Jason doesn't really know where his clothes fell, only that they're scattered across the floor, a haphazard mess entirely forgotten for the moment. Sometimes, it amazes him to think how fast they've come together, a collision of lips and promises and three months too long spent apart. But for now, there is only them, kissing and touching and clutching each other as though the world were ending. Jason wouldn't mind, really, if that meant he could just remain in bed with Peter like this, holding him and touching him and drawing those amazing sounds from him.
He grins at Peter's hand gripping his shoulder, relishing the way he clutches at him, as though he might fly away if Peter lets go. A stuttered breath seeps from him at the sensation of Peter running his hands through his hair, and he bites a little into the kiss he presses against the juncture of Peter's neck and collar.
Beautiful, composed Peter, crumpling into that one word, 'yes'. Jason moans at the sight, that lovely flush that highlights all the freckles he has yet to kiss and those eyes, those beautiful, sea glass eyes, that inspires the tide of the warmth inside of him. "Peter," he breathes against his neck, losing his own composure in the process.
Then Peter places his hand on Jason's arm and their eyes lock, the same way they did all those years ago when they first arrived to Saint Cecilia's. They don't need to speak to communicate like this, flashing lights within two sets of eyes meeting across the narrowing space between them. He makes something of a strangled noise, but he nods, shifting back when Peter nudges him.
Suddenly, Peter is over him, and Jason's the one pressed into the sheets, and it robs him of his breath. He clutches at what he can reach of Peter as he moves down his body, and when his mouth falls over him again, he groans, low and husky, and tangles his fingers once more in Peter's hair. His hips arch towards Peter's mouth and the way it fits so perfectly around him.
"Peter," he gasps, glancing down at him, unable to take his eyes away.
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He grins at Peter's hand gripping his shoulder, relishing the way he clutches at him, as though he might fly away if Peter lets go. A stuttered breath seeps from him at the sensation of Peter running his hands through his hair, and he bites a little into the kiss he presses against the juncture of Peter's neck and collar.
Beautiful, composed Peter, crumpling into that one word, 'yes'. Jason moans at the sight, that lovely flush that highlights all the freckles he has yet to kiss and those eyes, those beautiful, sea glass eyes, that inspires the tide of the warmth inside of him. "Peter," he breathes against his neck, losing his own composure in the process.
Then Peter places his hand on Jason's arm and their eyes lock, the same way they did all those years ago when they first arrived to Saint Cecilia's. They don't need to speak to communicate like this, flashing lights within two sets of eyes meeting across the narrowing space between them. He makes something of a strangled noise, but he nods, shifting back when Peter nudges him.
Suddenly, Peter is over him, and Jason's the one pressed into the sheets, and it robs him of his breath. He clutches at what he can reach of Peter as he moves down his body, and when his mouth falls over him again, he groans, low and husky, and tangles his fingers once more in Peter's hair. His hips arch towards Peter's mouth and the way it fits so perfectly around him.
"Peter," he gasps, glancing down at him, unable to take his eyes away.