Respect
Title: Respect
Author: jaune_chat
Fandoms: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Matt/Peter, Adam/Monica/Elle, Hiro/Ando, Tracy/Jessica/Barbara/Nathan, Claire/West/Alex, Sylar/Mohinder, Isaac/everyone, others implied
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2,132
Spoilers: Vague S3 for characters, but nothing specific
Warnings: D/s, bondage, violence, sex club, edible body paints
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
A/N: Written for kethni’s Valentine’s Matt-a-thon for the prompt: “Matt/Peter - I love the idea of Matt as a big, well respected Dom. I'd love for him to be paired with Peter as his sub because of the huge physical contrast- manly, powerful Matt v slender, pretty Pete - size kink!!! The scenario could involve them going to a club and both having to fend off admirers (your choice as to who amongst the cast gets to cameo here and which ones are bottoms and tops!), ultimately ending in someone challenging Matt for (or maybe just forcibly trying to remove) Peter, and Matt kicking the other dom's ass. In short: top!Matt is love. Ooh, and could he be wearing a [business] suit? And Peter, uh, not very much?”
Summary: Matt has always had respect at the club, but when his main rival shows up, Matt has to show why he deserves respect.
Peter followed Matt through the crowd, fiercely paying no mind to the enticing swirl of color and fabric, skin and hair, all around them. It would be easy to be distracted; by the petite blonde in skin-tight black rubber, the red satin hugging the curves of the Latina woman lounging in a chair, the glitter of chains and piercings and paint that were the only clothing for a long-haired man with soft and willing eyes. Matt’s broad frame in its armor of a dignified suit cleared a path for him, while Peter, slim and slight, wearing just his collar, had to try to fit himself into his wake. Peter’s invisible leash was precisely six feet long, and if he didn’t keep that close to Matt, Matt would have to stop to let him catch up. And then Peter would catch it later. Everyone knew that.
The other doms made a game of it, trying to casually delay Peter with an outstretched hand, or catcalls, or displaying one of their subs in a way that could make even the most jaded club-goer stammer and stare. But Matt didn’t pause, and perforce, Peter didn’t, even if he had to practically jog to keep up with his master.
Matt smiled as he felt Peter’s attention focused on him, and solely on him. Peter would walk through the streets naked for him, something that was obvious to every dom at the club. That was why they tried so hard to distract Peter; in a way, it was backhanded flattery. Matt had a reputation to maintain, and every time he came here, with Peter at his back, that reputation was reinforced. If he willed it, Peter would be blind, deaf, and dumb to any other living soul, and would perform without hesitation, hitch, or blush in front of any audience. No other dom and sub had that level of trust and control between them.
“Matt!” Adam waved from one side of the room, and Matt took an abrupt detour, noticing Peter having to make a frantic course adjustment behind him and step in line just before the end of his “leash.” Adam smiled at them both and waved for Matt to take one of the cushioned chairs, a knowing expression in his eyes letting Matt know he had news.
Adam and his wife Monica made one of the most striking couples, and certainly the only dom couple, at the club. Adam might have more experience, but Monica was far more creative. The rubber-clad Elle, their sub, was the product of both of their styles. She was currently acting as the table for their drinks, a board balanced on her back, and Matt nodded slightly in approval. She was certainly much more steady than she had been last time.
“Good to see you two again. When did you guys get back from London?” Matt asked, as Peter folded himself up on the floor by Matt’s chair without another word spoken.
“Just in yesterday,” Adam said brightly.
“We heard there was going to be a show here tonight, and he didn’t want to miss it,” Monica added, elbowing her husband slightly. “And, you know, the usual. It’s been six months; surely you’ve reconsidered?”
Matt turned and held Peter’s eyes for a second and flicked them over to Elle. He had trained Peter to a fine degree of nuance, so that entire conversations could be held without interrupting business. It made for some very interesting times at the club when people had abruptly found themselves on the receiving end of some very personal attention while Matt had barely had to pause to make his desires known to his sub. His nearly telepathic control had made other doms a little fearful of him. Except for Adam.
Which was why Peter wasn’t attending to him, but to Elle. Her costume wasn’t covering some crucial areas, and Peter stretched himself under her to apply his clever tongue to them. The table wobbled as Elle’s muscles trembled, the drinks sloshing in their glasses.
“I’m not a switch, and the answer is still no,” Matt said mildly, as Monica tapped Elle on the shoulder to remind her to stay still. “You’re a lovely couple, but no.” Peter sped up, bringing his hands into play to torment her breasts while his tongue lapped at her exposed folds. The table wobbled some more, almost sending the glasses crashing to the ground, and Adam abruptly sat upright.
“All right! You can’t blame a man for trying,” he said, trying to laugh it off. Matt stared him down for a long minute, one where Elle began to whimper in impending orgasm, and made a tiny gesture to Peter. He stopped instantly and returned to Matt’s side, leaving the table heaving and trembling. Monica looked vexed; Elle was going to be almost useless for the rest of the evening.
“What was the show tonight?” Matt asked, as he stood up to leave.
Adam’s mouth twisted slightly, and Matt knew, points scored or not, Adam wasn’t going to forget this. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll catch it soon.”
Matt inclined his head and turned to face the rest of the club. Once out of Adam and Monica’s circle, the other club members swirled around them, attempting to entice or distract. Hiro was there, hair pulled back and dressed in his black leather coat, his sub Ando in a positively painful-looking get-up of black leather straps and metal bars. Hiro had a rather brutal reputation, but it was clear that Ando was fit enough to handle anything Hiro could throw at him. Maybe he’d last longer than the last three subs Hiro’d had.
Isaac, the club sub, was stretched out between two pillars, letting other doms decorate him with a variety of edible body paints. Subs followed, licking him clean again for their master to try different patterns. Peter’s eyes strayed in Isaac’s direction, and Isaac simply smiled, putting a great deal of promise into his eyes. Matt had let the two play before, but not tonight. If Adam was being coy, that meant something big was going down, and Matt needed to be alert.
Across the room, Jessica, Tracy, and Barbara were getting serviced each in turn by their collective sub Nathan. Three leashes on one collar, and he had to crawl from one to the other, his head between their legs as they talked and sipped their martinis. How he managed to keep up with three was something of a mystery to everyone at the club except Matt. Nathan’s sex drive needed three doms, or he’d end up servicing the entire club and pissing off Thompson, the owner. Matt had been the one to get the triplets into the club, and to get them connected with Nathan. Everyone knew they could come to him if there was a problem or a question, if they were willing to swallow their pride. He’d schooled probably a quarter of the doms in the room, and had helped maybe half of the others in any number of situations.
Matt kept scanning the club, looking for trouble. He spotted Claire with her two subs, Alex and West, sitting at her feet like attentive watchdogs, Eden demurely kneeling to put her talented mouth to use on René, and an unexpected flash of pale and dark brown skin in close juxtaposition.
Peter actually jumped when Matt whipped around to take a second look, and quickly slipped back into place as he saw where his master was looking. Matt felt the beginnings of a headache throbbing at his temple when he saw who was in the corner of the club. Sylar was there, with Mohinder.
“Sylar,” Matt said softly, and saw Peter pale. Peter knew the story between him and Matt very well, even if almost no one else aside from Adam did. Back when Matt had first been getting started, Mohinder had been his first sub. When he’d taken Mohinder to a club, Sylar had been there, and had enjoyed the way Matt’s sub looked. He’d challenged Matt for him, had Mohinder try to pick his master out while blindfolded, and which had ended up with Mohinder picking Sylar.
The humiliation of that night had faded over the years, but was not forgotten. Especially not when Sylar looked up to catch Matt looking at him, and smirked broadly in his direction. Then his gaze dropped back to Peter, and it became a predatory smile. Matt resisted the initial impulse to stomp over there and rip the smile right off his face, and took a few deep breaths. A subtle gesture to Peter and he was on his knees at Matt’s side, head rubbing the side of Matt’s thigh like a huge cat. Matt let his hand trail through Peter’s silky hair, tugging at it slightly to make Peter bare his throat. The flash of white, vulnerable flesh was enough to bring out the carnivore in almost anyone. The very ostentatiousness of the gesture was a warning sign to the other doms, one that Sylar gleefully ignored.
“Lovely,” Sylar rumbled, strolling up to peruse Peter at close range. Mohinder was several steps behind him, looking thinner and more dazed than when he’d been Matt’s. He was, Matt noted, wearing an almost identical collar to Peter.
“You know better than to come in here,” Matt said firmly.
“It’s a free country, isn’t it?” Sylar cocked his head to the side, smiling down at Peter. He reached down to pet him, and Peter obediently shrank back so Sylar’s fingers just missed their mark.
“Go back to New York, Sylar. You’re not welcome here.”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll have Peter come with me. Mohinder could use a playmate, and these two would make a great set,” Sylar said, transferring his smile to Matt.
Around them, the club had gone quiet, the other doms and subs watching in anticipation.
“Yes, Peter could use a playmate,” Matt agreed, his own smile tight and dangerous. He shifted slightly, muscles tensing, squaring his shoulders. He and Sylar were the same height, but Matt had him outmatched by probably twenty pounds.
“You could use one too. Learn to see things from a different perspective. You might even like it,” Sylar said, his voice a low growl, seemingly ignoring the danger in Matt’s stance.
Matt made a subtle gesture with his hand, and Peter inched away from them both. To his surprise and gratification, Mohinder did too; the danger sign was one of the first things Matt had taught him.
“Don’t think that sending Peter away is going to end this. We both know he’ll end up with me anyway,” Sylar continued. “You’re a decent breaker, Parkman, but you never end up keeping them in the long term. Just accept your lot in life.”
The club seemed to hold its collective breath as Sylar arrogantly sneered at Matt, taking his silence for acquiescence. Matt just smiled at him, and then punched him, a full-bodied boxer’s punch that connected solidly with Sylar’s jaw, lifting him off his feet and dropping him on the floor several feet away in a crumpled heap.
Striding forward, Matt grabbed Sylar by the front of his shirt, curling his arm and bringing them face-to-face, Sylar’s eyes barely focusing.
“Get out of L.A.” He punctuated that with a hard punch to the stomach, letting Sylar drop, and then picked him up again to begin hauling him toward the door. “Don’t ever come back.” Matt shifted Sylar higher, actually bringing him clear off the floor so he could hurl him at the door. “Don’t ever think about touching Peter again.”
Sylar blinked up at him, stunned and wheezing, as Matt opened the door and nudged him out none-too-gently with his foot, to sprawl on the sidewalk outside.
“And Mohinder is staying with me.” Matt punctuated that by slamming the door, ignoring Sylar’s weak and coughing protest.
Around him, the club erupted in spontaneous applause as Peter and Mohinder practically plastered themselves to Matt’s side. Even Adam was giving him a rueful toast with his glass of whiskey. Acknowledging the praise with a faint nod, Matt turned his attention back to his two subs.
“Peter, good boy,” Matt said, caressing the man’s back and smiling warmly at him. Mohinder ducked his head as Matt turned to him, looking nervous. “Mohinder, I think you’re learned your lesson, haven’t you? Sylar was a very poor master.” Mohinder nodded frantically, and relaxed as Matt inspected him all over, checking him for scars and flaws.
“Follow Peter’s lead until you know the rules,” Matt said gently, ran his hand through Mohinder’s curls. “I’ve missed you.”
Peter nudged Mohinder’s side as Matt turned to go back into the club to accept his accolades, both of them easily fitting into his wake.
Author: jaune_chat
Fandoms: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Matt/Peter, Adam/Monica/Elle, Hiro/Ando, Tracy/Jessica/Barbara/Nathan, Claire/West/Alex, Sylar/Mohinder, Isaac/everyone, others implied
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2,132
Spoilers: Vague S3 for characters, but nothing specific
Warnings: D/s, bondage, violence, sex club, edible body paints
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
A/N: Written for kethni’s Valentine’s Matt-a-thon for the prompt: “Matt/Peter - I love the idea of Matt as a big, well respected Dom. I'd love for him to be paired with Peter as his sub because of the huge physical contrast- manly, powerful Matt v slender, pretty Pete - size kink!!! The scenario could involve them going to a club and both having to fend off admirers (your choice as to who amongst the cast gets to cameo here and which ones are bottoms and tops!), ultimately ending in someone challenging Matt for (or maybe just forcibly trying to remove) Peter, and Matt kicking the other dom's ass. In short: top!Matt is love. Ooh, and could he be wearing a [business] suit? And Peter, uh, not very much?”
Summary: Matt has always had respect at the club, but when his main rival shows up, Matt has to show why he deserves respect.
Peter followed Matt through the crowd, fiercely paying no mind to the enticing swirl of color and fabric, skin and hair, all around them. It would be easy to be distracted; by the petite blonde in skin-tight black rubber, the red satin hugging the curves of the Latina woman lounging in a chair, the glitter of chains and piercings and paint that were the only clothing for a long-haired man with soft and willing eyes. Matt’s broad frame in its armor of a dignified suit cleared a path for him, while Peter, slim and slight, wearing just his collar, had to try to fit himself into his wake. Peter’s invisible leash was precisely six feet long, and if he didn’t keep that close to Matt, Matt would have to stop to let him catch up. And then Peter would catch it later. Everyone knew that.
The other doms made a game of it, trying to casually delay Peter with an outstretched hand, or catcalls, or displaying one of their subs in a way that could make even the most jaded club-goer stammer and stare. But Matt didn’t pause, and perforce, Peter didn’t, even if he had to practically jog to keep up with his master.
Matt smiled as he felt Peter’s attention focused on him, and solely on him. Peter would walk through the streets naked for him, something that was obvious to every dom at the club. That was why they tried so hard to distract Peter; in a way, it was backhanded flattery. Matt had a reputation to maintain, and every time he came here, with Peter at his back, that reputation was reinforced. If he willed it, Peter would be blind, deaf, and dumb to any other living soul, and would perform without hesitation, hitch, or blush in front of any audience. No other dom and sub had that level of trust and control between them.
“Matt!” Adam waved from one side of the room, and Matt took an abrupt detour, noticing Peter having to make a frantic course adjustment behind him and step in line just before the end of his “leash.” Adam smiled at them both and waved for Matt to take one of the cushioned chairs, a knowing expression in his eyes letting Matt know he had news.
Adam and his wife Monica made one of the most striking couples, and certainly the only dom couple, at the club. Adam might have more experience, but Monica was far more creative. The rubber-clad Elle, their sub, was the product of both of their styles. She was currently acting as the table for their drinks, a board balanced on her back, and Matt nodded slightly in approval. She was certainly much more steady than she had been last time.
“Good to see you two again. When did you guys get back from London?” Matt asked, as Peter folded himself up on the floor by Matt’s chair without another word spoken.
“Just in yesterday,” Adam said brightly.
“We heard there was going to be a show here tonight, and he didn’t want to miss it,” Monica added, elbowing her husband slightly. “And, you know, the usual. It’s been six months; surely you’ve reconsidered?”
Matt turned and held Peter’s eyes for a second and flicked them over to Elle. He had trained Peter to a fine degree of nuance, so that entire conversations could be held without interrupting business. It made for some very interesting times at the club when people had abruptly found themselves on the receiving end of some very personal attention while Matt had barely had to pause to make his desires known to his sub. His nearly telepathic control had made other doms a little fearful of him. Except for Adam.
Which was why Peter wasn’t attending to him, but to Elle. Her costume wasn’t covering some crucial areas, and Peter stretched himself under her to apply his clever tongue to them. The table wobbled as Elle’s muscles trembled, the drinks sloshing in their glasses.
“I’m not a switch, and the answer is still no,” Matt said mildly, as Monica tapped Elle on the shoulder to remind her to stay still. “You’re a lovely couple, but no.” Peter sped up, bringing his hands into play to torment her breasts while his tongue lapped at her exposed folds. The table wobbled some more, almost sending the glasses crashing to the ground, and Adam abruptly sat upright.
“All right! You can’t blame a man for trying,” he said, trying to laugh it off. Matt stared him down for a long minute, one where Elle began to whimper in impending orgasm, and made a tiny gesture to Peter. He stopped instantly and returned to Matt’s side, leaving the table heaving and trembling. Monica looked vexed; Elle was going to be almost useless for the rest of the evening.
“What was the show tonight?” Matt asked, as he stood up to leave.
Adam’s mouth twisted slightly, and Matt knew, points scored or not, Adam wasn’t going to forget this. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll catch it soon.”
Matt inclined his head and turned to face the rest of the club. Once out of Adam and Monica’s circle, the other club members swirled around them, attempting to entice or distract. Hiro was there, hair pulled back and dressed in his black leather coat, his sub Ando in a positively painful-looking get-up of black leather straps and metal bars. Hiro had a rather brutal reputation, but it was clear that Ando was fit enough to handle anything Hiro could throw at him. Maybe he’d last longer than the last three subs Hiro’d had.
Isaac, the club sub, was stretched out between two pillars, letting other doms decorate him with a variety of edible body paints. Subs followed, licking him clean again for their master to try different patterns. Peter’s eyes strayed in Isaac’s direction, and Isaac simply smiled, putting a great deal of promise into his eyes. Matt had let the two play before, but not tonight. If Adam was being coy, that meant something big was going down, and Matt needed to be alert.
Across the room, Jessica, Tracy, and Barbara were getting serviced each in turn by their collective sub Nathan. Three leashes on one collar, and he had to crawl from one to the other, his head between their legs as they talked and sipped their martinis. How he managed to keep up with three was something of a mystery to everyone at the club except Matt. Nathan’s sex drive needed three doms, or he’d end up servicing the entire club and pissing off Thompson, the owner. Matt had been the one to get the triplets into the club, and to get them connected with Nathan. Everyone knew they could come to him if there was a problem or a question, if they were willing to swallow their pride. He’d schooled probably a quarter of the doms in the room, and had helped maybe half of the others in any number of situations.
Matt kept scanning the club, looking for trouble. He spotted Claire with her two subs, Alex and West, sitting at her feet like attentive watchdogs, Eden demurely kneeling to put her talented mouth to use on René, and an unexpected flash of pale and dark brown skin in close juxtaposition.
Peter actually jumped when Matt whipped around to take a second look, and quickly slipped back into place as he saw where his master was looking. Matt felt the beginnings of a headache throbbing at his temple when he saw who was in the corner of the club. Sylar was there, with Mohinder.
“Sylar,” Matt said softly, and saw Peter pale. Peter knew the story between him and Matt very well, even if almost no one else aside from Adam did. Back when Matt had first been getting started, Mohinder had been his first sub. When he’d taken Mohinder to a club, Sylar had been there, and had enjoyed the way Matt’s sub looked. He’d challenged Matt for him, had Mohinder try to pick his master out while blindfolded, and which had ended up with Mohinder picking Sylar.
The humiliation of that night had faded over the years, but was not forgotten. Especially not when Sylar looked up to catch Matt looking at him, and smirked broadly in his direction. Then his gaze dropped back to Peter, and it became a predatory smile. Matt resisted the initial impulse to stomp over there and rip the smile right off his face, and took a few deep breaths. A subtle gesture to Peter and he was on his knees at Matt’s side, head rubbing the side of Matt’s thigh like a huge cat. Matt let his hand trail through Peter’s silky hair, tugging at it slightly to make Peter bare his throat. The flash of white, vulnerable flesh was enough to bring out the carnivore in almost anyone. The very ostentatiousness of the gesture was a warning sign to the other doms, one that Sylar gleefully ignored.
“Lovely,” Sylar rumbled, strolling up to peruse Peter at close range. Mohinder was several steps behind him, looking thinner and more dazed than when he’d been Matt’s. He was, Matt noted, wearing an almost identical collar to Peter.
“You know better than to come in here,” Matt said firmly.
“It’s a free country, isn’t it?” Sylar cocked his head to the side, smiling down at Peter. He reached down to pet him, and Peter obediently shrank back so Sylar’s fingers just missed their mark.
“Go back to New York, Sylar. You’re not welcome here.”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll have Peter come with me. Mohinder could use a playmate, and these two would make a great set,” Sylar said, transferring his smile to Matt.
Around them, the club had gone quiet, the other doms and subs watching in anticipation.
“Yes, Peter could use a playmate,” Matt agreed, his own smile tight and dangerous. He shifted slightly, muscles tensing, squaring his shoulders. He and Sylar were the same height, but Matt had him outmatched by probably twenty pounds.
“You could use one too. Learn to see things from a different perspective. You might even like it,” Sylar said, his voice a low growl, seemingly ignoring the danger in Matt’s stance.
Matt made a subtle gesture with his hand, and Peter inched away from them both. To his surprise and gratification, Mohinder did too; the danger sign was one of the first things Matt had taught him.
“Don’t think that sending Peter away is going to end this. We both know he’ll end up with me anyway,” Sylar continued. “You’re a decent breaker, Parkman, but you never end up keeping them in the long term. Just accept your lot in life.”
The club seemed to hold its collective breath as Sylar arrogantly sneered at Matt, taking his silence for acquiescence. Matt just smiled at him, and then punched him, a full-bodied boxer’s punch that connected solidly with Sylar’s jaw, lifting him off his feet and dropping him on the floor several feet away in a crumpled heap.
Striding forward, Matt grabbed Sylar by the front of his shirt, curling his arm and bringing them face-to-face, Sylar’s eyes barely focusing.
“Get out of L.A.” He punctuated that with a hard punch to the stomach, letting Sylar drop, and then picked him up again to begin hauling him toward the door. “Don’t ever come back.” Matt shifted Sylar higher, actually bringing him clear off the floor so he could hurl him at the door. “Don’t ever think about touching Peter again.”
Sylar blinked up at him, stunned and wheezing, as Matt opened the door and nudged him out none-too-gently with his foot, to sprawl on the sidewalk outside.
“And Mohinder is staying with me.” Matt punctuated that by slamming the door, ignoring Sylar’s weak and coughing protest.
Around him, the club erupted in spontaneous applause as Peter and Mohinder practically plastered themselves to Matt’s side. Even Adam was giving him a rueful toast with his glass of whiskey. Acknowledging the praise with a faint nod, Matt turned his attention back to his two subs.
“Peter, good boy,” Matt said, caressing the man’s back and smiling warmly at him. Mohinder ducked his head as Matt turned to him, looking nervous. “Mohinder, I think you’re learned your lesson, haven’t you? Sylar was a very poor master.” Mohinder nodded frantically, and relaxed as Matt inspected him all over, checking him for scars and flaws.
“Follow Peter’s lead until you know the rules,” Matt said gently, ran his hand through Mohinder’s curls. “I’ve missed you.”
Peter nudged Mohinder’s side as Matt turned to go back into the club to accept his accolades, both of them easily fitting into his wake.