Chapter Fifteen Caravaggio, dir. by Derek Jarman #5
Peter nods, and Eli can feel his own arousal peeking back up at just how badly Peter wants this. He wonders if Peter can feel
him against the small of his back, feel the wetness there.
“And you’re going to keep being my good boy, right?”
He nods again, his eyes closed.
“Say it, Peter.”
“I’m going to be a good boy.”
“Good.” Eli traces his nails along Peter’s thigh, running his fingers along the faint stretch marks, kissing Peter’s shoulders
where he’s tattooed in much the same way. He moves his free hand up, cupping Peter’s breast, his fingers ghosting one of Peter’s
erect nipples, encountering the rushing thud of Peter’s heart as it beats wildly underneath the soft flesh. He traces Peter’s
neck, his jawline, feeling that slight chafe from where Peter recently shaved, before he holds his fingers up to Peter’s lips.
“Suck,” Eli orders. And Peter obeys.
He takes just one at first, working his way down Eli’s index finger, licking at the space between before he takes the middle
finger, and then Eli’s ring finger.
Eli feels powerful at the way Peter shudders underneath him.
“Are you ready?”
“For what?” Peter dares to ask.
“I want to finger you,” Eli says simply. He knows better than to mince words when the situation could turn uncomfortable at
the drop of a pin. “Is that okay?”
Peter seems to hesitate, and Eli hopes that he doesn’t feel pressured to say yes. But he finally nods. “Yes, please.”
“Okay.” Eli maneuvers, his wet fingers tracing Peter’s back. The angle is still awkward, given the height Peter has on him.
“I’m going to go in slowly.” Eli’s lips are right against Peter’s ear. “You’ll be a good boy and tell me if you want me to
stop, right?”
“I’ll be a good boy,” Peter repeats. “I promise.”
“You’re learning well.” Eli can’t help but smile. “Try your best to relax, okay?”
Eli slides his index finger into Peter, past the firm ring of muscle. He goes slowly.
“How does that feel?” Eli asks.
“A little weird...” Peter winces, the words coming out in hushed gasps as Eli continues to play with Peter’s cock, pumping slower and slower, second by second. He just wants this to last for as long as it can.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No, no,” Peter says, impatient. “It’s a good weird, I promise.”
“Okay.” Eli kisses Peter’s neck, biting softly as he adds another finger, twisting carefully inside Peter, searching desperately
for the thing he knows is there.
“Ohhh...” Peter gasps, his whines a song to Eli’s ears as he crooks his fingers inside. “Oh, God... Eli.”
“Close already?”
“Mm-hmm!” Peter nods feverishly.
“I don’t know if you deserve to come yet, Peter.” Eli slows his pace. He wants to edge him in just the right way, to leave
Peter desperate. Wanting.
Hungry.
“Please, Eli...” Peter gasps, letting out a high-pitched whine as his back arches, Eli’s fingers reaching in deep.
“No, I don’t think so,” Eli whispers, applying pressure to the head of Peter’s wet cock.
Peter humps the air, thrusting his cock into Eli’s hand, his precum leaking like a faucet. “Please,” Peter whines, as if please is the only word he can possibly think of. “Please.”
He doesn’t dare to add a third finger; he doesn’t want to overload Peter, no more than he already has. Eli knows he’s already
addicted to watching Peter melt into a puddle of absolute pleasure, left as nothing but a bumbling mess as Eli works his way
inside.
Eli drinks in Peter’s mewls and whimpers, searching for that spot.
And when he finds it, it’s magical.
Peter’s eyes go wide in shock as his back arches off the bed, continuing to fuck into Eli’s hand as he desperately gasps for air, like he can’t get enough of it. “Oh my God!” His words slur as he sinks into bliss, and Eli smiles.
“I’m going to show you the magic of a prostate orgasm, Peter.”
“God, fuck...” Peter murmurs against Eli’s skin, drooling just a bit as Eli continues to press against that precious bundle
of nerves. “Okay.”
“Are you my good boy, Peter?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Peter babbles, turning his face toward Eli, the two of them so close that Eli almost meets Peter with a kiss.
“Say it.”
“I’m a good boy,” he cries, his voice cracking.
“You are,” Eli promises. “That’s right, Peter. Now... come for me.”
Peter continues to fuck into Eli’s hand, chasing a release. Eli bites his neck.
“Eli!” Peter calls out as he climaxes, his hand reaching for Eli’s bicep, chest heaving like he can’t possibly get enough
air.
He does just that. It’s marvelous to watch Peter as his orgasm ruts through him, his eyes going wide, his legs shaking, hole
twitching with Eli still inside him as he shoots far enough to decorate both his and Eli’s faces. Eli doesn’t mind; he needed
to wash his hair anyway.
“I’m here,” Eli coos softly, running his hand through Peter’s soft hair, scratching softly at his scalp.
“Oh, God!”
“Was that good?”
“It was...” Peter huffs. “You were... perfect...”
Eli can’t help but laugh.
Peter lets out a low, exhausted laugh. “I think we made a mess?” He looks down at the milky streaks on his chest.
“Yeah... I’d say so.” Eli tries to catch his breath. “We should get cleaned up.”
Peter laughs and readjusts, a gasp slipping past his lips unexpectantly. “I, uh... I think your fingers are still inside me.”
Eli smiles, burying his face in Peter’s shoulder, listening to the sweet song of his laughter.
***
“I almost forgot what it was like to have hot water,” Eli says, stepping out of the bathroom dressed in the clothes that Peter
offered him. He assured Peter that he could survive in the short-shorts of his costume, but the moment he slipped into the
oversize sweatpants and matching hoodie, he was grateful.
“Do you not get hot water?” Peter asks, still sitting on the edge of the bed mostly naked.
“Well, I’m living with two other people, and there’s like eleven of us in the building, you have to find the perfect time.
Which usually means showering at two in the morning.”
“Eleven people in a building? How many units are there?”
“Three. There’s a family of seven that lives below us, don’t ask me how they manage to fit. I’d go crazy if I had to share
our apartment with one more person.”
Peter smiles, but he just as quickly averts his gaze, staring down at his phone.
“You okay?” Eli dares to ask.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“You had fun, right?”
Peter’s gaze shoots toward him. “Of course, Eli!” he says a little too quickly. “That was... I mean, that was amazing.
I just, uh... it’s not the sex.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Eli falls next to Peter on the bed, resting his chin on Peter’s shoulder. The reason for Peter’s
hesitance is immediate, an odd feeling washing over Eli as he sees the Hinge chat waiting on the screen. “Oh.”
His heart sinks.
“We’ve been talking for a few days. But he messaged like an hour ago, when we were... you know...”
“Fucking?”
Peter’s cheeks turn a soft pink. “Yeah. He wants to go on a date this weekend.”
“Well...” Eli readjusts, pulling away from Peter, ignoring the feeling that stirs in his gut. “What are you going to say?”
“I have no idea,” Peter admits.
“Can I see?”
Peter hands Eli the phone, standing. “I’m going to shower.”
“Okay.” Eli scrolls to the stranger’s profile. Lucas is handsome, he loves his golden retriever, he works at a bookstore.
He’s six foot two, brown haired, and green eyed. There are a few too many pictures of him with IPAs for Eli to ever take an
interest. Eli scrolls far enough up the chat log to see that Lucas liked one of Peter’s photos first.
Lucas: We should meet up this weekend!
That’s it. Peter got a date.
Wasn’t this the point? To help Peter get comfortable with going on dates on his own?
So why does it feel like the end of the world?
Eli’s ears perk up at the sound of Peter’s shower running. He can’t help himself from swiping out of Lucas’s profile, and
he’s faced with a page filled with matches. There are a handful of replies from Peter, a few one-sided conversations where
Peter either never got or never sent a reply. Then there are a few where the chat began and ended with various versions of
“Sorry, no Asians.” Eli’s stomach twists.
It’s a breach of privacy, Eli knows that.
He knows that and he can’t help himself from closing the app, finding Bumble among the organized mess of Peter’s home screen.
It’s much the same, a bunch of different matches stretching back a week or so.
Anyone who’s messaged has been met with no reply from Peter.
This pang slowly eats at his heart. He has to stop himself from swiping through all of these men and unmatching them. The
phone vibrates a moment later, and then again, and Eli sees the screen light up with a text from Peter’s mom, and another
Hinge message from Lucas.
Eli swallows, tasting the bile on his tongue. He knows that it isn’t too late, that he could tell Peter how he feels right
now.
So why doesn’t he?
He throws the phone onto the mattress and lets himself fall back, breathing in the mild scent that lingers on Peter’s clothing.
And to think he’d laughed when Peter said they should have some kind of clause in case one of them caught feelings for the
other.
“Fuck’s sake...” Eli murmurs.
He’s not in love with Peter, he can’t be. This entire situation is built off the idea that he’s not in love with Peter.
He’s not in love with Peter Park.
Eli can’t do that to himself.
The shower shuts off, and Eli listens to the sounds of Peter drying himself off. The door opens, steam spilling from the bathroom
as Peter walks back through to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“What do you think?” Peter asks.
“Hmm?” Eli can’t look at him for longer than a brief second. “Oh, he’s, uh... he’s nice.”
“Do you think I should go out with him?” Peter asks. “Do you think that I’m ready?”
“Yeah, you’re ready.” Eli can’t keep the curt tone of his voice to himself, and he hates himself for it. Because none of this
is Peter’s fault.
Not an ounce of it.
“He’s cute,” Eli throws in, just to make it seem like he’s actually interested.
“And he has a dog.”
“Yeah...” Eli can’t muster the energy to continue the conversation. “Well... I should get back home, I have to be up
early tomorrow.”
“I can give you a ride back, just let me get—” Peter starts to say, but Eli stops him.
“It’s okay, I don’t want to impose,” Eli tells him, pulling himself up quickly, heading right for the door.
“Are you sure?” Peter asks. “I just have to get dressed.”
“It’s fine, Peter. I promise. I can take the bus.” He doesn’t like how short he’s being with Peter. But the sooner he’s out
of here, the better.
“Oh, okay. Well... let me walk you out, at least.”
“Yeah, sure,” Eli relents, knowing that he’s giving too much of himself away. He can’t let Peter think that something’s wrong.
Because nothing is wrong.
That’s the lie he continues to tell himself as he waits for Peter to dress in sweats before he follows Eli out to the sidewalk.
“So... do you think you can help me get ready for this date?”
“Yeah, yeah...” Eli tells him, struggling to form words with just how quickly his brain is working against him. “Um, just
text me the details.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“Good night, Peter,” Eli says quickly, ready to exit this entire night.
“Good night, Eli.”