RGB slash Peter/Winston; rated PG-13
Apr. 11th, 2003 09:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveEvents
It was only when the firehouse was empty -- those all too rare times when everyone else was gone, and not due back for long enough to make it worthwhile. Winston always said fifteen minutes was enough; Peter always wanted to hold out for an hour. It wasn't that he didn't understand Winston's point -- anything was better than nothing, when worse than nothing was what they usually got. Worse was when you sat in a room full of other people and could see each other, talk to each other, and couldn't do a damn thing.
But knowing that someone was due back that soon always made Peter too anxious, too worried and listening for the door downstairs, to relax and enjoy himself. So when all they had was fifteen minutes, he would find Winston and kiss him -- they'd hold each other and make out like teenagers groping on their parents' couch. Always afraid of the light flicking on and being caught out, and desperate enough to do it despite the risk.
When there was more time, they would head upstairs. Not to the bedroom, because there was no way to hide what they were doing. Anyone would notice if the sheets got changed every single time they were left alone together, even with Peter's regular excuse that Slimer had got at his pillow again.
The bathroom, then, stripped down for a shower and hot heavy sex both in the shower and out. It was sometimes dangerous, and sometimes too rushed, and it was always never quite what either of them wanted. You can't cuddle, standing up in the bathroom, and cold tile puts a damper on any romance. But neither of them suggested not doing it at all, and the only other places were worse. Corners and closets, store room, even the rooftop once -- all even more uncomfortable and harder to hide what they'd done.
It would have been easier if they could go away, one weekend or a single night. But their faces were too famous to risk a night in town, and too far away would raise questions. It wasn't like no one would notice they were vacationing together -- alone. that left them with only one choice, and when the time came they would steal away upstairs, and strip each other down as fast as they could, and wring out every last moment of precipitous safety that they could.
Sometimes it made the sex feel cheap. Sometimes it made Peter feel like his love was cheap. But as long as no one could know, there was no other way to love each other.
It was only when the firehouse was empty -- those all too rare times when everyone else was gone, and not due back for long enough to make it worthwhile. Winston always said fifteen minutes was enough; Peter always wanted to hold out for an hour. It wasn't that he didn't understand Winston's point -- anything was better than nothing, when worse than nothing was what they usually got. Worse was when you sat in a room full of other people and could see each other, talk to each other, and couldn't do a damn thing.
But knowing that someone was due back that soon always made Peter too anxious, too worried and listening for the door downstairs, to relax and enjoy himself. So when all they had was fifteen minutes, he would find Winston and kiss him -- they'd hold each other and make out like teenagers groping on their parents' couch. Always afraid of the light flicking on and being caught out, and desperate enough to do it despite the risk.
When there was more time, they would head upstairs. Not to the bedroom, because there was no way to hide what they were doing. Anyone would notice if the sheets got changed every single time they were left alone together, even with Peter's regular excuse that Slimer had got at his pillow again.
The bathroom, then, stripped down for a shower and hot heavy sex both in the shower and out. It was sometimes dangerous, and sometimes too rushed, and it was always never quite what either of them wanted. You can't cuddle, standing up in the bathroom, and cold tile puts a damper on any romance. But neither of them suggested not doing it at all, and the only other places were worse. Corners and closets, store room, even the rooftop once -- all even more uncomfortable and harder to hide what they'd done.
It would have been easier if they could go away, one weekend or a single night. But their faces were too famous to risk a night in town, and too far away would raise questions. It wasn't like no one would notice they were vacationing together -- alone. that left them with only one choice, and when the time came they would steal away upstairs, and strip each other down as fast as they could, and wring out every last moment of precipitous safety that they could.
Sometimes it made the sex feel cheap. Sometimes it made Peter feel like his love was cheap. But as long as no one could know, there was no other way to love each other.