fic: and straight on till morning
Title: and straight on till morning
Author: hoosierbitch
Rating: R
Pairing: Elizabeth/Neal/Peter
Notes: For isabeau. Just a short little ficlet - her prompt was the pairing and 'comfort.'
Summary: It’s not that he's never had lovers who made him feel safe before.
*
It’s not that he's never had lovers who made him feel safe before. Because Kate had done that.
Kate had made love to him and fucked him and helped him figure out that there was a difference between the two. Taught him to laugh as their bodies slid together, that it was okay to smile, okay to grimace, okay to lose himself and come back gasping and confused.
He’s had scores of lovers - marks and johns and anyone with enough power to be dangerous - and he’d played them like instruments. Composed melodies out of lies and then conducted sex like symphonies on their skin. He's fucked and sucked and stolen his way into beds and bodies and then out again.
But he’s never had lovers like this.
Not like Peter, who growls in his sleep and forces morning-breath kisses on him ‘just because,’ Peter who can hold him down but never does, Peter who likes to watch him in the kitchen or walking the dog or reading a book almost as much as he likes to watch him when he’s hard and naked and hungry.
Never had a lover like El. Never even known anyone like her. Fierce and confident and - and comfortable.
El hums during sex. Absentmindedly, like she’s putting together a to-do list for work in the morning and checking things off one by one - clean up from dinner, call Tracey, suck Neal’s dick, put clothes in the dryer. He’s never had anyone make him a part of their life like that before.
It’s not that the lovemaking is different, with Peter and El, in the new bed that they bought so it would be big enough for all three of them (and also Satch who sneaks in during storms). Not the fucking or the kisses or the mornings after, but the way Peter makes fun of his clothes but stops by the dry-cleaners without complaint, or how El always seems to know when he needs a hug or a slow-dance or a nice bottle of wine.
It’s not the lovemaking. It’s that he’s in love.
That, he’s never had before.
Author: hoosierbitch
Rating: R
Pairing: Elizabeth/Neal/Peter
Notes: For isabeau. Just a short little ficlet - her prompt was the pairing and 'comfort.'
Summary: It’s not that he's never had lovers who made him feel safe before.
*
It’s not that he's never had lovers who made him feel safe before. Because Kate had done that.
Kate had made love to him and fucked him and helped him figure out that there was a difference between the two. Taught him to laugh as their bodies slid together, that it was okay to smile, okay to grimace, okay to lose himself and come back gasping and confused.
He’s had scores of lovers - marks and johns and anyone with enough power to be dangerous - and he’d played them like instruments. Composed melodies out of lies and then conducted sex like symphonies on their skin. He's fucked and sucked and stolen his way into beds and bodies and then out again.
But he’s never had lovers like this.
Not like Peter, who growls in his sleep and forces morning-breath kisses on him ‘just because,’ Peter who can hold him down but never does, Peter who likes to watch him in the kitchen or walking the dog or reading a book almost as much as he likes to watch him when he’s hard and naked and hungry.
Never had a lover like El. Never even known anyone like her. Fierce and confident and - and comfortable.
El hums during sex. Absentmindedly, like she’s putting together a to-do list for work in the morning and checking things off one by one - clean up from dinner, call Tracey, suck Neal’s dick, put clothes in the dryer. He’s never had anyone make him a part of their life like that before.
It’s not that the lovemaking is different, with Peter and El, in the new bed that they bought so it would be big enough for all three of them (and also Satch who sneaks in during storms). Not the fucking or the kisses or the mornings after, but the way Peter makes fun of his clothes but stops by the dry-cleaners without complaint, or how El always seems to know when he needs a hug or a slow-dance or a nice bottle of wine.
It’s not the lovemaking. It’s that he’s in love.
That, he’s never had before.