#quicksilver ff

Peter’s lips crashed against yours, not with the gentle teasing he usually reserved for your first few dates, but with a desperate, bruising force that left you gasping for air. The air between you crackled with the static of his super-speed energy, making your skin prickle with anticipation. He didn't give you a moment to adjust, his tongue immediately sweeping into your mouth to dominate yours, battling for control with a hunger that bordered on rabid.

His hands were everywhere at once, one fist in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing your throat, and the other kneading your breast roughly through your shirt. The friction against your sensitive nipple was maddening, sending jolts of electricity straight down to your core. You moaned into the kiss, a wet, broken sound that seemed to spur him on. He groaned deep in his chest, the vibration rattling your teeth.

Peter’s mouth was devastatingly skilled, his tongue swirling and probing with an expertise that made your knees weak. He tasted like mint and the lingering sweetness of a soda you’d shared earlier, but underneath that, there was the salt of his skin and the raw, animalistic scent of arousal. He traced the roof of your mouth, then nudged against your tongue before sucking it into his own, drawing it deep into his throat and swirling it around his tongue in a way that made your head spin.

His teeth grazed your lower lip, biting down just hard enough to sting, and then soothing the sting with a long, wet lick. You were arching your back off the bed, grinding yourself against him, but he pinned your hips down with a hand that felt like iron. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his irises blown wide and dilated with lust, his breathing heavy and ragged.

"God, you taste so good," he growled, his voice dropping an octave, rough and husky. He leaned in again, but this time his lips moved to your jaw, then your neck, kissing and nipping a path down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. He paused at the hollow of your throat, his lips wrapping around the sensitive skin there, sucking hard enough to leave a dark, claiming mark. You whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him.

He moved back up to your ear, his hot breath ghosting over the shell, sending shivers down your spine. "I want you so bad," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. His hand slid down your side, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, yanking them down impatiently. The sound of the fabric tearing was audible in the quiet room, and Peter chuckled darkly against your neck.

"Too slow," he murmured, his mouth returning to yours with renewed vigor, the kiss turning sloppy and wet, a clash of tongues and teeth and saliva. It was messy, uninhibited, and exactly what you needed.