bakerstreet | body heat

It’s his home, and he disrobes further. He struggles with the buttons of his top, so unsteady are his fingers. He gets them undone enough to pull the thing over his head. Belt, pants are easier. His boxers and undershirt help his shaking not at all, but logic—good logic coming back to him in splashes and drips—tells him that the weakness will pass.

Until such a time, he crawls in close to Peter, twisting the duvet tight. “Not distraught. Angry and exhausted. I’d wager I’d be just fine after a few days back on schedule.” He radiates soreness at the thought exercise, despite his chilly tone, and his arms slip under Peter’s jumper, legs tangle into his. “Though I know you’d like me to cry and cry.”

No crying, but he sniffs and half-burrows against Peter’s chest. The wool is practical and, by reason of practicality, uncomfortable. “What did you tell him? Nathaniel.”

The sweater is wool and the pants are jean. Warm and durable for the seas, deeply uncomfortable for laying in bed and curling up with another person. If Elias wanted better warmth, he'd make Peter take them off. As it is, Peter won't make any movements to change until Elias asks. It's all just instinct for him, barely conscious decisions at this point. Barriers upon barriers -- Peter is the pea in the princess' mattress, uncomfortable and undetected.

For now, his arms go around Elias' shoulders and he drops his face into Elias' hair. His rubs his nose slightly against him before settling, letting his thumb rub small circles against Elias' back. It would all be comforting, if it wasn't also Peter.

"I'll take that bet," he murmurs quietly, amusement unable to leave his voice at this point. "What are the stakes? Though, might not be able to collect before I leave." It's just idle talk, he's not expecting an actual wager. Instead, he nuzzles at him again and lets Elias' hands roam. His skin is warm under the jumper, chest a little hairy, but stomach well defined from the hard manual labor of the sea. He's almost a little more human again, when you get down to just flesh.

But, ah, that question. He supposes he should have expected it. For a moment, he thinks to lie but ... lying never works with Elias. So, the truth. "Nothing. Came into port, didn't hear from you, went about my business. He..." A bit of hesitation and he admits, "He knew I was looking forward to seeing you."

So, there it is. Easy to piece together the rest from Peter's side. It was a nasty trick on them both. It gets harder and harder to cultivate real loneliness from Peter when he spends so much of his time drawing it out of others. Only another Lukas could make the stakes so that that hollow ache fills Peter's chest again. Peter isn't surprised Nathaniel used Elias to make it happen.

There it is. Elias curls tight, stretching him snug into Peter's negative space. In his own home, out of that Nordic isolation chamber, this close to Peter, rucking up his top half up his stomach till Elias' arm laces around him--he can start to see again.

He hides a smirk in Peter's shoulder. "Was he punishing you, then?"

Say it.

What's he supposed to say to that? Yes, it's punishment. Yes, it's a reminder of the failure that is his relationship with Elias. Yes, Nathaniel just wanted to remind him of his own weaknesses for a spell. He's going to be discontent even after he leaves on the Tundra, feeling like he didn't get nearly enough time together. The haunting ache of missing a lover when your encounters have been so brief.

So, he says it. "Yes, Elias. He was punishing me too." A very put upon sigh and he's going to tighten his grip around the other man as he holds him to himself. He'll duck his head, nosing behind Elias' ear and breath him in. For a moment, there's the quiet stillness of the sea before he catches himself with a chuckle.

Clutched this close, it's easy to hear the muted don't that rushes out of Elias when Peter squeezes him and that sound--

"Stay." He elaborates very quickly, twisting in Peter's arms to catch his mouth. It isn't a kiss at all, only a way to get him by the eyes, to keep Elias' pleading as close as it can be between them. "I don't want you to leave. You know that, don't tease."

His hand flats up Peter's belly, thumb draws the lower lines of his ribs. "You came all this way inland, anyway. You wouldn't. Wouldn't just leave."

This shouldn't be as satisfying as it is, but it is. It should feel suffocating and overwhelming and make Peter want to crawl out of his skin to get away but somehow, with Elias, that's not the sensation he gets. Being with Elias is isolating, in the way they feel for each other. Like no matter how much they tear at each other, it'll never be deep enough, they'll never know each other. Peter craves it in a way he hasn't with anything, or anyone else. The satisfaction of being the only ones this close to each other but just... not... close enough. Never close enough.

So, he's still smiling against Elias' mouth when he pushes upwards, lift his hand to curl against Elias' cheek and stroke against the skin. He wonders if Elias is feeling any warmer. Elias twists it on him, points out that he doesn't want to leave either and he is correct. The last thing Peter wants to do right now is leave.

"Wouldn't I? When you're all worked up like this, why would anyone want to be around you, Elias?"

He says it with amusement and while Elias didn't kiss him exactly, he'll kiss Elias instead. Pressing a little closer, he tilts his head to close the space between their mouths and laugh a little, against his lips.

No one wants to be around him anyway. He thinks it objectively, but in this company it feels sardonic and self-pitying even in his own head. The smart thing to do would be to smother the feeling as soon as he notices it, but Elias shelters it. Cultivates it a little, even, sighs long and lonesome into the kiss: look what you're doing to me.

Primarily, warming him up. Less from his core or from his hand at Elias cheek than by the kiss, so Elias tips into it willfully. His weight rolls over Peter, starting from the leg hooked around his thigh then crawling up the cradle of his hips and across his half-exposed front. Above between Peter and the heavy duvet--now there's something. The next sigh that rushes direct down Peter's throat says the same thing, only more predatory than pitiful:

look what you're doing to me

It's the type of kiss he likes from Elias. Where perhaps, maybe it doesn't all ring true but there's... enough in there to feed Peter. Where Elias brings himself down to a human enough level to feel loneliness and therefore give it to Peter. Peter will take it happily, hand moving from her cheek to curl against the back of his neck and drag fingers into his hair. Oh, sweet Elias.

Then they break and when Elias pushes him down a bit more firmly onto the bed, when he straddles him and then kisses again, with a bit more bite. Peter laughs again before stops quick enough to kiss him back. His own kiss picks up in intensity, teeth tugging at his bottom lip and nose pressing into the curve of Elias' cheekbone.

Despite it all, Peter knows he's not doing anything to Elias that Elias does not want to happen. He knows exactly what it's like with this man. He doesn't exactly mind it, either.

When the kiss breaks, Peter drops his head back and smiles up at him. "Feeling better, darling? Warmer?"

A bit, yeah, but Elias doesn't answer him to show as much. Doesn't let him lie down long either, pushing up on his arms when Peter drops back. One hand, then two reach down to shove at the wool monstrosity between them. "Did you wear this specifically to pain me?"

And now's that time of the evening when Elias is particularly human about things. In that, he wants Peter, in a more carnal way. Peter can understand that and finds it fun. Also, the sex is always very good between them. Is it a supernatural thing or something else? Peter couldn't say. But he does enjoy himself.

"I'll have you know, I won this sweater from Salesa in a bet. Made him knit for me," he quips with a laugh and then since Elias seems to be struggling, he'll help by pushing up to his elbows so he can tug at the sweater and pull it up and off. Then Elias will have his jeans to deal with, but at least progress has been made.

"I see why it's so atrocious, then." As the garment comes up and over Peter's elbows, Elias snags it before it can come off completely. They aren't sturdy bindings, by any means, but the wool wrapped around his forearms at least serves the purpose of helping Elias hold his arms down. Elias has to push it off of Peter's face, but nothing is perfect.

He kisses Peter briefly on the mouth, on the forehead. "It doesn't even keep you warm. How, then, do you propose to warm me up?" Indeed, Peter doesn't glow like a man his size should. Even laid across him, kisses moving under his ear, to the top of his throat, Elias can't find the bit of him that's properly alive. His thighs pinch around Peter's, hips push into his slow. "Maybe you should have contracted Salesa for that too."

This is one of those moments where Peter remembers just how eye roll worthy and dramatic Elias can be. He wonders if he's the only person who sees this side of him anymore? This flirty and frankly, annoying side of Elias. He gives a soft snort when his arms are pinned and leans up for that kiss, brief as it is. Then his nose scrunches up slightly at the one on his forehead before he's looking up to Elias when he leans back.

No, Peter isn't very warm even if he looks like he should be. He's not the kind of guy you want to bundle close to, or feel comforted by. Rarely is this an issue for him though, until moments like this, where there's some small part of him that wonders at what it'd be like to do that for Elias. Still sounds a bit silly though.

A bit huffy despite himself, "I'd much rather not, actually." Because... one very good thing about his relationship with Elias is that it's monogamous. Peter has never tried anything with anyone else (not that he would normally, mind you) and Elias doesn't either. Or at least Peter hopes he doesn't, but he can't exactly account for those times they've broken up. It's. Uncomfortable for him to think on.

Anyway.

He's still pinned by the sweater and he'll squirm a bit under Elias, wanting to touch. Then feeling ridiculous for wanting to touch and not wanting to touch at all. It's all contradictions here. He wishes this was a bit more impersonal.

"I can keep you warm in other ways. If you... would let me have my hands for a bit."

Even hidden from sight Peter's neck, Elias' grin is obvious against his skin. "What's that?" His second hand joins the first, fisted in the sweater just by Peter's wrist. He isn't strong. He has no illusions of being able to keep Peter really restrained like this. Still, his look is sharky when he lifts his head, brow bent in play sympathy. "Not great fun being trapped? Surprise, surprise."

That gets a flat look in response as Elias pulls up to look at him. He gives a wry look back up and part of him is tempted to push, to flip them over and shake off the sweater and push Elias down. He's done it before, sometimes to teach Elias a lesson, sometimes just because. This would be one of those lesson times though because it's like Elias is forgetting the fact that he was punished too.

But then again, Elias is probably just annoying him on purpose. So, he just leans up and snaps his teeth a little playfully at him, idly wishing Elias was close enough for him to kiss.

"I wasn't the one who trapped you, Elias. Don't know why you'd want to punish me for it, when I brought you back here. Specifically here, where I could warm you."

"Your pouting doesn't warm me any." Toothless teasing as Elias obliges him by closing the distance between their lips, fingers stretching under the sweater to drag it finally off Peter's arms. Like a starter pistol, the minute Peter's hands are free, Elias bites hard at his lower lip, grinds hard up against him. Come on, then. Come on.

There's a mumbled curse against Elias' mouth when he's kissing him and Peter grunts softly as his hands move. One curls against the side of Elias' face, keeping him there as they kiss and the other moves to his back, sliding lower to curl against his ass and grab a handful of it. He'll jerk upwards against him, letting the grinding start and thinking idly about taking off his jeans.

When the kiss breaks for air, Peter bites a little more gently at Elias' mouth and breathes him in, hovering his mouth above his. "Eli," The most terrible nickname. He's sure Elias hates it. "I've got four days till I ship off. Would prefer to spend them here. In this bed. With you."

He's sure Elias already knows what he'd like but well, it doesn't hurt to make it clear. Even if he's sure he won't get it how he wants. Asking Elias for things is like making a wish with a genie. You might get it, but not exactly how you pictured.

He hates the name, nearly as much as he hates the rotten spot Peter's words dig at. They punch straight through him, fingers through a bruise and into decayed fruit, weak and sticky and too sweet. Conveniently, Elias can blame the cabin and the cold. He has an excuse, today, for sighing over the request and the cute name--an excuse for not sneering and teasing, for melting into Peter instead with a relieved, syrupy, "Good."

He finds his bite around the same time his fingers find the fly of Peter's jeans. "Your brother would have killed me if I was anyone else. As it stands, four days...four days." Breath runs a little quicker in Peter's ear, where Elias' head drops as he yanks the zipper down, spears into his pants. "You can make it up to me in that time, I think."

Half-hard in the crook of Peter's thigh, he still shudders getting a hand around Peter snugly, inhales slow in time with a first firm, experimental stroke.

When Elias is like this, there's some part of it that rubs against Peter in a way he can't quite put together. He's not sure if it's a betrayal of himself or if it's just another extension of the Lonely. Some deep possessive feeling runs through him, unable to even fathom the idea of sharing this with any other person on the planet. This Elias is his to own and want and consume and he'd rather die than share it.

But it is still an Elias that he wants, an interaction of not one but two. He's not alone, here with Elias, if he considers Elias as company. But they are alone if you consider them as a unit. It gets complicated, feels strange how much he wants it and it'll take some time at sea to let go of the discomfort that fills him when he thinks about it too long.

It's a craving to be alone, together. Alone, with Elias. Alone, in secret, in private, where no one knows this side of them other than each other. Peter sighs and arches his hips, letting Elias' hand slide around his cock. He's not soft, definitely not, getting there with a bit of encouragement from Elias. He can't pretend he doesn't want when it's so very obvious that he does.

The hand on Elias' face curls more against his neck, thumb pressed into the crook of space under his ear. He keeps him close like that, mouth lingering against him while the other hand continues to squeeze and knead at Elias' ass.

A soft murmur in response, "You won't know your bed without me." A double edged sword, it'll be fine for now and when he leaves, the bed will be empty, cold. Peter can almost taste how much Elias will miss him.

Such a pretty, pretty threat. Elias hums along, so delicate with the kiss that a bad wind could knock away. "I don't know my body without you, Peter. It's empty--" The words skim free and easy from the top of Peter's mind, so easy Elias nearly laughs over it. "Cold and empty. Without you, Peter."

Pushing up on his knees, Elias spreads his legs wider so they bracket Peter around his thighs. It's nearly painful to sit up and brace one hand against Peter's abs, so stark is the temperature difference even between his flat and the body below him--but he can't really get at Peter's jeans lying down. "I don't pine anymore, you know." He mutters, more prayerful than conversational as he yanks at Peter's pants. Come away. "Except when you leave me here. I can feel you for days. I can see you for days, in my linens, every my head hits the pillow. Tell me you think of me on that moaning boat." His head tilts, mouth drifts open with a fond smile as he works the jeans down Peter's hips. "Tell me you think of me and refuse to touch yourself. You bite your cheek and hope I'm rutting against my sheets, alone."

There's a part of him that hates that, when Elias plucks his own thoughts from his head and voices it right back to him. Uses his words to tell him exactly what he wants and entangle them a bit more together as a result. Then another part that knows only Elias could do that and there's something uncomfortable and satisfying about it. He just hisses softly, leaning in to press his mouth to Elias' jaw, soft kisses against it as he lingers with his nose pressed under Elias' ear.

He listens to him, listens to him takes the initial thoughts he stole from Peter's mind and extrapolate. He doesn't help him with his jeans, just lets Elias handle that and instead his hands keep working at Elias' ass, kneading at him as he keeps him there. Both hands linger, taking whatever warmth from Elias' skin as one hand slides up the back of Elias' shirt and rests his dry, slightly chilly palm against the skin.

"Sometimes," he murmurs, voice low against the skin of Elias' throat. "Sometimes I think of you when I'm in my cabin. I miss you. I never miss anyone, anything, but you... you're under my skin." He gives a soft, rueful laugh. Their relationship is strange and terrible, and he's very well aware of it.

His pants go down with Elias' movements, tugging them off to his knees along with his underwear and he'll sit there, stripped down so easily. He gives an amused hum as he presses another smattering of kisses to Elias' throat, lingering against his collarbone now. "I can't see you. Not like you see me. I can only hope you ache like I do. You're the only one who could ever come close to knowing me, Elias. Doesn't that get you hard?"

Tugging the last inches of Peter's jeans away, Elias lets the words wash over him slowly. He counts on them sinking in soon enough, but there's a delay between Peter's asking and his answering where Elias simply stares at him. Mouth open and dry, slack until he breathes a belated response: "Yes." And then it bends up at the corners after. His palms are warm against Peter's skin as they run unimpeded from the tops of his thighs, over his belly and up his chest.

"Let me see you." Elias asks, barely louder than a breath, as his fingers skate up Peter's temples and into his hair. He likes to ask this impossible thing every once in a while. Knows that Peter won't and can't entirely lift the shroud that billows around him. "Let me See you, Peter. Just for a moment."

It's as good as a confession of love between them, terrible and strange as they are. Take as much as you can, ask for more.

That gets a laugh, soft and fond in a way that is unexpected of Peter. He smiles into Elias' skin and curls his fingers tighter into him. With the removal of his pants, Peter lies under Elias completely nude and obviously, clearly interested in Elias' touches. His cock is hard, growing more and more in arousal by the moment and he has no desire to pull away from the way they're wrapped up together.

As Elias' fingers curl into his hair, Peter just stays close, brushes his lips across his skin and drags his nose over his cheekbone. Elias wants to see and for a bit, Peter is truly tempted to let him. He'll curl his fingers against his sides, drag him a little closer and breath a little heavily against him.

"For a moment," he murmurs. Permission for Elias to look and if he presses too far, looks too close, Peter will shut him down like nothing else. Elias typically knows how much he's allowed to take, but Peter knows sometimes he can get carried away.

He drags him in a little closer beforehand, slides him across his lap to straddle a little more firmly. His hand is going to slip between them, pressing up against Elias' crotch and palming him in the space between them.

A little gasp for the allowance and for Peter's fingers framing him. His eyes drift shut, hands spread open and flatten against Peter's jaw. Elias rests their foreheads together and looks. For himself in Peter's mind. For them in Peter's mind. For anyone else stretched over him the way Elias does now, anyone taking him apart piece by piece the way Elias does now. He's only allowed one hungry moment; the effort he puts into it takes his breath away.

Elias will find...

Well, he'll find exactly what he wants, won't he? Because the bone deep satisfaction that Peter feels in his relationship with Elias, it's not something he can get with anyone else. No, he will find Peter's adoration for him endless, deeper than Peter would ever show and deeper than Peter would ever like. For a being that thrives off of missed connections and a lacking depth, he can't out and out say his relationship with Elias is not deep, not a meaningful connection for him

There is -- there's more too, like a thread that needs to be pulled. More nuance to the feeling, more depth, more something. But Elias' time is limited and that's all he'll get from Peter.

And for them, he will find that Peter has never felt equal satisfaction from any of his other relationships the way he feels it for Elias. Peter loves them, whatever they have, this nasty thing that suits both of their needs. Peter does not love many things, but his relationship with Elias towers over many things. That with his mother, his family, Salesa. There are few things equivalent -- maybe the Tundra?

But that is all Elias is allowed to see there, just starting to scratch the surface before he's shoved right out.

The last one though, has Peter had others with him like this? Like he does with Elias?

There is a flash -- lonely one night stands when he was young, connections forged quick and burned faster. But. Then there is James Wright and Peter's derision and then their first bit of carnality and then -- then there are lonely trips to sea and sailors knocking on his cabin door and being turned away, of a picture of Elias on his desk in his captain's quarters and wrong (right?) assumptions being made. People in bars in docks all around the world, making passes and being led on before rejected with faux regret.

And Peter's lonely bed in his cabin, never warmed by anyone else.

After that, Elias is kicked out of his head promptly and his hands press against him before shoving him quite firmly away. It leaves him still laying there underneath him but with Elias sitting up and Peter on his elbows. He raises an eyebrow and, "Well?"

He doesn't thrive off of the faraway feeling like Peter does, nor benefits off of the knowing how singularly he's ached for. But, at the beginning and end of it all, Elias is a man. The sight leaves him feeling warm and proud and territorial, chest filling up with delight until Peter shoves him out. He protests (no--wait--) when he's jarred back, still gasping even as he leans back.

Elias' laugh betrays everything swirling in his gut and in the crown of his head. Smug and possessive, fond and cruel and chilly, chin high and teeth bare. His tongue twists around it (love, Peter?) but it doesn't make it out his mouth. He tuts it away, shaking his head. "Oh, Peter. You stupid boy.

"What would your mother say?"

body heat

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