They’re a perfect fit. Not just here, when he holds Peter cradled against it’s body, but it’s more obvious when they’re pressed together like this. He’s proving a point with the way they move together, with how they fit, and Peter knows it if the way he moves is any indication, pressing back against his cock in the moments before he lifts him in his arms.
When he does, the feel of his body in his arms is warm and heavy and all he wants is to sink with him to the stage floor, collapse together and fuck right there in front of everyone. He doesn’t, but god does he want to. Their energy is electric and it would be so easy to give in to it, but he knows even before his mother stops them that they’ve already gone too far.
He knew that openly fondling him in front of the company was pushing it, but he didn’t care. He’d do it again in a heartbeat if there was a chance that Peter would react like this again, ass pressing back, Peter’s lithe body unable to resist the warm press of his own.
It’s only when Olivia tells them to stop that he realized time had seemed to slow between them while they danced, because it all speeds up and spins out of his control. Peter’s rushing off stage and Roman has to rush after him to catch up — there’s not even the pretense of either of them stopping off to get their water.
He’s just a second too late, slamming the bathroom door into the wall as he rushes through it, just in time to see Peter locking himself in the first stall he comes to, hands practically shaking in his rush to lock himself away. It hurts to see his desperation to get away from him, and he feels like there’s a hand around his throat stealing away his breath.
Peter’s inside, leaning on the inside of the door - he can see his feet - and Roman stops just on the other side, bringing his fist hard against the door, a pounding demand to be let in.
“I’m not fucking leaving. Let me in,” his voice is shaking and his forehead presses against the cool metal of the stall door. Peter’s just on the other side and if not for the door they’d be pressed flush again, like they were on the stage floor, Peter leaning into him for support instead of cold metal.
no subject
When he does, the feel of his body in his arms is warm and heavy and all he wants is to sink with him to the stage floor, collapse together and fuck right there in front of everyone. He doesn’t, but god does he want to. Their energy is electric and it would be so easy to give in to it, but he knows even before his mother stops them that they’ve already gone too far.
He knew that openly fondling him in front of the company was pushing it, but he didn’t care. He’d do it again in a heartbeat if there was a chance that Peter would react like this again, ass pressing back, Peter’s lithe body unable to resist the warm press of his own.
It’s only when Olivia tells them to stop that he realized time had seemed to slow between them while they danced, because it all speeds up and spins out of his control. Peter’s rushing off stage and Roman has to rush after him to catch up — there’s not even the pretense of either of them stopping off to get their water.
He’s just a second too late, slamming the bathroom door into the wall as he rushes through it, just in time to see Peter locking himself in the first stall he comes to, hands practically shaking in his rush to lock himself away. It hurts to see his desperation to get away from him, and he feels like there’s a hand around his throat stealing away his breath.
Peter’s inside, leaning on the inside of the door - he can see his feet - and Roman stops just on the other side, bringing his fist hard against the door, a pounding demand to be let in.
“I’m not fucking leaving. Let me in,” his voice is shaking and his forehead presses against the cool metal of the stall door. Peter’s just on the other side and if not for the door they’d be pressed flush again, like they were on the stage floor, Peter leaning into him for support instead of cold metal.