Jason just truly enjoys basking in Peter's presence like this. Peter is so expressive even when he doesn't say anything; a true actor at heart. Jason savors each fluttering eyelash and each hand gesture Peter makes when he's overly excited. He adores the way Peter's eyes and nose wrinkle like a rabbit's; he relishes how his the blush on his cheeks highlights the myriad of freckles scattered like dust across his face.
Jason also enjoys Peter and his voice, too. Peter, with his calm, gentle cadence, the opposite of the gruffness and screeching politeness that echoes horribly in Jason's memories. Peter, who sings like a lark and sends butterflies down Jason's stomach every time he returns to their room to find him rehearsing for his latest play. Jason recalls one particular afternoon, last spring; the sun shining through their window, cascading in ribbons and bathing everything in a luminous glow. And Peter, looking and sounding like a Disney prince, standing by the window and indulging in a song that tugged on the latches of Jason's heart. Jason remembers his arms snaking around Peter's lithe waist; he remembers the sweetness of his skin combined with the fragile loveliness of his voice. He remembers singing along with him, caught up in the moment and his heart's true intentions. Peter had turned in his arms, then, and they'd begun making an entirely different melody, then. They melted to the floor as their bodies began to sing. Jason shivers a bit as the memory seeps into his current thoughts.
Peter draped on top of him sends all sorts of thrills running throughout Jason; he's growing dizzy, again, and if they don't move soon, he's not going to be able to let Peter even think about getting food. "I suppose you raise a good point," he says with a smile that is half-mischief and half-regret at having to move from this comfortable position. He yawns, but he makes no move to get up just yet. "We do need sustenance, as growing boys, after all." And then the teasing returns to his gaze. "I hope you're not planning on sleeping, tonight."
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Jason also enjoys Peter and his voice, too. Peter, with his calm, gentle cadence, the opposite of the gruffness and screeching politeness that echoes horribly in Jason's memories. Peter, who sings like a lark and sends butterflies down Jason's stomach every time he returns to their room to find him rehearsing for his latest play. Jason recalls one particular afternoon, last spring; the sun shining through their window, cascading in ribbons and bathing everything in a luminous glow. And Peter, looking and sounding like a Disney prince, standing by the window and indulging in a song that tugged on the latches of Jason's heart. Jason remembers his arms snaking around Peter's lithe waist; he remembers the sweetness of his skin combined with the fragile loveliness of his voice. He remembers singing along with him, caught up in the moment and his heart's true intentions. Peter had turned in his arms, then, and they'd begun making an entirely different melody, then. They melted to the floor as their bodies began to sing. Jason shivers a bit as the memory seeps into his current thoughts.
Peter draped on top of him sends all sorts of thrills running throughout Jason; he's growing dizzy, again, and if they don't move soon, he's not going to be able to let Peter even think about getting food. "I suppose you raise a good point," he says with a smile that is half-mischief and half-regret at having to move from this comfortable position. He yawns, but he makes no move to get up just yet. "We do need sustenance, as growing boys, after all." And then the teasing returns to his gaze. "I hope you're not planning on sleeping, tonight."