Guilty Pleasures - NC17/R18+
Title: Guilty Pleasures
Characters/Pairings: Peter and Clair
Rating: NC-17/R18
Warnings: High level masturbation, high level descriptions of pornography, low level implied incest, minor in a sexual situation
Spoiler alert: Not a massive issue, but you probably need to have seen up to Episode 18 - “Parasite”. More details in the notes behind the cut because I don’t want to spoiler damage anyone!
Summary: Peter and Claire accidentally discover each other’s guilty pleasure…
Notes: I really appreciate feedback, but please be constructive if you can’t be encouraging! lol! Thanks for reading!
More Notes: Uhh… so I’m saying this fits in just after what we’ve seen in episode 18, potentially not very canon, but let’s just say that Peter escaped from Sylar’s evil clutches, and Claire is staying with him for a while….
Guilty Pleasures
Peter Petrelli was a perfect gentleman. He’d insisted that Claire have his room while she was hiding out with him, volunteering to sleep on the couch instead. Claire curled up in his bed, still not quite believing the chain of events that had brought her to his place.
She also was still slightly disbelieving that he was her uncle, and a wave of discomfort passed through her whenever she remembered some of the thoughts she’d had about him after he’d saved her life at the Homecoming dance- thoughts that were now icky and wrong, seeing as how they were related and all.
He was a nice guy and she was enjoying getting to know him. Aside from the fact that he had superpowers (like her) and he’d almost been killed twice now by a complete psychopath, his life was actually kind of quiet, almost dull- like he was too much of a nice guy to be too interesting. She actually felt a little sorry for him- on top of everything else, the last attack by Sylar had left her uncle with a nasty laceration on his forehead- which was a shame, because he was good looking and the scar would be pretty noticeable. Again, the uneasy feeling came over her when she thought about him in those sorts of terms.
She couldn’t sleep. Peter’s bed wasn’t very comfortable. The mattress was too firm, and his comforter wasn’t very fluffy or cosy. Claire sat up and switched on the light. She climbed out of bed and looked at his bookshelves. Way too many nursing textbooks. She picked up one and flicked through it, the full-colour anatomical illustrations reminded her of that creepy freak Sylar, and she slammed the book shut again then shoved it back on the shelf. Everything else he had on the shelves was just dull.
She looked in her bag for her laptop, cursing silently when he remembered that she’d left it on the table in front of the TV. She padded to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. Peter was asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. She considered retrieving it, but changed her mind with a sigh- he seemed like he was probably a very light sleeper, and it would be mean to wake him up. She closed the door again, deciding it didn’t really matter; Peter didn’t have the Internet at all in his apartment, let alone wireless broadband or anything handy like that, so she couldn’t kill some time with surfing the ‘net.
*
Peter awoke with a start and immediately sat up, his heart hammering in his chest. He hadn’t been dreaming; that was just his normal reaction now. Having been attacked twice now by a vicious killer wasn’t doing his sleep patterns any good. He rubbed his face and looked towards his bedroom door; it was closed, and he hoped Claire was sleeping sounder than he was.
He slipped off his makeshift bed and padded into the kitchen, making himself a mug of warm milk. What he really felt like was coffee, but he knew that would only make the sleep situation worse.
He sipped his milk and returned to the couch, knowing he wouldn’t sleep again, at least not until dawn. He wanted to put on the TV, but he knew the sound would wake Claire. It was weird having the girl staying with him- and even weirder that he was her uncle. Being an uncle was nothing new to him, Nathan also had two pre-teenage sons, but having a sixteen year old niece all of a sudden was a difficult adjustment, especially considering what he’d thought about her the very first time he’d seen her. He shook his head- he seriously didn’t need to go there. He knew she’d be mortified if she ever knew, so he planned to keep it strictly to himself.
*
She started snooping around his room. There wasn’t anything especially interesting on his dresser, but she picked up the cologne and sniffed it, wrinkling her nose. She fiddled with his watch, looked at a chain with a religious medallion on it, and sighed with boredom. She opened up the closet and started picking through his clothes. He had a couple of nice suits- she was willing to bet Nathan (her true bio-dad) had got them for his little brother for special occasions. A box on the shelf above the clothes caught her attention, and she lifted it down, wondering what was inside.
She sat on the bed and began to rifle through it. The top layer was as boring as his t-shirt collection; credit card statements, old college assignments (mostly of B’s and C+’s) and a few enigmatic sketches. Then she found something interesting. She grinned slightly as she lifted out some old Playboy magazines. Guys are all the same she though, flipping through them. She lifted more magazines out of the box, Hustler this time, and she cringed when she looked through them and saw they were more hardcore than the first lot. She started to realise, as she got deeper and deeper into the box, that the further down she went, the dirtier and more hardcore the magazines got. It occurred to her how nasty and wrong it was to be going through someone’s porn collection, especially someone related to her, but she couldn’t help herself. She continued digging through the box, waiting to pull out something really perverted - bondage, pregnant chicks, orgies, foot fetishes, anything like that; but girl on girl was about as kinky as it got, and she decided that Peter’s taste in pornography was as ordinary as the rest of his life.
But that didn’t stop her. Heat rose up in her face as she looked through one of the magazines- it was a rather explicit European one, and she frowned as she looked at the images. She hadn’t seen much porn, except for the stuff she and Jackie looked up on a lark from time to time. The uneasy feeling came over her again… she was violating Peter’s personal space. But instead of feeling guilty she realised that another sensation was growing in her; she was getting turned on.
She stopped to think about it: was it the images in the magazines, or the fact she was raiding Peter’s stash of porn that was making her hot? She could feel the heat between her loins, her breathing growing tighter as she continued to flick through the pages, looking at all the things the men and women were doing to each other. And she wondered- does he jerk of looking at this stuff?
Because she was starting to want to touch herself. She swallowed nervously and kept flicking…
*
He noticed Claire’s laptop sitting on the coffee table. He knew the girl was disappointed he didn’t have the Internet, but she still managed to occupy herself on the computer, and spent most mornings tapping away on it. He assumed she was playing games, and suddenly that didn’t seem like such a bad idea. He figured she wouldn’t mind so long as he didn’t erase or delete anything on the hard drive, so he flipped it open and switched it on. After it had booted itself up, he clumsily went to the [Start] menu to look for the games folder. He was trying to click on the [Programs] menu, when he accidentally hit something on the [Documents] list. A document opened in Word, and before he really realised what he was doing, Peter began reading.
He starts off slowly, hands working over my clothes, but soon, he gets excited, and he strays up under my skirt, fingers finding my panties, his eyes pleased but surprised when he realises they’re lace, not cotton like he’d expected. He rubs me through the delicate fabric, feeling how hot and wet I am already, and he lets out a small sound, a cross between a grunt and a moan. He catches himself and slows down a little, not wanting to give me too much too soon. His hands move back up to my breasts, and I make a sad little noise, already missing his fingers on my pussy-
A small thrill of shock went through him as he read, and he couldn’t decide if he’d accidentally opened her journal, or if were just a story. This has to be a story he told himself. As he read on he wondered if Claire herself had written it, or if it were something she’d found on the Internet. He wondered what a teenage girl was doing with such a story, then shook his head at himself, realising that maybe she liked reading smut more than watching a porno. He glanced nervously at the bedroom door, knowing that he was seriously violating Claire’s privacy, but now that he’d started, curiosity was getting the better of him. The blood that had rushed to his face slowly started pounding somewhere else, and a glimmer of sweat formed on his top lip. He licked it nervously as he scrolled down the page and continued to drink in the story.
He rubs my nipples between his fingers, coaxing them to rock-hardness. I’m moaning by this stage, flat on my back, legs apart, waiting for him. He pulls my sweater off roughly and unhooks my bra, smiling slightly when he finally releases my breasts. He takes his mouth to them, sucking each nipple in turn, nipping it just slightly with his perfect white teeth. His hands move under my skirt again, and I spread my legs so far I feel like I might split down the middle, but I’m so desperate to get him inside me. He pushes his fingers into the side of my panties, fingers slipping in the wetness, and he slides a finger inside me. I buck against him with my hips, instinctively wanting more, so he slips in another and begins to fuck me with his hand, his thumb finding my clit and sliding around it in firm, fast circles.
*
Claire flipped the lock shut on the bedroom door, then slipped into bed. She’d packed everything away how she’d found it, except for one magazine- the dirtiest of the lot. She pulled the scratchy comforter up under her chin and propped her legs up under it, the magazine resting outside the comforter on her legs. She flicked through the pages, eyes lingering on each image as her other hand began to explore. She slipped it down into her pyjama bottoms, shuddering slightly when she realised how wet she was. She touched herself quite firmly, her eyes never leaving the page as she slid her fingers over all the sensitive spots. She swallowed nervously, straining to hear if Peter was still snoring outside- even though the door was locked, she still didn’t want to have to hide this in a hurry.
*
Peter sat rigid on the couch, his dick rock hard and straining uncomfortably against his pyjama bottoms. He felt dirty for even thinking about it, but he needed release. He closed the wicked document and shut down the computer, eyes darting nervously to the closed bedroom door again. He couldn’t do it there in the living room- if Claire were to walk out unexpectedly and caught him- that was far too embarrassing to think about. Uncomfortably, he got to his feet and took refuge in the tiny bathroom, locking the door behind him.
He pulled it out and didn’t waste anytime. His eyes fell closed as he leaned heavily on the sink with his left hand, his right hand working hard. He bit his bottom lip, trying not to grunt or make too much noise. He pumped his hand up and down on his shaft, leaning forward, dark hair shading his eyes as he tried not to look at himself in the bathroom mirror. His breathing was getting ragged, the tension in his belly spreading throughout his body, and he tensed in anticipation, buttocks clenching as his slim hips pushed forward instinctively as he came. He threw his head back, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, one guttural grunt escaping his chest at the high point of his orgasm. He kept the rhythm with his hand a moment longer, coaxing out every delicious sensation before easing back, stroking it gently, milking the last sluggish drops of seed onto his fist.
He let go of himself and stood still for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He glanced at himself in the mirror, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, and felt a surge of disgust and shame as he washed his hand and cleaned down the sink. He wiped his wet hands on his pyjama bottoms, then sat back against the sink, running the back of his hand across his sweaty top lip.
*
She was pressed back into the pillows, eyes half closed, breathing hard, so close. She glanced down at the magazine, wondering what it really felt like to be splayed open and filled up. Her body rocked slightly with an urgent rhythm as she worked herself into the home stretch. She gripped the comforter with her spare hand, and the magazine sliding to the side, but she didn’t care. She pressed her lips together, trying to remain silent while she tipped herself over the edge, body tensing and releasing, fingers working hard. Her breath came in short gasps for several seconds until the peak had passed, and she began to slow down.
She relaxed back onto the bed, pulling her hand free, and folded her arms onto her belly, a tiny smile of pleasure playing on her lips. She rested for several minutes before she remembered the source of the guilty feeling tugging at the back of her mind, and she climbed off the bed again, returning the magazine to its box in the cupboard.
She climbed back into the bed and rolled onto her stomach, wriggling around it the bed until she found a comfortable spot, a slight indentation that usually belonged to someone else.
Someone she had been trying very hard not to think about.
Someone who had been trying very hard not to think of her.
Characters/Pairings: Peter and Clair
Rating: NC-17/R18
Warnings: High level masturbation, high level descriptions of pornography, low level implied incest, minor in a sexual situation
Spoiler alert: Not a massive issue, but you probably need to have seen up to Episode 18 - “Parasite”. More details in the notes behind the cut because I don’t want to spoiler damage anyone!
Summary: Peter and Claire accidentally discover each other’s guilty pleasure…
Notes: I really appreciate feedback, but please be constructive if you can’t be encouraging! lol! Thanks for reading!
More Notes: Uhh… so I’m saying this fits in just after what we’ve seen in episode 18, potentially not very canon, but let’s just say that Peter escaped from Sylar’s evil clutches, and Claire is staying with him for a while….
Guilty Pleasures
Peter Petrelli was a perfect gentleman. He’d insisted that Claire have his room while she was hiding out with him, volunteering to sleep on the couch instead. Claire curled up in his bed, still not quite believing the chain of events that had brought her to his place.
She also was still slightly disbelieving that he was her uncle, and a wave of discomfort passed through her whenever she remembered some of the thoughts she’d had about him after he’d saved her life at the Homecoming dance- thoughts that were now icky and wrong, seeing as how they were related and all.
He was a nice guy and she was enjoying getting to know him. Aside from the fact that he had superpowers (like her) and he’d almost been killed twice now by a complete psychopath, his life was actually kind of quiet, almost dull- like he was too much of a nice guy to be too interesting. She actually felt a little sorry for him- on top of everything else, the last attack by Sylar had left her uncle with a nasty laceration on his forehead- which was a shame, because he was good looking and the scar would be pretty noticeable. Again, the uneasy feeling came over her when she thought about him in those sorts of terms.
She couldn’t sleep. Peter’s bed wasn’t very comfortable. The mattress was too firm, and his comforter wasn’t very fluffy or cosy. Claire sat up and switched on the light. She climbed out of bed and looked at his bookshelves. Way too many nursing textbooks. She picked up one and flicked through it, the full-colour anatomical illustrations reminded her of that creepy freak Sylar, and she slammed the book shut again then shoved it back on the shelf. Everything else he had on the shelves was just dull.
She looked in her bag for her laptop, cursing silently when he remembered that she’d left it on the table in front of the TV. She padded to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. Peter was asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. She considered retrieving it, but changed her mind with a sigh- he seemed like he was probably a very light sleeper, and it would be mean to wake him up. She closed the door again, deciding it didn’t really matter; Peter didn’t have the Internet at all in his apartment, let alone wireless broadband or anything handy like that, so she couldn’t kill some time with surfing the ‘net.
*
Peter awoke with a start and immediately sat up, his heart hammering in his chest. He hadn’t been dreaming; that was just his normal reaction now. Having been attacked twice now by a vicious killer wasn’t doing his sleep patterns any good. He rubbed his face and looked towards his bedroom door; it was closed, and he hoped Claire was sleeping sounder than he was.
He slipped off his makeshift bed and padded into the kitchen, making himself a mug of warm milk. What he really felt like was coffee, but he knew that would only make the sleep situation worse.
He sipped his milk and returned to the couch, knowing he wouldn’t sleep again, at least not until dawn. He wanted to put on the TV, but he knew the sound would wake Claire. It was weird having the girl staying with him- and even weirder that he was her uncle. Being an uncle was nothing new to him, Nathan also had two pre-teenage sons, but having a sixteen year old niece all of a sudden was a difficult adjustment, especially considering what he’d thought about her the very first time he’d seen her. He shook his head- he seriously didn’t need to go there. He knew she’d be mortified if she ever knew, so he planned to keep it strictly to himself.
*
She started snooping around his room. There wasn’t anything especially interesting on his dresser, but she picked up the cologne and sniffed it, wrinkling her nose. She fiddled with his watch, looked at a chain with a religious medallion on it, and sighed with boredom. She opened up the closet and started picking through his clothes. He had a couple of nice suits- she was willing to bet Nathan (her true bio-dad) had got them for his little brother for special occasions. A box on the shelf above the clothes caught her attention, and she lifted it down, wondering what was inside.
She sat on the bed and began to rifle through it. The top layer was as boring as his t-shirt collection; credit card statements, old college assignments (mostly of B’s and C+’s) and a few enigmatic sketches. Then she found something interesting. She grinned slightly as she lifted out some old Playboy magazines. Guys are all the same she though, flipping through them. She lifted more magazines out of the box, Hustler this time, and she cringed when she looked through them and saw they were more hardcore than the first lot. She started to realise, as she got deeper and deeper into the box, that the further down she went, the dirtier and more hardcore the magazines got. It occurred to her how nasty and wrong it was to be going through someone’s porn collection, especially someone related to her, but she couldn’t help herself. She continued digging through the box, waiting to pull out something really perverted - bondage, pregnant chicks, orgies, foot fetishes, anything like that; but girl on girl was about as kinky as it got, and she decided that Peter’s taste in pornography was as ordinary as the rest of his life.
But that didn’t stop her. Heat rose up in her face as she looked through one of the magazines- it was a rather explicit European one, and she frowned as she looked at the images. She hadn’t seen much porn, except for the stuff she and Jackie looked up on a lark from time to time. The uneasy feeling came over her again… she was violating Peter’s personal space. But instead of feeling guilty she realised that another sensation was growing in her; she was getting turned on.
She stopped to think about it: was it the images in the magazines, or the fact she was raiding Peter’s stash of porn that was making her hot? She could feel the heat between her loins, her breathing growing tighter as she continued to flick through the pages, looking at all the things the men and women were doing to each other. And she wondered- does he jerk of looking at this stuff?
Because she was starting to want to touch herself. She swallowed nervously and kept flicking…
*
He noticed Claire’s laptop sitting on the coffee table. He knew the girl was disappointed he didn’t have the Internet, but she still managed to occupy herself on the computer, and spent most mornings tapping away on it. He assumed she was playing games, and suddenly that didn’t seem like such a bad idea. He figured she wouldn’t mind so long as he didn’t erase or delete anything on the hard drive, so he flipped it open and switched it on. After it had booted itself up, he clumsily went to the [Start] menu to look for the games folder. He was trying to click on the [Programs] menu, when he accidentally hit something on the [Documents] list. A document opened in Word, and before he really realised what he was doing, Peter began reading.
He starts off slowly, hands working over my clothes, but soon, he gets excited, and he strays up under my skirt, fingers finding my panties, his eyes pleased but surprised when he realises they’re lace, not cotton like he’d expected. He rubs me through the delicate fabric, feeling how hot and wet I am already, and he lets out a small sound, a cross between a grunt and a moan. He catches himself and slows down a little, not wanting to give me too much too soon. His hands move back up to my breasts, and I make a sad little noise, already missing his fingers on my pussy-
A small thrill of shock went through him as he read, and he couldn’t decide if he’d accidentally opened her journal, or if were just a story. This has to be a story he told himself. As he read on he wondered if Claire herself had written it, or if it were something she’d found on the Internet. He wondered what a teenage girl was doing with such a story, then shook his head at himself, realising that maybe she liked reading smut more than watching a porno. He glanced nervously at the bedroom door, knowing that he was seriously violating Claire’s privacy, but now that he’d started, curiosity was getting the better of him. The blood that had rushed to his face slowly started pounding somewhere else, and a glimmer of sweat formed on his top lip. He licked it nervously as he scrolled down the page and continued to drink in the story.
He rubs my nipples between his fingers, coaxing them to rock-hardness. I’m moaning by this stage, flat on my back, legs apart, waiting for him. He pulls my sweater off roughly and unhooks my bra, smiling slightly when he finally releases my breasts. He takes his mouth to them, sucking each nipple in turn, nipping it just slightly with his perfect white teeth. His hands move under my skirt again, and I spread my legs so far I feel like I might split down the middle, but I’m so desperate to get him inside me. He pushes his fingers into the side of my panties, fingers slipping in the wetness, and he slides a finger inside me. I buck against him with my hips, instinctively wanting more, so he slips in another and begins to fuck me with his hand, his thumb finding my clit and sliding around it in firm, fast circles.
*
Claire flipped the lock shut on the bedroom door, then slipped into bed. She’d packed everything away how she’d found it, except for one magazine- the dirtiest of the lot. She pulled the scratchy comforter up under her chin and propped her legs up under it, the magazine resting outside the comforter on her legs. She flicked through the pages, eyes lingering on each image as her other hand began to explore. She slipped it down into her pyjama bottoms, shuddering slightly when she realised how wet she was. She touched herself quite firmly, her eyes never leaving the page as she slid her fingers over all the sensitive spots. She swallowed nervously, straining to hear if Peter was still snoring outside- even though the door was locked, she still didn’t want to have to hide this in a hurry.
*
Peter sat rigid on the couch, his dick rock hard and straining uncomfortably against his pyjama bottoms. He felt dirty for even thinking about it, but he needed release. He closed the wicked document and shut down the computer, eyes darting nervously to the closed bedroom door again. He couldn’t do it there in the living room- if Claire were to walk out unexpectedly and caught him- that was far too embarrassing to think about. Uncomfortably, he got to his feet and took refuge in the tiny bathroom, locking the door behind him.
He pulled it out and didn’t waste anytime. His eyes fell closed as he leaned heavily on the sink with his left hand, his right hand working hard. He bit his bottom lip, trying not to grunt or make too much noise. He pumped his hand up and down on his shaft, leaning forward, dark hair shading his eyes as he tried not to look at himself in the bathroom mirror. His breathing was getting ragged, the tension in his belly spreading throughout his body, and he tensed in anticipation, buttocks clenching as his slim hips pushed forward instinctively as he came. He threw his head back, biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, one guttural grunt escaping his chest at the high point of his orgasm. He kept the rhythm with his hand a moment longer, coaxing out every delicious sensation before easing back, stroking it gently, milking the last sluggish drops of seed onto his fist.
He let go of himself and stood still for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He glanced at himself in the mirror, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, and felt a surge of disgust and shame as he washed his hand and cleaned down the sink. He wiped his wet hands on his pyjama bottoms, then sat back against the sink, running the back of his hand across his sweaty top lip.
*
She was pressed back into the pillows, eyes half closed, breathing hard, so close. She glanced down at the magazine, wondering what it really felt like to be splayed open and filled up. Her body rocked slightly with an urgent rhythm as she worked herself into the home stretch. She gripped the comforter with her spare hand, and the magazine sliding to the side, but she didn’t care. She pressed her lips together, trying to remain silent while she tipped herself over the edge, body tensing and releasing, fingers working hard. Her breath came in short gasps for several seconds until the peak had passed, and she began to slow down.
She relaxed back onto the bed, pulling her hand free, and folded her arms onto her belly, a tiny smile of pleasure playing on her lips. She rested for several minutes before she remembered the source of the guilty feeling tugging at the back of her mind, and she climbed off the bed again, returning the magazine to its box in the cupboard.
She climbed back into the bed and rolled onto her stomach, wriggling around it the bed until she found a comfortable spot, a slight indentation that usually belonged to someone else.
Someone she had been trying very hard not to think about.
Someone who had been trying very hard not to think of her.