Please Baby

Claire never hinted that anything was wrong, but he knew better. One time, he sat her down and asked her if there was anything that he could help her with. Claire stared wide-eyed at him before saying that everything was fine. She even smiled sweetly at him for emphasis before asking if she could be excused to work on some homework. Peter didn't want her to leave but he let her go anyway.

He didn't try confronting her again because he didn't want to come off as the over protective, nosy uncle. He still subtly asked her from time to time if she was okay. Because he knew in the back of his mind that something wasn't right. But Claire always brushed him off, saying that she was fine and that there was nothing for him to worry about.

One day, when Nathan wasn't busy, Peter went to see him in his study to talk about Claire. Peter told his brother that he knew that something was bothering her but she refused to talk to him about it. Finally, Nathan suggested that he snoop around her room. Peter was firmly against the idea because a girl's room is a sacred sanctuary and it just sounded so pervy in his mind to sneak around his niece's room, looking through her things.

But then Nathan added that he could always use Claude's invisibility. Peter thanked him for listening and quietly left his office, considering his options. He didn't want to confront Claire again, asking her for the millionth time if there was something wrong and as much as he didn't like the idea of snooping around her room, he was still determined to figure out what it was that was bothering her.

Peter continued to think about his options for another week, and then another and another. Before he knew it, four weeks had passed. The morning he woke up and decided to look through Claire's room, his mother had a pedicure appointment, Nathan took Heidi out to lunch, Monty and Simon were away at camp and Claire was at school, attending classes, leaving him home alone.

He went up to Claire's room. Peter rarely went to her room unless it was to get her for dinner or one of Nathan's political functions. But he never actually went in there to look for anything.

The moment that he walked into the room, nothing seemed out of place.

Her computer was turned off, her clothes were neatly folded and her bed was covered with stuffed animals. It made him smile; twenty-three years old and she still kept cute stuffed animals. She had a pink piggy with a blue bow around his neck, and pictures of her family (Mr. Bennet, Lyle, her mom and even Mr. Muggles) hanging above her bed. On her computer desk, she had a similar set up for Petrelli family photos.

He looked carefully at every corner; Claire had so many things going in her life, she had to have a diary or journal to write down her thoughts. But oddly enough, he didn't see one anywhere and began to panic.

"No, this is wrong," he cried, "She has to have a diary or journal…she has to!"

Peter scratched his head, this time looking for loose scraps of paper. If she didn't have a journal, then he figured, maybe she wrote on paper or stationary. Girls did stuff like that. Fifteen more minutes passed and he couldn't even find a loose sheet of paper with her scribbled handwriting.

He heard the front door open and slam suddenly. No one else was home and he didn't expect Nathan and Heidi or even his mother to come back early from her pedicure appointment. That only left…CLAIRE!

"Shit!" he breathed racing to make sure everything was as she had left it.

Downstairs, Claire dropped her school bag near the couch in the living room before strolling into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of iced water, munching on the ice cubes before making her way upstairs to her room.

Thankfully, Peter hadn't moved too many things but now Claire was coming down the hall. Peter closed his eyes, willing himself to become invisible a second before she opened the door and walked inside.

He backed himself against the closet as she stood in the middle of the room, contemplating something. Peter held his breath, slowly making his way to the door but froze suddenly, realizing that Claire had locked it.

He was trapped!

Peter quietly moaned, looking back at her as she began to pace (proving in his mind that he was right all along that something was bothering her) before going to her computer. She tapped the space bar, opening up her livejournal.

‘Damnit! Of course she has a livejournal!’ he cursed himself before tiptoeing behind her, trying to get a good look at her livejournal url. He didn't anticipate however that Claire was a fast reader and quickly closed the browser before he could read the full website address. She stood up, loosening her long hair from a bun and removing her blouse.

‘Oh no! No, no, no Claire!’ he cried. ‘Please, don't remove another article of clothing!’

Claire continued her striptease until all she had on was her underwear and her bra. Peter felt the color drain from his face as he stared at Claire's body, her perfectly tanned skin and curves…he shook his head.

This couldn't be happening. He and Claire had always been close, they were more than family, they were friends but never once did he ever imagine that he would be standing in his niece's room, seeing her partially naked.

The way she held herself made it seem as if it didn't even bother her to be almost naked… from the way her hands fidgeted, it seemed like she was excited to be standing there.

Thinking that she was excited made him oddly excited forcing Peter to ask himself why was he suddenly so turned on thinking about her that way.

Peter cringed at that last thought. Closing his eyes, he could feel his pulse race so fast that the only other thing he could hear in the room were quiet moans and pants.

But not from himself.

They came from Claire.

Out of curiosity, he opened an eye and was taken aback to see her standing, her hand thrust into her panties. He should have been appalled to see his niece fondle herself but he was oddly aroused.

Claire herself wasn't aroused yet but she relished the pleasure, smiling at the sweet release.

Peter opened his other eye, breathing slowly, watching Claire. He needed to teleport himself out of there but he didn't have the guts to move – and he didn't want to leave her during this beautiful moment. Instead, Peter loosened his pants, reaching down to soothe his own cock.

‘God, this is so fucking wrong!’ he cried to himself.

But he was so hot now and apparently so was Claire.

She hastily removed her bra massaging her nipple with one hand while her other continued to finger herself. Peter silently moaned, holding his cock with his hand as Claire's hand backed away for a moment. He frowned, staring intently at it; it was so pink and red, and wet with cum.

Peter unconsciously licked his lips, imagining burying his face in it.

‘Nooooooooooo!’ he screamed to himself, ‘That would be so wrong but oh God, how sweet she would be..’

Claire walked over to her computer, pulling up her iTunes list, randomizing the tracks, not really caring to listen to anything in particular before going over to her bed and lying down. The stuffed animals that were placed at the head were tossed aside and she threw over the blankets, revealing a medium sized blue towel.

‘She masturbates on the bed?!’ Peter cried, ‘Heidi and Ma would have a fit if they knew about that. Those linens are expensive!’

Claire didn't care.

The menstruation's that she had begun before were more intense now as she spread her legs wide on the bed, giving her fingers ample access.

Peter stood silently, watching her fingers go through the motions, quick and hurried and then slow before fervently pushing herself again. Suddenly he realized, the way she touched itself, it was like she'd done this before.

It made him think back to instances where Claire had secluded herself in her room, not coming out for hours and when she finally would, she'd smile brightly and feel so much more relaxed and at ease.

He sighed contently; still holding his own cock as he lightly massaged it. Claire on the other hand had stopped and simply lay there, breathing deeply. Peter gulped, taking in her whole body, lying there on the bed, her breasts rising and falling as she breathed steadily and her wetness spilling over onto the blue towel she'd placed on the bed. He watched as cum trailed down her inner thigh and down her leg. Peter licked his lips again, forcing his hand harder around his cock.

After awhile, Claire sat up and went to reach for something from her drawer. Peter frowned, his heart pulsating at whatever she was getting. He thought it would be a dildo or something but instead, it was a picture. He frowned, cocking his head to one side.

Claire smiled at the picture, kissed her fingers and then placed that same kiss on the picture before putting it away. Claire nodded to herself, reaching down once again, this time with both hands, one hand pulling in and out while the other, rubbed herself.

Now Peter was about to go crazy. He was even wet now, and God, how he ached to be right there thrusting into her. Instead, he firmly held his hand over his, trying to mirror her actions, imagining that she was kneeling before him, taking him in her mouth.

"Oh fuck!" Claire cried finally, the sound of her voice startling Peter out of his reverie.

She moved her hands away, grasping the blankets beneath her as she came hard.

Peter stared breathlessly at Claire's body, sweat on her brow, panting and moaning, licking her lips, biting down on them. She never looked so beautiful to him; her golden body, relishing in the release. He smiled to himself and then frowned, feeling his again. He hadn't even come yet himself and now Claire was done.

‘Please stay Claire! Please stay,’ he pleaded.

Claire however didn't move from the bed and spread her legs again, thrusting with left middle finger in and out. As Peter watched her finger continue, he felt wet cum stream down his leg. He was really hot now!

"Come on baby, please," she chanted to herself.

‘Yes, please baby,’ Peter cited to himself.

Claire smiled to herself, thrusting harder and harder into herself. She thrust so hard that she shut her eyes tightly, shuddering at the slight pain but with her healing ability, she could take it.

"Harder now!" she cried.

‘Yes, please harder Claire,’

Claire stopped herself again, reaching over into the drawer on her bedside and removed the picture she'd taken out earlier, holding it one hand while her other worked fervently for another high. Peter fortunately, reached his climax a lot sooner than he expected but continued to stand there, watching Claire go for her second.

‘One more time baby,’ Peter pleaded.

"One more time baby," Claire echoed, pushing herself harder and harder, releasing the picture from her hand, letting it fall to the ground.

Peter left the spot where he'd been standing and went over to the side of the bed, kneeling down to look at the picture, which landed on its back. He gulped surprised to see that the picture Claire had been looking at was actually a photo of him. He even knew when it was taken.

‘I can't believe this!’ he thought.

As he thought that, Claire came hard, panting; sweat accumulating on her brow as her breathing slowed. She was finished but Peter wasn't ready for this to be over; not yet. Not until he had some answers.

He hated himself for doing this but he needed to know. Claire rubbed her neck, pushing her hair to one side as Peter appeared beside her. She screamed, quickly grabbing her blanket and covering herself, staring at him.

"Peter! What the fuck are you doing here?! How did you get in here?!!"

"Claire," he started, "Wait!"

Claire quickly stood up from the bed, still holding the blanket over her body, backing away as she continued to glare at him. Peter didn't know what to say as she stared blankly back at him. What he'd just witnessed, what he'd been a party too…he had so many questions…foremost, why she never told him.

Claire didn't know what to think as she looked over his appearance. He looked so ragged and disheveled; not unlike the way she was used to seeing him. But that wasn't the only thing about his appearance that she noticed: there was a wet spot on his groin area. And she knew. He was there the whole time, watching her, getting off on seeing her get off on him no less.

"Claire let me explain!" he pleaded, "I was worried about you,"

"Worried about me?!" she shot back incredulously, "I told you that I was fine!"

"Claire…I'm sorry," he cried, holding the picture in his hands, "but why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?"

"I mean, 'why'?" he countered, shoving the picture back in her hands.

Claire took the picture, looking down solemnly at it and scowled, looking back at him. "Why were you here in the first place? Were you spying on me?" she shot back.

"I was,"

"Oh My God!" she cried, pacing again around the room. "I can't believe this?! My own purvey Uncle was spying on me during a private moment?!"

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered, "but the picture Claire! That's me! You were getting off on a picture of me!"

Claire moaned nervously, still pacing; she hadn't even realized that the blanket that had previously covered her had slipped away, exposing her yet again in front of Peter. Peter quickly averted his eyes as she continued to pace.

"Claire," he managed.

"First of all, this isn't what you think it is!" she cried.

"Then what is it?" he questioned, still averting his eyes.

"I…I…uh…" Claire started and then scowled again, "Well, you weren't supposed to be here?! A girl's room is her private sanctuary and boys, men, YOU, especially, are not allowed in here!"

"You never answered my question,"

"Because I reserve the right not to," she shot back, stalking closer to him. "There are some things Peter Petrelli that I would rather keep secret,"

Peter frowned, realizing if Claire wasn't going to tell him what he wanted to know, he could find out via telepathy. He didn't usually read her thoughts uninvited but it was too late now to ask her permission. He was lost in a forbidden territory and he needed answers now.

Thankfully, as defiant as Claire was not to give him answers, her mind was an open book. Even as she stood there in front of the bed, her mind couldn't help but flash back to the wetness in his groin and the exhilarating feeling at the knowledge of him watching her, something she'd often fantasized about.

He smiled, eliciting another angry glare from her.

"What the Hell is that about?" she shouted, "Were you reading my mind?!"

"You're hot for me," he breathed, chuckling.

Claire flipped her hair to one side, crossing her arms. "I am not!" she retorted. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!"

"You are," Peter continued, coming over to the bed suddenly and brushing himself against her.

Claire's back stiffened, feeling his body against hers. She'd always wanted Peter in this position and now that she had him, all she could think about (with the exception of his cock) was to push him away. Sure, she'd fantasized about being with him millions of times but that was why she secretly went to see a therapist whom encouraged her to release her feelings for him in a safe environment. Ergo the reason for masturbating in the privacy of her own room.

"I want you to admit it Claire," he said huskily, teasing her.

"I'm not admitting to anything!"

Peter grinned, backing away from her slightly, inserting instead his forefingers inside of her and began slow ministrations. Claire was calm, turning her head away from him, trying not to enjoy what he was doing to her.

"Claire," he breathed huskily into her hair. "Care to explain to me why you came twice on my picture?"

"Because," she said, her voice hitching to a high squeaky tone, "Because…."

"Because why Claire?" he continued, thrusting deeper inside of her, "Tell me,"

Claire turned her head to face him, taking in the feel of his fingers inside of her until her body started moving with him. Peter grinned slightly as she moved against him. "Because," she breathed, "I have feelings for you, feelings I shouldn't have because I'm your niece but I can't help it. I've tried putting you out of my mind but you're a hard person to forget Peter; it certainly doesn't help that I see you almost every day and I…I…"

He removed his fingers from her as he sat down on the bed. Claire she slid into his lap, unzipping his fly as he continued to thump her.

"What is it Claire?" he questioned.

"I… I fucking love you Peter!" she cried, "And I want you to fuck me so badly right now,"

Peter readily removed his pants and boxers, tossing them away as Claire removed his shirt. He gently laid Claire down, easing inside of her. He moved slowly at first much to Claire's dismay; she was about to ask him if he could faster and harder when he started doing just that.

Pain didn't matter.

Claire felt pain before, sometimes it would sting when she'd "accidentally" hurt herself but then the pain would go away as quickly as it had come. She was used to it but the harder Peter grated into her, the more she wished that the pain wouldn't go away. The pain was a mark, a reminder that her body was joined with his.

The first orgasm came quickly and as she suspected, the pain quickly subsided. It made her cry hating herself for being the freak that she was. She couldn't even scream long enough, feeling the full extent of her pleasure high for a brief moment before it subsided. Never mind that it was Peter, her uncle, who made her come the first time.

Claire bucked her hips against his, determined to feel another long orgasm. Peter pulled her body against his as Claire kissed him passionately, relishing the taste of his lips on her.

For so long, she imagined what it would be like to kiss him. It was hard not to. He’d often bring home girlfriends for brunch and Claire would watch him when he was with them. He’d kiss them so softly like they were delicate flowers.

Claire imagined that their first kiss would be something like that; dainty and sweet but it was so much more than that. His mouth revenged her body kissing every naked skin like she was a drink he couldn’t get enough of.

She shivered involuntarily, and Peter pulled her closer to him, bridging a tiny gap between them as he stared hard into her eyes, forcing her to gulp as she stared back at him.

“Do you still want this Claire?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she cried, “More than anything,”

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” she croaked, stroking his hair. “I can’t pretend anymore that I don’t have these feelings for you, Peter, than I want to,”

Peter smiled thoughtfully at her, his lips turning into that lop-sided grin that she loved seeing so much. He always felt so conscious about it but Claire always saw it as one of those things that made her love him so much.

“I’ve always felt that there was something between us…” Peter started. “How come you never told me?”

Claire shrugged. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Peter, beautiful day outside and oh, by the way, I think you’re hot and I can’t stop having these very vivid sexual fantasies about you?’” she teased, smiling, “Nathan would have a heart attack and your mom…don’t even get me started on what she would do,”

“You know what would drive my mom crazy?” he teased, kissing her, “If she knew that you were having those sexual fantasies on her fine linen, imported from Paris,”

Claire frowned. “Peter Petrelli…if you tell her…”

“Kidding,” he teased, placing his fingers on her waist. “I think we might need more towels,.”

“I don’t think I want to let you go right now,” she managed, kissing him again as he gently pressed into her.

Claire moaned, feeling the pressure down there but she didn’t mind it so much. She spread her thighs, wrapping one leg around him as his hips moved against hers.

Soon, Claire could feel her second orgasm coming but she didn’t scream, instead, feeling it as it rippled through her body. Peter slowed down his motion but she gestured that he pick up the pace again.

“Are you sure?” he questioned. “I don’t want to hurt you,”

That comment made her laugh. “You can’t exactly hurt a girl who’s unbreakable,” she teased. “You can fuck me really hard Peter and I still wouldn’t break,”

“Is that really what you want or would you rather…?”

Claire shrugged. “Either way Peter…I wouldn’t say no,” she breathed.

“Then I opt for the latter,” he teased, kissing her softly again, his thumbs kneading her breasts. “Do you care?”

“About which part?” she croaked, suddenly feeling a slight tingle, forcing her to blush.

Peter grinned, bearing down on her until he was almost pressing his whole upper body on top of hers. He was so close now but he didn’t want to press any harder until he got an answer.

“You mean that?” she managed, “It’s like I said Peter, you can fuck me really hard...it wouldn’t hurt me,”

Peter didn’t know what to say as she sat up and forced him down on the bed. The twitch came back again as Claire straddled her legs around his waist, rocking slowly on top of him to begin and then quickened the pace.

“Oh God, Claire!” Peter cried, “You’re either going to drive me crazy…or straight to Hell…”

“Fuck! We’re both going to Hell, Peter!” she cried, bending down to kiss his chest, all the while still driving his cock crazy. “A special place just for us or maybe we’re already there…and oh God that felt good -- we just don’t know it,”

That thing that felt so good was actually Peter easing in and out of her, alternatively, placing his fingers between her clit. “Do you want me to stop?” he wandered.

“Please don’t stop,” she cried, “Don’t ever stop, baby,”

Peter still slipped his finger away, thrusting again inside of her as Claire tried to match his motions, bracing herself against his body. “I told you not to…” she panted.

“I know but I wanted too…doesn’t this feel better?”

“It does,” she mused, pulling his body against hers, so close that her hardened nipples pressed against his chest. "Harder,"

Peter thrust harder, eliciting pleasurable moans and pants. Claire's panting and soft moans were catharsis, making him close his eyes and as he did, felt his own pulse suddenly match hers. He could hear her heart beat racing, her body coming closer and closer.

When Peter opened his eyes, Claire screamed, crying his name, grasping against his back as she came. Peter stopped, lying her down on the bed, brushing his finger against her brow swiping away a loose strand of golden hair.

"I felt it," she whispered, "the moment..."

"What moment?" he questioned, resting his head on his elbow.

"When we were like one," she mused, looking over at him, smiling. “It was beautiful, Peter,”

He smiled, kissing her forehead, resting an arm around her stomach as she lay down on his chest. “You were beautiful, you know, before,” he managed, stroking her hair, “How come you never told me? We could have talked about it,”

Claire frowned. “I thought that I was sick, Peter,”

“And now?”

“Now, I think that I’m just really screwed up,” she reasoned, looking at him thoughtfully, “You don’t know how many times I came, I'd tell myself how wrong it was but it never worked. I’d feel relieved and disgusted with myself for feeling that way,”

“I’m sorry Claire,” Peter whispered, kissing her temple, “I’m sorry,”

“It’s not your fault,” she sobbed, “I never said anything to you; I don’t even let you read my mind on a daily basis so you wouldn’t have known. But now that you do know, how do you feel?”

Peter studied her carefully. Ever since he met Claire, he had always shared this connection with her, a connection deeper than your traditional uncle/niece relationship. At some point, that familial connection stopped feeling that way and his feelings for her became something more.

The truth was, he had fallen in love Claire a long time ago and he just denied his feelings, to the point of forgetting that he loved her, to spare himself the pain of loving her. Now that knew that Claire had been going through the same thing, it made him hate himself for denying her.

“You’re not sick, Claire,” he resolved, “Your feelings aren’t exactly one-sided,”

“Really?” she teased, “I always thought as much,”

“Why?”

Claire couldn’t help but smile, coddling closer to him, kissing his collarbone. “Because of what we just did,” she reasoned, “but I’m okay now, Peter,”

“You are?” he wandered, “So I helped solve your problem after all?”

Claire shrugged, wrapping one arm around his neck, and smiling. “Actually, you made it worse,” she continued, “but I think that we can make it better,”

Peter grinned. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“How do you think?”

"I think that we need to make up our own therapy sessions,” he rationalized.

The End