[ 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: ]
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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. )