He still just doesn't know at the first response. It's not like I've seen your dick. It could still be just some joke, and he barely dares to breathe. He can't look away from Peter, blue eyes dark, aroused, intense. Roman's sure that if he keeps looking, keeps staring into his eyes like that he'll provoke the wolf, but he's just as sure that if he looks away he'll miss the lunge.
Then he starts talking about the dream. Roman sets his iPad aside, drops his phone on the sofa, and pushes himself up, sitting perched on the edge of the sofa, legs wide, hands gripping the sofa cushions tight. Peter was in the dream with him. Peter knew he'd been in the dream with him. Could tell the difference. Roman's brow furrows and he wants to say something indignant about why the hell hadn't Peter said something about knowing when the dreams were shared? But he can't, because of what Peter says next. Because he says dicks. Three of them. Tentacles. He knows.
But he doesn't. He doesn't know for sure, that becomes clear, but he also doesn't care. He'd doubt him, question it, but again, that racing pulse and the obvious bulge in his pants aren't lying, and that's doing things to Roman. It's got him aroused, and it's different now than it had been before. Different from Peter. Now, it came slick and with a slow, sinewy motion that begins to grow impatient. Rather than show the outline of an erect cock, there's almost a wriggling.
This, it had been unsettling at first. This change was the least welcome because, well, he'd liked his cock. But he'd quickly decided he liked it. It was more sensitive, more agile, and best of all he found he could get himself off without even using his hands, just letting the three tentacles coil together and work themselves off. He'd decided that when it came to it, he'd just tell potential sex partners that what they saw was a normal cock, force them to see what wasn't there so they wouldn't freak out. But that would never work with Peter because he couldn't impose his will on him, couldn't use that against him.
Apparently, he didn't have to.
Peter's whining and Roman has to close his eyes against the sound. Then he says he still wants Roman to fuck him, and he blinks his eyes open and stares at him.
"Fuck," he breathes. Then he leans back, hands moving over his thighs, inviting him. "Come here, Peter..."
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Then he starts talking about the dream. Roman sets his iPad aside, drops his phone on the sofa, and pushes himself up, sitting perched on the edge of the sofa, legs wide, hands gripping the sofa cushions tight. Peter was in the dream with him. Peter knew he'd been in the dream with him. Could tell the difference. Roman's brow furrows and he wants to say something indignant about why the hell hadn't Peter said something about knowing when the dreams were shared? But he can't, because of what Peter says next. Because he says dicks. Three of them. Tentacles. He knows.
But he doesn't. He doesn't know for sure, that becomes clear, but he also doesn't care. He'd doubt him, question it, but again, that racing pulse and the obvious bulge in his pants aren't lying, and that's doing things to Roman. It's got him aroused, and it's different now than it had been before. Different from Peter. Now, it came slick and with a slow, sinewy motion that begins to grow impatient. Rather than show the outline of an erect cock, there's almost a wriggling.
This, it had been unsettling at first. This change was the least welcome because, well, he'd liked his cock. But he'd quickly decided he liked it. It was more sensitive, more agile, and best of all he found he could get himself off without even using his hands, just letting the three tentacles coil together and work themselves off. He'd decided that when it came to it, he'd just tell potential sex partners that what they saw was a normal cock, force them to see what wasn't there so they wouldn't freak out. But that would never work with Peter because he couldn't impose his will on him, couldn't use that against him.
Apparently, he didn't have to.
Peter's whining and Roman has to close his eyes against the sound. Then he says he still wants Roman to fuck him, and he blinks his eyes open and stares at him.
"Fuck," he breathes. Then he leans back, hands moving over his thighs, inviting him. "Come here, Peter..."