for reflextve

[spacegroovin]

[Continued from HERE



Sure you mean acid and not ass?

[After Peter took a sip he wasn't so sure he had stolen the right bottle. It had looked toxic enough to get him wasted fast but the taste left a lot to be desired. He should have known, often the most delicious looking things ended up being bad.

That didn't just apply to booze, either.

Still he kept drinking because he was far too sober for being in this bar.]

What were you doing here anyway? On your own? Got into a fight with your crew again?

[Kirk seemed to have a thing for causing and getting himself into trouble. Much like the ravenger who, despite now working for the good guys still had a knack of doing the wrong thing.

You couldn't really take the thug out of a man.]

Or did you just need to blow of some steam?

[Stretching his legs he got himself more comfortable now that the were out of sight.]

Comments

[reflexive]

[ he levels peter with a stare that reads offended. hey, if he wanted to commandeer peter’s ship he could, okay. even like this, with the world tilting on its axis, and his sense of balance off kilter. he isn’t looking forward to walking, isn’t sure he’d be able to pass the age old sobriety test of walking in a straight line. he’s silently grateful, when peter grabs him by the arm, navigates them through the crowd. though. what’s the deal with peter and dragging him around, anyway? not that he’s protesting. going to peter’s ship, means peter’s bed, and peter’s ridiculously high thread count sheets.

of course he drags his heels into the ground, sizing up the old geezer who decides to stall them. his eyes brighten with something dangerous and he’s about to make a stupid comment, one that’s likely to get him punched ( which is what he wants, so he has an excuse to punch back ) when peter decides to start pulling him. again. rude.

they emerge into the cold night air, and he resolves to make the trip to the ship as difficult as possible. stumbling, and shifting his weight in turns. soon enough though, he’s deposited on peter’s bed, which he makes himself comfortable on no invitation needed. though he does take a moment to toe off his boots, because he isn’t that much of an ungracious guest. ]

It’s muscle mass making me heavy. [ he hasn’t forgotten that sweets comment from earlier. ] Muscle mass.

[ and not at all because he had taken to trying to re-engineer the replicators to spit out ice cream. besides, the amount of work in the training room should make up for it. hypothetically.

then peter makes the mistake of extending a open hand, and well, it’s too easy to deposit the bottle on the bed sending it rolling along the comforter and grab peter's hand—and pull, hopefully hard enough to send peter sprawling. ]

Whoops.

[spacegroovin]

Sure it is.

[And just to make sure Kirk feels his dripping sarcasm he pokes him right where decided the pudge was after he got dragged face down onto his bed.

With a grunt he rolled over staring up at one of the ceilings on his ship. He shifted then, higher up till he was lying properly next to the other Captain.]

Are you going to share? Or are you going to drink till you pass out? Because if you are I am moving you somewhere else.

[Because that meant he definitely was going to puke.]

Come on Captain, let me join you and get proper drunk too.

[reflexive]

[ he chuckles, the sound reverberating through the space, because his plan worked peter is face down, and he can’t push down the drunken satisfaction he feels—even if it only takes a moment for peter to right himself, shuffle so he’s lying next to him. close enough that their shoulders brush. he’s content to lay like this, for a moment at least, until peter asks for the bottle. his face scrunches up, much like a displeased child’s. ]

Nope. [ his lips pop on the consonant sound, and his eyes wander over to the bottle where it lays on his ( as he’s denoted ) side of the bed. ] Don’t want to drink anymore.

[ or be moved for that matter. he stares up at the ceiling for a moment, considering, before hooking a leg over peter’s form, hefting himself up so he’s for all purposes straddling the other man. bracketing him with his thighs. ]

I want my consolation prize.

[ for having the second best ass in the galaxy, of course. ]

[spacegroovin]

[There was a grunt because Kirk wasn't the smallest of guys - thank God - and he had been focused on booze, not really the captain. Now he damn well was, eyes for a moment glued low at his crotch area then back up.

He knew what Kirk wanted. What was required of him now. Wasn't it always the same with them? One got drunk, the other had to come get them. Then this.]

Do you now?

[Resting both hands on Kirk's waist he decided to play difficult. It was fun when Kirk got impatient.]

I donno Captain. Do you even deserve a consolation prize?

[reflexive]

[ the hands on his hips, warm even through the layer of clothing, feel nice—but then peter doesn’t move to do anything else, which makes his brow furrow. surely he’d made himself clear enough, he’d even forgone the sure sting of alcohol in favor for moving astride the other man. a huff before: ] It was almost a tie, you know, you were there.

[ and he shifts minutely, leaning forward to jab peter in the chest with his index finger ]

Besides, it’s not as if you don’t want this.

[ he’d seen quill, after all, where his gaze had landed to where their bodies meet. and his expression clears, once again in good humor, lips pulling at one side into a smirk. ]

This being me, of course.

[spacegroovin]

[It definitely was clear to Peter what Kirk wanted, he just felt like postponing it for a while longer. He was definitely eager for it, yet the desire to see Kirk struggle was stronger. It was bad but he found it a turn on whenever Kirk got annoyed at him for not doing as he was told.]

Oh I want this.

[It had been a while, both their jobs keeping them busy and away from each other. So yeah, he wanted this pretty badly too.]

Question is, how badly do you want this?

[Quickly he changed their positions, flipping Kirk onto his back and pressing himself snug between his legs.]

I don't think you want me badly enough.