Page 122 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

“I have to, uh . . . I have to wait a bit.”

Eli can’t help but laugh. “Just hide it with your jacket.”

“R-right, yeah,” Peter stutters. “Let’s, uh . . . let’s go.”

* * *

The drive back to the apartment is torture, mostly because Eli doesn’t want to take his hands off Peter, but Peter’s driving, and Eli’s not nearly horny enough for his libido to outweigh his will to live.

He’s close, but not that close.

Peter and Eli both settle for a hand on Peter’s thigh, massaging the muscle there. Eli even dares to let his fingers trace the outline of Peter’s growing erection, but Peter slams on the brakes in the middle of a deserted intersection.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Peter says through a nervous laugh. “Just wasn’t, uh . . . expecting it.”

Eli’s grateful for the parking spot that’s right in front of Peter’s building, following Peter closely as he tries his best to get into the apartment as quickly as possible. Peter’s shaking with what Eli hopes is anticipation, even dropping his keys as he tries to unlock the gate before he finally gets through, and they race through the garage.

They’ve barely made it inside before Peter turns, taking Eli’s cheeks in his hands and pulling him in for another kiss. It’s surprising for Peter to take the lead, but Eli loves how demanding the kiss is, how desperate Peter already sounds.

“Jacket off, tiger,” Eli begs, giving Peter just enough breathing room to slip out of the coat and for both of them to step out of their shoes before Eli takes Peter’s hand and leads him to the bedroom. “Sweatpants next.”

“Right, yeah!” Peter says through heavy breaths as Eli falls onto the edge of the bed, once again the perfect height to be eye to eye with Peter’s crotch.

In one fluid motion he peels out of the sweatpants, his erection on full display through the stretched spandex. And just as Peter goes to reach for the carefully hidden zipper of the Spider-Man costume, Eli stops him.

“Leave it on, just for a bit.” He swallows, actually nervous.

Peter can’t help but smirk at him. “Right, I forgot you have a costume kink.”

“Not a kink,” Eli says. “Just . . . an interest.” Eli dares to reach down, to grip Peter’s clothed crotch in his hand, giving his dick a soft squeeze. It’s always amazed him just how sensitive it can be; he loved teasing Keith about it as they were getting out of bed, ready for the day, the yelp that Keith would let out as he avoided Eli’s prying hands. Peter doesn’t disappoint as he shudders when Eli presses his hand to the aching cock, hissing despite how tender the touch is.

Eli dares to lick the length through the stretched material; it’s an odd taste, a bit too spandex-y, but Eli can’t bring himself to care. It’s been months since he felt the touch of another human, minus his one adventure in the public bathroom. It’s only now, faced with the natural way Peter’s hand finds his hair, that he realizes just how hungry he is for it.

Peter’s whines are music to his ears, soft sounds that he drinks in as he continues to run his tongue along Peter’s erection where his precum has formed a dark stain.

“Eli . . . please.”

“Please what, Peter?” Peter sucks in a hard breath as Eli kisses the tip.

“Please, suck my dick.” There’s a desperation in his voice that Eli drinks up.

Eli presses a sly smile against Peter’s crotch. “I am.”

“No, I mean please let me take this costume off.”

Eli continues, the sweet taste of Peter’s precum on his tongue. “But I’m having fun,” he teases. “You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.”

Peter pauses. “You didn’t just say that.”

Eli laughs with him, ignoring the question. “You can take this off under one condition.”

“Anything, please,” Peter begs. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Don’t you dare throw this costume away.”

“Fine, yeah. I’ll keep it—now please let me take it off?”