Chapter Four: Lovers

9 p.m.

If you'd told her this morning, Claire wouldn't have believed that she'd be in bed with Peter Petrelli twelve hours later. After two weeks of wanting him and getting rebuffed, her hopes had all but disappeared. He would barely look her in the face, and she honestly hadn't been able to blame him. They were supposed to save the world, and neither of them knew how. In this moment in time, the world doesn't go past the walls and they can only save themselves.

He'd already removed his clothes, tearing them away with reckless abandon and speed, and he was crawling over her where she lay sprawled out on his bed. He'd thrown her there seconds ago, though it felt like an eternity. He straddled her bare legs and the sensation of his slightly hairy legs against her hairless ones made her shiver and reach for him. He grasped her wrists, pulling them above her head and holding them there. He looked into her face, his hunger subsiding long enough for tenderness to peak through.

"I want to go slow."

She keened, stretching for him. "No, Peter! Not this time! Please?!"

He shushed her, nuzzling her cheek with his own even as she bucked beneath him. "I want to go slow, but I can't. I know you can heal, but it's always so rough and so insanely hot that I can never slow down and appreciate it." She stilled beneath him, and could feel the beast within her quiet under his soothing murmurs. He stared into her eyes, brushing a kiss across her brow. "I want to go slow, but I can't this time. I promise you slow, later."

She nodded. "Later."

The inferno raged again.

He pushed the t-shirt she wore – his – up and bit into the soft flesh of her stomach, soothing the bite with his tongue, knowing she'd already healed the barely-there damage. She laughed into the dark room, a breathy giggle that caressed his skin. She ran her hands through his tangled dark hair and down his back, bending forward and inadvertently forcing his head lower, he didn't mind though. She scraped her nails up his back, hard, and left small lines of red behind before throwing herself back onto the sheet, at his mercy. She pulled her shirt over her head and watched the brown of his eyes lighten to amber in pleasure as he stared at her naked breasts, already swollen and flushed from aching for him.

He cupped her breasts even as he uses his teeth to pull her panties down; panties already moist from her earlier ministrations. Nibbling at the curve of her hip, he slid them down her legs, throwing them to the floor and circled her ankles with nimble fingers. He knelt on the bed, happy for the first time in two weeks. She made him so happy, the look of her, the touch, the scent. For a few moments, Peter imagined that he could see a future for them, filled with love and tenderness, with jokes and memories, with kids and commitment. A fantasy, of course, since there wasn't even a guarantee they'd live another month, but a guy could hope.

Claire wrapped her small fingers around him and he moaned and jerked. She grinned coquettishly and squeezed him, watching as he tensed and breathed harder. When she used her other hand to caress his ball sac, his head fell back and she pounced. Wrapping her legs around him, she licked up his neck and bit his ear fiercely. The pain made something in him snap and he pressed her down into the mattress with a growl. He got her hands again, holding them above her head, as he rubbed himself against her.

Her legs fell open in abandon and he took full advantage. He slid his hands down her legs, pulling her tighter to him and pressed his mouth to hers. Their tongues danced as his head slipped inside her vaginal lips and she gripped his arms in anticipation. In one quick movement, he pulled back, kneeling again between her legs. He stretched one of her legs up over his shoulder and kissed her ankle tenderly. She opened her mouth to speak but could only gasp as he leaned down again, her leg still on his shoulder. Pressing himself down against her again, he mouth-fucked her and thrust inside her. She was almost doing the splits in this position and he didn't hesitate to take advantage, stimulating her with his fingers, his mouth, and his dick.

Her leg burned from the strain of being kept in that position, but she couldn't feel it over the rushing pleasure of having Peter inside her again. He was moving in and out quickly, the sounds of their flesh meeting echoed in the room even as they moaned over their tangling tongues. She jerked her face away, struggling for air and it felt almost like he was pushing all the way through her, trying to come out on the other side.

Peter could feel her muscles so tight against him, her orgasm on the precipice and he was rushing to catch up. He shoved his face into her hair, grasping one of her hands as he thrust with wild abandon, any thoughts to a real rhythm lost long ago. Claire screamed as she exploded around him, her head tossed back and forth, her hand clenched his, and her pussy undulated and milked him for all it was worth.

He wasn't ready yet, though, and kept going like the energizer bunny on crack, unable to stop even to breathe. She was steadily climbing higher, her screams silent now as if she couldn't breathe either and together they might die in ecstasy and not mind at all. Claire licked the sweat from his neck and slid her hand down his rear. Reaching the apex of his legs, she moaned around a particularly hard thrust and pinched the back of his ball sac, sending him into spastic thrusts that ended with him cumming more violently that he ever remembered.

Their peak was so high that the fall took a long time, the aftershocks and shakes receding most begrudgingly.

Peter released Claire's leg, smiling his apology when she winced slightly. They curled together in the dark, suddenly cool in the open air. The top sheet was gone, Peter having torn it off when he'd returned home, but the coverlet still remained. He pulled it up over her shoulder, sliding his hands down to cup her breasts and kissed her tenderly. She sighed into his mouth, the picture of contentment.

11 p.m.

She was on her hands and knees, her face pressed into a pillow as she fought not to give in.

"Say it!" Peter demanded, his voice rough and desperate as he fucked her from behind. Sweat glistened on their skin and Claire's hair was matted and tangled where it spread out over her back. Peter fisted a hand in it, using the other hand to hold her hips steady as he moved faster and harder, refusing to stop for one second until she gave in.

Claire bit her lips so hard they bled, and finally she pushed the pillow away and screamed, "Alright!"

Peter pulled her up by the hair, pressing his front to her back and didn't stop driving himself into her. He pressed his face into her cheek, biting the edge of her chin viciously. "Say it."

They were both about to orgasm but neither wants to be first, their competition having gone to the extremes. She pulled his hands to her breasts, biting her lip not to moan when he rolled her nipples in his fingers. He pinched one lightly and slid his other hand down her front, rubbing the small nubbin hidden in the apex of her thighs. He scissored it between two fingers, rubbing them up and down even as his thicker extremity stretched and impaled her.

"Only you," she whispered into the silence, the slick sounds of movement almost drowning them out.

He licked her shoulder. "Louder." Another demand, but not as hard this time. It was softer, her surrender sweet on his tongue.

She wrapped his hair around her fingers, jerking it toward her so that they faced each other over her shoulder. "Only you. Always you."

They kissed fiercely, and Peter thrust a finger inside her at the same time he started to jet his seed into her womb and in sync they screamed.

"Claire!"

"Peter!"

1 a.m.

She slid her tongue down the head, and he almost hit the shower door in surprise. Steam covered much of her movement down there and he hadn't been expecting this.

Dropping the soap turned out to be fun for Peter and Claire.

4 a.m.

The sun would be up soon and Peter imagined their night would be over. He didn't know what the light would bring, but he was assured that they could face it together. He was tired of pretending, secluding them from the world. He wanted to walk in the streets with Claire, hold her hand, wrap an arm around her waist, and proudly proclaim to the world that she was his.

Claire returned with a bottle of water from the fridge, comfortable with walking around naked and blushing when she realized that Peter watched her walk with a smile. She sipped quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed nearest Peter and relishing in the slide of his arm around her waist.

"You okay?" he asked with concern. She'd been quiet for the last hour or so.

"I'm great."

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

He levered up onto his elbow, rubbing his free hand down her cheek. "I can tell something is wrong."

She sighed and sat the water on the side table before sliding into bed beside him. Peter wrapped his arms around her and sat back, gently brushing curls from her forehead. "What's going to happen, Peter?"

"We're going to save the world." He was sure now. Somehow, with her at his side, they could do anything.

"No, I mean," she hesitated, "with us."

Peter nodded absently. "I don't want you to go back to Texas."

"I don't want to go back to Texas."

"I like having you here."

"I like being here."

"Claire..."

She sat up and turned to him. "Peter? I..." All night long she'd tried to change these feelings, to ignore them, and she couldn't anymore. She wanted him to know, and to know if he felt the same, because in the end she'd have to decide if it was worth it. Could she leave her family behind forever? Would someone eventually find her and tear her from Peter, and in truth, would he care?

"Claire," he cradled her face, "you've got to know."

"Know what?"

"I love you. Maybe from the first time I saw you." He grinned crookedly, rubbing one of his thumbs over her trembling lips. She bit his thumb lightly as a million-watt smile appeared and she leaned in to kiss him.

It was gentle but not without passion. The inferno had abated, leaving smoldering embers in its wake and they quickened within her. Sliding up his body, she straddled his lap, pressing against his quickly-hardening member.

Peter slid his hands down her sides, his callused fingers tickling her ribs a bit and making her jerk and smile. She pressed those smiling lips against his and wrapped her arms around his neck. She feasted on the taste of him and could only whisper endearments as he adjusted her in his lap and pressed into her slowly. Claire nipped at his lips and leaned back, twining her fingers with his in the bed sheets as she began to move.

Rising and falling, her eyes locked on his as she languished in the sensations he caused. Her skin flushed as her temperature shot up; Peter licked his lips and pressed them against her neck. Their combined hands fisted in the sheets; Peter and Claire moving together in perfect synchronicity. She rose and he fell, almost withdrawing from her completely; she pushed down as thrust up and they met in the middle with a deep sigh. Over and over their bodies toiled, slowly climbing in pleasure until every whisper of wind on razed skin elicited a moan.

Peter knew he couldn't last much longer, and he grit his teeth and held on. "Come on, Claire. For me, baby. For me."

Claire clenched around him, still moving and grinning like a Cheshire cat when his head fell forward and his feverish eyes were hidden by his hair. She pushed a strand back behind his ear, kissing his cheek gently and whispering with glee, "I love you, too, Peter."

He stiffened beneath her as her words stimulated his orgasm. Claire continued to move, pumping him dry and using the impetus to climax. The feel of his seed inside her, knowing that a part of him was in her, made every pulse point in her body jump, and several other things.

She slumped into his arms, smiling weakly as her head slid naturally onto his shoulder. "I think I might actually need to sleep now, Peter."

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah."

"Then we're gonna have to work at it some more."

Claire laughed and punched him half-mockingly. "How about we call it a night and start over tomorrow?"

Peter yawned into her hair, already half asleep. "It's a deal."

They could not know what tomorrow would bring.