"Rug Burn," Peter/Nathan, NC-17
Title: Rug Burn
Author: Alizarin_NYC
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Written for: Just porn, nothing else here of any value, really.
Summary: On the last night before the end of the world, Peter gives Nathan something to remember him by.
Nathan twisted Peter's arm around until Peter shouted incoherently.
"I could break this," he said. "You'd heal. And what would it matter?"
"It matters," Peter gasped. "It all matters, Nathan. Fucking let me go!"
Nathan twisted harder instead, until Peter disappeared from view. He hung on anyway. "Save the world. It's bullshit, you know, it's all bullshit."
Peter said nothing and though Nathan could feel him, could feel the arm he was still gripping, not seeing him was unnerving.
"Seeing you dead," Nathan said. And he stopped. He let go of Peter's arm abruptly and heard the sound of his brother dropping to the carpet with a thump. Perhaps Claire would hear, or his mother, and then someone would come, would interrupt this nonsense. They'd tell Nathan that he'd had too much to drink, that he should just sleep it off, that tomorrow was a very big day. Tomorrow is a very big day.
Peter reappeared, panting on the floor. "Seeing me dead, I know. But I'm here, I'm not dead and I'm ready to do what needs to be done. Think of that as being like... like, preparation, in case this doesn't work out. You'll be better prepared if I don't make it through."
"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"Come here," Peter motioned to him with his arm from the floor. Nathan obeyed, not thinking. He dropped down next to Peter, but instead of continuing to argue, Peter grabbed the back of his head and drew him in. Nathan thought it was a gesture of comfort and he recoiled. He didn't need to be comforted by Peter, of all people. But Peter's hand was insistent, and he wasn't drawing Nathan in to rest on his shoulder, instead, they were face to face. Before Nathan knew what was happening, their lips collided. He's kissing me.
After the first awkward grind of their lips and scrape of teeth, Nathan got in the game. If Peter died, he'd have no regrets. If Peter lived...
"What if we get through this?" Nathan asked between kisses.
"You serve your country. I go where I'm needed. It doesn't have to be complicated."
"It doesn't." But it is.
Peter bent his head to kiss Nathan's neck, scraping his teeth along the stubble and Nathan smelled the scent of Peter's shampoo. He let his hand come up to Peter's head and ran his fingers through the long strands. Jesus. How did he not know he wanted this?
Nathan stretched up and over Peter, pulling at his own clothes. He wanted to feel Peter's skin, nothing else. He ripped at Peter's t-shirt and it tore. Peter swore at him, stripped him of his belt and shoved his hand down Nathan's pants. It felt good, it felt great, and that was so patently unfair, that Nathan shook his head in frustration. Incest. Just the sort of thing that could ruin a politician for life.
"Lock the fucking door," Nathan said. He heard the lock click immediately. Peter had done it with his mind or something, and if that wasn't fucked up, the world could do worse than end.
"Fuck me," Peter said, looking intently into Nathan's eyes. He wasn't searching for anything, he wasn't even asking. He just looked Nathan in the eye when he asked to be fucked. Nathan had been so wrong about this kid. All along.
They fumbled with their clothes for a few more minutes. Nathan's Italian leather shoes seemed to want to cling stubbornly to his feet like a sea anemone in a tide pool, but eventually they came off with a slight sucking sound. Peter hurled them across the room, barely missing an antique lamp that was one of their mother's favorites.
"Bed," Nathan urged, but Peter shook his head and stayed splayed out on the oriental rug - another of their mother's favorites. His body was crooked in the blue and white and yellow asian pattern, making it look like Peter was the center of a strange sun, radiating power and light in every direction. "Okay. Here," Nathan said, and then, "you're fucking beautiful."
Peter gave him some lube in a bottle, and Nathan noticed it had been opened and used. He mentally shrugged and smeared it messily all over himself and Peter. "I've never done this with a man."
"It's me, Nathan," Peter said. He opened his legs and motioned Nathan closer. Nathan shuffled over on his knees, not caring about the red strawberry burns he was going to have tomorrow. He bent over Peter and Peter wrapped his legs and arms around Nathan. "Brace with one hand," he told Nathan. "Line up with the other."
Nathan obeyed, planting one hand by Peter's head and gripping his cock with the other. "Should I...." he began, thinking Peter might want him to use his fingers first, if that's how these things generally went. How did these things go?
"Just do it, please Nathan."
Nathan pushed the head of his cock in, and felt the hot tightening around it, something almost too good. He stopped and withdrew. Peter gave him an impatient look. "Just a minute, Pete, just a minute."
When he'd gotten himself together, he pushed in, this time all the way, burying himself inside Peter, and Peter arched up beneath him, legs rising and clenching. They rocked together for long minutes, Nathan barely able to thrust, not trusting himself, just letting their bodies sway together. When Peter broke the motion and bucked up hard against Nathan, Nathan readjusted his hands - one still planted by Peter's head and the other wrapped tightly around Peter's ass and hip. He fucked Peter with long, hard strokes he knew he couldn't sustain, but even when his elbow threatened to give out, he kept it up, harder and harder, knowing he could never break Peter. Peter's eyes, nearly all green in the lamplight, were fixed on him as they both came. Nathan lost control then, shuddering out the last of his orgasm pressed hard against Peter's body.
"Rug burn," Peter said later, turning around and showing Nathan how the red marks on his back were disappearing like mirage water on the horizon of the desert.
"I'll never be able to look at that rug again," Nathan said lazily, now reclining on the bed. Secretly he knew that he'd move the rug to his room or his study and depending on the outcome of the foreseen end of the world, would either sleep on it when his grief was overwhelming, or bring Peter back to it and hope that this would happen again.
"I love you," Peter said, climbing into his bed and stretching out next to Nathan. "Whatever happens."
"You're fucking with my head tonight, Pete," Nathan replied, sighing. "But God knows, I love you too."
.
Author: Alizarin_NYC
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Written for: Just porn, nothing else here of any value, really.
Summary: On the last night before the end of the world, Peter gives Nathan something to remember him by.
Nathan twisted Peter's arm around until Peter shouted incoherently.
"I could break this," he said. "You'd heal. And what would it matter?"
"It matters," Peter gasped. "It all matters, Nathan. Fucking let me go!"
Nathan twisted harder instead, until Peter disappeared from view. He hung on anyway. "Save the world. It's bullshit, you know, it's all bullshit."
Peter said nothing and though Nathan could feel him, could feel the arm he was still gripping, not seeing him was unnerving.
"Seeing you dead," Nathan said. And he stopped. He let go of Peter's arm abruptly and heard the sound of his brother dropping to the carpet with a thump. Perhaps Claire would hear, or his mother, and then someone would come, would interrupt this nonsense. They'd tell Nathan that he'd had too much to drink, that he should just sleep it off, that tomorrow was a very big day. Tomorrow is a very big day.
Peter reappeared, panting on the floor. "Seeing me dead, I know. But I'm here, I'm not dead and I'm ready to do what needs to be done. Think of that as being like... like, preparation, in case this doesn't work out. You'll be better prepared if I don't make it through."
"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"Come here," Peter motioned to him with his arm from the floor. Nathan obeyed, not thinking. He dropped down next to Peter, but instead of continuing to argue, Peter grabbed the back of his head and drew him in. Nathan thought it was a gesture of comfort and he recoiled. He didn't need to be comforted by Peter, of all people. But Peter's hand was insistent, and he wasn't drawing Nathan in to rest on his shoulder, instead, they were face to face. Before Nathan knew what was happening, their lips collided. He's kissing me.
After the first awkward grind of their lips and scrape of teeth, Nathan got in the game. If Peter died, he'd have no regrets. If Peter lived...
"What if we get through this?" Nathan asked between kisses.
"You serve your country. I go where I'm needed. It doesn't have to be complicated."
"It doesn't." But it is.
Peter bent his head to kiss Nathan's neck, scraping his teeth along the stubble and Nathan smelled the scent of Peter's shampoo. He let his hand come up to Peter's head and ran his fingers through the long strands. Jesus. How did he not know he wanted this?
Nathan stretched up and over Peter, pulling at his own clothes. He wanted to feel Peter's skin, nothing else. He ripped at Peter's t-shirt and it tore. Peter swore at him, stripped him of his belt and shoved his hand down Nathan's pants. It felt good, it felt great, and that was so patently unfair, that Nathan shook his head in frustration. Incest. Just the sort of thing that could ruin a politician for life.
"Lock the fucking door," Nathan said. He heard the lock click immediately. Peter had done it with his mind or something, and if that wasn't fucked up, the world could do worse than end.
"Fuck me," Peter said, looking intently into Nathan's eyes. He wasn't searching for anything, he wasn't even asking. He just looked Nathan in the eye when he asked to be fucked. Nathan had been so wrong about this kid. All along.
They fumbled with their clothes for a few more minutes. Nathan's Italian leather shoes seemed to want to cling stubbornly to his feet like a sea anemone in a tide pool, but eventually they came off with a slight sucking sound. Peter hurled them across the room, barely missing an antique lamp that was one of their mother's favorites.
"Bed," Nathan urged, but Peter shook his head and stayed splayed out on the oriental rug - another of their mother's favorites. His body was crooked in the blue and white and yellow asian pattern, making it look like Peter was the center of a strange sun, radiating power and light in every direction. "Okay. Here," Nathan said, and then, "you're fucking beautiful."
Peter gave him some lube in a bottle, and Nathan noticed it had been opened and used. He mentally shrugged and smeared it messily all over himself and Peter. "I've never done this with a man."
"It's me, Nathan," Peter said. He opened his legs and motioned Nathan closer. Nathan shuffled over on his knees, not caring about the red strawberry burns he was going to have tomorrow. He bent over Peter and Peter wrapped his legs and arms around Nathan. "Brace with one hand," he told Nathan. "Line up with the other."
Nathan obeyed, planting one hand by Peter's head and gripping his cock with the other. "Should I...." he began, thinking Peter might want him to use his fingers first, if that's how these things generally went. How did these things go?
"Just do it, please Nathan."
Nathan pushed the head of his cock in, and felt the hot tightening around it, something almost too good. He stopped and withdrew. Peter gave him an impatient look. "Just a minute, Pete, just a minute."
When he'd gotten himself together, he pushed in, this time all the way, burying himself inside Peter, and Peter arched up beneath him, legs rising and clenching. They rocked together for long minutes, Nathan barely able to thrust, not trusting himself, just letting their bodies sway together. When Peter broke the motion and bucked up hard against Nathan, Nathan readjusted his hands - one still planted by Peter's head and the other wrapped tightly around Peter's ass and hip. He fucked Peter with long, hard strokes he knew he couldn't sustain, but even when his elbow threatened to give out, he kept it up, harder and harder, knowing he could never break Peter. Peter's eyes, nearly all green in the lamplight, were fixed on him as they both came. Nathan lost control then, shuddering out the last of his orgasm pressed hard against Peter's body.
"Rug burn," Peter said later, turning around and showing Nathan how the red marks on his back were disappearing like mirage water on the horizon of the desert.
"I'll never be able to look at that rug again," Nathan said lazily, now reclining on the bed. Secretly he knew that he'd move the rug to his room or his study and depending on the outcome of the foreseen end of the world, would either sleep on it when his grief was overwhelming, or bring Peter back to it and hope that this would happen again.
"I love you," Peter said, climbing into his bed and stretching out next to Nathan. "Whatever happens."
"You're fucking with my head tonight, Pete," Nathan replied, sighing. "But God knows, I love you too."
.