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It was dark on the boat when Rose opened her eyes, but she could see a faint hint of a sunrise peeking through the porthole, filling the room with a gentle pink glow. She took a breath and blinked the remnants of sleep out of her eyes. She wasn’t wide awake, her brain still foggy. She stretched her legs and felt a dull ache. It wasn’t like the other aches she’d become prone to over the past few days. This was a good ache, one that made her blood warm and her heart start beating a little faster in her chest.
Rose reached beneath the blanket, her fingertips dusting over the skin of Peter’s forearm that was draped loosely over her waist. His skin was hot, but as she dragged her hand up and down, she felt goosebumps sprout in the wake of her fingers. Rose had never been one to jump into a relationship. Not that her and Peter were in a relationship. She didn’t know what they were but, then again, she didn’t need to know. The only thing she knew was that they were tied together, through trauma and trust. She’d known people for years and hadn’t felt as close to them as she did Peter after only knowing him for a few days. Even behind his proud, stubborn, hard exterior, she could see the softness in him, the brokenness he tried desperately to hide. Rose could see him, and he could see her. That was something she couldn’t put a label on.
She flattened her hand over the back of Peter’s and pressed his palm against her stomach. Rose hadn’t allowed herself to properly appreciate Peter’s physical attributes until then. Before, she was an assignment to him, a mission, or however the FBI or White House wanted to spin it. She figured it wasn’t appropriate to be caught checking out her government assigned protection and, between the car chases and gun fights, Peter’s level of attractiveness wasn’t on the forefront of Rose’s priorities of things to focus on. But, circumstances had changed and, considering they were alone, naked in bed on a boat in open water, Rose supposed that she was allowed to admire Peter.
He was vulnerable like this, which is a word Rose never thought she would use to describe the man sleeping behind her. His breathing was slow and steady, his body sturdy and running hot like a furnace. She carefully wiggled her hips, inching her body closer to Peters until she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and the hair on his chest tickle her shoulder blades when he inhaled. She moved his hand up over her belly button until the tips of his fingers dusted the undersides of her breasts. The skin on his hands were rough and calloused, adorned with new and old scars, much like the rest of his body.
Peter’s breath hitched behind her and she felt the muscles in his arm twitch as he tightened his grip around her just slightly. The movement pulled her closer to his chest, causing his hand to move up her chest, his fingers against her sternum and his thumb pressing into her breast. Rose couldn’t tell if he was still deep in sleep or not. A part of her wanted him to stay asleep. God knew he needed it. Since taking Rose into his care, the man had managed to sleep a maximum of only a few hours each night. At least, that’s what he told her. For all she knew, he only told her that so she didn’t feel guilty when he slowly went crazy from sleep deprivation.
The other part of Rose wanted Peter to wake up. After last night, all she could think about was feeling him like that again. At first, he treated her like she was something delicate and fragile, as if she was the one that had been stabbed and stitched hours before. After a bit of coaxing and convincing with her mouth, hands, and words, she was able to feel Peter in a way that she didn’t think she would ever be able to get out of her head or muscle memory. Just thinking about him now made her inhale sharply, her hand applying more pressure to his hand that she was holding against her chest.
With another careful shift of her hips, her back was pressed against his chest and his mouth was only a few inches from the back of her neck. Everything about Peter was sturdy. Rose used to pride herself in not having a type when it came to men. She always liked to think she was open minded. But, she was afraid Peter was slowly starting to ruin that for her.
Rose knew he was waking up when she felt him breath just a touch faster and harder against her ear. She heard him swallow and hum behind her, followed by the flex of his arm against her side as his body started to wake up as well. His fingers curled against her skin and, afraid he would try to move or pull away, she tightened her grip on his hand, keeping him there.
After a moment, she felt him lift his head. “Rose,” he whispered, his voice rough and sleepy. “You awake?”
“Mhm,” she hummed, circling her slender fingers around his wrist like a bracelet or handcuff.
“You okay?”
Rose just nodded and, before she could stop herself, she rolled her body back just enough until they were flush against each other. She could feel his half hard dick against her ass and the way he inhaled at the moment of contact.
“Rose,” he whispered again, though it was more of a groan than a whisper.
God, she thought. She wanted to hear him say her name like that forever.
His grip on her tightened even more, squeezing her body against him. “I can’t sleep,” she mumbled, finally bringing his hand to cover one of her breasts. She felt his breath hitch and his heart beating against her back. “‘M sorry I woke you up.” That was only half a lie.
She felt him growing harder against her. Peter didn’t say anything. He leaned his face into the exposed crook of Rose’s neck and pressed his lips against the skin there, mindful of the bruises starting to bloom there. He was handsome with a shaved face, but the feeling of the scruff on his chin and jaw did something to Rose. She loved the way he could rub her skin raw. She could still feel where he left the inside of her thighs red. He pressed his mouth lazily against the skin behind her ear and by her jaw as his thumb dragged across her nipple. Rose bit back a whine and was barely able to stop herself from grinding back against him like a teenager. He had only just woken up and he still managed to have her so tightly wound, ready to burst.
When he could feel her nipple harden and goosebumps growing under his fingertips, his hand drifted downwards, ignoring the grip she held on his wrist. Rose loosened her hold when his hand traveled downwards below her belly button. She exhaled shakily when his fingers reached between her legs, feeling the wetness there. Her thighs twitched and fell apart on instinct, giving him more access.
“Fuck,” Peter breathed against her neck. He moved his arm out from under their shared pillow until it was drawn around Rose’s chest, his hand lying loosely over her neck. His thigh slipped between hers, angling her in a way that pressed her ass even more firmly against his dick. He was hard and hot behind her, a layer of sweat building on their skin where they were pressed together.
“Do that,” she breathed, placing her hand back on top of his between her legs and forcing his fingers where she wanted them. She whined when his middle finger smoothed over her clit and pressed the side of her face further into the pillow, his mouth chasing after her.
“C’mere,” he said roughly, the hand around her neck coming up to hold her jaw, angling her face back towards his own. His words were lost as their lips met and they breathed into each other. She opened her mouth to him instantly, only to moan against his lips as he pressed a finger inside of her, quickly followed by a second. He sucked her bottom lip between his own as he fucked her with his hand, his thumb rubbing slow and sure circles over her clit. She was turned on before he had woken up, meaning the foreplay wasn’t a necessity. If he wanted to, he could’ve pressed inside of her with zero give. But, after just one night with Peter, Rose learned that he liked the foreplay, the act of working her up.
“I take it back,” Rose managed to say as she reached back between them until she felt Peter’s hardness against her palm.
“Hm?” he hummed, starting to pull away, only to stop and moan when Rose wrapped her hand around him, causing him to gasp.
“I’m not sorry I woke you up,” she clarified, pressing her ass back against him impatiently. As much as Rose appreciated Peter’s desire to take his time with her, taking her apart seam by seam with his fingers and his mouth, she wanted him. She wanted him like this, still hot and soft from sleep. She needed him.
Peter started to laugh, but the sound quickly shifted into a low moan as Rose started to work her hand over his cock. Despite her wrist being at an awkward angle, her efforts weren’t in vain as she felt precum leaking against her palm. “You- fuck,” he moaned, carefully pulling his fingers out from inside of her and batted her hand away from where it was wrapped around him. She didn’t have a chance to miss the feeling of his fingers before he started slowly pressing into her from behind.
Rose sighed in relief. “Yes,” she whined, clenching her fist in the sheets in front of her. Peter kept one hand gingerly on her neck, not applying any pressure, and his other arm wrapped around the front of her pelvis, keeping her close. His fingers dug into her as he pressed inside of her. He moved slowly until his hips were flush against her. Much like the rest of Peter, his dick was above average in size, and he knew how to use it.
Their first time had been cautious and gentle. Rose didn’t want to risk Peter ripping his stitches and he wanted to take the time to learn her body. The wariness was quick to turn frantic, fast, and hard, as if they were on time limit and needed to devour as much of each other as they could before time ran out on them. Rose was shocked that Peter didn’t tear any of his stitches.
This time was different. They were both still clouded by sleep, their bones pliant and skin hot. They had all of the time in the world. Before, Rose had been begging him to go harder, faster. Now, Rose just wanted to feel Peter - all of him. He took his time pulling out of her before pushing into her deep and sure. The feeling of him fucking so deep inside of her was overwhelming, but with his arm holding her in place there was nowhere for her to go, no way for her to pull away. It was intense. Rose had never been fucked like that. Her mouth hung open as he fucked her, but no sound came out. Her voice was stuck in her throat and the only thing her brain was able to process was Peter, everywhere; his arms trapping her against him, his body covering her from behind, his hand tightening around her neck while the other gripped her hip so hard she knew - hoped - it would bruise, his mouth against her jaw, and his rough moans into her ear, his cock branding her from the inside–
“Rose,” Peter panted, almost begging, “I can’t-”
“I want you,” Rose managed to choke out. She placed a hand over Peter’s around her neck and turned her head, their lips brushing against each other’s. “Please, please-”
“You’re so-” Peter didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he pulled out of her and, before she had a moment to process what was happening, Peter was flipping her onto her back. He spread her legs, pulling them around his hips, and wasted no time in pushing back inside of her. From this angle, Rose could feel Peter deeper than before, something she thought was impossible. He pressed his face into her neck and held her wrists on either side of her head. She wrapped her legs tightly around his middle and couldn’t stop the noise that erupted from her throat. He maintained a similar rhythm as before; deep and slow, but persistent.
“Oh my god,” she cried as he fucked her. One of his hands left her wrist and found purchase in her hair instead, his fingers curling into the strands just hard enough to sting. With one of her hands now free, she flattened her palm to his back. She could feel his muscles rippling as he thrust into her, sweat making it almost impossible for her to keep her grip. She dug her nails into his skin, dragging a hand up to the nape of his neck. She felt the roughness of his scar as she trailed her nails up the back of his head into his cropped hair.
“I’m so close- Peter,” she moaned into his ear. It was rare for Rose to get close to an orgasm from just being fucked. There was one guy she had hooked up with a few times in college who, previous to Peter, had been the best sex she’d ever had. But, the guy was a dick and conversation with him was comparable to what Rose imagined water torture felt like. Peter was–
“I’m gonna-” Rose felt Peter start to lift off of her, his dick starting to slide out of her. He hadn’t came inside of her yet, even after insisting that she was on birth control. He’d brought her to the edge with his mouth and let her return the favor, which was fantastic, but that’s not how she wanted either of them to come this time around.
“No,” she insisted, punctuated by her legs wrapping around his waist like a vice. He pulled him back to her and they simultaneously gasped when his dick pressed back inside of her. “I want you to come in me, Peter.”
His face hovered over hers, the tips of their noses just touching. His eyes were blown wide, so dark they were almost black. He bit his lip, not moving, staying nestled deep inside of Rose. “You’re sure?” he asked, his eyes glancing down at her lips so fast she almost missed it.
Rose nodded, lifting her neck to press a feather light kiss to his bottom lip. “Please,” she whispered. “I want you to come in me. Please.”
By the look on Peter’s face, Rose was surprised he didn’t come right then and there. After a brief pause, he surged down and captured her lips with his own, licking into her mouth with a fervor that made Rose lose her breath. He dropped his body back down onto hers, giving in, and continued to fuck her without disconnecting their lips. Even when they started reaching the ends of their ropes, his thrusts turning harder, more brutal, he kept his mouth on hers, tightening his grip in her hair. Rose didn’t realize she was the one to pull her mouth away. She was too caught up in the heat coiling in her stomach and the never ending mantra of ‘Peter, Peter, Peter’ repeating in her head like a broken record.
Rose came with a shout, wrapping herself around Peter with her head thrown back against the pillows. She whined as she kept fucking her, rough groans escaping him as she felt his hips start shuttering against hers. Even as he came, he continued fucking her, tucking his face into the hollow of her throat. She rubbed a hand from the top of his head to the small of his back, back and forth, as his thrusts started to slow, until his hips finally stilled, still flush against her.
After taking a second to catch his breath, Peter lifted his head and drew Rose into a lazy kiss, the hand in her hair lowering to cup her cheek. They both sighed as he pulled out, but he didn’t move from where he laid on top of her, still kissing her.
“That was…” Peter began to say before trailing off, peppering kisses along Rose’s jaw.
“Yeah?” she teased softly, her hand resuming its path up and down his back.
“Yeah,” Peter chuckled tiredly, pressing a single kiss to Rose’s shoulder before rolling off of her. Their eyes met and he smiled, brushing her hair down from where he had been gripping it. He studied her face before saying, “I like this.”
“What?” she asked, meeting his smile as she tried not to melt under his gaze. “Fucking me?”
Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I mean, obviously,” he replied, making Rose chuckle. “I mean, I like this.”
He didn’t explain what he meant, but he didn’t have to. Rose knew what he meant. Yesterday, in a moment of weakness and unknowing, he had fantasized about sailing away, leaving this entire mess behind them. Rose knew he didn’t mean it, that he couldn’t do that even if he really wanted to, but in that moment, in their bubble they’d created, all she wanted was to sail away with him, to have him all to herself, to have him like this forever.
“Yeah,” she hummed, drinking in his sleepy eyes and messy hair. “I do too.”
“Let me clean you up?” he offered.
Rose shook her head and pulled him back down against the bed. “Tomorrow,” she said. She rested her head against his chest once he was settled and closed her eyes.
“Okay,” Peter yawned, not hesitating to wrap an arm around Rose’s shoulders. “Tomorrow.”