Practice (Fic, Peter/Elle)

[crashgirl82]

Title: Practice
Pairing: Peter/Elle
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexual Contact, Violence, PWP, AU/AR
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or its characters; I make no money from the writing of this story.
Spoilers: Anything up to Season 2, Episode 8, “Four Months Ago”. Slightly AU/AR in regards to Peter’s ability suppression.
Summary: Peter has requested Elle’s presence in his Primatech cellblock, and she is all too happy to oblige.

A/N: Betaed by the always awesome karaokegal.

Elle was getting fed up with Peter’s mood swings, even though it was probably just a side effect of the drugs the Company had been giving him to counteract his dangerous abilities. He was polite and friendly in the mornings when the dosage in his blood was low, but if she came to see him later in the day, hours after he had obediently swallowed his ‘Haitian pills’, Peter would mope in his cot, buried under his blanket curled up in a ball. He would stare out into space, no doubt lost in some kind of horrific visions of what he had done, what he could have done.

Once she’d even thought he might have been crying. Peter had yelled at her to leave him alone, the only time he’d ever raised his voice to her. She had forgiven him for that, since it had only been once.

Elle wished she could make him feel better. After all, you didn’t have to feel bad about the things you’d done if they weren’t really your fault. You could always take your mind off them just by thinking about something else. Elle had told herself that from a very young age, and she believed it without question. She figured Peter probably wouldn’t share her views on much of anything, though; he certainly hadn’t been diagnosed a sociopath.

She had been quite surprised when reading through Peter’s file to find that he was completely mentally sound. She wondered how he didn’t have anything wrong with him, considering his circumstances of late.

Peter certainly had never asked for his very special ability. To be able to walk by a person and just absorb whatever ability they had? The only other person who could do anything like that was Sylar, and he was definitely not right in the head. But then again, the main difference was that Sylar took new abilities by force. Sylar coveted power, and killed for what he wanted. Peter was more like a hapless bystander. She suspected Peter would probably give some of them back, if he could.

Elle knew that he still considered himself dangerous and volatile, with good reason: Peter's control of his ability wasn’t quite sufficient. Almost blowing up New York City and nearly killing his brother had proved that.

She guessed that was why he was so distant. Peter couldn’t forgive himself for something that had been out of his control. She had tried to get him to talk a little more about it, but he would just smile half-heartedly and tell her to leave it alone.

Unless he wanted a zap of her electricity. Then he’d change the subject and try his best to look cute, which really didn’t take much effort in her opinion. She was always happy to give him a little jolt, and it would leave him wide-eyed and breathless, and it made her think of other things she’d like to do to him to put him in that very same state.

Too bad he hadn’t returned her advances. But Elle was not easily discouraged.

Peter couldn't possibly know there was a surveillance camera installed in his cell, allowing Elle, or anyone else who was so inclined, to spy on him. There was no sound, but a nice clear picture. She'd taken advantage of this more times than she'd ever like to admit.

Elle was starting to think that Peter actually might be becoming an obsession for her. She had watched him do endless numbers of push-ups and sit-ups, watched him toss and turn in fitful sleep, watched him pace back and forth and talk to himself. He was definitely a strange one, that Peter Petrelli.

Her father had told her Peter had been a nurse when his life was normal. A hospice nurse, someone who helped people die. What a bleeding heart you are, Peter, she thought disdainfully. She found it hard to picture him sitting at some old terminally ill person’s bedside giving them their pain medicine or changing their bedpans or whatnot. She wondered how he had the patience to tend to someone's every need day in and day out. Well, everyone had to make a living doing something.

What about what you need, Peter? she wondered, while she watched him sleep.

He was really a handsome man, Elle thought, with his angular face and light skin, his dark eyes and hair.

But Peter looked like a totally different person now than when he’d first come to them. His face had thinned out and sharpened, and his body had become a lot more defined instead of just slim and boyish. Elle wondered if she had inadvertently triggered this transformation when she had cut his hair. He hadn’t asked her to, but he hadn’t stopped her, either. Maybe Peter had reinvented himself on the outside to distance himself from the pain he held inside.

Elle caught a glimpse of movement on the computer monitor, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Peter had just violently kicked off his covers and awakened, his eyes wide, body glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration. She watched as he cocked his left fist back and punched the cinderblock wall, his hand coming away bloody, each knuckle torn. He collapsed back on his pillow, then used his good hand to swipe the sweat from across his forehead.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, and his anger seemed to dissipate. He lay there unmoving for a little bit. He then rested his right hand on his stomach, lazily tracing his index and middle fingers around his navel.

Her gaze followed along with Peter’s hand down under the waistband of his Company-issued white pants, and Elle inhaled sharply as she realized what she was about to witness.

Then the overhead fluorescent lights flickered on.

“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, nearly jumping up out of her chair. She quickly pressed the monitor button off as her father entered the room.

“Elle? What are you doing here so late? I didn’t assign you any tasks that couldn’t wait until tomorrow,” her father said, giving her a curious, suspicious look.

“Oh, nothing, Daddy! I was just--looking over some files that I need for my field assignment tomorrow. You’re right. It can wait.” Elle scrutinized his face, hoping he hadn’t seen what she’d really been doing. Bob merely stared at her, his expression changing to one of slight annoyance.

Relieved, Elle feigned a yawn. “You know, now that you mention it, I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go to bed now. Need to be rested for tomorrow.” She gave her father her best sweet, innocent little girl smile.

He nodded approvingly and said, “All right, Elle,” and he turned to leave. As he was closing the door behind him, she reached for the monitor switch again. The door opened again, and Elle dropped her hand, grabbed a sheaf of paperwork and thumbed it nervously.

Could you get the hell out of here?

Her father said, “One more thing. Before you leave tomorrow, check in on Peter Petrelli. He’s been asking for you.”

Peter’s been asking for me? she thought, her heart leaping. Over the last few weeks he’d been their prisoner--patient, she corrected herself--she’d fervently wished Peter would take some kind of further interest in her besides the time he’d asked if there was more to her than “the whole sadistic lightning thing.” Peter didn’t know at this point that he was never leaving that cell for more than the time it took to shower, so he wasn’t going to be seeing any girlfriends he might have had back home.

Elle inwardly prided herself on how many of their prisoners--patients!--would look her up and down with that desperate gleam in their eyes, wishing for a chance to spend some quality time with her in their sad little cells. She’d given a chosen few their wish, but ever since Peter had arrived he’d become a pursuit of sorts. Peter had been, up until now, the only one who kept his emotional and physical distance (except for her electric shocks of course) and showed no attraction to her whatsoever.

Elle hadn’t liked that one bit. He was definitely the youngest and best looking patient they had in their care at the present time.

But now he was asking for her. Coupling that with what she’d now most definitely missed on the surveillance camera, Peter was beginning to break. He might be special, but he was still a man. He needed some female companionship, and she knew just as well as he did the only place where he could get it.

“Elle? Are you coming?” her father’s voice interrupted.

“Ah--yes, Daddy, of course. I’m just gonna save these files I had open and put away these papers, okay? Don’t worry, I’ll shut everything down and lock up.”

“All right, sweetheart. Good night.”

Bob smiled and left, and Elle flicked the monitor back on.

It seemed Peter liked to take his time; he had not finished.

Peter full-handedly stroked himself, and he seemed to be looking right into the camera, his mouth partly open, his left leg shaking slightly. Captivated, Elle watched him perform this extremely private ritual.

Finally, his eyes closed, and his body shivered in release. When he was done, he got up and went out of her view, undoubtedly to clean himself up. He returned to his cot fully dressed now, and he curled up under his covers with a small smile on his face and promptly fell back asleep.

Elle let out a breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding. She was inexplicably surprised at herself; she felt almost embarrassed for having watched him, but more so, incredibly aroused. Heat had spread across her cheeks, and her insides were suddenly achy and warm, her stomach fluttering madly. Now she really couldn’t wait to do what her father had asked. Peter wouldn’t continue to deny her.

I know what you need, Peter. You need me.

***

Elle felt that strange sensation in her stomach return as she pressed the button that would release the door to Peter’s cell. She stepped inside, let the door shut behind her, and locked it with her code. She had a feeling she would be here a while longer than usual.

Peter was lying on his cot, shirtless, his hands resting behind his head. At the sight of her he sat up, a smile playing on his lips, as if he had a secret he desperately wanted to reveal. She took a long look up and down his body, admiring him silently, and while feigning indifference, she said, “My father said you wanted to see me?”

“That’s right,” Peter affirmed. He got to his feet and advanced toward her. He raised his hand and unbelievably, a bright blue spark emanated from his fingers and wound up his arm, brief but unmistakably visible. Apparently he had absorbed her power, which meant somehow his abilities were working again. Elle made a mental note to have the Company doctors increase his dose.

“I must be developing a tolerance for your ‘Haitian pills’. Guess you better have the Company doctors increase my dose,” Peter suggested. She noticed his voice had taken on a slightly higher tone, as if he were mocking her, and not only that; he had repeated her thoughts word for word!

Don't tell me he's a damn mind-reader too!

Peter's hand sparked again, the burst of a bit longer duration this time. His demeanor more serious, he said, “I’ve been practicing since yesterday, and I just couldn’t wait to show you.”

Elle just shook her head. His pathetic display was nothing comparable to the kind of control she possessed. She scoffed, “You’ve been practicing? Really? Let me know when you can do this.”

She opened her hand and emitted a blue ball of electricity, spinning it around and around, faster and faster until it looked like a tiny planet in orbit above her palm. Peter merely watched, his expression betraying nothing, the pale blue glow reflected in his dark eyes.

“Not yet,” he said, smiling mischievously. He sat back down and patted the place next to him on the cot. “Come on over here. Why don’t you show me?” he asked, a knowing look in his eyes. “Teach me.”

He can really turn on the charm when he wants to. She couldn’t deny Peter's sexual presence; she could barely stop herself from running over there and jumping on top of him. She managed to stay put.

“I don’t think so, Peter. That little trick means you’re dangerous again. How can I trust you if your abilities are working? I think I might need to call security,” she teased.

Not that she really would. Peter couldn’t hurt her. Her control over her ability was much better than his. If he started fighting with her she could put him on his ass faster than he could even think about conjuring up electricity of his own.

Unless of course he decided to go nuclear again. Or if he had some other special tricks up his sleeve.

No, she decided. He wouldn’t want to turn this whole compound into a radioactive wasteland, its inhabitants burned down to nothing but ashes. Peter had a conscience, something Elle had lost long ago, or maybe hadn't been born with at all.

“What am I going to do with you, Peter?” she asked.

Better move quick, Elle thought.

She released her sphere of electric light, aiming it straight at his face. His reaction was immediate, faster than she expected, but not what she’d expected. Peter didn’t jump out of the way; he simply covered his face with his arm.

She watched in horror as the skin from his fingertips to his elbow burned and crackled. The room filled with the sickening scent of charred flesh, quickly sucked away by the air vents.

How am I going to explain this? Third degree burns? She couldn’t even lie about it--the camera was still on! It had all been recorded!

Before she could even start to dream up some kind of lie, impossibly, Peter began to heal. Rapidly. In little more than ten seconds, his arm and hand had completely regenerated.

“There are a lot of things I can do, Elle. Can’t do them all, not with the drugs, but at least that works. Or you’d be in serious trouble with your father, now wouldn’t you? Injuring the patients?” He let out a self-satisfied chuckle, stood up, and took a few steps toward her. Elle backed away, her hand floundering along the wall towards the alarm button next to the door.

This is not good!

Elle was definitely reconsidering calling security. But her fingers hesitated over the button.

She was starting to understand more about Peter. He was his mother’s son; how could she have forgotten that? Peter may have been the good one, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to get what he wanted when he had to. He’d learned from the best, after all.

Peter was smart and manipulative, concealing how many abilities he possessed when he’d first arrived, and now he had actually used her feelings for him to his advantage, armed with the knowledge that her guard would come down when it came to dealing with him.

Despite her burgeoning fear, she was becoming even more attracted to him. Two can play this game.

She reached toward him and pulled him in close, and he drew back, startled. “Peter, what’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you scared of me? Or do you want me? Which one is it?”

Peter sighed, regaining his bearings. He answered finally, “What do you want me to do? Or what don’t you want me to do?”

Elle looked at him for a moment, unsure of what he meant. Peter then nodded his head towards his bed.

“I know where the camera is, Elle,” he grunted, roughly pinning her arms against the cinderblock wall. Before she could react, his mouth was opening over hers, the scent and taste of him overwhelming her senses.

Then the pressure on her wrists released, and his hands traveled up underneath her shirt. His touch was both gentle and demanding all at once, sending shivers down her back and a sudden rush of heat straight down to her core.

“Did you like the little show I put on for you?” Peter demanded between hard open-mouthed kisses. “Did you think I didn’t know you would be watching me?”

Elle couldn’t answer him if she wanted to. She didn’t care that he knew she’d seen him. All she could think about was getting his pants off him. She fumbled at his waistband, then pushed them down and closed her hand around him, and Peter’s breath caught in his throat.

After a second of hesitation, he picked her up and held her up against the wall. He spread her legs and centered himself in between them, his breath quickening. His hands were at her thighs now, pushing her skirt up.

“Think I didn’t notice how your skirts kept getting shorter? How your shirts kept showing more and more? Did you really want me to make this easy for you?”

Now it was Elle’s turn to falter. Would she really have preferred it if Peter had been desperate for her attention from the start? Would she have wanted him this badly if he had simply thrown himself at her?

“If I had, it wouldn’t feel this good right now,” he hissed. And oh, was he right. She shifted against him, and she could feel the hard heat of him through the fabric of her panties, the only thing now separating her from getting what she’d wanted for the past few weeks. Suddenly, Peter pushed his hand in between their bodies and pulled the panties sideways, and Elle gasped as he slid into her.

“Peter!” she cried out in surprise. She locked her legs around his waist, moaning deeply, arching her body into him while he drove himself into her.

After a few moments, Peter slowed his rhythm. Confused, Elle opened her eyes and noticed he was looking at her crossly.

“Shh!” he commanded. “You don’t want Adam to hear--do you?”

Elle realized, in fact, that her sounds of enjoyment were definitely audible in the next cell, and strangely enough, that excited her even more. She urged Peter on.

He breathed, slowly grinding his hips into hers, “Oh, that’s right. You probably do. A girl like you--likes to make men jealous. He told me all about you. But I figured--I’d find out for myself.”

Elle had started to enjoy his slower movements, and it took a second for his words to register.

What? Had he really just said that?

Peter's mouth twisted in a wicked smile, so different from the sad one he had given her so many times in the past. He didn’t even look like himself anymore.

He just insulted me!

Elle swung her legs down and pushed him away from her, then slapped him hard across his face, his head whirling to the side. Peter stumbled back and got tangled in his pants, and he crashed to the floor. Elle managed to steady herself before she fell right along with him.

Peter got to his feet and pulled his pants back up. He took her arm and said softly, “That wasn’t very nice, Elle.”

“Who said I was nice?” she hissed, pulling away from his grasp, then smoothing out her clothes and her hair. How dare he say such things? He didn’t know the first thing about her, even if he could read her mind. Apparently, she didn’t know all that much about him, either.

Elle moved toward the door, trying to hide the fact that she was very shaky on her feet, her frustration mounting. Part of her wanted to just forget what he said, throw him down on his bed and pick right up where they had left off. But there was no way she could have let him continue after having the nerve to say that. No way was he getting near her again if he didn't apologize.

Peter stepped into her path and gave her a devious little smile. “Elle, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, carrying a hint of remorse. “I shouldn’t have said that.” He beckoned her towards him, but Elle made no move to comply.

Get the hell out of my head!

"Oh, come on, Elle. Please?"

He reached out tentatively, but she backed away until she was up against the cinderblocks again. Elle wondered if she wasn’t so much angry with him than with herself, at how easily she had let him take advantage of her. She shouldn’t be making this easy for him either.

Peter hung his head, and then teased, “Does that mean you’re finished? Because I was just getting started, you know.”

A brief flash of rage exploded in her, and she changed her mind. She was really starting to hate this smart-assed, almost arrogant side of Peter. Why did he have to be so incredibly sexy?

Elle gripped his wrist and gave him another quick shot of electricity, just enough to hurt but not to burn, and he pulled his arm back, a strange look coming to his face.

“Please, Peter. You think you’re the one in control here? You’re wrong.” Elle touched him again with just the tips of her fingers, trailing slight sparks up and down Peter’s arm, his shoulder, his back. He hardly flinched; actually, he now seemed to be enjoying the sensation. Elle smiled and decided she could forgive him.

I always knew you’d start to like it.

“Act like that again and I could really make this hurt for you,” Elle promised.

“Hurt me then,” Peter challenged. “I heal almost instantly. See how much I can take, Elle. Come on. It’ll be fun.” He reached out and shocked her with a surprisingly strong blue bolt of his own.

“You son of a bitch!” she cursed, shooting a vicious burst at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. Peter collapsed back onto the cot and didn’t move at all.

Elle ran to him in a panic and pressed a finger to his neck; he had no pulse and he wasn’t breathing either. She waited a few seconds. Still nothing.

Her own heart nearly stopped. What if she had killed him? Permanently? What if he was still too drugged to heal completely?

“Come on, Peter, wake up,” she begged, shaking him, slapping his cheek. “Wake up!”

Her fears were assuaged, thankfully, as Peter took in a deep breath and blinked a few times, his heart finally restarting. Unbelievably, he began to laugh.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Peter reached for her, and every time his fingers brushed her skin she sent a powerful jolt into him, each one making him gasp and jerk away. Still, he wouldn’t be discouraged. Over and over he tried to get his hands on her, and each time she shocked him. Soon she had him chasing her around the perimeter of the cell like a playful puppy. When he caught her, she wiggled and squirmed out of his grasp, sending shocks into him until he let her go.

“Again,” he panted, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her in. “Come on. Again.”

Elle did as he asked, all the while feeling her own excitement build again. Not only had she killed him; now she was virtually electrocuting him, his nerves overloading and healing so rapidly that he must be getting a strange thrill out of the pain. She noticed he was fully hard again, and his dark eyes sparkled with a dangerous mix of fear and desire.

She pulled him in for a kiss, then pushed him down onto the bed. Elle undressed slowly, dropping each item of clothing at Peter’s feet. Peter pulled his pants off again, then sat back and watched her little striptease, running his hand up and down himself just like he had done on the surveillance camera last night. Enticing her. Challenging her.

So she decided to challenge him in return.

“Before I let you touch me again, I need to see something. Show me how much electricity you can charge up at once, and then hold it as long as you can.”

Peter relinquished his hold on himself and held out his arm, bright blue energy radiating from the center of his palm all the way up his arm to his shoulder. He held it for a moment, and then said breathlessly, “It tingles. Feels good. Not the same as when you do it, though.”

Elle lowered herself onto him before he could say another word, and the electric discharge briefly surrounded both of them and then dissipated. His arm fell, and he let out a deep moan.

“Oh, what happened, Peter? Lost your concentration?” she teased. Peter tried to answer, but all he managed was a guttural choking sound. He still tried to duplicate her power, but all he produced now were short, half-hearted sparks that merely tickled her nerves.

Elle closed her eyes and rocked herself up and down on him, until Peter lifted her and sat up, pushing himself deeper.

Oh, no you don’t. You’re not stronger than me.

She chose that moment to discharge electricity through her whole body, though she knew it would hurt her just as much as it would him. The difference was, he would like it.

Peter’s eyes widened and his face contorted as the shock conducted into him, and he lay back once again, his body entirely slack, finally giving up his fight for control.

"More...as much as you can," he pleaded.

Now she had him.

She gripped his shoulders, bracing herself, and channeled another full body burst into him, a lightning-fast flash of pain searing through her insides, sending her into orgasm.

Now it’s your turn.

As she came, she moved back and forth on top of him, still sending her power into him, and Peter let out a surprised, shaky cry. She pushed herself away from him just before he convulsed beneath her, and he reached down and finished himself off, his breath coming in quick, hard gasps.

“Oh, damn it,” Peter breathed finally, laughing, looking a little embarrassed. “I think that was too much,” he panted. “Sorry.” He grabbed his t-shirt and swiped at himself.

Elle delighted at the dazed, spent look on his face. She gave him a smile of her own, tracing her fingers down his cheek. “You wanted all you could take, Peter. Apparently not that much.”

“Then we’ll just have to try again,” Peter said, turning towards her, kissing her. “Practice makes perfect.”

Elle could hardly stifle a laugh. Did Peter really think she didn’t have anything better to do today than spend time with him?

“Want to hear a secret?” she asked.

“What?”

She moved her lips across his cheek, right up to his ear and whispered, “I knew that would happen. Adam didn’t know what hit him when I did that to him.” Elle got up, gathered her discarded clothes, and dressed. “I told you, Peter. You weren’t ever in control.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open. He looked quite lost and confused, just like the first time she’d met him. Except that time, he hadn’t been sitting on his bed, his face flushed, chest heaving, and covered in his own come.

With that thought, Elle finally couldn’t hold back her laughter, and she moved for the door. Peter’s brow furrowed, and he asked incredulously, “You’re not…leaving, are you?”

Elle stopped and deliberated for a moment, still laughing softly. She leaned down and gave Peter a quick peck on the lips that ended in a slight crackle.

“For now. But don’t worry, Peter. I’ll be back. You can count on it. Until then, maybe you should practice some more.”