wereallworksinprogress:

christopherargent:

christopherargent:

I’m not a total psychopath: christopherargent: -His hangover isn’t as bad as expected, and he…

christopherargent:

-His hangover isn’t as bad as expected, and he takes a few minutes to stare in the bathroom mirror before he splashes whatever on his face and wipes…

-Peter bats his hands away, and Chris raises them in surrender and steps back- Fine. You do it or I do it, I don’t care. But it’s going to get done. I might not be able to reach inside you and force you to see you have things to live for, but I’ll be damned if I sit by anymore and let you stop taking care of yourself.

-He closes his eyes.-

Don’t think that. Please don’t think that. 

-he shakes his head and hands Peter the soap- You barely know I’m here anymore, Peter. The only time you talk is when we fuck. You’re living with ghosts now, Petie, not with me. -he opens the shower door- That haircut place you like is open on Sundays. I’ll take you once you’re showered and shaved. -he steps out and closes the door behind him, leaving Peter to his bath.-

christopherargent:

I’m not a total psychopath: christopherargent: -His hangover isn’t as bad as expected, and he…

christopherargent:

-His hangover isn’t as bad as expected, and he takes a few minutes to stare in the bathroom mirror before he splashes whatever on his face and wipes…

-Peter bats his hands away, and Chris raises them in surrender and steps back- Fine. You do it or I do it, I don’t care. But it’s going to get done. I might not be able to reach inside you and force you to see you have things to live for, but I’ll be damned if I sit by anymore and let you stop taking care of yourself.

christopherargent:

-His hangover isn’t as bad as expected, and he takes a few minutes to stare in the bathroom mirror before he splashes whatever on his face and wipes it clean. He’s had his day to mope, but now it’s time to concentrate on what’s most important. Peter. Chris carefully shoves…

-he doesn’t try to make Peter talk. When they get back to the house he just walks him into the bathroom and strips them both, then gently nudges Peter ahead of him into the shower. He steps in behind him and wraps his arms around Peter, holding him tight as the water washes over them-

-His hangover isn’t as bad as expected, and he takes a few minutes to stare in the bathroom mirror before he splashes whatever on his face and wipes it clean.  He’s had his day to mope, but now it’s time to concentrate on what’s most important.  Peter.  Chris carefully shoves Kate and the fire and Gerard and Chris’ overwhelming failures back into their boxes and locks them down.  He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.  When he reopens them, they’re clear and calm and focused.

Peter is still asleep when he walks back into the hotel room, and Chris sits at his shoulder and gently shakes him.  He’s well aware of what today is, and he won’t push Peter too much.  Not today.-

Good morning, sleeping beauty.  Let’s go home and take a shower.  -and shave.  and cut your hair.  He has a sudden vision of Scarlet shaking her head at him for how far he’s let her husband fall into disarray and he silently apologizes-

wereallworksinprogress:

There is a Code: wereallworksinprogress: -He thrusts into the fist tight around him,…

wereallworksinprogress:

-He thrusts into the fist tight around him, sliding along Chris’ dick. Breathing against his lips, Peter dips his tongue in and out with the motion of his hips. Chris sucks on his tongue and dominates his mouth in turn. It’s like being teenagers again. Like…

-His eyes shift with the suddenness of the bite and with how long Chris holds it, worrying his teeth into Peter’s skin. It aches and burns and lights Peter up inside with possession.-

I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.

Good -he mutters, not relinquishing his hold on Peter, just rolling them to the side.  He’s too drunk to care about cleaning them up, too drunk to care about anything but making sure Peter stays tangible and real in his arms.  His eyes are heavy, now that anything resembling energy has been summarily fucked out of him, and he gathers Peter as close as possible.  He licks his lips and tucks his chin over Peter’s shoulder-

Love you, Petie.

wereallworksinprogress:

 

-He thrusts into the fist tight around him, sliding along Chris’ dick. Breathing against his lips, Peter dips his tongue in and out with the motion of his hips. Chris sucks on his tongue and dominates his mouth in turn. It’s like being teenagers again. Like finding each other all over again, needing each other but unwilling to admit how much. Chris drags him firmly back to the present rubbing his thumb repeatedly over his slit. Peter pants harshly, pinching and flicking at Chris’ nipples. He sucks just under his jaw, rakes his nails down Chris’ back, and massages his own finger down between Chris’ ass cheeks.

His orgasm, when it hits him, takes him completely by surprise. Like dropping suddenly and unexpectedly down a cliff thought miles away. He clings to him, rocking slowly through it, then pushes Chris onto his back. A protest rises on Chris’ lips but Peter shushes him against his skin.

His nose skims down Chris’ chest, tugging on a nipple with his teeth, licking up his own semen on his stomach. Never stopping in his path. Peter’s favorite sound in the world is the gut punched moan Chris makes when he first wraps his mouth around him.-

Motherfuck -his hips jackknife up without his permission, into all that warm, wet tightness, and Peter doesn’t gag, doesn’t pull off, just hums appreciatively before grabbing Chris’ hands and dragging them up to furrow through the back of Peter’s hair.  He doesn’t release them until Chris gets the picture and fists his hands tight into the strands.  He holds Peter fast, thrusting into a mouth that just gets tighter and hotter and sloppy wet the faster he goes.  You’d think all the alcohol would stretch things out, but no, it’s a pitifully short period of time before he’s shouting Petie, and shuddering out his orgasm in short, jerky thrusts.  As soon as he can breath again he tugs Peter up by his hair and kisses him deep, tasting himself on Peter’s tongue-

Mine -he growls out, suddenly swamped with a weird kind of possessive need.  Peter is his, and Chris will not allow him to fade away.  Enough is enough.  He ducks his head down to Peter’s neck and bites across his mark-

wereallworksinprogress:

wereallworksinprogress:

There is a Code: wereallworksinprogress: christopherargent: -he starts violently- No….

christopherargent:

wereallworksinprogress:

christopherargent:

-Chris drops his hand to Peter’s mark and palms it in a mirror to Peter’s hand on him-

I…

Yes. Yes -he gasps again, trying to wrench Chris’ pants off.- I hate clothes. You should stop wearing them.

-He bitches until they’re both naked and he can press the length of his body against Chris’. Can grind down against his hip and feel fingers sliding and searching and pressing *so good* against him. A whine hides behind the teeth he presses into his bottom lip.-

I don’t have anything. It’s all at the house.

-He thinks frantically and almost cries with frustration when he comes up empty-  I don’t…I don’t have anything either.  -he bangs his head back against the pillow and immediately regrets it when the room sways dangerously.  But he keeps up the steady pressure of his finger against Peter’s hole, circling slow and sure so that Peter can never forget he’s there.  Peter’s eyes fall shut and he mutters unfair, but they words are cut off when Chris shifts them to their side and gets a hand around the both of them.  He licks at Peter’s mouth and then across his jaw to his ear-

Help me.

wereallworksinprogress:

There is a Code: wereallworksinprogress: christopherargent: -he starts violently- No….

christopherargent:

wereallworksinprogress:

christopherargent:

 

-Chris drops his hand to Peter’s mark and palms it in a mirror to Peter’s hand on him-

I know.  I won’t survive you, either.  -his motions are clumsy with grief and alcohol, but he tugs Peter forward and kisses him, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and tasting the whiskey there-

-It feels like kissing out the pain. But they’re both so full of their own that they’re simply trading it back and forth. It doesn’t hurt any less but maybe they feel less alone.

Chris pulls him closer and Peter goes willingly, straddling his waist, hands buried in his hair. Their mouths are sloppy and uncoordinated but it’s perfect.-

You know what this means? -Peter asks against his lips. He doesn’t wait for Chris to answer.- We’ll just have to live forever.

-It’s perfect.-

-The wounded noise he makes is swallowed up by the press of Peter’s mouth, and his hands push bruises into Peter’s hips as Chris arches into his weight.  So good.  He scrabbles with the bottom of Peter’s t-shirt, jerking it up and over his head, then sighs with a kind of relief when he touches bare skin.  He skims his fingers over all of his tattoos, sucks Peter’s tongue into his mouth and makes small, needy noises-

-Chris sucks and licks and bites his way down Peter’s neck, sending shivers of want down his spine while heat curls in his belly. He’s greedy with his mouth and hands, only letting Peter return the favor and get his shirt off by pulling his face out of Chris’ reach. The second it’s off he grips the back of his head and pulls him back in. Peter makes a broken desperate sound, fighting with Chris’ pants until he can get a hand inside. Chris freezes, then arches up into it, digging his fingers in his ass and kneading it.-

You’re so perfect. Everything about you is perfect. Christopher.

-Chris is not perfect.  He’s a broken wreck of a man, and Peter is well aware of that.  But Chris is well aware of the fact Peter doesn’t mean “perfect” so much as he means “perfect for Peter,” and Christ, yes, the way they fit together in every way is now the overwhelming reality of Chris’ day to day existence.  Which is why he refuses to let Peter fade away on him.  Refuses. He shoves his hands into the back of Peter’s pants as he ruts into Peter’s fist, cups his ass in one hand while the other slides back until the tips of his fingers press against Peter’s hole-

I’m perfect with you -he gasps into Peter’s mouth-  We’re perfect.

wereallworksinprogress:

christopherargent:

 

-Chris drops his hand to Peter’s mark and palms it in a mirror to Peter’s hand on him-

I know.  I won’t survive you, either.  -his motions are clumsy with grief and alcohol, but he tugs Peter forward and kisses him, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and tasting the whiskey there-

-It feels like kissing out the pain. But they’re both so full of their own that they’re simply trading it back and forth. It doesn’t hurt any less but maybe they feel less alone.

Chris pulls him closer and Peter goes willingly, straddling his waist, hands buried in his hair. Their mouths are sloppy and uncoordinated but it’s perfect.-

You know what this means? -Peter asks against his lips. He doesn’t wait for Chris to answer.- We’ll just have to live forever.

-It’s perfect.-

-The wounded noise he makes is swallowed up by the press of Peter’s mouth, and his hands push bruises into Peter’s hips as Chris arches into his weight.  So good.  He scrabbles with the bottom of Peter’s t-shirt, jerking it up and over his head, then sighs with a kind of relief when he touches bare skin.  He skims his fingers over all of his tattoos, sucks Peter’s tongue into his mouth and makes small, needy noises-