Sorry it's been a while since I've posted. This fic was inspired by a request and is a bit darker than my usual. I hope you enjoy!
Peter turned around slowly in front of the bedroom mirror. It had seemed like a good idea, but now it just felt ridiculous.
Still, he could hardly spend the whole of Halloween hiding away. So he braced himself for Carla's laughter, as he pushed open the bedroom door, and walked into her living room.
But there was no laughter.
Just a darkened room, bathed in shadows from the faint candle that burned on her coffee table.
And no sign of her.
He paused at the door, his fingertips running over the exposed brick as he let his eyes adjust to the dim light. Then he was able to see into the distance, across the bare floor, past the gleaming metal staircase, to her kitchen.
Where she stood, leaning over the counter, her dress long and black, blending into the shadows.
He watched her for a few seconds, his eyes drifting to her back then her bare arms. Her skin looked so pale, so soft. And suddenly his costume choice seemed exactly right.
He approached her stealthily, his black cape rustling around him as he stole up on her.
He didn't want her to know she was there. At least not until he was right behind her.
xxx
With every silent step he took towards her, her figure emerged from the darkness, and he could see her more clearly.
He noticed how the dress was shaped, tight around her waist, clinging to her hips, emphasising the swell of her breasts It was long, right down to the floor, but as she shifted her weight, he saw the thigh-high slit in the black lace.
His eyes lingered on her bare leg, slender, provocatively arched against the blackness. And he suddenly realised she knew exactly what she was doing, and where he was.
He paused by the wall, drawing his cape around him, watching, as she slowly raised her hand, running her finger over her shoulder-blade.
Her glossy black fingernails reflected the candlelight, every move of her finger so sensual, it took his breath away.
But tonight he was strong.
He walked towards her, so aware of her, the shape of her back so clearly defined through her tight dress.
He could almost feel the warmth of her body. He could almost taste her.
And he wanted her. In so many ways.
He watched, hypnotised by her, as she poured herself a glass of wine, blood-red in the glass as she raised it to her dark lips.
Her movements were sinuous, erotic.
And then suddenly she turned her head, looking directly at him. She was perfect, immaculate, as she licked her moistened lips.
For an instant he saw his reflection in her wine glass: his pale skin, his black cape. And his teeth, sharp and white.
And she obviously liked what she saw.
Her lips curled into a sultry smile, and the raw lust in her eyes made him ache with want.