by Cooper, R.
“Where?” He could hear the confused need in Peter’s voice. Sebastian smoothed a hand up Peter’s stomach, momentarily obsessed with the freedom to touch, then remembered himself and wrapped his fingers around Peter’s wrist. He dragged Peter’s hand to his head then let go.
“Anywhere,” Sebastian murmured, setting to work on Peter’s cock with his lips and tongue, and shifting down with impatient arousal when Peter cautiously curved a hand around his nape. Sebastian was breathing hard but Peter was drawing in rasping, quick gasps of air. Peter’s gaze was intent on him, hungry, Sebastian thought, but curious as well. Sebastian had never wanted come in his mouth so intensely before.
He brought a hand up, milking Peter’s cock as he sucked it, loving the jerky, hitching movements of Peter’s legs and hips as Peter realized he no longer had to hold himself still. His voice was raised as well, shaky groans and cries directed at the ceiling and Sebastian himself. Peter’s fingers curled into him digging hard in warning, but Sebastian stayed where he was and took the streams of seed on his tongue. He stroked until there was more, letting some drip down between them as he crawled up to take Peter’s mouth in a wet, sticky kiss.
Peter moaned, startled, but let the seed play on his tongue before he swallowed. Sebastian fed him his own spunk, giving him a chance to taste it, then he pulled away to see the effects of what he had done.
Peter’s eyes were stunned but his hands were firm on Sebastian’s skin. “There is much you haven’t taught me,” he complained while Sebastian licked remnants from the corner of Peter’s mouth. Sebastian was feeling quite wanton. He supposed that was inevitable when the man he loved admitting to desiring him. Peter was flushed and heavy-lidded. His lips were shining.
“My apologies.” Sebastian thought his voice was remarkably even for a man with a pounding cock and an aching heart. He brushed the hair away from Peter’s face and smiled widely when Peter wiped his chin for him. He met Peter’s stare. “Ask me anything now. I’ll answer. If there is something you wish to try, please do not be embarrassed. There is nothing wrong with curiosity.” He could not seem to stop kissing the parts of Peter within reach. Peter had just been satisfied but with each kiss he arched up. Sebastian did not think he was the only one relishing this new freedom to act. “There is nothing wrong with learning. Everyone is clumsy at first, Peter, everyone. You remember me, don’t you? I came against you so many times when I did not mean to. You drove me crazy.”
“Did I?” Peter frowned, but not with anger. He was watching his hands as they wandered to Sebastian’s shoulders and chest. “I hated looking at you then. One look and I’d grow hard and have nowhere to go. I thought… I thought, I told myself, if Sebastian felt the same he would not be able to keep himself from me. And it seemed,” he glanced up, “it seemed as if you couldn’t get enough of me either. Then my father—then I left. When I saw you again it was nearly as bad. But you were distant. More careful. The wanting was terrible. ”
“It is the same,” Sebastian promised him feverishly. “It is the same for me. Have you wanted to touch me all this time?” he demanded and cursed himself when Peter gave a firm nod. “I would have let you. I will let you. Only tell me what you want.”
“I have often thought—” Peter’s mouth was no doubt thick with seed. He swallowed again and made a heady sound when he pushed his hands against Sebastian’s collarbone. Peter kept his gaze on his hands and spoke fast. “I have also never had your cock in my mouth.”
“Did I die in that red auto this afternoon?” Sebastian asked him blankly. “Is this Heaven? Am I dreaming?”
“I have wanted to make you feel the way you make me feel.” Peter was cross, but only until Sebastian kicked himself into motion and sat back at the other end of the sofa. Then Peter’s eyes skipped over him, lingering on the aroused cock ruining the line of his trousers.
With incredible slowness, Peter sat up. He left himself half-naked without care but took his time before tugging at the bottom of Sebastian’s shirt. Sebastian knew this was no dream when Peter pulled his shirt from him then, far too serious in manner, stopped again.
“I will be bad at this,” Peter told him as his hands slipped down Sebastian’s chest. “You must expect that. You must not judge me harshly.”
“Peter.” It took effort to speak, to focus on more than rage at a man years dead and the intense rush of desire at even the idea of Peter’s mouth on him. Sebastian took Peter’s hand in his and brought it up to his lips. He met Peter’s gaze. “You will be bad at this,” Sebastian told him just as seriously, in the exact way that he explained to Peter what to expect at every dinner party and what kinds of polite conversation he ought to make with strangers. “You will be bad, and some things about it you might not like. And I will not mind, because it will also be good.” He kissed Peter’s hand again. There was a tremor in his voice. “It will be very good.”
Precious, wonderful Peter took Sebastian at his word, or kept his doubts to himself. His hands were callused without being rough and he was attempting to be gentle. Sebastian shifted his legs apart and Peter took over the space, leaning on one knee to get close enough to exhale under Sebastian’s ear.
Sebastian splayed a hand over Peter’s stomach without applying any force and Peter nodded before moving on, his lips just a whisper over Sebastian’s skin. “You have had a lot of time to learn my body,” Peter observed, making Sebastian shudder, “I will have to catch up.”
“Please, Peter.” Sebastian did not know his own voice. He’d barely been touched and he was already shaking. A boy again, for the moment. Perhaps that was as it should be. Peter pressed his open mouth to his chest and gave him a short, fierce kiss. Sebastian leaned into him. He tried to draw Peter’s eyes up but Peter was licking over each of his nipples and running his fingertips over the waist of his trousers. “Please.”
Peter flicked a look up at him, his eyebrows drawn together. “Do not beg for me,” he insisted, his tone too measured for a man with his own seed in his mouth.
“I will do what I please,” Sebastian chided him. He raised his hand and Peter took hold of his wrist. He licked at Sebastian’s fingertips and Sebastian heaved a breath and put his head back. Peter curled his tongue around his fingers. Sebastian closed his eyes. “Yes, that. That is it exactly, Peter.”
“Will you last long if I try to suck your prick?” Peter inquired, bending his head and leaving Sebastian to claw at the sofa with his free hand.
“No.” Sebastian honestly did not think he would. “You have me, ah—” Peter ran his fingers down his member as if it were a tool he were thinking of using. Sebastian shut his eyes tight. “You have me excited. Do not tease me, please.”
“I have scarcely done anything. “ Peter whined at him, upset he would not get to explore at his leisure. Sebastian felt blindly at Peter until he found his shoulder. He pulled Peter in and then hitched forward at the sensation of Peter’s breath on his still-wet skin. Peter put his hungry mouth to use under Sebastian’s ear, sucking a hard kiss to the sensitive spot while he wrapped his hand around Sebastian’s cock and gave it a rough stroke through his trousers.
Sebastian petted over him and longed to push his head down. He groaned weakly for the faint press of Peter’s teeth at his throat and the slow glide of Peter’s hand. Peter was intent on learning him. He shivered and fell against the arm of the sofa. Peter followed him, sliding his mouth down his chest. “I promise you all the time you want later. Will that do?” Sebastian’s heart in his ears was deafening. “Ah, Peter, you have me a boy again.”
Peter muttered something, possibly obscene, possibly confused, but then stole Sebastian’s breath and ability to reason by sliding closer to almost straddle his lap. Sebastian opened his eyes. Peter stared back at him.
“We did this too, then,” Peter whispered and put a hand to the side of Sebastian’s face to kiss him. Sebastian opened his mouth and Peter licked at his lips in a manner he had only now learned. Sebastian was a blessed man.
&nb
sp; “Yes.” Sebastian would have agreed to anything for more of that but Peter inched his head away.
“Like the things you do to me, you caress until I cannot stand the pleasure,” Peter remarked and returned to sucking harsh, hot kisses into Sebastian’s skin. “Is it good?” He seemed almost drunk, or perhaps that was Sebastian. Sebastian was floating until the downward drag of Peter’s teeth along his stomach made him hiss and push forward for more. Peter hummed. “I want it to be good for you, Bash.”
“It is good.” Sebastian tugged at Peter’s collar, urging his head down to make that clear, and Peter shocked him by sliding his fingers under his trousers and shoving them out of his way. He freed Sebastian’s cock, glancing up once as though still expecting rejection. He did not find it. His ears were red, his lips wet and open. Sebastian thought subtlety would not do Peter any good and pushed his hips up, reminding Peter of the cock frustratingly close to his mouth. “I will not mind your inexperience, I promise. I swear.”
Peter’s tongue was curious. One swipe and Sebastian groaned, “Have mercy on me.” Peter wrapped a hand around the base Sebastian’s cock before returning to put his tongue to use. Sebastian wrapped a hand over his, holding firm and stroking up once before letting go. Peter stared at him, but he listened, imitating the act several times, with greater confidence each time. The dragging suction of his mouth was slow and deliberate and better than Sebastian had ever imagined. “Peter.” He exhaled the name and instantly regretted it.
Peter pulled away to consider him. He was still unsure no matter how wonderful his mouth felt. Sebastian took hold of Peter’s hand and moved it for him, up and down, the pressure exquisite. “Don’t leave me to wait any longer.”
Peter noticed. “I won’t,” he agreed thickly and lowered his head again, swallowing around the head of Sebastian’s cock and allowing Sebastian to guide his hand along the shaft. It took everything not to thrust into his mouth, to stay still as Peter learned the taste of him and the places that made Sebastian’s fingers tighten in his hair. Then when Sebastian thought he could take no more, that he had to shut his eyes or come in Peter’s mouth, Peter hummed.
Peter choked, of course he did, spunk exploding from his mouth since Sebastian had not warned him. He had not had a chance to. Peter’s eyes were sparkling as he came up, his face a mess, but he barely slowed. Sebastian wanted to think, to apologise, to explain, but Peter grinned at him, grinned as he only ever did with the wind in his hair, and then ducked his head back down to draw more seed onto his tongue.
He rose up onto his knees and leaned in, his hand at Sebastian’s neck, his breathing noisy. Sebastian gathered him in and kept him there, close. In a moment there would be questions, frowns, more talk, but for now there was this.
“Here you are,” Sebastian told him, running his hands over him without grace, “Beautiful.”
Peter shivered from the word but stayed, weary and sated, against Sebastian’s shoulder. “Bash,” he answered, sweet with longing, and did not seem aware that he had not yet pulled away.
~~~
Sebastian woke at the shrill sound of a ringing telephone. There was a noticeable chill at his side. He did not move though the scent of the room told him he was in Peter’s bed and a quiet murmur indicated he was not alone. It was not his first time waking in Peter’s room, although he could not recall ever feeling quite so physically tired, as if he could sleep for hours longer.
Without opening his eyes, he considered getting up, and shivered with each faint breeze that washed over him, the result of motion somewhere else in the room. Peter working most likely. Nice of him not to wake Sebastian.
Sebastian rescinded the thought a few seconds later when the metal mouthpiece was pushed into his hand. Peter was standing over him when Sebastian opened his eyes. He shoved the rest of the heavy phone at him and forced him up into a sitting position.
“Your mother,” Peter informed him tightly, head down at a guilty angle. Sebastian’s mother had that effect on Peter. Sebastian’s mother had that effect on most people. Sebastian mostly would have preferred to not talk to her while naked.
He looked down, coming more awake as he realized he was completely naked in Peter’s bed. That was sufficiently unusual to make him take a moment to recall the events of the night—and the day—before. Once given very vocal permission to do so, Peter had set to understanding everything about Sebastian’s body with disturbing thoroughness. Sebastian was on top of the bedding, stark naked because Peter had insisted he undress for the explorations of Peter’s hands, and on the bed because Sebastian had wanted to be comfortable for that. It had seemed warmer. But then, Peter had been studying him with earnest dedication while making free with his person; they could have been outside in January and Sebastian probably wouldn’t have felt the cold.
Sebastian cleared the sleep from his throat and watched Peter sit at the chair in front of his desk. Peter was wearing an undershirt and trousers with braces slung casually up over his shoulders. There were bruises scattered over his throat. He was sketching. Sebastian spoke into the telephone without taking his eyes from him.
“Good morning, Mother.” Of course she had tried to reach him here when he had not answered at his flat. He did not want to imagine what she and Peter had talked about before he’d been handed the phone. His mother had seen the need for love in Peter the first time Sebastian had brought him home, but Sebastian had always believed she thought of Peter as the lost cause who was hurting her son. Now he knew that wasn’t entirely true if she had been having Peter over for tea on a semi-regular basis. He didn’t know what to think about that, or when it had started, but there was no conceivable way of explaining the events of last night to her. Not even someone from his scandalous family wanted to weather that conversation.
“Sebastian.” His mother did not waste time. “I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday. I should have tried Peter’s first.”
“Very probably. He keeps telling me to leave and yet here I am.” It wasn’t the wisest joke to make. His mother starting demanding explanations in a ringing, strident voice and Peter glanced at him, his cheeks red with some emotion that he would deny having. Sebastian started to smile then noticed the tea tray on Peter’s desk. That tea tray meant that Smythe had come in here while Sebastian had been sleeping naked in Peter’s bed.
Sebastian wasn’t going to imagine it. He wasn’t. It was simply too early in the day to be worrying about what the old man thought of him or Peter would have said to explain it. He did not think Peter would lie, not to Smythe, but surely even Peter knew how beyond the pale it was to leave your naked male lover out for anyone, even someone as tolerant as Smythe, to see. Peter had certainly never done it before. There had to be some explanation for it other than Peter’s carelessness about the rules of polite society but Sebastian had no time to dwell on the issue—or how he was going to be able to look Smythe in the eye from now on.
“What, Mother?” Sebastian cut her off when she paused for air, because while he could agree that she might have once had something to worry about, she was wrong to fret over this. The situation had changed. It was no longer Sebastian eternally drawn to Peter with Peter resisting, it was Peter drawn to Sebastian, Peter who had also resisted, Peter who had kissed Sebastian and touched him and slept in his bed with him. “Please don’t,” Sebastian murmured when he heard her small, shocked inhale, as if he had done something by interrupting her that he had never done before. “Mother…” he hesitated, wondering again what Peter had said to Smythe this morning as well as what he had said on all the other mornings when Sebastian hadn’t been there. “I thought he didn’t want me here but he does,” Sebastian told her simply when no other words seemed to fit. Peter released a long, shaky breath but kept his eyes down.
Peter wanted Sebastian to be happy. Peter wanted to touch him. Peter was listening to every word Sebastian said and mulling it over in that maddening mind of his.
“Dinner tonight. Tell him he will be there,” h
is mother hissed, not at all softened by the words. “If he cares for you he can be at your side. Not all the time. I am willing to allow for that. But he can’t leave you alone. Tell him.”
“How many people?” Sebastian asked so he could get Peter used to the idea. He eased back against the headboard when he learned it would be less than five. Less than five should not frighten Peter too much.
“Sebastian.” His mother was no humor for Sebastian’s warm thoughts. “You will ensure that he is comfortable and keep him from nervously knocking over a soup tureen.” It was not a polite request. Sebastian wondered vaguely if she and Peter spoke to each other in declarative statements and observations when they had those teas, then abandoned the thought and focused on the concern in his mother’s voice.
“Yes, Mother,” he agreed softly, acknowledging both the task he’d accepted and her worry about it. She failed to realize that he’d accepted that burden a long time ago.
He thought of the work it must have involved to coax Peter to tea the first time without Sebastian there, and the work she had put in to make Peter feel comfortable enough to return, and realized that was not true. His mother had accepted the ways of Sebastian’s heart some time ago and determined to help him if she could. Or she had wanted to see how Peter felt on the matter and hadn’t trusted Sebastian’s opinion. Peter likely would have approved of such careful research.
“Mother,” Sebastian added when she had finally wound down and stopped reciting the guest list at him. She was worried for him and had been since he’d been a little boy crying at what he’d overheard said about him. He supposed it was the way of any loving parent. “Thank you,” he told her, forgetting anything else he’d been going to say. It didn’t seem enough, but his mother’s voice broke as she reminded him once more of her expectations for the evening. A moment after that she was gone.
Sebastian shoved the telephone aside with her concern lingering in his mind and his eyes on Peter.
Peter continued to draw. Sebastian went into the bathroom and then to the W.C. When he came out, Peter was still intent on his notepad. Some papers had been torn loose and crumpled up, rejected designs littered the floor. The tea tray was next to a small, greasy motor of some kind. On the tray was a pot, some cream and sugar, and an extra cup and saucer, presumably for Sebastian. There was a cup of tea in front of Peter, most likely cold, but Sebastian walked over and poured himself a cup from the pot. The tea had gone lukewarm but he drank some anyway.
