Sir Peter grips Allen King’s chest with rough, calloused hands while their lips crash together in a bruising kiss, the dark hair of both tangled between them as they stand shoulder to shoulder. The air smells of sweat and earth from the overgrown foliage behind them, their muscles straining against each other’s weight as fingers dig into warm skin. Allen King’s breath hitches against Sir Peter’s mouth, his own hands clutching back, not to pull away, but to hold on tighter.
