Mourning Period
Peter and Claire

Disclaimer: Not mine.
Note: Major thanks to frellingblonde (a.k.a. the QUEEN of Paire Smut) at LJ for the title. Be warned. This is rated M for a reason. No kiddies allowed. And just to clarify a few things, from now on unless otherwise stated my Paire fics will be set in that alternate universe known as Denial, in which Nathan is not Claire's father. Claude is. So technically this isn't incest. Reviews always welcomed. hint

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Claire walked silently through the abandoned cemetary. Abandoned all but for a lone, grief-stricken Peter sitting at a grave just ahead of her. She knew she would find him here. It's the same place he'd been every day for a week. She never really liked Simone, but for some reason she felt depressed. Maybe it was Peter. When he was upset, she had a tendency to absorb it.

Peter grinned when he saw her standing next to him, looking down at the words engraved on the headstone. "Sit," he whispered, motioning for her take a seat in his lap. She did so, and almost instantly his arms were locked around her waist, holding her close to him so she couldn't slip away.

"It must be lonely out here," Claire spoke, barely audible despite the eery silence surrounding them.

"I guess so," Peter replied, his voice distant, detached, devoid of emotion.

Peter leaned his chin on Claire's head, the sweet smell of her hair wafting through his senses. Claire stared at the grave, wondering what Peter was thinking. He never talked about Simone much, never really showed any emotion towards the woman, but some small part of him cared enough to bring him here. Finally sick of the thought that her boyfriend was still mourning a dead ex-girlfriend, Claire turned to him. "You know what might cheer you up?"

The haze over Peter's eyes lifted and he questioned, "What?"

Claire reached behind her, walking two fingers up his inner thigh. His leg twitched when she reached his crotch, spazzing out completely when she cupped him with her hand. "We can't do that here! What if someone sees us?" Peter glanced around the empty cemetary, nervously scanning for anyone who might see what she was doing to him.

"Please. No one cared about her when she was alive. Why would they start now that she's dead?" Claire squeezed. "We're alllll alone."

Peter began to protest but Claire silenced him with a kiss, continuing to massage him through his pants. A bulge was growing more obvious before Claire decided to remove his constraints. Unzippering his pants and whipping them off, she tossed them over Simone's headstone. His boxers followed, and Claire almost melted when she saw what her touch had done to him.

"I'd say you're over her," Claire sneered, smiling when she saw the content look on Peter's face. She didn't know why he was so hung up over this girl in the first place. He was just too nice to say no, and Simone was naïve enough to believe that was true love.

Claire wrapped her fingers around him, sliding down the whole of his length. She moved slowly, leading him on, wanting this to last as long as possible. The longer he's focused on me, the less time he can spend brooding over that worthless skankbag, Claire thought to herself.

Peter thrust into her hand, his throbbing member ready to explode at the drop of a pin. Seeing his body tense, Claire knew there was only one thing she could do. Leaning down, she took him in her mouth, brushing her lips down his shaft and back up as her tongue swirled around his tip. He tasted so salty. She sucked harder, wanting his release to be as fulfilling as possible. His hands reached for her head, holding her in place as felt himself coming nearer. Another few laps with her tongue and he grunted as he spilled himself inside her mouth. Washing the last of the liquid down her throat, Claire wiped the corners of her mouth on the back of her sleeve.

Taking only a moment to recover, Peter sat up, staring at her with glazed eyes. "Simone who?" he mumbled before ripping her sweater over her head. In a flash Claire's bra was unhooked and flung against the gravestone, landing next to the lonely flower wilting at the grave; probably left by Isaac. Claire tore Peter's dress shirt open, removing it as quickly as possible.

Peter ravaged her stomach with kisses. She arched into him as he placed his mouth on each of her nipples in turn, his tongue lashing out, sucking at her harder. If this was his way of releasing grief, she had to remind herself to buy a fish for the apartment. She's never been able to keep one of those damn things alive.

Slipping her panties from under her skirt, he threw them on top of his discarded pants. In a flash his head was buried under her skirt, his breath hot on her skin. Her hips jerked as his tongue explored deep into her core, making her even wetter. He lapped furiously, creating a rush of sensations she had only read about in the romance novels she stole from her mother. She bucked uncontrollably as she neared climax, causing him to grab her hips and try to hold them steady so he could get the job done right. The roughness of his tongue collided with the slickness of her sex, swishing around faster until she couldn't take it anymore. Crashing over the edge, she bit into her lip, drawing blood, as the only way to not wake the dead.

He took her by the waist and positioned her on top of him. Her grip on his shoulders tightened as he thrust into her, his hips banging against her thighs. She met each push of his with one of her own, swaying her waist as he pounded into her.

He took her hand in his and led it down her body, reaching the center of most excitement. Pushing her hand against her folds, he moved it back and forth, creating a friction that sent shockwaves coursing up her back.

Still exhilerated from Peter's previous endeavor, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, and apparently neither could he. His hand trembled against hers and his mouth opened in a silent scream, throwing in one final frantic thrust before he exploded into her. His release was so eruptive that it sent Claire spiraling into ecstasy, flying high before her limp body crashed down on top of his. They lay there wordlessly, panting as the final rush wore off.

He won't be thinking of her for a loooong time, Claire smirked, nuzzled against his chest.