whenshewasnice | Some Festival, Somewhere, Thursday FT

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Some Festival, Somewhere, Thursday FT

Some shows seemed similar, blending into each other until Envy's recent past seemed like one big blur of stages and stages and stages that were all essentially the same.

And then some shows were wholly special. Some shows happened during sunset on stages under a big tent, with a gentle breeze blowing from the ocean. Some shows had Envy jumping and bouncing around the stage in her short sequined dress and feeling happy.

Some shows made it feel like everything was possible.

Some shows made it feel like it didn't matter whether everything was possible, because this was all that mattered. The stage and the breeze and the sunset and the sequins, and the roar and energy and smiles of the crowd.

This made everything else worth it.

[ooc: NFB but open for calls/texts/emails afterwards!]

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Peter stretched his arms behind him, looking up at her with a slight smirk hidden under his smile. "Doesn't take direction well, doesn't know how to sex it up right..."

"Talks about himself in the third person..." Envy quipped, trailing off. "You're a tragedy, Peter Wiggin."

She shrugged, then looked down at her hands and – oh, look. She was finally tearing the foil open.

"Still, I like you."

Peter touched her hip as she worked the foil, his thumb sliding over her skin. "And I'm grateful," he quipped back easily. "Whatever might have become of me otherwise?"

Envy smirked down at him. "Something just as tragic but spectacular as now."

The wrapper got tossed carelessly aside. She reached down to carefully roll the condom onto him – and if there was an extra stroke or two, well, she could be nice for a second sometimes.

"Just with even less appreciation for some of the non-political things in life."

"Nonsense," Peter said, sighing softly as her fingers eased some of his tension. "Everything is political."

His other hand found a hip to settle on, too.

"Music can be political," Envy retorted easily, even as she was shifting forwards a little, beginning to line herself up. "It's not inherently political."

Her hand around his dick guided it to her – then just teased the tip against and around the entrance, letting him get an idea of some of the warmth but being a terrible tease.

The niceness hadn't lasted very long.

"Even nonpolitical music is a political statement," Peter said. His eyes fluttered shut.

When she didn't continue, he bit down on his bottom lip and opened them again.

To find her smirking down at him. Attempting an innocent look but not quite getting there.

"How so?" she asked. "Please explain."

Honestly, she wasn't intending to push this bit of teasing much further because she'd been wanting something thicker than fingers since... well, his fingers. But for just a moment longer, she was content to be looking mischievous down at him while she slid the tip of his cock over her clit.

Which broke the look of mischief for a little sound of pleasure, of course.

"The themes in music, the words in the lyrics, and even the desire--" Peter's mouth twitched, his hips jerking up just a little bit. "--not to be seen as political all bow to the status quo," he managed. "When your music is nonpolitical, it supports what is already in power."

Envy shrugged a shoulder. "Fair point."

And just like that, she shifted, and actually let him push all the way into her, eliciting a quiet moan from her in the process.

It wasn't just him that she'd been teasing.

Peter groaned, his fingers digging into her hips. "Thank god," he managed, thrusting up into her again out of instinct - and realizing just how much power he'd just given her by letting her pick this position.

Yeeeah, he really should've asked for something else if he'd wanted to not be at the mercy of whatever she decided to grant him. Not that she was intending to be a pain in the ass. But she also definitely had a Thing for that.

But the only quirk she was currently indulging was the one for being all ego with a quip. "Wrong person to thank." Yep, like that.

She let her hips press against his for just a little moment of adjusting to the sensation after the wait. Then, pulling back again, her hips were soon settling into a rhythm that was steady, if not particularly fast.

In Peter's defense, she had a lot of experience, and he didn't.

"I'm sure," he started, but swiftly abandoned the line of snark as she started moving. He let out a hot breath instead, enjoying the slow build-up of pressure for a moment.

Maybe more than a moment.

Finally his hands slid up, touching her body, fingers trailing over her breasts.

That was a good action, and one that had Envy trying to lean just the tiniest bit forward, pushing her breasts against his hands. She didn't need snark when there were hands.

And the continued movement of her hips. She was taking deep, slow breaths, keeping herself grounded in the pace she'd set. For now, anyway. She liked a good build-up, and there were a few reasons why it seemed to fit tonight.

Peter could guess at a few - and it felt right - but probably not all of them. Not that it mattered. He cupped her breasts, playing gently with her nipples, but he looked up above them to see her face - to catch her expression as she moved.

And Envy was watching him. Her eyes were half-lidded but she was still obviously focused on him.

It mattered whose hips she was grinding down on, you see.

But she was biting on the inside of her lip, too. Some small anchoring gesture to still keep her from going faster. Her hand came up to cover one of his on her breast, pressing it more firmly to her skin, and her lips pulled into a tiny smirk.

Peter let out a long, tortured sigh. "Someone looks pleased with herself," he managed.

"I had a great show, earlier today," Envy pointed out. With a single, slightly firmer, slightly quicker push down against him, because she was all about timing, even at the expense of the last half of the last word being half gasped. "Now I'm mid-screw with you for the first time in years."

And with about her preferred level of control over the situation, no less.

"What's there not to be pleased about?"

"I don't know."

Peter needed a second; her uptick in pace had him seeing stars.

"Um," he managed next. "You're still beautiful."

"You should tell me that more often," Envy replied, mostly joking. (But, since she was Envy, there was also a sliver of self-obsessed sincerity to it. Just a smidge.)

She leaned forward, planting a hand by his side against the bed and changing the angle in the process. "But thank you."

"Maybe later," Peter said. The slow build-up of pleasure in his abdomen was beginning to make it hard for him to be clever.

He touched her arm instead, running his fingers up and down the skin, his mind flicking back to the first time they'd done this.

Things had changed a lot since then.

Envy wasn't thinking about it now, although she would later. Right now, she let her eyes close for a moment as she kept moving on top of him, hips finally seeming to pick up the pace some. Then her eyes fluttered back open again.

She wanted to keep watching him.

He wanted to keep watching her in return.

Their eyes locked.

Peter got noisier. He'd never been great at keeping silent, and the faster she moved, the more audible he got.

Envy's lips twitched. And not into a smirk, this time, but into a wobbly smile.

"I like that." She managed some softness, some sweetness to her tone there, even though her own breath was becoming more like panting with every thrust. She'd given up on slow. There'd been enough build-up of that type. Now she just wanted the coiling in the pit of her stomach to tighten and tighten and tighten.

Peter didn't really have the core lower bottom strength to do anything besides touch her, but his hands went roaming further over her body, touching skin wherever they could get at it: her breasts, her shoulders, her abdomen, her thighs...

"I'll bet you do," he sighed, and then a moan wrenched from his throat.

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