Jason, for his part, shoves the guilt down under his thoughts the way he usually stuffs his dirty clothes under his bed. His philosophy being that if he doesn't acknowledge said guilt, it doesn't exist. A small voice inside of him often likes to remind him that this is totally going to bite him in the ass one day. A small voice that sounds like an odd combination of Nadia and Peter. But Jason usually manages to ignore it. After all, this room is their world, and the outside world can't take that away from them. Not yet. Even with the amount of near heart attacks he's suffered because of the sound of keys twisting in locks, Jason is defiant in this secret place; the only space in which he can fully be himself without consequence. Even as he knows Catholic rules and societal expectations loom large outside the door.
Jason feels especially reckless and daring tonight. The love they've made between them is the stuff to move mountains, he thinks. It gives him courage, and pushes back the reality of Notre Dame and family dreams and all of the other bullshit framing his life.
Jason grins, basking in the afterglow as Peter moves to settle on his side. The late afternoon light casts an ethereal glow around Peter's entire body. Even naked and shining with sweat, he looks all the world like a subject in a classical painting, with those lips and cheekbones jutting out at angles that makes Jason's stomach twist into knots and butterflies fly loose in his chest. Jason does enjoy the way their sweaty bodies move in unison even know, both trying to catch their breath. He smirks around his fingers, watching the way Peter's flush turns him from saint to heathen in a flash of a second. That growl makes Jason shiver, a slight whimper falling from his mouth in turn. And then Peter's pushing his tongue against his lips, and Jason's smirk falters at the sensation.
God, he could lose himself just in the kisses they exchange alone. In the wake of sex, their kisses are sweeter and less feverish. Yet insistent all the same.
Jason grins again at Peter's astute observation, his cheeks aching from the strain of it across his faces. His eyes nearly burst with brightness as his nose wrinkles in Peter's general direction. "You found me out," he replies, voice soft and just a little bit teasing. He brings one of his hands to find one of Peter's, clasping their fingers together. "I definitely spent time working on that one. But less time than I spent thinking about that," he waggles his eyebrows meaningfully, "and you. God, Peter. I haven't gotten you out of my head since last year." His voice turns more gentle than normal; this is as close as he can get, for the moment, to admitting that he loves Peter.
He lets out a pleased sigh at the kiss to his jaw; these soft, assuring touches and kisses are Jason's favorite. They remind him that he's whole and alive and with the most lovely person he's ever met in his life. He tilts his jaw into it, silently requesting more. "Not much to tell, really," he says, letting his head fall against Peter's. "Mostly spent it listening to Nadia's aspirations and, of course, the Notre Dame pep talks from dear old dad." He tries to keep the bitterness from his voice, especially in such a tender moment as this. But it shows, because Jason's spent too long this summer suppressing it already. "And missing your dumb face every day, of course."
He leans down to steal a kiss from Peter, sighing against his lips. "Now," he murmurs. "Tell me about your summer. Please?"
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Jason feels especially reckless and daring tonight. The love they've made between them is the stuff to move mountains, he thinks. It gives him courage, and pushes back the reality of Notre Dame and family dreams and all of the other bullshit framing his life.
Jason grins, basking in the afterglow as Peter moves to settle on his side. The late afternoon light casts an ethereal glow around Peter's entire body. Even naked and shining with sweat, he looks all the world like a subject in a classical painting, with those lips and cheekbones jutting out at angles that makes Jason's stomach twist into knots and butterflies fly loose in his chest. Jason does enjoy the way their sweaty bodies move in unison even know, both trying to catch their breath. He smirks around his fingers, watching the way Peter's flush turns him from saint to heathen in a flash of a second. That growl makes Jason shiver, a slight whimper falling from his mouth in turn. And then Peter's pushing his tongue against his lips, and Jason's smirk falters at the sensation.
God, he could lose himself just in the kisses they exchange alone. In the wake of sex, their kisses are sweeter and less feverish. Yet insistent all the same.
Jason grins again at Peter's astute observation, his cheeks aching from the strain of it across his faces. His eyes nearly burst with brightness as his nose wrinkles in Peter's general direction. "You found me out," he replies, voice soft and just a little bit teasing. He brings one of his hands to find one of Peter's, clasping their fingers together. "I definitely spent time working on that one. But less time than I spent thinking about that," he waggles his eyebrows meaningfully, "and you. God, Peter. I haven't gotten you out of my head since last year." His voice turns more gentle than normal; this is as close as he can get, for the moment, to admitting that he loves Peter.
He lets out a pleased sigh at the kiss to his jaw; these soft, assuring touches and kisses are Jason's favorite. They remind him that he's whole and alive and with the most lovely person he's ever met in his life. He tilts his jaw into it, silently requesting more. "Not much to tell, really," he says, letting his head fall against Peter's. "Mostly spent it listening to Nadia's aspirations and, of course, the Notre Dame pep talks from dear old dad." He tries to keep the bitterness from his voice, especially in such a tender moment as this. But it shows, because Jason's spent too long this summer suppressing it already. "And missing your dumb face every day, of course."
He leans down to steal a kiss from Peter, sighing against his lips. "Now," he murmurs. "Tell me about your summer. Please?"