Odin (Owain) | Fire Emblem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shadowglitter) wrote2017-09-04 05:02 pm
shadowglitter) wrote2017-09-04 05:02 pm
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INBOX
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I only drink Chocolate Milk. THE DARKEST OF MILKS!
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INBOX
text / audio / video / action
I only drink Chocolate Milk. THE DARKEST OF MILKS!
art credit code credit
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What if you don't like what I like? What if we stumble upon this huge sexual incompatibility between us that drives a wedge even further into your own already unsteady sense of self-exploration? I know there are things I've done that you like and things about me you like but what if we find something you don't like and it snowballs into this whole big thing where you end up saying "it turns out I don't like dudes at all" and you break up with me and I get so upset that I set my house on fire and kill both Lucina and Leo because I forgot they were inside and then I go to jail and live alone in a friendless familyless boyfriendless world? What if that happens.
[ typing, backspace, typing, backspace ]
I was hard as fuck until I started thinking about my family dying, if that's anything.
Like, maybe harder than I've ever been?
But then I talked about my family dying.
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(also if ur into snowballing and that's like, a segue with witty wording or smthng just let me know)
and like. okay. so i worried about realizing im not into dudes too but you made me hard, dude. that pretty much defines "into dudes" if you can and currently are making me physically uncomfortable with a boner as i lay alone in a dog trailer, texting you 100% comfortable cybering giving u a blowjob
you dont need to worry
i like you
a lot
i just sort of worry that maybe im not fast enough at this or like you know, good? at it? you probably got great bjs before and im like. shit. im gonna end up gagging on your dick one day and that's terrifying but y'know - if i love you i gotta do shit that makes me cringe and get thru it anyway so dont get hung up on . . . i t o kay
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[ there's a lot that he could say. reassurances, expressions of gratitude. promises that things will come easier to them as they stumble through this together. he shifts in bed and types a few things, only to backspace them away. he takes a breath.
he takes another breath.
okay. ]
Okay.
You're by the foot of the bed. I'm right on the edge of the mattress, one hand curled in the sheets, the other locked in your hair, brushing soft, smooth strokes through it but ready to grab tight at any moment. You're sucking my cock, your tongue fucking dragging over the tip, and my whole body is just tense. My breathing is coming in these short, ragged pauses, all that pressure and all that heat scrambling my brain. I can't focus on anything but you.
You're jerking off for me. There, on your knees, looking up at me as you blow me. I think you're fucking beautiful and I lean down, pulling you off my dick to close the distance between our lips, and - and it's, um. Great. It's a good kiss. Rough. And. Like, you like it. And.
Uh.
Fuck.
Hey.
You can say no. But.
Do you wanna come up to my room?
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And exciting. ] i think I would. i can.
iβll come up right now.
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Okay.
Okay, cool. Another hurdle of emotional insecurity cleared with grace by the ever-attentive and perfect boyfriend, Odin Dark. Suck it, literally every other relationship anyone has ever had. I got this shit down pat.
[ he sends like five different laughing emojis and then puts his hands over his face, embarrassed. stupid. stupid. stupid idiot. okay.
They might not have a lot of time to... see each other, given that Odin's supposed to be working and his break's only going to last as long as his bribe does, but. Fuck, Odin doesn't even know what they're-- what they might do, he just-- there's been months of buildup to this, a slow and steady climb of increasing physical intimacy since space, and now that they're both in a place where looking at each other provokes-- more of that? It's hard for him to stop fixating on the doubts and the reasons why Peter wouldn't actually be interested in him, once they started doing anything, but he just...
He'll be sitting on his bed, standing up as fast as he can once Peter shows up. Just him in some dumb gothic suit, hair a mess as it always is, leg bouncing nervously. The door's unlocked, but once he calls Peter in, he nods for him to lock it. ]
Um.
[ a wave. hey. what's up. ]
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For a moment he leans back against it, hand still on the doorknob as he clicks the lock.] Hey.
[This got real. Again. While Odin looks put together, Peter still feels a bit out of place when stuck in a suit. At Debra's wicked order he's been seeing his casual clothes go missing more and more, until he's been left with the demands to dress accordingly or never see his band tees again. So here he is, suit jacket folded over one arm and crisp white dress shirt feeling like it's going to suffocate him.
Oh, no. That's just nerves.
They could do that thing again where they just stare at each other from opposing ends of the room, but right now Peter... feels drawn to Odin. So after a silent pause he starts to walk toward his boyfriend, dropping his suit jacket onto the bed blindly and standing in front of him. Close. So close.
His breath feels thick. He looks to meet Odin's eye.] Well?
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That well? hits Odin like the fist of an angry God, and it's the only thing that snaps him out of what he's doing. Staring at the way Peter's hand lingers on his jacket as he drops it on the bed, staring at the way that shirt fits him so perfectly, staring at the way he walks... Odin's mouth is dry, but he tries to wet his lips regardless, and he-- panics, just a little. What if this is too soon? What if he's asking for too much, or-- or if he won't be what Peter's hoping he'll be? The same old anxieties start to build up in his chest, until-- until--
Actually, hey, here's a thought?
Fuck this.
He grabs his boyfriend by the collar and pulls him up into a kiss, nose pressed uncomfortably to Peter's cheek as he catches at his bottom lip to urge him into this. He swipes carefully at his tongue with his own and the fists curled in Peter's shirt tremble with nerves, but he pushes through it, the kiss rough and careless and aggressive, almost hard enough to bruise. He pulls his lower arm around Peter's waist, the other settling on the side of his neck, and when he tugs the Unknowing Cookie Slut(tm) closer to feel the weight of his body against his own, he doesn't hide how hard he is, his cock grinding a shallow drag against his thigh.
He pulls back, an uneven pink flush around his lips, but he keeps Peter held close. ]
Um, hey. S-so. I thought-- if you were comfortable with it, we could-- like-- wait.
[ Wait, fuck. He takes a breath. Tries again, lowering his voice an octave or too. Keep the mood going. ]
... So. You gonna be the one to get on your knees... or am I? (Nailed it.)
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But instead he gasps in a breath, blinking open his eyes to look at Odin when he slips words back in between them for a breather. He listens, attentive if not a slight bit glassy eyed from brewing lust and at first he doesn't answer. He just slips his fingers under Odin's tie, pulling it free from the waistcoat and tugging it taut toward him.]
If we pick up where we left off? I think I remember you being on the bed. [He punctuates that sentence by placing one hand on Odin's shoulder, pushing him back down towards the bed him while also giving him a downward pull of the tie. He can feel his heart inching its way back up his throat and it's part of why he needs to act before he loses his edge. He leans over Odin, meeting gaze with him.]
Do you want me on my knees?
[He slips his palm up the center of Odin's chest, loosening his tie.] Or do you want a little bit of plot deviation? I'll give you some time to consider.
[Peter lets his tie hang loosely through his collar, working on unfastening the buttons of that next after opening the front of his waistcoat. While he does this he sinks to one knee, all the better to facilitate dipping in to kiss at the bared skin of Odin's throat and work his way down his chest as he pulls open his shirt. He thought he might have more reservations about this but he doesn't, not with how much he gets out of the harsh nips and bites he makes against Odin's neck - decidedly beneath the collar after a moment of mindless hickey-making. He does have a twist in his gut at the thought of blowing his boyfriend but - that's nerves, a sense of the unknown. This sort of buildup he at least can tackle with gusto.]
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Speechlessness never quite suited him, but here, an inch away from Peter with wide eyes and flushed skin, it's all he has. He looks straight up stunned by every word that rolls from his boyfriend's lips, and barring the bare twitch of a smile that hits him when Peter asks if he wants him on his knees, he just looks amazed that someone he's so god damn into would actually him like this. Amazed that Peter even knows how to talk like this. ]
I-- ah.
[ He's on the bed, and Peter's hand is rising up his chest, and that stupid, stunned, stupid, stupid horniness slips from his expression. He darkens, clouded by a lust that's more primal, more needy, and the second Peter drops to one knee, Odin makes an involuntary, deep grunt from somewhere at the back of his throat. He lets Peter bite him, doesn't even care about the marks they might leave for the cameras, every new splash of pink pulling throaty, rolling moans out of him - but he tries to speak through it, even if words are kind of impossibly hard to focus on right now. ]
I... want.
[ Odin takes a breath, straightening his back, looking down at Peter. He takes a second to collect himself, his cock achingly hard and tenting his suit, and he slowly brushes his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, tucking loose strands behind his ear. ]
I... want... you. I want you on your knees. I want to see the kind of face you'll make when you're sucking my cock. [ His grip in Peter's hair tightens, and he tugs - not enough to hurt, barely enough for him to feel it, but a sign, maybe, of things to come. ] I want to hear the sounds you'll make when I'm pulling on your hair. Making you mine.
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Alright. [The word slips past his lips as eager as he suddenly feels, sinking to both knees with a nudge to Odin's leg to part wider to allow him further in. He can see Odin's cock through his pants and he feels that hot ebbing tension in his own pants at the thought he could rile him up this way, a playful enjoyment that this is happening.
Peter leans in again, pressing his lips back to Odin's stomach and trailing his kisses lower before his hands slide up his thighs toward his belt. Peter feels a bit of nervousness in fumbling to undo it, channeling his anxiety into drags of his teeth against Odin's stomach and hard sucks against the skin most especially when he unzips his pants.
Easy, Peter. You got this.] Tell me...
[His voice is low again, thick with heavy breaths and a slickness as he drags his tongue around Odin's navel as his hands pull his pants lower on his hips. And then, so simply, he slips his hand in to pull out his cock with a tentative touch that quickly regains faux but convincing assertiveness. Fake it 'til you make it, Maximoff. Ignore the beating of your heart and the dire, dire fear that you will fuck this up - and look up.
He looks up to catch Odin's eye, fingers curling around his cock and giving it a slow pull towards him.] Tell me more things you want. That I can do.
[Things like what Peter does next, after taking a deep breath. He drags his tongue over the length of Odin's cock, brow furrowing in an anxious way - his brain won't shut up about how he hasn't done this before and how he most definitely wasn't prepared for it. But that's the allure, in a way, it's a sense of vulnerability that grounds him to the moment and makes his flickering glances upward connect him with Odin on a deeper level. All he wants to hear is a noise of approval, it's all that will assure him that he's doing... any of this right.]
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Peter reacts to the tug to his hair and Odin's cock throbs in his clothes. He's stunned, almost, by just how receptive Peter is to all of this, and when he falls to his knees Odin steels himself and spreads his legs in slow, stopping motions, nerves in his stomach convincing him that Peter's about to laugh, say he's kidding and leave. But he doesn't - he kisses down Odin's skin and his body reacts to the touch; he flexes his abs, muscles tightening, everything tensing, and he breathes a sharp intake of air through his nose.
Electricity floods through his system with each touch to his thigh, and once Peter actually sinks his fingers beneath his belt, Odin takes his hand from his hair to grip tighter onto the edge of the mattress. He raises his hips to help Peter pull his pants lower, but it takes effort and too much time to do it, because he's-- terrified, still, equal parts terrified and excited, and all his reactions are coming too slowly, all clear thought lost in the overwhelming need for this.
Peter's hand touches bare flesh without enough warnings, fingers curling around his cock and exposing it to the air, and he looks up and Odin feels like that could be enough to make him blow right there. ]
Holy-- holy shit--
[ He's instantly affected, instantly red, peering down at Peter from behind his other hand, which he brings to his face and shields himself with. He peers through gaps in his fingers as the heat that hits his cheeks burns his palm, and fuck, it only gets worse. Peter drags his tongue and it looks so fucking different to how he always imagined it would, and that alone is enough to make him moan, far too loud and so capable of being overheard by anyone who passes the door to his bedroom.
He sinks his teeth into his knuckle to keep himself quiet, but he keeps his eyes on Peter, watching everything he's doing. There's a bead of pre already gathering at his tip, and he feels-- embarrassed, nervous, a fluttering in his stomach that's never really been there before when he's done something like this with a person. He leaves indentations in the skin of his finger when he bites down, and only when he feels like he might make himself bleed does he actually let go.
Fuck, fuck, okay. The hand he'd screwed up in the mattress brushes through Peter's hair again, smoothing it from his eyes and holding it back so Odin can really see him. ]
You're doing good. Fuck, you're-- you're doing good. Just keep doing what... feels... what feels like something you can do. [ There's a nod, a shaky attempt at being reassuring instead of just stupidly dopey from dumb teenager-esque horniness, but-- he tightens his grip in Peter's hair, running his thumb in a smooth stroke over his forehead.
He's already said the words, but straight up saying I want you to suck my cock is a bit too much for him now that he's actually being touched, and he doesn't want to voice that, doesn't want to lock Peter into taking him in if he's still not ready. He's not rough, he's not ready to be rough, but he tugs Peter's hair in a way that's firm and a little too eager, too urging. He guides Peter up until his lips are closer to the head of his cock, and he tries to speak a few times, voice dying with soundless cracks every attempt. ]
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When he slips forward to try and find a rhythm to a motion he's wholly unfamiliar with, his knees dig into the carpet and he grunts as he shifts his weight to stay comfortable. The only thing going through his head besides a gentle disbelief that this is his reality right now - is the desire to not choke which results in more sucking than bobbing of his head. He does gradually take in a little more, easing back when he feels a nervous twinge at the back of his throat or the need to suck in a deeper breath. He has no grasp of how good or bad he's doing aside from the noises out of Odin's mouth, the more audible of which make his own dick throb to hear.
He feels sloppy and it seems appropriate, somehow, remembering equally messy kisses on Christmas and how he wouldn't have ever figured this is where his life would be in a few month's time. Sucking Odin's cock with spit on his chin while wearing a really fucking goddamn tight suit. His hand applies a bit more pressure, pumping in sync with the motions of his head as best he can align it.]
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He rests both of his hands in Peter's hair, and he's not quite holding him in place, but the warm pressure of his open hands is there against his skull, brush throughs of his fingertips reassuring him and wordlessly telling him he's doing good. Odin's knees are shaking a little and he keeps finding his hips rising off the bed, and soon he has to shut one eye to focus all his energy into staying still and letting Peter have control here - this is his first time, and Odin wants to let him be exploratory, figure out what he likes, figure out if he even likes this.
Peter sucks hard and it hits too sensitive a nerve, and Odin grunts louder than he has so far. He bites down on his lip and it cuts open, the tiniest pinpoint of blood beading just off-center, and with a quiet fuck he raises his thumb to his mouth to wipe it away. His other fist grips onto Peter just that fraction tighter, and he's not as gentle as he should be, as gentle as he wants to be, as he pulls him up off his cock--
He cranes Peter's neck back with one decisive tug that exposes his throat, pulling his hair as hard as he thinks he's allowed, and he leans down, dragging his teeth over sensitive flesh, lips to skin. He leaves a bit of a mark on Peter's throat, a rash of pink that might darken as time goes on, a miniscule dot of Odin's blood mixed in with the hickey he gave him. He scoots forward on the edge of the bed and spreads his legs a little wiser as he sits up straight again, laughing nervously as he rubs at his eye. ]
Fuck. Sorry. You just looked-- I couldn't help it. You should see how good you look from here.
... Though, ah. After this-- um. You're gonna see how good I look on my knees, at least. If you're okay with that. [ He pauses. ] Spoilers? Very good. I look very good. Always. In every situation. This one especially, though. The one where I'll-- blow you next. If you want.
[ nailed it. ]
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However he's at an impasse when it comes to what he wants to do when Odin's hips shift, because he knows they do - he feels them under his palm and he can tell just how he's holding back. Peter's partly relieved, because he's not sure he's ready to encourage him on, but for a moment he considers it. If only he had a little more certainty over his gag reflex?
None of that matters when Odin pulls him back by the hair, the sharpness of the gesture sparking a reaction not unlike that of when he's pulled him around by the tie - Peter groans, breathing shallow with a flush of color on his face. His hand lifts instinctively to reach for Odin's wrist but changes course, cupping his neck while he's close and while his mouth is on his throat, before slipping away once he sits back. He reaches back down for Odin's cock, almost - annoyed by the disruption.
But this is fine - he sucks in a shaky breath, heat of his face not making him shy but eager to continue. So is the - suggestion of what will come next, to which he nods. Or tries to. He thinks about wiping at the slick sheen of drool on his chin but doesn't, licking at his upper lip absently instead.] Yeah? Yeah. Okay.
[He swallows hard, momentarily distracted by the thought of Odin blowing him before:]
Can I finish you off now? [That impatience from before comes from a stubbornness - he's not going to have come this far not to make Odin come. It's a desire to do good and well, he wouldn't mind being able to get off soon after as well - it'd be a better option over blowing load in his pants. Which are too tight to ignore now, and so he clumsily loosens his belt and tries to alleviate a little stress by undoing the zipper.
He meets Odin's eye, as if waiting to dip back down.] I want to. That okay?
[He gives Odin's cock a pull for emphasis, but lifts his other hand to untuck his tie from its clip and without breaking eye-contact, Peter holds it up toward Odin. He hopes the message comes across clear as day for what he'd like his boyfriend to do, what he's offering him the power to do, a flicker of vulnerability behind brown eyes twisted deeply into trust.]
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Do you seriously think you have to ask if-- [ He cuts himself off with something that's more of a whimper than a moan, Peter's soft hand tugging on his cock and reminding Odin of the gravity of all this. He starts to undo his own zipper and Odin's heart goes fucking wild, because fuck, fuck, he wants to see, he wants-- fuck. Fuck. He's close to just shutting his eyes and dropping his back to the bed, giving up on doing anything but laying there while his boyfriend takes care of him, but then-- that fucking tie.
His eyes widen and he glances fast back and forth from the tie to Peter. He's too excited, it's there in his expression, all broad smiles and nervous laughter, but he swallows it down and grounds himself as he gingerly takes a hold of the fabric. He runs his hands over the length of it, treating the tie with a kind of admiring fragility, like it's something expensive made of glass or gold and he doesn't want to break it. He wraps the end of it around his fist in slow, deliberate movements, then, with his other hand, takes a hold of the other end right by the knot. ]
Man. Yes. I want you to make me come. [ Despite the ache in his cock and the way each touch sends a tremor or a convulsion through him, like he's already at the edge of this - there's a fluttering in his stomach, something kinder and easier, a swooping affection that makes him feel like he's falling every time he looks into Peter's eyes. He wants to kiss him again, but he doesn't, only pressing his own lips together in thought instead. I love this, he wants to say. Careful wording, so close to the I love yous he's thrown at Peter so casually over the past six months, but distinctly different. His grip tightens on the tie and he has to tear his eyes from Peter's, because if he looks at him any longer he's going to ruin the heat of all this by saying something vulnerable and dumb and stupid and dumb and dumb and dumb.
He tugs on Peter's tie, hard and without warning, yanking him by the neck back to his cock. The power of it makes his cock twitch, another steady river of precum running down his length, and he clears his throat like he's still not sure if it's okay for him to get off on this as much as he does. He drinks in Peter's reaction and pulls the tie taut, choking him just a little before letting the tie slack.
They're gonna need a fucking safe word by the end of the month. ]
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He's not sure if he's moaning or not as he bobs forward, but he does know he's achingly hard and if Odin hadn't given him something to hold out for, he'd be jerking along by now. Pumping his cock with the same forceful movements of his hand that he does to Odin's cock, meeting where his lips leave off in steady, solid strokes. Spit smears with precum and it's messy and a little sloppy, but with a surprising amount of concentration going on inside his head. Peter pushes himself to keep his jaw relaxed, try and let more of Odin's cock into his mouth before drawing back with a swirl of his tongue and a hunching of his shoulders. He has to concentrate to keep relaxed despite the aching of his knees and the tingling in his throat of sore and bruising muscles.
Later on he's going to have to delve in deep to how much of his turn-ons in this situation date back to traumas and fears, because the helplessness of surrender and the complete trust of his partner are why he feels so alive in his moment. Why despite the throbbing desire to finish here, he could live in his heated and needy moment forever.]
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Odin's breath hitches in his chest and the moans stop coming, his ribs feeling like they're seizing up, his lungs the same. His legs are like iron, stretched straight with his heels digging hard into the carpet, Peter putting too much pressure in the slippery heat surrounding his cock for him to hold back much longer. That familiar heat rushes up from the base of his balls too quickly to give Peter much of a warning, but he gasps his name and the words I'm gonna-- with all the conviction he has.
He pulls Peter down on his dick without really meaning to, his fist still wrapped up in that tie as he slams his hand back toward the edge of the mattress. His eyes are shut tight as he shoots his load, far sooner than he would have if he hadn't been religiously jerking off to the thought of doing this with Peter for so long - and his brain is too scrambled by the body-wrecking intensity of his climax to think through what he's doing.
He shoots on Peter's tongue, hitting the back of his throat with the first few jets of cum that bolt out of him, and he grunts hard, saying his name over and over again, Peter, Peter, Peter, fuck. He's halfway through his orgasm when he realizes how hard he must be choking his boyfriend and panics - he lets go of his tie and pushes him off his cock with a pretty unelegant shove to the forehead, legs still shaking as the last real rope of his cum hits Peter's shoulder and stains his suit. Odin breathes hard, half-panic and half-cool down, and he immediately goes as red as he was when this started. ]
F--
Fuck. Sorry. Fuck. Jesus.
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Peter folds in against Odin's lap, his eyes flashing with surprise and a bit of panic as cum simultaneously hits the back of his throat. He instinctively attempts to swallow and it's messy, made worse by Odin smacking him in the face just as he thinks he's got a handle on it. He falls back to sit on his ass between Odin's legs, cum on his neck and shoulder as well as a little still down the wrong windpipe. He coughs and it's a gross, cummy sort of cough and there's still a pooling of it in his mouth that sits there while he sits stunned and breathless.
He slips a finger into his collar, tugging his tie looser and only realizes how shallow his breathing has been after sucking in a deep breath. A pink ring encircles his throat from the tie and he touches his fingers to a sore spot, a hickey from Odin that makes him smile crookedly as he prods it with a fingertip.]
Better not rate me one star for that. [He's a little hoarse, all things considered.] That's a definite two star blowie and you know it.
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His legs are still jelly when he slides off the bed, but he rests on his hands and knees on the floor in front of Peter. He crawls forward to kiss at the pink line he's left around his boyfriend's throat, starting right where Peter pokes at - soothing touches, feather-light and barely there, soft murmurings of love and appreciation wordlessly communicated through quiet humming and gentle flicks of his tongue over raw flesh. It's tempting to leave more marks, hickeys that are going to have to be buried under scarves and high collars until the show is over and done with, dark purple bruises that will blemish and mark and stain with the same roughness he wants Peter to have with him - but he doesn't. He's focused on something else.
Odin drags his lips up Peter's jawline until he can taste his own cum, slick with Peter's spit, and he doesn't care about the mess. He urges Peter's lips to part and pulls him into a kiss that's slow and deep and purposeful, eyes shuttering closed so he can more concretely feel every part of this. When he pulls back, the urge to say I love this hits him again, but he says nothing, only wipes his chin on the back of his hand. He rests an open palm on Peter's chest and applies just enough pressure to urge him back, and then--
He slides down until he's between Peter's legs, propping himself up on his elbows. It's-- difficult, to know what he wants. There's a part of him that wants to take this slow, to tease Peter until he's frustrated and fucking into his mouth like he's never been touched before, but fuck, that was more than a two star blowie. Dude's gotta get a reward, and Odin doesn't think he has it in him to show any more self-restraint than he already has been. He swallows hard and fishes out Peter's cock, taking a breath at the sight of it. Fuck. His boyfriend's cock. His boyfriend's. ]
You... ah. [ He's speechless, and again, it's a bad look for him. He starts beating Peter off, too focused on what he's doing to remember his thought until a good thirty seconds of his have passed. He's still stroking Peter's dick, almost hiding behind it, when he looks back up at him, fist tight around his head as he twists his palm over it in slick circles. ]
You can do all of that stuff to me, if you want. All the... hair stuff. Tie stuff. Telling me what you like. If you want to.
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And he kisses him with hunger, lips parting easy and his tongue swiping over Odin's lip. The metallic taste of blood slips into his mouth, more so when he sucks on Odin's lip and applies a biting pressure to it with his teeth as he peels back. He swallows hard as he settles back, elbows against the floor and his head still lifted to look at what his boyfriend's doing. His boyfriend. Isn't that weird? It's kinda amazing. Really kinda hot.]
Shit. [He whines, head lolling back immediately when Odin's beating him off and he arches lightly from the ground immediately. His hips don't even hesitate before they lift, heels digging into the carpet and his mind blanking out. 'You can do all that stuff to me, if you want'. One sentence alone makes his whole core tense. His brain's trying to catch-up to just how hot his dick thinks that was.]
I just - just want you. Your mouth? Before I uh - before I blow, dude.
[He can hold it together, but he's not sure for how long.] Please.
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... Okay. [ Lips meet skin as Odin presses them to Peter's cock, humming thoughtfully before pulling back. ] Okay. Okay, yeah. The noble and ever-generous hero, Owain Dark, Knight of Ages and Guardian of the Darkness, is always willing to follow the commands of his Moonlight Prince. So. You know. You can come wherever you want? Hahaha.
[ He grins at Peter, still rhythmically beating him off. He's having fun. Peter's his Moonlight Prince, apparently. His hand twists over Peter's tip one last time before he slowly drags that tight, wet fist all the way down to the base keeps it there. He moves, aligning himself better, and after one slow, swirling, obscene version of a kiss to the very tip of Peter's cock, Odin takes him in, swallowing him a few inches down before pulling back with a pop. He's slow, once he builds up a pace here; he squeezes his fingers tighter and softer around Peter's base as he envelops him entirely again, bobbing his head over the first few inches, lapping at Peter's cock with his tongue. He takes his sweet time in actually moving past where he is, but soon--
Soon he's going harder, taking Peter in deeper, as deep as he can handle him. His nose is so close to pressing on Peter's skin but he can't quite reach it without bitterly being drawn to the fact that he'll gag if he tries, so Odin decides, privately, that he's going to have to keep blowing Peter until he can. Practice makes perfect. For now, though, he's fine like this; dipping back and forth until he hollows his cheeks and sucks, keeping Peter in this warm, tight vaccuum as he shuts his eyes.
He wants to make Peter come without using his hands, so he keeps this going, faster and faster and faster, slick and wet pressure that drags all the way up to Peter's head before Odin plummets back down with a grunt of effort. A few seconds pass and Odin's eyes are open again, his fingernails gripping tight into Peter's thighs as he watches. Waiting. Ready. ]
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It takes a moment before he realizes how loud he was and mutters 'fuck', looking around the room as if remembering where he is before tipping his chin back to his chest to look at something much more important. Odin. He can't quite muster the strength to push himself up on his forearm but he does reach to have his fingers find their way into Odin's hair, dragging over his scalp and cupping to the back of his head. The noises he makes then are a bit obscene, half stifled when he can manage it, but that's hard when your boyfriend's got your cock in his mouth and is doing you every favor.
Peter rests a forearm over his face, hiding one eye and his flushed skin from view as he breathes harder with each rise and fall of his hips. Odin's far better at this than he was and he'll feel something about that later - frustration or a stubborn challenge - but for now all he can think is how amazing this feels and how hot it makes him. His teeth clench together and it's not long before he feels it coming, climax hitting him with a hot rush and a strained noise as he fucks up into Odin's mouth instinctively.
He shoots hard, hissing through release and it takes a few seconds before his body relaxes enough to sink back, melting against the floor. Once he's finished, he's panting hard and feeling the most tranquil sense of euphoria he thinks he's every felt slip over him. He tugs at what he can grip of Odin, his hair - his shirt, anything to pull him toward him. The floor is the most uncomfortable place to be laying right now but his legs need a moment before they'll have any hope to support him and a move back to the bed. And there's something important he needs to do before then.]
Christ - that was, that's... C'mere.
[A balance of pulling on Odin and pushing up off the ground allows Peter to sit forward, seeking out Odin's lips for the most lazily aggressive kiss you could ever imagine. It's desperately needy but slow, breath gasped during shallow breaks apart but his Peter's lips stay close enough to drag over Odin's and his fingers curl tightly into his shirt as not to let him move away.]
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The thought sends a jolt of something down Odin's spine and makes him redouble his efforts, sliding up and down Peter's cock with a kind of trained excellence, doing what he knows will provoke more of those dangerous, barely stifled sounds that make his own dick twitch beneath him. The fingers in his scalp only make him work harder, and all conscious thought slips away from him. He ends up in this dreamlike haze, just working hard to make Peter blow, and when his hips start to twitch and he can feel that swell on his tongue, when it's about to happen--
He doesn't pull back. He swallows, squeezing Peter's cum out of him with steady jerks of his hand and still hard suction. He loves it, to a pretty god damn shameless degree, and the look of self-satisfaction and pride he's got plastered over his dopey, orgasm-high face when he's done and he's swallowed every last drop shows how completely and totally at peace he is having done this. Peter pulls him up by his hair, and he loves that, too, the pain that gets to him when he tugs a little too hard before he moves onto his shirt instead, and Odin lets himself be guided up.
Another almost-messy kiss passes between them and heat rushes up Odin's neck and warms his ears. This feels like the most natural thing in he world to him, kissing Peter like this, and when he smiles, his lips curl in such a way that it makes the kiss a little more awkward than it was before. He thinks of Christmas, of that jump in his heart he'd felt from kissing Peter for the first time-- kissing him properly for the first time-- and he thinks of how quick he was to dismiss the idea that the two of them could ever be together and actually work. He was an idiot. He could have been this happy so much fucking sooner.
Even if Peter hadn't held onto his shirt, Odin wouldn't have pulled away. He does, however, lean Peter back against the ground and lays down alongside of him, arm slung around his boyfriend's waist, leg curling between both of Peter's. He drags his hand beneath open fabric to find bare skin and closes his eyes, tired, sharing in Peter's body warmth with fingers over hip, and it hits him out of nowhere, right as he starts to think that he could fall asleep on this hard, uncomfortable, carpeted floor, that-- holy shit. That was the first time they did something real. ]
Yeah, that was... [ He doesn't move from where he is, laying close with Peter's head right by his shoulder, but he tenses, and it must be obvious. He's gonna do it, he's gonna do it, he's gonna let his problems run away with him and ruin the moment by talking about them. ]
That was-- that was okay, yeah? Because that was-- I mean-- I loved that, but. I'm your first guy, right? I didn't, ah. I didn't ruin anything? Mess anything up?
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That was okay. [He confirms, his gaze gentle - he's a little dopey from afterglow and it's hard to feel anxious like this. His brows shoot up and after a second he continues with:]
I mean, the sex was fucking bomb, but it wasn't - weird, or anything. I kinda thought it would be. But then it happened and like... Phew, y'know? I came so fucking hard. [He laughs at that, a little bit more red in the face as he looks back up.] How come I always end up looking at the ceiling from the floor after kissing you? This gonna be a thing?
[He remembers Christmas too - through a drunken haze, but there are parts that haven't faded away. Parts that stick out more now with a sense of deja vu. The confusing feeling he felt just for an instant after kissing Odin, before he fell back off the bar to land on bottles and crushed solo cups. Something he wrote off as drunk stupor but now can shed a whole new light on. After a beat, he swallows hard and looks back to Odin.] But I should be the one asking you if it was okay. I didn't know jackshit about what I was supposed to do there.
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Peter's laugh and the redness of him makes Odin feel a surge of pride in his chest and he kisses him a little lower, right on the top of his boyfriend's nose, laughing a little at the ceiling comment. That's another thing they've shared - staring at the ceiling, listless and broken. That's going to change, he thinks. Countless makeout sessions still to come, all of them ending in two exhausted boys staring up above them and trying to calm down. Changing that association, making it better. Kinder. That's what he wants.
Peter asks him if he's okay and Odin forces himself to keep conscious, but he presses himself closer to Peter's side and hugs him as tight as his steadily slacking limbs will allow. ]
Listen - I can't really tell you how often I've thought about you doing that? Suckin' this hallowed dong of mine. This great and mighty sword of flesh. A warrior's mightiest weapon. It's been on my mind, like, over the past month, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it even before oreos brought to light my latent physical attraction to you - which I guess is kind of weird? Sorry. [ Haha... haaah. He really should have done more. Guided Peter like he asked, told him what he was into and what he liked. It was just easy to get carried away, to unload as quickly and as easily as he did, and he kisses Peter's neck, both guilty and reassuring. ] My point is just-- you could have done anything short of biting this bad boy off and I would have been into it. Because it's you. And I wanted you. And I like you. And you're you. And. You. You. Does that make sense?
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