Now it's Jason that's coming undone, and Peter is awed by it. Some simple friction, a few rushed grabs, no less than a hundred kisses in the last fifteen minutes and suddenly Jason is translated. The locked, barricaded door serves as permission, the neutrality of the first night back before school is their excuse, and the hours of open time that separates them and reality is theirs to make of it what they will. These thrills tremor their way down Peter's spine and meet with the electric spark in the pit of his stomach. The charge snaps Peter's hips into Jason's touch twice, completely involuntarily. He whimpers softly.
"Jason." He marvels. Jason's name is at Peter's lips again, but he stifles it in favor of licking his way into Jason's mouth. That pit in his stomach is molten once again. Desire flares up in him and he tugs Jason's pants down, only opening them as much as he has to in order to accomplish his task. He's still only about half-present in his mind, and that little fraction dwindles every time Jason completes another mind-altering pass of his hand. He's not totally sure what his plan is, but he knows that it involves as few clothes as possible.
"I'm yours," Peter reminds him, but his response is breathless, his focus diffuse. Against the flat front of Jason's hip, Peter slides his palm fingers-down until his own hand is curled the root of Jason's cock. He manages to regulate his strokes, but only just. Jason's fingers slide over the most sensitive part of Peter and he screws his eyes shut against the intensity of it. A few breaths huff by before Peter's eyes meet Jason's again.
"Then bend me over the desk." He means this to be a request, but a combination of being too far out of his mind for manners and the knowledge that this wish will likely not be met with disdain prevents it from coming out that way. It was Jason's idea in the first place; they'd been talking about fucking on a car, but they can work with what they have.
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"Jason." He marvels. Jason's name is at Peter's lips again, but he stifles it in favor of licking his way into Jason's mouth. That pit in his stomach is molten once again. Desire flares up in him and he tugs Jason's pants down, only opening them as much as he has to in order to accomplish his task. He's still only about half-present in his mind, and that little fraction dwindles every time Jason completes another mind-altering pass of his hand. He's not totally sure what his plan is, but he knows that it involves as few clothes as possible.
"I'm yours," Peter reminds him, but his response is breathless, his focus diffuse. Against the flat front of Jason's hip, Peter slides his palm fingers-down until his own hand is curled the root of Jason's cock. He manages to regulate his strokes, but only just. Jason's fingers slide over the most sensitive part of Peter and he screws his eyes shut against the intensity of it. A few breaths huff by before Peter's eyes meet Jason's again.
"Then bend me over the desk." He means this to be a request, but a combination of being too far out of his mind for manners and the knowledge that this wish will likely not be met with disdain prevents it from coming out that way. It was Jason's idea in the first place; they'd been talking about fucking on a car, but they can work with what they have.