Peter keeps himself from outright gasping, but there's that catch to his breath, the way that his eyelashes flutter when he feels Roman's cock brush up against his ass. Fuck, but he wants him. He does, even if he doesn't let himself think about it, keeps himself from admitting to it. And Roman knows it, he knows it because of the way that he hints at this, makes Peter feel it like a tease, like I know this is what you want. His cock is thick, thicker than Harry's, and fuck but he was right about that.

His body shakes a little, but his feet don't waver; his balance as perfect as ever, even when he can't deny the urge to lean back into it, to drag the curve of his ass against the thick girth of Roman's cock through the thin-thin layers of their tights. He leans in for the lift; leans in and pretends that nothing's wrong, that everything is okay. That Roman isn't grinding against his ass like he wants to fuck him, and Peter isn't trying to pretend that he doesn't want him to. Because the truth is that it is an act, and that he does want him.

He's just scared of the price.

"Maybe I should fuck the whole company," he whispers back softly, just to him as his ass rubs against him, dragging the cleft between his cheeks against the thick girth of Roman's cock. "Maybe I just need more of them, should see how many I can take at once." There's a brief pause with those thin fingers pressing bruisingly hard against his hips. Layering over the ones Harry had left, maybe making new marks.

"It doesn't mean what you think it does." A lie, but it was one he needed to believe.