commentary: strip down
over on my personal journal, i took part in the meme that allows people to request a dvd-type commentary/annotations on fic that i have written. i've gotten a couple responses and rather than posting them on my own journal that is filled with people i know in real life and people who have no clue what fandom is, i thought i would post it over here instead. so i hope that this won't bother any of you here. these commentaries are going to be flocked. my notes will be in bold, and i will try to keep them quite brief. it's also me being a bit less stuffy, so i hope you enjoy! thanks.
fic commentary on strip down
requested by lovepollution
originally written 6/17/2007
this is a good fic to pick. first smut i ever wrote. 3rd peter/claire fic i wrote. i felt like i owed it to people after writing i'm going to stop pretending, which stayed a chaste PG/PG-13, when people wanted some sexy time between claire and peter. so yes. in a way, this is penance.
Title: Strip Down title=self explanatory
Author: missaliceblue
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Rating: NC-17 (canon incest)
Status: 1/2
Summary: Peter, Claire, champagne, tickle fights, and stripping. Need I say more?
Written for the wonderful eowyn_girl, as thanks for the smutty fic she wrote for my birthday. Love and kisses to my fabulous beta mutinousmuse.
written for viv, no surprise there, though her and i barely knew each other at the time. oh ho. mutinousmuse is the only beta i've ever really had, and she is just wonderful. i generally dislike the whole beta thing, but she restored my faith in the whole concept. sadly, she's much to busy with her work and life to beta my silly fic, but i'm still appreciative
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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It all really started, as these things often do, with a tickle fight.
One minute he’d been teasing her like he always did, on the couch in his apartment. She’d pounced on him and punched him in the stomach as hard as she could (which wasn’t all that hard, really).
Peter had just laughed and held her wrists together. He went straight for the backs of her knees, her most ticklish spot.
She’d shrieked with laughter, and started kicking his hands away.
So he grabbed her legs and pinned her down, and began pinching her waist (her second most ticklish spot).
And before he really was even aware of it, she had her legs spread around him and he was practically lying on top of her, both of them flushed and panting.
wow, um...paragraph much? for awhile there, i was very into spacing out my stories. bad habit i suppose. i grew out of it, mostly. honestly, this is just painful to read.
He should have pushed her away quickly, sat up, done something. He did let her go, eventually…but not fast enough. She hadn’t felt like a niece at that moment.
It’s been two years since then and she still doesn’t feel anything like a niece. Who’s he kidding, she never did. But now it’s even worse, getting worse, doesn’t show any signs of stopping.
He knows how a relative should feel. Hell, Heidi isn’t even his blood, and she’s eons more a relative than Claire is. To him at least. this sentence bothered me then, and now, but i never know what to do with it. still don't.
The rest of the world doesn’t care that she was sixteen when he met her, and that he didn’t know she was his niece for months. The rest of the world thinks that he should just automatically love her like an uncle, pat her on the head and take her out for ice cream.
God, he can barely watch her eat ice cream without getting a painful hard on. haha. i forgot about that line.
So he’s lusting after his niece.
So what, is what his brain says, until he tells it to shut up. peter's brain became much more of a comedic device then i'd intended it to. lots of people said that liked it, which surprised me, but hey. whatever works.
Peter’s learned to do that pretty well. His brain likes to try and confuse him when he sees her in her pajamas with no bra on.
Niece. Family. Niece.
She’s really not making it any easier on him. She needs to stop prancing around him in her short silk robe. She needs to stop brushing against him when she bends over to pick something up. this whole paragraph is really cliche, i don't like it. but, like i said before...this was the first smut i ever wrote, so i think i was jsut relying on some things i'd seen before
He’s tried to think up a way to broach the subject to Nathan in a non-creepy manner, but so far he hasn’t had much luck.
She loves MTV and is only a freshman in college, can’t even buy a beer yet. She may be legally an adult but he reminds himself every day that she’s just too young, among other things.
He can’t help it. It probably has nothing to do with her. He’s in his twenties, hell, and she’s a lovely girl. Anyone would feel that way. Probably.
Claire loves to come over to his place. They watch movies, talk, eat junk food. He likes to spend time with her, lusting aside. Enjoys her company. She makes him laugh. Still, he doesn’t think it’s exactly a good idea for them to be in the same place alone. But he knows, really, that he’s never going to do anything he shouldn’t. the movie thing is a cliche also, and it bothers me now too. though i do think peter and claire would like watching movies together, i try to avoid it in my own fic now, simply because its so prevalent in peter/claire fic now.
Oh really, says his brain.
Yes, really. And shut up.
-------
Every year Claire hides all of her Christmas presents for her family members at his place, and this past December was no different.
She’s still living with his mom, and their relationship is…frigid at best. Which is probably why she hangs out at his apartment so much. i can't EVER see mrs. petrelli and claire getting along. they are too similar.
He’d just gotten home from an all night research session with Mohinder. Peter hated to do it, but things went a lot faster for Mohinder if either Micah or Peter was around to lend a hand with the computing. this is me trying to give a shit about any of the non-petrelli characters on heroes
Peter shrugged out of his coat and stretched out onto his couch. He was wearing a black Henley and jeans to ward of the chilly New York winter.
He closed his eyes. Just for a moment…
And then, something was tickling his face. He could barely feel it in his sleep-infused stupor, but it was caressing his face lightly, over his eyelids and cheek.
He tried to brush it away, but when he moved his hand to his face, the something was gone.
Whatever it was, it was soft and silken. It fluttered onto his cheek and slid down the top of his throat, to his chest.
Peter finally woke up enough to grab at whatever was trailing itself lower. His hands grasped around the tormenting object, and Peter opened his eyes and looked up.
In his hand was a wide, white ribbon, the other end of which was held by his niece.
“Claire?”
“Morning,” said Claire teasingly, and she twitched the ribbon out of his hands. She was wearing her white woolen coat and mittens, and was holding a few rolls of wrapping paper and more ribbon in her other arm.
“Mmm. Sorry. I’m pretty tired,” said Peter, and he yawned.
“It’s okay. I just need to drop this stuff off,” said Claire. She walked to the hall closet, where she had stashed her cache of presents.
Peter closed his eyes again, and heard Claire fiddling with the packages.
After awhile, he felt the ribbon again, on his foot.
“Aw, Claire, come on, let me sleep,” said Peter, not opening his eyes.
“So sleep.”
He could feel the lightness of the ribbon on his leg. It crept up the length of his calf, then thigh.
Oh, Jesus. Peter tried to think of bunnies, pancakes, changing the oil on his car, anything to keep from popping one out at the moment. ew. i would never even thinking about writing this sentence now. ew. just too graphic. yuck.
Just do it. See what she does, said his brain.
Shut up.
The ribbon continued its journey as it danced over his stomach and chest, and slithered slowly up one of his arms. Peter was pretty sure he had goose bumps.
It fluttered onto his hair, and he felt it drag along the length of his forehead, over his cheekbones, and finally onto his mouth.
He couldn’t see because his eyes were closed, but he could’ve sworn that Claire bent over his face.
Claire slowly…so slowly pulled the ribbon across his lips, until Peter felt it slip off of his face. i do still like this image.
And then he heard her leave the apartment. Peter sat up abruptly, and put his head in his hands.
Silly. She’s so silly. Plays such funny little games with him.
Yeah right, said his brain.
Shut up.
------
It was late one Friday night a couple weeks later. They were doing the same old dorky things they usually did. She had made some messy concoction with chocolate and crunchy bits, and they were sitting on his couch watching a movie. She usually picked which one. He didn’t mind because he wanted her to keep coming over.mm, they are eating this stuff, which i don't eat anymore as i swore of sugar ages ago and this is pretty much straight corn syrup. but yum, it's quite good. i used to make it with my BF when we would watch a movie and stay home.
So they were watching some ridiculous film about a beefy delinquent who joins a dance school. Peter tried not to roll his eyes at the bad dialog. But Claire seemed to like it, and she watched it with intensity. ahem, step up
Halfway through the movie, she leaned back onto his chest, which was new.
It’s a signal, said his brain. my SO (significant other) said that this line was right on. not that he reads my fic (god no), but i did ask him to read this one, simply because it was my first smut and i wanted him to tell me if i had written the boy sex thing correctly
Shut up.
She was wearing a soft sweater, and he could feel it brushing up against his arm. Her hair was in a ponytail; her neck was level with his mouth. Some crazy part of him wanted to lean forward and kiss her there, but he kept it together. i like this moment.
They watched the movie some more, and Peter had no idea what was going on, stopped paying attention to the plot a long time ago. He just concentrated on a) keeping his body completely rigid and b) keeping a certain part of his body from getting completely rigid. again, vulgar and gross. i like to think that i can do this better now.
It was like he was in high school all over again. what a stupid fucking paragraph, i am really glad that i outgrew this.
She leaned over to the coffee table to grab another piece of whatever it was that she made to eat - the chocolate crunchy thing (which he tried not to watch her eat. He loved to watch her eat things). peter apprantly has an oral fixation in this fic througout. okay, whatever.
When she sat back onto the couch she shifted toward him a little more than before, rubbing herself right on his crotch. Ah, Christ.
She’s doing it on purpose, said his brain.
Shut up.
----
It was months after that particular movie night, months after the little ribbon incident, and Peter thought he’d been doing a helluva job keeping his hands off of his niece. helluva? jesus. well, in my defense, not only was this my first smut but really, i had one been writing creative stories for about a year or two...so its not as if i knew what i was doing very well.
She was still making it pretty damn hard for him to though. On one really warm day in April, she’d apparently been tanning on the roof of his mom’s building. When he came by, like he often did, Claire was in the kitchen, drinking a soda. In a tiny bikini. In only a tiny bikini.
You can imagine what his brain had to say about that. this paragraph and the one preceding it are incredibly useless and i should have never included them. how pointless.
The obvious answer would be for him to stay away from his mom’s place, but hey, he liked being around Claire, truly enjoyed her company. There was nothing wrong with enjoying his niece’s company. That’s all it was. Sure.
Besides, it was in the middle of a cold snap in May. No danger of bikinis.
“Claire?” Peter tossed his keys onto the small table by his mother’s door. “Mom?”
“She’s gone,” called a voice from his mother’s small sitting parlor.
“Claire?”
“Yeah,” said a sour-sounding voice. Peter followed it into the parlor. this "commentary" is really hard. i'm mostly noticing sloppy writing that i want to correct.
Peter opened the door to find Claire kneeling on the ground, wearing a very proper trench dress. She was zipping a clothing bag open. Scattered around the room were what looked like a dozen or so voluminous formal dresses, and accompanying bags. i love trench dresses, i have two.
“Hey.”
“How’s it going,” said Claire blandly.
“What’s the deal with the dresses?” what IS the deal with the dresses? well, 1) fabric is sexy, 2) i needed an excuse to get claire naked, and 3) its a good plot device
“Your mother threw a fit about my gala dress last night. Said I had to take it back,” said Claire.
“What was wrong with the one you got?”
“Dunno. It was too short. Or something.”
“Huh.” Peter took his jacket off and threw it on the white divan in front of the fireplace. There was a small blaze going, more for ambience than heat, really. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and be uninvited.” pretty scene in my head. i liked mrs petrelli's house, from what i saw of it on the show
Claire and Peter both hated Nathan’s political galas.
“I wish. I came home this afternoon and she had these,” Claire gestured to the dresses piled on the floor, “…all sent over for me. I’m supposed to pick a new one.”
Peter lifted one of the dresses up, a very poofy, grape-colored contraption. “Is this a balloon?”
Claire smiled. “Looks like it.”
“It’s pretty…purple?” Peter let it drop to the floor. this dialogue is idiotic. what i was i thinking?
Claire laughed, and then sobered. “Oh, Peter…she’s so mean to me. I don’t know what I did to make her hate me so much…” Claire dropped her head. in spite of their differences and their similarities, i think it would hurt claire if she and her grandmother did not get along.
“Hey.” Peter walked over to where Claire was kneeling, and offered her a hand. “That’s just how she is. I’m not sure she likes anyone, really,” he said, and pulled Claire to her feet. “But she does love you.”
“I know, it just gets so old. You know?” Claire looked up at Peter, almost as if she was hoping for some sort of answer.
Give her a little kiss, said his brain. That’ll cheer her up.
Shut up.
Peter looked away. “Well, it’s not you. Don’t ever think that.”
Claire nodded, still looking quite miserable.
“Where’d she go off to?” asked Peter.
“Connecticut. For the weekend.”
“Well, then you know what that means,” said Peter.
“What?”
“It’s time for me to contribute to teenage alcoholism. Don’t worry though; I don’t think you're in danger of killing any brain cells. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Peter hightailed it to his mother’s liquor cupboard. Luckily for him, his mother, for all her having a stick in her ass, also had a fondness for fine liquor. He grabbed a bottle of Bollinger Vintage. Nothing like $400 bucks worth of champagne to forget about a nasty fight. ah, the drinking! another stupid cliche plot device. i dont think i would do this now unless i were desperate.
“Here we go,” said Peter, as he walked back into the sitting room. Claire was looking much more cheery. Good.
Peter was about to pop the top when he remembered that it wasn’t cold. He briefly thought of Sylar, and felt the bottle under his hand go cool. this was back when i thought that peter had to think of whatever person in order to use his power. i suck at canon.
“Ha. That’s so awesome,” said Claire, and she gave him a little smile.
Peter grinned. “Nah.” this is a small moment, but i think it is very...peter and claire.
He popped the top off of the champagne, and handed it to Claire. “Have at it. And don’t get addicted to it, or Nathan will kill me.”
Claire took a big gulp and then coughed. “I don’t think that’ll be happening any time soon,” and she passed the bottle back to him.
Peter took a long swig. And then Claire took another one. And then he did. Then she did…
Pretty soon Claire turned the stereo onto some of her shit music (he hated her taste in music, and had told her so several times), and he had to go get the second bottle of Bollinger, because the first bottle got empty very, very quickly.
Claire was laughing hysterically, trying to get him to try on the big purple dress.
“Oh, come on, Peter. Just for a minute!”
“No!” Peter was sitting on the divan, and he pushed her away with his foot. “If I do you’ll take a picture, and then never let me forget it.”
“There's nothing wrong with it,” said Claire, holding it up in front of her. She looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Think of it as a…a caftan.”
Peter snorted. “You really are a freshman in college.”
Claire dropped the dress to her side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Caftan. That’s a word you learn in…” Peter started cracking up “…in Anthropology 101”.
She slapped Peter with the dress. “You are so mean to me!” stupid exchange. i hope i write better dialogue these days.
“I’m sorry,” said Peter, in a mockingly serious tone. “I won’t make fun of your caftan anymore. It’s a very pretty caftan, and if I lived in Istanbul, I’d wear it.”
You’re flirting, said his brain. it does give way to this moment though, which is nice. reminds me of henry tilney in northanger abbey, a bit.
Shut up.
Peter cleared his throat. “Anyway, how do you know it’s bad? Have you tried it on?”
“Peter, I do not need to try this on to know that I hate everything about it,” said Claire.
Peter shrugged at her.
“Fine,” said Claire, and she left the room with the dress.
Peter took another gulp of champagne. He’d pay for this tomorrow. Champagne was a nice buzz, horrible hangover for him. for him and for me. champagne is the only alcohol that is a surefire street to hangover city for me.
Claire threw the door to the sitting room open. “You ready for this?” she asked from the shadows of the hall. i like this. very claire-like and a bitt immature.
“Yep.”
Hey, he tried not to laugh. But it was so very funny. Claire was covered in purple flounces. Silky, purple flounces.
“Oh, God,” said Claire when she got a look at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. “I look like the grape guy from the fruit underwear ads.” stupid, stupid line.
This struck Peter as hysterically funny, and he laughed so hard that he could barely get his phone out of his pocket.
”No! No way, you’re not getting a picture of this,” said Claire. She grabbed another one of the dresses as she rushed behind the large bookcase in the room.
She was completely hidden from his view, but he could hear all sorts of zipping and rustling. He took another swig of the champagne. He certainly didn’t need to fixate on the fact that he was in the same room as a naked Claire.
“M’key. How about this one,” said Claire, and stepped out from behind the bookcase.
This one was marginally more attractive. It was an orange chiffon that crossed in the back. “That’s better than the purple thing,” said Peter. “Don’t like the color though.”
Claire walked over to him and took the bottle from his hand. She took such a long drink that he had to clear his throat. “Ah. Irish courage,” said Claire. oh ho, racial jokes! what was i thinking...
“We’re Italian,” said Peter.
“Not my mom,” said Claire, and she shook a white dress out of a bag. “Time for this one,” said Claire. i like that moment, just a subtle reminder from claire.
She went back to the corner by the bookcase and turned away from him, but didn’t hide behind it completely. She unzipped the orange chiffon dress, and he could see her back. Her bare back. It was tanned and looked very soft, and he could see the faint outline from that tiny bikini that he remembered so well. i maintain that this dress would look amazing on H.P.
Damn it. He should look away or something, but when he ordered his body to do just that, it ignored him.
She put the white dress over her head, and then shuffled underneath it for a few seconds, until the orange dress slithered to the floor.
“This one?” The white dress had sleeves and a full, fluttery skirt. An angel dress.
An angel dress, perfect! Yes. Morals! Purity! This dress would help him remember that.
“Maybe that one,” said Peter. more teasing. i was afraid to write the sex part, and i think all this teasing was my own way of delaying the inevitable, as in i was nervous and scared to write two characters fucking. obviously i got over it (OBVIOUSLY), but hey, the first time is a bit...awkward. oh ho.
Claire looked in the mirror, and their eyes caught for a brief second. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. “Something more...sophisticated.”
“I really like the white one,” said Peter weakly. heh. kind of a funny moment.
She ignored him and dug into the pile of dresses where she extracted some dark material. She walked back to the corner and faced away from him.
This time, though, when she unzipped the white dress, she let it fall to the floor completely. She stood with her back to him, wearing nothing more than a pair of underpants and her black heels.
Take a picture of that, said his brain.
Shut up. heh, again.
Her legs were well shaped and tanned, just like her back. Her underpants were light pink, and seemed to look almost like little shorts, though they were cut indecently high over her…oh, man. Peter took another huge swig of champagne hmm, light pink? i always thought black. whatever. bonus info! i cant stand the word panties. youll never see me use it unless im possesed/drunk/high
She quickly slipped the black dress over her head. It was tight and slinky, and Claire pulled the fabric slowly down her body.
Claire stood in front of Peter, who was still sitting on the divan. This dress was cut low in the front, giving him a clear view of her well-shaped breasts.
“What do you think?”
Peter just nodded.
“What does that mean?” asked Claire.
“It means, yeah. Looks good.”
“Maybe I should try this one,” said Claire, and held up a dark green satin dress.
“Sure,” said Peter uncertainly.
Claire gave him a small smile, and turned away from him. But she didn’t walk over to the bookcase this time.
Her fingers reached behind her back to unzip her dress. She drew the zipper down, and pulled the dress down to her waist.
Claire was tugging it down slowly, revealing more and more skin. She shimmied gently from side to side as she got the slinky dress off of her.
All of this, just a few feet away from Peter. He awkwardly grabbed one of the pillows on the divan next to him and placed it on his lap. poor peter.
Her hair hung loose over her back, tumbling down in long pieces which, at the moment, he’d like to push aside so he could kiss her there.
Do it, said his brain.
Shut up!
She took her sweet time stepping into the green dress, and she had to bend over just a little bit to do it. Oh, fuck. Fuck.
But finally, finally, she pulled it up, and turned around to face Peter.
“Well?” Claire spoke in a low voice.
“I like...that one,” gulped Peter. His mouth felt very, very dry.
“Do you?” asked Claire softly.
“Uh, yes?”
“How much?”
Peter bent over to pick up the bottle of champagne from the floor. This was proving difficult, as he had a very large pillow covering a very large erection in the way. ew, gross. i would NEVER write that now. i think i was just going off the standard porn writing here.
“Move the pillow, Peter,” said Claire confidently.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Peter.
“Move the pillow.” i like this moment. i wanted claire to be a bit aggresive in this fic, but not too. i feel like there is a good balance.
Peter shifted the pillow onto the divan, next to him.
She gave him a little smile. Claire picked up the bottle for him. “Thanks, Claire,” said Peter, and reached a hand out to her.
Instead of handing it to him, Claire opened her mouth very slowly, and took a long sip of champagne.
Oh, this wasn’t very good. This wasn’t very good at all.
She handed the bottle back to Peter and wiped her mouth.
Peter swallowed, or tried to.
Then she turned away from him. stupid, stupid paragraphs. what was wrong with me?
“Will you help me unzip this one?” she asked
Peter didn’t speak, just leaned forward and pulled the zipper down, before sitting back onto the divan as quickly as he could.
She turned around to face him. Her eyes were dark, and never left his. The fireplace behind her was still on, and set her hair and skin alight in warm tones that Peter found very, very enticing.
She raised her hands to the straps of the green dress.
Last chance to stop all this, said his brain.
Shut up. ah ha, we are full circle. peter tells his brain to shut up when it comes to the right thing.
Claire slowly slipped the straps off of her shoulders, and then the rest of her body as well. The green satin slithered off of her body, over her breasts, and down her legs, pooling around her feet.
Oh. lazy writing, but marginally effective.
Somehow, Peter was standing, though he didn’t remember telling his body to. And he was closing the space between him and his niece at a very rapid rate. He curled one hand around the back of her neck, another around her waist, and pulled her close.
He looked down at her face. “Claire.” i do like this moment.
She sighed softly. “Finally.”
And then he was kissing her, pushing her head back with his own, leaning over her to fit his tongue more deeply into her mouth. Someone was moaning; he wasn’t sure if it was him or Claire. i need to watch it - i know i've used something similar to this line at least twice.
But her arms were definitely around him too. She was rubbing his back and winding her hands into his hair, pulling his face closer to hers.
Which suited him just fine. He pulled her body flush against his own, and continued kissing her in an indecent fashion. how very austen of me.
Her mouth was hot and tasted like the bubbly champagne that they’d shared. He rubbed her tongue with his own, exploring the deep parts of her mouth, tasting her like he’d always wanted to. hoenstly, this sounds gross to me, but i hate champagne, so...there we are.
Peter stroked her back, loving the feel of her skin beneath his hands. His hand traveled lower to squeeze what was beneath that little pair of underpants that he was pretty sure he’d committed to memory. He could swear that her skin was making his fingers tingle.
It was definitely her moaning this time, his name to be specific. Peter’s lips left hers to press kisses behind her ear and down her neck.
Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, and he ran his hands up her waist to cup her breasts.
Claire sighed.
So did Peter, until he resumed kissing her mouth enthusiastically some time later. wlel, maybe less austen and more prudish.
Claire pushed her hands underneath his shirt, running them over his stomach and up to his chest. He awkwardly tried to fumble out of the shirt as fast as he could, without having to stop kissing her.
Finally his shirt was off, and Claire eagerly pressed herself against his bare skin and wound her arms around his neck. Peter grasped her body to his, and pushed his fingers into her hair, before lifting her face to his.
Peter looked in her eyes, the eyes of the girl that had so quickly become the center of his universe all those years ago. It hadn’t taken her long at all, really, just a few short months. i think its important, in sex scenes, to remind us why we're all there. even if its like, DUDE I AM HORNY
And now her cheeks were flushed with desire, her lips pink and soft already with his kisses. And her eyes looked at him as if she thought, well, that he was the most beautiful thing in the world. well, isnt that jsut so trite.
"Claire, I-"
“I know,” said Claire quietly, and she kissed him. Then she reached forward to cup, and then stroke a very excited part of his person. prude and prejudice, perhaps? jesus fuck.
He was just reacting at this point, barely any coherent thought behind what he was doing. He nearly growled as he twisted Claire onto the divan, her hair spilling behind her. Her legs parted invitingly, just a little. this imagery is a bit hot though, i must say.
Peter practically killed himself getting his belt unbuckled and pants kicked off in about two seconds flat. heh. oh, horny peter.
He followed her onto the divan, and knelt between her legs. Peter tried to slow down, didn't want to maul her, desperately wanted to make this good for her.
She lifted her hips to help him pull off her underpants, and Peter began to enter her, slowly, slowly, to give her some time. God, she was hot. It was a real struggle to go slow. He pressed against her, felt her hips rise to meet his.
Peter wound his arms around her waist, and held her with both hands. Slowly, he got all of his length into her. He looked into her eyes the whole time. very odd, writing a male perspective of sex. i owe my SO a big favor for reading this fic before i posted it and for not being rude about my silly ideas, ha.
Claire sighed, and reached a hand over her head to hold onto the arm of the divan.
It wasn’t until he’d rocked back and in again that he realized that this was the best, the greatest feeling he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing in his whole life. said Mr Darcy, and he prepared to boing Lizzie's boobs off of her body.
Told you, said his brain.
You were right.
Peter tried to make it go slow, but she was so fucking...erotic, her arms over her head, her dark lashes on her cheeks, mouth parted.
Her breathing increased with his careful strokes, but Peter wanted more, wanted her skin against his. Still inside her, he pulled Claire up by the arms to sit astride him. She wrapped her legs around him.
Carefully, she slid her body up a few inches, using his arms as leverage. And then she, agonizingly slowly, it felt to him, lowered herself down onto him.
Oh, Jesus.
And now she was moving faster and faster, her hair bouncing over her breasts. He was rising up to meet her, pulling her down onto him with every stroke.
“H-harder,” said Claire huskily. He happily obliged.
Claire was moaning and clawing at his back. He reached between her legs and stroked her rhythmically, until she dug her fingers into his arm, gasped, and threw her head back, her body shaking and blushing the most becoming shade of pink.
At which point Peter laid her back onto the divan and covered her with his body. He grabbed onto the edges of the divan, and pumped into her with what felt like every muscle he possessed. The clawed feet of the divan scooted across the floor with his last few strokes, before he cried out and pulled Claire tight against his chest. again, i owe mutinousmuse a GIGANTIC hug, kiss, and what have you. i had never written smut and she was so helpful as beta. she encouraged me and helped me work thorugh all this crap. if it werent for her, i would have been much too scared to post something so smutty.
He fell onto the divan next to Claire, careful not to crush her. They were both panting, and Peter lost the power of speech for several minutes after. He was fully concentrated on just getting blood and oxygen pumped back to his brain.
After a little while, Claire blew a piece of hair off of her face, and propped herself up on one elbow to look at Peter. Her body was covered with a dewy veneer of perspiration, her face still flushed.
“Seriously...finally,” said Claire, a little shyly.
Peter smiled slowly, and touched her face. “Yeah.”
a fairly cheesy ending, but succinct in its purpose.
part two! i wont commentary that one, because ugh.
well, in all...this is pretty okay for a first smut, but i think i could do better now. i cringed while re-reading some of this. everything seems so clunky. but for a cherry poppin' ficcy, i think its okay. i'd give it a C to a C+
fic commentary on strip down
requested by lovepollution
originally written 6/17/2007
this is a good fic to pick. first smut i ever wrote. 3rd peter/claire fic i wrote. i felt like i owed it to people after writing i'm going to stop pretending, which stayed a chaste PG/PG-13, when people wanted some sexy time between claire and peter. so yes. in a way, this is penance.
Title: Strip Down title=self explanatory
Author: missaliceblue
Pairing: Peter/Claire
Rating: NC-17 (canon incest)
Status: 1/2
Summary: Peter, Claire, champagne, tickle fights, and stripping. Need I say more?
Written for the wonderful eowyn_girl, as thanks for the smutty fic she wrote for my birthday. Love and kisses to my fabulous beta mutinousmuse.
written for viv, no surprise there, though her and i barely knew each other at the time. oh ho. mutinousmuse is the only beta i've ever really had, and she is just wonderful. i generally dislike the whole beta thing, but she restored my faith in the whole concept. sadly, she's much to busy with her work and life to beta my silly fic, but i'm still appreciative
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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It all really started, as these things often do, with a tickle fight.
One minute he’d been teasing her like he always did, on the couch in his apartment. She’d pounced on him and punched him in the stomach as hard as she could (which wasn’t all that hard, really).
Peter had just laughed and held her wrists together. He went straight for the backs of her knees, her most ticklish spot.
She’d shrieked with laughter, and started kicking his hands away.
So he grabbed her legs and pinned her down, and began pinching her waist (her second most ticklish spot).
And before he really was even aware of it, she had her legs spread around him and he was practically lying on top of her, both of them flushed and panting.
wow, um...paragraph much? for awhile there, i was very into spacing out my stories. bad habit i suppose. i grew out of it, mostly. honestly, this is just painful to read.
He should have pushed her away quickly, sat up, done something. He did let her go, eventually…but not fast enough. She hadn’t felt like a niece at that moment.
It’s been two years since then and she still doesn’t feel anything like a niece. Who’s he kidding, she never did. But now it’s even worse, getting worse, doesn’t show any signs of stopping.
He knows how a relative should feel. Hell, Heidi isn’t even his blood, and she’s eons more a relative than Claire is. To him at least. this sentence bothered me then, and now, but i never know what to do with it. still don't.
The rest of the world doesn’t care that she was sixteen when he met her, and that he didn’t know she was his niece for months. The rest of the world thinks that he should just automatically love her like an uncle, pat her on the head and take her out for ice cream.
God, he can barely watch her eat ice cream without getting a painful hard on. haha. i forgot about that line.
So he’s lusting after his niece.
So what, is what his brain says, until he tells it to shut up. peter's brain became much more of a comedic device then i'd intended it to. lots of people said that liked it, which surprised me, but hey. whatever works.
Peter’s learned to do that pretty well. His brain likes to try and confuse him when he sees her in her pajamas with no bra on.
Niece. Family. Niece.
She’s really not making it any easier on him. She needs to stop prancing around him in her short silk robe. She needs to stop brushing against him when she bends over to pick something up. this whole paragraph is really cliche, i don't like it. but, like i said before...this was the first smut i ever wrote, so i think i was jsut relying on some things i'd seen before
He’s tried to think up a way to broach the subject to Nathan in a non-creepy manner, but so far he hasn’t had much luck.
She loves MTV and is only a freshman in college, can’t even buy a beer yet. She may be legally an adult but he reminds himself every day that she’s just too young, among other things.
He can’t help it. It probably has nothing to do with her. He’s in his twenties, hell, and she’s a lovely girl. Anyone would feel that way. Probably.
Claire loves to come over to his place. They watch movies, talk, eat junk food. He likes to spend time with her, lusting aside. Enjoys her company. She makes him laugh. Still, he doesn’t think it’s exactly a good idea for them to be in the same place alone. But he knows, really, that he’s never going to do anything he shouldn’t. the movie thing is a cliche also, and it bothers me now too. though i do think peter and claire would like watching movies together, i try to avoid it in my own fic now, simply because its so prevalent in peter/claire fic now.
Oh really, says his brain.
Yes, really. And shut up.
-------
Every year Claire hides all of her Christmas presents for her family members at his place, and this past December was no different.
She’s still living with his mom, and their relationship is…frigid at best. Which is probably why she hangs out at his apartment so much. i can't EVER see mrs. petrelli and claire getting along. they are too similar.
He’d just gotten home from an all night research session with Mohinder. Peter hated to do it, but things went a lot faster for Mohinder if either Micah or Peter was around to lend a hand with the computing. this is me trying to give a shit about any of the non-petrelli characters on heroes
Peter shrugged out of his coat and stretched out onto his couch. He was wearing a black Henley and jeans to ward of the chilly New York winter.
He closed his eyes. Just for a moment…
And then, something was tickling his face. He could barely feel it in his sleep-infused stupor, but it was caressing his face lightly, over his eyelids and cheek.
He tried to brush it away, but when he moved his hand to his face, the something was gone.
Whatever it was, it was soft and silken. It fluttered onto his cheek and slid down the top of his throat, to his chest.
Peter finally woke up enough to grab at whatever was trailing itself lower. His hands grasped around the tormenting object, and Peter opened his eyes and looked up.
In his hand was a wide, white ribbon, the other end of which was held by his niece.
“Claire?”
“Morning,” said Claire teasingly, and she twitched the ribbon out of his hands. She was wearing her white woolen coat and mittens, and was holding a few rolls of wrapping paper and more ribbon in her other arm.
“Mmm. Sorry. I’m pretty tired,” said Peter, and he yawned.
“It’s okay. I just need to drop this stuff off,” said Claire. She walked to the hall closet, where she had stashed her cache of presents.
Peter closed his eyes again, and heard Claire fiddling with the packages.
After awhile, he felt the ribbon again, on his foot.
“Aw, Claire, come on, let me sleep,” said Peter, not opening his eyes.
“So sleep.”
He could feel the lightness of the ribbon on his leg. It crept up the length of his calf, then thigh.
Oh, Jesus. Peter tried to think of bunnies, pancakes, changing the oil on his car, anything to keep from popping one out at the moment. ew. i would never even thinking about writing this sentence now. ew. just too graphic. yuck.
Just do it. See what she does, said his brain.
Shut up.
The ribbon continued its journey as it danced over his stomach and chest, and slithered slowly up one of his arms. Peter was pretty sure he had goose bumps.
It fluttered onto his hair, and he felt it drag along the length of his forehead, over his cheekbones, and finally onto his mouth.
He couldn’t see because his eyes were closed, but he could’ve sworn that Claire bent over his face.
Claire slowly…so slowly pulled the ribbon across his lips, until Peter felt it slip off of his face. i do still like this image.
And then he heard her leave the apartment. Peter sat up abruptly, and put his head in his hands.
Silly. She’s so silly. Plays such funny little games with him.
Yeah right, said his brain.
Shut up.
------
It was late one Friday night a couple weeks later. They were doing the same old dorky things they usually did. She had made some messy concoction with chocolate and crunchy bits, and they were sitting on his couch watching a movie. She usually picked which one. He didn’t mind because he wanted her to keep coming over.mm, they are eating this stuff, which i don't eat anymore as i swore of sugar ages ago and this is pretty much straight corn syrup. but yum, it's quite good. i used to make it with my BF when we would watch a movie and stay home.
So they were watching some ridiculous film about a beefy delinquent who joins a dance school. Peter tried not to roll his eyes at the bad dialog. But Claire seemed to like it, and she watched it with intensity. ahem, step up
Halfway through the movie, she leaned back onto his chest, which was new.
It’s a signal, said his brain. my SO (significant other) said that this line was right on. not that he reads my fic (god no), but i did ask him to read this one, simply because it was my first smut and i wanted him to tell me if i had written the boy sex thing correctly
Shut up.
She was wearing a soft sweater, and he could feel it brushing up against his arm. Her hair was in a ponytail; her neck was level with his mouth. Some crazy part of him wanted to lean forward and kiss her there, but he kept it together. i like this moment.
They watched the movie some more, and Peter had no idea what was going on, stopped paying attention to the plot a long time ago. He just concentrated on a) keeping his body completely rigid and b) keeping a certain part of his body from getting completely rigid. again, vulgar and gross. i like to think that i can do this better now.
It was like he was in high school all over again. what a stupid fucking paragraph, i am really glad that i outgrew this.
She leaned over to the coffee table to grab another piece of whatever it was that she made to eat - the chocolate crunchy thing (which he tried not to watch her eat. He loved to watch her eat things). peter apprantly has an oral fixation in this fic througout. okay, whatever.
When she sat back onto the couch she shifted toward him a little more than before, rubbing herself right on his crotch. Ah, Christ.
She’s doing it on purpose, said his brain.
Shut up.
----
It was months after that particular movie night, months after the little ribbon incident, and Peter thought he’d been doing a helluva job keeping his hands off of his niece. helluva? jesus. well, in my defense, not only was this my first smut but really, i had one been writing creative stories for about a year or two...so its not as if i knew what i was doing very well.
She was still making it pretty damn hard for him to though. On one really warm day in April, she’d apparently been tanning on the roof of his mom’s building. When he came by, like he often did, Claire was in the kitchen, drinking a soda. In a tiny bikini. In only a tiny bikini.
You can imagine what his brain had to say about that. this paragraph and the one preceding it are incredibly useless and i should have never included them. how pointless.
The obvious answer would be for him to stay away from his mom’s place, but hey, he liked being around Claire, truly enjoyed her company. There was nothing wrong with enjoying his niece’s company. That’s all it was. Sure.
Besides, it was in the middle of a cold snap in May. No danger of bikinis.
“Claire?” Peter tossed his keys onto the small table by his mother’s door. “Mom?”
“She’s gone,” called a voice from his mother’s small sitting parlor.
“Claire?”
“Yeah,” said a sour-sounding voice. Peter followed it into the parlor. this "commentary" is really hard. i'm mostly noticing sloppy writing that i want to correct.
Peter opened the door to find Claire kneeling on the ground, wearing a very proper trench dress. She was zipping a clothing bag open. Scattered around the room were what looked like a dozen or so voluminous formal dresses, and accompanying bags. i love trench dresses, i have two.
“Hey.”
“How’s it going,” said Claire blandly.
“What’s the deal with the dresses?” what IS the deal with the dresses? well, 1) fabric is sexy, 2) i needed an excuse to get claire naked, and 3) its a good plot device
“Your mother threw a fit about my gala dress last night. Said I had to take it back,” said Claire.
“What was wrong with the one you got?”
“Dunno. It was too short. Or something.”
“Huh.” Peter took his jacket off and threw it on the white divan in front of the fireplace. There was a small blaze going, more for ambience than heat, really. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and be uninvited.” pretty scene in my head. i liked mrs petrelli's house, from what i saw of it on the show
Claire and Peter both hated Nathan’s political galas.
“I wish. I came home this afternoon and she had these,” Claire gestured to the dresses piled on the floor, “…all sent over for me. I’m supposed to pick a new one.”
Peter lifted one of the dresses up, a very poofy, grape-colored contraption. “Is this a balloon?”
Claire smiled. “Looks like it.”
“It’s pretty…purple?” Peter let it drop to the floor. this dialogue is idiotic. what i was i thinking?
Claire laughed, and then sobered. “Oh, Peter…she’s so mean to me. I don’t know what I did to make her hate me so much…” Claire dropped her head. in spite of their differences and their similarities, i think it would hurt claire if she and her grandmother did not get along.
“Hey.” Peter walked over to where Claire was kneeling, and offered her a hand. “That’s just how she is. I’m not sure she likes anyone, really,” he said, and pulled Claire to her feet. “But she does love you.”
“I know, it just gets so old. You know?” Claire looked up at Peter, almost as if she was hoping for some sort of answer.
Give her a little kiss, said his brain. That’ll cheer her up.
Shut up.
Peter looked away. “Well, it’s not you. Don’t ever think that.”
Claire nodded, still looking quite miserable.
“Where’d she go off to?” asked Peter.
“Connecticut. For the weekend.”
“Well, then you know what that means,” said Peter.
“What?”
“It’s time for me to contribute to teenage alcoholism. Don’t worry though; I don’t think you're in danger of killing any brain cells. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Peter hightailed it to his mother’s liquor cupboard. Luckily for him, his mother, for all her having a stick in her ass, also had a fondness for fine liquor. He grabbed a bottle of Bollinger Vintage. Nothing like $400 bucks worth of champagne to forget about a nasty fight. ah, the drinking! another stupid cliche plot device. i dont think i would do this now unless i were desperate.
“Here we go,” said Peter, as he walked back into the sitting room. Claire was looking much more cheery. Good.
Peter was about to pop the top when he remembered that it wasn’t cold. He briefly thought of Sylar, and felt the bottle under his hand go cool. this was back when i thought that peter had to think of whatever person in order to use his power. i suck at canon.
“Ha. That’s so awesome,” said Claire, and she gave him a little smile.
Peter grinned. “Nah.” this is a small moment, but i think it is very...peter and claire.
He popped the top off of the champagne, and handed it to Claire. “Have at it. And don’t get addicted to it, or Nathan will kill me.”
Claire took a big gulp and then coughed. “I don’t think that’ll be happening any time soon,” and she passed the bottle back to him.
Peter took a long swig. And then Claire took another one. And then he did. Then she did…
Pretty soon Claire turned the stereo onto some of her shit music (he hated her taste in music, and had told her so several times), and he had to go get the second bottle of Bollinger, because the first bottle got empty very, very quickly.
Claire was laughing hysterically, trying to get him to try on the big purple dress.
“Oh, come on, Peter. Just for a minute!”
“No!” Peter was sitting on the divan, and he pushed her away with his foot. “If I do you’ll take a picture, and then never let me forget it.”
“There's nothing wrong with it,” said Claire, holding it up in front of her. She looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Think of it as a…a caftan.”
Peter snorted. “You really are a freshman in college.”
Claire dropped the dress to her side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Caftan. That’s a word you learn in…” Peter started cracking up “…in Anthropology 101”.
She slapped Peter with the dress. “You are so mean to me!” stupid exchange. i hope i write better dialogue these days.
“I’m sorry,” said Peter, in a mockingly serious tone. “I won’t make fun of your caftan anymore. It’s a very pretty caftan, and if I lived in Istanbul, I’d wear it.”
You’re flirting, said his brain. it does give way to this moment though, which is nice. reminds me of henry tilney in northanger abbey, a bit.
Shut up.
Peter cleared his throat. “Anyway, how do you know it’s bad? Have you tried it on?”
“Peter, I do not need to try this on to know that I hate everything about it,” said Claire.
Peter shrugged at her.
“Fine,” said Claire, and she left the room with the dress.
Peter took another gulp of champagne. He’d pay for this tomorrow. Champagne was a nice buzz, horrible hangover for him. for him and for me. champagne is the only alcohol that is a surefire street to hangover city for me.
Claire threw the door to the sitting room open. “You ready for this?” she asked from the shadows of the hall. i like this. very claire-like and a bitt immature.
“Yep.”
Hey, he tried not to laugh. But it was so very funny. Claire was covered in purple flounces. Silky, purple flounces.
“Oh, God,” said Claire when she got a look at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. “I look like the grape guy from the fruit underwear ads.” stupid, stupid line.
This struck Peter as hysterically funny, and he laughed so hard that he could barely get his phone out of his pocket.
”No! No way, you’re not getting a picture of this,” said Claire. She grabbed another one of the dresses as she rushed behind the large bookcase in the room.
She was completely hidden from his view, but he could hear all sorts of zipping and rustling. He took another swig of the champagne. He certainly didn’t need to fixate on the fact that he was in the same room as a naked Claire.
“M’key. How about this one,” said Claire, and stepped out from behind the bookcase.
This one was marginally more attractive. It was an orange chiffon that crossed in the back. “That’s better than the purple thing,” said Peter. “Don’t like the color though.”
Claire walked over to him and took the bottle from his hand. She took such a long drink that he had to clear his throat. “Ah. Irish courage,” said Claire. oh ho, racial jokes! what was i thinking...
“We’re Italian,” said Peter.
“Not my mom,” said Claire, and she shook a white dress out of a bag. “Time for this one,” said Claire. i like that moment, just a subtle reminder from claire.
She went back to the corner by the bookcase and turned away from him, but didn’t hide behind it completely. She unzipped the orange chiffon dress, and he could see her back. Her bare back. It was tanned and looked very soft, and he could see the faint outline from that tiny bikini that he remembered so well. i maintain that this dress would look amazing on H.P.
Damn it. He should look away or something, but when he ordered his body to do just that, it ignored him.
She put the white dress over her head, and then shuffled underneath it for a few seconds, until the orange dress slithered to the floor.
“This one?” The white dress had sleeves and a full, fluttery skirt. An angel dress.
An angel dress, perfect! Yes. Morals! Purity! This dress would help him remember that.
“Maybe that one,” said Peter. more teasing. i was afraid to write the sex part, and i think all this teasing was my own way of delaying the inevitable, as in i was nervous and scared to write two characters fucking. obviously i got over it (OBVIOUSLY), but hey, the first time is a bit...awkward. oh ho.
Claire looked in the mirror, and their eyes caught for a brief second. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. “Something more...sophisticated.”
“I really like the white one,” said Peter weakly. heh. kind of a funny moment.
She ignored him and dug into the pile of dresses where she extracted some dark material. She walked back to the corner and faced away from him.
This time, though, when she unzipped the white dress, she let it fall to the floor completely. She stood with her back to him, wearing nothing more than a pair of underpants and her black heels.
Take a picture of that, said his brain.
Shut up. heh, again.
Her legs were well shaped and tanned, just like her back. Her underpants were light pink, and seemed to look almost like little shorts, though they were cut indecently high over her…oh, man. Peter took another huge swig of champagne hmm, light pink? i always thought black. whatever. bonus info! i cant stand the word panties. youll never see me use it unless im possesed/drunk/high
She quickly slipped the black dress over her head. It was tight and slinky, and Claire pulled the fabric slowly down her body.
Claire stood in front of Peter, who was still sitting on the divan. This dress was cut low in the front, giving him a clear view of her well-shaped breasts.
“What do you think?”
Peter just nodded.
“What does that mean?” asked Claire.
“It means, yeah. Looks good.”
“Maybe I should try this one,” said Claire, and held up a dark green satin dress.
“Sure,” said Peter uncertainly.
Claire gave him a small smile, and turned away from him. But she didn’t walk over to the bookcase this time.
Her fingers reached behind her back to unzip her dress. She drew the zipper down, and pulled the dress down to her waist.
Claire was tugging it down slowly, revealing more and more skin. She shimmied gently from side to side as she got the slinky dress off of her.
All of this, just a few feet away from Peter. He awkwardly grabbed one of the pillows on the divan next to him and placed it on his lap. poor peter.
Her hair hung loose over her back, tumbling down in long pieces which, at the moment, he’d like to push aside so he could kiss her there.
Do it, said his brain.
Shut up!
She took her sweet time stepping into the green dress, and she had to bend over just a little bit to do it. Oh, fuck. Fuck.
But finally, finally, she pulled it up, and turned around to face Peter.
“Well?” Claire spoke in a low voice.
“I like...that one,” gulped Peter. His mouth felt very, very dry.
“Do you?” asked Claire softly.
“Uh, yes?”
“How much?”
Peter bent over to pick up the bottle of champagne from the floor. This was proving difficult, as he had a very large pillow covering a very large erection in the way. ew, gross. i would NEVER write that now. i think i was just going off the standard porn writing here.
“Move the pillow, Peter,” said Claire confidently.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Peter.
“Move the pillow.” i like this moment. i wanted claire to be a bit aggresive in this fic, but not too. i feel like there is a good balance.
Peter shifted the pillow onto the divan, next to him.
She gave him a little smile. Claire picked up the bottle for him. “Thanks, Claire,” said Peter, and reached a hand out to her.
Instead of handing it to him, Claire opened her mouth very slowly, and took a long sip of champagne.
Oh, this wasn’t very good. This wasn’t very good at all.
She handed the bottle back to Peter and wiped her mouth.
Peter swallowed, or tried to.
Then she turned away from him. stupid, stupid paragraphs. what was wrong with me?
“Will you help me unzip this one?” she asked
Peter didn’t speak, just leaned forward and pulled the zipper down, before sitting back onto the divan as quickly as he could.
She turned around to face him. Her eyes were dark, and never left his. The fireplace behind her was still on, and set her hair and skin alight in warm tones that Peter found very, very enticing.
She raised her hands to the straps of the green dress.
Last chance to stop all this, said his brain.
Shut up. ah ha, we are full circle. peter tells his brain to shut up when it comes to the right thing.
Claire slowly slipped the straps off of her shoulders, and then the rest of her body as well. The green satin slithered off of her body, over her breasts, and down her legs, pooling around her feet.
Oh. lazy writing, but marginally effective.
Somehow, Peter was standing, though he didn’t remember telling his body to. And he was closing the space between him and his niece at a very rapid rate. He curled one hand around the back of her neck, another around her waist, and pulled her close.
He looked down at her face. “Claire.” i do like this moment.
She sighed softly. “Finally.”
And then he was kissing her, pushing her head back with his own, leaning over her to fit his tongue more deeply into her mouth. Someone was moaning; he wasn’t sure if it was him or Claire. i need to watch it - i know i've used something similar to this line at least twice.
But her arms were definitely around him too. She was rubbing his back and winding her hands into his hair, pulling his face closer to hers.
Which suited him just fine. He pulled her body flush against his own, and continued kissing her in an indecent fashion. how very austen of me.
Her mouth was hot and tasted like the bubbly champagne that they’d shared. He rubbed her tongue with his own, exploring the deep parts of her mouth, tasting her like he’d always wanted to. hoenstly, this sounds gross to me, but i hate champagne, so...there we are.
Peter stroked her back, loving the feel of her skin beneath his hands. His hand traveled lower to squeeze what was beneath that little pair of underpants that he was pretty sure he’d committed to memory. He could swear that her skin was making his fingers tingle.
It was definitely her moaning this time, his name to be specific. Peter’s lips left hers to press kisses behind her ear and down her neck.
Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, and he ran his hands up her waist to cup her breasts.
Claire sighed.
So did Peter, until he resumed kissing her mouth enthusiastically some time later. wlel, maybe less austen and more prudish.
Claire pushed her hands underneath his shirt, running them over his stomach and up to his chest. He awkwardly tried to fumble out of the shirt as fast as he could, without having to stop kissing her.
Finally his shirt was off, and Claire eagerly pressed herself against his bare skin and wound her arms around his neck. Peter grasped her body to his, and pushed his fingers into her hair, before lifting her face to his.
Peter looked in her eyes, the eyes of the girl that had so quickly become the center of his universe all those years ago. It hadn’t taken her long at all, really, just a few short months. i think its important, in sex scenes, to remind us why we're all there. even if its like, DUDE I AM HORNY
And now her cheeks were flushed with desire, her lips pink and soft already with his kisses. And her eyes looked at him as if she thought, well, that he was the most beautiful thing in the world. well, isnt that jsut so trite.
"Claire, I-"
“I know,” said Claire quietly, and she kissed him. Then she reached forward to cup, and then stroke a very excited part of his person. prude and prejudice, perhaps? jesus fuck.
He was just reacting at this point, barely any coherent thought behind what he was doing. He nearly growled as he twisted Claire onto the divan, her hair spilling behind her. Her legs parted invitingly, just a little. this imagery is a bit hot though, i must say.
Peter practically killed himself getting his belt unbuckled and pants kicked off in about two seconds flat. heh. oh, horny peter.
He followed her onto the divan, and knelt between her legs. Peter tried to slow down, didn't want to maul her, desperately wanted to make this good for her.
She lifted her hips to help him pull off her underpants, and Peter began to enter her, slowly, slowly, to give her some time. God, she was hot. It was a real struggle to go slow. He pressed against her, felt her hips rise to meet his.
Peter wound his arms around her waist, and held her with both hands. Slowly, he got all of his length into her. He looked into her eyes the whole time. very odd, writing a male perspective of sex. i owe my SO a big favor for reading this fic before i posted it and for not being rude about my silly ideas, ha.
Claire sighed, and reached a hand over her head to hold onto the arm of the divan.
It wasn’t until he’d rocked back and in again that he realized that this was the best, the greatest feeling he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing in his whole life. said Mr Darcy, and he prepared to boing Lizzie's boobs off of her body.
Told you, said his brain.
You were right.
Peter tried to make it go slow, but she was so fucking...erotic, her arms over her head, her dark lashes on her cheeks, mouth parted.
Her breathing increased with his careful strokes, but Peter wanted more, wanted her skin against his. Still inside her, he pulled Claire up by the arms to sit astride him. She wrapped her legs around him.
Carefully, she slid her body up a few inches, using his arms as leverage. And then she, agonizingly slowly, it felt to him, lowered herself down onto him.
Oh, Jesus.
And now she was moving faster and faster, her hair bouncing over her breasts. He was rising up to meet her, pulling her down onto him with every stroke.
“H-harder,” said Claire huskily. He happily obliged.
Claire was moaning and clawing at his back. He reached between her legs and stroked her rhythmically, until she dug her fingers into his arm, gasped, and threw her head back, her body shaking and blushing the most becoming shade of pink.
At which point Peter laid her back onto the divan and covered her with his body. He grabbed onto the edges of the divan, and pumped into her with what felt like every muscle he possessed. The clawed feet of the divan scooted across the floor with his last few strokes, before he cried out and pulled Claire tight against his chest. again, i owe mutinousmuse a GIGANTIC hug, kiss, and what have you. i had never written smut and she was so helpful as beta. she encouraged me and helped me work thorugh all this crap. if it werent for her, i would have been much too scared to post something so smutty.
He fell onto the divan next to Claire, careful not to crush her. They were both panting, and Peter lost the power of speech for several minutes after. He was fully concentrated on just getting blood and oxygen pumped back to his brain.
After a little while, Claire blew a piece of hair off of her face, and propped herself up on one elbow to look at Peter. Her body was covered with a dewy veneer of perspiration, her face still flushed.
“Seriously...finally,” said Claire, a little shyly.
Peter smiled slowly, and touched her face. “Yeah.”
a fairly cheesy ending, but succinct in its purpose.
part two! i wont commentary that one, because ugh.
well, in all...this is pretty okay for a first smut, but i think i could do better now. i cringed while re-reading some of this. everything seems so clunky. but for a cherry poppin' ficcy, i think its okay. i'd give it a C to a C+