bakerstreet | Fire in my blood, the instincts I can't fight!

Fire in my blood, the instincts I can't fight!

THE IN HEAT/IN RUT AU MEME
not an alpha/beta/omega meme

There's no need for elaborate backstories for this AU. You go into heat, rut, whatever you'd like to call it. You've always done so since you were of age to do so. It's a socially accepted norm, and people have gotten used to the difficulties that come with the mating seasons. Life goes on.

Isn't this alpha/beta/omega, then? No, not at all. In this meme, there are no gender-variant genitalia unless your character comes prepackaged with those. No giant cocks - again, unless your character is already packing - or self-lubricating assholes or anal wombs, and no knotting. Unless that's your thing. There's also no set in stone roles with regards to dominance and submission, and some people do not even feel the inclination towards either. Still, there are a few similarities, mainly being that the pheromones of others can put someone into heat that was not in it before and the bond between mates. In addition, some humans/human-stand-ins have created packlike dynamics in response, but this is not universal.

In this meme, it's just regular old human...oids feeling the urge for sex. And by "urge," we of course mean all-consuming drive. If characters choose to ignore that urge, it will backfire on them. The more they put it off, the more they will lose their control, becoming more irritable and aggressive, and eventually be nothing but a rutting animal until the need to mate is satisfied. Not all heats call for mating, of course, and most people can just relieve themselves, but when you do mate, you feel the urge to stay by their side and essentially "nest." These desires don't always pan out into offspring, and mating isn't forever unless it's mutually decided upon. However, impregnating your mate is said to be one of the most euphoric experiences a person can have, even if some people only mate because they want to utterly possess someone, as mates are bonded for a while.

If there's anything that's to your fancy that's been left out, go ahead and add it in. Play it how you'd like!

HOW TO PLAY

Comment with your character and preferences.

Include what you're interested and not interested in.

Respond to others!

PROMPTS

first heat: Baby's first heat. YOU'RE A TEENAGER/LATE BLOOMER AND WHAT IS THIS?

old hand: You've done this a million times, but it never gets any easier.

happen to be here: You're not picky. You can't afford to be. You'll take anybody who's nearby.

old faithful: You're going to the person you always go to in order to relieve your problem.

worked something out: The two of you aren't involved. You just help each other out.

unexpected: You never expected to rut with this person, but here you are.

forbidden: AKA the obligatory incest or age difference option.

volunteer: You've offered yourself up out of the kindness of your heart.

tribute: This isn't your offer. You're the offer from others, a gift for someone powerful to sate their appetite.

mating: You've decided to go one step further and make your relationship deeper.

nesting: Aaah, (temporary) domestic bliss. And lots of fucking. Lots and lots of fucking. Like, you'll barely be able to stand.

bonding: The bond, which is mildly psychic and intensely physical, makes sex even more intense.

the natural conclusion: Heat calls for pregnancy. Get someone pregnant.

already pregnant: Unfortunately, being knocked up doesn't abate your partner's desires. Or yours.

mates for life: Now you're absolutely certain that you want to be with no one else. Of course, this means you'll be in synch with their heat for the rest of forever.

save you: You've been saved from the advances of an undesired mate by someone who may be much more suited. Show your gratitude?

cockfight: Two people want the same mate. That won't do. There are ways to figure that out, not always involving fists.

increase in dominance: Exactly what it says.

increase in submission: Again, exactly what it says.

unexpected dominance: No one expects you to ever be dominant. Prove them wrong.

protect: You want to protect your mate from others, and that means putting your scent all over them.

set off by someone else: You were doing fine until you got a whiff of someone else's pheromones.

resisting temptation: Your heart belongs to someone. You want to stay out of this "heat" thing. You want to rise above it. Whatever it may be, you just have to not take the bait. Easier said than done.

all worked up: You're beginning to lose control and yourself. Quick, do something before you're jumping anything that moves.

pack: As mentioned prior, some people, especially those far out from civilization proper, have formed packs that hold to the more traditional alpha structure. Of course, these packs come with their own rules when it comes to heat and mating.

suitable partner: The desire for certain mates can come from a subconscious level, and you can find yourself aroused by someone showing how strong they are (they can protect you), how curvaceous they look (that must mean they're fertile), or any other number of traits that can benefit you.

desperation: You'll take anyone! Anything!

final release: You've reached your breaking point and your mindless. At least you'll get relief.

fighter: Part of your process is seeing who's worthy of you by testing their mettle. That, or you want to fight anything.

off your meds: It's fairly rare, but some can get blockers for their heat. What if those blockers run out? Why, it makes your heat ten times worse!

noncon: They don't want this. You don't want to stop this.

dubcon: You say no, but your body says yes and you can't stop loving it.

calm you down: Whether it's to fuck or to fight, you're going mad, and they have to bring you back down to Earth.

territorial: How dare someone look at what belongs to you? You'll have to make things right.

odd man out: For some reason, you don't go into heat. Never have. Being with you is pretty relaxing, and some find it appealing to not have to deal with pheromones that aren't theirs. You do have to learn how to appreciate their problems, though.

WILDCARD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Up for any - 13 & 14 are favorites but not necessary. Can age up as needed. ]

[ Not looking for 13/14/17 today but the rest are cool. ]

[ open to all ]

[ Nothing related to pregnancy, please ]

[ Nothing with pregnancy ]

[ Use all the ABO tropes or none of them, any prompt, assumed CR, canon, cross-canon, different X-franchises, whatever. No underage. ]

The thing of it is, Jedi just don't. Maybe it's something to do with meditation, early training, the Force aligning in mysterious ways, or space!saltpeter put in the younglings' food, but it's a well known fact that Jedi are betas. Or act enough like betas that no one looks too closely.

If he'd been a proper captive on the Starjammer, maybe someone would've noticed that he was starting to spend a lot more of his time meditating. (It was working. Mostly.) Unfortunately, the crew picked up him after a minor political dust-up and were kindly (read: for a price) hauling him back out of Wild Space and somewhere closer to home.

Scott notices.

Not immediately, but he's not completely oblivious - far from it, he's pretty observant; goes nicely with being quiet most of the time.

He leaves it alone for a while and then just matter of factly: "Your hormones are spiking." Slowly, slower than he'd expect but that's only MOSTLY related.

Luke remains sitting cross-legged on the floor and keeps his eyes closed when speaking: "Jedi don't do that sort of thing."

Is he joking? Probably. Then again, let's just assume that he'd been stranded on some alien world without access to his blockers for a shade too long.

"Yeah, and I'm not actually colorblind, but it's still working out to effectively the same thing." Meaning... okay it's a bad analogy. Deal with it. Scott just stays at the doorway, arms folded over his chest.

After one final calming breath, Luke opens his eyes and looks up at Scott.

"There's a saying where I'm from, if my kirrak had wings, she'd by my swarak." It loses something in translation, surely, but the sentiment is the same.

"For the crew, any of them really react to human omegas? Or can I expect to just take a box of toys and just try to avoid chafing on my own."

[Anything but 7 (no incest), 9, 13, 14, 17, 18, 31, 35.]

[how would you feel about having a rut or whatever being a Spider-Thing rather than a normal human thing and MJ is just a Very Good Boyfriend who is willing to help Peter out?]

[So, like there is a Spider thing that compels him to be all sexy Peter Parker? And MJ helps him out? Like 4?]

[yeah, that's pretty much what I was thinking. sound good? >>]

[Sounds great! Do you want to start?]

Everyone is unique, etc. etc., but MJ is pretty confident that Peter's topped the charts on uniqueness. And compared to the sticking to walls and the super-strength and the crime-fighting and so on, a couple days of extreme horniness would hardly register on the weirdness scale if it wasn't for the fact that MJ had all but thrown himself at Peter as tribute. Not that he regrets it! He doesn't. It was a lot of fun and a hell of a workout the first time, but he can't help but feel nervous as well as excited when Peter texts him that it's happening again if he still wants to help.

Peter seems to prefer being in his own space during this whole thing, so MJ reschedules a shoot, grabs an overnight bag, and makes it to Peter's door within an hour, letting himself in with the key Peter'd given him.

Peter's happy to delegate this particular task to MJ, mostly because his plate is already full with crime fighting and sticking to walls. Not that he can really delegate his biological needs, and who knew this was a side effect of radioactive spider bites, but if he's going to spend hours and hours with someone at peak horniness...well, MJ is very much the top of that list. It's better with someone, always has been, and it's the best with someone he cares about.

He's managed at least to not be touching himself when MJ arrives, though he has shed most of his clothes...and bed sheets...and blankets on the floor. It's to the point that he is lying on top of a single sheet, rutting against the mattress (and okay, the not touching himself was relative).

"MJ?" His voice is rough around the edges already, and he wants...He wants so much to find release.

"Oh, Peter." With great power comes great responsibility, and with a naked, extremely needy Peter Parker comes the responsibility to properly appreciate the view. MJ technically knew what he was getting into but he still feels like he's in a trance taking those last steps forward, close enough to reach his hand out and run his palm down Peter's back. He looks so beautiful like this. "Hey, Tiger."

Peter makes a soft, desperate whine as he feels a hand on his back. He doesn't necessarily feel calmer (nothing will make him feel calmer right now), but he subconsciously knows that the one man he wants to see him like this is here and that makes him feel...safer.

"Hey...I'm sorry..." He's sorry to call MJ when he knows the other has work (or something, his brain is a little fuzzy), but he can't... He can't stop moving his hips against the mattress, even as he is looking at MJ and trying to explain himself.

"It's okay." MJ would have happily canceled a dozen shoots right now for the privilege of seeing Peter like this; rescheduling one shoot is nothing compared to that. His hand trails down to Peter's lower back, lingering there for a moment before sliding back up and ending with a gentle squeeze at his shoulder. "You want to turn around, let me see you?"

Peter doesn't want to, doesn't want to stop, but he does. He rolls onto his back, legs spread slightly as he looks up at MJ, hand edging down to touch himself. He'd be blushing at his shamelessness, except right now shame is a foreign concept to him. He can't help himself. Radioactive spiders. Biology. A beautiful man in his bedroom. It's a convergence of things that make Peter a needy mess.

"Do you... do you like what you see?"

"You look gorgeous." Seeing Peter this flushed and desperate makes MJ simultaneously want to give Peter everything and be a little bit mean, hold back so he can keep Peter just like this for longer. He splits the difference, grabbing hold of Peter's hand and lacing their fingers together to stop him from touching himself and giving himself a few more moments to just look at Peter before reaching out and stroking Peter's erection himself with his free hand.

When MJ finally, finally touches him, Peter lets out the softest of moans. He's breathless and hungry for it so soon, and he knows he waited too long. But MJ had his shoot, and he didn't want... He realizes too late that he has said most of this aloud, intermixed with the breathiest of moans. "Please, MJ, please. I want... I got..." He shifts his legs open further, and if he could just get the words out... "I got ready for you. Want you."

MJ can't help the urge to be a little bit mean again, what with Peter begging him so nicely, so after a couple of gentle strokes, he rests his hand on Peter's hip. "Got ready how? How do you want me, Peter?"

Peter's starting to think he got the raw end of the powers deal, what with telepathy being an option over 'extreme need to get fucked once a month.' And if he had telepathy, he could show how he got himself ready (and honestly, why he is so desperate for it now).

"Like you do sometimes...with your fingers...wanted it to be you. Wasn't enough."

"You want my fingers inside you?" He's pretty sure that's not exactly what Peter meant, but he wants clarity. And there's also a certain thrill to seeing one of the smartest people he knows struggle to speak clearly because he's so desperate for MJ. He strokes his thumb over Peter's hip while he glances around Peter's bedroom, spotting a bottle of lube nearby that he suspects they'll be making use of very soon.

"Yes...no, wait..." He bites his lip, trying to focus, but MJ is right here and all he can think about is the last time they did this. It was so very, very good for him (for both of them).

"I want your..." Peter isn't shy, per se, but he doesn't normally go around crying out about how much he wants MJ's dick. It takes him a moment to get the word out, desperate as he is for it. "I want your fingers, your cock, please. All of it."

Ben steps into the hotel room - more a suite, really - he's booked for the next few days. He checks the pantry and fridge, grateful to find them fully stocked as to his specifications. This isn't his first go-round, he's learned what is and isn't a necessity and he and his guest will want for nothing.

His guest. Peter. He'd say 'friend' but he doesn't know if that's the right term exactly.

They'd met on an app, of all places. Sure, it was designed for long-term arrangements, but Ben's not stupid, he knows that more often than not, the users prefer shorter term flings. It's been months, though, and like clockwork he'll receive a we're still on, right and he agrees. Because ...

He hasn't looked for anyone else since the match. He hasn't succumbed to the grass is always greener mentality. It's good, their arrangement. He's glad to help. Sometimes, he finds himself wishing that they could see each other outside of the small window each month they have, but ...

That's not what this is about.

Peter arrives already on edge. It's been a long month for him, and it was a relief to know that Ben was still on for their arrangement. Before Ben, Peter used to spend this time alone, rutting against toys that never quite did the trick. But Ben is so much different. He gets Peter. He makes Peter feel so, so good (and safe) every time that Peter doesn't know what he will do when Ben finally finds a mate.

(Part of Peter hopes that never happens.)

"Hey. Thanks again." He drops his overnight bag where he usually is told to leave his things and then looks expectantly at Ben. There's an electricity humming underneath his skin, but they've done this before. They know what the other likes, and Peter? He likes when Ben tells him what to do.

Ben can smell the need as soon as Peter arrives. They've had their fair share of learning curves to adjust to, but he likes to think that he's got a pretty good grasp of what Peter wants (what he needs) and that he's able to provide.

Even though he's not necessarily what a man like him is assumed to be. Ben in real life is a little shy and awkward and more prone to trying to make himself look smaller rather than taking up space. Here, though, he's anything but those things. Because that's not what Peter wants.

(It's probably also a huge reason that Ben hasn't tried broaching the subject of maybe seeing each other outside of these walls.)

"I've told you that you don't need to thank me, Peter", he begins, his voice even and low. "I want to help. Go on - get water and towels. Then we can begin."

"Right." Peter hesitates, just a little, before adding, "Sir." Submitting to Ben...to anyone, but mostly it's just been Ben...makes his heart race. Like, this is what he wants, and it's only now he can indulge.

Outside these 4 walls, Peter is a respected scientist. But here? Once a month? He's just Ben's.

He disappears into the bathroom for towels (big, white fluffy towels) and leaves them, along with water, next to the bed. He knows that this is a necessity, knows when that steady thrum beneath his skin becomes a live wire that all he is going to want is Ben.

As if Ben's not on edge enough just to be in close proximity to Peter, he has to go and call him sir. Amazing how the three-letter word can set the blood in his veins on fire ... but only if it's tumbling from Peter's lips.

He toes his shoes off and removes his jacket, carefully rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as he awaits Peter's return. He's not desperate yet, so Ben sees no need to rush anything along too quickly.

Ben hasn't always been a nice (or particularly good) man, but as of late, he's been trying to overcome old habits and be better. It's easy with Peter. He doesn't overthink things. He pays attention and acts accordingly.

And - it's good.

He watches Peter return with the towels and water just as he's asked, but even when everything is where it belongs, he doesn't move from where he stands, resting against the sturdy table.

"How are you feeling?"

Peter moves into Ben's space, not touching but close enough that he could be (with permission). He breathes in the scent of the other man, that smell that will soon be all over him, and he wants that more than anything.

"My skin is on fire...sir." There's that beat again before Peter gives into what he wants. He lowers his gaze, playing up his role as awkward boy in heat as much as he can while his mind is still his. "All I can think about is you. I was working on..." He pauses again. Peter's work is generally classified, and Ben knows this. Knows that Peter once had to tell his supervisor about the man (Ben) he lets take care of him in these moments so they could ensure Ben wasn’t a spy or something. "All I could think about was the way you make this better. Will you make it better, sir?"

The proximity is more than enough to ramp Ben's desire up even further - as if such a thing is even possible. It's been a long month, Peter is standing in front of him, and all Ben wants to do is worship at the altar of his body for as long as he's allowed.

He hopes that his expression doesn't give his thoughts away. But there is a moment - just a moment - when he thinks the confident mask falls away, exposing just how helplessly and hopelessly head over heels he is.

But for as much as he wishes that all I can think about is you is true, Ben knows, deep down, it's just part of the game.

Still, there's something to be said for how much Peter trusts him, this man he's met online. If he didn't, they wouldn't still be meeting month after month. Nor would they know more than just each other's first names and rudimentary basics, and here Peter's informed his supervisor about their arrangement. Others might have bristled at the very thought of having a background check run on them, but not Ben. Anything to make Peter comfortable. Anything to prove that he is not a threat. Anything that keeps them within each other's orbits, however selfish that makes him.

Ben leans in all the closer still, until his lips brush over Peter's while he speaks - not a full fledged kiss, not yet.

"As long as you're so good for me, I'll do anything for you. I'll make sure you forget all about your aches and pains, you know I will."

Edited 2022-04-11 05:55 (UTC)

Peter leans into the not-quite-kiss, hungry for anything that Ben will give him. He wants more, but he wants to be good, too. He wants to show Ben how good he can be (and that's when Peter knows he is in heat because all he can think about is pleasing Ben, giving Sir anything he wants, everything that his Supervisor warned him about before doing that very thorough background check).

"Let me..." Peter looks up through his eyelashes, and he knows he must look flushed as his heat is slowly taking over his body. Just being in this room with Ben can do that sometimes. He doesn't question it, even though he knows enough biology to know that that means something. That he likes Ben, maybe, for more than the firm leash he holds over his pleasure once a month. "Let me show you how good I can be, Sir."

There's no hesitation now as Peter falls into that headspace where he belongs to Ben. He trusts Ben absolutely, and he finds it easier and easier each time to show how much he trusts the other man. He knows Ben won't do anything to violate that trust. They've had this discussion (outside of this time of the month), and they know what the other is willing to give.

All Peter has to do now is just submit to it. "Want to forget who I am and just be yours, Sir. Please."

Ben wants to give Peter everything - and that's the problem, isn't it? Peter's got a life outside of the walls of this room, and there probably isn't space in it for Ben. Not more than the few days a month they've eked out for this, so Ben can give Peter some relief so he can return to his real life and live it to the fullest.

He does steal a quick kiss - wholly chaste, all things considered, and then brushes his thumb against Peter's full bottom lip ever so gently. "You're always so good to me", he murmurs, distracted. "You have the prettiest mouth I've ever seen. I think about it often - too often for my own good, I'm sure."

Ben isn't so involved in his own thoughts that he can't detect the shift in Peter. Internally, he chides himself. Pull yourself together, man. This isn't about you. Be what Peter needs you to be.

So he does. He stands taller, his voice is firmer when he speaks again, the command is clear (as is the warning if Peter doesn't comply).

"Get ready for me."

That voice-- the tone of command -- sends a tremor of want down Peter's spine. He complies almost immediately, stepping away from Ben to slowly undress -- shoes, socks, pants, shirt. He folds each piece neatly and leaves them where expected. With each movement, he looks at Ben, seeking approval in each of his gestures as if that is what he craves.

Naked, the air in the room seems to calm his fevered flesh. He falls backwards on the bed, looking up at the man in front of him. He's got lube in one hand and his legs spread just wide enough that he can slip his hand down between his thighs, working himself open in a way that isn't quite enough. He wants this to be Ben's hand, but he wants to be good too. Wants to make it good for Ben.

(And if that's not a sign that he's head over heels, he doesn't know what is.)

"Like this, sir?"

Ben watches Peter disrobe with the kind of intensity that suggests that he is committing every single moment to memory - he is - nodding his approval every time Peter looks to him, searching for acknowledgement that he's doing exactly as asked.

He wonders if Peter has the slightest inkling how frayed and thin his self-control is, how desperately he wants to take what is being offered, how much he wants to lose himself in giving everything of himself if it means giving Peter any little measure of relief.

Ben manages to keep his expression neutral - except the desire shining in his eyes. He does not begin undressing, but he does make sure Peter's watching as he presses a large palm against the front of his trousers, where he is obviously hard, inhaling sharply at the touch. It's not the same as Peter's touch, but it reminds him vividly why they're here.

There's a hitch in his voice when he finds enough of it to reply.

"Just like that. It helps, doesn't it? But it's not quite enough. It's not me touching you, helping you along, soothing your need. God, you smell amazing."

"No, sir." Peter's voice breaks as he presses a finger deep inside. It's not enough to quench the fire burning under his skin. If he doesn't find that spot, that place inside of him that makes him fall apart, he knows that he will simply combust. But he can't do it alone. He needs Ben.

He lets his legs fall wider apart, pressing another finger inside, and he's fully on display now for Ben, and he hopes Ben can see how much he needs this (needs this to be him, no one else, just Ben).

His eyes travel down Ben's body to his clothed but very obvious erection. Peter knows that Ben wants him, but seeing physical evidence of that fact only makes him work harder. He arches his back slightly, pressing down into his fingers as if he's imagining they are Ben. Ben inside of him, claiming him, taking care of him.

"It's not enough, sir. I need you. Need your hands, please...or...your cock...or if you want, I can fuck myself on one of your toys?" This is something they have done in the past, when this was still new between them. Lately though, it has been Ben and just Ben, and Peter likes that, too. He likes when Ben scents him and fills him up until he is just Ben's.

(And maybe he'd be okay with that arrangement outside this room, too.)

Ben knows that it isn't nearly enough to relieve Peter's discomfort. While he's not a cruel man - especially in this - he does want to just sit and watch for a little while. He's never seen a lovelier sight than Peter flushed and panting, wanting him to take control.

What a pretty, perfect picture Peter makes in the moment. How wonderfully obscene, the words as they spill from his lips as he fucks his fingers and Ben bears witness to the wetness glistening upon them every time Peter pulls out, the noises every time he pushes back in.

Ben has to shut his eyes for a moment just to center himself.

"I didn't bring them this time, sweetheart", he murmurs gruffly, working at the buttons of his shirt in an attempt to remove it as quickly as possible. "I was in such a hurry to get here that I just ... forgot."

Here, he pauses, looking to Peter apologetically, shirt half open, hair hanging in his face, looking for all intents and purposes like he's uncertain if he'll be enough. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I don't need them when I have you." He openly stares at the exposed skin of Ben's chest, and he wants to touch, wants to reassure Ben that he is more than enough. But Peter, even when he's like this, just can't stop talking. He can't stop working Ben up until he gives him what he wants. "Unless...you want me to wait here, all open and ready for you, while you go down to the front desk and order something. Mmm...think the concierge can accommodate that? Remember when you fucked me open with your vibrator." Peter closes his eyes, remembering that evening in particularly vivid detail. It had been one of their first times together and so, so good.

"But nothing...nothing compares..." His voice is high and breathy as he looks at Ben. "...to when you finally fucked me bare and claimed me. That's all I really need, sir. To be yours. Make me yours."

Ben hopes that Peter doesn't notice his fingers tremble as he finishes with the buttons and pushes his shirt from his shoulders, uncaring of where and how it lands. Next, he works on his belt, but his eyes, as always, are trained fully on Peter instead.

He loves the way Peter babbles when he's so on the verge of losing himself completely, loves to hear his stream of consciousness thoughts without filters.

And to be honest, the suggestion to have the concierge help their predicament is appealing in a way. But he can't stand the thought of leaving Peter here to work through his heat alone, and so just a suggestion is what it will remain.

"That would be awfully cruel of me to leave you here alone", he starts, removing his belt and letting it drop the floor below, waiting a short moment before working his slacks open. "I think we'll have to make do with what we've got. My hands, my mouth, my cock, it's all yours."

I am all yours.

"I remember that night. Nothing felt sweeter than sinking into you and feeling like the heat of you would burn me alive. You were perfect. You're always perfect."

He swallows hard, suddenly nervous all over again although he knows there's no real reason why - Peter's seen him naked a handful of times by now. Nothing to be embarrassed about.

He shoves his trousers down - he isn't wearing anything underneath - and kicks them off into places unknown, standing tall and proud and letting Peter take in the sight of him.

"Is that what you want, my beautiful boy? To be mine?"

Peter is too far gone to notice anything different in the way that Ben undresses. All he can see is Ben as he sinks down on his fingers (three now, still not enough) and then slowly, teasingly removes them. He is now so far down, so far in that headspace where he just talks and does everything Ben tells him to do. Fuck, he's so far down that if this is all Ben gave him -- his own fingers -- he'd take it. He lets out the softest moan at the thought, as he sinks his hips down again.

"Mmm. It would be cruel, sir, but your boy understands. He would wait all night, even if it hurt because..." Peter bites back another moan. "He loves what you do to him. I love your mouth...your hands...your cock."

He watches as Ben's belt and then with the briefest of pauses trousers fall to the floor. He is in love with what he sees, knows already how it will feel like to have Ben inside him. When they first did this, Peter remembers his mouth watering at the sight of Ben naked. It's no different all these months later. He loves what he sees, and he knows that Ben knows this (nothing can hide the look of pure hunger and admiration on Peter's face).

"It's the only thing I want, sir." And Peter means this, says this with such earnestness that he wonders if they should discuss this later. Does Ben want to be his mate? Maybe? But Peter can't ask that now, wouldn't want to ask that when he is face to face with the cock of his dreams (would totally and explicitly ask that now). "I want it more than your cock. To belong to you. For everyone to look and know that they can't touch me because I smell like you. I want you to come home to me in heat, working myself open like this, just waiting for you to fuck me...isn't that...isn't that what you want too, sir? Just tell me that's what you want and you can have me."

Ben's tongue darts out to wet his suddenly dry lips as he watches Peter take three of his own fingers easily - fingers that Ben's studied, fingers that he knows are long and thick (not as thick as his, but thick enough) and the air in the room is so heavy with Peter's scent that Ben is hardly able to concentrate.

By now, he knows that when Peter talks and talks and talks like this, it's all instinct. He'll say or do just about anything if it means Ben will just fuck him already. Still, there's something intoxicating in hearing Peter assert that he would wait, even if it hurt him to do so, just because Ben tells him to.

Ben likes to draw things out, before he gives into his urges, too, but he would never leave Peter wanting for long. Never make him suffer like that.

"That's right. That's my good boy. Look how well you take your fingers. You're gonna be so ready to take my cock, aren't you?"

It's that precise expression on Peter's face - the admiration, the hunger, the need - that inspires Ben to curl his fingers around his already rock hard cock and stroke, slowly, giving Peter a bit of a show.

At least until Peter says the things Ben's been dying to hear and nearly makes him lose control of himself right then and there. His breath catches audibly in his throat and he's sure he's lost any semblance of the confident persona he puts on for these meetings, his eyes wide, pained. For as much as he wants to admit that yes, he does want all those things and more, the logical part of his brain screams that Peter can't know what he's saying, doesn't realize the scope of what he's asking for.

It only takes a few steps to reach the bed, where Ben sits carefully, searches out Peter's free than to hold. The longing in his voice is palpable as he brings their hands to his lips, presses a kiss to Peter's knuckles.

"More than anything, that's what I want."

There are rules for what they are doing. Social parameters designed to protect them, Peter in particular, and Peter knows these parameters. He knows the rules, too, for the app. That anything new should be discussed outside the window of his heat. That he shouldn't under any circumstances
offer to be mated (a binding contract) when he has three fingers deep inside of his ass, the cock of his dreams so, so close, and the only tangible thought being yours over and over.

He knows this, and yet when Ben is lying next to him, telling him that he wants this too, Peter can't stop himself. He exposes his neck completely to Ben, that spot right where his neck meets his collar bone bare, an open invitation for Ben to mark him permanently. It would be, Peter knows, something that he can't take back, and yet he wants it. He wants to show the world that he belongs to Ben.

"Please, sir. Take what belongs to you already, and you can have me....even when I'm not in heat, do you think I'll ever be able to get enough of you... Come home to this every day, to me, naked, asking if you had a good day at the office... Fucking me on your own bed." Peter moves their joined hand down Ben's body as best he can. "I can tell all my friends how hung my boyfriend is and how I'd let him do anything to me just for a taste of his cock. Because I'm his, yours..."

Ben isn't a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination. He knows this is highly irregular and would be frowned upon (to say the least) if it's discovered that they're doing this (are they really doing this?) while Peter's in the midst of his heat, while he's practically mindless with need and he doesn't know what he's asking.

Selfishly - greedily - Ben doesn't want to tell Peter no. He can't really even bring himself to suggest that they sit down have a serious conversation when their minds are clearer and they understand the magnitude of their actions. Peter exposes his neck and Ben knows exactly what he's asking for. He feels like he's going to vibrate out of his skin, the force he expends to keep as still and steady as possible massive. He's dragged his teeth gently over that exact spot more than a time or two before, but never gave into the urge to bite and mark Peter as his.

And now Peter's asking him for it, and Ben can feel his self-control slipping.

The mental pictures that Peter's words inspire are dizzying just because Ben wants it all so thoroughly it's like he can feel it in his bones. But he knows that he can't just give in without at least making an attempt to find out if this is truly what Peter wants, that this isn't just the instincts talking.

"Don't call me sir right now, call me Ben. Understand that? I - I need to know that you are aware of what you're asking me", he begins, his voice rough. "I can't take this back, Peter. If you decide that I'm not what you want, we'll still be bonded, there is no way to ... start over with someone else. If we do this, it will be forever. Tell me that you know that. Tell me that you know what you're asking me to do. Tell me that this is what you truly want and it's not just the hormones talking. Please. Please, I need to hear it."

Peter needs a moment to process Ben's words, needs a moment to breathe. He knows Ben is within his rights to walk out of this room and leave him here because he has offered something that shouldn't be on the table. Not like this when he's desperate for anything that Ben will give him. Not when he feels like he is swimming upstream and seeing Ben for the first time.

He swallows hard. His eyes a little more lucid than they were, and he's trying so hard to show Ben that he is in his right mind. That he has thought about this when he wasn't naked and overwhelmed with hormones. That he wants this to be forever.

"Ben, please. I know what it means. I've been through the paperwork, and I know there's no one else." He bites his lip. "I want you, Ben, and I understand...if you don't...but I have to say it. Have to tell you that I've always been yours for the taking."

Ben has no intention of walking away - despite a part of him (not insignificant) that screams that he should. Not because he doesn't want Peter, rather because he does. Desperately, he does. These few days a month that they have will never, ever be enough.

He doesn't bother trying to mask the worry he feels as he studies Peter intently, trying to parse whether or not he's cognizant enough to understand what they're on the verge of.

Because the very thought of giving in and biting Peter, bonding them for life only for him to change his mind when his heat has passed and he's in his right mind already chills the blood in his veins to ice-cold.

He just stares as Peter speaks, stunned into speechlessness to learn that his feelings aren't as unrequited as he's assumed them to be, that Peter feels exactly the same.

"If I don't want you?", he asks, incredulous, breaching the distance between them to press his lips to Peter's in a searing kiss. "Who wouldn't want you? I've wanted you for so long, wanted you to want me, too. Too afraid to bring it up because I didn't want you to feel like I was trying to - to ... take advantage. I'd never do that to you. You know that, right?"

"You're--" But Peter doesn't finish that thought because Ben is kissing him in a way that sets his world on fire. His entire body seems to light up with electricity, with a want humming just beneath his surface. He tries to keep his voice even, but he can't. He's practically trembling with need, hears it in his voice as he speaks.

"Ben, I know you'd never... I wouldn't ask you if I thought you were. But I want you to...Please...Ben. Here, right here..." He arches his neck just so, hoping that he looks more enticing than ridiculous. He's never done this before (obviously), and he's always imagined it as much more...romantic? But he doesn't mind. This fits them somehow, a little bit against the grain, a little bit reckless. "I want to be yours, Ben. No one else's. Hasn't been anyone else for a long time."

Ben pours every bit of himself into the kiss, wanting Peter to feel everything that he felt, to speak without speaking all the things he hasn't yet find a way to say, to soothe any worries or fears they both may still be feeling.

He's not so far gone that he doesn't hear the tremble in Peter's voice and recognize that he's nearing a point where if he isn't granted some relief, he'll be in pain, and Ben can't stand the thought of that.

Ben has also never done this before - obviously - but he knows exactly what Peter is asking of him, and he knows exactly what he's meant to do. (And yes, Peter does look enticing, not the least bit ridiculous.)

He reaches out to brush a thumb delicately against the exact spot he knows Peter wants to feel his teeth, just breathing, just trying to find his composure as he shifts positions and replaces his hand with his lips, pressing kisses along the column of his throat.

"There hasn't been anyone else for me. Just you." This, a murmur in the moment before he sinks his teeth into Peter's neck, making the bond official.

"Yes, please." His voice is incoherent as Ben's thumb brushes over the spot. He's slipping again, slipping into that space where he doesn't just want to be Ben's but where he is Ben's. Where Ben protects him, and takes care of him, and gives him exactly what he needs.

He cries out when Ben's teeth sink into his neck, and he doesn't know how he could ever think anything so feral could be romantic. The fire inside him seems to flare, seems to ache inside him, and it's all he can do to hold onto Ben, onto anything he can to stay afloat. He wonders if this is part of being bonded, or if this is just part of his heat, or maybe the two combined against him.

He lets out another low cry. He wants to be good for Ben, for his mate (and God, he's never been more turned on, even at the peak of his heat), but he needs something. He needs release, relief from the fire in his veins. "I need...Ben, sir...I'm sorry, sir, but may I...want to be good, sir...but please, sir, it hurts, and if you just..." He arches his back a little until he's almost, almost pressed up into Ben. He moans softly at the contact of skin-on-skin. "Please I want you inside of me, want you to finish inside of me."

Ben feels dizzy - and he's not even the bitten! Making Peter his mate is the most exciting (and the most terrifying) thing he's ever done. But he can't get lost in his own thoughts when Peter is making such beautiful noises, shivering and shaking, scrambling to hold onto him as though he's the only thing giving Peter any steadiness, a slave to the desires of his body.

He has made Peter wait long enough. His beautiful mate is in distress, and he can't stand knowing that it's because of him. Peter is babbling again, but Ben loves every word, relishes knowing that his good boy needs him so much.

He gives Peter no warning stands again, pulling Peter with him to the edge of the bed, searching through the messy blankets until he finds the discarded lube. Ben doesn't want to make Peter wait any longer, so he hurries to ensure that he's properly covered, urging Peter to lift his legs, wrap them around his waist, careful as he gripped his cock and held steady as he slowly pressed inside.

Once buried deep, he slowly begins moving, just letting Peter acclimate to the size of him, his voice strained when he grits out - "Is that what my good boy wants?"

He knows it's not quite what Peter needs, but soon he will give him just that and so much more. All of him, if that's what Peter asks him for.

Peter doesn't let go of Ben entirely, not even when the other man is preparing himself. He whines again, softer this time, as he waits for Ben. He knows Ben doesn't want to hurt him, but he is ready, so ready as he wraps his legs around Ben, so ready as Ben sinks inside of him. He inhales sharply at the feeling of fullness, arches his hips just so to pull Ben deeper.

They have done this dozens of times, and yet this feels different. Ben is no longer just the man who sees him once a month. No longer the man that fucks this out of him and leaves. No, now Ben is his mate, and the idea makes Peter hot all over. That this isn't just another time, but the first of many in which he belongs.

(That even when he isn't in heat, this man will be there. This man will tell him about his day, and maybe, maybe if Peter has been good, they will fuck in this man's own bed. That these messy sheets will be their messy sheets.)

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Want you to..." He tries to arch his hips again, tries to find that spot on his own. His own cock is hard and straining against his stomach, aching, but Peter knows better than to touch himself. Knows that good boys must wait (no matter how impatiently). He moves his hands instead to pull Ben closer, the friction of their bodies almost enough. "Want to be good for you. Tell me that, sir. How good I am for you. How well I take your cock."

Peter's no longer even sure what he is saying, just wants Ben to fuck into him like that, nice and slow, taking him apart until he isn't Peter but Ben's boy (better still, Ben's mate). Until his only coherent thought is the sir on his lips as he takes Ben's cock over and over.

Ben can't even begin to explain the overwhelming joy that warms him from the inside out at the realization that he can openly want this now, can search out and offer the comfort of contact without feeling like he's overstepping some sort of unspoken lines to do so. He knows that Peter is ready for him, yet he takes his time nonetheless. It's been a month - they need to reacquaint themselves properly.

No matter how much Ben wants to grip Peter's hips hard and pound into him until they're both incoherent messes. And maybe he will do that the next go-round, or the next after that, but not right now. Not yet.

Not when it feels so ... different. Like he's found his missing piece and it's settling into place, making him feel whole for the first time in his life. This man is mine, he thinks, my mate, my present and my future, looking down at Peter with tears blurring his vision. The thought is overwhelming in its entirety, but Ben welcomes all the unknowns they have yet to discover about each other.

(What is your favorite pizza topping? What's your comfort movie? What are you like when you're not gagging for my cock?)

Ben knows that they've gone about their bonding all wrong, but he thinks they'll find a way to set things right. No rushing into anything neither is ready for and if that means spending time properly courting Peter, he's ready for that. There is still so much to learn, after all.

He laughs breathlessly as Peter pulls him closer, but the shift in position doesn't affect the slow, steady thrust of his hips, pushing as far into Peter's willing body as he can go before pulling almost all the way out and doing it all over again. His pace will build, but for now, he knows that this is good, this is helping.

"You're amazing, Peter. You make me so happy when you do exactly as you're told. And you feel - oh, God, you feel fucking perfect, like you were made for me. My beautiful boy, my ... my gorgeous mate."

He does squeeze Peter's hips a bit harder then, adding a snap of his hips in an effort to hear Peter moan for him so wantonly, to hear him beg for more.

"Touch yourself for me, Peter. Wanna see you come. Want you to make us messy with it."

Edited 2022-04-13 19:51 (UTC)

Peter is too far gone to notice the way that Ben is looking at him or the tears at the edge of his mate's eyes. All of his focus is on the way that Ben sinks into him, each thrust eliciting the loudest of moans from Peter's throat (his voice already raw, rough around the edges). Peter has never felt so completely owned, and he can't believe that Ben is just taking his time. It's not enough. He wants Ben to move, move faster, please.

Of course, these desires are unspoken. He's too in awe of Ben to form words, only the soft arch in his back, pulling Ben inside of him, a signal of what he wants. Only incoherent words of please and sir and Ben as the heat builds inside of him, seeking relief. It all runs together, a blur, until Ben is telling him that he can touch and he does. He gasps softly as he wraps his smooth palm around his cock and roughly jerks himself off. Now that he has permission, he can't stop. Won't stop unless Ben tells him to. He's making the most obscene noises, pressing up into his palm, feeling his release building and building and building.

And then he's going over that edge and all of his senses are consumed by his mate as he comes. It's wet and messy, just like Ben asked, and it feels so, so good to give his mate this part of himself. To know that Ben will smell like him when they're done.

Peter doesn't have to say anything for Ben to know exactly what it is that he wants. But he isn't going to give in just yet - not when he's so enamored with the way Peter looks and sounds the further into his desire he sinks.

He will, though. Once Peter's found his first release, Ben will fuck him with no mercy until he finds another. Because he knows that Peter will love every second of it.

Until then, he simply grips Peter's hips and keeps his steady pace - in, out, again, again, again, denying himself the pleasure of letting go because he doesn't matter right now. It is enough just to know that he's helping.

It is enough to give Peter a command and watch him comply, watching him get himself off while Ben keeps working him slowly, steadily. But Ben isn't made of stone - feeling Peter's body clench his cock tightly, watching him find his pleasure, it's nearly enough to make him break. His breath catches in his throat and he waits until Peter's eyes come into focus before letting go of his hip long enough to drag his fingers through the mess dotting his belly, his chest, bringing them to his lips for a taste.

"Fucking delicious."

Peter wants Ben to let go. Wants the other man to rail him into the mattress. But he knows this is only their first go, knows that this fire inside him will burn brighter and brighter until he is consumed by it and all he can do is take what Ben will give him.

Rationally, Peter knows this. That doesn't make it any easier as Ben fucks into him slow and sweet, taking his time as Peter falls apart beneath him.

He feels dazed as he watches Ben taste him, enamored at the way Ben's fingers run through his come, practically dripping with him. He wants to taste himself on Ben's lips, but he can't, can't angle himself enough to reach. He lets out another soft whine, reaching for Ben's hand, wanting Ben to feed him his come, please. It's dirty, he knows it, and yet he can't stop the image playing in his head of Ben dragging his fingers across his belly, dipping into the mess he has made until they are filthy and then letting him suck them clean.

"Please...please let your boy have a taste, sir."

By the end of this heat cycle, Ben will have given Peter everything he's got. And that includes practically fucking him through the mattress - but not yet. They're only just getting started.

What Peter wants, Peter will get, he just has to be patient. Easier said than done, given their current circumstances, but Ben also knows that his mate wants to be good for him, so he will do his best to wait.

The expression on Peter's face is spectacular, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, and Ben knows that he'll never, ever get enough of moments just like this.

If he's surprised by Peter grabbing for his hand and asking him for a taste (so hot, so wrong) it only shows in the slight stutter of his hips, the way his eyes widen momentarily.

But - what Peter wants, Peter gets and this time, it's Ben's turn to comply. He gently retrieves his free hand, makes a show of trailing his fingers through the mess he's made of his own stomach, making sure to coat his fingers thoroughly. There's a new fire in his eyes as he bring his hand up for Peter to see before carefully dragging them over his mouth, painting Peter's lips in his own release.

"Lick it up."

Peter can hardly breathe, his pulse hammering in ears, as he licks his lips. He sucks his bottom lip inward, savoring the taste of himself as he looks up at Ben. In this moment, he can imagine what his mate sees -- his pupils dark, his lips swollen and sticky, their bond a bruised mark right above his collarbone. He's always imagined himself as what the world must see -- a little too submissive, too needy, too desperate for it. But Ben has never been like that. Ben has always, always taken care of him, and however unconventional this relationship, Peter knows that Ben will always take care of him.

He sucks down the length of one of Ben's fingers, licking it clean before moving onto the next. He is methodical, focused on his task. He wants to show Ben that he can be patient and good and worthy of everything Ben gives him.

Ben's eyes flutter shut for a moment, the sight of Peter licking his lips more than enough to make him feel light-headed. He's sure that he looks flushed and overwhelmed when Peter looks up at him - because he is. This man, his mate, he is always the most beautiful sight that Ben's ever seen, all the moreso now that Ben can say with all certainty that who he's looking at ... is the love of his life.

He knows all too well what it is to be looked down upon for not fitting into certain boxes. Ben also knows that he would never make Peter feel lacking - not when he can appreciate him for all the things that he is, instead.

Peter will always have a place with him, a home if he wants it. He will be a dedicated and devoted partner. And he will always, always take care of Peter, whether he's in heat or not.

That's what he silently promises as Peter again does exactly as he's been told to do, the feel of his lips closing around Ben's fingers, his tongue dutifully cleaning them off pulls a long, deep moan out of him, his grip on Peter's hip tightening as finally, he fucks into him a little harder now, a little more forcefully.

"Fuck. That mouth, Peter. You're amazing."

Peter wants to know that Ben, the one the world sees. He wants to know what Ben's like when he's not flushed and... Peter will blush when he thinks about this later...covered in his mate's come. He wants to know what Ben does on his days off (would he want breakfast in bed? An early morning handjob? Peter...in the shower?).

He wants to know how that Ben and this one -- the one feeding him his fingers, fucking into him just so-- fit together. Because --- and Peter is a little scared to admit this -- he thinks he might be in love with this Ben. Maybe it's just the heat. Maybe when he isn't surrounded by his mate's scent...when he doesn't have his mate's fingers in his mouth...

God, but isn't this what he loves the most? How completely he can submit and know that Ben will be there to catch him? Know that if he is good he will be rewarded?

"Fuck. Yes. Please." Peter arches his hips back against Ben's, chasing that feeling that makes him feel whole. Already he knows his spent cock is stirring, wants to go another round, and it will. Another, and another until the heat within Peter subsides (hours from now, maybe a day, maybe two, and then...he will go home with Ben. The thought sends a thrill of excitement down his spine.) "Fuck, please. Want you to come, sir. Inside of me, sir. Want to feel you inside of me...leaking out and making a mess of these sheets. Don't you want to make me messy, sir, and then..." Peter is insatiable, really. "...clean me up in the shower? Bet I'll still smell like you. Everyone will know...sir...everyone will know..."

And that, more than anything, is what Peter wants. For people to know that he is Ben's mate, that he is claimed, taken, owned. He doesn't care what verb people use. He just wants them to be aware of it.

Ben in real life mostly keeps to himself, save for the very few close friends he's got. He's a bit of a workaholic. He doesn't tend to indulge in things like drinking or smoking or anything harder, but he does work out regularly. He likes calligraphy and cooking and has a surprisingly good singing voice. He is making a concentrated effort to repair his fractured relationship with his parents, which is hard, but he's determined to make things right. In his opinion, he is utterly boring, and that's why he's so afraid that once Peter finds that out ... he'll end up regretting their permanent bonding.

Current Ben concentrates on providing his mate with the relief that he needs, bearing down and driving into him over and over again, racing ever closer to falling off of his edge. He knows that he will be physically and emotionally exhausted by the end of this heat cycle, but he welcomes it, just as long as he is able to satisfy Peter thoroughly first.

Two sides of the same man. If he's lucky - so incredibly lucky - Peter can learn to care for him outside of this hotel room.

Ben is surprised that Peter still has enough presence of mind to speak coherently, but oh how he loves the things that his mate asks him for, every filthy words that escape his lips. He gasps harshly, determined to work Peter over to the best of his ability because it's what Peter wants, what he deserves, very well aware that the dam is about to burst.

"You h - have no idea how messy you're about to get. Haven't - I haven't touched myself since the last time we were here. S - saving it all for you. Gonna be dripping with it. Doesn't matter how many showers we take, everybody's gonna look at you and know that you're mine. You're mine. Mine, nobody else's."

And then, there is no holding it off any longer. Ben can't even warn Peter that he's there, he just gives in completely, a few more punishing strokes and he loses his battle to hold back, spilling into his mate's body again and again and again, sobbing Peter's name throughout it all.

Ben thinks he might have said - out loud - that he loves Peter, but in his hazy state, he can't be sure. When he can no longer hold himself up, he collapses half on top of Peter, breathing hard, his unseeing eyes damp with tears.

Peter is fairly unimpressive in his own day-to-day. At work, he is a highly respected scientist, and at night, he's the photographer who sneaks backstage with the Mary Janes (a local band whose members consist of one ex-girlfriend, his ex-girlfriends girlfriend, and a two mutual friends from college). That's the Peter that he typically keeps from Ben, from most of his past mates who were turned off by his...neediness. It has always been easier to use the app, to set up a hook up, and forget it.

Easier, but not nearly as satisfying. Nothing can match the way that Peter and Ben move together, chasing Ben's release until Ben is giving him everything that he wants, until Ben is coming again and again, filling him completely. Peter can't keep quiet (not that he ever could), crying out Ben's name, and yes, and please until he is so, so full. He can feel the stickiness between his legs, and he knows they will need to change the sheets before this night is over.

Peter pulls Ben into a sloppy, sweet kiss. He feels his heat subside as he shifts underneath his mate. He knows it will come back, but for now, he is no longer on edge. He settles against his mate, brushing a hand over the other's shoulder. "Love you, sir. Love you so much."

Ben doubts that there will ever come a day that he'll look at Peter and find him unimpressive. He knows that there is so much to learn about each other, but he wants that, too. To make a relationship outside of Peter's heat cycles, to bond in all the ways that an honest to God couples bond in.

Despite his own worries and fears, Ben wants all of those things and more, all of the ins and outs of having a life together, things he never let himself hope for before.

Realistically, Ben knows that he should get up, help Peter into the shower to clean up, but he feels boneless in the aftermath of his release, like he's given Peter everything and he's got nothing left.

He will pull himself together eventually, but for the moment, he is perfectly content to be close, to be kissed, to be reassured that what they've done is the right thing.

"Please mean it", he mumbles, pressing a lazy kiss where he can reach, right where he can feel Peter's heart beating underneath his lips. "I don't think I could take it if you don't."

"Ben..." Peter's coming back into himself, the Outside Peter. He touches Ben's cheek. "How could I not? You're perfect, and you take such good care of me, and you don't ever tell me that I'm needy or insatiable..." He laughs quietly. "Unless you're being That Ben, and I love when That Ben is mean to me...you know what I want, and more importantly, what I need. And I want to build a life together... like, a proper couple."

Ben finds a great measure of comfort in the softness of Peter's voice and the gentleness of his touch. That Ben might be the man that takes care of Peter's wants and needs, but This Ben sometimes requires the same done for him in return.

He meets Peter's gaze, lips lifting into a small, hopeful smile. "You are needy and insatiable, and I love that about you. I love knowing that I can give you what you need."

He sighs, leaning into the affectionate caress. "I want that, too. I just don't want you to feel like I expect anything out of you. If ... you want us to take our time and just ... date ... I can do that. Happily."

"I promise you...I don't feel pressured. If anything I should apologize..." Peter moves his hand to Ben's shoulder, trying to anchor his mate with these slow, soft touches. If this is what This Ben needs, then Peter is more than happy to give it. "I just...I really wanted it." He feels his cheeks growing pink at the thought of how much he wanted it. He really shouldn't have put Ben in that position. "But... I don't want to just date you. I want to be your partner, and I want to know what you're like in bed when we're both not desperate for it. Not that I can even imagine that possibility right now. I'm already...already thinking about what it will be like when you..." He chews his bottom lip, looking uncharacteristically shy (a sign his heat is in check, for now). "...hopefully fuck me in the shower? Please?"

This Ben does need the reassurance, and he makes a tiny, grateful noise when Peter offers it. But his expression soon turns to confusion as he's offered an apology and doesn't (at first) know what it's even for.

"Peter", he begins, his voice soft but serious, "You didn't ask me for anything that I haven't been wanting for - for such a long time. You didn't force me. I bit you because we both wanted it, and because ... I trust you."

He's still fucking terrified that Peter will wake up one day and regret the bond, but there's not much he can do about that except let the feeling fade with time, be the best man and partner that he can be to ensure Peter is happy.

"I just mean - I know that you'll be waiting for me at the end of the day, my mate. But we can still court properly, still get to know each other and have fun with each other and ... you know, fall in love with each other all over again in real time."

He is so enamored with Peter's shyness, and his smile slowly widens as he commits the sight to memory. "God, yes. I will fuck you in the shower. I'll fuck you over the back of the couch, if you want. Just ask and it's yours."

"Okay. But..." He still has that shy apprehensive look on his face, like he wants to argue the point that he was (is) in heat and maybe that was (is) affecting Ben's judgment. "I want you to know that I understand if you're not okay with this later... you know, when you find out that I sing Broadway in the shower...or take my coffee with too much milk...or..."

God. He loves this man so much. His mouth goes dry at the thought of them falling in love in real time. That is how much he wants it to be real, and if it can't be, please let this mattress swallow him whole.

"I want all of it. If you want it? To court each other... I want to show my mate how much he means to me..."

A feverish chill runs down his spine, a reminder even as he focuses on Ben -- on his mate -- that his heat is sated but not over. Especially when he is thinking about Ben in the shower, getting him all nice and clean... He can barely breathe at the thought.

"You can't say that and not expect your boy to collect, sir. Especially when you just fucked him so, so good that he might be leaking come for days..." Peter lifts his hips up against Ben's, teasing his mate. Peter is half-hard again, in spite of the serious nature of their conversation. He blames his heat, mostly, and the way that Ben is draped over him, seemingly exhausted but also his. His mate. His lover? His to take care of.

Ben's expression turns even softer still, the fondness he feels for Peter more than clear in his eyes as he shifts positions enough to allow him to brush the pad of his thumb gently against Peter's cheek, a reassurance. "I want all of you."

Showtunes in the shower and all. He's on thin ice with the too-milky coffee, though. (Just a joke, even in Ben's head.)

"My wardrobe is very ... monochromatic", he shares, chuckling softly. "And I have a hermit crab as a pet. My cousin - she got it for me because she says I'm a crabby hermit. Are those dealbreakers for you?"

Again, a shift in position so that Ben can wrap an arm around Peter and hold him steady, even though he is cold and sticky and he knows his mate must be feeling even more uncomfortable.

"I want everything with you, Peter. That's not going to change. Every day, I want to take care of you the best I can. 'Cause you're my mate. But mostly ... because I love you."

Ben knows all too well that the respite from Peter's heat will not last forever, but it's made all the more obvious as his mate rocks against him, letting him feel his growing arousal. Ben is spent, but that doesn't mean that with a little time, he won't be ready to go again. He will. As many times as Peter needs him to.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be offering these things without the full intention of living up to them. You wanna fuck out on the balcony, let everyone know that your mate's giving it to you good? Just say the word and it's yours."

But first -

"After we shower. Otherwise I fear we might get stuck here like this forever."

It is cold and a little uncomfortable, but Peter isn't sure he wants to move. A part of him wants to stay here, loosely held in Ben's arms, as if that part of him is worried this connection might break if they move.

"You're not. A crabby hermit. And even if you were...I'd still love you." He hums softly, leaning into Ben's touch. He likes this. He likes being with Ben, just talking, talking about themselves. (Of course, he likes the sex, too, but this? This is nice.) It's not their usual post-sex repertoire, not when Peter's heat is still so close to the surface, but it's not every day -- Peter supposes -- that one claims a mate.

"Yes. Please. Shower and then..." He rubs his entire body up against Ben's, ignoring the damp sheets around them, the stickiness of his skin, everything in favor of just touching his mate. He's definitely aroused now. The images that Ben paints with his words... They are delicious and filthy and everything Peter wants. "Yes, that one last one. Want to be yours where everyone can see and hear us. After..."

But Peter doesn't head immediately to the bathroom. He clings to Ben, waiting for his mate to either order him out of bed or carry him.

Ben feels much the same. Not only is he content to be close, to let himself get wrapped up in Peter in a brand new way, he also doesn't want the moment to come to an end too soon. Not when he's still discovering what it is to truly bond with another person.

And that's what this is, isn't it? Bonding. Reassuring each other that they've made the right decision and that despite any worries or fears to the contrary, neither is going to change their mind. Besides, Ben wants to learn all there is to know about Peter, even though he knows he can't do that in one day. That knowledge, that familiarity will come with time.

If they continue the slow getting to know you process between bouts of vigorous sex, he'll be happy. If they wait until Peter's heat comes to an end, he'll be equally as happy. They've got all the time in the world now.

Ben recognizes Peter's arousal immediately - and the way he moves against him only coaxes his own back to life. "My greedy boy. My insatiable mate. Don't you know I'd do anything for you?"

Including pulling himself together enough to gather Peter close to his chest and slip out of bed, all in one swift motion. He chuckles softly, stealing one last kiss before making a move toward the bathroom. "Come on, koala, let's go."

Peter knows when Ben's body starts to take an interest in his again. He knows that Ben will soon have him -- in the shower, on the balcony, over the sofa -- and he voices the softest whine at the thought. He doesn't care. He is greedy, but he is Ben's.

When Ben moves, he wraps his legs around Ben's waist, trying to make himself as small and compact as possible against Ben's body. He buries his face into Ben's neck, nuzzling the spot just above his collarbone as they move as one into the bathroom. It may be a hotel, but it is a hotel designed for this particular purpose and the space is adequate enough for two if not ideal.

There are fresh towels on the rack above the sink and various soaps, nicer than standard hotel soaps, some scented, some not. Peter knows this is because some mates only want to smell each other when in heat. He's never thought about this as being something that particularly applies to him, but now that he is bonded to Ben, he can't imagine being covered in any other scent than that burnt cinnamon flavor that is eau de Ben Solo.

He doesn't even really want a shower. He can still feel Ben between his legs, leaking down his thighs. But he knows that is the heat, knows that he will feel better if he lets Ben take care of him. Just a little longer.

"Are you going to...let me clean you up, sir?"

He presses his face into that space between Ben's collarbone and neck, licking at the spot where he knows his mark should be (where, if this were Peter's collarbone, there is a delicious bruise). The bond doesn't necessarily require matching marks, mostly because the one who is claimed is the one marked, but Peter is enjoying himself, teasing that space just so. He licks a slow line from collarbone to neck, wetting his lips afterwards.

"Like that, sir?"

Ben has never hidden his desire for Peter - at least not when they're in the midst of his heat - and now, he thinks, he won't have to dial it down, ever. He can admire his mate openly, he can show affection, he can be open and honest about his attraction without fear of being rejected.

The trip into the bathroom is easy enough - Ben doesn't falter for a moment, humming softly as they go. The bathroom is adequate, but not fully equipped for two people to use the shower, especially when one partner is taller and broader than the other. But they'll manage.

He gets distracted from the task at hand when Peter nuzzles his neck. It's nice, though, to be reminded that he is wanted in this way, that they are now inextricably bonded. Besides, now his nostrils are full of his mate's subtle orange blossom scent, and Ben wants nothing more than to luxuriate in it, knowing he'd be apt to roll around in it and cover himself with it if at all possible.

Ben knows that he can let Peter down at any time, but why would he want to when his mate makes it a point to ask if he wants help getting clean, punctuating that point with that obscenely beautiful mouth, pulling a soft growl from Ben's lips in response.

The bond does not require matching marks, but that doesn't mean that Ben wouldn't welcome anything that Peter wants to litter across the canvas of his skin.

"If that's what my mate wants, yes."

Peter nips the spot just right above Ben's collarbone. It's not a mating bite. It's barely enough to leave a mark. But he seems pleased with himself as he licks the slightly reddened skin. "Now, we match, sir."

He says this as he slowly disentangles himself from Ben, looking for all the world as if he has done something very, very important. When he is standing somewhat reluctantly, Peter pulls the other man into the now running shower. It is a tight fit, but Peter doesn't exactly mind as he makes a half-valiant effort to wash Ben's chest. This mostly consists of Peter finding the soap and leaving a trail of bubbles down Ben's body, seemingly memorized at how the bubbles slowly drift down, down, down.

"Let me help you, Sir. Want to make you ready for me."

In reality, Peter is putting more effort into openly admiring Ben's cock than in getting his mate clean, and if this shower were big enough for two grown men, he'd already be on his knees. It's not though. So, he's left with these teasing touches...and bubbles...and a very strong desire to be completely in Ben's space.

Ben hisses softly, the feel of teeth against skin a pleasant sort of sting. He cards his fingers through Peter's hair while he's got the chance, scratching at his scalp with his nails before gripping firmly, tugging just hard enough to hopefully reward the gesture with a gasp or a groan. "We do, thank you."

He offers no resistance as Peter positions him in the warm shower, his expression fondly amused as he stands still and lets his mate work. No, there isn't nearly enough space to fit them both comfortably, but he thinks Peter does an admirable job with what he's got - even though he gets distracted midway through.

The teasing touches, the proximity, the knowledge of what's to come next - it's very obvious that Peter and the attention he's paying to Ben's body is having the desired effect.

"You're so good to me, Peter. You're spoiling me - when will I get to spoil you?"

Peter drags his attention away from Ben's cock, barely. He keeps moving in such a way that occasionally, and definitely on accident, his thigh or his knee will brush Ben's thigh or knee or... just a ghost of a touch to where his mate is clearly aroused. He looks up at Ben whenever this happens, trying (and failing) to look innocent.

"You already spoil me so much, sir. Thought it was your turn..." He takes to washing Ben more diligently, running soap down his mate's arms and back and legs. Peter is doing his best, though he is limited in what he can do in the space, he wants to show Ben that he can be good and take care of his mate. Not that that is really his job, but Peter has never been one to limit himself.

Accident, right. Ben calls no attention to the definitely not purposeful touches, nor does he call out Peter and his innocent eyes. But the way one of his eyebrows arch just so is proof enough that he knows exactly what his mate is up to.

And the slight upturn of his lips is also proof that he's enjoying having the tables turned on him, he genuinely likes putting himself in Peter's hands and trusting that he will be well taken care of.

He's not the type of man to insist that Peter not step foot outside of expected behaviors. It's all the better, he thinks, that they can spoil each other.

"Feels good", is what he offers, a roughness ringing his voice. "Your hands on me like this."

The roughness in Ben's voice spurs Peter onward. He likes this. He likes what feels like having the upper hand (even though he would so, so easily submit if Ben ordered him to). He cleans Ben thoroughly, hands teasingly ghosting over his mate's erection. "Like this, sir? This feels good?"

But before Ben can answer, Peter presses him up against the shower wall, the warm water running over their bodies as he leans in to kiss Ben. He licks his way into Ben's mouth, slow and hungry and filled with all the pent-up desire that seems to hum through his body.

Peter knows that this isn't why they are in the shower, but he wants to hear that roughness in Ben's voice again. Wants to give him his hands all over his body. He runs his hands down Ben's side just to prove a point, gasping softly at the way Ben's muscles feel against his fingers.

It's Ben's turn to whine softly as Peter gives him the promise of more but does not deliver, only gives him just enough attention to deepen his desire for more. There is something electrifying about not knowing what his mate is going to do next, something that thrums through his veins in a brand new way.

He can't say anything before he's being crowded against the wall and Peter is pinning him there, capturing his lips in a kiss, urging him to open up just a little wider, grant him entrance.

Oh, he thinks hazily, hands at Peter's hips, squeezing encouragingly, this is how it feels from the other side. This feels amazing.

When he finds enough presence of mind to speak, it's with that same roughness ringing his voice, that same desire bubbling just below the surface. "Tell me what you want to do to me, Peter."

A moment later - not an afterthought, per se, but an experiment -

"Sir."

Edited 2022-04-20 02:00 (UTC)

Peter hungrily explores Ben's mouth, keeping him pinned to the wall. His own arousal is heavy between his legs, and he doesn't know what he wants. He wants Ben to tell him what to do, but he's curious how far he can push this. Wants to see what he can do to make his mate keep looking at him with that hazy gaze.

"I want..." Peter pulls back only enough to speak, to clear his head. The sir from Ben's lips sends a shiver right through his body. "I want to take you in my mouth." He moves a hand to touch Ben's erection. It's almost too big for him to wrap his palm around, and he knows how heavy it will feel in his mouth. He swipes a thumb across the tip, hoping to elicit another whine or maybe, maybe Ben will manhandle him out of the shower. Put him on his knees where he belongs. Peter swallows hard, the image now embedded in his brain of Ben lifting him bodily from this space and commanding him to his knees.

That is what he wants, and damn this bond for not being telepathic. He has to find the words. Cannot. Is too far gone in rubbing himself up Ben's body, letting the water fall between them.

For as patient as Ben wants to be - and for as much as he thinks he'd enjoy making out and teasing each other until the water starts going cold - he also knows that he can't hold off forever when Peter's putting such delicious mental images in his mind. But there is one thing that he knows for certain as he's kissed into breathlessness, and it's that he likes this play in role reversal.

Peter pulls away to breathe and speak, and Ben follows, groaning softly and pressing his hips more intently against his mate's palm, wanting him to feel how hard he is, how much he wants all the things he's promised Peter and more. He shivers at the playful (and purposeful) swipe of Peter's thumb, setting a large hand against his hip, squeezing not so gently.

The bond doesn't need to be telepathic for Ben to get an idea of what Peter wants from him, although it would be helpful in the moments where words are hard to find. "You cleaned off sufficiently enough?", he asks, his tone darkening just so. "'Cause I think that can be arranged."

"Yes." Peter can't say the word fast enough, his pupils dark with desire, his pulse quickening under his skin. He loves the feeling of Ben in his hand, loves how Ben presses into his palm, but knows he will love Ben in his mouth more. "Balcony?" He offers, remembering what was promised before.

Ben remembers the very same promise - only now it's made all the better by the thought of enjoying the setting fun while watching Peter suck him off. He doesn't know how anybody could turn the offer down, and while he's not an exhibitionist per se, he also knows that there's very little his mate could ask of him that he'd deny.

He lets his hand slip until he's able to slap Peter's ass - the sound echoing in the shower.

"Go on, then. Get a cushion for your knees. I'll be there in a minute."

Peter bites back a groan as Ben smacks his ass, pressing up into his mate's body just enough to take off the edge. They have fallen back into the roles that they know well, but now that Peter has had a taste of the other side, he knows this will be something they explore later. Knows he wants Ben to call him sir again, just not now when biology and hormones are making him desperate and stupid and a little bit like he only exists to take Ben's cock.

(This is patently untrue the other 28 to 30 days of the month, though Peter isn't opposed to figure out what that means for their sex life now that they are mated.)

Peter doesn't hesitate when Ben orders him out. He moves from the shower, hastily drying himself until he is -- if not clean -- at least no longer sticky with Ben's come. He doesn't see this as a boon, per se, but he knows it won't be for long. Soon, he will have Ben in his mouth, and maybe if he is good, something more.

He takes this as incentive to follow Ben's instructions to the letter, carrying a cushion out to the balcony and positioning himself on his knees so he is facing the courtyard below. It isn't a high balcony, and Peter's not exactly an exhibitionist, but the idea that anyone down at the pool at this hour could look up and see him -- hard, waiting for his mate -- is quite the turn on.

Ben isn't complaining. Now they've got the promise of time to figure things out - not just sexually, but definitely including it. Because there's so much to discover with each other, and he wants very much to explore putting himself in Peter's hands, letting him take control. Calling his mate 'sir' for once isn't going to be enough, not when he'd seen firsthand how Peter's eyes had lit up, been pressed against the shower wall and kissed almost to the point of forgetting his own name.

(He's thought of being with Peter in so many ways, gotten off to the thought of Peter's hand around his throat, Peter taking him apart in much the same manner that Ben's just done for him.)

He takes his time getting out of the shower and patting himself dry. Or somewhat dry, anyway. His hair is still damp when he finally steps out onto the balcony, only letting his eyes drift down to Peter - waiting, like he's been told - once he's scanned their surroundings.

"You're being so good, like I knew you would be", he murmurs, reaching out to card his fingers through Peter's hair. "I think you deserve a reward, don't you?"

Peter doesn't know how much time passes between his leaving the shower and Ben's arrival on the balcony. He only knows that he would wait here for hours, if Ben asked him to -- hands held loosely behind his back, cock heavy between his legs, eyes fixed on some distant point of the courtyard below.

It is a relief though when Ben does arrive. Peter leans his head into his mate's touch, pleased to know that he is doing well, that he is doing what Ben asked him to do. He wets his lips. He's eager for what he hopes comes next, for his reward. "If you think so, sir." The word slips easily from his tongue, a telling reminder that Peter has fallen into that headspace where he trusts Ben implicitly. He loves this hazy space in his brain, relishes when Ben gets him here, so far under again that all of his focus is on Ben, Ben's fingers, Ben's touch.

Ben would never leave Peter waiting for quite that long. He thinks a small handful of minutes is enough to really ratchet the anticipation all the higher - not only for his mate, but for himself, too. And, oh, how he wants exactly what Peter's promised him.

He is gentle, at first, until he tangles his fingers into Peter's hair and tugs sharply, already well aware of what the sensation will do to the man that he loves. "I do think so", he replies, his keen eyes fixed on Peter's expression as he reaches out with his free hand and drags his fingertips lazily against his bottom lip. "Are you still hungry for my cock?"

Peter moans so loudly when Ben tugs his hair, so loudly that surely if there are people below they must hear him. He doesn't care though. Let them look. He is here with the man he loves, the man who takes him through his heat so, so well, and he wants for nothing else.

Hungry is one word to describe the expression on Peter's face. He parts his lips easily, his mouth now half-open, his eyes dark, his breathing shallow. Yes, hungry is a word, but starving might be better. Because Peter feels like he is starving, feels like he has been so long without Ben, and while that's just not true, his heat has played crueler tricks on him. "Yes." He takes a beat, his thoughts catching up with his tongue as he adds, "If sir thinks I am deserving, I'd love for him to feed me his cock."

Ben almost wants bystanders to hear Peter's moan, he wants everyone to know that he can always, always take care of his mate's needs, whatever those needs turn out to be. He can't find it within himself to care that they are, for all intents and purposes, in public view.

Peter has no idea how utterly debauched he looks right now, but Ben takes a long moment to commit the sight to memory, carefully dipping his finger into his mate's mouth, pressing the tip of it against Peter's tongue. Just a touch. Just a tease.

He doesn't have to stroke himself into life - it's very obvious that he's hard and ready to go again. The shower - and Peter's attention - has gone a long way toward picquing his interest ... not that it's ever difficult, not with this man.

"Open up, baby. You're about to get a mouthful."

Peter opens his mouth further, lips now fully parted as his tongue presses back against Ben's finger. Just a ghost of a touch. Just enough to make Peter want more.

His eyes drift down Ben's body, taking in all of his mate. Ben always, always looks so big from this perspective. He opens his mouth just a touch wider, anticipating the weight of Ben against his tongue, the taste of his mate filling his mouth. Oh, that last one makes him almost beg for it. The way Peter looks practically defining the words wanton and obscene in the dictionary.

It's a beautiful sight, watching Peter react so quickly and without question to the command that Ben has given him. This man - his mate - is utterly perfect.

Ben allows (and wordlessly encourages) Peter's open admiration of him. He thinks he always will, because he's never really seen himself as anything special or worthy of such devotion, but the way Peter looks at him makes him think that maybe he's not too much. Too big. Too broad. Too awkward. Too ... him.

Peter opens his mouth wider and Ben decides that he isn't going to tease like he had their first go-round. He steps closer, carefully pressing forward and giving his mate exactly what he's promised.

"That's it", he croons softly, his cheeks flushing pink. "That's my good boy. My best boy, being so good for me."

From Peter's perspective, Ben will never be anything other than perfect. He loves his mate, and now that they are bonded, he can show Ben just how much he loves him. Not just when he is on his knees, slowly taking Ben's cock into his mouth. No, Peter wants to bring Ben breakfast in bed, wants to cuddle watching Netflix and talk about their long days at work.

That is what Peter wants most.

This though? Being fed his mate's heavy and oh so thick erection? Peter moans softly as he takes what he is given, barely able to take more than half of it at once. He swallows thickly around Ben, tongue teasing the length just so. It feels so, so good. That weight on his tongue. He looks up at his mate, slowly moving up and down the length of his mate's cock, lips spread so wide and so red.

Ben's words only encourage Peter to keep going, to swallow and lick and tease with such enthusiasm because he is Ben's boy. The soft, wet noises that Peter is making echo through the courtyard, just another reminder that they are almost in public. Not that he can think about that when he has everything he wants right here.

For Peter, Ben will try to be the best person and partner he can. They will have their moments, he's sure, but as long as they can communicate and work to overcome any issues, he hopes they'll be just fine. Because this is forever and the last thing Ben wants is for Peter to feel miserable or - or ... trapped.

He knows that he wants to cook for Peter - to find out his favorite dishes and meals and provide. He wants to be a person that Peter can trust to talk to, whether he's had a good day or bad. He wants to bring Peter little gifts that he saw and thought of his mate. And flowers every Friday, without fail.

But most of all, he wants a long and happy life together.

God, he's never seen anything so wantonly gorgeous as Peter sucking his cock, unabashedly enjoying every second of it. The sudden lump in his throat makes it impossible for Ben to speak, but he hopes that all the adoration he feels is obvious in his expression as he watches his mate lavish him with attention.

Ben grasps Peter's hair more firmly between his fingers, but doesn't push, just relishes the feel as he keeps as still as possible to allow him to keep working him over. "That's - that's right. Just like that."

Peter sees just how much Ben is enjoying this, and he keeps going, keeps working over Ben with his mouth, taking in as much as he can until his eyes are watering. But oh, he doesn't stop. He moves up and down the shaft, licking a wet line along the vein, brushing over the tip, eyes fixed on Ben's the whole time.

He hums softly at Ben's praise, letting Ben's cock fall for just a moment from his lips so he can speak. His voice is rough as he says, "Do you want to fuck me over the balcony, sir? Or do you want to finish in my mouth?" Just as plainly as if he were asking the weather, except his lips are swollen and his eyes hooded with desire.

Peter can probably feel the tension in Ben's body as he uses every bit of willpower he has to keep as still as he can, not wanting to lose control of himself and accidentally hurt his mate as he chases his own pleasure.

And God, is this unbelievably good. The attention that Peter pays to every inch of him, the heat and wetness of his mouth, and those obscene noises that were muffled by his mouthful.

Heaven. Pure heaven.

Ben feels sluggish as he processes Peter's words, far more enamored with the sound of his voice than either of the offers he's given - although those are good, too. His fingers tightened in Peter's hair and he slowly pulled his head back, his eyes dark with desire. "I'm going to fuck you, just like I promised. You can have my cock to do with as you please later on."

Peter doesn't know about later, but right now, he's focused on the way that Ben's fingers feel in his hair, tight against his scalp. He leans into the touch, eyes fixed on his mate's. "Just like you promised?" Peter breathes, the words barely a whisper, and then he is climbing unsteadily to his feet.

He is -- always will be -- slightly shorter than his mate, leaner in an athletic way. Their differences are only more pronounced when they are one in front of the other, both looking at each other with that dark gaze of desire and need that seems to permeate their bond. And has it become stronger since they bonded? Peter doesn't know, only knows that he is moving past Ben to the edge of the balcony until he is almost, almost bent over the railing, looking back at his mate with that come hither look.

"I want it just like this, sir. Where everyone can see."

Later, Ben thinks, when Peter's heat has mostly subsided. When they can focus on each other first and foremost, not satisfying the urge to mate. Later, now that they've got nothing but the gift of time stretching out in front of them. But first ...

He releases his grip on Peter's hair, watching as he gets to his feet - ready to offer a hand if his mate needs it - and it feels like time stops for a moment once they're facing each other, studying each other. Peter will learn that Ben vacillates between bulking up (like he is now) and slimming down, his natural size and build more like a runner's body, but for the moment, he enjoys their obvious differences and truly feeling like he could take care of each and every one of Peter's needs.

He inhales sharply as Peter arranges himself at the balcony in just the right position, every instinct in his body telling him to take, take, take. But Ben shakes them off to the best of his ability and nears his mate, reaching out to slowly drag his blunt nails down the length of Peter's back.

"Should I leave you for a bit so I can go get the lube? Or are you still so slick with my spend that I won't need it? Should I find out?"

Peter's entire body arches into Ben's touch, the softest gasp escaping his lips and echoing off the courtyard that he can now see. In spite of the setting sun, everything is lit up in that white hot electric way - the pool, the garden below. And can they see him? The way his body drapes over the railing just so, only his head visible really, and Ben lurking behind him?

Peter looks back at his mate, shifting his legs until he's basically presenting his ass for Ben's consumption. A little bit of Ben's come leaks down Peter's upper thighs, and maybe, just maybe his body in heat will do the rest. Because the idea of Ben leaving to find lube? That makes Peter whine softly.

"Please, no lube. Just - fuck me, sir. It hurts when you, when you leave."

And it does. The heat this pounding drum inside of his head that requires him to be taken, and taken again until all he can think about is sex. And he is so, so grateful that he found Ben, because Peter knows that when he just wants to be fucked, he will say anything. It's put him in some precarious situations in the past, but now he has Ben, Ben who can take care of him and who doesn't just take what is his (even when it is so sweetly on offer for him).

Ben is obsessed with the way that Peter reacts to him - so immediately, so thoroughly, so trusting that Ben will fuck his discomfort away. And he will, only he wants to admire his mate in the light of the setting sun for a moment first.

He knows what he's meant to do, though, and he's teased Peter enough already. He braces one large palm against his hip, squeezing gently, a reassurance that is there and he will not make his mate hurt for too long. The other, he wraps around his erection and crowds against Peter all the more, rubbing against his slick inner thighs, gathering up his own spend to use as lube.

Which - is not something they've done before, but he's willing to try for Peter.

There is very little Peter could ask for that Ben would deny him, he knows that without a shadow of a doubt. This time, there is no real teasing or taunting. Once he thinks he's sufficiently lubricated, his grip on Peter's hip tightens and he carefully begins pushing into his mate's willing body once more.

"Tell me - tell me if I'm hurting you. Tell me if you need me to stop."

There is this feeling of being suddenly very full as Ben sinks into his body. It's not too much though, not after how thoroughly Ben fucked Peter open the first time, and it isn't long before Peter is trying to press back into his mate's body, trying to find that rhythm that only they can create together.

He isn't silent, but he isn't exactly coherent with his pleases and just like thats and sirs. All of which become a jumbled mess of moans and back arching and clinging to the railing until his knuckles are white. Not that Ben is even really taking him apart, not yet. It's a testament to how far gone Peter is in his heat that he falls apart at the slightest touch of Ben's dick.

But oh, it feels good to have something -- someone inside of him. It makes the heat hurt less, and he knows that that is biology, but it doesn't make him want it any less.

Peter's body is so very accomodating. Ben finds no resistance and that quells some of his fears. The rest soon dissipates as his mate presses back against him, attempting to coax Ben into giving him more.

And he will.

After he takes a moment to admire the lines of Peter's body, how tight and hot he is around Ben's cock, the way he sounds when the need takes over and all Peter can do is beg for Ben.

"Oh, my sweet boy - ", he grunts, pushing into Peter hard, "Let me help you. Let me make you feel better."

The sound that Peter makes when Ben finally moves is so sweet and so loud, a garbled cry of yes, please, sir. Subconsciously, he knows that people (strangers, even) can hear him. He knows that they are in a semi-public space. But he can't stop, can't stop making those sweet sounds as he begs for it, as he tries to coax Ben deeper.

His whole body thrums heavy with need, his own cock hard and erect against his stomach, untouched. He can't touch himself and hold himself upright, even if Ben asks him to. He just can't. So he's left with arching his back and moaning in the most obscene way and hoping, hoping that Ben will take care of him.

As if he isn't turned on enough, Peter cries out for him so plaintively that it's like a bolt of lightning has struck the base of his spine and crackled upward and outward until all the nerve endings in his body are electrified and sparking. For a moment, Ben wants everybody hear exactly how well he's satisfying his mate.

"Sweetheart, I wanna make you feel so good - ", he mutters, grateful for the slight height difference as it allows him to crowd Peter further against the railing, and gives him just enough space to press heated kisses to his throat, giving into the urge to close his lips against Peter's skin and suck a dark mark into being. "Once I come again, I'm gonna get on my knees for you, let you fuck my mouth until you come down my throat. I'm not gonna waste a single drop."

Oh, his whole body is on fire. It feels so, so good to be crowded up against the railing, to bare his throat as Ben sucks kisses into his skin. He is, in this moment, just an extension of Ben's body, all soft moans and cries that echo back to them. He doesn't, hasn't been able to care about anything except that liquid fire in his veins. Let everyone know that Ben is making it better, that Ben always makes it better.

"Please," Peter's entire vocabulary reduced to that one word, and also, "sir. Sir, please." It's all that he says when Ben tells him how good he wants to make him feel, how...once his mate has fucked him and filled him up, he's going to get to his knees and give him everything. That last image sticks with Peter -- Ben on his knees, taking such such good care of him.

At a certain point, Ben stops sucking marks into Peter's skin and just breathes, hot and heavy, his hips pistoning forcefully again and again and again as he works to bring Peter over the edge.

By the time this heat has subsided, he wants Peter to have difficulty walking. By the next go-round, he expects to be carrying his mate around, and he's fine with that.

Doesn't matter that Peter can't say much more than please and sir when those words are more than enough to encourage Ben to just keep going. Besides, it'd take a particularly icy person to keep from feeling something when they're being begged so prettily for more.

"You'd better not come before I get my chance to make you come. I would be so disappointed if you did. You don't want to disappoint me like that, do you, Peter?"

Peter is certain that the only thing keeping him standing right now is a combination of Ben's body and the railing, but he doesn't care. He wants Ben to take and take and take what is his.

It's hard to hear Ben's words over the own thudding of his heart, as if his heart is beating in time to each thrust of Ben's body, working him closer and closer to the edge. But the meaning is clear enough, even if it is not easy to focus on not coming when Ben is taking him apart so completely. He wants to come. He needs to. But he also wants to be good, doesn't want to disappoint Ben, doesn't want to be left fucked open and unsatisfied like this. "No, sir, I don't, sir, but please, sir, please."

Ben will keep Peter standing until he can stand no longer. And then back to the bath for a proper cleaning off. Then, back to bed, where Ben will pamper his mate, making sure he's hydrated and fed and held until his heat rears its ugly head again.

And then they will begin all over again.

"I know, my love, I know it's so hard to hold off, but I know that you can do it for me, because I've asked, because you want to make me happy."

Ben pauses, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to Peter's shoulder, hips moving harder, faster, he's almost there ...

"You're amazing. You feel so fucking good and I - I ... I just want to make you happy. Any - any way I can."

Peter wants all of the above. He wants to give himself completely to Ben, to be fucked and held and taken care of, and he's trying. He's trying to keep himself together, just a little longer, a little longer.

He keeps telling himself this. Just a little bit more. He's so caught up in his head, so focused on not giving into his need to come, because he wants to do what Ben asked him. He wants to be good. He's a mess, gasping with each thrust of Ben's hips until he's no longer forming words, just the most obscene moans and gasps, urging Ben on with these sounds, urging Ben to please, please come.

Peter is absolutely perfect, even struggling to maintain enough control over himself to do exactly as Ben's asked. God, he loves this man. And God, he wants to give him all the pleasure and relief he can, even if he has to wring himself dry to do it.

His mate sounds absolutely wrecked and that's about all it takes to push him off of his precarious edge, his groans adding to the symphony of Peter's gasps and moans.

His fingers dig into Peter's hip as he holds on tight, wave after wave of the most intense pleasure crashing over him over and over again.

Peter cannot breathe, all he can do is hold on as Ben wrecks him, as Ben fills him completely until all Peter can think is more, please. And God, he is so enamored with this man who gives him everything, and he isn't going to be able to walk. He is going to need Ben to carry him back to bed, to hold onto him until he is ready to do this again (and again).

Except he needs release first. He needs Ben to let him come. He needs Ben to give him permission, and he knows that won't happen until Ben is thoroughly spent, until Ben has thoroughly taken him apart.

Ben is surrounded by pure white-hot heat, static filling his ears for a long, long moment as he empties into his mate's oh-so-willing body, hoping he's offered Peter some small sense of relief from the urgency of his heat.

He exhales sharply as he carefully pulls out, taking a shaky step back although all he wants is to keep maintaining contact for as long as he possibly can.

His voice slurred, dizzy and not quite himself, he drags his nails down the length of Peter's back once more. "My perfect, perfect mate. You ready for me, now? Ready to come down my throat?"

Peter feels empty without Ben inside of him, empty and utterly fucked as he leans back into his mate's touch. He knows how he must look, can feel Ben's come slowly leaking out of him, leaving sticky and a mess and yet... He doesn't feel shame, only this need that seems to build inside of him at just the thought of Ben's mouth on him.

The problem is that Peter is so shaky on his legs right now. He has to cling to Ben's body as he shifts, leaning now with his body facing Ben's, his breathing uneven as he looks up at his mate. He tries to find words, but his voice is so spent, so broken. "I want, yes..." He runs a hand down Ben's chest, taking in his perfect mate. "God, please, yes."

There is nothing shameful about how obliterated - in the best ways - Peter currently looks. In fact, that most primal part of Ben loves that it's him that gets to take Peter apart and put him back together again, that he's the only one who knows how to satisfy Peter's desires.

He is not so deep in his own thoughts that he doesn't recognize that Peter needs his assistance, which he readily offers in the form of his arm around his mate's middle, holding him close, steadying him as Ben walks him to the chaise lounge not far away. They will make it messy, but that's alright, he thinks, he'll do his best to clean it off later.

Ben helps Peter sit and get comfortable, dipping in to steal a kiss before he settles himself on his knees, no cushion even though he knows it will hurt. Looking up at Peter, desire still lighting up his dark eyes, Ben murmurs -

"You don't have to be gentle with me."

Peter lets Ben half-carry him, leaning into Ben's body, partly out of need and partly because skin-to-skin contact feels so nice. He finds himself half-sitting, half-reclining as he watches Ben get on his knees. He wants to tell Ben to get a cushion or to climb up on the chaise with him, to hold him and slowly jerk him off, but the allure of finishing in his mate's mouth is too strong.

"Love you." He says, so softly, brushing a thumb across Ben's cheek. He means it, too. He loves this man, even here, half-dazed and desperate for it.

Another time - perhaps during this heat cycle - Ben would be happy enough to just gather his exhausted mate close and finish him off with his hands, slowly, gently. But not this time. Not when he's waiting so patiently for Peter to use him in the way he's offering himself.

He sighs, leaning into the caress, dreamy little smile turning his lips up just so. "I know. You're in charge now, Peter, I'm here for you."

"Okay, okay..." Peter runs his thumb over Ben's lips, trying to gather his thoughts around what Ben wants and what he is able to give. The heat, the way his cock presses hard against his belly, the way that Ben's come is still inside of him...all of it combines to make Peter hazy and desperate. He presses his thumb to Ben's bottom lip, and then lifts his hips just enough, just enough to press his cock to Ben's lips. "Open...Please...let me..."

Mostly, what Ben wants is to please his partner, give him a new sense of satisfaction in the midst of his heat. His own desires mean little to him in the moment. Truly, in times like these, his focus is purely on Peter and Peter alone.

He hasn't been given permission to touch, so he doesn't. Just parts his lips when he's urged to, swipes his tongue around the head of his mate's erection, groaning wantonly as he does.

"Taste so good. Knew you would."

"God...B-Ben..." He feels in this moment that he has never seen something so beautiful as Ben's lips on his cock. He pushes his hips upwards until he is slowly, slowly pushing his cock in and out of Ben's mouth, chasing his need to come as if it is the only thing he cares about. (Not true. He cares more about this man who is so, so good to him, who gives him everything.)

"I can't...I need to come, sir. Need to come and taste you on my lips. Please."

Now it is Ben's turn to make the most obscene noises, happy groans that are muffled by his mouthful. This is about Peter, not him, so he lets his mate set the pace, just offers the pleasure of his mouth as if this is the only thing he is made for.

For the moment, it is.

He pulls off with a wet popping noise, gazing up at Peter with the utmost adoration in his eyes. "Do it, Peter. Fuck my mouth until you can't hold back anymore. I want you to come for me."

Ben settles his palms against Peter's thighs, takes his length back into his mouth in one swift motion, shows no mercy as he bobs his head up and down, wanting to get his mate there, give him what he needs in this, too.

Peter can't hold back. Not now when his mate is making those noises, those noises that travel straight down Peter's body to his cock. He can feel his own release building, and fuck, Ben's mouth just feels perfect.

For a moment, Peter feels a burst of energy. He grabs Ben's hair, just enough to hold his mate still and then, Peter is setting the pace. He's using Ben's mouth, using that sweet wetness, and he knows he is so, so close.

That is precisely what Ben wants, and although the moan he offers is garbled, his enjoyment should be clear in the way he immediately stills and just ... lets Peter use him like all he's been made for is this.

Occasionally, he'll make a choked noise, but the look of adoration in his eyes does not falter, mentally willing Peter to just let go, just fall over the edge, that he'll be there to catch him when he does.

Oh, the way that Ben is looking at him, the way that Ben lets him just let go is absolutely enough to send Peter over the edge. He feels like everything in his body is on fire, and then he is coming down Ben's throat, lost in the way that Ben is just looking at him with eyes of adoration.

It is a long moment before Peter shifts back onto the chaise longue, half-heartedly tugging at his mate to join him. He wants to hold onto his mate for as long as possible, lazily making out until they're sticky and cold and spent. It doesn't matter that they are still outdoors or that they should definitely shower. Right now, sated and boneless, Peter just wants to be the big spoon. Just once.

Ben must look positively blissful once Peter tips over the edge and embraces the fall. True to his word, he doesn't waste a single drop and doesn't let up until it's obvious that his mate - for the moment - has nothing left to give.

It doesn't take much encouragement for Ben to follow Peter's unspoken direction, climbing onto the lounge chair carefully, not wanting to tip it over and send both of them to the ground. He knows that another shower will soon be necessary, and then some food, some rest, but for the moment, he is perfectly content to curl up close and just be together to enjoy the afterglow.

"Hey. Doing okay?"

"Yea, yea, perfect." And he is -- he is perfect, balanced, completely exhausted but still here. Peter loves Ben, loves how well his mate takes care of him, and really, he knows that's the best that he can hope for in these situations. But Peter doesn't love being in heat, doesn't love the feverish fire that sits just below his skin, or the way that he becomes absolutely insatiable. "You're perfect."

Peter curls up close to Ben, pulling his mate in for a long kiss. He can taste himself on his mate's lips, and he lets himself linger in this moment, lazily kissing his mate and dreaming of what it will be like when Ben takes him home. When some day, not now but later, they have their own home, and maybe children to care for... "I'm just thinking, about when we go home, and we can do this in our bed... Our bed, Ben... Can you imagine it?"

Ben knows that the reprieve is only momentary, but he's glad to have given Peter even a touch of clarity, to have taken away some of the discomfort he knows plagues his mate during these times. By the end of this heat cycle, he will have worn himself to the bone, but it will have been worth it. It always is.

He returns the kisses easily, lets Peter draw them out for as long as he wants, doesn't push to deepen them at all. It is quiet out now, and he runs hot, so he is content enough to let his mate steal some body heat if a breeze kicks up.

Ben hums softly, tracing random patterns against Peter's side, considering what the concept of home can mean now that he's got a mate to think of. "You have no idea how much I love hearing you say 'home' and include me in it. Yeah, I can imagine it. Don't think I could want anything more."

"I want a home with you Ben, and..." He curls further into Ben, happy to steal his mate's body heat. It's not cold out, not here, but it's nice to bask in the warmth of his mate. Nice to feel like he is wanted in this space, that Ben shares his wants and his needs. "I want you to take me home when I'm on the edge of my heat, or you're in rut..."

He pauses, chewing his bottom lip. They've never met when Ben is the one out of control, and Peter wonders what it will be like now that they are mated. Will they sync up? Will Ben's rut trigger his heat until the only thing they can do is take each other part? The idea sends a thrill of want down Peter's spine.

"In our bed, Ben. It will smell like us, like you. That's what I want most. To know that we love each other so much that just your scent comforts me because I know you will be back to take care of me..."

Speaking of care, Peter is definitely going to need Ben to carry him back to the bed. Or maybe the bath again.

"I want that, too", Ben murmurs, closing his eyes and just imagining the relief he'll feel after a long day just coming home and finding his mate waiting for him, happy to see him and spend time with him again, no matter what it is that they end up doing. "A home, with you."

Just the thought of making a home together - a life - fills him with the kind of joy he's never experienced before. He belongs now. And he knows he'll spend the rest of his life so in awe of the man that's chosen him to be his mate. He just wants - even now - to make Peter happy, whatever that takes.

Date nights. Little reminders that Ben is thinking about him. Staying in, even if all that means is inhabiting the same space because that will be enough. Fleetingly, he even wonders if someday in the future, they might start a family.

And yes, taking care of each other during their respective heat and rut.

Ben hasn't even thought about his rut, but now that Peter's mentioned it, he does wonder if their cycles will fall into alignment. The app he met Peter through had options for him to look for partners to help alleviate his rut, he'd never tried.

He's just ... taken care of it on his own, since the moment that his rut first started manifesting. He's got his own toys to help him through (although not the pricey - and weird, all things considered - real dolls) and ... yeah, it's been miserable.

But now, they can help each other like good mates do. And that makes all the less than satisfying times before worth it.

"Always, sweetheart", he reassures, his voice a low rumble. "We won't ever have to feel alone again."

(OoC: Are you okay with more Marie?)

(Ooc: definitely happy with more Marie. Any prompts strike your fancy?)

(OoC: I was thinking either Save You, Fighter or Calm You Down? I can go with any you might have, too!)

(Ooc: I like a calm you down scenario where one of them comes to see the other one after a few days and finds them going crazy with heat and has to calm them down and take care of them. Maybe combine it with set off by someone else? The pheromones are so powerful they trigger heat in the other partner as well.

If that sounds good, I’m happy to taking either role, so choose whichever you like.)

This was so unbearable! Marie knew something had set her off, but she couldn’t figure out what. It had to be someone she had rescued in her attempts to be a hero.

Maybe it was that pretty redhead.

Now, her heat was driving her wild. She needed someone to calm her down, relieve her and soon!

When Cindy entered Marie’s apartment she was hit by the scent. Marie shouldn’t be in heat yet, as her girlfriend Cindy had synced up with her and knew their usual weekend of fun wasn’t supposed to be for a few weeks. “Marie? Baby are you here?”

She called out to her before following the strong scent to her bedroom and opening the door.

“C-Cindy, wait…” Marie uttered before her girlfriend entered. She’s find her laying in bed, naked, just touching herself in need.

“My… my heat… my need went off… I…!” She stammered. “I need release! I need someone!”

Cindy stares for a minute with surprise and then with lust. “Oh, honey you could have called me.” Of course Cindy was willing to help her.

She stripped as quickly as she could tossing her shirt and pants to the floor and then shedding her underwear. She climbed into bed next to Marie. “Anything you want, just tell me.”

“You know me, love - stubborn to the end…” Marie said, smiling sheepishly.

As Cindy joined her, she spoke up again. “My breasts. Please, do what you will…”

Cindy wasted no time bringing her mouth down to Marie’s breasts. Normally she’d tease out the process, but Marie needed relief so Cindy took more direct approach, taking her nipple in her mouth and sucking hard on it. She brought her hand to Marie’s other breast massaging it gently.

Marie groaned slightly as she felt those lips on her breast, the other being massaged by her lover's hand. Oh, it felt good, but she needed more.

Her hands, now free, went up to run through Cindy's hair.

Marie’s groan let Cindy know she was on the right track. She kept suckling at her breast, rubbing her tongue around the nipple to further soothe Marie’s need. She could feel it in the shaking hand in her hair.

Cindy’s actions were working splendidly. She knew she could trust her girlfriend to do what was best. She could feel the heat lowering a bit, her sex growing wetter with each action.

“Mmmn, yes, perfect~” she purred.

She could feel Marie relaxing a bit against her. It relieved Cindy who didn’t like seeing her in such discomfort. She lifted her head for a moment, “I’m here baby, Let me take care if you.”

She then switched sides giving Marie’s other breast the same treatment.

( not up for 1, 13/14, or 31 )

[How about a mix of 2 and 24? Where they've both been busy and just need some help?]

( Sure! )

[Jamie sighed as she tapped her nails on the armrest of the Captain's chair. Time seemed to have slowed down as she waited for someone else to take over. It didn't hurt that her heat had started two days ago and things had gotten incredibly busy on the Enterprise.

At least things seemed to be calming down now, but she was starting to get worked up over the smallest things. As soon as she could she could safely leave the bridge she was off towards Sickbay. She had hoped to run into her Chief Medical Officer or at least find out where he had gone.

Or if she couldn't find him she might be able to get something to calm her down until she could take care of things herself.]

[ It is no surprise to Spock what he finds attractive in a partner. Strength of character and intelligence are qualities he's found attractive in a number of beings and knowing full well that Leonard possesses them, Spock would not deny to himself that the man is attractive to him in body and mind. It's never been something he'd planned to act on, though. One can acknowledge attraction without acting on it under normal circumstances.

Unfortunately, Spock has failed to notice the change in circumstances. Perhaps this is due to the expectation that he might never undergo pon farr due to his hybrid nature or perhaps it had simply been denial, but Spock hadn't seen the forest for the trees. He's been warmer than usual, even irritable, and in the days leading up to this particular away mission he'd found excuses to stop by medbay during Leonard's hours there and even to step into his personal space when it might not have been entirely warranted.

It's only once their shuttle has landed on the M class planet they're meant to collect samples from and the Enterprise has left to handle a greater emergency that Spock puts the pieces together.

Still, he can push this off and wait for the Enterprise to return. He is sure of himself and it rings in his head as a mantra as they collect biological samples and do their work.

It only lasts so long, though, before Leonard tries to show him the potential medicinal properties of one of the trees and somewhere between Spock's approach and actually looking at the data, Spock has him pressed against the edge of the lab table instead.

He blinks as if coming back to himself. ]

Apologies, Doctor.

( hi! i know we have the other thread going, but would you be interested in something along the lines of #22,20,26'wise?; i usually lean with a!prime/alpha, or just a/a... but i'm willing to do a/o as well!

or maybe a mix of #34/26 with pack-leader Kiri? lmk if ur interested ty! ꈍ◡ꈍ )

(Ooooh hell yes! I'm completely down for a/a and all those options including a 34/26 mix!)

( sweet!! let me get something together real quick.)

(Sweeeet! Looking forward to it.)

'Finaaaallly, man! Weekend!'

( Unlike every other Friday that Kaminari announced, this one felt off. It was almost routine by now: go on a their Hero patrols, go back to school, change together, hang-out over the weekend to share time together. Then a new week began. Nice, refreshed- normal. Good pack dynamic.

Except, he felt on edge today. He wasn't sure what it was, no wait- he did. During their pair-up process a certain explosive blonde had taken no time to pick another certain freckled green-headed beta as his partner. Bakugou never picked first, and he most certain hadn't mentioned it to him he'd be switching it up today.

Kirishima was his partner- patrol partner. Team member. Friend.

So, he'd been left to flounder and found himself paired up with Iida instead. It was okay, well, kind of. The speedy-alpha had just challenged Eijirou a week before for pack-leader(again), only to fail. He admitted to holding no hard feelings, but it was still pretty dawm awkward. Plus, Kirishima was distracted, finding himself clenching his jaw whenever he thought about the blonde alpha. What was Bakugous problem? )

'We're going bbq lounge tonight 7PM! BE THERE-... BAKUBRO, YOU TOO-!

"... ..."
( Kirishima smiled, peeling off his costumes compression sleeves as he listened to the invitation be hollered at the whole locker room while Denki zoomed by and out without even showering- the bright omega preferred his own bathroom. Which was fair. But the electric blonde made sure to hope up behind Kirishima, quick to smile and bump their shoulders together before leaving. A casual scenting, that as close friends- was enough until they saw each other later.

Mostly just betas and alphas lingered behind- showering or gathering their stuff.

So it gave the redhead a second to peek over, from behind his lockers door to watch Bakugou over his shoulder- maybe Eijirou was just over analyzing something that wasn't really there, but he could feel himself grow tense at the idea of Bakugou behind him. He shakes it off, and so he tries anyway-)

"have fun on your patrol?"

[ Ji-seop wants to fucking... punch something or someone, preferably the son of a fucking cocksucker who apparently doesn't know how to give an injection and will be surrendering all of his accrued leave days once he gets this worked out, and it's not because he's been uncharacteristically distracted and annoyed all day thanks to this dipshit's inability to do his job. It's independent, completely independent of the fucking insufferable and frankly barbaric surge of... whatever hormones have been lying dormant for the past several years.

But they don't help with the frustration, either.

Ji-seop knows he's not liable to send anyone else into a state because of the usual standardization of those sorts of meds in army medicine when they're administered even half-correctly, but that doesn't mean the men won't know. It's disgraceful, really, for a commissioned officer to be so openly unchecked, so here he is, using his leave days to go self-isolate in some shitty motel and pay for sex. Fun.

But it beats the alternative, which is staying here, irritable and unable to get anything done because he can't focus on anything other than being touched, or fucking, or both. Ji-seop unclenches his jaw and sighs through his nose as he gets up, flexing the fingers of the hand that's been tightly grasping his Blackberry for several minutes following the conclusion of his thrilling phone call with Medical—'We can't jump ahead to the next dose, Captain, we don't know how much is still left in your system. I'm afraid you'll just have to ride it out', said in a tone of voice that made it clear the snotty nurse didn't care one way or another. He sounded smug, even. ]

Fucking hell.

[ He slings his laptop bag over his shoulder and opens the door and there... there is the attaché, his hand frozen mid-reach and fingers curled in the beginnings of a knock on the door. Ji-seop could reach out and touch the hard muscles of his tattooed arm without even fully extending his own at this distance, if he wanted to. The agency should have sent over some ugly son of a bitch with a head like a gourd, not him. ]

Akihiro. [ He'd insisted on being called by his given name. It feels much, much too intimate for this setting. ] Can I help you with something?

[ m/m ]

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Fire in my blood, the instincts I can't fight!

Junpei Yoshino | Jujutsu Kaisen | OTA

Izuku Midoriya | My Hero Academia | OTA

jyn erso || rogue one || ota

Zoey | Left 4 Dead | M/F

cassian andor || rogue one || ota

rey || star wars || ota

Ji-Woon Hak/Trickster | Dead by Daylight | m/m

ben solo || star wars || ota

bodhi rook || rogue one || ota

rose tico || star wars || ota

Ken Kaneki || Tokyo Ghoul

Mina Ashido / My Hero Academia

Scott Summers | X-men 616 | M/M

2 & 3?

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edmond / nu: carnival / m/m

G’raha Tia | FFXIV

Peter Parker | TASM | ota

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