"God is love," Jesus whispered, leaning down to look Peter in the eyes.
His gentle face was so serene, so wise. Peter's trust in him would never waver.
Jesus placed his warm hand at the back of Peter's neck. Such a simple gesture, yet it sent pleasure shivering down Peter's spine.
He wouldn't have imagined there could have been anything wrong with the way he and Jesus had loved one another these past few nights. He couldn't have imagined that there might have been anything wrong with love. That was until he had heard Judas whispering with another disciple about the two of them. He had caught the word abomination.
Jesus let his hand wander along Peter's neck and onto his shoulder, which he clasped as he rested his forehead against the other man's.
Looking into Jesus's eyes was enough to make Peter's heart skip a beat...and seeing his lips so close was enough to make other parts of his body react with equal fervour.
"There can't be anything wrong with loving someone, Peter, be it as a brother, a friend...a lover," he moved forward, closing the distance between them as he brushed his lips against Peter's forehead.
It was enough to take his breath away. Like that, his pulse was set to racing.
"Are - are you sure this is how you want me to love you, Jesus?" Peter asked. He knew what Jesus was saying, but after hearing Judas last night, it seemed sacreligeous to be touching a man so divine in this way. Peter was just a normal man; he wasn't worthy.
"I want all of your love, Peter. Spiritually and physically."
"I do," Peter murmured. "I do love you, Jesus."
Peter cupped Jesus's face lightly and pressed a kiss to his lips. In that moment, the taste of Jesus on his lips, he knew his lover was right.
The could be nothing wrong with love. His touch could not defile Jesus; Peter's caresses would allow him to worship his lover's body just as he worshipped his Heavenly Father in the Church.
Jesus deepened the kiss.
His Lord needed this as badly as he did, Peter realised. The weight of the world was on Jesus's shoulders; he needed Peter to help him forget, even if just for a few stolen moments, that humanity's salvation rested with him, the Son of God, and him alone.
He kissed Jesus back eagerly, relishing the softness of his lover's lips and loving the way they contrasted with the coarse bristles of his beard.
How could I ever have doubted this?
He moved his hands down Jesus's body, needing to touch him. Jesus's hands were already wandering down Peter's body, running over a collarbone, gliding over his chest, running down the line between his abs and below his navel, every touch, every inch closer hardening his straining arousal.
His breaths coming in pants, Peter broke the kiss as he felt Jesus nudge him through the fabric. Knowing Jesus's hand was an inch from where he so desperately needed to be touched was more than he could take; it was all he could do not to spill himself while he was still inside his robe.
Jesus pulled back too, looking deeply into Peter's eyes, but reached into the other man's robe and drew out his hard length. He clasped it in his hand, eliciting a gasp of pleasure which was quickly stifled with another kiss.
Jesus grabbed Peter by his robe and lay back, pulling his disciple on top of him. Peter pressed a quick kiss to Jesus's lips before trailing down to his jaw. One of his favourite parts of his lover's body was along his neck where his beard gave way to smooth skin - quite possibly because of the moans of pleasure Jesus made whenever Peter kissed, licked and gently nibbled him there.
This part of Jesus's body alone was so equisite that it was hard to move on. Peter felt he needed an eternity to touch and kiss and lick every inch of Jesus's perfect body and explore it, worship it, the way it deserved to be.
Jesus's hand began to pump Peter, distracting him exquisitely from his explorations.
He reached downwards and pulled open Jesus's robe, exposing his lover's body in all its perfection.
He wrapped a hand around Jesus's hardness, matching the movements Jesus was already making. Peter was overwhelmed with love, seeing the man he so desired unclad beneath him, his glorious manhood hard in his hand, eyes glazed with desire.
"Peter..." Jesus moaned.
Peter groaned as Jesus said his name. Too aroused by seeing Jesus this way, touching him, he was unable to resist his climax.
The man really could perfrom miracles.
In three strokes of Jesus's expert hand, Peter's seed shot over Jesus's belly in waves of rapture, the love he felt for the other man only intensifying with the physical pleasure he had given him.
He entwined his fingers in Jesus's long hair as he leaned down to kiss the other man deeply, and felt Jesus's hips bucking beneath him as his muffled moans increased.
He kept pumping Jesus, kissing him anywhere he could reach, until he felt the hot liquid coat his belly. He looked down to see Jesus's seed added to his, forming little rivulets in the grooves of Jesus's abs and white droplets on dark hair below his navel.
The more covered they were, the more pleasure it gave Peter. He loved to see this part of him and his lover mingling freely.
Spent, he shifted his weight, pressing himself against Jesus, who wrapped his arms around him tightly, one around his shoulders, the other stroking down his arm with the back of his hand.
"I wish we could stay like this forever," Jesus murmured. Peter kissed him in reply. Neither of them wanted to go back to the other discliples when they knew the sweet satisfaction their hands could bring.
When they found themselves able to move, Jesus fetched a bowl and filled it with water.
The Son of God knelt before Peter. He washed the sticky seed off his lover, placing kisses where he had washed him, before using the cloth to wipe their seed off himself.
He pressed a kiss to Peter's clean navel, looking up at him.
"Now, Peter, let me wash your feet."