[ When has he ever denied himself an opportunity to drink? This time it even has a chaser, his lips still parted as they come to terms with the absence of Petre's touch. The attention was definitely still a big part of whatever this was; he craved it incessantly. Give me, give me, give me-- should be written under his family's words: Fire and Blood. ]
I believe I've had my fill for the time being.
[ There will always be questions, but he was ready now to swap to a more social coping mechanism. Aegon's going to set the bottle blindly beside him, hoping it won't spill, but much more interested in the man on his lap to be overly cautious with it. That's to whom his hand returns, squeezing at Petre's thigh. Should he be sending his brother a telepathic "fuck off for a while"? ]
If your tongue isn't halfway down my throat in the next moment, I'll be disappointed, Petre.
[ After Aegon is given the space to get rid of the bottle, Petre's hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and makes both their intentions known, Petre looks so pleased with himself it's almost giddy. Anything but that, he would have joked, if his patience hadn't dispersed instantly. Petre presses his hand to Aegon's chest, nudges him to lie down on his back, head angled before pressing lips against his. The kiss isn't hungry, not yet, teasing Aegon's mouth open with his tongue after a playful pretense of something more chaste.
Petre frowns and opens his eyes. He'd smelled the blood at first, made assumptions that were easily dismissed in favor of alcohol and good company; now, past the traces of alcohol still fresh when he licks Aegon, the marks of it become inescapable. Instead of breaking the kiss, he leans more into it, demanding to satisfy his own curiosity and lingering cravings without a word. It's blood, enough of it that something as small as a cut is ruled out completely. Surely Aegon would tell Petre if he had an appetite for it—? Why keep it a secret from him, of all people?
Leaning back up, palm flat on Aegon's chest to keep him down, Petre gives him a bombastic slight side-eye. ]
[ Aegon possesses boundless patience (a rarity); the longer he remains in Petre's company, the more he feels himself drifting away from his despair, sinking into the softness of the mattress as he willingly yields. Maybe he does trust him (maybe he just wants to believe he can), the fleeting thought of letting Petre do whatever he wants with him flashes by as their lips meet. Soft and modest in an unnatural way that makes him grin, getting what he wants and welcoming his tongue with no resistance.
He breathes forth a pleased hum, pretending to pay no mind to the way it seems like Petre is searching the depths of his mouth for something, successfully distracted finding the best way to fit their mouths together. Anything he wants, it's his. His hand moves to-- And then he's gone.
His eyes flutter open, mouth still slightly parted as he wrinkles his nose, looking up at his "friend" in mild confusion. He curls a hand in the front of Petre's shirt to tug him back down. ]
[ Stumped, trying to solve the math equation of whomst's blood has been in Aegon's mouth, Petre goes lax enough that it doesn't take a lot to be pulled back down. He's barely registering what Aegon says because it's not an answer, lips parting readily to kiss him anyway, like that's how he'll unravel the mystery. He hasn't exactly tasted many people since he arrived; he's only picked up on a few scents too, namely people who were injured/fucked up during the monster invasion, and more recently, the Skala and their blood flu. But he still wasn't paying attention like he is now.
Moving his mouth to Aegon's jawline, neck, scraping affectionately with his teeth, Petre slides his knees off the edge of the bed, one leg at a time, propping himself up on one hand while the other pries Aegon's shirt up. An intentional noise, like he's catching his breath after a contented murmur, and Petre sinks down Aegon's body, licking and sucking his middle, chasing the trail of more blood where he can sense it. ]
[ There's some subtle shift in Petre's energy, yet he decides against mentioning it, wary of spoiling his own enjoyment. Were there a concern, he had faith that Petre would communicate it. But he indeed needs to send his brother a fuck off message, the faint crimson gleam of his diabel mark on his lower back illuminates as he reaches out. He's entirely capable of managing telepathy and remaining attentive to his guest (he believes he is anyway).
Aegon lifts himself onto his elbows to Very Intently watch as Petre's mouth descends, not having anticipated anything beyond conversation and liquor, but perhaps that was his oversight (he was acutely aware of the fathomless horniness his friend possessed)— this turn of events was not unwelcome, regardless. His own blood rushes hotly between his thighs at the swirl of a diligent tongue, and he clamps down on his lower lip to stifle an involuntary groan. ]
[ With no protest coming from Aegon, Petre continues without delay, undoing his trousers to slowly pull them down and palm over the underwear, massaging the bulge. He watches from lowered eyelids, looks out for eye contact without any real need for it; like a dog's tunnel vision when it's tempted with a bone, he's thinking about what he tasted moments ago, trying to imagine scenarios that could explain it, plotting how he's going to get the answer to the burning question. His mouth replaces the hand, lips against thin fabric, fingers digging into the waistband. ]
[ This feels like the longest he's been in the company of a quiet Petre, the fleeting mind exchange with his brother not enough to fill the silence. He continues chewing on his lip, groping around for the vodka to further his inebriation to avoid dwelling too long in that space where he recognizes how much he savors the attention. Aegon keeps his hold loose on the bottle when he's finished, mostly tucking it against himself, liquor leaving a translucent trail down his chin. His eyes have yet to drift from his friend, exhaling with the gentle roll of his hips to assist. Encouraging and eagerly seeking more of his mouth.
His lips curl into a lop-sided grin. ] You ought to partake in this more frequently.
[ While Aegon tries to sort out where his mind goes, Petre narrows down his focus to what he can touch, letting that burning question hang above like a light until he decides to click it back on later. He's more or less figured out how he's going to do it.
The waistband is tugged enough to allow him to lap his tongue over the navel, pressing a thumb on the dip of flesh between it and the hipbone, layers of clothes eased down as Aegon rolls his hips. All that time invested into tracing a path away from their kiss is dismissed by one hand unceremoniously drawing his cock out, no last glance or verbal provocation to preface the first, indulgent suck. Petre lets it slide past his lips, meeting the ring of his fingers at the base, dipping quickly, dragging the motion when he comes back up.
There's barely any pause to search for Aegon's free hand and pry it away from whatever he's doing; Petre guides it to the back of his own head with an impatient hum, finally looking at Aegon from under his eyelids, the tip of his dick cushioned on the pad of his tongue for little more than a show. The next words are planted in Aegon's mind: ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I believe I've had my fill for the time being.
[ There will always be questions, but he was ready now to swap to a more social coping mechanism. Aegon's going to set the bottle blindly beside him, hoping it won't spill, but much more interested in the man on his lap to be overly cautious with it. That's to whom his hand returns, squeezing at Petre's thigh. Should he be sending his brother a telepathic "fuck off for a while"? ]
If your tongue isn't halfway down my throat in the next moment, I'll be disappointed, Petre.
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Petre frowns and opens his eyes. He'd smelled the blood at first, made assumptions that were easily dismissed in favor of alcohol and good company; now, past the traces of alcohol still fresh when he licks Aegon, the marks of it become inescapable. Instead of breaking the kiss, he leans more into it, demanding to satisfy his own curiosity and lingering cravings without a word. It's blood, enough of it that something as small as a cut is ruled out completely. Surely Aegon would tell Petre if he had an appetite for it—? Why keep it a secret from him, of all people?
Leaning back up, palm flat on Aegon's chest to keep him down, Petre gives him a
bombasticslight side-eye. ]Who is that.
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He breathes forth a pleased hum, pretending to pay no mind to the way it seems like Petre is searching the depths of his mouth for something, successfully distracted finding the best way to fit their mouths together. Anything he wants, it's his. His hand moves to-- And then he's gone.
His eyes flutter open, mouth still slightly parted as he wrinkles his nose, looking up at his "friend" in mild confusion. He curls a hand in the front of Petre's shirt to tug him back down. ]
What? Why have you ceased?
[ ?? ?? ? It's just you and me, Petre?? ]
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Moving his mouth to Aegon's jawline, neck, scraping affectionately with his teeth, Petre slides his knees off the edge of the bed, one leg at a time, propping himself up on one hand while the other pries Aegon's shirt up. An intentional noise, like he's catching his breath after a contented murmur, and Petre sinks down Aegon's body, licking and sucking his middle, chasing the trail of more blood where he can sense it. ]
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Aegon lifts himself onto his elbows to Very Intently watch as Petre's mouth descends, not having anticipated anything beyond conversation and liquor, but perhaps that was his oversight (he was acutely aware of the fathomless horniness his friend possessed)— this turn of events was not unwelcome, regardless. His own blood rushes hotly between his thighs at the swirl of a diligent tongue, and he clamps down on his lower lip to stifle an involuntary groan. ]
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His lips curl into a lop-sided grin. ] You ought to partake in this more frequently.
no subject
The waistband is tugged enough to allow him to lap his tongue over the navel, pressing a thumb on the dip of flesh between it and the hipbone, layers of clothes eased down as Aegon rolls his hips. All that time invested into tracing a path away from their kiss is dismissed by one hand unceremoniously drawing his cock out, no last glance or verbal provocation to preface the first, indulgent suck. Petre lets it slide past his lips, meeting the ring of his fingers at the base, dipping quickly, dragging the motion when he comes back up.
There's barely any pause to search for Aegon's free hand and pry it away from whatever he's doing; Petre guides it to the back of his own head with an impatient hum, finally looking at Aegon from under his eyelids, the tip of his dick cushioned on the pad of his tongue for little more than a show. The next words are planted in Aegon's mind: ]
( Pull as hard as you want. )