Page 14 of Need a Hand?
Peter visibly deflated, his shoulders sagging. “Okay, fine, true,” he muttered. “But it’s not—it’s a joke, okay? Throw it in the Goodwill pile.”
Oh, no. Abso-fucking-lutely not. Because the moment Damian had unearthed this satiny little thing, his mouth had gone dry and his heart had skipped a beat or two.
Peter. Owned a corset.
Which meant…maybe he’d worn it. By himself, because Damian knew good and well Peter had never dated anyone he trusted enough to show it off to. They’d talked about their histories.
But maybe he’d wear it for Damian.
Even imagining Peter adjacent to, looking at, or thinking about a corset had Damian’s cock rock-hard.
And arguing about it didn’t get him any less turned-on. The last time they’d argued about a costume had actually been Halloween, when Damian convinced Peter to dress as Spider-Man and then balked when Peter insisted on Deadpool in exchange; Damian had had his heart set on Tony Stark.
“Like ten million fanfic readers disagree with you, babe,” Peter had said. “It’s all about Spideypool. Besides, you’re way too young to be Stark.”
The argument had ended with Peter bent over the washing machine. Damian had already put his Tony Stark outfit in to freshen it up; he’d found Peter in the dastardly act of pulling it out to replace it with a Deadpool costume. Twenty minutes later, they’d staggered to the shower together, with the Deadpool outfit in the washing machine and rinsing away. Peter had totally won that one, and Damian didn’t care. He’d win this one.
Also, come to think of it, hehadwon that one, because he cared more about Peter’s moans and white-knuckled grip on the sides of the washing machine and the way he’d gone up on his toes and…yeah, that mattered way more than Damian’s outfit.
Anyway. Arguing with Peter about clothes really didn’t get Damian out of the mood.
“Or,” Damian said, taking a step closer, “bear with me, here—”
“No, not a chance!”
Damian took another step, getting right in Peter’s space, close enough to see the way his eyelashes fluttered as he took a deep breath. “It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow,” he said, low and coaxing. “You know, sexy lingerie day. And chocolate. I already have the chocolate covered.”
For a second, Peter’s eyes lit up. “You do? That’s—I don’t ever get…”
“Yeah, well, you do now,” Damian said, more roughly than he’d meant to. Five months of showing Peter how much Damian wanted him and valued him had made a dent in his tendency to think less of himself than he deserved, but hadn’t erased it. And it still made Damian angry that Peter had ever felt that way in the first place. “You know I’d get you anything you wanted. It’s not just the chocolate,” he hurried to add. “I’m not that lame.”
“It’s not lame, and I got you something too,” Peter said. “And it’s not sexy lingerie day.”
Dammit, he hadn’t lost track of the point. “It so is. Fine, we’ll make it fair. Go buy something for me to wear, I don’t give a fuck what it is. As long as you wear this.”
Peter stared up at him, mouth dropping open. “Oh my God, you’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.” The fuck did he care? Peter could go to the adult store and come home with six-inch heels, a feather boa, and rubber underwear, and Damian would wear the hell out of that shit as long as Peter held up his end of the deal. Not like he’d be wearing it for long, anyway. “Name your price.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. He chewed on his lip, tilting his head and gazing up at Damian—not as embarrassed now, more…speculative.
Uh-oh.
“You don’t have to wear anything special,” Peter said slowly, and even more of Damian’s alarm bells started to clang. “You only have to—okay, do you really want to see me in that?” he demanded, voice rising a full octave. “I mean, it’s me, I’ll have—love handles, and I put it on before, it is not what I was picturing—”
Damian tossed the corset aside onto Peter’s bed. He needed both arms free to yank Peter into his arms and kiss the living hell out of him. Fuck, Peter’s mouth. So sweet and soft and hot, and he’d never get tired of this…
He pulled back once Peter had gone completely limp in his arms, and he watched as he blinked back to reality, eyes wide and glazed behind his glasses.
“I know exactly how you’re going to look,” Damian said, very low. “That cute ass of yours will be sticking out even more. And you’ll be all blushing and biting your lip, and the top of it’s going to make your pecs stick up a little, and you’re going to be so fucking gorgeous. I’m going to put you on your back and fuck you until you scream. And then I’m going to flip you over and fuck you some more with your ass bouncing and jiggling everywhere. Then I’ll come my brains out inside you because I’ve never seen or done anything hotter in my whole life. That what you wanted to know?”
Peter’s eyes had gone wider and wider, his breath coming faster and his cheeks flushing hot pink again. “Oh,” he whispered, and swallowed hard. “Oh my God.”
“You like that?” Damian started to walk them forward, slowly enough that Peter would feel the anticipation, but quickly enough that he couldn’t try to get away. He backed him up against the wall between the dresser and the window, with nowhere to go. Damian braced his forearms on the wall on either side of Peter’s head and pushed his hips forward, pinning him there. His erection nestled up next to Peter’s, equally hard. “We could practice right now.”
“Ungh,” Peter said, his head falling back against the wall.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Damian rolled his hips, drawing out another groan. Fuck. He wanted…but he had to keep it together for a minute. Peter was so much smarter than he was. Damian needed every advantage he could get. “And that’s a yes for the corset, too, right? Tomorrow night.”
