shadowglitter | PSL || peter/odin

PSL || peter/odin

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

[ 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?

[Peter doesn't see the cues the same way Odin does - he doesn't automatically believe for a second that Odin is as dedicated to him as he truly is. He sees someone thinking they like him, someone who's a friend who will be ultimately disappointed when they throw the rest of their lot in with him. He's the guy who got his heart broken by the last friend who disappeared, the guy who's scared to trust and who puts up so many goddamn walls that he's always surprised someone takes an interest in him.

It's hard for even a second to believe someone could really lust after him and so he's relieved to give a week to hash it out - thinking that from both sides there's still something to be decided. Peter's still scared, still wondering what he's going to fuck up next - how can they know they're compatible at all, when Odin's the first guy he's ever kissed? The first everything.

Eventually Peter's not going to be up to par and Odin's going to want someone who's more sure of themselves, who doesn't feel like shuttering up at the uncertain when they can't fake it 'til they make it.]

We're just us. Doing whatever we're doing. [Is that weird? Peter pushes up to sit closer, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin the more he tries to define this - define them. The more he thinks about it the more he wants to run, and that scares him. So he pushes against the grain and leans to kiss Odin, to see what that rekindles in him and if it can calm the storm.]

Like this, if we want. [He murmurs, mouth to mouth before sucking at Odin's lower lip. His heart is in his throat and he's still overthinking it all. What if this was a mistake? Shit. Shit. Shit. This is just the crash, the crash after all the endorphins and a shaky breath of reality cooling off the embers.]

[ If this works, against all odds - if this week goes by without Odin collapsing in on his anxiety and scaring Peter off, and if this week goes by without Peter building more walls and convincing himself that Odin doesn't know what he's doing - they'll find a way to balance each other out. Peter will ease Odin's need for titles, for reassurance. Odin might be able to build some security in Peter - he might be there for him through everything, he might be stabilizing, he might fit so easily into that role of unwavering support. They could be just what the other needs, if this works out.

But Odin struggles with the kiss.

There's too much paranoia ingrained in him. Too many people have died because of him, too many people have failed to get him, too many things have happened. He's hyperaware of the way Peter's voice is suddenly just that shade harsher. He notices the shake behind the kiss, the way that Peter's trying to make it hot and real and recapture what they were doing when everything was warm and slick and the rain was hard enough to isolate them from everything outside of themselves in that moment.

His hand rests on Peter's neck and he gently pushes him away. Considers apologizing for what he said, but realizes he can't, because then he'll just be backing down on what he needs to fit in with what someone else wants. He looks at Peter and he considers what to do, and -

He decides on something, maybe. If this won't be enough - then hey, that's fine? Not being enough is his whole deal.

Odin changes positions, guiding Peter to sit with his back against the wall. He straddles his lap and looms over him, his weight pressing down on Peter's thighs, and he just - watches, for a moment, lost to the gravity of this. This is his best fucking friend? Until a week ago that's all he was. Until an hour ago, he was more, but - indefinable in Odin's attraction to him. Now? Fuck, now he's just the guy Odin wants to date.

He takes Peter's jaw in his palms and leans down, taking the lead on the kiss. He doesn't suck on Peter's lip, as he did to Odin a moment ago, but he gently catches it with both of his as the feather-light touches of his fingertips move carefully down over his hickeys. He kisses Peter in a way that's so much less intense than each kiss has been tonight - it's almost chaste, with just the tiniest swipes of the tip of his tongue, the most careful opening between his lips as their breath meets, ghosting over each other.

He pulls back, looking down at Peter. He's not heartbroken, not exactly, but there's a sentimentality in his eyes that's so much closer to sad than it should be. ]

Sorry for pressuring you. That's not what I wanted to do. [ He smooths some hair back from Peter's eyes, going quiet as he tries to articulate what he wants to say. ] Just - you've meant more to me than most people ever have. And, like - I know how sudden this is - but I know I'm gonna fall in love with you, man. I can feel it every time I look at you. Like, it's there, and it's waiting. Already started.

[ He swallows, hands back down to Peter's shoulders. A little sad. Just a little. Mostly just struggling to verbalize his thoughts, because they're important and he doesn't wanna fuck up. ]

Just - wherever this goes - I'm lucky just to have you in my life. I'm lucky just to have had the time I've had with you. Whatever comes next is just - whatever comes next. Yeah?

[Peter's kiss didn't strike the match, it barely left a mark and for a moment he's scared that it would never feel the way it did only moments ago because he overthinks as much as Odin does, but for similar yet entirely different reasons. But then the tide rolls back in with Odin taking charge, shifting over him in a way that makes Peter feel heavy inside. Like his heart became a rock, weighing on his ribs the longer he looks at Odin.

That part isn't wrong, the part that flares up and makes him shiver when he has Odin's full attention. This is the party all over again, the careful touch and the radiating warmth of affection that Peter doesn't think to block out. It leeches away some of the panic in his chest, replacing it with a calmness and a magnetism toward Odin that has him put his hands on either side of him to anchor him close.

What does he say to this? He stops and starts, but doesn't choke on his words as much as he could - he finds a voice, mostly because this isn't isn't as much of a foreign path as it could be. Yes, this is the first time he's felt this gut-first pull towards a dude but no - it's not the first time he had feelings develop towards a friend. So he too has to vocalize something:]

I... It's just stupid? How like, I wanna... I wanna say yeah but I can't. I need time, even though - even though I know this feeling. [He hesitates, eyes flicking down to Odin's shoulder rather than his eyes.] The last time I fell in love it was with my best friend too. I didn't know it 'til we kissed and it was like, the best thing in my life? And now... now that's happening all over again and my brain's like, that can't be true because how can - how can I get that lucky twice?

[Deep breath, a bit shaky, he looks back to Odin because he should at least look him in the face. Even if it feels overwhelming at the edges, a little like he's showing the raw side of himself here and is just waiting to be judged for it. But Odin's not like that. Peter knows.]

[ Breaking away from this would be easy, if he still wanted to. They're vocalizing things too heavily and too fast to seem real, with the L word is being thrown around so easily that if they pulled the brakes on this and committed to being friends, they'd be able to weave a false justification between themselves about how they were both lonely and swept up in a need for a rebound.

And yet.

Peter suggesting-- even suggesting-- that this could go somewhere makes Odin feel like he's flying. Like he can do anything. The mention of Jean, the fact that he feels with Odin something at least a shade similar to what he felt when he was with her? It's-- enough, it's more than enough, and it strikes Odin again how fucking bizarre that feels. He's hung too much and too often on suggestions of hope and it's why he pushed things here, but if running away from the fog of uncertainty he'll be barrelling into by taking this week as it comes means he won't be able to touch Peter like this again, it would be a fucking ludicrous path to take.

It's fucking Peter. He'd walk across the country and back if Peter only asked. Swim through an ocean if he'll be there at the end of it. He felt like that for Poe, too, but only after he fell in love. It's been a part of his and Peter's friendship since the start. ]

It isn't stupid. I'm not gonna... [ He struggles to find the words for this, rewriting his sentence in his head over and over again before he finds it. ] I'm not gonna let my insecurities, like, ruin this? I'm not going to force you into anything just because I'm scared. I should probably take the time to think about this more than I have, too.

[ He pauses. ]

Even though I've been thinking about you in a definitely-not-best-friends way for like, a while. Probably for more than a while, under all the stupid-- other shit.

Yeah? [Peter's a bit relieved to not have to keep trying to vocalize feelings, things he can't even understand that sit in his chest right now. Things he really needs time to dissect and digest and in some cases, still realize. But he's happy to have something else to jump to, his stomach giving another weak kick because... he doesn't often get to hear this side of things.

He can't help it:] How long... a while? And what d'you mean?

[His eyes narrow but in an inquisitive way, gears behind them turning as he tries to reflect on the last little while and remember any details he might've missed. He can't say he's been oreo objectifying Odin back in any instances, but he can start to see how they leeched from each other a heavy dose of intimacy that was disguised as broship for a while. God.]

Like... deeefinitely not best friends kinda way? [Brows raised; slow, uncertain but amused smile.]

Fuck? I got all caught up in this and forgot you're annoying. Nevermind. I'm going home.

[ He makes no move to leave. He does, however, grab Peter's nose and pull it a little. Annoying piece of shit. He settles in against Peter's waist and bends down for another kiss, taking it before Peter can complain or pinch back, then finds his hand when he's done, bringing it to his lips and softly kissing his pinky. Truce. Bitch. ]

Okay. [ He breathes out. Fuck. ] So - okay. From a physical standpoint - I think what we did just now kind of covers the deeeefinitely not best friends thing? Right? I've wanted to do something like that for... longer than I've been willing to admit to myself. The first time I looked at you, uh, like that, was probably at the Christmas party. Maybe when we were helping Magnus build Fauxhalla, actually? But, like.

We wouldn't have... kissed the way we did... at Poe's party... if there wasn't already a build up of tension. Sexy tension. Tension of the sexy kind. Right?

[ Or maybe they would have. Peter had been pretty fucking drunk, and Odin made out with Persephone, who he barely even knew. He scratches at the back of his head. He doesn't... think he's wrong, at least, to assume he'd been skirting around some sparks he felt between himself and Peter even before then. Thoughts he'd put out of his mind because he was so new to physical things in general back then. Thoughts he'd put out of his mind because Peter's, you know. Straaaaight? ]

Emotionally...

[ The hard part. Okay. Cool. The hard part. He thinks back, trying to figure out how long, exactly, he's had a flutter in his chest whenever Peter came to the forefront of his mind. Until today, he'd thought it hadn't been there, but - that can't be the case, right? It'd be a lie if he said there weren't some kind of butterflies along with the quickening of his pace and the blood rushing south every time he saw Peter do... something. He thinks, and he thinks, and then

he shrugs. He's been a little too tunnel visioned on Poe to give any of his other feelings the attention they might have deserved, and he laughs awkwardly. Sorry. ]

I don't know. But... if I had to pinpoint a moment where I first thought "I could see myself with Peter in a definitely-not-best-friends kind of way", then...

[ He's slightly pink, as he wets his lips in thought and looks away. He's determined to get through this answer without buckling under how shy he suddenly feels, but it's hard to be this honest when he's being watched so closely. He puts his hand on Peter's face and turns it away. ]

Space? When we raced to the confessional and just held hands and, like... beat each other up. I definitely felt-- I mean, it was only for an instant. I had it pretty bad for Poe and thought we might have been able to call each other... something, and you had Jean, so. It... it... [ It didn't have the chance to mean anything? That's not right, exactly. His feelings just didn't have a chance to last. He's not sure how to phrase that, so he pushes on. ]

Just, it was the first time we really hung out in person and I felt really comfortable with you? More than I ever did with Inigo, even. I didn't really think anything of the energy that got under my skin, but if-- things had been different-- yeah. It had a chance to start getting bad around there. I think.

[ He takes his hand off of Peter's face. Looks in his eyes. ]

Then it's just... come and gone in waves. Like, after Christmas, you were the only person I wanted to see. After what happened with Jean and Wanda, it felt amazing being able to hold your hand and look up at the stars with you and know that you wanted me. It's like-- every so often, I'm just reminded you're there, and I think, "fuck, it always comes back to you, doesn't it?", and then... yeah. Butterflies. Wanting stuff. Not best friend stuff.

[ a beat of silence. then he's fake-angry again. ]

And then, like, I realized how badly I wanted to fuck you, and it's kind of hard to tune all of that out when just looking at your best friend eating oreos makes your dick get, like, Medusa-style petrified. I mean, just solid rock, my dude. I got a biiiiiiig thing for mouths? And hands. And you just-- hrrggh. Twist them open. Lick the cream. Fucks me up. Jerked off, like, six times over it. I hate it? Fuck you.

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