Waking up like this wasn't actually as unusual as one would expect for Peter. He'd once had a girlfriend that liked to wake him up in various ways (and to this day he would still maintain that it was her ideas), so he didn't freak out as some people might. But the body weight was a little different, and Peter couldn't recall his ex-girlfriend being that strong, so he slowly struggled to open his eyes, still caught between dreaming and reality.
Wait. Something was wrong here. Rachel was pinning him to the bed, and he was fairly sure that he and Rachel actually weren't like that. Or like anything, really, which was why Peter was feeling a growing sense of confusion. And Rachel wasn't forward enough to do this randomly, he didn't think.
Blinking groggily, Peter squinted up at Rachel, trying to focus his vision. "Um," he said intelligently. What was she doing? Good god, it was way too early in the morning to even be registering what was happening, let alone try to process it.
"Morning," I practically purred, smiling in a little flash of white teeth before I was nuzzling his neck again, lips and tongue exploring his skin. Perhaps if I could have seen the green of my eyes flash to black or registered the pheromones I was pumping out I would have known what happened. As it was, I was only conscious of the growing desire that his increased heart rate was giving me.
Trailing my mouth back up to his, I kissed him slowly, deeply, my hands running back down his arms and across his chest, fingers teasing against his skin. It was all I could do to not just start pulling at clothes right then and there. But some voice in the back of my head was telling me that slow was better. Slow would feel like heaven. So I tempered my hunger with sensual movements, languidly moving against Peter, my teeth catching his lower lip gently for a second before I moved down to run my tongue around his adam's apple.
Christ, there was really no point in thinking about anything when Rachel was being like this. Not being fully awake, all Peter could do was enjoy the sensations, the liquid movements of her hands and her mouth, all thought about protesting shoved completely to the back of his mind. There was something in the air, or something about the way Rachel smelled that made it absolutely impossible to resist, a combination of power and aphrodisiac. Why had he never noticed that before?
Making a sound that might have been a cut-off groan deep in his throat - dammit, she found his weak spot, his neck had always been his weak spot - Peter struggled to get his brain to kick in. Okay, Rachel, on top of his, doing wicked things with her tongue and teeth - not the usual sort of thing he was used to. He had to focus here
( ... )
I snarled, his hands suddenly caught in mine as I surged forward, pinning him once more. Then I gently touched my nose to his, nuzzling him, smiling. "No. Why would you--"
My scar was tingling. The heat of it was coursing through me in waves, nearly masked by the hunger but still there. My scar was tingling and Peter wasn't a vampire. Which mean that...
Oh god.
Flinging myself off of him, I pushed myself off the bed, scuttling back into a corner, my fingers flying up to touch my teeth. Oh God. Panicking, I stared, wide-eyed at Peter, struggling for any kind of control. "Get out," I all but moaned, harshly. "God, Peter, get out." I wasn't going to be able to hold back for any signifigant amount of time with him in there, all rumpled and delicious and the memory of him under me. Shuddering, I closed my eyes, grimacing. "Get Ivy. Now
( ... )
It had taken Ivy a few hours to recuperate - not from the punch, although it had left a bruise, but from Rachel. Ivy had been calm and fairly in control the whole time, putting aside the shock and worry for later. As soon as Rachel had left, it had manifested, leaving Ivy a scared wreck. She couldn't stop dreading that it might be permanent, that Rachel would be stuck that way - no longer the same Rachel she loved, no longer able to be someone who could Ivy sane.
Eventually, approximately 2 hours and 43 minutes later, Ivy made her way to Tent 31. She knew the way already, having been there once. She could smell Rachel before she even stepped inside. And Peter, and another scent that she hadn't been able to determine. Someone else
( ... )
Jerking back to myself, my nostrils flared. My eyes were fully black, my mind having been wandering down bloody paths of want and desire and interesting pages from the vampire dating book. Ivy had been right about one thing - I was not strong enough to deny myself. Not even in my imagination.
It was Ivy, something I knew even before her voice called out. Letting my head thump back down, I ignored the knocking. Trying to drown out the steady clamor in the back of my head, demanding that I do something to quench it.
Rachel was moving, but there was no reply - awake, but ignoring Ivy. Fine. This would have to be done the difficult way.
Ivy took a step back and delivered a swift kick just above the door handle, moving forward to catch the door before it dislodged completely and fell inwards. Nudging it so that the door fell backwards into the living room, Ivy's features tightened as she saw the state Rachel was in. She knew that state. She'd known it for three years on non-practicing.
Sympathy rushed through her, and Ivy lowered herself down to sit beside Rachel, legs neatly crossed under her. "There's a better, and smarter, way to do this, Rachel," she commented, a stern edge to her voice. "You can't keep running away."
"Can too," I gave a choked little laugh, not looking at her. "I do it with everything else. Why not this?"
Quiet for a minute, I tried to pull my thoughts into some kind of order. "I scared him away," I murmured mournfully. "I've gone so long without...without anything because I was waiting, hoping, that he'd want it. That he'd want me. And he doesn't and now he won't come back."
Looking up at Ivy, eyes black and expression exhausted. "I can't do this, Ivy." I wasn't just talking about the vampire thing. "I'm not built to deal with this. Why can't he understand that?" Giving another bitter little laugh, I hauled myself up to a sitting position, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder as my handcuffed arms jerked awkwardly.
"Since when do I ever do the smart thing?"
I craved touch. Closeness that it seemed I could only find when physically intimate with another person. And Peter, for whatever reason, was not interested in that with me. It seemed sometimes, like in Claire's sorting, that he was. But then it was always me
( ... )
Comments 46
Wait. Something was wrong here. Rachel was pinning him to the bed, and he was fairly sure that he and Rachel actually weren't like that. Or like anything, really, which was why Peter was feeling a growing sense of confusion. And Rachel wasn't forward enough to do this randomly, he didn't think.
Blinking groggily, Peter squinted up at Rachel, trying to focus his vision. "Um," he said intelligently. What was she doing? Good god, it was way too early in the morning to even be registering what was happening, let alone try to process it.
Reply
Trailing my mouth back up to his, I kissed him slowly, deeply, my hands running back down his arms and across his chest, fingers teasing against his skin. It was all I could do to not just start pulling at clothes right then and there. But some voice in the back of my head was telling me that slow was better. Slow would feel like heaven. So I tempered my hunger with sensual movements, languidly moving against Peter, my teeth catching his lower lip gently for a second before I moved down to run my tongue around his adam's apple.
Reply
Making a sound that might have been a cut-off groan deep in his throat - dammit, she found his weak spot, his neck had always been his weak spot - Peter struggled to get his brain to kick in. Okay, Rachel, on top of his, doing wicked things with her tongue and teeth - not the usual sort of thing he was used to. He had to focus here ( ... )
Reply
My scar was tingling. The heat of it was coursing through me in waves, nearly masked by the hunger but still there. My scar was tingling and Peter wasn't a vampire. Which mean that...
Oh god.
Flinging myself off of him, I pushed myself off the bed, scuttling back into a corner, my fingers flying up to touch my teeth. Oh God. Panicking, I stared, wide-eyed at Peter, struggling for any kind of control. "Get out," I all but moaned, harshly. "God, Peter, get out." I wasn't going to be able to hold back for any signifigant amount of time with him in there, all rumpled and delicious and the memory of him under me. Shuddering, I closed my eyes, grimacing. "Get Ivy. Now ( ... )
Reply
Eventually, approximately 2 hours and 43 minutes later, Ivy made her way to Tent 31. She knew the way already, having been there once. She could smell Rachel before she even stepped inside. And Peter, and another scent that she hadn't been able to determine. Someone else ( ... )
Reply
It was Ivy, something I knew even before her voice called out. Letting my head thump back down, I ignored the knocking. Trying to drown out the steady clamor in the back of my head, demanding that I do something to quench it.
Reply
Ivy took a step back and delivered a swift kick just above the door handle, moving forward to catch the door before it dislodged completely and fell inwards. Nudging it so that the door fell backwards into the living room, Ivy's features tightened as she saw the state Rachel was in. She knew that state. She'd known it for three years on non-practicing.
Sympathy rushed through her, and Ivy lowered herself down to sit beside Rachel, legs neatly crossed under her. "There's a better, and smarter, way to do this, Rachel," she commented, a stern edge to her voice. "You can't keep running away."
Reply
Quiet for a minute, I tried to pull my thoughts into some kind of order. "I scared him away," I murmured mournfully. "I've gone so long without...without anything because I was waiting, hoping, that he'd want it. That he'd want me. And he doesn't and now he won't come back."
Looking up at Ivy, eyes black and expression exhausted. "I can't do this, Ivy." I wasn't just talking about the vampire thing. "I'm not built to deal with this. Why can't he understand that?" Giving another bitter little laugh, I hauled myself up to a sitting position, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder as my handcuffed arms jerked awkwardly.
"Since when do I ever do the smart thing?"
I craved touch. Closeness that it seemed I could only find when physically intimate with another person. And Peter, for whatever reason, was not interested in that with me. It seemed sometimes, like in Claire's sorting, that he was. But then it was always me ( ... )
Reply
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