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Cause he knows he's taking chances. [Test post for Peter]
Jason arrives to St. Cecilia's feeling both as though he's about to take flight and he's about to sink into empty air with only the cold, cruel autumn ground to break his fall. He breathes in the oppressive humidity of the late August day as though he might steal some of the summer sun to keep himself warm on the inside. His senior year, finally. Everything comes down to this. All of those 'encouraging' family talks and hollow laughter about how he'll make the family proud and burn brightly on at Notre Dame. All of those discussions about how he'll meet his future wife and provide his parents with grandchildren soon enough.
He shakes his head, taking a stuttering breath to calm himself. He's only just arrived. No need to let the pressure of everything build quite that high up just yet.
His parents offered to help him unpack; he waved them off with the smile he'd gotten so good at faking, gently hinting that perhaps their assistance would be better off with Nadia, who rolled her eyes, but offered him an actual smile all the same.
His family ought to have left by now. He hopes. Regardless, with one last exhale, he's on his way back to his room. He needs to see Peter more than anything. He's the only person Jason wants to see in this moment; he's the only one who will understand.
But of course, he's Jason McConnell, and making his way back to his own room is never that simple. He winds up chatting with Matt for a few minutes, before gaggles of girls try and worm his number out of him. He endures about ten minute of it before excusing himself, nearly running to his room where, hopefully, he'll find Peter.
He shakes his head, taking a stuttering breath to calm himself. He's only just arrived. No need to let the pressure of everything build quite that high up just yet.
His parents offered to help him unpack; he waved them off with the smile he'd gotten so good at faking, gently hinting that perhaps their assistance would be better off with Nadia, who rolled her eyes, but offered him an actual smile all the same.
His family ought to have left by now. He hopes. Regardless, with one last exhale, he's on his way back to his room. He needs to see Peter more than anything. He's the only person Jason wants to see in this moment; he's the only one who will understand.
But of course, he's Jason McConnell, and making his way back to his own room is never that simple. He winds up chatting with Matt for a few minutes, before gaggles of girls try and worm his number out of him. He endures about ten minute of it before excusing himself, nearly running to his room where, hopefully, he'll find Peter.
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He doesn't even know how to finish that sentence. After that it all seems contrived and he still can't decide how he feels about any of it.
On Jason, though, Peter's stance is pretty clear. The way Jason eggs him on with his leading little teases makes that tell-tale pigment rise in Peter's cheeks. Once again, he finds his lover congratulating himself on turning Peter on.
"I don't know why you're so smug," he murmurs, still arching against the touch; it illustrates his point anyway. "You can wind me up without trying," and wound up he is. It's a switch so easy to flip that Peter is sure Jason could do it in his sleep. He already has.
But for all that Peter's mouth (half-halfheartedly at most) protests, his hands expose the wafer-thin lie by sliding his hands all the way up Jason's shirt to lift it over his head. Before Jason can go back to congratulating himself, Peter meets the aforementioned mouth with his own. His kisses are tender even in their eagerness. As much as it seems the damage of his father's words has lifted (and impossible as it may seem), he's more in love with Jason than he is in need of his touch. Admittedly, not by much, at that moment.
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Jason grins, leaning in to kiss that flush on his lover's face that he loves so much.
"Oh, I know," Jason can't help but smugly mention, enjoying the way Peter arches underneath him. He drinks in the sight and rewards Peter with even more insistent touches. "Doesn't mean I can't appreciate a beautiful sight when I see it, though."
Jason only huffs out a breathless laugh as Peter takes off his shirt, delighted by the eagerness in the other boy's hands. And then Peter's kissing him, tenderly and sweetly, and Jason falls back over him to fully relish in their lips meeting and parting and meeting again. Warmth overwhelms him, even with his shirt newly discarded. He pulls back only slightly to begin working on Peter's shirt, letting his gaze, ripe and filled with love and adoration, meet Peter's as he does so.
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"You're beautiful," Peter vollies back, putting no emphasis on which is truer. The simplicity of their dynamic in solitude would probably make their classmates sick. It's somewhere between Matt's pining soliloquies and Tanya and Lucas' incessant PDA storm, but Peter and Jason are so much better off in so many ways. Maybe it's because it's a secret.
Jason's hands are so warm and gentle that Peter catches his breath when they're off of him, but searching hands have become a hard, hot body atop Peter's and he forgets what he missed immediately. Soon Peter has shed his top layers again and when skin meets skin, Peter hums his approval. When his eyes open from this moment of nirvana, he catches Jason's eyes and the sharp twists of arousal in his abdomen cool to a dull throb, just as insistent. On his inhale, his gaze softens and he is able to relax completely on the exhale. This is perfect, he thinks.
"Jason..." He's almost all the way to the end of the 'I' in 'I love you,' but he doesn't want Jason to feel any more pressure than he already has today. Instead, he strains his neck upward to place a small, sweet, tender little kiss. A few moments linger before Peter pulls Jason down on top of him again, arms winding around his boyfriend's shoulders.
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Jason wants to reply to Peter's statement with another tease, but the truth is that he can't, because he grows pink at his boyfriend's words. His heart stutters in his chest, and he finds himself nearly overwhelmed by all the affection loaded into just one, simple observation. He ducks his head for a moment, trying to compose himself. "As long as you think I'm beautiful, that's all that matters," he promises Peter, tucking some of his hair gone wild back behind his ear. "And you're a splendid sight, yourself, Peter."
Jason lets out a long, low noise caught somewhere between a gasp and a groan as their bare skin makes contact. Peter is so warm and firm beneath him; it makes Jason dizzy, the way he finds all sorts of emotions and sensations flowing through his senses. Peter meets his gaze, and Jason sighs around the dopey grin that appears on his face. For a moment, his love for Peter overcomes his own arousal.
"Peter," he replies, his own chest tight and full of all the words he wishes he could say, if only he could find the strength to give voice to them. And then Peter's kissing him, soft and sweet, and pulling him back down on top of him. Jason succumbs easily to the wanting, kissing Peter deeply and with more insistence than before. He starts to move his hips against Peter's, need for friction already beginning to build in him.
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"I think you're perfect," Peter responds, and hushed as he is by the truth of it, he's also very matter-of-fact. He does, like everyone else, think that Jason is perfect; in fact, Peter has more proof than anyone. Not that he could share it.
This always happens so fast, Peter thinks, as his breath gets caught in the lurch of the changing tide once again. So many of the students at St. Cecilia's have a notion that love and sex are two different concepts. Matt loves Ivy, but what Ivy loves isn't Matt. Tanya and Lucas love each other in their way, but it's been admitted by both parties that they will likely not continue with their torrid (and incredibly tiresome) love affair after they graduate; if Lucas graduates. Ivy won't look back at Matt the moment another pretty guy ignores her, but she'll keep sleeping with him. Nadia will pine for Matt for the next five years before she has a lesbian experience in college and becomes an artist and meets a man she deserves. No, in St. Cecilia's hallowed halls, love is for God and sex is for boredom. All along the sweeping landscape that makes up their pretentious Catholic school, there is only one room in which the two meet and Peter and Jason alone in it. After months of safety in falsehood, they finally get to be real again.
Need ignites below his stomach as soon as he feels Jason's clothed hardness drag against his own. He's still got himself under control, for the most part, and he's got encouragement, which as all he needs. He lifts his hips to press back against him, sighing a little moan at the resulting sensation. He's not stopped kissing his lover, nor loosened his arms around his shoulders. Another jolt of his hips jolts his hand to action and he slides his hand in Jason's back pocket, grasping for more pressure 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.
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Not tonight, though. Now that school is back in session, Peter is Jason's even if no one else knows it. At least Jason does, and if he were to forget, the way that Peter shivers against that small ghost of a touch under his clothes is likely proof enough. He wants more already and decides to illustrate this with a heated, heavy moan into his lover's mouth. He's still feeling greedy in his desire, so he doesn't let the sound stop him from kissing Jason desperately. Maybe the tension that's come and gone has Peter feeling bolder or maybe Jason's promises and compliments are getting to his head because he finds himself tightening his hand in Jason's pocket, stuck between pushing him down and parting their bodies to feel more of that promising touch.
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Tonight, though, Jason doesn't have to dwell on that. Tonight, Jason can tune out the world and focus on the wonderful noises Peter makes as they move together, each increasingly more wanton with every passing minute. Jason eagerly swallows that wonderful moan; lets the force of it seep inside of himself like a warm cup of cider. He groans in his turn, responding to Peter's desperate kisses with heated, sloppy ones of his own. Peter's hand is suddenly tightening in his pocket, and Jason has to pull back to lean against his lover's forehead for a moment just to catch his breath. His own eyes feel huge, when they're not struggling to stay open. He increases his grip, beginning to tug at Peter in earnest as he continues pressing down against him.
"Fuck, Peter," he gasps, leaning down to start nuzzling and kissing his neck. He's so surrounded by Peter, the words tumble from his lips before he even realizes what he says. "I need you so bad."
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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.
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But parties are so far from Jason's mind when Peter moans his name like that. "Peter," he stutters out his lover's name in response, forehead falling against Peter's as heat and wanting weave around him like a dizzy spell. He feels as though he's flying, lost in Peter's arms like this. And Peter is licking into his mouth with such force and desire, Jason flushes when he feels himself mewl in response, kissing back with equal fervor. He sighs some noise resembling Peter's name when he feels Peter tug open his own pants; he's overcome suddenly with the need to be as naked as possible.
Jason shudders as he feels Peter's hand, soft and so very Peter, close around him. He lets out a sound so messy and incoherent, it becomes its own category of noise. Peter is stroking him in his turn, and it's all Jason can do to keep control over himself. And God, the huffs of breath Peter lets out in his turn; their eyes meet, and Jason feels himself quake beneath the light and love he finds in those green eyes.
And then Peter says that, and Jason has to screw his eyes shut to keep from losing all semblance of control. "Fuck, Peter," he hisses, tugging more insistently at Peter as he does so. He opens his eyes seconds later, already too undone to do more than act on burning need.
He pulls back from Peter to step off the bed and step out of his pants. He leans over to kiss Peter soundly as he tugs his pants all the way off as well. And then he's smirking into the kiss, grabbing at Peter's hips as he wraps his boyfriend's legs around him and pulls him up. He lifts him effortlessly, carrying him over and laying him down on the desk, where he immediately presses himself against Peter once more.
"Your wish is my command," he says, before kissing Peter as though the world might end if he didn't.
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A shuddering, disarmed gasp sucks the air out of Peter and takes Jason's bottom lip with it. Peter can't help but trap that gorgeous pout between his teeth as Jason hoists him up with relative ease. Peter tightly wraps his arms around Jason's neck just the way he loves to do, arms straining to keep himself as close to Jason as possible. Once his ass meets the desk, he shucks his shirt and then Jason's. Not even two seconds pass before Peter is kissing Jason again like his life may end if he stops. All he can think about is the way it will feel when Jason traps him between his perfect body and the cheap plywood of the desk, but that's too far away and he needs more now. Without easing off any pressure of the vice-grip he has on Jason with his legs, he plunges his hand between them. Desperately, he takes both of them in hand at once and the pressure is so fucking delicious that his head tips back in the intensity of it.
"Jesus, fuck, Jason," Peter gasps, unable to keep from moving against into his own hand, against Jason's rigidity. He once again finds his arm uncurling from Jason's shoulders to better move against Jason. The move to the desk alone was enough to make him want to cry out, so he gnashes his teeth into his own bottom lip, this time, stifling the breathy little moans that he can't completely help.
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"Fuck, Peter," Jason groans, which instantly collapses into something like pleading as soon as Peter takes them both in hand. Jason's hips jerk, and he has to scramble to find purchase, one hand in Peter's hair and the other on the desk as he all but climbs onto it and Peter. He kisses Peter sloppily and desperately, their foreheads clashing together, searing skin against searing skin. Jason feels himself melting like wax at every touch and kiss they exchange. "Fuck, fuck, Peter," he moans again, thrusting into Peter's hand and wishing desperately he wouldn't have to move to retrieve the supplies they'll need.
"I need you so much," he pants into Peter's neck as he moves his head to start leaving a blazing trail of kisses across Peter's skin. Jason feels like he just might burst from how much he wants Peter.
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A strong, insistent hand hooks around the back of Jason's neck and he, with forceful care, tugs Jason's mouth to his. "You're so gorgeous," he hisses before devouring his mouth in a kiss. Jason is nearly entirely past comprehension, Peter notes, and he himself finds his head spinning as he continues to twist and stroke between them. He's determined, playing his role with eager gusto. Rather than part Jason's mouth with his tongue like he wants, he nudges Jason's head up to mouth heatedly at his Adam's apple, down to his collar. He can't follow this train long before he has to be kissing Jason again.
"Tell me what you want, Jason," he's pressing with gentle insistence, a little out of his mind with how eager he feels to hear Jason's voice, to watch the way he comes further undone with every kiss and pass of his hand.
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He gasps, shuddering again and leaning into the demanding hand curled around the back of his neck. Peter calls him gorgeous, and he feels the flush burning all the way down to his stomach. He's Jason McConnell; he's used to people remarking upon his attractiveness, girls, boys, and teachers alike. But none of those comments come close to the surge of electricity Peter's words inspire in him. Jason only truly feels beautiful when Peter tells him he is. "I...Peter," he moans, wanting so much to tell him how much he appreciates those words and failing due to his own increasing incoherence. He pants into that kiss, groans at the ferocity of it as he hand slips a bit on the desk.
And then Peter's mouthing at his neck, and Jason tilts his head back to grant him better access, noises of all sorts spilling from his mouth as he does so. He can feel the way sweat makes his dark curls stick to his face; he can feel the wideness of his own eyes. And his swollen lips, parting from Peter's only for air as they kiss and Peter strokes them both with such brilliance.
Jason thinks he must look a mess; he feels a mess, as it is. And then Peter's asking him that question, gentle and slightly insistent, and Jason worries for a moment he might just wind up collapsing on Peter in the process.
"I...you," he gasps, voice ragged. "You, Peter, I want you so bad. I need you. Please. Please." He buries his head in the crook of Peter's neck, hips jerking into his hand. "Fuck me," he mumbles against Peter's own slick skin, before he can think of what it is he's just said.
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When words find Jason again, they seem to be making up for lost time, tumbling out on sheaves of the most tantalizing, eager, uncontrolled sexiness that Peter loses his own composure for a second. He's thankful that Jason's face in in his neck, that he's not standing or he knows his knees would have buckled. A few seconds pass after Jason's muted request; the white-heat that it provokes rushes out of Peter's mouth in a low, awed moan. He wants to hear it again, a hundred times, more. As it is, he takes his arm from around Jason and flattens his hand against Jason's chest, pushing him back just a bit. Loathe as he is to break the contact, he untangles his legs from around Jason, uncurls his other hand, and gives Jason a firm (but not forceful) shove back onto the bed. In the transfer, he grabs the supplies from the drawer he'd seen Jason retrieve them from mere hours ago. Languidly, he sprawls himself out on top of Jason -- this hadn't been part of the plan, but he needs to kiss him again -- before passing parted lips down the line of his torso.
"Jesus, Jason, you're perfect," Peter breathes once his lips reach the jut of Jason's hip bone. A quick nip of teeth there and Peter's off again, taking his time to mouth over to the head of Jason's dick. There, he rolls lips and tongue just barely over the skin as he palms some of the lube into his hand. He intends to keep busy, to take over and ease the constant burden of Jason's endless responsibilities. Anything, really, just as long as it keeps Jason right on the verge of losing his mind for however long he can keep the game up.
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Jason feels the way Peter loses his grip on his own composure for a second, and he manages to smile sloppily at the thought. Here they both are, perfect messes rendered even more immaculate and intense by their intimacy. And then Peter lets out that moan, a moan that shoots right through Jason and renders him breathless as he lets out a groan of his own, mouth pressed against the juncture of Peter's neck and collarbone. Jason feels the serpentine way Peter slides his arm from his neck to prod against his chest; he feels the strength in that other hand as it unfurls to help push him back. He falls onto the bed shuddering and letting out little gasps that turn into wanton whimpers; he misses Peter's touch keenly, but God. The sight of him grabbing the supplies from earlier makes Jason's hands grip the tangled bed sheets and hips sharply buck in Peter's direction as he lets out an obscene, elongated attempt at Peter's name, unable to close his parted lips between the noises and panting coming from his mouth or his legs, opening further and quaking from anticipation. Gradually, he feels himself seeping into liquid for Peter, and God, does it feel good.
Peter crawls over him and Jason brings his hands to grasp at every inch of bare skin he can reach, smoothing his hands across Peter's shoulder blades before moving them into his hair, tugging as they kiss, heated and increasingly insistent. And then Peter's moving down his stomach, pressing his hot, parted mouth against his abs; Jason tries to both watch this happening and arch his neck against the pillow. The result is him nearly hitting his head against the wall, and he lets out a breathless laugh, which quickly transforms into a moan and another jerk of his hips as Peter nips at the skin before taking Jason into his mouth.
"Fuck," Jason hisses, arching his entire body towards Peter, desperate for more. Jason feels nearly delirious with the sweat glistening across his body and the slight aching in his legs as he spreads them for Peter. He keeps shivering, one hand still in Peter's hand while the other curls into the sheets again, gripping and clutching at the fabric as he tries to hold himself together.
When Peter tells him how perfect he is, Jason lets out a choked sob before he can help himself. He turns his head aside quickly, to hide the tears that sneak out at the strength in those words. Such compliments feel so empty, spoken by other people. But Peter. God, Peter telling Jason he's perfect means the world. No. More than the word. It means everything, and Jason finds himself so overwhelmed with love in that moment. The polar opposite of how he felt during the phone conversation with his father.
But Peter and his mouth and those lips, those beautiful, wide lips, spur Jason on in spiraling into incoherence and pull him back from his tears; the sight of the lube spilling into Peter's hands makes Jason moan and thrash his head against the pillow, desperate words falling from his lips.
"Fuck, fuck, Peter, please, please. I need you," he pleads, lifting his head to meet Peter's gaze, chest tightening at the sensation of watching Peter sucking on his cock. "Fuck. Peter." And then he moans, toes curling, letting out a plea that would absolutely embarrass him otherwise. "Fuck me through the mattress," he hisses.
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At the sound of Jason's head thumping against the wall, Peter's eyes flick up. He quickly sees that his boyfriend is not in any pain or peril, so he doesn't bother to stop the way his lips loosely close with minimal pressure over Jason's head. Now, he can watch Jason watch him, and that means taking his sweet time in engulfing Jason's gorgeous dick between Peter's already-swollen mouth. A slick finger begins to only just press at Jason's entrance. By the time he's gently pressed the first digit in, his mouth has only just closed completely around the tip of him. Green eyes press a heated gaze into blue; Peter is utterly enraptured with the way Jason tries to hone his focus on Peter while still unraveling slowly.
Jason's direct, detailed wish brings the flush up in Peter's cheeks, accompanied by a spark in his center so powerful that it feels like he's been kicked in the stomach. Despite the agonizingly little amount of progress he's made toward fully taking Jason in his mouth, he pulls back. There is a smirk that is atypical of Peter (borrowed from Jason's own catalog of looks, Peter is sure) that's stuck to his mouth when he does pull back.
"Anything you want," Peter emphasizes. As if to illustrate his point, he flicks his tongue against the head of Jason's cock one last time. Fuck, he loves the way Jason tastes, loves the way he can't help but bucks his hips into the contact, so he finally closes his mouth with slow, deliberate pressure to the root as his finger searches deeper within Jason.
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Peter's gaze flicks up to meet Jason's, and Jason feels his entire body tighten at the sensation that sparks within him. He groans and whines all at once, letting that gorgeous, green gaze wash over him like bath water lapping at his skin; the heated expression he finds there is enough to make Jason arc his hips more wantonly towards Peter's mouth, begging without words as one tightens in the sheets and the other tangles further in Peter's hair. As soon as he feels a finger sliding inside him alongside those perfect, swollen lips closing over him, Jason whole body arches nearly off the bed; his legs shake as they struggle to find purchase in the bed and he lets out a mangled, obscene noise. "Fuck, Peter, fuck yes, oh God, please more, please, please," he mewls as he tries to keep his dizzied gaze focused on Peter, entire body shaking as he continues falling apart.
And then Peter's pulling back, and Jason whines, hips snapping up in desperation to regain contact. But that smirk. Oh God, that fucking smirk. Jason can't tear his gaze from that damn smirk and the way it steals his breath and makes Peter look so fucking cocky and fucking hell Jesus Jason's never been so attracted to any one smirk before. God, he hopes Peter still wears it when he's fucking Jason senseless. "Peter please," he begs, past the point of caring about his dignity. He's pulsing all over, covered in sweat, and feeling so deliciously exposed with his legs parted wide for Peter. "Peter please. I need you. Fuck me."
And those words goddamn. Those words just before Peter takes Jason wholly into his mouth and presses deeper with that one finger. "Oh. Oh. Shit." Jason has to gag himself with the hand not entangled in Peter's hair to suppress the sudden, near shriek that erupts from him at the sensation. Jason has lost control completely over his own hips, bucking wildly into Peter's mouth and against that finger, desperately seeking more friction. Jason feels feverish and nearly delirious; Peter is his own personal drug, and he can't get enough of him.
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Jason is trembling, full-on shaking, and it takes everything in Peter not to give up the ghost and just fuck him then. It would be a shame, he thinks, to waste all of the build-up he's already committed to in the name of satisfying the insistent way his own dick strains against his stomach. Taking control includes self-control, and Peter manages to find it within him to see this sequence of events out. Or until Jason's sinfully perfect mouth pushes Peter far enough away from his self-control.
As a second finger starts to work its way into Jason with slow, gentle pressure, Peter moans around Jason's cock when he feels his boyfriend rolling his hips between Peter's fingers and mouth. Twice, Peter tells himself that he should move his mouth elsewhere, maybe to mark up that flat skin just to the left of where he currently is, but the way Jason thrusts into his mouth, shudders against the flat of Peter's tongue, and fuck, the way he tastes, he just can't bring himself to do it. Instead, he slides his free hand up the inside of Jason's thigh, over his hip, and under to cup his ass, urging him to continue his movement while he worships him with his fingers and mouth.
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He also catches a glimpse of the self-control in Peter, too. He gasps at it; his fingers curl deeper in his hair and in the sheets around him. The way Peter can appear so composed while Jason is a quaking wreck of a mess only encourages his arousal further; he whines, bringing his hand in the sheets to clutch against the wood of the headboard behind him, desperately seeking purchase for the shocking pleasure sparking all throughout him.
"Oh. Oh. Fuck." Jason jerks at that second finger entering him as Peter moans around him; he breaks his gaze as his head falls back against the pillows, his neck arching with his back at the intensity of the sensation. His hips keep snapping up and down between Peter's mouth and his fingers, needing both so badly, Jason begins to ache from the wanting. And then Peter's other hand moves around his thigh and hip to cup his ass; Jason lets out a shuddering breath, pressing himself further into Peter's touch and mouth. He's whining, now, his head thrashing a bit on the pillows as he tries to keep himself steady with the hand on the headboard.
"Peter."
The name, spoken as reverently as that of a saint, falls from between his teeth, biting down on his lower lip, as Jason continues to writhe and unravel.
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As Peter twists his hand to press another finger into Jason, he realizes that his self-control reserves are running dry. Jason as he is, spread wide for Peter and totally undone, is too irresistible. There's not even much regret when Peter disengages mouth and hand from their concentrated efforts. As he lays himself out on top of Jason, he finds he's so light-headed that he nearly falls atop the other man. With a kiss by way of apology for the fumble, he moves Jason's leg out further with his knee. Now that he's kissing Jason again, he gets distracted and stays as he is for a few long, languid moments. Besides, the longer he stays as he is, the harder Jason will work to get Peter to give him what he wants.
"You okay?" Peter asks, and while sure, he genuinely wants to check up on Jason and make sure he's ready, there's a dash of feigned innocence. If his classmates could see him now, out of his Goddamn mind with desire, many would barely recognize him. Peter is selfish with this part of Jason, anyway. It's one of the few things that's his, and since it is, he rewards the behavior by kissing his way along Jason's jaw to nip at his earlobe. Maybe it's less meticulous than this, though, and perhaps Peter is just trying to busy himself to keep from giving in himself, but no one can prove that.
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Peter has a third finger inside of him now, and Jason groans, pushing down with his hips for more of that friction and delicious heat. Moans, whines, and whimpers keep spilling from his mouth, perpetually parted as little pants escape along with the rest of the noises he makes. Which is when, of course, Peter pulls away. For that brief moment of separation, Jason groans, reaching desperately out for Peter. Thankfully, in the next moment, Peter is moving up and covering him with his body, alleviating some of the tension that has Jason on the very edge of losing control completely. And then Peter's kissing him, and Jason groans at the push and pull of their lips and tongues, shivering and delighting in the way Peter moves his leg out further. They keep kissing, and it only just occurs to Jason how Peter is teasing him. He cants his hips towards Peter, needing his cock more than he can say. His entire body shudders, as Jason pulls again on Peter's hair and brings his other hand to clutch at all of the bare, freckled skin he can find.
Jason doesn't miss the false innocence to Peter's expression; he writhes, neck arching slightly at the mischief in Peter's expression. That one look can do so much to Jason; he thinks Peter must have some idea of the power he wields, the way he uses that look on Jason, whose belly and chest tighten and Jesus Christ, he's so hard it hurts. "Yes," he hisses, before his voice dissolves into shattered begging. "Please Peter. Fuck, I need you so bad. Please, please, please. Fuck me. Fuck me." His classmates would gape if they could see Jason now; Jason doesn't care, enveloped as he is in Peter and their perfect, private world. He wouldn't share this with anyone.
Peter's kissing along his jaw, to nip at his earlobe. Jason jolts at the sensation, letting out a long moan; his ear is especially prone to sparking bursts of pleasure all throughout him. He's torn between imagining Peter teasing his ear and having him kiss him soundly, until he sees stars.
"Peter," he gasps. "Please."
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Then, he realizes he's stalling. He knows exactly what he wants, but even with Jason so totally abandoned at Peter's hands, Peter still struggles to get his mouth around the words to request what he wants. He realizes with abject horror that his powerplay may be totally ruined when Jason sees that he's blushing.
"Jason, I want..." Fuck, he's hesitated and that's obvious, but he presses on. "Will you get on your knees for me?" There is no possible way this bumbling can be sexy to Jason, Peter thinks, but he has hope that he hasn't completely ruined the moment in his awkward teenage lust. Just in case, he kisses him briefly before he can answer. That mouth has bested him again.
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Peter's blushing even when he's in control, and Jason loves him for it. He loves that blush, and how it seems to make Peter's lips loom even larger on his face. How each freckle stands out within it. How those eyes look so wide and appealing; Jason groans, drinking in that blush with his eyes and feeling his own body respond in kind with a flush all the way down to his chest. He hopes Peter knows what that blush does to him.
His request hits Jason right in the stomach, inspiring his entire body to another level of tension. Fuck, he's so wound up, and mostly just from looking at Peter and listening to his words. Peter is so endearing with his shyness; Jason adores it, and it shows in the dazed smile he grants Peter. Jason lets out a low moan into that kiss as at he attempts to nod, moving to bring himself to his knees for Peter. He turns so that his back is to Peter. His entire body trembles with the effort of it all and the desire teeming to burst from every inch of his skin.
"Like this?" He asks, his voice cracked and run ragged already as he glances back at Peter over his shoulder, trying to hold back more desperate whimpers.
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He's barely slid in halfway when his head tips back and he succumbs to a shuddering, basic moan. Things don't usually shake out this way, but God, that makes it so much more incredible when they do. Peter's taking his time. He curls one hand around Jason's hip and the other smooths along his back, caressing him, focusing on these tender slips of touch to ground him and keep his progress slow. All he wants it more of Jason, around him and next to him.
"Oh God," Peter breathes, trembling with the effort it takes to keep his hips still. That searching hand slides down Jason's side and Peter bends at the waist to kiss along his chiseled, smooth back. The kisses he slides across the skin are feverish, but it seems to be helping him keep his agonizing pace.
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