Fic: Her Inheritance
Title: Her Inheritance
Author: kathrynthegr8
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Claire
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2379
Warnings: Sex, Underage Drinking, Incest, Language
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or anything associated with Heroes.
A/N: Written for 1297 's prompt over at heroes_anon . This is what happens when you're trying to write a fic and you get this song stuck in your head..Many apologies to all Rihanna fans. Thank yous go out to my fantabulous beta eeyore9990 and the nice ladies who offered to look over this for me.
The music was loud, pumped from the speakers without pause for the hour she had been in the club. She moved as the bass throbbed through her body, writhing, her hand in the air. The dance floor was packed; sweaty, glitter covered bodies pressed all around her. This is what she needed, the pounding rhythms of the dance music, the anonymity of the dark, and the thoughtlessness and abandonment that came with being surrounded by perfect strangers.
Here, she was no one special; there was no messy past that barely made sense. There was no need to think about an uncertain and unending future. It was only physical movement that went on for as long as she liked. She might never go home.
It hadn’t been easy escaping the Petrelli house, but this reprieve had been worth the lies and deception. New York would probably never feel like home, she was resigned to it. Her father encouraged her connection with her biological family, smiled and said, “Sure, Claire-bear,” when Angela Petrelli, Grandma, asked for her to spend the summer, asked in a way that was a demand no one would deny. She was offering protection with money and power that Noah didn’t have.
The summer seemed exponentially longer than it should have. She hardly saw Peter; he was always off on a new crusade, missions too dangerous for his niece, even if she was indestructible. Nathan was back in politics; if he was stand-offish towards before, he was a ghost now. Sometimes she heard his footsteps in the hall, but she only glimpsed the man at mandatory family dinners.
Left to her own devices, she shopped; the new shiny credit cards were nice, even if Angela accompanied her everywhere she went. “Young ladies need an escort; it’s a big city after all, and you being from a small town in Texas.” Claire wanted nothing more than to stomp her grandmother’s toes with the heel of her new Louboutin shoes.
Freedom finally came in the form of a flyer for a night club being handed out by a passerby. Angela had said a quick no thank you and turned up her nose; Claire had shoved the crumpled paper in her purse without looking up.
It was later in the privacy of her room that she had smoothed it out; the bright yellow clashed with the smooth mahogany of her desk and she couldn’t look away. A dance club advertised their hours and address in loud pink letters. Angela would never approve. And that alone made the decision an easy one.
Sneaking out was more of a challenge than she expected, the electric shock that sizzled through her veins when she disabled the house alarm system did little to deter her. Trying to catch a cab had proved near impossible. By the time she reached the address on the flyer, she regretted her choice in footwear, (patent leather open-toed heels) until the monstrously sized bouncer looked her up and down and waved her in.
Two free drinks later, thankful for the fake id that Jackie had talked her into a year before, Claire was experiencing bliss. She was one of hundreds of people crowding the floor, and when she threw her hands up and moved, she felt happy. It was impossible to think coherently while dancing. All the crazy thoughts that chased each other around her mind disappeared. There was only movement and music. She closed her eyes and decided she might not ever open them again.
Different people danced with her: two college girls out for a good time; a man who looked like a TV actor from one of her mom’s day time soaps; young boys her age and younger. Touch was indiscriminate, hands rested on her hips and shoulders as the music propelled her partners close and then away.
When the next person offered her a drink, she took it without looking and downed it in three swallows. As much as she might want to get drunk, her regenerative powers made it impossible. The taste was nice and it slaked her thirst, but that was all.
Claire felt someone move in behind her, up close, and then hands snaked around her waist, pulling her against someone’s chest. She danced in time to the beat, her newest partner holding her closer than the others. When the music slowed, she leaned her head back on his shoulder; he pressed against her from chest to knee.
She lost track of time until the song ended and she tried to move away. His hands stayed clasped together across her belly, and when she couldn’t pull away, she turned and looked up into Nathan’s face. Stunned that she had been dancing with him, her biological father, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed.
Finally he let her go and she walked off the dance floor, confused and angry at his sudden intrusion. Nathan caught up with her near the bar, but had to lean over and yell to be heard above the music.
“Last I checked you weren’t twenty-one yet.” He was dressed in what remained of a suit, his jacket and tie the only things missing.
“What are you doing here?” She felt like she was screaming at him, and still wasn’t sure he heard a word she said.
He looked around them quickly, as if checking for spies. “I saw you sneak out and I followed you. My mother will be livid when she finds out.”
Claire glared at him and stalked off toward the bathrooms. The bastard had followed her because he was concerned about what his mother might think?
She tried to slam the door that led to the women’s bathroom, but failed. Her ears rang in the sudden quiet and the bright fluorescent glare of the overhead lights stung her eyes. Why did he have to ruin her one night of freedom? And then there was the dancing, the close grinding on each other, completely inappropriate for a father-and-daughter dancing.
Not that she felt anything remotely familial towards any of the Petrellis. She had harbored a crush for Peter before she knew they were related. Angela certainly wasn’t grandmother material, and then there was Nathan. If anything, she had started out loathing the man; these days she treated him with casual indifference. He gave as good as he got.
Luckily the bathroom was empty; Claire took a moment to lean against the counter top and look into the brightly lit mirror. She wanted to go home. Her real home with her real family. She considered punching the wall, or even one of the black metal stall doors, just to feel the lightning quick flash of pain before she healed. Leaving a dent in something might be satisfying, too. But she restrained herself and took several deep breaths.
She realized she wasn’t alone until she looked up and saw Nathan’s face behind her in the mirror. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, incredulous at the lengths he would go to humiliate her. “Girl’s bathroom.” She waved her hands vaguely before crossing them in front of her and turning to face him.
“We need to talk.” He leaned against the bank of bathroom stalls, blocking the exit and her escape. He looked entirely at ease, like he stormed after wayward daughters into public bathrooms all the time.
“So talk. I’m not going anywhere.” She shrugged at him and adjusted her strapless black dress.
“Claire, I’m sorry, but it’s time to grow up. Our world is extremely dangerous, and if you want to survive you need to do what you’re told. You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.” Nathan looked at her with such ferocity that she felt suddenly exposed and helpless.
“I’m not your little girl, Nathan.” She hated that she sounded petty and childlike, but she couldn’t contain her frustration. “It was a mistake for me to come here, I want to go home.” She put enough emphasis on the word home so that there was no mistaking where exactly she meant. Not here in New York, but California, which felt so far away at this moment she was sure she’d never get back.
“You can’t. This is your home now.” He said it so easily. Just another fact in his streamlined life. “Why do you think your father sent you here to stay with us? Do you really believe he would let you go if he could keep you safe?”
“What are you talking about? My father-“ She stopped and reached for a paper towel, ready to blot the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks at the mention of her dad.
“Your family, they went into hiding.” He walked to the wall length counter and stopped beside her, facing the mirror. He turned his head to look at her, “Noah is still with the Company, but to keep them safe they are off the grid. And he sent you here.”
“Why am I just hearing this now?” She could barely speak around the unshed tears; it was more a croak than words.
“You didn’t ask. You should have. Now you know better.” Nathan tucked her hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger on her cheek before he dropped his hand. The simple gesture stunned her; it was more intimate than the awkward hug they had shared months ago.
Claire blotted under her eyes with the paper towel she had crumpled in her hand and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m an idiot for not knowing this sooner.” She shook her head and tried to avoid Nathan’s gaze, he was staring at her with an intensity that was making her uncomfortable.
“Please don’t make this more difficult than it already is.You are my…” he paused a moment as if searching for the right words, “responsibility.”
“Is that why you’re here? Out of some sort of messed up need to protect me?” She felt the hot fingers of anger begin to curl in her belly. “Sorry I inconvenienced you. I know you are embarrassed to have me as your offspring.”
“Don’t do that.” It was a whisper so quiet she almost missed it. “As for why I’m here, I thought it was obvious.”
Claire tried to avoid his dark gaze and felt her skin pebble under his scrutiny. She didn’t feel the anger anymore, just hollow defeat and the quicksilver swirls of something else, something liquid and hot.
“Time to leave, huh?” She tossed the crumpled paper towel towards the trash can and missed. When she reached down to retrieve it Nathan’s hand grabbed hers and pulled her forward until she faced him.
“Not yet.” Nathan leaned over her, his face close to hers, so close that, when he breathed out, warm air bloomed across her skin. He walked her two steps forward, pushing her back flush with the wall, her hip against the countertop. She was trapped, but her rapid heartbeat wasn’t from fear of her captor.
Claire felt overwhelmed by an uncontrollable shiver that started low in her stomach, followed by a flush of heat that engulfed her from her scalp to her toes.
“The way you danced with me…” Her mind was having difficulty keeping up with what her body was already aware of. Nathan wanted her. And who knew for how long? His constant avoidance and cool exterior were hiding a thing deeper and darker than she had ever imagined. It was wrong to be attracted to him, to want him, but she could not stop the intense need to reach out and run her fingers through his hair.
“That wasn’t dancing.” He lowered his head and continued to whisper in her ear; his breath stirred her hair and tickled her earlobe. “Remind me later and I’ll show you what dancing really is.” His hands were on her waist, not moving, like he was waiting.
“How long-“ Claire swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and couldn’t finish her sentence, a thought, anything. She rested her forehead on Nathan’s shoulder and tried to draw a deep breath, but her chest was too tight and all she ended up doing was sniffing his cologne. Everything about him made her head spin. “How long have you-“
“Since I first saw you. This is why I stay away.” He nipped on her earlobe and then kissed his way down her neck, stopping when he reached her collarbone. “Tell me to stop.” His voice was a strangled gasp. “God, Claire, make me stop.”
She answered by dropping her hands to his shoulders and pulling him even closer, their bodies pressed together with no space between. This feat would have been impossible, if not for Claire’s three inch heels. She made a mental note to buy more
high heeled shoes the next chance she got.
“I thought you hated me.” Nathan’s tongue was in the crease between her breasts, and she wanted more, needed to feel more.
“No. Never.” His harsh whispers where punctuated with velvet kisses across her chest. The sudden banging on the bathroom door startled Claire, but she knew that Nathan was unfazed when he smiled down at her. “Don’t worry, I locked the door.”
She couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up her throat; of course he locked the door. He was Nathan. He prepared for contingencies, he always won, he was the politician. When he lifted her leg and pushed his hand up her thigh, she wondered if this would be it. A one time dalliance, a sin they would choose to forget once the night was over.
The sound of her panties ripping sealed her fate. She wanted this now, wanted him; the world and all its petty rules could go to hell. Nathan’s fingers pushing inside her cunt, his mouth swallowing her moans was all that existed in that moment. The booming music from the speakers vibrated them both, making everything more sensitized and bright.
And then she remembered, as he fucked her against the wall, that she was his daughter, and his best qualities were hers too. They were a matched set.
They were trembling in each other’s arms moments later; Claire knew for certain it was a beginning, not an end.
Author: kathrynthegr8
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Claire
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2379
Warnings: Sex, Underage Drinking, Incest, Language
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or anything associated with Heroes.
A/N: Written for 1297 's prompt over at heroes_anon . This is what happens when you're trying to write a fic and you get this song stuck in your head..Many apologies to all Rihanna fans. Thank yous go out to my fantabulous beta eeyore9990 and the nice ladies who offered to look over this for me.
The music was loud, pumped from the speakers without pause for the hour she had been in the club. She moved as the bass throbbed through her body, writhing, her hand in the air. The dance floor was packed; sweaty, glitter covered bodies pressed all around her. This is what she needed, the pounding rhythms of the dance music, the anonymity of the dark, and the thoughtlessness and abandonment that came with being surrounded by perfect strangers.
Here, she was no one special; there was no messy past that barely made sense. There was no need to think about an uncertain and unending future. It was only physical movement that went on for as long as she liked. She might never go home.
It hadn’t been easy escaping the Petrelli house, but this reprieve had been worth the lies and deception. New York would probably never feel like home, she was resigned to it. Her father encouraged her connection with her biological family, smiled and said, “Sure, Claire-bear,” when Angela Petrelli, Grandma, asked for her to spend the summer, asked in a way that was a demand no one would deny. She was offering protection with money and power that Noah didn’t have.
The summer seemed exponentially longer than it should have. She hardly saw Peter; he was always off on a new crusade, missions too dangerous for his niece, even if she was indestructible. Nathan was back in politics; if he was stand-offish towards before, he was a ghost now. Sometimes she heard his footsteps in the hall, but she only glimpsed the man at mandatory family dinners.
Left to her own devices, she shopped; the new shiny credit cards were nice, even if Angela accompanied her everywhere she went. “Young ladies need an escort; it’s a big city after all, and you being from a small town in Texas.” Claire wanted nothing more than to stomp her grandmother’s toes with the heel of her new Louboutin shoes.
Freedom finally came in the form of a flyer for a night club being handed out by a passerby. Angela had said a quick no thank you and turned up her nose; Claire had shoved the crumpled paper in her purse without looking up.
It was later in the privacy of her room that she had smoothed it out; the bright yellow clashed with the smooth mahogany of her desk and she couldn’t look away. A dance club advertised their hours and address in loud pink letters. Angela would never approve. And that alone made the decision an easy one.
Sneaking out was more of a challenge than she expected, the electric shock that sizzled through her veins when she disabled the house alarm system did little to deter her. Trying to catch a cab had proved near impossible. By the time she reached the address on the flyer, she regretted her choice in footwear, (patent leather open-toed heels) until the monstrously sized bouncer looked her up and down and waved her in.
Two free drinks later, thankful for the fake id that Jackie had talked her into a year before, Claire was experiencing bliss. She was one of hundreds of people crowding the floor, and when she threw her hands up and moved, she felt happy. It was impossible to think coherently while dancing. All the crazy thoughts that chased each other around her mind disappeared. There was only movement and music. She closed her eyes and decided she might not ever open them again.
Different people danced with her: two college girls out for a good time; a man who looked like a TV actor from one of her mom’s day time soaps; young boys her age and younger. Touch was indiscriminate, hands rested on her hips and shoulders as the music propelled her partners close and then away.
When the next person offered her a drink, she took it without looking and downed it in three swallows. As much as she might want to get drunk, her regenerative powers made it impossible. The taste was nice and it slaked her thirst, but that was all.
Claire felt someone move in behind her, up close, and then hands snaked around her waist, pulling her against someone’s chest. She danced in time to the beat, her newest partner holding her closer than the others. When the music slowed, she leaned her head back on his shoulder; he pressed against her from chest to knee.
She lost track of time until the song ended and she tried to move away. His hands stayed clasped together across her belly, and when she couldn’t pull away, she turned and looked up into Nathan’s face. Stunned that she had been dancing with him, her biological father, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed.
Finally he let her go and she walked off the dance floor, confused and angry at his sudden intrusion. Nathan caught up with her near the bar, but had to lean over and yell to be heard above the music.
“Last I checked you weren’t twenty-one yet.” He was dressed in what remained of a suit, his jacket and tie the only things missing.
“What are you doing here?” She felt like she was screaming at him, and still wasn’t sure he heard a word she said.
He looked around them quickly, as if checking for spies. “I saw you sneak out and I followed you. My mother will be livid when she finds out.”
Claire glared at him and stalked off toward the bathrooms. The bastard had followed her because he was concerned about what his mother might think?
She tried to slam the door that led to the women’s bathroom, but failed. Her ears rang in the sudden quiet and the bright fluorescent glare of the overhead lights stung her eyes. Why did he have to ruin her one night of freedom? And then there was the dancing, the close grinding on each other, completely inappropriate for a father-and-daughter dancing.
Not that she felt anything remotely familial towards any of the Petrellis. She had harbored a crush for Peter before she knew they were related. Angela certainly wasn’t grandmother material, and then there was Nathan. If anything, she had started out loathing the man; these days she treated him with casual indifference. He gave as good as he got.
Luckily the bathroom was empty; Claire took a moment to lean against the counter top and look into the brightly lit mirror. She wanted to go home. Her real home with her real family. She considered punching the wall, or even one of the black metal stall doors, just to feel the lightning quick flash of pain before she healed. Leaving a dent in something might be satisfying, too. But she restrained herself and took several deep breaths.
She realized she wasn’t alone until she looked up and saw Nathan’s face behind her in the mirror. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, incredulous at the lengths he would go to humiliate her. “Girl’s bathroom.” She waved her hands vaguely before crossing them in front of her and turning to face him.
“We need to talk.” He leaned against the bank of bathroom stalls, blocking the exit and her escape. He looked entirely at ease, like he stormed after wayward daughters into public bathrooms all the time.
“So talk. I’m not going anywhere.” She shrugged at him and adjusted her strapless black dress.
“Claire, I’m sorry, but it’s time to grow up. Our world is extremely dangerous, and if you want to survive you need to do what you’re told. You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.” Nathan looked at her with such ferocity that she felt suddenly exposed and helpless.
“I’m not your little girl, Nathan.” She hated that she sounded petty and childlike, but she couldn’t contain her frustration. “It was a mistake for me to come here, I want to go home.” She put enough emphasis on the word home so that there was no mistaking where exactly she meant. Not here in New York, but California, which felt so far away at this moment she was sure she’d never get back.
“You can’t. This is your home now.” He said it so easily. Just another fact in his streamlined life. “Why do you think your father sent you here to stay with us? Do you really believe he would let you go if he could keep you safe?”
“What are you talking about? My father-“ She stopped and reached for a paper towel, ready to blot the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks at the mention of her dad.
“Your family, they went into hiding.” He walked to the wall length counter and stopped beside her, facing the mirror. He turned his head to look at her, “Noah is still with the Company, but to keep them safe they are off the grid. And he sent you here.”
“Why am I just hearing this now?” She could barely speak around the unshed tears; it was more a croak than words.
“You didn’t ask. You should have. Now you know better.” Nathan tucked her hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger on her cheek before he dropped his hand. The simple gesture stunned her; it was more intimate than the awkward hug they had shared months ago.
Claire blotted under her eyes with the paper towel she had crumpled in her hand and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m an idiot for not knowing this sooner.” She shook her head and tried to avoid Nathan’s gaze, he was staring at her with an intensity that was making her uncomfortable.
“Please don’t make this more difficult than it already is.You are my…” he paused a moment as if searching for the right words, “responsibility.”
“Is that why you’re here? Out of some sort of messed up need to protect me?” She felt the hot fingers of anger begin to curl in her belly. “Sorry I inconvenienced you. I know you are embarrassed to have me as your offspring.”
“Don’t do that.” It was a whisper so quiet she almost missed it. “As for why I’m here, I thought it was obvious.”
Claire tried to avoid his dark gaze and felt her skin pebble under his scrutiny. She didn’t feel the anger anymore, just hollow defeat and the quicksilver swirls of something else, something liquid and hot.
“Time to leave, huh?” She tossed the crumpled paper towel towards the trash can and missed. When she reached down to retrieve it Nathan’s hand grabbed hers and pulled her forward until she faced him.
“Not yet.” Nathan leaned over her, his face close to hers, so close that, when he breathed out, warm air bloomed across her skin. He walked her two steps forward, pushing her back flush with the wall, her hip against the countertop. She was trapped, but her rapid heartbeat wasn’t from fear of her captor.
Claire felt overwhelmed by an uncontrollable shiver that started low in her stomach, followed by a flush of heat that engulfed her from her scalp to her toes.
“The way you danced with me…” Her mind was having difficulty keeping up with what her body was already aware of. Nathan wanted her. And who knew for how long? His constant avoidance and cool exterior were hiding a thing deeper and darker than she had ever imagined. It was wrong to be attracted to him, to want him, but she could not stop the intense need to reach out and run her fingers through his hair.
“That wasn’t dancing.” He lowered his head and continued to whisper in her ear; his breath stirred her hair and tickled her earlobe. “Remind me later and I’ll show you what dancing really is.” His hands were on her waist, not moving, like he was waiting.
“How long-“ Claire swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and couldn’t finish her sentence, a thought, anything. She rested her forehead on Nathan’s shoulder and tried to draw a deep breath, but her chest was too tight and all she ended up doing was sniffing his cologne. Everything about him made her head spin. “How long have you-“
“Since I first saw you. This is why I stay away.” He nipped on her earlobe and then kissed his way down her neck, stopping when he reached her collarbone. “Tell me to stop.” His voice was a strangled gasp. “God, Claire, make me stop.”
She answered by dropping her hands to his shoulders and pulling him even closer, their bodies pressed together with no space between. This feat would have been impossible, if not for Claire’s three inch heels. She made a mental note to buy more
high heeled shoes the next chance she got.
“I thought you hated me.” Nathan’s tongue was in the crease between her breasts, and she wanted more, needed to feel more.
“No. Never.” His harsh whispers where punctuated with velvet kisses across her chest. The sudden banging on the bathroom door startled Claire, but she knew that Nathan was unfazed when he smiled down at her. “Don’t worry, I locked the door.”
She couldn’t help the giggles that bubbled up her throat; of course he locked the door. He was Nathan. He prepared for contingencies, he always won, he was the politician. When he lifted her leg and pushed his hand up her thigh, she wondered if this would be it. A one time dalliance, a sin they would choose to forget once the night was over.
The sound of her panties ripping sealed her fate. She wanted this now, wanted him; the world and all its petty rules could go to hell. Nathan’s fingers pushing inside her cunt, his mouth swallowing her moans was all that existed in that moment. The booming music from the speakers vibrated them both, making everything more sensitized and bright.
And then she remembered, as he fucked her against the wall, that she was his daughter, and his best qualities were hers too. They were a matched set.
They were trembling in each other’s arms moments later; Claire knew for certain it was a beginning, not an end.