Okay. He's pulling both hands down his face, now racking his brain. Too-hot skin beneath his hands, that unruly spike of fear, of deja vu. Dark, blazing eyes pinning him in place—
I want you.
Don't you dare stop touching me.
Sharp lines of pain down his back. The taste of salt. The heat of soft lips—
Holy fuck.
Peter feels his face heat – embarrassment, of course. (Not because as the memories flood back, he realizes how fucking hot and heavy that had nearly gotten.) With his hands over his mouth, he echoes faintly, ]
no subject
[ what what what.
Okay. He's pulling both hands down his face, now racking his brain. Too-hot skin beneath his hands, that unruly spike of fear, of deja vu. Dark, blazing eyes pinning him in place—
I want you.
Don't you dare stop touching me.
Sharp lines of pain down his back. The taste of salt. The heat of soft lips—
Holy fuck.
Peter feels his face heat – embarrassment, of course. (Not because as the memories flood back, he realizes how fucking hot and heavy that had nearly gotten.) With his hands over his mouth, he echoes faintly, ]
You... did.
[ Holy fuck. Holy fuck.
Holy fuck. ]