a week we just do what feels natural and at the end, we decide if it works or it doesn't work and what to do from there? [It's not like he's avoiding a decision but he is hoping to put it off. Hoping to maybe form something of a better opinion after the post-sex haze wears off and he can really tell if he's... attracted to Odin or just miserably horny enough to think he is.]

Is that fair? [He asks, blinking his eyes open and glancing tentatively to Odin.]

[ All of this is unfair, Odin knows it is; for all the posturing he's done to himself about giving Peter direction and acknowledging how scary this might be for him, when the cards came down, he still gave an ultimatum and put too much power in his hands. So soon, too, after everything. He sits up a little with his back to the wall and scratches through his hair. Even a week sounds like it might be hell for him - getting his hopes up, feeling his stomach twist every time Peter does something that Odin finds beautiful, seven days of wondering if he's finally going to be enough for a person, wondering if he's finally someone that might be wanted - with the chance that Peter will look at him in the eyes at the end of it and say sorry, you're not enough for me. It's going to kill him, the inevitability of rejection bearing down on him.

And.

If this were Poe, he would have said no. If this were anyone else, actually, he would have said no. But he looks at Peter, and all he sees is the guy who has done everything by his side during the course of their relationship. He's never hurt Odin, intentionally or otherwise, excluding slaps and shittalking. Forcing him into something because he's afraid Peter might hurt him is - wrong? It's hard for Odin to pull against the immovable need for labels, because words are what fixes his anxiety, words are what make things real, and there's still fear in his chest that he knows is going to build if he takes this... deal, if that's what it is, but --

A week. A week. Okay. ]

Okay.

[ He's terrified, staring at Peter. A week. Pessimism is already building. This isn't going to work, he's just signing himself up for heartbreak, this is going to suck. ]

Okay. Okay, then. So-- so a week, then. Where we're not-- anything? We just are what we are. And what we are... is... people... who do things... that seem natural? Natural things. Things that are natural. Right? That's what you want?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject