Fic: In the Blood
Title: In The Blood
Author: kathrynthegr8
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Nathan/Peter, Peter/Claire, Claire/Nathan
Warnings: sexual situations, sex with under age characters, incest, oral
Word count: 5243
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
Summary: Two first times and a last time.
A/N: Spoiler warnings through "Into Asylum". This fic would not exist without the help and encouragement of my beta, eeyore9990. Written for the heroes_exchange Secret Santa 09!
Nathan can't remember the last time he's been this happy to be home. His mother is as domineering and manipulative as ever, and his father still tries to run his sons' lives like some kind of political campaign. Within an hour of stepping through the front door, the family retreats to different parts of the house to brood alone with alcohol. Still. It's better than being alone at law school. He had missed his brother, and admitting it to himself only made it worse. Sometime between his career with the Navy and his second round of college, Nathan's baby brother had grown up.
It's always been his job to look out for his brother. But Peter is no longer the kid with big eyes that had followed him around when they were children. The knowledge of all the time spent apart and the years lost in their relationship settles on Nathan's chest like a solid lead weight. Nathan loves his brother, but he doesn't know anything about the young man that greeted him earlier in the day. Never refusing a challenge, Nathan sets out with one goal in mind: to know Peter again and rekindle a friendship that he never knew he would miss until he realized it was gone.
He heads up the stairs to Peter's bedroom, an icy cold beer in each hand, hopeful he can reconnect with one of the few people he actually cares about. If he can salvage this relationship, he'll count the holiday a success and return to law school with his mind at ease. When he reaches Pete's partially open door, he knocks once and shoves it open the rest of the way with the toe of his shoe.
The room has changed little since the last time he saw it. If anything it is cleaner than he remembered, fewer posters on the walls but a bookcase overflowing with books and a small pile of dirty clothes in the hamper. There are no baseball cards he knows Pete used to collect or airplane models his brother used to spend hours building.
"Busy?" he asks, setting a beer on the desk where Pete's hunched over a notebook, scribbling away. He doesn't look up from what he's doing, only grunts something unintelligible and keeps on writing. "Peter?"
"Sorry, Nathan." Peter snaps the notebook closed and tosses it to the floor. "Thanks." He grabs the beer and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste.
"Homework?" Nathan says, sitting on the bed. He unknots his tie and smiles. "It's Christmas. Take a break. Have a conversation with me."
Peter grins and shakes his head. "Just something I'm working on."
"School okay?" He doesn't like the way Peter tenses at the word; it's a subtle change, but there all the same. "Anything I can help you with?"
"School's fine. Everything's going well."
Nathan can smell the lie and he frowns, sipping at his beer when Peter falls silent again.
"You know you can talk to me about anything, don't you, Pete?" He watches his brother's face for more clues, but Peter only nods and stares at his hands. "Not school, then. Okay. Well, I know Mom and Dad are always a problem, but not one I can do much about. So that leaves drugs and girls."
Peter laughs and the sound lifts Nathan's heart. He's missed this, the bond between brothers, a trust that he has with no one else in the world.
"Girls it is, then." He finishes his beer and leaves it on the nightstand, giving his full attention to Peter. "Start talking."
He watches as Peter rises, stretching his hands toward the vaulted ceilings, stifling a yawn before joining him on the bed. The mattress dips with Peter's weight and they bump shoulders briefly, and then Nathan leans back so he can watch when Peter starts talking.
"There's not really anything to say." Peter rubs his palms on his jeans, and his lips quirk into that half smile that Nathan knows so well. "I mean-"
"I thought you were dating the Lawsons' daughter?" Nathan interrupts, confused about what the problem could be. "She's gorgeous. All the girls in that family are."
"Yes, she is. It's not that. I like her. I like her a lot, actually. I just..." Peter runs his fingers through his hair. It's long and shaggy, and Nathan wonders why their mother hasn't forced him to cut it. "I'm scared of... I want to, but I don't know what to do."
"What exactly are we talking about, Peter?" Nathan tries to sound encouraging, but Peter's evasiveness is starting to grate on him. "You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"
Peter nods and rubs his mouth, lost in thought. "I'm .... still a virgin. Okay?" He gets up and shuts the door, thumbing the lock and standing there, looking a little lost and very embarrassed.
"What?" Nathan doesn't mean to sound harsh, but he can't help himself. "Are you kidding me?"
"No." Peter leans against the wall and slumps his shoulders. "No, I'm not."
Nathan can't believe what he's hearing. He knows Peter is different than he had been at that age, but a senior in high school and still a virgin? His mind boggles. He can't imagine why Peter hasn't had sex yet.
"Your sixteenth birthday, when I bought you that prostitute?" he asks, still disbelieving what his brother is saying. "Come on!"
"I don't want to talk about that. You asshole!" Peter blushes and scrubs his face with his hands. "I still can't believe you did that!"
"You didn't fuck the hooker? Why the hell not? She's a professional, for crissakes; it's what she does!" Nathan rolls his eyes and laughs. He can't help it. Only his little brother would pass up a chance like that. "So what did you do with her?"
"I-" Peter stammers and then speaks quickly as if to get it all out and over with. "I didn't want my first time to be like that. She was real nice about it. We talked. And I rubbed her feet. You saw the heels she was wearing."
"You had a five thousand dollar conversation?" Nathan rubs his eyes to fend off the headache he knows is coming. "So what are you looking for for your first time? 'Cause I have to tell you, it doesn't get much better than that."
"Sex is a big deal to me, Nathan. It's supposed to be with someone I love," he answers sheepishly, "and who loves me."
Nathan groans and sits up straighter. "It's just sex. Honestly, it's not all that big a deal."
"It is! It's important to me. I don't want to do that with just anybody!" Peter sighs. "Everyone knows that first times are-" He stops, searching for the right words, "-awkward and clumsy."
"All the more reason to get it over with!" Nathan exclaims, trying desperately to keep his voice down. "Okay, so it is important. But not enough to make you live like a monk. Jesus, Pete!"
"I knew you wouldn't understand." Peter drops back down on the bed before continuing. "Everything comes easy for you."
Nathan holds up a hand, gathering his thoughts like a closing argument. "That's not true, Peter. The only difference between me and you is that when I see an opportunity, I take it." He falls back on the bed, bouncing once and chuckling. "If you want to wait for true love, that's your prerogative. You may never get laid," he continues as he turns towards his brother, "but there is honor in that, I think."
Peter lies back too, his hair falling in his eyes. "It should be easy, you know?" And then he's lunging forward, his mouth hitting Nathan's off-center even as his eyes, wide with something like fear, twitch at the corners.
"Well. That's new." Nathan realizes that probably wasn't the most helpful comment he could make, so he brushes it aside and reaches for Peter to reassure him in other ways. He knows this is wrong and maybe not the right way to go about things, but when he looks at Peter, he understands the risk his brother is taking. Rejection is the last thing he needs. If this is Nathan's chance to make Peter happy, he'll take it and never look back.
He wraps his arms around Peter and draws him in close, nuzzling his neck and pressing their bodies together. Peter moans, his fingers digging painfully into Nathan's shoulders. "Shh. Relax, Pete. Everything's okay," Nathan whispers in his brother's ear, then nips on the lobe and smooths it over with his tongue. Peter begins to shake, but Nathan can't tell if it's from lust or nervousness; regardless, he doesn't stop. He threads his fingers through Peter's hair and looks deep into his eyes before kissing him again, this time going slow, dipping his tongue into Peter's mouth and taking a taste.
Nathan breaks free for a moment and sits up, dragging Peter with him. He lifts Peter's sweater over his head and tosses it across the room. Peter fumbles with the buttons on Nathan's shirt and tugs on his tie before Nathan shoves his hands away and takes care of it himself.
"Take your pants off, Peter." It's not loud, but it's a command and Peter doesn't question it, unbuttoning his fly and sliding his jeans and boxers down and off his legs.
"Oh, God," Peter pants, unable to catch his breath. "Oh, God. Nathan--"
"Breathe, Peter. Breathe." Nathan's half worried he'll pass out before they even get to the fun stuff.
He keeps his pants on and that suits him fine for now; all his concentration is on Peter. His pulse beats in his ears like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, and he takes a breath himself as he caresses Peter's face and moves closer, hyper aware of where their bodies touch. The feel of skin on skin sends shocks of pleasure down Nathan's spine. Somewhere in his brain he knows this isn't right, but the thought is far away and hard to concentrate on when his brother is splayed out beneath him, too tempting to ignore.
They kiss, hot tongues and lips, Peter wrapping his arms around Nathan's back, drawing him closer and digging his fingers into Nathan's skin. When they pull apart to breathe, Nathan licks his lips and whispers, "Easy. We've got all night." But he already knows that neither of them will last very long at this rate. He takes Peter's engorged cock in his hand, rubbing his thumb along the underside and across the head. The sound that Peter makes is both alarming and gratifying. Knowing time is of the essence, Nathan stands up and drops to his knees, nudging Peter's legs open with his shoulders.
"This is what you've been missing." Nathan lowers his head and licks down Peter's length, tonguing the tip and then opening his mouth and sucking. He's encouraged by the gibberish words Peter is spouting, so he keeps going, setting a slow rhythm and then palming his brother's balls with one hand.
"Nathan!" Peter cries out.
It's too loud and they've gone too far to stop now. Nathan redoubles his efforts and reaches up to cover Peter's mouth. Another shout like that will bring their mother, or worse, their father. There are some discussions even Nathan doesn't want to contemplate arguing his way out of. He nearly chokes when Peter's lips part and he sucks Nathan's fingers into his mouth, mimicking everything Nathan is doing. The moment is more erotic than anything that's ever happened to Nathan before, and he thinks that later he'll laugh over how it was with his brother.
He feels teeth scrape the pads of his fingers when Peter bites down, and then he's coming in Nathan's mouth, his whole body shaking, his back bowing at the last. Nathan swallows twice and strokes the base of Peter's cock, urging him through his orgasm. He releases him finally with a soft pop and crawls up the bed, reclaiming his spot beside Peter.
"That was incredible," Peter whispers, his eyelids heavy and his face slack.
Nathan likes the awe in his voice but can't help but roll his eyes and laugh. "Don't you dare pass out on me." He moves forward and presses his face into Peter's neck. "We're just getting started."
---
She kind of won't let him out of her sight, and Peter hates to admit it, but he's enjoying the attention.
"This place is huge. I always thought people who lived in New York had tiny apartments." She's running her finger down the spines of books older than she is, and a small frown graces her mouth and her eyebrows draw together. "You grew up here?"
"Yeah, but I have my own place in the city." He shuffles his feet and looks at anything in the room but her. "It's small..." He lets his voice trail off, not sure where he was going with this.
Claire laughs nervously; it sounds high and false bouncing off the vaulted ceilings of his mother's sitting room. "Maybe you can take me there?" She stops talking, distracted by something else in the room. "When all of this is over."
She's moved on to the mantle, studying the framed family protrait taken the previous year. He hates the way he looks in photographs. His smile is crooked and he always has his hair in his eyes. He remembers to answer her. "Yeah, sure. Anytime." It seems appropriate and noncommital, but the words seem hollow, even to him.
"I don't look like..." She pauses for a moment as if trying to find the right words, "...like the rest of the family." Her hand reaches self-consciously for her curly blonde hair as she looks over her shoulder at him.
The play of emotions across her face nearly breaks his heart. There is confusion and hurt there, but mostly he recognizes doubt. She wants to belong, be embraced by her newly discovered family. Peter knows she is in for a severe disappointment, especially where Nathan and his mother are concerned. As much as he loves them, he knows that to outsiders they often appear cold and detached, something Claire is going to have to deal with now that she's a part of the Petrelli family.
Peter smiles and runs his hand through his hair as an idea occurs to him. Without a word to his niece, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room. He knows his plan is working when he hears her footfalls behind him and she asks, "Where are you going?"
He ignores her and leads the way up the stairs, through the guest wing and into a closet that has a hidden door. The doorknob squeaks and the paint sticks, but Peter manages to push the door open and step up the small staircase. The air smells musty and stale, dust motes dance in diluted sunlight, and when his eyes adjust, he can make out piles of boxes and old furniture from his family's past. Claire is right on his heels, and when he stops she bumps into him and apologizes.
"We are like any other family." He speaks as he moves carefully in the cramped space. "Only our family has so many skeletons that we had to move the closet to the attic." Peter chuckles at his own joke and shakes his head, but he hopes she gets his point. For all the shiny exterior the Petrellis have, they are as dysfunctional and insane as everyone else.
"Is that a highchair?" she asks, pointing in a corner and walking around him.
"Probably. My mom never throws anything away, so everything ends up here." Peter sneezes into the crook of his arm and rubs his eyes. "I apologize for the dust."
Claire is elbows deep in a box, rifling through old photos. There's a determination on her face that reminds him of Nathan, and he thinks that it won't be too long before other people start to see the resemblance. She shoves the pictures back in the box and sighs, wiping her hands on her jeans as she stands up. "I don't think they like me."
Peter knows she believes it, but he knows it's not true. Unfortunately there isn't any way for him to explain things to her any better than he already has. She's going to have to figure out the Petrellis herself. "I like you," he states sincerely, hoping she will believe him.
"That's a start, I guess." She turns her head to look at him and in the process trips over an antique steamer trunk that's been up there as long as Peter can remember.
"Careful!" But it's too late, she's sprawled across the top with her feet in the air. "I thought cheerleaders were supposed to be graceful." He reaches for her hand and pulls her upright, pressing their bodies together from hip to chest in the process. "Good thing you can heal." His teasing tone disappears quickly when he looks into her eyes.
Claire's blushing and giggling at herself, trying to untangle cobwebs from her hair and she's beautiful. Peter leans down and kisses her. He can't help it. Maybe it will show her how he feels, and that's reason enough to try. Her response is all the reason he needs; she opens her mouth and tilts her head, inviting him in. Peter opens his eyes and twines his fingers in the belt loops of her pants and manages to step-shuffle them over to a covered sofa in the corner without either of them tripping over anything.
All the second thoughts he's having fall away at the feel of her timid fingers touching his chest. She plays with the buttons of his shirt, as if unsure of herself or what to do next, and Peter's decision is made in that instant. He breaks away from her and lifts her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Do you want this, Claire?" He won't go any further until she answers, but the wait is killing him.
"Yes. Yes, I do." She speaks loud and clear, gasping when he draws her closer, letting her feel his growing erection against her abdomen.
He's wanted her from the first moment he set eyes on her back in Texas, and he plans to make that perfectly clear to her now. They have been leading up to this all along: the innocent flirting, the shared secrets, and his constant need to be around her. All of it. This time when he kisses her, he cups her face, exploring her mouth with his tongue, showing her with his body all his intentions.
Her shirt comes off first and is thrown over his shoulder. Next is her bra, exposing her breasts to his mouth and fingers. Her jeans take a bit more effort, but Peter helps her wiggle until they bunch at her ankles, along with her panties. He admires all that exposed skin, soft under his fingertips where he lets his hands linger, pushing her knees apart so he can explore more fully. Claire's head falls back and she moans while his fingers spread her open, slick with her arousal. He inserts one finger and then another, working them until she starts to thrust her hips in time with his hand.
She's so tight he's fairly sure she's a virgin, and his mind spins with the implications. They should stop. He should stop. But he doesn't want to. Instead, he grasps her hips and pulls her up, guiding her to lean over. "Grab hold," he whispers in her ear. Claire does what he asks, a blush coloring her face when her eyes catch his in a freestanding mirror that's positioned just behind the couch. Peter looks into it and sees their reflection given back to them a million times over due to the placement of yet another mirror that lines the wall behind him.
He doesn't remember his mother ever having this many mirrors... and then he shakes his head to stop himself from wondering just who Nathan had been up here with for the mirrors to be in this particular arrangement. Claire sighs and pushes back against him, drawing his attention back to her, and he thumbs her clit just to listen to her moan.
Claire's knuckles go white and she balances on her toes, her lips parted and eyes blown dark with lust. He likes the control this position gives him, not to mention it will keep them from rolling around in dirt and God-only-knows what else. All practicality aside, he's about to fuck his niece, and he doesn't miss the irony. He unbuckles his pants and shoves them down, happy he remembered his wallet in his back pocket and the emergency condom located within.
"What are you doing?" Claire asks, uncertainty creeping into her tone.
"Protection." Peter rolls the condom onto his cock, fingers pinching the end. "I was a Boy Scout, always be prepared."
Her throaty laughter breaks the tension that's been building between them, and Peter starts touching her again, running his hands down her shoulders and back, his mouth kissing everywhere he can reach. He pulls her back against him, allowing the slippery length of his condom-sheathed cock to slide along her ass, drawing a low moan from her. He knows he won't last long if she keeps making those sounds, so he winds one hand around her throat--lightly--and murmurs, "Shhh, beautiful."
Claire glares at him over her shoulder. "Then hurry up." He would be worried he upset her, but her quick smile and quirked eyebrow show how close she is to giggling.
This he thinks, this is why I love her. And then he lines their bodies up and thrusts hard, entering her smoothly, burying himself to the hilt. All the air whooshes out of her lungs in a loud exhale, and he thinks it must hurt her. The angle and how tight she is around him is keeping him riding the edge of pleasure-pain, but he moves, pulling out slowly and then easing back in. Easier this time, and he's so close he bites his lips for distraction.
"Claire..." He wants to apologize for everything, for this fucked-up family she's now a part of. For her first time being a secret in a moldering attic amongst forgotten castoffs. For wanting this so much. She rocks back, meeting his next thrust, and he's done, coming so hard he sees stars when he closes his eyes. "Fuck."
He looks up and meets her stare in the mirror once again. Her face is flushed and her eyes are half-lidded, but that is quickly replaced with a grimace of dissappointment. This was her first time and he failed her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He lowers his head and kisses between her shoulder blades while wrapping his shaking arms around her. She melts into his embrace and sighs. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."
Claire turns and punches him in the arm. "You'd better."
---
She's never been to Mexico before, and so far her first impression isn't all that great. It's hot and sticky and she feels like a fish out of water because she doesn't speak the language. The whole situation is beyond ridiculous, and she has trouble thinking about it without giving herself a migraine. Her life had turned truly bizarre in the past year, but this is weird even by her standards. If Nathan had meant his daring rescue to impress her, it had worked. Truth be told, it had been every fantasy she had ever dreamed of as a child growing up, knowing she was adopted. She hadn't hesitated to leap out the window and into his arms.
He's here for me. Came to rescue me.
And now the realities of that leap of faith are staring her in the face in the form of a disgusting hotel room and a drunk Nathan Petrelli. Despite all that has gone wrong, she can't help how happy she is to be here. To have Nathan all to herself and be the center of his attention. If anything, his vulnerabilities and mistakes make him more real to her, more human.
He's staggering around like the world is spinning and he's about to fall off the edge. It's all Claire can do to get him up the stairs and into their room. How he could fly like that and not crash is a mystery she'll never figure out, but she had held on, trusting he wouldn't drop her, or worse, forget the way back.
And here they are, back to being awkward with each other while he tries not to slur his sentences and she pretends not to notice.
"That was very clever of you." Nathan stands up straighter where she's propped him against the wall and blinks before continuing. "What you did. You know."
Claire takes it as a compliment and tries to think of what to do now; it's late and they should sleep before they leave tomorrow. "Come on, Nathan. Let's get some rest before morning."
Nathan nods and nearly falls over in the process. Claire catches him just in time and shoves him back against the wall, wedging her body against his to hold him upright. "Are you going to be sick?" she asks suddenly, unsure if they will make it to the bathroom in time in his current state.
"No, mm fine," he mumbles and closes his eyes.
"Nathan, wake up! I need to get you to the bed!" She gives him a shake, relieved when he opens his eyes and appears more alert. "Can you get your shoes off?" Claire has never been 'the parent' to anyone before and discovers she likes it. Nathan toes off his shoes and looks proud of himself. "Good."
His vest is next, and he watches her with unfocused eyes as she unbuttons it and pulls it down his arms. She could stop there, she knows; he won't be uncomfortable in the rest of the clothes he's still wearing, but she continues on, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it out of his pants. It takes more effort to get the sleeves down and off his arms than the vest, and there is a considerable amount of yanking on her part and pulling on his. A cufflink pops free and pings across the floor before disappearing on the floorboards. "Sorry."
Claire tries to look for it around their feet, but Nathan grabs her hands, holding her still. "Don't worry about it." His breath blooms across her neck, and their close proximity is suddenly too close. She can feel the thump of his heartbeat against her cheek and see the tiny hairs curling on his chest where his t-shirt doesn't cover. He's never been so real to her before, and she doesn't want to move away. She doesn't know if she'll ever have this chance again, this time with him that is theirs alone.
It's selfish, she knows, taking advantage of him like this, but it doesn't stop her from stretching up on her toes and pressing her lips to his. For half a second she thinks he may have passed out again, but when she opens her eyes he is looking back at her, unblinking and very aware of what she is doing. Claire freezes, holding her breath and waiting for what will come next. A polite shove or an alarmed laugh. She expects both, or worse, embarrassed silence. An eternity passes in a few seconds, and then he is kissing her back, sloppy and wet, pushing the tang of tequila across her tongue.
They break apart and stumble in a tangle of limbs the few feet between them and the bed. Nathan's weight falls on her, unrestrained and punishing, but before she can complain he rolls on his side and starts to fumble with the zipper of her jeans, his eyes never leaving hers, watching. She lifts up to help his efforts and pulls her shirt over her head quickly; her bra is next, tossed to the floor with Nathan's lost cufflink, and she is naked and wishes she had remembered to turn off the light.
Nathan sits up and removes the rest of his clothes, the expression on his face dangerous, like he's daring her to back down or look away. She likes the challenge and lets her eyes drink their fill of his naked body. She decides he is beautiful, as good-looking in his clothes as out of them, tanned skin and muscular, her fingers itching to touch every inch. He strokes his cock while she watches, and it grows hard under her gaze.
She has never been so turned on in her young life. Desire curls in her belly, sending shivers down her spine and an almost uncomfortable feeling of moisture between her thighs. Nathan is on top of her again before she can blink, this time supporting his weight on his arms while he makes a place for himself by spreading her legs with his knee. Their kisses start off soft and easy but become biting and demanding within seconds. His hand spreads her open, and then he is there, circling her clit with his thumb as he pushes a finger inside. "So wet," he murmurs, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking.
Claire is already close, her skin buzzing with tension. She can't stop moaning and before long she fears she'll start screaming his name. When he eases down her body, biting and licking his way until his head is between her legs, she almost tells him to stop, that it's too much to bear. She comes hard at the first swipe of his tongue. "Oh my god!" The neighbors can probably hear her shouting, but she doesn't care. Isn't that the point of no-tell motels? Nathan doesn't stop what he's doing, and her over sensitized flesh forces her to push him away.
"Not yet," he growls at her, pushing her flat on her back and lifting her legs. "Not by a long shot."
She tosses her head on the pillow, agreeing with him in a litany of nonsense words even as she reaches for him, needing to feel him against her. "God, fuck, yes, NATHAN!" It doesn't sound like her voice at all, and it's out of her mouth before she can think. He laughs and raises his eyebrows at her outburst.
"Such language." He kisses her like he's hungry and she's the best thing he's ever tasted. He pushes into her and it is everything she ever wanted. Her voice rises higher with each subsequent thrust until she feels her body flying apart, her toes curling with pleasure, and from the way he stills above her, she knows he's there with her.
It's not a fairytale, it's rough and wrong in more ways than she can count. Her only regret is that it's the end. They'll wake up in the morning and pretend it never happened. That they didn't share this thing between them.
Her last thought before the sweet oblivion of sleep claims her is that maybe they had always been leading up to this. That the Petrellis love too hard and too fast; it's in their blood. And even if it's just this one time, she'll take it.
Author: kathrynthegr8
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Nathan/Peter, Peter/Claire, Claire/Nathan
Warnings: sexual situations, sex with under age characters, incest, oral
Word count: 5243
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
Summary: Two first times and a last time.
A/N: Spoiler warnings through "Into Asylum". This fic would not exist without the help and encouragement of my beta, eeyore9990. Written for the heroes_exchange Secret Santa 09!
Nathan can't remember the last time he's been this happy to be home. His mother is as domineering and manipulative as ever, and his father still tries to run his sons' lives like some kind of political campaign. Within an hour of stepping through the front door, the family retreats to different parts of the house to brood alone with alcohol. Still. It's better than being alone at law school. He had missed his brother, and admitting it to himself only made it worse. Sometime between his career with the Navy and his second round of college, Nathan's baby brother had grown up.
It's always been his job to look out for his brother. But Peter is no longer the kid with big eyes that had followed him around when they were children. The knowledge of all the time spent apart and the years lost in their relationship settles on Nathan's chest like a solid lead weight. Nathan loves his brother, but he doesn't know anything about the young man that greeted him earlier in the day. Never refusing a challenge, Nathan sets out with one goal in mind: to know Peter again and rekindle a friendship that he never knew he would miss until he realized it was gone.
He heads up the stairs to Peter's bedroom, an icy cold beer in each hand, hopeful he can reconnect with one of the few people he actually cares about. If he can salvage this relationship, he'll count the holiday a success and return to law school with his mind at ease. When he reaches Pete's partially open door, he knocks once and shoves it open the rest of the way with the toe of his shoe.
The room has changed little since the last time he saw it. If anything it is cleaner than he remembered, fewer posters on the walls but a bookcase overflowing with books and a small pile of dirty clothes in the hamper. There are no baseball cards he knows Pete used to collect or airplane models his brother used to spend hours building.
"Busy?" he asks, setting a beer on the desk where Pete's hunched over a notebook, scribbling away. He doesn't look up from what he's doing, only grunts something unintelligible and keeps on writing. "Peter?"
"Sorry, Nathan." Peter snaps the notebook closed and tosses it to the floor. "Thanks." He grabs the beer and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste.
"Homework?" Nathan says, sitting on the bed. He unknots his tie and smiles. "It's Christmas. Take a break. Have a conversation with me."
Peter grins and shakes his head. "Just something I'm working on."
"School okay?" He doesn't like the way Peter tenses at the word; it's a subtle change, but there all the same. "Anything I can help you with?"
"School's fine. Everything's going well."
Nathan can smell the lie and he frowns, sipping at his beer when Peter falls silent again.
"You know you can talk to me about anything, don't you, Pete?" He watches his brother's face for more clues, but Peter only nods and stares at his hands. "Not school, then. Okay. Well, I know Mom and Dad are always a problem, but not one I can do much about. So that leaves drugs and girls."
Peter laughs and the sound lifts Nathan's heart. He's missed this, the bond between brothers, a trust that he has with no one else in the world.
"Girls it is, then." He finishes his beer and leaves it on the nightstand, giving his full attention to Peter. "Start talking."
He watches as Peter rises, stretching his hands toward the vaulted ceilings, stifling a yawn before joining him on the bed. The mattress dips with Peter's weight and they bump shoulders briefly, and then Nathan leans back so he can watch when Peter starts talking.
"There's not really anything to say." Peter rubs his palms on his jeans, and his lips quirk into that half smile that Nathan knows so well. "I mean-"
"I thought you were dating the Lawsons' daughter?" Nathan interrupts, confused about what the problem could be. "She's gorgeous. All the girls in that family are."
"Yes, she is. It's not that. I like her. I like her a lot, actually. I just..." Peter runs his fingers through his hair. It's long and shaggy, and Nathan wonders why their mother hasn't forced him to cut it. "I'm scared of... I want to, but I don't know what to do."
"What exactly are we talking about, Peter?" Nathan tries to sound encouraging, but Peter's evasiveness is starting to grate on him. "You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"
Peter nods and rubs his mouth, lost in thought. "I'm .... still a virgin. Okay?" He gets up and shuts the door, thumbing the lock and standing there, looking a little lost and very embarrassed.
"What?" Nathan doesn't mean to sound harsh, but he can't help himself. "Are you kidding me?"
"No." Peter leans against the wall and slumps his shoulders. "No, I'm not."
Nathan can't believe what he's hearing. He knows Peter is different than he had been at that age, but a senior in high school and still a virgin? His mind boggles. He can't imagine why Peter hasn't had sex yet.
"Your sixteenth birthday, when I bought you that prostitute?" he asks, still disbelieving what his brother is saying. "Come on!"
"I don't want to talk about that. You asshole!" Peter blushes and scrubs his face with his hands. "I still can't believe you did that!"
"You didn't fuck the hooker? Why the hell not? She's a professional, for crissakes; it's what she does!" Nathan rolls his eyes and laughs. He can't help it. Only his little brother would pass up a chance like that. "So what did you do with her?"
"I-" Peter stammers and then speaks quickly as if to get it all out and over with. "I didn't want my first time to be like that. She was real nice about it. We talked. And I rubbed her feet. You saw the heels she was wearing."
"You had a five thousand dollar conversation?" Nathan rubs his eyes to fend off the headache he knows is coming. "So what are you looking for for your first time? 'Cause I have to tell you, it doesn't get much better than that."
"Sex is a big deal to me, Nathan. It's supposed to be with someone I love," he answers sheepishly, "and who loves me."
Nathan groans and sits up straighter. "It's just sex. Honestly, it's not all that big a deal."
"It is! It's important to me. I don't want to do that with just anybody!" Peter sighs. "Everyone knows that first times are-" He stops, searching for the right words, "-awkward and clumsy."
"All the more reason to get it over with!" Nathan exclaims, trying desperately to keep his voice down. "Okay, so it is important. But not enough to make you live like a monk. Jesus, Pete!"
"I knew you wouldn't understand." Peter drops back down on the bed before continuing. "Everything comes easy for you."
Nathan holds up a hand, gathering his thoughts like a closing argument. "That's not true, Peter. The only difference between me and you is that when I see an opportunity, I take it." He falls back on the bed, bouncing once and chuckling. "If you want to wait for true love, that's your prerogative. You may never get laid," he continues as he turns towards his brother, "but there is honor in that, I think."
Peter lies back too, his hair falling in his eyes. "It should be easy, you know?" And then he's lunging forward, his mouth hitting Nathan's off-center even as his eyes, wide with something like fear, twitch at the corners.
"Well. That's new." Nathan realizes that probably wasn't the most helpful comment he could make, so he brushes it aside and reaches for Peter to reassure him in other ways. He knows this is wrong and maybe not the right way to go about things, but when he looks at Peter, he understands the risk his brother is taking. Rejection is the last thing he needs. If this is Nathan's chance to make Peter happy, he'll take it and never look back.
He wraps his arms around Peter and draws him in close, nuzzling his neck and pressing their bodies together. Peter moans, his fingers digging painfully into Nathan's shoulders. "Shh. Relax, Pete. Everything's okay," Nathan whispers in his brother's ear, then nips on the lobe and smooths it over with his tongue. Peter begins to shake, but Nathan can't tell if it's from lust or nervousness; regardless, he doesn't stop. He threads his fingers through Peter's hair and looks deep into his eyes before kissing him again, this time going slow, dipping his tongue into Peter's mouth and taking a taste.
Nathan breaks free for a moment and sits up, dragging Peter with him. He lifts Peter's sweater over his head and tosses it across the room. Peter fumbles with the buttons on Nathan's shirt and tugs on his tie before Nathan shoves his hands away and takes care of it himself.
"Take your pants off, Peter." It's not loud, but it's a command and Peter doesn't question it, unbuttoning his fly and sliding his jeans and boxers down and off his legs.
"Oh, God," Peter pants, unable to catch his breath. "Oh, God. Nathan--"
"Breathe, Peter. Breathe." Nathan's half worried he'll pass out before they even get to the fun stuff.
He keeps his pants on and that suits him fine for now; all his concentration is on Peter. His pulse beats in his ears like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, and he takes a breath himself as he caresses Peter's face and moves closer, hyper aware of where their bodies touch. The feel of skin on skin sends shocks of pleasure down Nathan's spine. Somewhere in his brain he knows this isn't right, but the thought is far away and hard to concentrate on when his brother is splayed out beneath him, too tempting to ignore.
They kiss, hot tongues and lips, Peter wrapping his arms around Nathan's back, drawing him closer and digging his fingers into Nathan's skin. When they pull apart to breathe, Nathan licks his lips and whispers, "Easy. We've got all night." But he already knows that neither of them will last very long at this rate. He takes Peter's engorged cock in his hand, rubbing his thumb along the underside and across the head. The sound that Peter makes is both alarming and gratifying. Knowing time is of the essence, Nathan stands up and drops to his knees, nudging Peter's legs open with his shoulders.
"This is what you've been missing." Nathan lowers his head and licks down Peter's length, tonguing the tip and then opening his mouth and sucking. He's encouraged by the gibberish words Peter is spouting, so he keeps going, setting a slow rhythm and then palming his brother's balls with one hand.
"Nathan!" Peter cries out.
It's too loud and they've gone too far to stop now. Nathan redoubles his efforts and reaches up to cover Peter's mouth. Another shout like that will bring their mother, or worse, their father. There are some discussions even Nathan doesn't want to contemplate arguing his way out of. He nearly chokes when Peter's lips part and he sucks Nathan's fingers into his mouth, mimicking everything Nathan is doing. The moment is more erotic than anything that's ever happened to Nathan before, and he thinks that later he'll laugh over how it was with his brother.
He feels teeth scrape the pads of his fingers when Peter bites down, and then he's coming in Nathan's mouth, his whole body shaking, his back bowing at the last. Nathan swallows twice and strokes the base of Peter's cock, urging him through his orgasm. He releases him finally with a soft pop and crawls up the bed, reclaiming his spot beside Peter.
"That was incredible," Peter whispers, his eyelids heavy and his face slack.
Nathan likes the awe in his voice but can't help but roll his eyes and laugh. "Don't you dare pass out on me." He moves forward and presses his face into Peter's neck. "We're just getting started."
---
She kind of won't let him out of her sight, and Peter hates to admit it, but he's enjoying the attention.
"This place is huge. I always thought people who lived in New York had tiny apartments." She's running her finger down the spines of books older than she is, and a small frown graces her mouth and her eyebrows draw together. "You grew up here?"
"Yeah, but I have my own place in the city." He shuffles his feet and looks at anything in the room but her. "It's small..." He lets his voice trail off, not sure where he was going with this.
Claire laughs nervously; it sounds high and false bouncing off the vaulted ceilings of his mother's sitting room. "Maybe you can take me there?" She stops talking, distracted by something else in the room. "When all of this is over."
She's moved on to the mantle, studying the framed family protrait taken the previous year. He hates the way he looks in photographs. His smile is crooked and he always has his hair in his eyes. He remembers to answer her. "Yeah, sure. Anytime." It seems appropriate and noncommital, but the words seem hollow, even to him.
"I don't look like..." She pauses for a moment as if trying to find the right words, "...like the rest of the family." Her hand reaches self-consciously for her curly blonde hair as she looks over her shoulder at him.
The play of emotions across her face nearly breaks his heart. There is confusion and hurt there, but mostly he recognizes doubt. She wants to belong, be embraced by her newly discovered family. Peter knows she is in for a severe disappointment, especially where Nathan and his mother are concerned. As much as he loves them, he knows that to outsiders they often appear cold and detached, something Claire is going to have to deal with now that she's a part of the Petrelli family.
Peter smiles and runs his hand through his hair as an idea occurs to him. Without a word to his niece, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room. He knows his plan is working when he hears her footfalls behind him and she asks, "Where are you going?"
He ignores her and leads the way up the stairs, through the guest wing and into a closet that has a hidden door. The doorknob squeaks and the paint sticks, but Peter manages to push the door open and step up the small staircase. The air smells musty and stale, dust motes dance in diluted sunlight, and when his eyes adjust, he can make out piles of boxes and old furniture from his family's past. Claire is right on his heels, and when he stops she bumps into him and apologizes.
"We are like any other family." He speaks as he moves carefully in the cramped space. "Only our family has so many skeletons that we had to move the closet to the attic." Peter chuckles at his own joke and shakes his head, but he hopes she gets his point. For all the shiny exterior the Petrellis have, they are as dysfunctional and insane as everyone else.
"Is that a highchair?" she asks, pointing in a corner and walking around him.
"Probably. My mom never throws anything away, so everything ends up here." Peter sneezes into the crook of his arm and rubs his eyes. "I apologize for the dust."
Claire is elbows deep in a box, rifling through old photos. There's a determination on her face that reminds him of Nathan, and he thinks that it won't be too long before other people start to see the resemblance. She shoves the pictures back in the box and sighs, wiping her hands on her jeans as she stands up. "I don't think they like me."
Peter knows she believes it, but he knows it's not true. Unfortunately there isn't any way for him to explain things to her any better than he already has. She's going to have to figure out the Petrellis herself. "I like you," he states sincerely, hoping she will believe him.
"That's a start, I guess." She turns her head to look at him and in the process trips over an antique steamer trunk that's been up there as long as Peter can remember.
"Careful!" But it's too late, she's sprawled across the top with her feet in the air. "I thought cheerleaders were supposed to be graceful." He reaches for her hand and pulls her upright, pressing their bodies together from hip to chest in the process. "Good thing you can heal." His teasing tone disappears quickly when he looks into her eyes.
Claire's blushing and giggling at herself, trying to untangle cobwebs from her hair and she's beautiful. Peter leans down and kisses her. He can't help it. Maybe it will show her how he feels, and that's reason enough to try. Her response is all the reason he needs; she opens her mouth and tilts her head, inviting him in. Peter opens his eyes and twines his fingers in the belt loops of her pants and manages to step-shuffle them over to a covered sofa in the corner without either of them tripping over anything.
All the second thoughts he's having fall away at the feel of her timid fingers touching his chest. She plays with the buttons of his shirt, as if unsure of herself or what to do next, and Peter's decision is made in that instant. He breaks away from her and lifts her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Do you want this, Claire?" He won't go any further until she answers, but the wait is killing him.
"Yes. Yes, I do." She speaks loud and clear, gasping when he draws her closer, letting her feel his growing erection against her abdomen.
He's wanted her from the first moment he set eyes on her back in Texas, and he plans to make that perfectly clear to her now. They have been leading up to this all along: the innocent flirting, the shared secrets, and his constant need to be around her. All of it. This time when he kisses her, he cups her face, exploring her mouth with his tongue, showing her with his body all his intentions.
Her shirt comes off first and is thrown over his shoulder. Next is her bra, exposing her breasts to his mouth and fingers. Her jeans take a bit more effort, but Peter helps her wiggle until they bunch at her ankles, along with her panties. He admires all that exposed skin, soft under his fingertips where he lets his hands linger, pushing her knees apart so he can explore more fully. Claire's head falls back and she moans while his fingers spread her open, slick with her arousal. He inserts one finger and then another, working them until she starts to thrust her hips in time with his hand.
She's so tight he's fairly sure she's a virgin, and his mind spins with the implications. They should stop. He should stop. But he doesn't want to. Instead, he grasps her hips and pulls her up, guiding her to lean over. "Grab hold," he whispers in her ear. Claire does what he asks, a blush coloring her face when her eyes catch his in a freestanding mirror that's positioned just behind the couch. Peter looks into it and sees their reflection given back to them a million times over due to the placement of yet another mirror that lines the wall behind him.
He doesn't remember his mother ever having this many mirrors... and then he shakes his head to stop himself from wondering just who Nathan had been up here with for the mirrors to be in this particular arrangement. Claire sighs and pushes back against him, drawing his attention back to her, and he thumbs her clit just to listen to her moan.
Claire's knuckles go white and she balances on her toes, her lips parted and eyes blown dark with lust. He likes the control this position gives him, not to mention it will keep them from rolling around in dirt and God-only-knows what else. All practicality aside, he's about to fuck his niece, and he doesn't miss the irony. He unbuckles his pants and shoves them down, happy he remembered his wallet in his back pocket and the emergency condom located within.
"What are you doing?" Claire asks, uncertainty creeping into her tone.
"Protection." Peter rolls the condom onto his cock, fingers pinching the end. "I was a Boy Scout, always be prepared."
Her throaty laughter breaks the tension that's been building between them, and Peter starts touching her again, running his hands down her shoulders and back, his mouth kissing everywhere he can reach. He pulls her back against him, allowing the slippery length of his condom-sheathed cock to slide along her ass, drawing a low moan from her. He knows he won't last long if she keeps making those sounds, so he winds one hand around her throat--lightly--and murmurs, "Shhh, beautiful."
Claire glares at him over her shoulder. "Then hurry up." He would be worried he upset her, but her quick smile and quirked eyebrow show how close she is to giggling.
This he thinks, this is why I love her. And then he lines their bodies up and thrusts hard, entering her smoothly, burying himself to the hilt. All the air whooshes out of her lungs in a loud exhale, and he thinks it must hurt her. The angle and how tight she is around him is keeping him riding the edge of pleasure-pain, but he moves, pulling out slowly and then easing back in. Easier this time, and he's so close he bites his lips for distraction.
"Claire..." He wants to apologize for everything, for this fucked-up family she's now a part of. For her first time being a secret in a moldering attic amongst forgotten castoffs. For wanting this so much. She rocks back, meeting his next thrust, and he's done, coming so hard he sees stars when he closes his eyes. "Fuck."
He looks up and meets her stare in the mirror once again. Her face is flushed and her eyes are half-lidded, but that is quickly replaced with a grimace of dissappointment. This was her first time and he failed her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He lowers his head and kisses between her shoulder blades while wrapping his shaking arms around her. She melts into his embrace and sighs. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."
Claire turns and punches him in the arm. "You'd better."
---
She's never been to Mexico before, and so far her first impression isn't all that great. It's hot and sticky and she feels like a fish out of water because she doesn't speak the language. The whole situation is beyond ridiculous, and she has trouble thinking about it without giving herself a migraine. Her life had turned truly bizarre in the past year, but this is weird even by her standards. If Nathan had meant his daring rescue to impress her, it had worked. Truth be told, it had been every fantasy she had ever dreamed of as a child growing up, knowing she was adopted. She hadn't hesitated to leap out the window and into his arms.
He's here for me. Came to rescue me.
And now the realities of that leap of faith are staring her in the face in the form of a disgusting hotel room and a drunk Nathan Petrelli. Despite all that has gone wrong, she can't help how happy she is to be here. To have Nathan all to herself and be the center of his attention. If anything, his vulnerabilities and mistakes make him more real to her, more human.
He's staggering around like the world is spinning and he's about to fall off the edge. It's all Claire can do to get him up the stairs and into their room. How he could fly like that and not crash is a mystery she'll never figure out, but she had held on, trusting he wouldn't drop her, or worse, forget the way back.
And here they are, back to being awkward with each other while he tries not to slur his sentences and she pretends not to notice.
"That was very clever of you." Nathan stands up straighter where she's propped him against the wall and blinks before continuing. "What you did. You know."
Claire takes it as a compliment and tries to think of what to do now; it's late and they should sleep before they leave tomorrow. "Come on, Nathan. Let's get some rest before morning."
Nathan nods and nearly falls over in the process. Claire catches him just in time and shoves him back against the wall, wedging her body against his to hold him upright. "Are you going to be sick?" she asks suddenly, unsure if they will make it to the bathroom in time in his current state.
"No, mm fine," he mumbles and closes his eyes.
"Nathan, wake up! I need to get you to the bed!" She gives him a shake, relieved when he opens his eyes and appears more alert. "Can you get your shoes off?" Claire has never been 'the parent' to anyone before and discovers she likes it. Nathan toes off his shoes and looks proud of himself. "Good."
His vest is next, and he watches her with unfocused eyes as she unbuttons it and pulls it down his arms. She could stop there, she knows; he won't be uncomfortable in the rest of the clothes he's still wearing, but she continues on, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it out of his pants. It takes more effort to get the sleeves down and off his arms than the vest, and there is a considerable amount of yanking on her part and pulling on his. A cufflink pops free and pings across the floor before disappearing on the floorboards. "Sorry."
Claire tries to look for it around their feet, but Nathan grabs her hands, holding her still. "Don't worry about it." His breath blooms across her neck, and their close proximity is suddenly too close. She can feel the thump of his heartbeat against her cheek and see the tiny hairs curling on his chest where his t-shirt doesn't cover. He's never been so real to her before, and she doesn't want to move away. She doesn't know if she'll ever have this chance again, this time with him that is theirs alone.
It's selfish, she knows, taking advantage of him like this, but it doesn't stop her from stretching up on her toes and pressing her lips to his. For half a second she thinks he may have passed out again, but when she opens her eyes he is looking back at her, unblinking and very aware of what she is doing. Claire freezes, holding her breath and waiting for what will come next. A polite shove or an alarmed laugh. She expects both, or worse, embarrassed silence. An eternity passes in a few seconds, and then he is kissing her back, sloppy and wet, pushing the tang of tequila across her tongue.
They break apart and stumble in a tangle of limbs the few feet between them and the bed. Nathan's weight falls on her, unrestrained and punishing, but before she can complain he rolls on his side and starts to fumble with the zipper of her jeans, his eyes never leaving hers, watching. She lifts up to help his efforts and pulls her shirt over her head quickly; her bra is next, tossed to the floor with Nathan's lost cufflink, and she is naked and wishes she had remembered to turn off the light.
Nathan sits up and removes the rest of his clothes, the expression on his face dangerous, like he's daring her to back down or look away. She likes the challenge and lets her eyes drink their fill of his naked body. She decides he is beautiful, as good-looking in his clothes as out of them, tanned skin and muscular, her fingers itching to touch every inch. He strokes his cock while she watches, and it grows hard under her gaze.
She has never been so turned on in her young life. Desire curls in her belly, sending shivers down her spine and an almost uncomfortable feeling of moisture between her thighs. Nathan is on top of her again before she can blink, this time supporting his weight on his arms while he makes a place for himself by spreading her legs with his knee. Their kisses start off soft and easy but become biting and demanding within seconds. His hand spreads her open, and then he is there, circling her clit with his thumb as he pushes a finger inside. "So wet," he murmurs, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking.
Claire is already close, her skin buzzing with tension. She can't stop moaning and before long she fears she'll start screaming his name. When he eases down her body, biting and licking his way until his head is between her legs, she almost tells him to stop, that it's too much to bear. She comes hard at the first swipe of his tongue. "Oh my god!" The neighbors can probably hear her shouting, but she doesn't care. Isn't that the point of no-tell motels? Nathan doesn't stop what he's doing, and her over sensitized flesh forces her to push him away.
"Not yet," he growls at her, pushing her flat on her back and lifting her legs. "Not by a long shot."
She tosses her head on the pillow, agreeing with him in a litany of nonsense words even as she reaches for him, needing to feel him against her. "God, fuck, yes, NATHAN!" It doesn't sound like her voice at all, and it's out of her mouth before she can think. He laughs and raises his eyebrows at her outburst.
"Such language." He kisses her like he's hungry and she's the best thing he's ever tasted. He pushes into her and it is everything she ever wanted. Her voice rises higher with each subsequent thrust until she feels her body flying apart, her toes curling with pleasure, and from the way he stills above her, she knows he's there with her.
It's not a fairytale, it's rough and wrong in more ways than she can count. Her only regret is that it's the end. They'll wake up in the morning and pretend it never happened. That they didn't share this thing between them.
Her last thought before the sweet oblivion of sleep claims her is that maybe they had always been leading up to this. That the Petrellis love too hard and too fast; it's in their blood. And even if it's just this one time, she'll take it.