Disclaimer: Do not own, but I want them for Christmas? Pleeease?
The Aftermath of Murder
Peter's dream could not have been more perfect. His brain it seemed after months of trying had finally managed to capture the feel of her perfectly, her soft skin; her silky hair, even her smell.
Peter inhaled deeply taking in the sweet and alluring scent that was Olivia, and Only Olivia; Trying to pull in her very essence all the way to his toes like a blanket for the senses.
She smelled like the air after a heavy rain, and the faintly sweet scented brown sugar lotion she occasionally used. Her hair smelt like apples and softly of some bar soap he couldn't quite classify; she smelled like safety, and intrigue, like danger and perfection all at once.
And the way she was rubbing herself along the length of his body was simply delicious. Almost like a cat's casual stretch her body flexed and arched against him; muscles sliding under silk smooth skin against his own; Peter flexed his arms around her pulling her closer to his chest; fitting her entire length against him; He loved these dreams of her; how perfect they felt; how infinitely right. Peter drew his nose across the hollow of her neck breathing her in and hearing and feeling her breath catch as his lips ghosted across her back.
He never wanted to wake up, he wondered if not for the first time it was possible to make some kind of cocktail in his father's lab that combined with the sensory deprivation chamber would allow him to follow this dream to its conclusion as so rarely happened. Peter wondered if his father would warn him of the potential obsession he could fall into; of the madness he could become trapped in.
Unable to separate reality from dreams. Similar to when Olivia had used the tank to try and access John Scott's memories. It wouldn't matter if Peter was addicted to his dream Olivia; he mused; he was already addicted to the real one; at least in his dreams he could touch her, he was already going mad.
More often than not Peter would awaken far too soon from his dream realm, reaching for an Olivia that wasn't there. Then he'd lie awake for hours afterward in frustration, cursing himself for letting her slip away too soon.
Many times he gave up after just a few hours of chasing sleep and would go for a run, not just a steady even jog, but a full out run that was both mind numbing and exhilarating at the same time.
He would run like the hounds of hell themselves were at his heels; run like he was trying to get to her; run like he could get away from her. Until he was gasping for air, dizzy and near collapse, muscles shaking and sweat running in rivulets down his face; even when it was snowing.
Then he'd turn and head back towards the home he shared with his Father, at a slower more even and measured pace.
He would always arrive home utterly exhausted and then, sometimes, after a hot shower and a glass of water, sleep would come to him; a dreamless empty tomb of sleep that left him feeling less rested then he had on the return from his run.
Other times he'd return to find Walter rearranging the furniture or his many accessories, or on truly unfortunate occasions attempting to bake something; and Peter would conclude that he had little choice but to accept the start of his day. Least he try to rest and Walter wander from the house or God forbid find the keys Peter kept hidden and attempt to retrieve some tasty treat or another with no money and no license or concept of basic traffic laws.
But this dream, Peter felt her body shift against his again; no this dream was going perfectly and Peter had the sinking suspicion that if he woke from this one too soon he could run to California and back and he would still never sleep again.
Breathing in her scent again Peter allowed his hands to drift across her skin.
Feeling the Goosebumps rise along her arms and her nipples pebble under his fingers, rolling them expertly between the pads of his fingers bringing the soft whisper of his name to her breath.
Peter raised his head to taste the soft skin behind her ear, enjoying the soft catches in her breath and the rock of her hips against his. Using his hands Peter turned her body so she was on her back and began exploring her with his mouth again, his favorite nocturnal pastime, devouring Olivia.
Her soft skin and taut pink nipples under his lips and tongue the catch in her breath and appreciative moan when he allowed his teeth to graze just barely across her flesh before soothing the sting with his tongue; counting every rib with his fingers; discovering every nook and swell she had to possessed; and was offering to his fervent exploration.
Hearing her moan his name and feeling her fingers on his shoulders, in his hair letting him know with her soft touch and gasps where to spend more time, when to slow down, and when to speed up.
Peter took his time exploring the soft globes of her flesh, the smooth planes of her stomach, nipping at her hip, teasing the soft flesh of her inner thigh with his breath, making her whimper and moan, hips rotating towards him in silent invitation before he obliged devouring every inch of her skin. His arms wrapped around her keeping her still for his ministrations. His hands possessive and yet gentle against her silk smooth skin.
She tasted like heaven, and the way her hips bucked and her breathy voice moaned his name was driving him slowly insane, she hadn't even touched him yet, and he was already worked to a fever pitch. Just from the taste of her on his tongue, and the smell of her, the sound of her gasping his name, begging him, pleading.
A man could spend his entire life questing to satisfy those pleas and not regret a single moment, not one would have been a waste, just to see her like this.
Peter added his fingers to the erotic dance of his tongue across her flesh, pressing them into her, and softly drawing delicate patterns against her slick folds, a few soft rhythms and a flick of his tongue and Olivia shattered under his hands, back arching in a sensual display of skin.
Peter raised his head to watch her bringing his fingers to pump inside her slick trembling folds, heightening and extending her orgasm with expert precision, curling his fingers to just the right spot stroking her once, twice, there, just like that.
God she was beautiful like this, Head thrown back, pale throat and breasts catching the soft moon light, the filtered light through the tree outside her bedroom window leaving dappled patchy patterns across the smooth expanse of her stomach and hips, hands clenched in the bed sheets, she looked possessed, and utterly abandoned of every pretense, this was just Olivia, raw, whole, unfiltered and uncensored.
His Olivia laid out before him for the taking.
Slowly Olivia came back to herself. The racing pulse in her ears thrumming through her core, and little twitches of electricity raced up and down every limb like invisible hands.
She'd known that sex with Peter would be intense, that he would embark upon the task with the same focus and obsession he showed in other aspects of his life; his commitment to their job; and caring for Walter, the effort he showed daily to get her attention in little ways, subtle but intense.
Like a smoldering fire, the heat Peter gave off was more intense when you couldn't see the flames; when you approached him and were blindsided by the heat in his eyes, the caress of his hand appearing to outsiders as nothing more than a gentle touch was like a brand to her skin. His eyes and Hands said things to her that others couldn't see.
I see you.
I want you.
His crooked smile when she blushed said that he knew she wanted him too.
She was more than smoldering now, she was engulfed in the slow burn of flames that Peter had fanned and fueled day after day, she was burning up. His hands no longer asked for permission; they staked their claim.
Olivia allowed her hands to trace the muscles in his shoulders and tangle in the unruly hair that never seemed to be in place, but always looked perfect.
Peter turned his head to kiss the inside of her wrist and then raising himself up on his knees moved to kiss her; to claim her mouth with his own.
God he tasted like possession itself, he was dark, and daring; gentle but firm, one forearm holding him above her, while his fingers tangled in her hair, lifted her chin held her to him.
He kissed like a man possessed, like a man lost, and found, he kissed her like it was his last act on this earth and this was his heaven.
Every emotion Olivia ever had for this man she poured into this kiss; Hope, Trust, Need, Love. She didn't just need Peter, she craved him, his scent his presence, his voice, and touch, those secret gazes that spoke to her of heated things that should only be whispered in the dark.
She was enveloped by the very essence of everything that was Peter, hopelessly entangled with him down to her soul.
Olivia's fingers found the clasp on Peter's belt and began working blindly to free him from this last offending article that dared to separate them.
She felt Peter smile against her mouth and felt his breath catch in his throat as she popped the top button on his jeans free. Smiling at her own victory Olivia worked the zipper down enough to tug the jeans from his hips.
"In a hurry to get me naked Sweetheart?" Peter's breath against her neck sent tingles racing up and down her spine. His pet name for her sent liquid fire racing through her core, and the corners of her mouth quirked in a grin.
"I thought I told you not to call me Sweetheart." She punctuated her sentence with her hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly but firmly, savoring the feel of him beneath her fingers. Appreciating his length and girth, she was not disappointed.
"I'll call you whatever you want if you keep doing that," His voice came out strained and choked against her neck. "Jesus, 'Liv,"
Olivia enjoyed watching his muscles tremble; feeling his breath shake and his body jump under her hands; but she wanted more, she wanted to feel his body sliding against hers, needed to feel the weight of him pressing down into her, she wanted all of him, not just this.
Olivia hooked her right leg over his thigh and using her already busy hand pulled him down to where she wanted him, she stroked him and shifted her hips until she could feel him pressed to the slick heat of her entrance, so close, her body ached for this, trembled with need. Just a few more inches and he would be inside her, Olivia rolled her hips against him stroking him with her fingers rubbing him up and down her soft folds.
Peter had gone very still against her, holding his breath against her neck. His muscles trembled and his breath hitched.
"What are you waiting for?" Olivia used her fingers to trace his erection over her again, feeling her own body quiver and shudder with need.
"I'm afraid I'm going to wake up again," His fingers cupped the back of her head, twisted through her hair, holding her to him, afraid she would fade away.
"Peter, Look at me."
Slowly Peter raised his head from the crook of her neck to meet her eyes. In the pale light they seemed to glow with an otherworldly light like vivid blue stars; Burning with need, with want, with passion and love, for her. Only for her.
Olivia rolled her hips again bringing him down to her with the weight of her leg against his thigh feeling his heavy erection slide against the folds of her core, her hips raising to meet him without conscious thought, desperate to take more of him in.
"You're not dreaming Peter," Olivia's body shuddered and clutched at the intrusion, sending waves of pleasure shooting through her limbs Dropping her head back against the bed Olivia stroked him once more her body throbbed with need, she felt like she would go insane waiting for him to fill her.
Feeling the slick folds of Olivia's body shudder around the tip of his shaft , hearing her beg him, feeling her fingers stroke him from base to where their bodies joined was almost enough to send Peter over the edge; but the realization that this was real…that this was not some dream world fantasy come to drive him over the edge of madness and leave him unfulfilled, frustrated and alone as it had so many nights before, was almost a slap in the face.
How had he ended up here? Peter struggled with his sex addled brain to remember, how had he come to wake up with Olivia not only in his arms but naked and begging him to touch her, to fill her body with his own.
Peter was almost certain that this was still some dream, no some nightmare that he would wake from the moment he attempted to fulfill her request, leaving him to lay awake tortured and alone.
Dream or not, He'd never been able to deny her anything.
Tilting her hips up to his with one hand Peter slowly pressed himself forward and into her waiting heat, hearing her gasp and feeling her body clench around his was sweet ecstasy. Watching with rapt attention the way she thrashed against the bed when he stopped only halfway to enjoy every feeling, every sensation and emotion of this long awaited moment.
"Peter, please, don't stop," she rocked up against him, fingers twisted in the bed sheets. Her breath coming in heavy pants. Peter watched fascinated as her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and her eyes met his darkened to near black she held his gaze, fingers tracing up his arms to circle his neck tugging his face down to hers and thrusting her hips up to take him all the way in.
Peter thrust down into her waiting body, and with a groan buried himself in her burning wet heat. Peter pulled his mouth from hers resting his head against the crook of her neck, trying to catch his breath, still his raging heartbeat and collect himself. She felt so good below him, surrounding him, touching every part of his body she could reach. She whimpered and moaned , gasped his name and clung to his shoulders as he retreated and drove his body into her again.
God he could die like this and go perfectly happy. This was ecstasy, this was every good thing in his life he'd ever wanted, or thought he did rolled into one and magnified by the million tiny nerve endings dancing under his skin, thrumming in pleasure to the tempo of his bodies thrusts. His mind could go on like this forever, cataloging and memorizing every gasp, every moan, every roll of her hips to meet his own; Peter's body and Olivia's it seemed had other plans.
Peter felt the first tremors of Olivia's orgasm and watched as she closed her eyes letting her head fall back and exposing her throat to his mouth, changing the angle of his hips to rub against her most sensitive spot with each thrust Peter started a new rhythm one designed to push her over the edge and take him with her.
A few deep thrusts and the scrap of his teeth against her skin and she was flying apart, shuddering and quaking beneath him, her body enveloping him, pulling him in deeper, tighter hotter, and sweeter then he'd ever experienced before; or ever imagined possible.
Two more deep thrusts and he was following her over the edge, her name and gods on his lips.
When he became aware of himself again, his heavy breathing tickling against the curve of her neck, Olivia's hands were tracing up and down his back her breath still coming in little pants, as her body continued to contract and pulse around him.
"Well that was certainly worth waiting for," Peter raised his head to tangle his fingers in her hair, Watching Olivia's eyes open boring into his. She looked happy and relaxed, boneless and sated. Peter had the momentary impulse to beat his chest and flex his muscles, revel in his ability to make her look this way, flushed and exotic, yet relaxed and happy. "Please tell me I don't have to wait three years to do that again,"
Olivia grinned up at him her eyes sparkling with mischief as she experimentally flexed the muscles in her core squeezing Peter's still sensitive member and making him gasp and roll his hips.
"How about in the morning?"
"And every morning after that?" Peter gazed down at her, cupping the side of her face with his warm hand, running his thumb over her swollen lower lip.
"I want every morning to be like this." He studied her expression watched her eyes deepen and darken again in the pale moonlight; memorizing the new depth to them he had only caught glimmers of before.
She knew what he was asking, without hearing the words.
"Every morning, everyday, I want to be with you like this." Not as a partner, not as just a friend, but as the other half of his soul.
Peter kissed her mouth, tangling his fingers in her sex mused hair he rolled them so they were side by side and he could cradle her body to him as they drifted off to sleep.