unf
MEME || accepting
It's not the first time. Nor is it the last. But Peter can taste his pulse as his back meets the wall---It's harsh. And the hands that follow are greedy. Tangle in his hair, and tug so his throat is bared. T e e t h. The Romani doesn't expect those either. ❝Hartley---❞ Peter hums, and tapered fingers squeeze his hips. Hard enough to bruise. He's watched. Watched Peter tear himself apart to free the wolf inside. Wiped the residuals from human flesh that fights it's way out once the sun is high. ❝I won't hurt you. ❞
He can't. It soothes the turmoil. The harshness calms, and instead of teeth? It's kisses. Light as the wings of a butterfly against golden brown. Along the hollows of his collarbone. Peter's lips part--- And he's rewarded with a pant for his efforts. A moan smothered against the older man's shoulder when hips are angled. There's that sweet spot. His heels are digging into a lower back---& they're a mess of sweaty limbs and heartbeats. ❝More,❞ but it helps. They forget.
❝More.❞ he gasps & clings as if his life depended on it. The hand in his hair lowers, eases down to encircle his throat---Thumb bearing down on wild pulse. Another thrust and the grip tightens. It makes the beast in his blood unfurl.
Peter's life is a series of well orchestrated collisions...And this one? This smothered anguish mirrored in dark irises. Feels like the most d e v a s t a t i n g.
Put me back together--- it says. I dare you.
