Cat stumbled onto the carpet of the hallway, her hand still encased inside Peter’s. As the elevator doors closed behind them, she let her free arm snake up and around his neck. She tilted her head up, her lips molding against his in perfect sync, working from muscle memory that she didn’t have conscious access to. The cold wall shocked the skin on her back; somehow, she’d fallen against it and hadn’t realized, though Peter stepped right up to her, keeping her upright, saving her from slipping by letting his hands drift down to her waist. Her fingers gripped the roots of his hair; her other hand slipped down to the collar of his coat, searching for its buttons. At least in her dream, when she wanted something gone, it dematerialized. She wasn’t sure if the fact that his coat was still on despite her mental urging was more exciting or annoying. On the one hand, his touch was so much sweeter because it was real--on the other, she couldn’t get close enough to him fast enough. There was too much in the way.

Cat let out a muffled groan; Peter’s frustration rooted from her bag still being slung on her shoulder, preventing him from fully holding her, and she could only get one button of his coat undone at this angle. Plus, he was too tall.

“Come on,” she murmured into his lips. She pushed him just enough to give herself enough space to step away from the wall, but kept a tight hold on his collar to pull him in the direction of his dorm. With his other arm hooked around the small of her back, she stumbled backwards, her lips sloppily searching for his while he vaguely walked forward. Maybe it would have been faster to just break apart and walk like normal humans, but she couldn’t bring herself to part from him, and he didn’t seem to mind, either.

He partially let go of her, digging into his pocket for his keys as they hesitated in front of what was probably the correct door. Peter tore his lips from hers, just to look for the key hole, and she settled herself with kissing his jaw, his stubble, down to his collarbone. With him struggling against the door knob, she took the opportunity to work at the buttons of his peacoat, pulling it open so she was that much closer to touching every inch of him. Even through his shirt she could feel the heat radiating off of him, heat she wanted to touch with her bare skin.

Peter’s longstanding feud with doors and keys continued; though with her impatience, she was probably being very distracting--but that wasn’t her fault, if his door stuck all the time. And maybe it was kind of fun to feel him fumble and fail because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She tried to pry his coat off of his shoulders, but was only really successful with one until finally Peter gave up on the door and turned his attention completely on her.

Her affections backfired tenfold. Any anticipation that she used to distract him he now directed in kind. He shrugged his coat off onto the floor and grabbed her hips with his hands, rough and desperate. The way he stared into her eyes was enough to make her melt, dark and lustful; despite the heat, she shivered. This only encouraged him. His hands slid down from her hips to her thighs, just to the hem of her dress. He lifted one leg, then the other, and she wrapped them completely against his waist as he pressed her against the wall. Now she could feel every inch of him pushing into her; more than just his hands snaking their way under her dress, more than his lips and breath on her neck, but his chest fully against hers, his hips.

Cat let out a small sound in her sigh, unable to keep it from escaping. While one of his hands supported in keeping her up and pressed against him, the other seemed to want to explore.

“Ooh--” She grasped at the roots of his hair, keeping his lips on her neck despite her cries. “I-inside,” she breathed. Under her fingers, his throat vibrated with a chuckle. “Inside now--!” He ignored her at first, instead stoking more of the flame in her stomach with minute, deliberate movements between her thighs. She slid her hand from his neck down to where she figured the doorknob was, searching. But between his lips and his hands, her mind struggled to focus on anything else.

Somehow, she grasped the handle and struggled to turn it. Of course it was stuck. Just as she tried one more time to twist it, another sound escaped her throat. Peter’s wandering hand breached her bare skin, gently pulling at the cloth that kept them apart.

“Get inside,” she finally managed to say again. She wanted to scold herself, though, because at her direct request, Peter slowly set her down and pulled away from her, leaving her cold, craving. But it was worth it, because with just a moment of concentration, the door gave way, and his hands were with her once again. With his peacoat kicked into his dormroom, Peter shut the door behind them, and Cat dropped her bag and immediately jumped to him. He caught her without a moment’s struggle, one hand supporting her back, and captured a kiss as he wandered in the dark toward his bed. Her foot brushed the back of his desk chair, but the moan was more because he squeezed her skin and set her on the edge of his mattress.

Cat found the collar of his shirt again and struggled with the top button, until finally, when she assumed she got it, she pulled, ripping it open. Soft, plastic taps around the room froze them in place. Cat opened her eyes to see Peter glancing down at her hands and his open shirt, his lips parted in surprise.

“Did you--did you just break my shirt?” As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could now notice tiny, white buttons scattered onto the floor around them. She covered her mouth with her hands, unable to contain her nervous giggle. She never imagined she’d be strong enough to actually ruin a shirt like that.

“Um--it was hideous. You have no sense of fashion.” Peter’s eyes snapped to hers; if he didn’t immediately move to shrug it off, or to kick off his shoes, she might have been worried she upset him.

“I have no sense of fashion?” he echoed. Cat followed his lead and let her shoes slip to the floor, doubling down with a nod. As she bunched her dress up to her hips to prepare to slip it off, Peter stepped between her legs, moving a little slower. She couldn’t help herself: upon staring at him this close, finally getting that obnoxious barrier out of the way, her hands reached up to his chest; he still continued to move at a snail’s pace, keeping eye contact. “This is coming from the girl who wore a glorified fisherman’s net as a shirt to Hannah’s party last year?” She gasped, and he took the opportunity to close the space between them, his lips again at her neck. Oh, he felt so nice.... But she would not let him have the last word. Glorified fisherman’s net? Really? She grit her teeth and turned back to him one hand returning to his hair to gain control of his gaze.

“So did you,” she whispered back. Peter hesitated, seemingly confused for a moment, before the memories returned to him. He laughed; she watched his face light up as he remembered that they had to switch shirts during Drunk Jenga.

“Touche,” was his only response. Hah! She took the moment to fling the fabric of her dress over her head. She wasn’t sure where it went, but it didn’t come back down to hit them, and Peter immediately returned to run his hands down her back, his lips on hers rolling and moving with encouragement from her muffled moan. Like magnets, any moment they didn’t touch, they would snap back together, breathless, eager, urgent.

For a brief moment, Cat tricked herself into thinking that she might have any control over herself. Peter’s hand brushed down her back and got to the hooks of her bra; she anticipated, that like any guy, he’d sit there and fumble for a few minutes before she eventually took it off herself--but with one, gentle movement, the hook came apart and her bra staps fell off her shoulders. Where on Earth did he learn that--?

“B-before we get too far,” she started, mostly to herself, “we should...get….” She had no idea how her hands got there, but his belt buckle came undone in her fingertips, and she held the end while he hesitated.

“Right--” She kept holding onto it, and let it slide out of the loops of his pants as he pulled away. As he pulled out what he was looking for from Cam’s top drawer, he asked, “Is--is this weird? That I’m getting these from….” He still returned to her, though, and let her pull him from the button of his pants. Cat shrugged.

“I really don’t care,” she answered honestly. Those condoms were originally hers anyway. Cam shouldn’t have kept them after she ended things with him--but for right now, it stopped her from having to sneak into her dorm to get them, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

Peter slipped out of his slacks at her silent instruction, and finally climbed his way onto the bed to join her when the only thing on him were his boxer briefs. She lay her head back on his pillow and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him to her. She wanted to touch the waistband of what little clothing remained, but he found her bottom lip and bit down gently, setting her skin aflame. His chest against hers, bare, soft. He sighed as he kissed her, at long last able to wrap his arms around her, and she, him. Every moment they touched, the more the hunger in her chest grew. His lips worked sloppily, fast with hers, his tongue never leaving her wanting. He sensed her need, his hands floating gently across every inch of her skin, down her neck to her chest to squeeze and pinch. She arched her back to welcome his touch, his feverish kisses trailing his fingertips. Her body responded in kind, activating in anticipation.

“Fuuuuck me,” she whispered to the air. With his hands full and his mouth still busy, Peter let out a chuckle.

“That’s the goal,” he said. Oh, the gentle scraping of his teeth drove her insane. She wasn’t doing it on purpose, but her nails dug into the soft flesh of his back; he, at least, correctly translated this to mean he should keep doing what he was doing. With his tongue and one hand, he continued to massage her bare skin, and to her ultimate delight, decided to use his other hand to resume the gentle tease he very nearly gave her outside the door.

If he kept going at this rate, she would absolutely implode. Somehow, any time she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he switched things up on her again--this time, trailing kisses down to her belly button. Cat was torn. On one hand, as he removed her final article of clothing, he started to demonstrate an expertise in feeding her desire; on the other hand, the only possible way to improve the newfound sensations he crafted for her was if he could somehow--

“Oh!” Cat clamped a hand over her own mouth, suddenly self-conscious about the amount of noise she absolutely needed to make all of a sudden. Even though she could only see his eyes when she glanced down to him, she could feel that he was smiling at her, proud and knowing full well that every little shift of his tongue drove her mad. She tried not to twitch, to not let her legs buck without her permission, but it was little use trying to fight the responses he brought out of her. Naively, she thought maybe he would switch to something else, but he continued his devotion to her most sensitive and vulnerable place; he was determined, and damn good at it.

“Oh my God--” There was no use trying to hold anything back, except for maybe a little bit of her cries, because it was late, and the walls were thin, and-- “Shit! Peter--” With one hand covering her mouth, another gripping his bedsheets, the pressure built in her stomach, rising with every movement. Upon hearing her say his name, he doubled-down, and everything increased tenfold; his determination fed the bubble in her chest until it peaked, releasing sparks of heat through every vein in her body, jolting her deepest core. Cat bit down on her hand to keep herself quiet. Her limbs trembled even after a few long, deep breaths to get her head back down to Earth.

Peter let out a gentle laugh and planted a final kiss on her thigh, obviously satisfied with himself, and gave her a minute to catch her breath. She stared at the ceiling, panting as he slowly made his way back up to her; she hardly heard the crackling of the foil wrapper, but at the thought of one less thing to have to do, it eased her mind just a little--and excited her, that more was to come.

“You okay?” he whispered with amusement. Cat let out a slow breath, then twisted to face him as he lay beside her, patiently waiting for her approval.

“Fuck,” was all she said. And right when he laughed, she brought her hands to his face to pull him into a deep, grateful kiss. It did nothing to calm her down, though. He seemed more than prepared to handle that.

“Careful,” he said as he returned to hover over her, “a guy could get addicted to those sounds.” She laughed at him.

“Honestly, I see no problem with that.” Despite the jokes, despite the laughter, all of the bubbly giddiness started to dwindle away. Staring into his eyes, he gently rested himself over her, hardly touching. He looked at her lips, asking for another kiss, but she kept a hand on his cheek holding him there, savoring the moment that their eyes met.

Everything from this past year rested with them, the memories floating around. The hurt, the gratitude, the hope and the fear. The anxiety and nervousness of ever being close to him, the impulsive feelings to touch him, to know him. He was there for everything. All the bad, all the good. Every terrifying moment that could have been labeled as the worst time of her life, he was there. Pulling her out, holding her, even before she’d ever said a single kind word to him. Wanting nothing but her safety. The warmth he not only emanated from his skin but his words, his heart. He cared for her before she deserved it. Stuck by her no matter how hard she tried to shove him away.

“What?” Peter asked, his voice so quiet. Keeping his weight mostly on one arm beside her, his hand reached up to cup her cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

She smiled. “You,” she answered. “Just you.” That seemed to satisfy him. He bent down to kiss her, though with a significantly different edge than how this entire day started. Tender, soft. Just a minute ago, everything was fire and electricity; but now, like the gentle waves upon a beach, he moved with her slowly, certainly. She was thankful to be laying down; if she wasn’t, she would have undoubtedly fallen over. He stole her breath with his delicate affection; and while the fervent need in her stomach still rose, it did so with a deeper power, rumbling forth with such fullness.

Their moans harmonized when Peter finally closed all the spaces between them. He began a rhythm, somehow matching the exact tempo of her heartbeat. With one hand on his neck to keep his lips on hers, the other rested on his shoulder, pulling him closer with each ebb and flow. Her mind still swirled in memories, every time he looked at her, every time he nearly touched her and didn’t. Every anonymous message dedicated strictly to making her smile. Every one of his laughs, his dimples.

She mirrored every motion he made, desperate to explore this foreign buildup every thought of him composed. When maintaining their kiss became impossible, Peter buried his face in her neck, sighing and murmuring in her ear. She squeezed her eyes shut, relishing in his pleasure, moving her hips with his; the moment she encouraged a faster pace, he obeyed without hesitation.

Peter’s breath quickened; she pulled at his hair, forcing him to look her in the eyes again. Like thunder in the distance, everything swirled in her chest, every thought, every touch, every movement he made, began to grow nearer and nearer. He braced himself against her, intensifying, compounding every approaching wave of bliss she anticipated with every time his hips met flush against hers.

He finally closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together; as the deep, powerful surge from her core approached closer and closer, Peter increased his momentum, tensing above her, his relief cresting with her own. They cried out together, clutching for one another, riding the last rush of euphoria in perfect unity.

Cat still held him, keeping him exactly where he was, her eyes shut tight and her heart fluttering back to some semblance of a normal rate from what might have been the most incredible feeling she’d ever had. The world slowly returned to them as they settled together. They lay there, wrapped completely in one another’s arms, legs entangled under the sheets, saying nothing that couldn’t be done with a gentle kiss on the lips.

Eventually, Cat lay her head on his chest to listen to Peter’s gentle breathing. He ran his fingers through her hair, consistently, at first, but eventually so slowly that she nearly forgot he was doing it in the first place. His heartbeat was so comforting, his skin so warm. No one could fault her for so easily drifting off to sleep with a smile on her face.