Disclaimer: I have only watched season one of Hemlock Grove and have no idea what happens in the second season. With that in mind, please enjoy.
Peter had been somewhere in a dream when he heard Roman's car pull up outside. Even while still human, he found his sense of hearing remained just as sharp and quick as when he was a wolf. The extra 'gifts' as he called them, were the only thing that kept him from losing his mind over how much his transformations sucked.
Though now awake and acutely aware of his surroundings, Peter could not find the motivation to move. His mind was far too concentrated on the strange crunch of the dead leaves outside as Roman floated towards the trailer. For some reason, Roman did not walk as others did. No, that was a lie, Peter already knew the reason. It was Roman who did not.
Peter found himself silently blessing that his mother had disappeared earlier in the day. She had left a large sum of money and a bag of weed on the counter for Peter to find, which meant she would be gone for a while. Peter stashed the weed in his room, but placed the wad of bills into his jeans, thinking of the pizza he was going to order for dinner as he did so.
Roman was now walking up the stoop, and there was a faint jingling sound as he tested the door to see if it was unlocked. Finding that it was, Roman let himself in with no preamble. You could not expect anything different from a Godfry.
Tightening his eyes, Peter had to use all his strength to keep the smirk from his face. Roman smelled strongly of the cologne that Peter had mentioned in passing was his favorite. He often gave off the air of not listening; But Peter knew different. He sometimes cursed himself for knowing so much about this Upir. They were, naturally, predisposed to be enemies, and yet they were not. They also were not just friends either. Friends did not linger their touches like they did. Nor did they glare at each other with such intensity it made heat rise from them that would melt even the coldest snow.
Peter's act had paid off. He heard Roman whisper to himself, "Sleeping? Really?". Peter felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. When Roman didn't think anyone was listening he tended to not suppress his velvet accent. Peter wondered if he could distract Roman enough with pleasure to make his accent come out.
Things were silent for a time, but Peter could hear Roman's breathing coming out sharp and slow. His heart was racing. It then came to Peter's mind that he had decided to take his nap shirtless, and he was still sprawled out on the couch. His arms remained folded across his chest and his pants were undone. He also was aware that in his dreaming state his balls had come to attention and his dick was rather hard; Harder than he had expected it to be when an Upir was around. There was no way Roman had not noticed.
Though he did not want to break the magic of the rare quiet moment between he and Roman, who was still standing in the doorway breathing heavily, Peter sleepily opened one eye. He expected to get the shit kicked out of him verbally for being asleep when the great Roman had appeared on his door step, but what he saw took all his power not to react to as to alert Roman that he had seen him. Quickly Peter shut his eye before Roman had noticed, but the mental image of what he had seen had become burned into his mind eye. Roman's eyes had been closed, his long blonde lashes splaying towards his cheeks like the hair of an angel's head. He had his hands behind his head and looked as though it was taking all his power not to touch himself. In his pants was a boner all right, and it clearly had Peter's name written all over it.
Desire coiled around in Peter's abdomen. His wolfish feeling of wanting to dominate came soaring through him so hard and unexpectedly he knew he was going to have to do something- and soon. Roman may be a Godfry, mortal enemy of Gypsys and werewolves alike, but he was also intoxicating. He almost became even more so because it was like he was forbidden. Peter knew then he wanted to have some fun with this, and to see how far he could push Roman, hoping he could intoxicate Roman as much as he had intoxicated him.
'Its time for a show then, eh?' Peter thought to himself. He arched his back and groaned while he stretched, feeling Roman's eyes burning into him. He opened his own eyes and peered around as if trying to orient himself, and he faked a gasp when he spotted Roman.
Roman still stood near the doorway. His hands were in his pockets now, and his lips were in some sort of pout that Peter just wanted to kiss off him. "Finally you woke up, I thought I was going to have to throw you off the couch or something."
"How long have you been there?" Peter asked as he fake yawned. He stood up and stretched again to make his pants drop even lower than they already were. The hair on his stomach was standing on end, and his dick made a rather annoying throb as it rubbed against the material of his boxers.
"Oh, only a few minutes," Roman rolled his eye and placed himself onto the love seat. Peter watched as he fished a cigarette out of his pocket and shoved it to his lips. "You want one?"
"Not just yet..." Peter sat back down on the couch and stretched out his legs. He threw his head back and groaned. "I was having a great dream about Letha."
Instantly Peter saw Roman's eyes narrow. "Oh yeah? Were you fucking her?"
Peter pretended to think about it for a moment and then said, "Yeah I was actually, she was riding my dick."
"Peter..." Roman said, the sound of a warning in his voice.
"But course..." Peter continued, peeking at Roman and putting his hands behind his head. He was effectively mimicking what he had caught Roman doing earlier. "She changed into someone else just when I was bout to bust my balls..."
"Did she?" Roman tried to look disinterested but his nails still dug into the palms of his hands anyway, and the cigarette in his mouth wiggled.
Peter went back to being silent for a moment, but then he said, "Yep..." and cleared his throat. If he did not know better he would have thought, by the look on Roman's face, that was the last thing he was ever going to do with his throat before it got ripped out. "She turned to look at me and..."
"...And?"
"Oh you don't want to know, it's probably far too boring for you."
Before Peter had time to blink, Roman had put out his cigarette and dived at him from the love seat. Roman was digging his knees into Peter's sides, and his face was so close to Peter's that he could smell the leftover smoke on his lips. "Don't FUCK with me, Rumancek!" Roman's nails were now digging into Peter's face instead of his palms. His breathing was ragged again, and Peter could feel Roman's dick pressing onto his stomach.
"Aww how'd you guess?" Peter said playfully.
Peter watched in satisfaction as Roman's eyes grew wide. Perhaps he really had not expected Peter to respond with that. Any composure he lost however came back in a flash. Peter became sure that the nails digging into the side of his face were fishing for blood.
"You're such a... Bastard..." Roman's warm breath blew across Peter's face. Then, just like in every sappy movie from the beginning of time, Roman's mouth clamped onto Peter's.