If asked, he could say exactly how far away Earth is from Knowhere, in light years or in travel time; he could reel off jump point coordinates, trace out a hopscotch path across the universe from here to there. And yeah, maybe if he did he could play it off. It's how his brain's always worked, after all; he's good at numbers, good at complex technical things like plotting a jump drive course from one side of space to the other. But there's not much point pretending any more. Those two places — the places the people most important to him call home — are the foci of his entire world. Some part of him is always going to be in orbit around that center of mass, however distant it may be.
The sound of that moan cuts right through him, bringing back a few fond memories of the all too little time they'd had together, and drawing out an all-consuming greed he might never have know he had buried somewhere deep inside him. They've known each other long enough that it didn't exactly come as a surprise that Peter's every bit as loud and lacking in any kind of filter in bed as he is everywhere else, but he never would have guessed he could be so fucking into it. He wants to pull out every cry and moan and desperate curse he can until Peter's beyond words. He wants to know what it would take to have him too far gone to even make a sound.
That want only burns hotter under his skin for those promises, even if he can't help but snort at the claim that he loves Peter's plans. To be fair, he has developed a new appreciation for them recently; so far Peter's sex-based plans have been head and shoulders above any of his other plans in terms of both quality and payoff. But why would he want to be fair when it's so much funnier and more rewarding to be a dick instead?
"I been away too long," he says. "That ego needs some more holes poked in it." A soft laugh falls from his lips. "You talk a good game though. Hope you ain't makin' promises you can't keep." Not that it matters right now when the promise alone is enough to have anticipation simmering under his skin, coiling greedily in the pit of his stomach. Fuck, he never would have thought this would be something he'd even entertain the idea of, never mind want it so fucking much. But he's never been much for playing things safe, and how's he supposed to not be curious after how obviously and shamelessly Peter enjoyed it?He moans again, louder this time, as he eases his fingers in. There's a sweet ache to it as his body slowly opens around them, and fuck, it's so good he feels dizzy with it.
He crooks his fingers experimentally and shudders, making another ragged noise. "Yeah, you're missin' out on one hell of a show," he teases breathlessly, voice gone rough. "Maybe that's what I oughta do next time. Make you watch while I get myself off."
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The sound of that moan cuts right through him, bringing back a few fond memories of the all too little time they'd had together, and drawing out an all-consuming greed he might never have know he had buried somewhere deep inside him. They've known each other long enough that it didn't exactly come as a surprise that Peter's every bit as loud and lacking in any kind of filter in bed as he is everywhere else, but he never would have guessed he could be so fucking into it. He wants to pull out every cry and moan and desperate curse he can until Peter's beyond words. He wants to know what it would take to have him too far gone to even make a sound.
That want only burns hotter under his skin for those promises, even if he can't help but snort at the claim that he loves Peter's plans. To be fair, he has developed a new appreciation for them recently; so far Peter's sex-based plans have been head and shoulders above any of his other plans in terms of both quality and payoff. But why would he want to be fair when it's so much funnier and more rewarding to be a dick instead?
"I been away too long," he says. "That ego needs some more holes poked in it." A soft laugh falls from his lips. "You talk a good game though. Hope you ain't makin' promises you can't keep." Not that it matters right now when the promise alone is enough to have anticipation simmering under his skin, coiling greedily in the pit of his stomach. Fuck, he never would have thought this would be something he'd even entertain the idea of, never mind want it so fucking much. But he's never been much for playing things safe, and how's he supposed to not be curious after how obviously and shamelessly Peter enjoyed it?He moans again, louder this time, as he eases his fingers in. There's a sweet ache to it as his body slowly opens around them, and fuck, it's so good he feels dizzy with it.
He crooks his fingers experimentally and shudders, making another ragged noise. "Yeah, you're missin' out on one hell of a show," he teases breathlessly, voice gone rough. "Maybe that's what I oughta do next time. Make you watch while I get myself off."