i slither into you. with every thrust your eyes change to a new color.

[blood_kink]

Things were weirdly... normal. Well, as normal as could be for them these days. For them being what they were, for all that's happened between them. Roman knew that Peter was having a hard time. He didn't know what it was, but he could tell when there were times when he was anxious, when his pulse raced and he sat tense or paced the floors. Or left for a while. He let him have that space even though sometimes he couldn't help a nagging fear that when he left, something would happen and he might not come back.

He'd always come back to him up till now, but there've been times when he'd really thought he'd seen the last of him. Now, there's all that leftover worry from when he thought he'd really lost him, when it turned out that Olivia had taken him. He still hadn't really recovered from seeing Peter in that cage so small he hadn't been able to stand, clothes torn and hands bloody from how hard he'd tried to escape. That's in the past now, but Roman has this feeling that there's something going on, but he doesn't ask what it is. He just tries to trust that if he wants to, he'll bring it up himself.

So things carry on, almost normal. Lynda helps with the Adara now that she's been cleared of charges, and Roman sometimes wonders what life would have been like if Olivia had been more like her. Watching her cradle the baby, or sit on the floor playing with her, and Roman doesn't remember being that young but he's still certain Olivia had never done any of those things.

One night a couple of weeks back, after everyone else had gone to bed, Peter and Roman had settled down on one long sofa to flick through tv, try and find a shitty horror movie to watch and mock, and had landed on some old B-Movie called From The Void that was just remarkably full of vaguely horrific, entirely surreal erotic situations. And since then, it had sort of become a running joke between them. When one or the other of them would think up a good one, they'd text it to the other. Peter has started texting them when Roman's in meetings and, well, he'd be in real trouble if he didn't own the company, because he's unable to read most of them without laughing.

However, as the messages have been sent back and forth, they've started to get more. Well. Real.

Some highlights from the past several days:

Peter: if u like piña coladas / and fear the thing in the drain

Roman: with every thrust your eyes change to a new color

Peter: i vanish like a cheshire cat leaving only my smiling lips wrapped around ur dick

Roman: u touch my hand & every dog within a hundred miles starts to whimper. they know what u are

 
Tonight, they're occupying separate sofas in the same room. Everyone's asleep, again, which seems to be a trigger for late night bullshit. Movies have become a thing, but so has drinking and getting high and just laying tangled together and talking. Right now, they're not there yet. Roman's laying flat on his back with his iPad propped up on his chest, flicking through something he'd found online and Peter... well, God knows what he was doing before he sent a text. 

From across the room. 

As if they couldn't just talk to each other out loud. Roman hears the ding and doesn't even look at it first, just turns his head to the side and catches Peter's gaze with his and makes a face that just says really. 

Then he reads it.


Peter: my skin cant contain my love 4 u

Is that how it is, now? Roman's mouth curves into a mischievous grin as he shoots off a text that's a little too close to home, but this is a game and it's safe to tread too close to reality because it's all bullshit anyway.


Roman: i slither into you

Comments

[blood_kink]

If he didn't believe the way that Peter had thrown himself at him or his words, that he wanted, needed this, then he would have believed his mouth. The way he surges forward into it says he's just as desperate as Roman, maybe more. He wouldn't have thought that possible, that Peter could want this more, but the way his hands scrabble to get him out of his pants and the whimper lost between their mouths tell a story that he hadn't realized was playing out in Peter. This kind of desperation...

But there's hardly time to think on it, hardly time to even turn it over in his mind, and questions of what's going on beneath the surface slip away and all that's left is Peter and his lips and sharp teeth. Roman's hands pull away from him and move down, help Peter with his pants and then he lifts his hips and pushes pants and underwear down at once. The way they're seated, he can't push them down very far, but it's more than far enough.

He glances down as the tentacles slip free of his clothes and reach for Peter, wetly curling against his body, and then back up at Peter, needing to see his face, see his reaction to this. They're cool against Peter's skin, even though they're just marginally warmer than the rest of him. There's a part of him that's briefly uncertain whether Peter means it, that he wants this, or whether he'll freak out now that he's seen it, now that these slick, deep red tentacles seem to be trying to wrap themselves around anything of Peter that they find. One's rubbing back behind his balls slowly while another moves to coil around his cock. Roman can control them, move them at will, but if he's not actively thinking about them, they'll still move and curl and search for what felt good.

[velveteenwolf]

There's a gasp that turns into an encouraging murmur as Roman's hands join Peter's in trying to remove his pants. Roman is far more graceful about it; lifting his hips and shoving them down, and Peter moves to try and shift so he can get them out from under him a little, expose himself a little more to the wolf's blue eyes. He doesn't flich, doesn't look away. There's a tilt to his head, and it's almost like awe at seeing them for real and not just in their dreams, which are admittedly almost more true than reality some times.

There's a sharp gasp and his body jerks, leaning into it as the tentacles reach for him, curling against him. They're wet and slick, and it sends a shiver down his spine, his face flushed so he almost looks feverish. They're a deep red, like they were in the dream, and Peter can't help how he clings to Roman, flat nails scratching lightly against pale skin as he presses his face into his chest.

"Fuck, Roman, please--" His breath comes as hot as his skin, trailing off into a whimper. His hips rocking softly against how Roman's tentacles touch against his skin, slick and cool and it feels so fucking good that he's not sure he could have stopped this if he wanted to -- which he doesn't.

He reaches down, letting his fingers loosely stroke over his own cock and Roman's tentacle that's curled around it. He's looking into green eyes, breathing heavily and moaning, watching him to see how he responds. He lets his fingers trace over the third, the one that's just wetly touching against his skin, leaving trails on his body, and maybe it's weird, but Peter thinks it's maybe the fucking hottest thing he's ever felt.

"I want you inside me," he breathes, shifting his body, leaning in so he's closer, so he can give the tentacles better access. "I need, you, need everything, please Roman--" The heat is building inside of him, and it just makes him more desperate, more needy. He's squirming in the upir's lap, but he's just trying to get closer.

[blood_kink]

Roman hadn't thought Peter would look at him like this when he saw them, imagined it somehow being the thing that pushed all of this between them firmly into the too weird territory. Granted, there's a lot between them that's always been weird, and then it got weirder, so much weirder recently, but this? It's apparently not something he should have bothered worrying over.

He's staring at him hungrily, like what he's found in him now is the best of all possible options, like it's what he'd hoped for. No one's ever looked at him the way Peter's looking at him now, like he's really seeing him. Like what he is is enough. That was all he ever wanted, was just to be enough.

And Peter's begging please, breathing his soft pleas into his skin and whimpering as he moves, rocking in his lap. His reaction's immediate; at 'please' he grips him more tightly, those tentacles coiling cool around his cock, working over him with an automatic ease like they couldn't do anything but seek the heat of Peter's body.

Roman gasps softly as Peter's hand brushes down over them both, over slick tentacles and his own damp flesh, and the drag of his fingers feels good. The tentacles are all so sensitive, to touch and pressure and everything that just that slow stroke, the warmth of his cock below and his hand above, has him thinking of venturing back to slip one inside, maybe two.

He's barely had the thought when Peter says he wants it. He's shifting closer, legs spread and squirming for more, for as much as he can get, and Roman catches him by the hips and holds him close as one of the tentacles slicks its way back between his legs, the tip flicking up between his cheeks, skittering past the opening. He smoothes one hand down his ass, middle finger slipping between his cheeks to rub against him, finding his entrance so the tentacle knows just where to go, where to press. And it does so easily, slipping inside cool and slick an inch or two.

[velveteenwolf]

Peter has dreams of jellyfish the color of sunsets that swim through galaxies of stars, blood that spills silver from his own fingertips. On full moons his bones crack and he sheds his flesh and his skin and devours it. He's never been the sort of be pushed away by weird. Pain, expectation, connections, feelings -- those are the things that chase him away, and Roman's slid in under that. He saved him, and after that, Peter had no defenses, no ability to keep him at arm's length.

And maybe Peter likes the weird, because seeing them ran a shiver through his body, and fuck, but feeling them is even better. They're slick and cool and his body is so hot it feels like the best thing in the world. He whimpers, whines, can't help how he pleads to be touched, for Roman to give him what he needs. It's obvious, even if Peter can't help but say it. He's never been good at please, but right now it keeps tumbling from his tongue.

Roman's enough. Maybe more than enough. He needs him, even if he doesn't know how to put those feelings into words. Begging for the sexuality, for the ability to feel Roman inside of him is the closest that he can get. He gasps, his blue eyes wide as Roman catches his lean body by the hips, holding him close as Peter's legs spread to give the upir what access he needed to give the wolf in his lap more.

His breath comes out in a stuttered shiver as the slick tentacle slips up between his thighs, a low moan as one of Roman's slender fingers rubs over the opening. And then the tentacle is there. Slick and firm and slithering in slowly. His head fell back, hair falling down his back as he shifted, slowly, uncertainly pressing back against the tentacle pressed into his body.

If Roman was perceptive, he might pick up on that jittery uncertainty in Peter. He'd never done this before. Not just with the tentacles, but at all. He'd never wanted this before, never been willing to be like this with someone.

[blood_kink]

Shit, but Peter feels so damn good. So damn hot around him, and he can't help but sink in deeper. Is he ready for it? Fuck, he hopes so, because all he wants to do is slither inside him so much deeper than he already is. It's just one of the narrow ones, slender and easy and cool as it goes in deep. How can he do anything but give him more if it's what he wants, too? If Peter's begging please, please, please and all that Roman wants is to give it to him?

So he gives it to him. Just one tentacle but it's in so deep that Peter can feel that slick friction writhe up along his prostate. There's a second slender one that wants inside but isn't yet doing more than making swirling passes around his entrance, the thicker one coiled and writhing along Peter's cock. And Roman can't look away from how he moves, eyes wide and bright and then distant and lost in feeling and then his head falls back, and Roman brushes a hand up his back to tangle his fingertips in the ends of that long hair.

Roman isn't always very perceptive. Only when it suits him, only when it feeds into what he needs or what he's doing. But Peter? Peter's an exception. There's something about him now, something a little off, a little tense, and he leans in, both hands rubbing cool over the warm skin of his lower back and hips, and noses against his shoulder lightly, and breathes, "Relax, Peter..."

It's not extaz, even though that would make it easier, it'd also make it less real. It wouldn't be between Roman and Peter, but between Roman and someone whose will was taken away. Maybe he's a little tense, but he's not going to push. He'll let Peter come to him, even if it means needing to show some restraint. He knows he has some, somewhere.

His thumbs rub over Peter's hips, impatient, but he's being good. He's trying, anyway, because Peter's body feels so perfect and watching how he squirms in his lap just makes him want more.

[velveteenwolf]

Peter moans, leaning in, trying to muffle sound into the other boy's skin, but it doesn't entirely work. It twists so it's almost a sob when it presses against his insides. He's fooled around with toys a bit with Letha, but this is different. The way it slithers, feels like it touches every inch of his insides with quiet intention. He can feel the second one touching against his entrance, not forcing it, but just a soft reminder that there's two more, and that right now Peter has just one of the smaller ones inside of him.

It makes his head spin a little, unsure if he can take it, if he can actually fit all three inside of him. He's getting ahead of himself, but he wants it. There's so much heat inside of him, and he wants Roman to fix it. He wants Roman to fill him, give him all of it until he's so full he can't possibly still ache with this craving.

He's moving after cool hands touch against the low of his back, his hips. He murmurs breathily in response to that soft-spoke command. It's not reinforced with the power of his eyes, but it has that quality of insistence spoken by someone accustomed to being obeyed. Peter's leaning in, rocking a little, shyly, even as there's that tension in him, nerves that haven't quite settled.

There's finally a stuttered exhale, arms wrapping loosely around Roman's shoulders and Peter goes nearly boneless. He presses soft, clumsy kisses to Roman's collarbone, breath coming in soft gasps.

"I want all of it," he breathes, even though he doesn't even know how that would work, if it's possible, just that he wants.

[blood_kink]

Hearing Peter is going to do him in. The sound that comes against his shoulder doesn't muffle but vibrates across his skin. He can feel Peter from the inside, how he tenses and tries to relax, and where Roman fails in restraint, he makes up for in pure adaptability. The single, relatively slender tentacle has give when Peter tenses, when he goes so impossibly tight, and it's good that he started with this one rather than the larger one.

Roman rubs a hand over the small of his back, a slow circle that's soothing and at the same time, guides him to move. Peter's rocking in his lap, clearly wanting it even though it's a struggle right now and fuck if that's not the hottest thing he's seen. He's had other people on his lap before, but it was before, he wasn't the way he was now back then. He'd come to terms with the reality that he'd have to extaz someone into not noticing this if he intended to fuck anyone and have the entire focus of it to not be them freaking out, but Peter is so far from freaking out that he almost doesn't feel the thrumming ache for blood.

Almost.

Peter goes boneless in his lap, curled loose around his shoulders and breathing soft and shallow as he kisses him and Roman's struck at once with how fragile he seems, which is so strange because he knows more than most how resilient he is, how he can tear his way out of his body again and again like an endless escape from his skin.

He wants it all he says, and it's barely a heartbeat after he's said the words that the waiting tentacle slips in. It goes in easier than Peter might have imagined or feared, slipping in along side the first, occasionally coiling around its twin inside him, twisting slow and sinewy. Peter wants it all, and oh, but Roman wants to give it all to him. All of it, now, wants to push deep inside him and feel how he writhes to take it... but he's not. Not yet. Gives him time for the second one, and shit, but the fucking restraint it takes not to has one hand curled into a fist, nails digging into the meat of his palm, fist resting against Peter's hair, against his shoulder.

There's a slightly cool, oddly damp feeling over his shoulder blade as Roman's fingernails cut into his skin and blood trickles down over Peter's tanned skin. Roman knows, he can feel the slow seep of it, and his hand slips down in it, smearing it purposefully.