Page 11 of Breakdown
Peter understood. Knowing his father was behind bars made it easier for Peter to sleep at night, and he imagined Nina felt the same way about Stav. Almost involuntarily, he flicked his gaze to the back of Stavros’ head. At that moment, Stav twisted in his seat, locking eyes with Peter. He lifted his handcuffed wrists and gave an ironic little wave. His eyes were burning with something dark, almost feral in its desperation and defeat. He mouthed something. If Peter had to guess, he thought it was “So long, Pete.” He let it pass unrecognized. Stav didn’t have a hold on him anymore. Not like that.
“I’ll, uh, we’ll see you,” Peter stuttered at Nina, turning to go. He did his best to push Stav’s face out of his mind, and he hurried back to Nik.
—-
THERE WAS SOMETHINGurgent about the way Nik tugged Peter’s tie loose. Shower running, he pressed Peter up against the ensuite bathroom wall and tore at the buttons on his shirt. Nik had barely gotten two of them undone before he was kissing that secret sensitive spot at the hollow of Peter’s collar bone, the one that made Peter’s knees turn to jelly. Peter didn’t even have time to register a coherent thought before Nik was tossing the shirt in a heap at their feet. The tile was cold against Peter’s bare shoulders, and Nik’s mouth was white hot. Peter moaned, his nerve endings firing and misfiring at the onslaught.
Peter slid his hands to the hem of Nik’s undershirt, feeling the muscles clench beneath his fingertips as he pushed it up Nik’s tight, flat stomach. It was a desperate hasty undressing after that, pants and boxer briefs and socks stripped off and thrown recklessly onto the floor. Nik’s cock pressed rigid and insistent against Peter’s thigh.
Peter’s mouth was on Nik’s now, tasting his need, and he steered him backwards into the waiting shower. The water beat against their skin. Peter chased the rivulets down Nik’s muscular body, pulled taught with desire: the firm arc of his neck, the strong plane of his chest, the coarse, wiry patch of hair below his navel. Peter knelt, tracing his lips along the smooth V of Nik’s hipbones, flicking out his tongue and rolling it in firm figure-eights against the sensitive skin of Nik’s ballsack. Nik groaned, bracing a palm against the wall, and Peter paused to nip teasingly at the inside of his thigh.
“Oh God, do not stop,” Nik moaned.
Peter didn’t plan to. He cupped Nik’s muscular ass, driving him back against the tile. Nik tasted like sex: masculine and irresistible. Peter moved his mouth upward, running his tongue against the underside of Nik’s cock. Peter noticed with delight that, in this position, he could feel Nik shiver responsively every time he brushed his lips over the bundle of nerves where Nik’s shaft met the head.
Nik was watching Peter’s every move, his brown eyes heavy lidded and dark with desire. He reached out to enmesh his fingers in Peter’s wet hair. “Your mouth is perfect,” he said, his voice low. “You are perfect.”
And Peter wanted to give Nik this. He wanted to give Nik every fucking thing he could, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Because Nik made him feel whole, right. Fucking perfect. Nothing was ever going to ruin that again.
Peter closed his fingers over the length of Nik’s shaft, teasing him with too slow strokes. Nik’s fingers gripped tighter in his hair. The salty-sweet taste of Nik’s pre-cum made him wild. He worked over Nik’s glans with the firm plane of his tongue. It got sloppier. Deeper. Faster. Peter’s knees hurt and his neck was stiff and his jaw fucking ached and none of that mattered. Nik’s hips bucked forward involuntarily. His long dark lashes had droplets of water caught and shining in them. They brushed the tops of his cheeks as his eyes squeezed tight. A sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan escaped Nik and he bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop it. Peter pushed him forward, relentless. He fucking loved watching Nik come.
Nik shuddered almost delicately, and then Peter felt the hot wet spurt against the back of his throat. Nik exhaled hard, leaning against the wall of the shower. Daintily, Peter spit into the drain. Nik was still stroking Peter’s hair.
Nik opened his eyes and he smiled at Peter tenderly, pulling him off the floor of the tub and against him. “Thank you for that,” he said breathlessly, pressing a kiss into Peter’s hairline.
“You’re welcome.” Peter stood there with Nik under the hot spray of the shower, the taste of him still in his mouth. He was more than a little charmed when Nik began to work the soapy loofah across Peter’s chest. He followed this by stretching out Peter’s right arm, splaying his fingers, and scrubbing into the delicate webbing there. He continued with Peter’s palm and then the smooth skin of his forearm. Nik was washing him with methodical concentration, like he was mapping every curve and jutting bone and scar on Peter’s body. It felt far more intimate than the blowjob.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked, self-conscious under the scrutiny.
Nik scrubbed his knee, grinning up at him. “I just love every part of you.”
It really wasn’t fair that Nik didn’t blush when he made ridiculous, soppy declarations like that. Peter could feel his own cheeks heating up in spite of himself.
He flicked soap at Nik. “Fuck off with that romantic bullshit.”
Nik stood to brush his wet lips against Peter’s. “You love it,” he said.
And Peter did, but Nik knew that already. Peter took a squirt of shampoo in his palm—his shampoo, not Nik’s. Nik insisted on buying something that claimed on the bottle that it could be used for hair, body and face; Peter wouldn’t trust it to be gentle enough to do anything except de-grease the garage floor. It didn’t help that it smelled like a circa early-two-thousands Abercrombie & Fitch store. He began to work his long fingers through Nik’s curls, scrubbing his fingernails lightly into Nik’s scalp.
“Now I am going to smell like you for the rest of the day,” Nik complained.
“What?” Peter’s shampoo had a light citrus and spice scent that he quite liked. “Clean? Tasteful? Like you don’t live in a frat house?”
Nik closed one of his eyes as the suds ran into his eyebrow. “Like I spent too much money on soap.”
Nik ducked under the stream as Peter shampooed his own hair. Peter conditioned, but he knew Nik well enough to know that was a bridge too far. Standing underneath the water, he heard his own phone ring and then, a moment later, Nik’s. Peter shut off the tap.
Peter stood naked in the middle of the bedroom, dripping onto the hardwood floor, staring at the screen of his phone. The missed call was from Liv.
Peter’s screen lit up brighter, a text flashing across it. “Stopping by the shop tomorrow night. Make sure Nik is there. Things to talk about.” His stomach plummeted as he read it, all of Nik’s reassurances about their past finally being behind them slipping through his fingers.
Nik emerged from the bathroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hand for Peter. He lifted his own phone off the dresser. “Why is your sister calling us?”
“I’m not sure,” Peter said honestly. He dried his hair, hiding in the towel so Nik couldn’t see the dread on his face. Because whatever her reason was, Peter didn’t think it was good.
