"I'll go grab us some breakfast you look like you're gonna take a while," Christiana says. She leaves in a whirl of dark skin and black fabric. I am all alone.
My bones still scream in pain as I lift my nightshirt over my head. Through the rustling of fabric I didn't hear anyone come in, so I am in complete shock when I see Peter standing in the doorway, his head cocked to the side and a wry smile tugging his lips.
I instantly tense, sending my muscles into multiple spasms. My arms loop around my chest to hide myself from him although there isn't much to see.
He laughs a little at my pain. "Are you okay? Whatever happened to you?" He inches closer, a stalking predator.
"What did I do to you Peter?" I say, proudly jerking up my chin even as I feel my lip quivering. "Did I offend you? Your old faction?"
He is close enough for me to see the strange flecks of green in his dark brown eyes.
"You don't offend me."
I study him. He seems at ease, the way he leans against the bunk bed post, the way the muscles roped along his arms are loose. But those eyes, they show fire.
"Then what're you doing here?" I whisper now although we are still alone. Completely alone.
Suddenly, he reaches for me, and yanks me to his chest. He crushed me hard, and my protests are muffles into fabric. "No, you don't offend me, Beatrice." It's the first time he's used my name from Abnegation, and he doesn't say it as a sneer, or as an insult. He merely uses it.
He lets me go and I crumple on the floor, my legs too weak to stand. Peter circles me like a vulture, carrying on his soliloquy. "How can a nobody from damn Abnegation have affected me so much? You are nothing, Tris. Nothing." He spits. "But you interest me so much. Every time I see you my body seems to sing, every nerve yelling at you, wanting your attention. Since you seem to have imprisoned me, I want to imprison you."
He yanks me onto my feet and bites down on my bottom lip. I whimper a little, but it seems to get him even more excited. He pushed me against a post and I feel his hand travelling up my thigh. His breath his hot on my neck, my chest.
I mean to scream, I mean to shout, to alert the Dauntless what is happening. But I've lost my voice. Or is it that my voice has lost me? I am innocent to the alien explosion of sensation that occurs when Peter touches me. Do I actually want this?
"I can feel you Tris. Feel me." I reach out a hand and trail it softly down his chest. I feel the sculpted muscles, the hard line of the pelvis, the bulging material around his crotch. And I want it.
"Oh Tris," he murmurs into my hair, and in return I arch my back away from the post so we became a tangle of skin and bones. Somewhere along the muddle we end up topless, heaving hard and a few feet away, studying each other. Peter's eyebrow hikes into his hairline suggestively, but I don't allow him to make the first move. I jump on him like a cat, clawing at his bare chest with want and need. We fall onto one of the bunk beds and I yelp as my elbow hits the bars. Peter smiles then and seems to regain his power. He flips me over and rids me quickly of my trousers and underwear. He grabs my ankles and turns my again, and then he opens them wider, slowing kissing up each thigh. I gasp and close my eyes. Seeing him is just turning me on even more. He slowly dips his tongue in between my thighs, and I shout. I actually shout. At this, he stops, stands up and puts on his shirt. Confused, I look at him through hazed eyes. Now I no longer have adrenaline coursing through me my body feels limp and bruised, both from last night and this morning. Peter is graceful as he moved about and composes himself. He reaches the door, and with a lingering wink he waves.
"Until next time, Stiff."