![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityTitle: Save Me From This Darkness
Pairing: Claire/Hrg
Rating: Nc-17
Written for: First Official Heroes Kink Meme! / prompt: Claire/Noah - duct tape, cheerleading outfit
Summary: Please don't let this turn into something it's not / I can only give you everything I've got / I can't be as sorry as you think I should / But I still love you more than anyone else could.
A/n: Snow Patrol ftw. Also? My het muse locked my slash muse up in a closet somewhere. I'm on the hunt.
“I wasn’t aware cheerleading was so important to you, Claire.” He says, smirking slightly as he watches her writhe and struggle to break lose of the tape securing her hands behind her back. Her screams and curses are muffled by the tape he delicately placed over her mouth, but Noah can imagine what she’s saying.
Bastard! I hate you! Let me go!
“I’m only trying to protect you,” He says as he kneels before her, resting his hands on bare knees, the tips of his fingers grazing the hem of her navy cheerleading outfit. “I didn’t want to do this, Claire. You forced me to take desperate measures.”
Oh, how he wishes that were true; wishes that his cock wasn’t straining against his fly, throbbing with arousal, that his hands weren’t sweaty as they slid slowly up her bare thigh. He doesn’t look up at Claire as his finger press into the inside of her thigh, doesn’t hear the whimper that gets caught behind the tape as he touches his lips to her sweet flesh. If he looks up at her, if he looks into that innocent face, he’ll realize what he’s doing. This is Claire, his baby. He changed her diapers, coaxed her into saying her first word, hid his tears on her first day of kindergarten, grit his teeth as he let her go on her first date, took a bullet to the gut for her. He’s supposed to protect her and he’s pretty sure this doesn’t fall into that category. At least she’s here, and that means she’s safe, Noah rationalizes in his head as he nudges Claire’s legs apart slightly.
Claire makes an unrecognizable sound behind the tape, a moan maybe, or a plea for him to stop, please, but Noah can’t pause to decide which it is; he’s in too far now. He can smell her, sweet and young and wet, and his fingers act of their own accord, touching the dampness of her cotton panties, and he bites his lip until he tastes blood. It reminds him of Claire, so many times he’s tasted her blood on his fingers, and his cock twitches in his trousers.
Claire writhes against the chair as Noah’s fingers rub her through her panties, making them slick and tacky with her arousal; he can almost taste it in his mouth, how amazing she would taste, but he cuts that thought off at the knees. He won’t go that far. He still has at least one thread of moral fiber left to hang on to.
More sounds come from above his head as he rubs harder still, Claire’s panties thoroughly slick with her juices, and he can feel everything. He presses the tips of his fingers against the hardened nub of her clit, drawing lazy circles, and this time he’s positive it’s a pleasurable moan he hears being muffled by the duct tape he put over her mouth.
He knows he shouldn’t look; it might mean the end of this, because if he sees what he expects to see on Claire’s face -- disgust, hatred, loathing -- he’ll make himself stop, and he doesn’t want that. He wants to touch his Claire, slip his fingers inside of her and feel her tremble around him, but he needs to know its okay. He has to know this is what she wants.
Claire blinks though hot tears as he rips the strip of silver tape off of her face in one swift motion and their eyes meet. Neither of them say anything for a minute, two minutes, hours maybe, then Claire’s legs tremble and her eyes plead with him, Daddy, please.
Noah’s chest tightens painfully at the look in Claire’s eyes, the trembling of her lip and thighs, at how much she needs this, and he presses his hardness against her leg just to relieve the ache a little. He rakes his fingers through Claire’s hair (soft as silk, smells like sour apples) and smiles.
“I need you to say it, Claire bear,” He murmurs, brushing his fingers over the redness surrounding her mouth that the tape left behind. Claire’s whole body trembles as he drops back onto his knees and pushes her skirt up to her waist, pausing before he goes any farther, waiting to hear what he needs to hear come out of her mouth.
“Daddy, please,” Claire whimpers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, and a grunt escapes Noah’s lips as he comes, hot and sticky in his slacks from the intense wrongness of how sexual the words sounded coming out of her mouth. His vision is still a bit blurry as he pulls Claire’s panties down her thighs, leaving them wrapped around her ankles as he pushes her legs further apart, thinking idly how he is far too old to be getting hard again already as he takes in the gorgeous sight in front of him.
Claire’s tight, pink flesh is eye level, wet and glistening, and their moans mingle together as Noah slides his fingers inside, using his thumb to stroke her clit and drag beautiful, sinful noises from her lips. His fingers curl inside of her, watching her arch and squirm against the chair, occasionally searching for her eyes to see the arousal pooling inside of them. She whimpers, but doesn’t complain, when he adds a second finger, sliding her hips forward, pushing against him, and Noah’s teeth pierce his tongue. He closes his eyes, tasting Claire on his tongue, utilizing every last ounce of self control he has not to burrow his face between her legs and drink her down like a fine wine.
“Daddy, please,” She whimpers again desperately, twisting her hips, her body begging for more, and Noah’s breath is stolen from his lungs as he looks up at her and sees the lust painted across her face.
“What is it, Claire bear?” He smiles, using his free hand to trace the curve of her lips with his thumb, letting out a sharp gasp when she closes her eyes sucks it into her mouth.
“Claire,” Noah’s voice breaks as uses his stern Dad voice, groaning deeply. This is too much; his moral fiber can’t withstand all of this. He’s still looking into Claire’s eyes when he removes his thumb from her mouth and thrust his fingers inside of her, watching her pretty blue eyes roll into the back of her head as a sweet moan pours out of her mouth.
“Please,” Claire whines and Noah can feel her velvety muscles squeezing around his fingers.
“Tell me what you need,” He murmurs, pressing his lips to the inside of her knee, keeping his eyes on hers.
“Your mouth,” Claire says, round cheeks painted pink with color as she looks away from him. “Please.”
Oh God, help me.
“Claire,” Noah says, trying to control his voice. He wants to, God in heaven he wants to, but he has to know something first. “Have you…did West-”
“No Daddy,” Claire says, biting her lip as she shakes her head. “Never…”
He doesn’t wait for her to finish. He’s waited his whole life for this, or at least it feels that way, and he’s not going to waste another minute to taste his Claire. She’s so warm and sweet on his tongue that Noah thinks he must have died and this, Claire, is heaven. He treats this just like he treats everything with Claire; carefully, perfectly, pouring all of his love into her. He traces the outline of her with the tip of his tongue, feeling her shudder against him as the gorgeous combination of a moan and a whimper escapes her lips, mixed in with Daddy. Noah grabs her hips, holding her still as he pushes his tongue into her tight flesh, feeling it quiver around him.
“Oh Daddy,” she cries, and Noah pushes further, digging his fingers into her flesh because he knows the bruises won’t be there by morning for Sandra to see. “I’m-” And she doesn’t have the chance to finish her confession before she is. Her hips jerk against his face and Noah curls his tongue inside of her, coaxing the very last bit of control out of her and Claire’s body erupts in pleasure. He looks up briefly to catch her face as she comes for him, eyes squeezed shut, blood smeared across her bottom lip where she bit down a little too hard, and he wants so bad to lick it away, but nothing can pull him away from this. He swallows Claire’s release down like sweet nectar, dragging his tongue all around her sex, gathering every last drop until she can’t take anymore and begs him to stop.
Its hard to look at her when its all over with, the cloud of lust and arousal fading away, and reality is thick, like a wall between them. Noah stands up, licking his lips, and walks behind Claire, cutting away the layers of tape he wrapped around her wrists. He puts his hands on her shoulders and leans down, pressing his lips to the top of her head.
“I love you Claire bear,” He says wistfully, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. “Please - don’t hate me for this.”
“How could I hate you?” Claire asks, an expression of true curiosity on her face as she turns her head and peers up at him. “You’re my Dad. I love you.”
Noah smiles and kisses the top of her forehead.
What have I done?
Pairing: Claire/Hrg
Rating: Nc-17
Written for: First Official Heroes Kink Meme! / prompt: Claire/Noah - duct tape, cheerleading outfit
Summary: Please don't let this turn into something it's not / I can only give you everything I've got / I can't be as sorry as you think I should / But I still love you more than anyone else could.
A/n: Snow Patrol ftw. Also? My het muse locked my slash muse up in a closet somewhere. I'm on the hunt.
“I wasn’t aware cheerleading was so important to you, Claire.” He says, smirking slightly as he watches her writhe and struggle to break lose of the tape securing her hands behind her back. Her screams and curses are muffled by the tape he delicately placed over her mouth, but Noah can imagine what she’s saying.
Bastard! I hate you! Let me go!
“I’m only trying to protect you,” He says as he kneels before her, resting his hands on bare knees, the tips of his fingers grazing the hem of her navy cheerleading outfit. “I didn’t want to do this, Claire. You forced me to take desperate measures.”
Oh, how he wishes that were true; wishes that his cock wasn’t straining against his fly, throbbing with arousal, that his hands weren’t sweaty as they slid slowly up her bare thigh. He doesn’t look up at Claire as his finger press into the inside of her thigh, doesn’t hear the whimper that gets caught behind the tape as he touches his lips to her sweet flesh. If he looks up at her, if he looks into that innocent face, he’ll realize what he’s doing. This is Claire, his baby. He changed her diapers, coaxed her into saying her first word, hid his tears on her first day of kindergarten, grit his teeth as he let her go on her first date, took a bullet to the gut for her. He’s supposed to protect her and he’s pretty sure this doesn’t fall into that category. At least she’s here, and that means she’s safe, Noah rationalizes in his head as he nudges Claire’s legs apart slightly.
Claire makes an unrecognizable sound behind the tape, a moan maybe, or a plea for him to stop, please, but Noah can’t pause to decide which it is; he’s in too far now. He can smell her, sweet and young and wet, and his fingers act of their own accord, touching the dampness of her cotton panties, and he bites his lip until he tastes blood. It reminds him of Claire, so many times he’s tasted her blood on his fingers, and his cock twitches in his trousers.
Claire writhes against the chair as Noah’s fingers rub her through her panties, making them slick and tacky with her arousal; he can almost taste it in his mouth, how amazing she would taste, but he cuts that thought off at the knees. He won’t go that far. He still has at least one thread of moral fiber left to hang on to.
More sounds come from above his head as he rubs harder still, Claire’s panties thoroughly slick with her juices, and he can feel everything. He presses the tips of his fingers against the hardened nub of her clit, drawing lazy circles, and this time he’s positive it’s a pleasurable moan he hears being muffled by the duct tape he put over her mouth.
He knows he shouldn’t look; it might mean the end of this, because if he sees what he expects to see on Claire’s face -- disgust, hatred, loathing -- he’ll make himself stop, and he doesn’t want that. He wants to touch his Claire, slip his fingers inside of her and feel her tremble around him, but he needs to know its okay. He has to know this is what she wants.
Claire blinks though hot tears as he rips the strip of silver tape off of her face in one swift motion and their eyes meet. Neither of them say anything for a minute, two minutes, hours maybe, then Claire’s legs tremble and her eyes plead with him, Daddy, please.
Noah’s chest tightens painfully at the look in Claire’s eyes, the trembling of her lip and thighs, at how much she needs this, and he presses his hardness against her leg just to relieve the ache a little. He rakes his fingers through Claire’s hair (soft as silk, smells like sour apples) and smiles.
“I need you to say it, Claire bear,” He murmurs, brushing his fingers over the redness surrounding her mouth that the tape left behind. Claire’s whole body trembles as he drops back onto his knees and pushes her skirt up to her waist, pausing before he goes any farther, waiting to hear what he needs to hear come out of her mouth.
“Daddy, please,” Claire whimpers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, and a grunt escapes Noah’s lips as he comes, hot and sticky in his slacks from the intense wrongness of how sexual the words sounded coming out of her mouth. His vision is still a bit blurry as he pulls Claire’s panties down her thighs, leaving them wrapped around her ankles as he pushes her legs further apart, thinking idly how he is far too old to be getting hard again already as he takes in the gorgeous sight in front of him.
Claire’s tight, pink flesh is eye level, wet and glistening, and their moans mingle together as Noah slides his fingers inside, using his thumb to stroke her clit and drag beautiful, sinful noises from her lips. His fingers curl inside of her, watching her arch and squirm against the chair, occasionally searching for her eyes to see the arousal pooling inside of them. She whimpers, but doesn’t complain, when he adds a second finger, sliding her hips forward, pushing against him, and Noah’s teeth pierce his tongue. He closes his eyes, tasting Claire on his tongue, utilizing every last ounce of self control he has not to burrow his face between her legs and drink her down like a fine wine.
“Daddy, please,” She whimpers again desperately, twisting her hips, her body begging for more, and Noah’s breath is stolen from his lungs as he looks up at her and sees the lust painted across her face.
“What is it, Claire bear?” He smiles, using his free hand to trace the curve of her lips with his thumb, letting out a sharp gasp when she closes her eyes sucks it into her mouth.
“Claire,” Noah’s voice breaks as uses his stern Dad voice, groaning deeply. This is too much; his moral fiber can’t withstand all of this. He’s still looking into Claire’s eyes when he removes his thumb from her mouth and thrust his fingers inside of her, watching her pretty blue eyes roll into the back of her head as a sweet moan pours out of her mouth.
“Please,” Claire whines and Noah can feel her velvety muscles squeezing around his fingers.
“Tell me what you need,” He murmurs, pressing his lips to the inside of her knee, keeping his eyes on hers.
“Your mouth,” Claire says, round cheeks painted pink with color as she looks away from him. “Please.”
Oh God, help me.
“Claire,” Noah says, trying to control his voice. He wants to, God in heaven he wants to, but he has to know something first. “Have you…did West-”
“No Daddy,” Claire says, biting her lip as she shakes her head. “Never…”
He doesn’t wait for her to finish. He’s waited his whole life for this, or at least it feels that way, and he’s not going to waste another minute to taste his Claire. She’s so warm and sweet on his tongue that Noah thinks he must have died and this, Claire, is heaven. He treats this just like he treats everything with Claire; carefully, perfectly, pouring all of his love into her. He traces the outline of her with the tip of his tongue, feeling her shudder against him as the gorgeous combination of a moan and a whimper escapes her lips, mixed in with Daddy. Noah grabs her hips, holding her still as he pushes his tongue into her tight flesh, feeling it quiver around him.
“Oh Daddy,” she cries, and Noah pushes further, digging his fingers into her flesh because he knows the bruises won’t be there by morning for Sandra to see. “I’m-” And she doesn’t have the chance to finish her confession before she is. Her hips jerk against his face and Noah curls his tongue inside of her, coaxing the very last bit of control out of her and Claire’s body erupts in pleasure. He looks up briefly to catch her face as she comes for him, eyes squeezed shut, blood smeared across her bottom lip where she bit down a little too hard, and he wants so bad to lick it away, but nothing can pull him away from this. He swallows Claire’s release down like sweet nectar, dragging his tongue all around her sex, gathering every last drop until she can’t take anymore and begs him to stop.
Its hard to look at her when its all over with, the cloud of lust and arousal fading away, and reality is thick, like a wall between them. Noah stands up, licking his lips, and walks behind Claire, cutting away the layers of tape he wrapped around her wrists. He puts his hands on her shoulders and leans down, pressing his lips to the top of her head.
“I love you Claire bear,” He says wistfully, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. “Please - don’t hate me for this.”
“How could I hate you?” Claire asks, an expression of true curiosity on her face as she turns her head and peers up at him. “You’re my Dad. I love you.”
Noah smiles and kisses the top of her forehead.
What have I done?
