Title: How They Bruise
Disclaimer: Me no own, You no sue.
Warning: Slash
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He chuckles, laughs out loud at your humiliation and you wish he would have warned you ahead of time that these weren't regular kids.
"You know how these Americans bruise," his voice rings in your head and you continue to wonder if you should've been insulted. But then you're sitting in a booth with a pint in front of you and Pete's hand traveling up the inside of your thigh as the rest of the firm shoot pool and pointedly not notice.
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You're back at the apartment and as soon as the door's closed, you find yourself against the wall and Pete's rock hard body pressed tightly against your own as the scent of alcohol and power flood your nostrils. The next thing you know, his tongue's down your throat and his hands are all over and it takes you a minute to catch up.
He manages to maneuver you away from the wall and into his bedroom. You finally catch your breath as he pulls off your shirt and then his own. Then there's biting and nibbling and never would've you believed that this could happen, not in your wildest fatasies. His lips are at your ear, kissing and sucking; roughly making their way down to your jaw, your thraot, your collarbone.
Your pants are off and his hands are working your body, flitting over just the right spots. His mouth moves lower and lower and you don't know what you're supposed to do.
"Easy, mate," his mouth is suddenly by your ear, allowing his accent to drip in like a dangerous and seductively sweet, sweet honey.
There's one finger, and then two, and then three.
"It won't hurt long," he promises, and you know he's lying. You appreciate it, though.
He's in you now and, fuck, it hurts so badly. You pull him in deeper, wrapping your legs around his waist as Time slows, just for the two of you, but then everything speeds back up and a harsh pace is set.
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Morning comes and the night is hazy. Your head hurts. Your body hurts. But then Pete's voice is behind you, whispering something you can't understand, and the pain vanishes.
"You know how these Americans bruise," his voice rings in your head and you still wonder if you should've been insulted.
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