Count on Peter to make the wrong assumptions then. Even high up on pheromones and horny as a bitch in heat, part of him still thinks about their usual competitiveness and how someone often has to give in. It's usually him, but it wasn't exactly a chore in this case. He would be pleased to realize that Thor had been distracting simply by how he looked. Despite Peter boasting and how often he argued against Rocket's jabs about his body, his self-esteem wasn't the best.

Even in the dim light of the room, it shouldn't be difficult for Thor to see how Peter's eyes widened a little with feral lust after the man undresses.

"Fuck." It wasn't the most eloquent reply, but it sure conveyed sentiment.

Moving to kneel on the bed, Peter reached for Thor's shoulders and pulled him close, his nose in the god's jaw, inhaling. He ran his tongue down along the cords in his neck to the curve of his shoulder and clamped down, sucking, nipping, and kissing. His left hand ran down Thor's chest and the right moved even lower to palm at his cock, hand sliding from root to tip. Peter wrapped expert fingers around the hardness and gave it a squeeze, head tilting back to check Thor's reaction and to demand a kiss.