"Can't. I can't."

Peter's voice is flushed, heated with clear desire. He'd denied it before. Brushed off Roman's advances with every refusal he could think of. None of them have been true, and those lies are useless now, after that dance, after how they fit together, moved together. Roman has to know, if he didn't standing in the doorway as Harry and Draco touched him and pressed into his body.

He knows Roman isn't leaving, but that doesn't stop him from stroking fingers over his erection s he shakes his head vaguely against the metal; in response to a question that hasn't actually been asked. He does want him. He wants Roman to fuck him, he wants those hands on his skin, those lips on his mouth or whispering against his ear.

He's so turned on that he's almost frantic, completely unable to even pretend otherwise. His hands shoving his tights down, revealing slender legs, bare ankles under the stall door as he steps out of them. A low whine as he leans back, fingers curling around his cock.

"Please," and it was beyond fucked up but as fingers started sliding over his cock, Peter wasn't entirely sure what it was he was begging for.