They’ve been sitting on the couch reading for the last half hour and he knows Sebastian is getting antsy. His hand landed on Peter’s thigh a solid ten minutes ago, crept higher and higher until it was in the crease of his thigh, and then Sebastian touched his cock with his pinky.
Peter is hard and has been since about thirty seconds after Sebastian's hand first squeezed his leg.
Anyway, Peter's hard. He’s shifted on the couch and the outline of his erection is visible.
Which means Sebastian has taken his hand away. But the tension between them is crackling and Peter does his best to wait, stay relaxed, as if there isn’t a countdown tosomethinghappening.
He has to wait for Sebastian to direct him. He will tell Peter what he wants. And the waiting is excruciating because Peter isn’t going to relax and his cock isn’t going to calm down. His body is unable to refocus on nonsexual things now that he’s with Sebastian. As if his body has had a lifetime of off and is now permanently switched to on.
Peter will just get harder, and his cock will ache more, and then Sebastian will probably give him a casual order likesuck my dick, honeyor something and Peter will fall upon him like a starving man.
“Tell me something,” Sebastian finally says, tossing his book aside.
“Sure. Like what?” Peter asks and sets his own book down, rolls his head along the couch to look up into Sebastian’s face.
Peter does it on purpose, slouching down on the couch, wanting to look up into the eyes of the man he adores. He thinks Sebastian likes him being lower and looking up at him, too. A reminder that he is submissive.
“Dancing,” Sebastian says, and his gaze slides down Peter’s body, and he stares between Peter’s legs as if he’s trying to see how hard Peter is.
“What… what is there to tell you about dancing?” Peter asks, cock twitching from that small amount of attention.
“Have you ever been?”
“Uh, no.”
“Like at a club?”
“I—no,” he says, hating where this might be going. “I never liked girls. Why would I go?”
“What do you think we’re gonna do for your birthday?”
“I have no idea,” he says, concerned that whatever is going through Sebastian’s mind has somehow connected those things together.
“What’s something youdon’twant to have happen?”
“A threesome,” he says promptly.
Sebastian laughs. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, I’d be so fucking angry if you got it up for some woman.”
“Angry?” Peter repeats, mind blanking at the idea. Sebastian doesn’t get angry. His initial anger and bad behavior was all aresult of his sister. Now that she's okay, he’s usually easygoing. Except in the bedroom. Maybe that’s why he’s so easygoing?
“Would you like that?” Sebastian pretends to look angry, grabs Peter by his shirt and pulls him closer, and Peter, going with it, has to put a hand down to catch himself. His arm bends, abruptly weak with lust because that’s just how he is around Sebastian.
“Fuck,” he says.
And Sebastian laughs because he knows. He always goddamned knows.
“There’s the blush.” Sebastian pulls his hair so he winds up awkwardly over Sebastian’s lap, looking back at him with wide eyes. Sebastian grins, slow and predatory. “How can you be so easy? Your cock is hard against my thigh. I didn’t even touch you,” he says dismissively.
Peter gives up with a groan, dropping his head and squeezing his eyes closed tightly. “You did touch me. And then you stopped,” he mumbles into the couch. He’s in the perfect position to get spanked.
“What? With one little finger? How long ago was that? Twenty minutes? You mean you’ve been hard this whole time just because I touched you withone little finger?”
There’s a roughness in his tone. Confidence. Condescension. And that’s what Peter loves. To be demeaned and mocked and desired by the man he loves.
“Yes, Sebastian,” he whispers.
“People need more than that, sweetheart. To get turned on,” Sebastian says as if he’s being kind. “Normal people. Don’tyouneed more than that?”
