Kisses for Rigby
Jun. 21st, 2010 04:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spongetasticIt was maybe two o’clock in the morning and Peter was wide awake. Since meeting Rigby he tried to get his schedule under control. But sometimes even when he worked the morning shift Peter found himself awake in the early hours of the morning.
Peter turned on his side to watch Rigby sleep. Her steady breathing soothed him. Peter carefully ran his fingers up and down the length of her back. She stirred but didn’t wake. It suddenly occurred to Peter that he was going to spend his early mornings like this for the rest of his life.
He bent his head down to press kisses against Rigby’s bare back. She let out a sigh, shifting under his touch. A few more kisses from Peter roused her. He didn’t mean to wake her but her sleepy smile made up for it.
--
He was doing a lot better with his addiction. Pig’s blood didn’t taste great but it kept him from risking lives. Rigby was so proud of him that when he hit his thirty-day anniversary she threw him a little party. There was wine, candles and music.
“You’re amazing,” Peter awed as they swayed along to the music. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she responded. He smiled, combing through her hair. She smelled really good tonight. Rigby always smelled good, of course, but tonight it seemed like she combined all of Peter’s favorite scents.
He nuzzled her neck so he could take in the smell. She let out a moan and craned her neck to the side for him. Peter kissed her warm skin without a second thought. Her blood pumped hot under his lips. Thirty long days he went without human blood and here was Rigby offering it to him.
“You can bite me,” she offered huskily.
“No.” Peter’s eyes were dark in lust as he pulled back. “I have something better in mind.”
--
They sat together on the couch holding hands with Rigby’s head comfortably nestled on his shoulder. Somehow the Food Network grew into a channel they watched together. Peter only started watching with Rigby out of curiosity. Now he was actually enjoying the programs.
“You think you’d want a show?” Peter asked her.
“Mmm.” Rigby pressed a thoughtful kiss on his shoulder. “I don’t know,” she concluded. “I don’t know if I’m a performer.”
“I prefer you to myself anyway,” Peter shrugged. He shifted, returning the shoulder kiss she just gave him. Then he was gently pushing her down on the couch, the show they’d been watching all but forgotten.
--
Peter’s fangs still hadn’t retracted yet. He knew Rigby already saw them but that didn’t make him less eager for her to see now. He heard the door open and shrank into the shadows. Rigby entered the room, her keys jingling as she dropped them on the table. God, Peter could smell her from where she stood.
“I’m home,” she announced. “It’s light out so I know you’re still here, Peter.”
“…Yeah.” Reluctantly he stepped forward. Rigby closed in on him, her arms looping around his neck.
“Had a bad day?” she asked in concern. But his fangs must have answered her question, because she started kissing him. The kisses grew longer and deeper, and her tongue slid out across his lip. Peter groaned, allowing her tongue inside his mouth to scrape against his fangs.
“Rigby,” he moaned out. He almost hoped she would nick herself on his fangs.
Peter turned on his side to watch Rigby sleep. Her steady breathing soothed him. Peter carefully ran his fingers up and down the length of her back. She stirred but didn’t wake. It suddenly occurred to Peter that he was going to spend his early mornings like this for the rest of his life.
He bent his head down to press kisses against Rigby’s bare back. She let out a sigh, shifting under his touch. A few more kisses from Peter roused her. He didn’t mean to wake her but her sleepy smile made up for it.
--
He was doing a lot better with his addiction. Pig’s blood didn’t taste great but it kept him from risking lives. Rigby was so proud of him that when he hit his thirty-day anniversary she threw him a little party. There was wine, candles and music.
“You’re amazing,” Peter awed as they swayed along to the music. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she responded. He smiled, combing through her hair. She smelled really good tonight. Rigby always smelled good, of course, but tonight it seemed like she combined all of Peter’s favorite scents.
He nuzzled her neck so he could take in the smell. She let out a moan and craned her neck to the side for him. Peter kissed her warm skin without a second thought. Her blood pumped hot under his lips. Thirty long days he went without human blood and here was Rigby offering it to him.
“You can bite me,” she offered huskily.
“No.” Peter’s eyes were dark in lust as he pulled back. “I have something better in mind.”
--
They sat together on the couch holding hands with Rigby’s head comfortably nestled on his shoulder. Somehow the Food Network grew into a channel they watched together. Peter only started watching with Rigby out of curiosity. Now he was actually enjoying the programs.
“You think you’d want a show?” Peter asked her.
“Mmm.” Rigby pressed a thoughtful kiss on his shoulder. “I don’t know,” she concluded. “I don’t know if I’m a performer.”
“I prefer you to myself anyway,” Peter shrugged. He shifted, returning the shoulder kiss she just gave him. Then he was gently pushing her down on the couch, the show they’d been watching all but forgotten.
--
Peter’s fangs still hadn’t retracted yet. He knew Rigby already saw them but that didn’t make him less eager for her to see now. He heard the door open and shrank into the shadows. Rigby entered the room, her keys jingling as she dropped them on the table. God, Peter could smell her from where she stood.
“I’m home,” she announced. “It’s light out so I know you’re still here, Peter.”
“…Yeah.” Reluctantly he stepped forward. Rigby closed in on him, her arms looping around his neck.
“Had a bad day?” she asked in concern. But his fangs must have answered her question, because she started kissing him. The kisses grew longer and deeper, and her tongue slid out across his lip. Peter groaned, allowing her tongue inside his mouth to scrape against his fangs.
“Rigby,” he moaned out. He almost hoped she would nick herself on his fangs.