quirkysmuse (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quirkysmuse) wrote2008-08-26 12:15 pm
quirkysmuse) wrote2008-08-26 12:15 pm
Entry tags:
Heroes, "Barrel of a Gun" Peter/Claire, NC-17
Fandom: Heroes
Title: Barrel of a Gun
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Peter
Genre: Drama/Smut
Rating: NC-17
Universe: Canon, Futureverse
Spoilers/Warnings: Inspired heavily from the Season 3 preview. Also, this is a darkfic. Oh NOES! Read at your own risk.
Notes: I delayed "Petrelli Land" a couple days to post this.
Word Count: 1,512
Summary: Her gun ready and her mind set, Claire Bennet would shoot Peter Petrelli.
Barrel of a Gun
Claire Bennet took a deep breath and hardened her resolve. Tonight, she had to shoot Peter. Her Peter.
Despite everything, she was ready. She would stick to what she believed in. She would do what was right.
Though she had always loved him, she knew she had no choice. Her motives were clear.
The deep shadows of the darkened slums creaked and groaned at her as she slipped through the shadows. Her fingers flexed at her side, hovering over the gun she was destined to fire. She avoided puddles, listened to sounds, and utilized all of her training. He would be here soon, at this moment, in this place.
She would stop his insane plans. She would do him a favor; though, something deep inside her recoiled at the thought of harming Peter.
She suppressed the urge to change her mind. Maybe he wasn’t really her Peter anymore.
Maybe he would survive – just as he always did.
She heard a sound behind her. She tensed. Listening closely, she relaxed. Just a rat, she surmised, groaning inside.
She continued on and lingered in the corners of ominous streets.
He would be here soon, but she had just a few minutes to spare. She closed her eyes and her mind floated for a second before grabbing a wisp of a memory. She held onto it and pulled at it like a string of a kite.
Claire Bennet remembered loving Peter Petrelli. When she was done with him tonight, they’d be all she’d have left of him. Memories.
--
“I should teach you how to use that gun properly,” Peter teased, his eyes falling onto the piece lying on her coffee table. She leaned into him as they snuggled together on her sofa.
Claire grinned. “Oh Please, I know how to use a gun just fine. I’m from Texas, remember? They give out guns at our coming of age parties.” Peter turned to her, and she trailed a finger down the scar over his face. She sighed.
How many moments had begun like this? She’d lost count many moons ago; it might have been fifteen, or twenty or even fifty times. He leaned in and took her mouth into his, and she lost herself. Just as she always did when he touched her like this. He felt like the first day he braved to touch her – to throw caution to the wind and tattoo ‘all or nothing’ into their hearts.
Claire shifted on the couch, and Peter became caught up in her. Eager hands petted and pulled and traced the curves and angles of her body. She grinned against his kiss, and he drew her back again. He wouldn’t let her get away – ever. Not when they were like this.
He heard a cocked click, and he pulled back as she surprised him. There was a cold revolver poking the swell of his unmarred cheek.
“Claire…” He breathed a heavy sigh. Maybe he was even scared for a second. This delighted her.
She raised a single eyebrow and smirked. “Still convinced I can’t handle a gun?”
He chuckled wickedly, and as his eyes watched her, she could feel his darkness mirroring her own.
Times had changed. The world had changed – especially for people like Peter and Claire. Moreover, they had changed – but now they only considered each other. So much had gone wrong that Peter had taken a break from letting others into his heart. Only Claire had been there to completely fill the void.
She moved the gun over his cheek, caressing the line of his jaw and drawing the end to the pinch of his lips. He closed his eyes, and Claire watched as his tongue trailed down the barrel to her fingers, right at the trigger. She froze.
He knew the gun was loaded.
“You don’t know where this gun has been,” Claire said. By the smolder of his eyes, he wasn’t in the mood for teasing.
“Put the gun away, Claire,” he demanded harshly, and his arms reached out and pulled her flush against him. She smirked again. Claire didn’t like being ordered to do anything. She pressed the gun against his chin.
Instantly, the gun was thrown away by one of Peter’s more useful talents. She blinked and found herself on the floor as he pushed them down. She recovered her wind from the jolt, and she sighed deeply as his lips harshly suckled a mark on her throat.
His desperate hands surged underneath her clothes, seeking out her heat and drawing her loose from their confines. Claire arched for him, and his head moved down as his mouth hungrily found her taut breasts.
“Peter…” she said, and she knew he liked his name on her lips – always, as if it was a permanent pact between them.
She tore the T-shirt over his head, and five or six breaths later she could feel hot skin on skin. Their clothes were tossed away, and Peter and Claire returned to their element – completely bare and perfectly shaped to one another. She paused and traced her finger down his scar again, and he turned his head to catch her finger with his lips. Quickly, he released her, and drew her into another searing kiss, trapping her and keeping her within his frenetic mercy. His hands shifted below, cupping her bottom and lifting her in a quick motion as he thrust inside her.
She felt the tightness and the hot, steely intrusion that felt like home within a mere breath. She revved her hips with him – fast and tight, pushing and pulling to reach a midpoint of harmony and white.
A steady rhythm danced between them, and Peter pressed her arms over her head and pinned her wrists down. Her legs locked around him; she rocked, he pumped, and a surmounting pulse burst within them. He would drive in farther if he could. She would reach up higher if she was able – but they were already wound together, knotted and tense.
He let out a strained sigh, and Claire watched the muscles in his face tense. She was burning inside, and then swiftly glazed with a blanketing chill. He peaked, and she cried, her head thrown back and her mouth dry as the blood rushed below.
He settled inside of her as they came down, and he stayed there as he leaned down and drew her up for another passionate kiss. And like the last and all the times before, she didn’t want to leave him. She wanted wrap him inside as she cocooned around him forever.
She shifted underneath him, and languidly he drew out and fell softly to her side. She draped an arm around him and kissed his nose.
“So that’s what happens when I bring my gun out.” Claire was back to teasing.
Peter brushed a strand of damp hair behind her ear. He stared at her lovingly and rewarded her with a crooked smile.
“Claire, you could bring out Checkers, and the end result would be the same.” She closed her eyes, and he gave her another kiss that melted like chocolate on her lips.
“Good to know for the future,” she chirped.
His breath fanned over her lips as his forehead nuzzled against hers. “You don’t need anything to convince me.” His deep eyes fired up her insides again.
Then, he made her heart forget a beat with his next words. “Because with you Claire, these times never feel like they end.”
She’d felt the same, of course. Making love to Peter was a never ending euphoric blaze that spread over her like wildfire.
But, Claire thought ruefully, those had been the old days.
--
Her eyes shot open in alert. Footsteps pattered on the wet asphalt in the distance.
Peter was coming at last.
It was time. Everything ended tonight, and she would go back after this. She would harbor no regrets. She may even forget about Peter in a couple of hundred years.
Or so she thinly believed. She’d have to rearrange all the clutter in her heart for that. Still, she and Peter had been over long ago, within days where being wrong felt so right that hellfire would only sting a little in the end.
Claire knew it was Peter coming, too. She didn’t need a computer or a silly gadget to confirm her intuition. Her body knew Peter’s presence well. Even after all this time, the feel of him still littered underneath the layers of her skin.
She pulled out the gun from its holster as the footsteps came closer. She took refuge in a shadow and counted the seconds as they flew by.
Claire Bennet breathed hard one last time and then smirked.
She came out into the open light as he stopped in front of her. She kept her memories at bay, and her voice grated against her throat like a stone.
Peter Petrelli, it’s time I stopped you, she thought inwardly as she met his eyes. Soon, it would all be over.
Then… maybe nothing.
END
Title: Barrel of a Gun
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Peter
Genre: Drama/Smut
Rating: NC-17
Universe: Canon, Futureverse
Spoilers/Warnings: Inspired heavily from the Season 3 preview. Also, this is a darkfic. Oh NOES! Read at your own risk.
Notes: I delayed "Petrelli Land" a couple days to post this.
Word Count: 1,512
Summary: Her gun ready and her mind set, Claire Bennet would shoot Peter Petrelli.
Barrel of a Gun
Claire Bennet took a deep breath and hardened her resolve. Tonight, she had to shoot Peter. Her Peter.
Despite everything, she was ready. She would stick to what she believed in. She would do what was right.
Though she had always loved him, she knew she had no choice. Her motives were clear.
The deep shadows of the darkened slums creaked and groaned at her as she slipped through the shadows. Her fingers flexed at her side, hovering over the gun she was destined to fire. She avoided puddles, listened to sounds, and utilized all of her training. He would be here soon, at this moment, in this place.
She would stop his insane plans. She would do him a favor; though, something deep inside her recoiled at the thought of harming Peter.
She suppressed the urge to change her mind. Maybe he wasn’t really her Peter anymore.
Maybe he would survive – just as he always did.
She heard a sound behind her. She tensed. Listening closely, she relaxed. Just a rat, she surmised, groaning inside.
She continued on and lingered in the corners of ominous streets.
He would be here soon, but she had just a few minutes to spare. She closed her eyes and her mind floated for a second before grabbing a wisp of a memory. She held onto it and pulled at it like a string of a kite.
Claire Bennet remembered loving Peter Petrelli. When she was done with him tonight, they’d be all she’d have left of him. Memories.
--
“I should teach you how to use that gun properly,” Peter teased, his eyes falling onto the piece lying on her coffee table. She leaned into him as they snuggled together on her sofa.
Claire grinned. “Oh Please, I know how to use a gun just fine. I’m from Texas, remember? They give out guns at our coming of age parties.” Peter turned to her, and she trailed a finger down the scar over his face. She sighed.
How many moments had begun like this? She’d lost count many moons ago; it might have been fifteen, or twenty or even fifty times. He leaned in and took her mouth into his, and she lost herself. Just as she always did when he touched her like this. He felt like the first day he braved to touch her – to throw caution to the wind and tattoo ‘all or nothing’ into their hearts.
Claire shifted on the couch, and Peter became caught up in her. Eager hands petted and pulled and traced the curves and angles of her body. She grinned against his kiss, and he drew her back again. He wouldn’t let her get away – ever. Not when they were like this.
He heard a cocked click, and he pulled back as she surprised him. There was a cold revolver poking the swell of his unmarred cheek.
“Claire…” He breathed a heavy sigh. Maybe he was even scared for a second. This delighted her.
She raised a single eyebrow and smirked. “Still convinced I can’t handle a gun?”
He chuckled wickedly, and as his eyes watched her, she could feel his darkness mirroring her own.
Times had changed. The world had changed – especially for people like Peter and Claire. Moreover, they had changed – but now they only considered each other. So much had gone wrong that Peter had taken a break from letting others into his heart. Only Claire had been there to completely fill the void.
She moved the gun over his cheek, caressing the line of his jaw and drawing the end to the pinch of his lips. He closed his eyes, and Claire watched as his tongue trailed down the barrel to her fingers, right at the trigger. She froze.
He knew the gun was loaded.
“You don’t know where this gun has been,” Claire said. By the smolder of his eyes, he wasn’t in the mood for teasing.
“Put the gun away, Claire,” he demanded harshly, and his arms reached out and pulled her flush against him. She smirked again. Claire didn’t like being ordered to do anything. She pressed the gun against his chin.
Instantly, the gun was thrown away by one of Peter’s more useful talents. She blinked and found herself on the floor as he pushed them down. She recovered her wind from the jolt, and she sighed deeply as his lips harshly suckled a mark on her throat.
His desperate hands surged underneath her clothes, seeking out her heat and drawing her loose from their confines. Claire arched for him, and his head moved down as his mouth hungrily found her taut breasts.
“Peter…” she said, and she knew he liked his name on her lips – always, as if it was a permanent pact between them.
She tore the T-shirt over his head, and five or six breaths later she could feel hot skin on skin. Their clothes were tossed away, and Peter and Claire returned to their element – completely bare and perfectly shaped to one another. She paused and traced her finger down his scar again, and he turned his head to catch her finger with his lips. Quickly, he released her, and drew her into another searing kiss, trapping her and keeping her within his frenetic mercy. His hands shifted below, cupping her bottom and lifting her in a quick motion as he thrust inside her.
She felt the tightness and the hot, steely intrusion that felt like home within a mere breath. She revved her hips with him – fast and tight, pushing and pulling to reach a midpoint of harmony and white.
A steady rhythm danced between them, and Peter pressed her arms over her head and pinned her wrists down. Her legs locked around him; she rocked, he pumped, and a surmounting pulse burst within them. He would drive in farther if he could. She would reach up higher if she was able – but they were already wound together, knotted and tense.
He let out a strained sigh, and Claire watched the muscles in his face tense. She was burning inside, and then swiftly glazed with a blanketing chill. He peaked, and she cried, her head thrown back and her mouth dry as the blood rushed below.
He settled inside of her as they came down, and he stayed there as he leaned down and drew her up for another passionate kiss. And like the last and all the times before, she didn’t want to leave him. She wanted wrap him inside as she cocooned around him forever.
She shifted underneath him, and languidly he drew out and fell softly to her side. She draped an arm around him and kissed his nose.
“So that’s what happens when I bring my gun out.” Claire was back to teasing.
Peter brushed a strand of damp hair behind her ear. He stared at her lovingly and rewarded her with a crooked smile.
“Claire, you could bring out Checkers, and the end result would be the same.” She closed her eyes, and he gave her another kiss that melted like chocolate on her lips.
“Good to know for the future,” she chirped.
His breath fanned over her lips as his forehead nuzzled against hers. “You don’t need anything to convince me.” His deep eyes fired up her insides again.
Then, he made her heart forget a beat with his next words. “Because with you Claire, these times never feel like they end.”
She’d felt the same, of course. Making love to Peter was a never ending euphoric blaze that spread over her like wildfire.
But, Claire thought ruefully, those had been the old days.
--
Her eyes shot open in alert. Footsteps pattered on the wet asphalt in the distance.
Peter was coming at last.
It was time. Everything ended tonight, and she would go back after this. She would harbor no regrets. She may even forget about Peter in a couple of hundred years.
Or so she thinly believed. She’d have to rearrange all the clutter in her heart for that. Still, she and Peter had been over long ago, within days where being wrong felt so right that hellfire would only sting a little in the end.
Claire knew it was Peter coming, too. She didn’t need a computer or a silly gadget to confirm her intuition. Her body knew Peter’s presence well. Even after all this time, the feel of him still littered underneath the layers of her skin.
She pulled out the gun from its holster as the footsteps came closer. She took refuge in a shadow and counted the seconds as they flew by.
Claire Bennet breathed hard one last time and then smirked.
She came out into the open light as he stopped in front of her. She kept her memories at bay, and her voice grated against her throat like a stone.
Peter Petrelli, it’s time I stopped you, she thought inwardly as she met his eyes. Soon, it would all be over.
Then… maybe nothing.
END