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Twilight
by [livejournal.com profile] ashinae and [livejournal.com profile] linden_jay

Pairing: Nathan/Claire
Rating/Warnings: NC-17; prostitution, dub-con, mention and aftermath of rape (by original, not canon, characters).
Spoilers: Up to the beginning of season 2. This would take place within the first few episodes, but doesn't follow the established plot.
Disclaimer: Not written for profit.
Summary: "I wasn't trolling for a hooker. I just happened to bump into one."

Note: This is a multi-part, but complete, story. This is not a work in progress.

Previous Parts: Teaser, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five



Twilight: Chapter Six


Nathan didn't have a hangover when he woke up. He made his way into the kitchen after pulling on a pair of pants and washing his face. He made a real breakfast, even though it was past noon; bacon and eggs and toast, and waited for Claire for a while, but eventually things were going to get overcooked to the point where nothing was edible, so he sat down to eat by himself.

An hour later, and his gaze lingered on the unfinished wine bottle.

Claire woke up feeling disoriented, tangled in the sheets and blankets, starting awake, then gradually relaxing again when she realized where she was. She pulled the sheet back up to her chest, even though Nathan wasn't in the room, and used her free hand to search under the covers for Peter's shirt, pulling it over her head before she padded out into the kitchen, bed headed and looking for food.

"Hey," Nathan said. "Breakfast's all waiting for you. Eat up--it shouldn't be too cold yet."

"Hey," Claire murmured back, still looking drowsy as she found herself a plate of food, carrying it to the table and starting to eat. "Real breakfast," she sighed, looking blissful, and not caring at all if it wasn't hot.

"Yeah," he said. "Real breakfast." He looked up from the Sudoku puzzle he was working on, stared at her a moment, then looked down again.

"All that's missing are grits," she murmured around a bite of eggs, only letting herself think about the breakfasts her mom used to make for a few moments before she gave her head a slight shake, not wanting to dwell there.

"You can make those yourself," Nathan said, smiling a little, going back to the puzzle. He didn't know how Peter could be so obsessed with these. Give him a crossword any day.

"They're not the same here... LA either. It's a Southern thing," she shrugged, finishing her bacon, then licking her fingers, even though she knew that was gross.

"I guess so." His gaze was drawn away, just beyond her shoulder, to the wine bottle on the counter again. He got up, grabbed it, and shoved it into the cupboard where the canned goods were kept.

Claire smiled, literally biting her lip to say something about being proud of Nathan, since she was fairly sure he'd take it badly. "Is there coffee? I can make some," she suggested, unfolding herself from her chair and heading into the kitchen to poke around.

"Yeah," Nathan said. "Yeah, coffee's a really good idea." He went back to the stupid puzzle, then tossed it aside and reached for the word puzzles again.

"I never got the hang of those," Claire said, going up on her toes to get things out of the cupboard, then starting to make coffee. "I never did that well in math. I heard it was genetic."

"Maybe," Nathan said, a little dubiously. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Not you... Meredith," Claire said, then changed the subject. "I think so, yeah. I didn't dream, for once."

"Lucky girl," Nathan said, also not wanting to discuss the issue of Meredith. But he also didn't want to talk about his dream.

"Strong, or really strong?" Apparently they weren't hitting on any safe topics this morning, which was probably what happened the morning after you fucked your biological father. Go figure. "The coffee."

"Just strong, thanks. There's sugar in one of those containers under the microwave. I think it's the one with the Yankees logo on it."

Claire wrinkled her nose at the mention of 'Yankees', but declined to comment, even though she did pull the container out and set it on the counter, finishing the coffee and starting the machine up. "I don't think there's much milk though."

"No?" Nathan got to his feet and peered in the fridge. "Ah, there's enough for coffee. I'll pick some more up tomorrow after breakfast." He was feeling lazy today.

However, once the afternoon was wearing into evening, he found himself restless. He kept thinking about that wine bottle.

Claire'd settled in on one end of the couch, feet tucked up underneath her as she watched reruns of Friends from back in the first season. "Monkeys creep me out," she muttered, leaning her cheek on her hand.

Nathan got to his feet and started pacing. "I'm going to go get that milk now," he announced, grabbing his wallet and shoving it into a pocket. "It won't wait until the morning. I'll be back in a bit." Without another word or a backward glance, he hurried out.

She turned her head to watch him go, then turned back to the television, giving it a full minute by the clock before she clicked it off.

*


Nathan returned to an empty apartment. He ate dinner alone, then made up another plate for Claire and put it in the fridge. He sat down in front of the TV to wait.

And wait. And wait. Until all that was left to watch were infomercials (after a while, he actually started to wonder if he needed ProActiv).

Claire'd pushed it as late as she could, until she was barely able to put one foot in front of the other, she was so tired. The logic being that if she did it that way, maybe, just maybe, Nathan would be asleep when she got back, and they could keep up the pretense they'd managed so well that afternoon. She stopped in front of the door and fished out her key, fumbling with it as she worked on getting the door unlocked.

Nathan heard the lock. He'd spent the night wondering if she was actually going to come back; if she did, if it would only be to get her few belongings. He took a deep breath, but stayed on the couch where he was.

She stepped quietly as she walked into the apartment, locking the door carefully, then leaning down to take off her boots, having to lean on the door to keep herself upright. Setting them down beside the door, she stood up again, fiddling with the hem of her skirt for a moment or two, then padding toward the kitchen.

Nathan closed his eyes and listened to her move through the kitchen. He imagined other men's hands on her; he hated the thought. He hated his jealousy. He remembered last night, that elephant in the living room they'd avoided so well all day. He opened his eyes again and watched for her.

She kept the routine she'd set over the past few nights... washing her mouth out, then drinking a full bottle of water, leaving the empty bottle on the counter. Taking the money she'd earned out of her bra, and peeling off a number of bills, setting them on the table for Nathan. Food, rent... booze. Whatever. He wasn't drinking in front of her as much anymore, which probably meant he'd spent the evening in a bar like the one she'd found him in. Rubbing her eyes, she started for the bathroom, stumbling a little on the way, and pausing to hold herself up against the wall, then continuing.

"Claire."

Claire stopped, just short of the bathroom, holding on to the door frame, closing her eyes. "Yeah."

"Come here." His voice was quiet. Calm.

She didn't move. "I need a shower."

"I'm sure you do." He got to his feet and put his hand on her waist. He flicked on the bathroom light, squinted a little as he'd been sitting in the dark, then urged her inside. Again, he undressed her, watched his hands, didn't say a word.

Claire let the money drop to the floor with her clothes, closing her eyes even though she was already looking down. He wasn't drunk. Not that she could tell, anyway.

Again, he followed her into the shower. Again, he washed her clean, ending with her feet, with him on his knees in front of her. He looked up, at her face, expression neutral, unreadable. His fingertips moved up her thigh. "How many tonight?" he asked. "How many did you let fuck you without protection?"

It took a long time before she answered him, meeting his eyes for a moment, then looking past him again. "None."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Her voice was so soft, it could barely be heard over the water.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then stood, shut off the faucet, pulled her from the shower to get them dry as they dripped on the bathmat. "Bed, I think," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

She nodded quickly, not trusting her voice to speak right away. "Long night," she said eventually, pushing her wet hair away from her face.

"Yeah. You can barely walk." He guided her away to the bedroom, in the dark again, and helped her into the bed. He went around to the other side to climb in next to her, but in the next breath, he reached for her, tugged her close. "I want you," he whispered, slid his hand down over her belly. "I want to touch you."

Claire was exhausted, but she still shuddered when he touched her like that, her breath hitching at the feel of his fingers. "You didn't forget?" He hadn't said anything, and she'd thought... she didn't know what she'd thought.

"I remember everything. I fucked you on the table. I made you come." He pressed closer. "I want to fuck you again."

She moaned softly as he said that, remembering how it had felt, sensation spilling out through her whole body. "Nathan... what do you..." she trailed off, not sure what she was trying to ask.

"What do I..." He kissed her shoulder, licked her neck.

"Want. From me--how do you want me?" she finished, defaulting to what she knew.

"Like this," he said. He trailed his tongue down, over the curve of her breast, across her nipple. "Just like this." He nudged her legs apart and knelt there, between them, over her. Oh God.

She wasn't used to this, wasn't used to gentleness, wasn't even used to being fucked in a bed. Claire stared up at Nathan, breathing faster, getting louder all the time.

"Claire." She deserved better. Better than him, better than the life she'd chosen for herself, better than the way he pushed inside her without any further consideration to her pleasure. But she was hot and tight and he wanted her.

It hurt. Just for a moment, the pain almost gone by the time she'd tilted her head back and cried out, her back arching so much she wasn't even touching the mattress.

He groaned, shoved deep, kissed her shoulder. "Claire. Claire..."

Another soft cry from Claire, her legs coming up and cinching around his waist, holding on tightly. "Fuck me," she whispered.

He didn't hold back; fucked her hard, holding himself up above her. His arms shook, just a little, and he looked down at her, though he couldn't see her well enough in the dark. He wanted light--he wanted to see her face, he wanted to watch her come again. But he couldn't stop, couldn't move away now that he had her like this. "Claire."

She trembled beneath him, moving with him, fucking him back just as hard and fast as he was fucking her. She felt a surge of pleasure inside her every single time he said her name, lips parted as she gasped for air, barely getting enough.

"Yes," he said, "Claire, oh God, Claire." He closed his eyes, bit the inside of his cheek, making himself hold back. He wanted her to feel this, really feel this, and forced himself to keep going, as much as he wanted to stop and just give in to how fucking incredible she felt.

Claire barely managed to breathe Nathan's name, shaking even harder, her stomach tight, sensation creeping through her, pleasure coiling inside her. She moaned, pleading without realizing she was doing it, or truly knowing what she was asking for, the words slipping over her lips automatically.

He said her name, over and over, slipped one hand between them and rubbed his thumb over her clit. "Come for me," he whispered in her ear. "Come for me, Claire."

Her eyes flashed open, staring up at his face even though it was dark. She bucked up against him, pushing against his hand, instinctively seeking that last bit of friction, only needing a few more thrusts before she cried out and started to come, shuddering hard.

"That's it," he whispered. "Oh, fuck, yes. Claire!" He groaned, thrust hard inside her for another few moments, then he came with little more than a gasp. A shiver ran down his spine and he fell to the side, panting for breath.

Claire's legs gradually relaxed and fell away from Nathan's waist, chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to get her breath back. She stayed limp, completely played out, between this and the rest of her night, not even sure she was capable of moving if she wanted to.

After a moment, Nathan dragged the blankets up over them, and rolled onto his side. He was facing her this time, though he didn't touch her.

It was a long time before Claire shifted onto her side, drawing her knees up so high her legs were almost pressed up against her stomach, her arms wrapped around them. She didn't say anything, just watched Nathan, as well as she could in the dim light, a realization coming to her just before she fell asleep.

That was the first time anyone had ever had sex with her and it hadn't been for money. Ever.

*

Date: 2008-08-11 03:05 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] holly-archer.livejournal.com
Awwwww That Was So Whats The Word I'm Looking For It Was Cute But Hot at The Same Time

Nathan being all Gentlemany :) And Nice

Awww I loved It :) You Did Yourselves Proud Again

Date: 2008-08-12 02:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] linden-jay.livejournal.com
Cute and hot... I'll take that compliment. Thank you!

Nathan as a gentleman is kind of strange, but cool too.

And I'm glad you're loving it. Thanks so much!

Date: 2008-08-12 12:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] joanna-484.livejournal.com
(after a while, he actually started to wonder if he needed ProActiv)

Oh, Nathan! You're gorgeous and blessed with naturally flawless skin! Don't let your sleepless nights, alcohol cravings, grief over your brother's death, unnatural feelings for your daughter, and general miserableness ever let you doubt it! :D

I'm glad Nathan's resisting the urge to drink, though I'm sensing a relapse is coming :( At least he's trying, and the dynamic you have going between him and Claire is wonderfully done :)

Also, I'm constantly amazed by how seamless your collaboration is :) I love this fic :)

Date: 2008-08-12 02:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] linden-jay.livejournal.com
Oh, Nathan! You're gorgeous and blessed with naturally flawless skin! Don't let your sleepless nights, alcohol cravings, grief over your brother's death, unnatural feelings for your daughter, and general miserableness ever let you doubt it! :D

Oh my gosh you made me giggle. Poor Nathan. HIS LIFE IS SO HARD. IT MIGHT AFFECT HIS SKIN.

I love the flow that he and Claire are falling into... the way they're helping each other without even really being too aware of what they're doing.

And thank you so much for the compliment about our collaboration. We've been writing together for awhile, and got in some serious practice, but it's wonderful to hear. Thanks!

Date: 2008-08-12 12:59 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dragonydreams.livejournal.com
I love how Nathan takes care of her when she gets home.

Date: 2008-08-12 02:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] linden-jay.livejournal.com
I do too. I love how much he needs the routine of it. How important it is to him.

Date: 2008-08-12 03:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] shimmeree.livejournal.com
Twisted and excellent.

Date: 2008-08-12 02:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] linden-jay.livejournal.com
Thank you! It really is kinda twisted, isn't it? Can't get away from that, considering the subject matter. Thanks!

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