"It's cold," Peter protests in response as he nuzzles in closer to Jason, soothed by the gentility of Jason's little ankle-caresses. He's not sure if he's actually tired, or just bathed in afterglow and a little desperate to finally fall asleep next to the person he loves. His head is tucked under Jason's chin, so he can't help but bury himself in Jason's neck for a minute, closing his eyes against the soft slickness of the skin there. Jason's specific taste and smell has a nearly combustible chemical reaction when they mingle in his awareness, and he can't help himself but to press his lips against the tendon there.
"I don't think my picture would have the same effect yours does." He's murmuring against Jason's skin. He's suddenly very preoccupied with the feel and taste of him; months of prayer and biding time has finally paid off, and he has no intention of pissing away their time.
He definitely isn't ready to stop hearing Jason's voice and feeling his breath against his skin and hair either. Especially not when it gets soft and appreciative and awed like that. He backs off and tilts his eyes up to see the expression that matches the tone. He's not disappointed and moreover, he's complete jell-o under his gaze and touch.
"You got me though that public speaking class," Peter reminds him, softly. The hand between them pads fascinated fingertips over that jaw that he looks forward to staring at all day in class. "That class was torture." He understands the ridiculousness of his loving being on stage and hating public speaking, but it's there, all the same.
no subject
"I don't think my picture would have the same effect yours does." He's murmuring against Jason's skin. He's suddenly very preoccupied with the feel and taste of him; months of prayer and biding time has finally paid off, and he has no intention of pissing away their time.
He definitely isn't ready to stop hearing Jason's voice and feeling his breath against his skin and hair either. Especially not when it gets soft and appreciative and awed like that. He backs off and tilts his eyes up to see the expression that matches the tone. He's not disappointed and moreover, he's complete jell-o under his gaze and touch.
"You got me though that public speaking class," Peter reminds him, softly. The hand between them pads fascinated fingertips over that jaw that he looks forward to staring at all day in class. "That class was torture." He understands the ridiculousness of his loving being on stage and hating public speaking, but it's there, all the same.