Fic: Ritual (38): Quiet
Title: Ritual (38): Quiet
Author: mystery_sock
Pairing/Characters: Peter/Nathan, Angela
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none (pre-series)
Word Count: about 4800
Warnings: explicit sex, incest, alcohol use
Summary: A disappointing birthday party for Peter, a late-night secret visit from Nathan, and a (mostly successful) attempt to be quiet... Big ups to darkbloom for the prompt, and much love to fabrisse for the beta!
• Ritual Reader's Guide - all Ritual stories in chronological order •
Heroes is the property of NBC/Universal and Tailwinds Productions. Characters used without permission. No revenue is generated or accepted by the author of this story for its publication on the internet.
JULY 2000
Friday night was Peter's twentieth birthday party.
His actual birthday had been at the beginning of the week, while he was still out of town. Peter had just come back from three weeks touring the Ionian islands in Greece on a family friend's yacht with a bunch of other young people who Peter didn't know. The trip had been an early birthday present from his mother. Angela had planned the entire party while he was away, and didn't consult him on any aspect of the party itself, let alone whether or not he actually wanted one. She invited her own acquaintances, including their family members Peter's own age who she thought would be useful for Peter to know. Peter had friends already, but in general, Angela didn't think much of them; she considered them to be hippies, slackers, gangbangers, and sluts... which they kind of were, but there was more to them than that; a thoughtfulness, a sensitivity that distinguished them from their environments. They didn't have to be advantageous for Peter to be friends with them. He missed them after coming back from his trip, and he would have liked to see them at the party, but Angela had micromanaged the guest list, too. Sometimes Peter felt like his mother cared more about getting ahead than about being happy.
Peter quickly got bored listening to Ivy League freshman gossip involving people he didn't know and places he'd never been, and after a while standing around feeling useless, he gravitated toward his brother.
Nathan was standing by the punch bowl, holding court with an adoring circle of young women, telling his own Ivy League tales. Peter had heard all these stories before, and even though Nathan told them well, his voice making even the weakest story sound exciting, Peter wasn't in the mood. He snickered loudly at some embellishment in Nathan's story, making sure everyone could hear him.
All the girls turned and stared at Peter. He blinked innocently back at them. Nathan narrowed his eyes at him and gave an impatient sigh. "Hello, Peter," he said, his pleasant tone oddly sarcastic.
"Hello, Nathan," Peter replied in the same tone, but grinning. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Sure, Pete," Nathan said, sipping at his punch. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you for the CD," Peter said. "That was nice. I'm glad you remembered."
Something in the sound of his voice implied that he wanted to talk to Nathan alone, and all the girls in Nathan's audience slowly drifted away, back into the body of the party. Nathan watched them go with a strange expression, a combination of longing, lasciviousness, and disgust, flickering across his features. Peter stared at him, observing the tiny details, drinking in the sight of him. Nathan looked very handsome tonight, dressed down in a dark-purple polo shirt and tan slacks, his hair very slightly tousled. He had put on a little weight, filling out his clothes with firm, muscular, curved lines. His lips glistened from his sip of punch. "It's really good to see you. Feels like I haven't seen you for ages," Peter said.
"Well, it's been more than a month." Nathan's expression softened as he regarded Peter more closely than he had when he'd arrived, when he'd mostly been swept away and distracted by his mother. They hadn't yet had a chance to exchange the usual hug, and Peter felt the lack like a physical hunger. They could always hug now, but the moment didn't seem right. "You sure look well-rested. I don't think I've ever seen you so tan."
"Not much else to do on a boat but hang out in the sun," Peter said. "Swim and read and drink and eat and all that shit."
"What, did you hate it?" Nathan asked, raising his eyebrows.
"No, no, I had a nice time. It was a nice vacation, but I didn't need a vacation. I don't do anything."
"Sure you do, Pete. You go to school. And you're pre-law. That's not exactly a walk in the park."
Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, setting down his empty wine glass and grabbing full one off the table in the same smooth movement. Nathan looked askance at him. "It has been so far," Peter said. "It's been stupid, actually. I mean, I tried to get into my classes, but... I mean..." His voice trailed off as he realized that he didn't know what he meant. He had hoped that Greece would clear his mind and intentions, but they seemed to drift even further away, lulled by the gentle rocking of the yacht and the endless, baking blue sky, waiting and hoping that Nathan would call him. Nathan was in love with him, too - Peter knew that now - and he just wanted to hear his voice some more. Nothing else seemed to matter very much. "I think I just don't like school anymore."
"That's nonsense," Nathan replied. "School is just school. It doesn't matter whether or not you like it. It's what you do."
"Who says?"
"Uh..." Nathan said. "Dad says."
"Dad," Peter echoed, rolling his eyes, and scoffed.
Nathan narrowed his eyes again. "Dad's paying for you to live, in case you hadn't noticed. He certainly paid for this party."
"Yeah," Peter responded, still scoffing. "Whatever. This party is wack."
"It's what? 'Wack'? Whatever, Peter, you're not street. Cut it out. Get a little grateful."
"Whatever," Peter said again, a little chastened. Again, he just wasn't sure what he was getting at. The sight of Nathan made him feel all confused; he wanted to impress Nathan, but the quickest way to lose Nathan's respect was to try too hard. He wanted to tell Nathan everything, but really, there wasn't much to tell, and it wouldn't be interesting anyway. Peter wasn't sure what to do. He just wanted that hug. He thought it would be easy once he was actually around Nathan, but he'd never really thought about what it would be like to be mutually in love with someone, and not be able to show it in public. And to have that someone give a big-brother lecture which Peter so completely didn't feel like hearing.
"So..." Nathan said, seeming to note Peter's sudden paralyzing discomfort; he wandered away from the table. Peter followed, walking alongside him. "Did you meet any cool people on your trip?"
Peter shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "A couple. One of the women on the boat was nice."
That seemed to interest Nathan. He was always interested in Peter's interactions with girls. "Was she, now? What was she like?"
"Dutch," Peter said. "Smart. Not stuck up. We did some diving together. And we went into town together when we got to Corfu, and hit a couple of clubs." Peter broke into a grin, remembering.
"Did you get together?" Nathan asked casually.
Peter just smiled back. "Yeah, kind of," he said. "You know. We were drinking and dancing."
"Hm," Nathan said, not looking at Peter. "Were you safe?"
"We didn't really need to be. We didn't go all the way. We were, um, too drunk, you know. And then it was just kind of weird after that. It kind of wrecked our friendship. Sucked." Peter sighed. He had tried to forget about it; even the most pleasant part of the memory didn't make up for the fact that he'd lost a potential friend, and he wasn't entirely sure why.
"Hm," Nathan said again. He turned the corner into the kitchen, Peter following, and headed toward the little bathroom along the back corridor. Moving with startling speed, he grabbed Peter by the arm and shoved him inside, following close behind, and shutting the door.
In the semi-darkness, illuminated only by the filtered streetlight coming in through the upper window, Nathan held Peter still by the arms, his hands cupping and squeezing the muscles of Peter's chest, and attacked the back of his neck with rough, hasty, sucking bites and kisses. Peter gasped, startled and pleased, but still a bit uneasy. "Whoa! Jealous?" he murmured, laughing.
Nathan just bit him again. "Hm," he grunted. "God, you look so fucking beautiful tonight. Ahh. You change, but you don't change, do you?"
Peter pressed his shoulder blades against Nathan's chest, and caressed Nathan's forearms with his thumbs. "You better cut it out," he whispered warningly. "You're gonna give me a hickey. We can't do this right now."
Nathan took a deep breath, and released Peter's arms. Peter instantly regretted saying anything, but it had to be that way. If he suddenly returned to the party with bite marks and bruises, their mother would instantly demand an explanation; none of the well-bred young ladies she'd invited would maul her son that way. "Right," Nathan sighed reluctantly, and rubbed the faint marks he left on Peter's neck. "Sorry. I just had to bite you. You understand."
"I do," Peter said. "I totally do...You're beautiful too... I..." He let out his breath in a faint, desperate burst, and begged, "Kiss me on the mouth."
"I'd better not," Nathan said coolly.
He opened the bathroom door and left, then closed the door behind him again. Peter turned on the light and washed his hands, his mouth feeling empty, sticky and sour from the wine. He left the bathroom a safe minute or so after Nathan had gone, and went in search of a slice of cake and maybe some of what his father was drinking.
***
Shortly after his father headed for bed, Nathan left the party with a grandiose goodbye, more to his public at large than to Peter or his mother. He actually stood on a step of the staircase and waved his arms, making an apology for his early departure, claiming a long work-week. He was answered by a general murmur of regret from the party guests. Peter ditched the conversation he was having and went up to Nathan, arms held out. Nathan gave him a big, boisterous, impersonal hug. "See you later," he said, then turned to his mother and kissed her cheek.
Peter stared after him, frowning in frustration. That was it?
Fortunately, after Nathan was gone, things rapidly began to wind down. Guests meandered towards the door, giving Peter birthday wishes and Angela compliments on a splendid party. He stood beside his mother and repeated the same phrases of thanks and pleased-to-meet-you until they lost all meaning and became nothing but a jumble of sounds coming out of his mouth. Every time he thanked someone for coming, he hoped that Nathan would be behind the door as the guests left.
But as the last couple went out, Peter realized with sad resignation that Nathan had really left, and wasn't coming back. He trudged silent and sad after his mother, walking through the foyer and downstairs parlor. "Well, I think that went very well," Angela said cheerfully, not a hint of fatigue in her voice, although she'd been going like gangbusters since early that morning. "I really think the Stewarts liked you a lot. If you wanted to go visit them for a week before your classes start, I'm sure they wouldn't mind putting you up. Oh, Peter, why do you look like that?" She stopped halfway up the staircase, and rested her hand against his cheek. "You're not too drunk, are you?"
Peter laughed softly. "Oh, I'm not drunk," he said. "No, you're right, that was a good time. Thanks."
Angela looked into Peter's eyes and sighed. "Now, cheer up," she said. "We'll go shopping tomorrow, and we can pick you up some new clothes for school. I'm just so proud of you for sticking with it; your father and I both. We love you, Peter."
"Yes," Peter said, smiling, and taking his mother's hand. She smiled back at him. "I love you too. Thanks again, for everything. Sleep well."
"I certainly hope so," Angela said. "I could use it. Looks like you could too." They exchanged a quick kiss on the lips, and Peter hugged her, taking a deep breath, getting in touch with his better feelings. "Good night, dear."
Peter went to the hall bathroom, brushed his teeth and washed his face, then retreated to his bedroom. He was not sleepy, and though he had had several glasses of wine and a large shot of scotch, he was barely tipsy. He sat on the edge of his bed and slipped off his shoes, then took off the dark-gray linen sport jacket he'd been wearing over a plain white V-neck T-shirt. He sat and stared at his bookshelf, trying to decide what to read until he fell asleep.
On his desk, his new mobile phone buzzed, startling him. He picked it up. Nathan.
"Hey, Nate," Peter answered.
The voice that answered was low and husky. "Put some music on."
Peter laughed quietly. "What are you talking about?"
"Sorta quiet, but with a beat going on."
"How about that Beta Band CD you just got me? That sounds about right."
"Sure, that'll do, I suppose. I only know that song that was in the movie." He and Peter had seen High Fidelity together, and kissed for a long time in the car afterward.
"Yeah, okay. What for, though?"
Nathan just hung up.
Peter unwrapped the disk and put it into his small bedside stereo, turning the volume down to a normal speaking level. He sat back on the edge of the bed listening for a moment. The first song was the one he knew best - "Dry the Rain" - and he was transported into the music all over again. Something about how the song grew and developed and changed, and yet became so lyrically simple, reminded him of Nathan somehow... of that way that Nathan made him feel, of the way he wanted Nathan to feel around him. If there's something inside that you want to say, say it out loud, it'll be okay. I will be your light. I need love.
Before the song's final chorus bloomed, Peter's bedroom door opened silently - you had to know that to silence the creaky hinges, you had to lift up the door slightly by the knob - and Peter just stared in astonishment as Nathan slipped into the room. He closed the door behind him, just as soundlessly, holding his finger to his lips. Peter held out his arms like a giddy child, and Nathan walked up to him and tackled him down onto the bed.
It was chaos. Nathan clamped his mouth down onto Peter's, their teeth clicking half-painfully together and their tongues colliding in their haste to get them into the other's mouth. Their knees banged into each other, and Nathan elbowed Peter in the stomach as he tried to get his hand under Peter's T-shirt. Peter wrapped his left leg around Nathan's waist and grabbed his hair, trying to hold him still so Peter could kiss him properly; Nathan let Peter's body go and swiped at Peter's hand in his hair, dislodging his grip. He shoved with his hips against Peter's crotch, unzipping Peter's pants and fumbling his fingers inside.
The song changed to something incredibly quiet, barely there.
Peter squirmed, trying to rub against Nathan, but he had misjudged how forceful he had to be, and he actually half-threw Nathan off him. Nathan grunted impatiently and pinned Peter against the surface of the bed, grabbing Peter's cock and balls in one hand and holding Peter's neck down with the other, thrusting against him. Peter gasped out loud, the sound shocking in the quiet. Nathan whispered, "Sssh! Peter, sssh. They're right down the hall."
Peter held his breath for a moment, almost losing his arousal at the thought, but Nathan just went back to kissing and fondling him again. He stripped Peter's trousers off, taking Peter's underwear with them, then replaced his hand where it had been before, encircling penis and testicles, holding them all in his hand, pressing Peter's genitals all together, making them strain back against Nathan's hand. Nathan rubbed in circles, licking and sucking Peter's throat. When he took his hand away, Peter's cock was hard and when he put his hand back again, it didn't all fit in his grasp anymore. Peter bit his lip and reached for Nathan. He pulled Nathan's shirt off over his head, and ran his fingers across Nathan's shoulders, his chest with the pattern of hair that vaguely resembled a phoenix in flight. Nathan hastily unfastened his own trousers, and Peter used his toes to shove them down over Nathan's hips. When their groins touched again, it was skin on skin, flesh on flesh.
Together, they let out a heavy breath; together, they rocked against each other. "Are we gonna fuck?" Peter whispered, running his fingers over Nathan's bare ass, across to his balls, pulling Nathan in tight.
"Absolutely," Nathan responded. He knew how to mute his whispers, lisping across the sibilants: Abtholutely. Peter always found Nathan's lisp, whether deliberate or involuntary, amazingly sexy. Peter kissed him hungrily, sucking on his lower lip. Nathan thrust against him in time with the music, which was perfect...
Peter relaxed, taking some deep breaths. Nathan relaxed too, stroking Peter's torso underneath the shirt, peeling the shirt back to lick Peter's belly, then expose and caress a nipple. Peter quivered, half ticklish, then grabbed Nathan by the shoulders and flipped them over, Nathan on his back and Peter on top of him, between Nathan's thighs. The bedsprings creaked loudly. "Sssh!" Nathan reminded him.
The song changed again - quiet, mellow, and repetitive. Peter tongue-kissed Nathan, and suddenly the song had percussion. Peter wished they were already fucking, because he would have loved to take it - or give it - in the same tempo. He thrust against Nathan in time with the song, and Nathan breathed heavily, though silently, his head rolling back and forth against the bed. Peter grinned. "You like that?" Peter whispered.
"Yeah..." Nathan pushed Peter's shirt up into his armpits, and raised his head to trail his tongue across Peter's sternum. "You're delicious." He finally yanked the shirt off, dragging Peter even more fully on top of him, insinuating himself between Peter's legs, lifting his hips against him. His hardening cock pressed into Peter's buttock, his thigh, his balls, wanting to be inside.
"Are you gonna eat my butt?" Peter murmured, quivering with lust.
"Sure," said Nathan, grinning back. "I'd love to."
After a quick kiss, Peter confessed sadly, "I'm not that clean, though; I only took a shower after lunch. And it was kind of a hot day."
Nathan shook his head, still smiling. "Then you're out of luck," he said.
Peter sighed in frustration. Nathan had been licking him all over; surely, he wanted to continue? He suggested, "I could... run to the bathroom and wash up right quick. Would that be good enough?"
Nathan nodded and wet his lips with his tongue, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. "You're addicted," he whispered.
He had him. Peter wasn't the only one addicted. "You just stay here," Peter said, getting up and putting his robe on. Nathan sprawled out on the bed, handling himself, keeping himself stimulated. Peter tore himself away while he still could.
In the hallway, he gave an exaggerated yawn and padded barefoot towards the bathroom. His mother poked her head out of her room and glared at him, her face free of makeup, and her hair under a scarf. "Peter," she said with thinly veiled impatience.
Peter froze and stared at her, open-mouthed.
"I know it's your birthday week, but what are you thinking, playing music so late at night?" Angela asked.
Peter hesitated for a moment before answering, willing his heart to start beating again. "I just wanted to listen to this album once before I go to sleep," he replied, his voice admirably soft and steady. "I'm sorry, mom, I'll turn it down."
"Thank you. It's not loud, but I can hear it, and I can't quite help listening. It's keeping me from getting to sleep."
Peter grimaced. "Is Dad okay? Did I wake him?"
Angela answered, sighing, "He's still asleep. He can be a pretty heavy sleeper after he's been drinking."
"I'm sorry," Peter apologized again, "I just wasn't thinking." He felt guilt and love swelling in his chest. She really was trying so hard, trying to keep them all together and take care of them all, and she had other things in her life that were problematic besides him. He went to her and gave her another kiss. He couldn't quite tell if she believed him or not, but she only said good night again, and disappeared back into her room, shutting the door behind her.
In the bathroom, Peter trembled with relief, hastily scrubbing himself with a damp, slightly soapy washcloth. He wet a clean one and hastened back to his room, closing the world outside.
The reading lamp had been turned off. Nathan lay in the same spot, his eyes closed, almost appearing asleep. His eyes opened again, watching as Peter went to the stereo and turned the volume down more, then returned to the bed. Peter held his finger against his lips and smiled. They really did have to be quiet now...
He knelt on the floor at the far edge of the bed, away from the door, and Nathan scooted over to meet him. His erection bobbed out in front of him. Peter ran his hand along it, marveling at its stiffness and heat, wondering if he'd ever get sick of it, if he'd ever move beyond this fascination. He kissed Nathan's stomach, then pulled the cock between his lips, licking his way down the shaft until he enclosed it entirely within his mouth. Nathan clasped his hand around the back of Peter's head, nonverbally asking him to stay. Peter drew back and took a deep breath, then began to suck, bobbing his head, filling his mouth over and over again. The ambiently quiet music was now strange and mysterious, sampled voices and snippets of tunes that had already gone by. Peter wished he could hear Nathan moaning the way he would have if he could, but the absence of it made Peter suck harder. He wanted to break Nathan's composure and make him moan out loud. Yes, they had to be quiet, but he wanted...
Nathan's body quickly tensed, occasional muted, passionate sighing escaping his lips. "Cock-hungry," he whispered, holding Peter's head still. Peter shook his head a little, subtly breaking free. He refused to take Nathan's direction, wanting to suck the way he wanted, from tiny slurps at the tip of the glans to throat-challenging deep lunges, and everything in between. Sure, he wanted to fuck, but he also wanted this. Loved this. Dreamed about this. If that made him cock-hungry, so be it.
Eventually, Nathan stopped him, shoving Peter's face away, murmuring, "That's enough."
He gave Peter a hand up and drew him forward against the bed. They changed position, Peter with his knees on the floor and his arms spread across the bed, and Nathan behind him on the floor, rushing his hands down Peter's back to his ass, spreading the cheeks. Peter found that Nathan had drawn a pillow down close to him, and Peter made use of it too, biting it hard, muffling his groans into it. Nathan darted his tongue along the crack of Peter's ass, down against his anus, swirling around it, lapping at him. Lapping at his balls, lightly sucking their thin coating of hair-studded skin. Peter curled his toes. He wanted to scream.
Taking a momentary pause from his oral ministrations, Nathan squeezed and pinched Peter's buttocks. "Even your pretty little ass is all tan," he remarked, his barely audible words transmitted through Peter's skin. "I can just imagine it. Your gorgeous body all naked in the sun. I wish I could have been there. I'd have given you a real educational Greek vacation." Peter laughed out loud before he could stop himself. Nathan pinched the back of his thigh hard enough to really hurt. "Sssh-sssh!" Nathan reminded him.
"Fuck," Peter muttered. "Ow."
"Where's your lube?" Nathan asked.
"I'll have to go get it," Peter whispered. "I haven't unpacked it yet."
Nathan sighed impatiently. Peter stood up on shaky legs, and went to his closet where he had tossed his toiletry bag last night, much more interested in getting some sleep in his own bed than unpacking stuff he didn't need. He didn't know he'd need it so soon... He came back to bed with the tube, and handed it to Nathan. Nathan frowned at it, shaking his head in disapproval. Peter just shrugged in response, rolling his eyes, and reassumed his position against the side of the bed. Nathan wasted no time smearing a generous amount over Peter's moist asshole, following it inside Peter with his fingers. Peter bit the pillow some more, clenching down hard with his jaws. He was hungry for this, too. Addicted. Yes.
Nathan fingered him for a moment, working in the lubricant until it had become hot and slick from friction, then pulled Peter down onto the floor beside him. "You're gonna rock the bed," he explained. Peter jumped up again, grabbed some more pillows and blankets, and lay down a layer of padding on the floor for their knees. Nathan smiled and nodded in satisfaction. Peter smiled back, happy and proud of himself. He was getting there; figuring things out.
They were now completely hidden from sight from the bedroom door. Peter moved his torso down onto his arms stretched straight out, up on his knees, ass in the air, head down. It was a yoga pose, but it looked extremely slutty, submissive and eager all at the same time. He wished that Nathan could slap his ass, hard, the sound ringing through the air, hard enough almost to knock him over... it was amazing how the impossibility of something could increase its erotic significance, make him want something that he had never really wanted before.
Nathan filled Peter with his fingers again, adding fingers until Peter's breath hissed desperately through his teeth. Nathan wiped his hand on the clean, damp washcloth, moved his body up against Peter's, slid his lubed cock against Peter's lubed ass, then pressed himself inside, his other hand holding Peter's head down. Peter gasped out loud - so deep, so soon? Nathan didn't even bother to shush him this time; instead, he covered Peter's mouth with his hand, and shoved in deeper still. Peter squealed against Nathan's hand. Nathan muttered, "Sssh, they're gonna hear. You want that? You want them to come in here and see this happening to you? Get ahold of yourself." All the while, he fucked Peter harder.
Peter got dizzy, head down, and holding his breath, too. Nathan rubbed Peter's belly, soothing his inner muscles and keeping them relaxed, but the blood in his body couldn't decide if it wanted to rush to his head or to his cock. After a while, the wet, squishing sound of the fuck was almost louder than the murmuring music. Peter felt first extremely disoriented, then very calm. He idly wondered if he was fainting. He didn't care if so, as long as this didn't stop.
Nathan paused with a sigh. He pulled out, turned Peter over onto his side, shoved his fingers into Peter's mouth, and thrust in again, holding his cock inside as deep as he could. Peter's legs began to jerk uncontrollably, and he squealed again, pitifully muffled through Nathan's fingers. "You gonna come?" Nathan taunted. He slid out halfway, then back in, so deep it went beyond pain into something else. Something strange and transformative for them both, something that could never be spoken aloud. Nathan knew how much it might hurt; he could see how Peter twitched and struggled for breath. And yet Peter didn't feel that he was in pain. It was a deeper, wilder form of pleasure. No one else could provide that but Nathan. "You gonna come, beautiful? Come for me. Come on, now. Come for me. Yeah."
He pulled out all the way, and eased Peter over onto his back, sliding his fingers back into Peter's mouth. He wrapped his other hand around Peter's cock again, jerking swift and silent along the hot, throbbing root of the shaft, spilling sticky fluid over his belly and groin. Peter made only the faintest, most tentative noises against Nathan's fingers. He had gotten ahold of himself.
Moaning faintly, Nathan licked the semen from Peter's skin. Swiftly he climbed over Peter's torso, straddled Peter's shoulders, and jerked off directly into Peter's mouth.
Peter happily, if grimacingly, swallowed Nathan's issue, coughing and choking a little on the sudden bitter tang of it. He didn't like the taste at all, and the faint trace of cheap lube made it worse, but he would do it again in a heartbeat. Yes, come for me, he thought. Come for me and I'll love it. He giggled and pulled Nathan down for a kiss, transferring the flavor between their tongues. Nathan drew back and groaned. "That's disgusting!" he hissed.
Peter just giggled some more. Nathan grinned at him, and kissed him again, kissed him more. They wrapped their arms around each other and hummed into each other's mouths, congratulating each other on another dare accomplished, another challenge met. Another ecstasy shared. More fun than anything else in the world.
The CD was over. They relaxed together on the floor in silence, listening to heartbeats and clocks ticking somewhere and the electrical current in the walls. Peter shifted his weight, gradually becoming aware of rug burns and jet lag and mild post-party indigestion. He really had had a lot to drink, and way too much cake. But hey, it was his birthday party, after all.
Peter kissed Nathan's ear and murmured, "Stay."
Nathan shook his head. "I just pray they're still asleep," he said. "I gotta make my getaway."
Reluctantly, gradually, they got up off the floor. Peter piled all his bedding back onto the bed and nestled into it. Nathan cleaned up with the washcloth and put his clothes back on under Peter's watchful, worshipful eye. His hair was even more tousled now. He petted Peter's hair and kissed him on the forehead.
"Sleep tight," he whispered. "Happy birthday."
Peter mouthed, Love you. Nathan answered him with a wink.
Silent as a panther, Nathan slipped out of the room, and Peter only had time for one last adoring sigh before he slipped away into sleep, promising himself that he'd listen to that CD again as soon as he woke up.
END (38)
A/N: I'm sure it's semi-obvious that I really, really love the Beta Band. I'm sorry if you hate them - always possible - but I hope you stuck with the story even if so. It's just there for a frame of chronological reference, but I do love "Dry the Rain" a whole lot so I threw in a little music geekery too. This is more my tribute to Milo with a yummy dark-caramel tan, and in white-neck t-shirts...truly a thing of beauty... I'd bite him too. Thanks for reading!
Author: mystery_sock
Pairing/Characters: Peter/Nathan, Angela
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none (pre-series)
Word Count: about 4800
Warnings: explicit sex, incest, alcohol use
Summary: A disappointing birthday party for Peter, a late-night secret visit from Nathan, and a (mostly successful) attempt to be quiet... Big ups to darkbloom for the prompt, and much love to fabrisse for the beta!
• Ritual Reader's Guide - all Ritual stories in chronological order •
Heroes is the property of NBC/Universal and Tailwinds Productions. Characters used without permission. No revenue is generated or accepted by the author of this story for its publication on the internet.
JULY 2000
Friday night was Peter's twentieth birthday party.
His actual birthday had been at the beginning of the week, while he was still out of town. Peter had just come back from three weeks touring the Ionian islands in Greece on a family friend's yacht with a bunch of other young people who Peter didn't know. The trip had been an early birthday present from his mother. Angela had planned the entire party while he was away, and didn't consult him on any aspect of the party itself, let alone whether or not he actually wanted one. She invited her own acquaintances, including their family members Peter's own age who she thought would be useful for Peter to know. Peter had friends already, but in general, Angela didn't think much of them; she considered them to be hippies, slackers, gangbangers, and sluts... which they kind of were, but there was more to them than that; a thoughtfulness, a sensitivity that distinguished them from their environments. They didn't have to be advantageous for Peter to be friends with them. He missed them after coming back from his trip, and he would have liked to see them at the party, but Angela had micromanaged the guest list, too. Sometimes Peter felt like his mother cared more about getting ahead than about being happy.
Peter quickly got bored listening to Ivy League freshman gossip involving people he didn't know and places he'd never been, and after a while standing around feeling useless, he gravitated toward his brother.
Nathan was standing by the punch bowl, holding court with an adoring circle of young women, telling his own Ivy League tales. Peter had heard all these stories before, and even though Nathan told them well, his voice making even the weakest story sound exciting, Peter wasn't in the mood. He snickered loudly at some embellishment in Nathan's story, making sure everyone could hear him.
All the girls turned and stared at Peter. He blinked innocently back at them. Nathan narrowed his eyes at him and gave an impatient sigh. "Hello, Peter," he said, his pleasant tone oddly sarcastic.
"Hello, Nathan," Peter replied in the same tone, but grinning. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Sure, Pete," Nathan said, sipping at his punch. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you for the CD," Peter said. "That was nice. I'm glad you remembered."
Something in the sound of his voice implied that he wanted to talk to Nathan alone, and all the girls in Nathan's audience slowly drifted away, back into the body of the party. Nathan watched them go with a strange expression, a combination of longing, lasciviousness, and disgust, flickering across his features. Peter stared at him, observing the tiny details, drinking in the sight of him. Nathan looked very handsome tonight, dressed down in a dark-purple polo shirt and tan slacks, his hair very slightly tousled. He had put on a little weight, filling out his clothes with firm, muscular, curved lines. His lips glistened from his sip of punch. "It's really good to see you. Feels like I haven't seen you for ages," Peter said.
"Well, it's been more than a month." Nathan's expression softened as he regarded Peter more closely than he had when he'd arrived, when he'd mostly been swept away and distracted by his mother. They hadn't yet had a chance to exchange the usual hug, and Peter felt the lack like a physical hunger. They could always hug now, but the moment didn't seem right. "You sure look well-rested. I don't think I've ever seen you so tan."
"Not much else to do on a boat but hang out in the sun," Peter said. "Swim and read and drink and eat and all that shit."
"What, did you hate it?" Nathan asked, raising his eyebrows.
"No, no, I had a nice time. It was a nice vacation, but I didn't need a vacation. I don't do anything."
"Sure you do, Pete. You go to school. And you're pre-law. That's not exactly a walk in the park."
Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, setting down his empty wine glass and grabbing full one off the table in the same smooth movement. Nathan looked askance at him. "It has been so far," Peter said. "It's been stupid, actually. I mean, I tried to get into my classes, but... I mean..." His voice trailed off as he realized that he didn't know what he meant. He had hoped that Greece would clear his mind and intentions, but they seemed to drift even further away, lulled by the gentle rocking of the yacht and the endless, baking blue sky, waiting and hoping that Nathan would call him. Nathan was in love with him, too - Peter knew that now - and he just wanted to hear his voice some more. Nothing else seemed to matter very much. "I think I just don't like school anymore."
"That's nonsense," Nathan replied. "School is just school. It doesn't matter whether or not you like it. It's what you do."
"Who says?"
"Uh..." Nathan said. "Dad says."
"Dad," Peter echoed, rolling his eyes, and scoffed.
Nathan narrowed his eyes again. "Dad's paying for you to live, in case you hadn't noticed. He certainly paid for this party."
"Yeah," Peter responded, still scoffing. "Whatever. This party is wack."
"It's what? 'Wack'? Whatever, Peter, you're not street. Cut it out. Get a little grateful."
"Whatever," Peter said again, a little chastened. Again, he just wasn't sure what he was getting at. The sight of Nathan made him feel all confused; he wanted to impress Nathan, but the quickest way to lose Nathan's respect was to try too hard. He wanted to tell Nathan everything, but really, there wasn't much to tell, and it wouldn't be interesting anyway. Peter wasn't sure what to do. He just wanted that hug. He thought it would be easy once he was actually around Nathan, but he'd never really thought about what it would be like to be mutually in love with someone, and not be able to show it in public. And to have that someone give a big-brother lecture which Peter so completely didn't feel like hearing.
"So..." Nathan said, seeming to note Peter's sudden paralyzing discomfort; he wandered away from the table. Peter followed, walking alongside him. "Did you meet any cool people on your trip?"
Peter shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "A couple. One of the women on the boat was nice."
That seemed to interest Nathan. He was always interested in Peter's interactions with girls. "Was she, now? What was she like?"
"Dutch," Peter said. "Smart. Not stuck up. We did some diving together. And we went into town together when we got to Corfu, and hit a couple of clubs." Peter broke into a grin, remembering.
"Did you get together?" Nathan asked casually.
Peter just smiled back. "Yeah, kind of," he said. "You know. We were drinking and dancing."
"Hm," Nathan said, not looking at Peter. "Were you safe?"
"We didn't really need to be. We didn't go all the way. We were, um, too drunk, you know. And then it was just kind of weird after that. It kind of wrecked our friendship. Sucked." Peter sighed. He had tried to forget about it; even the most pleasant part of the memory didn't make up for the fact that he'd lost a potential friend, and he wasn't entirely sure why.
"Hm," Nathan said again. He turned the corner into the kitchen, Peter following, and headed toward the little bathroom along the back corridor. Moving with startling speed, he grabbed Peter by the arm and shoved him inside, following close behind, and shutting the door.
In the semi-darkness, illuminated only by the filtered streetlight coming in through the upper window, Nathan held Peter still by the arms, his hands cupping and squeezing the muscles of Peter's chest, and attacked the back of his neck with rough, hasty, sucking bites and kisses. Peter gasped, startled and pleased, but still a bit uneasy. "Whoa! Jealous?" he murmured, laughing.
Nathan just bit him again. "Hm," he grunted. "God, you look so fucking beautiful tonight. Ahh. You change, but you don't change, do you?"
Peter pressed his shoulder blades against Nathan's chest, and caressed Nathan's forearms with his thumbs. "You better cut it out," he whispered warningly. "You're gonna give me a hickey. We can't do this right now."
Nathan took a deep breath, and released Peter's arms. Peter instantly regretted saying anything, but it had to be that way. If he suddenly returned to the party with bite marks and bruises, their mother would instantly demand an explanation; none of the well-bred young ladies she'd invited would maul her son that way. "Right," Nathan sighed reluctantly, and rubbed the faint marks he left on Peter's neck. "Sorry. I just had to bite you. You understand."
"I do," Peter said. "I totally do...You're beautiful too... I..." He let out his breath in a faint, desperate burst, and begged, "Kiss me on the mouth."
"I'd better not," Nathan said coolly.
He opened the bathroom door and left, then closed the door behind him again. Peter turned on the light and washed his hands, his mouth feeling empty, sticky and sour from the wine. He left the bathroom a safe minute or so after Nathan had gone, and went in search of a slice of cake and maybe some of what his father was drinking.
***
Shortly after his father headed for bed, Nathan left the party with a grandiose goodbye, more to his public at large than to Peter or his mother. He actually stood on a step of the staircase and waved his arms, making an apology for his early departure, claiming a long work-week. He was answered by a general murmur of regret from the party guests. Peter ditched the conversation he was having and went up to Nathan, arms held out. Nathan gave him a big, boisterous, impersonal hug. "See you later," he said, then turned to his mother and kissed her cheek.
Peter stared after him, frowning in frustration. That was it?
Fortunately, after Nathan was gone, things rapidly began to wind down. Guests meandered towards the door, giving Peter birthday wishes and Angela compliments on a splendid party. He stood beside his mother and repeated the same phrases of thanks and pleased-to-meet-you until they lost all meaning and became nothing but a jumble of sounds coming out of his mouth. Every time he thanked someone for coming, he hoped that Nathan would be behind the door as the guests left.
But as the last couple went out, Peter realized with sad resignation that Nathan had really left, and wasn't coming back. He trudged silent and sad after his mother, walking through the foyer and downstairs parlor. "Well, I think that went very well," Angela said cheerfully, not a hint of fatigue in her voice, although she'd been going like gangbusters since early that morning. "I really think the Stewarts liked you a lot. If you wanted to go visit them for a week before your classes start, I'm sure they wouldn't mind putting you up. Oh, Peter, why do you look like that?" She stopped halfway up the staircase, and rested her hand against his cheek. "You're not too drunk, are you?"
Peter laughed softly. "Oh, I'm not drunk," he said. "No, you're right, that was a good time. Thanks."
Angela looked into Peter's eyes and sighed. "Now, cheer up," she said. "We'll go shopping tomorrow, and we can pick you up some new clothes for school. I'm just so proud of you for sticking with it; your father and I both. We love you, Peter."
"Yes," Peter said, smiling, and taking his mother's hand. She smiled back at him. "I love you too. Thanks again, for everything. Sleep well."
"I certainly hope so," Angela said. "I could use it. Looks like you could too." They exchanged a quick kiss on the lips, and Peter hugged her, taking a deep breath, getting in touch with his better feelings. "Good night, dear."
Peter went to the hall bathroom, brushed his teeth and washed his face, then retreated to his bedroom. He was not sleepy, and though he had had several glasses of wine and a large shot of scotch, he was barely tipsy. He sat on the edge of his bed and slipped off his shoes, then took off the dark-gray linen sport jacket he'd been wearing over a plain white V-neck T-shirt. He sat and stared at his bookshelf, trying to decide what to read until he fell asleep.
On his desk, his new mobile phone buzzed, startling him. He picked it up. Nathan.
"Hey, Nate," Peter answered.
The voice that answered was low and husky. "Put some music on."
Peter laughed quietly. "What are you talking about?"
"Sorta quiet, but with a beat going on."
"How about that Beta Band CD you just got me? That sounds about right."
"Sure, that'll do, I suppose. I only know that song that was in the movie." He and Peter had seen High Fidelity together, and kissed for a long time in the car afterward.
"Yeah, okay. What for, though?"
Nathan just hung up.
Peter unwrapped the disk and put it into his small bedside stereo, turning the volume down to a normal speaking level. He sat back on the edge of the bed listening for a moment. The first song was the one he knew best - "Dry the Rain" - and he was transported into the music all over again. Something about how the song grew and developed and changed, and yet became so lyrically simple, reminded him of Nathan somehow... of that way that Nathan made him feel, of the way he wanted Nathan to feel around him. If there's something inside that you want to say, say it out loud, it'll be okay. I will be your light. I need love.
Before the song's final chorus bloomed, Peter's bedroom door opened silently - you had to know that to silence the creaky hinges, you had to lift up the door slightly by the knob - and Peter just stared in astonishment as Nathan slipped into the room. He closed the door behind him, just as soundlessly, holding his finger to his lips. Peter held out his arms like a giddy child, and Nathan walked up to him and tackled him down onto the bed.
It was chaos. Nathan clamped his mouth down onto Peter's, their teeth clicking half-painfully together and their tongues colliding in their haste to get them into the other's mouth. Their knees banged into each other, and Nathan elbowed Peter in the stomach as he tried to get his hand under Peter's T-shirt. Peter wrapped his left leg around Nathan's waist and grabbed his hair, trying to hold him still so Peter could kiss him properly; Nathan let Peter's body go and swiped at Peter's hand in his hair, dislodging his grip. He shoved with his hips against Peter's crotch, unzipping Peter's pants and fumbling his fingers inside.
The song changed to something incredibly quiet, barely there.
Peter squirmed, trying to rub against Nathan, but he had misjudged how forceful he had to be, and he actually half-threw Nathan off him. Nathan grunted impatiently and pinned Peter against the surface of the bed, grabbing Peter's cock and balls in one hand and holding Peter's neck down with the other, thrusting against him. Peter gasped out loud, the sound shocking in the quiet. Nathan whispered, "Sssh! Peter, sssh. They're right down the hall."
Peter held his breath for a moment, almost losing his arousal at the thought, but Nathan just went back to kissing and fondling him again. He stripped Peter's trousers off, taking Peter's underwear with them, then replaced his hand where it had been before, encircling penis and testicles, holding them all in his hand, pressing Peter's genitals all together, making them strain back against Nathan's hand. Nathan rubbed in circles, licking and sucking Peter's throat. When he took his hand away, Peter's cock was hard and when he put his hand back again, it didn't all fit in his grasp anymore. Peter bit his lip and reached for Nathan. He pulled Nathan's shirt off over his head, and ran his fingers across Nathan's shoulders, his chest with the pattern of hair that vaguely resembled a phoenix in flight. Nathan hastily unfastened his own trousers, and Peter used his toes to shove them down over Nathan's hips. When their groins touched again, it was skin on skin, flesh on flesh.
Together, they let out a heavy breath; together, they rocked against each other. "Are we gonna fuck?" Peter whispered, running his fingers over Nathan's bare ass, across to his balls, pulling Nathan in tight.
"Absolutely," Nathan responded. He knew how to mute his whispers, lisping across the sibilants: Abtholutely. Peter always found Nathan's lisp, whether deliberate or involuntary, amazingly sexy. Peter kissed him hungrily, sucking on his lower lip. Nathan thrust against him in time with the music, which was perfect...
Peter relaxed, taking some deep breaths. Nathan relaxed too, stroking Peter's torso underneath the shirt, peeling the shirt back to lick Peter's belly, then expose and caress a nipple. Peter quivered, half ticklish, then grabbed Nathan by the shoulders and flipped them over, Nathan on his back and Peter on top of him, between Nathan's thighs. The bedsprings creaked loudly. "Sssh!" Nathan reminded him.
The song changed again - quiet, mellow, and repetitive. Peter tongue-kissed Nathan, and suddenly the song had percussion. Peter wished they were already fucking, because he would have loved to take it - or give it - in the same tempo. He thrust against Nathan in time with the song, and Nathan breathed heavily, though silently, his head rolling back and forth against the bed. Peter grinned. "You like that?" Peter whispered.
"Yeah..." Nathan pushed Peter's shirt up into his armpits, and raised his head to trail his tongue across Peter's sternum. "You're delicious." He finally yanked the shirt off, dragging Peter even more fully on top of him, insinuating himself between Peter's legs, lifting his hips against him. His hardening cock pressed into Peter's buttock, his thigh, his balls, wanting to be inside.
"Are you gonna eat my butt?" Peter murmured, quivering with lust.
"Sure," said Nathan, grinning back. "I'd love to."
After a quick kiss, Peter confessed sadly, "I'm not that clean, though; I only took a shower after lunch. And it was kind of a hot day."
Nathan shook his head, still smiling. "Then you're out of luck," he said.
Peter sighed in frustration. Nathan had been licking him all over; surely, he wanted to continue? He suggested, "I could... run to the bathroom and wash up right quick. Would that be good enough?"
Nathan nodded and wet his lips with his tongue, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. "You're addicted," he whispered.
He had him. Peter wasn't the only one addicted. "You just stay here," Peter said, getting up and putting his robe on. Nathan sprawled out on the bed, handling himself, keeping himself stimulated. Peter tore himself away while he still could.
In the hallway, he gave an exaggerated yawn and padded barefoot towards the bathroom. His mother poked her head out of her room and glared at him, her face free of makeup, and her hair under a scarf. "Peter," she said with thinly veiled impatience.
Peter froze and stared at her, open-mouthed.
"I know it's your birthday week, but what are you thinking, playing music so late at night?" Angela asked.
Peter hesitated for a moment before answering, willing his heart to start beating again. "I just wanted to listen to this album once before I go to sleep," he replied, his voice admirably soft and steady. "I'm sorry, mom, I'll turn it down."
"Thank you. It's not loud, but I can hear it, and I can't quite help listening. It's keeping me from getting to sleep."
Peter grimaced. "Is Dad okay? Did I wake him?"
Angela answered, sighing, "He's still asleep. He can be a pretty heavy sleeper after he's been drinking."
"I'm sorry," Peter apologized again, "I just wasn't thinking." He felt guilt and love swelling in his chest. She really was trying so hard, trying to keep them all together and take care of them all, and she had other things in her life that were problematic besides him. He went to her and gave her another kiss. He couldn't quite tell if she believed him or not, but she only said good night again, and disappeared back into her room, shutting the door behind her.
In the bathroom, Peter trembled with relief, hastily scrubbing himself with a damp, slightly soapy washcloth. He wet a clean one and hastened back to his room, closing the world outside.
The reading lamp had been turned off. Nathan lay in the same spot, his eyes closed, almost appearing asleep. His eyes opened again, watching as Peter went to the stereo and turned the volume down more, then returned to the bed. Peter held his finger against his lips and smiled. They really did have to be quiet now...
He knelt on the floor at the far edge of the bed, away from the door, and Nathan scooted over to meet him. His erection bobbed out in front of him. Peter ran his hand along it, marveling at its stiffness and heat, wondering if he'd ever get sick of it, if he'd ever move beyond this fascination. He kissed Nathan's stomach, then pulled the cock between his lips, licking his way down the shaft until he enclosed it entirely within his mouth. Nathan clasped his hand around the back of Peter's head, nonverbally asking him to stay. Peter drew back and took a deep breath, then began to suck, bobbing his head, filling his mouth over and over again. The ambiently quiet music was now strange and mysterious, sampled voices and snippets of tunes that had already gone by. Peter wished he could hear Nathan moaning the way he would have if he could, but the absence of it made Peter suck harder. He wanted to break Nathan's composure and make him moan out loud. Yes, they had to be quiet, but he wanted...
Nathan's body quickly tensed, occasional muted, passionate sighing escaping his lips. "Cock-hungry," he whispered, holding Peter's head still. Peter shook his head a little, subtly breaking free. He refused to take Nathan's direction, wanting to suck the way he wanted, from tiny slurps at the tip of the glans to throat-challenging deep lunges, and everything in between. Sure, he wanted to fuck, but he also wanted this. Loved this. Dreamed about this. If that made him cock-hungry, so be it.
Eventually, Nathan stopped him, shoving Peter's face away, murmuring, "That's enough."
He gave Peter a hand up and drew him forward against the bed. They changed position, Peter with his knees on the floor and his arms spread across the bed, and Nathan behind him on the floor, rushing his hands down Peter's back to his ass, spreading the cheeks. Peter found that Nathan had drawn a pillow down close to him, and Peter made use of it too, biting it hard, muffling his groans into it. Nathan darted his tongue along the crack of Peter's ass, down against his anus, swirling around it, lapping at him. Lapping at his balls, lightly sucking their thin coating of hair-studded skin. Peter curled his toes. He wanted to scream.
Taking a momentary pause from his oral ministrations, Nathan squeezed and pinched Peter's buttocks. "Even your pretty little ass is all tan," he remarked, his barely audible words transmitted through Peter's skin. "I can just imagine it. Your gorgeous body all naked in the sun. I wish I could have been there. I'd have given you a real educational Greek vacation." Peter laughed out loud before he could stop himself. Nathan pinched the back of his thigh hard enough to really hurt. "Sssh-sssh!" Nathan reminded him.
"Fuck," Peter muttered. "Ow."
"Where's your lube?" Nathan asked.
"I'll have to go get it," Peter whispered. "I haven't unpacked it yet."
Nathan sighed impatiently. Peter stood up on shaky legs, and went to his closet where he had tossed his toiletry bag last night, much more interested in getting some sleep in his own bed than unpacking stuff he didn't need. He didn't know he'd need it so soon... He came back to bed with the tube, and handed it to Nathan. Nathan frowned at it, shaking his head in disapproval. Peter just shrugged in response, rolling his eyes, and reassumed his position against the side of the bed. Nathan wasted no time smearing a generous amount over Peter's moist asshole, following it inside Peter with his fingers. Peter bit the pillow some more, clenching down hard with his jaws. He was hungry for this, too. Addicted. Yes.
Nathan fingered him for a moment, working in the lubricant until it had become hot and slick from friction, then pulled Peter down onto the floor beside him. "You're gonna rock the bed," he explained. Peter jumped up again, grabbed some more pillows and blankets, and lay down a layer of padding on the floor for their knees. Nathan smiled and nodded in satisfaction. Peter smiled back, happy and proud of himself. He was getting there; figuring things out.
They were now completely hidden from sight from the bedroom door. Peter moved his torso down onto his arms stretched straight out, up on his knees, ass in the air, head down. It was a yoga pose, but it looked extremely slutty, submissive and eager all at the same time. He wished that Nathan could slap his ass, hard, the sound ringing through the air, hard enough almost to knock him over... it was amazing how the impossibility of something could increase its erotic significance, make him want something that he had never really wanted before.
Nathan filled Peter with his fingers again, adding fingers until Peter's breath hissed desperately through his teeth. Nathan wiped his hand on the clean, damp washcloth, moved his body up against Peter's, slid his lubed cock against Peter's lubed ass, then pressed himself inside, his other hand holding Peter's head down. Peter gasped out loud - so deep, so soon? Nathan didn't even bother to shush him this time; instead, he covered Peter's mouth with his hand, and shoved in deeper still. Peter squealed against Nathan's hand. Nathan muttered, "Sssh, they're gonna hear. You want that? You want them to come in here and see this happening to you? Get ahold of yourself." All the while, he fucked Peter harder.
Peter got dizzy, head down, and holding his breath, too. Nathan rubbed Peter's belly, soothing his inner muscles and keeping them relaxed, but the blood in his body couldn't decide if it wanted to rush to his head or to his cock. After a while, the wet, squishing sound of the fuck was almost louder than the murmuring music. Peter felt first extremely disoriented, then very calm. He idly wondered if he was fainting. He didn't care if so, as long as this didn't stop.
Nathan paused with a sigh. He pulled out, turned Peter over onto his side, shoved his fingers into Peter's mouth, and thrust in again, holding his cock inside as deep as he could. Peter's legs began to jerk uncontrollably, and he squealed again, pitifully muffled through Nathan's fingers. "You gonna come?" Nathan taunted. He slid out halfway, then back in, so deep it went beyond pain into something else. Something strange and transformative for them both, something that could never be spoken aloud. Nathan knew how much it might hurt; he could see how Peter twitched and struggled for breath. And yet Peter didn't feel that he was in pain. It was a deeper, wilder form of pleasure. No one else could provide that but Nathan. "You gonna come, beautiful? Come for me. Come on, now. Come for me. Yeah."
He pulled out all the way, and eased Peter over onto his back, sliding his fingers back into Peter's mouth. He wrapped his other hand around Peter's cock again, jerking swift and silent along the hot, throbbing root of the shaft, spilling sticky fluid over his belly and groin. Peter made only the faintest, most tentative noises against Nathan's fingers. He had gotten ahold of himself.
Moaning faintly, Nathan licked the semen from Peter's skin. Swiftly he climbed over Peter's torso, straddled Peter's shoulders, and jerked off directly into Peter's mouth.
Peter happily, if grimacingly, swallowed Nathan's issue, coughing and choking a little on the sudden bitter tang of it. He didn't like the taste at all, and the faint trace of cheap lube made it worse, but he would do it again in a heartbeat. Yes, come for me, he thought. Come for me and I'll love it. He giggled and pulled Nathan down for a kiss, transferring the flavor between their tongues. Nathan drew back and groaned. "That's disgusting!" he hissed.
Peter just giggled some more. Nathan grinned at him, and kissed him again, kissed him more. They wrapped their arms around each other and hummed into each other's mouths, congratulating each other on another dare accomplished, another challenge met. Another ecstasy shared. More fun than anything else in the world.
The CD was over. They relaxed together on the floor in silence, listening to heartbeats and clocks ticking somewhere and the electrical current in the walls. Peter shifted his weight, gradually becoming aware of rug burns and jet lag and mild post-party indigestion. He really had had a lot to drink, and way too much cake. But hey, it was his birthday party, after all.
Peter kissed Nathan's ear and murmured, "Stay."
Nathan shook his head. "I just pray they're still asleep," he said. "I gotta make my getaway."
Reluctantly, gradually, they got up off the floor. Peter piled all his bedding back onto the bed and nestled into it. Nathan cleaned up with the washcloth and put his clothes back on under Peter's watchful, worshipful eye. His hair was even more tousled now. He petted Peter's hair and kissed him on the forehead.
"Sleep tight," he whispered. "Happy birthday."
Peter mouthed, Love you. Nathan answered him with a wink.
Silent as a panther, Nathan slipped out of the room, and Peter only had time for one last adoring sigh before he slipped away into sleep, promising himself that he'd listen to that CD again as soon as he woke up.
END (38)
A/N: I'm sure it's semi-obvious that I really, really love the Beta Band. I'm sorry if you hate them - always possible - but I hope you stuck with the story even if so. It's just there for a frame of chronological reference, but I do love "Dry the Rain" a whole lot so I threw in a little music geekery too. This is more my tribute to Milo with a yummy dark-caramel tan, and in white-neck t-shirts...truly a thing of beauty... I'd bite him too. Thanks for reading!