He likes hearing his name on Peter’s lips, and chases the sound with his mouth, swallowing it as their bodies find the wall.
He turns them when he bumps the tile and lets Peter’s back press against it. He shifts against him, hips rolling forward as if of their own accord, letting the solid bulge of his erection nudge at Peter’s hip, between his legs, inviting and provocative all at once. It’s an invitation for him to touch, to continue, permission to let this move from just making out to fumbling together.
He’s alright with it not being sex yet, but he does want sex. He knows how Peter’s body moves and fuck does he ever want him moving like that on his cock. For right now, a hand, his mouth, his body moving against him, fuck, even just his hot breath teasing through the thin fabric of his tights is going to get him off.
He pulls from the kiss to breathe, forehead pressed to Peter’s like he’s willing him to read his mind. This close, his face is blurry, but green eyes still raise to scan blurred blue.
His hand moves up his hip. Peter’s body is familiar territory, one that Roman can’t help but feel possessive of.
His hand drags his shirt up a little. As it sweeps up over his chest, he can feel his nipple beneath the ribbed fabric. He lingers there, teasing his thumb over it again, feeling it react beneath his touch. Without thinking about the move, he shifts, nose nudging against Peter’s as his hand moves up and curls against his shoulder. The gesture seems to soften the urge of his hand, that suggestion that he wants him to sink to his knees between the wall and his body, the combination of it a wordless communication between their bodies that says he wants Peter on his knees, wants to feel his mouth, but that there’s so much more to this than just that.
Peter doesn’t move immediately, and he moves forwards, nipping at his lips just because they’re there, catching the reddened lower lip between his teeth playfully.
no subject
He turns them when he bumps the tile and lets Peter’s back press against it. He shifts against him, hips rolling forward as if of their own accord, letting the solid bulge of his erection nudge at Peter’s hip, between his legs, inviting and provocative all at once. It’s an invitation for him to touch, to continue, permission to let this move from just making out to fumbling together.
He’s alright with it not being sex yet, but he does want sex. He knows how Peter’s body moves and fuck does he ever want him moving like that on his cock. For right now, a hand, his mouth, his body moving against him, fuck, even just his hot breath teasing through the thin fabric of his tights is going to get him off.
He pulls from the kiss to breathe, forehead pressed to Peter’s like he’s willing him to read his mind. This close, his face is blurry, but green eyes still raise to scan blurred blue.
His hand moves up his hip. Peter’s body is familiar territory, one that Roman can’t help but feel possessive of.
His hand drags his shirt up a little. As it sweeps up over his chest, he can feel his nipple beneath the ribbed fabric. He lingers there, teasing his thumb over it again, feeling it react beneath his touch. Without thinking about the move, he shifts, nose nudging against Peter’s as his hand moves up and curls against his shoulder. The gesture seems to soften the urge of his hand, that suggestion that he wants him to sink to his knees between the wall and his body, the combination of it a wordless communication between their bodies that says he wants Peter on his knees, wants to feel his mouth, but that there’s so much more to this than just that.
Peter doesn’t move immediately, and he moves forwards, nipping at his lips just because they’re there, catching the reddened lower lip between his teeth playfully.