![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fringekink_mod posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fringe_kinkmemeThis is a kinkmeme. You may just be familiar with the concept.
If not: explicit, adult content; read at your own risk, and keep the kids -- wherever that arbitrary line is in your jurisdiction -- out. Also, please wear your seatbelt.
RULES
1. When prompting, use the comment field to jot down character, pairing, or moresome first, then the kink(s), then any other prompt elements; after a line break, you can elaborate via words, images, or links. Like so?
2. When responding, use the subject line for the original prompt (plus your title, if you have one).
3. All kinks are welcome -- sexual, emotional, conceptual, likewise all gen, het, slash, bitextual and other fic from crack to drama.
4. Anon is encouraged but up to you.
5. Mark all spoilers, mmkay?
6. Go for it!
REMINDERS
7. With a view to some prompts: Spell Check is your BFF. Don't make Alt!Astrid cry, please?
8. A kinkmeme's more than a promptmeme. Here'seliade's non-definitive and non-exhaustive (but pretty illustrative) List of Fan-fiction Kinks, Tropes, Clichés, and Fetishes.
9. Could you -- in the subject line or the first line of the body of text -- draw attention to the fact there's rape or non-con, major character death, underage, and/or graphic violence in your response (which is the Archive Of Our Own (AO3) policy).
If not: explicit, adult content; read at your own risk, and keep the kids -- wherever that arbitrary line is in your jurisdiction -- out. Also, please wear your seatbelt.
RULES
1. When prompting, use the comment field to jot down character, pairing, or moresome first, then the kink(s), then any other prompt elements; after a line break, you can elaborate via words, images, or links. Like so?
2. When responding, use the subject line for the original prompt (plus your title, if you have one).
3. All kinks are welcome -- sexual, emotional, conceptual, likewise all gen, het, slash, bitextual and other fic from crack to drama.
4. Anon is encouraged but up to you.
5. Mark all spoilers, mmkay?
6. Go for it!
REMINDERS
7. With a view to some prompts: Spell Check is your BFF. Don't make Alt!Astrid cry, please?
8. A kinkmeme's more than a promptmeme. Here's
eliade's non-definitive and non-exhaustive (but pretty illustrative) List of Fan-fiction Kinks, Tropes, Clichés, and Fetishes.9. Could you -- in the subject line or the first line of the body of text -- draw attention to the fact there's rape or non-con, major character death, underage, and/or graphic violence in your response (which is the Archive Of Our Own (AO3) policy).
Dark or Evil!Peter
Date: 2012-09-21 04:59 am (UTC)Rewatching season 3, when Peter goes on his shapeshifter-killing rampage, I suddenly got a desperate desire to see some darkfic where he's gone off the deep end. Maybe Olivia goes to an alternate universe where she's dead and Peter's realized his genetic potential for evil badassery, or she ends up in a bad future. I just wanna see Peter's amazing capacity for predatory behavior fully explored.
(Amberverse, Red!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln),
Date: 2012-09-22 06:25 am (UTC)i wanna hold you hand
Re: (Amberverse, Red!Olivia/Blue!Lincoln),
Date: 2013-01-13 07:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-22 10:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-29 08:04 pm (UTC)http://darkflame-.tumblr.com/post/32438758051/lincoln-you-smoke-now-i-dont-think-your
please, please, pretty please? make it sexy too (c'mon, she's lived in a dark-dark world; no way she's a blushing kid.)
no subject
Date: 2012-09-30 03:23 am (UTC)Lincoln wakes suffocating and disoriented, the last thought in his mind before the amber closed in on him that he was as good as dead. Whatever their plans for the future, he wasn't necessary, wasn't a priority. The burn of an injection at his neck clears both lungs and mind, and he draws in a deep breath as Peter grins down at him.
"Welcome back."
Lincoln coughs and tries to push himself upright, fails, flops back against the wall he's leaning again. "Thanks. I think."
"This will help."
He reaches for the bottle of water in Olivia's hand before it registers that, no - not Olivia. He blinks up in confusion, then feels something twist in his chest and realizes that he is completely, utterly screwed.
*****
He's been helping at the surveillance location, running data on the movements of the Observers and their military forces. He remembers Peter telling him about the timeline where he was an analyst, and thinks that really wouldn't have been a bad career. He doubts if analysts get shot at very often, and his ears are still ringing from the firefight they had with a group of loyalists that morning, not that she needs any help sneaking up on him.
Etta leans close, and Lincoln can feel the warmth of her on his back, on the side of his face as she peers over his shoulder.
"Anything good?"
Lincoln keeps his eyes on the monitor in front of him. "Define good."
She grins and looks sidelong at him, her eyes level with his.
"Hey," Peter barks. Etta just smirks at her father and leaves, smile softening when she glances back at Lincoln.
Peter leans against the desk, arms folded over his chest, jaw clenched. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not doing anything."
Peter glares.
"I'm not hitting on your daughter. That's just too many shades of weird."
"Good."
"Fine."
"You know," Astrid calls from across the room, "she's not a little girl."
Peter levels a finger at her and says, "You're not helping."
Astrid grins. "Not really trying to help."
*****
There's a crumbling building across from their makeshift headquarters. A few of the upper floors are mostly stable, and on the second, facing away from the bleak view of the city, Lincoln hides. The trees his hiding place over looks are mostly dead, and they sky is sickly gray, but sometimes he can't stand being around them - any of them.
Peter and Olivia vacillate between overwhelming relief at each other's presence and bitter resentment, not necessarily on the same schedule. And of course Lincoln is sure Peter wants to kill him, which doesn't help. Olivia, at least, seems like maybe, possibly she doesn't want to put him back in amber every time he so much as looks at Etta. Walter has good moments and terrible moments, with Astrid trying to tip the balance towards good. And Etta.
Lincoln thumps his head back against the concrete wall and closes his eyes, then thumps his head again. He wonders if he hits his head hard enough if he'll stop falling for people who he can't have.
"You're gonna break the wall if you keep that up."
His head snaps back hard enough to really hurt this time, and he winces. "Ow."
Etta swings over the edge of the ruined balcony and sits next to him. "Poor Lincoln. You want me to ki…"
"No," he says sharply, one hand on the back of his head.
She shrugs and pulls out a cigarette and lighter, and all he can do is frown at her - they've had this conversation to death already. Lincoln's pretty sure that when Peter finds out, he's going to blame Lincoln for it. The smoke curls over her lips and Lincoln stares.
"You actually want him to kill me, don't you?"
She laughs, a low, soft sound. "He's not going to kill you."
"I think maybe you underestimate the difficulty he's having coming to terms with the fact that you aren't four."
"I was three, and you're not having any trouble with that."
"I'm not your father."
"Thank god for that." She takes a drag on the cigarette and blows a perfect smoke ring. "That would be pretty awkward, given how I've been trying to get in your pants since we got you out of the amber." She stubs the cigarette out carefully, saving what's left, and turns to face him. "Lincoln, if you honestly are not interested in me, no feelings for me at all other than as the daughter of your friends, tell me now, and I'll leave you alone."
Lincoln's throat feels tight at the thought of that, the thought of her leaving him, ignoring him. He's frozen, stricken.
Etta leans forward, one hand skating along his jaw. "I didn't think so."
Her mouth is soft, bitter with the taste of smoke, hot against his. She straddles his lap, so close that her chest is pressed against his. He moves his hands without thinking, settling them on her hips. Her tongue is mapping the shape of his mouth, lips slanted over his. She grinds down on him and he arches to meet her, slides his hands into the warmth trapped under her jacket. She grins, teeth pressed into his lips, and Lincoln thinks he can taste the fierceness of her smile.
*****
The apartment is dark and quiet when he creeps back in, sneaking past a snoring Walter, past closed bedroom doors to reach the kitchen. Olivia's leaning against the wall in a shadowed corner where his cot is. He feels a moment of utter dread, then disappointment in himself that he'd gotten it wrong, which of them would kill him.
He holds his hand up and says, "Just make it quick, okay?"
She laughs. "I'm not going to kill you, Lincoln, and neither is Peter."
"Are you sure about that?"
She nods. It's hard to read her expression in the darkness. Lincoln's intensely aware that he smells like sex and cigarets smoke. Olivia pushes away from the wall. "Take care of her, Lincoln."
He says, "Olivia, she doesn't need anyone to take care of her," and he regrets it immediately.
Her face crumples. "Not now, anyway."
"Olivia…"
She shakes her head. "Just be good to her, okay?"
"Of course."
He watches her leave and lets out a long, slow breath before he curls up on the tiny cot and tries to sleep.
(no subject)
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-09-30 06:13 am (UTC) - ExpandOriginal prompter love!
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-09-30 07:21 am (UTC) - Expand(no subject)
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-09-30 07:53 am (UTC) - ExpandPeter/Olivia plus Etta
Date: 2012-09-30 02:15 am (UTC)Whoever does this gets a cookie. Chocolate chip if you make it a recurring occurrence. Pretty please?
no subject
Date: 2012-09-30 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-30 07:22 am (UTC)RPF: (porn fail)
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-29 07:36 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: RPF: (porn fail)
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-30 06:49 pm (UTC) - Expandno subject
Date: 2012-09-30 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-01 03:55 am (UTC)Sure, she liked Simon a lot. But romantic interest is something Etta's only ever felt with women. So the fight of the Resistance is not the only thing heating up...
thanks for that Etta/Astrid
Date: 2012-10-11 08:38 am (UTC)Astrid’ pops the buckle with one hand and answers devoutly: “It’s not a problem.”
Etta’s feet are grubby, dirt between the toes - the detail takes Astrid off-stride - her face is pot-stained with flecks of grime. The other woman crawls upward on the bed, arms wide, body low as a lizard. Her stomach is flat, ribs spare, small-sized breasts and not enough body fat. Etta’s teeth are caught in her bottom lip, and when she kisses Astrid, it’s a strike. Coiled and spitting venom.
It’s rough. She leaves diamond patterns on Astrid’s skin. She folds her vulva aside and flicks upward with the flat of her tongue, fingers hooked inside. When they’re finished, Etta pads out naked from the bed, walks to the communal shower and washes the grime from her body, lets the juices of their union float away.
“Thanks for that,” she says, dismissive.
Astrid raises herself onto one elbow and nods. “Don’t mention it.” There’s a stutter, a slow blink, then Etta gathers her jacket and walks out the door.
It’s longer, the second time. One might even say there’s foreplay, or what counts as conversation. Certain subjects are off topic, ‘them’ in big capital letters and italics being one, the resistance and Simon the other. Etta tucks her blonde hair behind her ears, sits cross-legged on the bed, and simply touches Astrid. The sensation so light, it’s ephemeral. The static of air caught between their skin warms.
She follows the contours of Astrid’s body: the valleys, the hillocks of her knobby knees. She smiles, pulls the bra-strap aside, and glides her fingertip down Astrid’s sternum, brushing her nipples and down to the navel. Steady, for the first time since Astrid’s known her - Etta displays patience. Her kisses are careful. Her teeth never catch. But she returns to Astrid’s lips like a person deprived from water, kisses that run deep and dark, that leave Astrid bruised all the same. Lips bee-swollen and wet.
Astrid returns the touche. Etta pulls away a fraction, intense and vibrating on a frequency Astrid can’t read, some secret chord between G and C – between red and blue. “Don’t tell me I look like my mother,” she says, fierce.
“I thought we weren’t mentioning them,” Astrid returns calmly. “Don’t break your own rules, girl.”
Her fingers tighten on Astrid’s thighs, in the soft skin behind her buttocks.
“Thanks for that,” Etta says, later.
She hesitates, jacket swinging from her forefinger, but doesn’t pull it on. Astrid raises her head from the pillow, arms folded beneath, sleepy-eyed and satiated. “Hm-mm.”
The third time, it’s a good day. It’s a fantastic night. And in the wee hours of the morning, it’s splendid sex.
It starts with the four of them sitting at the table. There is no beer, precious little alcohol - but where there’s Walter Bishop there’s narcotics, and they’re all extremely relaxed. It’s three girls and one boy and there’s too much skin, too many t-shirts, bare arms, and zero parental guidance.
“That’s an awful plan,” Olivia insists.
Peter smirks at her. “Don’t hold back on your opinion there, sweetheart.”
“Well, it is,” Etta agrees.
“I miss Lincoln,” Peter bemoans. “The sex ratio is all out of whack. There’s no support here.”
“Feeling out-numbered?” Astrid asks. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be intimidated.”
“Three women doesn’t intimidate me. But the three of you are utterly terrifying.”
“Who’s Lincoln?” Etta sprawls in her seat and looks from one to another.
“Oh, hey, I have a picture!”
“You have a picture?” Peter repeats.
“Don’t judge,” Astrid whispers fiercely and pulls out a photograph from her wallet. It was taken in the early days, before Peter materialised in their world - when Lincoln had just moved across from Hartford. He’s standing stiffly; Walter and Olivia can be seen in the background, bent near the science table.
Etta breathes out. “Oh, my. He’s gorgeous. You guys didn’t amber him, too, by chance?” There’s an awkward silence. Etta raises her head slowly, and Astrid has to bite her lip from reacting.
Olivia and Peter both have perfect poker faces on.
“Oh,” Etta says, startled. “Who slept with him?”
Olivia colours faintly.
Peter stares up at the ceiling, his jaw clenching. “We’re missing important steps here – like a thirty-odd age difference – and our child thinking we’re old and heinous. You shouldn’t be *asking* these type of questions.”
Etta blinks and says incredulously. “So *everyone* slept with him?”
“I’m going to bed,” Olivia says, diplomatically, and hauls Peter up after her.
Etta stares at the photo for a bit longer, then carefully hands it back. “He was part of our team for a while,” Astrid explains. “And then things got complicated.”
“Not like us?”
“No,” Astrid smiles. “Not like us.”
Etta looks away, a line appearing between her forehead as she frowns. Carefully, Astrid hooks their fingers together and drags the younger woman away.
Etta’s pale cream and long bones. Astrid could bury her nose in the hollow of her throat, breathe in her scent, she could place her hands on the flare of her hips, wash her feet clean. They trade kisses, languid, and everything seems brighter, more disjointed, head reeling from the opiates and the lazy invitation of Etta’s sprawl.
She likes to be in control. But Astrid sees vulnerability, an undertone of shyness as Etta whispers. “I like you.”
“What do you like?”
“Your laugh, and your reflexive kindness. I like the way you treat me.”
Astrid kisses her pelvic bone, tastes Etta at her most intimate. She uses fingers and tongue, slick, because she believes in slippery ease. She uses two fingers, then three, wrist arched, fingers stroking long, tucks in four and listens to Etta pant, shudder through it, the contractions of her orgasm tightening around Astrid’s wrist. It’s sloppy, never rough, and when she quietens, Astrid goes back to using her tongue.
Etta curls in tight afterwards, eyes open, and never once says brusquely: “ Thanks for that.”
She stumbles out the next morning, the buttons on her shirt crooked, smelling like sex, and her hair in disarray. She smiles faintly, jacket hooked over her arm and whispers. “See you tonight?”
“Yes,” Astrid says, propped on one elbow.
Etta opens the door and walks straight into Peter, who’s standing in the corridor, shirt in disarray, unwashed, and a three o clock shadow on his face. He’s balanced on one foot while tugging on his other boot, and for a moment, they blink at each other comically.
“This family can’t get any more awkward.”
Re: thanks for that Etta/Astrid
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-11 08:46 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: thanks for that Etta/Astrid
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-12 03:49 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: thanks for that Etta/Astrid
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-11 10:13 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: thanks for that Etta/Astrid
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-12 03:50 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: thanks for that Etta/Astrid
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-12 08:50 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: thanks for that Etta/Astrid
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-13 02:59 am (UTC) - ExpandRe: thanks for that Etta/Astrid
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-14 07:10 pm (UTC) - ExpandWalter/Bell
Date: 2012-10-06 02:22 am (UTC)Come on -- swim trunks in the Harvard tunnels? The show practically handed it to us on a silver platter!
Peter/Olivia
Date: 2012-10-07 08:27 am (UTC)Re: Peter/Olivia
Date: 2012-10-15 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-07 01:34 pm (UTC)Peter / Olivia
Date: 2012-10-13 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-28 04:57 pm (UTC)Long prompt is long!
I'd love to see something from Bell and Walters past! Maybe the two are working together to make some awesome spray that cures sneezing or something when something goes wrong and Bells experiment blows up in his face! But its not fatal, just some kinda mist that makes him reeeaaally horny! Walter is worried about him and goes to help but Bell pins him down and tries to do 'it' with Walter. Walter is scared and tries to get away but William gets the upper hand and has his way, but he makes sure that Walter likes it!
[I'm really sad! I haven't been able to find anything with these two together! >.<]
Peter/Olivia comfort sex
Date: 2012-10-28 07:07 pm (UTC)Re: Peter/Olivia comfort sex
Date: 2012-11-03 03:41 pm (UTC)Peter/Olivia post-series
Date: 2012-10-28 07:16 pm (UTC)lincoln/anyone or gen, observer war in the red 'verse
Date: 2012-10-29 07:00 pm (UTC)I'm mostly interested in lincoln, because I miss him desperately, but this could be gen or lincoln/nick lane, or lincoln/liv, or lincoln/astrid, or lincoln/liv/charlie, or, if you're feeling really adventurous plot-wise, lincoln/peter/olivia, somehow.
also: I'm a sucker for lincoln not entirely realizing how important he is to the people around him, especially during desperate war times when everyone is hungry and tired and hurt. romancing on the battle lines forever!
sorry for the long prompt, guys, I've just been thinking about this for awhile. (and if this has shown up elsewhere and I've missed it, please feel free to push me in the right direction!)
Re: lincoln/anyone or gen, observer war in the red 'verse
Date: 2012-10-30 12:17 am (UTC)IF PERHAPS WITH A SLIGHTLY LESS DEVASTATING TWIST THAN IN THE BLUEVERSE.
Re: lincoln/anyone or gen, observer war in the red 'verse
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-30 04:43 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: lincoln/anyone or gen, observer war in the red 'verse
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-31 02:24 pm (UTC) - Expandno subject
Date: 2012-10-30 11:58 pm (UTC)Pairing is kink enough.
Peter/Etta: A NEED
Date: 2012-12-16 06:30 pm (UTC)"Dad it's me..." She murmurs, lying a hand on his cheek in reassurance. Relieved, Peter sighs and relaxes. "Etta." He breathes.
She's quiet for a moment, unsure if this sort of an approach was off limits now at her age. "Um.... bad dream again." She confesses softly. Peter instantly reaches for her, squeezing her hand. "What about?" he murmurs.
Etta swallows the lump in her throat. "Mom."
"Sweetheart I told you,we will find her-"
"Yea but what if we don't?"
Peter quickly hushes her and pulls her to join him on the bed. She curls close against his body, burying her face in his chest as he strokes her hair. "I made you a promise to find your mother and I will keep that promise, Etta. Even if I have to search the entire universe, or the next, I will find her." he vows solemnly.
His daughter seems content with this and wipes her eyes. "Dad?"
"Mm?"
"Can I- can I just stay in here tonight...? With you?"
"Yes of course baby girl." He murmurs, his heart warming. She rolls over in his arms, turning her back his way and allowing his body to fold around hers. Peter brushed his daughters hair from her eyes before planting a tender kiss to her temple. "I love you, Etta. You know I do."
They lie there for a long while, Peter's arm tucked around his daughter's waist, holding her close. He can't fall back asleep, there's far too much on his mind and his concern for his family seems endless these days...
Etta falls asleep quickly however, occasionally mumbling little unintelligible words mixed with his personal favorites, "Dad" and "Mom."
But half way through the night, her demeanor suddenly shifts and he grows worried. Her body is taunt and stiff against his. He worries she may be having a nightmare again and he debates waking her. Ultimately deciding it best to let her sleep, he pulls her even closer. Etta relaxes slightly in her sleep with a soft moan.
He's startled by the sound. Olivia. He thinks instantly and he shivers.
God his daughter was warm in his arms... so incredibly intensely warm... And the feel of her wrapped around him was staggering. Exactly like Olivia. Exactly. Her lean and thin build... The flat expanse of her stomach, the feel of her heart beating fast in her chest. Jesus Christ they even smell identical. He doesn't understand how this is humanly possible...
Peter buries his nose deep in his daughter's hair again, breathing in her sweet scent. Brown sugar and vanilla. Comfort. Love... And sex. The emotions of it all are overwhelming.
He knows that scent is the most powerful of memory devices. And his daughter's has stirred up a million different memories he'd rather not revisit with his own child in his arms.
All of them were of Olivia... Of course. That sweet face of hers as she begged him to cross universes for her; her kiss, lips soft on his. The way she had looked a painful few months later, the first time he'd undressed her... That playfully guilty smile on her face. The gleam of wonder in her eyes as she confessed she was pregnant with their child.... And most of all their wedding day. Her short simple white dress hugging her body and her beautiful golden hair flowing and framing her face in the most lovely of ways. She was so beautiful... And she still was later that evening, sprawled out on the bed, her body bare and heaving as she beckoned for him, whispering his name. Oh... He desperately craves her touch again, and her kiss and everything wonderful that made Olivia, Olivia...
But he has Etta, their baby girl so like her mother in almost every way. His perverted sense of curiosity leads him to wonder what intimacies between his wife and Etta were identical as well. He can't really help his mind from wandering. Its been almost 20 years since he's touched Olivia, let alone made love to her...
Biting his lip, Peter's hands tenderly slide over his daughter's breast. Etta has always been a heavy sleeper, since the day she was born, and he isn't too worried about being caught. His fingers slip up her shirt...
His breath quickens as he pinches her nipple slightly before cupping her breast fully in his massive hands. Yes, she's exactly like Olivia.
Etta suddenly sighs in her sleep, her lips parting slightly.
He takes this unguarded opportunity to test his other theory.... His mouth covers hers in a gentle kiss before his control slips yet again... Peter slides his tongue into her mouth to taste her fully. His eyes roll back in his head in pleasure. Fuck. He nearly groans in delight. Etta too has inherited her mother's gorgeous, richly warm and delicious mouth. He wonders idily if her mouth is as talented as her mothers, his cock twitching at the very prospect alone.
It's his daughter, he knows this, and recognizes the severity of what he's doing and what he's contemplating doing next. But he can't help it... The overwhelming levels of testosterone in his body and the simple utter need for intimacy blur all his ethical guidelines.
Numb, Peter rolls Etta on her back gently and even in the pale moonlight she's still a spitting image of her mother. He shifts to loom above her, his knees planted on the bed, his hands by her sweet face. In a moment of tenderness and longing, Peter caresses her cheek. Almost in apology. His heart aches for his wife, he needs her desperately in all the right and the wrong reasons. And now, lying atop his daughter, he needs her too...
His mouth joins hers again, only this time his kiss is more urgent, more needy. Peter cups her breast in one hand while the other wiggles into his briefs to stroke himself.
"Olivia..." He moans deeply, burying his face in the crook of his daughter's neck. "Fuck..."
He could cry. He feels like shit. This is his own daughter... but she feels so good, so right.
Worst of all, he knows exactly what's waiting between her legs... That tight wet heat... Ready for him... He can almost feel her walls tightening around him. He wonders if Ettas eyes would roll back in sweet agony like Olivia's do....
But Peter only wonders. He won't penetrate her, he refuses, holding onto this small scrap of whats right and what is wrong....
Still, Peter strokes his cock, his excitement steadily growing. She's so beautiful... His little girl...
He's pumping hard now, his hand jerking his shaft quickly. His other hand slides her shirt up to expose her soft belly. He strokes himself against her skin, rocking his body atop her in slow thrusts. It isn't long before he feels the electricity dancing at his finger tips, his head clouding, his eyes unable to stay open any longer. With a quiet moan, Peter releases himself all over his daughter's stomach in thick ropes that glisten in the moonlight
Panting softly, he buries his face in Etta's shoulder again, turning to kiss her neck. He lies there, his cock now soft and pressed against her bare belly.
"Daddy..." She suddenly breathes.
Shit. Panic secretly floods him and hopes that maybe she's only sleep talking again. But no.
"Dad..." Etta whimpers again, reaching.
"Hush sweet pea." He murmurs softly, tears in his eyes as he reaches for the box of tissues to clean her up. "Just close your eyes again." He can't bear those eyes right now. He's afraid of the terror he'll see in them.
Peter gently wipes the mess from her belly, the guilt steadily setting in. As he brushes past the hem of her underwear, Etta squirms slightly, arching into the touch. "Please... Dad..." She begs weakly. "P- Peter...." his name tastes funny on her tongue. Unnatural but she somewhat likes it and by the fierce look in his eyes, she can tell that he does too. He's hard all over again a matter of seconds...
Feeling his cock hard against her, Etta shivers, her hand fisting in his shirt. Canting her chin upwards, she catches his lips in hers in a needy desperate kiss. He's gone again. When her tongue flicks into her father's mouth, he sucks gently at the tip, savoring her taste.
Etta pulls away suddenly with a soft gasp. "I had another dream... About you this time..." She whispers smiling shyly.
Peter closes his eyes tightly and swallows hard as Etta takes him in her hand.
No, they can't do this...
They shouldn't.
But they do.
Re: Peter/Etta: A NEED
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-12-16 07:15 pm (UTC) - ExpandRe: Peter/Etta: A NEED
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-12-17 02:58 am (UTC) - Expandanyone/anyone; bodyswap?
Date: 2012-10-31 04:17 am (UTC)Re: anyone/anyone; bodyswap?
Date: 2012-10-31 04:33 am (UTC)<3
Re: anyone/anyone; bodyswap?
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2012-10-31 02:35 pm (UTC) - ExpandPeter/Olivia
Date: 2012-11-08 12:11 pm (UTC)because canon is bumming me out
Date: 2012-11-10 08:09 am (UTC)/queen of leaving ridiculously long prompts. any facet of this would be awesome, because canon is seriously a downer lately and i miss the altverse characters something fierce <3 OKAY SHUTTING UP NOW.
Re: because canon is bumming me out
Date: 2012-11-27 07:09 am (UTC)Olivia/anyone, vapmires
Date: 2012-11-10 03:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-11 05:07 am (UTC)Any kind of FFM explicit threesome with both Olivias and a guy
Walter/Nina
Date: 2012-11-22 04:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-11-25 05:48 am (UTC)Genderswitched Lincoln. Either always-been-cis, or a temporary condition. With Olivia -- any -- or Peter; 's all good.
Please, please, please?
Seth/Josh, saying goodbye
Date: 2012-11-27 09:06 am (UTC)Seth/Josh
Check this out:
http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ma1rp6RxFQ1qm7ueeo2_500.png
Or this:
http://monanotlisa.tumblr.com/post/36656792330/someone-write-me-another-lincoln-peter-or-hey