My Funny Valentine

Title: My Funny Valentine
Author: Cherry Vanilla
Fandom: The Talented Mr. Ripley
Pairing: Tom/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Status: NEW, Complete

Summary: A missing scene.

I. You make me smile in my heart

Peter casually touches me. Peter listens to me talk and seems genuinely interested. Peter notices me from a distance in the middle of conducting a piece. Peter's smile on me makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world.

At those times, I feel whole; I yearn to run away and leave behind this mess I've created, or better yet, I yearn to lock it away.

No, no, what I really wants is to give Peter the key so he can open it up and look inside and still love me for it.

I want him to love Tom Ripley.

II. Don't change a hair for me

When Peter asks if he could come back, my stomach jumps to my throat. Peter's voice is soft and low and unmistakably seductive leaving no illusions of what would happen tonight. And I, I naively wasn't expecting it to ever happen; honestly thought those few kisses must have been a fluke, that Peter would never dream of going to bed with me, and would soon come to his senses.

But it's happened, and Peter is smiling a half nervous/half hopeful smile and I do the only thing in the world I can think of; I give him the key. And when Peter smiles back, I feel like the only person in the world again. And it's different from what Marge said about Dickie, because this is finally "Tom" and no one else.

III. Not if you care for me

When Peter leaves, I lay in the bath, eyes closed as a nervous excitement courses through my body, pooling in the vicinity of my groin. I lean back and think about our previous interludes; brief kisses as we scrolled along the bridges of Venice, the moonlight reflecting against the water.

The first time it happened there was a chill in the air. Peter took off his coat and wrapped it around me, leaving his hand resting against on my shoulder ever so gently for long minutes until he slid it across the back of my neck and down my arm. I looked at him, breath caught in my throat, my eyes slightly hidden behind the rim of my glasses. Peter touched my face, stroked my cheek tenderly and my heart stopped and then started up again, beating triple time in a steady rhythm like a pentameter.

Peter leaned in then and suddenly his lips were descended upon mine, soft and pliant. I turned in his arms, wrapped in a warm embrace. Peter's tongue swept across my lips, asking permission, and I gave it ever so slightly by parting my lips and allowing Peter's tongue to inch in and touch my own. Electric shocks went off behind my eyes and I swallowed a sob.

So this is what it feels like to be wanted. I wasn't sure I'd survive it.

Peter's fingers clenched at my back, while mine opted for slow strokes. I wanted to memorize the feel of this person who could make me feel this way.

I held him tighter, wanting to cocoon myself within this sanctuary. Then I felt Peter's hardening cock against me and I was all too aware of my own. The feel of this, all of it, was so new, so wonderful that I didn't ever want to stop. Our tongues danced slowly, lost in silky warmth, until Peter pulled back.

I was panting, gasping for composure, presently aware of how vulnerable I was at that moment and not caring in the slightest.

Peter's eyes locked with my own, dark and filled with emotion, his fair cheeks flushed crimson.

He cleared his throat. "Let's continue on, shall we?"

I closed his eyes at the sound of that musical, honey sweet accent.

"Yes, let's." My voice was light, and my eyes were smiling up at Peter. And as we walked onward our hands and shoulders brushed not so accidentally.

There were a few more kisses after that, brief goodnight ones, and I wildly thought, "We're dating."

And now, the reality of what was going to happen made me happy all over and yet I also felt so very peaceful. I kept my eyes closed, lost in daydream until I heard a knock at the door.

IV. Stay, little Valentine, Stay

I inhale sharply as Peter wraps up my palm. All I wanted tonight was to be Tom Ripley, the Tom who Peter saw. Instead I found myself playing Dickie's role, doing "Marge Maintenance", attempting to comfort her, ease her suspicions in any way I could.

When she finally left and Peter came over to me, taking my hand in his and examining the wound, I wanted to die. Peter's concern for me was like a knife through my heart. The man was so gentle, so caring and I want to put Dickie and Marge and Freddie and Meredith all behind me when Peter is around. I want nothing to exist but us.

Peter finishes dressing the cut and makes me smile and suddenly it's easier to forget everything else while Peter is looking at me. We're both still smiling as he gets up to put the first aid kit away. When he returns, he sits on the couch next to me, taking my injured palm in his hand and rubbing gently.

I look up and our eyes meet, faces mere inches apart. I breathe through parted lips as I wait for Peter to move. After what feels like an eternity has passed, he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the bandage, dragging his mouth up along the inside of my palm, up the length of my index finger until he reaches the fingertip. He pushes my finger pass his lips and his tongue swirls around and down the length. I stare at him, moaning softly as my cock rises against the cloth of my robe.

Peter's eyes never leave mine; his other hand begins to stroke my hair. My head falls to the side and I angle my mouth toward Peter where it is captured and held. I twist around so I'm facing him more, head falling against the back of the sofa.

Peter releases my hand from his grasp and moves his own to my shoulder, pulling me into his embrace so I'm laying atop him as his right legs rests on the carpet and the other is tangled beneath me. Our groins make contact; erections rubbing together, mine being separated only by the material of my bathrobe.

Peter moans loudly against my mouth as we lick at one another desperately, breaking our seal.

"Tom..can we move to the bedroom?"

My cock jumps and I close my eyes tightly. I want nothing more than just that, yet I'm scared to death. And then there's--

"Marge. Is she coming back?"

"No. She thought she ought to spend the night at Mr. Greenleaf's." The sound of Peter's breathless voice makes it difficult to focus on anything else.

Tom nodded. "Yes, let's.. um. Bedroom."

We help one another up. Peter interweaves our fingers and stares at me. I'd never seen such emotion directed my way.

When we walk into the bedroom I freeze in my tracks.

"Tom?"

"Peter, I.."

"Yes?"

"You..you're my.."

"Shh."

And I want to scream, "No, No, you must let me say this," but he kisses me to silence and pulls my hand under his shirt. He speaks to me through his eyes and we lift it up together. My gaze is glued to his chest. I start running my hands along the chiseled flesh with great interest, wanting to touch him everywhere, anywhere.

His hands are on the tie of my robe; I hold my breath as he slowly undoes the knot. He pushes the robe off my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor and when I stand naked before him and I can't look anywhere but down at the floor.

"Tom." His fingers are pushing my chin up. "Tom, look at me."

Reluctantly, I do, straight into those readable eyes. Who is he seeing? How can all of that love and desire be directed at me?

"Tom, you're beautiful."

I shake my head vehemently. "No. I'm not."

"Tom." His voice is hard and stern and I look once more at him. "You're beautiful."

And I can't argue. Can't do anything more but cling to him, arms wrapped around him so tight I fear I may break him.

"So beautiful, Tom." He's whispering into my ear as my face is buried against his neck and I'm almost crying.

His mouth is on my earlobe, sucking so lightly, moving down to my neck and leaving wet fiery kisses. I run my hands up the expanse of his back and soon the comforting touches have turned sexual once again.

He's moving my hands to his pants and he helps me get them down, my fingers too shaky to do it alone. He steps out of them and I step out from where the robe is draped around my feet. We move toward the bed, his underwear coming off in the process. I step back and look at him; at his perfect body, his beautiful penis risen against his belly, the dark mat of curls beneath and his heavy sac pulled tight; he's a work of art.

I begin shaking and he wraps me up in his arms.

He kisses my fears and insecurities away, pushes me gently on the bed and covers my body, blessing it with kisses from top to bottom. I don't think he left any part of me unturned. He keeps going until I'm shaking yet again but this time it's not from anything other than desire. Then he takes me in his mouth and I sob his name at the top of my lungs.

His tongue is like the sweetest caress and he tells me everything he feels with it. My neck arches back as he swallows all of me, lips so tight around my flesh, and it's hot and silky and wonderful. I feel like he's washing away my sins with every swipe of his tongue.

His hands are running over my sweaty chest. He sucks me harder with increased passion and I'm starting to thrash against the pillow.

Then he pulls off with one last swipe at the head. I'm flustered and confused.

"Wha-- Peter, why..?"

"Shh." He moves up my body, fitting us together like pieces to a jigsaw puzzle. He kisses my lips softly. "I want you inside me, Tom."

I'm speechless. I..

"I don't.. I don't know--"

"I'll show you."

I bite my lip and nod. He kisses me deeply and goes to his pants. He pulls out a foil packet and small tube of something.

I stare at the items and he notices, looking slightly embarrassed. "I was hopeful."

He lay down on his back and pulls me on top of him as we kiss and rub together. I slide between his thighs and he bends his legs at the knees.

"Tom," Peter whispers around my lips. And then he's pressing the tube into my hand. "Just, coat two of your fingers with that."

I nod shakily as I prop myself up and start my task. I drop the tube as he begins lapping at my nipples. I blush and retrieve it again. After a few seconds I'm done.

Peter arches against the pillow, pulling his legs closer to his body as I'm positioned between them. "Slide one finger inside me."

And I do so. And it's tight and hot and I think how pretty soon *I'm* going to be inside there. He tells me to slip in another and I do. He tells me to move them, and again, I listen. And then he's moving against me, screwing his ass down against my fingers. My god, but he's beautiful.

"Oh god, Tom. Okay, that's enough."

His hair is sticking to his forehead and his chest is heaving. He puts the rubber on me and I gasp at the feel.

Then he's putting the lubricant on the condom and I close my eyes.

"I wish you could see yourself like this, Tom."

He wraps his legs around my waist and pulls me to his lips. We kiss and I'm moaning as his hand wraps against my dick and he's pushing me--

"Oh my god."

I'm sliding inside his body. His legs tighten around me and I get the hint, moving my own hand to guide myself in. Peter is moaning and gasping and pushing against my cock. I slide deeper and deeper until I can't go any further. I remove my hand from it's resting spot and wrap it around his cock, pleased with myself for apparently making the right decision based on Peter's reaction.

We begin to move; I thrust in and out slowly and we find an easy rhythm. He kisses me nearly the whole time, hands all over me, pulling me closer as our breath and sweat mingles and mixes.

He's moaning my name, *my name*. And he feels so wonderful, under me, on me, letting me inside him. I want nothing more than this, only this.

We move faster and he's sobbing as I pull at his cock faster, kiss him harder and when we come, it's together.

We sleep together tangled around one another and when I awake its to soft, sweet kisses.

"Wake up, sleepy head," Peter teases as he plants kisses along my shoulder.

I moan sleepily and stretch.

"You fell right to sleep last night," he says, eyes smiling, but ... was he disappointed?

"I'm sorry, I."

"Don't be. I enjoyed holding you."

I blush and lower my eyes, shyly. "You held me?"

"Yes. You had no nightmares."

I touch his lips with my fingers and his mouth opens beneath them.

"Was it all right? Last night?"

He takes my hand away and hovers over me, lips almost touching mine. "Yes, Tom. Oh, yes."

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. We kiss, tongues sliding, exploring teeth and gums.

When we part, he takes my face in his hands. "Tom, come to Greece with me."

My heart skips a beat.

"You ... what's in Greece?"

"I'm conducting a choir, it'll be for a few weeks. Come away with me. Just us."

Just us.

"Yes."

My heart soars as he leans in to kiss me again.

V. Each day is Valentine's Day

I walk Peter to a cab. Before he gets in, he kisses my cheek and whispers that he loves me. As the cab pulls away and Peter looks back at me through the rear windshield my stomach begins to flutter and I know I love him as well. I walk back inside to get ready for my meeting with Mr. Greenleaf's detective but the smile never leaves my face. After this last facade, I'm going away; with Peter. I'm going to be Tom Ripley now and no one else.

I'm going to be loved.

END

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