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.
My fingers curled into his sides, pulling him closer. The aggressive treatment was incredibly alluring, and I responded eagerly to it. Hitching one leg up to wrap around his waist, I braced myself against the wall, tugging him towards me.
Hard and fast against the wall of a shower sounded pretty well excellent to me. "God, Peter," I managed between kisses. He was driving me crazy, making me crave him. I was like some kind of junkie, always thinking about my next fix. Only for me each touch only made me hungrier, each kiss was just a promise of more.
The sounds he'd made, the way he had responded to my touch... Just the memory of it made prickles of heat flash over my skin. My nails dug into him as I returned his kisses, head coming up off the wall and pressing forward with the ferocity of them.
One day, Peter was going to solve the mystery of exactly how Rachel managed to get him feeling like this. He'd had good sex before, great sex, even - but there was something about the way that Rachel just turned herself over to the moment, unashamed about what she wanted.
"We are never going to get clean," Peter laughed breathlessly, scattering kisses and small licks across her neck. He contemplated borrowing a bit of super strength to wrap Rachel's legs around his waist, lift her up against the wall. He knew he wasn't strong enough to do it otherwise, but he had to wonder if he'd be able to keep up the ability.
Screw it, he was going to try, damn it.
"Rachel, you said something about... humans not being able to get Witches pregnant?" God, it was hard to talk, but unfortunately necessary. This would be so much easier if she had telepathy or something. "When I'm using something else, the DNA's... not really there. It's inactive, I guess." Peter grinned at her, wishing he'd thought of this earlier. Really, the not-so-hidden message here was 'Please don't make me stop over concern about safe sex, I think I'll die if I do'.
"I think we'll live," I rejoined, grinning as I tilted my head back, affording Peter greater access to my neck. Indeed, I was pretty sure that if this was being dirty? Cleanliness might be next to godliness, but it was hella overrated.
It took a moment for his words to penetrate my lust soaked brain. Once I got going it was the proverbial speeding elephant that was able to distract me. But as soon as I got the message I laughed in relief, catching his lips in a fierce, bruising kiss.
Hallelujah. Because God knows that I hadn't been thinking about that.
I was so going back on the pill or whatever the Wizard equivalent was, like, tomorrow. I'd let my prescription lapse shortly after I'd arrived, simply because there hadn't seemed to be much of a reason to keep it. Now... Yeah. Oh, God, yeah.
Dropping my head to the crook of his neck, I caught the skin in my mouth, sucking and licking and biting my way back up to his ear. Raising my hips, I fumbled one hand between us, guiding him slowly into me with a groan that shuddered in my throat.
Tugging on Peter's earlobe with a quick jerk, I pleaded, "Fuck me?" with a breathless half laugh. Talking dirty had never been my strong suit, but it felt situationally appropriate.
What was a little dirtiness compared to sex in the shower? Absolutely nothing, that's what - Peter suddenly couldn't care less. Proper showers could be taken later, anyway. There were much more fun things to be doing right now.
"Your wish is my command," he grinned, ending in a choked off groan as she guided him inside her. Christ, that would never cease to be amazing. Resting his cheek against Rachel's, Peter took a moment to collect himself. Letting the memory of the super strength play at the back of his mind, he slipped his hands underneath Rachel's thighs and lifted her up, back against the wall, legs around his waist.
He panted a laugh. "That's handy." He didn't need to ask Rachel was okay, because she certainly looked okay. Trying to distance himself from the remembered aggression that came with the strength ability, Peter drew Rachel into another kiss, hefting her another inch higher so that he could move his hips. He'd definitely never get tired of this.
And hey, all of a sudden my boyfriend (let's not get into the sudden flash of joy, terror, and possible panic attack that that word brought up) was the freaking incredible Hulk and no need to say how hot that was and as my head thumped back against the wall I really wished my brain would shut off for two seconds before I exploded. Because, oh, God, Peter inside of me was something beyond words or expression or anything but that delicious teasing moan that rumbled through my chest. "Turn it, Peter," I gasped. My eyes were clenched shut and I tried desperately to catch my breath.
Kissing him, tongue dancing inside his mouth to press against his, I felt my hips responding automatically to his own thrusts. My legs pressed closer around his waist, drawing him in. Please, God, deeper and harder and faster and I was whimpering those words into Peter's mouth as my fingers dug into his shoulders and my body shook with the sensations driving through me.
Fortunately enough (and Peter wasn't entirely sure how he did it), he managed to keep a hold on the ability - even while his mind was busy melting down and rapidly losing all ability of coherent thought. Instincts were a wonderful thing.
Kissing was starting to get difficult, so Peter settled for peppering kisses over Rachel's throat, collarbone, the curve of her shoulder. Fulfilling her pleas for more, Peter pressed in yet closer, banging her hips against the wall with every thrust. Not hard, but definitely forceful, and he couldn't help himself, not with the emotions relating to the super strength in the back of his mind. He'd apologize to Rachel later, even if she liked it.
Trying desperately to make sure Rachel got there before he did, Peter gasped random words into her shoulder - endearments, pleas, curses. He could barely even feel the water anymore, his entire focus and concentration was zoomed in on Rachel.
There wasn't anything in the world besides just where Peter and I were joined, the feeling of him pressing into me and driving me closer to the edge. My body jarred back into the wall with every motion and it was the forceful aggressiveness combined with the unbelievably intense pleasure of what Peter as doing to my body that finally pulled me under.
I couldn't even shout, the wave of sensation was so intense; my head fell forward with a tiny gasp as my entire body clenched and shuddered. I was certain I was simply going to fly to pieces, right then. My nails bit into Peter's skin as I rode it out, helpless to do anything but. Not that I'd want to. My mind was white noise, my body completely undone. It was amazing.
When I finally came to, my face was pressed into the curve of Peter's neck and the rush of water filled my ears. Barking out a quick, exhausted laugh, I pressed a shaky kiss to his skin before letting my head tilt back against the wall. "Fuck."
How was it possible that Peter could do that to me? There should be laws.
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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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Hard and fast against the wall of a shower sounded pretty well excellent to me. "God, Peter," I managed between kisses. He was driving me crazy, making me crave him. I was like some kind of junkie, always thinking about my next fix. Only for me each touch only made me hungrier, each kiss was just a promise of more.
The sounds he'd made, the way he had responded to my touch... Just the memory of it made prickles of heat flash over my skin. My nails dug into him as I returned his kisses, head coming up off the wall and pressing forward with the ferocity of them.
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"We are never going to get clean," Peter laughed breathlessly, scattering kisses and small licks across her neck. He contemplated borrowing a bit of super strength to wrap Rachel's legs around his waist, lift her up against the wall. He knew he wasn't strong enough to do it otherwise, but he had to wonder if he'd be able to keep up the ability.
Screw it, he was going to try, damn it.
"Rachel, you said something about... humans not being able to get Witches pregnant?" God, it was hard to talk, but unfortunately necessary. This would be so much easier if she had telepathy or something. "When I'm using something else, the DNA's... not really there. It's inactive, I guess." Peter grinned at her, wishing he'd thought of this earlier. Really, the not-so-hidden message here was 'Please don't make me stop over concern about safe sex, I think I'll die if I do'.
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It took a moment for his words to penetrate my lust soaked brain. Once I got going it was the proverbial speeding elephant that was able to distract me. But as soon as I got the message I laughed in relief, catching his lips in a fierce, bruising kiss.
Hallelujah. Because God knows that I hadn't been thinking about that.
I was so going back on the pill or whatever the Wizard equivalent was, like, tomorrow. I'd let my prescription lapse shortly after I'd arrived, simply because there hadn't seemed to be much of a reason to keep it. Now... Yeah. Oh, God, yeah.
Dropping my head to the crook of his neck, I caught the skin in my mouth, sucking and licking and biting my way back up to his ear. Raising my hips, I fumbled one hand between us, guiding him slowly into me with a groan that shuddered in my throat.
Tugging on Peter's earlobe with a quick jerk, I pleaded, "Fuck me?" with a breathless half laugh. Talking dirty had never been my strong suit, but it felt situationally appropriate.
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"Your wish is my command," he grinned, ending in a choked off groan as she guided him inside her. Christ, that would never cease to be amazing. Resting his cheek against Rachel's, Peter took a moment to collect himself. Letting the memory of the super strength play at the back of his mind, he slipped his hands underneath Rachel's thighs and lifted her up, back against the wall, legs around his waist.
He panted a laugh. "That's handy." He didn't need to ask Rachel was okay, because she certainly looked okay. Trying to distance himself from the remembered aggression that came with the strength ability, Peter drew Rachel into another kiss, hefting her another inch higher so that he could move his hips. He'd definitely never get tired of this.
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Kissing him, tongue dancing inside his mouth to press against his, I felt my hips responding automatically to his own thrusts. My legs pressed closer around his waist, drawing him in. Please, God, deeper and harder and faster and I was whimpering those words into Peter's mouth as my fingers dug into his shoulders and my body shook with the sensations driving through me.
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Kissing was starting to get difficult, so Peter settled for peppering kisses over Rachel's throat, collarbone, the curve of her shoulder. Fulfilling her pleas for more, Peter pressed in yet closer, banging her hips against the wall with every thrust. Not hard, but definitely forceful, and he couldn't help himself, not with the emotions relating to the super strength in the back of his mind. He'd apologize to Rachel later, even if she liked it.
Trying desperately to make sure Rachel got there before he did, Peter gasped random words into her shoulder - endearments, pleas, curses. He could barely even feel the water anymore, his entire focus and concentration was zoomed in on Rachel.
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I couldn't even shout, the wave of sensation was so intense; my head fell forward with a tiny gasp as my entire body clenched and shuddered. I was certain I was simply going to fly to pieces, right then. My nails bit into Peter's skin as I rode it out, helpless to do anything but. Not that I'd want to. My mind was white noise, my body completely undone. It was amazing.
When I finally came to, my face was pressed into the curve of Peter's neck and the rush of water filled my ears. Barking out a quick, exhausted laugh, I pressed a shaky kiss to his skin before letting my head tilt back against the wall. "Fuck."
How was it possible that Peter could do that to me? There should be laws.
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