There was a longer pause that Emrys would have anticipated, given that Pettigrew had approached him back at the party, and given that he'd been teasing a moment earlier. He'd said he wasn't patient, but he'd paused — but there wasn't really enough time to think about it before things started up again. Pettigrew's mouth was just what he'd been hoping it would be, warm and wet and inviting. Pettigrew was kissing him as though he were a drowning man desperate for air, which probably had more to do with Pettigrew than it did with Emrys, but nevermind that. He hadn't brought Pettigrew here to continue dissecting him, trying to figure out his life story and how the pieces fit together — he'd brought him here to fuck him. He could pretend this desperation had something to do with him and feel flattered.
Emrys returned the kiss and kept Pettigrew pinned to the door with the pressure from his hips, while his hands moved to work through the layers of clothing between him and the other man's chest. He'd never slept with a Quidditch player before. He wondered how the muscles there compared to other types of sportsmen. How delicious that he would soon find out.
"How do you want to do this?" he asked breathlessly when he finally left off kissing Pettigrew, after working through the full set of his shirt buttons. One hand drifted to the top of Pettigrew's belt buckle, fingertips tracing the skin below his navel. Usually in these sorts of situations Emrys asked is this your first time doing this? so that he could adjust his level of support and coaching appropriately, but — the answer to that question was, he had decided, pretty obviously no.
Emrys returned the kiss and kept Pettigrew pinned to the door with the pressure from his hips, while his hands moved to work through the layers of clothing between him and the other man's chest. He'd never slept with a Quidditch player before. He wondered how the muscles there compared to other types of sportsmen. How delicious that he would soon find out.
"How do you want to do this?" he asked breathlessly when he finally left off kissing Pettigrew, after working through the full set of his shirt buttons. One hand drifted to the top of Pettigrew's belt buckle, fingertips tracing the skin below his navel. Usually in these sorts of situations Emrys asked is this your first time doing this? so that he could adjust his level of support and coaching appropriately, but — the answer to that question was, he had decided, pretty obviously no.
Lou made this! <3