Egon/Peter, set during college time frame, non-explicit descriptions of sexual acts (doesn't actually happen IN the story, someone's just thinking about it...)
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Egon glared halfheartedly down at the cup of coffee sitting on the table before him. It was lukewarm by now, well on its way to cold. He supposed he ought to ask the waitress to top it off for him, or to bring him a fresh cup altogether, but he found he couldn't be bothered with actually speaking to someone. Instead, he took another sip of the bitter drink, noting distantly that the cream was beginning to separate from the coffee.
Most of his mind was occupied with how poorly the beverage measured up to the liquid heat of Peter's tongue, tangling with his own, stroking languidly at the roof of his mouth…
Shaking his head, Egon replaced the cup firmly on the table. If he was here to sort out the jumbled mess that had become his feelings towards Peter, such distractions would not in any way help.
After all, there was quite a difference between emotional attachment and physical desire. One could be very fond of a person without wanting to go to bed with them. And one could go to bed with a person without being emotionally attached to them. Peter did the latter all the time, as he would proudly proclaim. He never brought the names of his "dates" into the conversation, however. Egon had never noticed, but Peter was discrete in at least that respect; the brunet never even specified if his date was male or female, and Egon began to wonder how many other men Peter had been to bed with. How many other men had had the distinctly sinful pleasure of Peter's mouth on them, kissing them, marking them, lavishing attention on their most private areas? How many other men had Peter looked up at through full lashes as he sucked them off in expert fashion the way he had Egon?
Well, jealously was hardly helpful. All it really did was inform Egon that he harbored… possessive feelings for Peter, which didn't actually clear up the situation at all. In fact, it really only muddied Egon's mind further.
It wasn't as though he regretted their night of shared passion. Not at all. Egon didn't think he could ever bring himself to regret gaining the most erotic memory of Peter riding him, mouth open in a gasp of pleasure, hands braced on Egon's shoulders while Egon's own hands gripped Peter's hips eagerly.
No, that had been most pleasurable.
What had sent Egon running to the dingy all-night diner just off campus had been what happened after.
When they had expended the last of their not inconsiderable energy, both Egon and Peter had laid back on Peter's pillow-crowded bed, tangled in sheets and catching their breath. Peter's frat brothers had gone to some party or another at a sorority across campus and most of them wouldn't be stumbling in until the break of dawn, if then. But despite there being plenty of time to rest and relax, Egon expected Peter to be up and heading for the shower in record time, making jokes and snarking off the whole way, fearing that the post-coital lull would bring forth discussion. Certainly, if there was one thing Peter Venkman did not do, it was talk about his feelings.
He managed to surprise Egon thoroughly, however, by curling into the taller man's side, laying his head upon his chest, and immediately drifting off to sleep. It wasn't the act of dropping off to sleep that had surprised Egon—Peter could and would sleep anywhere if he could sit still there for more than a minute—it was the implications that had shaken him.
It occurred to Egon, looking down at his friend-turned-lover's face pillowed on his chest, his nose brushing a hickey he'd left on Egon's pectoral and his mouth curved up ever so slightly, that this could actually hurt Peter. This could hurt the young man who was warm and pliant and trustingly pressed against his side.
The only logical course of action had been to run away.
He had gathered his clothes and quietly left the frat house, and then took refuge under the fluorescent lights of the nearest questionable diner he could locate, purchased a cup of coffee, and had been thinking furiously ever since.
Peter trusted him. Peter trusted Egon without a second thought and that was the single most miraculous thing Egon had ever experienced. When he had met Peter, Egon considered he would be lucky if the younger man ever called him his friend. Now, the psychology student had readily bared himself to Egon, body and mind, and it terrified him.
If they continued along this path, the path in which Peter gave Egon full access to all he was and Egon did the same, there was a very real possibility things would end very badly. Of course, Peter probably expected Egon to be there in bed with him when awoke, considering neither of them had any obligations for the day, and if the brunet woke alone, well… there would be no coming back from that, either.
Egon sighted and watched the sky silhouetting the buildings outside the diner begin to brighten with the first hints of dawn. He wondered if he had completely lost control of his life only when he had kissed Peter the previous evening, or when the young man had very first waltzed into his life those some years ago.