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"What's this?" Claire asked, eyeing the menacing gun in Peter's hand.
He handled it so easily, fingers gripping the cold metal as if it were made specifically for him, molded to the contours of his hand. She wondered how many times he had held a gun.
"I'm the bomb. We only have two days until I go nuclear, and if that happens, if we can't stop it then you have to shoot me. Right in the back of the head. You know the spot," Peter answered, pushing the gun towards her.
She almost dropped it, feeling it's heavy weight as she stared down at the weapon. Her uncle wanted her to shoot him. He wanted her to end his life even though he was her savior, the only person she trusted implicitly.
"I can't do that, Peter. Are you crazy? You might not even be the one to-" Claire cut herself off, meeting his heady gaze imploringly.
"I know, but if I am then you're the only who can get close enough to stop me," Peter reminded her, leaning closer so his eyes bore into her own, a hand coming up to rest on her shoulder.
She gulped, shuddering when he touched her, feeling the familiar spark of heat that happened each time. Her heart fluttered in her chest, skipping beats and thumping erratically.
"That doesn't mean I'll be able to pull the trigger," she murmured, guiltly glancing down at the gun again, thumbing over the smooth barrel.
"You have to Claire, you don't have any other choice," he insisted softly, gently stroking her cheek as she gaped at him.
"I-I can't. You don't understand," she whispered, arm dropping heavily to her side, gun dangling from her fingers.
"Explain it to me then. Tell me why you can't save the world," Peter coaxed, brown eyes melting into liquid pools of chocolate.
"Because it might mean killing you," Claire admitted, extracting herself from his grip, feeling her heart tug her in the opposite direction as she ran up the stairs.
"Claire!" Peter called after her, foot steps thundering on the marble as he raced after her.
"What?!" she demanded, whirling on him when they finally reached her room, blonde hair flying, strands shining in the weak light of a waning evening.
"I can't be a murderer. I can't be the person who destroys everything. You, Nathan, my mom, the entire city!" he replied urgently, grabbing onto her arms.
His fingers nearly reached all the way around her biceps, long and sure. He was pleading with her, practically begging on his knees.
They were so close, just a hair breadths away. She could feel his breath hot on her neck, sending thrills down her spine and heat coursing through her veins.
"I can't lose you!" Claire cried, clawing at his cloth covered forearms, desperate to feel some part of his skin.
"Yes you can. You can do it, I believe in you," Peter persisted, pulling her closer, hips colliding as he held her firmly.
"No," she argued stubbornly, voice cracking as she flung her arms around his neck, standing on tip toe and burying her face in his neck.
He was warm and solid against her, clinging to her as tightly as she was to him. His scent surrounded her, filled her senses as her lips pressed to his skin, resisting the need to kiss, to bite, to taste. She craved him so badly, was shaking with the want that flooded through her as Peter kissed her temple, shushing her as a hand raked through curls.
"I love you," Claire mouthed, knowing that he wouldn't understand.
"I love you too, which is why you have to do this. Because you can't die," Peter murmured, drawing away enough to look her in the eye.
"Peter?" she breathed questioningly.
"I've been in love with you from the first moment you smiled at me in the hallway when I came for you. Your sad little smile, the one you always give me," he smeared his thumb over her bottom lip, eyes following the movement.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Claired inquired, instinctively leaning closer, swaying towards the man she loved.
"Because you're my neice. You're Nathan's daughter," he sighed, forehead resting against hers, ragged breaths mingling as they melted into each other.
"What if I don't care?" she asked, throat constricted from the tears welling in her eyes, chest tightening.
"Then you'd better mean it," Peter rasped, tugging her closer until their bodies were pressed flush together, aligned perfectly.
"I love you. You're my hero, and you can't keep saving me if you're dead," Claire choked out, falling into his arm as his lips crashed down on hers.
They weren't fighting anymore, they gave in, tearing at each other's clothes as their tongues tangled together in a passionate dance. Teeth bit, hands wandered bodies. Sucking kisses were seared into skin with a teasing intensity as fire built in their bellies.
Peter's abs clenched under Claire's light touch as she traced over the defined muscles, palms flat against his warm chest as he worked open the button of her jeans, shirt already on the floor next to his.
They fought for dominance, tongues clashing and curling before Claire relented. Just as she always did when it came to him, just as she always would. She could trust him, she did, and nothing could change that, especially when he was finally touching her how she'd wanted him to for so long.
He was gentle, careful in the way that he laid her on the bed, fingers expertly stroking her inner walls, stretching her around them. Broken whimpers fell from her lips, eagerly swallowed by Peter's as he opened her up, cupping a breast, thumbing over a hard nipple.
"Please," Claire begged, arching into him, feeling how hard he was where he rutted against her thigh, desperate for any kind of friction.
Peter groaned, mouthing over her neck, scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin before he was guiding his cock to her entrance with slippery fingers, the blunt head meeting resistance as he slowly began to sink in.
He fucked into her with long, deep strokes, both of them gasping for breath as their bodies moved as one, hearts beating in tandem. Claire threaded her fingers into Peter's hair, gasping into his mouth as the bare drag of his cock against her tight walls brought her closer than ever to something she had never experienced before.
He plunged deeper, burying his face in her neck, as they whispered their love, branding each other with marks as they finally went flying over the edge. Claire whimpered, clenching down on Peter's cock, head thrown back as her hips bucked up, orgasm crashing over her.
The feeling of her clamping down around him. The heat of her, the wetness, just the sheer fact that this was Claire, he was making love to had Peter's head spinning and vision whiting out as he buried himself deep inside her, coming in long spurts.
******
"You have to do it. For me," Peter whispered into soft hair, fingers lightly tracing over Claire's curved spine.
"I will, but only if there's no other way," she agreed shakily, curling further into his strong body.
"Thank you," he sighed, stubble scraping over Claire's soft cheek as he sought her lips once more.
"You wouldn't be able to do it. If you were me," she pointed out, crooking her knee over his, thighs pressed together.
"No, but you're stronger than I am," Peter assured her, dragging her closer and finally enveloping her mouth with his, tongue eagerly dipping inside to taste her.
He never wanted to forget if he lived long enough to remember, how beautiful she was in that moment. How utterly trusting and loving each of her charged gazes were as Claire cuddled into him, both of them ignoring the fact that they were related.
Instead they stayed in their cocoon for as long as possible, wrapped up in a tight embrace, making love and kissing until their jaws ached and their lips were swollen.
He would try to survive. Peter would do anything for the delicate girl in his arms, and if he had to live to do that, if he had to die to, then it wouldn't matter as long as she was okay. As long as Claire was breathing.
But then, that's what she felt for him. All she could do was hope that she would never have to choose between the world and Peter because she would never be able to turn her back on him. Even if it meant her destruction.