God, Jason thinks. He will never tire of watching Peter fall apart. The way he abandons all semblance of the poise that normally defines him; the noises he makes and the way his freckles and eyes grow more vibrant surrounded by such a bright, heated flush. He, too, remembers their first few times: the awkwardness and the pain as they tried to work things out for themselves. The limbs accidentally colliding and the sloppy kisses that missed. Jason remembers it all, memories forever embedded in his thoughts, as permanent as tattoos. Jason never knew love could be like this. He never thought to think to look for love like this, until he met Peter. The moment he saw Peter, something in his heart clicked into place. Suddenly, Jason could begin to understand the world. Understand that he didn't fit into the world as he originally thought. Glancing into Peter's eyes that first time, Jason finally began to understand himself.

Jason groans at Peter's hand on his should, shuddering at the way he first digs his nails into his sweaty flesh. As Peter burns underneath him, Jason burns too, perspiration coating his skin like paint and rendering his dark curls into their own kind of artwork. He lets out a gasp when Peter's hand sprawls out from his initial grip, savoring the gentleness of touch as it helps ground him as well.

"Peter," he half-gasps, half-moans, caught up in the world he finds in those wide eyes. Those eyes that can take his breath away and stoke the building heat inside of him all at once. And then Jason realizes that Peter's beginning to move; his own eyes widen, and he shudders, leaning down to seek solace in the crevice of Peter's neck. Moans escape in between the sloppy kisses he places all along Peter's skin. "Fuck, Peter."

He almost falls apart there, caught by surprise as he is by Peter's movements. Jason, suddenly dizzy with love and wanting, begins to move himself, needing suddenly so much more of Peter.