Summary: PWP, pure and simple. Written for the quickie challenge at mature_heroes.
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Tim Kring et al. Except that in my world, no one has ever thought of making Peter and Claire related.
Feedback: Yes please! It makes me happy and keeps me writing.
"Are you sure?" Claire asked, wrinkling her nose in doubt. She eyed what he held in his lap at the other end of the couch with doubt.
"What's wrong with it?" Peter asked incredulously.
"Lemon sorbet?" Claire questioned. "Out of all of the flavors in the freezer you chose lemon sorbet?"
"I happen to like it," Peter pouted, scooping a big spoonful out of his bowl and stuffing it in his mouth.
"But you have Cookies and Cream, Rocky Road, Peanut Butter Cup, Phish Food, and Chocolate Fudge Brownie in there," Claire pointed out, taking a bite out of her Cookies and Cream ice cream.
"I know. I bought them. Sometimes a guy wants something a little lighter," Peter admitted.
Claire raised an eyebrow in question. "Are you sure you're not gay?"
Peter rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. Why do you keep asking me that? How many times do I need to prove it to you?"
Claire let her bare foot slide up his leg to wiggle her toes against his groin. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe one more time."
Peter looked over at her smirking expression and felt his lip curl into a matching smirk. Without warning, he reached over and put a dollop of sorbet on her nose.
"Peter," Claire squealed, nearly dumping her bowl of ice cream on her lap. Peter took it from her and set it, along with his own bowl, on the coffee table before swooping in and licking the sorbet from her nose.
Claire giggled and squirmed. "Peter, that's gross," she protested, pushing him away.
Peter smacked his lips. "Mmm mmm. Yummy."
Before Claire could respond, Peter's lips descended on hers, his tongue slipping past her lips. The taste of lemon filled her senses and she reluctantly had to agree that it wasn't an unappealing flavor. Not that she was going to tell Peter that.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him on top of her, kissing him with equal fervor. She clawed at his t-shirt, pulling it up his body as far as she could before they needed to break their kiss to yank it over his head.
While his mouth was free, Peter asked, "Still think it's gross?"
Claire pulled her own shirt off before focusing on opening Peter's pants. "Shut up," she told him, reclaiming his mouth.
Peter found no reason to object, especially when her warm fingers wrapped around his cock. He groaned into her mouth and reached behind her to unclasp her bra. His fingers slid back around to caress her breasts, teasing her nipples to hard peaks.
Claire broke the seal of their mouths to gasp her pleasure. Without losing a beat, Peter moved his lips along her jaw and down her neck, not pausing in his descent until he had wrapped his lips around one nipple.
Claire arched into the sensation, encouraging him, desperate for more. She released his cock in order the blindly shove his jeans and boxers down his hips as far as she could reach. Once she could go no further, she turned to her own jeans, opening them and shimming out of them as best she could with Peter lying between her legs.
With a grunt of frustration, she pushed Peter away from her. "Pants. Off. Now."
Peter blinked at her dumbly for a second before seeing her pull her legs together to push her jeans off. Then he moved to do the same.
Completely clothing free, he resumed his place between Claire's inviting thighs.
"Better?" he asked, pressing his body along hers.
"Much. Could be better though," she said, guiding him to her entrance.
"You don't want me to...?"
"Not right now," she said, desperation in her voice. "Just want you inside me. Now!"
"That I can do," Peter agreed, slipping inside her heat even as he spoke.
"Yeeesss," Claire hissed as Peter slid in to the hilt, her nails digging into his back.
"God, Claire," Peter groaned. He buried his face against her neck, losing himself in the feel of her.
Claire rocked against Peter, moving with him, encouraging the rapid pace that he'd set. Both of them knew that it wouldn't take them long at this rate, and neither one could care. They were too caught up in their need for the other, too lost in sensation.
"Claire, I don't think I can last much longer," Peter panted in her ear.
"Good. Me either," she agreed. Sensing he was a little closer to losing control than she was, Claire slid a hand between their bodies to rub her clit.
Moments later her body clenched tightly around Peter as she gasped and keened with her release. She collapsed against the couch with a final groan of his name.
"Ugh, Claire," Peter choked out as he gave in and shot his release deep inside her, before collapsing on top of her.
They lay there, sweat cooling on their bodies, for many long minutes, simply listening to the other catch their breath. Finally, Peter raised himself off of Claire and sat back on the couch.
Claire's head lolled to the side and she pouted. "The ice cream melted."
Peter looked away from Claire's beautiful, naked body to look at the abandoned ice cream bowls. Sure enough, they were soup. "Yeah, I guess that'll happen."
Getting a wicked gleam in his eye, Peter grabbed the bowl of what had been his sorbet and before Claire's relaxed senses could catch the motion, he had poured the cold liquid over her belly.
"Peter!" she squealed, sitting up slightly in reaction.
Peter responded by bending over and licking at the sticky mess coating her skin. Her fingers ran into his hair, encouraging him to keep going. Peter wasn't about to stop.
When he finished licking off the spilt ice cream, he continued to lick and kiss down Claire's body until he reached her glistening core.
"Please," Claire encouraged him, lifting her hips in invitation. "Don't stop."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, licking his lips before diving in to lick her. The taste of their combined release, mixed with the ice cream, was like ambrosia. He soon focused his attentions on her clit, sliding two fingers inside her to speed her pleasure along.
When Claire came, Peter had to hold her thigh down with his free hand to keep his head from being crushed. He didn't slow down as she rode the wave of her orgasm to exhaustion. He continued to lap up her release, relishing the taste of her, knowing he was the one to bring her such pleasure.
"I am never letting you buy lemon sorbet again," Claire panted when Peter finally spooned behind her on the couch.
"Didn't you enjoy that?" he asked, running a hand over her sated body.
"Very much so," Claire admitted. "But if we're going to have wild sex every time you have it, we're never going to leave this couch."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Peter said, mischief in his voice. "There's always the bed, the kitchen table, the show--"
Claire's tongue forcing its way into Peter's mouth effectively shut him up for the rest of the night.