Roman was inconsolable.
Two weeks later and still no closer to finding Nadia had disheartened them, and worn at the hope that grew smaller by the day. Peter had expected violent anger, but the furious silence Roman walked about with worried him. Roman was never quiet about things that made him angry. Peter didn't know how to comfort him, and he wasn't sure Roman would've accepted it if he tried, so he hovered. It was the only thing he could think to do to offer support, and to soothe his own hurt.
Destiny didn't like the amount of time he spent at Roman's, and if he was being honest he had practically moved himself in, but honesty wasn't working for him lately. Honesty meant acknowledging the gluttonous thing growing in his lower stomach that ached, and wanted, and...
And, would make him wonder at the ease in which they fell into a routine. Orbiting each other. Roman still went to work at the White Tower in the early morning, before the sun had a chance to kiss the sky, and when Peter woke up later, there was always coffee made. Sometimes they ate their meals together, and sometimes they didn't. Sometimes Destiny showed up with Andreas and his outlandish stories. On those nights Roman ordered take-out, though they never did get that gun story out of him.
Sometimes he'd find Roman standing in Nadia's room. Just standing, and breathing. Scenting the air, Peter guessed, because it's what he did when Roman wasn't there. Her room smelled of her sweet baby scent, and tears, and blood.
Sometimes Roman would come home, and shit when did this glass house become a home, with pages of folklore with pictures of winged creatures. None of them matched the lizard-like shapeshifter, but it was better than doing nothing. Anything was better than sitting around and waiting, and pretending to live while part of them was missing. Which is how he found himself trying to assemble some ridiculous piece of furniture Roman had ordered online.
It came when Roman was out, so he thought he'd give it a try. This was a mistake he realized. The instructions weren't in any language he knew, and the diagrams had too many arrows. Not one to back down, he tried putting it together based on logic, but ended up with twelve extra screws and a leftover glass panel. Good enough for him, but he wagered, not for Roman. Destiny had called to check up on him and when he answered why he sounded frustrated, had laughed so tremendously, that he hung up on her. Taking it apart was irritating enough, but on the third attempt with still too many screws left and now a few pegs he started cursing it.
Roman opened his door to a barrage of Romani curses and snarls.
"Peter, what-" he started but stopped upon seeing the outraged look on his face, and the pile of parts surrounding him. He snorted.
The sound caused Peter to still. It was the closest thing to laughter that Roman had given in weeks.
"Leave it, I brought food," Roman said setting the bags down.
Peter gave one last grumble before going to open the refrigerator. He got out two beers and lifted himself onto the countertop. Sitting next to Roman made that feeling in his stomach flare up, which wasn't conducive to eating. Roman never commented on it, which was good, he didn't want to have to come up with some bullshit reason. Sighing, he held out the beer. Roman stared at it a second longer than Peter thought was necessary for his gesture of beer, and didn't keep the puzzled look off his face. Roman took it with a slow drag of his fingers. His gut tightened.
Roman's eyes were electric. He was suddenly aware of how close the upir was, not that Peter noticed if they were in each other's space anymore, but he was in the v of his legs, and that was making it hard not to notice. Peter saw the moment when Roman's gaze went predatory. The feel of phantom hackles rising made his shoulders tense. He put his beer down and gripped the countertop.
"Don't," Peter said, the pitch of his voice dropping lower.
"I'm not doing anything," Roman rolled his shoulders.
The question surprised Roman, and he rolled his eyes.
"Nothing to do with my upir-ness," he answered, tantalizing close.
Peter had the sudden need to lunge, or to run. Roman had a way of making him feel like a coiled spring, tight but with the slightest provocation ready to burst. They'd been dancing away from this, from them, for days. For months, a voice whispered at the back of his mind.
Roman licked his lips, an unconscious habit. It made Peter feel totally out of control.
He was so fucked.
Peter opened his mouth to say that this was a bad idea, that he was a bad idea, but it got swallowed up in Roman's lips, and then they were kissing.
Peter had thought about Roman's lips, many times before. He spent many nights remembering the shape of them, the color. He had kissed other guys, hoping to stop obsessing, but they were never what he wanted. Their lips never curled into that damned smirk, they didn't blow rings of smoke out of them, and they didn't taste like blood, like he always imagined they would. He wasn't disappointed with the taste of Roman. No, he was positive he would be ruined for any other guy. It'd never feel like this.
Peter let Roman kiss him for a bit, and then when the space between them started feeling too far, he wrapped a hand around Roman's waist, the other one winding around his neck, and brought him closer, closing the distance. Peter bit and licked into Roman's mouth, pouring every unsaid word and apology, and promise into him. Roman answered him in moans, sounds that hit him like the crack of his bones on a full moon. Hard, and fast, but sweet with relief.
Roman's long fingers were creeping up the back of his shirt, feeling the knobs in his spine, the skin spread thin across them. They felt inquisitive, like he was searching for something. Almost all of Peter's bruises were gone, but the sickly yellow of some of them still lingered. Roman pulled back enough to nuzzle against Peter's neck.
"I don't understand where it comes from. Even though I've seen it, and I feel it when I'm near you, I don't see it now. Underneath there's a wolf." Roman's breath tickled the hairs there, and Peter closed his eyes at the kisses that were pressed there, against arteries that he knew Roman could feel the pulse of. He didn't use teeth, and Peter was both disappointed and relieved.
"I don't understand where your fangs come from. They're there and then they're gone, but still a part of you," Peter groaned out that last part because Roman was sucking what was sure to become a large hickey at the juncture of his neck and it sent blood rushing south. "Fuck," he threw his head back and it hit one of the cabinet doors. Good, maybe it'd knock some sense into him, as he was quickly losing any he had.
"Mm, good," Roman murmured, and proceeded to give him a matching mark on the other side. Peter wondered, with the part of his brain that wasn't currently exploding, how Roman would look with magenta colored marks on that fair skin of his. He imagined Roman walking into board meetings with marks, at odds with the rest of his image.
"Roman," Peter said. He wanted to warn the upir that loving him wasn't a good idea, but the familiar look in his eyes stopped the words in his throat. Letha had looked at him like that, trusting, and open, and so full of love that it broke any hesitance Peter had. Fuck it. "Let's go upstairs," he said instead. Roman nodded and Peter felt his hands go to the legs he had wrapped around Roman's waist.
"I'm not letting you carry me up the stairs, forget it," Peter pushed at Roman's chest. "Maybe next time." He said with a smirk at the way Roman faltered before following him.
Wolves liked to chase, he knew this firsthand, but it felt exhilarating to be chased.
Roman closed the door behind them, and quickly strode towards him. Peter used Roman's forward momentum to throw him down on the bed and straddle him. The smile he was rewarded with stuttered in his heart. It was too much, and he leaned down to get his lips back on Roman. He wanted to feel him, and suddenly there was too many layers of clothes between them. His frantic hands were joined by Roman's as they rid themselves of jackets, and shirts, anything that was between them.
"Can I?" Roman started to ask but stopped to roll them so Peter was under him. He scooted down and put his hand on Peter's belt. Peter's blood rushed in his ears and he bet Roman could hear it it's so loud.
Can he? The question hung in the air.
Can he what?
Peter looked down just in time to see Roman take the tip of him in his mouth, and oh fuck, he can. Distantly he can already hear Destiny's disapproval and he can't say he blames her. Having an upir's mouth on your dick is just begging to have it bit off. His instincts must still be fucked up from turning vargulf because the thought of teeth that close to his dick was having the opposite effect. He leaned up on his elbows to watch, even though watching was making it hard to breathe.
Roman's hollowed cheeks were decorated with a flush that was easily going to haunt Peter for years. That goddamn mouth of his, just, fuck, Peter reached down and put his thumb against his lips with a little pressure, wondering if Roman could take his thumb in his mouth too. Roman's eyes dilated until they were nearly solid black, and his mouth stretched that much more to take his thumb to suck it along with his dick. A sound burbled out of Peter that was more growl than moan. He could feel Roman's tongue against his thumb, on his dick, and he worried that he might start hyperventilating, he couldn't get enough air.
He stomach muscles jumped when Roman started bobbing up and down, and he groaned when he heard the slick sounds of Roman touching himself. This was good, so good, but he missed Roman's mouth, and he wanted to touch him. Reluctantly, he used the hand that was cradling Roman's face to pull him off and lead him up back to his mouth.
Their dicks slid against each other, and it stilled both of them. Peter was the first to reach down and get a hand around them, angling them together and with his other hand pulling Roman closer. The experimental thrust Roman gave made him shudder. Peter wrapped his legs around him, he needed, something, wanted-
Roman's mouth on his neck made sparks light behind his eyes. Fuck, this was going to be a thing, a thing he didn't want to look at too closely because he didn't trust Roman's barely there control but he wanted it. He wanted so badly to know what those teeth would feel like set into his skin. The upir must've been reading his mind because he felt teeth, hard enough to hold, but not enough to break skin.
"Roman," he said, warning him this time because while he was curious, he wasn't that stupid.
"I know, I know, I just want-"
"I do too, but-"
"Trust me," Roman whispered against his jumping pulse. Fuck him, but he did. His hand squeezed around them as he titled his head back, baring his throat for the upir. Roman licked his way up his throat, and sucked a chunk into his mouth, teeth pressing down. Peter bucked up just as Roman thrust, and the friction was mind shattering. Roman shifted his weight so that he was bracing himself on one arm and wrapped his fingers around Peter's. He'd been leaking pre-come since he heard the growl force its way out of Peter, and the wet slick of it had his toes curling. Peter kept making breathy little nosies, but he wanted to hear that growl again. Wanted to feel it thrum through him.
Too many sensations crowded Peter, his dick, Roman's breath, his dick, the delicious pain in his neck, his dick, it all swirled around his head. His hands grasped Roman's shoulders, needing to ground himself, needing an anchor so that he didn't get swept away. Roman's bite got a little harder, and at that moment he didn't care whether it broke flesh or if he feed. It ripped a growl out of him and he bit his lip to stifle it. Roman licked at the bite, soothing it, and then licked up his neck to his lips.
Peter twined his free hand in Roman's hair, and the gesture made Roman pull back so that they were nose to nose. It was his eyes that did it, those utterly hypnotic upir eyes, with their broken open vulnerability that pushed him over the edge. Roman gave a surprised sound and Peter felt the warm gush of his release, seconds after his own.
Wiping his hand on the comforter, Peter took Roman's face in his hands and kissed him, his heart brimming with affection. When the kisses became lazy and sated, Peter rolled them so that they were side by side. Roman's eyes focused, his pupil shrinking back to normal size.
"Shee-it, your neck," Roman said reaching out to touch it.
"How bad?" Peter wanted to get something to clean them up but he also didn't want to move.
"It looks like some rabid animal used it for a chew toy."
Peter punched him in the arm.
"That rabid animal would be you," Peter snorted, eyes half closing.
"Do you mind?"
"Nah, I don't give a fuck who sees." Destiny was going to be outraged, marks or no marks.
"Good, I like them." Roman slipped his hand into Peter's, and closed his eyes. For once they slept the whole night through.