Heroes Fan Fiction ❯ Terragaze 1: The Killing Moon ❯ The sky all hung with jewels ( Chapter 1 )

TITLE: Terragaze: The Killing Moon

AUTHOR: TaleWeaver

DISCLAIMER: Any characters you recognise are not mine; they belong to their respective creators and owners. These words, however, are my own

FANDOM / PAIRING: Heroes, Claire/Peter

RATING / CONTENT: NC-17. Sex and death.

SPOILERS: None - this is so AU that Claire and Peter wouldn't recognise themselves. Not so much Alternate Universe as Alternate Reality. Needless to say, they're not related.

PROMPT: Written for 50_alternates, Other worlds. Prompt: Assassin, substituting for #8, Brigadoon.

SUMMARY: As younger brother to the Doge of Terragaze, Peter of the House Petrelli has escaped numerous attempts on his life. But the lovely blonde girl standing by his bed will succeed - unless Peter can strike a new accord with her.

AUTHOUR'S NOTES: while I don't pretend to any sort of historical accuracy (that's the other table of prompts!), this is set in an alternate version of Renaissance Italy, which also affects Peter and Claire's speech patterns - no slang here.

TRANSLATION NOTES: bella - beautiful, Maestro - Master (used here as a term of both respect and professional superiority, similar to the Japanese `sensei'), cara - dear, il mio amore - my love.

SOUNDTRACK NOTES: `The Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen. Once Peter and Claire reach their accord, `After dark' by Tito & the Tarantulas

 

Part 1 - the sky all hung with jewels

 

When the sky is dark and no moon lights the sky, the members of the Guild of the Blade call it the killing moon. Whether Sword or Dagger, they all know that this is when it is easiest to move unseen, and for one skilled in the killing arts to wrap the shadows around themselves and perform the most deadly of tasks without detection. Even those who belong to the gentler professions are affected - the superstitious stay close to home during moon-dark, and very few men or women will pursue a fugitive with the same enthusiasm.

 

Claire was one who had been trained to take advantage of that, and be grateful for it. Her blonde hair and fair skin covered by black, including a length of cloth that wound around her head and face, leaving only her jade eyes visible, she blended with the shadows perfectly.

 

Waiting for a guard to pass below her, three stories down, Claire automatically regulated her breathing to control any muscle spasms. Highly trained and accomplished as she was, she'd been using her arms and legs to brace herself in this gargoyle-shadowed corner for several minutes now. She had long passed the point where she could afford to be discovered. This was the Doge's palace, after all.

 

The House of Petrelli had ruled the citystate of Terragaze for four generations, after smoothly insinuating themselves into the Dragonetti family through marriage at just the right moment to succeed the exhausted dynasty. The Petrellis had originally practised law, and it still showed in the skilled way they negotiated the dangerous waters of the court. But the patience of one of the rival families had run out, and Claire had been promised an extremely large pile of gold if she managed to kill the Doge's younger brother.

 

Claire was one of the most accomplished assassins that the Guild had turned out in decades, but she knew that her record, though impressive, was not enough to offset her seventeen years, and net her such a lucrative and sensitive assignment. But she had one very peculiar talent that made her far and away the best person for this. A talent that the Guild was anxious to keep.

 

Ruthlessly pushing away thoughts of the dilemma that desire had led to, Claire smoothly insinuated herself behind the gargoyle, stopping briefly to flex her stiffened muscles. Making a last check for any unscheduled witnesses, Claire gathered her legs beneath her, and flung herself forward into the air.

 

Just as she'd practised so many times in training, she caught the horizontal flagpole and swung herself up and around in a circle to increase her momentum, before flying through the air in another leap to land noiselessly on a protruding square of the wide ledge. At another time of the night, she could have simply climbed up the side of this wing of the building, but this was the most popular time for court functions and noble parties to break up. She'd needed to insinuate herself into the grounds before then. But all her information told her that Prince Peter hated court functions, and avoided them whenever possible. Thus, he would be sound asleep like most of the professional classes.

 

The window next to the ledge was left open to the night air - standard practise during the times when the sirocco wind swirled through the city streets from the desert that made up Terragaze's eastern border. There was no need for locks, as the Doge had other means of securing his dwelling.

 

Only the very rich could afford magical wards - and the Doge had all the most skilled MageCrafters in the city working solely for him. His palace was warded at every access point against illicit entry, and keyed to alert his guards if they were breached. But the wards posed no threat to Claire.

 

She knew very little about her birth family, only what the Guild could discover. She'd been Player-folk, part of a troupe of travelling entertainers - fire-breathers, jokesters, jugglers, acrobats, and those skilled in sleight of hand. Claire only had a few memories of that time, but she thought she had spent a lot of time laughing in the sunshine. The troupe had been travelling through the mountains west of Terragaze, presumably to perform at Carnivale, when they'd been attacked by bandits who mistook them for the merchant train they'd been hunting. The train had been delayed by sheer accident, and had come across the remains of her troupe's wagons.

 

The two Swords who'd been hired as guards by the merchants had sifted through the wreckage for clues, and found her, the sole survivor. They'd only known her Christian name and age because it had been engraved on the pendant around her neck. Not knowing what to do with her, they'd taken her back to the Guild house. That was when her odd talent had been discovered, and her fate was sealed - the Guild of the Blade had not only made her an apprentice, but also formally adopted her. They weren't going to let a talent like that go to waste.

 

By the age of seven, Claire had lost every member of her blood family. So there was no one to tell her how or why she was immune to all magic.

 

She couldn't be healed - but given how rare magical healers were anyway, most never even saw, let alone visited, one in their lifetime. Magical attacks simply dissipated, like smoke from a snuffed candle. Detection spells sought her in vain, even those keyed to her by hair or spilled blood, and she slipped through wards without a ripple. Now, this oddity of blood let her slide straight into the Prince's bedroom without more than displaced air to announce her presence.

 

Needing to see what position the soon-to-be-corpse was in, Claire moved noiselessly to the foot of the bed.

 

Claire had heard that Prince Peter was so selective in his dalliances that most chased him in vain, and so discreet about the lovers he did take that their names could not be distinguished from the rumours. Nonetheless, he was much sought after by the ladies of the court. Looking at him now, Claire could well understand why.

 

Like most citizens of Terragaze, her target slept nude in the summer heat, only a thin silk sheet covering him to the waist. He possessed the swarthy skin tone and high cheekbones characteristic of the Petrelli line, and the rest of his face was crafted with the same elegant angles. Claire's eyes wandered further down his body, and her lips curved into a feline grin beneath the cloth mask. She saw no harm in indulging herself a little. Ever since her courtesan training last year, she'd found herself doing this sporadically. She'd noticed that on the very rare occasions she was detected, it also had the effect of confusing her targets, as well.

 

Fisting a hand in the sheet down near his feet, Claire slowly drew the silken cloth toward her, leaving the target completely bare to her gaze. Moving up to the side of the bed, Claire let her questing gaze trace over the prince's naked body. She found the moulding of his torso very much to her liking, with firm muscles tightly wound to a slim frame, and probably stronger than he looked in his layers of clothes. Eager to see more, her eyes traced further along the lines of his body.

 

Settling on his manhood, she inhaled sharply and involuntarily licked her lips in appreciation. His penis lay long and thick along his thigh, a nest of black curls surrounding the base. He'd actually undergone the relatively recent procedure of circumcision - but then, the House of Petrelli had always been leaders of fashion - and Claire found it gave her a much more detailed view.

 

A view that became even more engrossing, as the rod of muscle stirred. Claire watched in gratified astonishment, as the Prince's cock swelled and hardened before her fascinated eyes. She was only broken from her trance by a soft, warm chuckle.

 

“Well, what did you expect? A beautiful woman devouring me with her eyes, of course I'm going to react.”

 

Her heart pounding, both from the adrenaline of discovery and the first true desire to ever stir her body, Claire looked up wildly to see the Prince's brown eyes wide open, and a small, lopsided smile on his lips.

 

“I beg you, tell me that you've made a bet to secretly seduce me without making your identity known.”

 

“How do you know I'm a woman - or a beautiful one?” Claire asked, making her voice raspy to disguise it.

 

The Prince's heated gaze ran down the lines of her body, then back up to her face, and Claire kicked herself for forgetting just how formfitting her current outfit was. If she'd been wearing the customary uniform, she might have been able to pass herself off as a boy, with the right body language, but she was dressed in the bodysuit used for climbing and small spaces. It clung to her form tightly, leaving no loose cloth to catch or tear - but it also left no doubt that she was a woman.

 

“Actually, I'm here to kill you,” she informed him bluntly.

 

“I see,” the Prince replied calmly. “How did you get past the wards?”

 

“Trade secret.”

 

“May I ask who has contracted your services? I'd like to know what I've done to invite death this time.”

 

“The Daggers sell their silence as well as their weapons. But I will tell you it's a family who are fed up with you constantly interfering in their attempts to profit by buying the apartment buildings of the poor and charging them high rents until they can be evicted, then rebuilding and selling to the rich.”

 

The Prince's eyes were thoughtful, and Claire could tell that he had already deduced who had hired her. “You understand, that in my position you hear all sorts of rumours, about all sorts of people. I have heard, that on the very rare occasions a Dagger is caught mid-assignment by their target, they can be persuaded to take a counter-offer.”

 

That was true - it was accepted Guild practise, following the idea that anyone who helped improve your skills should be rewarded. But Claire only been made such an offer twice before, very early in her career, and the offers had not been for anything she wanted.

 

“I've never had an offer worth considering,” Claire told him. “But then,” she broke off, running her eyes up and down the intoxicating man before her, “you find me in a rather desperate situation, and it occurs to me that you're one of the few with the capability to get me out of it.”

 

The Prince smiled. “Well then, bella, take off your mask and let me see who I'm negotiating with. After all, it's not like I'll live to identify you if our bargaining fails.”

 

His casual tone was that of one who is used to gambling for the highest stakes - Claire suddenly remembered that one of his ancestors had bought his family into the nobility by wagering the lives of his wife and three children on the turn of a card.

 

Her heart thundering in her chest, Claire reached up and slowly unwound her mask. When it lay bundled in her hands, she shook out her hair, making the blonde curls cascade halfway down her back. The Prince sighed in appreciation, and she smiled in thanks as she sat on the edge of his bed. He sat up, bending to grasp the discarded sheet, and Claire laid her fingers on his wrist, stopping him.

 

At his raised eyebrows, Claire asked, “Given my profession, I'm as naked as you are, don't you think?”

 

Prince Peter smiled lopsidedly, and Claire rather thought he guessed that her request wasn't so much about matching vulnerability as indulging her senses - and if she had this beautiful man nude and aroused in front of her, it would help remind her exactly why she was negotiating. If he thought it would give him an advantage, let him think that. It cost her nothing to indulge him in that thought. Who knew? Perhaps, she might even enjoy this...

 

She sat on the edge of the bed, took a deep breath, and began. “My secret for getting through the wards? It's not a skill of trade, but an inborn ability. I was adopted into the Guild as a child, after this talent was discovered. It's been very, very useful to the Guild, and they wish to keep it.”

 

“That seems logical,” the Prince replied, lying back against the mound of pillows. Lacing his fingers together, he rested them on his lower chest, a little above where his hardened shaft laid on his flat belly.

 

“More than fifty children are taken into the Guild of the Blade every year. Most of them live to the end of their training. But only half of those will live to be thirty. Perhaps ten of those will live to honorable retirement.

 

“The Guild Council does not want to risk losing this ability of mine. As I was adopted into the Guild, they also have the right of a parent over my marital status, and have now decided to exercise that right. The Guild's MageCrafter thinks that my talent will breed true, no matter who the father is, so they have automatically given that right to the highest-ranking member of the Unsheathed Daggers. He goes by the codename Sylar.”

 

The Prince bolted upright, all appearances of lassitude gone. “Sylar?! The one who killed the Duke of Suresh?”

 

Claire's eyes widened. “You've heard of him?”

 

The Prince grimaced. “After what he did to the dogs on the way in? My brother made it his business to find out.”

 

Claire grimaced in return. “That wasn't mandated by the client, by the way. Sylar killed the dogs because they would have raised the alarm. But he killed them the way he did simply because he enjoyed it, as far as anyone knows. It's one of the reasons he's the most highly-ranked active assassin. Killing isn't just work to him - but his passion.”

 

Claire remembered a conversation several days ago, in the rooms of her mentor, also a member of the Guild Council.

 

“Maestro, I can't marry him! I am an obediant daughter to the Guild, but I cannot join myself for life to a man who hovers on the verge of madness - who may very well have passed it already! Once a child or children are born, what will stop him from killing me, simply because he is bored and I am available?

 

Claire's voice dropped to a whisper, as she confessed, “He frightens me. More than any other living thing.”

 

Her old teacher sighed and cleaned his horn-rimmed glasses, before replacing them on his face. He had been the closest thing to family she had known in the last ten years, and he considered her the daughter he and his wife had never been blessed with. “I am sorry, cara, but Maestro Miglio is most insistent about not letting your talent be lost with your death. I could find no grounds to argue against this marriage - it is standard procedure. I would have argued against the choice of man - “

 

Claire's eyes opened wide and she shook her head. “No, Maestro! I would not have you take such risks for me!”

 

Noah Bennetti smiled at her affectionately, briefly resting his hand on her golden hair. “Sylar is not bewitched with your beauty, cara, and holds no particular longing or lust for you. He has little interest in bedding women - or men. But he hungers for acclaim almost as much as he does for a fresh kill, and he knows that being chosen as your husband is considered a great honour by the Council. If another husband was chosen for you, Sylar would remove him. But, if the marriage itself was cancelled, I truly do not think he would insist upon it.”

 

Claire caught the implication, and gazed at him in dawning hope. “You said, if the marriage was cancelled... is there a way?”

 

Now, Claire sighed and explained further to the Prince. “The marriage is set for next year, after my eighteenth birthday. If I can produce a child before then, one that also bears my talent, my old Maestro can successfully argue that the marriage is not necessary. Once the Council rescinds the marriage order, Sylar will not pursue it.”

 

The Prince nodded in comprehension. “You must have some friends of the male sex. You could not ask one of them for help?”

 

Claire shook her head. “Sylar is the most feared man in the Guild, and he is most jealous of what he considers to be his. Though we are not yet married and he does not seek me out nor speak to me, there is no one in the Guild who would risk his own life for this, and Sylar could argue it was his right. I have only a few friends outside the Guild, and they are all female but one.”

 

The Prince raised his eyebrows inquiringly. Claire added, “Isaac is a dear friend, and comely enough, but he is also very much in love with his mistress. He would not be unfaithful to her, and I have no wish to cause such problems in his life. To be honest, there are very few men Sylar could not kill without escaping censure, either by his rights as the highest-ranked in the Guild or simply by making it look to be an accident or natural causes.”

 

“But not me,” stated the Prince. “The MageCrafters would detect my assassination, and my brother would insist upon the examination, no matter what the manner of my death.”

 

Claire nodded, “Killing you without official Guild sanction would be such a great scandal that Sylar's life would be forfeit, and he is not yet so sunk in madness as to forget that. The Coucil has no fear of him - if they did, they would have killed him themselves long ago - and he has not the connection or money to persuade a member to sanction such a thing outside of a contract. We Daggers cannot kill simply because we wish it.”

 

The Prince's smile was just a little sad, as he told her, “So it is my bed you require, until you are breeding?”

 

Claire nodded. “As often as each of us can spare the time. I can promise you that the child will be well treated, and I will tell no one the identity of the father. If you wish, I can sign a document to relinquish any claim to the Dogal Throne on its' behalf.”

 

“That would probably be best,” the Prince told her gently. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he visibly shook off all traces of sadness, and when the brown orbs were revealed again, only burning desire and his innate gentleness remained.

 

Claire's gaze swept over his unclothed body again, her appreciation only increasing with the clarity of perception he'd shown. His cock had remained hard and pulsing during their entire conversation, despite the somber topic. Claire did not believe the Prince was the type who was aroused by death or the prospect of injury, therefore she could only think that he genuinely desired her. It was truly a heady thing, to know she could cause this kind of lust in a man, especially one as handsome as this, who seemed to be gifted with a sharp mind - and perhaps even a kind heart?

 

Claire bent over and loosened the laces that ran down the back of her knee-high boots, careful not to disturb any of the hidden knives. Slipping her legs out of them, she carefully placed them beside the bed. Getting to her feet, she turned to face the Prince, and began to undress under his lustful gaze. With every movement, his eyes grew more heated, his enjoyment obvious as he rolled onto his side, propping himself on one elbow to better see her, and Claire found herself instinctively slowing her movements, wanting to see that desire and enjoyment increase, her own body heat starting to increase dramatically. The Prince's smile grew in response, and he even chuckled at the small pile of weapons she pulled out of her clothing to deposit on the bedside table. Claire could only smile back. She climbed onto the bed, kneeling beside the Prince, waiting for a cue from him.

 

Peter eyed her slim figure appreciatively. “So much for bargains, bella. I'll do this for pleasure alone.”

 

The Dagger smiled, and Peter detected a tentative edge to it. Had she truly never been appreciated for her loveliness, but only for her lethality? She admitted quietly, “If the situation weren't so dire, I think... I think I would, too. But without an accord, I still would have killed you afterward. A bargain should always be kept.”

 

Peter's eyes narrowed. This girl seemed like the type to keep her word, but he wasn't a Petrelli for nothing. “Then how do I know you won't kill me as soon as you're with child?”

 

Her smile was a little sad, and proud all at once. “A bargain should always be kept. A life for a life, my Prince.”

 

Wanting to remove that sorrow and resignation from her face - Sylar must be everything Nathan's intelligence had reported, to make this strong girl so frightened - Peter gently guided her to lie down beside him. As she stretched out, the feather mattress sank beneath her slight weight. Lifting his hand to carefully cup the side of her face, he felt petal-smooth skin beneath his fingertips and gave in to the impulse to kiss her. Her lips parted beneath his own, and she tasted incredibly sweet, but with an underlying spicy tang, and his body's need became even more urgent. He could only hope that he could hold off his own fulfilment long enough to ensure hers.

 

“Given the circumstances,” Peter told her, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “I really must insist you call me Peter. In that vein... Now that we have reached our accord, will you tell me your name?”

 

“My name? What do you need that for?”

 

“Come, bella, what's a night of heated passion without being able to moan your lover's name?'

 

Claire felt another smile break through - why did this man keep doing that to her? “Claire. My name is Claire.”

 

Peter's smile was white in the gloom. “Claire - bright. Yes, it suits you.” Running a gentle hand along her flank, from hip to knee and back, he mused, “Now, where to begin?”

 

Claire smirked and took his hand in her own, placing it between her legs. “Might I suggest you start here?”

 

Peter's smile became a grin. “An excellent suggestion. I take it you're not a maiden?”

 

Claire shook her head, rolling to lie on her back. “Courtesan training last year. All female apprentices undergo it, and many males - it's far too useful not to.”

 

Peter gently probed at her entrance, his eyebrows coming together in a frown. “You're not very wet - barely damp.” His frown became a wicked smirk, “Let me fix that for you.”

 

Lifting his right hand to his mouth, he sucked on several fingers, so salaciously that Claire's nipples hardened in anticipation, wanting to feel his mouth doing the same to them. His eyes danced at her reaction, as his hand moved back between her legs, and his now-wet fingers slid inside her easily. Claire gasped at the sensation of being penetrated by his long, elegant fingers, and felt her channel grow wet, far more so than the small amount of moisture she'd trained her body to produce, in order to avoid painful intercourse. Peter smiled at her response, and sat up without dislodging his digits from her core. Claire felt her legs opening wider for him, without deciding to do so, and her breathing quickened as his left hand reached for the neat patch of blond curls at the juncture of her legs. Gently parting her folds, his right thumb dipped inside her core, swirling in the growing amount of fluid, before reaching for the pleasure-bud he'd exposed, gently rubbing.

 

Claire clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry, as a bolt of lightning shot through her, and her hips bucked upwards violently.

 

Peter looked into her eyes, and grinned at the startled pleasure he found there. “Should I do that again, Claire? You have only to ask.”

 

Claire nodded hastily, and her voice was slightly hoarse, “More. Now.”

 

“I appreciate a woman who knows what she wants,” Peter remarked. Wanting to fully arouse her quickly - he wouldn't be able to put off his own need much longer - he lifted his left hand, letting the folds of her sex surround his thumb as he kept fondling her nub. Reclining on his side, he supported himself on his elbow and forearm as he leaned over her body, gently flicking his tongue over her nipple before enclosing it with his lips and sucking gently. Claire gasped and her fingers sank into his hair, making sure his mouth stayed right where it was. At the same time, Peter angled his right hand, his fingers probing deeply and curling inside her. He found the right place almost instantly, and her hips undulated wildly beneath him.

 

Even in the midst of her passion, Claire was a little confused. She'd earned high marks for proficiency in courtesan training, but as for pleasure... well, one of her most useful lessons had been on how to fake climax. She'd only been mildly interested in sex before the training, and found herself downright jaded at the end of it. So why did every action this man performed draw an equal, pleasured reaction from her own body? What was his secret, that he could give and receive sexual pleasure so consummately? Claire was not only aroused by this man's touch, but also fascinated by it. She found herself hungering intensely for more, not only for the pleasure it gave her, but for the knowledge she sought.

 

He pulled away from her, and she whimpered, reaching out to try and pull him close again. He didn't chuckle this time, just smiled at her gently, and hooked fingers soaked with her juices under her right knee, tugging upward until her knee bent and her foot rested flat on the bed. He moved to kneel between her thighs, and Claire felt herself grow even wetter, the empty place between her legs aching to be filled by his long, thick erection. She lifted her other leg to mirror the one Peter had positioned, panting in anticipation.

 

In the midst of his burning lust, an idea struck Peter, and he looked at Claire thoughtfully. “When I was younger, I had a bad habit of sneaking around the palace to eavesdrop. On one occasion, I came across a group of older noblewomen instructing several young brides on methods to provide an heir as quickly as possible.” Grabbing a pillow from the mattress above her head, he directed, “Raise your hips.” She obeyed, and he slid the pillow underneath her buttocks, propping them high. It gave him an excellent view of her honeyed core, and he let a low groan of hunger escape his lips. An answering moan came from his trembling lover, and Peter gingerly wrapped his fingers around his aching shaft, the better to guide himself inside her.

 

Sensing his approach, Claire lifting herself up, resting on her elbows to stare between her splayed thighs. She moaned again in pleasure as she both saw and felt the tip of his cock ease inside her, watching intently as the Prince's shaft entered her inch by inch.

 

Peter's eyes lit up, and even as he slid deeper, he chuckled, “So you like to watch, my gilt-haired Dagger?”

 

“Yes,” Claire replied absently. “I really think I do.” She hadn't bothered to do this since her seduction training had finished, and he was much bigger than the boys she'd been partnered with, filling her so completely that her inner walls stretched to hold him. Without the wetness he'd so skillfully coaxed from her womanhood, she might have been in pain. She couldn't help but throw her head back and softly cry out, as Peter's balls came to rest against her buttocks, his penis now fully inside her. Her core clenched around the delicious invasion, and Peter hissed.

 

“Keep doing that, and this will be over far more quickly than it should be, bella,” he groaned.

 

Claire lifted her head, this time looking at his flushed face, clenched as though he was in pain. “I'm not sure I can stop,” she admitted. “My body keeps doing things to you without my deciding to do them.”

 

Peter laughed quietly, and Claire almost screamed as his hard length vibrated inside her. “And do you really think I decided to make my prick get hard for a stranger in black who crawled in my bedroom without my leave?”

 

“I see your point. Now can you please move?”

 

Leaning forward, he braced himself on his elbows, so he wouldn't crush his tiny, exquisitely-made Dagger. Sitting back on his heels, Peter shifted his thighs until they lay under Claire's bent legs, giving him the best leverage. He was too aroused to start slowly, as he usually did to make sex last as long as possible. Instead, he withdrew only partway, not wanting to leave her body completely, and thrust back into her forcefully. Claire gasped, her nails digging into his shoulder-blades, and the slight pain urged him on, continuing to stroke in and out of her hard and quickly, as she writhed beneath him.

 

He remembered how much he'd enjoyed her taste, and bent his head to kiss her again. She responded eagerly, sliding her tongue along his lips until he parted them, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth with the same quick rhythym as his cock plunged in and out of her core.

 

Reaching down between their bodies, he automatically found her clitoris again, and rubbed it again, firmly this time. He felt the skin of his back split as Claire's nails ripped down his spine, and her inner walls clamped down on his shaft, rippling along his length without loosening their grip. He couldn't really enjoy it though - a few seconds and his lust exploded out of his control, Peter groaning into Claire's mouth as his seed erupted inside her. Perhaps it was the length of time he'd been aroused, or perhaps it was just this girl, but Peter could swear he saw stars.

 

His entire body limp with satisfaction, Peter marshalled all his remaining strength to gently pull out of Claire's body and collapse to the side.

 

Claire couldn't move, her legs sprawling limply. In fact, she could barely remember her own name. She was too occupied with the memory of the overwhelming ecstacy that had flooded her body. In the back of her mind, the part of her that was always analyzing and planning grew concerned. She simply had to become pregnant, because after this glory, she could never suffer through Sylar's icy touch in the marriage bed.

 

“Claire?” came a slightly concerned voice beside her. “Are you alright?”

 

Claire nodded dazedly, before she vaguely replied, “So that's why people make such a fuss about sex.”

 

Peter frowned, and asked, “Haven't you ever climaxed before?”

 

“Not really, no.”

 

Peter's eyes widened in shock. Surely it was some kind of offense for this lovely, passionate girl to be so deprived? But then, he couldn't help a smile of male satisfaction, at drawing such a response from her.

 

“It gets better,” he promised her.

 

Claire's face snapped towards him, and her eyes were wide in disbelief. “What?”

 

“Lovemaking with someone you very much desire - one who suits your spirit as well as your body. It gets a lot better.”

 

“Truly?”

 

Peter smiled and nodded. “How long until you must return to the Guildhouse?”

 

Claire shrugged, “An hour, two at the most. I must be back before it starts to grow light.”

 

Peter reached out and drew her closer. “Then rest with me for a little while, and I will show you, bella.”

 

Claire smiled sleepily, and replied, “I look forward to it, Peter.”

 

Despite the extraordinary events of the last hour, Peter could only marvel at them for a few moments before he followed her into slumber, still smiling.