He gave a lengthy sigh, allowing himself in relax in the bathtub. He gave a small smirk as he pulled his mother's mirror in front of himself. He looked down, and gave a small pause when he saw his reflection. The smirk drained from his face quickly. This wasn't unusual for him. In fact, he did it more often than not. He never hesitated before. What had changed?
Not even a second passed. He knew that answer. He wasn't thinking of his next high as often as he used to, because he was too busy thinking of that damn Rumancek. He said such stupid fucking things around him. He meant them too, which was probably worse.
He always knew that he had different tastes than the average teenager. He couldn't explain it. Maybe he didn't want to explain it. All he knew was that Peter Rumancek was the most fucking beautiful thing he has ever seen. He was more than fascinated with him. He was downright obsessed. No matter what he did he could never get Peter to see him the way he wanted to. Now he saw Letha that way. He scoffed at himself.
He cared about three people in this stupid town. Shelley; his sister who was far too beautiful for this world. Letha. His cousin who had served as his only friend for as long as he can remember. And Peter. He couldn't even define his relationship with Peter. Maybe it was just too hard to admit, even to himself, how he felt for him. Now Peter was with Letha. He felt so fucking jealous. He was suffocating in his own feelings. He couldn't talk to anyone about it. He wouldn't dare put this kind of thing on Shelley, even if he could somehow manage to form his feelings into words in front of a witness.
The only worthwhile thing his mother had ever done for him. She saved Peter. Because of her he got to watch as Peter turned back into a human. He had thought the process was beautiful before, but it was just captivating in reverse. In that moment, he wanted to lock Peter up in the attic. Keep him all to himself. He realized how fucking crazy that was. He could take a little comfort knowing that this was something Letha didn't have. He knew how immature it was, but he didn't care. That moment belonged to him.
He closed his eyes, reliving it. He took a deep breath and let his hand wander underneath the warm water. It traveled down his neck, pausing briefly to give a rough pinch to his nipple. He gave a small gasp, imaging that smirk on Peter's face. His hand continued, his finger dipping briefly in his bellybutton. He gave a small chuckle as he ran his fingers through his nether hair. He couldn't help but think about how much more prevalent Peter's was. He was sure that Peter had caught him staring a few times, but never said anything. He had hoped that it was because he shared some of the same feelings.
At last he gripped his length. Because of his wandering mind he was already half-hard. This just made matters that much easier. It had been awhile since he had serviced himself. He had no problem finding willing lovers, but he was finding fewer and fewer people appealing these days. He gave a small gasp, gripping himself a little rougher than he should've. Then again, he had always found pain appealing. He shamelessly bit his bottom lip, bringing blood to the surface. He moaned as he tasted the familiar flavor of his own blood.
He was feeling himself reaching that edge, and he slowed himself down. Peter wouldn't be rough, would he? Despite appearances, he'd prefer to be gentle. He would lazily reach around Roman's side, grasp his cock and nuzzle into the back of his neck. He'd feel Peter's breath tickling his neck, when he gave a small shudder, Peter would chuckle against his skin. He'd feel him laugh in his bones. He wouldn't just be with Peter. They'd be together.
It was hard to contain himself. He wanted to be rough. He wanted it now. But he wanted Peter. He wanted to be with him. Even if it was only in his imagination.
'Calm down,' he'd whisper, 'We have plenty of time. We're going to do this right.'
Roman would try to calm his breathing, but Peter could see right through him. Like always. He'd lose the breath in his throat when Peter gently rubbed the tip. Peter would tease the slip, making Roman moan. Despite his experience, he'd be embarrassed with Peter. Because he actually cared what Peter thought of him. He needed Peter.
'You're normally so calm. Damn, you're cute like this,' Peter always loved teasing him. Some things would never change.
Roman would want to argue, but he'd find he couldn't. He loved that Peter thought he was cute. He was ugly. Having Peter think he was cute. It was more than he deserved. It was more than he wanted.
He gasped louder than he thought had been possible. The other hand had started to wander down the crack of his backside, resting at a spot no one had dared touch before.
'Come on, Godfrey. Not scared are you?' he teased, but this was no longer his normal voice. It was taken a lustful, slightly animalistic tone.
Peter was all he wanted. He'd give him whatever he wanted. He tried to swallow, but a lump caught in his throat. Despite that, Roman spread his trembling legs, giving Peter the access he wanted. Peter halted all advances for a brief moment. Roman could feel Peter move in between his legs, taking this as permission to spread them himself.
Roman didn't know he could still get embarrassed. The thought of Peter between his legs, staring down at all Roman Godfrey had to offer. He wondered if it would be what he wanted.
'Don't worry,' he gave a reassuring smile, 'You trust me right?'
Roman nodded. Few people had earned his trust. He'd give it freely for Peter. He felt Peter rub the sensitive hole. Peter's hand gave a few strokes to Roman's cock before gently pushing a finger inside. It was uncomfortable, but his cock was throbbing just from having Peter's attention. It was unbelievably intense. It was almost as if Peter was bearing down on him. Roman briefly wondered if Peter was more forceful when it was closer to a full moon.
He didn't care if it was uncomfortable. Peter could do anything to him. He'd beg Peter to shove his cock into him right now if he thought it'd do any good. The lycanthrope was determined to take his time and make Roman suffer. Even though Peter would argue the opposite.
Peter was stroking him from base to tip, as he slowly thrusted one finger, in and out. Roman would give an almost pathetic whimper, 'God damn it, Peter. Just. More. I need more. Of you. Of everything.'
Peter knew that it was hard for the Upir to give up any power. He finally took pity and started stroking with reckless abandon, just the way Roman likes it. Roman moaned, arching his hips. Peter gave a small smirk and took this opportunity to insert another finger.
This time it was a bit painful. Painful, Roman Godfrey was good at dealing with. He spread his legs as wide as he could, feeling those fingers stretch him. He thrusted against them, moaning loudly. Peter was inside of him. He could feel it. It was so fucking beautiful.
What he'd give to have to have those teeth sink into his skin. To feel the skin on his upper thigh break under that powerful jaw. He could see the eyes of the predator in Peter when it got closer to the moon, and he was content to be his prey.
Right now, in this moment, he completely lacked shame. He wanted to be as close to Peter as possible. It could never be enough.
"Ah, uh… Peter, oh, fuck Peter," he chanted. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he needed to see Peter. Peter was looking at him, full of desire. Peter Rumancek wanted Roman Godfrey. He chose him.
He gasped one last time, losing himself in pleasure. As he climaxed he reached for Peter, as though he had forgotten he was alone.
He panted, trying to catch his breath. He gave a sigh and almost hit himself on the head. He felt his bottom lip twitch. Why did he let himself get so worked up? Ugh. He could be so pathetic sometimes.
He shrugged. Damn. He went to grab for his cigarettes, but was instantly reminded of the shared ones with Peter. Damn it. He looked over towards the mirror. He pulled the mirror towards his chest, and sat up from the now cold water. Old habits die hard.