I don't own Fringe or anything associated, just enjoy a little devious fun with it once in a while...
First fanfic posted anywhere public, so reviews are appreciated!
Favors
She rapped on his door again.
This was the worst way she could be showing up here, at this hour.
Something shuffled around behind the door. The deadbold let a resounding click, the handle squeaked and the door creaked noisily open to reveal a bleary-eyed, very undressed Peter staring back at her.
"Seriously?"
She stood there, silent as the grave. Shaking. Why did she decide this was a good idea?
He just stared back, veritably annoyed, slightly curious as the gears began to grind into action.
"Olivia?"
She forced her eyes to the floor. "I couldn't sleep."
He watched her fidget. Noticed the skance of her stance. Her shallow, rapid breaths. The obvious heat and hormones coming off her like pollen in spring.
He knew what this was.
He let out a breathy sigh. "Y'know, if you were drunk...this would be a lot easier."
Her eyes shot up, pinning him sharply to the spot, accusingly...guiltily.
"Relax, princess. I mean sending you home."
She just continued to stare, but a very discernible flush was starting to creep into her cheeks.
"Look, if.." he rubbed at scratchy eyes and hoped his voice wasn't starting to rasp too much, "if you showed up here shitfaced, at least I'd have a good reason to send you packing.
At least then I could tell you you're too drunk to know what you're doing."
"But I'm not."
They locked eyes. She was standing close enough that he could smell her rich coconut lotion, just a hint of vanilla. And her natural scent, he already knew what that smelled like. Could imagine that musky smell entangled with the sweet, tangy scent tantalizing him at present. God, but what this was doing to him right now. He earnestly wished he had something more than just boxers on.
"No, you're not."
His voice was much lower, gruffer when he finally answered. She glanced at his bare chest and stomach for a moment, could plainly see each shallow breath leading the next in quick succession. He must have noticed how she was reading him because he sucked in a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably, breaking a gaze that had become increasingly taut with each passing moment.
She stepped forward, closing the distance, hazel eyes searching his own again.
He didn't bother to say anything this time. He'd spoken his piece, however brief and half-hearted it had been. He wouldn't lie to himself; he'd thought about this alot lately.
He'd love to play bell-boy tonight. Another breathy exhale escaped between them.
She tensed at the sharp tingling as their lips brushed.
His hand found the back of her neck as their lips locked firmly together, slowly at first.
...More urgently as his other hand found her waist and the prickle and sting of each kiss grew more exciting and unbearable.
...Like firebrands down her throat and chest as she found herself pressed firmly against the doorframe, silent moan on her lips as expert hands tangled in her hair and drew burning trails down her back.
Yes.
"No-" he coughed and pulled away suddenly. Olivia stumbled back a step, dizzy with euphoria.
Her brain wasn't registering why the delicious sensations had suddenly ceased.
"No." More sturdy this time. "Not even."
She stared at him, wide-eyed. He looked embarrassed, hurt...angry. He had placed a notable distance between them, retreating behind the shelter of the door frame, static blue eyes pinning her accusingly.
And suddenly it was her turn to be angry. "So that's it, then."
Peter was incredulous. "Did you hear yourself, Dunham? Jesus fucking- I don't even know why I thought- I know why you showed up here! I knew it the moment I opened the goddamn door, but I thought maybe, just maybe..."
"What the hell are you talking about?" she spat. It felt good to be angry. To be seething, fuming. Blowing out all her resentment and frustration she'd pent up the past several weeks.
It wasn't the release she had originally intended, but it worked almost as well...maybe better.
"Are you kidding me?" The laughter was painful and bitter. "You honestly have no idea how you just fucked this up. Fantastic. Now if you don't mind terribly, I'd like to try and get back to sleep before you show up again in another three hours with some ridiculous goddamn case that simply can't wait another minute."
That put her over the edge. "Excuse me? You're angry with me? Not two minutes ago you had your tongue down my throat, and then you just ice over and get pissed of at me? A week ago you were practically inviting me upstairs for a little birthday surprise, and when I finally consider taking you up on that- god, I actually showed up here!"
A sickening thought dawned on her. She could be with Luke right now. Nice, eager, uncomplicated Luke. Luke, whose intentions were all too transparent. He could be showing her a grand time right now, and she could leave him in the morning like nothing. But no, she had hesitantly wandered her way here. To Peter Bishop's apartment. And instead of rough, needy sex, she was standing out here in the cold at this god-forsaken hour fighting with this asshole of a genius, why?
"Hey." She snapped out of her tumbling reverie. He must have read the realization in her eyes, because the grim expression etched into his features betrayed how disgusted he felt knowing he wasn't her only option. "Whoever you're thinking about screwing next, do him a favor."
She was already thinking of all kinds of favors she could do. "Yeah, what?"
He caught her gaze for just a moment, and there was a flicker of a warning there.
"You get him all hot and bothered, make sure it's his name you're moaning."
The door slammed shut in her face.
More than a little ashamed, it was at that moment she realized Peter's middle name certainly wasn't John.