The Rest of My Life
Title: The Rest of My Life
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1,437
Spoilers: Up through 4x10 “My Brother’s Keeper”
Warnings: Slash, consensual incest
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
A/N: I needed a Petrelli brother-moment coda after “My Brother’s Keeper.” I needed it really badly.
Summary: Peter can’t accept the insane truth of what he and Nathan learned.
“Don’t tell me you’re looking at me and not seeing Sylar.”
Peter kept his arms crossed, his face stern, roundly rejecting any hint of the insanity that had permeated this entire day. Rejecting it, because he couldn’t possibly stand to believe it. Couldn’t believe that their mother would have done something that insane, couldn’t believe that Matt Parkman would have gone along with it, couldn’t believe that Nathan was looking at him through a killer’s eyes.
Couldn’t believe that after everything they’d gone through, it had come down to this. Nathan dead, and Peter hadn’t been there to save him. Couldn’t do anything to save him. Hadn’t even had time to say good-bye, hadn’t been able to go to his funeral, hadn’t been able to look his nephews in the eye and hug them and cry with them.
He couldn’t believe Nathan was just going to give up. Peter could see it in his face, had heard it in his voice. Nathan could have handled anyone else knowing about Sylar; Mom, René, even Heidi. But not Peter, not with what they’d gone through together.
Peter opened his mouth to respond, to deny what Nathan was thinking. A faint chill touched his spine when Peter realized he was standing here in the doorway, at a respectable and safe distance away. Far enough so that he could run. A rush of anger replaced the chill and Peter felt his jaw clench. This was his brother, the man he’d looked up to more than their own father, the man he’d loved more than life. He’d trusted him even through the betrayals and pain, trusted and loved him enough to cast aside the ability to heal so Peter wouldn’t be left behind.
Peter closed the distance between them deliberately, leaning down to press his forehead to Nathan’s, folding his arms around him and squeezing hard enough to hurt. He didn’t look at him, not wanting Nathan to see any misgivings or doubts. He just wanted to feel him again. One last time.
“Nathan, I love you,” Peter said, putting every scrap of feeling he could into his voice. He pressed his hands into Nathan’s back, feeling the tension through his entire body. He knew that more intimately than anyone else in the world, and pressed down hard to try to get him relaxed. Nathan gasped softly, and then shuddered, muscles melting under Peter’s touch. Just like every other time.
“God, Peter.” One hand came up to rest on the back of Peter’s head, fingers idly plucking through his longer hair, restless and afraid. “I’m not-. I can’t… we can’t.”
“You said that on my eighteenth birthday, and I spent the rest of the night proving you wrong,” Peter said fiercely, hands moving to Nathan’s jacket, shoving it off his shoulders.
“It’s like living my life in reverse… Every time I touch you, Pete, it’s just so strong…” Nathan whispered shakily, pulling his arms free of his jacket and starting to undo Peter’s shirt buttons.
“You know it’s always been like that, Nathan,” Peter murmured, hands moving in a mirror image of Nathan’s to get rid of his shirt, to free their skin to each other’s fingers. Nathan’s hands suddenly froze and Nathan let out a shaky breath, still fiercely pressing his forehead to Peter’s.
“I don’t want him to see. I don’t want him to know,” he whispered.
“I’m thinking about you right now. That’s all I want to think about, do you get me?” Peter said tightly. He didn’t want to think about Nathan having to relearn everything from touching him, or that there might be more than just the two of them in the room. This was theirs, birth to death, and no one had ever stopped them before, except each other.
“Peter…” Nathan’s voice came out in a soft husk, and Peter felt firm hands on his belt, tugging his practiced skill. This was the soft desperation that had happened when Nathan had come back on leave, when Peter had broken up with his girlfriends, when Heidi had discovered another one of Nathan’s blonde indiscretions. This was returning to the familiar, resetting the clock, coming home to the one they truly loved. Dozens of times, enough to have a familiar ritual, an eager re-exploration of each other’s bodies as every item of clothing was discarded.
Everything about this was familiar. Nothing under Peter’s fingers said “this is a stranger, this is a killer.” The scars on Nathan’s jaw, kissed and licked, the strong line of his neck, the strength in his arms, the ticklish spot just under his ribs on the right side… everything felt right. Peter nuzzled down the coarse hair on Nathan’s belly, smelling the sweat and musk of his cock, feeling the heat of it on his naked skin. Groaning in a timbre that shot lust down Peter’s spine, Nathan suddenly drew him up from his task to kiss him.
It nearly undid them both, Nathan using all his strength to keep Peter still, nibbling on his crooked lip, kissing harder and more desperately than he’d ever touched anyone else, Peter writhing in his grasp, letting Nathan guide their kiss while he rolled their hips together. Nathan had always given him the most attention, held him with the most desperation, taken him higher and further than anyone else Peter had ever known. He never had to hold anything back from Nathan when they were like this. He could open himself completely and know he’d never be hurt.
Something prickled at the base of his neck, a warning of danger that went beyond the usual fear of discovery and betrayal, but Peter ignored it. The heated slide between them was reaching a fever pitch, and Peter made a helpless whining noise in his throat to encourage Nathan even farther. His hands moved, knees spread, and Peter was flipped on his back, Nathan holding him down.
“Pete.”
Peter’s eyes opened involuntarily and he shivered in Nathan’s grasp, tremors shaking his body when he met his eyes. They were so dark, so blown with lust he couldn’t see any color, and sheened liquid with tears. A stab of affection so intense it was almost like pain rocked Peter’s body, and he opened himself to Nathan, eyes locked together. He didn’t need to say please, didn’t need to beg with words, he just needed to feel…
Gasping, Peter arched himself up when Nathan found something slick to coat his fingers, to open Peter up. It was easy to do this, easy to let his body relax even though his eyes burned from staring at Nathan, trying to memorize everything about this moment. His vision blurred as his body buzzed with pleasure, and Nathan leaned into him, folding him in half as he kissed Peter’s tears away, lodged sweet and deep inside him.
Nathan rocked into him, over ten years of loving practice guiding him, playing Peter’s body as he went from gentle lover, kind brother, to stern taskmaster, hard, shallow thrusts to punish and arouse. Then he was the desperate sailor come home after a long voyage, all joyful abandon, then the guilty husband, deep and intense, giving the love he could not to any other person. Peter met him each time, slack or tight, clutching or loose as they needed, riding out each different kind of pleasure, eyes burning as he kept them locked on Nathan’s face.
Finally he was the ravening beast, pushing hard and fast, gripping onto Peter like he might vanish into smoke, desperate and fearful that this might be taken away from them. Peter bared his throat and drove his body down to meet Nathan’s, moaning at the deep and savage pleasure, his own body tight and desperate. Nathan’s eyes were dark, intense and deep brown, and his voice was a relentless rasp, “Peter, please. Peter, God, need this, you, want-. Please, love you, please, Peter, please!”
Nathan was trembling, his own eyes liquid, as Peter sobbed, high and broken.
“Nathan, love you.”
They broke apart together with pleasure and pain, silent sobs masked in groans of release.
“Nathan, I love you,” Peter whispered, eyes shut again, his arms wrapped so tightly around his brother he didn’t think he could let go.
“Pete-.”
“I’ll love you for the rest of my life,” he blurted, head buried in Nathan’s arms, not wanting to see those too-dark eyes blurred with the same tears that were running down his own face.
There was a beat of silence, and then Nathan hugged him harder, his voice raw and true. “Me too, Pete. For the rest of my life.”
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1,437
Spoilers: Up through 4x10 “My Brother’s Keeper”
Warnings: Slash, consensual incest
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
A/N: I needed a Petrelli brother-moment coda after “My Brother’s Keeper.” I needed it really badly.
Summary: Peter can’t accept the insane truth of what he and Nathan learned.
“Don’t tell me you’re looking at me and not seeing Sylar.”
Peter kept his arms crossed, his face stern, roundly rejecting any hint of the insanity that had permeated this entire day. Rejecting it, because he couldn’t possibly stand to believe it. Couldn’t believe that their mother would have done something that insane, couldn’t believe that Matt Parkman would have gone along with it, couldn’t believe that Nathan was looking at him through a killer’s eyes.
Couldn’t believe that after everything they’d gone through, it had come down to this. Nathan dead, and Peter hadn’t been there to save him. Couldn’t do anything to save him. Hadn’t even had time to say good-bye, hadn’t been able to go to his funeral, hadn’t been able to look his nephews in the eye and hug them and cry with them.
He couldn’t believe Nathan was just going to give up. Peter could see it in his face, had heard it in his voice. Nathan could have handled anyone else knowing about Sylar; Mom, René, even Heidi. But not Peter, not with what they’d gone through together.
Peter opened his mouth to respond, to deny what Nathan was thinking. A faint chill touched his spine when Peter realized he was standing here in the doorway, at a respectable and safe distance away. Far enough so that he could run. A rush of anger replaced the chill and Peter felt his jaw clench. This was his brother, the man he’d looked up to more than their own father, the man he’d loved more than life. He’d trusted him even through the betrayals and pain, trusted and loved him enough to cast aside the ability to heal so Peter wouldn’t be left behind.
Peter closed the distance between them deliberately, leaning down to press his forehead to Nathan’s, folding his arms around him and squeezing hard enough to hurt. He didn’t look at him, not wanting Nathan to see any misgivings or doubts. He just wanted to feel him again. One last time.
“Nathan, I love you,” Peter said, putting every scrap of feeling he could into his voice. He pressed his hands into Nathan’s back, feeling the tension through his entire body. He knew that more intimately than anyone else in the world, and pressed down hard to try to get him relaxed. Nathan gasped softly, and then shuddered, muscles melting under Peter’s touch. Just like every other time.
“God, Peter.” One hand came up to rest on the back of Peter’s head, fingers idly plucking through his longer hair, restless and afraid. “I’m not-. I can’t… we can’t.”
“You said that on my eighteenth birthday, and I spent the rest of the night proving you wrong,” Peter said fiercely, hands moving to Nathan’s jacket, shoving it off his shoulders.
“It’s like living my life in reverse… Every time I touch you, Pete, it’s just so strong…” Nathan whispered shakily, pulling his arms free of his jacket and starting to undo Peter’s shirt buttons.
“You know it’s always been like that, Nathan,” Peter murmured, hands moving in a mirror image of Nathan’s to get rid of his shirt, to free their skin to each other’s fingers. Nathan’s hands suddenly froze and Nathan let out a shaky breath, still fiercely pressing his forehead to Peter’s.
“I don’t want him to see. I don’t want him to know,” he whispered.
“I’m thinking about you right now. That’s all I want to think about, do you get me?” Peter said tightly. He didn’t want to think about Nathan having to relearn everything from touching him, or that there might be more than just the two of them in the room. This was theirs, birth to death, and no one had ever stopped them before, except each other.
“Peter…” Nathan’s voice came out in a soft husk, and Peter felt firm hands on his belt, tugging his practiced skill. This was the soft desperation that had happened when Nathan had come back on leave, when Peter had broken up with his girlfriends, when Heidi had discovered another one of Nathan’s blonde indiscretions. This was returning to the familiar, resetting the clock, coming home to the one they truly loved. Dozens of times, enough to have a familiar ritual, an eager re-exploration of each other’s bodies as every item of clothing was discarded.
Everything about this was familiar. Nothing under Peter’s fingers said “this is a stranger, this is a killer.” The scars on Nathan’s jaw, kissed and licked, the strong line of his neck, the strength in his arms, the ticklish spot just under his ribs on the right side… everything felt right. Peter nuzzled down the coarse hair on Nathan’s belly, smelling the sweat and musk of his cock, feeling the heat of it on his naked skin. Groaning in a timbre that shot lust down Peter’s spine, Nathan suddenly drew him up from his task to kiss him.
It nearly undid them both, Nathan using all his strength to keep Peter still, nibbling on his crooked lip, kissing harder and more desperately than he’d ever touched anyone else, Peter writhing in his grasp, letting Nathan guide their kiss while he rolled their hips together. Nathan had always given him the most attention, held him with the most desperation, taken him higher and further than anyone else Peter had ever known. He never had to hold anything back from Nathan when they were like this. He could open himself completely and know he’d never be hurt.
Something prickled at the base of his neck, a warning of danger that went beyond the usual fear of discovery and betrayal, but Peter ignored it. The heated slide between them was reaching a fever pitch, and Peter made a helpless whining noise in his throat to encourage Nathan even farther. His hands moved, knees spread, and Peter was flipped on his back, Nathan holding him down.
“Pete.”
Peter’s eyes opened involuntarily and he shivered in Nathan’s grasp, tremors shaking his body when he met his eyes. They were so dark, so blown with lust he couldn’t see any color, and sheened liquid with tears. A stab of affection so intense it was almost like pain rocked Peter’s body, and he opened himself to Nathan, eyes locked together. He didn’t need to say please, didn’t need to beg with words, he just needed to feel…
Gasping, Peter arched himself up when Nathan found something slick to coat his fingers, to open Peter up. It was easy to do this, easy to let his body relax even though his eyes burned from staring at Nathan, trying to memorize everything about this moment. His vision blurred as his body buzzed with pleasure, and Nathan leaned into him, folding him in half as he kissed Peter’s tears away, lodged sweet and deep inside him.
Nathan rocked into him, over ten years of loving practice guiding him, playing Peter’s body as he went from gentle lover, kind brother, to stern taskmaster, hard, shallow thrusts to punish and arouse. Then he was the desperate sailor come home after a long voyage, all joyful abandon, then the guilty husband, deep and intense, giving the love he could not to any other person. Peter met him each time, slack or tight, clutching or loose as they needed, riding out each different kind of pleasure, eyes burning as he kept them locked on Nathan’s face.
Finally he was the ravening beast, pushing hard and fast, gripping onto Peter like he might vanish into smoke, desperate and fearful that this might be taken away from them. Peter bared his throat and drove his body down to meet Nathan’s, moaning at the deep and savage pleasure, his own body tight and desperate. Nathan’s eyes were dark, intense and deep brown, and his voice was a relentless rasp, “Peter, please. Peter, God, need this, you, want-. Please, love you, please, Peter, please!”
Nathan was trembling, his own eyes liquid, as Peter sobbed, high and broken.
“Nathan, love you.”
They broke apart together with pleasure and pain, silent sobs masked in groans of release.
“Nathan, I love you,” Peter whispered, eyes shut again, his arms wrapped so tightly around his brother he didn’t think he could let go.
“Pete-.”
“I’ll love you for the rest of my life,” he blurted, head buried in Nathan’s arms, not wanting to see those too-dark eyes blurred with the same tears that were running down his own face.
There was a beat of silence, and then Nathan hugged him harder, his voice raw and true. “Me too, Pete. For the rest of my life.”