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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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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[His eyes flick away. A thought for later.]
Hey. Can we move to the bed? Like, I like this and all but we should probably move places before we forget how to. My legs feel numb as shit. [He laughs, proud at that as he tries to sit forward, but not without leaning against Odin on the way to kiss him again. Speaking of things they're going to be doing a lot - Peter's affection levels are often kept in check by the moods of his partners and so these floodgates may never have a chance to close.
When he sits up it's slow, distracted by the way he cups Odin's face and leads him up along with him - kiss drawn out and lingering even once they're mostly upright. Only then does he peel away, smiling and opening his collar, idly massaging a sore neck again.] An' I'll get better, eventually. At stuff?
We'll just have to practice at it for a while. [He cracks a wider smile, obviously liking the implications there.]