"Hmm hmm," Jason says, unable to keep from teasing when he's so very wrapped around the one he loves. "Anything you say, Arizona boy. I know you just want an excuse to cuddle more." Of course, Jason wants an excuse to cuddle more; he never wants Peter out of his arms. He keeps brushing his ankles against Peter's, delighting in the gentle motion of the gesture; warm and soft, like bubble bath. And just as soothing, really. Jason lets his jaw rest on the top of Peter's soft head, feeling entirely and utterly complete. Afterglow washes over both of them, and with the late afternoon light, cascades their private world into dusty gold. And then Peter's kissing the tendon of Jason's neck, and he lets out a breathy groan, leaning into the kiss.

"Of course it would," Jason tells him, settling further into the mattress and beginning to trace soothing circles on his boyfriend's bare skin. "You are a work of art, and anyone who can't see that is blind." Jason shivers at Peter's voice rippling against his skin; his words and feelings sink into him, and it sets his nerves on fire.

Peter surrounds Jason like the sung prayers of reverent saints. He is pure and whole and good and light; he is hope and love and peace. Jason could live forever breathing in Peter's hair and eyes and lips; letting their skin all but gradually merge together as though they were part of the same sculpture. Jason smiles at the light he finds in Peter's gaze; the way it shows just how his insides have become less solid. Jason smirks a bit.

And then Peter is tracing his jaw. Jason sighs, turning his full focus on Peter. "You did really well in that class, you know that right? And mostly because of your own hard work. But I will take some of the credit," Jason grins, squeezing the arm his has around Peter. His expression softens, then. He knows how much Peter, brave, wonderful Peter, hates public speaking even as he adores the stage. "I was glad to help," he tells him, more seriously.