Peter couldn't remember the last time they did anything like this. Wade was quiet, laying still between Peter's legs. They were both naked, but they weren't really doing anything.
Wade's weight atop him was a comfortable pressure, warm and firm and intimately reassuring. This wasn't sex. They weren't hard. Just calm and quiet, the only noises filling the room their even breathing and the slow, lurid thrumming of their hearts.
The background hum of Peter's broken heater didn't count. It held no meaning.
Peter took in a deep breath, chest lifting, expanding with the familiarity of Wade, overwhelming his senses. It left him with an odd tranquility. He placed a hand on Wade's scarred head, pressing him down, compressing him against his chest. It made him feel like Wade was a part of him, like he was bound to Peter, bound to his every breath. Like he was made one with him, so much more than just another body. Than just another person. He was another breath, another heartbeat, another factor of life that kept Peter pushing forward and onward, kept him grounded and real and alive.
Wade turned his head inward, chapped lips dragging gently across Peter's skin. The gesture was so subtle, so filled with care, that it was almost imperceptible. Fleeting, like the touch of a memory. Peter let out a soft hum, eyes slipping closed. It was so fragile, what they had. So on the edge of combustion – just one breath too much and it would ignite, and with it spark a glorious heat.
So he kept his eyes shut, hands still. Just reveling in how sensitive he was to Wade's very presence. Reveling in the feeling of his body speaking to Peter with motionless affection.
The hands at his sides moved slowly up Peter's body, fingers brushing across his flesh. It made him shiver, made his heart and his breath accelerate, just enough to be able to push them toward a dull, steady heat. But he trusted Wade, trusted him to keep them tethered just below the threshold. Just within the boundaries of their quiet space.
Wade brought one of his hands up to Peter's hair, burying it in deep. The other moved lower, resting at his hip. He pressed his mouth against Peter's neck. It wasn't a kiss, just a contact, firm and lingering. Peter could feel Wade's breath, hot and moist against his skin, tracing over him with an endless rhythm.
With one hand still on the back of Wade's head, and the other resting idly near the small of Wade's back, Peter sank into a dreamless sleep, drowning slowly in this pleasant moment that was so unlike their usual chaos.
He hoped it would never have to end.