Heroes, "Nymph", Peter/Claire, Rated NC-17
Fandom: Heroes
Title: Nymph
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Claire
Spoilers: Up to Parasite
Warnings: sexual situations, sex with a consenting minor, and this is not AU, so uncle/niece relations
Word Count: 1394
Notes: This was done for the mature_heroes Quickie challenge.
Summary: In this secret garden, no one would see this cat and mouse game, this love affair beyond sin.
Nymph
“Are you sure?” Her breath was a ghost of a whisper across his skin. The approaching night chilled him to the bone, but Claire’s weight pressing against his body warmed him. She caressed a teasing finger over his chest.
“Yes,” Peter replied in a choked hiss against her cheek. She giggled, and he closed his eyes in desire as she fluttered her hands down over his pants.
“Count to three... and then you have to catch me,” she ordered lightly, mischief in her eyes. She sashayed away from him, moving to hide behind her grandmother’s illustrious bushes. Peter watched her, entranced, as she moved away, seducing him to come get her. He smiled wickedly.
“Alright,” he replied lazily, still watching her hungrily. She locked with his darkened eyes, and then he disappeared. She could still hear him say, “But you won’t see me catch you.”
She gasped, giggling as she ran away, weaving in and out of the looming shrubs of Angela Petrelli’s garden. Peter eyed her closely, studying her - likening her to a nymph that cavorted secretly in a realm just beyond their own. Her white evening dress, a gift from her father, fanned out in the sunset light as she ran.
“One...” he counted, breathing heavily as she danced around, stripping away her shoes.
“Two...” Claire had hidden behind a few bushes again; she laughed and called him out.
“Peter, come get me…where are you?” She wiggled her panties out from underneath her gown. Her shawl fell to the ground, and now only the long nightgown remained. He stared at her, taking in every youthful curve as the white material became transparent from the last evening light.
“Three...” he replied, and then he watched her again, stopping in the middle of the garden gazing at the water fountain. She dipped her hand in for a cool touch of water, and in an instant, he was behind her.
She squeaked in surprise, and he pulled her into an embrace, still invisible. She closed her eyes, smiled, and tried to feel him… not knowing where to look, not knowing where to touch. She just followed instinct.
He snaked his hand down her back, resting it above her bottom and then taking a squeeze, pushing her into him closer. She moaned as she felt him harden against her…and she still didn’t see him. She opened her eyes, and he became visible instantly, delving his tongue deeply into her mouth.
“Claire...” he whispered; his tone was low like the afternoon sun. “I caught you.”
She sighed in his mouth, smiling and lulling to the warmth of his every touch.
“This is so wrong...” she mused, but she hoped she didn’t ruin it.
Instead, Peter laughed darkly against her mouth. It frightened and invigorated her, that voice that would rise up with his collection of powers and vibrate against her flesh. She looked into his eyes, sparkling with instantaneous red.
“No one has to know,” he responded, in a voice so low it sounded like a chilled breeze against her brain. He kissed her quickly once. “Not Nathan.” He kissed her again, harder. “Not even my mother.”
She moaned, feeling his fingers tug at her gown and lift it over her head. She hugged herself, her eyes darting around afraid someone would see.
“Claire,” Peter said, putting a finger under her chin and making her look at him. “Touch me, and no one will see us.”
And then Claire smiled. It was the answer to all their problems; they could use Peter’s power to keep from getting caught - to keep from being disturbed by the moral world. Because in that moment they found out they were related, they knew they were cursed. Somewhere underneath everything that happened to them, everything that brought them together, desire burned and would not die away. It was painful even to touch.
“Please, Peter...” she begged, and he turned her around, sitting against the fountain and then bringing her into his lap. Her wetness rubbed against his hardened erection, and she traced her hands down lightly, fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. He breathed heavily, delighting in every feathery touch her fingers made against his skin.
In a swift moment, his pants were off and his shirt somehow had been thrown into the fountain. With a quick giggle, Claire attacked him, sealing her mouth roughly over his. She spread open her legs and wiggled and squirmed in his lap, heightening his need for her.
He moaned, pushing her off him slightly, and then looking up into her eyes. “I need you, Claire.” And she wasn’t sure if it was desperation or a demand. She kissed his nose lightly and nodded once.
“Peter, I want this. I want you. I always have. Nothing has changed for me.”
Nothing had changed for him either. And as bad as he felt for fucking his own niece, there was a darkness within him that simmered in delight - ready to take her, make her his and his only - rip her apart if he had to and hear her scream.
He felt her hips move, and she groaned as she impaled herself over him. He took a deep intake of breath, and then she was rocking, soft mewls dancing off her tongue.
She was so hot and slick and submissive around him, and he let her grind into him, and he thrust his hips upward, trying to feel as much of her as he could. He groaned at the friction, reveling in her tightness as she clenched around him. Claire, this child - his niece - fit so snugly around him, a perfect piece to a puzzle.
“Oh!” she cried throatily, and he slammed up into her sharply, grunting frustration as he was just beyond his peak.
Peter cried impatience, and he moved her onto her back, flat against the cold marble stone in the middle of his mother’s garden. He pushed inside her again, and Claire sighed, feeling contentment again as he filled her. It took only a few rapid thrusts, and Claire cried resolutely, finding one swift peak and then coming back down. She smiled lazily at him as he continued to move roughly inside of her, working up her slick, sensitive muscles for another round.
No one would know they were there; their tryst would be unseen, even if sounds remained.
He bucked into her wildly, and Claire still slacked against him, her legs quaking for another impending orgasm. She mewled again, and Peter bent over to silence her with a kiss. His mouth refreshed the dryness on her tongue, and she sucked up his taste, eager for more.
“Oh...” she broke the kiss, and Peter growled against her cheek, pounding into her with a spurt of hard, slick force.
She cried. He branded her, in body and spirit. And when he thrust one last time, he howled out, spilling himself inside her. Claire moved slightly, still moving as his body went slack. She cried again, gripping his shoulders as she took him in one last time, as close as she could drive him inside.
He moved in exhaustion over her, lying beside her on the cold marble and then taking her against his chest. He idly rubbed a hand over her moist shoulder. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his arm, inhaling his masculine scent.
“Do you think... we can keep doing this?” Claire whispered; she looked up at the stars and stared at the constellation Orion.
“We can...” Peter said, and he was smiling. She met his gaze under the blanket of night, and his expression was still pure - his smile still noble. And Claire knew that all she ever had in her heart belonged to him - uncle or not.
“Good... because I don’t think I can stop,” she responded softly, snuggling closer to him and lazily trailing a finger over his hardening nipples. She felt the vibrations of his chest as he chuckled at her.
“I can’t stop either.” He caressed a finger over her jaw line and looked deeply into her eyes. She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.
The evening air was cool and quiet, and their evolving sin started to dim, tucked underneath the night sky.
Holding each other like this, they knew; nothing like this could keep them apart - now or ever.
END
Title: Nymph
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Claire
Spoilers: Up to Parasite
Warnings: sexual situations, sex with a consenting minor, and this is not AU, so uncle/niece relations
Word Count: 1394
Notes: This was done for the mature_heroes Quickie challenge.
Summary: In this secret garden, no one would see this cat and mouse game, this love affair beyond sin.
Nymph
“Are you sure?” Her breath was a ghost of a whisper across his skin. The approaching night chilled him to the bone, but Claire’s weight pressing against his body warmed him. She caressed a teasing finger over his chest.
“Yes,” Peter replied in a choked hiss against her cheek. She giggled, and he closed his eyes in desire as she fluttered her hands down over his pants.
“Count to three... and then you have to catch me,” she ordered lightly, mischief in her eyes. She sashayed away from him, moving to hide behind her grandmother’s illustrious bushes. Peter watched her, entranced, as she moved away, seducing him to come get her. He smiled wickedly.
“Alright,” he replied lazily, still watching her hungrily. She locked with his darkened eyes, and then he disappeared. She could still hear him say, “But you won’t see me catch you.”
She gasped, giggling as she ran away, weaving in and out of the looming shrubs of Angela Petrelli’s garden. Peter eyed her closely, studying her - likening her to a nymph that cavorted secretly in a realm just beyond their own. Her white evening dress, a gift from her father, fanned out in the sunset light as she ran.
“One...” he counted, breathing heavily as she danced around, stripping away her shoes.
“Two...” Claire had hidden behind a few bushes again; she laughed and called him out.
“Peter, come get me…where are you?” She wiggled her panties out from underneath her gown. Her shawl fell to the ground, and now only the long nightgown remained. He stared at her, taking in every youthful curve as the white material became transparent from the last evening light.
“Three...” he replied, and then he watched her again, stopping in the middle of the garden gazing at the water fountain. She dipped her hand in for a cool touch of water, and in an instant, he was behind her.
She squeaked in surprise, and he pulled her into an embrace, still invisible. She closed her eyes, smiled, and tried to feel him… not knowing where to look, not knowing where to touch. She just followed instinct.
He snaked his hand down her back, resting it above her bottom and then taking a squeeze, pushing her into him closer. She moaned as she felt him harden against her…and she still didn’t see him. She opened her eyes, and he became visible instantly, delving his tongue deeply into her mouth.
“Claire...” he whispered; his tone was low like the afternoon sun. “I caught you.”
She sighed in his mouth, smiling and lulling to the warmth of his every touch.
“This is so wrong...” she mused, but she hoped she didn’t ruin it.
Instead, Peter laughed darkly against her mouth. It frightened and invigorated her, that voice that would rise up with his collection of powers and vibrate against her flesh. She looked into his eyes, sparkling with instantaneous red.
“No one has to know,” he responded, in a voice so low it sounded like a chilled breeze against her brain. He kissed her quickly once. “Not Nathan.” He kissed her again, harder. “Not even my mother.”
She moaned, feeling his fingers tug at her gown and lift it over her head. She hugged herself, her eyes darting around afraid someone would see.
“Claire,” Peter said, putting a finger under her chin and making her look at him. “Touch me, and no one will see us.”
And then Claire smiled. It was the answer to all their problems; they could use Peter’s power to keep from getting caught - to keep from being disturbed by the moral world. Because in that moment they found out they were related, they knew they were cursed. Somewhere underneath everything that happened to them, everything that brought them together, desire burned and would not die away. It was painful even to touch.
“Please, Peter...” she begged, and he turned her around, sitting against the fountain and then bringing her into his lap. Her wetness rubbed against his hardened erection, and she traced her hands down lightly, fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. He breathed heavily, delighting in every feathery touch her fingers made against his skin.
In a swift moment, his pants were off and his shirt somehow had been thrown into the fountain. With a quick giggle, Claire attacked him, sealing her mouth roughly over his. She spread open her legs and wiggled and squirmed in his lap, heightening his need for her.
He moaned, pushing her off him slightly, and then looking up into her eyes. “I need you, Claire.” And she wasn’t sure if it was desperation or a demand. She kissed his nose lightly and nodded once.
“Peter, I want this. I want you. I always have. Nothing has changed for me.”
Nothing had changed for him either. And as bad as he felt for fucking his own niece, there was a darkness within him that simmered in delight - ready to take her, make her his and his only - rip her apart if he had to and hear her scream.
He felt her hips move, and she groaned as she impaled herself over him. He took a deep intake of breath, and then she was rocking, soft mewls dancing off her tongue.
She was so hot and slick and submissive around him, and he let her grind into him, and he thrust his hips upward, trying to feel as much of her as he could. He groaned at the friction, reveling in her tightness as she clenched around him. Claire, this child - his niece - fit so snugly around him, a perfect piece to a puzzle.
“Oh!” she cried throatily, and he slammed up into her sharply, grunting frustration as he was just beyond his peak.
Peter cried impatience, and he moved her onto her back, flat against the cold marble stone in the middle of his mother’s garden. He pushed inside her again, and Claire sighed, feeling contentment again as he filled her. It took only a few rapid thrusts, and Claire cried resolutely, finding one swift peak and then coming back down. She smiled lazily at him as he continued to move roughly inside of her, working up her slick, sensitive muscles for another round.
No one would know they were there; their tryst would be unseen, even if sounds remained.
He bucked into her wildly, and Claire still slacked against him, her legs quaking for another impending orgasm. She mewled again, and Peter bent over to silence her with a kiss. His mouth refreshed the dryness on her tongue, and she sucked up his taste, eager for more.
“Oh...” she broke the kiss, and Peter growled against her cheek, pounding into her with a spurt of hard, slick force.
She cried. He branded her, in body and spirit. And when he thrust one last time, he howled out, spilling himself inside her. Claire moved slightly, still moving as his body went slack. She cried again, gripping his shoulders as she took him in one last time, as close as she could drive him inside.
He moved in exhaustion over her, lying beside her on the cold marble and then taking her against his chest. He idly rubbed a hand over her moist shoulder. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his arm, inhaling his masculine scent.
“Do you think... we can keep doing this?” Claire whispered; she looked up at the stars and stared at the constellation Orion.
“We can...” Peter said, and he was smiling. She met his gaze under the blanket of night, and his expression was still pure - his smile still noble. And Claire knew that all she ever had in her heart belonged to him - uncle or not.
“Good... because I don’t think I can stop,” she responded softly, snuggling closer to him and lazily trailing a finger over his hardening nipples. She felt the vibrations of his chest as he chuckled at her.
“I can’t stop either.” He caressed a finger over her jaw line and looked deeply into her eyes. She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.
The evening air was cool and quiet, and their evolving sin started to dim, tucked underneath the night sky.
Holding each other like this, they knew; nothing like this could keep them apart - now or ever.
END