Sorry about the first draft- I posted an unedited copy. If I find more mistakes I'll fix them later. Please don't let that distract from the smut :)
This wasn't the first time Peter had been in Olivia's room.
Peter's mind wandered to a similar scenario that took place in this setting, same person—different circumstances. It was hard not to compare the two, the way his body reacted to her touch; how her lips pushed against his, he wondered if he closed his eyes if he'd be able to tell the difference.
Peter snapped his eyes open—willing the errant thought away. The other Olivia a dark spot in an already seedy past, one he wanted to distance himself from. He wanted this to be about her—about them, about this moment.
She was guiding him silently toward the foot of her bed, wrapping her arms around his neck and learning his lips all over again. He noticed differences in their kisses: subtle, but obvious; the other Olivia's were light, letting him lead and following. His Olivia's were forceful and demanding, taking no prisoners and holding nothing back. He was so fucking turned on it took all his resolve not to push her up against the wall and have her.
Olivia pulled back, raking her fingers across Peter's shoulders and making the hairs on his neck rise. Her face was raw where she brushed too hard against his unshaven face, her eyelids heavy as she took Peter in. Peter stopped for her to say something, furrowing his brow: waiting.
She opened her mouth, but couldn't decide on what to say; biting her lip as Peter stepped closer, trailing his hands down her sides to rest on her hips. He brought his face down to meet hers, but she dropped her head away to mumble into his mouth:
"No comparing notes, okay?" Her soft lips brushed against his. He brought his hands up to her face, daring her to look at him.
"There's no comparison," he spoke slowly, dipping his head to sweep his tongue over her bottom lip. The words erupted in Olivia's mind; little dots of color exploding like firecrackers. She grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him with her until the backs of her knees hit the bed and she dropped, flinging Peter on the mattress with her. He landed with a grunt that turned into a chuckle.
She scooted him to the head of the mattress and felt his hands return to her stomach, making her inside ignite as he pushed them up under her shirt to run a thumb over her nipple, a whimper escaping her before she could stop it. She was back to gripping his hair so firmly they were steel vices trapping his head against hers and all he could think was he was too close. Wrapping around his free arm he pulled her into his chest, pinching his thumb and forefinger around her nipple and listening intently to her haggard breathing in his ear.
It was almost cheating, he thought—he knew exactly what she liked without her ever saying it. It was a weird, exhilarating rush to think that he was the only man on earth to have sex with two Olivia Dunham's. If it wasn't such a source of guilt for him, he'd write in to Penthouse bragging about it. He was interested to see just how alike they were.
He pushed off her lips with a small pop and trailed his nosed down over her shirt, stopping momentarily to nip at the breast that was unencumbered by his hand and felt the smug satisfaction when she arched her back into his mouth. He trailed lower, watching as she got the hint and let go of his hair, flattening her hands on the duvet on either side of her and rolling her eyes back to let the sensation of Peter's mouth roll over her as he trailed down her stomach.
He stopped at the waistband of her sweats, taking two fingers to hook in the elastic and yanked impatiently, Olivia raised her hips so he could tug them down over her legs. Peter's brain boiled at the sight of her, half-naked and eagerly awaiting. He took charge, dropping his head to her stomach and felt her buck as he pressed his lips against the flimsy material of her underwear.
Olivia felt like she was riding a roller coaster; in the front compartment churning upward before a giant drop. She dug her fingers into the material of her bed to keep herself from calling out when he opened his mouth to drag his tongue over her through her underwear and the rollercoaster plummeted, spiraling her wildly over the cliff in a wave of white-hot pleasure. She arched back, letting the orgasm carry her back to earth with shaking hands and gasping words, muttering fuck over and over again, in a way that would make her die of shame if her neighbors overheard.
Peter froze, watching Olivia's eyes rolling back as she came, feeling immensely content with himself. He waited for her to regain to focus to find him. When she could breathe she could feel the self-satisfaction radiating off him like heat.
He wound back up to her face, taking her lips captive again and feeling the beginnings of electricity riding up his spine like a fuse to a detonator. Watching her come sent shivers of passion down him and he knew he wouldn't be able to wait much longer.
Olivia sat up, needing to feel more of him against her—hating the feeling of too many clothes between them as she dragged his shirt over his head with brute force that made him shudder under her touch. He took the hem of her shirt and raised it, savoring the feeling of rediscovering the sight of her naked body and feeling his erection push painfully against the denim of his jeans.
He pulled the shirt up over her head, trapping her face in the fibers of her shirt. Peter heard her "umph" in response—a mixture between a laugh and irritation. He stilled her arms when she tried to worm herself out, pushing the collar of her shirt far enough up to free her mouth, hiding the rest of her face and leaving her arms bound over her head.
"Peter," she said, annoyed at being blinded. Running his thumb across her lips silenced her and she opened her mouth to taste his thumb. He took an undisturbed moment to fully take her in, the red flush spreading across her chest as it heaved rhythmically under him. She was different; the way she waited patiently, the movement of her legs against his side, even the way she breathed—she was different. She was a new undiscovered frontier.
"I'm feeling a little exposed here," she mumbled into the fabric. Peter finally pulled the rest of the shirt over her head, her hair fall like rain over her naked shoulders.
"Better?" He asked, she crinkled her nose and reached for his shoulders, pulling him back on top of her, feeling the heat from his chest on hers and she was so ready for him and she could explode in her skin with the slightest provocation.
She pushed his lips aside with her nose, trailing it down his chin to smell the musk of his neck. She trailed her fingers down his stomach, feeling him twitch as she tickled the muscles there; remembering to store that tidbit of information away for a later date.
When she reached his belt buckle, he didn't stop her. He rolled slightly away to give her easier passage, closing his eyes to take in the sensation of her hands pulling the leather that bound him. She made quick work of the belt, pushing her hands down to unzip his jeans and push them off his hips. Peter kicked off his boots and helped her push the denim down until he was able to kick those off too, leaving him unabashedly exposed.
What was first electricity in Peter's spine was now completely ablaze; the heat trailing up every vertebra inch by agonizing inch and threatening to incinerate him from the inside out. He rolled on top of her, reaching for her face and smothering her with the voltage of lightning. She could feel his erection pressing against her thigh and her breathing hitched; gasping in his mouth as she trailed her palms down to take his length in her hand , making him heave a ragged groan. He was going to come in her hands if he wasn't careful he thought madly, mumbling her name against her lips as a warning.
Olivia was shaking from the anticipation; she released Peter to pull her hands to pull the last shred of clothing separating them down her hips as Peter trailed his hands down her sides, making her shudder in his gentleness.
"Hey, look at me." He breathed, lifting her chin up to him.
The waiting was getting excruciating.
"You're not drunk are you?" He said, straight-faced and bold as brass. She groaned in disgust and slapped his hand away. "Come here," she chortled, gripping him a twinge harder than necessary and grinning a little when he winced. He rolled on top of her, nestling between her knees and dipping his forehead against hers.
"You sure about this?" he said, his eyes dark and prowling; looking for any signs of indecision. Stone faced and silent, never wavering her eyes away, she guided him into her, watching his eyes slam shut as he entered.
She was soft and yielding where he was hard and giving; Peter had to move his mouth to her neck to control his breathing because it was so ragged he worried he'd black out. She was so wet it was intoxicating, losing himself entirely to sensation as he rocked into her, praying she couldn't see the manic face he was sure he was wearing. Olivia was gripping him so tightly against her she couldn't see anything other than Peter. Peter's face, Peter's chest, Peter's breath in her ear and his thrusting hips that were turning more feral by the second.
She reveled in the feeling of him, filling and stretching her and mumbling her name against her chest and she felt the tip in her stomach, the rising roller coaster; ready to plunge again.
She pushed him away, twisting against his chest to roll him onto his back and straddling him, rocking against him and digging her nails in his shoulders.
"'livia," he panted, gripping her skin trying desperately to slow her grinding hips as she thrusted deeper into him, and he knew his end was near.
She knew he was close—the line on his forehead dark as his brow furrowed and he sank his fingers into her skin to pull her closer, he wasn't going to last much longer but he didn't want to, he was frantic to finally release the overwhelming tension in his abdomen coiled so tightly he thought he could set something on fire with his mind.
Olivia leaned down, brushing her breasts against his chest as she whispered in his ear, "come with me" and Peter was undone: his vision blotted with little spots of lights as he careened over the edge of reason and possibility; feeling everything, everything there was in the universe at that moment. He grabbed onto anything he could keep a hold of to keep him grounded; gripping Olivia like she tethered him to the earth. He heard him moaning her name in a voice so low it didn't sound like his.
Olivia had felt him stiffen, watching his eyes trying to hold hers as he came, her name escaping his lips with such ferocity and she felt her stomach drop; jumping off the cliff right behind him, feeling the heat spread up her back until she was coming as well.
Peter wanted to watch her, to see her come with him, but his eyes clamped shut so tightly through the waves of pleasure and he couldn't breathe, let alone move.
Olivia was a leaf winding lazily back to earth with a cool breeze. She dropped her head to Peter's chest-exhausted, feeling the jack-hammering of his heart against her ear. Peter folded her to rest against his shoulder, trying to regulate his breathing. He brushed his nose against her forehead, opening his eyes with strenuous effort and stealing a kiss in a way that was most uncharacteristic of him.
All they could hear was the shared heavy breathing that filled the bedroom. Peter reached behind Olivia to grab a blanket to toss over them and Olivia snuggled into him, breathing in the scent of them together. Peter turned his neck to look at something over her shoulder, something catching his eye.
Curious, she looked up at him.
All she could get out was a lazy "hmm?"
"Is that my MIT shirt?"
A/N: finally the end! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and feedback!
BTW- has ANYONE seen the set photo of Joshua Jackson wearing a wedding ring? Brain=exploded