⛓ • we'll never have sex ;; peter ballard ;; ❤︎

one

Peter was everything to you, he was your savior. You really did believe he was sent down from god, he just seemingly was so picture perfect.

An angel created from the finest marble, a sharp jawline, enchanting blue eyes, waves of sandy blonde hair. His voice was always soft, calm and collected as if he knew he was always in control.

You liked when Peter would whisper softly in your ear, holding you flush against him in the safety of your bedroom. Telling you how much you needed him, and proving it too. Supporting all of your body weight with one arm, and cooing gently.

"Show me where it aches, dearest." He's whispering so quietly you can hardly hear him, drowning in the pleasure. "Is it here?" His precise fingers delve into your folds, curling inside of you before withdrawing as you gasp. "Or is it here?" Teeth dig into your neck, and before your brain can process the severity of the pain he's already peppering the area with kisses and rubbing circles onto your clit. It's a dizzying cycle that gives you whiplash every time, it leaves you breathless and confused, craving and reluctant all at once.

"You'll take all I give you, and thank me for it. Won't you, sweetheart?" He's not really asking you, he's stating it. He knows your body better than you do, and by the way your hips jerk back into his pelvis he knows you really would thank him. You're trying not to cry, but you're aching and he knows it and he's still teasing you. Pressing the tips of his fingers into you in ways he knows will drive you insane.

The hand around your neck squeezes, and you let out a strangled groan. Then as if he wasn't just about to get ready to fuck you brainless, he pulls himself away from you at the call of his name.

Peter watches your behavior carefully as you slouch to the floor, hot, bothered, needy and a mess. A mess just for him. He doesn't take long to take in your form, appreciating his handy work before walking to the door.

It always ends this way, with his fingers slipping out of you and you on the brink of orgasm and tears. Peter doesn't bother to say goodbye, he simply whips your own juices on a handkerchief he kept with him usually and throws it at you before opening your door and leaving swiftly.

It has you reeling, so broken down and hungry for attention— his attention- that you're genuinely happy he acknowledged you when he left. Though the sentiment may have seem out of character, it was his "gentle" way of asking you to wash it for him and give it back tomorrow morning at breakfast.

All of your body is covered in bruises, bites, hickeys and the like. Every inch of once fair and unmarked skin corrupted. All from the man with the imaginary halo above his head, what more could you ask for? He had marked you as his, his human, his responsibility, his.

You stayed there, thinking about Peter. About the wings that sprawled from his back when he fucked you with his fingers a bit too hard, so hard you couldn't form words. Blabbering about him being a god, an angel sent down just for you and every time he'd smile and nod. Encouraging you to believe it only to rip the sentiment away, leaving you in your bed alone and emotionally exhausted.

You'd most likely cry tonight, as you did every night. Pray to a real god who hopefully heard your dreadful cry for help. You rose to your feet, tucking the handkerchief into the pocket of your white dress. Your lace white garter had shifted, and you rearrange yourself to look spotless again.

The stockings hugged your long legs, your heels tapping against the floor as you walked down the hall with clipboard in hand. Today you must take notes on the children's progress, and you smile like a ditz when you realize you'll be in the Rainbow room with Peter.

You open the door, and suddenly all eyes are on you. The second your body is completely inside the room kids flood to you. Wrapping their arms around your legs and tugging you to see their progress. You're smiling and laughing, trying to keep up with them.

Across the room, Peter stands with his back to a double sided mirror. His sharp blue eyes stare over your dainty form, the air of naiveness around you causes his heart to squeeze. You're just far too adorable, he had fantasied about bending you over and taking you as he so pleased then locking you away in a room which only he had the key.

But he had to wait, he couldn't completely break you so soon. What fun would that be?

Though, he couldn't deny the simply desire of wanting to defile that innocent face of yours, cover it in long ribbons of white.

You were Dr. Brenners pride and joy. The nurse every child loved, and around you, each of the lab rats showed the best progress. Because of this, Brenner had grown to enjoy your existence. It was beneficial and you were genuinely nice.

And for that reason, Peter had been slowly dumbing you down into a frenzied bundle of nerves, alight with an anxious buzz and needing him, needing him, needing him. And it worked, surprisingly very well.

It started with you breaking down in his arms after watching a brat get punished, you'd cry and cry and cry for hours on end. He'd whisper sweet nothings to you, cooing gently until you'd calm down. It escalated in a matter of weeks, you constantly looking for him. Making him gifts, feeding him, spending time with him, even going as far as to offer your virginity to him.

It was cute, really it was. Watching you grow so attached to a person who couldn't experience love. Peter stared at you, watching you interact with each kid.

"Good job, you did it sweetheart! I'm so proud of you!"

You cheer happily, a bright smile taking over your face, and he grows jealous. Why couldn't you have been the nurse when he was tested on like an animal, what made these kids so lucky? Maybe it was because they were not born wicked, not as he was. It takes about 20 minutes until every child is accounted for and written about, and finally you're alone.

The kids have already grown tired of you, constantly needing new excitement. Peter's blue eyes stare into you, and he knows that you'll come over to him. He's beckoning you with his stare, and you listen, as always.

He reels all your attention in so quickly you feel like you're short of breath, his long fingers tucking strands of hair behind your ear and smiling gently. Bending over just enough that you're staring at him eye level, unlike before where he was towering over you. "You look lovely."

The words make your breath hitch in your throat, and you smile. It's so sincere and filled with complete adoration for Peter that he's taken aback. His fake smile dropping, and a softer more real one taking it's place.

Just like that, look at me just like that. That's the only thing that passes his mind when he looks at you in this moment, and your heart is beating so fast you swear it's skipping. Peter is leaning in, his lips so dangerously close to yours that you can feel his breath.

You're gripping the clipboard in your hand so tight that a resonating crack spills out into the room. Your attention is drawn away from Peter and you frown, you hadn't meant to split the poor thing.

"I'm sorry."

You don't know why you're apologizing, and by the look on Peter's face he doesn't know why either. But he smiles, straightening his back and glancing between you and the clipboard in your hands. "Would you like me to walk you?"

Of course you would and he knows it. You nod, so very eagerly to have his hands on you like a good girl, Peter's hand, as usual, finds the small of your back and he begins to guide you towards the doors. He opens them for you, before walking out after you. Blue eyes glare daggers at the nearest orderly, and when they begin to stalk towards the Rainbow room he reverts his gaze back to you.

Now, Peter's focus could be entirely on you. On the only human alive worth at least some of his time, on a silly and yet beautiful girl that belonged to him.

You're breathing evenly for the most part, pressed tightly to his side and happy about the close contact. Peter wonders what's going on inside your head when you step closer, so needy for him to be close.

He almost laughs. What a silly thought, and what a silly girl. His, silly girl.