Sorry, I'm not feeling up to write... I feel soooo lazy, I just wanna to go out and soak in the deliriously hot sun. Yes, summer finally arrived in good old Germany. Instead I have to stay in a clima-controlled office that's way too cold for my liking. Can you put up with a sorta lazy...hazy... sultry... story for a change?

Hey, just noted I missed my "anniversary" on TLC-list in May. It's now one year and six weeks since I've wrote my first P/P-fic. Time really flies. I've learned so much since then. I sometimes wonder if it also reflects in my writing?


title: Tea for two (March/July 05)
author: Lady Charena
fandom: Kung Fu - the legend continues
codes: P/P, PWP, NC-17
archive: TOSTwins - others just ask

sum: Did you ever think drinking tea can be rather erotic?

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. Lyrics from "Boulevard of broken dreams" and belong to Green Day.

More P/P stories from me and my friends at the Dragon's lair -->
http://tostwins.slashcity.net

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I'm walking down the line
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line of the edge
And were I walk alone
Read between the lines of what's
Fucked up and every things all right
Check my vital signs to know I'm still alive
*************************************************

Feeling Peter is waiting for me in my home, my steps accelerate involuntarily. It is only early afternoon, too soon for him to visit me at a normal working day. While I climb the fire escape up to the loft, I reach out and try to ascertain his mood. And find he has shielded himself very effectively. It is a signal how much he has improved his abilities since finishing his Shaolin training – however at moments like this I find it to be disturbing.

I arrive at the deck and open both wings of the French doors without making a sound. Peter sits on the platform, long legs dangling over the edge. Bent forward, his head is buried in his arms, laying crossed over his thighs. I quickly put down hat, satchel and coat to a nearby chair and approach him. I reach out for him and Peter stirs, sensing my nearness he lifts his head to look at me. His eyes are
wary and very bright as if he is holding back tears.

"Where have you been so long?"

The tiredness in his voice tugs at my heart. I cup his face with both hands. "Visiting patients. What is wrong, my son?"

His lashes flutter, then Peter closes his eyes. "Sorry, didn't mean to..." He sighs and frees himself from my grip. Sitting up, his fingers travel trough his already tousled hair. "Pretty dumb from me to think you'd come rushing over like I was still that little boy, crying for his dad. I know you're busy, but..."

"I am here now, Peter," I gently compel when he does not resume speaking. Reaching out again I start to massage his upper arms and shoulders, to relief the tension in tight knotted muscles. It would be more effectively if he allowed me to remove his jacket, but I do not press it.

"Jody, I and two colleagues from the 52nd, Cordey and Nathan, were on a stakeout today, collecting evidence against a guy who's dealing with weapons. He's got a second office in their area, that's why we cooperated on this."

I feel he starts to loosen up and slide my hands down his arms, to slip my fingers inside his sleeve and circle his wrists. Thus I wait for him to continue, silently counting his too fast pulse.

"No action, just surveillance. Boring... but necessary to nail the guy. It went on pretty smooth, we got a couple of nice pictures from his visitors, potential buyers, I think. Suddenly anything got wrong. I don't know if he spotted us or if one of his customers saw us...
but he came after us. Three hunks with guns."

I let go of his wrists, my eyes narrowing as I take a closer look at him. Even if he is drenched in the odor of blood I find no outer sign of a wounding, but this fails to quiet my dismay. I wait for him to speak. more

"Cordey... he saved my life. We were talking... by the window... about the best way to get a better picture from the next one who's leaving the building... when they busted open the door. I... I don't know who they managed to take us completely by surprise... I should have felt something was wrong. I'm the one with all the Shaolin training." He looks up at me and his eyes are pained. "Why didn't I sense it earlier, Pop? I should have..."

I cup his cheek and lay a finger across his lips to stop him from. "Peter... even with your training, you are still human and..."

He turns away from me. "Don't, Pop..." he stops me with a raised hand. "I'm not yet ready for that lecture. Let me finish with this first."

"As you wish." I try to ignore the sting his words cause me to feel. His emotions are now clearer: anger, pain, disappointment, guilt. I fold my hands at my waist and wait.

"Jody and Nathan made a dive behind some boxes, getting out of sight. But they would have shot me and Cordey... but... he... he moved in front of me and caught the bullet meant for me. He's dead. He's dead because he saved me, Pop!"

I close my eyes for a moment, silently saying a prayer - mourning the death of the detective. But also giving thanks for the life of my son... I open my eyes, but Peter's head is downcast. I know he is not yet ready to listen to whatever I may have to say, so I keep my silence. Moving closer to him, I start to unbutton his jacket He does not resist as I pull it down his shoulders and reveal the shirt beneath, soaked with dried blood. "Perhaps you would like to shower and change?" I suggest softly, the tips of my fingers skimming he soiled material over Peter's heart. The bullet meant for my son would have pierced his flesh there... if not for another man.

I look up and find Peter's eyes following my fingers. "Shower... yes," he says with a shiver. "Good thing I keep some of my clothes with you."

He moves to get up but I stop him, catching his chin and turning his face around so he looks at me. "What happened... was not your fault, Peter. And I am... I am very grateful you are unhurt, my love." Finally giving in into the desire to kiss him I have felt since I entered the loft, I bend forward and touch his lips with mine. Peter groans; his hands come up to grasp my head, his mouth devouring mine hungrily. Heat surges up in his body and so I know why he choose to come to me at this time of the day. With a smile I let go of him and step back. "Shower, Peter," I remind him. "Wait for me in the back room."

I watch my son leave and take a deep breath. At times like this I feel an almost overwhelming need to protect him, to shelter him from the violence and the many cruelties he encounters day by day in his life. Yet I know I cannot keep him safe. All I can do is to be there and to be everything when he needs me.

Like he needs me now.

* * *

I put out most of the candles in the room, giving it a vacant look. Soft footfalls tell me Peter finished his shower and is now on his way to the back room. It is not a very large room, but quiet and... with a door that can be locked. I do not approve of locks, but sometimes there is no other way. My home is always accessible to those in need for help or seeking counsel. Except for the times I selfishly put Peter's need above everything else... It is my Persian flaw.

Picking up two cups with the tea I prepared in the meantime, I leave.

Peter is standing at the window, forehead braced against the pane he looks out. I know all he can see are the roofs of the surrounding buildings, so the sight will not trigger his fear of heights. Putting down the cups on a small table close to the futon, I go to him and wrap my arms around his naked chest. His skin is cold beneath my touch and his hair still damp. With a smile I press my lips against his neck, where it meets the spine and am rewarded with a small tremor, racking his body. "Peter." I blow warm breath in his ear and he shivers.

With a sigh he slumps back and I catch and easily hold him. Peter's head rolls against my shoulder, he turns his face so he can see me. "Make me feel good..." he whispers, his tongue sneaking out to lick across my lips. "Please, Pop. I need you to make feel alive."

There is an edge to his voice that concerns me. "I will give you whatever you require from me, my love," I answer, close to his lips. "Tell me what it is you need so desperately now, Peter."

He twists around in my arms until we are face to face. His hands do not tremble as he starts to unbutton my silk shirt, but I hear the tremor in his voice. "I want you to kiss me... till you take my breath away."

He pushes back the offending material and his cold hands skim over my naked chest, causing me to gasp softly. "I will kiss you."

"I want you to touch me..." he whispers nearly breathlessly and his hands pry open my belt and the single button of my cotton trousers. "...till I burn up with need."

"I will touch you," I promise and rank my nails down his back, raising goosebumps on his arms. My fingers dive below the waistband of the slack trousers he sometimes wears for tai chi or a kung fu session. Slipping deeper until my hands cup the lush flesh of his buttocks.

Peter gasps, but does not stop pushing down my trousers. His fingers caress my thighs, my straining manhood. "I want you to fuck me, Pop. Make me feel I'm alive."

My heart skips a beat, before returning to a hazard pulse. "I will." My voice is a soft growl, my mouth close to his ear. Peter sways against me, his still concealed erection stabbing into my thigh. Without releasing my grip I direct him to the futon, pull him down with me.

Peter lays on his back, while I remain kneeling next to him. Bending down, I kiss him hungrily, sucking his tongue in my mouth until he moans.

I release him, sit back on my heels and watch him. Peter blinks, his eyes glassy with lust. "I trust you are satisfied with the required kiss?"

Peter licks his lips. "I want more."

I take his hand and tug gently until he braces himself up on his elbows. Disappointment shows in his face, when I reach for the cup.

"Pop! I don't want tea."

"I know. Nevertheless you will drink it," I insist.

Peter pouts, but sips the tea. "Lemongrass," he says with some surprise. "And it's actually sweet. I hope I'm not spoiling your tastes, Pop."

I nod and again slip a hand beneath the waistband of his trousers to yank it down with one tug. Peter startles and spills some of his tea. Yellow-greenish droplets run down his chest to pool on his flat stomach. He puts down his cup. "Won't you have any?" he asks slyly.

"I will." Bending down I start to lap the spilled tea from his skin. A delicious mixture explodes on my tongue, the unique flavor of my son and the delicate sweetness of the tea. Without looking up I reach for his cup and pour some more tea over his chest. Peter moans and arches as the hot fluid splashes over his cool skin. Putting the cup aside I bend down to catch the small rivulet with my tongue before it runs off his sides.

Peter's hands are all over my back, rubbing, stroking my skin as far as he can reach, finally slipping up in my hair to press down my
face. I comply and cover his nipple with my mouth, sucking it, licking the tender flesh, then biting the hard peak until he cries out sharply.

My impatient son urges me to slide deeper and with a smile I release the hard pebble from my mouth. I think there will be time later for a more thorough loving, once I have fed his immediate hunger. Perhaps he will stay the night, I would enjoy holding him for more than a few forbidden hours...

Some of the tea has pooled on his stomach and I feel the movement of strong muscles beneath the smooth skin as I lap and suck on it, working my way further down until I reach his twitching erection.

Blindly finding the cup I pour the remaining tea onto his burning flesh and Peter aches as the cooling liquid spills over his penis, some of it disappearing in the vee of his legs. Quickly I let my tongue follow to not waste a single drop...

* * *

I feel relaxation spread through Peter's body as I gently release his spent penis from my mouth. He groans, his lips feasting on mine when I move up to kiss him, feeding him back the taste of his come.

"Are you satisfied with my touching?" I whisper in his open mouth.

"Never stop..."

His hands move erratically across my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"I will never stop," I promise before I close his lips with mine in a kiss that is almost chaste in its tenderness.

Then his fingers find and close around my stiff manhood, squeezing painfully. With a hiss I bite down, catching his lower lip between my teeth, causing him to cry out. It just further ignites me and I lay a path of bites down his chin and neck to his chest.

When I release him, he pants. My hand travels down between our bodies to palm his already growing penis. "I'm still waiting for you to fuck me, Pop," he dares.

I respond by pushing my erection into his abdomen. Then I lift myself up from his delicious body to get the bottle with oil out of the
drawer. "Onto your stomach."

Shooting me an eager glance, Peter complies.

My eyes fall onto the second cup of tea, still untouched. Feeling a wicked smile upon my lips, I take the cup and pour the now cool tea on Peter's heated flesh. He jerks and I laugh before I bend down to lick the liquid from his skin. Peter arches and twists beneath my touch, one of his hands slipping under to stroke his erection.

I bite down into the gentle swell of his buttock, and with a yelp he retrieves his hand. "Could you just stop tease me?" he growls.

Only too happy to submit to my son's wishes, I take the oil and start to prepare him. Soon Peter comes up to his knees, pushing back
against my fingers, stretching his opening.

"Don't make me wait," he demands breathlessly. "Fuck me now, Pop."

"Ah... it is my pleasure to fulfill your every wish, Peter." I raise to my knees and spread more oil onto my erection and position myself
on the entrance to his body. "All you have to do, my son, is..." With a single jerk of my hips I penetrate him halfway. Peter gives a muffled scream. "...is to ask."

Pulling him up until he sits widespread across my thighs I watch my penis disappear in his body as Peter slowly sinks down. I lick the
sweat from his neck, as he twists his head to kiss me. His blood pulses wildly beneath my tongue and I savor the feeling for a moment longer, before I move up to stifle his moans with a kiss.

My hands slide around his hips and I grasp his hard penis. "Do you like... what you feel?" I whisper, trailing my mouth across his cheek to his ear.

Peter makes a choked sound deep in his throat. "Yes... yes... more..." His hips move in lazily circles, causing me to gasp for air as his inner muscles milk my length.

I nip at the tender skin beneath his ear. "I love you so, my Peter." And then, abandoning all pretense of control I start to fuck him in
earnest...

* * *

Peter stirs in my arms and I lift my head to look at his face. His feathers are relaxed, a small smile plays around his lips as he turns to his side, snuggling closer to me. Placing a tender kiss on his temple I pull the blanket up and around his back.

In the morning we will talk about the events that disturbed him so deeply today. For now I am content with holding my beautiful son. To feel him breath, to guard his dreams.

End

* * * * * * * *
Well, this certainly warmed me up. Anybody want a cup of tea? It's cold now but still plenty left... <g>