[Heroes] First outbreak (Nathan/Peter, NC-17)
Title: First outbreak
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest, angst, horrible viruses killing people because that's what viruses usually do.
Word Count: 766 (W)
Written for: The Italian P0rn Fest, prompt Heroes, Out of Time!Nathan/Out of Time!Peter, first outbreak by eryslash. All the blame on her, please.
Note: Set in the alternative timeline described in 2x07, 'Out of Time'. That works as a spoiler warning too, yeah. Many thanks to snopes_faith, who beta'd the fic and saved Fiore's ungrammatical ass from shame once more.
First Outbreak
Peter would be okay with doing it against the wall or on the floor, but Nathan can hardly stand. He’s muffled up in his dressing gown, with his cheeks red with fever, shaken by sudden shivers and with his forehead wet with sweat - but even like this, Peter thinks that Nathan is beautiful, nor does he see any difference in the man who fucked him for the first time in a hotel room in Las Vegas - thirty-five, healthy, the best sex ever.
So Peter pushes him onto the bed, ignoring his moan of protest and pain (because Nathan doesn’t want to be treated like a broken doll). He unwraps him from the gown and the bottom of his pajamas and closes his eyes when Nathan clings to all the fabric he can because he’s cold. In a minute he won’t be anymore.
It smells like sweat and urine when Peter takes the still soft cock in his mouth. Nathan doesn’t move and keeps his half-closed eyes towards the ceiling. Peter kisses, licks and sucks but the erection doesn’t come.
“Look at me,” he growls. “Look,” he says again, grabbing Nathan’s hand upon the bedcover, leaving the halfmoon-shaped marks of his nails on the back. It’s Peter’s fault. It’s all his fault. And he wants Nathan’s glance to say it, to say he hates Peter for what he’s done to him, for what he’s made him become. For his cock that doesn’t harden and his trembling hands.
“Peter…” Nathan tries, rising weakly on his elbow.
“Look at me, for God’s sake!”
Nathan does as he’s said, and his glance is quiet, tired, surprisingly warm. If there is hatred, he’s hiding it well. Peter wipes his nose with the back of his hand and clenches his teeth, closing his fingers at the base of Nathan’s cock. He owes him this, at least, after he took away everything else.
“I want you to fuck me,” he mutters, finding he cannot meet Nathan’s eyes. “I want you to fuck me in the ass like that time in Las Vegas. Like every time.” Peter’s crying. He can't even keep his eyes dry for a fucking minute. “Please, Nate.”
“Enough with this bullshit, Peter. Shut up.”
At this, Peter closes his mouth. Nathan reaches out and strokes Peter’s wet, not shaved cheek. Even his hand burns. “Come here,” he murmurs, and Peter follows him like a puppy, rising up to kiss his mouth. Nathan’s elbow trembles and Peter puts the pillows against his back, to make him more comfortable.
“I’ll fuck you when I feel better, okay? Come here,” repeats Nathan. “Closer. I smell like a beggar. I’m sorry.”
“That’s not true,” protests Peter, pushing a hand under the top of Nathan’s pajamas, but Nathan shakes his head. “It doesn’t bother me.” Peter’s fingers slip lower, grab it again, and Nathan sighs but doesn’t stop him.
“With a dying man, Pete? Your tastes got worse.”
“Just with you,” Peter hisses in Nathan’s ear, kissing his neck. “You’ve always turned me on. Always. After the explosion, too.” Nathan flinches slightly at the memory. “Always,” Peter repeats, unbuttoning his own pants.
Nathan half-opens his lips and Peter hears him letting out a hoarse, almost trembling sigh. Peter continues, regaining strength: “Like that time in Las Vegas. I didn’t think you would. I didn’t think you…”, Nathan rests a hand on his hip, “Touch me,” mutters Peter, then he resumes: “I didn’t think you would fuck me. You’d never wanted to before.”
Nathan squeezes Peter’s cock in his fist, and after so much time it’s like an electric shot, not like Elle’s ones - this is all blood and adrenaline. “You were too young,” Nathan pants.
Peter bites Nathan’s lobe softly and keeps stroking his cock, now that there’s an erection at least worthy the name.
“Not too young to suck your cock. Or have mine sucked.”
“No,” confirms Nathan, breathlessly.
“Hypocrite.”
“Whore.”
"Yeah, and what does that make you?"
Nathan chuckles with his voice broken by a pant and two coughs, then Peter shifts forward to rub his erection against Nathan’s. “I… I love you,” Peter whispers, and he doesn’t know why he’s hesitating now, after all the things he’s told him.
“Ah, God, Pete. Love you too. I’m almost there. Come. Come.”
After, Peter has to put Nathan under the covers and hug him and squeeze him until he stops trembling. Nathan chatters and keeps saying that it’s nothing, just another seizure, it happens sometimes, it’s already passing. Peter closes his eyes, grasps him tightly and mutters unceasingly that everything’s going to be alright.
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Incest, angst, horrible viruses killing people because that's what viruses usually do.
Word Count: 766 (W)
Written for: The Italian P0rn Fest, prompt Heroes, Out of Time!Nathan/Out of Time!Peter, first outbreak by eryslash. All the blame on her, please.
Note: Set in the alternative timeline described in 2x07, 'Out of Time'. That works as a spoiler warning too, yeah. Many thanks to snopes_faith, who beta'd the fic and saved Fiore's ungrammatical ass from shame once more.
First Outbreak
Peter would be okay with doing it against the wall or on the floor, but Nathan can hardly stand. He’s muffled up in his dressing gown, with his cheeks red with fever, shaken by sudden shivers and with his forehead wet with sweat - but even like this, Peter thinks that Nathan is beautiful, nor does he see any difference in the man who fucked him for the first time in a hotel room in Las Vegas - thirty-five, healthy, the best sex ever.
So Peter pushes him onto the bed, ignoring his moan of protest and pain (because Nathan doesn’t want to be treated like a broken doll). He unwraps him from the gown and the bottom of his pajamas and closes his eyes when Nathan clings to all the fabric he can because he’s cold. In a minute he won’t be anymore.
It smells like sweat and urine when Peter takes the still soft cock in his mouth. Nathan doesn’t move and keeps his half-closed eyes towards the ceiling. Peter kisses, licks and sucks but the erection doesn’t come.
“Look at me,” he growls. “Look,” he says again, grabbing Nathan’s hand upon the bedcover, leaving the halfmoon-shaped marks of his nails on the back. It’s Peter’s fault. It’s all his fault. And he wants Nathan’s glance to say it, to say he hates Peter for what he’s done to him, for what he’s made him become. For his cock that doesn’t harden and his trembling hands.
“Peter…” Nathan tries, rising weakly on his elbow.
“Look at me, for God’s sake!”
Nathan does as he’s said, and his glance is quiet, tired, surprisingly warm. If there is hatred, he’s hiding it well. Peter wipes his nose with the back of his hand and clenches his teeth, closing his fingers at the base of Nathan’s cock. He owes him this, at least, after he took away everything else.
“I want you to fuck me,” he mutters, finding he cannot meet Nathan’s eyes. “I want you to fuck me in the ass like that time in Las Vegas. Like every time.” Peter’s crying. He can't even keep his eyes dry for a fucking minute. “Please, Nate.”
“Enough with this bullshit, Peter. Shut up.”
At this, Peter closes his mouth. Nathan reaches out and strokes Peter’s wet, not shaved cheek. Even his hand burns. “Come here,” he murmurs, and Peter follows him like a puppy, rising up to kiss his mouth. Nathan’s elbow trembles and Peter puts the pillows against his back, to make him more comfortable.
“I’ll fuck you when I feel better, okay? Come here,” repeats Nathan. “Closer. I smell like a beggar. I’m sorry.”
“That’s not true,” protests Peter, pushing a hand under the top of Nathan’s pajamas, but Nathan shakes his head. “It doesn’t bother me.” Peter’s fingers slip lower, grab it again, and Nathan sighs but doesn’t stop him.
“With a dying man, Pete? Your tastes got worse.”
“Just with you,” Peter hisses in Nathan’s ear, kissing his neck. “You’ve always turned me on. Always. After the explosion, too.” Nathan flinches slightly at the memory. “Always,” Peter repeats, unbuttoning his own pants.
Nathan half-opens his lips and Peter hears him letting out a hoarse, almost trembling sigh. Peter continues, regaining strength: “Like that time in Las Vegas. I didn’t think you would. I didn’t think you…”, Nathan rests a hand on his hip, “Touch me,” mutters Peter, then he resumes: “I didn’t think you would fuck me. You’d never wanted to before.”
Nathan squeezes Peter’s cock in his fist, and after so much time it’s like an electric shot, not like Elle’s ones - this is all blood and adrenaline. “You were too young,” Nathan pants.
Peter bites Nathan’s lobe softly and keeps stroking his cock, now that there’s an erection at least worthy the name.
“Not too young to suck your cock. Or have mine sucked.”
“No,” confirms Nathan, breathlessly.
“Hypocrite.”
“Whore.”
"Yeah, and what does that make you?"
Nathan chuckles with his voice broken by a pant and two coughs, then Peter shifts forward to rub his erection against Nathan’s. “I… I love you,” Peter whispers, and he doesn’t know why he’s hesitating now, after all the things he’s told him.
“Ah, God, Pete. Love you too. I’m almost there. Come. Come.”
After, Peter has to put Nathan under the covers and hug him and squeeze him until he stops trembling. Nathan chatters and keeps saying that it’s nothing, just another seizure, it happens sometimes, it’s already passing. Peter closes his eyes, grasps him tightly and mutters unceasingly that everything’s going to be alright.