Peter closed his eyes and let the praise wash over him. Making a man like Quill drop his humor and moan in satisfaction felt amazing, but hearing the words made pleasure slide down his spine. It took only a few more strokes before Quill issued his command and when he did, Peter took another shuddering breath and quickly leaned forward to purse his lips and press them against the sliding bead of liquid.
Peter tried to be good. He pulled away with the drop on his lips. He rubbed his lips together slowly to coat them both…and then his tongue slid out and licked it away. His eyes closed and he moaned a soft plaintive sound. Half because he loved the salty taste and half because his cock ached so much that he had to press it down again from within his tight slacks. He felt a rush of embarrassment that he couldn’t even follow his first direction properly, but he was so tightly strung he couldn’t help it.
Peter found himself leaning his head against Quill’s stomach with his panting mouth only inches from the cock in his hand. He still managed to stroke it, but at this point it was barely an afterthought. The words rushed out in between hard breaths even as he slid his right hand down to squeeze his own cock through his pants. “Quill, p…please tell me to suck your cock. I think I need it.”