"Ow, what the fuck?" Sebastian gasps.
The scent of booze hits Peter immediately. And cigarette smoke. Sebastian pushes up and sits on Peter's groin but doesn't get off him. He puts his hand to his forehead, rubbing the area. His other hand is on Peter's chest, palm over his hardening nipple.
"Shouldn't you be stronger? I didn't expect you to get knocked over. I thought you were in the military. You look all buff. I'm disappointed."
"Shouldn't you not break into people's homes?"
Sebastian's hand hasn't moved. There are two points of contact, Peter realizes. His groin and his chest. Peter lies there helplessly, hoping the shock and pain will keep him from getting hard for a minute or two.
"I want my painting back."
"You smell like a bar."
"I have had a fair amount of booze. Your lip is bleeding," he says and licks his own lips. He smirks at Peter, and that's it. Peter's time is up. He is definitely getting hard.
"Fuck, I don't have it. I took it to work. But I'll give it to you tomorrow or something. Actually, you can just go get it. I'll tell Becky to expect you."
"Ooh, your assistant. Her name is Becky?" He says it like he's spitting the word out of his mouth. "You mean the chick that was glued to you at the art show?"
"Yes, that's her. She's a woman, though. Not a chick."
"God, I knew you'd be pedantic. Did not expect you to be quite so…" His gaze slides down Peter's body. "It looks like muscle," he mutters.
His fingers, which have been lightly resting on Peter's chest, his middle finger on top of the small bud of his now hard nipple (god, how mortifying), press down a little harder. "Jesus, fuck, what a chest."
Sebastian reaches up to his own chest, pressing fingers into his pec, and shakes his head. "No comparison. You're like… I've had girlfriends who'd be jealous of the rack you're hiding," he says and meets Peter's gaze.
There's something hard in his expression. This isn't flirting. It's meant to be insulting.
"Do you have to wear a support bra? Are these moobs? Or do you just give it up altogether and call them tits?"
Surely Sebastian Craft doesn't want to start a fight. He wouldn't be that stupid, would he? Getting drunk and picking onsomeone far larger than himself just to work off some of his rage, get a cheap thrill from violence… Okay, Peter relates, but it isn't a good idea.
"Why do you hate me?" Peter asks. Because he's not going to fight the young man. He needs to de-escalate this. And he's not insecure about his pecs, thank you very much. His constituents frequently comment that he should do a shirtless calendar. Becky thinks it's hilarious.
Sebastian pouts, his bottom lip sticking out like he's sad for Peter. "Is it hurting your feelings? Let me guess, you need everyone to like you, absolutely everyone? Used to the entire world bowing down before you. How fucking inspiring," he sneers.
God, his mouth. The heat of him against Peter's now hard cock.
Peter used to get into a lot of fights when he was young. Any damned excuse to get punched and he took it gladly. There is so much beauty and precision in pain.
Finding a fight was easy when he was younger. And also when he was in the military. He doesn't do it now outside of sparring, of course. That's one of the more sensible restrictions of adulthood.
He misses it, but he survives and gets pain in other, more structured ways. What Peter doesn't have is someone in his life who is genuinely mean. Someone who wants to make it personal. Who cares enough and is worked up enough to really figure out exactly how to bring Peter down with not just actions but words.
It's a lot harder to fight against words. Sebastian Craft is an artist with paint and cruelty.
Peter blinks, turns his head away, and waits.
Like all good bullies, Sebastian knows surrender when he sees it. He sighs and squeezes Peter's pec sharply. Peter draws ina shaky breath, trying to stay calm. He should do something, but he has no idea what.
He can't think. It doesn't even occur to him to shove off the younger, weaker man.
"I don't think you're god's gift. You're not gonna be the next Obama or JFK."
"I'm a Republican, and the other one was assassinated."
Sebastian blinks at him. Then he carries on, ignoring Peter's comment.
