Title: Addicted to you
Author: Lady Charena
Fandom: Kung Fu – the legend continues
Codes: P/P, R
Sum: same as in “to ease all woes”,
but now from Peter’s POV
Disclaimer:
This story's mine, but I do not intend to touch the rights of the owner of the
characters from KF-TLC I've used. No moneymaking, no offence meant.
Even so, I am still
dying to meet you
I want to meet you everyday
I don't know what to do with this feeling
I want to be mature enough to deal with my own feelings
But it takes time for that to happen
I feel sad when I can't meet you
I feel good when I am with you
These feelings are addictive
…can’t get the hell fast enough out of here!
Where’s Pop? Whenever I turned I saw him standing slightly detached from the
others, looking for the world all composed and comfortable. His eyes would meet
mine, losing that guarded look. It helped me a lot to stay calm.
Even if I’d been warned I didn’t believe Zia
would prevail. Walking away I still I feel her eyes directed at me, burning
holes into my back. And her smile… I suppress a shudder and try to banish her
from my thoughts. At least for now. I’m pretty sure Pop wants to talk about
her, but I can’t handle right now more of it or I’m gonna explode in blind
rage. And I don’t want my father to be in the midst of it. Even if I know he
wouldn’t care, maybe even welcome the release of my anger. Strange thing to hear
from a man who controls every emotion…
Finally outside. Fresh air hits me like a slap,
cools my overheated face and with a sigh I let go of the anger, feeling
exhaustion taking over. The past few days had been from hell. I’ve been
questioned over and over and filled reports until late into night. Though I
didn’t mind much about the last part, work’s been better than nightmares. Zia
added just a few new to my already varied selection… There I go again, can’t I
put that damn woman out of my mind? I’d better find Pop. Maybe I can lure him
into spending some time with me right know, to work out or simply listen to my
chatter. Something to keep me from thinking too much.
Someone calls my name and I turn, my heart
searing – but no, it’s not Pop. I say something proper, shake hands and get the
hell out of the courthouse. There he is. Just a few steps away, smiling a
tender, special smile only meant for me. Suddenly a burst of love for this man
explodes in my chest and for a moment all I can do is stand and watch. I will
him to come to me and hug me, touching me to soothe away…
Slowly releasing the breath I didn’t notice I
was holding, I avert my eyes, running my fingers through my hair. Hold it
Caine, I reprove myself. Pop’s maybe reading your every thought...
All the sudden he stands in front of me, near
enough so I can feel the heat radiating from his body. I open my mouth… though
I’m not sure what I’m gonna say… but he stops me, crossing my mouth with a
finger.
For seconds I image myself open my lips and sucking
his finger in…
“We will speak of it, Peter,” he says and his
eyes capture mine with ease. I worry what he might read in my gaze… “But not
now. Come,” he continues, gently brushing the back of his hand across my cheek.
I try to lean into his touch, but it’s already gone and Pop’s ready to turn and
walk away from me.
I grab for his shoulder, stop him. “And where
do you want to go, Pop?” I ask, forcing a shaky smile to cover the shiver that
just runs through my entire body, little sparks of high voltage, just from a
touch to my cheek…”Home? Or…” Please, don’t dump me now, Pop… “…we could have a
late lunch somewhere…” Christ, I hate sounding that whiny but I can’t help
myself. I’m sure he has things to do, maybe patients waiting for him or…
He sends me a look over his shoulder. “Are you
hungry?”
I just shake my head once, too tired to lie –
which wouldn’t work with him anyway - waiting for the final rejection.
“Then I would propose that we return home.”
Well, not exactly the answer I wanted, but I
think that settles it. “I’ll drive you,” I offer, hoping he’ll agree so I have
at least the few minutes of the ride. “But afterwards I better return to the
precinct. I’ve got a lot work to do,” I add. Simply don’t want him to feel
pressed into entertaining me. Pop’s hand covers mine and squeezes gently,
effectively stopping my thoughts. Instead a rush of arousal surges through me
and I tense, fearing he would read my feelings...
“I thought you said you… ‘took the afternoon
off’?” he asks.
“I did… but…” The words won’t come to my blazed
mind. I’m drowning in the love I see in his eyes…
“What is it, Peter?” he urges as I fumble with
an explanation.
Finally I manage a smile… or something similar
to it. “I… I’m not good company today, Dad. And I’m pretty sure you’re not
finished with your new… lodgings…” That should take his mind to other things…
but obviously it doesn’t work.
“It will have to wait. Come, Peter,” Pop
answers lightly, slipping out of my grasp and starting to walk down the street
where the Stealth waits.
After a moment of stunned immobility, I close
up to him.
Pop’s in the car even before I can take the
keys out of my pocket. I join him and joke: “Don’t even think of it.” I can’t
prevent a grin as I see him struggle with the seat belt. Yeah, I know, it’s
childish, but to see something as simple as belting himself in gives my Pop a
hard time…
He gazes at me, hazel eyes slightly puzzled.
Looking like a curious bird, he inclines his head slightly and obviously waits
for an explanation.
“I won’t let you drive.” And I just know Pop
remembers…
The skin around his eyes wrinkles as he tries
to hide his smile, then he leans forwards to gently cuff my jaw. In an instant
I feel better, watch him shaking his head in mock desperation.
“Drive.”
For seconds my gaze clings to his lips. “Where
to?” I ask giving him a glance that tells him I’m not going to buy it. You
can’t fool me every time, Dad.
“Your apartment.”
This I didn’t expect. He hardly ever visits me,
despite my bugging. I wait for an explanation, but it seems I won’t get one. He
succeeds with the belt, keeping his eyes straight ahead. After a moment I turn
the key with a sigh. Leave it to my Pop to be cryptic… “Okay. Whatever you
want.”
* * *
It’s a silent ride, but the detached look in my
father’s face and my growing exhaustion keeps even my mouth shut. I wonder what
he’s up to. Another lecture about wearing myself too thin? About… I feel a knot
of anxiety coiling in my belly. With dismay I see my hand shake as I fumble
with the key to open the door to my apartment. Pop’s fingers close around mine
and I can’t stop myself from turning and looking at him to ascertain his
reaction. But I find only mild concern in his eyes, no disappointment about my
lack of control. The silence is too much and I say the first thing coming to my
mind: “Kelly’s maybe here.” Christ, this sounds like I'm apologizing. He
doesn’t expect me to live alone all the time, so why do I feel like I should
beg his forgiveness? Too late I realize that maybe he’d preferred to be alone
with me… But of course Pop won’t give me an answer.
I get inside at fast as I can, with him
following close behind. I spot a sheet at the table and pick it up, reading the
short note in Kelly’s handwriting during I get rid of my jacket. “Kelly’s
working late and will meet a friend from school tonight. Means she won’t come,”
I add pointlessly. My nervousness increases and I crush the paper to a tight
little ball, tossing it to the floor as I slump with a sigh onto the couch.
We’re alone. I’m finally alone with my Pop – and I don’t know what to do… I
fear he’ll see my confusion and so I close my eyes, trying to relax.
“I will make tea.”
I nearly jump at Pop’s voice, sounding so
awfully casual. “Tea sounds… okay. But I don’t think I have any of the stuff
you’d usually drink. Sorry, Pop.” I wince at the lack of enthusiasm in my
words. I hope he won’t mind, but I’m unable to meet his eyes right know and
keep them shut.
“This situation can be easily solved, my son,”
I hear my father say. Who’d guessed he wouldn’t…
* * *
“Peter?”
Pop’s voice wakes me. I must be even more tired
than I though, ‘cause it couldn’t take that long to make tea for me to fall
asleep like an overwrought kid. I get up a bit from my slumped position and
pain shoots through my shoulders and my head. Craning my neck I’ll hope for Pop
catching up the clue and giving me one of his massages…
As if reading my thoughts his hand comes to my
neck, strong fingers pressing into strained muscles, soothing away the tension.
With the other hand he picks up a cup, urging me to take it.
“Drink.”
The smell isn’t quite inviting and I brace
myself to another dose of my father’s over-all-cure-for-stressed-sons as I take
the cup from his hand. Cautiously taking a sip I nearly spit it back – the
taste’s even worse than the smell. “Whoa, this stuff’s awful, Pop. Geez, no
wonder you won’t drink it.”
Of course he won’t let me get away with it. I
see his lips curve in the smallest of smiles. “It will help you to relax.”
It’d take a lot more than a few herbs… With a
sigh, I drown it in one large gulp. My agitation rises again, for I feel unable
to stand his touch any longer. I put the cup down and slip out of my father’s
grasp. “A hot shower would do the same,” I say, directing my anger to the one
person I shouldn’t… I get up. “Without leaving a foul taste in my mouth.” I
wince at the cruelness of my own words.
Pop’s face shows no reaction, but he rises too.
“Then I would advise you to take your hot shower.”
There’s no reprove in his voice though I feel
it. I turn to look at him but there is no anger in his eyes and I avert my
face, unable to look at him. “Sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t mean to… it’s just
I…”
I stop as he reaches for me, cupping my jaw to
make me meet his gaze. “Peter…”
It’s too much, too intensive. “Sorry, Pop,” I
interrupt before he can say more. “I’m… I’m not used to… being pampered. Not
anymore. I mean… you…” I stutter, feeling like the world’s biggest fool.
Pop stops me with a gentle finger across my
lips. I tremble with the effort not to grab and kiss him… The mingled love and
pain in his eyes is almost too much for me to take.
“I would very much like to… pamper… you, my
son,” he says. His voice is low and almost… sensual.
No, must be my imagination. He wouldn’t… I can’t
help myself but lean forward, into his touch. “Why?” I whisper, lowering my
lashes to prevent him from seeing too much.
Sensing it more than actually seeing it, I know
he shakes his head. “Because I love you, Peter.”
My heart skips a few beats. Running his fingers
up my jaw to my cheek, he releases me. Taking my arm he steers me towards the
bath. Blinded and deafen I’m willing to let him do with me whatever pleases
him…
At the door I regain a kind of control back.
“Whoa, wait a minute, Pop. What’re you doing?”
“I will take care of you.”
Again there is something in his voice I don’t
quite understand. And I won’t again allow my imagination to rush to
conclusions. “Don’t you think I’m a bit too old for that?” I protest, even if I
don’t really mean it. “Come on, I’m not a baby anymore, Pop. I can do this for
myself.”
He doesn’t answer, simply looks at me until I
blush and have to look away. Then he pushes me through the doorway and into the
room. “Take off your shirt,” he orders and leaves me standing stunned to view
the contents of a nearby shelf.
I undress quickly and as he turns to face me
again, he holds a bottle with shampoo in his hand. “Gonna wash my hair?” I ask.
“Can’t remember you ever doing it.”
Pop takes a stool from a corner – I don’t know
or mind how it came into the bathroom – and moves it in front of the basin.
“Only when you were a very small boy,” he answers, patting the seat as if I’m
still a kid. “Sit down.”
I hesitate; feel compelled to ask if he’s sure,
even if I’d love the very idea. “You’re serious about this?”
He gives me one of his patent shrugs, takes a
towel and folds it, placing it at the rim of the sink. Guess, that’s my answer.
I sit down and put my head gingerly back until my neck rests on the towel. It’s
awkward but exciting, to watch my father from this angle. I feel strangely
exposed to his eyes and I have to fight against a sudden attack of arousal.
Pop takes a small bowl from the shelf, Kelly
used it once to who-knows-what and moves it behind my head. I can’t see what
he’s doing but I guess he fills it.
Warm water slowly slides down my scalp and I
involuntarily utter a deep sigh. I feel my father’s hand brushing the hair back
from my forehead and preventing me from getting any water in my eyes. I close
my lids to better savor the sensations.
Suddenly his hands are gone and I open my eyes,
afraid I might dream. But he’s still there, working shampoo into soft lather
between his palms. He didn’t roll his sleeves and the wet fabric clings to his
wrists, but it seems he doesn’t mind. An intense look of concentration crosses
his face and again I close my eyes to hide my feelings. Seconds later, he
starts to spread the foam onto my hair, his fingertips gently massaging my
scalp. His touch soothes away the headache I felt building since ever leaving
the court.
I’m in heaven. It’s both thrilling and
comforting, ‘cause I know of his strength. He could crush my head, but his
touch is so gentle… Heat flows from the fingertips that rub little circles on
my scalp and runs through my entire body. Arousal floats my being. Christ, he’s
my father, I can’t… Suddenly I image the same strong hands spreading lather
down my chest, rubbing my nipples, and sliding deeper down… I almost groan and
dig my nails into the soft flesh of my palms to fight against the arousal, but
can’t prevent a small sound escaping my throat. “This feels great, Pop,” I
murmur to cover up my slip. “I’m melting.”
He doesn’t answer and so I can hope he senses
nothing unusual from me. Taking a couple of deep breaths I manage to… I feel
lightheaded. Disturbing images flash suddenly in my mind. I see myself at the
shower, Pop on his knees in front of me, his lips open to take me in. I see him
turning me to face the wall, his hands sliding down my back, caressing… parting
my cheeks, his legs pushing mine further apart… I almost cry out.
Holding my breath I wait for the inevitable
question from my father – but it never comes. Through lowered lashes I steal a
glimpse onto his face. I can tell he enjoys washing my hair from the
preoccupied look in his eyes, but his mouth is set in a stern line, the lips
almost bloodless.
Suddenly he pulls back his hands, looking at
them with a mixed expression of wonder and horror. He lifts his head and stars
into the mirror above the sink.
“Why did you stop?” To my utmost relief my
voice sounds almost normal and I smile as his eyes shift to my face. I wonder
if he knows I can see it.
Again I receive no answer, but Pop turns on the
tap and rinses his hands. He takes a second towel and dabs at a trickle of
foam, sliding down my forehead. I fully open my eyes to look at him – and he
avoids my gaze.
No… he can’t… he didn’t sense what I was
thinking, did he? “Pop?” I ask nervously. “Everything alright?” I can’t help
but frown… and his hand comes up, to smooth away the tension with a featherlike
caress, that both serves to calm and reassure me.
“It is nothing, Peter,” he says with a smile
and I have to close my eyes to hide my relief.
I love you, Pop. I need you, Father… forgive me
for loving you too much, for wanting too much…
He starts to rinse the shampoo out and I know
it’s over… that scaring, thrilling moment of intimate closeness…
A touch to my upper arm guides me to sit up and
I oblige both with relief and regret. Water trickles down my neck, shoulder and
down my chest and I open my eyes. Pop moves to catch it with the towel and I
feel his finger brush my skin. Fingertips travel teasingly along my ribs and I
cannot suppress a shiver. I hold my breath.
“Peter,” he whispers. “I…”
It is too much, I push his hand away and see
him step back, surprise evident in his eyes, the towel dangling loose from his
fingers. Frenetically I search for words to explain… “It’s… uh… that’s
sufficient, Dad. I’ll dry… you don’t have to…” I know I make little sense and
avert my eyes. “I better change.” Suddenly all I want is to escape. I rise and
leave the bath without another word.
* * *
I hide in my bedroom as I hear the door of the
bathroom. Finally I gather enough courage to leave it and step into the living
room. Pop’s at the kitchen area, neatly folding a little paper bag and about to
put it back into his satchel.
Our eyes meet across the distance and a too
familiar feeling of fear rises in my chest. “You’re… you’re not leaving, Pop?
You’ll stay, won’t you?” I ask, hating the pleading sound of my voice but am
helpless to prevent it.
I see his gaze travel my body, taking in the
clothes I’ve changed into and suddenly his fingers closes around the strap of
the satchel, almost tearing it off.
“I will only stay if you wish me to stay.”
I almost slump down with relief. “Okay.” It’s
not the answer I dreamt of, but it’s definitely better than nothing. “I… really
like having you around,” I add, feeling the nervousness creeping back as he
continues to look at me as if he hadn’t see me for a long time. He’ll stay if I
please him, I think. If I’m an obedient son. “I’ll even… drink more of this
stuff… I mean the tea you made, if you want me to.” I’d do everything he wanted
me to do. “It’s not that bad, really. I just--" I stop and shrug. “It
helped somehow… but… your pampering… I liked even more. I mean… washing my
hair… it really felt good.” Christ, I’m a stuttering idiot, he’ll never stay…
He smiles. Amusement shines in his gentle eyes
and I run out of words. Obviously he… doesn’t mind or… even thinks I need more…
pampering. Heaven, I don’t know if I can take more… alone him touching me right
now. He could be surprised by my reaction... I almost laugh and feel my cheeks
grow hot. Brushing my hair back I have to look aside.
He drops the satchel and comes to me, standing
close… too close. Slowly he lifts his hand and runs the knuckles of his hands
down my cheek. I squeeze my eyes tight and hold my breath.
“You are greatly disturbed, my son.”
With the tip of a finger he brushes my mouth,
traces the outlines of my lips and I sigh contently.
“It’s just… too much of everything. Zia…” No, I
don’t want to think about her, not now, not when I am touched like this by my
father. I tighten my lips, but Pop rubs them with the pad of his thumb till I
relax again. “No, I don’t want to think about her. Not now,” I speak my
thoughts aloud, just to prevent myself from sucking his finger into my mouth. I
open my eyes and wonder what he can see. Suddenly all the energy seems to leave
my body. “I’m so tired, Father.” I know, he will hear the plea in my voice...
He gently cups my chin and leans towards me, to
place a kiss onto my cheek. Without thinking I move my head and his lips brush
the corner of my mouth. A touch… almost to fleeting to be aware of it but my
skin feels burned…
“I do not think you require more tea, but you
must try to rest.”
There is a tremor in my father’s voice… or
maybe it’s just my wild running imagination. I nestle my face against his
strong shoulder. “Sleep sounds fine,” I murmur, marveling in the feel of his
body so close to mine. “I didn’t get much last night. But I’m afraid I’ll… I’ll
dream.”
He pulls me even closer to him and hesitantly I
slip my arms around his waist, hoping he’s gonna to let me hold him.
“I will stay to guard your dreams,” he
whispers, his mouth near my ear. “You will be safe.”
He starts to rock me like a child. Safe. Yes.
There is no place in the world I could be safer than in his arms… His hands
travel up and down my back and his mouth comes even closer to my ear, I can
feel little puffs of warm breath as he starts to hum… a unknown, yet strange
familiar tone, settling around my like a magic spell. A shudder runs through my
body and then I feel myself going slack. His strengths supports me, keeps me on
my feet.
It seems he holds me for hours, maybe eternity.
I could stay in his arms forever. His fingertips slowly creep into my hair and
start anew a massage of my scalp. Blindly I turn my face against the soft, warm
skin of his throat, moaning my pleasure.
Then he let go of me and I feel disappointment.
He takes my arm and steers me towards the bedroom, finally guiding me down to
sit on my bed. Unable to meet his eyes I let him undress me. First the sweater,
I obediently rise my arms, then the jeans and I lift my legs to help him
getting it off. He pushes me back and I recline on my back. Like he did when I
was a child, he tucks the corners of the thin comforter in and brushes his
fingertips across my temples. “Sleep, my son.”
Seemingly out of its own will I reach for his
hand before he can withdraw, bring it to my mouth and lay a kiss onto his palm.
Like I’ve giving him a signal, he bends down to kiss my forehead. I ache to
feel his lips on mine… everywhere… and I’m unwilling to let him go.
“I will stay,” he reassures.
But this is not the answer I need to hear and I
let go of his hand. I close my eyes and feel him sit down next to me. The last
thing I feel before drifting into deep sleep are my father’s fingers, running
through my hair…
* * *
Returning to a lighter state of sleep I sense a
warm body next to mine. Pop. Without thinking I snuggle up to him, pillow my
face on his chest and drag an arm across his waist to keep him close to me. He
doesn’t stir and I let myself drift off…
* * *
Something wakes me and I roll over to my back,
stretching. I feel a lot better, thanks to Pop. I turn my head, but he’s gone.
Running my fingertips across the pillow next to mine I wonder if I dreamt… of
him… laying next to me, asleep but holding me in his arms… I bury my face in
the pillow and smell a unique mixture of herbs and incense, achingly familiar.
My father’s smell. No dream…
Slowly I become aware of a voice… no,
voices… outside the room. I lift my
head and listen. Kelly? And Pop? Shit. I bold out of bed and dress hastily.
As I open the door I hear my father say:
“Please do not mention this to Peter. It will only embarrass him.” I see him
passing by Kelly, obviously ready to go.
“What will embarrass me?” I ask, making myself
know. But I can already guess… and a savage little thrill starts in my body.
Kelly stumbled in onto us. She saw me cuddling up with Pop and now she’s
fuming. I can see it in the way she hugs herself, her eyes dark and foreboding.
“You’re talking about me, aren’t you? Kelly – I thought you’d be out tonight?
What happened to your friend?”
“Peter…”
I dare not to look at my father and so I do the
only other thing I can do right now – I embrace and kiss Kelly. She sends me a
strange look and moves out of my embrace to vanish into the bathroom, telling
me she cancelled the date on her way.
I turn to look at Pop, but he’s now at the
kitchen area, fingering his satchel, his head bend down. My heart beats wildly
as I step to him and start to rub his shoulder. I don’t know what to think… or
what the cause might be… but I feel he’s in pain. I remember the way he called
my name and smile as he finally faces me.
His eyes leaves mine to search for Kelly, but
his hand covers mine.
“I feel way better, Pop. What ever you did, it
worked.”
Still Pop avoids looking at me and he doesn’t
answer. My courage falters as he takes his satchel and slings the strap over
his shoulder.
“Kelly’s date cancelled. Why don’t you join us
for dinner? You could get to know her and…” It’s not what I really want, but
it’s all I can ask for.
Brushing off my hand from his shoulder, he
interrupts me. “I would prefer to go home, Peter. It has been a rather
demanding day for me, too.”
I try not to show my disappointment. “Okay. I’ll
drive you.” Maybe I can change his mind… but his answer destroys my hope.
“This is not necessary. I will walk.”
Finally he looks at me, but I’m not sure he
really sees me. His eyes are bleak, devoid of all expression.
“Earth to Pop? Talk to me.” I try to sound
lightly.
He raises his hand and fleetingly brushes his
knuckles across my cheek. “You know where to find me if you need me, Peter,” he
says, his voice gentle. Then he turns to go.
I follow him to the door. “Thanks for being
here, father,” I say, for I sense I cannot hold him back anymore. I bend
forwards to drop a kiss to his forehead, for I know he enjoys this little sign
of… affection. “And for staying with me.” For holding me, for making my sleep
safe – for loving me. I hope he understands everything I can’t say aloud.
Pop simply nods and leaves.
Idly I walk to the window and watch rain
running down the glass.
end