The sound of his own name leaves him fragile, answering Peter's question with the seal of their mouths. He presses Peter gently back, the mattress sighing under them, slipping a gasp in against Peter's lips. Every mapping touch is reassuring and almost tormentingly soft, his heart betraying him with its quick beat.
A few tears track his own face, unnoticed as he puts more of himself behind the kiss, until all of him moves back into Peter's advances, chest tight and hot with anticipation. Soothing hands run over Peter's side, trying to calm with brutal gentility. It would be immeasurably more successful if his own hands weren't shaking.
He's supposed to be Peter's rock, be solid for him while everything else fades, and the pressure it builds is nearly too much, though he's already working at the zip of Peter's jeans. The more they touch, the more Adam can forget where they are; can make Peter forget. "I'm right here," he's reminding Peter between raggedly drawn breaths, digging his fingers in to demonstrate his corporeality.
no subject
A few tears track his own face, unnoticed as he puts more of himself behind the kiss, until all of him moves back into Peter's advances, chest tight and hot with anticipation. Soothing hands run over Peter's side, trying to calm with brutal gentility. It would be immeasurably more successful if his own hands weren't shaking.
He's supposed to be Peter's rock, be solid for him while everything else fades, and the pressure it builds is nearly too much, though he's already working at the zip of Peter's jeans. The more they touch, the more Adam can forget where they are; can make Peter forget. "I'm right here," he's reminding Peter between raggedly drawn breaths, digging his fingers in to demonstrate his corporeality.