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.
"Yeah," he smiled ruefully, reaching up to brush Rachel's hair back from her temple. "But let me worry a little, okay? I don't think I could stop, anyway. I'm a worrier." Especially about people he loved. Frankly, he'd be a little concerned if he ever stopped. "I'll try not to be annoying and cloying with it, though."
For a minute, he lapsed into silence, content to just live in the moment and let his fingers wander over Rachel's skin. Peter thought back to living in the tent with Rachel, and how much more he really could have embraced that. He'd thought it was right, at the time, to keep a little distance - but that didn't stop him from wishing he'd been a little more with it. Thoughts of the tent absently connected with the way he'd seen Rachel cooking over the fireplace, and his brow creased slightly.
"You don't have a kitchen in this room, do you?" Points for the most random bed talk ever went to Peter Petrelli, but it was relevant in his mind right now. He looked down at Rachel, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile. "You must be going mad, trying to stir up spells over a fireplace. I bet I could build a kitchen in here for you."
Not that he'd ever wielded many power tools in his life. Or built many things. But he'd try, if Rachel wanted it.
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..."
Wait. What? My eyes flew back to him, jaw dropping. "You--" No. Really? A sudden, brilliant grin lit up my face and I was hugging him, pressing quick kisses to any part of him I could reach, laughing, "Really? Oh my God, Peter!" That was quite possibly the best thing anyone had offered to do for me.
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.
He was so whipped. Already.
And speaking of being whipped, Peter just laughed when Rachel got excited about the kitchen. He rolled over and brought her with him, letting her lay on his chest while he looped his arms around her lower back and hugged her close. "Well, don't expect anything great," he said sheepishly. "The last time I tried to build something, it was made out of Lego blocks. And it didn't turn out right, even with an instruction manual." And the last time he'd tried to use a power tool of some sort, there had been blood.
"But it'll make you happy," he continued, softer, brushing the back of his knuckles against Rachel's cheek. "So I want to."
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.
No, they really wouldn't get much work done. Not when it was a lot more fun to test out a new piece of furniture by 'initiating' it. "I promise I'll even try to make it out of... kitchen materials," he finished after a pause. Peter really didn't know what things in kitchens were actually made of. Running a hand up and down Rachel's spine, so slowly it seemed like he counting the individual vertebrae, Peter huffed a laugh. "That'll come later. If it's weeks of sex we're in for, I'm going to need weeks to recover," he grinned.
"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."
Mmm... Weeks of sex. A blissful smile on my face, I leaned in to kiss him slowly. "Damn straight, babe," I smirked against his lips. "The only manual labor you're allowed to do is me." I arched slightly into his touch, eyes falling half-closed. "Have I told you how good you are, by the way? I feel this should be brought up often. You," I kissed him again, "are amazing in bed. I think that qualifies as the best sex ever."
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 returned to exploring the intricacies of his neck. "And we are not getting into some kind of one-upping compliment game over how great our sex is. We will simply have to approach it scientifically. Have many many different test runs. It's the only way to decide this."
"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.
Glancing down to look at what Rachel was looking at, Peter laughed quietly. "Healing went off when I used the TK. It's okay. I like it." And he was definitely keeping it for as long as it would stay there. To hell with scarves, he was going to show it off.
Christ, if Rachel kept talking like that he was just going to get turned on all over again - not that it was a bad thing, but he'd like some time to recover, thank you. He wasn't 18 anymore. "We can keep graphs and charts," he agreed with a sage nod, running his fingers over her hip, drawing circles around the bone. "Maybe some timelines, to see if we get roughly better or worse after a straight day of sex."
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.
I brushed my fingers across his cheek with awestruck tenderness. He was so much better than I was. So much more than I deserved. I could only pray that he wouldn't wise up to that fact. Or, if he did, he wouldn't care.
Resting my forehead against his briefly, I swallowed back a wave of love so intense it hurt. How could someone this good be here with me? I didn't understand.
"You like it, huh?" I laughed, turning my attention back to his mark. Leaning down, I worried it gently with my teeth, tongue dragging slowly along the reddened skin. "I should give you a matching set, then," I rumbled, voice low in my chest. I moved to the other side of his neck - where my own demon scar would lie, ironically enough - and bit playfully at the skin. "So people know you're mine." Teasing, of course. As if I could own him or hold him down. But there was something heady about the thought of claiming him, even in such a temporary manner.
Mmmm... I practically melted under his touch, heavily lidded eyes looking at him as I stretched, toes pointing. "We'll have to spend quite some time on this," I said, biting my lower lip in deep thought. "Can't just take the first batch of data. I think we just need to accept the fact that we may need to do various positions," I sucked lightly on the skin just below the hollow of his throat, "and times," another heated kiss just below that, "and places," my teeth nipped at his skin. "Do you think we should have pie charts? Or graphs?" Swirling my tongue around his nipple, I teased my teeth across it. "Maybe do some kind of presentation. With a pointer."
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 gotten, once I felt him clutch too tightly, I'd start to freeze him out. I would starve our relationship until he had no choice but to go.
A strange little beast I was; possessive and yet letting no one hold onto me. Some days I wondered if I liked the pain too much. Most days I refused to think about it at all.
Raising my head from his chest, where I'd been alternating catching his nipple between my teeth and flicking my tongue against the hardened nub, I raised my eyebrows. "Oh," I said, sitting up, letting my fingers trace patterns down his happy trail and then up again. "You want me to stop?" There was an evil gleam in my eyes as I looked down at him. "God knows I wouldn't want to be responsible for your death by fucking."
Then, in one smooth motion, I'd slid off of him and was standing by the bed. Stretching up, my entire body reached up towards the ceiling, back arched, before I collapsed back to my normal stature. "Maybe I'll just go take a shower, then," I said with a grin. Sweat and paint made my skin an interesting sight, that was for sure. Backing towards the door, I cocked my head. "Are you coming?"
After all, there were sure to be plenty of wholesome activities to be had in the extremely roomy showers. All that soap. Yum.
"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.
Rolling onto his side to watch Rachel stretch, Peter raised an eyebrow and very deliberately gave her a once over - and was clearly pleased with what he saw. "You are such an energizer battery," he said fondly, climbing out of bed and giving Rachel a quick kiss on the lips. There really was nowhere else he'd rather be right now, and that was obvious in his expression. "And a shower with you? Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Feeling relaxed and in the best mood he'd been in for months, Peter winked at Rachel and gave her a light slap on the ass, making his way towards the bathroom to start up the shower. On the way, he stretched out his arms above his head, working out whatever kinks and knots he might have earned over the past few weeks. Sex really was a great relaxer.
Yelping lightly at the slap, I shook my head, grinning. And took full advantage of the view offered. God, really, I could stare at that all day. My eyes lingered on the muscles bunching in his back and abdomen and I felt a pleasant lurch in the pit of my stomach. Grabbing two towels, I trotted after him.
Coming up behind Peter, I wrapped my arms around his waist, trailing kisses along his shoulders. My hands dipped down to trace the lines of his hips. "You got paint all over me," I chided, grinning against his skin. "I think we're both going to have to wash really thoroughly to get it out." As if to demonstrate this, I trailed my finger around his waist, letting it tease down the middle of his ass, following the curve down as I sucked lightly at his shoulder. "Could take a while," I mumbled, dragging my mouth down his spine. "All that hot water and soap and scrubbing."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Peter offered, completely unapologetic. He reached into the shower to turn the water on, easing the temperature up until it was just below hot enough to burn. Well, probably not literally hot enough to burn, but he liked it that way. Turning in Rachel's arms to face her, he twined his fingers into hers and leaned down to kiss her, smiling against her lips. "Still, you do look hot with paint on you. I'll have to use you as a canvas later."
Damn, that brought up some great images. To distract himself, Peter backed into the shower, bringing Rachel with him and pulling her close, sharing the water. He grinned at her through his hair. "Too hot?" Oh, there were a lot of puns to be made from that, and Peter snorted mentally at the thought, rubbing his fingers over the paint on the curve of Rachel's hip, watching as the colors ran and mixed together under the water. Well, at least it came off.
Shaking my head, I grinned up at him. "Just right." I reached out a hand for my shampoo, starting to laugh apologetically. "Sorry, all I have is my girly orange scented stuff." But I gamely squirted some onto my hands and then plunged my fingers into his hair, standing on tiptoes to reach. My fingers made circles against his scalp as I slowly worked up a lather, drawing the strands out slowly and letting them fall before starting over again.
My lower lip was caught between my teeth in concentration, brow furrowed slightly as I focused on what I was doing. Suddenly I laughed again, leaning forward to kiss him. "I can't believe we lived together for all that time and this is the first shower we've taken together."
More than that, I couldn't believe I was actually here. I kept expecting to wake up and find myself alone again. That this was some amazing dream, but that it was going to end. I kissed him again, this time with an undercurrent of desperate hope, as if I was trying to convince myself that this was real.
"Yeah," he smiled ruefully, reaching up to brush Rachel's hair back from her temple. "But let me worry a little, okay? I don't think I could stop, anyway. I'm a worrier." Especially about people he loved. Frankly, he'd be a little concerned if he ever stopped. "I'll try not to be annoying and cloying with it, though."
For a minute, he lapsed into silence, content to just live in the moment and let his fingers wander over Rachel's skin. Peter thought back to living in the tent with Rachel, and how much more he really could have embraced that. He'd thought it was right, at the time, to keep a little distance - but that didn't stop him from wishing he'd been a little more with it. Thoughts of the tent absently connected with the way he'd seen Rachel cooking over the fireplace, and his brow creased slightly.
"You don't have a kitchen in this room, do you?" Points for the most random bed talk ever went to Peter Petrelli, but it was relevant in his mind right now. He looked down at Rachel, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile. "You must be going mad, trying to stir up spells over a fireplace. I bet I could build a kitchen in here for you."
Not that he'd ever wielded many power tools in his life. Or built many things. But he'd try, if Rachel wanted it.
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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..."
Wait. What? My eyes flew back to him, jaw dropping. "You--" No. Really? A sudden, brilliant grin lit up my face and I was hugging him, pressing quick kisses to any part of him I could reach, laughing, "Really? Oh my God, Peter!" That was quite possibly the best thing anyone had offered to do for me.
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He was so whipped. Already.
And speaking of being whipped, Peter just laughed when Rachel got excited about the kitchen. He rolled over and brought her with him, letting her lay on his chest while he looped his arms around her lower back and hugged her close. "Well, don't expect anything great," he said sheepishly. "The last time I tried to build something, it was made out of Lego blocks. And it didn't turn out right, even with an instruction manual." And the last time he'd tried to use a power tool of some sort, there had been blood.
"But it'll make you happy," he continued, softer, brushing the back of his knuckles against Rachel's cheek. "So I want to."
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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.
No, they really wouldn't get much work done. Not when it was a lot more fun to test out a new piece of furniture by 'initiating' it. "I promise I'll even try to make it out of... kitchen materials," he finished after a pause. Peter really didn't know what things in kitchens were actually made of. Running a hand up and down Rachel's spine, so slowly it seemed like he counting the individual vertebrae, Peter huffed a laugh. "That'll come later. If it's weeks of sex we're in for, I'm going to need weeks to recover," he grinned.
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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."
Mmm... Weeks of sex. A blissful smile on my face, I leaned in to kiss him slowly. "Damn straight, babe," I smirked against his lips. "The only manual labor you're allowed to do is me." I arched slightly into his touch, eyes falling half-closed. "Have I told you how good you are, by the way? I feel this should be brought up often. You," I kissed him again, "are amazing in bed. I think that qualifies as the best sex ever."
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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 returned to exploring the intricacies of his neck. "And we are not getting into some kind of one-upping compliment game over how great our sex is. We will simply have to approach it scientifically. Have many many different test runs. It's the only way to decide this."
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Glancing down to look at what Rachel was looking at, Peter laughed quietly. "Healing went off when I used the TK. It's okay. I like it." And he was definitely keeping it for as long as it would stay there. To hell with scarves, he was going to show it off.
Christ, if Rachel kept talking like that he was just going to get turned on all over again - not that it was a bad thing, but he'd like some time to recover, thank you. He wasn't 18 anymore. "We can keep graphs and charts," he agreed with a sage nod, running his fingers over her hip, drawing circles around the bone. "Maybe some timelines, to see if we get roughly better or worse after a straight day of sex."
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I brushed my fingers across his cheek with awestruck tenderness. He was so much better than I was. So much more than I deserved. I could only pray that he wouldn't wise up to that fact. Or, if he did, he wouldn't care.
Resting my forehead against his briefly, I swallowed back a wave of love so intense it hurt. How could someone this good be here with me? I didn't understand.
"You like it, huh?" I laughed, turning my attention back to his mark. Leaning down, I worried it gently with my teeth, tongue dragging slowly along the reddened skin. "I should give you a matching set, then," I rumbled, voice low in my chest. I moved to the other side of his neck - where my own demon scar would lie, ironically enough - and bit playfully at the skin. "So people know you're mine." Teasing, of course. As if I could own him or hold him down. But there was something heady about the thought of claiming him, even in such a temporary manner.
Mmmm... I practically melted under his touch, heavily lidded eyes looking at him as I stretched, toes pointing. "We'll have to spend quite some time on this," I said, biting my lower lip in deep thought. "Can't just take the first batch of data. I think we just need to accept the fact that we may need to do various positions," I sucked lightly on the skin just below the hollow of his throat, "and times," another heated kiss just below that, "and places," my teeth nipped at his skin. "Do you think we should have pie charts? Or graphs?" Swirling my tongue around his nipple, I teased my teeth across it. "Maybe do some kind of presentation. With a pointer."
This was fun!
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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 gotten, once I felt him clutch too tightly, I'd start to freeze him out. I would starve our relationship until he had no choice but to go.
A strange little beast I was; possessive and yet letting no one hold onto me. Some days I wondered if I liked the pain too much. Most days I refused to think about it at all.
Raising my head from his chest, where I'd been alternating catching his nipple between my teeth and flicking my tongue against the hardened nub, I raised my eyebrows. "Oh," I said, sitting up, letting my fingers trace patterns down his happy trail and then up again. "You want me to stop?" There was an evil gleam in my eyes as I looked down at him. "God knows I wouldn't want to be responsible for your death by fucking."
Then, in one smooth motion, I'd slid off of him and was standing by the bed. Stretching up, my entire body reached up towards the ceiling, back arched, before I collapsed back to my normal stature. "Maybe I'll just go take a shower, then," I said with a grin. Sweat and paint made my skin an interesting sight, that was for sure. Backing towards the door, I cocked my head. "Are you coming?"
After all, there were sure to be plenty of wholesome activities to be had in the extremely roomy showers. All that soap. Yum.
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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.
Rolling onto his side to watch Rachel stretch, Peter raised an eyebrow and very deliberately gave her a once over - and was clearly pleased with what he saw. "You are such an energizer battery," he said fondly, climbing out of bed and giving Rachel a quick kiss on the lips. There really was nowhere else he'd rather be right now, and that was obvious in his expression. "And a shower with you? Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Feeling relaxed and in the best mood he'd been in for months, Peter winked at Rachel and gave her a light slap on the ass, making his way towards the bathroom to start up the shower. On the way, he stretched out his arms above his head, working out whatever kinks and knots he might have earned over the past few weeks. Sex really was a great relaxer.
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Coming up behind Peter, I wrapped my arms around his waist, trailing kisses along his shoulders. My hands dipped down to trace the lines of his hips. "You got paint all over me," I chided, grinning against his skin. "I think we're both going to have to wash really thoroughly to get it out." As if to demonstrate this, I trailed my finger around his waist, letting it tease down the middle of his ass, following the curve down as I sucked lightly at his shoulder. "Could take a while," I mumbled, dragging my mouth down his spine. "All that hot water and soap and scrubbing."
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Damn, that brought up some great images. To distract himself, Peter backed into the shower, bringing Rachel with him and pulling her close, sharing the water. He grinned at her through his hair. "Too hot?" Oh, there were a lot of puns to be made from that, and Peter snorted mentally at the thought, rubbing his fingers over the paint on the curve of Rachel's hip, watching as the colors ran and mixed together under the water. Well, at least it came off.
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My lower lip was caught between my teeth in concentration, brow furrowed slightly as I focused on what I was doing. Suddenly I laughed again, leaning forward to kiss him. "I can't believe we lived together for all that time and this is the first shower we've taken together."
More than that, I couldn't believe I was actually here. I kept expecting to wake up and find myself alone again. That this was some amazing dream, but that it was going to end. I kissed him again, this time with an undercurrent of desperate hope, as if I was trying to convince myself that this was real.
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