New Reality
Title: New Reality
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Nathan/Sylar
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Word Count: 1,424
Spoilers: Through the end of S3
Warnings: Slash, threesome, blood, dubcon, general weirdness
Disclaimer: Heroes is owned by Tim Kring, NBC, et al.
Notes: Written for crashgirl82's day of power as CEO at heroes_exchange.
Summary: Peter suddenly finds himself in a new and different reality, just by accepting the impossible and the unforgivable.
Peter started awake as his door slammed open, shoving himself upright in the bed almost instantly when he saw two silhouettes. Another moment passed in deathly silence, and Peter suddenly recognized both figures. Except they couldn't possibly be here.
The light suddenly flipped on, and Peter could see them clearly, beautiful and gloriously naked. Sylar stepped into the room an instant ahead of Nathan, both of them with smiles on their faces, Nathan's intimately familiar, Sylar's sharp and hungry.
"Nathan?" Peter whispered, unbelieving. "Sylar, you can't-."
"Be here? Peter, you really didn't think a few little mental tricks were going to keep me away forever, did you?"
As Sylar talked, Nathan walked right next to Peter's bed, taking his head into his hands with a practiced motion, kissing Peter well and thoroughly, like he thought he'd never feel again.
"And death wasn't going to stop Nathan from seeing you again either," Sylar continued, his voice now intimately closer. Peter clung to Nathan desperately, flushing with shame that he couldn't pull away from his brother with a killer whispering in his ear. "This is our first day as free men, Peter. Don't spoil it by trying to talk."
Sylar's hands joined Nathan's in slowly running all over Peter's body. Shivering, Peter could only cling, and kiss, and love. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream, a desperate dream to bring Nathan back to him the way he used to be.
And even in a dream, Peter couldn’t stop punishing himself for wanting Nathan so badly that he’d felt relief instead of horror when he’d found out the truth about Sylar’s “death.” He didn’t protest, only gasped in surprise when Sylar grabbed his arms and wrenched them back, forcing them up hard enough to hurt.
“Peter,” Nathan whispered, his hands tightening on his brother’s face. “We’re so wrong.”
Peter could feel the tightness in his throat, the heat in his eyes, and the pain in his stomach when Nathan said those words. Why did he have to say that when he was kissing him? Why couldn’t they leave their guilt behind just for an hour-? Sylar’s grip tightened, and Peter could feel slickness covering his fingers. Clutching both of Peter’s arms in one of his, Sylar slid a hand around to Peter’s chest. Looking down, Peter saw blood covering his hands.
Nathan’s mouth moved to Peter’s neck, forcing his head up, making him feel every nuance of Nathan's hands running down his chest, caressing each plane of muscle and bone. Wetness trailed from his hands too, now cold on his cheeks, and Peter knew if he could look down now, there would be new trails of blood over his skin. Sylar’s hand joined Nathan in their purposeful wandering, unerringly seeking out every sensitive spot on Peter’s body, wet and sticky fingers making him remember every place they’d touched.
“You want to know how we freed ourselves?” Sylar murmured, jerking Peter higher, making him kneel on the bed. Nathan followed without effort, cradling Peter’s head, running a hand down his back, mouth returning to claim and plunder what had always been his, beyond sense and reason and law. Peter opened himself helplessly, letting Nathan plunder his mouth, desire and shame mingling inside into the obscene whole he hadn’t known he couldn’t live without.
A slight rip and tug, and Sylar had easily cut Peter’s cotton pants from his body with his mind, using the scraps to bind Peter’s elbows and wrists together. Freed from having to keep Peter still, Sylar draped himself over Peter’s back, one slick hand reaching low, making Peter cry out as he squeezed cruelly on the evidence of Peter’s arousal. Nathan shuffled closer in the next instant, Peter’s cock and Sylar’s hand was trapped by Nathan’s throbbing cock and hard belly.
Peter sobbed into Nathan’s mouth at the feeling, knowing the slickness between them was from blood, and somehow not being able to care. Just as long as the dream didn’t stop…
“He couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Sylar murmured, shifting his hand so he could squeeze both Peter and Nathan in his grasp. Nathan moaned into Peter’s mouth and both of them bucked into Sylar’s grasp, in a rhythm honed by years of shameful perfect practice. “Just like that,” Sylar whispered. “He dreamed about this so much…”
“I’m so sorry, Peter,” Nathan said, his voice rumbling right through Peter. “I couldn’t leave you alone…”
It’s ok, it’s ok, I wanted this too. I wanted you too! Peter cried out in his mind, trying to draw Nathan closer, closer, close enough to crawl inside his skin. He’d wanted Nathan before he could even understand the consequences, and even in the fullness of knowledge, couldn’t bring himself to push Nathan away. It was wrong, so wrong, but it was what they’d wanted.
“We had to get out of the hell your mother put us in,” Sylar said, slinging his other arm around Nathan and Peter both, holding himself flush against Peter’s back and bound arms. He could feel Sylar’s hardness, seemingly hot enough to burn, pressed against his ass, and moaned softly.
“He found a way,” Nathan gasped into Peter’s mouth, bloody hands holding Peter’s face steady between them. Sylar began to stroke the two cocks in his hand, and all Peter could do was gasp, holding onto Nathan’s mouth as an anchor.
“All it took was one man, a special man,” Sylar said, rutting against Peter’s skin. “He could duplicate himself.”
“Oh God, Peter, I saw him die. His blood was on my hands,” Nathan almost sobbed.
“Our hands,” Sylar growled, starting to stroke harder, rut faster.
“I had to get back to you,” Nathan said, his voice ragged. “I couldn’t do this any longer, not with you knowing what had happened to me.”
His kiss sealed against Peter’s mouth, desperate and perfect, running heat, desire, and shame through Peter’s body in their perfect mix of poisonous love. Sylar growled in an almost curious counterpart, his hand stroking Peter and Nathan together with a familiarity that seemed like a missing part of themselves. Blood-slick fingers were playing all over Peter’s body, pressing on his bound arms, tickling and caressing down his sides, making it sing with pleasure too-long denied.
Open-mouthed, Peter leaned forward to kiss down Nathan’s neck, letting his trapped hands lightly scratch over Sylar’s belly. He was held hard between them, supported between one he couldn’t live without, and the other who was the only way for them to stay together. Sylar’s stroking hand and insistent hips made it clear he wasn’t going to leave now. Or perhaps ever.
“Forgive me,” Nathan said, pressing one hand on Peter’s head, holding him against his neck. Peter felt tears starting to squeeze from his eyes as he felt Nathan’s hand begin to run the sticky blood through his hair. Crying, he let his lips and tongue pull at the flesh of Nathan’s neck in time to the ruthless rhythm of their hips and Sylar’s hand. Peter could feel Nathan trembling as he began to come apart, and Sylar shoving into him with bruising force.
“Forgive me.” He heard it again in a deeper voice as Sylar captured Nathan for a hard kiss of their own, a sign of symbiosis sealed with bloody murder, all out of a need for love. Love for Peter, love for life. And the crescendo of pulsing and throbbing between them was the confirmation of it. Acceptance, for the shame and the horror, love and sheer need between them. Without each other, they were nothing.
“Forgive me!” Peter cried into Nathan’s shoulder, sobbing helplessly as he felt himself let go, feeling Nathan and Sylar’s climax on either side of him. Deep groans sounded in his ears, fading into harsh breathing, suddenly stopped as they each pressed their lips, one set moist, the other chapped, to his cheeks.
“Thank you.” Peter wasn’t sure who said it, only feeling his heart contract when they pulled away from him, leaving feeling like he drowning in cold water.
“We’ll be back Pete. Promise.”
Falling to the bed, Peter turned his face to the mattress, not having the strength to watch them leave. Drying blood and evidence of their passion told Peter this was no dream. This was a reality he wouldn’t have ever prayed for, like how he couldn’t bring himself to pray for Nathan as a child. Trembling, arms tingling in their bindings, Peter wondered how badly he was going to be damned for praying for this new reality now.
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Nathan/Sylar
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Word Count: 1,424
Spoilers: Through the end of S3
Warnings: Slash, threesome, blood, dubcon, general weirdness
Disclaimer: Heroes is owned by Tim Kring, NBC, et al.
Notes: Written for crashgirl82's day of power as CEO at heroes_exchange.
Summary: Peter suddenly finds himself in a new and different reality, just by accepting the impossible and the unforgivable.
Peter started awake as his door slammed open, shoving himself upright in the bed almost instantly when he saw two silhouettes. Another moment passed in deathly silence, and Peter suddenly recognized both figures. Except they couldn't possibly be here.
The light suddenly flipped on, and Peter could see them clearly, beautiful and gloriously naked. Sylar stepped into the room an instant ahead of Nathan, both of them with smiles on their faces, Nathan's intimately familiar, Sylar's sharp and hungry.
"Nathan?" Peter whispered, unbelieving. "Sylar, you can't-."
"Be here? Peter, you really didn't think a few little mental tricks were going to keep me away forever, did you?"
As Sylar talked, Nathan walked right next to Peter's bed, taking his head into his hands with a practiced motion, kissing Peter well and thoroughly, like he thought he'd never feel again.
"And death wasn't going to stop Nathan from seeing you again either," Sylar continued, his voice now intimately closer. Peter clung to Nathan desperately, flushing with shame that he couldn't pull away from his brother with a killer whispering in his ear. "This is our first day as free men, Peter. Don't spoil it by trying to talk."
Sylar's hands joined Nathan's in slowly running all over Peter's body. Shivering, Peter could only cling, and kiss, and love. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream, a desperate dream to bring Nathan back to him the way he used to be.
And even in a dream, Peter couldn’t stop punishing himself for wanting Nathan so badly that he’d felt relief instead of horror when he’d found out the truth about Sylar’s “death.” He didn’t protest, only gasped in surprise when Sylar grabbed his arms and wrenched them back, forcing them up hard enough to hurt.
“Peter,” Nathan whispered, his hands tightening on his brother’s face. “We’re so wrong.”
Peter could feel the tightness in his throat, the heat in his eyes, and the pain in his stomach when Nathan said those words. Why did he have to say that when he was kissing him? Why couldn’t they leave their guilt behind just for an hour-? Sylar’s grip tightened, and Peter could feel slickness covering his fingers. Clutching both of Peter’s arms in one of his, Sylar slid a hand around to Peter’s chest. Looking down, Peter saw blood covering his hands.
Nathan’s mouth moved to Peter’s neck, forcing his head up, making him feel every nuance of Nathan's hands running down his chest, caressing each plane of muscle and bone. Wetness trailed from his hands too, now cold on his cheeks, and Peter knew if he could look down now, there would be new trails of blood over his skin. Sylar’s hand joined Nathan in their purposeful wandering, unerringly seeking out every sensitive spot on Peter’s body, wet and sticky fingers making him remember every place they’d touched.
“You want to know how we freed ourselves?” Sylar murmured, jerking Peter higher, making him kneel on the bed. Nathan followed without effort, cradling Peter’s head, running a hand down his back, mouth returning to claim and plunder what had always been his, beyond sense and reason and law. Peter opened himself helplessly, letting Nathan plunder his mouth, desire and shame mingling inside into the obscene whole he hadn’t known he couldn’t live without.
A slight rip and tug, and Sylar had easily cut Peter’s cotton pants from his body with his mind, using the scraps to bind Peter’s elbows and wrists together. Freed from having to keep Peter still, Sylar draped himself over Peter’s back, one slick hand reaching low, making Peter cry out as he squeezed cruelly on the evidence of Peter’s arousal. Nathan shuffled closer in the next instant, Peter’s cock and Sylar’s hand was trapped by Nathan’s throbbing cock and hard belly.
Peter sobbed into Nathan’s mouth at the feeling, knowing the slickness between them was from blood, and somehow not being able to care. Just as long as the dream didn’t stop…
“He couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Sylar murmured, shifting his hand so he could squeeze both Peter and Nathan in his grasp. Nathan moaned into Peter’s mouth and both of them bucked into Sylar’s grasp, in a rhythm honed by years of shameful perfect practice. “Just like that,” Sylar whispered. “He dreamed about this so much…”
“I’m so sorry, Peter,” Nathan said, his voice rumbling right through Peter. “I couldn’t leave you alone…”
It’s ok, it’s ok, I wanted this too. I wanted you too! Peter cried out in his mind, trying to draw Nathan closer, closer, close enough to crawl inside his skin. He’d wanted Nathan before he could even understand the consequences, and even in the fullness of knowledge, couldn’t bring himself to push Nathan away. It was wrong, so wrong, but it was what they’d wanted.
“We had to get out of the hell your mother put us in,” Sylar said, slinging his other arm around Nathan and Peter both, holding himself flush against Peter’s back and bound arms. He could feel Sylar’s hardness, seemingly hot enough to burn, pressed against his ass, and moaned softly.
“He found a way,” Nathan gasped into Peter’s mouth, bloody hands holding Peter’s face steady between them. Sylar began to stroke the two cocks in his hand, and all Peter could do was gasp, holding onto Nathan’s mouth as an anchor.
“All it took was one man, a special man,” Sylar said, rutting against Peter’s skin. “He could duplicate himself.”
“Oh God, Peter, I saw him die. His blood was on my hands,” Nathan almost sobbed.
“Our hands,” Sylar growled, starting to stroke harder, rut faster.
“I had to get back to you,” Nathan said, his voice ragged. “I couldn’t do this any longer, not with you knowing what had happened to me.”
His kiss sealed against Peter’s mouth, desperate and perfect, running heat, desire, and shame through Peter’s body in their perfect mix of poisonous love. Sylar growled in an almost curious counterpart, his hand stroking Peter and Nathan together with a familiarity that seemed like a missing part of themselves. Blood-slick fingers were playing all over Peter’s body, pressing on his bound arms, tickling and caressing down his sides, making it sing with pleasure too-long denied.
Open-mouthed, Peter leaned forward to kiss down Nathan’s neck, letting his trapped hands lightly scratch over Sylar’s belly. He was held hard between them, supported between one he couldn’t live without, and the other who was the only way for them to stay together. Sylar’s stroking hand and insistent hips made it clear he wasn’t going to leave now. Or perhaps ever.
“Forgive me,” Nathan said, pressing one hand on Peter’s head, holding him against his neck. Peter felt tears starting to squeeze from his eyes as he felt Nathan’s hand begin to run the sticky blood through his hair. Crying, he let his lips and tongue pull at the flesh of Nathan’s neck in time to the ruthless rhythm of their hips and Sylar’s hand. Peter could feel Nathan trembling as he began to come apart, and Sylar shoving into him with bruising force.
“Forgive me.” He heard it again in a deeper voice as Sylar captured Nathan for a hard kiss of their own, a sign of symbiosis sealed with bloody murder, all out of a need for love. Love for Peter, love for life. And the crescendo of pulsing and throbbing between them was the confirmation of it. Acceptance, for the shame and the horror, love and sheer need between them. Without each other, they were nothing.
“Forgive me!” Peter cried into Nathan’s shoulder, sobbing helplessly as he felt himself let go, feeling Nathan and Sylar’s climax on either side of him. Deep groans sounded in his ears, fading into harsh breathing, suddenly stopped as they each pressed their lips, one set moist, the other chapped, to his cheeks.
“Thank you.” Peter wasn’t sure who said it, only feeling his heart contract when they pulled away from him, leaving feeling like he drowning in cold water.
“We’ll be back Pete. Promise.”
Falling to the bed, Peter turned his face to the mattress, not having the strength to watch them leave. Drying blood and evidence of their passion told Peter this was no dream. This was a reality he wouldn’t have ever prayed for, like how he couldn’t bring himself to pray for Nathan as a child. Trembling, arms tingling in their bindings, Peter wondered how badly he was going to be damned for praying for this new reality now.