it all reminds her of being sixteen, of coming home from dates with bobby or allen or whoever and sometimes peter would be awake in the living room, and sometimes he had been drinking and sometimes not, smelling of cigarettes, and sometimes he would be smoking a cigarette in the living room and she'd have to tell him to put it out because haven't their parents already yelled at them for that? and he would ask her how the date end, and a sometimes a number of other questions she didn't think he had any right to ask. she ignored his lingering gazes, the way he liked to corner her against the walls. it had unsettled her then, the look in his eyes, the heat in her cheeks.
+
they used to practice kissing when they were children, when susan watched those movies and wanted to be like the actresses, wanted to feel what they felt, to love as they loved, when love was defined by the length of kisses and the number of promises made.
so she had said to peter, echoing her movies, "i'll love you forever. until the seas run dry."
susan saw the wry look, and had been grateful that he didn't say anything except, "yeah, me too."
and they kissed, and kissing him again on the eve of her seventeenth birthday was just like that, right down to how she can hear her heartbeat in her ears, except for how peter's mouth had tasted of bourbon instead of licorice.
+
"you remember this?" peter asked breathlessly.
he wasn't referring to this, what was happening now, because this had never happened before -- he was referring to this familiarity and fearlessness that was borne of the sharing of secrets. a homecoming of the two of them against the world.
there were many ways to answer his question, and they would all mean yes.
they were helpless for each other and it was difficult to say who tumbled who to the bed. susan pulled at his shirt and he raised himself momentarily to yank it off in one fluid movement. she scrabbled at her own dress but peter just pushed up her skirts and kissed her, tugging her underwear down over her knees, to her ankles, and she kicked them off, feeling both shameful and dangerous. his hand between her legs made her gasp into his mouth, clumsy with pent-up desire. (it would be one of the things she would remember, how peter had not been so different from the other boys who wanted her at first, their directionless eagerness for her, aware only of their own desire as she was left with her patience tried and unimpressed. but peter stayed around long enough to learn.)
how strange, she thought. my brother...
susan flipped them over so she's on top and peter took the opportunity to pull her dress off. in-between breathless kisses peter's pants came off and so did her bra, and then to tangle together, to finally melt into each other without layers of clothes between them, they moaned with the thrill of it. children only in courage, not in innocence.
peter said, "are you...?" and he saw the twinge of annoyance on her face and understood. there was no space for questions, not anymore.
"honestly," she muttered, and pushed him back against the headboard. he let her.
he let her take the lead, because for as long as he had imagined this happening, the reality of the situation was beginning to set him on edge. she put her hands on his shoulders, then they nervously flitted down to his hips. and then her hand on his cock.
before either of them lost nerve, she straddled him, her eyes never leaving his. peter's hands alighted on her thighs as she lowered herself, slowly, his adam's apple bobbing, her breathing shallow. he wondered how many times she had done this.
and then he was in her.
susan said, very softly. "peter."
then, also slowly, so she could stop him if she wanted to, he turned them over so she was on her back. he kissed her lips once, she said his name again, and then nothing more was said.
+
susan says, "you remember this?"
he runs his hands over her body with easy familiarity, and is silent. there are many ways to answer her question, and they all mean yes.
no subject
that's all the invitation peter needs.
+
it all reminds her of being sixteen, of coming home from dates with bobby or allen or whoever and sometimes peter would be awake in the living room, and sometimes he had been drinking and sometimes not, smelling of cigarettes, and sometimes he would be smoking a cigarette in the living room and she'd have to tell him to put it out because haven't their parents already yelled at them for that? and he would ask her how the date end, and a sometimes a number of other questions she didn't think he had any right to ask. she ignored his lingering gazes, the way he liked to corner her against the walls. it had unsettled her then, the look in his eyes, the heat in her cheeks.
+
they used to practice kissing when they were children, when susan watched those movies and wanted to be like the actresses, wanted to feel what they felt, to love as they loved, when love was defined by the length of kisses and the number of promises made.
so she had said to peter, echoing her movies, "i'll love you forever. until the seas run dry."
susan saw the wry look, and had been grateful that he didn't say anything except, "yeah, me too."
and they kissed, and kissing him again on the eve of her seventeenth birthday was just like that, right down to how she can hear her heartbeat in her ears, except for how peter's mouth had tasted of bourbon instead of licorice.
+
"you remember this?" peter asked breathlessly.
he wasn't referring to this, what was happening now, because this had never happened before -- he was referring to this familiarity and fearlessness that was borne of the sharing of secrets. a homecoming of the two of them against the world.
there were many ways to answer his question, and they would all mean yes.
they were helpless for each other and it was difficult to say who tumbled who to the bed. susan pulled at his shirt and he raised himself momentarily to yank it off in one fluid movement. she scrabbled at her own dress but peter just pushed up her skirts and kissed her, tugging her underwear down over her knees, to her ankles, and she kicked them off, feeling both shameful and dangerous. his hand between her legs made her gasp into his mouth, clumsy with pent-up desire. (it would be one of the things she would remember, how peter had not been so different from the other boys who wanted her at first, their directionless eagerness for her, aware only of their own desire as she was left with her patience tried and unimpressed. but peter stayed around long enough to learn.)
how strange, she thought. my brother...
susan flipped them over so she's on top and peter took the opportunity to pull her dress off. in-between breathless kisses peter's pants came off and so did her bra, and then to tangle together, to finally melt into each other without layers of clothes between them, they moaned with the thrill of it. children only in courage, not in innocence.
peter said, "are you...?" and he saw the twinge of annoyance on her face and understood. there was no space for questions, not anymore.
"honestly," she muttered, and pushed him back against the headboard. he let her.
he let her take the lead, because for as long as he had imagined this happening, the reality of the situation was beginning to set him on edge. she put her hands on his shoulders, then they nervously flitted down to his hips. and then her hand on his cock.
before either of them lost nerve, she straddled him, her eyes never leaving his. peter's hands alighted on her thighs as she lowered herself, slowly, his adam's apple bobbing, her breathing shallow. he wondered how many times she had done this.
and then he was in her.
susan said, very softly. "peter."
then, also slowly, so she could stop him if she wanted to, he turned them over so she was on her back. he kissed her lips once, she said his name again, and then nothing more was said.
+
susan says, "you remember this?"
he runs his hands over her body with easy familiarity, and is silent. there are many ways to answer her question, and they all mean yes.