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When Peter elbows him into the coat closet, he thinks it’s a blind attempt made in his honor to keep him from eating every plate of cake that’s been set out on the buffet table. He follows with one of Peter’s hands at the small of his back. Peter leads him down the hallway in the lodge where the wedding/afterparty/whatever you want to call it is being held. They don’t talk, which is surprising considering he can’t ever get Peter to shut the hell up.
Instead of going to the bathroom or one of the empty back rooms to talk, Peter opens the door to the coat closet and shoves Howard in. Standing in the dark Howard wonders just why they’re needing to hold whatever secret meeting that just couldn’t wait an extra thirty minutes to begin. The only sounds are of Peter’s mild breathing and muffled conversation down the hall. After growing tired of hearing his own buzzing thoughts, Howard pipes up.
“Why the hell are we in the coat closet?” he asks, straining up to pull the chain on the singular light bulb. It sputters just as soon as Howard gets it to give off a dim light and he groans in defeat when it finally burns out. Oh well, he figures. It’s been there long enough that its death at this point in time is nothing surprising.
“I needed someplace private to talk to you,” Peter admits gruffly and Howard’s glad he can’t see the way he rolls his eyes. Peter is lingering right in front of the closed door, deliberately forming a roadblock, and Howard huffs out a breath.
“And what, the back room wouldn’t do for you? What kind of archaic…” Howard is forced to trail off his sentence when one of Peter’s hands clasps over his mouth. Howard makes a few sounds of annoyance but Peter maintains his hold until finally Howard falls silent.
“No one’s going to walk in on us back there. All of your relatives need breaks from that party and it’s the first place that they’re going to go,” Peter explains, almost sounding annoyed that Howard was not aware of his motives. “That’s why we’re taking shelter among overcoats and blazers.”
Howard lets a breath hiss out of his nose and suddenly the air between them feels deprived of any oxygen it previously had. “That’s not the only reason why you pulled me aside. What’s so important for them to not walk in on that you had to shove me into a dark room I used to hide in as a kid and steal - “
He’s cut off with Peter’s mouth on his. Not like the one at the intersection now, unhurried and calm, Howard kisses him back like it’s his job. Peter’s tongue slips into his mouth and he groans, the taste of cake icing lingering on Howard’s tongue adding fuel to the fire. Hands, Howard’s, trembling with unsatisfied need, grip Peter’s shoulders to urge him on. All that little motion does is cause Peter to angle his head in further, seek more of Howard.
They pull back with their lungs burning and their noses tingling. Not even the first gulp of air he takes after the kiss is over is enough to put out the fire. Howard starts thinking that no one he’s ever dated – even that one girl he thought was okay before he started dating Emily – has this kind of effect on him. No one’s ever had such a powerful influence from the beginning. Howard hopes every little encounter is like this from now on.
Well, maybe he shouldn’t make that assumption so quickly, he thinks when Peter starts to circle him like a hawk, feeling up their positioning and stance in the closet to get a gauge on what he is going to do next. Peter shrugs off his own coat and tosses it on a hook behind Howard’s head as if they two of them aren’t necking in a coat closet.
It’s only when Peter loosens his tie and the first button on his shirt does Howard pipe up again with another question. “What we do in Greenleaf is explain what we’re doing as we’re doing it, Peter.” Peter shuts him up with another kiss, rougher than before, and Howard submits under his presence. Howard tries to raise a front like he’s objecting to what’s happening but deep beneath that façade he loves it. The spontaneity of it all, not knowing what’s coming around the bend, it just does it for him.
Peter jerks open the first three buttons on Howard’s shirt and makes a low noise when he doesn’t find an undershirt to get in his way. Dropping kisses down Howard’s chest he drops to his knees before him. He looks up at Howard, who finds that his throat is suddenly dry. Howard musters up the courage to speak, his voice hoarse with raw need, “Please, Peter.”
Peter nods and unbuttons Howard’s pants and finding him only half hard, raises one hand to stroke him to hardness. Howard’s knees threaten to buckle in response to the touch and he reaches back behind him, gripping tight onto an empty closet rod. Hand working on Howard’s cock the other holds his hip in a vice, mouth busy sucking light kisses into the skin at the cradle of Howard’s pelvis.
Howard groans, hands flailing, and uses his other hand to grip onto the top of Peter’s head. The black hair, finally buzzed, proves no sturdy thing to hold onto, too short for Howard’s hand to grasp. Howard curses the fact he went for a haircut the day before the wedding; if he had known Peter was going to go down on him at the wedding, he would have tackled the barber before he picked up the clippers.
Peter leans back, hand still stroking at the base of Howard’s dick, eyes rolling upwards to look at Howard. The look in Peter’s eyes stops Howard’s heart on the spot, so full of need and want. Howard would have never thought for a second that he’d have that passionate of an effect on someone. It makes him feel a bit prideful, if he can even say that now, Peter’s hand on his dick and mouth on his skin, that he is handsome and interesting enough to make someone want him in this way.
He swallows around a lump in his throat that threatens to grow into a moan, as he grows hard, so bare and exposed under Peter’s gaze. His feet are an afterthought, the fact that he remains upright and a bit steady a silent blessing. Peter rests his head against Howard’s stomach and takes a few breaths, overwhelmed himself, and once he’s come down from the high he goes back to stroking Howard languidly. He stands up quickly, making Howard dizzy with the pace with which he rises, and presses his mouth to Howard’s. Peter makes no move to kiss him. All his lips do is rest against Howard’s own, a presence rather than a controlling factor.
“You’re going to get too loud,” Peter says matter-of-factly, “and I don’t want anyone else to know what we’re doing here. It’s just you and I.”
Howard nods his head frantically as best as he can with Peter in his personal space. Like Peter warns the noises eking out from his throat get louder, Peter’s hand speeding up on his dick, stroking from base to tip in a quick manner to make Howard think this is the way Peter does it to himself. Maybe, he thinks in almost a selfish manner, Peter does it thinking of him, in the dark and comfort of his own room granting himself pleasure that Howard couldn’t do at the time and –
Howard’s orgasm is a sneak attack, rushing up on him and causing his stomach to tense and he groans. He wishes he could stop coming, spilling over the vice grip of Peter’s hand, unfettered and breathy moans falling onto Peter’s parted mouth. Finally Peter leans in to kiss him for real this time and Howard grips him by the back of the neck. He can feel Peter grinding himself off on his upper thigh.
“Peter, Peter,” he gasps out in a mantra, listening to Peter grunt into his ear. When Peter starts to come Howard takes ahold of his neck, pulling him even closer than he was before, solidifying him when his climax makes him want to tip over with the force of it. Howard keeps him right there, hand drifting from the curve of his neck to the fading buzz of his hair. Peter presses kisses beneath Howard’s jaw, overwhelmed and exhilarated at the same time.
Their mutual highs fade and they’re both left with a bit of a mess, pants shoved down to the crooks of their knees and shirts open in various states of dishevel. Howard is the first to make the move to clean himself, stealing a tissue from a random box on the floor and handing it to Peter. He sighs and sits on the edge of a shelf, catching his breath and allowing the residual tingles from his orgasm.
Peter snickers as he finishes wiping his hand off. He wipes his own come from his thigh and holds the tissue in his clean hand gingerly. “I promise, not every time we do it is going to be like this. There’ll be showers, and towels, and you know, soap. But I needed that. So did you; do you know what you do to me?”
Howard blushes furiously, the heat in his cheeks radiating up to his eyes. Peter cracks open the door to allow a little light in and Howard laughs at just how wild the guy looks, cheeks flushed deep and eyes blacked out by widened pupils that are beginning to recede. “I know I do that.” Howard gestures to his face and Peter smiles bashfully.
“Yeah, you do that,” Peter concedes, pulling the door back a little more and going to stand next to Howard. He brings up both of Howard’s hands to his mouth and presses kisses into each of the palms, the bases of the fingers. If Howard didn’t know any better, didn’t know their brief history and how fast and potent it’s developed into, he’d say Peter was completely besotted. “I don’t know anyone else who does that to me.”