It wouldn’t matter who walked in to the bathroom now. There’s no way Roman can tear his eyes away from Peter, no way he can move from this spot.
He watches as Peter moves like he’s going to do as he says, watches as his fingers tease up his chest to his mouth, watches his lips as he sucks them wet. He wants to feel those lips against his own, wants to feel them wrap around his cock the way they wrap around his fingertips.
Roman’s breath catches in his chest when Peter’s leg comes up, when he’s slipping his fingers down, between his cheeks and then inside. He’s still touching himself, still jerking off, but now he’s fingering himself, body arching as he moves against the wall.
He can see him take another and another and he lets out a breath he hardly realized he’d been holding when it feels like the end of I want is for you to fuck me…
Peter comes with his name on his lips, and Roman can’t help the strangled sound that escapes his mouth as he’s slumping back against the wall.
He doesn’t know why he won’t let him in, doesn’t know what it is that’s keeping him at arms length. This is more than want, more than how hard he is in his tights, how he wants to push him against the wall and take him. It’s near-obsession, how he can’t get Peter out of his head, how he can’t get enough of the way his body moves with his.
It’s how when Peter moves without him, he aches to be there, a counterpoint, a balance, his anchor.
He sees that Peter comes over his hand, but he’s watching his face, the change that comes over him in those moments after. For the longest time, the only sound is Peter’s softly uttered fuck and Roman’s rough breathing, until he breaks the silence.
“I want you,” he murmurs against the door, forehead pressing against the cool metal, but he’s still looking through, still watching Peter, unable to look away.
no subject
He watches as Peter moves like he’s going to do as he says, watches as his fingers tease up his chest to his mouth, watches his lips as he sucks them wet. He wants to feel those lips against his own, wants to feel them wrap around his cock the way they wrap around his fingertips.
Roman’s breath catches in his chest when Peter’s leg comes up, when he’s slipping his fingers down, between his cheeks and then inside. He’s still touching himself, still jerking off, but now he’s fingering himself, body arching as he moves against the wall.
He can see him take another and another and he lets out a breath he hardly realized he’d been holding when it feels like the end of I want is for you to fuck me…
Peter comes with his name on his lips, and Roman can’t help the strangled sound that escapes his mouth as he’s slumping back against the wall.
He doesn’t know why he won’t let him in, doesn’t know what it is that’s keeping him at arms length. This is more than want, more than how hard he is in his tights, how he wants to push him against the wall and take him. It’s near-obsession, how he can’t get Peter out of his head, how he can’t get enough of the way his body moves with his.
It’s how when Peter moves without him, he aches to be there, a counterpoint, a balance, his anchor.
He sees that Peter comes over his hand, but he’s watching his face, the change that comes over him in those moments after. For the longest time, the only sound is Peter’s softly uttered fuck and Roman’s rough breathing, until he breaks the silence.
“I want you,” he murmurs against the door, forehead pressing against the cool metal, but he’s still looking through, still watching Peter, unable to look away.