exitiabile | wearing a warning sign;

you only chase me because you know i bite harder
but if i give everything you want
it is no fun anymore

[ another hum, and if eliot listens closely he can hear the occasional sound of slick skin on skin, slow and deliberate.

eliot’s message draws out a huff of a laugh, then a musical little whimper. ]

you want to keep me?
will you put me in a pretty cage
or collar and leash?
a kitten on a string
it might be nice being kept by you
but

sit on my bed and wait
sit very pretty yes?
maybe i will invite you into my
shower
but do not touch yourself
i will know ;)

are you sure it is you who is doing the keeping pretty flower
i think i’ve tricked you

have you caught on already?
might have to up the challenge.
we can’t let the fun run out, right?

{ there’s a part of him that nags, tells him that he couldn’t possibly find pietro boring. but he wonders how long he can keep his attention? pietro is free in ways eliot is not. this one (1) reckless flame has managed to bewitch a magician.

he halts his motions, holding back a chuckle he would release otherwise. although he badly wants to touch himself, he’s far too enthralled. }

here’s the thing.
maybe i’ve already bought a day collar and it’s up for grabs?
maybe you’ll let me try it on you?
maybe an azure lined one could pair well with your silver mane?

look at the lion roar.
fine.
i’ll play.
i’ll wait and hear your delicious sounds.
siiing for me.

we’ll have to see then, just how much of a trickster you are.
don’t let your pretty flower wither.

[ pietro finds eliot is like the sun and he a moth, fluttering toward the flame time and time again, uncaring whether his wings are scorched or not. he finds he must respond to every message, every gesture, every word. ]

if you have bought it then maybe i will try it
wear it at one of your magic parties
no one will know i bit you when you put it on me yes?

i bite but i do not sing
how long have you been here sweet little flower?
i could feel the air move funny
it is like running through honey when you are near
but imagine it is your hand
and imagine my hand is around your dick
or my mouth
hmmm or better yet perhaps i take a bite of that peach

[ there's a gasp, a throaty moan he's almost certainly letting out just to make the man on his bed squirm. the sound of his hand sliding against the glass door, the sound of his other slicking his cock.

then, through the trickle of water, pietro's voice, filthy and utterly wanton: ]

I will let the juices run down my chin and lick my fingers clean after.

only you and i.
leave me a tribute and i’ll take care of you so good.

you may not sing, but you’re a little hummingbird after my nectar.
it was too easy to get in. it’s not magician proofed.
lucky me.
you should come give me those bites. perhaps…
on my hip? the inside of my thighs? collarbones?
my peach is so very lonely, pietro.

{ the fact that the speedster can sense him, that he has a distinct speed is too fucking sexy. }

pietro. pietro. pietro.
what will you do if i touch myself? what if i just rub myself on your sheets?
you’re making it difficult with such tempting sounds all for me.
i’ll be the one with a siren’s song.

{ he ends up taking off his long boots, then settling to lay sideways on pietro’s bed. he’s leaning on his elbow, his hand running along the fabric. it moves against his skin, only causing ripples to what could be a rolling wave. his free hand runs along a bunched up section of pietro’s sheets.

eliot keeps his gaze on the steam from the shower, his breath audibly hitching over the moans. he’s memorized pietro’s cock so well he can visualize every detail by now. he lets out a laugh that is singsong, teasing in its own. }

Piiiiietro.

are you so lonely pěkná květina?
i do not like that
but if you touch yourself you will be even more lonely
i am the speedster remember
i disappear very quickly

[ there's a surprised gasp from the shower, what with the way eliot calls his name. it sends a pulse straight to his cock, the way it thickens in his hand a testament to it. he knows he should stay put, stay rooted to the shower, finish himself off and be done and yet -

it's a blur, the way he moves, the way he appears at the bed's edge dripping wet and nude. he leans over eliot and captures his mouth in a searing, biting kiss, before he draws back out of the man's reach. ]

It is a very pretty song.

[ and just to exert control? pietro is gone again in the blink of an eye, leaving spatters of soapy water in his wake. but the water in the shower goes interrupted, the sound of slick feet on tile, the sound yet again of him taking himself up in his hand under the spray. ]

catch me if you can

you do disappear,
leaving me all horny.
that won’t do.

{ it’s quick, far too quick. he can almost taste pietro in all his glory, but it’s only a bite. the lick of an ice-cream before it’s taken away. it makes him let out a small whine that’s full of no shame when he sighs and ends up finding pure air instead of the said speedster. such a tease. what’s left behind is pietro’s body wash so fresh and a dolce elixir to his senses all because it’s mixed in with pietro’s natural scent.

it takes him a moment to collect himself, more than he’d admit, but also he’s incredibly turned on and pietro is a goddamn walking wet dream. he decides to send in another string of texts before getting up. }

you know that won’t do.
are you my prize if i catch you???
so tempting,
so rude.
do i get to do what i want with you?
or do you get to decide for me?

{ eliot walks over to the doorway, leaning against it while he feels every part of him wanting so badly to touch and be touched. instead, he keeps a cooled tone, slight tension in his muscles — the good sort. }

You have a distinct smell. Should I call you my ghost lover now? Why don’t you show me your pretty cock before I decide if I should ruin my clothing for you? Or would you rather watch me rid of them?

you will get to do what you want
when i decide you can 😘

[ pietro leans back against the tile, the water pouring over him as eliot enters the room and there’s nothing short of a shit eating grin on his lips. he’s not even winded from the sprint.

instead, he lazily strokes himself, cock slowly growing eager and east’s as his pale eyes focuse on the pretty man outside the shower. ]

I want to watch. I do not get to just watch and look as much. We are always so busy yes?

[ count on pietro to find an excuse. he huffs, then bites back a little moan. ] No touching. Just clothes off. The maybe I will let you touch me. What do you think, pretty flower? Will you wilt?

{ he glances at his phone once, then tosses it behind him, using a telekinetic flair to make sure it lands near the dresser before he focuses on the clear panels of the shower. on how he can see pietro’s nude body so tempting and out in the open.

it’s cute how pietro aims to hold control when eliot has been an expert at it for a long time. he likes it. his own body is yearning. he nearly lets out a gasp when he finds his pants are uncomfortably tight now. }

It has been a while since I’ve last had you. You look like you’re on display for me in your little cage there. Is the water still warm?

{ eliot is unable to stop his own brand of tease, threading the line when he knows he’s at a disadvantage. it’s the way he fumbles with the first few buttons before he gets a better grip and ends up exposing his chest. the hairs are curled and soft. he has the urge to run his hand along them, but instead sighs longingly as he lets his sheer shirt slide off ever-so-slowly and fall onto the floor. }

I can change it so you see nothing. This place has funny rooms.

[ filled to the brim with starktech that allows them all manner of convenience. texting from the shower, for instance. but pietro remains where he is, watching hungrily as eliot removes his shirt. he finds he can’t escape the urge to reach out and trail his fingers over those little curls, over the broad plane of his chest.

he lets out an approving hum before he turns toward the spray again, hand abandoning his semi hardened dick to reach for the shampoo. as though the half naked sight of eliot is of no real interest. it is, of course, because he sneaks a peek when he raises his hands to lather his hair, arching his back and presenting eliot with a pretty profile. ]

If you are wanting to join me, you are very slow, Eliot. Pants? Underwear? Are they so difficult to remove now?

Not unless you want their toys destroyed.

{ he takes in pietro’s back muscles. once the swell of his ass is in sight and lowers even more to appreciate the shape, he nearly gasps. eliot reaches for his waistband and starts to pry his arthurian style pants from his body. the effectiveness of them becomes apparent. eliot wasn’t wearing any underwear. in one fluid move, socks off and all, his amped cock lays near his thigh when it meets the steamed air. }

Is my ketzel being impatient? You’re the one in control, no? { the last bit is mocking without malice. his voice becomes huskier with each step. the thrill that rushes through him is virile and matching the way he slides the door open with a less than graceful movement. } Need a hand?

{ now he’s being cheeky. eliot approaches, reaching over to push pietro’s hands away and replace his motions with his own massaging the shampoo into the wet strands. he uses his height to his advantage, pressing close enough but not fully touching. it leaves less than an inch between them. }

I am still giving orders, yes? I can be impatient if I want.

[ but he watches eliot disrobe, the strange historical clothing always baffling him when the pretty man shows up unexpectedly. oh the things he must interrupt. but to have successfully drawn eliot away from his duties for this feels like such a victory.

his soapy hands fall from his hair and he practically purrs as eliot's hands takeover, his eyes fluttering shut and his head tipping back into the touch. he makes an annoyed, frustrated sound when there's no contact along his back, when he can feel the ghost of the warmth of the man behind him, and rectifies it by stepping into him, bringing their bodies flush. ]

Tell me what you want. [ Not do what you want, but tell me. His hands reach to brace against the tile, if only so he can arch his body against eliot's. ] I've missed you.

{ perhaps he does an action or really lack of one just to get those little volcanic reactions. he enjoys pietro’s blatant expressions far too much. he lets out a near purr, wrapped in a slight gasp when he feels the skin contact. a friction of wet warmth that’s more slippery. his fingers keep idly playing with pietro’s hair, but they soon slip off when all the soap washes off. }

Yes. You are in charge. I’m at your mercy.

{ the arch of pietro’s back is delicious, and he instantly lowers his hands to hover over the his sides, running the ghost of what could be his touch all along pietro’s spine, until he gently lays them on his hipbones, not moving the light press of his fingers. he can’t, right? eliot knows the game, knows what he’s giving pietro. it won’t make it less difficult to simply devour him right out. there’s also an ache that rolls through him, one that is a thrum of yearning finally getting relief. he desperately wants. }

I want to touch you. Everyone else is too fucking dull. { he pauses, could leave it. instead, eliot hovers close to pietro’s ear, brushes his lips over his earlobe and continues with an honesty that shouldn’t be so intimate, but it is, } I’ve also missed you, neshama sheli. Will you tell me where I can touch you?

[ how eliot manages to be felt and be absent all at once makes pietro's mind utterly spin. he's sure he feels the ghosts of those fingers along his slick skin and yet it isn't enough. he finds he squirms back against him, encouraging contact when eliot gasps, but again. it isn't enough. ]

Everyone else is very boring. [ a pout, but he's already a little breathless, needy. ] So stop looking for everyone else, pěkná květina. I promised you a long time ago you would only be disappointed.

[ he clucks his tongue, but his ear perks at the new nickname, his skin ripples with heat as eliot leans in against his ear. something about the moment feels so suddenly personal, intimate, that his heart beats heavier in his chest. ] Neshama... sheli? That is new. [ a huff, and he reaches his hands to eliot's, dragging them hard over his hips finally, pressing them close. ]

Everywhere. But you must ask permission to touch my dick. So be a good little king, yes?

Is it…? You’re a vice for inspiration. { he licks the shell of an ear, leaning back. perhaps he’s said it in his head a million times. i haven’t looked at anyone else for months wilts and melts right into the silence of his tongue. words, if he were braver, would be said out loud. eliot isn’t purely in the clouds, he understands the sort of dynamic that sustains pietro’s attention. he can show parts of his patched up persona, but not all of them. or he’ll be gone — and quicker than others, he’s sure.

instead of focusing on his impulse for self-destruction, he’s more aware of the effect pietro is giving him. his whole body is warmer than the water, and he can’t contain any overt reactions. there’s a release of a pleased little sound when he’s able to dig his fingers into pietro’s hips. }

Shit. Okay, okay. I can be good. Only for you.

{ eliot likes that pietro brings out of him what he rarely gives. so much so that there’s no hesitation when he presses closer, enough that his girth is lightly pressed along the curve of pietro’s ass. one hand moves to caress a hip, while the other reaches to run across a peck, brushing fingers over a nipple. eliot wants to lick everywhere, but instead he presses his mouth onto the back of his shoulder and kisses there as if he’s about to give his devotion at an alter. }

[ the feeling of eliot's cock nestled perfectly against the curve of his ass is absolutely maddening. he has half a mind to demand eliot ravish him here and now, but the thought fizzles out when eliot draws near, when those dancing fingers slide over his pec and nipple. ]

Only for me? [ the words come out more a needy moan than anything coy or taunting. he's really not all that composed for someone trying to take charge. it's the mouth on the back of his shoulder, reverent and strangely intimate, that makes him go quiet. that makes strange words bubble up from his swooping stomach and rest fire-hot on his tongue: tolik jsi mi chyběl.

i have missed you so much.

and what an odd thought for someone he's only been toying with for months - what strange feelings surrounding a man he'd thought would be nothing more than a fun evening romp one night. but one night has turned to many, has turned to days and mornings and breakfasts and showers, now. ]

You are very good. [ A pleased hum and he arches his back into eliot, ass grinding against the warm girth of him. ] What do I inspire? Tell me. Touch me.

[ a helpless huff, then a quiet sort of whining admission: ] Please.

{ the hot water isn’t just making the mirrors fog up, it seems eliot’s mind is filling up with a dreamlike haze by proxy of pietro’s company. he’s losing control when it’s all he’s ever had. eliot loses focus all due to pietro being delectable. he— }

You make it impossible for me to keep my hands to myself when you’re around. You’re going to get me in trouble one of these days. { eliot says it out loud, instead of keeping it. it’s captivating to note pietro’s fiery attempts for control, when at the same time his body responds to eliot's expert touch. he lives for the reactions, so he naturally twitches against the crack of pietro’s ass, the rubbing gradually making him harder. he wants pietro to feel the effect he causes as he brings a hand along his arm, the water sprinkling when he lifts it up to hold their hands against the wall. }

Convince me first, then I’ll tell you. Is that an order? Does my ketzel miss being full? I have three ways I can service.

{ tongue. fingers. cock. his hip movement is intentionally slow despite it also causing a tingle as he leans back to take in pietro’s unfairly defined back. he fiddles a nipple between his fingers, pinches sweetly for a moment. then ends up slipping his hand from around his chest. eliot starts to trace along the spine until he reaches the plumpness of pietro’s shapely ass. without a warning, he gives a cheek a playful slap, not meant to hurt but still enough to be felt. the slight bounce makes him giggle a bit with delight. }

[ pietro's pale eyes flit to the way their hands meet against the wall, the way the water pours over their twined fingers and whitened knuckles. strange, how utterly erotic it is and intimate all at once. again he's overcome with the strange need to turn into his chest, to bury himself there between his ribs and stay put, soaking him up and drinking him in.

he's missed him. how odd, to miss someone like this, where it feels like there's a piece missing even when they're close like this. when he knows eliot is on borrowed time. the fingers at his nipple, dancing along his spine, to the sharp crack at the skin of his ass he moans, low and needing, arching back against him heavier still, his back curving prettily, the muscles in his shoulders working, his head of wet hair falling back. it's pathetic how hard the slap makes him. ]

Do I not paint a pretty enough picture? I do not like so many words. [ A huff, and the admission next is practically genuine, his nose scrunching as he speaks: ] English gets my tongue tied.

[ he turns his head to look at him over his shoulder. ] You were telling me how good you could be. Why don't you show me, nie?

{ his eyes briefly shift to their hands as well. for one fraction he suddenly understands the erotic intimacy, one that makes fogged up bathroom windows and steamy warm skin put the titanic car scene to shame. it’s addicting when it shouldn’t mean more. somehow it does. eliot tries to ignore it, but he knows that being unable to touch pietro for weeks is far too long. hell, he already missed him the day after. when did he become so invested? margo poked fun at him when he started to get distracted during meetings, and what could he tell her? that he was thinking of the loveliest thighs wrapped around him, pinning him down? or that in addition he’d thought pietro’s eyes had a sparkle he wanted to infinitely chase?

when pietro turns his head, eliot takes advantage and leans in to steal an electrifying kiss, one meant to linger even after. }

Then talk to me in Sokovian. I’ll find the translations with your body. { he sneaks his fingers along the curve of pietro’s behind when he bends over more. he leaves little room with pressing his chest against his back as he rubs wet fingers against pietro’s asshole, two of them slipping in right away. considering their earlier teasing, he’s able to curl into pietro with ease. }

I do have to earn my right to your cock. Touch where you’ve touched. Remind you of me. How many times did you come before I arrived?

[ pietro feels like it's the kiss that takes the air out of his lungs, that makes his heart beat heavy and the room feel warmer. the way eliot's mouth moves against his, the way they breathe one another in, and pietro finds he's lost. eliot is not just some pretty boy from the club anymore, and it's even more startling to realize this all within the confines of a shower.

pietro has never been conventional, to say the least. but he hears i'll find the translations with your body, feels the press of those devilish fingers, the curl of them and he shudders, groaning deep as a rush of warmth floods his veins. embarrassing, how close he is already. but eliot's weight is heavy and warm on his back, his fingers delectable, and his eyes flicker back to their hands, joined.

the tides have turned - pietro doesn't know when he lost control of the reins and when eliot took them, and his back arches against eliot's hand, needy. ]

Čekal jsem na tebe.

[ i waited for you. he takes a gasping breath, trying to ignore the twitching of his cock. And, a rudimentary translation, because he doesn't have the heart to say more: ] I didn't. [ he swallows hard, tilts his head to see eliot, to no avail. ] I need to.

{ as much as he wants to contain it, it's all hidden in the acts of his betraying body. his infatuation, his devotion, his respect. it's all in the tendons of his fingers, extending to lure pietro's fiery pleasure into its own heat. he stills his fingers, brushes his lips over pietro's ear and lets the curve of his smile be felt rather than seen. }

You've been bad, ketzel. Have you been lying to me? And here I am trying to be good for you. { there's a rise of warmth that strikes his chest and causes a thrill to run throughout him. his cock is more than paying attention, harder than he's been in days. yet he only hears pietro's words, ones he can't understand but the tone is there. it makes him realize how starved he's been. how much the contact between them has already been more than enough. he's just greedy with pietro. }

Now you don't get to see me. You only get to feel me.

{ he squeezes their intertwined hands and then moves it over to brush along his shoulder, up and over to his neck where his thumb brushes his larynx, presses against his throat lightly. fingers dance along under his chin until he's gliding over and pressing a hand over his eyes. it's all a tease, one that lets pietro know he's free to do as he pleases, but eliot has clearly spoken. he removes his hand and lowers it just as his fingers curve upwards into pietro, searching for the spot that's already sensitive from pietro's own touch, the one that led eliot here. }

[ pietro gasps softly, the trailing of fingers along his throat, his eyes, all feeling like too much and not enough. his dark lashes fall and fan against his cheeks, collecting droplets of water from the showerhead, his head bowed just so as eliot's fingers move again, wicked and knowing inside him. the moment those fingers brush his sensitive spot he makes a keening, heady sound, hips bucking back against his fingers. ]

I do not lie. I haven't - kurva, eliot -

[ he's already wound so tight from touching himself, from toying with eliot, from having eliot so close and yet so far. and now to be forbidden his sight? well. he listens by habit, letting eliot wield the control he's so beautifully made for, even as heat prickles like wildfire along his spine, making his vision got white-hot. ]

Potřebuji tě. Prosím. Nyní.

[ i need you. please. now. ]

{ whatever pietro is saying, he has an inkling. close enough that the way pietro responds makes the heat of the water on his skin intensify and he's sure he nearly flares his nostrils. he's used to an elegance, but pietro continues to prove that he can unravel eliot and pull out all his feral. if he can call it that, the firmness of his hand moving more roughly into him to draw the same delicious response. it amps before he leans down and presses his mouth to his shoulder and curses, unable to properly keep it together how he usually does. }

I know. You're already so loose for me.

{ pietro's stubbornness is his honesty. eliot revels in the thrum of his body reacting to his touch and leans back to grab the base of cock, instantly giving himself a few strokes. he has half the mind to come on pietro's beautiful back, but it has been far too many weeks. he's just as needy.

he slips his fingers from inside pietro, settling them on his hip while he moves in to align the head of his thickness right against his entrance. he ends up sinking into the tight heat. as he keeps moving past each ring of muscle into pietro's depth, he outright moans. it's a shameless echo. any coherency leaves him and all he's left with is the mantra of pietro's name while he continues to bottom out until he can't anymore. }

[ pietro finds his thighs quiver the moment he feels the blunt girth of him begin its eager press forward. both of his hands fall to the bathroom tile, bracing himself against the shower wall as eliot enters him, filling him to the brim with ease and familiarity and it's everything for pietro to keep from coming.

so he moans on a shuddered breath, his back arching and flexing into the push of eliot's hips, his head falling back, mouth slackened around the sound of a pleased moan. ]

To je hodně dobré.

[ so good.. and so much more wants to come spilling out of his mouth, but instead he dares to look over his shoulder, to try and peek the way their joining looks, even if he feels for the first time in months that he is full and complete and whole again. he impatiently grinds his hips back against eliot, but the move feels like a mistake, making him choke as his dick twitches, his hips buck, all the heat making his blood rush rush rush south.

he bites his lip, sharp and stark, to stave off the impending climax. ]

Show me, nie? [ hoarse, as his body trembles for the want of the man behind him. ] How much you miss me.

{ it’s the fact that pietro is asking. they don’t have to say more, but goodness is it difficult when he wants to profess more than he should. eliot is still meticulous about what to give, but right now he wants to give pietro exactly how much his body and mind both have missed the warmth of his body — the snark and bite of his silver tongue. the fact that he rebels against eliot. or the way he can bend pietro into a softness even if the other might be unaware at first.

he decides to let go. eliot catches the motions of pietro’s hips and kneads against the flesh as he guides them into a slow trajectory of skin slapping against skin. }

Then witness, love. Feel me.

{ it might be the heat of the water still hot enough that’s causing his feverish slip. it won’t stop him. the water keeps falling and their bodies will strain from standing, but eliot only watches the way his cock slides in and out of pietro. he looks and feels so fucking good all at once. it makes his movements amp with a rougher edge of desperation that can only be one fraction of how much he’s truly missed the speedster. it causes him to dig his nails, enough that little marks will surely form from his tight grip alone. }

[ it's just sex, pietro tries to tell himself. it's just the physical connection and the heat of the shower that has his heart twisting deep in his chest, that makes it feel like he can't get close enough to eliot. but there's something about that word, love, that is so unusual for their wild, bedtime behavior.

it makes his mouth go dry, makes his skin prickle. the bite of the nails at his hips and the quickening, rough pace as eliot slams in and out of him makes him shudder, makes the most pathetic moans fall from his lips as his fingers curl up against the tile, as his back arches, as he quivers, straining against the pressure building white-hot in his belly. ]

Fuck, I - [ he chokes as his body begins to ratchet tight, as his walls flutter around the healthy girth of eliot's cock, as he rocks his hips back and scrambles his hands against the wet tile. ] - miluji tě.

[ he's grateful his native tongue slips as his mind goes fuzzy, full to the brim with static. but the sentiment comes out in the way one hand reaches, falls over eliot's, prying at those fingers digging half moon bruises into his skin and holding tightly to them as he comes, hot and hard. it's fast even for him, but he's been working himself up and up and up for hours now.

to have eliot now, finally, is a blessing.

love you - are the words that still burn on his tongue, in the back of his mind, echoing as his release splashes the tile, his own thighs, the hot shower water washing it away as he arches into eliot. ]

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