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Peter Parker once swore he would never do drugs or alcohol.
It’s funny how living with Frank Castle changes things.
Honestly, he kind of hates that it didn’t even take him much convincing, either. The first evening he came home after a long day of patrolling and Frank offered him a hit, he politely declined. But by the time he had stripped off his suit, took a hot shower, and was comfortably relaxed in bed with his PJs, the offer still lingered on his mind.
He was curious. And he trusted Frank. They had been living together for a few months at this point, which just happened naturally. His neighbors had moved out of their two-bedroom apartment and Peter’s landlord offered him the place with only a slight increase in rent. He and Frank had grown closer, and he figured Frank wouldn’t turn down a comfortable place to stay, which he didn’t.
After mulling it over a bit, Peter thought fuck it, and ended up climbing out of bed to take Frank up on the offer, joining him on the couch and telling him he wanted to try it.
“You sure? There’s no pressure, kid.”
Peter nodded. “I’m sure." He glanced at the half-smoked joint leaning over the side of the ashtray on their wooden coffee table. “How do I…?”
Frank picked up the joint and his lighter. It was black with white skulls on it (loser, Peter thought), or at least it’s clear that’s what they used to be before the paint was scratched off from being used and shoved in denim pockets. Frank held the joint up to Peter’s mouth, and Peter hesitated only briefly before wrapping his lips loosely around it.
“I’ll light it for ya. Just inhale after, yeah?” One large hand came up to gently cup the back of Peter’s head while the thumb of his other hand flicked the lighter on to reveal its small flame. Peter felt dizzy before he even took a puff, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as Frank’s touch alone ignited tingles to spark up his spine. As Frank pulled the lighter away, he nodded, giving Peter the go-ahead, but his hand left his head too, and Peter found that he desperately wanted it back. He pushed the thought down as quickly as it came before refocusing on the task at hand.
He glanced up and met Frank’s dark eyes, which were fixated intently on him, watching him closely. Warmth flooded Peter’s chest—he felt safe under his gaze, and he realized how much he liked that feeling. It gave him all the encouragement he needed. He kept their eyes locked as he finally inhaled…
…And lasted all of two seconds before he broke into a coughing fit. Peter’s eyes widened as he clutched his burning chest, heat rising to his cheeks. Fuck, he thought, trust me to make an embarrassment of myself in front of him. Frank immediately handed him the bottle of water that was sitting next to the ashtray, and Peter guzzled it down between smaller coughs. The older man’s hand wrapped gently around his bicep, a comforting gesture that only served to make Peter’s head spin again. When he finally stopped coughing and looked up at Frank, he realized the man was chuckling.
“Don’t…don’t laugh!”
“Sorry. Just figured that would happen. It usually does when you’re not used to it.”
“And you didn’t think to warn me?” Frank just shrugged in response. “Asshole,” Peter muttered.
“It was cute.”
Peter’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frank to say that. He didn’t know what to say back, and it definitely didn’t help the blush that was already present upon his cheeks. Thankfully, a comfortable silence fell between them for a moment, before Frank brought the joint back to his own lips, and Peter studied the action. He observed the way his lips wrapped around the flower-packed paper, the way his cheeks hollowed out slightly and his chest rose from the inhale. Frank took it from his mouth, tapping it over the ashtray before leaning back, his head hitting the couch and his eyes closing as he exhaled the smoke from his lungs into the air. Something about the way his lips pursed as he blew out made Peter’s legs feel like jelly. He almost jumped when Frank turned to look at him again, but if he knew Peter had been staring, he didn’t show it.
“Can I try again?” Peter asked, and Frank nodded before moving back into place to help him out.
“Just breathe it in slow this time. And don’t take too long of a hit. You gotta figure out your tolerance gradually.” Peter felt ready this time. Something in his chest tugged at him, he felt the strong desire to impress Frank, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.
This time, Peter succeeded. He took a small hit and blew out the smoke, then looked at Frank with a crooked smile, eyes lit up and eagerly seeking his approval. Frank’s rough hand came up to pat Peter’s soft cheek twice.
“Attaboy,” he said with a smirk.
And Peter all but melted into the couch.
The first time was months ago. Since then, a smoke session every now and then after a long day became their new normal. Over the next few months, Peter had realized many things about himself. The first thing he realized was that he was a lightweight. Frank had even affectionately dubbed him “one hit wonder,” to Peter’s annoyance. He was not gone after one hit. (But two? Maybe.) The second thing he realized was that he had to be careful not to get overstimulated when he smoked, which he had learned the hard way. With his already enhanced senses, marijuana only heightened them further. He made sure to invest in a pair of noise-cancelling headphones just in case, after an incident that had him way too high and huddled into Frank’s chest with Frank covering his ears for a good hour or so. Frank never brought it up again after it happened, besides asking him if he was okay the next morning, which he was grateful for, but he personally couldn’t live down the embarrassment of having to be coddled over like that again.
The third thing he realized was that he was incredibly attracted to Frank. He couldn’t deny it any longer, in fact he was almost happy to admit it at this point. So many little observations had all built up—the way Frank’s rough hands would casually touch him so gently, contrasting with his soft skin; the way his muscled torso gleamed in the sunlight that glinted through their kitchen window while he cooked breakfast in nothing but a pair of shorts; the way he smelled like leather and woody cologne with an underlying masculine musk that he couldn’t quite describe; the way he broke into a toothy grin and shook his head when Peter made him laugh; the way the gravel and grit in his voice when he spoke in that deep register, in an accent much thicker than Peter’s, would make him shiver—until Peter exploded.
All over his hand, that is, when he was fingering himself in the shower one day and finally, finally allowed his thoughts to drift to Frank out of curiosity and he came harder than he ever thought possible.
Tonight, they were watching TV, sitting a couch-cushion’s width apart and passing a joint back and forth between them. The volume was barely audible. Whenever they smoked now, Peter tried to limit his sensory input as much as possible. Frank didn’t mind, in fact it became a habit of his to turn the volume down and put the captions on for himself whenever they lit up. The small gesture always made Peter’s heart race with affection for the older man.
At some point they shifted, Peter didn’t remember when, he was in too much of a haze. He thought it was when he moved closer to show Frank the TikTok he was giggling at on his phone, while Frank grumbled something about “kids these days,” but he huffed a laugh at it anyway, only because Peter was the one showing it to him. Their thighs were brushing now, and with the weed enhancing his senses even more than usual, Peter was hyperfocused on the warmth radiating through their thin pairs of sweatpants. He decided to stay put, silently praising God that Frank didn’t pull away either.
He pretended to watch the TV when in reality he was letting himself practically consume Frank with his senses. Peter honed in on his steady breathing, the even beat of his heart, the small puffs of air he blew out of his nose when the characters on screen did something that he found amusing. While the scent of the weed they had smoked strongly filled the air, Peter was still able to detect those hints of leather, the cologne he had sprayed early that morning that was wearing off, and that one smell he wished he could drown himself in that was just pure Frank.
Peter didn’t realize that he was gripping the fabric of his own sweatpants hard enough for Frank to notice until he reached out two fingers to touch Peter’s cheek and turn his head towards him. Peter flinched as he was pulled out of his floaty haze and back into reality. The gesture alone made him feel like he could pass out.
“You okay, buddy?”
Peter looked up at Frank. The whites of his hooded eyes were reddened from the weed, he noticed Frank’s were too. He wasn’t sure he had the ability to produce words right now, so he simply nodded.
“You take too much?”
“No! No, I’m good. Reeeally good.”
“If you say so.” Peter watched as Frank leaned forward to grab the joint and light it again.
“I can take another hit too.”
Frank chuckled. “No you can’t, you look high as fuck right now. You’ve already hit it twice, we know your limit.”
Peter pouted as he watched Frank take another hit for himself, but this time, he turned to face Peter and blew the smoke in his face, teasing. “That’s all you get,” he said, before placing the joint back on the edge of the ashtray.
It took every inch of willpower Peter had inside of his body not to moan when he felt that smoke ghost over his face. This wasn’t good, all he could think about was how incredibly hot that was. He was getting desperate, and in his weed-induced daze, bolder.
“Frank…”
“Hm?”
“Can you do that again?”
Frank turned to look at him again and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Please, Peter wanted to say, but he managed to hang on to his dignity for now. “Can you?”
Frank stared at him for a moment, seemingly bewildered by the request, but with Peter looking up at him like a dog waiting for a treat, and his own inhibitions lowered, he found he couldn’t exactly help but give in. He’d do anything for Peter. He reached for the joint again, took a puff, leaned in a little closer to Peter this time, and exhaled the smoke. Peter inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering closed and his fists grasping at his sweatpants again. He needed more, so much more.
“I like that,” he breathed out.
“Do ya?”
For a few moments, they both just stared at each other, hooded eyes locked together, and something shifted between them. Peter’s heart began leaping out of his chest in anticipation of what could come, but he didn’t dare to speak, or to move, and for a second wondered if he should even breathe or if it would ruin whatever was happening between them right now.
Finally, Frank spoke, his voice low, startling him, almost. “I know something else you might like.”
“Oh…oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Open your mouth a little.” Peter couldn’t comply fast enough, and Frank took another puff off the joint before turning back to him. The rough pad of his thumb met Peter’s chin, pulling down his jaw a little more before he leaned in close. Impossibly close. Closer than they had ever been in their lives, and Peter wanted to scream. They were so close he could see the pores on Frank’s face and the light wrinkles he’d begun to accumulate, half lit up by the screen of the television that was still droning on in the background but at this point forgotten by the both of them. Frank’s nose brushed his, then their lips touched. Just barely, so feather-light that Peter bet Frank could hardly feel it, but to the younger man it was the only thing he could feel in that moment.
At last, Frank exhaled the smoke into Peter’s mouth with a breath Peter swore was shaky, and Peter felt like he was on fire, like his synapses were shooting off trillions of fireworks all at once. His hand flew to Frank’s thigh, feeling like he had to grab onto him or else he’d disappear.
“Need…” he found himself mumbling.
“Need what?” Frank asked, and pushed a strand of Peter’s curls behind his ear and out of his face.
“Need to be closer to you,” Peter said, and he met Frank’s gaze again with that look, like he was silently begging him. Frank paused for a moment before spreading his legs a bit, which Peter took as permission for him to sit on his lap. He quickly straddled him, and Frank’s hands automatically found the perfect spot on his waist, like they were meant to be there.
“I can’t see the TV now, ya know,” Frank grumbled, but his tone was light. Peter moved his head out of the way by burying it in Frank’s neck instead, which got a chuckle out of him.
Frank didn’t know what was happening, really. He wasn’t sure what exactly Peter wanted, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that some tension had built up between them over the past few months. He knew that, but he also wasn’t going to be the one to fully push it over the edge, so he left the ball in Peter’s court.
“You smell so good,” Peter mumbled into his neck, a slight whine to his voice as Frank felt him inhaling deeply and letting out little contented sighs. He found himself rubbing his thumbs in little circles on Peter’s waist.
“Yeah?” He felt Peter nod against his neck. He reached for the joint one last time and took a longer hit, before pulling Peter’s head up gently by his hair, pulling his jaw down again, and blowing the smoke into his mouth. This time, Peter whimpered. He couldn’t take it anymore. Faster than either of them could process, Peter fully closed the distance between them, kissing Frank hard, like his life depended on it. And maybe it did. After a brief moment of shock, Frank allowed himself to kiss him back. Their mouths moved together in unison, his grip on Peter’s waist tightening, the younger’s hands holding onto his shoulders.
Peter let out soft little whines that contrasted Frank’s deeper groans. He couldn’t believe this was happening. In the back of his mind, he thought he would soon wake up and this all would have been a dream (it wouldn’t have been much different than his average dream where Frank is involved, after all). For now, he was going to let himself enjoy it. He moaned the second Frank’s tongue slid between his lips and began exploring his mouth, and he gladly let him in. Peter swirled his own tongue around Frank’s before capturing it between his lips and sucking on it eagerly. Frank let out a deep grunt, and one of his hands flew up to grip the back of Peter’s head, fingers grasping his curls, making Peter’s heart hammer with pride over the fact that he was able to pull that reaction out of the older man.
Time was lost between them, neither of them knew how long they had been making out. It felt like ten hours in Peter’s head, but he knew that couldn’t be true. Their hands were all over each other’s bodies, slipping under each other’s shirts, groping at muscles, and pulling each other ridiculously closer. Their movements weren’t frantic, instead their pace was slowed and sloppy by the effects of the weed, both men feeling like they were drowning in one another and perfectly content with it being their causes of death. The high made every touch feel like an electric shock, particularly for Peter, when Frank’s large hands slipped inside his waistband and began kneading the flesh of his ass. With a gasp, he arched closer to Frank, pushing his ass out in desperation, and the older man grunted against his mouth in approval. When Frank’s right hand creeped lower, brushing past his asshole until his fingertips were met with Peter’s wetness and tapping two fingers against his entrance like he was testing the waters, the younger’s thighs tensed up with urgent need, lurching forward and grinding against Frank’s bulge in the process, only causing the volume of their moans and groans to increase tenfold.
Frank was the first to pull back. “Peter,” he panted, “hey…”
“Hi.”
Frank rolled his eyes. His hands made his way up to Peter’s cheeks. “You sure you want this? I’m twice your age, kid.”
“Yes. Please. ‘m not a kid. Want you so bad. Need it. Need you,” he replied, nuzzling his cheek into Frank’s touch.
The whine in his voice left no room for argument. A small trail of drool leaked from the corner of Peter’s bottom lip and Frank swiped it up with his thumb, to which Peter took the opportunity to suck his thumb into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Frank grumbled from deep in his chest as he watched Peter’s mouth work hungrily, his hooded eyes staring back at him, and when he started bobbing his head a little, Frank thought he was gonna lose it.
“Need something bigger to suck on, sweetheart?” He asked in that deep gravel, bucking his hips up. Peter nodded eagerly before sliding down Frank’s body until he was on his knees before him, the pet name still ringing in his ears. Frank lifted his hips, and Peter slid his sweatpants and boxers down together, until he was met with the hard cock that he, literally, had only dreamed of. He inhaled sharply and let out a shaky exhale at the sight as it slapped up against his abs.
Peter thought he might be drooling. Frank’s cock was big, and thicker than he imagined, jutting out from a patch of dark hair that matched the hair on his balls, which were just as divine, in Peter’s honest opinion. They looked so heavy, the way they hung. His tip glistened with precum, with a small trail beginning to leak down his cock. It was decorated in veins, giving a twitch that made Peter’s mouth water. But what struck Peter the most was his scent. It was delicious, and it was flooding his senses. He buried his face in Frank’s sack and inhaled, the musky smell of his arousal making his head spin.
“What’re you doin’, freak?”
“You smell so good,” Peter said, his voice muffled, “so so good.”
Frank felt a light blush creep up his neck, though he wouldn’t admit it, suddenly thankful for the darkness of the room, save for the TV glow. He hadn’t expected that, but he decided he’d let Peter do his thing, the warmth of his face felt nice down there anyway. He let his head fall back against the couch and a guttural groan escaped him when Peter finally sucked one of his balls into his mouth, tongue swirling and lapping like an eager puppy. He went at it for a few moments before pulling off and rubbing his cheek up the length of Frank’s cock, causing him to grunt at the softness of his skin. Grasping the base of his shaft, Frank tapped his tip against Peter’s lips.
“Open up,” he said, and Peter was more than happy to oblige, allowing his lips to wrap around Frank’s thickness. The salty taste of his precum hitting his tongue made his eyes roll back. Peter worked him over slowly, taking him about halfway and getting used to the feeling of his mouth being so full. Every deep noise Peter was able to yank out of him made him tremble with need. He was so desperate to please Frank, to make him feel so good. He tried to take him all the way down his throat, needed to feel him in there so deep, but he choked.
“Easy, boy,” Frank’s voice drawled, “take your time.”
But Peter was hungry, and he just wanted more, more, more. Despite Frank’s gentle encouragement, he kept trying, licking and slurping and pushing his head down as far as it would go despite his repeated gagging, until he was looking up at Frank with eyes glistening with tears, snot dripping from his nose, and drool leaking from his mouth all the way down to Frank’s balls.
“Jesus Christ, kid, you want it that bad?” Peter nodded enthusiastically.
“Here… let me help you.” Frank shifted slightly to sit up more. One hand came up to cup Peter’s cheek while the other found its place in his hair. He paused for a moment, taking him in.
“You look so pretty right now,” he whispered lowly, relishing in how messy his face was, the compliment only fueling Peter’s desperation and making him whine.
“Just breathe through your nose, okay?” His hands gripped the sides of Peter’s head as he slowly lowered his mouth back onto his cock, inch by inch, until he was fully seated in the back of Peter’s throat. Frank let out a strangled moan.
“Fuck, there you go. Such a good boy. Just relax that throat for me. Doin’ so good.” Peter was still gagging slightly, but it was softer now as he adjusted to the intrusion. They stayed like that for a bit, Frank lazily fucking deep into Peter’s mouth with Peter perfectly content with being used, until Frank started getting close and gently pulled Peter’s head off his cock, making him whine in reluctance.
“Wanted your cum,” Peter whimpered, voice raspy, “your cock tastes so good.”
Frank patted his cheek. “I know, pretty boy, but I don’t know if I can cum twice, and we’re not done yet.” He moved to pick Peter up, who instantly wrapped his arms and legs around Frank like a koala bear, as he lead them to his bedroom. Pretty boy. Frank had never called him that before. He liked it.
When they made it to the bedroom, Frank gently laid Peter down on the bed, stripping off his own shirt, then the younger’s. Lifting Peter's hips up, he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers. When he spread Peter’s legs, he let out a loud groan at the sight before him. Peter’s cunt was smooth and pink, and absolutely dripping wet, his clit erect and engorged above his entrance. Frank got down on his stomach between his legs, and spread Peter’s folds open with his thumbs, mesmerized.
“Fuck, look at that. Beautiful fucking pussy.” Peter gasped softly at the praise, his hips immediately bucking up and seeking Frank’s mouth, his hands already grasping at his short strands of hair as his thighs trembled in anticipation.
“Frank, please,” Peter whimpered, “please, please, please– mmph!”
Who was Frank to leave him waiting? He dove down, his mouth attacking Peter’s puffy clit and applying harsh suction. Peter’s thighs squeezed around the sides of Frank’s head, eyes widening and back arching. Feeling Frank’s rough stubble brushing against his sensitive folds only enhanced the sensation.
“It’s so fucking big,” Frank mumbled, “never seen anything like it. Feels so good in my mouth.”
Heat rose to Peter’s cheeks again at Frank’s words. His mouth was so wet, so hot, and the way his tongue circled around the tip of Peter’s clit and nudged his hood back while he suckled made Peter want to scream at the top of his lungs, if he wasn’t already being loud enough. Moans poured out of his mouth, mixing with Frank’s deeper groans that were vibrating against his pussy. Peter was already gone, and when Frank’s tongue drifted lower to lap at his entrance, he was gone too. Peter tasted incredible. He shoved his tongue inside as deep as it would go, fucking it in and out and slurping up every inch of juice that gushed from his cunt. Frank thought he could do this all day if Peter let him.
“Gonna– ah…gonna cum, Frank,” he gritted out, and Frank doubled down, reattaching his lips to Peter’s swollen clit and sucking hard, his teeth just barely grazing the hood, and Peter swore he saw white. He grabbed the back of Frank’s head and grinded his cunt against his mouth as he came. Frank lapped and sucked at him through his orgasm, and when he finally pulled back, he looked up at Peter with a stupid smile on his face. Peter’s juices were dripping down his chin, making a mess of his stubble. He gave a soft kiss to his trembling inner thigh before moving to his knees in front of Peter and gliding his cock gently against his clit that was now even puffier than before from the intense suction.
“You ready? Or you need a minute?”
“I’m ready. Now. Please.” Peter couldn’t be more grateful that his refractory period was virtually nonexistent.
“It’s, uh, you know it’s been a while. Since I…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“So?”
“I just don’t know what you’re expecting.”
“I’m expecting you to shut up and fuck me.” At that, Frank glared at him, though it was playful. Well, he didn’t need to be told twice. He lined up the head of his cock against Peter’s entrance, and when Frank finally sank inside Peter’s pussy, he let out a strangled grunt and buried his face in Peter’s neck.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned, his breath hot on Peter’s ear and sending shivers down his spine. “Oh fuck, Peter. Shit.”
Peter gasped. Frank was so big, and he could feel his cunt stretching as he slid in deeper and deeper. His hands flew up to claw at Frank’s back, his legs wrapping around his waist, and Frank already didn’t know how long he was going to last like this. Peter was so unbelievably tight, his pussy fit around his cock like a glove. It’d been so long since he felt something so warm around his length, something that wasn’t his hand or silicone, something that was squeezing him back. Every thrust into Peter’s hole felt like heaven. His hips grinded up into him, producing long, deep strokes.
“You feel so good, Peter. So god damn– fuck…good. Fuck, you’re so warm. So wet, so tight. And you take it so fucking well, oh baby, you take cock so well. Such a good fucking boy for me, aren’t ya?” Peter’s nails dug into Frank’s back, his babbling was making him lose his mind. He loved it. He loved it so much. He loved knowing how good he was making Frank feel, loved being the source of his pleasure.
“Y-you’re doing so good. Fucking me so good, Frank. Please. Please don’t stop. Please, it feels so good. Love your cock so much. Needed this s-so bad.”
Frank fucked into him with renewed vigor, his balls slapping against Peter’s ass with each thrust while Peter’s cunt squelched with slick. His lips found themselves attached to Peter’s neck, kissing, licking, and nipping at his soft skin. He let out a low possessive growl, and Peter tilted his head to side, allowing him more access as Frank rocked into him. His lips trailed down his neck to his shoulder, then back up to his jaw, his cheek, until they met Peter’s own again and Peter kissed him back hungrily. Peter had never felt so full, and when he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that this was Frank thrusting into him, Frank’s mouth attached to his, he still felt like he was dreaming. When the older man hit that special spot inside of him, Peter froze and almost let out a wail. Frank pulled back from the kiss to look at him, and Peter immediately shut his eyes.
Frank gripped his jaw. “Keep your fucking eyes open.” When Peter's eyes flew open again, they were solid black, and he knew it, he could feel it. Frank couldn’t see the flicker of anxiety that coursed through them as Peter awaited some sort of rejection, but Frank didn’t even flinch, which made something warm swell in Peter’s heart.
“Yeah. Keep those pretty eyes on me.”
“Sorry, fuck, can’t– can’t help it.”
“Shhh,” and Frank leaned down to kiss his nose before fucking into him even harder, and Peter hung on for dear life. His body suddenly yearned for control, and with Peter’s strength, he flipped them over easily, Frank underneath him and Peter now sitting on his cock. Frank grabbed his hips, and Peter started a steady bounce as he placed his hands on Frank’s chest and squeezed his hairy pectorals for leverage.
“Fuck, tryna put on a show for me, are ya? Go on then, pretty boy,” Frank said before slapping his ass. Peter whimpered as he started grinding his hips down.
“Faster, come on,” another slap, “make those pretty little tits bounce for me,” and Peter let out a startled sound, blushing deeply at his words. He redoubled his efforts, arching his back and pushing his chest out a little more. Frank wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist and pulled him closer. “Attaboy. You look so fucking good like this. Feel so fucking good.” His other hand snaked up Peter’s body, admiring his muscular torso before coming up to fondle his chest, alternating between groping one of his small breasts and tugging his nipple, which only made Peter arch into him more. His cunt was dripping so much it leaked down Frank’s balls, and he could feel Frank’s cock throbbing and pulsing inside him every time he clenched down. Though neither of them knew it, their minds were consumed with nothing but each other.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Not gonna last that much longer if you keep squeezing your little pussy around my cock like that,” and Peter flipped them back over. He needed to see Frank on top of him when he came, yearned for it even.
Frank was panting over him now, sweat beading on his forehead, and the hair on his chest glistening with it. He grunted in effort with each thrust, and Peter could feel his back muscles rippling under his hands as he moved in and out of him. The expression on his face made Peter want to melt into the bedsheets; his lips were parted, eyebrows scrunched together, and his dark eyes were hooded and boring into Peter’s own. He looked like he was working so hard, and Peter thought it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Frank was unconsciously mumbling under his breath, but Peter was honed in on every word that fell from those lips. “Beautiful fucking boy...can’t believe…tightest fucking pussy…feels so…so good…”
Peter tightened his legs around his waist and pulled his face down to whisper to him, lips brushing over his ear. “You look so handsome on top of me, Frank. So handsome fucking me.”
Frank actually whined. “Peter, fuck, don’t fucking…say shit like that…need to…gonna…can I?”
“Please. Need your load inside me,” which was all it took. Frank buried his face back into Peter’s neck, a loud, deep groan that melted into a whimper escaped his lips as his cock pulsed deep inside his cunt, flooding him with his thick cream. Peter wished he could inject the sound directly into his bloodstream.
Peter reached down to rub his swollen clit, but Frank slapped his hand away and replaced it with his own, frantically rubbing until Peter’s orgasm hit him just as hard. His whole body convulsed up into Frank’s, who only held him tighter against him as their faces contorted in pleasure.
Frank collapsed on top of him, his cock still twitching but beginning to soften inside him. His stubbled cheek rubbed against Peter’s bare one before he captured his lips in his own again, kissing him slowly, deeply, savoring the moment like he wasn’t sure it would happen again. Peter reached between his legs, swiping up a bit of Frank’s cum from his hole before bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean.
“Mmm… you taste so good.”
Frank smiled down at him and stroked his cheek with his knuckles. “You okay?”
Peter nodded. “You?”
“I’m okay.” Frank leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead before rolling off of him, only to pull at his waist until he was spooning Peter from behind. His hand drifted all over his body—tracing the curve of his hips, down to his inner thigh, back up to trail his knuckles over his abs before reaching his chest. The action was one of many that surprised Peter that night, he hadn’t expected Frank to be so… gentle. They laid together in comfortable silence, both minds racing as they replayed the night’s events in their heads.
“Should probably clean up,” Peter said quietly after a while.
“Don’t wanna move,” Frank grumbled.
“I can carry you.”
That made Frank’s head perk up. “Like hell you will.”
A mischievous grin lit up Peter’s face as he moved to slide off the bed, with Frank’s hands desperately trying to pull him back. Peter stood up and reached for him.
“Uh, no you don’t,” he said, rolling to the opposite side of the bed.
“Come here.”
“No.”
Frank attempted to avoid Peter’s grasping hands but it was no use, really, and Peter couldn’t stop giggling. He could swear he saw Frank fighting back a smile himself. The older man flailed when Peter finally got a hold of him.
“Get away from me, kid.” But Peter pulled him off the bed and scooped him up into his arms like a bride to carry him to the bathroom.
“Peter. Put me down.”
“Quit your whimperin’, Frank,” Peter said, throwing his own words back in his face. Frank glared at him, his mouth forming a thin line and his arms crossing over his chest. Peter couldn’t help but break into a shit-eating grin.
He could get used to this.