Chapter 8
“The rebound boyfriend. See? I told you.” Theodore gifted Peter with a languid smile. “I win our bet.”
Theodore had abandoned his bowl of popcorn and half turned to Peter, opening himself up. It was a challenge to not seize the moment, but doing so would have been presumptuous.
“You do. To terminate the relationship in such a gruesome way.”
“Hmm.” Theodore turned fully away from the screen, cozying up to Peter, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder. He was warm and quietly commanding all of Peter’s attention. “It’s so scary. Makes me want to climb into your lap.”
Peter curled his arm tighter around Theodore, putting his palm on the other man’s back just below his neck. “Do you need some help with that?”
Theodore nuzzled Peter’s neck in a casual, unselfconscious way. It’s as if he seeks warmth and safety with me. It’s his right, his due. It’s good that he’s learning to demand it.
“No, I’m good. Don’t move too much, okay?”
“Theodore, you make it difficult to sit still.”
“So try.”
Peter raised his chin when Theodore began kissing him, a hand roaming over Peter’s chest and fiddling with buttons. Cultural misattribution aside, Peter was pleased that Theodore appreciated his build and the shape he was in.
If you knew the extent to which I adore your body, the way you smell after we make love, the way you relax after coming or the way your breathing picks up just before…
Peter tangled two fingers in the tips of Theodore’s hair.
I worry that you think I forget that you are smart and well spoken while being able to apply a sailor’s lexicon if you need to.
Those were things one might say when one was handfast, or before, when one was trying to get the other person to agree. Peter had considered adding some of it to their contract, but he had refrained and stuck with the necessities of their day-to-day.
What good would it do to spook the man I love into thinking about the implications of love when I can simply make him feel loved instead of throwing words at him? Frigg willing, love will hollow this particular stone.
Theodore had worked all of Peter’s buttons open and was eagerly pulling the shirt free of Peter’s pants. It was such a wonderful sight to witness.
“I’m going to ride you. Going to rub our dicks together until you come in my hand,” Theodore said, his cheeks flushed with color, his jade eyes bright as moonlight seen through emerald glass.
“Are you commanding me to let you do this?”
“Yes. You want to feed? Remember, the first time, our first time, we did it like this.”
Peter hummed and cupped Theodore’s neck when he straddled him. “If you’re referring to the day we met, we didn’t share pleasure that night.”
Theodore leaned forward and took Peter’s lips in an exquisitely demanding kiss.
“No, we didn’t fuck. But what if you’d paid extra to fuck me? We could’ve done this back then.”
I wouldn’t have enjoyed that. You clearly didn’t want me back then. And yet, Peter could tell that he wanted him now.
“Puck, do you want to be bitten?”
Theodore bit Peter’s lip; reasonably hard as these games went. It was an answer in itself, confirmed when he whispered, “Yeah.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough?”
Theodore groaned and draped his arms around Peter’s neck. “I told you, I don’t even look at snotty people anymore, okay? When someone sneezes, I leave the room and throw a handful of salt at them.”
“It’s not a laughing matter.”
“Peter, we’re fucking, and you’re biting me.”
With skilled fingers, Theodore got Peter’s pants open and went right for his cock, the touch calculated, firm, and very much goal oriented. There was something to be said for enjoying Theodore when he was riled just a touch.
“All right, Puck, all right.”
Theodore looked away from him. “You never asked.”
“Asked what?”
Theodore worked his own jeans open, still not meeting Peter’s eyes. Peter would’ve liked to look down between them, but he kept his attention fixed on Theodore’s face, even when Theodore decided he wanted to kiss Peter and nip his neck.
“Why I chose Puck for a name.”
“Well, you enjoy literature, so—”
“No, back then. You didn’t know anything about me back then. When we first met.”
“I thought it suited you. Plus, who am I to question the name a person picks for themself? Who is anyone, really, to doubt that choice?”
Theodore’s eyes flicked to him briefly, the fire in them arousing enough to make a shiver run over Peter’s back and heat pool in his belly. “Ugh, you’re annoying. Is it so hard just to ask? I’ll tell you anyway. I chose it because Puck gets what he wants, and he secretly runs the show.”
“That’s appropriate.”
“I can’t tell whether you’re making fun of me or not.”
Theodore grabbed them together, taking his time to lavish attention on Peter’s cockhead before spitting in his hand to ease the friction.
It’s fascinating how one’s relationship to another’s bodily fluids can change, Peter thought as he watched Theodore use that spit as lube to help him get them both off.
“I’m not making fun of you. You have my cock in your hand. It would be very unwise of me to insult you.” Peter’s voice was strained, a moan lurking to escape.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.”
Theodore was moaning himself, a sound as sweet as summer mead.
His touch, his fingers, and the friction of his skin, were perfect, the noises lewd in the very best of ways.
Peter draped his arms around Theo’s back, allowing himself to deepen the contact while giving Theodore something to brace against if he so wished.
But Theodore was not in need of any small support like that.
Peter loved seeing him give himself over to joy, and tonight he was doing exactly that, his head falling back to expose his neck, his eyes closed for the most part, though bright when they fell open.
He was much like a musician lost to his instrument, like a painter filling the canvas with abandon.
The sight was beautiful and humbling both, but like a spectacle of fireworks, it wasn’t meant to last. Theodore came first, writhing with it, his cum spattering Peter’s chest. He was using Peter’s arms now, muscles straining as he moaned loudly, competing with the sounds of the movie still playing in the background.
Peter came when Theo opened his eyes and looked at him. He bared his teeth—an automatic reaction he hadn’t intended. Yet Theodore took it as a cue and reacted, leaning forward despite the mess and offering his neck.
“Mine,” Peter whispered, then he bit his lover.
Theodore, thankfully, had quickly lost any fear of the bite. He was ready for the pleasure that came with it, but Peter barely took a sip this time, so there wasn’t much of the usual effect to be had.
Still, in combination with both of them coming and with Theodore likely tired from the day, it was more than enough to have him turning soft and seeking comfort in Peter’s arms.
Peter bit his thumb to tend to the wound, even as Theodore struggled to keep his head up.
Peter cupped the back of Theodore’s head, feeling the soft hair and gentle warmth of him against his palm. “Dearest, you need rest.”
“Hmm. Need you.”
He was looking for friction and closeness both, trying to banish whatever distance remained between their bodies, touching Peter in an attempt to get him even closer than he already was.
“I’m here. I’ll take you upstairs to our bed. You’ll fall asleep in my arms, and you’ll wake in my arms. I shall watch over you while night rules and after day breaks.”
“You sound…funny.”
Theodore was slurring his words already, the effects of the bite enough to calm him, if not potent to the point of overwhelming him.
Peter wrapped him in the abandoned blanket and brought him upstairs, where he dealt with the small mess from their lovemaking using one of the soft cloths he’d recently bought and put in the bathroom for just such occasions.
They were a pale green color—a small touch to mirror Theodore’s eyes.
Peter stripped Theodore, who let himself be undressed with the lightest of nudges before sprawling across their bed in an unintentionally inviting way. Once Theodore was under the covers, Peter spent half an hour straightening the house, then joined him.
He didn’t really understand what Theodore had been doing all day, but he understood what it meant that even in sleep, he turned toward Peter and sought his nearness, sought the safety of his arms.
“I’ll guard you, beloved. I’ll guard you.”
Peter kissed his lover’s brow and held him firm. One day, you will ask me for a bond, whether a handfasting or any other ritual, and you will have it. You own my heart, beloved, and I can wait to be given yours.