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.

Comments

[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.