Jason adores Peter both when he's actually drunk and when he just looks it, as is the case now. His freckles stand out in the bright redness of his face; his eyes are wide and glassier than usual, as though they were sea shells submerged beneath the water. His hair, normally so composed and artful, sticks up in all the places Jason runs his hand through. And, of course, the way his eyelids flutter constantly; a pair of stuttering, butterfly wings. It all rather takes Jason's breath away.
"I'm not, but I'm glad you think so," Jason murmurs against Peter's lips, exchanging the words the way they exchange lips and tongues. Jason is only too aware of his flaws and how he can fall apart at the seems at any given moment. It warms him deep inside that Peter can somehow see past all of that. "You're a work of art."
Peter, so shy and sweet to the rest of the world that doesn't know him like Jason does; Peter, whose hard work and kindness goes beyond the expectations of a teenage boy. Peter, who can hold Jason and make the rest of the world vanish with his encouraging words and his hands as soft as the tips of rose petals. Jason knows how lucky he is; how the hallways of their school overflow with teenage lust and reckless feelings, but hardly ever the sort of connection Jason and Peter have. The student body of Saint Cecilia's is ripe with mixed messages and wayward philosophies; what Jason and Peter have discovered is the sort of purity the Bible preaches constantly.
Jason lets out a stuttering moan as Peter lifts his hips; even separated as they are by the pants they both still wear, Jason thrills at the contact and need pressing together in their movements. Jason keeps kissing Peter desperately, moving their bodies together like the tide coming on shore. His hands move lower on Peter's body, coming in between them to start sneaking under the edge of his pants. And then Peter has his hand in Jason's back pocket, and it's all Jason can do to keep his thoughts from spinning out of control.
"Peter," he almost pleads his name against his lips, so enveloped he is in the love sprawling out between them.
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"I'm not, but I'm glad you think so," Jason murmurs against Peter's lips, exchanging the words the way they exchange lips and tongues. Jason is only too aware of his flaws and how he can fall apart at the seems at any given moment. It warms him deep inside that Peter can somehow see past all of that. "You're a work of art."
Peter, so shy and sweet to the rest of the world that doesn't know him like Jason does; Peter, whose hard work and kindness goes beyond the expectations of a teenage boy. Peter, who can hold Jason and make the rest of the world vanish with his encouraging words and his hands as soft as the tips of rose petals. Jason knows how lucky he is; how the hallways of their school overflow with teenage lust and reckless feelings, but hardly ever the sort of connection Jason and Peter have. The student body of Saint Cecilia's is ripe with mixed messages and wayward philosophies; what Jason and Peter have discovered is the sort of purity the Bible preaches constantly.
Jason lets out a stuttering moan as Peter lifts his hips; even separated as they are by the pants they both still wear, Jason thrills at the contact and need pressing together in their movements. Jason keeps kissing Peter desperately, moving their bodies together like the tide coming on shore. His hands move lower on Peter's body, coming in between them to start sneaking under the edge of his pants. And then Peter has his hand in Jason's back pocket, and it's all Jason can do to keep his thoughts from spinning out of control.
"Peter," he almost pleads his name against his lips, so enveloped he is in the love sprawling out between them.