There's a veritable symphony of gorgeous noises coming from Jason's mouth, and the noises fall whether Peter is dampening the sound with his own mouth or not. Jason's curling, twisting, insistent fingers are winding him tighter and tighter and he too feels like he may go completely mad.

He knows what Jason wants, knows that all he has to do is say it and that Jason will, the way he always does, bring fantasy into reality. He's also sure he's given Jason enough satisfaction in this encounter alone that he's not sure he wants to stroke his ego more. There's his lover's hand again, though, searching and pushing and Peter can't take it anymore.

"Fuck me," he hisses, the sound of the desperation and boldness in his own voice closing his lips, eyes, and then he's moaning, loud, frustrated, frenzied. "God, please." He's twisting his hips and ass down now, trying to get the most out of Jason's touch, whimpering and shuddering breath after shallow breath. "Jason, I need you." The desire has mounted to shuddering, quivering basic need.