The Other Son (Fic, Linderman/Peter, Nathan/Peter, NC-17)
Title: The Other Son
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Linderman/Peter, mention of Nathan/Peter
Warnings: Underage sexual contact, underage incest, language, alcohol use, implied drug abuse, dub-con
Wordcount: ~4800
Author: crashgirl82
Recipient: brighteyed_jill
Disclaimer: I own neither Heroes nor its characters, and I make no money from the writing of this story.
Summary: Peter is forced to attend his parents’ latest dinner party, and he gets a lot more than he bargained for.
A/N: Thank you to ilikethequiet for looking this over even though I know it’s really not your thing. Written for prompt 1: Betrayal at the worst possible moment and prompt 2: Playing on his Daddy issues
“You’ve been staring at your lunch for half an hour. You’re finished,” Arthur Petrelli demanded, taking Peter’s mostly empty plate away with such force that his fork went with it, clattering noisily to the marble tiled floor.
“Go upstairs and get dressed, son. Your mother is taking you to the barber’s. Tomorrow’s function is by far the most important one of the year, and I can’t have you looking like my daughter for it,” he snapped, his ever-present distaste completely evident.
“Really, that’s enough, Arthur,” Peter’s mother answered, trying as always to keep the peace.
“It’s a damn embarrassment, Angela,” he said, nodding towards the stairs. To Peter, he continued, “While you’re at it, find your tux so your mother can take it to the dry cleaners.”
When his father turned to put the plate in the sink, Peter shot him a nasty look and trudged up the stairs to his bedroom.
Every time Peter was forced to go to one of his parents’ dinner parties, he would stage as much of a sullen, childish protest as he could in hopes they would give up and leave him at home. But try as he might, his efforts got him nowhere, and just put him in a worse mood.
Honestly, he didn’t know how much more of this he could stand. He hated everything about living in this house, and it had been this way for as long as he could remember, progressively worsening the older he got.
Nothing seemed to make him happy anymore, not since this past summer. His father, who hadn’t even taken so much as a passing interest in his younger son’s life for the past seventeen years, was giving him trouble over just about everything, from the clothes he wore to the friends he kept. Worst of all, he was continually bringing up the subject of what colleges Peter was going to apply to, fully expecting him to go the pre-law route as was the Petrelli tradition. His father was a defense attorney with his own private firm, and his brother an assistant D. A. for the City of New York.
Peter would rather give a speech in front of the entire student body in his underwear than study something he found so mind-numbingly boring. Law was not for him. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do exactly, but he was sure he didn’t want that.
He liked biology, anatomy and physiology especially, and he’d entertained the thought of becoming a doctor. But who was he kidding? He’d never be able to get into medical school with the borderline grades he’d carried over the last few semesters.
He’d gone to a career counselor and taken one of those aptitude tests, and strangely enough, nursing had come up as his first choice. In that profession he could still help people, make a difference. But when Peter tried suggesting anything along those lines to his father, he’d merely laughed him off and showed him more pamphlets on schools with promising pre-law programs.
Speaking of things Peter didn’t want, this party meant he was going to have to face Nathan too, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to that either. His older brother had finally flown the nest over the summer too, married his long-time girlfriend Heidi and bought a ridiculously extravagant house out on Long Island. It wouldn’t be long until he had a houseful of children to add to his long list of successes.
Sometimes he felt very inadequate next to his older brother, but he still really missed Nathan. Not that Peter had spent all that much time with his brother while growing up, a bit here and there when Nathan was home from school or on leave, but now that he was starting a life and a family of his own, Peter never saw him at all.
Peter dug through his closet in exasperation, looking for his tuxedo. He held it up against himself, glaring at his reflection in the full-length mirror. Maybe he’d grown enough over the summer that the sleeves of the jacket or the pant legs would be too short.
Right, like that would matter. His mother would just force him through the indignity of the tailor after she dragged him off to the appointment she’d made for his haircut.
“Let’s go, Peter!” his father’s voice rumbled from downstairs. “Does the damn thing fit or not? Your mother’s waiting for you in the car!”
Peter groaned as he shrugged out of the tux, which to his dismay, still fit him just fine. Was he always going to be the shortest guy in his class?
“Peter!”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m coming,” he called back, his enthusiasm -- or lack of it -- surely showing in his reply. Not that it mattered. It never did.
~~~~
Peter made his unhappiness known through the rest of the night and the whole next day, but nonetheless, here he was, his mother virtually pushing him through the large, looming glass doors of the hotel where tonight’s function was being held. He remembered a vague conversation over dinner a week before: his parents had managed without much difficulty to reserve the largest ballroom at one of the ritziest hotels in the heart of Midtown Manhattan on extremely short notice. There wasn’t anything the Petrelli money couldn’t buy.
The party would be attended by many of his father’s business associates and his mother’s fundraising and country club friends, like always. Sometimes there would be kids there his age, but that wasn’t the case tonight as he surveyed the throng of people dressed to the nines, their expensive cufflinks and necklaces glinting and sparkling as they schmoozed and rubbed elbows all throughout the grandiosely large hall. Peter reluctantly resigned himself to his fate: four straight hours of incredible boredom.
He shuffled over to the open bar, tugging at the tie that his mother had tied much too tightly, and just as he sat down a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“Hey, Pete,” Nathan said, the unmistakable glaze of inebriation already visible in his eyes. Peter could even tell when he’d just had one. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
No, you haven’t, Peter thought, forcing himself to smile anyway. “Hi, Nathan.”
“God, you look bored to tears and you just got here,” Nathan joked, ruffling his hand through Peter’s freshly-shortened hair. “Tell you what. I’ve got to go home right after this, but if you promise not to get too crazy I’ll slip the bartender a little something so you can have a few beers, okay? Don’t let Ma see.”
Peter was about to decline -- he’d always been a bit of a lightweight -- but he knew Nathan would have none of it. He rarely went against Nathan’s wishes when it came to anything, afraid to lose the little affection he did get. He really missed him, but there was no way he was going to tell Nathan that. Not after he’d been forced to sit and listen and hold back his tears while Nathan told him without question that what they’d shared together for the past two years needed to stop, now that Nathan was about to become a married man.
No, no, no. Peter wasn’t going to let his mind go there anymore. It had been wrong to begin with, and they both had known it even while it went on for so long. Normal brothers didn’t do those kinds of things, and it was over and done with. To keep thinking about it would just make it hurt that much more.
Nathan set the beer down in front of him and said, “All right, Pete, I gotta run. Heidi’s waiting for me, and she really doesn’t know anyone here. Catch you in a little while, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he added with a conspiratorial wink.
With that Nathan was gone, and Peter followed him with his eyes until he was just another man in a black tux with a dolled-up woman on his arm. Peter caught a glimpse of his parents too, laughing and carrying on with an older couple he’d probably seen at some other party sometime or another. He imagined their conversation: how different he and his brother were, how Nathan excelled at everything, and how Peter was constantly riding the edge of failure, and could never live up to their expectations of him, not like his brother…
Maybe if you helped me or paid a little attention to me, I’d do better. But nothing matters but Nathan, he thought angrily, picking up the cold, slippery glass and nearly downing half of it in three gulps. After the first mouthful, it didn’t taste too bad.
His insecurities never failed to make him feel even more inadequate, and he turned away so he wouldn’t have to look at any of them, not his mother and father, not Nathan or Heidi. Not that it would help for long. Everything around him just served to remind him of his insignificance in the grand scheme of life as a Petrelli. A life he didn’t want any part of.
~~~~
A couple of glasses of draught later, and Peter was feeling a little better, even if he was still alone. He chatted with the bartender about nothing in particular, girls and sports and school. The more he talked about his desire to study nursing, and the more he drank, the more he liked the idea. He could help people every single day. Nurses were always in high demand, and he’d have no problem finding a job. Then he could make some real money of his own, move out, and start living his life the way he wanted to.
“I think I’m really gonna do it,” Peter insisted, smiling for what felt like the first time in months. “I’m gonna get my degree in nursing.”
“Sounds like a plan, kid. Glad I could help,” the bartender answered, moving on down the bar.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, my dear boy, but you must face reality. Your father will never pay for nursing school.”
Peter whirled around in his chair, looking for the person from whom the cold, hard truth had come, a smart remark fueled by alcohol ready on his lips. He decided better of it when he realized he was being addressed by none other than his father’s closest friend and associate, Daniel Linderman. He’d known him since he was old enough to remember; talking back to him was not an option.
“No, he won’t,” Peter grumbled instead, downing the last of his beer. “Guess I have no choice but to study law,” he moped to his empty glass.
“There’s one thing you need to remember, my boy. You’re a Petrelli, and the name itself usually insures you can get whatever you want,” Linderman responded, patting Peter’s leg lightly, an enigmatic smile on his weathered, bearded face. He seated himself in the chair next to him, ordered himself a Scotch neat, and another beer for Peter. “I’m sure you can find some way to pay for it, if you set your mind to it. Not the beer, of course. That’s on me.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks. For the drink, I mean,” Peter said politely, accepting the glass. It would be an insult to decline it, and he was sure he’d have a hangover and a terrible stomachache in the morning. What did it matter? He felt better than he had in months!
He was just a little too inebriated to be concerned that Linderman was paying him any more attention than usual. His father’s closest friend had never been more friendly with him in the past than just a hello and a pat on the head at the age of five, a handshake at fifteen.
Maybe some small talk was all the older man wanted. Linderman didn’t have a date with him as far as Peter could tell, and right now, all the couples were sharing a dance to a slow song. He could oblige; Linderman had bought him a drink.
“So…are you enjoying the party?” he asked, his voice coming out a little more nervous than he would have liked, once he noticed just how intently Linderman was looking at him. Kind of like the way Nathan had when he’d wanted something…
That was just ridiculous. He was just a kid; Linderman’s best friend’s other son. The black sheep, the disappointment.
“Dull and boring, just like most of the people in attendance,” Linderman answered with a laugh, tapping his glass against Peter’s and taking a deep swallow. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yeah, kind of. I’d rather be at home playing video games or talking on the phone with my girlfriend or something.” Peter was surprised at how easily that had come out, but a little white lie couldn’t hurt, could it? Linderman didn’t really know much about him.
“Is that so. Kids grow up so fast these days. Tell me about her. Is she pretty?”
“Yeah, I guess…”
“Does she do well in school?”
“Yeah. Well, better than me…”
“What do your parents think of her?”
The questions came at Peter faster than he could think up more lies to answer with, and eventually he sighed in defeat.
“Okay, okay. I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t even like girls,” he added before he could even stop himself.
Fuck. He’d just accidentally come out to his father’s best friend! Damn alcohol! All he needed was for his father to find out; Peter would never hear the end of it. Panic gripped him, and he wanted to run away, but Linderman stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Relax, it’s not the end of the world,” he said soothingly, pressing Peter back down into his seat.
“Please don’t tell anyone, okay?” Peter nearly begged, lowering his head so that Linderman wouldn’t see the color that came to his face.
“Don’t worry. I just have a knack for listening when people need a welcoming ear. I won’t judge you for it.” Linderman rubbed Peter’s shoulder a bit more, and Peter relaxed a little. “Do you see a wedding ring on my finger? Any elegant women on my arm?”
“No,” Peter answered, smiling despite himself. Maybe that was why Linderman was being so friendly with him. Maybe he was just like him… but honestly, he was old enough to be his father.
Peter soon found that Linderman really was easy to talk to. He further explained his desire to go to nursing school, how much he didn’t want to become a lawyer even though his father was pushing him towards it. He was worried that since his parents were so affluent, he wouldn’t qualify for any financial aid. He didn’t want to get stuck in law school, but he had no other choice.
When he was finally finished, he took a deep breath and laughed, swallowing the last dregs of yet another beer. He felt as though he’d pushed a heavy weight off his chest, getting this all out to someone who would actually listen.
Linderman remained quiet even after Peter had finished speaking, his eyes scanning the room vigilantly.
“Mr. Linderman? Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes of course. Would you like to speak further about this in private, Peter? I think your father’s sent someone over to eavesdrop on our conversation.” He gestured over to a man who’d appeared moments ago a few seats down from them.
“Um…sure, where do you want to go?” Peter answered, worrying about how much the man had heard. He couldn’t have his father finding out about any of this. He’d make Peter’s life a living hell.
Linderman lowered his voice and said, “Personally, I believe you’d make a wonderful nurse, my boy. Maybe we can work something out. I’m not beyond helping someone in need, you know.” His hand moved a little higher up Peter’s thigh, and the touch made it difficult for Peter to concentrate, so he just nodded, trying not to let his nervousness betray him. Was he really going to let himself be talked into…whatever this was? He might be naïve, but he wasn’t born yesterday. Wealthy older men didn’t offer to put their best friend’s son through college for nothing…
But Peter allowed himself to be led along to the elevator, not even protesting when Linderman’s arm slipped around his waist, and up they went to the penthouse suite.
The view of the city skyline from up here was beautiful, glass facades sparkling and lights twinkling against the dark black of the New York City night. He’d had plenty of dreams of flying around those buildings, dreams he knew were brought on by his subconscious yearning to be free. Peter stared out the window, forgetting that he shouldn’t press his hands to the cool glass because he’d leave fingerprints. He closed his eyes and imagined how he felt in those dreams, wondering what it would be like to get out on his own and truly be free. What would it take to get what he really wanted?
“Here, have a real drink, my boy,” Linderman insisted, pouring a little bit of Scotch over some ice in a tumbler and handing it to him. “That is, of course, if you can handle it,” he teased.
Peter grinned, way past refusing it, and he sipped it gingerly, a shiver running down his spine as the alcohol warmed his belly.
“Now what were we talking about again? I seem to have forgotten. My memory’s not quite what it used to be,” Linderman said, his blue eyes fixed on Peter’s, his gaze almost predatory now. Peter’s heart banged around almost painfully inside his chest as he imagined exactly what Linderman might want from him.
“We were talking about…nursing school,” Peter whispered back, a surge of giddiness overcoming him as Linderman grazed the back of his hand down his face.
“That’s what you want, hmm?” Linderman asked, walking around behind Peter and slipping his suit jacket off his shoulders, then tossing it onto the leather couch next to them. He felt the scratch of Linderman’s beard on his skin just before he felt the touch of his lips, and he jumped slightly, his nervousness back full force.
“What…are you doing?” Peter asked, well aware that the breathiness of his voice made him sound like a child. Of course he knew what Linderman was doing. The older man wanted him! Even though he was young and inexperienced and incredibly shy to boot. But Linderman seemed to like it that way, didn’t he?
Peter obediently opened his mouth when Linderman’s lips found it, even while the taste of alcohol made his stomach turn. There was no way he could go through with this. He just couldn’t.
When Linderman let him go, he found himself being pushed down to the sofa, and he was glad to be sitting at least. Peter was a lot more than just drunk. The whole room looked as though he were viewing it from the deck of a boat at sea, the bed and the couch and even the paintings on the walls tipping and yawing back and forth. How much had he actually had?
“To get a little you’ve got to give a little, my boy. Your father taught you that, didn’t he?”
Peter tried to talk, intending to give an indignant answer, but he tripped over the words. “My father…doesn’t give a shit about me,” he managed finally, leaning back against the soft cushions of the sofa, concentrating on nothing but the warmth of Linderman’s hands slipping beneath his shirt, then working at the zipper of his dress pants. “Just…what he wants me to be.”
“So you’ve told me. Perhaps I wasn’t entirely correct. Maybe your brother taught you, didn’t he, Peter? Just like this?”
Linderman pulled him a little closer, and Peter’s hips jerked when he felt that large, warm hand slide down his belly and close tightly around his cock, already hard from just the promise of a touch. Peter couldn’t hold back a high-pitched whimper when he closed his eyes and imagined that it was Nathan’s hand on him, moving with such firm, confident strokes. With each gasp of pleasure, his face burned in shame.
How could Linderman possibly know about what he and Nathan had done before Heidi came between them? Nathan had been incredibly careful. He had only come to Peter’s room after their parents had been in bed for hours. Their coupling was always quick and quiet, and Nathan never stayed longer than was absolutely necessary.
“Don’t be ashamed, Peter. I know a lot of things about your brother, about your family in fact, that they wouldn’t want to suddenly become common knowledge. Now go on, show me what your dear brother taught you,” Linderman said, rubbing the thumb of his other hand suggestively across Peter’s lips, which stung from the kissing and the alcohol he knew he shouldn’t have accepted.
“What do you want me to do?” Peter choked, thrusting up against that wonderful friction, his head tilting forward, his limbs going slack. It had been so long since Nathan had touched him like this… but beneath the haze of the alcohol, his sense of self-preservation fought against it with the last of its strength. Linderman was taking advantage of him, and Peter knew he should be ashamed for letting it happen. But he didn’t want it to stop, not for anything.
Linderman leaned in close and whispered, “Such a pretty boy… no wonder Nathan couldn’t keep his hands off you. It would devastate your mother and father to find out just how twisted their perfect son really is. It’d ruin everything Nathan’s worked so hard for. He would never forgive you, Peter.” His voice was simultaneously calm and threatening, and that scared him even more. Linderman wouldn’t actually tell them about what he’d done with Nathan, would he?
“Think about it this way. By keeping this to yourself, you keep everyone happy. Your parents… Nathan and his wife… and you as well. You may have just found yourself a way to pay for nursing school after all.”
Peter swallowed down his terror, forcing himself to run his hand along the hard outline of Linderman’s dick through the tuxedo pants. It wouldn’t be so terrible, would it? No different, right? He’d done this for Nathan a hundred times. Maybe if Linderman liked it well enough, he would get something even better in return.
Linderman’s hand never stopped moving while he debated with himself, drawing long, low moans out of him with each stroke, making him squirm and pant when he cupped his balls, rolled them between his fingers. He could do this.
Peter fumbled slightly with Linderman’s zipper, his nerves and the alcohol working in tandem against him, but when he finally succeeded, that was when it all changed, spun out of control faster than Peter could have even imagined.
Without warning, Linderman placed a heavy hand at the back of his head and pushed down hard.
Peter’s mouth went dry, and he wished he would have taken one last sip of the Scotch before the head of Linderman’s cock pressed to his lips and parted them.
He opened his mouth and worked his tongue and the muscles of his throat almost automatically, trying to relax, his only coherent, repetitive thought to do this right.
But apparently, Linderman wasn’t even going to give him the chance. He was nothing like Nathan. Nathan would have never made him do something like this!
Peter pushed back against the hand that held him down, but he couldn’t move effectively, the influence of the alcohol just too much for him. Hardly able to breathe, his lungs burned for more air than he could possibly take in through his flaring nostrils. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he tried not to choke when Linderman forced himself even deeper into his throat.
“Oh, that’s a good boy,” Linderman grunted, holding him there for a few more moments. Peter thought it would never end, when Linderman finally drew back and pushed him onto his hands and knees. Peter sucked in hard breaths, trembling and shaking, barely able to hold himself up. He tried to say out loud that he didn’t really want this anymore, but he couldn’t even get the words out. His voice wouldn’t work…but that wasn’t quite it. Because even while he didn’t want it, he did.
Slick fingers penetrated him roughly, and he cried out, more in alarm than in enjoyment. He wanted to get away, but he just couldn’t make his body move the way he wanted it to. He swallowed down the fear; if he didn’t calm down, it was going to hurt.
No… please. Not like this, he thought desperately as Linderman gripped his hips and pushed into him with absolutely no regard to Peter’s readiness. He bit back a desperate cry, bearing down against the intrusion, breathing through the pain. The alcohol in his stomach threatened to come back up, the first few seconds almost too much to take.
He tried again to imagine this was Nathan instead, but that was just about impossible. Nathan would touch him, kiss him, hold him close most times they’d done this together…and the times he hadn’t? It still never felt like this, because Peter trusted his brother. Linderman pounded away at him relentlessly, indifferent to Peter’s discomfort. He concentrated solely on his memories of Nathan, and soon he found he could enjoy it a little. Something was better than nothing, right?
Strangled sounds he’d never heard himself make filled the large penthouse suite, even while he tried to stop them by biting down into the palm of his hand, his wrist, his forearm. He watched his skin bruise under the pressure, this pain another welcome distraction.
God, please let this be over soon, he prayed uselessly. He’d wanted this, and he was just going to have to suffer through it.
“What’s the matter, my boy, not enjoying it as much as you thought you would?” Linderman panted harshly into his ear, reaching beneath him once again. Peter moaned at the touch; he was so worked up that he knew he would come even before Linderman was halfway through. No, not even then. Right now.
He didn’t even try to fight it as his body seized, slight glimmers of pleasure replacing his shame, even if for only a few moments.
After that, Peter didn’t remember much; he must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew he was sitting upright, Linderman handling him gently, dressing Peter like a doll. He was so thirsty, and when Linderman gave him a glass of water, he drank it gratefully.
“Are you feeling well enough to go back down to the party?” It was more of a suggestion than an actual question, and Peter nodded numbly. Maybe Nathan would think he’d just drank a bit too much, and he’d let him go out to his car and sleep in his backseat.
Linderman helped him up, and led him to the door.
“Oh, I almost forgot. One more thing,” Linderman said, digging around in his inside pocket.
“Yes?” Peter whispered, trying not to cry, although that’s all he wanted to do. His insides ached, and he felt filthy, used. He just wanted to get away and pretend all of this had never happened.
“You and I are going to become very good friends over the next four years, my boy,” Linderman said softly, tucking a blank check into Peter’s shaking hand. “If you decide nursing school is still what you want, of course.”
Peter shoved the check into his pocket, rode the elevator down to the ballroom, and went straight for his brother, trying not to cause too much of a scene. Nathan took him outside without incident, just as Peter knew he would; Nathan wouldn’t want to be blamed for getting him drunk.
“You’re going to be okay, Pete, just lie down,” Nathan said, helping Peter inside.
“Nathan?” he mumbled pitifully, not sure what he would say if Nathan heard him. Part of Peter wanted to confess everything; Nathan would never let that old man get away with what he’d done, right?
If he even believed me. And then Linderman would tell them about us. I can’t win…
“Yeah, Pete?”
“Nothing…just stay a little while, okay?”
“Okay, Pete.”
As he laid his head down against the cool black leather interior of his brother’s car and waited for the spins to stop, Peter let his tears come. It wasn’t over; it had just begun. What would it take to get what he really wanted?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Linderman/Peter, mention of Nathan/Peter
Warnings: Underage sexual contact, underage incest, language, alcohol use, implied drug abuse, dub-con
Wordcount: ~4800
Author: crashgirl82
Recipient: brighteyed_jill
Disclaimer: I own neither Heroes nor its characters, and I make no money from the writing of this story.
Summary: Peter is forced to attend his parents’ latest dinner party, and he gets a lot more than he bargained for.
A/N: Thank you to ilikethequiet for looking this over even though I know it’s really not your thing. Written for prompt 1: Betrayal at the worst possible moment and prompt 2: Playing on his Daddy issues
“You’ve been staring at your lunch for half an hour. You’re finished,” Arthur Petrelli demanded, taking Peter’s mostly empty plate away with such force that his fork went with it, clattering noisily to the marble tiled floor.
“Go upstairs and get dressed, son. Your mother is taking you to the barber’s. Tomorrow’s function is by far the most important one of the year, and I can’t have you looking like my daughter for it,” he snapped, his ever-present distaste completely evident.
“Really, that’s enough, Arthur,” Peter’s mother answered, trying as always to keep the peace.
“It’s a damn embarrassment, Angela,” he said, nodding towards the stairs. To Peter, he continued, “While you’re at it, find your tux so your mother can take it to the dry cleaners.”
When his father turned to put the plate in the sink, Peter shot him a nasty look and trudged up the stairs to his bedroom.
Every time Peter was forced to go to one of his parents’ dinner parties, he would stage as much of a sullen, childish protest as he could in hopes they would give up and leave him at home. But try as he might, his efforts got him nowhere, and just put him in a worse mood.
Honestly, he didn’t know how much more of this he could stand. He hated everything about living in this house, and it had been this way for as long as he could remember, progressively worsening the older he got.
Nothing seemed to make him happy anymore, not since this past summer. His father, who hadn’t even taken so much as a passing interest in his younger son’s life for the past seventeen years, was giving him trouble over just about everything, from the clothes he wore to the friends he kept. Worst of all, he was continually bringing up the subject of what colleges Peter was going to apply to, fully expecting him to go the pre-law route as was the Petrelli tradition. His father was a defense attorney with his own private firm, and his brother an assistant D. A. for the City of New York.
Peter would rather give a speech in front of the entire student body in his underwear than study something he found so mind-numbingly boring. Law was not for him. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do exactly, but he was sure he didn’t want that.
He liked biology, anatomy and physiology especially, and he’d entertained the thought of becoming a doctor. But who was he kidding? He’d never be able to get into medical school with the borderline grades he’d carried over the last few semesters.
He’d gone to a career counselor and taken one of those aptitude tests, and strangely enough, nursing had come up as his first choice. In that profession he could still help people, make a difference. But when Peter tried suggesting anything along those lines to his father, he’d merely laughed him off and showed him more pamphlets on schools with promising pre-law programs.
Speaking of things Peter didn’t want, this party meant he was going to have to face Nathan too, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to that either. His older brother had finally flown the nest over the summer too, married his long-time girlfriend Heidi and bought a ridiculously extravagant house out on Long Island. It wouldn’t be long until he had a houseful of children to add to his long list of successes.
Sometimes he felt very inadequate next to his older brother, but he still really missed Nathan. Not that Peter had spent all that much time with his brother while growing up, a bit here and there when Nathan was home from school or on leave, but now that he was starting a life and a family of his own, Peter never saw him at all.
Peter dug through his closet in exasperation, looking for his tuxedo. He held it up against himself, glaring at his reflection in the full-length mirror. Maybe he’d grown enough over the summer that the sleeves of the jacket or the pant legs would be too short.
Right, like that would matter. His mother would just force him through the indignity of the tailor after she dragged him off to the appointment she’d made for his haircut.
“Let’s go, Peter!” his father’s voice rumbled from downstairs. “Does the damn thing fit or not? Your mother’s waiting for you in the car!”
Peter groaned as he shrugged out of the tux, which to his dismay, still fit him just fine. Was he always going to be the shortest guy in his class?
“Peter!”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m coming,” he called back, his enthusiasm -- or lack of it -- surely showing in his reply. Not that it mattered. It never did.
~~~~
Peter made his unhappiness known through the rest of the night and the whole next day, but nonetheless, here he was, his mother virtually pushing him through the large, looming glass doors of the hotel where tonight’s function was being held. He remembered a vague conversation over dinner a week before: his parents had managed without much difficulty to reserve the largest ballroom at one of the ritziest hotels in the heart of Midtown Manhattan on extremely short notice. There wasn’t anything the Petrelli money couldn’t buy.
The party would be attended by many of his father’s business associates and his mother’s fundraising and country club friends, like always. Sometimes there would be kids there his age, but that wasn’t the case tonight as he surveyed the throng of people dressed to the nines, their expensive cufflinks and necklaces glinting and sparkling as they schmoozed and rubbed elbows all throughout the grandiosely large hall. Peter reluctantly resigned himself to his fate: four straight hours of incredible boredom.
He shuffled over to the open bar, tugging at the tie that his mother had tied much too tightly, and just as he sat down a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“Hey, Pete,” Nathan said, the unmistakable glaze of inebriation already visible in his eyes. Peter could even tell when he’d just had one. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
No, you haven’t, Peter thought, forcing himself to smile anyway. “Hi, Nathan.”
“God, you look bored to tears and you just got here,” Nathan joked, ruffling his hand through Peter’s freshly-shortened hair. “Tell you what. I’ve got to go home right after this, but if you promise not to get too crazy I’ll slip the bartender a little something so you can have a few beers, okay? Don’t let Ma see.”
Peter was about to decline -- he’d always been a bit of a lightweight -- but he knew Nathan would have none of it. He rarely went against Nathan’s wishes when it came to anything, afraid to lose the little affection he did get. He really missed him, but there was no way he was going to tell Nathan that. Not after he’d been forced to sit and listen and hold back his tears while Nathan told him without question that what they’d shared together for the past two years needed to stop, now that Nathan was about to become a married man.
No, no, no. Peter wasn’t going to let his mind go there anymore. It had been wrong to begin with, and they both had known it even while it went on for so long. Normal brothers didn’t do those kinds of things, and it was over and done with. To keep thinking about it would just make it hurt that much more.
Nathan set the beer down in front of him and said, “All right, Pete, I gotta run. Heidi’s waiting for me, and she really doesn’t know anyone here. Catch you in a little while, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he added with a conspiratorial wink.
With that Nathan was gone, and Peter followed him with his eyes until he was just another man in a black tux with a dolled-up woman on his arm. Peter caught a glimpse of his parents too, laughing and carrying on with an older couple he’d probably seen at some other party sometime or another. He imagined their conversation: how different he and his brother were, how Nathan excelled at everything, and how Peter was constantly riding the edge of failure, and could never live up to their expectations of him, not like his brother…
Maybe if you helped me or paid a little attention to me, I’d do better. But nothing matters but Nathan, he thought angrily, picking up the cold, slippery glass and nearly downing half of it in three gulps. After the first mouthful, it didn’t taste too bad.
His insecurities never failed to make him feel even more inadequate, and he turned away so he wouldn’t have to look at any of them, not his mother and father, not Nathan or Heidi. Not that it would help for long. Everything around him just served to remind him of his insignificance in the grand scheme of life as a Petrelli. A life he didn’t want any part of.
~~~~
A couple of glasses of draught later, and Peter was feeling a little better, even if he was still alone. He chatted with the bartender about nothing in particular, girls and sports and school. The more he talked about his desire to study nursing, and the more he drank, the more he liked the idea. He could help people every single day. Nurses were always in high demand, and he’d have no problem finding a job. Then he could make some real money of his own, move out, and start living his life the way he wanted to.
“I think I’m really gonna do it,” Peter insisted, smiling for what felt like the first time in months. “I’m gonna get my degree in nursing.”
“Sounds like a plan, kid. Glad I could help,” the bartender answered, moving on down the bar.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, my dear boy, but you must face reality. Your father will never pay for nursing school.”
Peter whirled around in his chair, looking for the person from whom the cold, hard truth had come, a smart remark fueled by alcohol ready on his lips. He decided better of it when he realized he was being addressed by none other than his father’s closest friend and associate, Daniel Linderman. He’d known him since he was old enough to remember; talking back to him was not an option.
“No, he won’t,” Peter grumbled instead, downing the last of his beer. “Guess I have no choice but to study law,” he moped to his empty glass.
“There’s one thing you need to remember, my boy. You’re a Petrelli, and the name itself usually insures you can get whatever you want,” Linderman responded, patting Peter’s leg lightly, an enigmatic smile on his weathered, bearded face. He seated himself in the chair next to him, ordered himself a Scotch neat, and another beer for Peter. “I’m sure you can find some way to pay for it, if you set your mind to it. Not the beer, of course. That’s on me.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks. For the drink, I mean,” Peter said politely, accepting the glass. It would be an insult to decline it, and he was sure he’d have a hangover and a terrible stomachache in the morning. What did it matter? He felt better than he had in months!
He was just a little too inebriated to be concerned that Linderman was paying him any more attention than usual. His father’s closest friend had never been more friendly with him in the past than just a hello and a pat on the head at the age of five, a handshake at fifteen.
Maybe some small talk was all the older man wanted. Linderman didn’t have a date with him as far as Peter could tell, and right now, all the couples were sharing a dance to a slow song. He could oblige; Linderman had bought him a drink.
“So…are you enjoying the party?” he asked, his voice coming out a little more nervous than he would have liked, once he noticed just how intently Linderman was looking at him. Kind of like the way Nathan had when he’d wanted something…
That was just ridiculous. He was just a kid; Linderman’s best friend’s other son. The black sheep, the disappointment.
“Dull and boring, just like most of the people in attendance,” Linderman answered with a laugh, tapping his glass against Peter’s and taking a deep swallow. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yeah, kind of. I’d rather be at home playing video games or talking on the phone with my girlfriend or something.” Peter was surprised at how easily that had come out, but a little white lie couldn’t hurt, could it? Linderman didn’t really know much about him.
“Is that so. Kids grow up so fast these days. Tell me about her. Is she pretty?”
“Yeah, I guess…”
“Does she do well in school?”
“Yeah. Well, better than me…”
“What do your parents think of her?”
The questions came at Peter faster than he could think up more lies to answer with, and eventually he sighed in defeat.
“Okay, okay. I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t even like girls,” he added before he could even stop himself.
Fuck. He’d just accidentally come out to his father’s best friend! Damn alcohol! All he needed was for his father to find out; Peter would never hear the end of it. Panic gripped him, and he wanted to run away, but Linderman stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Relax, it’s not the end of the world,” he said soothingly, pressing Peter back down into his seat.
“Please don’t tell anyone, okay?” Peter nearly begged, lowering his head so that Linderman wouldn’t see the color that came to his face.
“Don’t worry. I just have a knack for listening when people need a welcoming ear. I won’t judge you for it.” Linderman rubbed Peter’s shoulder a bit more, and Peter relaxed a little. “Do you see a wedding ring on my finger? Any elegant women on my arm?”
“No,” Peter answered, smiling despite himself. Maybe that was why Linderman was being so friendly with him. Maybe he was just like him… but honestly, he was old enough to be his father.
Peter soon found that Linderman really was easy to talk to. He further explained his desire to go to nursing school, how much he didn’t want to become a lawyer even though his father was pushing him towards it. He was worried that since his parents were so affluent, he wouldn’t qualify for any financial aid. He didn’t want to get stuck in law school, but he had no other choice.
When he was finally finished, he took a deep breath and laughed, swallowing the last dregs of yet another beer. He felt as though he’d pushed a heavy weight off his chest, getting this all out to someone who would actually listen.
Linderman remained quiet even after Peter had finished speaking, his eyes scanning the room vigilantly.
“Mr. Linderman? Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes of course. Would you like to speak further about this in private, Peter? I think your father’s sent someone over to eavesdrop on our conversation.” He gestured over to a man who’d appeared moments ago a few seats down from them.
“Um…sure, where do you want to go?” Peter answered, worrying about how much the man had heard. He couldn’t have his father finding out about any of this. He’d make Peter’s life a living hell.
Linderman lowered his voice and said, “Personally, I believe you’d make a wonderful nurse, my boy. Maybe we can work something out. I’m not beyond helping someone in need, you know.” His hand moved a little higher up Peter’s thigh, and the touch made it difficult for Peter to concentrate, so he just nodded, trying not to let his nervousness betray him. Was he really going to let himself be talked into…whatever this was? He might be naïve, but he wasn’t born yesterday. Wealthy older men didn’t offer to put their best friend’s son through college for nothing…
But Peter allowed himself to be led along to the elevator, not even protesting when Linderman’s arm slipped around his waist, and up they went to the penthouse suite.
The view of the city skyline from up here was beautiful, glass facades sparkling and lights twinkling against the dark black of the New York City night. He’d had plenty of dreams of flying around those buildings, dreams he knew were brought on by his subconscious yearning to be free. Peter stared out the window, forgetting that he shouldn’t press his hands to the cool glass because he’d leave fingerprints. He closed his eyes and imagined how he felt in those dreams, wondering what it would be like to get out on his own and truly be free. What would it take to get what he really wanted?
“Here, have a real drink, my boy,” Linderman insisted, pouring a little bit of Scotch over some ice in a tumbler and handing it to him. “That is, of course, if you can handle it,” he teased.
Peter grinned, way past refusing it, and he sipped it gingerly, a shiver running down his spine as the alcohol warmed his belly.
“Now what were we talking about again? I seem to have forgotten. My memory’s not quite what it used to be,” Linderman said, his blue eyes fixed on Peter’s, his gaze almost predatory now. Peter’s heart banged around almost painfully inside his chest as he imagined exactly what Linderman might want from him.
“We were talking about…nursing school,” Peter whispered back, a surge of giddiness overcoming him as Linderman grazed the back of his hand down his face.
“That’s what you want, hmm?” Linderman asked, walking around behind Peter and slipping his suit jacket off his shoulders, then tossing it onto the leather couch next to them. He felt the scratch of Linderman’s beard on his skin just before he felt the touch of his lips, and he jumped slightly, his nervousness back full force.
“What…are you doing?” Peter asked, well aware that the breathiness of his voice made him sound like a child. Of course he knew what Linderman was doing. The older man wanted him! Even though he was young and inexperienced and incredibly shy to boot. But Linderman seemed to like it that way, didn’t he?
Peter obediently opened his mouth when Linderman’s lips found it, even while the taste of alcohol made his stomach turn. There was no way he could go through with this. He just couldn’t.
When Linderman let him go, he found himself being pushed down to the sofa, and he was glad to be sitting at least. Peter was a lot more than just drunk. The whole room looked as though he were viewing it from the deck of a boat at sea, the bed and the couch and even the paintings on the walls tipping and yawing back and forth. How much had he actually had?
“To get a little you’ve got to give a little, my boy. Your father taught you that, didn’t he?”
Peter tried to talk, intending to give an indignant answer, but he tripped over the words. “My father…doesn’t give a shit about me,” he managed finally, leaning back against the soft cushions of the sofa, concentrating on nothing but the warmth of Linderman’s hands slipping beneath his shirt, then working at the zipper of his dress pants. “Just…what he wants me to be.”
“So you’ve told me. Perhaps I wasn’t entirely correct. Maybe your brother taught you, didn’t he, Peter? Just like this?”
Linderman pulled him a little closer, and Peter’s hips jerked when he felt that large, warm hand slide down his belly and close tightly around his cock, already hard from just the promise of a touch. Peter couldn’t hold back a high-pitched whimper when he closed his eyes and imagined that it was Nathan’s hand on him, moving with such firm, confident strokes. With each gasp of pleasure, his face burned in shame.
How could Linderman possibly know about what he and Nathan had done before Heidi came between them? Nathan had been incredibly careful. He had only come to Peter’s room after their parents had been in bed for hours. Their coupling was always quick and quiet, and Nathan never stayed longer than was absolutely necessary.
“Don’t be ashamed, Peter. I know a lot of things about your brother, about your family in fact, that they wouldn’t want to suddenly become common knowledge. Now go on, show me what your dear brother taught you,” Linderman said, rubbing the thumb of his other hand suggestively across Peter’s lips, which stung from the kissing and the alcohol he knew he shouldn’t have accepted.
“What do you want me to do?” Peter choked, thrusting up against that wonderful friction, his head tilting forward, his limbs going slack. It had been so long since Nathan had touched him like this… but beneath the haze of the alcohol, his sense of self-preservation fought against it with the last of its strength. Linderman was taking advantage of him, and Peter knew he should be ashamed for letting it happen. But he didn’t want it to stop, not for anything.
Linderman leaned in close and whispered, “Such a pretty boy… no wonder Nathan couldn’t keep his hands off you. It would devastate your mother and father to find out just how twisted their perfect son really is. It’d ruin everything Nathan’s worked so hard for. He would never forgive you, Peter.” His voice was simultaneously calm and threatening, and that scared him even more. Linderman wouldn’t actually tell them about what he’d done with Nathan, would he?
“Think about it this way. By keeping this to yourself, you keep everyone happy. Your parents… Nathan and his wife… and you as well. You may have just found yourself a way to pay for nursing school after all.”
Peter swallowed down his terror, forcing himself to run his hand along the hard outline of Linderman’s dick through the tuxedo pants. It wouldn’t be so terrible, would it? No different, right? He’d done this for Nathan a hundred times. Maybe if Linderman liked it well enough, he would get something even better in return.
Linderman’s hand never stopped moving while he debated with himself, drawing long, low moans out of him with each stroke, making him squirm and pant when he cupped his balls, rolled them between his fingers. He could do this.
Peter fumbled slightly with Linderman’s zipper, his nerves and the alcohol working in tandem against him, but when he finally succeeded, that was when it all changed, spun out of control faster than Peter could have even imagined.
Without warning, Linderman placed a heavy hand at the back of his head and pushed down hard.
Peter’s mouth went dry, and he wished he would have taken one last sip of the Scotch before the head of Linderman’s cock pressed to his lips and parted them.
He opened his mouth and worked his tongue and the muscles of his throat almost automatically, trying to relax, his only coherent, repetitive thought to do this right.
But apparently, Linderman wasn’t even going to give him the chance. He was nothing like Nathan. Nathan would have never made him do something like this!
Peter pushed back against the hand that held him down, but he couldn’t move effectively, the influence of the alcohol just too much for him. Hardly able to breathe, his lungs burned for more air than he could possibly take in through his flaring nostrils. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he tried not to choke when Linderman forced himself even deeper into his throat.
“Oh, that’s a good boy,” Linderman grunted, holding him there for a few more moments. Peter thought it would never end, when Linderman finally drew back and pushed him onto his hands and knees. Peter sucked in hard breaths, trembling and shaking, barely able to hold himself up. He tried to say out loud that he didn’t really want this anymore, but he couldn’t even get the words out. His voice wouldn’t work…but that wasn’t quite it. Because even while he didn’t want it, he did.
Slick fingers penetrated him roughly, and he cried out, more in alarm than in enjoyment. He wanted to get away, but he just couldn’t make his body move the way he wanted it to. He swallowed down the fear; if he didn’t calm down, it was going to hurt.
No… please. Not like this, he thought desperately as Linderman gripped his hips and pushed into him with absolutely no regard to Peter’s readiness. He bit back a desperate cry, bearing down against the intrusion, breathing through the pain. The alcohol in his stomach threatened to come back up, the first few seconds almost too much to take.
He tried again to imagine this was Nathan instead, but that was just about impossible. Nathan would touch him, kiss him, hold him close most times they’d done this together…and the times he hadn’t? It still never felt like this, because Peter trusted his brother. Linderman pounded away at him relentlessly, indifferent to Peter’s discomfort. He concentrated solely on his memories of Nathan, and soon he found he could enjoy it a little. Something was better than nothing, right?
Strangled sounds he’d never heard himself make filled the large penthouse suite, even while he tried to stop them by biting down into the palm of his hand, his wrist, his forearm. He watched his skin bruise under the pressure, this pain another welcome distraction.
God, please let this be over soon, he prayed uselessly. He’d wanted this, and he was just going to have to suffer through it.
“What’s the matter, my boy, not enjoying it as much as you thought you would?” Linderman panted harshly into his ear, reaching beneath him once again. Peter moaned at the touch; he was so worked up that he knew he would come even before Linderman was halfway through. No, not even then. Right now.
He didn’t even try to fight it as his body seized, slight glimmers of pleasure replacing his shame, even if for only a few moments.
After that, Peter didn’t remember much; he must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew he was sitting upright, Linderman handling him gently, dressing Peter like a doll. He was so thirsty, and when Linderman gave him a glass of water, he drank it gratefully.
“Are you feeling well enough to go back down to the party?” It was more of a suggestion than an actual question, and Peter nodded numbly. Maybe Nathan would think he’d just drank a bit too much, and he’d let him go out to his car and sleep in his backseat.
Linderman helped him up, and led him to the door.
“Oh, I almost forgot. One more thing,” Linderman said, digging around in his inside pocket.
“Yes?” Peter whispered, trying not to cry, although that’s all he wanted to do. His insides ached, and he felt filthy, used. He just wanted to get away and pretend all of this had never happened.
“You and I are going to become very good friends over the next four years, my boy,” Linderman said softly, tucking a blank check into Peter’s shaking hand. “If you decide nursing school is still what you want, of course.”
Peter shoved the check into his pocket, rode the elevator down to the ballroom, and went straight for his brother, trying not to cause too much of a scene. Nathan took him outside without incident, just as Peter knew he would; Nathan wouldn’t want to be blamed for getting him drunk.
“You’re going to be okay, Pete, just lie down,” Nathan said, helping Peter inside.
“Nathan?” he mumbled pitifully, not sure what he would say if Nathan heard him. Part of Peter wanted to confess everything; Nathan would never let that old man get away with what he’d done, right?
If he even believed me. And then Linderman would tell them about us. I can’t win…
“Yeah, Pete?”
“Nothing…just stay a little while, okay?”
“Okay, Pete.”
As he laid his head down against the cool black leather interior of his brother’s car and waited for the spins to stop, Peter let his tears come. It wasn’t over; it had just begun. What would it take to get what he really wanted?