Whenever his mind was cloudy, he liked to wander around the streets. After a quiet afternoon spent with his real mom, Peter decided to walk on the streets of this universe, his universe, to explore and clear his mind. He certainly had more than he could handle right now.
The streets of New York were pretty much the same, aside from small differences he could barely register. Peter found a bar that seemed hidden in a dark alley and the loud music coming out of it sounded just exactly what he needed to drawn his brain.
The bar was crowded with people and smoke, loud laughter and muffled music coming out of the speakers. Peter sat on a stool by the counter, within the bartender sight so he wouldn’t stop hitting him with drinks. It was like a regular sports bar, with neon lights and beer ads, TV airing a hockey match, the smell of alcohol impregnating the atmosphere and loud talking behind him, as he turned on the stool to stare at the screen for a moment.
It didn’t take him long though to realize that it wasn’t a regular sports bar, when he realized the lack of women in the place and the flirtatious atmosphere surrounding him. Now that was something he would never have guessed, for the great majority of men there seemed too heterosexual or too interested in the match on the TV to be pursuing a date for the night. Peter shrugged, turning to his whiskey, swallowing it in one fast turn of his glass. He motioned to the bartender, who filled his glass with another shot.
He was the first thing he saw when he turned his head to see the regulars. Lincoln was sitting on a small table for two, in the middle of the bar, one hand in the pocket of his coat, a relaxed expression on his face while he drank his own shot of tequila. His lips curled into a small smile when he realized Peter’s gaze, which he held until the other man turned back on the stool and to his drink. Maybe five was his limit, he thought, staring back at the empty glasses in front of him.
Or maybe he stared at the stranger for too long, he thought, when Lincoln walked to him and the next thing he knows he is on the stool next to him, smiling and introducing himself. He was a fine-looking man, the dimples forming on his cheeks as he smiled drawn Peter’s attention from his stubble. Lincoln was talking something about the bar, the whiskey, he wasn’t sure because for a moment he got lost in images of him pressing against the younger man, in a bathroom stall.
The last dose of tequila Peter remembered taking went oddly smooth down his throat. He was in that haze stage of drunkenness, where one actually is aware of what is going but can’t really control it. He heard Lincoln talking to him and he heard himself responding but what happened next he honestly wasn’t expecting.
Lincoln laid his hand over Peter’s and caressed it slowly, the rough texture of his palm sending tiny shivers of excitement up his spine. Peter felt his body flush in response to him and didn’t think much before using said hand to pull Lincoln closer to him for a kiss.
Their lips met harshly, clashing together, stubble against stubble. Peter let his hand slide up to hold Lincoln by the base of his neck, pressing him closer, as the other wrapped around his waist, squeezing at his flesh through the fabric of his jacket. They kissed hungrily for a couple minutes, Peter groaning against the rough texture of the younger man’s tongue, as it rolled firmly against his own.
Lincoln pulled away from the kiss, face flushed, gasping for air. A smile lightened up his face, his red lips turning upwards. Peter smiled along with him.
“Wow, that was…”
“Unexpected?”
Lincoln laughed, the sound bright and crystalline in the noisy bar.
“I was going to say hot. I was kinda expecting you would react that way.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, stopping the soft rubbing he was doing on Lincoln’s shoulder.
“Excuse me? Pretentious much?”
Lincoln closed the distance and kissed him again, softer this time. He let Peter’s lips wander down his chin, leaving a wet track to his neck, where he bit him lightly, scratching his skin with his stubble. Lincoln hissed, pressing against him.
“Let’s get out of here, Peter,” he groaned against Peter’s ear and missed the other man’s smirk.
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timeasmymeasure
Peter/Lincoln: This Charming Man (1/2)
Date: 2011-06-08 11:13 am (UTC)The streets of New York were pretty much the same, aside from small differences he could barely register. Peter found a bar that seemed hidden in a dark alley and the loud music coming out of it sounded just exactly what he needed to drawn his brain.
The bar was crowded with people and smoke, loud laughter and muffled music coming out of the speakers. Peter sat on a stool by the counter, within the bartender sight so he wouldn’t stop hitting him with drinks. It was like a regular sports bar, with neon lights and beer ads, TV airing a hockey match, the smell of alcohol impregnating the atmosphere and loud talking behind him, as he turned on the stool to stare at the screen for a moment.
It didn’t take him long though to realize that it wasn’t a regular sports bar, when he realized the lack of women in the place and the flirtatious atmosphere surrounding him. Now that was something he would never have guessed, for the great majority of men there seemed too heterosexual or too interested in the match on the TV to be pursuing a date for the night. Peter shrugged, turning to his whiskey, swallowing it in one fast turn of his glass. He motioned to the bartender, who filled his glass with another shot.
He was the first thing he saw when he turned his head to see the regulars. Lincoln was sitting on a small table for two, in the middle of the bar, one hand in the pocket of his coat, a relaxed expression on his face while he drank his own shot of tequila. His lips curled into a small smile when he realized Peter’s gaze, which he held until the other man turned back on the stool and to his drink. Maybe five was his limit, he thought, staring back at the empty glasses in front of him.
Or maybe he stared at the stranger for too long, he thought, when Lincoln walked to him and the next thing he knows he is on the stool next to him, smiling and introducing himself. He was a fine-looking man, the dimples forming on his cheeks as he smiled drawn Peter’s attention from his stubble. Lincoln was talking something about the bar, the whiskey, he wasn’t sure because for a moment he got lost in images of him pressing against the younger man, in a bathroom stall.
The last dose of tequila Peter remembered taking went oddly smooth down his throat. He was in that haze stage of drunkenness, where one actually is aware of what is going but can’t really control it. He heard Lincoln talking to him and he heard himself responding but what happened next he honestly wasn’t expecting.
Lincoln laid his hand over Peter’s and caressed it slowly, the rough texture of his palm sending tiny shivers of excitement up his spine. Peter felt his body flush in response to him and didn’t think much before using said hand to pull Lincoln closer to him for a kiss.
Their lips met harshly, clashing together, stubble against stubble. Peter let his hand slide up to hold Lincoln by the base of his neck, pressing him closer, as the other wrapped around his waist, squeezing at his flesh through the fabric of his jacket. They kissed hungrily for a couple minutes, Peter groaning against the rough texture of the younger man’s tongue, as it rolled firmly against his own.
Lincoln pulled away from the kiss, face flushed, gasping for air. A smile lightened up his face, his red lips turning upwards. Peter smiled along with him.
“Wow, that was…”
“Unexpected?”
Lincoln laughed, the sound bright and crystalline in the noisy bar.
“I was going to say hot. I was kinda expecting you would react that way.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, stopping the soft rubbing he was doing on Lincoln’s shoulder.
“Excuse me? Pretentious much?”
Lincoln closed the distance and kissed him again, softer this time. He let Peter’s lips wander down his chin, leaving a wet track to his neck, where he bit him lightly, scratching his skin with his stubble. Lincoln hissed, pressing against him.
“Let’s get out of here, Peter,” he groaned against Peter’s ear and missed the other man’s smirk.
* * *