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.
Ooh, oranges. Peter couldn't bring himself to care that he would be smelling like oranges for the rest of the day; it was nice, anyway, and it smelled like Rachel. Which was more than a good thing, in his book. Closing his eyes, Peter ducked his head so that Rachel didn't have to lean up quite so far, a content half-smile lurking on his lips. He'd be lying if he said he wouldn't do anything for times like this. And it had the added bonus of Rachel's fingers in his hair, which was rapidly becoming one of Peter's favorite things in the world.
They'd definitely have to make up for lost time. Peter would respond to that, but he was too busy enjoying Rachel's touch to actually answer anything coherent. The noise he made might have been agreement, but was probably just 'Never stop.'
Picking up on the sudden desperate undertone of Rachel's kiss, Peter settled his hands on her hips and slowly turned the kiss into something slower, more reassuring. "I'm not going anywhere," he reminded her, drawing her closer to kiss along her jaw. "Believe me, wild elephants couldn't drag me away." Was that the correct term? Or was it horses? Oh well.
When you worked in the I.S., they tended to try and send you out with the same people over and over. Mainly because while in the middle of a run, the last thing you needed was a partner who didn't read you correctly. Who misstepped because they didn't quite get your body language, who missed the mark because the two of you couldn't communicate without words. I had tended to be a loner on my runs because of that very reason; I could not seem to get anyone that could find the easy kind of partnership that was required.
But Ivy and I had that.
So did Jenks and I.
And now Peter, responding before I could barely form the thought, knowing what I needed when I couldn't even vocalize it for myself. The kiss stilled my sudden fears, brought me back into the moment. Grounded me. Letting out a quiet sigh, I nodded, relaxing. Okay. For now he was here. Take it one step at a time, Morgan.
Returning my attention back to his hair, my mouth quirked up. "Good." My eyes darted to his but then I found it easier to just watch my fingers kneading into Peter's scalp. "When I came back to the tent," I murmured, feeling the need to explain this, "and everything was gone..." For a minute I just let my gaze rest on my hands, his hair, the foamy white of the shampoo. "Never mind."
How, really, could I express the absolute coldness of that moment? Of staring where our tent had been, our life had been, and knowing it was gone. Of missing something so much it felt like a part of me had been taken; a part I'd not known I'd had or realized how desperately I'd needed it to survive.
Kissing his nose, I let my hands fall. "Rinse," I commanded playfully, picking up my loofah and pouring on some raspberry body wash, preparing for the next stage.
He wasn't going to push Rachel into explaining what she was going to say, so Peter just pulled back from her jaw, giving her an understanding, sympathetic look and pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose. He got what she was trying to say; his own reaction hadn't been on the happy side of things, either.
Mostly, he'd just shut down. It had taken him a while to realize exactly why.
Ducking back under the stream of water to rinse his hair out, Peter raked his fingers through it to get it out of his eyes, and promptly snatched the loofah from Rachel. "Stop hogging the fun, it's my turn," he said brightly, nudging Rachel until she turned around and gave him easy access to her back. Brushing her hair over her shoulder, Peter kissed her shoulder, running the loofah gently over her back. Raspberry and oranges; yeah, he'd definitely be smelling girly for a while. But he really didn't care.
Moving down to her lower back, Peter couldn't resist wrapping an arm around her waist, hooking his chin over her shoulder. "You are so beautiful," he murmured. "I'm going to say that as often as possible, you know."
Grumbling under my breath, I obediently turned, grinning. I seemed to be doing a lot of that, lately. Well, ever since a paint-spattered Peter had kicked down my door. My hair hung in heavy, wet curls around my face and I could feel it frizzing under the hot water. Somehow, though, I really didn't mind as much as I normally would.
My eyes fell closed at the gentle touch. When his arm went around me, I leaned back into him.
'What do you know? Perfect fit.' My head fit easily just under his chin; his arms pulling me in closer seemed to form a hollow that was meant for me. Dangerous thoughts, but I let them come anyway.
At his words I shook my head slightly, but my smile didn't fade. "You're crazy," I returned. "And I have a feeling I'll be saying that often as well." My hand found the one splayed against my stomach, twining our fingers together. The water pounded down on us as I cradled my body against his, feeling his heart beat against my chest. Reaching my free hand up, I tangled my fingers in his damp hair, pulling his head down to meet mine, kissing him with a single-minded passion.
Peter didn't think he was crazy, but okay, he'd accept that. "Yeah, but crazy is good. Right?" Well, he'd accept that. If he had to be called crazy every time he called Rachel beautiful, that was fine. He'd keep doing it anyway.
Squeezing Rachel's hand, Peter pulled her closer and smiled into their kiss, retreating to suck gently on her lower lip. If he were to start trying to say everything in his head, the water would probably run cold before he finished, so he settled for showing Rachel instead - discarding the loofah and sliding his free hand up to cup her breast, fingers stroking softly and teasing. He could seriously do this all day, it was like Rachel's energy was feeding his own.
"I think we have to shower together as often as possible," he declared, using their joined hands to caress Rachel's stomach. God, he couldn't get enough.
My head fell back as his hand found my breast and I choked back a moan. "God, yes," I agreed eagerly. As much as humanly possible. Our hands together running over my stomach, fingers slipping as the water cascaded down my skin, was somehow incredibly arousing.
I was fairly certain that I'd never get tired of his touch, that there'd come a moment when his breath hot across my cheek would fail to excite me. Feeling that lovely coiled warmth start to curl again in my stomach, I swallowed hard, trying to keep from just shoving him against the wall.
...Wait. Why was I stopping myself?
With a wicked grin, I turned in his arms, backing him gently up against the tile of the shower, my eyes sweeping him hungrily. So much Peter, where to start?
"My turn," I told him, my face lighting up in sudden inspiration. Starting from the hollow of his neck, I trailed a slow path with my mouth, taking time along the way to bite and suck and let my tongue trace lazy circles against his skin. The water continued to cascade down our bodies, forming rivulets and drops that slid across us.
By the time I got to the line where his hips met his legs, my breathing was ragged and I was just as turned on as I'd been before. Kneeling, now, in front of him, I traced my tongue down the curve of his hip to the inside of his thigh, biting the skin lightly there. I did the same thing on the other side, lips sucking a path across the most sensitive parts of him. But I avoided the one place Peter probably wanted me to focus on. Finally, slowly, I darted out my tongue and ran it ever so gently over the tip of him. Then I looked up at Peter with a purely evil expression on my face.
Right before I lowered my mouth onto him, my hand stroking down the length in counter time to my achingly slow movements, the pressure still so light it was barely more than a tease.
Letting himself be pushed up against the wall, Peter took a moment to marvel, once again, at Rachel. It was such a freedom to be with someone who so openly enjoyed sex, and embraced it as a natural extension of love and affection, and not as something to be hidden under the sheets and never spoken about. Rachel's forwardness was beginning to never fail at turning him on - she wasn't afraid to take what she wanted, when she wanted it.
He'd been torn between a mixture of eager suspense as Rachel sank down to her knees - no double guessing why - and when he finally felt the warmth of her tongue, he jerked so heavily that his head cracked against the shower wall. But he so didn't care. "Oh god, Rachel. Ow. And... jesus," Peter groaned, trying to find purchase on the wet walls.
God, he was going to fall over and crack his head open and make a fool of himself, but that really wasn't important right now. How did Rachel turn him on so fast?
Grinning at his response - after taking a second to make sure he wasn't going to kill himself from a head injury - I shifted slightly to move closer to him. Then I increased the pressure of my mouth, my fingers stroking in a rhythm that alternated between fast and slow, hard and feather-light. Every motion designed to drive Peter crazy.
My free hand bracing myself against his thigh, I ran wrapped my tongue around him, lips pulling at his skin. I wanted to make him shiver and shout and lose himself; it was an incredible rush to know that every reaction was because of what I was doing.
The first time I'd given head was in the backseat of some high schooler's car. I couldn't even remember his name, just that his entire car smelled like bad Brimstone and he was easily identified as a were by the musky scent that overpowered everything else as I leaned over him, his fingers gripping my hair painfully, his grunts animalistic and rough.
There'd been nothing sweet or tender or respectful about the experience. He'd told me to suck him and so I had, and that had been all. When he'd come I'd choked and he had laughed, earning himself a face full of whatever had been in my mouth. He'd tried to slap me. It hadn't happened, but I'd had to call my mom from the pay phone at the school, claiming I'd missed my ride home.
It'd taken me years to realize that the act could be shared with something other than humiliation. That if you loved the guy and he actually gave a shit about you, it could be powerful and intoxicating and incredibly arousing. It could be more than a selfish taking.
Doing this with Peter, sharing this experience, was everything it should be. It made me feel alluring and desirable, it made every sense in my body jump, tingling, to attention, to find ways of drawing him towards the edge. It was an act of love, not of pure sex, and that made all the difference.
It was probably a good thing that Peter hadn't switched the telepathy on. Rachel tended to think fairly loud, and he couldn't help picking that up - if he had, he would have wanted to stop and get concerned over her and insist that she didn't need to give him a blowjob. He had known women that were completely unwilling to do it; the fact that she was was blowing his mind, pun not intended.
As it was, he probably wouldn't have heard anything over the rushing of blood in his ears, over the gasps of his breath and sounds that were being torn from his throat. Peter didn't get vocal very often, but he definitely was right now. How could he not be?
When it started to get too much, when he could feel shudders and sparks dancing up his spine, Peter forced his eyes open and gently pulled Rachel away, lifting her to her feet. Then, not quite as gently, he backed her into the opposite wall, a hand cupped around the back of her head so she didn't feel the impact, kissing her deeply and desperately.
God. Rachel was going to make him fly to pieces if she continued being this amazing.
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!
Reply
"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."
Reply
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.
Reply
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.
Reply
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."
Reply
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.
Reply
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.
Reply
They'd definitely have to make up for lost time. Peter would respond to that, but he was too busy enjoying Rachel's touch to actually answer anything coherent. The noise he made might have been agreement, but was probably just 'Never stop.'
Picking up on the sudden desperate undertone of Rachel's kiss, Peter settled his hands on her hips and slowly turned the kiss into something slower, more reassuring. "I'm not going anywhere," he reminded her, drawing her closer to kiss along her jaw. "Believe me, wild elephants couldn't drag me away." Was that the correct term? Or was it horses? Oh well.
Reply
But Ivy and I had that.
So did Jenks and I.
And now Peter, responding before I could barely form the thought, knowing what I needed when I couldn't even vocalize it for myself. The kiss stilled my sudden fears, brought me back into the moment. Grounded me. Letting out a quiet sigh, I nodded, relaxing. Okay. For now he was here. Take it one step at a time, Morgan.
Returning my attention back to his hair, my mouth quirked up. "Good." My eyes darted to his but then I found it easier to just watch my fingers kneading into Peter's scalp. "When I came back to the tent," I murmured, feeling the need to explain this, "and everything was gone..." For a minute I just let my gaze rest on my hands, his hair, the foamy white of the shampoo. "Never mind."
How, really, could I express the absolute coldness of that moment? Of staring where our tent had been, our life had been, and knowing it was gone. Of missing something so much it felt like a part of me had been taken; a part I'd not known I'd had or realized how desperately I'd needed it to survive.
Kissing his nose, I let my hands fall. "Rinse," I commanded playfully, picking up my loofah and pouring on some raspberry body wash, preparing for the next stage.
Reply
Mostly, he'd just shut down. It had taken him a while to realize exactly why.
Ducking back under the stream of water to rinse his hair out, Peter raked his fingers through it to get it out of his eyes, and promptly snatched the loofah from Rachel. "Stop hogging the fun, it's my turn," he said brightly, nudging Rachel until she turned around and gave him easy access to her back. Brushing her hair over her shoulder, Peter kissed her shoulder, running the loofah gently over her back. Raspberry and oranges; yeah, he'd definitely be smelling girly for a while. But he really didn't care.
Moving down to her lower back, Peter couldn't resist wrapping an arm around her waist, hooking his chin over her shoulder. "You are so beautiful," he murmured. "I'm going to say that as often as possible, you know."
Reply
My eyes fell closed at the gentle touch. When his arm went around me, I leaned back into him.
'What do you know? Perfect fit.' My head fit easily just under his chin; his arms pulling me in closer seemed to form a hollow that was meant for me. Dangerous thoughts, but I let them come anyway.
At his words I shook my head slightly, but my smile didn't fade. "You're crazy," I returned. "And I have a feeling I'll be saying that often as well." My hand found the one splayed against my stomach, twining our fingers together. The water pounded down on us as I cradled my body against his, feeling his heart beat against my chest. Reaching my free hand up, I tangled my fingers in his damp hair, pulling his head down to meet mine, kissing him with a single-minded passion.
Reply
Squeezing Rachel's hand, Peter pulled her closer and smiled into their kiss, retreating to suck gently on her lower lip. If he were to start trying to say everything in his head, the water would probably run cold before he finished, so he settled for showing Rachel instead - discarding the loofah and sliding his free hand up to cup her breast, fingers stroking softly and teasing. He could seriously do this all day, it was like Rachel's energy was feeding his own.
"I think we have to shower together as often as possible," he declared, using their joined hands to caress Rachel's stomach. God, he couldn't get enough.
Reply
I was fairly certain that I'd never get tired of his touch, that there'd come a moment when his breath hot across my cheek would fail to excite me. Feeling that lovely coiled warmth start to curl again in my stomach, I swallowed hard, trying to keep from just shoving him against the wall.
...Wait. Why was I stopping myself?
With a wicked grin, I turned in his arms, backing him gently up against the tile of the shower, my eyes sweeping him hungrily. So much Peter, where to start?
"My turn," I told him, my face lighting up in sudden inspiration. Starting from the hollow of his neck, I trailed a slow path with my mouth, taking time along the way to bite and suck and let my tongue trace lazy circles against his skin. The water continued to cascade down our bodies, forming rivulets and drops that slid across us.
By the time I got to the line where his hips met his legs, my breathing was ragged and I was just as turned on as I'd been before. Kneeling, now, in front of him, I traced my tongue down the curve of his hip to the inside of his thigh, biting the skin lightly there. I did the same thing on the other side, lips sucking a path across the most sensitive parts of him. But I avoided the one place Peter probably wanted me to focus on. Finally, slowly, I darted out my tongue and ran it ever so gently over the tip of him. Then I looked up at Peter with a purely evil expression on my face.
Right before I lowered my mouth onto him, my hand stroking down the length in counter time to my achingly slow movements, the pressure still so light it was barely more than a tease.
Reply
He'd been torn between a mixture of eager suspense as Rachel sank down to her knees - no double guessing why - and when he finally felt the warmth of her tongue, he jerked so heavily that his head cracked against the shower wall. But he so didn't care. "Oh god, Rachel. Ow. And... jesus," Peter groaned, trying to find purchase on the wet walls.
God, he was going to fall over and crack his head open and make a fool of himself, but that really wasn't important right now. How did Rachel turn him on so fast?
Reply
My free hand bracing myself against his thigh, I ran wrapped my tongue around him, lips pulling at his skin. I wanted to make him shiver and shout and lose himself; it was an incredible rush to know that every reaction was because of what I was doing.
The first time I'd given head was in the backseat of some high schooler's car. I couldn't even remember his name, just that his entire car smelled like bad Brimstone and he was easily identified as a were by the musky scent that overpowered everything else as I leaned over him, his fingers gripping my hair painfully, his grunts animalistic and rough.
There'd been nothing sweet or tender or respectful about the experience. He'd told me to suck him and so I had, and that had been all. When he'd come I'd choked and he had laughed, earning himself a face full of whatever had been in my mouth. He'd tried to slap me. It hadn't happened, but I'd had to call my mom from the pay phone at the school, claiming I'd missed my ride home.
It'd taken me years to realize that the act could be shared with something other than humiliation. That if you loved the guy and he actually gave a shit about you, it could be powerful and intoxicating and incredibly arousing. It could be more than a selfish taking.
Doing this with Peter, sharing this experience, was everything it should be. It made me feel alluring and desirable, it made every sense in my body jump, tingling, to attention, to find ways of drawing him towards the edge. It was an act of love, not of pure sex, and that made all the difference.
Reply
As it was, he probably wouldn't have heard anything over the rushing of blood in his ears, over the gasps of his breath and sounds that were being torn from his throat. Peter didn't get vocal very often, but he definitely was right now. How could he not be?
When it started to get too much, when he could feel shudders and sparks dancing up his spine, Peter forced his eyes open and gently pulled Rachel away, lifting her to her feet. Then, not quite as gently, he backed her into the opposite wall, a hand cupped around the back of her head so she didn't feel the impact, kissing her deeply and desperately.
God. Rachel was going to make him fly to pieces if she continued being this amazing.
Reply
Leave a comment