Fic: The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth (Plaude)
Title: The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Claude/Peter
Summary: The sequel to Method in the Madness, which in turn is the sequel to The Lady Doth Protest. Finally, the odyssey of smut torture ends and Claude is forced to submit.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
A foot scuffs the floor behind me. Oh, come on, Pete. I’ve spent seven years hiding form one of the most perverse organizations in the world. You can’t sneak up on--
Ow! The cup I’m holding crashes into the sink as he slams me against the counter, bending me over, but his hands aren’t on me. Oh, bugger.
“You managed to extricate yourself faster than I expected. Well done.”
“A compliment? That’s not like you.”
Water from the tap splashes on my shirt, soaking my front, but it’s not long before the knob turns clockwise, shutting itself. Always conscious, aren’t you, Pete? Impressive dexterity, too. Not your rough and tumble chance bit of luck, either. He’s learning. Good for him. But I’m not so sure how it bodes for me, considering the rather embarrassing position I left him in. Served him right. And really, how could he expect me to pass up such a golden opportunity? Especially with him all flushed and shiny with sweat, mouth open in a long, shallow moan begging me to give him release, body strained and pliant all for me. so very, very needy, and not in the pestering “I’m a helpless, little lamb” way either, but the raw, aching kind. Surely he can appreciate how enticing that is.
Ah, fuck! Is he trying to break my spine? He swings me around on the counter, pushing me back so that I’m bent over the other way. Or maybe he’s just pissed. Nice control, though. Glad to see my lessons are having the intended effect, though having them used against me wasn’t part of the original plan. And he really is out for my blood. Blimey. He’s looks fit to do some of that exploding right now, only I’m the city he’ll leave strewn in ragged ashes. Can’t say I mind much. Not when he’s still naked and somehow even after all this time (how long has it been? Ten, fifteen minutes?) still hard. It’d figured he would have rubbed himself against the sheets or something, though the spread out position I left his arms in would have made that rather uncomfortable. Lad’s got a fine body. Very fine. Finer still with him brimming with anger, chest rising faster than it should, face dark and eyes gleaming with that same look I’ve seen on feral cats hunting down their scampering prey. I’m fucked.
“I give credit when it’s due,” I reply. “But your progress is so slow sometimes that I can’t blame you for not noticing.”
He frowns, pouty, little wrinkle crinkling on his brow. The pervasive adolescent peeking through, yearning for a kiss or a smack to the head.
Ah! What the fuck is that? He can’t be- He couldn’t possibly be that good y--
Ngh. Don’t moan, don’t moan, don’t moan. Don’t give him what he wants. But he’s touching my cock. He’s six feet away and he’s touching me through my trousers. Oh fuck. And he’s inside me. It’s like his fingers are in there thrusting upwards, taking me.
My hands slip on the counter. If I squeeze my teeth any tighter they’re going to crack.
“Aaahhh.”
That slipped out. I can’t help it. I don’t think I could even still be standing if he weren’t holding me up. Couldn’t he at least unzip my jeans? It hurts to be jammed like this. But of course that’s the point. He wants me to beg. The hell with that. He ain’t getting that kind of satisfaction from me.
Look at him. All cute smiles and sparkling eyes, but he’s even harder now. Enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me struggle to hold onto my self-control, driving me to the edge of my sanity at your command, urging me to beg for my release, but I won’t. I’m not going to give in so easily.
Oh my God. He’s too good. Wait a minute. This isn’t chance beginner’s luck. He’s had practice.
“Pete.”
“Yes?”
“Did you practice this on yourself?”
Did that even come out right? I’m sure I mumbled the last half of it. It’s a little hard to breathe right now.
The heat in his face betrays him.
“Yes.”
Oh God. He did this... this slow teasing to himself.
“I wanted to make sure I had the knack of it before I tried it on you.”
He planned this? Well, look who’s scheming now? Classic Petrelli. I should have know. Devious, sneaky, (Oh Christ, I think I’m going to fall) sadistic vipers.
“Extra homework? Glad to see yo-you’re the studious type.”
His breath is no steadier. I’m shocked he isn’t touching himself. But maybe that’s be too difficult, too many tasks spread out over a diminishing mental capacity to handle them. I don’t know how I’m keeping my own thoughts so coherent myself.
“I haven’t only been relying on you.”
He steps closer, standing right in front of me. His breath wafts, humid, on my chin, his body arching into me, but he stops short of touching me even as he tugs even harder at my cock, making me swallow a scream. Don’t beg, don’t beg, don’t beg. Breathe. Come on, breathe. Don’t sound desperate, don’t sound desperate. Oh fuck, and how the hell am I supposed to do that?
“Good f-for you. I’m glad to hear y-you’re fending for yourself.”
My fingers are going numb from gripping the counter so hard.
“Thanks.”
Oh, don’t grin at me like that, you cheeky wanker. Just wait till this whole things’s over. I’ll make you beg so hard you’ll think I went easy on you this time.
“I don’t need you for everything,” he continued, “as you can see. Didn’t need your help with the ropes. Not even with this. It looks to me now like you’re the one who needs me.”
The stroking stops. No. oh come on, you sodding bastard! I’m going to bite that grin off your face. Let me off this counter. You can’t-
Oh. Right. Turning the tables. Ha ha. Clever, aren’t you? I think something inside me is going to explode. I need to come. Please. I need you touch me, but I’m not going to tell you that. It’s what you want to hear. I’m not giving it to you. No matter how wickedly you grin or sway your body, brushing against me as you step back, making me gaze down your body, beautiful and beguiling and I want to kiss you so fucking badly.
He takes himself in his hand. That’s why he hadn’t wanked before. He wanted me to see, to feel as he leans into me, supporting himself with his left hand on the counter, arm brushing mine. His mouth is so close. Plump, pretty lips inches away. All I have to do is lean forward and they’d be mine, but he doesn’t permit me even that tiny movement. He wants my attention fully dedicated to his little show, his hand moving quick and fast, unable to hold back any longer. Aching as I’m aching, only I’m left to simmer in agony while he finally gets his release. His eyes are on mine, eyelids sliding down, but his gaze is too fierce for them to close completely.
Blush of ripe skin. Heat melding into heat as frantic breaths gasp in my throat, nerves screaming in ecstasy and delight as my body and soul are taken, bent over the table and covered by Peter, back to back, thighs to thighs, thrusting inside me, really this time, consuming me faster than oxygen in a firestorm, tugging at my cock until I scream and then fucking me some more.
Oh God.
“Did you see that?” he asks, wicked demon eyes flashing up at me. He leans closer, standing on his toes to level at me face to face, never once slowing his movements.
“Did you feel that?”
Breath hot on my lips, one shade away from a kiss. I need to taste him, need to touch him, need to take everything he’s taking from me.
“Yes.”
I hate giving him even that much, but it’s the only syllable I can pronounce. He’s killing me.
“Good.”
Our lips meet. Just one, tiny brush and I open my mouth, but he’s already a mile away. Peter, please!
“Nnnn!”
Sweet moan as he comes, splashing on my thigh, the moisture soaking through the denim. He tips forward and I grab his mouth, swallowing that gorgeous sound, and shockingly, he lets me, opening himself to me for a few, precious seconds before pulling back.
“Pete.”
“Mmm?”
“Touch me.”
His smile curves on my lips.
“Is that an order.”
“Yes.”
“Sounds more like a plea to me.”
I strain forward, but his telekinesis knocks me back.
“Damn it, Peter, let me go already.”
He tilts his head to the side as if he’s actually considering it, though we both know he’s clearly not.
“Mmm. Nah. Not yet. You still haven’t earned your forgiveness.”
He’s repeating my judgment. Copycat.
“And how long will it take until I have? An hour? The whole morning?”
“I’m not that mean. Unlike you.”
He kisses my neck right below my jaw, tender lips skimming over me, nipping down to my collarbone as he presses into me and not just a teasing brush this time, either, but a hard, insistent push, trapping me further onto the counter, swallowing me in his heat, arms tight around my waist, yet somehow he manages to keep his hips off me so that I can’t feel him where I really, really need to.
“Then unhand me.”
“Claude,” he whines, typical Peter, as he straightens. Looks sulky, too, as if he had any right. “You’re not listening.”
I want to bite his lip. It’s so tempting, so pink and ripe and delicious.
“I need to earn my forgiveness. Fine.”
“Well?”
He slides away, crossing his arms, and tries his best to look down his nose at me as if he were reprimanding a recalcitrant child, only it doesn’t work so well if the person you’re trying to intimidate is taller than you.
“I... regret leaving you there.”
“You regret?”
He backs up another step, glaring at me through narrowed eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
I had to say it. Not that it’s entirely insincere considering how much this aches. Does he want me to get on my knees and swear I’ll never do it again, finish sucking him off, beg like a beaten dog? Fine. I’ll do it. Just get me off already, please.
He smiles. Tries to smother it so that it flutters, impish on his lips (does everything he do have to make him look like an 18 year old?), adopting a quasi and completely bogus stern expression that wouldn’t intimidate a two year old. Then again, two year olds intimidate you.
“Good.”
He reaches forward, finally touching the bulge at the front of my trousers. Oh please, stop teasing me already and wank me. He takes the button out of its lapel. Kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Shall I?”
“Yes.”
Does he want me to scream at him?
“What do we say?”
“I’m not a five year old you’re teaching manners to, Peter.”
“Well, obviously those lessons didn’t stick very well. Your notion of asking involves beating people with a stick.”
“Not people, just you.”
“Just me? Well, that’s really comforting, Claude. So glad to know that the man who took you into his home is worthy of such horrible treatment.”
“You’re special.”
In every possible way.
A cold fire sharpens his eyes. Oh crap, I think he really might leave me this time. He’s pulling way. Fuck.
“Wait, Pete, please. That’s what you want to hear, right? Please? Well, I’m saying it, I’m begging if you want me to, just don’t leave me like this.”
Oh, don’t you grin like that. Yes, it’s your victory and all, but you don’t have to rub it in. I don’t care how gorgeous it makes you look. No, I will not kiss you. I won’t stand for this.
Oh, yes! Finally, he opens the zipper, peeling away that cruel, binding denim and the my boxers and grabs me. Yes. Keep stroking, please. Oh, please.
“What are you thinking, Claude?”
Quick nip at the base of my neck.
“You want me to... tell you how this feels?”
“Yeah.”
“So you can bask in your achievement? I think not.”
Long lick along my collarbone. He squeezes me as he reaches my base, stopping.
“But I want you to. You owe me.”
Aw, hell.
“Fine, just get moving again.”
He flicks his thumb over my balls before sweeping back, stroking me in a torturous, slow glide, but at least he’s moving and that’s all I want.
“It feels good. Really good. I don’t really know what you want me to say... nnn... Unless you want me to compliment you on teasing me at the speed of a bloody turtle.”
“It’s the same thing you did.”
He raises my t-shirt, kissing my chest up from my belly.
“True. Ain’t afraid to admit it.”
He sucks in my left nipple, grazing me with his teeth.
“But at least I let you lie down. Oh, yes, please do that again?”
He tugs at my head again, rattling me with the slightest, dizzying pressure.
“How was that?”
Warm breath over my saliva streaked skin.
“Good. Very. Great, even.”
I feel my orgasm coming already. It was too much teasing. I can’t last long, not with-
“Ahh!”
“You feel that?”
By Mary and all the saints, he’s inside me again.
“Yes, yes. Amazing. Incredible. Please keep--- Ah!”
Finally. Oh, that feels good. I could sink into this forever. If a counter weren’t pressing into my spine, that is.
Mmm, he’s kissing my neck again. Warm, nude body pressed into me. Maybe I can forgive him just a little.
“Was it good?”
“You’re certainly one for the stupid questions, Pete.” I suck in a few desperate breaths. “It’s not how I expected it to end, though.”
“You were expecting me to bend you over the table and have my way with you.”
“Basically.”
“Well.”
That sly grin is on his lips again. I look down. You’re kidding me.
||||
It’s not like I was completely hard yet, but he looked so delectable as I was jerking him off that, well, I couldn’t help it. I don’t seem to need much recovery time anymore. Maybe it’s one of the new powers or part of the healing thing. I dunno. Comes in handy, though, especially now, cause I really did want to do this, but I couldn’t bear to leave him like that any longer. Unlike him.
I’ve never had him like this before. Not that we’ve been sleeping together long enough to exhaust all the possibilities, but you’d think it would have come up sooner. Though I have thought about it many, many times. But he never looked this good in my head, bent over the kitchen table, completely naked, bracing himself on his forearms, his legs spread for me, ass thrust towards me, round and firm and perfect. I touch his back, stroking him with my palm flat against his spine. His skin here is as mark less as his front is scared, such a shocking contrast, not that he needs any more battle scars. He’s already so damaged, but still beautiful, still mine. Does he even know how much he means to me? I’ve said it, but he’s so cynical of everything that it’s going to take more than the usual effort to drill it through his head. But I’m more than willing to do that. I’ll give him everything he needs. Especially this.
He moans as I enter him, leaning back into me, welcoming me, and it’s all I’ve ever asked for. Oh God, he feels so good. Wonderful. Amazing. All those adjectives he said as I made him come. I’m not taking it slow this time, either. I don’t think either of us can take it by this point. And I don’t want to. He needs to feel the extent of my... displeasure.
“Nnnn:”
That one came from me. Okay, that was the wrong word. Not displeasure. Not at all. Oh my God, so totally not. I hug his waist. He’s arching into me, head bent low, hands gripping the table like I grip him, hard already (I mean, who wouldn’t be), even though he came three minutes ago, (should I grab him now or later?) and he’s mine, this and his body and maybe if I’m lucky his soul, which I’m ready to love so very much if he’ll let me.
“Pete?”
“Yeah?”
“You can wank me any time.”
I smile. That’s practically a declaration of love.
“Like this?”
“Oh God yes. Just not so slow this time, okay?”
I lean my forehead between his shoulder blades.
“As you wish.”
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Claude/Peter
Summary: The sequel to Method in the Madness, which in turn is the sequel to The Lady Doth Protest. Finally, the odyssey of smut torture ends and Claude is forced to submit.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
A foot scuffs the floor behind me. Oh, come on, Pete. I’ve spent seven years hiding form one of the most perverse organizations in the world. You can’t sneak up on--
Ow! The cup I’m holding crashes into the sink as he slams me against the counter, bending me over, but his hands aren’t on me. Oh, bugger.
“You managed to extricate yourself faster than I expected. Well done.”
“A compliment? That’s not like you.”
Water from the tap splashes on my shirt, soaking my front, but it’s not long before the knob turns clockwise, shutting itself. Always conscious, aren’t you, Pete? Impressive dexterity, too. Not your rough and tumble chance bit of luck, either. He’s learning. Good for him. But I’m not so sure how it bodes for me, considering the rather embarrassing position I left him in. Served him right. And really, how could he expect me to pass up such a golden opportunity? Especially with him all flushed and shiny with sweat, mouth open in a long, shallow moan begging me to give him release, body strained and pliant all for me. so very, very needy, and not in the pestering “I’m a helpless, little lamb” way either, but the raw, aching kind. Surely he can appreciate how enticing that is.
Ah, fuck! Is he trying to break my spine? He swings me around on the counter, pushing me back so that I’m bent over the other way. Or maybe he’s just pissed. Nice control, though. Glad to see my lessons are having the intended effect, though having them used against me wasn’t part of the original plan. And he really is out for my blood. Blimey. He’s looks fit to do some of that exploding right now, only I’m the city he’ll leave strewn in ragged ashes. Can’t say I mind much. Not when he’s still naked and somehow even after all this time (how long has it been? Ten, fifteen minutes?) still hard. It’d figured he would have rubbed himself against the sheets or something, though the spread out position I left his arms in would have made that rather uncomfortable. Lad’s got a fine body. Very fine. Finer still with him brimming with anger, chest rising faster than it should, face dark and eyes gleaming with that same look I’ve seen on feral cats hunting down their scampering prey. I’m fucked.
“I give credit when it’s due,” I reply. “But your progress is so slow sometimes that I can’t blame you for not noticing.”
He frowns, pouty, little wrinkle crinkling on his brow. The pervasive adolescent peeking through, yearning for a kiss or a smack to the head.
Ah! What the fuck is that? He can’t be- He couldn’t possibly be that good y--
Ngh. Don’t moan, don’t moan, don’t moan. Don’t give him what he wants. But he’s touching my cock. He’s six feet away and he’s touching me through my trousers. Oh fuck. And he’s inside me. It’s like his fingers are in there thrusting upwards, taking me.
My hands slip on the counter. If I squeeze my teeth any tighter they’re going to crack.
“Aaahhh.”
That slipped out. I can’t help it. I don’t think I could even still be standing if he weren’t holding me up. Couldn’t he at least unzip my jeans? It hurts to be jammed like this. But of course that’s the point. He wants me to beg. The hell with that. He ain’t getting that kind of satisfaction from me.
Look at him. All cute smiles and sparkling eyes, but he’s even harder now. Enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me struggle to hold onto my self-control, driving me to the edge of my sanity at your command, urging me to beg for my release, but I won’t. I’m not going to give in so easily.
Oh my God. He’s too good. Wait a minute. This isn’t chance beginner’s luck. He’s had practice.
“Pete.”
“Yes?”
“Did you practice this on yourself?”
Did that even come out right? I’m sure I mumbled the last half of it. It’s a little hard to breathe right now.
The heat in his face betrays him.
“Yes.”
Oh God. He did this... this slow teasing to himself.
“I wanted to make sure I had the knack of it before I tried it on you.”
He planned this? Well, look who’s scheming now? Classic Petrelli. I should have know. Devious, sneaky, (Oh Christ, I think I’m going to fall) sadistic vipers.
“Extra homework? Glad to see yo-you’re the studious type.”
His breath is no steadier. I’m shocked he isn’t touching himself. But maybe that’s be too difficult, too many tasks spread out over a diminishing mental capacity to handle them. I don’t know how I’m keeping my own thoughts so coherent myself.
“I haven’t only been relying on you.”
He steps closer, standing right in front of me. His breath wafts, humid, on my chin, his body arching into me, but he stops short of touching me even as he tugs even harder at my cock, making me swallow a scream. Don’t beg, don’t beg, don’t beg. Breathe. Come on, breathe. Don’t sound desperate, don’t sound desperate. Oh fuck, and how the hell am I supposed to do that?
“Good f-for you. I’m glad to hear y-you’re fending for yourself.”
My fingers are going numb from gripping the counter so hard.
“Thanks.”
Oh, don’t grin at me like that, you cheeky wanker. Just wait till this whole things’s over. I’ll make you beg so hard you’ll think I went easy on you this time.
“I don’t need you for everything,” he continued, “as you can see. Didn’t need your help with the ropes. Not even with this. It looks to me now like you’re the one who needs me.”
The stroking stops. No. oh come on, you sodding bastard! I’m going to bite that grin off your face. Let me off this counter. You can’t-
Oh. Right. Turning the tables. Ha ha. Clever, aren’t you? I think something inside me is going to explode. I need to come. Please. I need you touch me, but I’m not going to tell you that. It’s what you want to hear. I’m not giving it to you. No matter how wickedly you grin or sway your body, brushing against me as you step back, making me gaze down your body, beautiful and beguiling and I want to kiss you so fucking badly.
He takes himself in his hand. That’s why he hadn’t wanked before. He wanted me to see, to feel as he leans into me, supporting himself with his left hand on the counter, arm brushing mine. His mouth is so close. Plump, pretty lips inches away. All I have to do is lean forward and they’d be mine, but he doesn’t permit me even that tiny movement. He wants my attention fully dedicated to his little show, his hand moving quick and fast, unable to hold back any longer. Aching as I’m aching, only I’m left to simmer in agony while he finally gets his release. His eyes are on mine, eyelids sliding down, but his gaze is too fierce for them to close completely.
Blush of ripe skin. Heat melding into heat as frantic breaths gasp in my throat, nerves screaming in ecstasy and delight as my body and soul are taken, bent over the table and covered by Peter, back to back, thighs to thighs, thrusting inside me, really this time, consuming me faster than oxygen in a firestorm, tugging at my cock until I scream and then fucking me some more.
Oh God.
“Did you see that?” he asks, wicked demon eyes flashing up at me. He leans closer, standing on his toes to level at me face to face, never once slowing his movements.
“Did you feel that?”
Breath hot on my lips, one shade away from a kiss. I need to taste him, need to touch him, need to take everything he’s taking from me.
“Yes.”
I hate giving him even that much, but it’s the only syllable I can pronounce. He’s killing me.
“Good.”
Our lips meet. Just one, tiny brush and I open my mouth, but he’s already a mile away. Peter, please!
“Nnnn!”
Sweet moan as he comes, splashing on my thigh, the moisture soaking through the denim. He tips forward and I grab his mouth, swallowing that gorgeous sound, and shockingly, he lets me, opening himself to me for a few, precious seconds before pulling back.
“Pete.”
“Mmm?”
“Touch me.”
His smile curves on my lips.
“Is that an order.”
“Yes.”
“Sounds more like a plea to me.”
I strain forward, but his telekinesis knocks me back.
“Damn it, Peter, let me go already.”
He tilts his head to the side as if he’s actually considering it, though we both know he’s clearly not.
“Mmm. Nah. Not yet. You still haven’t earned your forgiveness.”
He’s repeating my judgment. Copycat.
“And how long will it take until I have? An hour? The whole morning?”
“I’m not that mean. Unlike you.”
He kisses my neck right below my jaw, tender lips skimming over me, nipping down to my collarbone as he presses into me and not just a teasing brush this time, either, but a hard, insistent push, trapping me further onto the counter, swallowing me in his heat, arms tight around my waist, yet somehow he manages to keep his hips off me so that I can’t feel him where I really, really need to.
“Then unhand me.”
“Claude,” he whines, typical Peter, as he straightens. Looks sulky, too, as if he had any right. “You’re not listening.”
I want to bite his lip. It’s so tempting, so pink and ripe and delicious.
“I need to earn my forgiveness. Fine.”
“Well?”
He slides away, crossing his arms, and tries his best to look down his nose at me as if he were reprimanding a recalcitrant child, only it doesn’t work so well if the person you’re trying to intimidate is taller than you.
“I... regret leaving you there.”
“You regret?”
He backs up another step, glaring at me through narrowed eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
I had to say it. Not that it’s entirely insincere considering how much this aches. Does he want me to get on my knees and swear I’ll never do it again, finish sucking him off, beg like a beaten dog? Fine. I’ll do it. Just get me off already, please.
He smiles. Tries to smother it so that it flutters, impish on his lips (does everything he do have to make him look like an 18 year old?), adopting a quasi and completely bogus stern expression that wouldn’t intimidate a two year old. Then again, two year olds intimidate you.
“Good.”
He reaches forward, finally touching the bulge at the front of my trousers. Oh please, stop teasing me already and wank me. He takes the button out of its lapel. Kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Shall I?”
“Yes.”
Does he want me to scream at him?
“What do we say?”
“I’m not a five year old you’re teaching manners to, Peter.”
“Well, obviously those lessons didn’t stick very well. Your notion of asking involves beating people with a stick.”
“Not people, just you.”
“Just me? Well, that’s really comforting, Claude. So glad to know that the man who took you into his home is worthy of such horrible treatment.”
“You’re special.”
In every possible way.
A cold fire sharpens his eyes. Oh crap, I think he really might leave me this time. He’s pulling way. Fuck.
“Wait, Pete, please. That’s what you want to hear, right? Please? Well, I’m saying it, I’m begging if you want me to, just don’t leave me like this.”
Oh, don’t you grin like that. Yes, it’s your victory and all, but you don’t have to rub it in. I don’t care how gorgeous it makes you look. No, I will not kiss you. I won’t stand for this.
Oh, yes! Finally, he opens the zipper, peeling away that cruel, binding denim and the my boxers and grabs me. Yes. Keep stroking, please. Oh, please.
“What are you thinking, Claude?”
Quick nip at the base of my neck.
“You want me to... tell you how this feels?”
“Yeah.”
“So you can bask in your achievement? I think not.”
Long lick along my collarbone. He squeezes me as he reaches my base, stopping.
“But I want you to. You owe me.”
Aw, hell.
“Fine, just get moving again.”
He flicks his thumb over my balls before sweeping back, stroking me in a torturous, slow glide, but at least he’s moving and that’s all I want.
“It feels good. Really good. I don’t really know what you want me to say... nnn... Unless you want me to compliment you on teasing me at the speed of a bloody turtle.”
“It’s the same thing you did.”
He raises my t-shirt, kissing my chest up from my belly.
“True. Ain’t afraid to admit it.”
He sucks in my left nipple, grazing me with his teeth.
“But at least I let you lie down. Oh, yes, please do that again?”
He tugs at my head again, rattling me with the slightest, dizzying pressure.
“How was that?”
Warm breath over my saliva streaked skin.
“Good. Very. Great, even.”
I feel my orgasm coming already. It was too much teasing. I can’t last long, not with-
“Ahh!”
“You feel that?”
By Mary and all the saints, he’s inside me again.
“Yes, yes. Amazing. Incredible. Please keep--- Ah!”
Finally. Oh, that feels good. I could sink into this forever. If a counter weren’t pressing into my spine, that is.
Mmm, he’s kissing my neck again. Warm, nude body pressed into me. Maybe I can forgive him just a little.
“Was it good?”
“You’re certainly one for the stupid questions, Pete.” I suck in a few desperate breaths. “It’s not how I expected it to end, though.”
“You were expecting me to bend you over the table and have my way with you.”
“Basically.”
“Well.”
That sly grin is on his lips again. I look down. You’re kidding me.
||||
It’s not like I was completely hard yet, but he looked so delectable as I was jerking him off that, well, I couldn’t help it. I don’t seem to need much recovery time anymore. Maybe it’s one of the new powers or part of the healing thing. I dunno. Comes in handy, though, especially now, cause I really did want to do this, but I couldn’t bear to leave him like that any longer. Unlike him.
I’ve never had him like this before. Not that we’ve been sleeping together long enough to exhaust all the possibilities, but you’d think it would have come up sooner. Though I have thought about it many, many times. But he never looked this good in my head, bent over the kitchen table, completely naked, bracing himself on his forearms, his legs spread for me, ass thrust towards me, round and firm and perfect. I touch his back, stroking him with my palm flat against his spine. His skin here is as mark less as his front is scared, such a shocking contrast, not that he needs any more battle scars. He’s already so damaged, but still beautiful, still mine. Does he even know how much he means to me? I’ve said it, but he’s so cynical of everything that it’s going to take more than the usual effort to drill it through his head. But I’m more than willing to do that. I’ll give him everything he needs. Especially this.
He moans as I enter him, leaning back into me, welcoming me, and it’s all I’ve ever asked for. Oh God, he feels so good. Wonderful. Amazing. All those adjectives he said as I made him come. I’m not taking it slow this time, either. I don’t think either of us can take it by this point. And I don’t want to. He needs to feel the extent of my... displeasure.
“Nnnn:”
That one came from me. Okay, that was the wrong word. Not displeasure. Not at all. Oh my God, so totally not. I hug his waist. He’s arching into me, head bent low, hands gripping the table like I grip him, hard already (I mean, who wouldn’t be), even though he came three minutes ago, (should I grab him now or later?) and he’s mine, this and his body and maybe if I’m lucky his soul, which I’m ready to love so very much if he’ll let me.
“Pete?”
“Yeah?”
“You can wank me any time.”
I smile. That’s practically a declaration of love.
“Like this?”
“Oh God yes. Just not so slow this time, okay?”
I lean my forehead between his shoulder blades.
“As you wish.”