“Only,” Peter gasped. “Oh.” His hands slid around Damian’s back, tracing the muscles up to his shoulder blades. “Not until we make a deal. No—practicing until we make a deal.” And he spread his legs a little, going up on his tiptoes and tugging Damian between. A sharp, irresistible pulse of desire sparked down Damian’s spine.
“So that’s how you’re playing this, huh? Extortion? Fuck.” Damian couldn’t resist anymore; he pushed off the wall and took two handfuls of Peter’s ass, lifting and squeezing and sliding his fingers into the crease. “Or is it a negotiation?” he added hopefully.
Peter laughed, shaky and sweet, and his eyes gleamed. “Extortion. We can practice. And tomorrow I’ll wear it for you. But you have to feed Tripod for a whole month, every day except your twenty-four-hour shifts.”
“Are you fucking—you little bastard!” Damian gaped at him, so horrified he froze with his hands in the act of working their way into the back of Peter’s jeans. “That’s not fair!”
Tripod managed to do more damage with three paws than most cats could accomplish with four, and for some reason he thought the sound of the can opener was his cue to climb whoever was holding it. With extreme prejudice.
It’d taken two long, heartfelt blowjobs for Peter to apologize for the amount of blood Damian had lost helping Peter catch Tripod, get him in a carrier, and take him to the vet. And Peter had to dole out a third after asking, mock-innocently, “I thought rescuing cats was yourjob?”
Damian glanced over at the bed where he’d put the corset. It had lace around the top.
Fuck.
Damian glared down at Peter, who blinked up at him innocently. “Okay, fine. I’ll feed the fucking cat. But you’re going to ride me while you wear that corset.”
“Deal,” Peter breathed. “Now were you planning on practicing, or what?” He wriggled his ass in Damian’s hands, shimmying like a…like someone who really, really wanted Damian to flip him over and spread him open, like,right now.
Okay, no argument here. He slipped one hand into Peter’s waistband, his fingers teasing down.
Peter moaned and wriggled some more, one leg wrapping around Damian’s hip. “Oh, and I’m working the day he has his appointment to get those shots, so if you want to give me a hand—”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Peter grinned up at him. “I’m already lucky, babe. And it was worth a try.”
Damian couldn’t help laughing, bending down to nuzzle into Peter’s neck, earning a moan and Peter’s hands clutching him closer.
“Not as lucky as I am.”
Peter whispered his name and turned his head, offering a kiss, and that was the only answer Damian needed.
The End
