In the seconds after his text chimed into Peter’s phone, he could feel a change in him. He could hear his heart begin to race, his pulse quickening, loud in his ears even across the room. Startled by what he hears, he turned his head again to look and see the cause, and that’s when the pieces all slot into place.
He’s flushed and he knows he’s not embarrassed because, well, this is Peter they’re talking about, Peter who’s just as in your face raunchy as he is half the time. Then his attention skims down Peter’s body and stop at his groin. He’s hard.
Roman’s eyes widen and he wonders if he was hard the last he looked over. He wasn’t, was he? Was the erection what started this, or was it the effect of his last text? He’s barely begun to wonder when his phone chimes.
He can barely manage to pull his open-mouthed attention away from Peter to look at his phone, and suddenly this doesn’t feel like a game anymore. Peter can’t know. He can’t know, can he? If he did, he wouldn’t be sending things like this. He’s got to just be playing along.
But he remembers that dream, that dream that he’d hoped to hell was his alone, with Peter on his knees and not bothered by what he found in his pants. Jerking them and taking them into his mouth in turn like it turned him on… fuck, what if Peter had really been there?
His immediate reaction to that thought is how annoying it is that Peter won’t stay out of his dreams and let him have a simple sex dream in peace but it’s immediately followed with a twisting uncertain hope. Is it possible that Peter really knows and still wants it?
It’s clear he’s aroused, just looking at him. What’s unclear is if he really has a grasp on the situation.
What else is unclear is how the fuck did Peter get that horny that damn fast?
Roman just stares over at him. He’s not texting back after that one. They’re a little bit beyond that. His eyes bore holes into Peter, and it feels like a long time before he says anything.
“…what do you mean ‘whatever parts’?” he asks, trying for casual. Trying to sound like he doesn’t secretly have tentacles and is trying to feel out the situation.
no subject
He’s flushed and he knows he’s not embarrassed because, well, this is Peter they’re talking about, Peter who’s just as in your face raunchy as he is half the time. Then his attention skims down Peter’s body and stop at his groin. He’s hard.
Roman’s eyes widen and he wonders if he was hard the last he looked over. He wasn’t, was he? Was the erection what started this, or was it the effect of his last text? He’s barely begun to wonder when his phone chimes.
He can barely manage to pull his open-mouthed attention away from Peter to look at his phone, and suddenly this doesn’t feel like a game anymore. Peter can’t know. He can’t know, can he? If he did, he wouldn’t be sending things like this. He’s got to just be playing along.
But he remembers that dream, that dream that he’d hoped to hell was his alone, with Peter on his knees and not bothered by what he found in his pants. Jerking them and taking them into his mouth in turn like it turned him on… fuck, what if Peter had really been there?
His immediate reaction to that thought is how annoying it is that Peter won’t stay out of his dreams and let him have a simple sex dream in peace but it’s immediately followed with a twisting uncertain hope. Is it possible that Peter really knows and still wants it?
It’s clear he’s aroused, just looking at him. What’s unclear is if he really has a grasp on the situation.
What else is unclear is how the fuck did Peter get that horny that damn fast?
Roman just stares over at him. He’s not texting back after that one. They’re a little bit beyond that. His eyes bore holes into Peter, and it feels like a long time before he says anything.
“…what do you mean ‘whatever parts’?” he asks, trying for casual. Trying to sound like he doesn’t secretly have tentacles and is trying to feel out the situation.