"Yeah," I agreed in a breathless pant. It had been... Everything. Amazing. Mind blowing. Quite possibly the best sex of my life. I somehow found the strength to raise my hand, combing fingers through Peter's hair. Just... Wow. I couldn't even form words for it
( ... )
Well, he should have known that this talk would come eventually. But instead of dreading it, or getting annoyed, Peter simply smiled fondly into her neck. Love really was about loving the bad as well as the good
( ... )
My hand had moved to cup his chin, thumb stroking along his cheek as he talked. Other than my eyes going slightly wide at 'prophetic dreams' (and slightly wider at 'take out half of New York') I just let him go on without interrupting.
Returning his kiss, I let my brain rush over everything he'd told me. Then, smiling, I said, "Okay." And it was. What he'd done, while it had driven me crazy and brought me no end of heartache as I'd tried desperately to figure out what he was feeling and what I was feeling and whether those two things connected (and whether they should), was understandable. I'd done the same thing before - hell, I'd done the same thing to him. I got running away. I got distancing myself.
A few things did need to be cleared up, though. "You help me," I told him frankly, love quite evident in my voice. "Every day. You're never going to quite get how much, Peter." I pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. "But you do."
I was pretty certain he didn't get how messed up I was. How things from my
( ... )
Peter almost opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'Not that I'm going to be exploding again any time soon', but he brushed the thought from his mind. Not exactly the kind of thing that he even wanted to think about right now
( ... )
I had fallen back into that lazy kind of quiet, enjoying the feel of his fingers on my skin, making a soft noise of contentment when they hit a sensitive spot. "I know," I said with a small smile. "And I think that I even love that you worry, which should clue you in to how absolutely gone for you I am." And if he got too bad about it, I could so take him down.
If I'd been a cat, I'd have been purring. Instead I just cuddled closer, my hand tracing circles against his side. Every so often an absent kiss would be pressed to his chest, his neck, the bridge of his nose. His question out of left field made me blink, and it took me a second to catch up to him.
"Um, no," I agreed, looking over my room. "I don't." Then I laughed. "God, you have no idea. I burned my hand twice today and I still don't have any pain amulets. Which I guarantee I'm going to need for this run I have coming up, so
( ... )
Peter pushed down the sudden rush of protectiveness that came with Rachel saying she'd need pain amulets for her run. He had to remind himself that she was a big girl, she could take care of herself - hell, she could kick his ass twenty ways from Sunday, and Sylar's as well. But that didn't stop him from wanting to protect her in some way, maybe go along and do what he could do to help and make sure Rachel was okay
( ... )
Still laughing, I lay on Peter's chest, giving him a huge smile. "I think just the fact that you offered has earned you some kind of colossal brownie points," I informed him soberly. My finger lightly traced around his lips. "Come on, Petrelly. Who wouldn't like a lego block kitchen?" Teasing, I leaned down to nip at his chin.
"I could help. I'm pretty handy, you know." Wriggling slightly, I got more comfortable all sprawled out on top of him. "Single girl, you know how it is."
At his words my smile softened into something wondering. "You make me happy," I told him, wondering where this sudden bout of honesty was coming from. Usually it took me months with a guy to get anywhere near this point. Then, not quite being able to just leave it at that, my grin turned wicked and I added, "Besides, the thought of you wandering around my room, all sweaty and shirtless with a tool belt? How could I possibly resist that?" Somehow I thought he wouldn't actually get much work done.
"Oh, I have to do it shirtless?" Peter raised an eyebrow, leaning up to kiss Rachel before he let his head fall back to the pillow with a thump, expression one of feigned resignation. "I feel so used," he complained, teasing. But doing something for Rachel that would make her happy, with the added knowledge he'd probably get his ass stared at the whole time - it just made him want to do it more.
He just hoped he didn't end up randomly drilling a hole through his hand. Seriously, Petrellis were not hands on people. But maybe nursing would give him an advantage, with the delicate manual work. Gah, he shouldn't be thinking about this just yet. His brain was still recovering
( ... )
"It's how it's done!" I said, affecting a very innocent look. "I cannot change the time-honored rules of home improvement. You're just going to have to deal with it, Pete. Sorry." A grin broke out across my face; I didn't look sorry in the least.
'Kitchen materials'? Okay, maybe Peter was not allowed to play with the power tools. Laughing quietly, finding his ignorance adorable, I raised my eyebrows, pillowing my chin on my hands and resting them on his chest. "Wood?" I asked, punctuating the material with a kiss to his neck. "Tile? Cabinets? Maybe some appliances?" Shaking my head, I added, "Seriously, Petrelli, I fear for your childhood, I really do
( ... )
Rachel so did not look sorry, but Peter didn't mind. It wasn't like he was going to complain.
Looking slightly embarrassed, Peter tucked a hand under his head and wondered if kids were supposed to learn that kind of thing at a young age. He didn't think so, but the Petrellis had never been a normal family in any sense of the word. That, and he hadn't really been allowed into the kitchen. "I've never built one before," he protested lightly, smiling. "It's different. It's... I don't know, I never examined the ones I've been in too closely."
Too caught up in kissing Rachel, it took Peter a few seconds to digest her words. When they finally sunk in, he blinked, quite surprised. Huh, nobody had ever told him that. Not that he'd been thinking he was crap at sex, but it was nice to hear out loud occasionally. "Forget me," he dismissed. "You were awesome." Seriously, Peter didn't think he'd ever dated someone that responsive. It was a rush.
"What, not even with the infamous Lego blocks?" I teased, looking shocked. "There were no Peter Petrelli original masterpieces?" I really couldn't seem to leave off kissing him, though now I'd become interested in mapping out his collarbone, my teeth scraping lightly on the skin. "Maybe you should have had a toy kitchen or something." I started to laugh softly. "Or whatever the manly equivalent would be."
As I made my way up to his neck, I blinked in surprise to find my bite mark still visible, the skin pink and turning into a very nice hickey. "Hey," I murmured, brushing my lips over it, "this one didn't heal." Face flushing as I looked up at him, I wrinkled my nose, a bit embarrassed at my apparent voracity. "Sorry."
Oh, but that earned him another kiss and an eyeroll. "Trust me Peter," I gave him a wicked grin, "there is nothing about that I'm forgetting anytime soon. You pretty much reduced me to jello." Another quick kiss and I tugged lightly on his lower lip. "Seriously. Putty in your hands." Chuckling, I
( ... )
"Actually, the Lego block thing was a few years ago," Peter smiled sheepishly. "There were kids in the clinic, and there was Lego, and... yeah." Had he ever had Legos when he was a kid? Peter seriously couldn't remember. Petrellis were never very good at letting kids be kids. "The manly equivalent would be a plastic tool set. I think." It was hard to think when Rachel's teeth were on his collarbone, god
( ... )
For a second I just looked down at him. Then, with a soft smile curving up my lips, I leaned down and kissed him slowly, pulling away only when I needed to take a breath. "You worked in a kid's clinic," I said, more statement than question, an edge of wonder in my voice. There wasn't a whole lot I remembered about my childhood illness, that insidious genetic defect that should have killed me before my first birthday but had my father dying at my twelfth instead. But I did recall cold waiting rooms, hushed voices, needles and clinical looks. I remembered the camps that came after that, the counselors that took such good care of us, that made what turned out to be a camp of walking dead kids feel normal. Of course Peter would be someone like that
( ... )
It hadn't really been specifically a kids clinic - there were kids in the regular clinic, too, and Peter always felt so sorry for them that he'd paid extra attention to them - but he didn't say anything to point this out. It wasn't a huge detail, and the way Rachel was looking at him? He didn't want that to stop any time soon. Peter could have looked in and overheard her thoughts on why this was so important to her, but the warm buzz of her emotions was enough.
"Getting possessive, are we?" Peter grinned, arching his neck so that Rachel had more access. He certainly wasn't going to stop Rachel; even though showing off hickies and bite-marks was very high school, Peter was going to do it anyway.
And yes, they were going to have to spend a lot of time on this - Peter agreed most vehemently with that. With lots of positions and times and places. "I think pie charts," he mused. "Because they- gah," Peter broke off to twitch slightly, closing his eyes with a faint grown. "You are trying to kill me."
"Mmm, yes," I said with a quiet, playful growl. I pushed his arms up over his head, moving to straddle him. I was suddenly feeling quite energetic. Leaning over him, teasingly pinning him to the bed, I leaned down to nip at his ear, whispering, "Do you have a problem with that?"
Really, I couldn't help the possessive streak. It ran a mile wide and tended to mark everyone I cared about with the deep Mine stamp of a child who'd done without. It was a habit I tried not to think about, but it eventually manifested itself in every relationship. I didn't need anyone, I held myself apart, yet I became so deeply ensnared in the people around me that it was like physically cutting myself to ribbons to let them go. Maybe I was just masochistic, letting myself become so involved when I knew from the start that all things - that this thing - would end. Peter would run up against the brick wall I kept and realized that he could go no further. And then he would leave. Oh, it wouldn't be all at once. But once I realized how close he'd
( ... )
"No, ma'am," Peter laughed, relaxing into the hold. Hey, he was all for gender equality, and Rachel was a strong, confident woman. She could do whatever she liked. Peter just hoped he wouldn't eventually get eaten alive because of it. (Though, really, he wouldn't mind.)
And no, he didn't want to stop, thank you very much. Christ, Rachel was a tease. Death by fucking sounded like a really great option right now
( ... )
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Returning his kiss, I let my brain rush over everything he'd told me. Then, smiling, I said, "Okay." And it was. What he'd done, while it had driven me crazy and brought me no end of heartache as I'd tried desperately to figure out what he was feeling and what I was feeling and whether those two things connected (and whether they should), was understandable. I'd done the same thing before - hell, I'd done the same thing to him. I got running away. I got distancing myself.
A few things did need to be cleared up, though. "You help me," I told him frankly, love quite evident in my voice. "Every day. You're never going to quite get how much, Peter." I pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. "But you do."
I was pretty certain he didn't get how messed up I was. How things from my ( ... )
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If I'd been a cat, I'd have been purring. Instead I just cuddled closer, my hand tracing circles against his side. Every so often an absent kiss would be pressed to his chest, his neck, the bridge of his nose. His question out of left field made me blink, and it took me a second to catch up to him.
"Um, no," I agreed, looking over my room. "I don't." Then I laughed. "God, you have no idea. I burned my hand twice today and I still don't have any pain amulets. Which I guarantee I'm going to need for this run I have coming up, so ( ... )
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"I could help. I'm pretty handy, you know." Wriggling slightly, I got more comfortable all sprawled out on top of him. "Single girl, you know how it is."
At his words my smile softened into something wondering. "You make me happy," I told him, wondering where this sudden bout of honesty was coming from. Usually it took me months with a guy to get anywhere near this point. Then, not quite being able to just leave it at that, my grin turned wicked and I added, "Besides, the thought of you wandering around my room, all sweaty and shirtless with a tool belt? How could I possibly resist that?" Somehow I thought he wouldn't actually get much work done.
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He just hoped he didn't end up randomly drilling a hole through his hand. Seriously, Petrellis were not hands on people. But maybe nursing would give him an advantage, with the delicate manual work. Gah, he shouldn't be thinking about this just yet. His brain was still recovering ( ... )
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'Kitchen materials'? Okay, maybe Peter was not allowed to play with the power tools. Laughing quietly, finding his ignorance adorable, I raised my eyebrows, pillowing my chin on my hands and resting them on his chest. "Wood?" I asked, punctuating the material with a kiss to his neck. "Tile? Cabinets? Maybe some appliances?" Shaking my head, I added, "Seriously, Petrelli, I fear for your childhood, I really do ( ... )
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Looking slightly embarrassed, Peter tucked a hand under his head and wondered if kids were supposed to learn that kind of thing at a young age. He didn't think so, but the Petrellis had never been a normal family in any sense of the word. That, and he hadn't really been allowed into the kitchen. "I've never built one before," he protested lightly, smiling. "It's different. It's... I don't know, I never examined the ones I've been in too closely."
Too caught up in kissing Rachel, it took Peter a few seconds to digest her words. When they finally sunk in, he blinked, quite surprised. Huh, nobody had ever told him that. Not that he'd been thinking he was crap at sex, but it was nice to hear out loud occasionally. "Forget me," he dismissed. "You were awesome." Seriously, Peter didn't think he'd ever dated someone that responsive. It was a rush.
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As I made my way up to his neck, I blinked in surprise to find my bite mark still visible, the skin pink and turning into a very nice hickey. "Hey," I murmured, brushing my lips over it, "this one didn't heal." Face flushing as I looked up at him, I wrinkled my nose, a bit embarrassed at my apparent voracity. "Sorry."
Oh, but that earned him another kiss and an eyeroll. "Trust me Peter," I gave him a wicked grin, "there is nothing about that I'm forgetting anytime soon. You pretty much reduced me to jello." Another quick kiss and I tugged lightly on his lower lip. "Seriously. Putty in your hands." Chuckling, I ( ... )
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"Getting possessive, are we?" Peter grinned, arching his neck so that Rachel had more access. He certainly wasn't going to stop Rachel; even though showing off hickies and bite-marks was very high school, Peter was going to do it anyway.
And yes, they were going to have to spend a lot of time on this - Peter agreed most vehemently with that. With lots of positions and times and places. "I think pie charts," he mused. "Because they- gah," Peter broke off to twitch slightly, closing his eyes with a faint grown. "You are trying to kill me."
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Really, I couldn't help the possessive streak. It ran a mile wide and tended to mark everyone I cared about with the deep Mine stamp of a child who'd done without. It was a habit I tried not to think about, but it eventually manifested itself in every relationship. I didn't need anyone, I held myself apart, yet I became so deeply ensnared in the people around me that it was like physically cutting myself to ribbons to let them go. Maybe I was just masochistic, letting myself become so involved when I knew from the start that all things - that this thing - would end. Peter would run up against the brick wall I kept and realized that he could go no further. And then he would leave. Oh, it wouldn't be all at once. But once I realized how close he'd ( ... )
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And no, he didn't want to stop, thank you very much. Christ, Rachel was a tease. Death by fucking sounded like a really great option right now ( ... )
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