Bare // Wants and Needs
Title: Wants and Needs
Author: Sarah
Rating: NC17
Words: 2,117
Pairing: Peter/Jason
Summary: Peter and Jason's last time. Peter's POV and set during All Grown Up
Warnings: Smut. It's not horribly graphic though.
Notes: I don't write smut too often, so this is terrible, I'm sorry.
Disclaimer: It's not mine.
I never stopped loving Jason after our break up, but I saw things differently after that. I spent most of that spring break crying in my bedroom, going through old pictures, birthday cards, and love letters when I should have been on some beach on the East coast or in Mexico or wherever it is that seniors go for their last high school spring break. Maybe taking him back was stupid, but I needed him and knowing he was right back in my reach was a temptation too hard to resist.
It wasn’t going to be the same. The perfect bubble we lived in had popped and it was going to be like every other relationship where we’d have to try to make it work. Things weren’t going to fall into place anymore.
“Did you sleep with her?” I ask. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to the question, but I want to hear it from Jason. I’m hoping, no, praying to be wrong. For the first time in my life, I want to be wrong about something I’m so sure of knowing.
Jason doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at his feet as he thinks of his answer. It shouldn’t be hard to remember - either he did or he didn’t, but the pause tells me all I need to know. “No,” he says, finally meeting my gaze. His blue eyes pierce mine as his voice takes a defensive tone, like it’s ridiculous for me to even accuse him of something like that.
I just look at him, studying his face, his body, his clothes. He still looks like my Jason, he still smells like my Jason, he still acts like my Jason. But I don’t know if he’s still mine. I don’t get to say anything else because suddenly his lips are on mine and he’s pushing against me with more passion that I’ve felt in awhile. As he kisses me, pushing me closer to his bed, I remember why I never stopped loving him. I needed this. I needed to feel him touching me, holding me, kissing me. My hands wander up his arms until my left arm finds that perfect spot around his shoulders and my right hand takes anchor in his soft hair.
Jason’s fingers twist themselves in the belt loops of my jeans, yanking my hips against his as he pushes me onto his bed. I fall down under him, like we used to on so many nights before, either on this bed or the uncovered mattress across the room where I slept when we were roommates.
My arm holds him tighter against me as I kiss him back with everything I have. I’m so tired - mentally, physically, emotionally - but his lips on mine is enough to keep me focused. I want this enough to push everything else away.
I feel Jason’s hand move up my body, pulling my shirt over my head. His hands trace down my arms, pulling them away from his head and guiding them towards his back. My hands wander down, gripping at his gray t-shirt and pulling it away from his skin as fast as I can before drifting back down to his pants. My fingers struggle with the button and the zipper while his hands undo mine at ease. He kicks his pants off quickly and they fall to the floor. I rub my feet against his footboard trying to kick of my sneakers and socks as he yanks my pants off my hips and down around my ankles. I wiggle my legs to free my ankles from the confines of my jeans and now we’re dressed in boxers and passion and it’s just like it used to be.
He kisses me hard, his tongue warm against mine as it explores my mouth. I feel his hands drift lower down my back, his fingers wrapping around the elastic of my boxers as he gently slides them down. I keep my fingers locked in his blond hair and my mouth on his. Even though I want all of him, this is all I need. I need to feel him against me because it almost reassures me that he loves me too. But he wants more, he always does and I want more too. I can never tell if he needs me though. He wants me, yeah that’s obvious. But I can never tell because those crystal blue eyes are so good at keeping secrets.
But there aren’t any secrets right now, right here. In his room, we’re us and it’s perfect and natural and I’d be happy to be locked in here with him forever. And that’s what I love about us, about this room. No secrets, no broken promises, no apologies, no regrets. And it’s perfection, in its own little way.
Jason wants more. I feel his mouth pull away from mine and move downward. He kisses down my jaw, along my neck, across my chest, over my stomach… I keep my fingers knotted in his hair, my arm moving down with his head. I let my other arm hang over the side of the bed. He stops below my belly button, resting his head against my hip. He closes his eyes and his eyelashes brush against my skin. His hand rests on my opposite thigh, and I move my free arm to lace my fingers with his. My grip tightens around his hand as I wait very impatiently for him to go further. I know he will; he wants to. I can feel him against my legs through his boxers, but my mind is only registering the throbbing between my own legs and I’ve surged past needing Jason to wanting him.
A strange noise - something between a moan and a whine - escapes my throat and I feel Jason begin to move again. My arm bends with his head as he starts kissing back up my body. Before I know it, his lips are back against mine.
“Do you want me, Peter?” he whispers against my lips and all I can reply with is some sort of strangled whimper that I hope he takes for a yes.
I pull my fingers away from his and grope around for his boxers. I can feel the cotton against my legs and I don’t want to. I need to feel his skin against mine and when I finally do, I can’t bear it. I roll over to face the other side of the room and feel Jason against the back of my legs.
“Should I…” he begins and I know what he’s going to ask.
“Just do it,” I whisper because I don’t want to wait any longer. I feel him enter me and it hurts just a little bit because I’m too impatient for him to dig around for his lube. But I know that’s not what he was asking about. Condoms. We’ve never used them before - we didn’t need too. And we still don’t. Because he didn’t sleep with Ivy. I’m the only person he’s ever been with.
He pushes against me harder as he moves his arm around my waist, wrapping his fingers around me. Jason’s hand moves up and down, stroking me gently at first, steadily picking up speed as our bodies find that exact rhythm.
But it’s not his hand stroking me or the way I feel when he’s inside me that gets me. It’s the way Jason kisses the back of my neck. It’s gentle enough so that I might not even feel it, but I do every time and it distracts me from everything else. It’s the little things like those kisses that show he cares - that he actually loves me too. It’s what really makes me love him and, strangely enough, it reminds me of something I heard on the radio the other day. And then I laugh to myself because I realize how pathetic it sounds that my relationship is comparable to a Miley Cyrus song. But it is. There may be seven things I hate about Jason, but for each one, there’s seven more I like and that makes me love him even more.
Jason pulls me out of my thoughts when he buries his face in the crook of my neck, like he always does when he can’t hold on anymore. I feel him come into me and I follow a few seconds later, exploding onto his green sheets. His hand lets go and both his arms move to wrap around my torso. I feel him pull me closer and I lean back a little to fit the form of his body.
I reach for the sheet, trying to pull it over me. I suddenly feel so exposed, even though Jason has seen me so many times before.
“What’s the matter?” he murmurs, holding me tighter, as I yank the covers over our legs.
“Nothing,” I reply, barely over a whisper. He kisses me again, a few on my neck, some on my shoulder. He knows he’s got me and I don’t want to feel so vulnerable. I roll around in his arms so that I’m facing him and bury my face against his chest. He shifts so that he’s on his back and now I’m half on top of him, my head resting against his heart.
“You still love me, right Peter?” he asks and for the first time in my life, I notice the uncertainty in his voice.
“Mmm,” I reply into his chest. I intend it to come across as just a noise, but I know he’ll take it as a yes. And even though the answer is yes, but I don’t want to admit that right now.
He doesn’t say anything after that. He reaches his right arm across my body and rests it on my left as his other hand finds a spot behind my head. His fingers absentmindedly run through my thick brown hair and I close my eyes, wanting to fall asleep in his arms, just like I did so many times before.
But it’s not before and it’ll never be like that again. I wonder if I can just pretend. Pretend we didn’t break up, pretend he didn’t kiss Ivy - because that’s all he did - pretend we’re okay. But I’m really sick of pretending. I’ve been playing pretend for years with him - making everyone believe he’s my best friend when, really, he’s so much more than that.
“We should get ready for rehearsal,” Jason breaks the silence. There’s a hint of reluctance in his voice, like he wants to stay in this imperfect moment forever too.
I open my eyes. “Yeah, I guess.” I sit up and reach to the floor to find my underwear. We both dress in silence, but he stops me before I can leave.
“Peter?” There’s a strange kind of hope and desperation lingering in his voice.
“Yeah?” I ask, my hand resting on the handle of his bedroom door.
He walks over to me and pulls me into a hug. My arms instinctively wrap around him and I don’t try to push him away when he kisses me again. When he pulls away, he starts to talk. “I-I…” and I wonder what he’s going to say. He loves me? He misses me? He’s sorry? “I’ll see you at the theatre.”
“Right,” I reply. “See you.” But I know that’s not what he really wanted to say. I close the door behind me, not looking back when I hear it open again so he can watch me walk down the hall and up the steps to my room with Lucas.
When I get back to my new room, I’m grateful that it’s empty. I collapse onto my bed, my face lost in the pillow. I let my tears fall freely, getting it all out now before Lucas comes back and before I have to go to our last rehearsal.
Crying into my pillow makes letting go a little easier. My heart won’t admit that it’s over, but something in my head is telling me what I felt twenty minutes ago lying in Jason’s arms is a kind of passion and love I’ll never feel again. He has another week before we graduate to prove me wrong and I pray to the God that may or may not love me anymore that he comes through. But I can feel a knot twisting in my stomach telling me that that’s it. I cling to the feeling of Jason’s arms around me and his lips against mine because I’m not ready to let go just yet. And I’m not sure I ever will be.
Author: Sarah
Rating: NC17
Words: 2,117
Pairing: Peter/Jason
Summary: Peter and Jason's last time. Peter's POV and set during All Grown Up
Warnings: Smut. It's not horribly graphic though.
Notes: I don't write smut too often, so this is terrible, I'm sorry.
Disclaimer: It's not mine.
I never stopped loving Jason after our break up, but I saw things differently after that. I spent most of that spring break crying in my bedroom, going through old pictures, birthday cards, and love letters when I should have been on some beach on the East coast or in Mexico or wherever it is that seniors go for their last high school spring break. Maybe taking him back was stupid, but I needed him and knowing he was right back in my reach was a temptation too hard to resist.
It wasn’t going to be the same. The perfect bubble we lived in had popped and it was going to be like every other relationship where we’d have to try to make it work. Things weren’t going to fall into place anymore.
“Did you sleep with her?” I ask. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to the question, but I want to hear it from Jason. I’m hoping, no, praying to be wrong. For the first time in my life, I want to be wrong about something I’m so sure of knowing.
Jason doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at his feet as he thinks of his answer. It shouldn’t be hard to remember - either he did or he didn’t, but the pause tells me all I need to know. “No,” he says, finally meeting my gaze. His blue eyes pierce mine as his voice takes a defensive tone, like it’s ridiculous for me to even accuse him of something like that.
I just look at him, studying his face, his body, his clothes. He still looks like my Jason, he still smells like my Jason, he still acts like my Jason. But I don’t know if he’s still mine. I don’t get to say anything else because suddenly his lips are on mine and he’s pushing against me with more passion that I’ve felt in awhile. As he kisses me, pushing me closer to his bed, I remember why I never stopped loving him. I needed this. I needed to feel him touching me, holding me, kissing me. My hands wander up his arms until my left arm finds that perfect spot around his shoulders and my right hand takes anchor in his soft hair.
Jason’s fingers twist themselves in the belt loops of my jeans, yanking my hips against his as he pushes me onto his bed. I fall down under him, like we used to on so many nights before, either on this bed or the uncovered mattress across the room where I slept when we were roommates.
My arm holds him tighter against me as I kiss him back with everything I have. I’m so tired - mentally, physically, emotionally - but his lips on mine is enough to keep me focused. I want this enough to push everything else away.
I feel Jason’s hand move up my body, pulling my shirt over my head. His hands trace down my arms, pulling them away from his head and guiding them towards his back. My hands wander down, gripping at his gray t-shirt and pulling it away from his skin as fast as I can before drifting back down to his pants. My fingers struggle with the button and the zipper while his hands undo mine at ease. He kicks his pants off quickly and they fall to the floor. I rub my feet against his footboard trying to kick of my sneakers and socks as he yanks my pants off my hips and down around my ankles. I wiggle my legs to free my ankles from the confines of my jeans and now we’re dressed in boxers and passion and it’s just like it used to be.
He kisses me hard, his tongue warm against mine as it explores my mouth. I feel his hands drift lower down my back, his fingers wrapping around the elastic of my boxers as he gently slides them down. I keep my fingers locked in his blond hair and my mouth on his. Even though I want all of him, this is all I need. I need to feel him against me because it almost reassures me that he loves me too. But he wants more, he always does and I want more too. I can never tell if he needs me though. He wants me, yeah that’s obvious. But I can never tell because those crystal blue eyes are so good at keeping secrets.
But there aren’t any secrets right now, right here. In his room, we’re us and it’s perfect and natural and I’d be happy to be locked in here with him forever. And that’s what I love about us, about this room. No secrets, no broken promises, no apologies, no regrets. And it’s perfection, in its own little way.
Jason wants more. I feel his mouth pull away from mine and move downward. He kisses down my jaw, along my neck, across my chest, over my stomach… I keep my fingers knotted in his hair, my arm moving down with his head. I let my other arm hang over the side of the bed. He stops below my belly button, resting his head against my hip. He closes his eyes and his eyelashes brush against my skin. His hand rests on my opposite thigh, and I move my free arm to lace my fingers with his. My grip tightens around his hand as I wait very impatiently for him to go further. I know he will; he wants to. I can feel him against my legs through his boxers, but my mind is only registering the throbbing between my own legs and I’ve surged past needing Jason to wanting him.
A strange noise - something between a moan and a whine - escapes my throat and I feel Jason begin to move again. My arm bends with his head as he starts kissing back up my body. Before I know it, his lips are back against mine.
“Do you want me, Peter?” he whispers against my lips and all I can reply with is some sort of strangled whimper that I hope he takes for a yes.
I pull my fingers away from his and grope around for his boxers. I can feel the cotton against my legs and I don’t want to. I need to feel his skin against mine and when I finally do, I can’t bear it. I roll over to face the other side of the room and feel Jason against the back of my legs.
“Should I…” he begins and I know what he’s going to ask.
“Just do it,” I whisper because I don’t want to wait any longer. I feel him enter me and it hurts just a little bit because I’m too impatient for him to dig around for his lube. But I know that’s not what he was asking about. Condoms. We’ve never used them before - we didn’t need too. And we still don’t. Because he didn’t sleep with Ivy. I’m the only person he’s ever been with.
He pushes against me harder as he moves his arm around my waist, wrapping his fingers around me. Jason’s hand moves up and down, stroking me gently at first, steadily picking up speed as our bodies find that exact rhythm.
But it’s not his hand stroking me or the way I feel when he’s inside me that gets me. It’s the way Jason kisses the back of my neck. It’s gentle enough so that I might not even feel it, but I do every time and it distracts me from everything else. It’s the little things like those kisses that show he cares - that he actually loves me too. It’s what really makes me love him and, strangely enough, it reminds me of something I heard on the radio the other day. And then I laugh to myself because I realize how pathetic it sounds that my relationship is comparable to a Miley Cyrus song. But it is. There may be seven things I hate about Jason, but for each one, there’s seven more I like and that makes me love him even more.
Jason pulls me out of my thoughts when he buries his face in the crook of my neck, like he always does when he can’t hold on anymore. I feel him come into me and I follow a few seconds later, exploding onto his green sheets. His hand lets go and both his arms move to wrap around my torso. I feel him pull me closer and I lean back a little to fit the form of his body.
I reach for the sheet, trying to pull it over me. I suddenly feel so exposed, even though Jason has seen me so many times before.
“What’s the matter?” he murmurs, holding me tighter, as I yank the covers over our legs.
“Nothing,” I reply, barely over a whisper. He kisses me again, a few on my neck, some on my shoulder. He knows he’s got me and I don’t want to feel so vulnerable. I roll around in his arms so that I’m facing him and bury my face against his chest. He shifts so that he’s on his back and now I’m half on top of him, my head resting against his heart.
“You still love me, right Peter?” he asks and for the first time in my life, I notice the uncertainty in his voice.
“Mmm,” I reply into his chest. I intend it to come across as just a noise, but I know he’ll take it as a yes. And even though the answer is yes, but I don’t want to admit that right now.
He doesn’t say anything after that. He reaches his right arm across my body and rests it on my left as his other hand finds a spot behind my head. His fingers absentmindedly run through my thick brown hair and I close my eyes, wanting to fall asleep in his arms, just like I did so many times before.
But it’s not before and it’ll never be like that again. I wonder if I can just pretend. Pretend we didn’t break up, pretend he didn’t kiss Ivy - because that’s all he did - pretend we’re okay. But I’m really sick of pretending. I’ve been playing pretend for years with him - making everyone believe he’s my best friend when, really, he’s so much more than that.
“We should get ready for rehearsal,” Jason breaks the silence. There’s a hint of reluctance in his voice, like he wants to stay in this imperfect moment forever too.
I open my eyes. “Yeah, I guess.” I sit up and reach to the floor to find my underwear. We both dress in silence, but he stops me before I can leave.
“Peter?” There’s a strange kind of hope and desperation lingering in his voice.
“Yeah?” I ask, my hand resting on the handle of his bedroom door.
He walks over to me and pulls me into a hug. My arms instinctively wrap around him and I don’t try to push him away when he kisses me again. When he pulls away, he starts to talk. “I-I…” and I wonder what he’s going to say. He loves me? He misses me? He’s sorry? “I’ll see you at the theatre.”
“Right,” I reply. “See you.” But I know that’s not what he really wanted to say. I close the door behind me, not looking back when I hear it open again so he can watch me walk down the hall and up the steps to my room with Lucas.
When I get back to my new room, I’m grateful that it’s empty. I collapse onto my bed, my face lost in the pillow. I let my tears fall freely, getting it all out now before Lucas comes back and before I have to go to our last rehearsal.
Crying into my pillow makes letting go a little easier. My heart won’t admit that it’s over, but something in my head is telling me what I felt twenty minutes ago lying in Jason’s arms is a kind of passion and love I’ll never feel again. He has another week before we graduate to prove me wrong and I pray to the God that may or may not love me anymore that he comes through. But I can feel a knot twisting in my stomach telling me that that’s it. I cling to the feeling of Jason’s arms around me and his lips against mine because I’m not ready to let go just yet. And I’m not sure I ever will be.