Fic: The Lady Doth Protest (Peter/Claude)
To who it may concern: Yes, I'm still working on Dust to Dust. It's just coming a bit more slowly than I expected. Blame Claude.
To the rest of you, since you liked the Claude pov so much (thank you, thank you), here's another one. This was originally the ending to Cold Night, but then that one deviated wildly.
There's a tiny line stolen from POTC. It just fit.
Title: The Lady Doth Protest
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Claude/Peter
Summary: Claude has a "cheerful" morning.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Mm. Awake. What’s the time? 9:02? Too early. Now that I’ve got a good, reliable bed to sleep in, I’m going to use it properly. To sleep in until noon. Or one. One of those. Pete’s on me, draped closer than the blanket. Feels good. Don’t know why I complained about this.
Hot breath on my shoulder slurs into a moan. He’s awake. Won’t let me sleep if his fingers keep skimming over my stomach. Hip. Wait, hip? No, that’s too light. He’s going to...
Oh, Christ. Please tell me that I’m hallucinating and did not just hear myself...
“Did you just giggle?”
Damn you, Peter. Why did you have to do this now when I don’t have the mental acuity to deal with this? Half my brain’s asleep.
“I don’t giggle, Petrelli.”
“I’m pretty sure you did.”
“It’s early. You haven’t had your coffee. Your ears are probably playing tricks on you. Maybe you’re still clinging on to some dream or something.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
What? Did he just... Cheeky, little sod. Look at him, all puffed up and self-satisfied, an arrogant grin suffusing his face as if this gave him some sort of victory over me or something. He did it on purpose, I’m sure of it. He and his little “I’m just an innocent puppy, hold me” scheming and his pretty hands wandering around easy as you please because I stopped complaining and he can get away with it. Well, that stops now.
“Doubtless you think that using my countryman’s words against me makes you look cute. Let me make this clear. It doesn’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Really? Rather high opinion of yourself you’re developing there. You better watch it. Your head will be ballooning up to the size of a basketball any minute now.”
Damn it, I am protesting too much. He caught me all unprepared and unawares, What else am I supposed to do? Leave? Not an option. That gives him the win.
Shit! Don’t do that, don’t do that! He’s tickling me again. The little blighter is skimming over my hip, barely scratching me with the tips of his fingers, sending these little shivers trickling through my skin and it’s not like I can just turn off my nerve endings. I can’t get away. When did he throw himself on me? He’s chaining me to the bed with his body, lying across my torso and I can’t push him off. Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. I’m cutting through my lip with my teeth, but I can’t contain it in my throat. It’s too much. Damn you, Peter!
“You’re laughing.”
Stop sounding so sodding happy! I’m not... oh, crap, I am laughing. Stop that!
“You’re ticklish.”
I grab at his wrists, but he squirms away before I can get to them, attacking my sides, my neck, no, not my collarbone!
“I’m not,” Christ, I can’t finish the sentence. I sound like a squeaky toy caught in a dog’s mouth. “Not ticklish.”
Stop, stop, please stop.
“Oh yeah? Then why do you keep laughing?”
I’m hunched over. He actually has me hunched over. Stay away from my knees! He’s a jellyfish. A bloody, overgrown jellyfish, tentacles leeching everywhere paralyzing me in a fit of humiliating helplessness.
“Just admit it, Claude.”
Insolent bastard. I’ll teach him. Once I can straighten up again.
“No. I won’t- you’ll-I’ll make you regret this.”
Oh, yes, very threatening. I’m sure a newborn ant would be terrified.
“No, I disagree.”
Of course he does.
“This is way too much fun. Don’t know why I haven’t tried it before. I’m not very ticklish myself, but you’re a bonanza. Your face is all red.”
Oh bloody hell, I can’t breathe anymore! He’s trying to kill me. I cry murder!
“All right, all right! I’m ticklish! Now stop that!”
Oh merciful Mary, he stopped. Now... No, gotta catch my breath first.
Okay, now I jump him.
Grabbing his shoulders, I throw him back against the bed and straddle his hips, slamming his hands against the mattress beside his head. Who’s the superior one now?
“Had your fun, Pete?”
Why is he grinning? Shouldn’t be grinning.
“Yeah, I did.”
Now why did he have to insist on gloating? All bright eyes and bitable lips and... He rolls against me. Well, someone’s up.
“Good for you.” I return the smirk, but I ain’t no hapless puppy. You messed with a wolf now. “But it’s hardly proper giving a man such a rough awakening and all.”
“You’ve given me plenty yourself.”
And he rubs himself against me again, wanton and eager to please. Oh, and he will please.
“That I have,” I murmur, stroking the words close to his mouth. He parts his lips, reaching towards me, and I indulge him in a teasing kiss, more a nip, really, tasting him before pulling back just far enough to speak.
“But let me assure you,” I reach down to grab his erection, loving the gasping moan that rolls from his tongue. He’ll be making those all morning “Those will seem like no more than starters when I’m through with you.”
To the rest of you, since you liked the Claude pov so much (thank you, thank you), here's another one. This was originally the ending to Cold Night, but then that one deviated wildly.
There's a tiny line stolen from POTC. It just fit.
Title: The Lady Doth Protest
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Claude/Peter
Summary: Claude has a "cheerful" morning.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Mm. Awake. What’s the time? 9:02? Too early. Now that I’ve got a good, reliable bed to sleep in, I’m going to use it properly. To sleep in until noon. Or one. One of those. Pete’s on me, draped closer than the blanket. Feels good. Don’t know why I complained about this.
Hot breath on my shoulder slurs into a moan. He’s awake. Won’t let me sleep if his fingers keep skimming over my stomach. Hip. Wait, hip? No, that’s too light. He’s going to...
Oh, Christ. Please tell me that I’m hallucinating and did not just hear myself...
“Did you just giggle?”
Damn you, Peter. Why did you have to do this now when I don’t have the mental acuity to deal with this? Half my brain’s asleep.
“I don’t giggle, Petrelli.”
“I’m pretty sure you did.”
“It’s early. You haven’t had your coffee. Your ears are probably playing tricks on you. Maybe you’re still clinging on to some dream or something.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
What? Did he just... Cheeky, little sod. Look at him, all puffed up and self-satisfied, an arrogant grin suffusing his face as if this gave him some sort of victory over me or something. He did it on purpose, I’m sure of it. He and his little “I’m just an innocent puppy, hold me” scheming and his pretty hands wandering around easy as you please because I stopped complaining and he can get away with it. Well, that stops now.
“Doubtless you think that using my countryman’s words against me makes you look cute. Let me make this clear. It doesn’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Really? Rather high opinion of yourself you’re developing there. You better watch it. Your head will be ballooning up to the size of a basketball any minute now.”
Damn it, I am protesting too much. He caught me all unprepared and unawares, What else am I supposed to do? Leave? Not an option. That gives him the win.
Shit! Don’t do that, don’t do that! He’s tickling me again. The little blighter is skimming over my hip, barely scratching me with the tips of his fingers, sending these little shivers trickling through my skin and it’s not like I can just turn off my nerve endings. I can’t get away. When did he throw himself on me? He’s chaining me to the bed with his body, lying across my torso and I can’t push him off. Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. I’m cutting through my lip with my teeth, but I can’t contain it in my throat. It’s too much. Damn you, Peter!
“You’re laughing.”
Stop sounding so sodding happy! I’m not... oh, crap, I am laughing. Stop that!
“You’re ticklish.”
I grab at his wrists, but he squirms away before I can get to them, attacking my sides, my neck, no, not my collarbone!
“I’m not,” Christ, I can’t finish the sentence. I sound like a squeaky toy caught in a dog’s mouth. “Not ticklish.”
Stop, stop, please stop.
“Oh yeah? Then why do you keep laughing?”
I’m hunched over. He actually has me hunched over. Stay away from my knees! He’s a jellyfish. A bloody, overgrown jellyfish, tentacles leeching everywhere paralyzing me in a fit of humiliating helplessness.
“Just admit it, Claude.”
Insolent bastard. I’ll teach him. Once I can straighten up again.
“No. I won’t- you’ll-I’ll make you regret this.”
Oh, yes, very threatening. I’m sure a newborn ant would be terrified.
“No, I disagree.”
Of course he does.
“This is way too much fun. Don’t know why I haven’t tried it before. I’m not very ticklish myself, but you’re a bonanza. Your face is all red.”
Oh bloody hell, I can’t breathe anymore! He’s trying to kill me. I cry murder!
“All right, all right! I’m ticklish! Now stop that!”
Oh merciful Mary, he stopped. Now... No, gotta catch my breath first.
Okay, now I jump him.
Grabbing his shoulders, I throw him back against the bed and straddle his hips, slamming his hands against the mattress beside his head. Who’s the superior one now?
“Had your fun, Pete?”
Why is he grinning? Shouldn’t be grinning.
“Yeah, I did.”
Now why did he have to insist on gloating? All bright eyes and bitable lips and... He rolls against me. Well, someone’s up.
“Good for you.” I return the smirk, but I ain’t no hapless puppy. You messed with a wolf now. “But it’s hardly proper giving a man such a rough awakening and all.”
“You’ve given me plenty yourself.”
And he rubs himself against me again, wanton and eager to please. Oh, and he will please.
“That I have,” I murmur, stroking the words close to his mouth. He parts his lips, reaching towards me, and I indulge him in a teasing kiss, more a nip, really, tasting him before pulling back just far enough to speak.
“But let me assure you,” I reach down to grab his erection, loving the gasping moan that rolls from his tongue. He’ll be making those all morning “Those will seem like no more than starters when I’m through with you.”