Crossroads
By alaricnomad
Part 2 of 6: Searching For Home
"You're going to give me a fetish."
Caught off-guard by the comment, Claire shot an amused look in her lover's direction, appreciatively letting her eyes stray over his form lying upon the bunk they shared in the cell. He was nude as the day he was born, his only attempt at modesty the blanket draped over everything from the waistline downward.
"Oh? Why's that?"
He propped himself up on an elbow, eyeing her speculatively, "There's just something about a guy seeing a girl prancing around in nothing but his shirt."
She arched an eyebrow, coyly fiddling with the hem of the plaid button-down that only came down mid-thigh, "I thought guys were more into French maids and Catholic schoolgirls?"
He smiled, crooking a finger for her to come to him and Claire obeyed, stopping in front of him, "Or maybe it's cheerleaders?"
He shook his head as he sat up, smoothing his hands down her sides until he met her hips, looking up at her with soft eyes, "Nah. Give me you in my shirt any day. It reminds me that you're mine."
She leaned down toward him, pressing a kiss to his jaw as she combed her fingers through the finely-short length of his hair. "Am I?"
"What?"
"Yours."
He frowned, uncertainty clouding his countenance, "Aren't you…? As much as I'm yours?"
"Are you mine?"
"As long as you want me."
Claire smiled, sliding into his arms seamlessly as if their bodies were fated to come together, "I want you. God, do I want you to be mine."
"Then I am," his mouth met hers, softly, teasingly.
She twined her arms around his neck, hands curling into fists as they clutched at his hair, the kiss deepening into something more heated, more fervent. He drew her closer, his heart warming with the husky whisper ghosting against his neck.
"I'm yours. I swear."
"I'm so glad to hear you say that," he kissed her again, quiet appreciation filling his gaze as he brushed his nose against her neck, gently inhaling, "You smell like me," he murmured, a reverent sort of awe laced in his voice.
Her mouth turned into an amused smile and she leaned forward, rubbing her nose against his, "That's because it's your shirt."
"Still, I like it."
She smiled softly, allowing herself to be encased in his arms as he drew her to him, him leaning against the wall behind him as Claire nestled into his lap. His voice dropped to a whisper, he informed her, "I discovered a new one today."
Her head leaned her head against his shoulder, tilted back her neck to regard him curiously. "Show me?"
In the three weeks that had passed since their first time together, when they dealt with sudden shock of their healing, they had slowly but surely discovered just how unique they really were. While Claire showed no sign of anything beyond her healing, he continued to manifest an array of different abilities.
So far, he had displayed not only the healing, but invisibility and telekinesis- the last one oddly discovered when a guard unexpectedly walked in upon the couple amidst their lovemaking, and her irritated lover glanced over her shoulder without pause in the slow, steady thrusts driving her to the edges of intensive passion. A dark look of annoyance in his eyes and their unwelcome guest was thrown against the nearby wall, the curses and grunts of the dazed guard accompanied the amused chuckle in her ear as she was driven into her climax.
"Where has your mind gone, sweetheart?" he kissed her neck, burying his face against her silken hair.
"Just thinking." She nuzzled against his chin, the scrap of beard stubble familiar and sensual. "Will you show me now?"
"Of course."
He lightly rested his hand against her shoulder, slowly but gradually letting his fingers drift down her arm, sensually brushing against her skin with a ghostly softness. Claire shivered at the contact, watching as he lightly whispered his fingers against hers and she reciprocated, rubbing her thumb over the roughened underside of his palm.
He skimmed fingers along the fine blue veins of her wrist, tilting his head down to skim his lips against the delicate thrumming of her pulse. He let his hand fall from hers, pressing his palm flat against the mattress beneath them. Her eyes widened to an almost comical amount, her lips parting in a soundless gasp as his hand suddenly disappeared. He gave her a smirk, raising his hand back up just enough for his fingers to phase through the bunk, wiggling up at her in greeting.
Claire made a sound of indignation, punching his shoulder as she narrowed her eyes. "Don't scare me like that."
"I'm sorry."
He was looking down at her as she contemplated, his eyes- those beautiful dark eyes- seemed to smile at her as she leaned forward, sealing her mouth over his.
I love you.
So caught up in his attention as he began a seduction of her senses with lips and teeth and fingers, she barely recognized that her confession had only been a thought in her mind, too caught up in her elation at his responding whisper.
"I love you, too, sweetheart. Always will."
xx
Four months, ten days, and eleven hours had passed since they'd managed to escape the prison that had been their living hell for nearly a year.
Wisps of steam drifted along the tiled floor, even as the water proved itself to be long cooled to a lukewarm state, the strange contradiction amusing her as she emerged from the shower, refreshed and lulled into a soft state of sated relaxation.
She smiled to herself as she wrapped a soft towel around her torso, the balmy air lingering from the hot bath enveloping her in a lingering dampness not banished by her emergence from the water. Her feet padded against the cool tile of the floor as she crossed the room, pausing for a moment as she caught sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror hanging along the opposite wall.
Eighteen years old now and a child no longer, she hadn't changed all that greatly from the girl she was when they first met, still maintaining a lithe body developed to the full bloom of womanhood, the softly formed curves and the generous swell to her bosom, qualities she knew caught her lover's eye.
Peter was the name the files they hacked on their captor's computer gave him, his surname edited out without a certain level of clearance. Hers gave them no better luck. In the end, they adopted a surname together, going underground in hopes of finding the quiet peace they so desperately sought.
The face staring back at her still lingered with the underlying weariness of their imprisonment, but still somehow able to maintain the warm reflection of the inner fire Peter loved about her.
Her hair framing her visage in curling wisps of golden blond, much longer than the boyish cut she was forced to wear in confinement. Her hero was constantly complimenting her on his preference of the new length, possessing a fascination of curling the locks around his fingers as he kissed her.
Claire shook her head, a small smile curling her lips. How did he do that, making his presence known with every second even as his physical form lay sleeping in the next room, creeping unconsciously into her thoughts? It was something that could not be helped; no matter how much she tried, for Peter was everything now since she had come away with him, her heart and her life.
He consumed her, every part of her, enthralled her, and mesmerized her until she knew that nothing mattered more than her place at his side. She needed him, as much as he needed her, and that need, the love that it stemmed from, connected them in a way she had never before felt with another soul.
Something in her shifted, a subtle yet earnest urging as if the forces bonding them called to her, as if the very thought of him had her yearning for the physical sight of him, and she obeyed, crossing the floor to open the door to their bedroom.
He lay in the bed where she had left him, his head pillowed against his arm, the lithe stretch of smooth muscle and tawny skin making up his back facing her as his chest rose and fell in the slow, rhythmic breathing of slumber. He was beautiful, truly- inside and out.
She made her way toward him, seating herself delicately on the side of the bed. She reached out and stroked his soft black hair, long bangs falling haphazardly over his brow and into his eyes, which began to flutter open as the lingering touch of her hand.
"Hey."
She continued to comb her fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Hey, stranger. Welcome back to the world of the living."
He gave her a lazy smile and pulled her down toward him. Claire went willing, folding into him as he loosened her towel, letting it drop to the floor, as they came together in a hungry kiss.
And Claire Alexander could think of no better way to savor a Sunday, than to spend a lazy morning in bed making love to her husband, with nary a care in the world.
xx
*Alexander means "defender of mankind." Appropriate for a pair of heroes, no?