work_inprogress | When you came in the air went out (for wantadistraction)

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When you came in the air went out (for wantadistraction)

New Orleans was vibrant and alive--admittedly with problematic elements, like all the dead things walking around undead. Peter had watched them for his first few nights in the Quarter and caught a few of them watching back. They hadn't made any moves toward him though, either considering him not a threat or not knowing what to make of him. If they weren't going to bother him, then he resolved to not bother them, either.

There weren't any other wolves, though, and he wasn't sure if that was good--no one to challenge or treat with over territory--or bad--where were they? Granted, it was a big city, and wolves traditionally liked to live closer to somewhere they could easily run, and for the moment he'd filed it away as that and been grateful. Since he intended to stay for a while, making nice in someone else's territory would have been awkward.

Better to just claim it as his own.

He bought a house in the Garden District, with enough trees around it for privacy, and a certain mysterious charm, wanting to be close to the Quarter, but not right in the midst of the noise. Besides--the Garden District was where Tulane was. And Tulane?

Well, that was where Lydia was.

By careful observation, he'd worked out most of her schedule, knew which dorm she was in, which room, which window. The campus was lovely with lots of shaded areas and overhanging trees and he'd managed to find a bench under one with a perfect view--if you had a wolf's vision. Jeans, a broken in blazer and a leather messenger bag and anyone catching him reading there figured he was a professor. At night, he found it easy to blend in to the shadows, watching until she closed her blinds.

He didn't spend every night there, of course. Really. Just enough to know she was all right, that no one was bothering her. Enough to snarl at every boy who walked her home or he suspected of doing more. Interestingly...a couple of them seemed to drop out of school, disappear, shortly after any such encounter. Not that he had anything to do with that. Really.

She was his. He'd marked her, chosen her, bonded with her. He'd only been waiting for her to grow up before coming to claim her.

Now she had; and here he was.

He hadn't approached her, yet. The perfect time hadn't come. But he'd been in her room, breathing in her scent, leaving his though only another wolf or one of the dead things would catch it, know she belonged to someone. He never took anything, but he left a long stem rose on her pillow each visit. Blood red, thorns still on. He came at different times, always careful to vary them, to stick to the shadows in case she'd left a camera running. Usually he did it when she was out, but once he'd slipped in, leaving it for her while she showered, and another morning she would have awakened to it next to her, like a token from a lover.

Which it was.

Tonight, she'd gone down to the Quarter with friends, and Peter followed. Watched the boys who bought her drinks, watched her dancing, laughing, followed her along crowded streets. Eventually she'd separate from the pack, and he'd follow, then, too.

He was tired of waiting.

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"Four bedrooms?" She arched a brow at him over her shoulder as she started to climb the stairs. "What do you need four bedrooms for?"

"I don't," he admitted. "But I liked the porch, bay windows and sun room. And maybe Derek and Cora will come visit."

Some time.

At least he didn't say it was for the kids he expected to have some day. With her.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she lingered in consideration before heading for the room that looked over the garden.

He wasn't quite that stupid--it was far too soon to talk about kids, even if he'd been talking about them belonging together.

The floors were hardwood up here, too, and the back bedroom was the smallest, but it had a bay window. He'd meant it when he said he hadn't gotten around to decorating much beyond the three rooms he used most. He had, however, at least put a desk in this room, a few bookshelves filled with his books. It had seemed like a good office space.

Lydia didn't want to admit that she was strangely pleased to see a desk and some bookshelves in the room nor did it matter that she would have made the room into an office as well. Not at all.

Brushing past him again, Lydia made her way in to the other rooms, just peeking in to check the size and the view before coming out to look at him expectantly. "Bathroom?"

"The guest bath is there between the two guest rooms. Mine is off my bedroom." He tilted his head toward the room that was obviously lived in.

He was watching her go through the rooms, intent and strangely hopeful, waiting on her judgment.

Lydia hesitated as she pressed her lips together, looking towards the room that was obviously his. It seemed kind of inevitable to go in there now even as she questioned herself once more what she was doing there in his house obviously checking everything out.

Knowing his eyes were still on her, she refused to appear weak or nervous though as she headed into the master suite.

Peter gave her space, but followed her in, leaning in the doorway to watch her check it out. The bay window took up almost all of the front part of the room, curving out with a balcony on it and French doors leading out to it. From there, you cold see the street and front garden.

All of the hardwood in the house was darker, and here was no exception. The bedroom set was polished cherry wood with a faint red sheen. The bed was set on the adjoining wall, a king sized cherry four poster bed with an iron canopy the same finish as the floors, with dark brown leather insets in the headboard. The other furniture--two nightstands, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a bench at the foot--complimented it.

He had painted in here, a soft cream that lightened the dark wood, and his bedding was likewise softer colors--cream, gold and forest green stripes for the duvet with accent pillows in the solid colors and the same fabric covering the bench, rather than leather.

There was a walk in closet off of the other wall and the bathroom was off of the main door, heading back into the house. He had spent a lot of money in there to remodel--granite countertops, dark wood cabinets, a separate shower and bath, two sinks. The towels and shower curtain picked up the same colors from the bedroom.

Through the room were touches of him. Pictures of Derek and Cora, the book he was reading currently on the nightstand, his razor and toiletries out along the counters. Neat, but obviously lived in, though the closet was only about half full.

Lydia was aware of his eyes on her as she brushed her fingers over one of the posts on the bed, studying the iron canopy overhead before turning away to the large bay window. She stood there for a moment, looking out the window into the garden, and then she was back to wandering around. Noting the book, studying the colors and then moving to peek into his bathroom.

It was beautifully elegant, masculine and definitely ten times better than her dorm room.

"It's a bit dark." She couldn't completely praise him now could she? "But it's a nice house, Peter." It was one of the rare times when she actually used his name.

He'd expected something far more dismissive than that, so not getting it, plus her saying his name, made him smile at least a little.

"The sun hits this room pretty hard during the day, even through the trees. But thank you."

He stayed where he was, leaning in the doorway, gaze not flickering to the bed, though that predatory light was back in his eyes as he watched her.

"You should get some kind of suncatcher." She informed him then when he told her about the sunlight that came in. It had nothing to do with her love of them though, not at all. Really.

Pressing her lips together and wetting them, she seemed to be considering something even as she felt the heat of his gaze and the way it changed. It caused her stomach to clench in response and her heart to race. It annoyed her a bit just how quickly her body was ready to betray her but the memories of him touching her, using his mouth on her, and the feel of him...

Her breasts were rising and falling a bit faster now as she turned away from him again, turning back into his bathroom as she moved to inspect the shower and then the bath. She just needed a bit of space between them.

"Maybe you can help me find one." Just a quiet suggestion, even as he watched her, saw the change in her body, the way her breathing and heart rate changed and knew it was in response to him...and not fear.

His own body heated in response, even though he didn't move to follow her...well, not for a moment or two. She moved to the bathroom and he moved from the hall door, tracing her path through his room, pausing to look out the balcony doors, then opening one of them to let the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle into the room. The evening had cooled enough that the breeze was pleasant--not so much the heat was needed, but cool enough not to make the air conditioning kick on in response. Perfect, really.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching her through the door. "I had to have that redone. The plumbing was atrocious and the fixtures antique and not in a charming way."

"Maybe." She wasn't going to commit to doing so but she was already thinking about what colors would look best in a suncatcher for his room.

She listened to the soft creaks of the floor as he moved further into his bedroom and her heart started to race faster as she wondered if he was going to follow her into the bathroom. A dozen different images flitted through her head then as she looked to the counter and then around the room.

"Hmm?" She glanced towards him again before nodding. "Well, you did a good job. That's a water fall shower, isn't it?"

Her question pulled him to the bathroom, finally, though he just leaned in the doorway, again. Of course, practically, that trapped her there, but that wasn't his intention. Mostly, he was trying not to crowd her.

"It is. Really, I'm ridiculously fond of it, and find myself spending far too long in the mornings under it."

Wet and naked. The imagery was deliberate, but his expression completely innocent--they were talking about the kind of shower, after all. How he used it was a natural part of that, wasn't it?

Naked and wet.

It struck her then that they had just had sex in the park but she hadn't seen him naked. Not since the night she had resurrected him and that didn't count in her mind considering her fear combined with the fact that he had been covered in dirty. And scary as hell.

After a moment, she was suddenly moving to open the glass door, reaching in to turn on the water and then she was pressing something to make the waterfall shower head come on. Once she was satisfied with that, she was suddenly reaching back to pull at the zipper of her dress, sliding it downwards to expose a smooth expanse of skin cut off only by the black lace of her strapless bra.

Of all her possible responses to seeing his shower, her turning it on and heading toward naked had not been one he anticipated. He hadn't truly seen her naked, either, not with physical eyes, at least, and his gaze moved over her skin as it was revealed.

Stepping forward, his hand closed over hers and he leaned in, lips close to her ear. "Let me help you with that..."

He suited actions to words, finishing the unzipping and then slowly pushed her dress off her shoulders and watched as it fell to the ground, revealing even more skin, as well as the ruined scraps of what had been her panties. That just reminded him of what she'd tasted like, how she'd felt when he was inside her and he almost moaned.

She smirked as she dropped her hand to her side again, a little shiver working through her body as his mouth brushed against her ear and his finger trailed over her back. Stepping out of her dress when it fell to the ground, she reached back to unsnap her bra, taking it off and tossing it aside as well. After that it was only her heels and ruined panties, leaving her completely nude.

Then, without looking at him yet, she walked over, opened the door and stepped into the shower with a small smirk.

A gentleman might have asked if she wanted company, even though the signs were clear that she did. Peter just went with the signs. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks while she still had her back to him, then worked on the buttons of his shirt, shrugging it off when he got it undone.

His pants and boxers were next, efficiently sliding off and then he stepped in, as well, pulling the door closed behind him.

Lydia would never believe the claim that Peter was a gentleman though and so she expected him to join her in the shower. Turning her head slightly to look at him, she studied him with a small smirk before tipping her head back to enjoy the water falling over her.

For his part, Peter enjoyed her look and enjoyed looking. Heaven knew he wasn't insecure about how he looked clothed or not. Wolf genes were good for a lot of things, and lean strength was one of them.

While she enjoyed the water, he leaned against the back wall of the shower, enjoying the view of the water sliding over her. He reached out to trace it with fingertips down her spine, but otherwise didn't touch. Yet.

Lydia wasn't at all insecure about her body either. She didn't have wolf genes like he did but she knew she looked good. Soft and curvy but still firm in all the right places. That and she knew he liked what he saw as she could feel the heat in his gaze almost like a physical touch.

Sliding her fingers through her hair, she tipped her head back with a soft noise as his fingers ran over her spine. Her hair looked darker now, molten red under the water, nearly touching the curve of her ass now that her head was back. Then she turned slowly to look at him, straightening as her lashes flickered under the spray of water.

She didn't say anything yet though. Just watched.

He did like what he saw...more than anything, anyone, else he'd ever looked at. His hungry gaze kept focused on her while he touched her and lingered when she turned around. Not even bothering to pretend like he wasn't watching, Peter looked over her slowly, taking in the darker fall of her hair, the fair skin, the rosy nipples on perfect breasts. Flat stomach, the curve of her hips, the red curls between her legs: he looked at it all, a smile curving his lips that was more...real for a moment, made some of the cynicism, the harder edges slip away.

Shifting a step toward her, he reached out to touch again, one fingertip down her side until his hand settled at her waist and pulled her to him.

It was the genuine smile that caused something to twist and loosen inside of her. It was the glimpse of something real, the real man, under the monster she had known that made it easier to let go of some of the past pain and hatred. It was foolish to let go so easily, she knew that. It didn't mean she was over it though or that he wouldn't have to pay, or make up, for some of the things he had done but....she found herself smiling a little in response when he stepped closer to touch him.

Then she closed the distance between them as he pulled at her. "This doesn't mean you're off the hook." She informed him then, her voice soft even over the falling water that surrounded them.

Peter knew what she meant, didn't need the words to know the smile wasn't absolution, not yet. But it was a step and more of one than the heated teasing and coupling in the park.

His hand slid around to rest at the small of her back, the other one lifting to caress her neck--no threat this time, just a touch that slid around to cradle the back of her neck, fingers lightly massaging there, under her hair.

"I know." His words were as soft as hers, his gaze more serious, even though there was a rare warmth there, almost, maybe, a vulnerability, if only for a moment. "I'll make it up to you, I swear." And there was a sense of oathtaking there, not just words said to wriggle out of something.

Her lashes fluttered as his hand slid to the back of her neck, causing her to relax into him further as his fingers massaged over the tension that she had been holding there.

She nodded, hoping he knew she wasn't going to promise him anything more at the moment but she found herself smiling a little more as he promised to make up for what he had done in the past. "I suppose we'll wait and see, won't we?"

When you came in the air went out (for wantadistraction)

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