Cause he knows he's taking chances. [Test post for Peter]

[no_voice]

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.

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[paper_courage]

So frantic are Peter's movements now that he's pouring sweat that assists the friction between them. It's growing increasingly difficult to monitor what's falling from his lips but all he wants is to keep kissing Jason. Even when his boyfriend is too blissed out to be able to commit to his own feverish kisses back, Peter sucks and bites at his parted lips. He continues this frantic barrage of lips on lips until he's too close to divide his attention any further.

Before he can completely lose control, though, he palms a bit more of the lube into his hand. When it finds Jason's dick once again, the friction is looser and he can better twist his hand, knead his fingers over Jason. The ease of motion is so dizzying that he picks up his already fever-pitched pace and it's not long before he chokes out a warning cry of Jason's name. The heat and rhythm and stop-stuttering love that sparks between them is too much and he's barely reached the end of Jason's name before he's coming hard; so hard that he jerks his head back from Jason's mouth and nearly suffocates himself in Jason's neck. It's necessary, and even behind tightly pursed lips, the noise would have been easily audible outside the room, had it not been for his last few seconds of foresight. As he comes back around, he's relieved (and somewhat impressed) to see that his hand has not stopped and only barely stuttered in its concentrated efforts on Jason's cock. Once he's got his wits about him enough, he starts to roll his hips again, so dazed and dizzy and desperate to hear Jason tumble after him. Now that his own tension has been released, he has the brainpower to remember foresight and he jerks his neck up to cover Jason's mouth for so many reasons, but prominently to dampen the sound that his lover is too lovestruck and debauched to control. He can't help but breathe, "God, Jason, I love you," against his mouth.

[no_voice]

Jason feels each increasing hitch in Peter's movements; the sweat pouring off both of them heightens the sensation, and Jason lets out a low groan at the way his skin seems to slide against Peter's. He wants so badly to return Peter's kisses, but the whirling world around him and Peter inside of him and around him only inspires him to more dizziness as he nears the edge of his own pleasure. And then Peter's biting and sucking at his lips, and Jason whimpers, hips stuttering from the intense desire those beautifully sinful lips bestow upon him.

"Fuck. Fuck," Jason hisses, snapping his hips into Peter's newly-slick hand with renewed fervor. The added friction only further steals what remaining coherency he has; Peter's own pace increases then, too, and Jason nearly arches off the bed from the sheer immensity of the pleasure it wrings from him. As it is, he's barely holding on to his senses by a thread. Peter's calling out his name; Jason nearly chokes on a combination of a gasp and a moan as Peter jerks his head away, coming undone at last and having to press his mouth to Jason's neck to hide the sound. Jason scrambles with his free hand to find purchase in something; he can feel the tremors of his boyfriend's orgasm running rampant through him, all but shoving him closer to the edge. His trembling grows more frantic; his breathing, ragged and uneven.

As soon as Peter breathes those words against his mouth, Jason breaks. "Peter. Peter. Oh." He keens into Peter's mouth, trying to return those kisses to quell his own sounds and only succeeding in reducing said noises so they won't echo down the mostly deserted hallway outside their door. His hand in Peter's hair grasps at the purchase he finds there. His back and neck shudder into a near perfect arch as the rest of his quaking body shudders and the breath nearly runs out in his lungs. His hips jerk, caught between Peter's dick and his hand and desperately trying to distinguish which source of friction they need more. His orgasm washes over him like a tidal wave, ferocious and cleansing all at once.

His chest heaves and it's all Jason can do to keep himself from folding in Peter's arms. He's a goddamn mess, and he knows it. And oh, does he love it. Oh, does he love the boy that can so easily unspool him.

[paper_courage]

The tension that's created when Jason actually tugs at his hair sends a shock of pleasure through Peter's spent, over-stimulated body. He shudders, tries to moan but can only gasp a bit as the tremor runs through him. He continues to knead and suck and kiss at his boyfriend's mouth with his own, pace and urgency slackening as Jason's body begins to wind down with Peter's. Once he's guided himself out of Jason, his arm unwinds from around his boyfriend's middle. He realizes his hand is stiff from how hard he's been holding him and he huffs out a breath of something like an apology. Once he can feel his fingers, he takes the condom off. A few kisses get pressed in a line across Jason's shoulders before Peter pulls him back into his lap to hold him. This is, of course, more or less a ruse so Peter can, as Jason had mere hours ago, lick his other hand clean where Jason can see. He wants to smirk, he tries, but he's still in a post-orgasmic daze, drunk on Jason.

"Fuck," Peter breathes finally. He leans back against the headboard and takes Jason with him. He has no intention of letting Jason out of his lap for as long as he can possibly get away with it.

[no_voice]

Gradually, the movements of his hips subside. Jason lets out a low noise, something that almost resembles a whimper, when Peter pulls out of him. The sudden emptiness and the realization of cold air against his sweat-soaked skin almost shock him; he continues to shudder in Peter's arms as the aftershocks flow through him. He feels that huff of breath of an apology and he smiles, not bothered in the least by the tightness of Peter's grip. Indeed, he rather enjoyed how tightly Peter held onto him, throughout it all. Jason whines a bit at those kisses across his shoulders, leaning into the pressure of Peter's lips. He flops in Peter's lap, utterly boneless. He lacks the energy to move himself; more than that is the pleasure he gets from being held in Peter's lap. And then Peter's using his own trick against him, licking his hand clean. Jason moans helplessly, mouth falling open in a gape as he squirms in Peter's arms at the sight. Fuck, he's so high on Peter right now. On all of the ways Peter helped him fall apart.

Jason sighs as Peter pulls him back with him against the headboard. He lets his head fall back into the crook of Peter's neck, content to lay like this for as long as he can get away with it.

"Mmmm nghh." He feels the flush rise all the way to his ears when he tries to speak and fails. God, Peter literally fucked him senseless. He lets out another whimper of an attempted word, hiding behind his hands when that attempt fails too.

God, he is such a goddamn mess.

[paper_courage]

"Mmmhmm," Peter agrees with Jason's noise of a comment, chuckling a bit as he presses a kiss over the damp hair atop Jason's head. His arms drape easily over Jason's shoulders, but his hands do not rest on Jason's chest. Instead, he slides his fingertips with featherlight touch in wide, lazy circles over his skin. He doesn't even notice he's doing it; his eyes close as his head comes to rest against the top of Jason's.

As he catches his breath, he listens to the way Jason's own breathing goes from hitching sips to cyclical arcs that swell and subside. He finds perfect peace at the apex of his companion's breaths and finds that he is matching his inhalations to Jason's.

It is impossible not to laugh delightedly when Jason covers his face like that. The Jason that the outside world would recognize has no shame, no threshold for embarrassment. Peter's Jason is hiding his face after being fucked thoroughly enough that he fails honest attempts at speech. A kiss of worshipful adoration gets pressed behind Jason's ear.

"You doing okay?" He asks, only just a little (okay, more than a little, but there's some honesty in the question, too) smug.

[no_voice]

Jason sighs into that kiss pressed to the top of his damp hair. He sighs, and he shivers, snuggling into those lips and those arms draped so lovingly around his shoulders. And then those hands begin tracing circles on slick, vulnerable skin, and Jason gasps, sinking into the warmth produced by that touch. His is a language of contentment and wordless noises, for the moment.

Jason feels Peter's breathing beneath him; he feels it as it falls into sync with his own. He lets out another, dazed gasp of a breath. The world spins above him, no match for the way Peter makes him feel just by breathing.

God, that laugh. Jason feels it down to his bones, and he can't help but smile, even as his face is still warm with embarrassment. And then Peter places that gentle kiss behind Jason's ear, and he turns a brighter shade of red. He lets out another soft noise, almost puppy-like.

Jason tilts his head back to meet Peter's gaze, his heart nearly dropping into his stomach at the smug tone to Peter's voice. God, Peter is so hot when he's like this. Jason shivers a bit again.

"Okay," he manages, happy that he can at least manage words now, even as his voice is still so hollow and ragged. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

[paper_courage]

Formerly white-hot skin is chilled against the perspiration dotting it, so Peter pulls the sheet up over them before settling his other arm around his boyfriend's shoulders again. He strokes gently through his hair with deft fingertips playing along the strands of his hair like the strings of the violin he played when he was younger. That was before St. Cecilia's, before middle school, before Peter knew what love was or how close he was to it. The joy Peter feels when he sings far surpasses the bits of satisfaction he felt when he'd formulaically plucked out a piece of music. Singing has more danger to it. When Peter sings, he feels like he doesn't have to say the things that he can't, especially to the person he wants to hear it most.

Naked and wrapped around Jason, slipping his fingers through his hair, these are even better ways to say what he doesn't often dare to. Peter's other hand is curled against that incredible, smooth chest where he can feel the gradually slowing thump of Jason's heart.

"I really am," Peter confirms with a breathless huff of a laugh. As their breathing evens, Peter basks in Jason for a few moments. The love that he'd dreamed doesn't hold a candle to what he has with Jason. Their closeness, the comfort that runs so deep that shame is nigh on impossible, and the way he can see how evenly his adoration is reflected in Jason's own eyes, it's transcendent. It's divine.

He finds that he's still kissing Jason when he comes to from this powerful train of thought. He's made his way from Jason's ear down to his neck, just breathing and kissing and feeling the way his ribcage can't seem to contain the fullness of his heart anymore. This affection has to come out somewhere, and apparently the chosen path is Peter's lips as they kiss languidly down slope of Jason's neck to his shoulder. He's in no hurry to disengage from their intricate little knot and he's too full of love to know what to say.