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Luigi behaved as though the things Peasley liked were extraordinarily surprising. Really, while Peasley knew, certainly by this stage, that his soul and Luigi's soul were created with each other in the mind of whatever higher power there was, even these days Luigi acted as though he had been plonked into this relationship by mistake. He was a basic sort of spirit. Peasley had decided to use that word, because when he'd said to Luigi that he had a "delightfully working-class heart and mind", Luigi had given him a look and said "Peasley, you can't just say that."
Of course, in turn Peasley had not assumed, before they met, that a man like Luigi was his destiny, even though these days he couldn't imagine what else he would have possibly wanted. Besides the general metric that "he must be a man" and, as a footnote, "handsomeness and strength is good", if you had gone back in time and asked then-Peasley what he was hoping for in a partner, you likely would not have gotten a detailed answer. But, perhaps for lack of experience, he didn't realise that the differences in dating a man like Luigi - a man borne of, literally, an entirely different world - would be quite as pronounced.
These things were relevant in more impressive, socially conscious ways, but that was not the matter at issue. Today, this was all a very elaborate way of saying Luigi was quite stunned at what got Peasley off.
"But I'm telling you, I want you to say things like that to me," Peasley said. "Say I'm pathetic, worthless, things like that."
"But why?!" Luigi looked quite horrified. "I don't think those things about you! I could never speak to you like that...!"
"But you wouldn't be serious, it's just for sex. You get it, right? Just pretend insults. Like acting."
Luigi shook his head. "Would you say things like that about me?"
"No, but only because I think it would make you start crying."
"Of course it would! I'm very sensitive," Luigi asserted, like it was a gotcha.
"But I'm different," Peasley said. "I like that stuff, coming from you."
As it were, Peasley did not believe that Luigi had never encountered the concept of degradation being sexy in his life, but rather that he'd never considered that an actual, living person might feel that way. Especially since Luigi was so... Nice. And very much disliked being disrespected.
"How do you even know that?"
"I just do. But for example, the other day, you muttered under your breath that I was a fool, and I swear it made me so hard I couldn't stand."
Luigi narrowed his eyes. "But you were a fool then. You rested your elbow on a stove!"
"Mmmmhm, just like that." Peasley chuckled. It was not entirely true that he'd genuinely gotten aroused at the very instant he'd described, but to play with it certainly twisted something in his chest.
"Be serious!" Luigi frowned. "Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about this! You are so reckless sometimes! Especially in the kitchen!"
Peasley raised his eyebrows and smirked, instead of speaking. Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake. Never interrupt your lover when he is accidentally turning you on. Et cetera.
And also, Luigi always got really antsy about the kitchen for some reason. Peasley, for his whole life, had hardly ever been in it, until his beautifully domestic knight in shining - well, in rather dull overalls - had shown up.
"You touch a hot stove, obviously you're going to hurt yourself! Sometimes it's like you just don't think!”
Peasley recalibrated the sentence he was hearing. You're just so dumb, that that pretty, empty head of yours can't even think. He grinned quite widely, and decided to give it a bit of a push.
"Aw, reaaally, Luigi? But what if the stove isn't even on?"
"Then check! There's no way you need me to explain not touching a hot stove to you! You cannot possibly be so-" he stopped, and seemed to realise how worked up he was getting over this whole stove thing. "Just- you have to be careful, okay? Please? I hate seeing you hurt yourself. I know you're tough, and always have a lot of things on your mind. But I worry about you sometimes!"
Damn it! And Peasley had been so close!
“Luigi.” He spoke very seriously. “Tell me how stupid I was to put my elbow on that stove.”
“Ehm- I wouldn't say that? I just wish that you would take your safety seriousl-”
“What if somebody, somebody, hypothetically, put their elbow on a stove without checking if it was on? And what if they burned themselves, and then- and then what if they didn't even move their arm? Because they didn't realise their arm was hurting because of the stove? Would they be stupid?”
Luigi looked supremely confused. It was quite evident that, in his moral tangent about the stove, he had more or less forgotten that they, with entangled limbs on the couch as they'd been about to start undressing, had been having a conversation about degradation.
“Oh gosh, I would tell them to get that checked by a doctor!” He nodded earnestly. “I once saw a programme on TV about somebody like that. They had this, this nerve disorder sort of thing!”
Peasley rolled his eyes.
“Anyway!” Luigi moved on, running his fingers through Peasley's hair lightly. “What would you like to do today?”
“I would like for you to tell me that I'm your dumb whore, as I have been trying to get you to say for the past several minutes!”
Luigi blinked hard.
Then he frowned.
“I am not calling you that!” He snapped, even as he continued to absentmindedly massage Peasley's scalp. “You're not even - We've been together for years! You're not even sleeping with anybody else! It wouldn't make any sense!”
“That's right, it doesn't make sense because I'm so dumb,” Peasley laughed.
Luigi shook his head ferociously, genuine terror sparking in his eyes. “You are not dumb. You're so smart. You know I've always loved that about you.”
Peasley groaned. “Doooooon’t.”
And poor Luigi, his poor, sweet, loving Luigi, softened. “Do- Do you really not think that you're smart?” He kissed Peasley just to the side of his mouth. “Oh, my sunshine, who made you think that way?”
Peasley scowled. “Of course I'm smart. I know I'm smart, everyone knows I'm smart!”
“Th-then…!”
“I just want you to say I'm stupid! And useless, and your ugly-”
“UGLY?”
Peasley grinned. “And other self-evidently untrue things! Luigi, do you see? It isn't about them being true, it's just about you saying it to me.”
Luigi’s eyelids trembled.
“Y-you’re not ugly…” he almost sobbed. “You're so pretty… and radiant… because you're my sunshine…”
The words made Peasley smile softly and laugh, if only because, no matter how long it had been, every time Luigi became so unnecessarily earnest it made Peasley melt. Those little moments, those little twinges of personality sprinkled between the monotonies of daily existence, always made his chest slightly sore, always caused a single thought to invade his mental space.
“I do love you.” Peasley laughed.
“I love you too…! Don't say such mean things about yourself! Okey dokey? Yes!”
And Peasley simply nodded, recalibrating that, too, in his brain, as him obediently resisting his needy little urges and doing what Luigi ordered him to do. It kind of worked.
“Do we still have time?” Luigi looked around the room for some sort of clock. “Sorry. We got sidetracked. Don't you have to go soon?”
“It doesn't matter if I’m late,” Peasley grinned slyly. “This is far more important!”
Luigi's eyes widened. “But you're a Prince! You can't be late to things! You- Yes, wait, no, actually, we need to talk about this for a second. You need to stop showing up late to places! I mean, seriously, my sunshine, it's…”
He launched into another lecture, and Peasley grinned, choosing not to interrupt him.