Peter doesn't have the presence of mind just yet to keep hold of the whimper that slides out of him when Adam rolls to the side. He'd almost been hoping that he'd have the chance to tell Adam to stay put, that the loss of the other man's presence above him makes him feel off kilter all of a sudden and he shivers as the sweat he's coated in begins to evaporate.
Giving Adam's hand a soft squeeze, Peter easily lets himself be pulled in against Adam. If the other man hadn't done it, he'd be curling up against him anyway, settling closer because he can't stand being apart. He has no idea how much time he has left to enjoy this, and he can really only hope that he has more than he thinks he does. But either way, he's trying not to think about it, trying not to measure this moment using the time he might not have left.
Peter's waiting for the moment to settle back into a comfortable slowness, no desperation tinging the stretching out of his legs or the way he hooks his ankle around Adam's. There's something equally perfect about this, the rarity of a moment fogged over with a quiet afterglow, where words aren't necessary and nothing is expected except the simplicity of enjoyment.
But that doesn't mean that Peter isn't on an avid hunt to find words to fill in the spaces. Worrying at his lower lip, Peter noses at Adam's throat, it's only now that Peter feels capable of rational speech, when he's still close enough to Adam that nothing else can dare matter. "I love you too," the words are quiet, and the response is to what Adam had said earlier, but he doesn't lift his gaze until his next admittance, "I set my alarm later. Than usual, I mean."
no subject
Giving Adam's hand a soft squeeze, Peter easily lets himself be pulled in against Adam. If the other man hadn't done it, he'd be curling up against him anyway, settling closer because he can't stand being apart. He has no idea how much time he has left to enjoy this, and he can really only hope that he has more than he thinks he does. But either way, he's trying not to think about it, trying not to measure this moment using the time he might not have left.
Peter's waiting for the moment to settle back into a comfortable slowness, no desperation tinging the stretching out of his legs or the way he hooks his ankle around Adam's. There's something equally perfect about this, the rarity of a moment fogged over with a quiet afterglow, where words aren't necessary and nothing is expected except the simplicity of enjoyment.
But that doesn't mean that Peter isn't on an avid hunt to find words to fill in the spaces. Worrying at his lower lip, Peter noses at Adam's throat, it's only now that Peter feels capable of rational speech, when he's still close enough to Adam that nothing else can dare matter. "I love you too," the words are quiet, and the response is to what Adam had said earlier, but he doesn't lift his gaze until his next admittance, "I set my alarm later. Than usual, I mean."