All Peter wants is to forget himself against Adam, needy sounds catching at the back at his throat before he can even try to keep them from escaping. Long past is the time for trying to hold himself back, even when that means putting on display exactly how badly he wants Adam, how badly he wants the other man to be able to take the control that Peter never wanted in the first place. With everyone else gone, it's been handed to him like some sort of apologetic keepsake to make up for all that he's lost, and it's the last thing he ever wanted; even now, all he wants is to be taken.

Peter doesn't know whether to use his hands for trying to get out of his jeans or for getting at Adam's newly exposed skin, but trying to solve that problem alone is enough to overly frustrate him, his breathing strangled as his fingers catch at Adam's boxers. Palming Adam's hips with firm touches, Peter's every muscle is winding tighter, tipping his face away so he press his mouth to the crook of Adam's neck, his shoulder, the edge of his collarbone. Laying claim to the bare skin pressed against his own is nearly impossible when he wants to be owned wholly so badly but Peter doesn't care about the contradiction.

Under Adam's hold, Peter's squirming, hips unable to work against Adam's thigh, though he's trying his best to seek friction. Instead, he's sliding his legs along the length of Adam's, heel hooking with his, tangling himself up in Adam any way he can think to. Peter is past the point of words, whimpers chasing his every breath as his fingers work up beneath the thin fabric of Adam's boxers, pulling him in closer.