Disgrace, prt 2 [Jersey]

[Jersey]

She had stripped him the first night so that she could tend to his wounds, bandaging them after removing the bullets that hadn't gone through. A lot of it was likely automatic as she barely remembered doing it. His house key and other belongings he owned had been tossed with haste into the front pocket of the bag he had. That is, aside from his wallet and phone had been set on the bedside table. His clothes, though, had been thrown away as Jersey was unsure of how he'd be mentally, she didn't want to risk him seeing the damage done to them and having another mental breakdown when he awoke. In some way, she didn't think she could have handled seeing them again either.

Jersey had never minded when he would back off or prefer doing something else. She enjoyed knowing their relationship wasn't based on sex, and that they were intimate in other ways. There was always the temptation to tease him or distract him, but she appreciated the reason why he'd abstained. Fadebeast. He didn't want her to be broken in his arms. She could remember the creature she'd seen when human easily. Since her turning, she'd been attacked by a gigantic one and so had Nakia after it came through the wall of Kallista's apartment. Broken ribs, a gash on her arm. It had been a *****. At the end of the day or evening as Peter usually corrected her, all Jersey cared about was if he was at her side before falling asleep.

As he seemed to stumble around his words, her green eyes lifted to his features and she lifted her eyebrow as he huffed again. Jersey couldn't help the smirk that crossed her lips. She knew what he was saying, but she couldn't help but find it amusing. It didn't help that the if there's something I want, I shouldn't deny bit made her chuckle quietly. "I remember saying something similar to that." Her eyebrow lifting and in any other conversation, she'd playfully remind him about the tattoo that rested on her hip. But, she didn't as she nodded her head to his words. "I understand what you're saying, my love. You don't have to continue."

Jersey smiled gently before she leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw. "And I agree." It explained quite a bit and she tilted her head lightly as they walked. "I was starting to wonder why the topic of us being naked didn't have you running in the opposite direction, actually." She explained as they went, the blonde stumbling lightly on a rock before she caught herself. She glared over her shoulder at it briefly before looking back at the path in front of them.

As they reached the door, she squeezed Peter's hand before letting go to remove the chain from around her neck. Mindful of paws and tails, she carefully stepped around the dogs before setting her palm against the door frame so she wouldn't fall over and pushed the door open. "It's good to know it wasn't just us that missed this place." She chimed and straightened back up. "I can go unpack the bags, if you'd like the get the dogs all settled?" She offered, inclining her head as she stepped aside to let the wriggling bodies inside.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter remembered that Jersey had told him that she liked it when he said ‘****’. Peter himself wasn’t really aware of the reason why he didn’t swear so much. It wasn’t because he was raised as some uber Catholic who thought that all swearing was blasphemy. He supposed it was because his parents had never really cursed in front of him, and if they ever did they immediately apologised and told him he shouldn’t use such words. Because of his condition, Peter’s childhood was sheltered and thus he was saved from the language used in the playground, whether in the younger years of school or the older ones. Over time, he supposed, he realised that swearing never got anyone anywhere, and the same thing could be said in a much more eloquent way. The same emotion could be conveyed intellectually rather than crudely.

It crossed his mind as they stepped over the threshold after the dogs that he should say **** the dogs, slam the door behind them and do what it was that they’d been hinting at all night. Get naked. And then proceed to the bedroom to do the things that naked people usually did together. The words stuck in his throat, however, and instead he just nodded. The door was closed behind them, and Peter crouched down to take the leads away from each of the dogs; to let the dogs run riot while he hung the leads up on the hook behind the door. He found himself talking to the dogs, idly. Telling them to be quiet, to be patient.

”Yes, yes I’m coming,” he said, stepping around their frantic bodies to meander toward the kitchen; there was a whole cupboard dedicated to dog food, and it was all just kibble. Peter knew not to feed the wet food – it wasn’t really good for them, depending on what it was, and the biscuits that he fed them were the expensive, good kind. The kind that helped with teeth, and with digestion. After the biscuits were distributes amongst the many bowls, he made sure that the three large bowls of water were fresh, and took a bone out of the freezer for each of them. It was a large freezer – the freezer was larger than the fridge, which kept only blood bags inside. As soon as he was finished in the kitchen, he made sure to unlock the dog door so that they could get in and out as required.

Only after he was finished dealing with the dogs did Peter take a deep breath and glance toward the bedroom. The bathroom was joined to the bedroom, as well as having a door to the main area. He didn’t know how far Jersey had got through unpacking the bags. He didn’t really pay any attention to it. Instead, he simply cleared his throat and wandered through to the bathroom – he did actually really want a shower. But he left the door open as he turned on the water to let it pump, to give it time to heat up. And while the steam started to gather, he began to de-clothe.

[Jersey]

Compared to Peter, she knew she was particularly foul mouthed. It was something that came naturally and she supposed it was likely because of her past, but she didn't pay it mind. In the hospital, she'd been told that it was a reflection of her intelligence level by that awful nurse until she proved her wrong. At first, hearing Peter say '****' had stunned her a bit. It had been a heads up that he had been coming off his hinges, something that told her when he wasn't himself. But, that didn't mean she didn't find it attractive. Although she didn't know why she did, either and explaining certain things could get confusing as her mind twisted it around. Her thoughts to brain filter was difficult sometimes. Leaning up after he nodded, Jersey pressed a kiss to his lips before moving around the door.

Before she wandered towards the bedroom, Jersey toed off her shoes and ran her fingertips along Peter's shoulders as he crouched down, traced her nails against the back of his neck and padded away. As she went, she sang quietly to herself to the tune of You and Me by Lifehouse and reached up to let her hair down just before she set the bags on the bed. She heard him talking to the dogs and chuckled, continuing to sing as she began to unpack. Everything had a place and after the clean clothes were back in their respected areas, she moved to straighten out the bedroom. Hearing him clear his throat, Jersey paused in fluffing the pillows and looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of him as he went into the bathroom. A smile crossed her lips and she shook her head, laughing quietly before she went back to what she was doing. She continued to sing for a few more minutes, straightening up as he started the water for his shower and debated before tugging on the hem of her sweater.

Collecting the book she'd been reading, the blonde headed out into the hall, pausing to admire the view presented to her and moved her emerald green eyes slowly along the man's form before giving a playful wolf whistle. "I'll be in our spot if you need me, baby." She chimed into his mind as she usually did and continued on her way after she took one last look at her lover. His shoulders, his smile. She didn't think there was a part of Peter she didn't like and as she draped herself comfortably on the couch, taking up the spot in front of the fireplace where the two often spent their time, she stretched out her long legs and opened up her book.

As she flipped through the pages of her Stephen King novel, Jersey relaxed as she listened to the shower water running. She listened to the six heartbeats of the dogs, their nails clicking on the wooden floor and the occasional playful growl that accompanied two of them playing. It was home. Leaning back into the arm of the couch, she found herself thinking more about that rather than looking at the words on the page, her mind drifting after a moment to the tall man in the bathroom. "Seven months went by fast." She still didn't believe that she had known him just a bit longer than that, either and as she felt Lady jump up onto the couch to lay with her, Jersey scratched the husky behind her ear, "That's one night I'll never regret."

[Peter Parkman]

The water was glorious against Peter’s skin. At least this was a normalcy that he could claim – the way he felt in a scalding hot shower. He’d always liked the water to be extra hot, and this way it sometimes felt as if it were warming his skin. Warming his blood. Making him feel that tiny bit more human.

It wasn’t as if he craved his humanity. It wasn’t something he specifically missed, per se. He merely struggled, sometimes, with adjusting to his new life. Struggled with the consequences of his new instincts—whether or not they were instincts that had always lived inside of him, or whether they’d only been introduced the night that he had consumed Keara’s blood. The night that Keara’s blood had replaced his own. Was there any of his own blood left, now? He shuddered to think.

When he heard Jersey’s voice in his head, Peter frowned. He blinked, the water cascading off his long eyelashes. Soap sudded over his skin as he paused, wondering if he had heard right. Of course he had. The voice echoed in his head, and couldn’t be obscured by other noises. He thought that they had a plan. That they had decided that as soon as they got home to the cabin, they’d each take their clothes off. He had hinted properly, hadn’t he? Had he not been clear enough? It was an obvious concern. Peter was no good at innuendo, and now he realised that he must have got something wrong along the way.

Reading between the lines, he had thought that if he’d left the bathroom door open, that Jersey would have followed him in. Rather than dismiss their plans completely, however, Peter assumed that rather than join him, Jersey would prefer to be comfortable on the couch. So he hastily finished his shoulder, washing the soap down the drain, and dried himself off.

With the towel around his waist, Peter exited the bathroom. From the bedroom door he could see Jersey on the couch. But she was still wearing her clothes, and she had a book in her hands, focused on the pages. She looked comfortable. He replayed the words in his head: if you need me, she had said.

Well. It wasn’t particularly a matter of need. It was a matter of want. Peter struggled to comprehend. Did they have plans? Or was it all just friendly banter? He lingered by the doorway for five seconds; he didn’t know what to do. So he fell back on old habits. He went to the dresser and retrieved a pair of striped long pyjama pants and a plain white t-shirt. He dressed, before folding his towel and neatly going back to the bathroom to hang it on the rack. He then combed his hair—the same way he always did, with a specific amount of strokes. Old habits die hard. Next, he cleaned his teeth – yet another habit that he could not shake. Besides which, he liked the taste of the mint on his tongue.

Again, he replayed those words. If you need me.

He almost whimpered. To say that he needed Jersey was metaphorical nonsense. So instead, he went to the bed. He crawled beneath the covers, his back resting against the numerous pillows at the head board. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table – it might be time to sleep soon, anyway. To sleep like the dead. But there was still time. He folded his hands in his lap and sat still, staring out the bedroom door.

[Jersey]

Jersey had just gotten out of the shower before he'd entered the apartment. She was so used to giving him his privacy so he could shower that after admiring him, it hadn't crossed her mind that he might have wanted her to join. Waiting wasn't something new to her regarding the handsome green eyed man anyway. Listening to the water splashing against his skin after he'd gotten in, she hummed softly and eventually moved one of her legs to tuck it beneath the herself. From her time living with him, she knew how long his showers took and his usual following routine. In some ways, she supposed one of the reasons she hadn't tried to test the waters so to speak was she wasn't entirely sure if it wouldn't adjust him back to how he had been. Although, she knew he'd been rather free and not following his schedule as of late.

No matter how many times she'd read Salem's Lot, Jersey could never tire of it or any of King's novels. Anne Rice had also made its way to her attention, and the authors that Peter had suggested in the library the day she'd seen the fadebeast. One of them, she had learned, had also written vampire novels, which she'd found minorly entertaining. Pursing her lips, she quietly thought about that night. She'd been a little more flirty, a little more open and skiddish and he hadn't run in the opposite direction that night. In truth, it was one of the nights that she'd realized that her feelings for Peter were stronger than just friendly. Turning her head towards the bathroom, her green eyes looked at the door in consideration.

She was nervous in some ways. The first time she'd slept with Peter, they'd been fighting. The shirt he'd ripped was still in her bag, the buttons ripped off were something she could sew back, but there'd have to be a tank top worn underneath. A soft him escaped past her lips as she remembered something else she'd mumbled at him that night. 'Hm... One of his shirts are in the laundry room...' She glanced at her skirt and sweater in debate. The second time, she'd been mad at him again and he'd been undressing slow until that went out the window. Each time had been hasty, as he had said, and he had been right, that wasn't good. But, while he had been Peter, he hadn't been himself and she wondered what it would be like actually at a normal speed. Only once had they done anything while his OCD hadn't been at full throttle, before the Fae attack... When the water stopped, she shook her head as a thrum of excitement trail down her spine.

She felt him staring at her and turned the page of her book, turning her head as she watched Peter retreating into the bedroom. Her eyebrow lifted lightly, her confusion evident as she tried to figure out what he was doing. She'd told him that after his shower he should come 'relax' with her on the bed or the couch. Her head tilted slightly before she debated quietly and set the book down, standing up as she heard the water running. 'Must be brushing his teeth.' Padding barefoot to the laundry room, Jersey collected a clean shirt she was fond of sleeping in and unzipped her skirt, pushing it down over her hips before letting it fall to the floor.

Quietly whistling, she changed out of her sweatshirt and tank top, put them in the basket and pulled on the shirt. As she did with most of the button ups she wore around the cabin, Jersey buttoned it partially and let her hair down. 'Still damp.' Running her fingertips through it a few times, she went to plug her phone after getting her charger from her purse. Each second that ticked by, she felt a little nervous. Even with the playful banter, she expected him to bolt. But, on the other hand, Peter usually did what he said. As she walked towards the bedroom, she pushed her nerves away and smiled. Seeing him sitting up in bed, she inclined her head slightly and moved to lean against the wall.

Her actions caused the hem of her shirt to rise a bit over her thighs. "I thought we'd agreed on no clothes," She teased, a sheepish grin on her lips as she pushed off the wall and made her way towards the bed before crawling in beside him. Her fingertips of her left hand slipped along the sheets and the comforter as she leaned up to kiss him as her right hand aided her with balance. The cloth of her shirt slid, baring more of her shoulder.

[Peter Parkman]

There was movement outside. Peter’s body leaned sideways as he curiously peered out of the open bedroom doorway. He could see nothing but wagging tails and furry bodies, though, one of which came toward him. Lady, with tail held high, tongue lolling. For a few seconds the tail was all that he saw as she approached the bed, before she launched her body up onto the duvet. Her heavy body fell down beside Peter; tongue still lolling she rolled onto her back, and Peter laughed as he rubbed at her belly. The Border Collie’s mouth snapped shut, and she made a small noise of happiness.

For a while that was all Peter could hear; the sound of dog’s paws on the hard wood of the cabin’s floor. As they moved around, shifted, found their sleeping places for the day. Or, at least for the few hours that they would sleep, before using the dog door to get out. Most days, Hunter and Bear had to be put outside before Jersey and Peter locked up. They were too big to get through the door, and it would have been cruel for them to be locked up inside all day while the others could come and go. Better for them to be outside – their kennels would keep them safe and warm.

Aside from the sound of claws on wood, Peter was also privy to the soft padding of human feet. Of Jersey, as she approached. He froze, as he looked up. It didn’t take long for him to shoo Lady from the bed, the dog reluctantly getting up and wandering past Jersey on the way out of the bedroom.

Jersey, who was still contradicting their agreement. She may have changed into something a little easier to get off, but she was still wearing clothes. Peter remained as confused as before. It took a while for him to summon the appropriate response; by the time he did, she silenced him with a kiss. The long fingers of his hand spread over Jersey’s jaw, her neck, the pad of the thumb brushing over the lobe of her ear. The kiss was semi-relaxed, though tense with the response he had yet to give.

”We did. And I did… and… and I told you I was going to shower and I thought that you would join me but you didn’t, and I just assumed you changed your mind and wanted to read your book instead,” he said in a rush. He breathed out. He blinked as he looked up at Jersey, though with her shoulder bared to him he couldn’t help leaning forward to brush his lips over the curve. There were freckles there, on her shoulder; remnants of her time as a human, hours spent in glorious sunlight. Sunlight that he could no longer experience. He kissed the skin of her shoulder, as if he might be able to taste that sunlight.

[Jersey]

There had been days where she considered mentioning the idea of looking into a larger dog door, but as Peter had been too focused with his OCD or the fighting with their family had drawn to a peak, it had disappeared behind most of her thoughts. Concern for Peter, trying to talk sense into her siblings, or her own panic between love and family fighting had often had her overwhelmed. Maybe later, it could be something discussed. Because she didn’t fall asleep instantly as her boyfriend did, Jersey still burnt like the others if she let the dogs out during the day before returning to bed.

“Hey pretty girl.” She spoke as Lady passed her, reaching down to stroke over the dog’s fur, her fingertips brushing against the softness as she smiled and lifted her gaze to the man on the bed. Jersey felt a tingle down her back. Her partner, her lover. Unbuttoning her shirt a bit more as she lingered for only a moment or two by the doorway, Jersey hummed quietly. She inclined her head, taking in his features and her eyebrow lifted softly in wonder.

Beneath her, the bed dipped lightly with her weight. As they kissed, her hand traced against the front of his pajama pants briefly, drawing the sheets away from his hips and tucked one leg underneath herself. Her tongue touched over his bottom lip and smiled into his lips gently. She tugged at the strings lightly to undo them, wanting them off.

The blonde gave a shake of her head, “I didn’t know you wanted me to join you.” She murmured against his lips after she leaned forward once more to brush them together before leaning back. Her green eyes sparkled with their usual love and adoration for Peter. “I was just passing the time while reading, waiting for you.” She chuckled and pulled her hair over her other shoulder so it would be out of the way. Jersey relaxed under the feel of his lips against her skin, her hands moving to unbutton the rest of her shirt and letting it fall to the bed.

Afterwards, she traced her fingertips against the hem of his shirt before slipping her hand underneath the cloth to his skin. Ever so gently, she raked her nails along the flesh of his abdomen and curled her lips into a soft, sheepish smile as she looked up at him.

[Peter Parkman]

”Maybe I’ll just… tell you in the future, then,” Peter said. And why not? Desire, in all its forms, is only a natural thing, right? Why did he have to stand on instinct and assumption when they were given mouths, and humanity created language in order to communicate more clearly? Body language as a form of communication was a thing of the Ancient past. Although it could be used in this day and age to communicate smaller things; could be used by psychologists and psychiatrists to pick up on the smaller innuendos in a person’s words, they just would not work for Peter. Body language was a foreign language to the man, and he decided in that moment to do away with it completely. If he couldn’t communicate with body language, if he couldn’t probably form the lines between the lines, then he wouldn’t try.

Next time he wanted Jersey to join him, he would just tell her. Jersey, I’d like you to come and join me. Easy as that, right?

Though, she was here now. She had finally joined him. The plan, though it had stumbled across a few roadblocks, was now moving ahead. And the nerves were about ready to eat Peter alive. He had to close his eyes when he felt Jersey’s fingertips lightly against the skin of his torso. He’d done this before, plenty of times. As a man – with his wife, previously, and twice with Jersey. Though everything was different now.

He was alive to every single touch. Every nerve ending was on fire. He could feel more now than he ever could before, and it was thrilling. And why hadn’t he noticed this, when he was with Jersey before? Maybe because he’d been driven by some deeper desire, and it hadn’t allowed him to pause and appreciate the smaller things. The foreplay. Had there even been any foreplay before?

He told himself that it would get easier, that he wouldn’t always be so nervous. That this was not his first time and he had to stop acting like a teenage boy. With that thought in mind, he finally roused himself. He took control of his body; he moved with the habit engrained in the body over thousands of years. He engaged in that dance with Jersey that they both knew so well, because it was instinct. The rhythm tampered with to make the most of the music – where instinct would tell them this dance was necessary for the continuation of the human race, that was not the case with Peter and Jersey. Instead, it was only necessary to fulfil their own base, bodily desires – and thus the dance had to shift. The goal was for satisfaction, not to make babies. Not if Peter could help it, anyway.

And so they used the rest of the night to get to know each other’s rhythms; to learn each other’s strides. Hours of satisfaction – at the end of which, Peter knew he would not be nervous again. Couldn’t possibly be.