[A little growl and a grunt, hissing through bare teeth as Cole's own sink into his skin, leaving a red mark when he sucks. He might care a lot more about his appearance if it didn't all just heal back into immaculateness, so instead he just lets anyone do just about anything they want and laughs through it.
Soon as the other man stops to speak, Petre flashes a Cheshire-smile, gaze relaxed. He cups Cole's face, then the hand runs down to his collarbone and chest, back to the sensation of muscles and scar beneath his palm. Petre lowers himself too, now positioned over Cole's thighs to start working on his pants, unbuttoning and shoving them down to reveal the bulge pushing against the fabric of his underwear. His hand presses down again to massage it for a moment. Then his mouth finds skin and dots his abdomen with kisses and swipes of his tongue. Just warmth and wetness, all for him, until the waistband of his boxers is pulled down too.
Petre still needs to get rid of the bottom half of his own clothes, but that's not quite as prompt. Let him just. Jerk the other man off to get him to full hardness, all the while keeping their mouths busy.]
[Cole is nothing but eager when Petre's hands finally reach his pants, arching his hips up to make it easlier to slide them down. The combination of his hand working and the wet heat of his mouth on skin makes Cole gasp, wonder wildly how long it really has been since he's done this before he brings himself back to the moment, the way he's swelling hard and fast under Petre's hand. And it only doubles when his boxers come off and the hand's finally right on him, earning a grunt and a much harder arch upward.
His kisses are nearly violent by the time Petre finds his mouth again, drawing blood on Petre's teeth and tongue because he can't control his own teeth, or because he crushes their mouths together so roughly that the inside gets torn open. Need, need, he's all base need now and how it happens doesn't matter in the slightest. He can't imagine anything that would give him pause.]
C'mon, Petre. [He gasps it out between kisses.] You got me. Show me what to do.
[There's a loud complaint when Cole is rough enough to draw blood inside Petre's mouth. It doesn't stop either on of them, though; instead he just continues to stroke him hard and fast, pressing his hips up against him in a forceful thrust that squeezes his own hand between their bodies.
At the provocation he chuckles, still breathless, licking the blood off his lips. So he sits up and gets rid of any piece of clothing still in the way and straddles Cole properly, palm heavy and flat on his chest. For the following moments all he does is roll his hips, both their cocks in the hold of his hand, shifting up and down. With it he breathes shallowly, uttering small moans every other second. He's wondering how to do this without any lube at the ready, lest it hurt Cole so much it cuts their fling off short. Never mind himself.
[It's a bit of a surprise to him, how aesthetically pleasing the whole thing is: Petre hovering over him, sleek and golden, big hand holding both of their cocks while the movements of their hips create the friction he so desperately needs. His full, parted lips, his arrogant eyes. He didn't think about being in this for looks, because he spent so long not thinking about attractive men at all, but there are many levels on which he likes this. They make a pretty picture from his angle, and that causes him to lick his own lips and let out a low moan of his own.
Of course Petre prods at him, though. Of course.]
You know - hngh - how arbitrary years were until I started time travelling? Shit. A long time.
[He doesn't quite laugh, mouth instead hanging open when he releases a breath that mixes in with a moan. His hips rock right against Cole's, whole body shifting to their own rhythm, releasing just a drop of pre-come into his hand.]
Let's make up for all that lost time then.
[He lets go, breathing hard, and gets up on his knees. Pushes one finger into Cole's mouth to press down his tongue and lips, his cock between Petre's asscheeks.]
[He's got no idea what's happening with that finger, so he tries to turn his head and get it out of there as if Petre might be trying to gag him - until he thinks that maybe he's supposed to suck on it. Still not sure why, he does so, trying not to moan even more deeply around it when his cock fits perfectly into Petre's cleft like that. God, whatever's happening, he just wants it to happen now; his hands move to Petre's ass, nails sinking in hard, and he rocks into the warmth of his soft skin impatiently.]
[He laughs a little at Cole's initial reaction, giving way to a sultry change of mind. Petre groans in response, still smiling, riding him dryly for a moment longer before re-positioning himself, taking hold of Cole's cock, and lowering his body with a painful cry. It's... going to hurt for the both of them. But they can handle pain, can't they.]
[There's not a drop of pleasure in his voice at that. It's horrible, so tight it's excruciating and rough against his skin. Petre must be tearing open inside, he thinks. Is this really how it's done? Is this meant to be any sort of enjoyable? He breathes harshly through his nose, trying to keep hold of the core of pleasure inside him through the pain, and somehow he doesn't soften right in Petre's ass.]
Yeah - yeah - [He rolls his hips regardless, continues through the pain, grabbing Cole hard because there is no way he's turning away now.] It'll get better, c'mon, don't stop -
[It takes some time, excruciating time, but Petre does start to loosen around him; it's still rough, no glide to it at all, but it's also pretty incredible to feel a grip that tight around him when it's not strangling his cock. He keeps breathing heavily, and then a sound sneaks through without warning, a little half-moan, and he grabs onto Petre's hips.
It's good. Or it's getting good. Better, like he said. Using his grip on Petre to anchor himself, he starts to roll up to meet him, groaning as he pushes in deeper and that clench envelops him completely. Yeah, now that it's given way a little, it's -]
- good, that - shit, that's good, okay - [Like he's wrapping his mind around it. Coming to terms with it after the horrible way this began.]
[His breath becomes unsteady, his thrusts erratic, riding Cole with his eyes shut for a moment longer before he's gazing down at him. It's intense, like Cole is the only thing he sees, but something about it doesn't see Cole at all. It's strangely possessive, coaxing out of him everything he can before something makes either one of them stop.
Hand flat on his chest, he picks up the pace.]
Yeah?
[A grunt, a series of rolls; then he bites into his lower lip.]
[He doesn't like that look at all, It's hard to tell if he's the center of Petre's world or a convenient toy right now, and neither is appealing, so he turns his head away and focusses on the sensation. Each breath of his is nearly a grunt as well, wrung out by the combination of pleasure and pain into something much rougher than he'd usually let out. It's not such a bad combination, though, when pleasure starts winning - everything is sharper, the heat pumping through his body is hotter, and -
- harder. Yes. Pressing his arms into the ground for leverage, he starts to push back, slamming himself into Petre even as Petre rolls down into him. That raises the pitch of his voice a little, almost-stifled yelping noises because it's deep and tight and getting so fucking good. He's biting his own lip hard, too hard, to keep his volume down, and he can feel how close the skin is to splitting under the force of his teeth.]
[It's something caught between laughing and releasing another cry, a staccato of sounds from an open mouth as each push of Cole's hips slams even harder into him. This is one of those times where Petre can't tell if it'll be over sooner or later, so he just bends over to run one hand up Cole's chest while the other wraps around his own cock, pumping fast.
Soon as Cole draws blood from his own mouth, Petre is following the scent and smashing his lips into the first drop, sucking and licking it all up.]
[There's more room to pump his hips when Petre leans forward like that, shove into him even harder, so he immediately picks up the pace and force until he's gasping against Petre's mouth. But Petre isn't kissing him, he's - he's sucking at the blood again. Oh god, is that what he...]
Petre -
[He's too far gone for the horror to outweigh his arousal. Close and getting closer all the time. Even with his stomach roiling, he's going to see this through to the end, and it's going to be a big one.]
Yeah, [He breathes, shifts his entire body away and against Cole, his cock slipping out of his ass almost completely before it's going back in. Bliss and torture all at once, clenching around him, squeezing every last sensation with each rough and unsteady role of his hips. His hand keeps jerking his own cock, droplets of pre-come slipping out.]
Oh - oh, [One pause, licking just another drop of the blood,] Fuck, come on, we're almost there -
[The way the friction drags over his cock with those longer, more thorough thrusts finally drives him too crazy to think of anything else. The blood, the weird bag, everything about Petre but the clench of his ass is forgotten when Cole once again grabs him by the hips, jerks him right down against his own body, and comes with a hoarse cry. He was right - it's big, ripping through his body with shudders timed to match the hot spurts of come into Petre's ass, with fingertips digging into his skin and his mouth hanging open to try and get air back into his lungs.]
F - Fu - [He can't even vocalize enough to curse. He's just a shivering mess until he's not moving at all, utterly slack.]
[He produces a tight moan when Cole comes, tongue pressed up against the roof of his mouth, eyes shut and legs tense, squeezing Cole's body between them. His own hand stops just for a moment, then he's breathing hard again, staring down at the other man with dull and intense eyes at once, body unmoving while his hand resumes the relentless strokes for a few more seconds.
He's the one coming on Cole's abdomen shortly after, sudden, plenty, one strong spurt followed by a series of smaller ones, all emptied out by his hand until he's nothing but a body hovering over Cole's, out of breath and blood running wild. He keeps himself leveraged with his palms on either side of Cole's body, finally lifting himself up and off (groaning lightly at the sensation of parting from him, at the slow and sticky flow of Cole's come following the pull of gravity) to drop to the side, rolling on his back. He doesn't seem to be in control of his limp body anymore, languid and angled at his joints while he grins at no one, staring into nothing.]
[Well, Cole feels much the same way, just as boneless and weak. Little hints of pleasure will skitter through his body, aftershocks that make him shiver, but other than that he can't move at all. Between the fight and that fuck, he's worn out.]
That's - I didn't plan that.
[Just so they're clear. He had no idea he was going to be inside Petre when he came down here tonight. Never mind how completely and thoroughly Petre's satisfied him now that they've finally done it.]
No... [He finally turns his head, looking at Cole like he's seeing him in a new light.] You most definitely didn't.
[Did Petre? That'll be a mystery. Either way, soon as he's re-energized, Petre climbs his way back into a standing position, gathering his clothes and himself without any rush. He can shower when he gets home.]
Helped you get rid of all that energy, didn't it.
[He'll want to eat after that brutal work out, too.
That's what reminds him of the baggage he brought in with him. The bag that lies idly somewhere far from where they ended up, to which he steps back to to collect.]
[So that's it. They did it, and now it's over. Cole takes Petre standing as a sign that he should himself, and he's still shaky, but he manages to dress - ugh. With come on his stomach. He'll have to shower too. Here's hoping Pell hasn't showed up to stay, he'll have some 'splaining to do about the state of his face and - well, the come on his stomach. Not possessive explaining, but this was a weird kind of encounter and one he'd rather not spell out in detail.]
Yeah. [He's got to admit that. He feels like he'll climb into bed and sleep like he used to at Project Splinter, like an absolute rock after years just dozing with an ear always open for trouble.
When Petre grabs his bag, he glances at it curiously. A bit warily. He picks up his jacket and phone which were sitting beside it, then finally asks.]
[Cole has Seen Some Shit, let's be clear about that. He's watched so many people die horrifically, and then killed so many, that there's not much that can faze him. The Kalavirus wasn't pretty at all, nor was life as a scav.
But when he sees that fake human flesh, still so plainly meant to be flesh, and he puts everything together, his gorge rises and he has to drop the bag and turn away. Nothing comes out, he doesn't even retch, but it's a very close thing. He's pale and shaky when he turns back.]
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Soon as the other man stops to speak, Petre flashes a Cheshire-smile, gaze relaxed. He cups Cole's face, then the hand runs down to his collarbone and chest, back to the sensation of muscles and scar beneath his palm. Petre lowers himself too, now positioned over Cole's thighs to start working on his pants, unbuttoning and shoving them down to reveal the bulge pushing against the fabric of his underwear. His hand presses down again to massage it for a moment. Then his mouth finds skin and dots his abdomen with kisses and swipes of his tongue. Just warmth and wetness, all for him, until the waistband of his boxers is pulled down too.
Petre still needs to get rid of the bottom half of his own clothes, but that's not quite as prompt. Let him just. Jerk the other man off to get him to full hardness, all the while keeping their mouths busy.]
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His kisses are nearly violent by the time Petre finds his mouth again, drawing blood on Petre's teeth and tongue because he can't control his own teeth, or because he crushes their mouths together so roughly that the inside gets torn open. Need, need, he's all base need now and how it happens doesn't matter in the slightest. He can't imagine anything that would give him pause.]
C'mon, Petre. [He gasps it out between kisses.] You got me. Show me what to do.
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At the provocation he chuckles, still breathless, licking the blood off his lips. So he sits up and gets rid of any piece of clothing still in the way and straddles Cole properly, palm heavy and flat on his chest. For the following moments all he does is roll his hips, both their cocks in the hold of his hand, shifting up and down. With it he breathes shallowly, uttering small moans every other second. He's wondering how to do this without any lube at the ready, lest it hurt Cole so much it cuts their fling off short. Never mind himself.
But when did Cole ever flinch away from pain.]
How long has it been, Cole?
[His turn to provoke.]
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Of course Petre prods at him, though. Of course.]
You know - hngh - how arbitrary years were until I started time travelling? Shit. A long time.
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Let's make up for all that lost time then.
[He lets go, breathing hard, and gets up on his knees. Pushes one finger into Cole's mouth to press down his tongue and lips, his cock between Petre's asscheeks.]
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[There's not a drop of pleasure in his voice at that. It's horrible, so tight it's excruciating and rough against his skin. Petre must be tearing open inside, he thinks. Is this really how it's done? Is this meant to be any sort of enjoyable? He breathes harshly through his nose, trying to keep hold of the core of pleasure inside him through the pain, and somehow he doesn't soften right in Petre's ass.]
- shit, that hurts -
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It's good. Or it's getting good. Better, like he said. Using his grip on Petre to anchor himself, he starts to roll up to meet him, groaning as he pushes in deeper and that clench envelops him completely. Yeah, now that it's given way a little, it's -]
- good, that - shit, that's good, okay - [Like he's wrapping his mind around it. Coming to terms with it after the horrible way this began.]
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Hand flat on his chest, he picks up the pace.]
Yeah?
[A grunt, a series of rolls; then he bites into his lower lip.]
Harder.
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- harder. Yes. Pressing his arms into the ground for leverage, he starts to push back, slamming himself into Petre even as Petre rolls down into him. That raises the pitch of his voice a little, almost-stifled yelping noises because it's deep and tight and getting so fucking good. He's biting his own lip hard, too hard, to keep his volume down, and he can feel how close the skin is to splitting under the force of his teeth.]
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Soon as Cole draws blood from his own mouth, Petre is following the scent and smashing his lips into the first drop, sucking and licking it all up.]
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Petre -
[He's too far gone for the horror to outweigh his arousal. Close and getting closer all the time. Even with his stomach roiling, he's going to see this through to the end, and it's going to be a big one.]
Petre -
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Oh - oh, [One pause, licking just another drop of the blood,] Fuck, come on, we're almost there -
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F - Fu - [He can't even vocalize enough to curse. He's just a shivering mess until he's not moving at all, utterly slack.]
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He's the one coming on Cole's abdomen shortly after, sudden, plenty, one strong spurt followed by a series of smaller ones, all emptied out by his hand until he's nothing but a body hovering over Cole's, out of breath and blood running wild. He keeps himself leveraged with his palms on either side of Cole's body, finally lifting himself up and off (groaning lightly at the sensation of parting from him, at the slow and sticky flow of Cole's come following the pull of gravity) to drop to the side, rolling on his back. He doesn't seem to be in control of his limp body anymore, languid and angled at his joints while he grins at no one, staring into nothing.]
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That's - I didn't plan that.
[Just so they're clear. He had no idea he was going to be inside Petre when he came down here tonight. Never mind how completely and thoroughly Petre's satisfied him now that they've finally done it.]
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[Did Petre? That'll be a mystery. Either way, soon as he's re-energized, Petre climbs his way back into a standing position, gathering his clothes and himself without any rush. He can shower when he gets home.]
Helped you get rid of all that energy, didn't it.
[He'll want to eat after that brutal work out, too.
That's what reminds him of the baggage he brought in with him. The bag that lies idly somewhere far from where they ended up, to which he steps back to to collect.]
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Yeah. [He's got to admit that. He feels like he'll climb into bed and sleep like he used to at Project Splinter, like an absolute rock after years just dozing with an ear always open for trouble.
When Petre grabs his bag, he glances at it curiously. A bit warily. He picks up his jacket and phone which were sitting beside it, then finally asks.]
What was the bag all about?
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he's lighting one up and taking a first drag before smirking at Cole, eyelids relaxed.]
You sure you're ready to know that, Cole?
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What's in the bag.
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A life for a life. That's why I keep coming back. That's why I'm alive at all.
[a beat.]
If you'd killed me, this is the one thing that would've stopped me from killing you.
[He lifts the bag, hands it over in case Cole really wants to see.]
It doesn't look human. It's not even real. Synthesized. But it does the job.
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But when he sees that fake human flesh, still so plainly meant to be flesh, and he puts everything together, his gorge rises and he has to drop the bag and turn away. Nothing comes out, he doesn't even retch, but it's a very close thing. He's pale and shaky when he turns back.]
Jesus fucking Christ.
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You're going to throw up on me now?
[Really, Cole? But at least Petre's disbelief beats just laughing in his face.]
It came out of a lab. No babies were harmed. Relax.
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