shadowglitter | PSL || peter/odin

PSL || peter/odin

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

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.

[Hengh - Peter bats at Odin's hand but is pacified with a kiss, and to listen to Odin regale him with the tale of just when this started to happen. Each thing he touches on, Peter tries to think to, remembering for himself what those moments were like and finding himself trying to think whether it was shared or not.

It's confusing because what he always starts to think is friendship overlaps with romance and now he begins to wonder which of the two he's worse at: keeping boundaries with friends or realizing his feelings for said friends. If he didn't feel the way he does now, where he knows there is attraction, would he have like... what, friendzoned Odin?]

The party was - wait, oreos? [Peter can't help it, he laughs, lips twisting into a grin because that's... that's hilarious to him? In a good way, the way where he feels amused to have made someone horny. He made someone horny?]

You jerked off to the thought of me eating oreos? No fucking joke?

[ bat at my hand again bitch try me let's go. Odin is a little too irritated and embarrassed about Peter latching onto the dumbest fucking part of this to answer him right away, and he shoves his stupid face away again. ]

It's not the--

[ Fuck. He hangs his head. He really wants to hear what Peter was going to say about the party. He slides off of Peter's lap and just flops face down onto the bed for a second. When he talks, it's muffled by the arm he's laying on. ]

It's not the oreo. It's not like I sit there thinking, yeah, man, eat that cookie, devour that shit, crumbies make me cummies. It's the-- tongue. The way your hands move. I don't--

Stop it? Stop this. Stop all of this.

[Peter laughs, sore to see Odin move off of him - that means something, he's aware - and watches him flop down on the bed. He wriggles down himself to lay next to him, pressing against him and tossing his arm across Odin's back while his chin rests in against his shoulder.

He's still got a laugh on his breath when he sticks his tongue into Odin's ear, just to fuck around with him. Crumbies make me cummies keeps making him want to laugh, so this just makes it worse - his fingertips wiggling up Odin's spine simultaneously.]

No, I like - this. [He says with a snort.] Hearing what you think, man.

[ Aw, jesus, gross. He slaps away at Peter with the squirmiest little scream he can make, sitting up fast and rubbing at the gross gross gross bullshit that was just inflicted in his ear. He's totally red, totally ashamed of the weird twitch in his dick that gave him, but more than anything, just. Exasperated. God damn it. He's being fucked with.

He crosses his legs, grabbing the bandshirt he'd borrowed earlier and resting it over his lap just in case he bones up again. Can't let Peter see. ]

Yeah... well. You're hot. To me. I don't know. I like... you. So. Eat a dick.

[ His eyes flick to Peter's and then away. Redder than before, the tips of his ears getting the worst of it. He likes that Peter likes hearing him talk. So. ]

You gonna use this against me now?

Edited 2018-02-04 18:02 (UTC)

[Peter flops around after being thrown off Odin's side, laying on the bed with a smile that won't quit. You think being told someone's jerked off to you would be weird, especially when it's specific to how you eat out oreos, but - it makes him feel really good for some God-forsaken reason.

You're hot. To me. That - that makes him happy too.]

Maybe. When have I not used ammunition against you when I knew I could?

[Peter pushes up on his side, elbow underneath him in some half-lounge half-lazy way and he really does like this. The flirty, stupid feelings and comfortable atmosphere. It makes him feel energized, makes him want to keep it up and keep making Odin squawk. Or cringe. Or... groan.]

In fact, I could go for a snack right about now? How 'bout you?

[ Fuck. That's true. Ammunition in Peter's hands is never good. This. Just. He just. Odin... hates? Odin hates? He hates this. He's going back to Poe? Or, like, he'll steal Leia. Bye, Maximoff, you worthless piece of shit.

He tries not to let it show, how much Peter even wanting to mess with him makes his ribs ache with a kind of swelling happiness. It's such a little thing to do, but it's - warm? Being able to screw around with the person you're with, being able to find joy in their reactions because they're making those reactions for you. It already feels like whatever they are is-- just-- something. A shade brighter than whatever was already there between, maybe, but-- something, nevertheless. ]

Pffshhh. Pffshshsfhsfhsfhssh.

[ PFFSHSFHSFHSFSH. He scoffs, then scoffs again, then scoffs a third time for good measure. He finds one of Peter's pillows and holds it in his lap, burying his chin in it, his eyes peering out over the top. He could squawk. Or cringe. Or groan.

But he likes watching Peter eat oreos. ]

... I mean, like. I'm not gonna, like, stop you, or whatever. So.

[He was kidding but at the same time he's not so sure, he feels like his smile is plastered to his face permanently now - especially as he rolls to the edge of the bed and gets a leg under him to get up. He feels better now, stupidly so, and grabs the soda off the nightstand to down it as he disappears for a moment to grab a snack. Literally just a moment, too, because he's back in a flicker to throw down the cookies on the bed and offer Odin some sweet, sweet Faygo in a can of his very own.

He really should stop buying it ironically. He's starting to actually enjoy it?]

I don't even remember how I was eating them - the bowl of milk wasn't the sexy part, right? [He asks, flopping back down with a cookie in hand and a lowkey desire to put a shirt back on in the presence of chiseled abs beside him.]

[ He's not sure if Peter's showing off or not, but the flickery speedy bullshit always impresses the shit out of him. His eyes widen, and he'd ramble about how cool Peter is if a can of faygo hadn't been shoved under his nose. ]

It's not-- ugh.

[ Odin grabs his drink and taps his fingernails against the aluminium, but he can't quite bring himself to crack it open and sets it down on the floor beside him. There's a nervous flip in his stomach, as if he were attending school again after a long break. Can't drink like this. ]

It's not about the cookie, it's just... your tongue, the way you-- do stuff with it. And, like, your hands are insane? You're always fidgeting and you keep showing off all this dexterity you've got and your fingers are long and nice and-- you're making me sound like a fucking serial killer? You've just got nice hands. I don't know.

[ Fuck, man. He's beet red, and the more he talks, the more obviously affected he is by Peter just-- being there, almost taunting him but not. The more he speaks, the more words start to stammer, and the more his eyes keep flicking to Peter's hands and to his lips and then away, only to cycle back again. He's got it bad? He rubs at his forehead. ]

Fuck. Nevermind. This is stupid.

[Again, this makes Peter giddy in a way that he rarely is. His friends always make him happy, just to be around them and whenever he laughs he feels good and in his own skin. When he makes other people laugh, it's even better. But he rarely allows himself to feel too confident, always edging on self depreciation and humorous advances when it comes to sex and romance. To think that someone genuinely finds his idle behavior entrancing and impressive? It bolsters him and Peter loves this feeling.

He twists the oreo side to side, parting disc from disc.] Most people just tell me to stop moving, like - you know how many times I got detention because I'd get so bored in class I'd make my desk vibrate?

[Peter snorts as he remembers this fondly, licking at the oreo while at first forgetting his whole intent was to make Odin squirm. After a drag of his tongue against the creme he remembers, a spark sitting behind his eyes as he repeats the motion, but slower.]

[ Odin still can't tell, on whatever level, that he's feeding into this joy Peter's feeling. All he can tell is that every time Peter smiles or relaxes or just looks at him, he suddenly feels like warm static is rushing through his blood, everything under his skin just fuzzy and burning too brightly, filled with too much energy. He wants to just go for a run to calm down before he overheats, but he can't think of anything he'd like less than to be away from Peter's side right now. ]

Most people are dicks, then? Fuck most people. I love all your energy. You're bright and you're full of life and it makes me feel like I get you, because I'm the same, I've got too much energy and I always have to move and it feels like you're... my...

[ second... half okay hold the fucking phone. Peter's eating the oreo as Odin's talking and when he looks up and sees that agonizingly slow lick he stammers over the rest of his sentence and trails off, entranced. There's a second or two where he can't do anything but watch - after it's done, he tries to act casual, laughing like he's in on the joke, even though he's not and he's too flustered to seem natural.

Fucking.

Fuck.

He puts his hand over his eyes, red, shifting the pillow to hide his lap a little better. ]

I swear to god. Every god. The fell dragon, Grima. The world devourer, Anankos. Uncle Thor.

Edited 2018-02-05 01:44 (UTC)

[Ah, this is too much fucking fun. Being a little shit's always been Peter's thing and that's always been great, but this is something even better - a new tier to the fuckery that can rile Odin up harder than before. Literally. Harder. New tier of control and he just - snickers, a glob of glistening creme on his lip that he licks off just as slowly as he cracks open a second oreo. It's not going to stop any time soon.]

What, 's this distracting? [A deliberately slow lick, tongue rimming the edge of the cookie before he snorts harder than before and stretches over to smack at the pillow over Odin's dick. Is it really - like seriously, is it working? He'll then try to knock it away to see.]

Am I distracting? Eh, Odin? Eh?

[ He's gonna smack that fucking cookie into Peter's dumbshit fucking face in a minute. Opening the tiniest sliver of a gap between his fingers, he watches far too intensely, trying - and failing - to hide what he's doing. His heart picks up harder and faster in his chest with each swipe Peter makes, like a switch being flipped over and over again to just-- fucking get to him. If he were a little smoother, he'd lean out and kiss that creme off of Peter's lip, but he's frozen in place right up until it's over.

Yes. It is working. Peter snatches the pillow for the briefest of seconds and even after everything they just did, Odin's hard as a fucking rock. He yelps and scrambles to get the pillow back, reaching out with his foot and just kinda kick-smacking Peter in the face until he lets go and he can hide his lap behind it again. ]

I don't-- [ his voice cracks like a fifteen year old's, and he wheezes in shame. ]

I don't know why the fuck you're after proof, I told you this is what-- I shouldn't have told you? I shouldn't have told you. I was like, "oh, man, this'll be a funny little piece of information to break the ice around all of this, this'll be a good way to show Peter I'm into him without keeping the realness level super high," and you were like-- you were like. You... were like...

[ He falters, but he looks at Peter, who is probably still grinning like a piece of shit, and his heart skips even harder. Fuck. ]

Fuck, you're so pretty. [ He rubs at his temple, exhausted. ] Or - like - handsome? Handsome's a stupid word, though. You're just-- ugh. Nice? Stupid. Both of those.

PSL || peter/odin

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