Touch Therapy
Title: Touch Therapy
Pairing: Peter Petrelli/Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Rating: NC-17 (usual smut warnings, m/m sex)
Word count: 7,380
Setting: 2+ years post-BNW
Written for heroes_contest one-shot challenge #36 Favorite Couple.
Summary: Peter has a bad day at work; Gabriel has a suggestion on how to deal with it.
A/N: beta by game_byrd. Forgive the length, any weirdness, OOC or mistakes and crappy POV - Peter's still a challenge, but hey, I wrote Petlar smut. Go me. This is my "happy ending" to, like, an S5 Petlar story. If only. Also this is what I call an "ideal situation", so it's not how I normally characterize the characters, namely for the sex.
Peter shut the front door with tired frustration, his mind still at work. Peter was already in the kitchen, head down, shoulders tight, angry, upset…sad. He felt like a failure. Every time. It never got any easier to watch people’s lives slip through his fingers. Hero, special, paramedic, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t making the cut, even by his own standards. He couldn’t imagine - and didn’t want to - the thoughts the victim’s families must have for him, after all, he’d failed to save their loved ones.
“Peter?”
That was Gabriel’s adorable sleepy-voice. It was an instant reminder of where he was and that he’d failed to enter the apartment properly - quietly. His anger at himself surged higher at having so inconsiderately woken his lover while relieved to hear his voice. He wanted to apologize and simultaneously unload all over his audience, but that voice jerked at his heartstrings. He’d wanted to come home, slide into bed, forget his life and sleep next to Gabe (without waking him) and now his home was filled with the same disturbance that had followed him all day.
Gabriel shuffled in, wearing his usual pajamas: loose cotton sleep pants. His hair was a tempting mess of soft darkness, properly mussed and tousled. Peter tensed, feeling like he should be called into account for tromping through the apartment and slamming doors like a jerk. Gabriel leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “Hey,” he greeted, voice a little hesitant, like he was treading carefully. Goddamnit. Now he’s upset, too. Just drag your baggage everywhere, Peter. No peace anywhere you go, not even helping.
Peter didn’t answer. His mind was still reliving what he’d seen earlier: flashes of body parts, blood, bones, and matted hair; the rattle of failing respiration. He could even still smell it, which was worst of all. He moved to the cupboard, retrieving a mug. Tea, maybe tea would help cleanse his palate and clear the stench of injury from his nostrils. Gabriel was always pushing tea on him like it was some magic herbal remedy and for all he knew, it might be, for all its happier smells.
He turned on the stove and filled up the teakettle. It was Gabriel’s. They’d bought it together when Peter finally voiced his the feelings he’d known for so long and officially invited Gabriel to live with him. Of course, Gabriel needed stuff; he’d had none and Peter had space aplenty, hence the teakettle. An antiqued white metal thing, it still reminded him of earlier that day; the bus had been metal, sturdy construction, meant to withstand anything shy of collision and even then…it should have been safer.
Buses were supposed to be safe, drivers should be safe, paramedics should be competent... Peter’s hands, holding the spoon, were shaking from his thoughts and stress, dropping and spreading dried leaves from canister to the stove. Thank goodness none slid under the burners and caught fire because that would just be the way his day was going. He slumped, having no mental words to swear with. “I’m…Stupid…tea…” he muttered, apologetic and frazzled. Shouldn’t be doing anything. I need to sit in a corner and just…not touch anything. I’m no good to anyone like this. Failure at tea, even. Can’t even make tea.
“Okay,” Gabriel announced simply upon seeing that. “Do you want me to make tea? Do you wanna talk?” ‘It looks like you need to’ was paraphrased in the man’s voice.
Peter shook his head, staring at the kettle without really seeing it. He didn’t want to add to the inconvenience, rousing Gabriel to make tea for him - he could to that himself. Rather, he would manage it somehow. The same old frustrations filled him on the heels of the mess he’d made. If I’d only been faster, stronger. Had more powers. Been more! That’s my job…He kept himself in good physical condition, he’d controlled his abilities - all but empathy, it seemed - he used them to help others and save lives. He’d even asked Gabe how to fine-tune his powers, how to use them properly, effectively. He’d felt like he’d done everything he could to improve. He should be able to beat any circumstance and when he couldn’t…He wasn’t satisfied with the results - one death was too much, let alone ninteeen from today. With all the power in the world at his fingertips, still couldn’t change it; success still seemed beyond his reach. He moved to tamper, quite uselessly, with the teapot. It resulted in his finger being singed with hot-but-not-boiling water as he tipped the over-filled pot. “Ow! Damnit!”
He felt his own emotional boiler about to bubble over and he took deep, almost sobbing breaths to try to calm himself, standing there with trembling hands. “Damnit…” he muttered again about everything. He was tired and worn down, drained, feeling like a raw nerve, feeling wrong and insufficient to the whole world. He didn’t know what to do about any of that, for any of the victims, their relatives or for himself.
Fortunately, his emotions were such that Gabriel heard. His partner wasn’t so deaf with empathy to miss Peter’s cacophony of need. Or maybe Gabriel just knew Peter that well. Or perhaps Gabe knew what he was feeling because he’d been there himself, many times, with no support. Peter felt nothing but sorrow over Gabriel’s past suffering but he was grateful for the man’s presence, support and comfort tonight.
Long, warm arms went around his chest and abdomen, “It will be okay, Peter.” It broke him. The emotional dam he’d built collapsed on contact and he felt relief because he could feel comfort and he knew this would pass, just in feeling his lover and hearing those words. Gabriel smelled like home; he felt like a bastion. He was still loved, even after everything.
“What happened?” Gabe rocked him soothingly.
“B-bus crash. Head on.”
Gabriel stilled for a moment. “You weren’t...”
Peter shook his head ‘no’, clutching at the hairy arms around him. He’d been on call, not riding the bus. He wondered how much different things would have been had he been on the scene or even a part of it…All he could think of was the multitude of gloves he’d gone through, switching from patient to patient; it seemed like an endless line of triage bodies to wade through and there would never be an end. He’d had to scrub for so long to get the a man’s life-blood off his hands when a glove ripped…It broke his heart just to see the horror of the crash and the lives torn asunder, never to be the same again.
It was worse for him to be in the middle of it, seeing the tears and wracking, choking cries of by-standers and victims alike, hearing painful sounds of those still trapped. He’d seen a father and young daughter separated by death; a husband and wife, the elderly woman with her recent purchases of scrapbooking supplies lying near her; she’d been on her way home from the store. Peter had been the one to carry her out, feeling the utter wrongness of a limp, cold body in his arms, the lack of heartbeat. He’d rescued her only to hear the devastation of a flat line on the monitor. Grief and shock and human reaction was everywhere and while he tried to focus on his job, his training and the calmer, active paramedics and police officers around him, sometimes he would get caught up and drown in humanity’s horror.
Peter allowed himself to be distracted by the familiar scruff of Gabriel’s cheek (even though he’d shaved just this morning) and neck nodding against his hair. It pulled him back to the moment. Gabe couldn’t say he was sorry - he wasn’t responsible; he didn’t necessarily feel sorrow for innocents dying. Gabriel thought about it too logically, the whole circle of life thing. He’d had the understanding of sanctity of life driven out of him before he’d become a killer, though he had been re-learning these past few years that he was human, just like every one else. Gabriel didn’t want anyone to suffer as they had; special or not. He supported Peter and he knew how much life and helping - ‘heroing’ as Gabriel called it - was important to Peter. It was his own lifeline.
Gabriel understood intellectually, but the emotion was foreign to him, yet here he was, understanding how it affected Peter and comforting him regardless of knowing what went on in Peter’s day or what it felt like for him. The least Peter could do to make up for things and show some gratitude was to explain why he was torn up. “There was…so many people; all feeling, all panicked and hurt and scared…And it was so hard to…” his voice shook a little, sounding closer to a breakdown than he really was. Not that breakdowns happened often, but some days at work were just…worse than others. Sometimes he envied the medics without powers - they could do their jobs without being bombarded with the visceral pain of their patients the way Peter was each time. It was always personal for him, every patient, every name, every injury.
“I know.”
“It doesn’t come off. That smell, those emotions. It’s…so hard to forget. That stuff just stays with you.” He turned in Gabriel’s arms, pressing his nose and forehead against the man’s perfectly situated chest. Every rough inhale was inches from Gabriel’s warm skin, drawing in the other man’s very air. It helped. He clutched at Gabe around his waist and lower back, trying to get closer. Needing to be.
“Think of something else.”
Peter felt his fingers spasm, gripping a few times, then release as he focused on that simple, obvious advice and his partner’s steady, ever-present heart beat. It was right here before him relief and security and love. Gabriel was solid, he was here, he was ready and helping - he was Peter’s.
Peter sighed, trying to let the day fade and let the past be. It was more difficult than it sounded when he’d once been the master of space and time and he knew what was possible with that ability. Most times he didn’t struggle outright, didn’t struggle too badly with ‘taking work home’, though he still caught himself waiting for the scanner to tone out. He still waited for the call sometimes. Gabriel saw it, though; every time - he’d point it out with a look but say nothing. It was effective; it reminded Peter of his priorities. It hadn’t taken many instances of that; he’d thrown the scanner in the trash. Gabriel showed him that he couldn’t have both, that balance was necessary. Easier said than done. Peter’s felt his life was like a kaleidoscope, like he was constantly stretched and had to keep moving. If he were smarter, he could manage himself better because he seemed unable to optimize. So he struggled and wasted his energy and potential from lack of foresight.
And while he worried about others, he overlooked his own life - something Gabriel had pointed out more than once. He wouldn’t be any good to anyone unless he took care of himself and got the things that he needed. Gabriel was one of those things and here he stood, making tiny exhales of enjoyment and stroking Peter’s skin.
Peter decided to take what was offered - what he needed - and allowed his hands to wander over Gabriel’s back, positive that his partner didn’t mind. It felt good for both men he knew. He was grateful for this. Any lingering tension left the taller man and he nuzzled his face into Peter’s hair, inhaling it for comfort and…
Oh, okay, was Peter’s realization.
Since Gabriel liked this sort of thing, Peter took it a step further, testing the offer. He slid the fingers of both hands under the flimsy elastic band of Gabe’s pajamas, holding there, just feeling another kind of emotional rush developing - this time pleasant and most welcome. The intimate, borderline-sexual teasing hint of contact was quickly bringing him back to himself, to their life and putting his desires first. He began to feel hopeful and energized, not knowing why and not questioning.
“It’s okay. You’ve been helping people all day. Let me help you,” Gabe murmured in his ear, surrendering to the treatment willingly.
Peter growled in his throat, agreeing, and Gabriel arched his back, pushing his chest out and into him while looking down at Peter, biting his lip hopefully, teasingly. Oh, yes. Peter was there. He felt other needs rising to the fore and the absence of thought and stress was wonderful, a drug all its own. He wanted another hit.
“Yeah, that’s it…” Gabriel breathed, practically inaudibly, but Peter heard. At that, he ran his hands underneath the band and fabric of the pajamas. His hands were full of familiar flesh as he cupped the firm pair of rounded buttocks, pulling his partner against him, reveling in the gasp and chuckle that meant he’d gotten something right for once today. He felt the man’s budding erection beginning to poke at his hip again and that desire, even for a screw up such as himself, quickly had his ardor rising. He was wanted; he was needed, right here, in his own home.
Peter noted that he was still wearing his filthy uniform. Ugh, he thought with disgust, Haven’t changed. He glanced down at it with distaste. Well, he would have to get rid of them eventually; at the rate things were going. “Why don’t you help me get my clothes off?” Peter hinted heavy-handedly.
“Any time,” Gabriel purred and grinned.
Peter felt a matching goofy grin taking over his face. He’s so good to me. Gabriel took his hand and Peter led him to the bedroom. Once there, Gabriel turned and stood before him, between Peter and the bed, his expression neutral (but that didn’t mean much with Gabe - besides, he exuded a momentarily-controlled energy). The man’s hands were unfastening his belt buckle with firm, sure, practiced motions as he stared into Peter’s tired eyes. Peter blinked back, his lips lifting once, to the side, in an encouraging grin as he fell into the man’s chocolate gaze.
“I call this stress relief for the very,” a flick of Gabe’s hands had the belt open, “much,” another move had the belt sliding from its loops with a buzz of leather on fabric, “alive,” his lover finished with a light jerk that made Peter’s dick twitch in eagerness. He could feel sexual tension begin to flow through him - for now (aside from groping Gabe’s ass) quite unsatisfied. It was heavy and thick, like warm honey in his veins. Gabriel seemed content at his own, languorous pace. Whatever it was, it was divine.
Gabriel continued as he toyed with Peter’s waistband, lips pressed to his ear and in his hair, cheek-to-cheek, “I want you to feel…someone who can’t get hurt. Feel me, feel alive, feel good. Feel so good, Peter,” he whispered devilishly aroused and arousing. It felt like something of a command and a release. He was stiff in his pants, full and very interested. In another moment and he would be so hard, ready to pierce through his pants to continue the action. Gabriel’s desire was an aphrodisiac, like a singular scent that would drive him mad - it went straight to his cock, straight to his balls, making them tight and sweaty as the other man’s feelings spiraled around and through him.
Gabriel dropped the belt, threw it aside more like, and Peter tugged his shirts off over his head, peeling and bunching the material. The apartment was a little chilly, but Gabriel was walking around shirtless and soon he knew they’d be warm. Free of his shirt, Peter pulled him close once more to kiss him, not yet devouring him like he wanted to. Peter felt his cock jump; it wouldn’t be long until he was leaking in his underwear. Gabriel’s mouth lingered against him after barely wrapping around his, lips parted just enough. Peter could feel and taste his breath; he licked his own lips to taste and whet them. God, I love his lips; he’s got fantastic lips.
Gabriel smiled, seemingly aware of Peter’s reactions and desires, after all, he’d had a lot of practice with them over the years, raising a hand to dip into Peter’s hair after caressing his neck in an upwards motion, tilting his wrist to sink his fingers deep into his hair at the back of his head. Peter allowed himself to be played and positioned, anything for more kisses. Gabriel loved kissing him and Peter loved being kissed, his mouth open, eyes lidded. Gabe pressed a similar, hot, slow, slightly-sucking kiss to his parted mouth. Peter groaned; his fingers curled and gripped at Gabe’s back. He made circles at the taller man’s equally-aroused crotch, working them below as Gabe worked his mouth, albeit too slowly. Peter hurried him by licking past his lips, tickling his teeth.
The taller man delivering not-too-long smooches with tantalizing sound effects; making him hot and the flush of heat felt wonderful in the room, against his hairy lover. Gabriel drew back, licking his lips now, far more predatorily than Peter had done a moment ago and without his glasses, he looked like Sylar.
Peter opened his pants in short order but Gabriel’s hand slid back into his hair, pulling his head back, arching his throat until all Peter could see was the ceiling. He didn’t know what came next, but he had a few good guesses. He felt Gabe move closer, his other hand trailing carefully, slowly, down Peter’s spine - neck, shoulders, mid-back…lower back… Then he felt hot, panting breath on his throat, vulnerable and on display, then felt soft, semi-dry, open lips and a pair of teeth tracing the lines of his throat. He arched his hips closer until Gabe’s cock was right beside his, pressed into his pelvis. Groaning was difficult in his position, held in place and held up by Gabriel’s wandering hand as it darted under his pants - yes! - searching fingers probing faster between his cheeks, massaging his anus. He let his eyes fall shut, gripping at Gabriel’s shoulder and back. Oh, yes. Right there… “Uh….yeah…Gabe…” he murmured his need, voice breathy, breaking, cock aching. Needing.
Gabe’s hand slowly fell away and Peter looked down to observe him. The taller man kissed his throat, collarbone, pec then his nipple - Peter watched and saw his nipple perk up a bit, looking a little shinier, a little pinker in the light. Gabe knelt before him then and Peter’s breath caught. Just that motion; it brought back so many memories from their dream-world. He found his hips had automatically canted forward in preparation. Gabriel looked up at him, chin resting below his naval, always so damn innocent with those wide, deep, dark brown eyes and pouting mouth….Peter’s hands were in his hair, too, stroking, showing love and appreciation…and lust. He could feel himself beginning to throb. It’s Gabe’s fault; let him fix it. Ease my ache, baby. Aloud he rasped, “Do it.”
Peter kept his hands in place, surrounded by silken strands, forcing Gabe to deal with his pants. Gabriel slowly drew his pants down from where they’d clung to his hips despite the earlier fingering and was left with a face full of Peter’s erection. Gabriel stared at it a moment, eyes relaxed. Peter felt hands up his thighs, a pair of thumbs running between his testicles, making them clench momentarily. He panted, waiting, being considerate at this stage. Gabe leaned in, rubbing his face against Peter’s cock, inhaling like a vacuum to catch Peter’s musk - turning himself on Peter knew. Peter was easy; whatever worked for Gabe usually worked for him and the more aroused his partner…well. “Yeah, baby…” Peter whined. Some of Gabriel’s stubble caught and that stung and burned, but the rest of the man’s face, namely his mouth and nose, were soft, fleshy pressures against his groin as his lover mouthed and began to lick at him.
Gabriel slid plush, moist lips over his mushroom tip, drawing him in and out, in and out. The touch was too gentle, but so wet and silky…He felt the soft edge of a soaked tongue caressing the underside of his prick, so sensitive and so sexual. Gabriel moved at a snail’s pace, obviously enjoying pleasuring Peter so much so that his eyes were shut while he tasted familiar flesh. Badly Peter wanted to set up a more substantial rhythm - still slow, but with more bobbing, more submersion, more suction; he wanted Gabriel to get a hand at his base and twist in concert with his mouth until the two met…His mouth was open, panting heavily, face twisting in mild grimaces of arousal as he watched his dick head get smothered with his partner’s luxurious lips. This was unique; usually Gabriel wanted to have his face fucked, or so he said; wanted to feel the cock slide in, taking it to the back of his throat until he felt the need to choke - doing so and suckling all the way back. But tonight Gabriel was savoring him, much to Peter’s delight. He petted at Gabriel’s gorgeous face and hair, touching what he could, admiring the pretty picture he made on his knees, cheeks hollowed, tongue busy, hair falling in his face until Peter brushed it back.
After a few moments of being tasted and primed with flicks of damp muscle and sucking kisses (Peter greatly enjoyed the sounds of being blown - the wet pops and slurps and slick flesh-on-flesh noises), Gabriel deemed him ready. With a surprisingly graceful bob, Gabriel darted in and took the majority of his dick until his tip was gripped by throat, making him hiss and grunt. “That’s it,” he murmured encouragingly, pressing lightly at the back of Gabe’s head, beginning to pump his cock into that hot sleeve of mouth. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Gabriel slurped faster and hummed in reply, allowing Peter’s cock to push deeper, sending shivers and vibrations into his balls, making them retract, causing Peter to grunt once more, “Uh! Fuck…Gabe…baby…” Now there was suction and saliva and more sounds of involved fellatio.
Fearing Gabriel might stay on his knees the whole night (Peter didn’t necessarily protest the idea, but he needed to touch Gabriel for himself), Peter tugged him off to the sound of a mouth being emptied. Gabriel blinked up at him, licking his lips of access spit as Peter drew him to stand then jerking the watchmaker’s pajamas down past his knees where Gabriel kicked them off, holding onto his shoulder for balance as he did. “Hmm,” Gabriel rumbled at being undressed and exposed. Peter just grunted at him, too desirous to form words with his lover now nude and erect before him. He ran his hands over the smooth skin of Gabriel’s hips, sides and arms, feeling him up. He quickly shucked his own shoes and pants when Gabriel moved away again.
Gabriel lay back on the bed, wrapping his mile-long, hairy legs around the backs of Peter’s thighs, tugging him over the prone man. Peter went eagerly. “Touch me,” was Gabriel’s whisper. Peter was tired and now horny as hell from Gabriel being all over him and he wanted to return the favor, especially after seeing his cock being swallowed, but even more so at seeing Gabe laid out on the street-lit mattress. Everything on him looked soft and tempting, the contrast between Gabriel’s dark body hair and his pale skin was fantastic. He looked so handsome - he looked edible. Oh yeah. That’s all mine. Gabriel didn’t hesitate to remind him of that very fact, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him in even as Peter let himself fall over him with a groan of desire. His hands found Gabe’s longer hair, keeping his head against the mattress with a fist and some pressure. His lover reacted instantly to that. Peter felt first Gabriel’s chest pressed against him, then the watchmaker’s cock, sliding against his abdomen in consequence, gasping and staring up at him with the most adoring, wanton look.
Peter leaned down to mold his lips with Gabe’s, mouths opened wide, their tongues dipping in and out - Gabriel’s lashing out while Peter’s curled and licked. It was a familiar, moist pattern. It still made Peter’s head rush. He held Gabe’s head in place with gentle hands on face and buried in his hair, tilting and angling his head back and forth to stay deep and involved, entwined at the tongue for now. Peter felt hands massaging his sides, stroking over his back. Just when Peter came up for air, panting, feeling much hotter pressed against his equally fired up lover, Gabriel spread his legs, allowing Peter to nestle between them, unshy about resting his weight on the man. The empath growled at that and darted down to take a mouthful of Gabriel’s throat - tasting bristly, vulnerable flesh as he sucked.
His lover whined, gripping him with his legs while rising off the bed, hands rubbing fervently at Peter’s hips with pleading touches. It felt fantastic, being felt up while doing whatever he wanted to the man laid out before him - it showed Gabe’s involvement. Peter was wanted and badly at that. He tugged away at his bite, kissing the spot when he released where he would have left a mark on anyone else before sliding his tongue down Gabriel’s writhing body, licking and tasting in one warm motion. “Oh! Oh, fuck…” Gabriel said lacking breath, sounding a little unsure of what was going on. That was okay. Neck, chest, belly, pelvis…crotch. Then Gabriel got it, moaning his pleasure as his hips shifted back and forth. Peter hummed a chuckle, licking around Gabriel’s groin, enjoying the taste of slightly-sweaty-but-still-clean man; his smell was welcoming, heady and intoxicating, screaming virile aroused male. The warm honey feeling increased, centered around his cock, but also behind his balls and up his spine. His heart beat fast and air felt scarce. He was almost a mindless animal in heat, kneeling between the watchmaker’s legs.
Gabriel’s cock was straight, all pink and pale skin, the head swollen, the shaft stiff, full and sticky and Peter longed to do so much more with that organ than just lick it. Peter ached to do things to Gabe with his own aching erection - fuck his mouth again, rub himself off using some part of Gabriel, push into him and fuck his brains out…But what he did instead was look up and wait long enough for Gabriel to notice nothing was going on. That’s right, look at me.
The hips below him squirmed as the eyes further up were smoldering and pleading directly into Peter’s, tension twisting tighter between them, no words spoken. Peter slid his hands up over Gabe’s hips, bringing them down with his nails scratching into soft flesh, watching as Gabriel lost in and dropped his head back with a groan and another shift. Then he descended, first kissing then licking gentle kitten licks over the straining member below. “Uhh! Peter…” Again, that gasping request. Irresistible. All over he licked, pressing down on the wild hips that tried to force the cock inside him, that tried to slot itself in his mouth or implore him to take more while Gabriel’s fisted at his hair, but not pulling. Peter liked that, more signs of desire from his partner as if he could miss all the preceding indicators.
He took his sweet time lapping up the thickly-veined organ as it strained and twitched, desperate for his mouth and for his love. He cleaned Gabe of droplets of precum and sweat, gathering it on his tongue. He petted the shaft and circled his balls. He nuzzled and kissed at the man’s fuzzy, incased orbs. He pressed in close enough to feel the resounding heartbeat. Gabriel gave a tempting squirm, rolling his hips gently against Peter’s face. Then a loud “Peter, oo-ooh…!” as he sucked below the head, almost attempting to suction marks on the man’s dick. That last noise was desperate, a whining moan - just what he’d been waiting for. Gabriel had submitted from his more active role in turning Peter on and was now a mess of lust, a puddle of melted watchmaker in Peter’s proverbial hands, wound up for Peter to release as he pleased.
At his mercy, Gabriel fondled his hair and made plenty of noise, filling the apartment. “N-nipples…Pe-ter…” was Gabriel’s croon of need, his hands already there, doing the job himself, but he wanted Peter’s fingertips and Peter’s touch. Oh, that’s so hot. He’s so sexy, look at that…The man had his cock upthrust towards Peter’s mouth, his own hands fiddling with his nipples, his spine curved off the bed, face lost…He must have taken too long because Gabriel guided his hands up his body until they rested over the lightly defined, furry pectorals. The whole thing was blowing Peter’s mind - the request, the assistance, being shown where and how to pleasure him, the feel of the man under him, the taste of his cock in his mouth. The emotions pouring off the intuitive were incredible; Gabriel was a goner - awash in caring, happiness, pleasure and pure animal needs - and it was all Peter’s doing and Peter’s need that drove him to this in the first place and now it was his touch doing the man in. Fuck! He thumbed at Gabe’s nipples until they stood up, then he proceeded to pinch them tenderly, twisting them just so until they flushed dark pink; all the while he continued whetting the dick before him with his tongue, giving even less stimulation than he’d received in the earlier blow job. He knew (and could feel) how badly this was tripping Gabriel’s trigger, listening the whining and mewling from above him on the bed.
Peter broke down and jacked himself off to the show until he could stand it no more. Peter slithered over his submissive prey, being welcomed back in with open arms. He sprawled atop his lover with abandon, cradled in the long body. He reengaged at the mouth, kissing Gabriel hungrily, wetly, moaning and breathing hard, chest to chest. He couldn’t get enough and Gabriel held him hard in place anyway; Peter gave in to his driving instinct. He pressed them together and began to buck his hips, frotting them together for all he was worth. He could feel and hear the gasps and moans the other man made as their slick members made love between them. It was sloppy, but it was friction. He plunged his tongue into Gabriel’s mouth and his lover responded by grabbing his cheeks, hauling him into the each thrust as they ground together like teenagers.
A few precious moments into this, Gabriel managed to pant, “In me, Peter…Get inside.” Peter was perfectly happy wherever - with his lover, kissing, touching, naked - but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to pound his frustrations away, peacefully, blissfully, pleasurably while buried in Gabriel’s tight channel. His body certainly longed for that age-old rhythm. He wanted the closeness and the intimacy of cumming inside Gabriel, hand wrapped around that cock, making it cum as Gabriel clenched around him.
After a pause of trying to get his brain out of the ‘thrust-hump-him-fuck-him-love-him-get inside!’ mantra it was in and focused on what he needed to be doing, he snapped to it. He crawled over to the bedside table, snatching up the lube. He could feel Gabriel’s eyes on him, alternately lusting and giving him a ‘seriously?’ look that said he should have used telekinesis. That was a whole other story - sometimes bed was the last place he wanted to use powers.
Peter ignored that because while he fumbled with the lubricant, Gabriel’s hands were busy twisting away at Peter’s root, both hands…opposite directions…up and down, making him gasp and bite his lip. The damn tube kept slipping! It didn’t want to open. “Pe-ter…” was his lover’s breathless appeal. Oh, God, he was so hot and tempting, pumping away at his cock while he waited for Peter’s fingers, but the only thing Gabe’s hands were speeding up was Peter’s impending climax. Gabriel wasn’t stopping there, busily humping himself against Peter’s thigh…So hard…so hard, Peter thought in acutely sexual frustration, Fuck…With a beautiful sound, the tube opened and Peter clumsily gathered the lube and slid it down between Gabriel’s legs, feeling testicles on the back of his hand, to the fleshy curves of buttocks and the hairy crevice between.
“Ye-ah…” was Gabriel’s whisper, eyelids drooping momentarily as he watched Peter as if through a haze. The taller man paused in his ardent stroking with fists and switched to thumbing and fingering over Peter’s length. That was so sexy - being felt up and tickled with Gabriel’s searching, gentle fingers. Peter squeezed the other man’s cheeks, massaging and gripping them in turns, spreading him open a bit; all the while his own fingers were circling around Gabriel’s opening as if trying to tease it open with his touch. Peter could feel the ring of puckered muscle part just so at every rub and gentle prod of his thumbs - he began to spread his thumbs at the resisting hole, pulling it open gently, but he hadn’t looked down to view the external seduction he was providing Gabriel’s asshole.
Gabriel gasped, then hummed, legs spread demandingly wide, wriggling slightly to get more of everything. Peter would have given him his tongue and prepped him with licking kisses to open him, but it would result in no kisses after. Gabe still thought it was a filthy act even if it turned him on. Still, it tempted Peter: watching Gabriel’s eyes squeeze shut as if climaxing while making tiny, choked noises… Instead, he busied himself with partly ignoring Gabriel’s hands and focusing on the pert ass and swelling pucker beneath his fingertips - vulnerable and sweet; he wanted to give it everything he had. He began to prod at the hole, feeling lube slipping between his finger and the surrounding delicate walls.
“More,” was Gabriel’s requested. Oh, now he has manners. He always calls me a slut, but he can be so demanding. Peter smiled to himself.
Peter immediately pushed a pair of fingers into the teased, too-tight-as-usual asshole, listening to the gasp at first penetration. One finger was ‘for sissies’, so Gabe always demanded two to start. “Stop that,” Peter growled about the handjob when he felt rising pressure behind his balls at the continued stimulation, only partially meaning it.
Gabriel beamed a naughty smile at him. He was breathtaking; some kind of demonically darkly handsome sex god awaiting his cock - he was so powerful and Peter knew all Gabe wanted was to be spread, reamed through the bed, wrung out by Peter’s hand; the watchmaker wanted so badly to please; it called out to the empath like a siren’s seduction. Gabriel didn’t quit, as expected, instead he slowed his motions down, appearing to really get into it. As Peter watched, Gabe’s muscles flexed in the half-light from jacking cock and writhing about, Peter used his free hand to spare a healthy drizzle of lube to ease Gabriel’s grip. The lube was cold on his heated skin, but the shock was like waking up, his head that much clearer.
In retaliation to Gabriel’s disobedience, he hooked his fingers up and began to flutter them around; everywhere but where the taller man wished them to be, probing over soft rectal walls as if searching for the pleasure spot in spite of the years of practice he had and the intimate knowledge of where it lay. It drove Gabe wild as if he’d actually struck his prostate, but he hadn’t yet. The man whimpered, hands going still as his hips began to roll around, sensuous in his quest for impaling himself correctly on Peter’s fingers, desperate to ride his fingers. Peter watched as Gabriel’s cock bobbed, hard and still wet from his kisses earlier; he saw the watchmaker’s expression turn into a pouting frown with something of a grimace, huffing in unfulfilled need.
“Peter,” this time it was more of a snarl from Gabriel, demanding the proper stimulation which Peter granted eagerly. A twist of his fingers had Gabriel’s hips rolling differently - on a rhythm, against his fingers, trying to grind them inside further and keep the pressure on his prostate. “Uuh! Oh- that’s...Ooooh! Oh! Yeah!”
Peter felt his cock lurch and bump against his stomach, connected by pre-cum now - feeling his lover’s body encasing his fingers snugly, his own testicles heavy and impatient. He looked down, knowing he shouldn’t, knowing it would drive him mad. His fingers were slick as was the tight rim of forever-virgin muscle being forced apart, flushed dusky pink, hidden, surrounded by modest black hairs, inviting him all the same. Peter’s mouth opened as he grunted his interest at the sight, probing slowly but very firmly, opening Gabriel’s asshole . The glimpses inside the man finally did him in.
He burned for penetration, rigid cock and balls filled with what felt like lava ready to burst out and drown them both in Peter’s lust. Greedily he jerked off a few strokes before pointing his swollen head at Gabriel’s tender entrance. Tender entrance it was, but the man it belonged to was anything but patient and not in the tender mood. Gabriel took hold of his hips, angling his own, and stabbed Peter inside himself, crying out a groaning kind of scream at being opened in an instant. Peter was left moaning at being engulfed in velvety soft walls as they tried to reject him at first, massaging along his length, sucking at him, calling him in and drawing him deeper still. The prone man had his head thrown back and he gripped at Peter as he choked and grunted before pushing him back and slamming his rod balls-deep. They made matching male animal sounds at that, feeling more still of each other and what they had to give. Peter lost it, his mind flying away, singed to ash until all he could see was their impending orgasms. Make him cum; make him cum so hard…Let me see it!
He lifted and held Gabe’s right leg in his hand, twisting the man’s channel around and over his throbbing invader until his lover looked up at him with that blissed-yet-needy expression. Braced on his elbows, partly holding Gabe’s rear up, Peter began to thrust like a jackhammer, drilling himself into the slick sheath of Gabriel’s ass. He aimed to rub the ridge of the head of his cock against his lover’s prostate, doing a fair job of it if the noises were any indication. With his free hand, he brushed it over the engorged, red cock underneath him, listening to Gabe’s already labored breathing pause for a sexy little inhale. A thumb over frenulum, a pinch and rough tug to a nipple (earning him a mewl of excitement and an eager gyration of hips), he again secured a hold of the man’s hair, pinning him in place for Peter’s sloppy, open kisses, pressed chest-to-chest.
Gabriel’s tongue was in motion, a hand on Peter’s bucking hip and lower back - just above his cheek where Peter was made aware of his own bunching musculature - and another hand holding Peter’s head to his face to consume him just as utterly. Their parts slapped together with pornographic intensity; Peter’s balls against Gabe’s crack and Peter’s belly with Gabe’s cock, all the while bucking between his legs like a bronco. Gabriel gave as good as he got, using that hand on his hip as leverage to lift himself on his bent leg and shoulder blades to angle himself to slide onto and squeeze Peter’s cock at every warm thrust. Fuck….riding me…And Gabriel rode him (or at least very actively assisted in his own reaming) from below, clinging desperately as if the few-inches fall to the bed would kill him and contact with Peter was a savior. Peter paid no attention to the vigorous sounds he made with each impact, “Uhn! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uhn!”
Hot and sticky from sweating, they slipped and moved together, breathing as one being, embedded top and bottom. Every beat of Peter’s heart was devoted to pulsing waves of pleasure and pumping himself hard into Gabriel, who pawed at him mindlessly at being pleasured. They could do this now, giving everything then had to each other, forgetting all else at the door. Peter knew he should probably remember that for later, but he had his hand on Gabriel’s throbbing cock, jerking it roughly and kissing his mouth and it became just too much thought. Gabriel was mewling and moaning, his breath catching frequently, “G-od, Peter….fuck…Peter…! Peter…! Peter…!” he called his name like a warning, which it was; Gabe was close. Peter was grunting, driving himself inside, working his tip in and slapping his pelvis against Gabe’s proffered cheeks.
The watchmaker came first; a relief as Peter’s orgasm was going to make him unfit for duty afterwards. Gabriel stiffened, lips parted in a silent scream, eyes wide then closed shut as his face slowly relaxed, meanwhile his cock pulsed, streaking his stomach and chest and his ass…Peter growled, Gabriel moaned his name again, and he gave in to the squeezing convulsions of the asshole around him as it drew him in, begging for his release. He felt heat and numbness spread, then a low kick between his balls. Peter called out, his voice rough, feeling sweaty and near-pain with approaching orgasm as his hips bucked raggedly, losing his rhythm but still humping through it. His dick expanded, hardened and erupted, spurting semen into Gabriel’s quivering rectum as Peter gasped for air. He was aware of nothing for long seconds, eyes closed to the world as he soaked it in.
Their decent was quiet aside from lungs filling with oxygen; the watchmaker lay limp and relaxed, apparently unbothered at Peter slumped over him for now, enjoying his human pillow and feeling satiated at last. He played with Gabe’s chest hair while he thought of nothing at all. Finally, Gabriel patted him, Peter rolled off onto his back only to have Gabriel follow, pressing his long body against Peter’s side. Peter wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer still, kissing the nearby sweaty forehead.
“That was good,” he praised with feeling.
“Just need to come home and have sex more often. Touch therapy. That’s the cure.”
“How selfless of you,” Peter replied, lazy with his post-orgasm dose of hormones and love, always the love.
“Hmm, I really am. Not selfish at all.” Gabriel snuggled up against him, laying an arm over his body. Peter petted it, closing his eyes with a smile.
..XXX...XXX...XXX...
“You okay, man?” Was Hesam’s kind question the next morning, snapping him out of his reverie. They stood in Mercy’s lobby, dressed and ready to go before tour two.
“Yeah, ‘m fine.”
“You sure? Cause you looked kinda rough last night.”
Peter tilted his head, thinking. It had been a rough shift yesterday, he couldn’t lie. There was nothing he could do about it now. He had to accept and move on. He wasn't God or all-powerful. He should try to acknowledge to his own limitations. But he was beginning to see how he could begin to manage those types of things. The new concept wouldn’t set in overnight; learning to let go of what he couldn’t change and live his own life first would take time, but it was possible. Coming to his lover was never a bad idea. He grinned, ducking his head too late to hide it. His smirk was a little dirty. He was at peace with himself and with life, still riding high on sex from the night before. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m okay.”
“O-oh,” Hesam clued in to what that grin meant, matching it himself. Sometimes, Peter thought, it’s nice to be known, by friends and super sexy boyfriends. “You get something last night?”
Peter grinned some more, nodding and hefting his bag to his shoulder, answering as he walked out to the truck, “Touch therapy. You oughtta try it.”
Pairing: Peter Petrelli/Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Rating: NC-17 (usual smut warnings, m/m sex)
Word count: 7,380
Setting: 2+ years post-BNW
Written for heroes_contest one-shot challenge #36 Favorite Couple.
Summary: Peter has a bad day at work; Gabriel has a suggestion on how to deal with it.
A/N: beta by game_byrd. Forgive the length, any weirdness, OOC or mistakes and crappy POV - Peter's still a challenge, but hey, I wrote Petlar smut. Go me. This is my "happy ending" to, like, an S5 Petlar story. If only. Also this is what I call an "ideal situation", so it's not how I normally characterize the characters, namely for the sex.
Peter shut the front door with tired frustration, his mind still at work. Peter was already in the kitchen, head down, shoulders tight, angry, upset…sad. He felt like a failure. Every time. It never got any easier to watch people’s lives slip through his fingers. Hero, special, paramedic, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t making the cut, even by his own standards. He couldn’t imagine - and didn’t want to - the thoughts the victim’s families must have for him, after all, he’d failed to save their loved ones.
“Peter?”
That was Gabriel’s adorable sleepy-voice. It was an instant reminder of where he was and that he’d failed to enter the apartment properly - quietly. His anger at himself surged higher at having so inconsiderately woken his lover while relieved to hear his voice. He wanted to apologize and simultaneously unload all over his audience, but that voice jerked at his heartstrings. He’d wanted to come home, slide into bed, forget his life and sleep next to Gabe (without waking him) and now his home was filled with the same disturbance that had followed him all day.
Gabriel shuffled in, wearing his usual pajamas: loose cotton sleep pants. His hair was a tempting mess of soft darkness, properly mussed and tousled. Peter tensed, feeling like he should be called into account for tromping through the apartment and slamming doors like a jerk. Gabriel leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “Hey,” he greeted, voice a little hesitant, like he was treading carefully. Goddamnit. Now he’s upset, too. Just drag your baggage everywhere, Peter. No peace anywhere you go, not even helping.
Peter didn’t answer. His mind was still reliving what he’d seen earlier: flashes of body parts, blood, bones, and matted hair; the rattle of failing respiration. He could even still smell it, which was worst of all. He moved to the cupboard, retrieving a mug. Tea, maybe tea would help cleanse his palate and clear the stench of injury from his nostrils. Gabriel was always pushing tea on him like it was some magic herbal remedy and for all he knew, it might be, for all its happier smells.
He turned on the stove and filled up the teakettle. It was Gabriel’s. They’d bought it together when Peter finally voiced his the feelings he’d known for so long and officially invited Gabriel to live with him. Of course, Gabriel needed stuff; he’d had none and Peter had space aplenty, hence the teakettle. An antiqued white metal thing, it still reminded him of earlier that day; the bus had been metal, sturdy construction, meant to withstand anything shy of collision and even then…it should have been safer.
Buses were supposed to be safe, drivers should be safe, paramedics should be competent... Peter’s hands, holding the spoon, were shaking from his thoughts and stress, dropping and spreading dried leaves from canister to the stove. Thank goodness none slid under the burners and caught fire because that would just be the way his day was going. He slumped, having no mental words to swear with. “I’m…Stupid…tea…” he muttered, apologetic and frazzled. Shouldn’t be doing anything. I need to sit in a corner and just…not touch anything. I’m no good to anyone like this. Failure at tea, even. Can’t even make tea.
“Okay,” Gabriel announced simply upon seeing that. “Do you want me to make tea? Do you wanna talk?” ‘It looks like you need to’ was paraphrased in the man’s voice.
Peter shook his head, staring at the kettle without really seeing it. He didn’t want to add to the inconvenience, rousing Gabriel to make tea for him - he could to that himself. Rather, he would manage it somehow. The same old frustrations filled him on the heels of the mess he’d made. If I’d only been faster, stronger. Had more powers. Been more! That’s my job…He kept himself in good physical condition, he’d controlled his abilities - all but empathy, it seemed - he used them to help others and save lives. He’d even asked Gabe how to fine-tune his powers, how to use them properly, effectively. He’d felt like he’d done everything he could to improve. He should be able to beat any circumstance and when he couldn’t…He wasn’t satisfied with the results - one death was too much, let alone ninteeen from today. With all the power in the world at his fingertips, still couldn’t change it; success still seemed beyond his reach. He moved to tamper, quite uselessly, with the teapot. It resulted in his finger being singed with hot-but-not-boiling water as he tipped the over-filled pot. “Ow! Damnit!”
He felt his own emotional boiler about to bubble over and he took deep, almost sobbing breaths to try to calm himself, standing there with trembling hands. “Damnit…” he muttered again about everything. He was tired and worn down, drained, feeling like a raw nerve, feeling wrong and insufficient to the whole world. He didn’t know what to do about any of that, for any of the victims, their relatives or for himself.
Fortunately, his emotions were such that Gabriel heard. His partner wasn’t so deaf with empathy to miss Peter’s cacophony of need. Or maybe Gabriel just knew Peter that well. Or perhaps Gabe knew what he was feeling because he’d been there himself, many times, with no support. Peter felt nothing but sorrow over Gabriel’s past suffering but he was grateful for the man’s presence, support and comfort tonight.
Long, warm arms went around his chest and abdomen, “It will be okay, Peter.” It broke him. The emotional dam he’d built collapsed on contact and he felt relief because he could feel comfort and he knew this would pass, just in feeling his lover and hearing those words. Gabriel smelled like home; he felt like a bastion. He was still loved, even after everything.
“What happened?” Gabe rocked him soothingly.
“B-bus crash. Head on.”
Gabriel stilled for a moment. “You weren’t...”
Peter shook his head ‘no’, clutching at the hairy arms around him. He’d been on call, not riding the bus. He wondered how much different things would have been had he been on the scene or even a part of it…All he could think of was the multitude of gloves he’d gone through, switching from patient to patient; it seemed like an endless line of triage bodies to wade through and there would never be an end. He’d had to scrub for so long to get the a man’s life-blood off his hands when a glove ripped…It broke his heart just to see the horror of the crash and the lives torn asunder, never to be the same again.
It was worse for him to be in the middle of it, seeing the tears and wracking, choking cries of by-standers and victims alike, hearing painful sounds of those still trapped. He’d seen a father and young daughter separated by death; a husband and wife, the elderly woman with her recent purchases of scrapbooking supplies lying near her; she’d been on her way home from the store. Peter had been the one to carry her out, feeling the utter wrongness of a limp, cold body in his arms, the lack of heartbeat. He’d rescued her only to hear the devastation of a flat line on the monitor. Grief and shock and human reaction was everywhere and while he tried to focus on his job, his training and the calmer, active paramedics and police officers around him, sometimes he would get caught up and drown in humanity’s horror.
Peter allowed himself to be distracted by the familiar scruff of Gabriel’s cheek (even though he’d shaved just this morning) and neck nodding against his hair. It pulled him back to the moment. Gabe couldn’t say he was sorry - he wasn’t responsible; he didn’t necessarily feel sorrow for innocents dying. Gabriel thought about it too logically, the whole circle of life thing. He’d had the understanding of sanctity of life driven out of him before he’d become a killer, though he had been re-learning these past few years that he was human, just like every one else. Gabriel didn’t want anyone to suffer as they had; special or not. He supported Peter and he knew how much life and helping - ‘heroing’ as Gabriel called it - was important to Peter. It was his own lifeline.
Gabriel understood intellectually, but the emotion was foreign to him, yet here he was, understanding how it affected Peter and comforting him regardless of knowing what went on in Peter’s day or what it felt like for him. The least Peter could do to make up for things and show some gratitude was to explain why he was torn up. “There was…so many people; all feeling, all panicked and hurt and scared…And it was so hard to…” his voice shook a little, sounding closer to a breakdown than he really was. Not that breakdowns happened often, but some days at work were just…worse than others. Sometimes he envied the medics without powers - they could do their jobs without being bombarded with the visceral pain of their patients the way Peter was each time. It was always personal for him, every patient, every name, every injury.
“I know.”
“It doesn’t come off. That smell, those emotions. It’s…so hard to forget. That stuff just stays with you.” He turned in Gabriel’s arms, pressing his nose and forehead against the man’s perfectly situated chest. Every rough inhale was inches from Gabriel’s warm skin, drawing in the other man’s very air. It helped. He clutched at Gabe around his waist and lower back, trying to get closer. Needing to be.
“Think of something else.”
Peter felt his fingers spasm, gripping a few times, then release as he focused on that simple, obvious advice and his partner’s steady, ever-present heart beat. It was right here before him relief and security and love. Gabriel was solid, he was here, he was ready and helping - he was Peter’s.
Peter sighed, trying to let the day fade and let the past be. It was more difficult than it sounded when he’d once been the master of space and time and he knew what was possible with that ability. Most times he didn’t struggle outright, didn’t struggle too badly with ‘taking work home’, though he still caught himself waiting for the scanner to tone out. He still waited for the call sometimes. Gabriel saw it, though; every time - he’d point it out with a look but say nothing. It was effective; it reminded Peter of his priorities. It hadn’t taken many instances of that; he’d thrown the scanner in the trash. Gabriel showed him that he couldn’t have both, that balance was necessary. Easier said than done. Peter’s felt his life was like a kaleidoscope, like he was constantly stretched and had to keep moving. If he were smarter, he could manage himself better because he seemed unable to optimize. So he struggled and wasted his energy and potential from lack of foresight.
And while he worried about others, he overlooked his own life - something Gabriel had pointed out more than once. He wouldn’t be any good to anyone unless he took care of himself and got the things that he needed. Gabriel was one of those things and here he stood, making tiny exhales of enjoyment and stroking Peter’s skin.
Peter decided to take what was offered - what he needed - and allowed his hands to wander over Gabriel’s back, positive that his partner didn’t mind. It felt good for both men he knew. He was grateful for this. Any lingering tension left the taller man and he nuzzled his face into Peter’s hair, inhaling it for comfort and…
Oh, okay, was Peter’s realization.
Since Gabriel liked this sort of thing, Peter took it a step further, testing the offer. He slid the fingers of both hands under the flimsy elastic band of Gabe’s pajamas, holding there, just feeling another kind of emotional rush developing - this time pleasant and most welcome. The intimate, borderline-sexual teasing hint of contact was quickly bringing him back to himself, to their life and putting his desires first. He began to feel hopeful and energized, not knowing why and not questioning.
“It’s okay. You’ve been helping people all day. Let me help you,” Gabe murmured in his ear, surrendering to the treatment willingly.
Peter growled in his throat, agreeing, and Gabriel arched his back, pushing his chest out and into him while looking down at Peter, biting his lip hopefully, teasingly. Oh, yes. Peter was there. He felt other needs rising to the fore and the absence of thought and stress was wonderful, a drug all its own. He wanted another hit.
“Yeah, that’s it…” Gabriel breathed, practically inaudibly, but Peter heard. At that, he ran his hands underneath the band and fabric of the pajamas. His hands were full of familiar flesh as he cupped the firm pair of rounded buttocks, pulling his partner against him, reveling in the gasp and chuckle that meant he’d gotten something right for once today. He felt the man’s budding erection beginning to poke at his hip again and that desire, even for a screw up such as himself, quickly had his ardor rising. He was wanted; he was needed, right here, in his own home.
Peter noted that he was still wearing his filthy uniform. Ugh, he thought with disgust, Haven’t changed. He glanced down at it with distaste. Well, he would have to get rid of them eventually; at the rate things were going. “Why don’t you help me get my clothes off?” Peter hinted heavy-handedly.
“Any time,” Gabriel purred and grinned.
Peter felt a matching goofy grin taking over his face. He’s so good to me. Gabriel took his hand and Peter led him to the bedroom. Once there, Gabriel turned and stood before him, between Peter and the bed, his expression neutral (but that didn’t mean much with Gabe - besides, he exuded a momentarily-controlled energy). The man’s hands were unfastening his belt buckle with firm, sure, practiced motions as he stared into Peter’s tired eyes. Peter blinked back, his lips lifting once, to the side, in an encouraging grin as he fell into the man’s chocolate gaze.
“I call this stress relief for the very,” a flick of Gabe’s hands had the belt open, “much,” another move had the belt sliding from its loops with a buzz of leather on fabric, “alive,” his lover finished with a light jerk that made Peter’s dick twitch in eagerness. He could feel sexual tension begin to flow through him - for now (aside from groping Gabe’s ass) quite unsatisfied. It was heavy and thick, like warm honey in his veins. Gabriel seemed content at his own, languorous pace. Whatever it was, it was divine.
Gabriel continued as he toyed with Peter’s waistband, lips pressed to his ear and in his hair, cheek-to-cheek, “I want you to feel…someone who can’t get hurt. Feel me, feel alive, feel good. Feel so good, Peter,” he whispered devilishly aroused and arousing. It felt like something of a command and a release. He was stiff in his pants, full and very interested. In another moment and he would be so hard, ready to pierce through his pants to continue the action. Gabriel’s desire was an aphrodisiac, like a singular scent that would drive him mad - it went straight to his cock, straight to his balls, making them tight and sweaty as the other man’s feelings spiraled around and through him.
Gabriel dropped the belt, threw it aside more like, and Peter tugged his shirts off over his head, peeling and bunching the material. The apartment was a little chilly, but Gabriel was walking around shirtless and soon he knew they’d be warm. Free of his shirt, Peter pulled him close once more to kiss him, not yet devouring him like he wanted to. Peter felt his cock jump; it wouldn’t be long until he was leaking in his underwear. Gabriel’s mouth lingered against him after barely wrapping around his, lips parted just enough. Peter could feel and taste his breath; he licked his own lips to taste and whet them. God, I love his lips; he’s got fantastic lips.
Gabriel smiled, seemingly aware of Peter’s reactions and desires, after all, he’d had a lot of practice with them over the years, raising a hand to dip into Peter’s hair after caressing his neck in an upwards motion, tilting his wrist to sink his fingers deep into his hair at the back of his head. Peter allowed himself to be played and positioned, anything for more kisses. Gabriel loved kissing him and Peter loved being kissed, his mouth open, eyes lidded. Gabe pressed a similar, hot, slow, slightly-sucking kiss to his parted mouth. Peter groaned; his fingers curled and gripped at Gabe’s back. He made circles at the taller man’s equally-aroused crotch, working them below as Gabe worked his mouth, albeit too slowly. Peter hurried him by licking past his lips, tickling his teeth.
The taller man delivering not-too-long smooches with tantalizing sound effects; making him hot and the flush of heat felt wonderful in the room, against his hairy lover. Gabriel drew back, licking his lips now, far more predatorily than Peter had done a moment ago and without his glasses, he looked like Sylar.
Peter opened his pants in short order but Gabriel’s hand slid back into his hair, pulling his head back, arching his throat until all Peter could see was the ceiling. He didn’t know what came next, but he had a few good guesses. He felt Gabe move closer, his other hand trailing carefully, slowly, down Peter’s spine - neck, shoulders, mid-back…lower back… Then he felt hot, panting breath on his throat, vulnerable and on display, then felt soft, semi-dry, open lips and a pair of teeth tracing the lines of his throat. He arched his hips closer until Gabe’s cock was right beside his, pressed into his pelvis. Groaning was difficult in his position, held in place and held up by Gabriel’s wandering hand as it darted under his pants - yes! - searching fingers probing faster between his cheeks, massaging his anus. He let his eyes fall shut, gripping at Gabriel’s shoulder and back. Oh, yes. Right there… “Uh….yeah…Gabe…” he murmured his need, voice breathy, breaking, cock aching. Needing.
Gabe’s hand slowly fell away and Peter looked down to observe him. The taller man kissed his throat, collarbone, pec then his nipple - Peter watched and saw his nipple perk up a bit, looking a little shinier, a little pinker in the light. Gabe knelt before him then and Peter’s breath caught. Just that motion; it brought back so many memories from their dream-world. He found his hips had automatically canted forward in preparation. Gabriel looked up at him, chin resting below his naval, always so damn innocent with those wide, deep, dark brown eyes and pouting mouth….Peter’s hands were in his hair, too, stroking, showing love and appreciation…and lust. He could feel himself beginning to throb. It’s Gabe’s fault; let him fix it. Ease my ache, baby. Aloud he rasped, “Do it.”
Peter kept his hands in place, surrounded by silken strands, forcing Gabe to deal with his pants. Gabriel slowly drew his pants down from where they’d clung to his hips despite the earlier fingering and was left with a face full of Peter’s erection. Gabriel stared at it a moment, eyes relaxed. Peter felt hands up his thighs, a pair of thumbs running between his testicles, making them clench momentarily. He panted, waiting, being considerate at this stage. Gabe leaned in, rubbing his face against Peter’s cock, inhaling like a vacuum to catch Peter’s musk - turning himself on Peter knew. Peter was easy; whatever worked for Gabe usually worked for him and the more aroused his partner…well. “Yeah, baby…” Peter whined. Some of Gabriel’s stubble caught and that stung and burned, but the rest of the man’s face, namely his mouth and nose, were soft, fleshy pressures against his groin as his lover mouthed and began to lick at him.
Gabriel slid plush, moist lips over his mushroom tip, drawing him in and out, in and out. The touch was too gentle, but so wet and silky…He felt the soft edge of a soaked tongue caressing the underside of his prick, so sensitive and so sexual. Gabriel moved at a snail’s pace, obviously enjoying pleasuring Peter so much so that his eyes were shut while he tasted familiar flesh. Badly Peter wanted to set up a more substantial rhythm - still slow, but with more bobbing, more submersion, more suction; he wanted Gabriel to get a hand at his base and twist in concert with his mouth until the two met…His mouth was open, panting heavily, face twisting in mild grimaces of arousal as he watched his dick head get smothered with his partner’s luxurious lips. This was unique; usually Gabriel wanted to have his face fucked, or so he said; wanted to feel the cock slide in, taking it to the back of his throat until he felt the need to choke - doing so and suckling all the way back. But tonight Gabriel was savoring him, much to Peter’s delight. He petted at Gabriel’s gorgeous face and hair, touching what he could, admiring the pretty picture he made on his knees, cheeks hollowed, tongue busy, hair falling in his face until Peter brushed it back.
After a few moments of being tasted and primed with flicks of damp muscle and sucking kisses (Peter greatly enjoyed the sounds of being blown - the wet pops and slurps and slick flesh-on-flesh noises), Gabriel deemed him ready. With a surprisingly graceful bob, Gabriel darted in and took the majority of his dick until his tip was gripped by throat, making him hiss and grunt. “That’s it,” he murmured encouragingly, pressing lightly at the back of Gabe’s head, beginning to pump his cock into that hot sleeve of mouth. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Gabriel slurped faster and hummed in reply, allowing Peter’s cock to push deeper, sending shivers and vibrations into his balls, making them retract, causing Peter to grunt once more, “Uh! Fuck…Gabe…baby…” Now there was suction and saliva and more sounds of involved fellatio.
Fearing Gabriel might stay on his knees the whole night (Peter didn’t necessarily protest the idea, but he needed to touch Gabriel for himself), Peter tugged him off to the sound of a mouth being emptied. Gabriel blinked up at him, licking his lips of access spit as Peter drew him to stand then jerking the watchmaker’s pajamas down past his knees where Gabriel kicked them off, holding onto his shoulder for balance as he did. “Hmm,” Gabriel rumbled at being undressed and exposed. Peter just grunted at him, too desirous to form words with his lover now nude and erect before him. He ran his hands over the smooth skin of Gabriel’s hips, sides and arms, feeling him up. He quickly shucked his own shoes and pants when Gabriel moved away again.
Gabriel lay back on the bed, wrapping his mile-long, hairy legs around the backs of Peter’s thighs, tugging him over the prone man. Peter went eagerly. “Touch me,” was Gabriel’s whisper. Peter was tired and now horny as hell from Gabriel being all over him and he wanted to return the favor, especially after seeing his cock being swallowed, but even more so at seeing Gabe laid out on the street-lit mattress. Everything on him looked soft and tempting, the contrast between Gabriel’s dark body hair and his pale skin was fantastic. He looked so handsome - he looked edible. Oh yeah. That’s all mine. Gabriel didn’t hesitate to remind him of that very fact, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him in even as Peter let himself fall over him with a groan of desire. His hands found Gabe’s longer hair, keeping his head against the mattress with a fist and some pressure. His lover reacted instantly to that. Peter felt first Gabriel’s chest pressed against him, then the watchmaker’s cock, sliding against his abdomen in consequence, gasping and staring up at him with the most adoring, wanton look.
Peter leaned down to mold his lips with Gabe’s, mouths opened wide, their tongues dipping in and out - Gabriel’s lashing out while Peter’s curled and licked. It was a familiar, moist pattern. It still made Peter’s head rush. He held Gabe’s head in place with gentle hands on face and buried in his hair, tilting and angling his head back and forth to stay deep and involved, entwined at the tongue for now. Peter felt hands massaging his sides, stroking over his back. Just when Peter came up for air, panting, feeling much hotter pressed against his equally fired up lover, Gabriel spread his legs, allowing Peter to nestle between them, unshy about resting his weight on the man. The empath growled at that and darted down to take a mouthful of Gabriel’s throat - tasting bristly, vulnerable flesh as he sucked.
His lover whined, gripping him with his legs while rising off the bed, hands rubbing fervently at Peter’s hips with pleading touches. It felt fantastic, being felt up while doing whatever he wanted to the man laid out before him - it showed Gabe’s involvement. Peter was wanted and badly at that. He tugged away at his bite, kissing the spot when he released where he would have left a mark on anyone else before sliding his tongue down Gabriel’s writhing body, licking and tasting in one warm motion. “Oh! Oh, fuck…” Gabriel said lacking breath, sounding a little unsure of what was going on. That was okay. Neck, chest, belly, pelvis…crotch. Then Gabriel got it, moaning his pleasure as his hips shifted back and forth. Peter hummed a chuckle, licking around Gabriel’s groin, enjoying the taste of slightly-sweaty-but-still-clean man; his smell was welcoming, heady and intoxicating, screaming virile aroused male. The warm honey feeling increased, centered around his cock, but also behind his balls and up his spine. His heart beat fast and air felt scarce. He was almost a mindless animal in heat, kneeling between the watchmaker’s legs.
Gabriel’s cock was straight, all pink and pale skin, the head swollen, the shaft stiff, full and sticky and Peter longed to do so much more with that organ than just lick it. Peter ached to do things to Gabe with his own aching erection - fuck his mouth again, rub himself off using some part of Gabriel, push into him and fuck his brains out…But what he did instead was look up and wait long enough for Gabriel to notice nothing was going on. That’s right, look at me.
The hips below him squirmed as the eyes further up were smoldering and pleading directly into Peter’s, tension twisting tighter between them, no words spoken. Peter slid his hands up over Gabe’s hips, bringing them down with his nails scratching into soft flesh, watching as Gabriel lost in and dropped his head back with a groan and another shift. Then he descended, first kissing then licking gentle kitten licks over the straining member below. “Uhh! Peter…” Again, that gasping request. Irresistible. All over he licked, pressing down on the wild hips that tried to force the cock inside him, that tried to slot itself in his mouth or implore him to take more while Gabriel’s fisted at his hair, but not pulling. Peter liked that, more signs of desire from his partner as if he could miss all the preceding indicators.
He took his sweet time lapping up the thickly-veined organ as it strained and twitched, desperate for his mouth and for his love. He cleaned Gabe of droplets of precum and sweat, gathering it on his tongue. He petted the shaft and circled his balls. He nuzzled and kissed at the man’s fuzzy, incased orbs. He pressed in close enough to feel the resounding heartbeat. Gabriel gave a tempting squirm, rolling his hips gently against Peter’s face. Then a loud “Peter, oo-ooh…!” as he sucked below the head, almost attempting to suction marks on the man’s dick. That last noise was desperate, a whining moan - just what he’d been waiting for. Gabriel had submitted from his more active role in turning Peter on and was now a mess of lust, a puddle of melted watchmaker in Peter’s proverbial hands, wound up for Peter to release as he pleased.
At his mercy, Gabriel fondled his hair and made plenty of noise, filling the apartment. “N-nipples…Pe-ter…” was Gabriel’s croon of need, his hands already there, doing the job himself, but he wanted Peter’s fingertips and Peter’s touch. Oh, that’s so hot. He’s so sexy, look at that…The man had his cock upthrust towards Peter’s mouth, his own hands fiddling with his nipples, his spine curved off the bed, face lost…He must have taken too long because Gabriel guided his hands up his body until they rested over the lightly defined, furry pectorals. The whole thing was blowing Peter’s mind - the request, the assistance, being shown where and how to pleasure him, the feel of the man under him, the taste of his cock in his mouth. The emotions pouring off the intuitive were incredible; Gabriel was a goner - awash in caring, happiness, pleasure and pure animal needs - and it was all Peter’s doing and Peter’s need that drove him to this in the first place and now it was his touch doing the man in. Fuck! He thumbed at Gabe’s nipples until they stood up, then he proceeded to pinch them tenderly, twisting them just so until they flushed dark pink; all the while he continued whetting the dick before him with his tongue, giving even less stimulation than he’d received in the earlier blow job. He knew (and could feel) how badly this was tripping Gabriel’s trigger, listening the whining and mewling from above him on the bed.
Peter broke down and jacked himself off to the show until he could stand it no more. Peter slithered over his submissive prey, being welcomed back in with open arms. He sprawled atop his lover with abandon, cradled in the long body. He reengaged at the mouth, kissing Gabriel hungrily, wetly, moaning and breathing hard, chest to chest. He couldn’t get enough and Gabriel held him hard in place anyway; Peter gave in to his driving instinct. He pressed them together and began to buck his hips, frotting them together for all he was worth. He could feel and hear the gasps and moans the other man made as their slick members made love between them. It was sloppy, but it was friction. He plunged his tongue into Gabriel’s mouth and his lover responded by grabbing his cheeks, hauling him into the each thrust as they ground together like teenagers.
A few precious moments into this, Gabriel managed to pant, “In me, Peter…Get inside.” Peter was perfectly happy wherever - with his lover, kissing, touching, naked - but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to pound his frustrations away, peacefully, blissfully, pleasurably while buried in Gabriel’s tight channel. His body certainly longed for that age-old rhythm. He wanted the closeness and the intimacy of cumming inside Gabriel, hand wrapped around that cock, making it cum as Gabriel clenched around him.
After a pause of trying to get his brain out of the ‘thrust-hump-him-fuck-him-love-him-get inside!’ mantra it was in and focused on what he needed to be doing, he snapped to it. He crawled over to the bedside table, snatching up the lube. He could feel Gabriel’s eyes on him, alternately lusting and giving him a ‘seriously?’ look that said he should have used telekinesis. That was a whole other story - sometimes bed was the last place he wanted to use powers.
Peter ignored that because while he fumbled with the lubricant, Gabriel’s hands were busy twisting away at Peter’s root, both hands…opposite directions…up and down, making him gasp and bite his lip. The damn tube kept slipping! It didn’t want to open. “Pe-ter…” was his lover’s breathless appeal. Oh, God, he was so hot and tempting, pumping away at his cock while he waited for Peter’s fingers, but the only thing Gabe’s hands were speeding up was Peter’s impending climax. Gabriel wasn’t stopping there, busily humping himself against Peter’s thigh…So hard…so hard, Peter thought in acutely sexual frustration, Fuck…With a beautiful sound, the tube opened and Peter clumsily gathered the lube and slid it down between Gabriel’s legs, feeling testicles on the back of his hand, to the fleshy curves of buttocks and the hairy crevice between.
“Ye-ah…” was Gabriel’s whisper, eyelids drooping momentarily as he watched Peter as if through a haze. The taller man paused in his ardent stroking with fists and switched to thumbing and fingering over Peter’s length. That was so sexy - being felt up and tickled with Gabriel’s searching, gentle fingers. Peter squeezed the other man’s cheeks, massaging and gripping them in turns, spreading him open a bit; all the while his own fingers were circling around Gabriel’s opening as if trying to tease it open with his touch. Peter could feel the ring of puckered muscle part just so at every rub and gentle prod of his thumbs - he began to spread his thumbs at the resisting hole, pulling it open gently, but he hadn’t looked down to view the external seduction he was providing Gabriel’s asshole.
Gabriel gasped, then hummed, legs spread demandingly wide, wriggling slightly to get more of everything. Peter would have given him his tongue and prepped him with licking kisses to open him, but it would result in no kisses after. Gabe still thought it was a filthy act even if it turned him on. Still, it tempted Peter: watching Gabriel’s eyes squeeze shut as if climaxing while making tiny, choked noises… Instead, he busied himself with partly ignoring Gabriel’s hands and focusing on the pert ass and swelling pucker beneath his fingertips - vulnerable and sweet; he wanted to give it everything he had. He began to prod at the hole, feeling lube slipping between his finger and the surrounding delicate walls.
“More,” was Gabriel’s requested. Oh, now he has manners. He always calls me a slut, but he can be so demanding. Peter smiled to himself.
Peter immediately pushed a pair of fingers into the teased, too-tight-as-usual asshole, listening to the gasp at first penetration. One finger was ‘for sissies’, so Gabe always demanded two to start. “Stop that,” Peter growled about the handjob when he felt rising pressure behind his balls at the continued stimulation, only partially meaning it.
Gabriel beamed a naughty smile at him. He was breathtaking; some kind of demonically darkly handsome sex god awaiting his cock - he was so powerful and Peter knew all Gabe wanted was to be spread, reamed through the bed, wrung out by Peter’s hand; the watchmaker wanted so badly to please; it called out to the empath like a siren’s seduction. Gabriel didn’t quit, as expected, instead he slowed his motions down, appearing to really get into it. As Peter watched, Gabe’s muscles flexed in the half-light from jacking cock and writhing about, Peter used his free hand to spare a healthy drizzle of lube to ease Gabriel’s grip. The lube was cold on his heated skin, but the shock was like waking up, his head that much clearer.
In retaliation to Gabriel’s disobedience, he hooked his fingers up and began to flutter them around; everywhere but where the taller man wished them to be, probing over soft rectal walls as if searching for the pleasure spot in spite of the years of practice he had and the intimate knowledge of where it lay. It drove Gabe wild as if he’d actually struck his prostate, but he hadn’t yet. The man whimpered, hands going still as his hips began to roll around, sensuous in his quest for impaling himself correctly on Peter’s fingers, desperate to ride his fingers. Peter watched as Gabriel’s cock bobbed, hard and still wet from his kisses earlier; he saw the watchmaker’s expression turn into a pouting frown with something of a grimace, huffing in unfulfilled need.
“Peter,” this time it was more of a snarl from Gabriel, demanding the proper stimulation which Peter granted eagerly. A twist of his fingers had Gabriel’s hips rolling differently - on a rhythm, against his fingers, trying to grind them inside further and keep the pressure on his prostate. “Uuh! Oh- that’s...Ooooh! Oh! Yeah!”
Peter felt his cock lurch and bump against his stomach, connected by pre-cum now - feeling his lover’s body encasing his fingers snugly, his own testicles heavy and impatient. He looked down, knowing he shouldn’t, knowing it would drive him mad. His fingers were slick as was the tight rim of forever-virgin muscle being forced apart, flushed dusky pink, hidden, surrounded by modest black hairs, inviting him all the same. Peter’s mouth opened as he grunted his interest at the sight, probing slowly but very firmly, opening Gabriel’s asshole . The glimpses inside the man finally did him in.
He burned for penetration, rigid cock and balls filled with what felt like lava ready to burst out and drown them both in Peter’s lust. Greedily he jerked off a few strokes before pointing his swollen head at Gabriel’s tender entrance. Tender entrance it was, but the man it belonged to was anything but patient and not in the tender mood. Gabriel took hold of his hips, angling his own, and stabbed Peter inside himself, crying out a groaning kind of scream at being opened in an instant. Peter was left moaning at being engulfed in velvety soft walls as they tried to reject him at first, massaging along his length, sucking at him, calling him in and drawing him deeper still. The prone man had his head thrown back and he gripped at Peter as he choked and grunted before pushing him back and slamming his rod balls-deep. They made matching male animal sounds at that, feeling more still of each other and what they had to give. Peter lost it, his mind flying away, singed to ash until all he could see was their impending orgasms. Make him cum; make him cum so hard…Let me see it!
He lifted and held Gabe’s right leg in his hand, twisting the man’s channel around and over his throbbing invader until his lover looked up at him with that blissed-yet-needy expression. Braced on his elbows, partly holding Gabe’s rear up, Peter began to thrust like a jackhammer, drilling himself into the slick sheath of Gabriel’s ass. He aimed to rub the ridge of the head of his cock against his lover’s prostate, doing a fair job of it if the noises were any indication. With his free hand, he brushed it over the engorged, red cock underneath him, listening to Gabe’s already labored breathing pause for a sexy little inhale. A thumb over frenulum, a pinch and rough tug to a nipple (earning him a mewl of excitement and an eager gyration of hips), he again secured a hold of the man’s hair, pinning him in place for Peter’s sloppy, open kisses, pressed chest-to-chest.
Gabriel’s tongue was in motion, a hand on Peter’s bucking hip and lower back - just above his cheek where Peter was made aware of his own bunching musculature - and another hand holding Peter’s head to his face to consume him just as utterly. Their parts slapped together with pornographic intensity; Peter’s balls against Gabe’s crack and Peter’s belly with Gabe’s cock, all the while bucking between his legs like a bronco. Gabriel gave as good as he got, using that hand on his hip as leverage to lift himself on his bent leg and shoulder blades to angle himself to slide onto and squeeze Peter’s cock at every warm thrust. Fuck….riding me…And Gabriel rode him (or at least very actively assisted in his own reaming) from below, clinging desperately as if the few-inches fall to the bed would kill him and contact with Peter was a savior. Peter paid no attention to the vigorous sounds he made with each impact, “Uhn! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uhn!”
Hot and sticky from sweating, they slipped and moved together, breathing as one being, embedded top and bottom. Every beat of Peter’s heart was devoted to pulsing waves of pleasure and pumping himself hard into Gabriel, who pawed at him mindlessly at being pleasured. They could do this now, giving everything then had to each other, forgetting all else at the door. Peter knew he should probably remember that for later, but he had his hand on Gabriel’s throbbing cock, jerking it roughly and kissing his mouth and it became just too much thought. Gabriel was mewling and moaning, his breath catching frequently, “G-od, Peter….fuck…Peter…! Peter…! Peter…!” he called his name like a warning, which it was; Gabe was close. Peter was grunting, driving himself inside, working his tip in and slapping his pelvis against Gabe’s proffered cheeks.
The watchmaker came first; a relief as Peter’s orgasm was going to make him unfit for duty afterwards. Gabriel stiffened, lips parted in a silent scream, eyes wide then closed shut as his face slowly relaxed, meanwhile his cock pulsed, streaking his stomach and chest and his ass…Peter growled, Gabriel moaned his name again, and he gave in to the squeezing convulsions of the asshole around him as it drew him in, begging for his release. He felt heat and numbness spread, then a low kick between his balls. Peter called out, his voice rough, feeling sweaty and near-pain with approaching orgasm as his hips bucked raggedly, losing his rhythm but still humping through it. His dick expanded, hardened and erupted, spurting semen into Gabriel’s quivering rectum as Peter gasped for air. He was aware of nothing for long seconds, eyes closed to the world as he soaked it in.
Their decent was quiet aside from lungs filling with oxygen; the watchmaker lay limp and relaxed, apparently unbothered at Peter slumped over him for now, enjoying his human pillow and feeling satiated at last. He played with Gabe’s chest hair while he thought of nothing at all. Finally, Gabriel patted him, Peter rolled off onto his back only to have Gabriel follow, pressing his long body against Peter’s side. Peter wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer still, kissing the nearby sweaty forehead.
“That was good,” he praised with feeling.
“Just need to come home and have sex more often. Touch therapy. That’s the cure.”
“How selfless of you,” Peter replied, lazy with his post-orgasm dose of hormones and love, always the love.
“Hmm, I really am. Not selfish at all.” Gabriel snuggled up against him, laying an arm over his body. Peter petted it, closing his eyes with a smile.
..XXX...XXX...XXX...
“You okay, man?” Was Hesam’s kind question the next morning, snapping him out of his reverie. They stood in Mercy’s lobby, dressed and ready to go before tour two.
“Yeah, ‘m fine.”
“You sure? Cause you looked kinda rough last night.”
Peter tilted his head, thinking. It had been a rough shift yesterday, he couldn’t lie. There was nothing he could do about it now. He had to accept and move on. He wasn't God or all-powerful. He should try to acknowledge to his own limitations. But he was beginning to see how he could begin to manage those types of things. The new concept wouldn’t set in overnight; learning to let go of what he couldn’t change and live his own life first would take time, but it was possible. Coming to his lover was never a bad idea. He grinned, ducking his head too late to hide it. His smirk was a little dirty. He was at peace with himself and with life, still riding high on sex from the night before. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m okay.”
“O-oh,” Hesam clued in to what that grin meant, matching it himself. Sometimes, Peter thought, it’s nice to be known, by friends and super sexy boyfriends. “You get something last night?”
Peter grinned some more, nodding and hefting his bag to his shoulder, answering as he walked out to the truck, “Touch therapy. You oughtta try it.”