It's sheer agony and Peter has no idea what to do about it. He can't move lest he fall to pieces, and yet the tease of release is hanging just over his head and Peter would have to do next to nothing to let it drop. But he won't, he can't; for a few more long moments, that's just not an option.

So instead he's dropping a slew of nonsensical curses against Adam's hair, as if that could possibly make it easier to hold still and let the aching glare flooding his every inch wash over him. Panting thick, heavy breaths against Adam's ear, the whimper that drops from his lips more closely resembles a sob than anything else and Peter's drawing tighter as the seconds tick by.

Adam's hand in his is all Peter needs, the only grounding he requires. And yet even that's not enough, nothing could possibly be enough to pull him away from the feeling of Adam's completing what's left him so empty. Peter knows all he'd be begging for is to make this last longer and he's settling in closer, tighter, the thrum in his veins a perfect background to the temptation that he's ignoring. The other man's name is spilling out of him before he can stop it, the word a promise as much as it is a plea, a surefire surrender. He can't not admit that he's at Adam's mercy, and yet at most he's suffered a twitch or two of his own, tipping his face to nose in against Adam's, drunk on his full heat.