Something settles back into place in his chest at the sound of Peter's voice, even tinny and electronically filtered; for just a moment, those countless light years stretching out between them don't feel quite so impossibly vast. The space by his side doesn't feel quite so empty.
"Won't know 'til I've tried, will we?" he counters, the smirk on his lips coloring his voice. It's not like they haven't done plenty that was supposed to be impossible, and he feels nice and motivated to take a good crack at this one. "You know I love a challenge." And it's hardly as though he doesn't enjoy the increasingly incoherent praise and pleas he knows he can wring out of Peter; failing at the task he's set for himself will be just as much fun as succeeding.
The lazy heat curling in the pit of his stomach tightens sharply at those mental images, his breath catching and a slow shudder of pleasure rolling through him. "Who says we gotta choose? Plenty of time for a little of everything." It's a lie and he knows it: every moment they'll have for the foreseeable is going to be stolen, always with a looming deadline of whenever one or the other of them has to be on his way again. But for now they can linger in the fantasy of a world where they get to take all the time they want to drive each other crazy. Maybe someday it'll be true.
He closes his eyes and tips his head back against the pillow as he listens to those distant sounds of rustling clothing, hand shifting to start stroking himself off in earnest. A soft huff of a laugh falls from his lips at the question. "You want me to stroke your ego some, huh?" he murmurs, voice low and husky. "Tell you all about how I've got a hand 'round my dick thinkin' about you, what I'd do to that sweet ass if I had you here with me?" He lets himself give a quiet moan, the rhythm of his breathing starting to pick up as his hand keeps working. "Hope so, 'cause that's what's happening."
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"Won't know 'til I've tried, will we?" he counters, the smirk on his lips coloring his voice. It's not like they haven't done plenty that was supposed to be impossible, and he feels nice and motivated to take a good crack at this one. "You know I love a challenge." And it's hardly as though he doesn't enjoy the increasingly incoherent praise and pleas he knows he can wring out of Peter; failing at the task he's set for himself will be just as much fun as succeeding.
The lazy heat curling in the pit of his stomach tightens sharply at those mental images, his breath catching and a slow shudder of pleasure rolling through him. "Who says we gotta choose? Plenty of time for a little of everything." It's a lie and he knows it: every moment they'll have for the foreseeable is going to be stolen, always with a looming deadline of whenever one or the other of them has to be on his way again. But for now they can linger in the fantasy of a world where they get to take all the time they want to drive each other crazy. Maybe someday it'll be true.
He closes his eyes and tips his head back against the pillow as he listens to those distant sounds of rustling clothing, hand shifting to start stroking himself off in earnest. A soft huff of a laugh falls from his lips at the question. "You want me to stroke your ego some, huh?" he murmurs, voice low and husky. "Tell you all about how I've got a hand 'round my dick thinkin' about you, what I'd do to that sweet ass if I had you here with me?" He lets himself give a quiet moan, the rhythm of his breathing starting to pick up as his hand keeps working. "Hope so, 'cause that's what's happening."