He practically trips over the denim and Peter doesn't care. Skill and desire catch him, keep him from going down as he wriggles and kicks out of his jeans, not caring where they land.

"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back and baring his throat willingly. It's dangerous and wicked and he can't help himself as he gets naked, his hands moving for Felix's pants to get them open, off him, pushing them down as his hand strokes along the length of his cock.