Welcome Home (Fic, Nathan/Peter/Claire)
Title: Welcome Home
Pairing: Nathan/Peter/Claire, Nathan/Claire, established Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, Sexual Contact, Violence, Language
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or its characters. I make no money from the writing of this story.
Spoilers: Anything up to Volume 4, Chapter Six, “Shades of Gray”
Summary: Peter returns to his brother after Nathan is discovered as ‘one of them‘, and receives a highly unexpected welcome back into the Petrelli fold.
A/N: Claire is eighteen in this story and is therefore not underage.
Peter Petrelli’s cell phone beeped urgently and vibrated on the bedside stand, and he reached over for it not thinking about the bullet hole in his left shoulder. Fiery pain lanced through his shoulder, up his neck and down his arm, and he fell back on his pillow, breathing hard, his jaw clenched, sweat beading on his forehead.
He had finished all the painkillers his older brother had demanded the doctor prescribe him; he had popped them like candy because the pain was so bad. And now that his system had completely cleared of the drug, he was in agony. Peter wanted to cry it hurt so badly. He childishly, desperately wished Nathan were here to take care of him, like he had so many times when Peter was a child.
But Senator Nathan Petrelli had other things to do. He was busy being a hypocrite, capturing and detaining people like the two of them, people with abilities. He had Tracy Strauss. He had Daphne Millbrook. He had Mohinder Suresh. He had Matt Parkman. Peter was now alone in his quest to stop this human-rights violation thinly disguised by the United States government as a countermeasure to terrorism. And Peter didn’t think he could do it alone.
Especially not with this new, bastardized version of his original empathic ability. Peter Petrelli had been the most powerful of them all, the most special, indestructible. Now he was essentially as vulnerable as any regular human being, except he could fly. Nathan’s gift.
Peter thought, I would kill for Claire’s healing ability right now.
That’s it! Claire! She’ll help me. She’s the only one left.
Peter took in a deep breath and braced himself for the inevitable pain, then sat up and reached for the cell phone with his good arm. He had a text message. From Rebel.
YOUR BROTHER IS ONE OF THE GOOD GUYS NOW. HE NEEDS YOU.
Then a phone number and an address…in California. What the fuck was Nathan doing in California?
Well, regardless of his brother’s reasons for being there, Peter could very well kill two birds with one stone: Claire Bennet lived in California, and that was the last place she had been according to Nathan the last time he and his brother had spoken. He could find Claire, borrow her ability, then meet Nathan.
Peter mentally slapped himself. The word of Rebel was not the word of a higher power, he reminded himself, even though Rebel had come through for him in his attempt to secure the video evidence of the initial abductions. Could he trust Rebel, really? There was no possible way in hell he could trust Nathan again. Not after Nathan had put his name up, ordered his arrest and his subsequent tracking. It was Nathan’s fault he had been shot. Then his mind nagged, If not for Nathan you would be dead, splattered on the street; you wouldn’t have had to worry about a fucking gunshot wound then.
Nathan still loves you, and if Rebel says he needs you, then he needs you.
Peter dialed the number given in the text message. After a few rings, his brother answered. “Hello.”
“Got a new phone, I see,” Peter said. He could not stop the bitterness that flowed from his tongue, permeated his words, like bad medicine he desperately needed to administer. “My sources tell me, and I quote, ‘you’re one of the good guys now’. Oh, what happened? Your little brother the fuck-up let out your secret?”
“Peter, don’t be a dick. That fuck Danko figured it out after I managed to show up and save your ass. Twice.”
“You’re the one that caused all this, Nathan. You’re the reason for all of this.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m fucked. We have to work together, Pete. This blew up in my face. It’s blown way out of proportion.”
“Your fault. Not mine. I’m hanging up now. Goodbye.” Peter did not flip the phone closed. He listened. He waited. While Peter had said those words, he hoped Nathan would realize it was a bluff and stop him, give him a reason to forgive him.
Nathan‘s voice was empty, hollow, pleading. “Peter, please. Pete. I need your help. I don’t have anyone else.”
Peter sighed. Nathan had no one, and neither did he. He needed Nathan just as much as Nathan needed him. Whenever they had no one, they had always had each other. It had always been this way, for as long as Peter could remember. For as long as he had been alive.
“I love you, Peter.”
“Nathan…”
“Please. Come back to me, Peter.” His voice was so soft, so gentle. Desperate.
“All right. But there’s something I have to do first, okay? Nathan?”
There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line for a moment, then a strange sound, as if Nathan were trying to stifle a cough. Or maybe a sob.
“Nate?”
“Come soon, Pete. Bye.” The line went dead, and Peter felt awful. Nathan had truly sounded scared, and Peter was immediately sorry for his initial harsh words. Maybe Nathan Petrelli, Senator of New York, the golden boy, always so sure of himself and his plans, his agenda, always perfect, was finally beginning to crack. Peter now had a feeling he was the only thing that could keep his brother together, that could keep Nathan in control.
Peter Petrelli raised himself from the bed, the adrenaline pumping in his veins temporarily easing his pain, and he went to the bathroom, relieved himself, brushed his teeth, splashed water on his face, and combed his fingers through his mess of thick dark hair. He stuffed his few belongings in his messenger bag and placed some of the little money he had left on the bedside table, opened the window and lifted off into the bright cloudless sky.
Faster than the speed of sound he flew, using his brother’s ability to make his way back to him, to help him after his brother’s ability had finally put him in the same danger as Peter had been in these last few months.
How fitting.
***
“I think he took the bait,” Nathan Petrelli said, cradling the handset of the hotel’s landline phone between his ear and shoulder, taking off his cufflinks.
Angela Petrelli chuckled softly. “You needing your brother is not the same as baiting him, Nathan, and you very well know that. He needs you just as much. He was always so much more stubborn than you were.”
Nathan smirked. “I don’t have a problem making him do what I want when it comes to things like this, Ma.”
“Then it should be easy for you. After he gets there, he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand, just like he used to. There’s something you have right now that he’s wanted, something he’s actually forgotten he wanted, and you’re the only one who can give it to him. And that‘s the only way to get what you want.”
“Yes, I know,” Nathan said, his breath quickening, his voice trailing off as a pair of hands smoothly unbuckled his belt, pushed down his slacks, and freed his cock from the constricting material before recapturing him in between soft pale-pink glossed lips, caressing him with a silken hot tongue. Nathan buried his free hand into a sheaf of golden blonde hair and moaned right into the mouthpiece, not caring that his mother was listening to her elder son being blown by her granddaughter in one of the most expensive hotel rooms in one of the most disgustingly lavish hotels in Los Angeles.
Angela merely laughed again, and said, “Nathan, call me back after your brother gets there. Remember to save some for him.” The line clicked, the connection severed, and Nathan looked down at his daughter just as she looked up at him, her green eyes heavy-lidded with arousal, her mouth and throat filled with every last inch of him. He patted her hair and said softly, “Good girl…feels so good, I can’t decide who’s better at this, you or Peter…”
While she sucked him off, Nathan pressed his palms to her breasts, contained by a pale-pink silk sheath, and squeezed gently at first, then more roughly as he felt her nipples harden beneath his fingertips. His impending orgasm ached at the base of his cock, and sent shocks through his testicles as Claire fondled them with her slender fingers. He was virtually thrusting himself into her mouth now, but he didn’t want to come, not yet. He pulled himself from her mouth and rammed his hands into her dress front, tore the straps, pulled her breasts free from the flimsy material, and twisted the hard pink nubs between his fingers. He breathed, “Get nice and wet for me, Claire.”
Claire threw her head back and cried out when Nathan’s entire hand gripped each breast brutally, his fingernails leaving dark bruise marks that faded instantly.
Nathan released her breasts and pulled her onto the bed, roughly slamming her down on her back. He lay atop her and ground his cock against her, and she bucked her hips, arched her back to feel his hardness through the thin cloth of the dress. Nathan devoured her mouth, sucked her neck greedily, licked down her flushed chest to one rigid nipple, teased there for a moment, moved to the other. Claire was attempting to hitch her long dress up to allow Nathan to enter her; she didn’t care that he was her father, he was the best fuck she’d ever had and she hated waiting.
However, Nathan Petrelli would not be rushed. He always was in control no matter how he let her, or Peter for that matter, think otherwise.
Nathan gripped her wrists and yanked her arms up behind her head. “Be patient, little girl. I want a taste first.” He held her there and moved his head down until his face was pressed into the pale-pink fabric that lay just above her triangle, and he breathed her in; he could smell her, the hot wet musky sweet scent of her desire for him, and his cock jumped. He spread her legs and reached under the dress, tore her panties off and his hand became positively saturated with her fluid. He growled, an almost animal sound as he thrust two fingers deep inside her with ruthless force. Claire gasped and bucked while he fucked her with his fingers; she thrashed and moaned and cursed, looking and sounding more like a woman than an eighteen-year-old girl with her breasts heaving and spilling from her ruined dress, her eyelids smoky with dark purple shadow, ink black eyeliner, mascara to match.
“Fuck me, Nathan. Fuck me now,” she begged, her voice hoarse and needful.
My daughter is such a slut, he thought excitedly to himself as he lifted her dress to reveal her prize, gift-wrapped in dark blonde curls. A little slut, just like my brother, he mused. Runs in the fucking family.
Nathan lowered his head down and split her labia with his tongue, firmly circling her clit, then licking downward to the source of this beautiful gushing warmth; it filled his mouth, and as if it were sweet nectar he drank it down and teased more out of her, driving his tongue in and out of her and back up to her clit until she was screaming his name and tearing at his shoulders with her perfectly manicured fingernails.
Nathan raised his head and caught Claire’s green eyes with his hazel ones and said, “I’m going to fuck the living daylights out of you, you little whore. Tell me you want it.”
“I want it…I want it now. Fuck me!” Claire cried. Nathan pulled off his pants and slammed himself into her with no hesitation, her tight insides squeezing around his achingly hard cock, and he groaned and panted when she rolled them over in a surprise move and rode him to her second orgasm of the many that were to come that night.
Nathan was finding it quite difficult to hold himself back, and he moved to lift her off him when the door opened and Peter Petrelli stepped through it, his mouth dropping open wide in shock.
***
This was the last thing Peter had expected to find Nathan doing in here, some girl riding him relentlessly, blonde curls swaying, her dress hitched up around her waist, her tight firm ass bouncing above him. Peter faltered for a moment and then spluttered, “Holy fuck--what the fuck? Should I--uh--come back later?”
The sight of his brother’s pretty porcelain face, his wide dark brown eyes, his slim muscular body sent Nathan overboard, and with a shudder he came inside her before he could get her off him.
“Fuck,” Nathan groaned. Peter just stared as Nathan pushed the girl off him, and she lay facedown, splayed atop the comforter. Peter eyed her, noticed there was something familiar about her, something he couldn’t quite grasp.
“Nathan, you didn’t tell me you had a girl--” he started, but Nathan pressed a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. “Sit down right there and don’t move, Pete,” Nathan demanded, sitting up, wiping his forehead.
Peter sighed frustratedly and sat down in the chair, waited for Nathan to compose himself.
When Nathan had recovered, he grinned mischievously and said, “Oh, Peter. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Well, surprise!” Peter exclaimed incredulously, and leapt to his feet. “I’ll be back later, Nathan. I have to find Claire. I called Mrs. Bennet, and she said she’s been missing for two days. She might be in danger, and I need her healing ability. I wouldn’t ordinarily, but my fucking shoulder is killing me.”
Nathan got up and approached his brother, still naked, clamped a hand around his slender wrist, and led him toward the bed. Before Peter could even protest, Nathan pressed Peter’s hand to the girl’s shoulder, and Peter felt his brother’s gift of flight leave him and the horrible agonizing pain in his shoulder fade, his bullet wound now healed.
Peter made a sound as if he had been punched in the stomach when Claire turned to face them, a small smile of her own playing at her lips. “Hi, Peter,” she cooed.
“Oh, God. What is this? What the fuck is this?” Peter shrieked, slapping Nathan’s hand off him. “You’re fucking her? You’re fucking your own daughter?”
Nathan clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes theatrically. “Listen to yourself, Peter.” He deliberated for a moment, and continued, “Correction. I already fucked her. More than once. She loves it just as much as you do, little brother.”
Nathan took Peter’s face in his hands and kissed him hard on his mouth, forcing his tongue up against his, and Peter struggled to free himself until he felt another pair of hands tugging at the zipper of his jeans. His body went slack, and he asked once more, a lot less defiantly, “What--what is this?”
“Ma told me you’ve wanted to fuck Claire since the day you met her, Pete. So I tested her out, showed her a few things, things you like, got her ready for you. You want Peter to fuck you, Claire?”
Claire nodded and mumbled affirmatively, her mouth now snugly situated around Peter’s rapidly swelling member. Nathan stood behind Peter, took his messenger bag off him and tossed it to the carpet, then slipped his hands below the hem of Peter’s t-shirt and caressed his little brother’s flat hard belly. Peter let out a soft whimper. Nathan hadn’t touched him like this since…since before they had gone to Haiti, and that felt like years ago, though it was really only months.
“Peter, let’s make a deal…you fuck her, and I fuck you, in your tight little ass, just how you like it. Everybody wins, you most of all,” Nathan breathed, nipping at Peter’s earlobe, biting his neck. “I needed you, Peter, and you came back to me. My beautiful baby brother.” Nathan pulled Peter’s shirt over his head and pushed his jeans down, and Peter was crying out softly as Claire took Peter deep in her throat, then released him, her wet dark pink tongue emerging from her lips to lick at the head of his cock, trail down his shaft, trace over and around his balls.
“Oh, fuck. Fuck,” Peter cursed as Nathan gripped his left buttock hard, his fingers digging deep into the muscle, kneading it between his fingers. Nathan placed his hand at the back of Peter’s neck and pushed his head down. “Watch her, Pete. Watch your niece polish that pretty cock of yours, Peter.”
Peter felt ashamed and dirty and excited when Nathan talked like that to him, and no matter what had happened between before Haiti and now, he had not forgotten: Nathan never failed to deliver when it came to their forbidden sexual relationship.
And now Nathan was giving him Claire. The last piece of the puzzle to this unattainable incestuous love triangle that Peter had only even dreamed about. He had been in love with Claire since Odessa. His mother, Angela Petrelli, must have dreamed it, must have told Nathan, because he’d never breathed a word of it to anyone. But he was still angry. Nathan shouldn’t have had her first. Nathan didn’t love her the way he did. If anything, she was Nathan’s possession. Just like he had been. Just like you still are, Peter reminded himself.
Peter felt that white hot anger churning in his belly, beneath the ache of his body’s demand for release: the last time he’d had sex was also with Nathan, before Haiti.
“Fuck you, Nathan,” he groaned, pulling himself from Claire’s mouth with a soft wet pop. Claire looked hurt and betrayed, wondering if maybe he hadn’t liked it.
Nathan just laughed and slapped Peter’s ass as hard as he could, and the sting sent a shock straight through Peter’s painfully hard dick.
“You wish you could, Pete,” he said. “Maybe another time. Tonight, you fuck her.” He bent down and pulled Claire’s pretty ruined pink dress over her head, all three of them now in total nakedness. He pushed Claire down on the floor and shoved the first two fingers of his right hand into her center, his left gripping Peter’s wrist hard enough to hurt. The room began to spin as Peter absorbed Nathan’s ability of flight once again, and he started to panic.
Peter wanted to run, wanted to fly, wanted to escape, this was sick wrong sinful dirty wonderful beautiful perfect--
“Oh, God,” Peter moaned when Nathan pulled Peter down next to him and slid two slick fingers deep inside him, Claire’s natural lubrication working just as well as anything else.
“That’s right, Peter. You like it. You like getting fucked in your ass. This--is--mine--Peter,” he demanded, accentuating each word with a thrust of his fingers. “Say it, you little slut.”
Peter’s body trembled as Nathan worked his prostate with one finger and stretched him with the other. His voice came out weak and broken when he said, “It’s yours, Nathan. Yours.”
“Now tell Claire how much you like it when your brother fucks your ass hard, so hard you hurt for a week.”
Peter breathed, “I like it when you fuck me hard.”
Nathan bit down on Peter’s neck hard enough to draw blood and he hissed, “Tell her.”
“I--I like it when Nathan fucks me. Hard,” he gasped, his cock positively throbbing. The truth was, he really did; nothing in the world felt quite as good as his brother’s full eight inches buried to the hilt inside him, and now all he could think about was getting his cock inside Claire while Nathan’s cock was inside him.
Claire smiled and spread her legs wantonly, and rubbed her clit with two manicured fingers. “Are you gonna fuck me hard, Peter?”
Peter’s eyes lit up, but he couldn’t answer; he was utterly consumed, Nathan stroking him with one hand and fingering his ass with the other. Peter threw his head back and let out a strangled wail when Nathan forced another finger in with the two already in there.
“Too much, Nate--” he gasped. Claire got to her knees and kissed Peter’s mouth, probing her tongue deep, and he felt like he virtually swallowed her healing ability this time. Suddenly Nathan’s movements were pure pleasure again, and Peter’s voice sounded his enjoyment in high clear moans.
Claire pulled back and played with one of her nipples absentmindedly while she watched Nathan repossess Peter’s body. “You were right, Nathan. He’s beautiful,” she purred. “He’s perfect. So pretty.” Claire ran her hands all over Peter’s arms, his shoulders, chest, back, she even gripped his ass, one cheek in each hand.
Nathan said, “He likes that, Claire. Tell her you like that, Peter. Tell her.”
Peter said, “I like that, Claire. Hit me,” he begged. Claire raised her hand and slapped his buttock, and Peter gasped in half-pain, half-pleasure.
“Oh, you’re such a bad boy, Peter!” Claire squealed. “Pretty and dirty!”
She slapped the other one, and Peter cried out again. Then she moved around to the front again and rubbed his cock briefly, then massaged his thighs, which shook from the stimulation.
Nathan commanded, “Claire, ask Peter to fuck you.”
“Peter? Fuck me? Please? Now?”
Peter knew how Nathan’s mind worked: Claire was Nathan’s to give to him, and he couldn’t take her without permission, so he cried, “Nathan, can I? Please?”
“Go ahead, Peter. Fuck her with that pretty cock.”
Peter lowered himself atop her and pushed himself inside her, and it was as if she were a virgin, she was so tight. She’s a virgin every time, he thought. She heals over, every time…
Claire squealed more and bounced beneath Peter, and Nathan watched, lubricating himself with clear fluid from a bottle this time. He pressed a palm down on Peter’s back, which was sweat slick, and said, “Stop for a minute so I can get inside you, Peter. You want my cock inside you, Peter?”
“Oh God yes please Nathan fuck me--” he choked weakly. Nathan gripped Peter’s hips, pressed his head against Peter’s entrance and pushed forward, opening him, spearing him straight through. Peter’s nerves lit up and danced with pleasure, his spine tingling with the slight pain of Nathan stretching him fully enough to accommodate him.
Peter thrust into Claire and Nathan into Peter, Nathan matching each of Peter’s movements with one of his own. Peter couldn’t believe the sounds that tore from his lungs--he had never felt anything like this before--fucking and being fucked all at the same time, and God, if he wasn’t the luckiest man in the whole world right now, the two people he loved most in the world giving him this. His heart felt full to bursting with emotion for his brother and his niece.
Nathan gradually took him more slowly, forcing him to slow down as well, and he petted Peter’s long dark hair and whispered, “Oh, Peter, I love you. Claire loves you too. Tell him you love him, Claire. Tell him.”
Claire looked into Peter’s face; his eyes were closed in ecstasy, his lips slightly parted, every second breath a deep long moan. She patted his cheek, and he opened his eyes, and she watched as fine beads of sweat formed at his forehead. “You’re perfect, Peter. I love you.”
Claire watched in astonishment as tears ran down Peter’s face. He sighed, “I love you too, Claire, and I love you, Nathan.”
“He’s--he’s crying,” Claire informed Nathan.
Nathan made a shushing motion with his finger to his lips. “He’s all right. He’s gonna come, Claire, let’s make it feel good for him.” Nathan ran his hands along Peter’s back while he thrust deeply, repeatedly into his little brother, as far as he could go.
Claire wiped Peter’s tears away and caressed his face, and suddenly Peter’s body shuddered madly atop her, his breath leaving him in a rush and a soft cry leaving his lips, his liquid heat flowing forth, filling her with warmth, and she came herself, pulling Peter’s head down to her chest.
Nathan increased his rhythm once again. “Oh, Peter. Peter. Peter,” he whispered. Peter’s breathing was shaky and ragged, aftershocks still trembling through his limbs. Nathan spilled himself into his brother, still repeating his name softly.
When it was all over, Nathan and Claire helped Peter to his feet and they all cleaned themselves up. They lay down with him in the large expanse of the bed.
Nathan embraced Peter, lying with his chest pressed to Peter’s back. Claire slipped her arms around him too, and Peter sighed, “That was wonderful. Beautiful.” He was becoming sleepy, his body exhausted from the intensity of his climax, and finally he did fall asleep, Claire drifting away along with him.
“Welcome home, Peter,” Nathan whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his face buried in Peter’s hair.
Nathan didn’t know how he had lived these past few months without his brother by his side, and now that Peter had come back to him, he never wanted to let him go. What he had to do now would kill him inside; he was sure of it. But orders were orders.
The telephone rang, and neither one of the younger Petrellis stirred. Nathan answered. “Hello, Ma.”
“How’s my little one?” Angela Petrelli asked.
“Sleeping like a baby,” Nathan whispered, stroking the soft fair skin of his little brother’s back tenderly, transferring his ability of flight back to him.
“Did he like your gift?”
“He loved it, Ma.”
“Of course he did. I’ll send in our people.”
“All right.” Nathan hung up the phone, reached over the side of the bed, into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a hypodermic needle. He jabbed it into Peter’s upper arm, then pushed the plunger down slowly. “I’m sorry, Peter. So sorry.” He kissed his brother’s shoulder and finished administering the sedative.
Claire opened her eyes drowsily and saw Nathan remove the needle from Peter’s arm. “What was that?” she asked.
“Nothing, Claire.”
Before Claire could react, armed men in body armor burst through the door, and while they restrained Claire and prepared to move Peter, Nathan got up and dressed silently, his hands shaking.
Nathan Petrelli had kept his control. By allowing his mother to help him, and by giving up his brother and his daughter, he had saved himself from this very fate. He had controlled the situation from beginning to end. Why now, at the very end, did he feel as though his heart would break?
Though his heart ached for Peter and Claire, he realized something was wrong here. Too many men. There was no need for eight men to take care of a sedated Peter Petrelli and little Claire Bennet.
The phone on the bedside table rang once again, and Nathan reached for it.
“No need for that, Senator,” the leader of the group said, shooting a Taser dart into Senator Nathan Petrelli’s chest. He dropped to his knees, stunned into silence, his hazel eyes reflecting his outrage at this sudden betrayal, and unbelievably, Danko stepped into view, smiling down at him.
“You were never in control, Senator,” he laughed menacingly. Another dart hit Nathan in the neck, and he finally collapsed to the floor.
Danko took the phone and said, “Hello, Mrs. Petrelli. Yes. They have all been subdued. Yes. Absolutely. Good night, Mrs. Petrelli.”
Danko knelt next to the decommissioned flying Senator and said, “Mommy sends her love.