exitiabile | wearing a warning sign;

{ it might start to sink that their position and alignment to the view before them is far more intimate than he'd usually go for. the many times he'd spent in the tower were either to have a moment to himself or to have brakebills boys come around and have him be the relief to their shame. he'd been beyond it, but it didn't become a more open affair until the last year and now his reputation is luster. others might think he'd done the same to pietro.

yet, he'd dropped by more than others and he's sure that it'll continue to be such a deal. the blur of lines makes his head fuzzy, but he likes it. right now the line is more defined than ever as in he can only see pietro and he's soaking in his company like he's never done before. every new venture they take only continues to intrigue him further.

he can feel the rise of pietro's shrug as he keeps his touch along a collarbone. }

Flattery will get you far. { he moves his hand off the collarbone, nudges it against the one on his wrist and manages to capture his hand seemingly by interlacing their fingers and then bringing it up to his mouth. he returns the kiss given to him earlier, makes sure to linger as a warmth overtakes his chest. } I just like showing you things. Even if it's my colorful sheets. Your smile is one of my favorite sights.

{ he presses a kiss to pietro's knuckles, then lowers their hands. he keeps a loose hold, still connected as his other hand has made its way to play with the nape of pietro's hair. he does not wish to part with him no matter how late the moon shines, no matter if it intends to let the sun shine. but he understands it's part of it. how many times will he let pietro go for him to keep coming back? it's the sweet gamble of it, so he takes full advantage when he has him here. right now, he conveniently is trapped under his thighs as comfortable seating and eliot leans in close enough that their mouths nearly touch, but not quite. }

The hour isn't up. You'd be able to take the stars with you. I could also hold them within a marble for you. You may not need pretty things, but you deserve them.

[ pietro keeps his head tilted back, eyes flitting from the hazel of eliot's eyes to the line of his jaw, grinning lazily as their fingers somehow come to be intertwined. he lets eliot manipulate as he wishes, his knuckles against the man's plush mouth and suddenly pietro feels the alcohol burn under his skin again, his mouth going dry at the simplest of brushes.

the buzz is nice, even if his speedy metabolism will do away with it soon, but it makes their quiet closeness all the more comfortable. the hand on eliot's side cheekily presses beneath his shirt, letting his fingers trip over warm skin, counting ribs on the way up. ]

Your sheets are a very good sight, yes. Especially with you on them beneath me. [ the grin curls into a smirk, playful and much like a cat who has gotten into (and devoured) the cream. his cheeks burn with what he'll claim is the alcohol later, but something about the way eliot proclaims his smile to be his favorite takes him aback. it's not the lewd quips he's used to, and feels more sincere than their easy banter of sex and their escapades.

their lips nearly touching, he laughs softly, nudging their noses together and breathing eliot in, sweet breath and all. there's the hint of strawberry there, leftover from their drinks, and he's convinced eliot will always remind him of summertime, bright and warm and perfect. he lets his eyes close, lashes a dark fan against his pale skin and nudges forward, letting their lips meet in something slow and sweet, the hand beneath eliot's shirt traveling to the dip of his back, cradling him there.

when he speaks again, it's against eliot's chin, nose nuzzling against his jawline and breathing him in, peppering the skin with little butterfly kisses. ]

Could you do that? Let me take the stars? [ it's a quiet, genuine question and he leans his head back to kiss eliot again, slow and soft and exploring. ]

I do not deserve things like that, but I want to show my sister. She deserves those things. You do, too. But I cannot give you stars or magic. I am very boring, see?

{ later on he’s going to look back and think the buzz had a hold of him. the sensation of it only echoes how pietro makes him feel — lightheaded, warm, safe. he mouths against the knuckles before inching closer, the slide of the shirt and press of pietro’s hand against his side lures out a noise akin to a purr. he hasn’t been this relaxed in a while. lately, it’s been more of this with them. it also trips him up since he’s sure it would be a fever dream if he didn’t already know every inch of pietro like the back of his hand.

the rest of the world disappears. }

On you, under you. As long as you’re looking at me. Although, your back muscles are a contender in views I greatly enjoy.

{ shameless is what spills from his mouth, and it’s what pietro captures when he leans into the curve of what he feels is a smile before they’re kissing. these kisses are less frantic, less horny in the way that leads to clothes thrown everywhere. it’s far more intimate than he intends, still ardent, and he loves it.

how long has it been since he’s indulged in someone’s company just for the sake of existing together? it’s simple. he wants more of it, even if he knows he’s not meant to have simple. he shortens a light gasp when they part, becoming a chortle. all the while, he keeps fingers tangled within pietro’s hair. }

I could. I will. Only because you asked. Then maybe your sister will know this magical man you’re sneaking off to see isn’t all that terrible to her brother.

{ he pulls them into another kiss, shorter this time so he can continue before he loses concentration or edges into a more heated state from the way their bodies are pressed against one another. he has to will it to calm down. }

In a minute. Let me enjoy you. { he gently tugs pietro’s hair as if to say look here, but not at all rough. } I don’t bother with boring. You make most of the magicians here fade into their lackluster existence.

My sister is much scarier than me. A harder to please.

[ wanda is particular and fiery and fiercely protective. he's made passing comments about the magical boy at the club and wanda watches him closely as he comes and goes, but keeps a good distance, waiting for pietro to come to her. and maybe after this, with stars in his palm, he will tell her more about the strange magical boy. ]

I will tell her you are not so bad. And that you like the view of my back almost as much as my smile. She won't believe me.

[ he leans up into the kiss eliot offers, other hand slipping from his grasp to rest against eliot's thigh, fingers at his back curling against the warm skin, the other solid and holding his thigh, keeping him there and close. he hums as the kiss parts, as his hair gathers a little tug. it sends prickling heat down his spine. ]

Mmm, I do not think this is true but I will let you win this once. Next time you will have to fight for it with thousands of kisses and maybe more.

[ he steals a biting kiss himself, laughing against eliot's lips as he parts, nosing at his jaw again, pressing a hot kiss against the line of eliot's throat. ] It is a fair fight that way.

She seems like my kind of people. You’ve met my Bambi. I only know hard to please.

{ he won’t mention he is the same. there’s a reputation eliot once held more strongly and is echoed in the brakebills hallways. he’d garnered enough social fame to be sought after, to have a string of boys that are enthralled if he so much charmed them. it’s been years in the making. margo only amped it up and spiced his life in ways he only wanted from the moment he stepped onto the campus. his fresh face, soft boyish allure became more sharp and kindled the dominant spark he inwardly was meant to have — to be kingly. fillory confirmed it.

he’s always been easy to bore and for a long time he just used people. that part is still with him. pietro has captured more of his true essence buried underneath what he presents. the one that leans into pietro’s kiss, eagerly letting out a purr at the stubble he feels upon his throat. he hums, hands continuing to be exploratory as he drags nails along a defined bicep. }

We agree to disagree. I’ve wrangled thousands of snakes. I can wrangle you, darling boy. To more promises then.

{ he considers, still idly playing with pietro’s hair before he makes up his mind. the hand on his bicep slips between them and splays upon pietro’s chest as he gently shoves him so he can better look at his face. eliot lets it lift and then teasingly traces along his lips. }

Fair fights aside. Do you want to watch me craft your marble?

Mm. I think I could like being wrangled.

[ he could sit here and let eliot play with his hair for hours, he decides. it's soothing and incredibly attractive all at once, making his skin feel a little warm, making him lean into the touch. this feels different than their club hookups, but it's more friendly. and in truth, he likes the familiarity in a way he hadn't thought he would.

it helps that eliot is pleasing to the eye, that his mouth is wicked, and his hands even more so. the sex is good, but it's uniquely surprising that they can be this close and intimate. it's attractive in its own right.

when he's pushed back, he nearly pouts up at him but leans heavy into the couch, gazing up at the man. ]

You will show me? [ there's the prick of interest, a genuine curiosity filtering into his expression. ] I would like to see it. Your magic is incredible, but I think it is more incredible that it is you doing it.

You’ll definitely be my ruin, ketzel. { it’s not serious, rather more playful as he lightly runs a finger along pietro’s nose and then taps the tip of it in a boop. pietro affirms a lot with eliot, but sometimes he likes to hear that pietro would like to be wrangled. it’s more attractive than it has any right to be, but here he is with a jar of honey being offered to him. of course he’s going to reach his hand into it.

he replaces his tracing fingers with his lips and ends up pressing a light kiss upon pietro’s mouth before he leans back again and reaches into his shirt pocket to produce the marble. he rolls it between his fingers. }

For you? You know it. You can have my magical energy. What’s left of it.

{ eliot doesn’t elaborate, only smiles as he starts to rub the marble between his palms, then starts making sigils signs with his fingers. it will take massive energy, but he’s at the end of the day and he figured he might as well. the sparks ignite with a containment spell that is going to cross with another one. he hums as the marble starts to become a blank slate as if it’s warming up. }

What do you call your Sokovian sky in your mother tongue? I’m going to need it.

[ pietro has seen displays of eliot's style of magic this evening, what with the different sigils and the burning energy on the air. seeing it this close, with the marble pressed between eliot's palms is something else as his fingers trace outlines in the air.

he has to resist the urge to reach out and touch it, instead wrapping his arms tighter round eliot's waist, fingers of his free hand sliding beneath his shirt to press against the warmth of his skin to join the other. the question takes him aback and he blinks up at eliot, considering. ]

We call it nebesa. Heavens.

[ or so his mother would call it when she would take them out to stargaze. she had more hope for the world than any of them. ]

Your magic is impressive. [ spoken against the curve of eliot's shoulder, his lips pressing there as his curious eyes watch. ]

{ the magic burns at the palms of his hands with a light warmth that he can only ever akin to being in a hot tub in the middle of winter. he might not be as efficent as alice, but he's certainly not wihout a touch of his own. eliot can be excellent if he applies himself to his own discipline. he uses it to lift the ball as it starts to heat up. it's being molded by his magic alone.

he mumbles nebesa in his chant, finding a poetic line to fit into a spell. the secure arm around him is encouragement as he holds the seal into the blankness of the marble. it’s a spark. }

Pretty word. Here.

{ and truthfully he needed that arm around him. his energy is half or what it is when the marble falls into the palm of his hand, simmering the tiniest constellation one can see if they looked close enough. he ends up leaning against pietro just so he can start gathering his strength again. it’s as if ran a marathon, except without the excessive breathing. eliot takes pietro’s free hand and places the marble within it, clasping his hand before pressing a kiss to it and letting go.

he’s used to finding awe in entertaining others, to be creative and the center of attenroon. for some reason, it means more for pietro to truly be marveled by his magic. }

There’s sometimes a trade off. The marble is now linked to you, so the spell will stop its effect the day you die. It’ll be just a marble again. I know, morbid. It’s the only spell I could think of that would work right now. So, don’t. Die, I mean.

Edited 2022-07-26 06:42 (UTC)

[ just as easily as he can tell when wanda has tapped all of her resources, he can practically feel the magic wane around eliot. he's always joked that it was a super power, that he could read minds like psychics, but he's always known that's not true. so he lets eliot lean against him, finding he shifts beneath him enough to make the angle more pronounced, so that eliot may use the breadth of his chest as a support.

with the marble in one hand, he marvels at it - the stars twinkling within, and he closes one eye boyishly, holding it up to the light and peering within. the sokovian sky glimmers back at him, makes his chest squeeze and his throat go thick. wanda will love it.

he's never felt homesick like he does now, but eliot's words pull him out of it. he blinks up at him, and huffs a sound that could be awe or amusement wrapped in one. ]

I do not plan to. [ his free arm tugs eliot tight, his other delicately placing the marble on the old table beside the couch. he palms eliot's cheek, thumb skirting the high rise of it and directing him to look down at him for a soft kiss, one that turns into a flurry of little soft kisses, their noses pressed close together. ]

Your magic is beautiful. [ much like you which is left hanging in the air in his sokovian lilt, a grin pulling at his lips before he kisses him again, slow and sure. ]

{ if he were more attuned to the relationship he has vaguely gathered from pietro with his sister, considering the marble reaction, he might heavily agree that there is a spark of magic to pietro. sometimes supports are just as important. even magicians are not always compatible with one another. certainly here, eliot feels oddly safe as if the tower itself has become a physical manifestation of the bubble that is often pronounced between them.

he's not sure how much time has passed. it's most likely an hour or two beyond midnight. all he knows is that he gets carried away in the simplicity that being on pietro's lap has brought him. it's easier to dull the warmth of his cheeks as he hides his flush within each dragged out kiss. the compliment gets to him on a level he didn't intend even if it could be superficial. eliot knows it is not. he'll blame it on the tower being stuffy later on. the building itself has always been cool. }

Don't feed my ego. I'll be insufferable.

{ his hands have begun to fiddle coyly with the fabric of pietro's shirt, then he smooths it out before spreading them across his chest and over his shoulder to keep his body teetered against his. he does have to shift if only so his leg won't fall asleep. }

You're welcome to stay if it's too late for you. Or don't. Just make sure to come to the next party. Margo really likes you.

{ he's projecting. each sentence is said with a stolen kiss, his eyes wanting to flutter close from the pleasant haze he's developing. }

Edited 2022-07-28 03:41 (UTC)

Maybe I like insufferable.

[ pietro grins, coy and silly, letting eliot's weight settle further against his chest. whatever the energy had been upon their arrival here, it's settled into something warm and hazy and pleasant. he likes having eliot close, feels a sudden surge of protectiveness that he hadn't felt before. maybe it's the buzz he's carrying from their drinks earlier, maybe it's the dim light of the tower.

so pietro chases another kiss, this one slower and lingering longer than the ones previous, letting their noses bump sweetly. it's delightful kissing eliot, savoring the plush of his mouth and his pretty words. he hums at the grazing of hands along his chest, his shoulders, his skin tingling in their wake. ]

I can stay. [ a pause, then a soft smirk: ] But maybe next time I will stay with Margo since she likes me so much. She is a good kisser, but not as good as you. Our secret.

[ the fingers leave eliot's cheek, slide down the length of one arm to tangle their hands together against pietro's chest, leaning into each stolen kiss, the arm around his waist tugging him tighter, closer, as if even the air between them is pesky and annoying. ]

Good, { he says with a firmly confident allure. the air is pesky. eliot could stay kissing pietro for hours. he finds that it's not good enough to have their positions languid, he wants to be as physically close if not suffocatingly. he hums into pietro's mouth and shifts once more, fluid motions guiding him to have his legs over pietro's thighs, knees digging into the cough as he is able to lean in flush against him. } Much better.

{ pietro has trapped him with his thighs before, so why not return the favor? he smirks, their hands now untangled from the movement, but it makes it easy for him to nudge his nose back against pietro's as he slides a hand into his hair. his laugh is light and filled with amusement that is fueled by the warmth he's feeling all over his body. }

Hm. Keeping secrets? It'll cost you. I suppose I like you enough to keep yours.

{ it's also easier for him to lean into another deepened kiss, slow and intentional. sometimes a good make-out session is in order. naturally. this is their night. eliot might just be discovering he's a tad possessive of pietro's time, more than he should be. he only gets to see him so much. once a week is a luxury for them. }

What is the price? I will pay it.

[ pietro shifts a little as eliot straddles his lap, his own hands sliding away from eliot's and down his sides, to his hips, to the meat of his thighs where he grips them. ]

And if it is too expensive, well. My secrets are boring.

[ he arches into the kiss, finding his palms slide up over eliot's hips, around to his ass where he gives a teasing squeeze until he reaches his back, his sides, tugging him tight and close as he languishes in the kiss. it's slow and deep and heated, the alcohol and tingling from their many taunts before returning to a simmer beneath his skin.

his own hands find skin beneath the silk of eliot's shirt, broad, calloused palms resting at the dip but going no further. he pulls away, but not so much they're parted. instead, he murmurs against his mouth: ]

What secrets are you hiding?

{ the ambience is different than the stuffy aura the party can become after a while. there was a time when he enjoyed it more, for the sake of the attention he gathered. crowds of people all fascinated and at the whim of margo and him, if only because they made it so. now, he can care less. now, he just wants to chase pietro’s mouth and nearly giggle against it as he leans back from a kiss. }

I doubt they are boring. I’ll give you a discount. Here. { eliot drops one hand and cheekily slips it underneath pietro’s shirt, softly grazing his knuckles along the firmness of his stomach. it’s delightful. then he retreats his hand and keeps playing with pietro’s hair as if he didn’t just feel him up. to be fair, pietro started it. who doesn’t like a good ass squeeze? }

My secrets for yours seem fair. { he’s mostly teasing, since his so called secrets have more to do with party tricks and rooftops no one knows about. but, maybe they can be pretty boys he met at the nightclub that he gets to steal on occasion? that maybe he might have a slightly (or more) of a crush on one (1) specific pretty boy with silver hair. is that even possible to crush on your maybe lover? his slightly buzzed mind ends up making it a question he thinks out loud. }

Or maybe I have a crush on someone. Someone has a crush. What’s something no one else knows about you?

[ the feeling of eliot laughing against his lips draws out a smile from pietro, one that crinkles his nose and dimples his cheek. it's easy being with him like this, and he hadn't expected a club fling to become something so much more. he leans forward to nip eliot's chin, cheeky and playful before he sinks back into the couch, humming his approval at the fingers in his hair. The hand along his stomach comes and goes, fleeting, and he pouts up at eliot in retaliation. ]

That is a very small discount.

[ his own hand slides further beneath eliot's shirt, palm resting against his side beneath the fabric. it's easy to touch him, to exist like this, and the warm buzz from the party only adds to the wonder of it. ]

Do you have a crush on the bartender who had a crush on me? [ a little smirk, and pietro tilts his head, leaning to kiss eliot's adam's apple, then the side of his throat where he speaks against the skin. ]

Maybe I have a crush on someone. Not even my sister knows this. But it will take many kisses to find out who it is.

Well, I am generous. I might consider a bigger discount.

{ there's some cheekiness to his statement, considering he isn't at all ever generous on purpose. he just picks when to be (he's a lot more kinder than people make him out to be, but it's sparse on purpose). pietro inspires eliot's softer side. it just comes in different forms. his ears do perk at the suggestion of a potential crush. he idly plays with the back of pietro's hair, letting his touch linger along his nape before it delves back into the thickness of his hair strands, unable to keep away. they are promptly tousled before set back in place. }

Perhaps. I don't do crushes, so I'll gladly will yours out with kiss taxes.

{ eliot leans in and instead of capturing him in a kiss, he just hovers over his mouth so he can feel his smile turn into a matched smirk. }

Then again, there's a first for everything. So, I might. It's not important. I'll get yours.

[ infuriating, how close eliot is, the words moving agains his lips, the curve of a smile pressed into his own. pietro huffs softly, cheekily tilting his head back if only so that he can swipe a tongue along his bottom lip. ]

Who do you think this crush is?

[ there's a cheeky slip of his hand, the palm on eliot's side circling to the front, tracing the lines of his abs, fingertips falling to rest at the waistband of his pants. nothing else, just a soft, innocuous touch. ]

The bartender will be mad if he finds out. Don't tell him.

[ and he seals his mouth over eliot's, playful in the way his teeth nip his bottom lip on the way into the kiss. ]

But if you are so good to steal my secrets, then I would like to see you try, yes? I think I will win.

{ he immediately hums against the tongue on his lip, and then tries to give chase but it seems pietro is still quick in many ways. it makes him chuckle. the hand at the back of pietro’s neck slips along to the side of his neck, fingers tracing along the bottom of his ear and down into the dip of his shoulder. eliot goes back and forth with his caress as he pretends to think. }

Let me see. The bartender? Maybe this is your crush? Am I here to make this bartender jealous? You've been having fun without me at these nightclubs, huh. But at last, you can use me.

{ he adds the last bit with a faux dramatic little huff, using his tongue to nudge against where pietro nips, more so encouraging him. they’ve become idle in their teasing so much that pietro is close to his waistband, touching his skin, and eliot waugh is behaving. what is this? he dives past his mouth to lay a kiss upon his jaw, the hairs tickling his lips, and drags kisses along until he’s back to his mouth. }

You might win. Give me a timeline by when I have to figure it out. I can be persuasive.

Mm, or maybe it is the boy making drinks here? There are many bartenders. You will have to work very hard.

[ he tilts his head into the soft caress of eliot's fingers, his skin burning under the touch. it's intimate and teasing and a taste of something more but not yet crossing the lines they're so used to pressing beyond. it makes his head fill with fiery fog, which is only heightened by the lips at his jaw, his mouth.

his fingers curl into the waistband of his pants, letting his fingers just sit curled inside against the bone of his hip, applying pressure but doing little else. his free hand reaches instead to press dark curls away from eliot's face, threading through them to the back of his neck to pull him in for a slow, lingering kiss. ]

Mm. Before tomorrow morning. Or do you want a week? A month? I am generous.

There are many bartenders, sure. None of them compare, I assure you.

{ he hums into the press of another fluttering kiss to the corner of pietro’s mouth. the buzz from alcohol has been reduced and he’s sure there’s something else thrumming under his veins, something far more inducing. it’s oddly alluring to be able to hold pietro and simply be held.

what a peculiar, little obsession he’s developing. a hand trails along a broad chest, unable to stop touching. }

We have ourselves a deal. Whoever figures out the other’s crush first will get another little reward.

{ it’s these games that bring them together, just as he moves back into a slow kiss, making sure to capture pietro’s taste at the tip of his tongue where he’ll crave it again like a favorite meal. he’s certain then while he pleasantly shivers not from the promise of carnal, but the simple brush of his hair — he couldn’t possible ever get bored. eliot gently pushes pietro’s neck to the side, and effortlessly leans forward to hover his mouth upon his untarnished skin with the lightest touch that ends up a peck of a kiss. }

I like rewards.

[ pietro, with eliot settled on his lap, finds he's pleasantly trapped beneath him, surrounded instead by the warm press of their bodies and the fleeting touches. he allows his head to fall to one side, anticipating the kiss, and groaning quietly when he finds it's not the needy slide of lips and tongue and teeth but instead the featherlight peck of a kiss.

maddening, really, and it's enough to make his blood boil all the same, flushing southerly. the control, the power in such a dainty little kiss makes his fingers flex against eliot's hip bone, makes the other slide instead to eliot's bicep, gripping and keeping him close. it's not out of coincidence that he squirms a tiny bit beneath those thighs. ]

You are very mean. [ he breathes, laughing against eliot's ear in turn, the words pressed into the shell. he noses his neck softly, then drops a soft kiss against the fabric of his shirt at his shoulder. he smirks, fingers giving his waistband a gentle pull, as if reminding him where his hands could go, but are choosing to remain still. ]

It will be difficult to find your crush if you do that. It makes me think that maybe I am it, nie?

{ the little groan pietro emits draws out a soft chuckle from eliot. he sometimes anticipates it, even seeks it out, but then when it comes he’s always astonished. there’s something erotic about the way he can catch the brief hot air near his mouth. it’s a print of reality.

usually he’d cross the line and get it over with, to get them both off one way or another. two differences are stopping him. eliot isn’t usually one to sit on anyone’s lap. there’s something about the weight of someone on him that he likes better, but he’s also discovering pietro is yet again inspiring. he easily starts dragging his mouth along pietro’s neck until he’s met with his ear when he finds the kiss on his shoulder makes him visibly shiver.

he likes the taking time to slow down and explore one another on occasion, is another reason. first year eliot waugh would be judging him, but also even back then he had a buried desire to be close to someone like they’re currently doing. }

Am I? { his pants are tightening, but not uncomfortably. the light pressure is alluring as he runs the tip of his tongue along the shell of pietro’s ear, slowly, until he softly bites the outer and mumbles. }

It could be you. You’re in the running for sure. { then cheekily, } Top two at least. Where am I on yours?

Mm. Top two? Who is the second?

[ pietro thinks he might know - he'd seen the way eliot sat shoulder to shoulder with a quieter boy with longer hair. they must be close friends, pietro muses, and he finds himself a tiny bit jealous of the interaction. he has no one like that, not here, save for eliot who has settled in his lap. and can they be considered friends? or are they simply eager playmates.

he doesn't mind the arrangement either way.

pietro smirks, sighing at the way eliot's mouth travels his ear and his hands leave his waistband instead, sliding up into eliot's hair to give him a decisive tug down so their lips are nearly touching. ]

Then I will kiss you, hm? And then you may take it back to your second and see if he kisses as good. [ he gives another tug until their mouths slot together, pietro's tongue a needy slide along lips until he's licking eagerly into eliot's mouth, tangling with eliot's in a slow, sensual thing meant to burn and linger.

he will kiss the air out of eliot, he decides, so that the other boy might taste pietro on his lips instead. ]

Are you— { his words trail off, too hyper focused on pietro who has drawn in closer. he forgets his original intent of proclaiming crushes when the second is margo. voicing it would give away the game, and his truth.

eliot doesn’t do crushes. yet, pietro kisses him and he’s lost his concentration. his tongue eagerly settles to greet pietro’s mouth, inviting him to do as he seeks. their movements are undeniably needy, eliot managing to suckle on pietro’s tongue before deepening the allure of their kiss. slow, sensual, and with his knuckles nearly whitening from clutching pietro’s shirt too tightly, he teeters back with a half-dazed mumble. }

Not usually into it, but you being jealous is kind of hot. { his eyes flutter open, lips probably a deeper red. he pushes upon pietro’s chest and rises from his lap, standing up without so much as an effort. he picks up the marble from the table and slips it into pietro’s palm. his other hand pats a thigh. }

You win. Think of your reward.

{ eliot cheekily winks, then moves away, making his way towards the door. he didn’t answer pietro’s question, but if the kiss wasn't a clear bias, then he might have to put in more effort. he finds he actually would. they could be headed back to the party, or eliot’s room. pietro will just have to chase along and find out.

all eliot can promise is that at some point he fully intends to debauch pietro. it’s the way they play, trying to keep each other intrigued with what the next move will be. he wants the speedster to keep coming around, after all. }

wearing a warning sign;

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🎀