Work Header

Don't Leave Me Like This

Work Text:

The rise and swell of the loud music was burning on Peter’s skin like fire, hot and bright like vibrating energy seeping into his bloodstream. It was sweet and blissful, making his brain shut up for once. There was nothing but the haze surrounding him, people laughing, and dancing and music. It felt like each and every of his nerve endings was humming with life and electricity.



He was feeling good.



In the back of his mind Peter knew, of course, that getting this drunk, mixing alcohol with whatever those pills had been, was far from a good idea, but it wasn’t like he was somewhere  strange, at some place he didn’t’ know with people he didn’t’ know.



This was home. Wait no scratch that, had been home.



He knew these corridors, these doors and where they lead. It was okay, it was fine. He was feeling good, it was almost impossible to feel anything but good here. There were so many people laughing, drinking, enjoying themselves. Many of them Peter knew, some he didn’t. It felt like the entirety of the American professional league of legends scene was gathered here tonight.



And of course there were girls. Pretty girls. And alcohol of course, so much alcohol.



The important thing though was that people were having fun. They were young, and wild and free and everything felt possible in a night like this. They were living their dream. They all were, right?



How could they not be happy?



Peter was.



He had come here with Søren and Kevin but somewhere, at some point in space and time, he must have lost them because they weren’t with him anymore. They probably went outside, to the pool, the basketball court, maybe one of them was upstairs with a girl in one of the bedrooms. It was all possible.



 Or they were in some corner talking about league like the fucking nerds they all were after all. More than possible, as well.  But Peter didn’t know. And it didn’t matter anyway.



Peter was alone, standing at the junction between kitchen and floor, sipping from a cup that was filled with some weird bubbly drink. He wasn’t sure how exactly he acquired it but it wasn’t tasting bad, so what the hell?



Here’s to the good old days right? Here’s to the future? Whatever.



Someone was yelling something over the music and but Peter couldn’t understand what was being said. The words were muffled by noises and walls but people were cheering so it had to be something nice, right?



He smiled looking down at his cup; and it was due to that that he didn’t see Zaqueri entering the hallway, not in time. 



Zaqueri stopped in his tracks and Peter forgot to drop the lazy smile before making eye contact. It was the alcohol and probably something else clouding his judgement because instead of walking away like he should, like he would, if he was sober, he didn’t move, kept casually leaning against the doorframe, waiting for Zaqueri to make a call, to decide how this inevitable confrontation was going to play out.



Like old times, it flashed through his mind and the thought alone made him giggle. It was not funny though. Even his hazy brain recognized that, so when Zaqueri started walking towards him, Peter straightened a little.



Zaqueri looked good. Of course he did. He was a good looking guy and that hadn’t changed. It was not like Peter hadn’t seen him in a long time either, so it didn’t make sense for Peter feeling a little caught off guard. They were part of the same scene, still were, the rift was, and always had been, neutral, common ground. It was just that it was no longer them there. They were enemies now, and Peter, even though he could barely admit it to his drunk self, still wasn’t quite used to that.



Zaqueri was wearing one of his graphic tees and shorts.



Peter would prefer it if he didn’t. Wear shorts that is. Rather jeans or something. Because Peter had always had a thing for Zaqueri’s strong calves. And that was most definitely not something he liked to think about while drunk and in the relative privacy of a dim hallway, alone with his ex-boyfriend.



Zaqueri was looking him up and down with his dark eyes and Peter would feel a little insecure if he didn’t know he looked more than just good in those tight jeans and it wasn’t like he had ever backed down from a challenge. And it was challenge that he could see on Zaqueri’s face. Sure, mixed with anger but it was there.  Despite everything else.



 Or maybe it wasn’t a despite, maybe it was a because.



There had been a time where seeing Zaqueri’s usually  kind eyes like this would have been a surprise to Peter but it wasn’t anymore. It wasn’t like he expected any differently.



He quirked an eyebrow at Zaqueri, lifting his cup at him in greeting or something. He wasn’t quite sure. It felt appropriate.



“What are you doing here?” Zaqueri asked, surprisingly calm.



Peter just shrugged. “It’s a party. I’m here to, you know-“ he smirked, “-party.”



“Cut the crap, Peter.” Zaqueri huffed, rolling his eyes, obviously annoyed. “Who invited you? Who wants you here?”






Peter took the last sip from his cup, remaining quiet for a moment. It was truly astonishing how quickly Zaqueri could make Peter’s previously good mood turn sour. Must be a talent, he thought only slightly bitter, even though he probably knew better than anyone, that Zaqueri was not somebody who brought people down. Usually. He had always been a kind person. Still was, most likely. Just not to Peter.



“People.” Peter answered snippily. “You realize you got like 90% of NA LCS running around here. So how is me being here a surprise to you?”



Zaqueri threw a glance over his shoulder, probably wishing to be anywhere else but here. Probably  preferring if he was outside with his new and old teammates, enjoying the party, ignoring Peter’s existence. At least that had been Peter’s plan. And he’d preferred it that way too. But here they were now. Might as well make the best of it.



Everything was possible, right?



“I’m not surprised.” Zaqueri clarified. “I’m pissed.”  He sounded pissed too and Peter didn’t really enjoy the way Zaqueri’s angry glare made his skin prickle.



“Relax, would you?” Peter licked his lips, putting on a confident smile “You came up to talk to me. Not the other way round. You could have simply turned around and done whatever.  So-“ he cut himself off, shrugging.



It wasn’t like he forced Zaqueri to have a conversation with him, to interact at all or acknowledge his presence here. That was on Zaqueri so Peter saw no point in backing down, letting Zaqueri ruin this party for him.



“Well,” Zaqueri just scoffed “I assume you still remember where the door is.”



He made an unnecessary gesture down the hallway, like he was actually expecting Peter to turn on his heels and leave, just because Zaqueri said so. It was ridiculous.



“Wow.” Peter said in mock surprise “And people call me rude.”



No one ever called Zaqueri rude. Peter had a hard time remembering anything negative ever said publically about Zaqueri as a person. A good guy all around. Well-liked and respected.



The same could not be said about himself, but who cared, right? It’s not like any of those wannabe trash-talkers had anything on him. They didn’t. Neither did Zaqueri.



“Yeah they do.” Zaqueri said. “They call you all kind of things, but you know that.”



Peter shrugged noncommittally, watching Zaqueri carefully “And are they right? With what they say about me? What they call me?”



Zaqueri shook his head “I’m not doing this, Peter.” He took the cup from Peter’s hand, placing it on the sideboard. “No. Not here, not now. We’ve said everything there was to say months ago. This conversation is not happening. Now get out.”



“Everything? Did we? Did we say everything?” Peter almost laughed, tilting his head slightly, “Oh right, I remember. What was it you said? That I bring people down, more often than not? That I poison everything? That everything I do has a negative impact on the people around me? Is that the ‘everything’ you are referring to, Zac?”



“It’s the truth. You are. You ruin shit for people. And now you are doing it again.” Zaqueri sounded angry, spiteful and even a little bit hurt. And that just did it for Peter. Because that wasn’t fair. Zaqueri had no right to play hurt now, after spitting this in Peter’s face like that, after trying to kick him out of the party where basically their whole world was invited.



If anybody had the right to act hurt it was Peter.



“You basically called me cancerous.” Peter snapped, taking a step forward. He wasn’t drunk enough for balance issues yet and he was glad about that, seeing the way Zaqueri glared at him.



“Like you give a single fuck what anybody says about you.” Zaqueri shook his head, mouth twisted into an unkind smile.



It stung, just a little but it did. Because Zaqueri knew that that was blatantly untrue. He knew Peter cared. Well not about anybody, but some. Him for example. But that was in the past now.



“You don’t care.” Zaqueri said “And look at you, now. Landed on your feet, like always. Still trash-talking, still being an arrogant prick. You don’t give a fuck.”



“I give a fuck what you say!” Peter half yelled, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Gave.  Said. Whatever, fuck it.” he stopped himself, taking in a deep breath. It was a good thing the music was so loud. Somebody hearing this conversation was not something Peter would enjoy happening. “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to start shit with you, regardless of what you seem to think. Apparently you don’t know me that well after all.”



“Oh I know you.” Zaqueri said, crossing his arms. He lifted an eyebrow at Peter “I don’t think you can say the same about me though, can you?”



“Obviously not.” Peter let out a humorless chuckle, “I, for example, thought we had made peace at Allstars.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t.



Zaqueri seemed slightly taken aback for a moment, not answering immediately. Peter just waited. Eyes focused only on the man in front of him.



“…We did.” Zaqueri said eventually and it almost sounded remorseful, or something. Peter wasn’t sure what the right word was and he was too drunk to ponder it any longer.



“Then stop getting in my face, Zac. I don’t need this.” Peter pushed past Zaqueri. “I didn’t ask for you to talk to me. I would have been fine going through this whole party without even catching a fucking glimpse of you. You started this.”



A hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks. He hadn’t expected any physical contact. It blindsided him. His skin felt hot where Zaqueri’s hand wrapped around his wrist.



“You said we weren’t friends.” Zaqueri said, his tone was nonchalant but his eyes told a different story. Before Peter had his mouth half open to ask what exactly Zaqueri meant, he already continued. “When the news broke and people asked about our friendship. You said we were teammates. Nothing more.”



This was ridiculous. Peter slowly, but surely placed his hand over Zaqueri’s were it was still holding his arm. There was nothing tender in the touch.



“What would you have liked me to say?” His voice did not waver one bit, when he spoke as he forced Zaqueri’s grip open, releasing his wrist. “That my fucking boyfriend broke it off with me and got me kicked off the team that had been my home for the past four years? I think not.”



“I didn’t get you kicked off.” Zaqueri hissed. “You did that all by yourself.”



Peter smiled. “Oh right. I forgot. I’m so toxic and negative and so full of myself, always talking trash even though I’m the one who’s-“ he paused , glancing towards the stairway, towards the kitchen, back at Zaqueri. This house had been his home not so long ago. Now he was only a visitor. An unwelcome one too. What a great feeling.  “You know I’ve always been like that. Been me.  I’ve always been me. I was when you met me, I was when you kissed me the first time and I was when you told me you loved me. And it was always fine. But then suddenly-“



“It wasn’t suddenly!” Zaqueri cut him off and in a way Peter was glad about that. He’d already said more than he had planned to. His damn mouth faster than his brain again.



 Zaqueri had his hands clenched into fists. “Nothing about it was suddenly. It was slow and painful and I fucking tried. For us, for the team. I tried. But you were too proud to work on yourself. You rather worked on bringing me and everyone around you down. Because that’s just what you do best. That’s who you are.”



“You said you loved me.” Peter spit, like it was a valuable objection and not just some embarrassingly desperate nonsense. “You told me you loved me and then you stopped! You just stopped!”



“Stop? Stop what? I didn’t- “ Zaqueri ran a hand through his now short curls. “Love doesn’t work like that, Peter. It doesn’t just stop!”



“Yes it does!” It felt like being talked down to. Like he was a child and Zaqueri was scolding him. Peter wanted to shove him but thankfully his drunk brain recognized in time that this would not exactly establish him as a the rational grown up in this situation, so instead he opted for glaring at Zaqueri, trying not let the hurt show. “Love stops all the time. First my family, then you. It just does.”



They both fall silent for a moment and for the first time Peter became aware of how quickly his breathing was going, how fast his heart was hammering in his chest. If it weren’t for the loud music he’d probably hear it too.



 Zaqueri was looking away.



“Well.” He said carefully, after another few beats of silence. “What’s the red thread there, huh?” his eyes flipped back to Peter “You.”



“Fuck you!” Peter yelled “Seriously fuck you!”



It hurt. God it hurt. They had said a lot of hurtful things to each other in the past but never once had Zaqueri breached that threshold. Never once had he committed to such a low blow. He knew how much the thing with his family still bothered Peter, even after all these years. Zaqueri was probably the only person who knew just how much.



 It made Peter’s stomach clench and his mouth tasted like bile. “You call me toxic and hateful and all this shit and yet it’s you, it’s you acting like a fucking dick, getting all up in my face when there was literally no goddamn reason for us to even interact one single time at this shit party. “ Peter stopped himself, looking away briefly, “Go fuck that Stixxay kid for all I care.” He said bitterly.



“What the fuck, Peter.” Zaqueri growled “You think me and Trevor-“



“Well I sure hope not,” Peter shot back “He’s like twelve, so-“



“I can’t believe we are even talking about this!” Zaqueri slammed his hand against the wall “And don’t even talk about Trevor. He’s a good person. I mean what- what the hell? What- What the fuck is wrong with you?”



Peter swallowed, feeling the bitterness filling up every last corner of his body. Hadn’t he felt happy a few moments ago?



“I think you pointed out quite clearly what exactly you think is wrong with me.” he couldn’t stop himself from sarcastically mouthing a silent so much at Zaqueri.



Zaqueri let out a humorless laugh, it almost sounded cold and yet, it wasn’t. There was more to it and peter could feel it. He just wasn’t quite sure how to get it on the surface. The expression on Zaqueri’s face wasn’t offering any hints, not yet.



Peter threw another glance in the direction of the living room, before clearing his throat.


“You know-“ hebegan but Zaqueri cut him off instantly.



“I swear to god, Peter,” He glared at him “If you say one more time that ‘there was no reason for me to come talk to you’ I will seriously punch you, right here, right now.”



“Oh really?” Peter couldn’t help but chuckle.  There was not one version of reality where he could imagine that threat coming true. Zaqueri didn’t punch people. Zaqueri would never lose his temper like that, even when intoxicated like now. Peter was sure of that. “You won’t.” he pointed out, more or less smugly. “And it’s true though. No reason at all.”



“Of course!” Zaqueri snapped, sounding more than just a little frustrated. “Of fucking course I had to come and talk to you with you being here! You know that. You knew it, when you showed up here, that there was no way we would not end up here.”



Here.  And where is here? In the hallway of a house that used to be both of our home?



Here, together? Here, basically at each others throats?



Here, ready to fight or to kiss?



Or both?



Peter closed his eyes feeling his blood coursing through his body, his heart pounding in his chest and his skin prickling with something between excitement and impatience.



“Why though?” he said, tilting his head slightly, taking a step forward. His voice is low but no less determined. “Everything that needed to be said, has been said…right?”



Peter could feel the beginning of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip but he held it back for now, this was a walk on the edge. Tripping and falling was not what he was planning on. Been there done that, right?



Zaqueri nodded slowly, probably more to himself than Peter. “I want you to leave.” He said calmly but with an underlying rush. Like he couldn’t get his point across fast enough. “I can’t stand you being here.”







For a split second Peter felt kinda taken aback because that seemed harsher for some reason, harsher than all the other hurtful shit they had thrown at each other to night. It took him a moment though, to figure it out, what he saw in Zaqueri’s eyes earlier, urgency, anger, maybe even hate. But there was more. There was something Peter recognized as fervor.



And oh.



It was one thing thinking about it, imagining it, but actually getting the opportunity of it happening…



“Oh.” Peter said, and this time he allowed himself to let more than just a bit of smugness seep into this little word. “ Could it be that… you are not quite over me?” He asked lifting one eyebrow at Zaqueri.



“Oh of course I’m over you.” Zaqueri scoffed. “I was the one ending it, remember?”



“Vividly.”  Peter half shrugged deciding to take another step forward. Now only inches were separating them. If anyone was to walk in right now, seeing Zaqueri and him standing more than a little too close, they’d definitely pick up on the fact that something was going on.



“Well…” Peter continued, “If you are over me and I am over you, then there really shouldn’t be a problem…” he leaned in just so much that Zaqueri could feel his lips brushing over his ear “…with me being here…” he paused waiting for Zaqueri to react in some way but nothing happened so slowly Peter allowed his hand to find its way to the side of Zaqueri’s neck, touching the hot skin there. “…and with this neither…” he mumbled before pulling Zaqueri in, closing the last centimeters between them, their lips brushing against each other, first barely, tenderly then suddenly  more, harder, faster. Zaqueri was kissing him back.



For old times sake?



Peter ignored it when Zaqueri tried to retreat from the kiss, mumbling his name. Instead he chased his lips, opening them, pushing his tongue in, so Zaqueri had no choice but to keep kissing him back.



When Zaqueri pulled back a little nonetheless, Peter’s mouth caught his chin, the line of his jaw. The skin of his throat tasted familiar and new at the same time.



“Peter,” Zaqueri sighed and his eyes had gone dark and a little unfocused. It was more than just slightly hot. Peter could feel his cock taking interest inside his pants and he shamelessly pressed himself closer to Zaqueri, making sure he could feel Peter against his thigh.



“Peter,” Zaqueri said again and Peter wondered if that was how regret sounded like. Or was it nostalgia? Probably both. Those two often went hand in hand after all.



Maybe that was why Zaqueri’s lips tasted so sweet despite Zaqueri being more of a beer than a cocktail kinda guy.



“What?” Peter hummed lowly “Is there a problem?” he let his leg slip between Zaqueri’s thighs, pressing up and probably on instinct Zaqueri grinded down, causing Peter to feel that he wasn’t the only one aroused by this. “Is this a problem?”



“You know it is.” Zaqueri said, voice more even and collected than Peter would have expected as he grabs him by the shoulders getting a few inches of space back between them. The look in his eyes hadn’t changed though. “We are over. This relationship ended. And we are in a goddamn hallway, Peter.  This most definitely is a problem.”



“Mhm.” Peter tilted his head to the side so his lips brushed against Zaqueri’s fingers where they rested on his shoulders to keep him in place. He let his tongue dart out, tasting the skin, just for a moment a split second, but judging from the small sound Zaqueri made, low in his throat, it was enough. Peter knew what Zaqueri was probably thinking about. About his fingers in Peter’s mouth, about Peter sucking them, getting them ready, about what he used to do to Peter with those fingers after.



“I haven’t forgotten where your room is.” Peter said, eyes not leaving Zaqueri’s, a small smile playing on his lips. “And this is only a problem if you make it one, Zac.”



“No.” Zaqueri replied, but it was without force, without finality. “Not my room.” He moved his hand to Peter’s neck, almost reaching into his hair. Peter couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flickering to his lips. “You don’t belong there anymore.”



“I never did.” Peter could almost ignore the way his heart clenched.



He let his eyes wander down the hallway. There was a bathroom there, behind the corner. Zaqueri’s eyes followed his and Peter gave a tiny nod before shrugging of Zaqueri’s hands.



“What do you mean you never did?” Zaqueri asked quietly as Peter turned around.



“A mistake…That’s what we were, right?” Peter walked down the hallway, feeling Zaqueri’s presence close behind him. “That’s what you said.”



Zaqueri’s arm wrapped around Peter’s waist from behind as Peter’s hand touched the doorknob. He could feel the warmth through the thin material of his T-Shirt, low on his stomach, just above the waistband of his jeans.



“Are you saying you disagree?” Zaqueri asked, lips pressed to the spot just behind Peter’s ear while he pressed himself to Peter’s backside.



“No,”Peter sighed , leading Zaqueri’s hand down from his stomach to his cock where it was still trapped inside his jeans. “I absolutely do agree.”



Zaqueri didn’t reply and the next thing that came out of Peter’s mouth before they stumbled into the bathroom together was a low-pitched whine as Zaqueri cupped his cock, squeezing slightly.



It turned out they got into the bathroom not a second too early because as soon as the door fell shut behind Peter and he slammed Zaqueri against it, lips wet and open, moving against his, there were footsteps in the hallway outside. If Peter had been a little more sober he would have cared and Zaqueri probably too. But Peter blocked out any thoughts about the outside world. As for Zaqueri, Peter’s hand sneaking under his shirt was probably distraction enough.



“This is not happening.” Zaqueri said as Peter bit him quick and sharp on his bottom lip. His voice was so deep and gravely it made heat coil in the pit of Peter’s stomach, made his mind fail to remember how he had been able to go months without this, without him.



“It’s not.” Peter agreed, smirking into the kiss as Zaqueri tangled his fingers in his hair, pulling him in deeper, his tongue sliding into Peter’s mouth.



The back of Zaqueri’s head hit the door with a low thumb as he jerked back, a little surprised by Peter’s hand cupping his dick, Peter’s lips on his throat, licking biting. The times for tender and loving were over. It wasn’t them anymore. It couldn’t.



Zaqueri was right, this was a problem, this shouldn’t be happening, but it was also only a background thought in Peter’s mind as he let himself slide to his knees, kneeling on the cold bathroom tiles in front of Zaqueri, staring up at him. His hands were on Zaqueri’s belt and for a moment Peter felt the intense urge to giggle because this was ridiculous, he was about to give his ex-boyfriend a blowjob, in the bathroom of a house he was kicked out of, while there was a party going on outside.



He wasn’t supposed to want this.



But fuck, he did.



Zaqueri’s fingers were still in Peter’s hair, unmoving, but there. Zaqueri could stop him in a second, his eyes are locked with Peter’s. But he didn’t. He let Peter unbuckle his belt, let him slide down the zipper and eventually let him pull down his pants to his ankle.



He could have stopped him.



Peter smirked.



Zaqueri wasn’t supposed to want this either.



But he did.



Peter presses his face into the conjunction between hip and thigh, breathing in the smell of the naked skin, hands on Zaqueri’s legs. He knew Zaqueri should get impatient should urge him to hurry to just do it but Peter decided to do this his way, to take this moment. He pressed a kiss there, against the sensitive skin, smiling at the hiss that escaped Zaqueri’s lips.



“C’mon.” Zaqueri urged him eventually, sure enough, but Peter had never been one to easily follow commands so he pressed a few more kisses into Zaqueri’s skin, letting his hands wander, touching everywhere except where Zaqueri wanted it the most.



“Tease.” Zaqueri mumbled, but he didn’t sound mad, it almost sounded something awfully close to loving so before Peter could think about that too much he finally turned his attention to Zaqueri’s leaking naked cock, standing proudly. For a split second Peter made eye contact with Zaqueri, then he dipped forward, letting the tip of his cock enter his mouth, brushing through his lips.



Zaqueri let out a low moan and Peter responded with a hum, flicking his tongue around the sensitive head of Zaqueri’s cock in his mouth. The taste was so familiar, it was almost like an instant response, his body reacting, Peter palming himself through his jeans while letting Zaqueri slide his cock in further.



The first time Peter had done this he had complained about it, hadn’t liked the bitter, salty taste. Hadn’t enjoyed how it made his jaw ache after a while or the feeling of it dragging over his tongue.  That had changed rather quickly.



They hadn’t been each others firsts but surely the most important ones at least as far as Peter is concerned. Being in this position again, on his knees, Zaqueri’s cock in his mouth, his own rock hard in his jeans, it felt brilliant and shameful.



It tasted salty, it tasted like winning, the high of victory, like selfloathing and times gone by.



Zaqueri’s fingers dug into his skull and Peter rubbed his thigh a silent cue and agreement allowing Zaqueri to move more vigorously, to thrust into Peter’s mouth instead of just keeping his hips still letting Peter do the work.



It made Peter choke a bit, it had been awhile after all but god, feeling Zaqueri’s strong hands keeping his head in place, letting him fuck his mouth, it might just be the highlight of Peter’s week.



“Peter,” he whispered and from his lips, in this moment it sounded so dirty, almost like a swear, almost like shame. Peter could feel it in his bones.



He should be ashamed right?



But then Zaqueri moaned, his hips jerked and his cock hit the back of Peter’s throat, causes him to choke more than just a little and it made him forget. Forget how wrong this was, how much Zacheri hurt him, how his words cut like knives the day he ended it, how Peter had cried more about it than he’d ever be willing to admit to anyone . He forgot it all for that moment but then Zaqueri pulled back, allowing air into Peter’s lungs, causing Peter to let out a pitiful cough, wiping spit from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.



“Shit I’m sorry.” Zaqueri’s voice was rough, deeper than usual, but the hand finding Peter’s cheek was gentle, a feather light touch. Peter almost leaned into it.



“You want to fuck me?” Peter asked quickly, nudging the hand way, rubbing Zaqueri’s thighs with his hands instead, looking up at him, his vision just the slightest bit clouded. “Or me to fuck you?”



Zaqueri was quiet for a moment and Peter used the time to get back up on his feet, his knees already hurting from the hard tiles. He slipped his hand inside his own pants, well aware of Zaqueri’s eyes following his every move. Touching his own cock after neglecting it for what felt like hours, even within the confines of his pants, was fucking heaven and Peter couldn’t help but moan.



“Me you.” Zaqueri eventually answered, breathlessly, his eyes wide and dark. It send a primal shiver down Peter’s spine, causing him to give his cock a rough stroke, making himself whimper.



Zaqueri took in a sharp breath at that sound, quickly turning the key of the door to lock it, before stepping forward crushing their lips together for another heated kiss.



“Turn around.” Zaqueri whispered into Peter’s ear so Peter did, finding himself facing the mirror, seeing his own flushed face, marks already appearing on his collarbones, his lips looking swollen. He looked wrecked, even though nothing had happened yet.



He could see  Zaqueri move behind him, pulling down Peter’s pants . Peter’s legs were just the slightest bit shaky, forcing him to bend forward, gripping the edges of the sink for support.



Peter closed his eyes for a moment, maybe two, and it must have been during that time that Zaqueri magically made lube appear. Peter wasn’t sure if he’d stored it here somewhere or whatever but it didn’t really matter. It felt cold against his backside and he couldn’t help but hiss causing Zaqueri to chuckle. Probably reminded of all the other times they did it like this, quick and dirty, no time for anything unnecessary.



Peter made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob as Zaqueri roughly pushed one finger in without warning. It was lube slick but it still burned. Peter hadn’t done this in a while, just his own fingers. This was different.



Zaqueri’s other hand was on his back, feeling hot even through his T-Shirt. Peter would prefer it on his bare skin but that was not happening, taking of clothes more, taking time, was not happening.



“Zac-“ Peter got out, getting impatient, pushing back onto Zaqueri’s finger, urging him to move, to get him ready. “ -and you call me a tease.”



They made eye contact through the mirror and Peter could only keep himself from grinding down against the sink, getting himself some friction, with great difficulty. The look in Zaqueri’s lust blown eyes  combined with him finally finally moving his finger was almost too much.



“C’mon.” Peter let out a frustrated groan, “Another. I need you inside me. Now. C’mon, Zac.”



Zaqueri complied, adding another finger, making quick work of scissoring  them, opening Peter up and yes, god yes Peter knew it was necessary and usually he quite enjoyed it, having Zaqueri prep him, take his time, but now it was different, right now he felt like the blood in his veins was on fire.



He needed more, he needed it now. Looking into the mirror Peter could see himself, sweaty and needy, rocking back onto Zaqueri’s fingers like a bitch in heat.



It was so shameful. It was so good.



“Peter-“ Zaqueri groaned, pulling his fingers out, ignoring the involuntary whine that escaped Peter’s lips. “Peter-“



Peter thought he was going to lose his mind. His head snapped up, finding Zaqueri’s eyes in the mirror. This was so frustrating. Peter would usually sneak a hand between his own legs, giving his painfully hard cock a few strokes but now he couldn’t, he couldn’t let go of the sink, couldn’t risk losing his balance. And it was ten times hotter like this anyway.



“What.” Peter hissed, his voice hoarse with arousal. “What’s the fucking problem?”



“Do I need a condom?” Zaqueri asked, his brow slightly furrowed.



Peter just stared at him or rather his reflection in the mirror, his mind fuzzy with alcohol and arousal, failing to register what exactly Zaqueri was asking. “What the- Just fuck me, Zac.”



“Peter.” Zaqueri said firmly and Peter could feel his cock, brushing against his thigh from behind, hard, twitching. It drew another frustrated whine from Peter. His lips were already bitten raw. The anticipation was killing him.



“Peter, do I need a condom or not?”



“God!” Peter slammed his hand onto the sink. “I don’t care, I don’t give a fuck, just- Just fucking do it already.”



Zaqueri looked like he was going to say more but eventually he didn’t instead he grabbed Peter’s hip with one hand, keeping him in place and a second later Peter could feel the head of Zaqueri’s cock breaching the rim of his hole.



Peter let out a moan, dropping his head so he didn’t have to look at the mirror any longer, feeling it was enough. Adding the visual to it, Peter feared he might come this very second.



Zaqueri didn’t take time to edge forward, didn’t grant Peter a moment to get used to the intrusion and Peter is thankful for that. It made the sudden rush of pain so much sweeter when Zaqueri slammed into him all for sudden.



The high pitched moan that dropped off Peter’s lips was embarrassing to say the least, meek and gruff at the same time, but it didn’t matter, nothing did. He could feel Zaqueri move inside of him, could feel his hot breath on his neck, his hand twisting into the fabric of Peter’s T-Shirt.



Peter made the mistake of glancing up, of catching a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror and the image almost made him lose his grip. It was ridiculous how much he wanted this, how much it was driving him crazy.  Zaqueri’s powerful hip movements, the line of his neck when he threw his head back, the strength in his arms, it forces a something closer to a sob than a moan from Peter’s lips because right in that moment Zaqueri angled his thrust just right hitting Peter’s prostrate.



“Zac-“ Peter managed to get out after several tries that all end up in him choked moans, “Your hand please-“



It wasn’t even a full sentence but there wasn’t really that much to not get about what Peter was begging for and sure enough Zaqueri understood, letting one of his hands drop from peter’s hips to wrap it around his cock, causing Peter to throw his head back in pleasure.



Zaqueri made some sort of noise too, a moan, a grunt, there was no way for Peter be sure. He couldn’t really hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears, the violent pounding of his heart, but he knew his tight heat clenching around Zaqueri’s cock like this, when he’s close to coming, it always drove Zaqueri crazy. His rhythm faltered and his strokes on peter’s cock got sloppier by the second but it didn’t matter.



It was all too intense for Peter to last any longer, so another sharp thrust to Peter’s prostate was enough. Enough to push him over the edge. The rush of endorphins mixed with alcohol and what not in his system was making him dizzy, his vision getting blurry. Peter’s cock pulsed and then he came, spilling his come over Zaqueri’s hand, down onto the floor.



A soft, distressed escaped his lips as he came. He may be loud when it came to everything else inside and outside the bedroom but coming, the moment when his orgasm hits him, that had always been more quiet than anything else. No moans or loud whines. Just a whimper, his eyes pressed shut.



He didn’t notice when Zaqueri came, his mind unable to comprehend anything this shortly after orgasms but Zaqueri pulled out before it could get uncomfortable and while Peter let his head drop to rest on his forearm he can feel come trickle down his quivering thighs.



Zaqueri was quiet and Peter could hear the rustling of clothes as Zaqueri put his pants back on.



Peter needed another moment, trying to concentrate on catching his breath, licking his suddenly far too dry lips. When he felt Zaqueri’s hand gently on his lower back, he looked up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. He didn’t look as wrecked as Peter himself but  still somewhat disheveled.



Peter managed a small smile, fumbling for his pants ignoring the fact that it was going to make him feel pretty disgusting in just about 30 seconds, pulling his pants up without cleaning off Zaqueri’s come first. But staying like this a moment longer, feeling that vulnerable, Peter couldn’t do that, not with the way his stomach is clenching uncomfortably.



Zaqueri watched quietly, how Peter splashed cold water into his face, trying to make his hair somewhat presentable, but he didn’t say anything, not until Peter already had his hand on the doorknob, ready to turn the key and disappear without another word.



“Do you ever miss me?” he asked and it caught Peter more than a little of guard. The words didn’t match the guarded expression Zaqueri wears and his body language seemed somewhat off too, hands buried in the pockets of his shorts.



“…No.” It took him a moment to answer, only doing it when he was sure his voice was close to even. “This?” Peter gestured between them.Yes. But not you.”



At least not bad enough to admit it.



“You missed the sex.” Zaqueri let out a chuckle. “So that is what this was about?”



“Yeah.” Peter’s lips twisted into a cold smile. If he didn’t know better, Zaqueri almost sounded hurt, which was ridiculous frankly. It had been him after all who had yelled at peter, had tried to kick him out, make him leave. “Do you? Miss me, I mean.”



“Miss you? I miss a lot of things. Us fighting, you being an arse, me having to apologize to everyone for you and your behavior, fixing your shit, …I sure as hell don’t miss that.” Zaqueri shrugged but it wasn’t as nonchalant as he’d probably intended.



Peter smirked, ignoring the sting in his heart “What about the sex? You miss that?”



Zaqueri didn’t answer. Which, of course, was an answer in itself. To more than just that question.



This time it was Peter who shrugged “We should do this again some time.”



Zaqueri shook his head, rubbing his neck. “We really shouldn’t.”



Peter nodded, a  smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  He turned the key, opening the bathroom door.



“Oh and Zac,” Peter said turning around again after a moment of thought. “You never said you don’t miss me…”



Zaqueri scoffed. “Well I don’t.”