For a minute, he's almost sure he's crying again, and he has to convince himself not to check. What would it matter now, dangling precariously over this precipice and he's terrified to fall. As if falling means losing, he's determined to win, rolling his hips with a strangled groan. His hand slips around Peter's waist and disappears, licking the sweat from his upper lip as continues to watch. Adam could never tire of taking in every remote twinge of reaction Peter makes; his own name emboldening him to drag their moment nearly to a halt.

His own legs draw up, preparing for what's next, his fingers twining with Peter's and finding a place to stay. A breathy exhale breaks free, and he's gathering Peter to his chest, muffling the ensuing sound against his collarbone. His arm winds tighter around Peter and they're flush, the heat stifling him and threatening to close in. He finally feels deep enough; close enough and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, not in a hurry at all to move.