Page 12 of Need a Hand?
“Don’t look at the mess,” Peter called out, his voice coming from the bedroom. “I swear to God, I meant to clean up, but it’s hard to do with one hand, and I forgot you were coming over until a few minutes ago, and then I had to take a shower, and it’s also hard to get a shirt on over my cast, so I’m—” Peter appeared in the bedroom doorway and froze, going abruptly silent, his face flushing so red Damian wondered how he had blood left for the rest of his body. “What are you doing here?” he asked faintly.
“You didn’t know I was coming over?” Peter shook his head, and Damian’s stomach sank all the way down to his shoes. Fuck, but he was going to hunt Mary Jane down and strangle her after all. “Let me guess. You thought I was Mary Jane.”
Peter just stared at him.
“So she lied to you, again. Only this time she didn’t lie to me, except the part where maybe she should have warned me you didn’t want me here.” Damian tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but he knew he failed. He’d been so excited about another chance. Instead, here he was looking like an asshole again.
“What are you even doing here?” Peter sounded totally bewildered, and his eyebrows had drawn together in a furrow Damian wanted so badly to smooth out with his thumb. “I mean, Mar sent you. Obviously.” His tone promised Mary Jane a world of hurt. Damian supported that fully. “But I don’t understand why you’d come.”
“Um,” Damian said.I like you and I’ve been basically doodling your name in my notebook with little hearts around it and I want to fuck you up against the wall right where you’re standing?Probably not so much. “Sandwiches and coffee?”
“Mar told me she thought she’d overreacted, and maybe you weren’t so bad,” Peter finally mumbled, but he’d started picking at a loose thread on his cast, staring down at it like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “But even if you’re not, you know, here to make me not sue you or whatever, I don’t get it.”
And Damian was suddenly so sick of that. Someone—maybe jerks in high school, maybe an ex, maybe more than one ex—had convinced this cute, interesting, sweet guy that he wasn’t worth the trouble.
“Fuck that,” Damian said, and shoved the door shut behind him. He pushed the teetering pile of pizza boxes aside, wincing when one of the coffee mugs, thankfully empty, tipped over and fell onto the floor, and plunked all the food and drinks down on the now-empty spot on the table. “I wanted to see you, I’m here, and you’re going to have to tell me to GTFO if you want me to, okay?”
Peter still wouldn’t look at him, so—fuck it. Damian prowled around the couch and stood right in front of him, close enough that their chests almost touched. He took Peter’s chin in his hand and tipped his head up. Those awesome, nerdy glasses slipped down his nose, so Damian reached up and used his other hand to gently, so gently, push them back into place. Peter made a muffled sound and looked up at last, blinking at him, dark eyes impossibly wide.
“I will seriously take my share of lunch and go. Right now. All you have to do is say so. But I’m so done with you acting like you can read my mind and tell me I don’t want to be here. I do want to be here.Ikissedyou, remember?”
“Yeah.” Peter’s eyes flicked to Damian’s mouth for a split second—long enough. “I remember. But I don’t know why. It’s not like you…” His voice trailed off into a mumbled, “…are interested in me. Right?”
Damian forced himself to let go of Peter’s face, even though his skin was so incredibly soft. He must have shaved that morning despite how hard it had to be with the wrong hand. Damian hadn’t, and fuck, but he wanted to leave stubble burn all over Peter’s smooth cheeks and neck. And his thighs. And his, ah, other cheeks.
But he had to let go, because what he was about to admit was already a little creepy, without being all grabby at the same time. He had to get the confession out of the way, though, and hopefully it’d at least make Peter believe he was serious.
“I went to the hospital looking for you, the day after I came to see you the first time. They’d already released you.” Damian took a deep breath and hoped Peter wouldn’t throw him out on his ass. “I tried to bribe the girl at the desk to look up your phone number, because I’d already tried finding you on Facebook, and you’re like, a weirdo who doesn’t use it.”
Damian expected nearly anything except the laugh that burst of Peter’s mouth, a light, happy sound, so sweet and contagious that Damian couldn’t help smiling back, probably looking like an idiot.
“That’s—okay, I know you probably think you’re confessing something bad? But that’s actually pretty nice. I mean, you really did all that? To get in touch with me again?”
Nice? “Yes, I did, and I think I just admitted to running you over with a fire truck and then stalking you. That’s bad. If my captain knew about it, I’d be out of a job so fast.”
Peter shrugged. “So I won’t tell anyone. But I’m glad you told me.” He peeked up at Damian from under his eyelashes, and Damian had the sudden urge to take his glasses off and see what his eyes looked like without them, if they were even prettier.
So he did.
Peter’s uninjured hand flailed a little, and he let out the weirdest little surprised sound, but he didn’t stop Damian from pulling them carefully off his face and setting them on top of a bookcase that stood by the bedroom door.
He had that funny look people who wore glasses all the time got when they took them off—kind of blinky and a little soft around the eyes, a bit unfocused.
And yes, yes they were prettier. Damian stared into those eyes for a long time, trying to figure out if the little gleaming streaks in his irises were green or gold. They were kind of hypnotizing, actually.
Peter licked his lips.
Okay, even more interesting than his eyes, and that was simply too fucking much for Damian to take.
He leaned in and kissed Peter again, and Petermelted, sinking back against the wall, wrapping his good arm around Damian’s waist and reeling him in so that Damian followed him down and pinned him there.
Damian kept his weight off of the cast, but he shifted over so he could press one leg between Peter’s, rubbing his thigh against the bulge there that was growing bigger and harder by the second. Peter let out a keening moan that sent tingles down Damian’s spine and made him rut harder, thrusting his own erection against Peter’s stomach.
“Fuck, I want to suck you off,” Damian groaned against Peter’s neck. It was as soft as he’d expected, and he bit down, working over a delicious mouthful for a second before he pulled back to admire the mark he’d left there, bright red against Peter’s pale skin.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” Peter tried to work his hand between them, but at that angle, he was too clumsy for Damian to figure out what he was trying to do.
“Is that a yes—”
