"Fuck, Peter," Bobby moaned in tandem with those descending lips across his body. What he wanted to say was fuck me, Peter, but the words wouldn't come out. He wanted it, his body was aching for it, but he didn't know how to say in a way that made him feel confident. A lifetime of internalized homophobia could do that to a person.
It was easy to kiss him, easy to fill the silence with the hunger of his mouth against his. Once again Bobby wrapped his muscular arms around Peter's torso, but this time it was from beneath him, this time it was pulling another man's body on top of him like he'd felt so many women do to him. One hand traced down his skin, even going to far as to dip into the valley of Peter's ass before coming back up again.
"I'm here. With you." He said in response to Peter's question, looking up at him. "This is amazing, hotter than-- than anything I've done in a while. And you...fuck, you're incredible. You're beautiful and generous and concerned and I want to please you. I want to give you what you want. And I...I trust that you'll do the same for me along the way. You've proven that much already."
A thousand images flashed through Bobby's mind of all the things he wanted Peter to do to him. He imagined himself on his back, just like this, with Peter thrusting between his thighs. He imagined Peter's hand pulling his hair as he took him from behind, rough and wild. He imagined what it could feel like when he came inside Bobby for the first time.
But how could he say any of that out loud?
"I mean, all you gotta do is look at my soaked jock to see how much I'm enjoying this," he managed to say with a breathy chuckle as he sucked the plump curvature of his lower lip between his teeth.