Submit
Title: Submit
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,017
Spoilers: Early S3 (vague timeline, just go with it)
Disclaimer Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
Author’s Notes: Written for the YAHAKM, for the prompt, “Peter/Nathan, Peter makes Nathan submit, handcuffs, powers.”
Summary: Peter shows up at Nathan’s office one evening, with more than one bone to pick with his brother…
"You know you wanted this Nathan."
Nathan only crossed his arms impassively. Peter had arrived unbidden in his office, late at night, with slicked-back hair and enough attitude to set off alarms. But Nathan didn't need to deal with whatever fresh set of issues Peter had going on now.
"I know we were supposed to meet up after I finished work, so why don't you just wait for me there Pete?"
Peter's scowl deepened and his eyes suddenly glittered dangerously.
"Just wait for you. Like a good little brother, a good little slut."
"What the hell is this about? Am I working too much? Forget an anniversary?" Nathan demanded. He wasn't going to dance around the subject when he had proposals to complete and a dozen e-mails to answer, not even for his brother. Peter had to learn that Nathan had priorities... and unfortunately those sometimes left them apart more often than not.
"It's about you."
Peter took a step forward, flicking his hand, and Nathan felt a hard shove in the middle of his chest that rocked him back against the desk. The surprise was so bad Nathan couldn't even think up a clever rejoinder. Peter never used his powers against him... not like this anyway.
"I've see things Nathan, things you couldn't even imagine."
Another step forward and another invisible shove, Nathan's hands bracing himself uselessly to hold off another assault. The look in Peter's eyes was cold, almost calculating, and fear became a tight knot in Nathan's gut.
"I felt things, known powers... watched you die... nearly killed you myself..."
Peter was within arm's reach now, but didn't reach out to touch.
“But every night you expect me to be there, waiting for you. And when I’ve been gone, trapped in the future or someone else’s body or God knows what else, all you can think about it when I’ll be back underneath you.”
Nathan swallowed, knowing everything Peter said was true, but also feeling a rising anger melting away the fear.
“We’ve been doing this since you were sixteen, Peter. If you didn’t want it like this, I’m sure you would have said something before now-.”
“Shut up!”
The force of the command, along with a firm pressure against his mind and his jaw, silenced Nathan.
“It’s not about what we’re doing, it’s about how,” Peter growled.
Nathan knew what was coming now; he was honestly surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.
“It’s my turn,” Peter said finally. A rattle of metal sounded in Peter’s pocket as he pulled out the handcuffs. Nathan almost stopped himself from flinching, but not enough. Peter noticed, and his eyes got harder.
“Do it,” Peter said softly. Nathan was going to open his mouth to protest even as his hands rose up, seemingly of their own volition. The warm metal clicked shut, cuffing Nathan’s hands in front of him.
“I can make you do whatever you want,” Peter whispered. Nathan felt his body turning itself around, bound hands stretched out on the desk, bent over waiting and helpless. The fear had returned, redoubled, and Nathan was glad Peter couldn’t see his face.
“Pete,” Nathan managed, part plea, part protest.
“I told you, you wanted this. Every time you held me down, fucked me, made me wait for you, making it so damn good Nathan, making me want to wait for you…”
Nathan groaned, remembering. He’d done a lot to Peter in the name of his own self-control. Denying Peter was denying himself, and for a man whose life revolved around control, learning how to deny yourself every now and then was useful. And Peter hadn’t seemed to mind the first time… or the second… or the twentieth. And it had been so good…
“I can hear what you’re thinking,” Peter reminded him. A sudden sliding pressure around his waist and his belt opened. A few tugs, and his pants and underwear fell to the floor. “Nathan…”
Peter’s hand fell lightly onto his back, feeling like it was burning straight into his bones, and Nathan shuddered violently as he felt himself harden fast, an ache of denial in his belly. Exposed, cuffed, bent over his own desk, his baby brother barely touching his back, and Nathan had to think unspeakable things to stop himself from cumming.
“You want this,” Peter repeated, and a searing-hot kiss seemed to brand itself on Nathan’s spine. A raw moan was torn from Nathan’s throat, and the cuffs rattled as he stretched himself out further, pushing his ass back. Dignity, rank, age, right and wrong, custom, convention, over ten years of ritual, all set aside for an insane moment of need. He needed Peter, now.
“I want this. I want you,” Nathan said finally, and Peter’s hands closed in around his hips. Nathan muffled an outcry of pure need, trying to keep himself from whimpering as a sudden slickness touched him inside. Panting into his blotter, he bit his own wrist to keep him from crying out when Peter’s fingers slid in deeper than he thought possible, stretching him wide.
“More?” Peter said, hands suddenly gone.
“Please, Peter please!” Nathan shouted, not caring who heard him now.
A slick hand closed around his aching cock, squeezing just once, gently, and Nathan was suddenly lost, pulsing spatters of white against his desk. Frantically he pushed against the hand that held him, trying to draw it out, make it last, handcuffs rattling as his hands fisted, mouth dropping open in a gasp as Peter brought him to a powerful climax…
Nathan Petrelli, junior senator from New York, started awake in his desk chair. Across the room, Peter stood leaning against the door, eyes fixed on him. Nathan became aware of a damp feeling in his underwear, the trickles of sweat on his skin, and the feeling like he’d give anything to repeat what had just happened. And Peter’s smirk. He couldn’t possibly miss Peter’s self-satisfied smirk.
“So… want to try that for real?” Peter asked casually. From one finger dangled a pair of handcuffs. Nathan gripped the edges of the desk, bowed his head, and submitted.
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,017
Spoilers: Early S3 (vague timeline, just go with it)
Disclaimer Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
Author’s Notes: Written for the YAHAKM, for the prompt, “Peter/Nathan, Peter makes Nathan submit, handcuffs, powers.”
Summary: Peter shows up at Nathan’s office one evening, with more than one bone to pick with his brother…
"You know you wanted this Nathan."
Nathan only crossed his arms impassively. Peter had arrived unbidden in his office, late at night, with slicked-back hair and enough attitude to set off alarms. But Nathan didn't need to deal with whatever fresh set of issues Peter had going on now.
"I know we were supposed to meet up after I finished work, so why don't you just wait for me there Pete?"
Peter's scowl deepened and his eyes suddenly glittered dangerously.
"Just wait for you. Like a good little brother, a good little slut."
"What the hell is this about? Am I working too much? Forget an anniversary?" Nathan demanded. He wasn't going to dance around the subject when he had proposals to complete and a dozen e-mails to answer, not even for his brother. Peter had to learn that Nathan had priorities... and unfortunately those sometimes left them apart more often than not.
"It's about you."
Peter took a step forward, flicking his hand, and Nathan felt a hard shove in the middle of his chest that rocked him back against the desk. The surprise was so bad Nathan couldn't even think up a clever rejoinder. Peter never used his powers against him... not like this anyway.
"I've see things Nathan, things you couldn't even imagine."
Another step forward and another invisible shove, Nathan's hands bracing himself uselessly to hold off another assault. The look in Peter's eyes was cold, almost calculating, and fear became a tight knot in Nathan's gut.
"I felt things, known powers... watched you die... nearly killed you myself..."
Peter was within arm's reach now, but didn't reach out to touch.
“But every night you expect me to be there, waiting for you. And when I’ve been gone, trapped in the future or someone else’s body or God knows what else, all you can think about it when I’ll be back underneath you.”
Nathan swallowed, knowing everything Peter said was true, but also feeling a rising anger melting away the fear.
“We’ve been doing this since you were sixteen, Peter. If you didn’t want it like this, I’m sure you would have said something before now-.”
“Shut up!”
The force of the command, along with a firm pressure against his mind and his jaw, silenced Nathan.
“It’s not about what we’re doing, it’s about how,” Peter growled.
Nathan knew what was coming now; he was honestly surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.
“It’s my turn,” Peter said finally. A rattle of metal sounded in Peter’s pocket as he pulled out the handcuffs. Nathan almost stopped himself from flinching, but not enough. Peter noticed, and his eyes got harder.
“Do it,” Peter said softly. Nathan was going to open his mouth to protest even as his hands rose up, seemingly of their own volition. The warm metal clicked shut, cuffing Nathan’s hands in front of him.
“I can make you do whatever you want,” Peter whispered. Nathan felt his body turning itself around, bound hands stretched out on the desk, bent over waiting and helpless. The fear had returned, redoubled, and Nathan was glad Peter couldn’t see his face.
“Pete,” Nathan managed, part plea, part protest.
“I told you, you wanted this. Every time you held me down, fucked me, made me wait for you, making it so damn good Nathan, making me want to wait for you…”
Nathan groaned, remembering. He’d done a lot to Peter in the name of his own self-control. Denying Peter was denying himself, and for a man whose life revolved around control, learning how to deny yourself every now and then was useful. And Peter hadn’t seemed to mind the first time… or the second… or the twentieth. And it had been so good…
“I can hear what you’re thinking,” Peter reminded him. A sudden sliding pressure around his waist and his belt opened. A few tugs, and his pants and underwear fell to the floor. “Nathan…”
Peter’s hand fell lightly onto his back, feeling like it was burning straight into his bones, and Nathan shuddered violently as he felt himself harden fast, an ache of denial in his belly. Exposed, cuffed, bent over his own desk, his baby brother barely touching his back, and Nathan had to think unspeakable things to stop himself from cumming.
“You want this,” Peter repeated, and a searing-hot kiss seemed to brand itself on Nathan’s spine. A raw moan was torn from Nathan’s throat, and the cuffs rattled as he stretched himself out further, pushing his ass back. Dignity, rank, age, right and wrong, custom, convention, over ten years of ritual, all set aside for an insane moment of need. He needed Peter, now.
“I want this. I want you,” Nathan said finally, and Peter’s hands closed in around his hips. Nathan muffled an outcry of pure need, trying to keep himself from whimpering as a sudden slickness touched him inside. Panting into his blotter, he bit his own wrist to keep him from crying out when Peter’s fingers slid in deeper than he thought possible, stretching him wide.
“More?” Peter said, hands suddenly gone.
“Please, Peter please!” Nathan shouted, not caring who heard him now.
A slick hand closed around his aching cock, squeezing just once, gently, and Nathan was suddenly lost, pulsing spatters of white against his desk. Frantically he pushed against the hand that held him, trying to draw it out, make it last, handcuffs rattling as his hands fisted, mouth dropping open in a gasp as Peter brought him to a powerful climax…
Nathan Petrelli, junior senator from New York, started awake in his desk chair. Across the room, Peter stood leaning against the door, eyes fixed on him. Nathan became aware of a damp feeling in his underwear, the trickles of sweat on his skin, and the feeling like he’d give anything to repeat what had just happened. And Peter’s smirk. He couldn’t possibly miss Peter’s self-satisfied smirk.
“So… want to try that for real?” Peter asked casually. From one finger dangled a pair of handcuffs. Nathan gripped the edges of the desk, bowed his head, and submitted.