Peter’s heart is beating so hard and so fast that Roman feels like he’ll drown in the sound of his blood rushing. He wants that, too. Not just to sink into him and feel his body tight around him, but to tear into his flesh. To sink his teeth in and spill his blood, and wouldn’t he just pull out the wolf beneath the man? Couldn’t he keep ripping one Peter away and freeing the next one waiting beneath, poised to spring out, blood-soaked and reborn?
Couldn’t he endlessly swallow him down past the point where anyone else could survive, until he’s full of nothing but Peter, senses dull to anything but the taste and scent of the inside of his skin. Roman can’t help but wonder if they’d ever get their fill of each other.
Just imagine what a state the room would be in when they were done, torn flesh and fur and sprays of blood in the wake of their devouring.
And then Peter’s moving across the room towards him, and it’s difficult to pull his mind from the dark, rushing places that it slips to when lulled away by the beating of Peter’s heart. He’s peeling off his clothes and Roman watches, hungry like the wolf that Peter is, eyes bright with it.
There’s that lunge and he’s got a sudden lap full of warm, naked Peter, and he clings right back, cool hands on hot skin feel the rush of veins beneath. Then a hand slips down, warm and insistent against the front of his pants and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, and he’s betraying himself easily. He wants this and there’s no hiding, no point in trying, because there’s only ever been one person he couldn’t hide from, and that’s Peter. Peter, who always knew. Even knew before he did what he was.
His hips shift under the exploration of that hand because he can feel how deliberate it is, can feel that Peter is following the line of each one even as it moves. Now he knows and still wants.
The tug at his shirt is answered quickly as he shrugs it off and gives it a toss carelessly, leaving him bare from the waist up and with Peter looking only at him.
He can feel how much he wants, and Roman answers that want with a hand curling in Peter’s long, messy hair to pull him in for a biting kiss, their mouths crushed together like finally, like there’s no gentle after waiting so long.
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Couldn’t he endlessly swallow him down past the point where anyone else could survive, until he’s full of nothing but Peter, senses dull to anything but the taste and scent of the inside of his skin. Roman can’t help but wonder if they’d ever get their fill of each other.
Just imagine what a state the room would be in when they were done, torn flesh and fur and sprays of blood in the wake of their devouring.
And then Peter’s moving across the room towards him, and it’s difficult to pull his mind from the dark, rushing places that it slips to when lulled away by the beating of Peter’s heart. He’s peeling off his clothes and Roman watches, hungry like the wolf that Peter is, eyes bright with it.
There’s that lunge and he’s got a sudden lap full of warm, naked Peter, and he clings right back, cool hands on hot skin feel the rush of veins beneath. Then a hand slips down, warm and insistent against the front of his pants and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, and he’s betraying himself easily. He wants this and there’s no hiding, no point in trying, because there’s only ever been one person he couldn’t hide from, and that’s Peter. Peter, who always knew. Even knew before he did what he was.
His hips shift under the exploration of that hand because he can feel how deliberate it is, can feel that Peter is following the line of each one even as it moves. Now he knows and still wants.
The tug at his shirt is answered quickly as he shrugs it off and gives it a toss carelessly, leaving him bare from the waist up and with Peter looking only at him.
He can feel how much he wants, and Roman answers that want with a hand curling in Peter’s long, messy hair to pull him in for a biting kiss, their mouths crushed together like finally, like there’s no gentle after waiting so long.