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ashinaeTwilight
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ashinae and 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, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight
Twilight: Chapter Nine
Claire'd been walking in front of the door for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for Matt to come back out. Once he'd come out of the building and was well down the street, she headed back inside, bundled up in her jeans and flip-flops and Peter's sweat shirt, the hood covering her hair. She paused in front of the door and bit her lip, then knocked, since she hadn't been able to get a new key cut yet.
Nathan got to his feet and hurried to the door. He pulled it open, and stepped back to let her in, locking it again. "It's done," he said. "Everything's taken care of. I promised, right?"
Her shoulders relaxed as soon as Nathan started speaking, an audible sigh coming from underneath the too-big hood. "Good... I'm glad," she said, peering up at him. "I was scared. I didn't think he'd go for it."
He pushed the hood off her head and stroked his fingers through her hair. He was suddenly very aware of how dry it was frying being dyed so much. "He did. Thank God." Gently, he pulled her against him.
She closed her eyes and let him pull her in closer, some of the tension she'd been carrying starting to ease out of her. "You shouldn't have done that for me. But... thank you."
"It's done now and I can't undo it," Nathan said. "Just like a lot of things. But we can start from here." He kissed the top of her head. "If that's what you want."
"I can't go backward, and I can't die. That leaves going forward."
"I guess it does." He stroked her cheek as he stepped back. "Want me to make some lunch? Soup, grilled cheese?"
Claire nodded, almost smiling for a moment. "I'm hungry." She hadn't eaten properly in a couple days. "Was he mad?"
"I can't say that he was quick to congratulate me on a job well done," Nathan replied as he started rummaging through the kitchen. His stomach was now officially tying itself into knots, so he poured himself a glass of ginger ale. It was flat. Probably better that way.
"He's a cop. One of the good guys," Claire said, climbing onto one of the kitchen chairs and pulling her knees up to her chest. If Parkman was one of the good guys, she wasn't exactly sure what she was, or Nathan. Something else though. Something tarnished.
"Yeah, I guess he is. Like Peter. Or Mohinder. What's that make me?"
Claire rested her chin on her knees while she thought about it. "I think... no. It's stupid," she stopped, shaking her head.
He turned to look at her. "What?"
She didn't look at him, but after a few moments pause, she started talking again. "I remember reading something about how sometimes when people fight, in wars, or are like, cops who've seen really awful stuff, that it affects them, really badly. That they end up scarred, inside and out, sometimes. They can't be the same anymore. They get stuck there, where it's bad, even though they're living back in the world. Like there's blood and dirt on them that won't wash off."
"Yeah," Nathan said softly. "You didn't get a chance to meet Hiro, did you?"
She shook her head. "I thought I saw him, but I never met him."
"He saw right through me real quick. Perceptive guy. Told me I'm a villain." Nathan kept his back to her now, working over the stove and countertop. "He was probably right."
"No... I don't think so," Claire looked thoughtful again, still resting her chin on her knees. "I think you could be. I don't think you are. I think you've always got some light on you, even when you're in the shadows, but when you're out in the light, the shadows still cling."
"That's kind of you to say," Nathan told her.
"You came back," Claire reminded him. "A villain wouldn't have come back."
"I guess so," he said, shrugging a little. "How much cheese do you want?" Nice changing the subject.
She somehow managed not to sigh. "Lots, please. I'm hungry."
"Can do. I started a grocery list--it's on the fridge. Add cheese to the list, okay?" Lists. Organization. That should help Nathan feel normal again. Get his life back. Or at least some of it; nothing would ever be right until Peter came back.
Claire nodded and unfolded herself from the chair, finding a pen and adding 'cheese' onto the grocery list. Playing with the pen, she looked out toward the window. "It's later than I thought."
"Yeah," he said. "Parkman was busy. Things to do, family to take care of, job, all that stuff. I guess this is dinner."
"I guess," Claire echoed. Dinner meant evening. Evening meant dark. Dark meant going back to work. "Maybe an extra sandwich then," she said, going back to her chair.
"Sure," he said, and quickly added two more sandwiches to the pan. He didn't want her to leave. Maybe he could stuff her so full of food she wouldn't want to leave.
Curling up again, she stared down at her nails, making a face at the chipped polish. She should have done something about that earlier. Very classy. "You should put shaving cream on the list too."
"Using it all up, are you?" He stepped away from the stove to write 'shaving cream' under 'cheese'. "Need condoms?" he asked. His voice sounded remarkably neutral.
"I get them from the clinic... they give them out for free," she told her fingernails, trying not to show that she was surprised Nathan'd asked. Which reminded her--she needed to make him an appointment to get himself checked out. He'd never used a condom with her yet, and it wasn't safe--for him.
"Fair enough," he said. He turned off the soup, poured it into two oversized mugs, put the sandwiches on plates, and served up dinner for them. He looked at her, for a moment, hoped she'd tell him she wasn't going to go. That she wanted to stay here with him tonight. Let him look after her.
A murmured thank you and another almost-smile, and Claire pulled her sandwich and soup even closer, dipping a triangle of sandwich into the soup and taking a bite.
Nathan watched her a moment longer, before turning to his own dinner. He was the one who'd suggested the meal, after all.
Claire ate quickly, partly out of hunger, and partly out of nerves. Wiping the crust of her sandwich around the inside of her bowl, she looked toward the window again. Twilight. She looked over at Nathan, not meeting his eyes or saying anything, then got up to clear her dishes to the kitchen.
He followed her a minute later, then leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I'm just going to go read," he said, and left it at that. He wasn't going to plead with her to stay.
She nodded, loading the dishwasher, then picking her clothes up from where she'd been keeping them beside the couch. Carrying them into the bathroom, she set them on the counter and stared at the mirror, willing her hands to stop shaking.
Nathan curled up on the couch, and read the same sentence about four times. He looked up, at the clock, then down at the page again. Five times. He felt a little sick.
Finally dressed, and far paler than normal, Claire started doing her makeup, having to stop every now and again to steady her hand. She'd gotten as far as outlining one eye before she started feeling sick, dropping down in front of the toilet only just in time before she threw up.
Nathan heard. He dropped his book and hurried to the bathroom. He stood in the doorway and waited a moment, before he said, "Claire, please."
There wasn't any response from Claire's side of the door, unless further retching counted as a response.
He tried the handle, found it unlocked, and stepped inside. He sat down on the floor behind her and rubbed her back. "Eat too fast?" he asked.
Claire wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, tears streaking her cheeks as she trembled all over.
"God... Claire." He moved closer, brushed her hair back from her face. "I'm sorry."
She turned enough to burrow her face against his shoulder, her hands clutching at his upper arms. "I have to ... I have to..." she kept trying to speak, not able to get the words out.
"No, you don't," he said. "You don't have to, Claire. You don't." Perhaps the more he said it, the more she'd believe him.
"I do," she whispered, holding on even tighter.
"Why? I don't understand, Claire. You don't have to do this anymore. You've got me now."
"Until I lose you. Until you leave." Claire was shaking again. "Don't you see? Don't you get it?"
"What are you talking about?" Nathan asked, as gently as he could. "Claire, I'm not going to leave."
"Everyone says that. Everyone says that, and they're all lying," Claire looked up at him, frustrated tears covering her cheeks. "They go away, or they want you to kill them, or they want you to hide, and, and in the end, they all leave and I'm all alone."
He looked at her, helplessly, then buried his face against her hair. "I can't promise something awful won't happen," he said, "but I don't want you to keep having to do this to yourself."
"If I stop, I might not be able to start again. And what if I have to? What if you leave?"
Nathan shook his head. "I'm not going to leave."
Claire's head dropped forward, her hair covering her face as she started to cry again, quiet sobs shaking her body.
"I'm not going to leave." Nathan's voice broke as he stroked her hair. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Her arms went up and around Nathan's neck, holding on so tightly it had to be painful for him, but she couldn't make herself stop.
"Stay here tonight," Nathan whispered. "That's all I'll ask of you. Just don't go out tonight."
She was still shaking when she finally loosened her grip, the shoulder of his shirt wet from her tears as she pulled back. Claire didn't trust her voice at the moment, so she just nodded.
He gave her a gentle smile. "Thank you," he whispered, and helped her up to her feet. He washed her face--his own little ritual, it was important for him to do this--and left her to brush her teeth as he turned down the bed. He stripped himself down to his underwear, then sat on the end of the bed to wait for her.
Teeth and hair brushed, Claire appeared in the doorframe of Peter's room a few minutes later, Peter's sweatshirt hanging off of her, feet and legs bare. She leaned against the door and looked at Nathan, fingers tugging at the ends of her hair. "It's not very soft, is it?"
"No," Nathan said, "it's not. Over processed or something. I miss your hair."
"Because it was like hers?" Claire looked down again, black hair covering her eyes.
"Because it was yours," Nathan said. "And it was soft. Like Peter's."
"I cried when I cut it." Claire laughed self-deprecatingly. "I buried it. Stupid, right?"
He held out his hands to her. "No, it's not stupid."
She pushed off the doorframe and came over to Nathan, small hands reaching out for his. "In the park, under a bush. I didn't want to just throw it away."
He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers, but he didn't say anything as he pulled her against him.
Claire let him pull her in close, her head resting against his shoulder again, enjoying the feel of his bare skin against her cheek. "I feel weird," she whispered.
"Are you going to throw up on me?" he asked, before he could stop the question from slipping past his lips.
She actually laughed before she could stop herself, then shook her head, surprised that she’d done it. "No... no, not like that. I just feel... like I'm standing on the edge of a building, waiting to step off. But... not necessarily in a bad way."
"I know how you feel," he said, rubbing her back. "But I told you I'd take care of you, right? I won't let anything happen."
Claire nodded against his shoulder. "But you can't promise. We both know you can't promise."
"I want to. I wish I could."
She understood that. She also knew that she didn't want lies. "What can you promise?"
"To take care of you as best as I can."
"What about you?" Claire lifted her head and looked at Nathan.
"I don't need anything," he said, so quietly it was barely audible. Liar.
"Yes. You do." If she didn't get to hide, neither did he. "Maybe I do need someone looking out for me... but so do you. We're both pretty fucked up, Nathan."
"Yeah, I suppose we are." He closed his eyes, then leaned his head against her shoulder.
"So what about you?" Claire asked again, touching his hair.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what I want."
"But you want me to stay?"
"I want you to stay." He moved back, pulled her with him, urging her onto the bed. "Please stay."
"And you want me?" A very different intention behind the question this time.
"Yes," he whispered. "I want you."
"You're the first person who ever had me that didn't either pay or try and take me by force." She'd never confirmed it, although she was sure he knew.
He stroked her cheek, pulled the blankets up over them, flicked off the lamp. He didn't know what to say to that, so he kissed her forehead, and pulled her against his chest.
Her lips brushed against his chest, the ends of her hair just barely long enough to tickle at his skin. "I want to stay."
"Then stay," he said. "It's that simple."
There wasn't anything simple about any of this. Things stopped being simple a long time ago. But right now... it didn't really matter. "Okay."
"Okay," Nathan whispered. His fingers tangled in her hair.
She took a deep breath as she felt his fingers moving through his hair, strangely nervous now, which didn't make much sense. Not considering how many times she'd had sex, just in general, and with Nathan. But this felt different. She didn't want to be a whore, not this time.
Nathan took a shaky breath of his own as his fingers kept moving. He closed his eyes, and whispered, "Tell me to stop. Tell me you don't want this."
"I can't," Claire whispered back. "Not unless you want me to lie."
He actually gave a faint whimper. "Then I'll do whatever you want. Anything. Just ask me."
She lifted her hand and brushed the tips of her fingers over his lips. "Do you mean that?"
He nodded. "Yes, Claire. I mean it."
Claire kept her fingers skimming over his lips. "I want to know what it's like to be fucked like I'm not a whore."
He licked her fingers. "Do you want anything else from me?"
"Just don't leave. Don't leave me alone. And... and keep taking care of yourself." Because if Nathan started drinking again, God only knew where that would lead.
He nodded, then urged her over onto her back. "I won't leave, Claire. I need to be here for you." He leaned over her, kissed her, soft and slow and tender, fingertips moving lightly over her arm.
The soft touches already have her well on the way to breathless, her hips lifting up off the bed as she settles onto her back, trying to move closer to him.
He pulled the shirt over her head, murmured, "It's all right, Claire. Let me take care of you," and slid down her body. His tongue moved over her nipple, over and over, and he pulled her closer and couldn't bring himself to let go. Not yet. He closed his lips around her nipple, sucked gently, one hand on her back, holding her against his mouth.
She let out a slow, shaky breath and settled back against the bed again, only to be lifted up and brought closer to Nathan's mouth. Claire whispered his name, gasping quietly as his lips kept working over her nipple.
"I want you on top tonight." Nathan lifted his head. "You can be in control." His thumb brushed over her nipple, and he smiled at her in the dark, though he was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to see him.
Claire's brow furrowed in confusion, understanding the words, but not quite getting it, even still. "You want me in control?" she repeated, breath catching as his thumb brushed back and forth.
"Yes," he said. "Would you like that, Claire?"
"I don't know... I... I'm not sure I've ever done that before," she admitted, sounding interested, almost shy.
"There's a first time for everything, Claire," Nathan murmured. He slipped his hand up the inside of her thigh, his touch light, and he rubbed his fingertips against her pussy as he swallowed hard. He closed his eyes a moment, lowered his head again, pressed kisses over her breast. "I want you. God..."
"I want you," Claire whispered back, legs parting wider as his fingers slipped higher, her head going back as his lips moved over her breast again. "Don't stop... please?"
"Don't stop this?" he asked. "Don't stop touching you like this, or don't stop wanting you?"
"Both." Her eyes closed again, lips already forming the question she wasn't sure she wanted to ask. "Do you want me to tell you to stop? Do you not want to want me?" she asked, turning his question from a few minutes ago back on him.
He knew she should. He knew he should. But he couldn't. He needed her desperately. "No, Claire. I don't want that at all." And then he slid down her body even more, between her legs, and he lifted her hips so he could taste her, tongue lavishing attention to her pussy as he moaned and closed his eyes.
Her eyes widened as he slid lower, lips forming a perfect 'o' at the first brush of his tongue. A deep moan from Claire echoed Nathan's, her hands going flat against the bed as she tried to push up even closer to his mouth, finding it hard to breathe.
He wanted one thing from her: her pleasure. He wanted her to come under his tongue, he wanted to hear her moan and cry out. He ached for it, almost as much as he ached to be inside her.
Claire was already moaning, words slipping away as Nathan kept going. It felt good in a way she couldn't have explained if she tried, somehow dirty, but not in a bad way. Decadent.
She wasn't making him stop; that was all that mattered. He moaned, again, tried to draw her ever closer, tried to ignore his own desperate arousal. It was all he could do--just keep going. Wait for her. He'd keep waiting.
Time slipped away to the same place words had, Claire's cheeks flushed pink, her body moving wantonly against Nathan's, as much as she could anyway. She couldn't stop moaning and crying out even if she'd wanted to, every sound coming out of her completely sincere. She was too far gone for any pretense. She was so overwhelmed that her release all but took her by surprise, a sharp cry breaking out of her as she came.
Nathan pulled away, gasping for breath. He almost felt like he was drowning, overwhelmed as he was, and he rested his cheek against her thigh. He was shaking, and surprised by that, and he just couldn't move. He couldn't let her go--he needed so much that he was simply frozen. If he moved, it might all slip away.
Claire was shaking too, over sensitized and overwhelmed, even the brush of air across her damp skin making her shudder. She turned her head to the side, one of her hands finally lifting up and moving to touch Nathan's cheek.
He let out a strangled noise, turned his head, kissed her fingers. "Claire. Do you want me now? Please..."
She nodded quickly, then realized he might not be able to see her in the dark room, forcing herself to find words. "Yes... God, Nathan, yes, please?" she panted.
He crawled up the bed again and all but collapsed against her side before he pulled her on top of him. "Yes," he whispered. "Claire. Please, sweetheart." He closed his eyes a moment, swallowed, then put his hands on her hips. "Hurry."
Claire'd forgotten that Nathan wanted her on top, head spinning as he pulled her onto him, needing a moment or two before she could get herself moving. She murmured his name again, both hands moving to brace against his chest as she pushed herself up higher, trying to see his face in the dim light. She was so wet that he slid in easily when she pushed back against his cock, getting a gasp from Claire as she took him deep, leaning back a bit more, then going still.
He closed his eyes. His breathing was loud, very loud, in the otherwise quiet room. He ran a hand up her belly. "That's it," he said, only barely loud enough to be heard. "That's... that's it, Claire. God, please."
Her head fell back, lips parting with a groan as she felt his hand on her belly. She started to move, just a little to start, then more, fingers pressing harder against his stomach. "It's... good, Nathan, it's good," she whispered, licking her lips.
"Claire. Don't stop, Claire. Take what you want, please." He didn't know how long he could possibly hold back.
She smiled and kept going, experimenting, almost playing. How far could she lift up and still keep him inside her? How did it feel when she leaned back even more? Rolled her hips? Dropped down hard?
His breath came in short, desperate gasps. He kept his eyes closed, and his fingers tightened on her hips. "Claire!"
Claire liked that reaction, so she did it again, and again, and a-fucking-gain, moving faster and harder all the time. "Mmm?" she purred.
"Oh, fuck! Claire!" His fingers tightened even more, and he came, crying out wordlessly after shouting her name again. He was caught more than a little by surprise by how quickly and suddenly it was over, and he actually let out a little noise very like a whimper.
Another cry from Claire echoed Nathan's, feeling the pressure of his fingers against her hips, imagining the bruises that would be rising, then slipping away again. She pushed back against him one more time, then went almost still, just swaying a little in place.
"God. Oh, God. Claire." His eyes were still closed. He swallowed, shook his head. "Claire."
She smiled, finally opening her eyes and looking down at him, just barely making out his features in the dark. Her hand slid up to touch his face, brushing against his cheek, resting against his lips.
Another sound like a whimper, then he pulled her to him, held her close to his chest.
Claire shuddered as he pulled her in, feeling him shifting, still inside her. Her lips brushed his shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding on almost as tightly.
"Okay?" he asked, quietly. He shivered a bit, suddenly cold in the room, aware of the outside temperature, but he just couldn't move to get the blankets.
She nodded automatically, wrapping around him even more when she felt him shiver, not that she was big enough to be much good as a blanket. "Okay. Definitely okay."
"Yeah," he said. "Me too." He ran his fingers across her cheek. "We're going to be okay."
by
ashinae and linden_jayPairing: 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, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight
Claire'd been walking in front of the door for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for Matt to come back out. Once he'd come out of the building and was well down the street, she headed back inside, bundled up in her jeans and flip-flops and Peter's sweat shirt, the hood covering her hair. She paused in front of the door and bit her lip, then knocked, since she hadn't been able to get a new key cut yet.
Nathan got to his feet and hurried to the door. He pulled it open, and stepped back to let her in, locking it again. "It's done," he said. "Everything's taken care of. I promised, right?"
Her shoulders relaxed as soon as Nathan started speaking, an audible sigh coming from underneath the too-big hood. "Good... I'm glad," she said, peering up at him. "I was scared. I didn't think he'd go for it."
He pushed the hood off her head and stroked his fingers through her hair. He was suddenly very aware of how dry it was frying being dyed so much. "He did. Thank God." Gently, he pulled her against him.
She closed her eyes and let him pull her in closer, some of the tension she'd been carrying starting to ease out of her. "You shouldn't have done that for me. But... thank you."
"It's done now and I can't undo it," Nathan said. "Just like a lot of things. But we can start from here." He kissed the top of her head. "If that's what you want."
"I can't go backward, and I can't die. That leaves going forward."
"I guess it does." He stroked her cheek as he stepped back. "Want me to make some lunch? Soup, grilled cheese?"
Claire nodded, almost smiling for a moment. "I'm hungry." She hadn't eaten properly in a couple days. "Was he mad?"
"I can't say that he was quick to congratulate me on a job well done," Nathan replied as he started rummaging through the kitchen. His stomach was now officially tying itself into knots, so he poured himself a glass of ginger ale. It was flat. Probably better that way.
"He's a cop. One of the good guys," Claire said, climbing onto one of the kitchen chairs and pulling her knees up to her chest. If Parkman was one of the good guys, she wasn't exactly sure what she was, or Nathan. Something else though. Something tarnished.
"Yeah, I guess he is. Like Peter. Or Mohinder. What's that make me?"
Claire rested her chin on her knees while she thought about it. "I think... no. It's stupid," she stopped, shaking her head.
He turned to look at her. "What?"
She didn't look at him, but after a few moments pause, she started talking again. "I remember reading something about how sometimes when people fight, in wars, or are like, cops who've seen really awful stuff, that it affects them, really badly. That they end up scarred, inside and out, sometimes. They can't be the same anymore. They get stuck there, where it's bad, even though they're living back in the world. Like there's blood and dirt on them that won't wash off."
"Yeah," Nathan said softly. "You didn't get a chance to meet Hiro, did you?"
She shook her head. "I thought I saw him, but I never met him."
"He saw right through me real quick. Perceptive guy. Told me I'm a villain." Nathan kept his back to her now, working over the stove and countertop. "He was probably right."
"No... I don't think so," Claire looked thoughtful again, still resting her chin on her knees. "I think you could be. I don't think you are. I think you've always got some light on you, even when you're in the shadows, but when you're out in the light, the shadows still cling."
"That's kind of you to say," Nathan told her.
"You came back," Claire reminded him. "A villain wouldn't have come back."
"I guess so," he said, shrugging a little. "How much cheese do you want?" Nice changing the subject.
She somehow managed not to sigh. "Lots, please. I'm hungry."
"Can do. I started a grocery list--it's on the fridge. Add cheese to the list, okay?" Lists. Organization. That should help Nathan feel normal again. Get his life back. Or at least some of it; nothing would ever be right until Peter came back.
Claire nodded and unfolded herself from the chair, finding a pen and adding 'cheese' onto the grocery list. Playing with the pen, she looked out toward the window. "It's later than I thought."
"Yeah," he said. "Parkman was busy. Things to do, family to take care of, job, all that stuff. I guess this is dinner."
"I guess," Claire echoed. Dinner meant evening. Evening meant dark. Dark meant going back to work. "Maybe an extra sandwich then," she said, going back to her chair.
"Sure," he said, and quickly added two more sandwiches to the pan. He didn't want her to leave. Maybe he could stuff her so full of food she wouldn't want to leave.
Curling up again, she stared down at her nails, making a face at the chipped polish. She should have done something about that earlier. Very classy. "You should put shaving cream on the list too."
"Using it all up, are you?" He stepped away from the stove to write 'shaving cream' under 'cheese'. "Need condoms?" he asked. His voice sounded remarkably neutral.
"I get them from the clinic... they give them out for free," she told her fingernails, trying not to show that she was surprised Nathan'd asked. Which reminded her--she needed to make him an appointment to get himself checked out. He'd never used a condom with her yet, and it wasn't safe--for him.
"Fair enough," he said. He turned off the soup, poured it into two oversized mugs, put the sandwiches on plates, and served up dinner for them. He looked at her, for a moment, hoped she'd tell him she wasn't going to go. That she wanted to stay here with him tonight. Let him look after her.
A murmured thank you and another almost-smile, and Claire pulled her sandwich and soup even closer, dipping a triangle of sandwich into the soup and taking a bite.
Nathan watched her a moment longer, before turning to his own dinner. He was the one who'd suggested the meal, after all.
Claire ate quickly, partly out of hunger, and partly out of nerves. Wiping the crust of her sandwich around the inside of her bowl, she looked toward the window again. Twilight. She looked over at Nathan, not meeting his eyes or saying anything, then got up to clear her dishes to the kitchen.
He followed her a minute later, then leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I'm just going to go read," he said, and left it at that. He wasn't going to plead with her to stay.
She nodded, loading the dishwasher, then picking her clothes up from where she'd been keeping them beside the couch. Carrying them into the bathroom, she set them on the counter and stared at the mirror, willing her hands to stop shaking.
Nathan curled up on the couch, and read the same sentence about four times. He looked up, at the clock, then down at the page again. Five times. He felt a little sick.
Finally dressed, and far paler than normal, Claire started doing her makeup, having to stop every now and again to steady her hand. She'd gotten as far as outlining one eye before she started feeling sick, dropping down in front of the toilet only just in time before she threw up.
Nathan heard. He dropped his book and hurried to the bathroom. He stood in the doorway and waited a moment, before he said, "Claire, please."
There wasn't any response from Claire's side of the door, unless further retching counted as a response.
He tried the handle, found it unlocked, and stepped inside. He sat down on the floor behind her and rubbed her back. "Eat too fast?" he asked.
Claire wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, tears streaking her cheeks as she trembled all over.
"God... Claire." He moved closer, brushed her hair back from her face. "I'm sorry."
She turned enough to burrow her face against his shoulder, her hands clutching at his upper arms. "I have to ... I have to..." she kept trying to speak, not able to get the words out.
"No, you don't," he said. "You don't have to, Claire. You don't." Perhaps the more he said it, the more she'd believe him.
"I do," she whispered, holding on even tighter.
"Why? I don't understand, Claire. You don't have to do this anymore. You've got me now."
"Until I lose you. Until you leave." Claire was shaking again. "Don't you see? Don't you get it?"
"What are you talking about?" Nathan asked, as gently as he could. "Claire, I'm not going to leave."
"Everyone says that. Everyone says that, and they're all lying," Claire looked up at him, frustrated tears covering her cheeks. "They go away, or they want you to kill them, or they want you to hide, and, and in the end, they all leave and I'm all alone."
He looked at her, helplessly, then buried his face against her hair. "I can't promise something awful won't happen," he said, "but I don't want you to keep having to do this to yourself."
"If I stop, I might not be able to start again. And what if I have to? What if you leave?"
Nathan shook his head. "I'm not going to leave."
Claire's head dropped forward, her hair covering her face as she started to cry again, quiet sobs shaking her body.
"I'm not going to leave." Nathan's voice broke as he stroked her hair. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Her arms went up and around Nathan's neck, holding on so tightly it had to be painful for him, but she couldn't make herself stop.
"Stay here tonight," Nathan whispered. "That's all I'll ask of you. Just don't go out tonight."
She was still shaking when she finally loosened her grip, the shoulder of his shirt wet from her tears as she pulled back. Claire didn't trust her voice at the moment, so she just nodded.
He gave her a gentle smile. "Thank you," he whispered, and helped her up to her feet. He washed her face--his own little ritual, it was important for him to do this--and left her to brush her teeth as he turned down the bed. He stripped himself down to his underwear, then sat on the end of the bed to wait for her.
Teeth and hair brushed, Claire appeared in the doorframe of Peter's room a few minutes later, Peter's sweatshirt hanging off of her, feet and legs bare. She leaned against the door and looked at Nathan, fingers tugging at the ends of her hair. "It's not very soft, is it?"
"No," Nathan said, "it's not. Over processed or something. I miss your hair."
"Because it was like hers?" Claire looked down again, black hair covering her eyes.
"Because it was yours," Nathan said. "And it was soft. Like Peter's."
"I cried when I cut it." Claire laughed self-deprecatingly. "I buried it. Stupid, right?"
He held out his hands to her. "No, it's not stupid."
She pushed off the doorframe and came over to Nathan, small hands reaching out for his. "In the park, under a bush. I didn't want to just throw it away."
He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers, but he didn't say anything as he pulled her against him.
Claire let him pull her in close, her head resting against his shoulder again, enjoying the feel of his bare skin against her cheek. "I feel weird," she whispered.
"Are you going to throw up on me?" he asked, before he could stop the question from slipping past his lips.
She actually laughed before she could stop herself, then shook her head, surprised that she’d done it. "No... no, not like that. I just feel... like I'm standing on the edge of a building, waiting to step off. But... not necessarily in a bad way."
"I know how you feel," he said, rubbing her back. "But I told you I'd take care of you, right? I won't let anything happen."
Claire nodded against his shoulder. "But you can't promise. We both know you can't promise."
"I want to. I wish I could."
She understood that. She also knew that she didn't want lies. "What can you promise?"
"To take care of you as best as I can."
"What about you?" Claire lifted her head and looked at Nathan.
"I don't need anything," he said, so quietly it was barely audible. Liar.
"Yes. You do." If she didn't get to hide, neither did he. "Maybe I do need someone looking out for me... but so do you. We're both pretty fucked up, Nathan."
"Yeah, I suppose we are." He closed his eyes, then leaned his head against her shoulder.
"So what about you?" Claire asked again, touching his hair.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what I want."
"But you want me to stay?"
"I want you to stay." He moved back, pulled her with him, urging her onto the bed. "Please stay."
"And you want me?" A very different intention behind the question this time.
"Yes," he whispered. "I want you."
"You're the first person who ever had me that didn't either pay or try and take me by force." She'd never confirmed it, although she was sure he knew.
He stroked her cheek, pulled the blankets up over them, flicked off the lamp. He didn't know what to say to that, so he kissed her forehead, and pulled her against his chest.
Her lips brushed against his chest, the ends of her hair just barely long enough to tickle at his skin. "I want to stay."
"Then stay," he said. "It's that simple."
There wasn't anything simple about any of this. Things stopped being simple a long time ago. But right now... it didn't really matter. "Okay."
"Okay," Nathan whispered. His fingers tangled in her hair.
She took a deep breath as she felt his fingers moving through his hair, strangely nervous now, which didn't make much sense. Not considering how many times she'd had sex, just in general, and with Nathan. But this felt different. She didn't want to be a whore, not this time.
Nathan took a shaky breath of his own as his fingers kept moving. He closed his eyes, and whispered, "Tell me to stop. Tell me you don't want this."
"I can't," Claire whispered back. "Not unless you want me to lie."
He actually gave a faint whimper. "Then I'll do whatever you want. Anything. Just ask me."
She lifted her hand and brushed the tips of her fingers over his lips. "Do you mean that?"
He nodded. "Yes, Claire. I mean it."
Claire kept her fingers skimming over his lips. "I want to know what it's like to be fucked like I'm not a whore."
He licked her fingers. "Do you want anything else from me?"
"Just don't leave. Don't leave me alone. And... and keep taking care of yourself." Because if Nathan started drinking again, God only knew where that would lead.
He nodded, then urged her over onto her back. "I won't leave, Claire. I need to be here for you." He leaned over her, kissed her, soft and slow and tender, fingertips moving lightly over her arm.
The soft touches already have her well on the way to breathless, her hips lifting up off the bed as she settles onto her back, trying to move closer to him.
He pulled the shirt over her head, murmured, "It's all right, Claire. Let me take care of you," and slid down her body. His tongue moved over her nipple, over and over, and he pulled her closer and couldn't bring himself to let go. Not yet. He closed his lips around her nipple, sucked gently, one hand on her back, holding her against his mouth.
She let out a slow, shaky breath and settled back against the bed again, only to be lifted up and brought closer to Nathan's mouth. Claire whispered his name, gasping quietly as his lips kept working over her nipple.
"I want you on top tonight." Nathan lifted his head. "You can be in control." His thumb brushed over her nipple, and he smiled at her in the dark, though he was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to see him.
Claire's brow furrowed in confusion, understanding the words, but not quite getting it, even still. "You want me in control?" she repeated, breath catching as his thumb brushed back and forth.
"Yes," he said. "Would you like that, Claire?"
"I don't know... I... I'm not sure I've ever done that before," she admitted, sounding interested, almost shy.
"There's a first time for everything, Claire," Nathan murmured. He slipped his hand up the inside of her thigh, his touch light, and he rubbed his fingertips against her pussy as he swallowed hard. He closed his eyes a moment, lowered his head again, pressed kisses over her breast. "I want you. God..."
"I want you," Claire whispered back, legs parting wider as his fingers slipped higher, her head going back as his lips moved over her breast again. "Don't stop... please?"
"Don't stop this?" he asked. "Don't stop touching you like this, or don't stop wanting you?"
"Both." Her eyes closed again, lips already forming the question she wasn't sure she wanted to ask. "Do you want me to tell you to stop? Do you not want to want me?" she asked, turning his question from a few minutes ago back on him.
He knew she should. He knew he should. But he couldn't. He needed her desperately. "No, Claire. I don't want that at all." And then he slid down her body even more, between her legs, and he lifted her hips so he could taste her, tongue lavishing attention to her pussy as he moaned and closed his eyes.
Her eyes widened as he slid lower, lips forming a perfect 'o' at the first brush of his tongue. A deep moan from Claire echoed Nathan's, her hands going flat against the bed as she tried to push up even closer to his mouth, finding it hard to breathe.
He wanted one thing from her: her pleasure. He wanted her to come under his tongue, he wanted to hear her moan and cry out. He ached for it, almost as much as he ached to be inside her.
Claire was already moaning, words slipping away as Nathan kept going. It felt good in a way she couldn't have explained if she tried, somehow dirty, but not in a bad way. Decadent.
She wasn't making him stop; that was all that mattered. He moaned, again, tried to draw her ever closer, tried to ignore his own desperate arousal. It was all he could do--just keep going. Wait for her. He'd keep waiting.
Time slipped away to the same place words had, Claire's cheeks flushed pink, her body moving wantonly against Nathan's, as much as she could anyway. She couldn't stop moaning and crying out even if she'd wanted to, every sound coming out of her completely sincere. She was too far gone for any pretense. She was so overwhelmed that her release all but took her by surprise, a sharp cry breaking out of her as she came.
Nathan pulled away, gasping for breath. He almost felt like he was drowning, overwhelmed as he was, and he rested his cheek against her thigh. He was shaking, and surprised by that, and he just couldn't move. He couldn't let her go--he needed so much that he was simply frozen. If he moved, it might all slip away.
Claire was shaking too, over sensitized and overwhelmed, even the brush of air across her damp skin making her shudder. She turned her head to the side, one of her hands finally lifting up and moving to touch Nathan's cheek.
He let out a strangled noise, turned his head, kissed her fingers. "Claire. Do you want me now? Please..."
She nodded quickly, then realized he might not be able to see her in the dark room, forcing herself to find words. "Yes... God, Nathan, yes, please?" she panted.
He crawled up the bed again and all but collapsed against her side before he pulled her on top of him. "Yes," he whispered. "Claire. Please, sweetheart." He closed his eyes a moment, swallowed, then put his hands on her hips. "Hurry."
Claire'd forgotten that Nathan wanted her on top, head spinning as he pulled her onto him, needing a moment or two before she could get herself moving. She murmured his name again, both hands moving to brace against his chest as she pushed herself up higher, trying to see his face in the dim light. She was so wet that he slid in easily when she pushed back against his cock, getting a gasp from Claire as she took him deep, leaning back a bit more, then going still.
He closed his eyes. His breathing was loud, very loud, in the otherwise quiet room. He ran a hand up her belly. "That's it," he said, only barely loud enough to be heard. "That's... that's it, Claire. God, please."
Her head fell back, lips parting with a groan as she felt his hand on her belly. She started to move, just a little to start, then more, fingers pressing harder against his stomach. "It's... good, Nathan, it's good," she whispered, licking her lips.
"Claire. Don't stop, Claire. Take what you want, please." He didn't know how long he could possibly hold back.
She smiled and kept going, experimenting, almost playing. How far could she lift up and still keep him inside her? How did it feel when she leaned back even more? Rolled her hips? Dropped down hard?
His breath came in short, desperate gasps. He kept his eyes closed, and his fingers tightened on her hips. "Claire!"
Claire liked that reaction, so she did it again, and again, and a-fucking-gain, moving faster and harder all the time. "Mmm?" she purred.
"Oh, fuck! Claire!" His fingers tightened even more, and he came, crying out wordlessly after shouting her name again. He was caught more than a little by surprise by how quickly and suddenly it was over, and he actually let out a little noise very like a whimper.
Another cry from Claire echoed Nathan's, feeling the pressure of his fingers against her hips, imagining the bruises that would be rising, then slipping away again. She pushed back against him one more time, then went almost still, just swaying a little in place.
"God. Oh, God. Claire." His eyes were still closed. He swallowed, shook his head. "Claire."
She smiled, finally opening her eyes and looking down at him, just barely making out his features in the dark. Her hand slid up to touch his face, brushing against his cheek, resting against his lips.
Another sound like a whimper, then he pulled her to him, held her close to his chest.
Claire shuddered as he pulled her in, feeling him shifting, still inside her. Her lips brushed his shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding on almost as tightly.
"Okay?" he asked, quietly. He shivered a bit, suddenly cold in the room, aware of the outside temperature, but he just couldn't move to get the blankets.
She nodded automatically, wrapping around him even more when she felt him shiver, not that she was big enough to be much good as a blanket. "Okay. Definitely okay."
"Yeah," he said. "Me too." He ran his fingers across her cheek. "We're going to be okay."
