alwaysenduphere (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alwaysenduphere) wrote2008-01-30 10:17 pm
alwaysenduphere) wrote2008-01-30 10:17 pm
Fic: Always
Title: Always
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkmerrick
Word Count: 2139
Rating: R or NC-17, depending on your pov
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Claire
Spoilers: Um...Peter and Claire are related, like who doesn't know that. And Five Years Gone Universe
Disclaimers: I don't own 'em
Summary: Its hours before Claire's to marry Andy when she gets a mysterious visitor.
A/n: Yes, another 5YG fic. What can I say? I love broken!badass!Peter. Written for the Heroes Kink Meme.
She’s looking in the mirror at the face she’ll have for the rest of her life. Her life, which she’s figured out by now, that will last a heck of a lot longer than Andy’s. But she’s gonna marry that boy anyway, because she’ll take a bit of happiness for as long as she can have it, even if the feeling’s fleeting.
She’s looking in the mirror at her reflection, her brown hair messily curled and pinned in a wonderful up-do. One of the girls from the diner did it for her, and it couldn’t have been better had a stylist done it. Her lacy halter dress is pearl; she couldn’t bring herself to wear white. She wasn’t nearly pure enough for that. If it wasn’t tradition, she probably would’ve worn red, for all the blood that’s been spilled in her life, hers and others’.
She won’t let herself cry; For one thing it would ruin her dazzling make-up job, another gift from her coworkers. And no tears are to be shed this day, no matter what, because she knows that it’s supposed to be the happiest day of her life. But she’s not marrying the man of her dreams; she’s marrying a boy the complete opposite of him.
“You look beautiful,” a voice says from behind her. It’s ironic, considering the voice sounds like the very man she was thinking of, but when she looks up to the mirror, there’s no one there.
“You’re marrying him, Claire,” she says to herself, “stop trying to talk yourself out of it.”
“If you need to talk yourself into it, I think that’s more than likely the problem,” the voice says again. Claire stares into the window, hoping she’s not getting some sort of male counterpart personality like Niki had, but in the midst of her thought, Peter’s face appears.
It’s much more rugged than it was at Homecoming five years ago, more handsome but colder all at the same time. The most curious part about it isn’t the stubble or the way his hair’s slicked back like an old-school mobster, however; it’s the scar. Not knowing what else to say, Claire questions, “Where’d the scar come from? With my ability…”
But Peter interrupts. “I’ve learned a great deal of control the last few years.”
It’s not the answer she was looking for. In fact, none of this is what she was looking for. It’s her wedding day, and she should be happy, not tormented by this face from the past, this person who’s been in her thoughts for years despite everything she’s tried to do to get rid of him. But she can’t help but be curious, and she wants an answer to the question. After five years, it’s the most obvious place to start a conversation without stirring up her memories. His, however, she doesn’t know and she wants to. “Why the scar, Peter?”
He looks at her with hollow brown eyes that’ve seen too much, eyes much more jaded and weathered than the ones she remember seeing in Odessa. “It’s a reminder that I can’t save everyone,” he states.
“You saved me,” she whispers in return.
“Yeah. You were the last one,” he bows his head for a moment, but it shoots back up an instant later, fire burning in his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I guess I just wanted to get one last look at you before you belonged to someone. I’m gonna leave now.” And in the blink of an eye, he becomes invisible once again.
Claire knows this is her moment, her last moment to make things the way they’re supposed to be. “I belong to you, Peter. I always have.” She waits, holds her breath even, for some cue that he’s till in the room. Then suddenly, she feels his lips smash onto hers, and it doesn’t even register that he’s reappeared because she’s too caught up in the sensation. “Peter,” she gasps, in between searching for air.
“This doesn’t change anything, Claire,” he pants, obviously straining to hold onto what little control he has left.
“Don’t lie to me, Peter. You never were good at it.” She runs her hands across his chest, feels the muscle built up underneath. She slides a hand underneath his tight black shirt, and feels him involuntarily shiver. “We’ve waited too long for this, Peter.”
“Claire…” he breathes, and then gives her a lopsided grin of days old. “Well, you do realize there were a few extenuating circumstances keeping us apart, like that little pesky word “niece.”
Claire presses a finger to his lips and shakes her head. “Not today. Today, I’m just Claire, and you’re just Peter, and I want you, Peter.” His eyes lock with hers, and she can see the fire burning inside them, dying to itch its way out. “Let go. Take me.”
He doesn’t need a diagram to get what she means, and the thought that she wants him as badly as he wants her is enough to send all his logic overboard. So he picks her up firmly, and sits her on the makeup table. She shivers as his rough hands graze their way up her legs, shoving the dress up with them. He grins slightly when he reaches her lacy panties, takes a moment to admire them before ripping them off.
“So much for those, huh?” she laments. “This was the only matching set of underwear I had left. All the others got bloodstained somehow or another along the way.”
Peter freezes for a moment, and studies her face. He wonders just how many times she’s been stabbed, hurt, or killed, just how many pairs of panties and lace bras she’s been through since he first set sight on her. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and tenderly kisses her neck, then moves his way down. The dress is constricting, and there’s no way to take it off that doesn’t involve a grand gesture for them both, so he kisses down as far as he can before hitting material just above nipple-height, and then slinks his way down below her waist, where the dress is bundled up, leaving her open and wet to the world.
She buckles when he licks her, and she’s glad he’s placed her on the counter otherwise she’d be on the floor thanks to wobbly knees. She moans his name, and he takes it as his cue to continue his efforts.
He’s not naïve by any means; he knows that in this day and age she’ probably had sex with Andy numerous times, but he still wants to treat her like he’s her first, so he moves as slowly as he can, allowing her to savor every moment. The control is difficult, considering the amount of time he’s waited for this day, but he propels himself forward with the mission of making her happy.
She wraps her legs around him and tries to pull him closer, causing him to have to stop the work he’s doing on her clit. She looks at him expectantly, and without saying another word, he readjusts his position so that he can thrust himself into her.
She lets out a loud moan, and then clamps a hand over her mouth. After all, there’s probably part of the wedding party in the room next door, and she wouldn’t want them to find out how her uncle is fucking her silly in the adjoining room. She laughs at the sentiment, and then moans quietly as Peter adjusts his position, making himself drive further inside her.
“I love you, Claire,” he whispers, panting as sweat drips down the side of his face. “I’ve always loved you.”
She takes the moment to lick it off, savors the taste of his sweat in his mouth before she replies, “Ditto.”
He’s close to coming now, and he takes the last few moments in stride, kisses her fiercely on the lips once more, then moves to her neck and bites hard. She yelps, and he chuckles as he watches his teeth marks disappear on your neck. “Might not be visible, but it’s my way of knowing you’re mine.”
“Always,” she moans as she convulses around him. At nearly the same time, he gives one final hard thrust into her as he comes powerfully, causing her to shudder even harder as her orgasm hits her in waves.
They remain there like that for awhile, him standing, sagging into her body, her with her head against the mirror, hair no longer perfectly styled, makeup running from sweat.
Several minutes later there’s a knock on the door, causing them both to start and jerk away from each other quicker than they’d ever intended. Claire watches in awe as Peter dematerializes, leaving her disheveled on the vanity. “Just a minute,” she intones, her voice a bit hoarse.
“Sorry for intruding,” Andy’s voice comes through the door. “I know I’m not supposed to see you yet, but there’s no rules that I know of that can keep me from telling you how much I love you before our wedding.”
She smiles her little lopsided smile and replies in her sweetest voice. “I love you, too. Now go get ready for a weddin’.” She listens as Andy’s footfalls move away, and looks for Peter to reappear. When he does, the dark expression that she met earlier in the day has again returned.
“You’re still gonna marry him?” he deadpans.
“I have to, Peter. What else am I supposed to do? Call it off, claiming that I’m in love with my uncle? We can’t be together, Peter, you know that. You knew that when you came here, you surely still know it now.” Peter shakes his head, not quite admitting defeat. “Besides, I love Andy. Not in an “epic love, I’d die for him” way, maybe, but he makes me feel safe, loved. There’s even moments when I can forget all the bad things that have happened to me over the years and just let myself be. You can’t tell me you can give me that, Mr. “caught up in the past trying to save the future.” Don’t think you’ve fooled me.”
The sigh Peter gives is an exasperated one, one of defeat. Anger starts to boil in his veins, and before he knows what he’s doing, he has Claire by the arms and he’s quietly shouting in her face. “Tell me you love me, like you told him. I wanna hear you say it.”
She just stills, unafraid of Peter’s anger, unflinching. “Of course I love you, Peter. I’ll love you until the end of the Earth. Which, coincidentally, I just might possibly be around for. Who knows, you may be too. But right now, in this time, we can’t be together and that’s a fact, no matter how much I love you. Now let me go, I’ve got a wedding to attend to.”
Peter slides his hands from around her arms, and he watches as his fingerprints fade from her skin. The marks remind him that she can never be his, that no one can ever see the connection they have with each other, even if it’s still there, silently. And then he knows she’s right. He’s certainly caught up in the past, but he’s given up on saving the future. He damned the future when he exploded all those years ago. There’s no future for him, anyway. Claire was his only future, and now that’s gone.
She straightens her dress in the mirror, grimacing at the amount of wrinkles they managed to put in it, wipes the stray mascara lines off her face. She balances her hair again on her head best she can, and laments out loud, “I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” and swivels to the door on her way to be married.
Peter has one last string of hope. “Maybe one day, far in the future, you and me?”
She tosses her head back to him, curls flying in all directions. “What can I say, Peter? I ain’t getting any older. Neither are you. So yeah, maybe one day.” She steels her posture as she walks out the door, realizing in an instant that she’s walking away from her last chance to save herself from being tormented every day of the week, but she finds comfort in the fact that she simply got that one last chance with Peter.
Her “one day” reply is enough to keep him going, and as he turns invisible and moves to the back of the church to observe the wedding, he doesn’t even toy with the idea of interrupting. Instead he chooses to let Claire have her fleeting moments of happiness, and begins the eternal countdown in his head to the day when he’ll have her all to himself.
Author:
darkmerrick Word Count: 2139
Rating: R or NC-17, depending on your pov
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Claire
Spoilers: Um...Peter and Claire are related, like who doesn't know that. And Five Years Gone Universe
Disclaimers: I don't own 'em
Summary: Its hours before Claire's to marry Andy when she gets a mysterious visitor.
A/n: Yes, another 5YG fic. What can I say? I love broken!badass!Peter. Written for the Heroes Kink Meme.
She’s looking in the mirror at the face she’ll have for the rest of her life. Her life, which she’s figured out by now, that will last a heck of a lot longer than Andy’s. But she’s gonna marry that boy anyway, because she’ll take a bit of happiness for as long as she can have it, even if the feeling’s fleeting.
She’s looking in the mirror at her reflection, her brown hair messily curled and pinned in a wonderful up-do. One of the girls from the diner did it for her, and it couldn’t have been better had a stylist done it. Her lacy halter dress is pearl; she couldn’t bring herself to wear white. She wasn’t nearly pure enough for that. If it wasn’t tradition, she probably would’ve worn red, for all the blood that’s been spilled in her life, hers and others’.
She won’t let herself cry; For one thing it would ruin her dazzling make-up job, another gift from her coworkers. And no tears are to be shed this day, no matter what, because she knows that it’s supposed to be the happiest day of her life. But she’s not marrying the man of her dreams; she’s marrying a boy the complete opposite of him.
“You look beautiful,” a voice says from behind her. It’s ironic, considering the voice sounds like the very man she was thinking of, but when she looks up to the mirror, there’s no one there.
“You’re marrying him, Claire,” she says to herself, “stop trying to talk yourself out of it.”
“If you need to talk yourself into it, I think that’s more than likely the problem,” the voice says again. Claire stares into the window, hoping she’s not getting some sort of male counterpart personality like Niki had, but in the midst of her thought, Peter’s face appears.
It’s much more rugged than it was at Homecoming five years ago, more handsome but colder all at the same time. The most curious part about it isn’t the stubble or the way his hair’s slicked back like an old-school mobster, however; it’s the scar. Not knowing what else to say, Claire questions, “Where’d the scar come from? With my ability…”
But Peter interrupts. “I’ve learned a great deal of control the last few years.”
It’s not the answer she was looking for. In fact, none of this is what she was looking for. It’s her wedding day, and she should be happy, not tormented by this face from the past, this person who’s been in her thoughts for years despite everything she’s tried to do to get rid of him. But she can’t help but be curious, and she wants an answer to the question. After five years, it’s the most obvious place to start a conversation without stirring up her memories. His, however, she doesn’t know and she wants to. “Why the scar, Peter?”
He looks at her with hollow brown eyes that’ve seen too much, eyes much more jaded and weathered than the ones she remember seeing in Odessa. “It’s a reminder that I can’t save everyone,” he states.
“You saved me,” she whispers in return.
“Yeah. You were the last one,” he bows his head for a moment, but it shoots back up an instant later, fire burning in his eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I guess I just wanted to get one last look at you before you belonged to someone. I’m gonna leave now.” And in the blink of an eye, he becomes invisible once again.
Claire knows this is her moment, her last moment to make things the way they’re supposed to be. “I belong to you, Peter. I always have.” She waits, holds her breath even, for some cue that he’s till in the room. Then suddenly, she feels his lips smash onto hers, and it doesn’t even register that he’s reappeared because she’s too caught up in the sensation. “Peter,” she gasps, in between searching for air.
“This doesn’t change anything, Claire,” he pants, obviously straining to hold onto what little control he has left.
“Don’t lie to me, Peter. You never were good at it.” She runs her hands across his chest, feels the muscle built up underneath. She slides a hand underneath his tight black shirt, and feels him involuntarily shiver. “We’ve waited too long for this, Peter.”
“Claire…” he breathes, and then gives her a lopsided grin of days old. “Well, you do realize there were a few extenuating circumstances keeping us apart, like that little pesky word “niece.”
Claire presses a finger to his lips and shakes her head. “Not today. Today, I’m just Claire, and you’re just Peter, and I want you, Peter.” His eyes lock with hers, and she can see the fire burning inside them, dying to itch its way out. “Let go. Take me.”
He doesn’t need a diagram to get what she means, and the thought that she wants him as badly as he wants her is enough to send all his logic overboard. So he picks her up firmly, and sits her on the makeup table. She shivers as his rough hands graze their way up her legs, shoving the dress up with them. He grins slightly when he reaches her lacy panties, takes a moment to admire them before ripping them off.
“So much for those, huh?” she laments. “This was the only matching set of underwear I had left. All the others got bloodstained somehow or another along the way.”
Peter freezes for a moment, and studies her face. He wonders just how many times she’s been stabbed, hurt, or killed, just how many pairs of panties and lace bras she’s been through since he first set sight on her. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and tenderly kisses her neck, then moves his way down. The dress is constricting, and there’s no way to take it off that doesn’t involve a grand gesture for them both, so he kisses down as far as he can before hitting material just above nipple-height, and then slinks his way down below her waist, where the dress is bundled up, leaving her open and wet to the world.
She buckles when he licks her, and she’s glad he’s placed her on the counter otherwise she’d be on the floor thanks to wobbly knees. She moans his name, and he takes it as his cue to continue his efforts.
He’s not naïve by any means; he knows that in this day and age she’ probably had sex with Andy numerous times, but he still wants to treat her like he’s her first, so he moves as slowly as he can, allowing her to savor every moment. The control is difficult, considering the amount of time he’s waited for this day, but he propels himself forward with the mission of making her happy.
She wraps her legs around him and tries to pull him closer, causing him to have to stop the work he’s doing on her clit. She looks at him expectantly, and without saying another word, he readjusts his position so that he can thrust himself into her.
She lets out a loud moan, and then clamps a hand over her mouth. After all, there’s probably part of the wedding party in the room next door, and she wouldn’t want them to find out how her uncle is fucking her silly in the adjoining room. She laughs at the sentiment, and then moans quietly as Peter adjusts his position, making himself drive further inside her.
“I love you, Claire,” he whispers, panting as sweat drips down the side of his face. “I’ve always loved you.”
She takes the moment to lick it off, savors the taste of his sweat in his mouth before she replies, “Ditto.”
He’s close to coming now, and he takes the last few moments in stride, kisses her fiercely on the lips once more, then moves to her neck and bites hard. She yelps, and he chuckles as he watches his teeth marks disappear on your neck. “Might not be visible, but it’s my way of knowing you’re mine.”
“Always,” she moans as she convulses around him. At nearly the same time, he gives one final hard thrust into her as he comes powerfully, causing her to shudder even harder as her orgasm hits her in waves.
They remain there like that for awhile, him standing, sagging into her body, her with her head against the mirror, hair no longer perfectly styled, makeup running from sweat.
Several minutes later there’s a knock on the door, causing them both to start and jerk away from each other quicker than they’d ever intended. Claire watches in awe as Peter dematerializes, leaving her disheveled on the vanity. “Just a minute,” she intones, her voice a bit hoarse.
“Sorry for intruding,” Andy’s voice comes through the door. “I know I’m not supposed to see you yet, but there’s no rules that I know of that can keep me from telling you how much I love you before our wedding.”
She smiles her little lopsided smile and replies in her sweetest voice. “I love you, too. Now go get ready for a weddin’.” She listens as Andy’s footfalls move away, and looks for Peter to reappear. When he does, the dark expression that she met earlier in the day has again returned.
“You’re still gonna marry him?” he deadpans.
“I have to, Peter. What else am I supposed to do? Call it off, claiming that I’m in love with my uncle? We can’t be together, Peter, you know that. You knew that when you came here, you surely still know it now.” Peter shakes his head, not quite admitting defeat. “Besides, I love Andy. Not in an “epic love, I’d die for him” way, maybe, but he makes me feel safe, loved. There’s even moments when I can forget all the bad things that have happened to me over the years and just let myself be. You can’t tell me you can give me that, Mr. “caught up in the past trying to save the future.” Don’t think you’ve fooled me.”
The sigh Peter gives is an exasperated one, one of defeat. Anger starts to boil in his veins, and before he knows what he’s doing, he has Claire by the arms and he’s quietly shouting in her face. “Tell me you love me, like you told him. I wanna hear you say it.”
She just stills, unafraid of Peter’s anger, unflinching. “Of course I love you, Peter. I’ll love you until the end of the Earth. Which, coincidentally, I just might possibly be around for. Who knows, you may be too. But right now, in this time, we can’t be together and that’s a fact, no matter how much I love you. Now let me go, I’ve got a wedding to attend to.”
Peter slides his hands from around her arms, and he watches as his fingerprints fade from her skin. The marks remind him that she can never be his, that no one can ever see the connection they have with each other, even if it’s still there, silently. And then he knows she’s right. He’s certainly caught up in the past, but he’s given up on saving the future. He damned the future when he exploded all those years ago. There’s no future for him, anyway. Claire was his only future, and now that’s gone.
She straightens her dress in the mirror, grimacing at the amount of wrinkles they managed to put in it, wipes the stray mascara lines off her face. She balances her hair again on her head best she can, and laments out loud, “I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” and swivels to the door on her way to be married.
Peter has one last string of hope. “Maybe one day, far in the future, you and me?”
She tosses her head back to him, curls flying in all directions. “What can I say, Peter? I ain’t getting any older. Neither are you. So yeah, maybe one day.” She steels her posture as she walks out the door, realizing in an instant that she’s walking away from her last chance to save herself from being tormented every day of the week, but she finds comfort in the fact that she simply got that one last chance with Peter.
Her “one day” reply is enough to keep him going, and as he turns invisible and moves to the back of the church to observe the wedding, he doesn’t even toy with the idea of interrupting. Instead he chooses to let Claire have her fleeting moments of happiness, and begins the eternal countdown in his head to the day when he’ll have her all to himself.
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thanks for reading. :)
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Maybe I could oblige.
I'll add it to the list.
:)
Thanks for reading!
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