THE DEAL.
Peter Prior x Reader. MDNI.
Word count: 2725
Warnings: peter gets pegged, mentions of breeding, spitting, praise. No use of y/n, gn reader.
A/N: Hi hello uhhhhh here you go! If anyone reads this one I might have a possible mommy k1nk/lactation fic in mind uhhh ENJOY
"No. No way. That's not gonna fit."
"First of all, it's not that big. Second, we made a deal, remember?"
"Yeah, but—"
"What was the deal, Prior? Say it back to me."
"No, I remember the deal—"
"—Say it."
"But I—"
"—Say it, or I'm taking a hot shower, without you, and using up all the hot water."
Peter sighed, his shoulders falling in resignation. "Every time I come home late from work, because Liz was pushing me around, you get to... you know."
"No, I don't."
Peter pouted at you. It was late, he was tired from work, tired of his fathers bullshit, tired of running around doing errands for Liz. But, he could never be tired of you, even if you were a pain in the ass, no pun intended. He swallowed, working up the courage to say it.
"It's just us. Me and you. You can say it, I know you can."
Peter huffed. "P-peg. Peg me. When I'm late, you get to peg me."
"Aw, that's a good boy, Peter."
Peter blushed, your sarcasm and mock-praise going right to his cock, currently still hidden away in his dark brown work slacks. He swallowed, the audible little gulp piercing the silence between you two. "Be nice," He whispered, folding his arms over his chest.
"Be a good boy, and I'll think about it." You countered, setting your shiny new strap-on on the mattress.
He inhaled sharply. Peter's eyes flickered between your face and the toy, his cheeks burning up. He swallowed again. You knew how to push his buttons, and it just wasn't fair. "Okay," He said, slowly taking his jacket off. "Okay. I'll be good. I promise. I'll be good, baby." He had to be good. He needed to be good. There was nothing more he loved in the world than being good for you, and being told how good he was being.
You smiled, baring your teeth. Taking his jacket, then his shirt off had exposed that pretty neck of his, and you wanted nothing more than to sink your canines into it, and taste his skin under your tongue. "I know, baby. Get all the way undressed for me, okay? Then, get on your hands and knees."
Peter hesitated, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. His eyes were wide, like a dog begging for a treat.
"What is it, baby?" You asked, a note of concern edging into your voice. You'd set this up weeks before, with boundaries and a safe word, but still, you loved Peter, and you'd hate to actually hurt his feelings.
"I want to see you," He whispered. "I - I want to see your face. As you, um. You know." He said, vaguely gesturing to your crotch.
"As I fuck you?" You asked, a faint blush of your own spreading across your cheeks. Jesus fucking Christ, he could be so sweet. "As I slip my cock into your pretty little—"
"—yes!" Peter laughed. He rubbed his cheek, as if that would make his fluster vanish. Indeed, as he took his shirt off, you saw it only spread further down his chest, dusting his lovely tits in a handsome shade of pink. "That. All of that. Is that okay? Please?"
"Well," you said, pursing your lips in thought. "Since you asked so nicely... I suppose that'd be alright."
Peter Prior broke into a giddy grin, like a kid at the candy store. "Thank you, baby. Thank you."
He sat on the bed you two shared, leaning back to tug his pants off. You watched him, a warm fondness seeping into your heart. It couldn't be helped, really. Peter was a sweet idiot, a kind and surprisingly needy man. He was perfect, in his own way. As he sat up again, you caught his lips in an achingly tender kiss, and he melted right into it. His lips were warm and soft against yours, and you somehow found the taste of the burnt coffee lingering on his tongue endearing. You had to pull away from him, though. Kissing him was a dangerously addictive hobby, and you had a job to do. Peter whined as you separated, trying to chase your lips. Needy boy, you thought.
"Nuh uh. Get comfortable." You said as you grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand. He obeyed easily, settling on the pillows and biting his lip. You smiled as you pulled the strap-on on, knowing that you wouldn't have patience to do it later. "How about this, baby? Since it's your first time, you can come as many times as you want - but you cannot touch yourself."
Peter gasped. "I, um - okay. Yeah. I can do that. I think." He said, licking his lips. He ran a hand through his brown hair, mussing it up even more than it already was.
You beamed. "I know you can, baby." You purred as you crawled between his legs. "Can you lift your legs up for me, pretty boy?"
Peter obeyed again, lifting his legs up to his chest, and holding them there for you. "I love you." He whispered, his usually blue eyes black with desire as his pupils dilated. He hadn't been kidding when he said he wanted to see your face - it was an anchor for him, that familiarity, that love that your face held for him.
"I love you, too." You promised. You poured some lube onto your fingers, warming it up for Peter. Everything for Peter. You traced a finger around his tight, pink, puckered hole, and he shuddered.
"Oh, god." He whispered, leaning his head back. The sensation was so much more intense than he had even imagined, and it would be so easy to sink into the feeling, and get lost in it, but he wanted to look at you.
"Mm?" You asked, pretending not to listen. You met his eyes, winked, pursed your lips - then spat on his hole. He let out a choked moan of surprise, his eyes wide. His cock twitched against his stomach, already beyond hard. Your fingers spread the slick mixture of lube and saliva over his skin, teasing his rim around and around, over and over, until he started squirming underneath you.
"Baby, please—"
"Please, what?" You asked, pressing the pad of your finger against his hole. Not enough to push it in, but just enough to tease with some pressure, a promise of what was to come.
Peter whimpered, his cheeks so red that you thought steam might start pouring out of his ears. "Put it - put it in me, already-!" He gasped at his own words, hardly believing himself. He didn't dirty talk very often, in truth, it took quite a lot of desperation on his end for filth to start spilling from his mouth - all that to say, you knew this was going to be fun.
You grinned. "That's all you had to say, baby. Thank you." You purred. Of course, you obliged him. Slowly, you eased a fingertip in.
Peter had told you once - while you were both drunk on the couch, and his face was just as red as it was now - that he had fingered himself before, curious what all the fuss was about. Back then, he said he hadn't understood it. Of course, back then, he was a teenager in a bathroom, without any lube or prep.
Peter gasped, his tight hole clenching around your finger like a vice.
"Relax, baby." You murmured. You pressed kisses to his inner knees and thighs, and that seemed to soothe him. You pumped your finger in and out, slowly, gently coaxing his body to relax. You also added more lube as needed, wanting to make this as pleasurable as possible for him - for entirely selfish reasons on your end. His thighs trembled, and the deep breaths that made his chest flex and warp revealed a small puddle of glistening pre-cum, leaking from his reddened cock.
"I love you." He whispered again, his fingers digging into the soft, pale flesh of his thighs, eyes staring at you with an intensity that threatened to swallow you whole.
"I love you, too." You answered. You bit your lip, then pulled your finger out of him to grab a pillow. "Lift your hips - there you go. Is that better?"
Peter nodded. "Thank you." He whispered, chewing on his bottom lip.
Back to work, then. You resumed your former task of fucking him on your finger, until his soft little mewls, and the way his hole eagerly accepted your finger convinced you that he was ready for a second finger. "You're so tight." You whispered reverently, feeling the resistance around your digits.
"That's - that's what he said—" Peter managed to get out before a moan escaped his throat. "Fuck - fuck, right there—" He squirmed as your fingers brushed over his prostate.
"Hm, here?" You asked, feigning ignorance as your fingers began to bully that spot inside of him that made him convulse and shudder.
He nodded quickly, his lips parted in a silent moan. "Please - please, baby, fuck, it's so much—"
"Too much?" You asked.
Peter shook his head, brown hair falling into his eyes.
You smiled. Your free hand wrapped around Peter's cock, and just the mere warmth of your palm was enough to make him come, shooting his load all over his bare chest, and even up to his angled chin. "Oh, fuck, fuck-!" He cried out, writhing beneath you. His hands curled into the sheets below him as you fingered and stroked him through his climax, reveling in the tight heat of Peters body.
"Good boy, baby…" You whispered, dragging your fingers not occupied by his hole through the mess on his chest. With his jaw slack, and with him panting, you couldn't resist. You pushed your cum-slicked fingers into his mouth, and though his eyes went wide, he didn't complain. He cleaned your fingers off with his tongue, the wet noises from his mouth almost as lewd as the slick noises coming from his hole as you scissored your fingers inside of him. "I can't wait to fuck you." You murmured, looking him up and down, staring at the mess you had made him become. His flushed face, his disheveled hair, his cum-spattered skin and wild eyes.
Peter swallowed, his eyes wide and pleading. He even started to bob his head, which you'd definitely remember for a later date.
"That's right, baby. I'm going to fuck you like you fuck me." You promised, bending down to kiss a drop of cum off of his chin. You pulled your hand out of his mouth, and he groaned. "I hope you can handle all of your dirty talk turned against you, baby."
"Dirty talk?" He asked, his voice wrecked. "Oh - oh, fuck. That - that's not fair—"
You laughed, slowly easing your fingers out of his ass. He groaned, tilting his head towards the ceiling, and arching his back. "After all, what's a better way to make sure you're spending more time at home than to breed you, hm? I gotta make sure it takes…"
"Baby—" He giggled. Then, the head of your strap-on, your cock, nudged against his hole. He gasped. "Fuck, baby…"
"Just breathe, Pete." Slowly, you pressed into his tightness. Peters knuckles turned white around the sheets. You'd be surprised if he didn't tear little holes in the fabric by the end of this. His toes curled, and despite every instinct he had ever learned, he found himself hooking his legs around your waist to draw you closer.
Your hips were pressed flush together when Peter came again. It was a sudden, shocking thing, taking both of you by surprise. He nearly screamed, sobbing out your name as he soiled his chest - and yours - for a second time. You kissed him to guide him through it, while he clung to you for dear life, his fingers digging into your back. "I love you - I love you - I love you." He panted over and over, mouthing needily over your jaw. Your hands found their home in his disheveled brown locks, and you pet him, hoping to soothe.
"Breathe, baby… breathe, my love." You whispered. You pressed soft kisses to his fevered face, tasting his sweat and his fluster on his skin. Peter moaned softly, nuzzling into your cheek. You smiled and leaned up, enough to get a hand on his jaw, and pry his mouth open. "I love you." You spat in his mouth. His legs tightened around your hips as he swallowed.
"I love you, too." He murmured, eyes half-lidded.
"Do you want me to keep going?" You asked, gently scratching a fingernail over his cheek.
Peter nodded quickly, turning his head to kiss your fingertips. "Please… Jesus, please fuck me." He begged.
"Well, since you asked so nicely, pretty boy…" You chuckled. You sat up, and began to slowly rock your hips against his. You wanted to take him, to mount him and fuck him, but - you had both agreed to take it somewhat slow for the first time. Deep down, you both knew there would be a second. The sounds Peter made were sinfully sweet, his chest rising and falling with each high-pitched moan and whimper you coaxed out of him. "Peter Prior, you are so pretty like this," You murmured, holding onto that damn waist of his, that waist that you loved to grab, tease, and bite. "You're taking me so well, baby, look at you."
Peter whimpered as he met your eyes. "I'm doing a good job?"
"Baby, you're doing a wonderful job." You promised, rubbing circles into his hips with your thumbs. "You're the prettiest boy in the world, and you look like you were made to take my cock."
Peter let out a strangled moan. His toned arms were above his head now, hands curled around the bed frame. "Baby—" he whispered. "Feels… feels so good. I feel so… full."
You grinned. You adjusted your angle a little, and that was it. Wet squelching filled the air, thanks to your slightly excessive use of lube, and you hit exactly the spot you needed to, that deep, sensitive part inside of him. Tears welled up in Peters eyes as he came for a third time, his cock twitching weakly against his stomach, shooting out cute little spurts of come. His lips quivered as his body shook underneath you. His hips moved of their own accord like a man possessed, writhing and rocking, seeking more pleasure to ride out his high. He called out your name as tears slipped down his cheeks. "F-fuck—" he whispered, breathing heavily. "I mean - fuck." He laughed breathlessly, as you gently wiped his tears away. "See, now - this - mmh - this isn't a … punishment," He whispered, his voice weak. You rubbed his thighs, and slowly pulled out of him, fearing you might overstimulate the poor boy. "Fuck, ah - it's almost an... incentive." He admitted quietly, tears brimming in his blue eyes again. He never knew how empty he could feel, down there.
"You liked it that much?" You asked, slipping out of the harness as you sensed his need for skin to skin contact.
Peter nodded. "Yeah - yeah, I didn't think I would, but—" he sniffled, and pulled you down on top of him, so he could bury his nose into your neck. His skin was hot and sticky, and ordinarily you might have made a slight complaint, but; he clung to you so tightly, making himself as small as possible. Your heart ached for him.
"That's good, baby. I'm glad you liked it, and I'm proud of you for telling me so." You whispered, wrapping yourself around him, so the two of you were just a messy cluster of limbs. You pressed your nose into his hair, inhaling his familiar, cozy scent; the cheap shampoo he used, the cold that always lingered on his body, and the faintest smell of gun oil.
"You're proud of me?" Peter mumbled, his voice muffled by his soft lips against your skin.
"I'm so proud of you." You affirmed, stroking your fingers through his warm hair again. You felt him smile against your skin, and he completely melted into you.
"I love you. So much," He whispered, his fingers drawing little hearts on your ribs.
"I love you, too." You promised.
