Heroes fic!
Title: The Devil’s Voice Is Sweet
Pairing: Adam/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Spoilers for 2x08
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to NBC. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The Devil’s Voice Is Sweet
He is used to his voice now. The clear-cut English accent he has been listening to for over two months. Or maybe three. He lost track of time since he’s arrived. At first he counted the days, knew when Elle would come in for the drugs. But it is a futile business because he is waiting for something that may take a long time to be ready. Something that may never be ready. He used to believe that being in here is for the best. But the voice says differently and he has lost his certainty. He remembers the day when the voice became more, acquired a name.
“You know, it’s been a month. You still haven’t told me your name,” the disembodied voice sounded through the wall.
“Please, I just want to be left alone.”
“Then, you came to the right place,” was the dry answer. “I’ll have to warn you though. It does get a bit old.”
He smiles. An understatement if he ever heard one. If he had known more about Adam at the time…but this is probably just as well.
It was of course Adam who explained things to him, disillusioned him and made him see the truth.
“Word to the wise, friend. I would keep my distance from that woman. I caved in a desperate moment six years ago and I’m still paying the price.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want anything from her except the drugs,” he replied. Naive and clueless, still. Not for long.
“I’m sorry, I keep forgetting. You still believe them.”
“What do you mean?”
“This cure of theirs. They’ve been days away from perfecting it since I got here thirty years ago. Bob’s not trying to fix you, Peter.”
He had not believed him and had to try, had to ask Bob. That was the day he realised that he was a prisoner. Like Adam.
It is strange how fast he learned to look forward to their little chats. Adam has a dry wit, is full of sarcastic commentary, and Peter likes listening to his stories, likes the sound of his voice. How quickly the voice became his voice. It did not take much longer until Peter started imagining how the man it belonged to looked like. Is he tall? How many of the 400 years are visible? Does he grow a beard or wear his hair long? Not knowing troubles him. It is nothing compared to the tormenting pain whenever he thinks of his brother but he finds that Adam occupies his thoughts fairly often.
“Have I ever told you how I met George III? British king, went mad.”
“No, go on. How did you meet him?” Peter encourages his friend with a smile. He makes himself comfortable on his bed. But, when Adam goes on and tells him how he ran a pub at the time and how that one earl’s son frequented the place, he finds himself concentrating on the voice more than the story. He loves how the timbre changes as the story proceeds, how lively Adam tells the tale.
“And then he finally kissed me and we went upstairs,” Adam says, the smirk audible.
“Huh, what?” Peter asks before his brain processed the information.
“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get to the king later. Sorry, I have a habit of digressing. So, where was I? Oh yes, Robert and I went upstairs after getting ridiculously drunk. Great shag, he was. He had a lovely cousin, too. I would know, she joined us the second time, when we met in a barn.”
“Wait a minute! You and Robert...and his cousin?” Peter asks incredulously.
“Her name was Caroline, if I remember correctly,” Adam says, undisturbed.
“But,” Peter starts.
“You’re not one of those prudes, are you? America is full of them but I thought they were pretty rare in New York by now.” Adam’s voice is darker now, filled with disapproval.
“No, no, I’m not!” Peter exclaims. “Sorry, I was just surprised. Different times, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” Adam replies with a dramatic sigh. “The good old days.”
“What did you like most about them?”
“That I was free,” Adam says immediately. Thirty years. Peter cannot imagine what three decades in a cell like this must feel like. Imprisoned for wanting to save the world, the same thing he was locked up for. Only Adam was never a nuclear threat. “Don’t brood, Peter. A few more days and we can save your brother. Make him forget the pain. He will be as good as new, I promise.”
“I hope so,” sighs Peter. There is nothing he wants more than to see Nathan up and well. Terrible images of his brother being burnt beyond recognition fill his dreams every night.
“Anyway, you still want to hear that story?” Adam asks cheerfully. Peter smiles gratefully.
“Yeah.”
That night, he dreams of less horrible things that involve Adam’s voice and a hard, lean body hidden in the shadows of his imagination. His dream self is not surprised that he likes touching this body, likes pressing against it and doing all the things he has hitherto done to soft, female forms.
***
The unnatural sensation of pushing through solid wall, seeing the layers as well as feeling them, is something he still has to get used to. One more step and he is on the other side and blinks in the hard light of the adjacent cell. Adam’s cell.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says and faces his friend. Adam looks Peter’s age or only slightly older and he is taller than he is. Lean and bordering on lanky with a boyishly handsome face and short blond hair, he does not seem surprised that Peter really made it. “You know, for four hundred years you’ve held up pretty well,” he adds with half a smile.
Adam grimaces. “Come on, let’s go heal your brother.”
This time, going through the wall feels liberating because Adam’s hand is on his shoulder and he is going to undo the damage, the pain he caused Nathan, his mother and the rest of the family.
They leave his room by stepping through the door and this is when Adam takes over.
“We need new clothes and we need to hurry. If they find us before we leave this wing we’re back in our cells before we can say ‘Bob’.”
“Right, right,” agrees Peter and follows Adam through the corridor past the glass windows of their cells. From this side there is no doubt that this is a prison and that the place is far from being a temporary accommodation.
“We have to be careful. If the Haitian is anywhere near we’re going to lose our powers without noticing it. Quickly, in here.” Adam opens a door and shoves him into the room behind without further ado.
“How do you know where we have to go?” asks Peter, breathless.
“I spent thirty years in here. Security hasn’t always been what it is now,” grins Adam. “Now, let’s get dressed!”
Peter looks around. The room is crammed with storage racks and boxes full of shoes, shirts, socks and trousers.
“Why do they have a stash of clothing in here?” Peter opens a box near him and finds it filled with sunglasses. He ignores the more urgent question of how Adam knew the exact room. He seems to know a lot more about this place than he lets on but as long as he is going to cure his brother and get them out of here he won’t complain. After all, he has a few secrets of his own.
“Peter, you should have realised by now that this company isn’t what it pretends to be. They don’t save people, they abduct and manipulate them.” Adam grabs a shirt from a pile on the shelf behind him. “Too big, damn it.” He starts to scour the pile for his size. “Anything but grey. I’ve worn grey shirts for longer than you’re alive. Ah, here we go!” Grinning wildly, he turns around to Peter and waves a starched shirt at him. “Don’t just stand there. See if you find any jeans.”
Obediently, Peter searches several open and closed boxes. “Got ’em,” he announces as he discovers the right box, but he is entirely speechless when he looks up and sees Adam stripped to his pants.
“Anything the matter?” inquires Adam. There is a mischievous gleam in his eyes that betrays the innocence of his question.
Peter swallows hard and averts his eyes. Hastily, he busies himself with searching the box for a fitting pair of jeans.
“You know what really bothered me about being locked up for thirty years? I mean, apart from the lack of freedom, comfort, booze and all that. I really could have done with a decent fuck.”
Peter drops the pair of jeans in his hands. That he can imagine.
“Uhm.” His brains seems to be away on a leave. It’s not that he cannot sympathise. Two months in a room with a glass front and uncontrollable surveillance have made Peter itchy in a few places. But they need to focus on their escape now, right?
Wrong.
Adam steps closer and bestows the dirtiest and sexiest smirk on him he has ever received from a guy. This is not saying much, considering his ignorance in this particular area but --
Peter gives up on thinking - rambling really - when Adam grabs him and pulls him close. Very close.
“Do you know what I mean?” asks Adam in a low voice. There is more to the question but his eyes are so very blue, Peter cannot focus on anything else.
“Yeah,” he whispers in reply because, really, he does and this is the only answer.
“Good,” says Adam and kisses him.
Adam knows what he is doing, knows what he wants, and his lips against Peter’s are firm and demanding. It’s not so different from kissing a girl, only more competitive and the novelty gives him a thrill. There is no stubble because Adam is meticulously shaven. There is, however, a plundering tongue and there are hands on his arms, holding him in place. Instinctively, Peter takes a step back and promptly stumbles over one of the boxes. He takes Adam down with him but his surprised yelp is drowned out by the resulting noise. Peter lands rather uncomfortably on the floor, head bumping against a box, one leg twisted painfully by the fall, and a surprisingly heavy Adam on top of him, taking his breath away. And not in a good way.
“Argh, damn,” he curses. His tailbone is numb from colliding with the cement floor but it’s his leg that makes him curse, a searing pain that would send him to the floor if he was not already lying.
Adam grabs his shoulders and pulls him in a more comfortable position. “You OK? All in one piece?” he asks, frowning.
“My leg,” Peter answers through gritted teeth. Adam straightens up and turns around, not allowing Peter to have a look. Seconds later, Peter feels a sharp stab and then the healing starts and with a sigh of relief he lets his head fall against the box he is leaning on.
“So,” says Adam and turns his attention back to Peter, who is suddenly very aware of the fact that Adam is sitting on him, straddling him, and that there is no space between them. With a smirk his hands start to push Peter’s shirt up, slowly, ever so slowly, and Peter’s breath hitches once again. The stab of desire is as sharp as the pain has been just a moment ago. Adam’s touch, skin against skin, feels ridiculously good and without a second thought he raises his arms and helps Adam to divest him of his shirt. Peter gasps as Adam’s fingers graze his hardening cock in the process of making short work of his trousers. When he looks down he sees that Adam is as interested as he is and this is when he lets go of his inhibitions, leans slightly forward and pulls Adam down for a hungry kiss.
Peter lets his hands roam, his fingers gliding over smooth skin and firm muscles. Down the back his hands wander, exploring and learning, and when Peter reaches the small of Adam’s back he urges him closer because, yes, this is the only way to go. They both moan as their cocks rub together, only separated by two thin layers of cloth. It is a strange feeling, hard and heated flesh pressing against him so intimately. Desire spreads like wildfire in his groin and Peter pulls back from the kiss, blinking in amazement.
“Never done this before?” Adam’s cheeks are flushed and his blue eyes dark with lust. His lips are so close that Peter can feel his breath.
“N-no,” Peter answers truthfully. He cannot remember being so hard since his first time. Adam grins wickedly and moves downwards. He does stop for a kiss here and a graze of teeth there but Peter has no doubt where this is going. Deft fingers worm their way inside Peter’s pants while a pliant mouth is sucking on the soft and tender skin over his hipbones. Adam doesn’t bother taking them off completely, he just pushes them down Peter’s thighs. The air is cool against his leaking prick and Peter closes his eyes when he finally, finally feels Adam’s hot breath so close.
“God, you’re hard,” moans Adam and Peter’s cock twitches in response. His eyes roll back when long fingers curl around him, holding him firmly in place for Adam’s wicked mouth. Peter doesn’t need to look down to know what his pale, thin lips look like stretched around his cock. He feels himself engulfed by a smooth, oh so smooth heat and he can’t help it that his hips are jerking as Adam works him over expertly.
Adam starts slowly, his tongue exploring the head, his lips almost tender. He moans as if he is enjoying himself. Fuck, he most certainly is. Peter’s left hand finds its way down and grips Adam’s shoulder firmly, as the other man starts sucking him in earnest, taking him in deeper and deeper, the hotness and silkiness as alluring as his voice. With every suck on his cock Peter glides more into incoherence. When he risks one look, the sight of his wet prick disappearing between Adam’s lips and the look of utter contentment in Adam’s startlingly blue eyes is almost too much. He whimpers when Adam pulls away. Too early. Good thing that Peter doesn’t give a damn about how needy he must look, how desperate he must sound. Adam grins and his lips are moist and reddened from the exercise. From sucking his cock, taking in inch for inch until he could not take anymore. Peter bites back a groan and pulls Adam up, wriggling against him and trying to get him out of his pants as quickly as possible. God, he never thought he would need this one day but he needs a cock pushing and pulling against his, right now. He groans out his relief when he finally gets what he wants. It feels incredible. Hard and soft, friction and slickness at the same time; the delicious motion of foreskin against foreskin. Adam attacks his mouth again and his tongue is greedy and fleeting. His breath comes out in little gasps and mingles with Peter’s until they are sharing the same air. Liquid fire gathers and spreads in Peter’s groin and he wants more and more and pushes quicker and harder.
“Wait, let me...” Adam’s voice is ragged. His eyes are half-closed and his pupils dilated. He looks handsome and very fuckable. Peter only notices what he has in mind when his hand reaches for both their cocks and starts pumping them, fast and hard.
“Fuck,” groans Peter, the need growing bigger with every pull. A vein stands out on Adam’s forehead and they are both panting. Close, so close. Just a little more. Without thinking Peter grabs Adam’s firm arse and pulls him closer, spurning him on. Adam’s hand is trapped between them and his grip is nearly painful now but this is what Peter needs.
“Ah,” Adam cries and throws his head back. His eyes are closed and his face drawn in ecstasy. Peter feels his prick convulsing, feels it sputtering, feels the sticky wetness against his loin and belly and it’s enough to push him over the edge, too. The power of his orgasm takes him by surprise, the explosion being fast and violent, starting deep inside him and shaking his entire body. He is shooting out his release for what feels like forever. Adams falls on him, his hand still squeezed between them but he is apparently beyond caring.
Peter feels his breath against his neck and his heart beating rapidly like a drum. It takes him a while to realise how sweaty and sticky they both are and how uncomfortable their position is. But before he even thinks about saying anything, Adam heaves himself up and, shaking his soiled hand, he grins down on him.
“You know, anything would have done after three decades but this was actually quite good,” he smirks. Peter only stares at him, bewildered. They need a shower but they don’t have time, not to mention the facilities, and how could he have forgotten Nathan, even for a minute? Adam does obviously not share his worries. He is tidying himself with his prison shirt, evidently taking great pleasure in besmirching the cloth.
“I -I don’t know how this happened,” Peter says slowly, reaching for another shirt and starting to clean himself. He feels rather undignified, sitting there with his pants down.
Adam doesn’t look up from buttoning his new jeans. “I know. Four months of Elle make a man do strange things. But this wasn’t unexpected, was it? You’re a fit bloke and we already shared the stories of our lives. Pity we never actually had a beer together,” Adam replies, completely undisturbed. Peter relaxes and starts getting dressed. It doesn’t take long and nothing but the scattered and dented boxes betray what they have been doing.
“I don’t know about you but I’m feeling much better,” Adam states with a smile that would make the Cheshire Cat pale in comparison. “In fact, I feel like saving the world.”
Fin
***
Comments save the world!
***
Pairing: Adam/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Spoilers for 2x08
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to NBC. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The Devil’s Voice Is Sweet
He is used to his voice now. The clear-cut English accent he has been listening to for over two months. Or maybe three. He lost track of time since he’s arrived. At first he counted the days, knew when Elle would come in for the drugs. But it is a futile business because he is waiting for something that may take a long time to be ready. Something that may never be ready. He used to believe that being in here is for the best. But the voice says differently and he has lost his certainty. He remembers the day when the voice became more, acquired a name.
“You know, it’s been a month. You still haven’t told me your name,” the disembodied voice sounded through the wall.
“Please, I just want to be left alone.”
“Then, you came to the right place,” was the dry answer. “I’ll have to warn you though. It does get a bit old.”
He smiles. An understatement if he ever heard one. If he had known more about Adam at the time…but this is probably just as well.
It was of course Adam who explained things to him, disillusioned him and made him see the truth.
“Word to the wise, friend. I would keep my distance from that woman. I caved in a desperate moment six years ago and I’m still paying the price.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t want anything from her except the drugs,” he replied. Naive and clueless, still. Not for long.
“I’m sorry, I keep forgetting. You still believe them.”
“What do you mean?”
“This cure of theirs. They’ve been days away from perfecting it since I got here thirty years ago. Bob’s not trying to fix you, Peter.”
He had not believed him and had to try, had to ask Bob. That was the day he realised that he was a prisoner. Like Adam.
It is strange how fast he learned to look forward to their little chats. Adam has a dry wit, is full of sarcastic commentary, and Peter likes listening to his stories, likes the sound of his voice. How quickly the voice became his voice. It did not take much longer until Peter started imagining how the man it belonged to looked like. Is he tall? How many of the 400 years are visible? Does he grow a beard or wear his hair long? Not knowing troubles him. It is nothing compared to the tormenting pain whenever he thinks of his brother but he finds that Adam occupies his thoughts fairly often.
“Have I ever told you how I met George III? British king, went mad.”
“No, go on. How did you meet him?” Peter encourages his friend with a smile. He makes himself comfortable on his bed. But, when Adam goes on and tells him how he ran a pub at the time and how that one earl’s son frequented the place, he finds himself concentrating on the voice more than the story. He loves how the timbre changes as the story proceeds, how lively Adam tells the tale.
“And then he finally kissed me and we went upstairs,” Adam says, the smirk audible.
“Huh, what?” Peter asks before his brain processed the information.
“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get to the king later. Sorry, I have a habit of digressing. So, where was I? Oh yes, Robert and I went upstairs after getting ridiculously drunk. Great shag, he was. He had a lovely cousin, too. I would know, she joined us the second time, when we met in a barn.”
“Wait a minute! You and Robert...and his cousin?” Peter asks incredulously.
“Her name was Caroline, if I remember correctly,” Adam says, undisturbed.
“But,” Peter starts.
“You’re not one of those prudes, are you? America is full of them but I thought they were pretty rare in New York by now.” Adam’s voice is darker now, filled with disapproval.
“No, no, I’m not!” Peter exclaims. “Sorry, I was just surprised. Different times, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” Adam replies with a dramatic sigh. “The good old days.”
“What did you like most about them?”
“That I was free,” Adam says immediately. Thirty years. Peter cannot imagine what three decades in a cell like this must feel like. Imprisoned for wanting to save the world, the same thing he was locked up for. Only Adam was never a nuclear threat. “Don’t brood, Peter. A few more days and we can save your brother. Make him forget the pain. He will be as good as new, I promise.”
“I hope so,” sighs Peter. There is nothing he wants more than to see Nathan up and well. Terrible images of his brother being burnt beyond recognition fill his dreams every night.
“Anyway, you still want to hear that story?” Adam asks cheerfully. Peter smiles gratefully.
“Yeah.”
That night, he dreams of less horrible things that involve Adam’s voice and a hard, lean body hidden in the shadows of his imagination. His dream self is not surprised that he likes touching this body, likes pressing against it and doing all the things he has hitherto done to soft, female forms.
***
The unnatural sensation of pushing through solid wall, seeing the layers as well as feeling them, is something he still has to get used to. One more step and he is on the other side and blinks in the hard light of the adjacent cell. Adam’s cell.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says and faces his friend. Adam looks Peter’s age or only slightly older and he is taller than he is. Lean and bordering on lanky with a boyishly handsome face and short blond hair, he does not seem surprised that Peter really made it. “You know, for four hundred years you’ve held up pretty well,” he adds with half a smile.
Adam grimaces. “Come on, let’s go heal your brother.”
This time, going through the wall feels liberating because Adam’s hand is on his shoulder and he is going to undo the damage, the pain he caused Nathan, his mother and the rest of the family.
They leave his room by stepping through the door and this is when Adam takes over.
“We need new clothes and we need to hurry. If they find us before we leave this wing we’re back in our cells before we can say ‘Bob’.”
“Right, right,” agrees Peter and follows Adam through the corridor past the glass windows of their cells. From this side there is no doubt that this is a prison and that the place is far from being a temporary accommodation.
“We have to be careful. If the Haitian is anywhere near we’re going to lose our powers without noticing it. Quickly, in here.” Adam opens a door and shoves him into the room behind without further ado.
“How do you know where we have to go?” asks Peter, breathless.
“I spent thirty years in here. Security hasn’t always been what it is now,” grins Adam. “Now, let’s get dressed!”
Peter looks around. The room is crammed with storage racks and boxes full of shoes, shirts, socks and trousers.
“Why do they have a stash of clothing in here?” Peter opens a box near him and finds it filled with sunglasses. He ignores the more urgent question of how Adam knew the exact room. He seems to know a lot more about this place than he lets on but as long as he is going to cure his brother and get them out of here he won’t complain. After all, he has a few secrets of his own.
“Peter, you should have realised by now that this company isn’t what it pretends to be. They don’t save people, they abduct and manipulate them.” Adam grabs a shirt from a pile on the shelf behind him. “Too big, damn it.” He starts to scour the pile for his size. “Anything but grey. I’ve worn grey shirts for longer than you’re alive. Ah, here we go!” Grinning wildly, he turns around to Peter and waves a starched shirt at him. “Don’t just stand there. See if you find any jeans.”
Obediently, Peter searches several open and closed boxes. “Got ’em,” he announces as he discovers the right box, but he is entirely speechless when he looks up and sees Adam stripped to his pants.
“Anything the matter?” inquires Adam. There is a mischievous gleam in his eyes that betrays the innocence of his question.
Peter swallows hard and averts his eyes. Hastily, he busies himself with searching the box for a fitting pair of jeans.
“You know what really bothered me about being locked up for thirty years? I mean, apart from the lack of freedom, comfort, booze and all that. I really could have done with a decent fuck.”
Peter drops the pair of jeans in his hands. That he can imagine.
“Uhm.” His brains seems to be away on a leave. It’s not that he cannot sympathise. Two months in a room with a glass front and uncontrollable surveillance have made Peter itchy in a few places. But they need to focus on their escape now, right?
Wrong.
Adam steps closer and bestows the dirtiest and sexiest smirk on him he has ever received from a guy. This is not saying much, considering his ignorance in this particular area but --
Peter gives up on thinking - rambling really - when Adam grabs him and pulls him close. Very close.
“Do you know what I mean?” asks Adam in a low voice. There is more to the question but his eyes are so very blue, Peter cannot focus on anything else.
“Yeah,” he whispers in reply because, really, he does and this is the only answer.
“Good,” says Adam and kisses him.
Adam knows what he is doing, knows what he wants, and his lips against Peter’s are firm and demanding. It’s not so different from kissing a girl, only more competitive and the novelty gives him a thrill. There is no stubble because Adam is meticulously shaven. There is, however, a plundering tongue and there are hands on his arms, holding him in place. Instinctively, Peter takes a step back and promptly stumbles over one of the boxes. He takes Adam down with him but his surprised yelp is drowned out by the resulting noise. Peter lands rather uncomfortably on the floor, head bumping against a box, one leg twisted painfully by the fall, and a surprisingly heavy Adam on top of him, taking his breath away. And not in a good way.
“Argh, damn,” he curses. His tailbone is numb from colliding with the cement floor but it’s his leg that makes him curse, a searing pain that would send him to the floor if he was not already lying.
Adam grabs his shoulders and pulls him in a more comfortable position. “You OK? All in one piece?” he asks, frowning.
“My leg,” Peter answers through gritted teeth. Adam straightens up and turns around, not allowing Peter to have a look. Seconds later, Peter feels a sharp stab and then the healing starts and with a sigh of relief he lets his head fall against the box he is leaning on.
“So,” says Adam and turns his attention back to Peter, who is suddenly very aware of the fact that Adam is sitting on him, straddling him, and that there is no space between them. With a smirk his hands start to push Peter’s shirt up, slowly, ever so slowly, and Peter’s breath hitches once again. The stab of desire is as sharp as the pain has been just a moment ago. Adam’s touch, skin against skin, feels ridiculously good and without a second thought he raises his arms and helps Adam to divest him of his shirt. Peter gasps as Adam’s fingers graze his hardening cock in the process of making short work of his trousers. When he looks down he sees that Adam is as interested as he is and this is when he lets go of his inhibitions, leans slightly forward and pulls Adam down for a hungry kiss.
Peter lets his hands roam, his fingers gliding over smooth skin and firm muscles. Down the back his hands wander, exploring and learning, and when Peter reaches the small of Adam’s back he urges him closer because, yes, this is the only way to go. They both moan as their cocks rub together, only separated by two thin layers of cloth. It is a strange feeling, hard and heated flesh pressing against him so intimately. Desire spreads like wildfire in his groin and Peter pulls back from the kiss, blinking in amazement.
“Never done this before?” Adam’s cheeks are flushed and his blue eyes dark with lust. His lips are so close that Peter can feel his breath.
“N-no,” Peter answers truthfully. He cannot remember being so hard since his first time. Adam grins wickedly and moves downwards. He does stop for a kiss here and a graze of teeth there but Peter has no doubt where this is going. Deft fingers worm their way inside Peter’s pants while a pliant mouth is sucking on the soft and tender skin over his hipbones. Adam doesn’t bother taking them off completely, he just pushes them down Peter’s thighs. The air is cool against his leaking prick and Peter closes his eyes when he finally, finally feels Adam’s hot breath so close.
“God, you’re hard,” moans Adam and Peter’s cock twitches in response. His eyes roll back when long fingers curl around him, holding him firmly in place for Adam’s wicked mouth. Peter doesn’t need to look down to know what his pale, thin lips look like stretched around his cock. He feels himself engulfed by a smooth, oh so smooth heat and he can’t help it that his hips are jerking as Adam works him over expertly.
Adam starts slowly, his tongue exploring the head, his lips almost tender. He moans as if he is enjoying himself. Fuck, he most certainly is. Peter’s left hand finds its way down and grips Adam’s shoulder firmly, as the other man starts sucking him in earnest, taking him in deeper and deeper, the hotness and silkiness as alluring as his voice. With every suck on his cock Peter glides more into incoherence. When he risks one look, the sight of his wet prick disappearing between Adam’s lips and the look of utter contentment in Adam’s startlingly blue eyes is almost too much. He whimpers when Adam pulls away. Too early. Good thing that Peter doesn’t give a damn about how needy he must look, how desperate he must sound. Adam grins and his lips are moist and reddened from the exercise. From sucking his cock, taking in inch for inch until he could not take anymore. Peter bites back a groan and pulls Adam up, wriggling against him and trying to get him out of his pants as quickly as possible. God, he never thought he would need this one day but he needs a cock pushing and pulling against his, right now. He groans out his relief when he finally gets what he wants. It feels incredible. Hard and soft, friction and slickness at the same time; the delicious motion of foreskin against foreskin. Adam attacks his mouth again and his tongue is greedy and fleeting. His breath comes out in little gasps and mingles with Peter’s until they are sharing the same air. Liquid fire gathers and spreads in Peter’s groin and he wants more and more and pushes quicker and harder.
“Wait, let me...” Adam’s voice is ragged. His eyes are half-closed and his pupils dilated. He looks handsome and very fuckable. Peter only notices what he has in mind when his hand reaches for both their cocks and starts pumping them, fast and hard.
“Fuck,” groans Peter, the need growing bigger with every pull. A vein stands out on Adam’s forehead and they are both panting. Close, so close. Just a little more. Without thinking Peter grabs Adam’s firm arse and pulls him closer, spurning him on. Adam’s hand is trapped between them and his grip is nearly painful now but this is what Peter needs.
“Ah,” Adam cries and throws his head back. His eyes are closed and his face drawn in ecstasy. Peter feels his prick convulsing, feels it sputtering, feels the sticky wetness against his loin and belly and it’s enough to push him over the edge, too. The power of his orgasm takes him by surprise, the explosion being fast and violent, starting deep inside him and shaking his entire body. He is shooting out his release for what feels like forever. Adams falls on him, his hand still squeezed between them but he is apparently beyond caring.
Peter feels his breath against his neck and his heart beating rapidly like a drum. It takes him a while to realise how sweaty and sticky they both are and how uncomfortable their position is. But before he even thinks about saying anything, Adam heaves himself up and, shaking his soiled hand, he grins down on him.
“You know, anything would have done after three decades but this was actually quite good,” he smirks. Peter only stares at him, bewildered. They need a shower but they don’t have time, not to mention the facilities, and how could he have forgotten Nathan, even for a minute? Adam does obviously not share his worries. He is tidying himself with his prison shirt, evidently taking great pleasure in besmirching the cloth.
“I -I don’t know how this happened,” Peter says slowly, reaching for another shirt and starting to clean himself. He feels rather undignified, sitting there with his pants down.
Adam doesn’t look up from buttoning his new jeans. “I know. Four months of Elle make a man do strange things. But this wasn’t unexpected, was it? You’re a fit bloke and we already shared the stories of our lives. Pity we never actually had a beer together,” Adam replies, completely undisturbed. Peter relaxes and starts getting dressed. It doesn’t take long and nothing but the scattered and dented boxes betray what they have been doing.
“I don’t know about you but I’m feeling much better,” Adam states with a smile that would make the Cheshire Cat pale in comparison. “In fact, I feel like saving the world.”
Fin
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Comments save the world!
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