fic: Ritual (53): A Smell Like New Houses
Yeah! Totally! I know! :D
Title: Ritual (53): A Smell Like New Houses
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Warnings: see pairing, rating, and summary.
Word Count: 5400
Summary: They are still getting to know each other: what the other feels, what he says, what he really means. Fortunately, they have the house to themselves. Detailed, character-oriented, absolute smut.
• Ritual Readers' Guide •
Heroes and associated characters belong to Tim Kring, Tailwinds Productions, and NBC/Universal, not to me.
FEBRUARY 2000
Nathan called, just at the moment when Peter had decided to ditch class for the afternoon. "Hey," Peter answered.
"Hey," Nathan said. He spoke with that tone of voice... that silky, naughty, curious tone of voice. It made Peter laugh that he recognized it now. It wasn't right, they shouldn't be like this. But, oh, how it made him feel warm and graceful around the hips. It made his whole world different. "How ya doin'?"
"Good, good," Peter replied, still laughing a little.
"Doin' all right with Dad and Ma out of town?"
"Yeah," said Peter. "It's been mellow the last couple of days. It's nice to be away from them for a change. They took the cook with them, though, so I've been living on pizza since the weekend. And I just ate the last piece this morning."
"That means I should probably come over and make sure you get a proper meal," Nathan responded.
The sound of his voice made Peter lightheaded, and he leaned against the nearest wall with his shoulder, bowing his head, curling around his private conversation. "Yeah, you should," he said. He'd spent the last three nights wondering if he should call Nathan and ask him to come by and keep him company, and deciding, over and over again, to leave him alone; that Nathan would contact him if he wanted to get together. Peter didn't want to rush things. Except that he did. "Are you gonna cook for me?"
"No," Nathan replied, as if he couldn't believe that Peter would ever suggest such a thing. They both laughed, and Nathan added, "I'll bring something over."
"Thank you," Peter said sincerely. "It'll be nice to see you."
"Likewise," came the husky voice over the phone. "See you at seven."
Peter clicked the connection closed, and kept walking, smiling so hard he thought his face would split in half. He's in love with me, he thought. He said so. He admitted it. And tonight, he's coming over to see me.
Overflowing with energy, he went to a gym that had a climbing wall that he'd always wanted to try. It was great fun, pulling himself up the wall like Spider-man, but by the time his two-hour slot had ended, he realized that he'd gone way overboard. His belly muscles felt raw, and his thighs quivered so unsteadily that he caught a taxi back uptown to the house rather than taking the subway.
He got home at 6:30, when the Metro would have bypassed the impossibly dense traffic between Union Square and the Upper East Side and gotten him home forty-five minutes earlier. Still, he didn't mind his choice; he felt positively weak as he went into the house and tugged off his wet coat and shoes. He ached all over; even his fingers were stiff.
He hadn't thought to take a hot soak before coming home. He decided that he should have a quick one, now, before Nathan got there. He wanted to be energetic and attentive and ready for anything. He started running hot water from the tap in the bathtub in the hall bathroom, filling the room with steam and liquid noise.
At ten to seven, Nathan arrived at the house, calling out, "Pete? You here?" Peter was still in the bathroom, and didn't hear. "Pete!" Nathan shouted. When there was still no response, he went to the kitchen to set down the food, and went toward the stairs.
Peter came out of the bathroom, startled at the sight of his brother coming up toward him. "Oh! Hi! You're early!"
Nathan just smirked at him. "Running yourself a bath? Right now?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah, I was just gonna... I was climbing on the wall this afternoon and I'm like..." Peter kept losing his train of thought, watching Nathan's approach, seeing how Nathan never took his eyes off him. "Dirty, and stinky, and..." Peter was distracted by the fact that he could feel the blood coursing through his wrists, through his legs, all over his body, but especially-all of a sudden-there, between his legs. "I'm sore," Peter finished.
"You're not hungry?" asked Nathan, raising his eyebrows.
"Not yet," said Peter. Nathan was now close enough to touch, and he stopped there, still staring at Peter, fascinated, patient. Peter couldn't handle the closeness; he lowered his eyes. "I'm like, really sore."
"You mentioned that," Nathan replied, amusement in his voice. "Well, if you want to take a bath, go ahead. I can wait for you."
"Yeah, um. Okay." Peter tried to move past him, but couldn't without touching him; his arm brushed against Nathan's chest, and he couldn't help putting out his hand to touch the warm, firm shirt front, letting Nathan's tie slide through his fingers. Nathan raised his hand and stroked Peter's hair away from his forehead. He still couldn't meet Nathan's eyes; his heart beat so fast that he felt panicky. "I'm gonna... go... get undressed..." Peter mumbled.
"You do that," Nathan replied softly. Peter briefly glanced up at him, hastily looking away again, and Nathan let Peter's forelock go, draping it gentlly across his eyebrows. "You are..." he said, "just... dangerously cute."
A silly, embarrassed smile spread across Peter's face. "Rawr," he said, raising his hands into threatening claws. "Look out, or I'll cute you to death."
Do me right here, in the hallway. Please.
"What a way to go," Nathan said, stepping aside, out of the way. He walked back toward the stairs, shedding his suit jacket, loosening his tie. Peter shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and went to his room. He wondered why Nathan hadn't just grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall and ripped off Peter's clothes himself.
Nothing had happened between them since Christmas, even though Peter felt like there had been plenty of chances. He could have always gone to Nathan's apartment some evening or weekend afternoon, but Nathan never asked, and Peter was still afraid to bring it up. No matter how they felt, this still shouldn't be happening.
Maybe it wasn't. Nathan hadn't directly said anything. Maybe this was just supper. He would let Nathan call the shots tonight, but resolved to keep it up with the "dangerously cute", just in case.
Shoes. Unzip the jeans. Pull off the jeans... and... "Ouch," Peter winced. It hurt to move even slightly. When he pulled off his sweatshirt, a slicing pain went through his shoulder blades, and he whimpered, squinting through the agony. He reminded himself that it was worth it, and shed his underwear and T-shirt and socks, gingerly pulling on his bathrobe. The hallway was deserted when he headed back to the bathroom; he could hear Nathan moving around in the kitchen. Peter sighed. It was time for his bath.
Before he could lower himself into the bathtub, Nathan appeared at the bathroom door, his shirt sleeves rolled up, collar open. Peter blinked at him. "Hello," he said casually.
Nathan held a bottle of scotch and a glass. He came into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. "Want some?" he asked, glancing up as he poured himself a shot. He was casual, too.
"Yeah, give me a minute..." Peter stepped into the tub, hissing at how hot it was. "Ow. Ow." He settled himself in, complaining the whole way, lifting one lobster-red foot out. "Okay, this is too hot..."
"You'll get used to it." Nathan sat on the toilet seat, crossing his legs, watching, lifting his glass to his lips for a sip. Peter rested his behind on the bottom of the tub, willing himself to relax. "You're pretty resilient, I've found."
"Oh, yeah, ha ha..." Peter leaned back into the water. The water really wasn't too hot to stand; it was just a challenge. "Climbing is fun."
"Yeah, I like it okay," Nathan said noncommittally. His eyes traveled openly and shamelessly over Peter's bare body, sweeping back and forth, up and down, from Peter's bright-pink toes to his face and then back again. As the moment stretched on, Peter fought off the urge to put his hands over his junk, instead balling the hands into fists at his sides, then raising them to his belly. "I brought Thai," Nathan added.
"Oh, good," Peter murmured. "No meat. I hope you remembered." The pain seemed like a faraway dream now, leaching out of him into the water. He clenched his fists, one after the other, sending little fountains of water into the air. Jets; squirts. He laughed quietly to himself, raising his eyes to Nathan's. Nathan was still staring, but his eyes were unfocused now, as though he were lost in thought. Peter felt a warm shiver of enjoyment travel over his body. "Mmm...? Drink now?"
"Of course," said Nathan. He lowered himself down onto the bath mat next to the tub, taking a solid slug from the glass. As Peter watched him curiously, Nathan leaned over toward him, and taking Peter's cheek in one hand, pressed their lips together, nudging Peter's mouth open with a liquor-flamed tongue. Peter opened his mouth, and Nathan released his mouthful of whiskey, flooding Peter's palate with it.
Peter accepted the transfer, holding his breath and pushing his tongue against the back of his mouth, so that he'd catch the liquor in his mouth without it going straight down his throat. Keeping himself from coughing was the hardest thing he'd done all day. He drew back from Nathan only long enough to swallow, keeping their lips pressed together, and once the scotch was in his belly, he opened his mouth again.
Peter loved the way Nathan kissed. He was so aggressive at times, but always letting up, softening, breaking into smaller, sharper pecks that then lengthened themselves again, and went back to explorations of mouth and tongue. Peter always had to break away first, gasping for breath; and now the heat of the tub and the fire of the scotch in his belly mounted until he could hardly breathe. He let the kiss go, slumping down in the water luxuriously. "Mmm..." he sighed, smiling blissfully.
"Mmm," Nathan agreed, letting one arm trail in the bathwater, his fingers sending currents against Peter's body, but not touching him. "Do you need anything?" he asked.
"I should wash," Peter replied. "Grab me a new shower gel, would you? I just ran out last night."
Nathan got up again, went to the cupboard, and got a bottle, taking the opportunity to pour and drink another finger of scotch. He sat down next to Peter again. He poured some gel into his hand and sniffed it, then worked the puddle into lather between his palms. The soap smelled great-woodsy and peaty, with a sharp overtone. He rubbed the lather across Peter's shoulders. "Hey, that's not bad," Peter said. "Is that cedar?"
"And ginger. I like it," Nathan agreed. "Reminds me of me."
"Yeah, except that you are bad." Peter chuckled, feeling drunk already. He swiped up some of the lather and rubbed it into his arms and armpits.
Nathan just kept the same slight smile on his face, firmly rubbing the soap into Peter's shoulders, moving his hands down across his chest. "Mmm-hmm," he assented. "How's it feel?"
"Good," Peter replied, catching Nathan's fingers with his, and letting them slide away again. "You know... creamy." Nathan laughed softly, shakily, at that, and Peter knew at that moment that he had him. He sat up, grabbed the bottle, poured more soap into his palm, lathered it up, and stroked a generous line over his cheek, letting it drip off.
"Oh, Good Lord, Peter," Nathan laughed. Peter grinned back, and ran the excess of the suds through his hair. "Oh, Pete, don't wash your hair with that stuff. That's not shampoo."
"I don't care," Peter scoffed, splashing water onto his face and scrubbing his scalp with his fingernails. "My hair's greasy. This is soap. It'll do."
"You're lucky you have such great hair." Nathan indicated his head with his glass. "You should treat it with kindness."
"Oh, whatever," Peter drawled. "What do you know about kindness?"
Nathan put his hand back into the water, reaching without hesitation between Peter's legs, running his fingers along Peter's penis. Peter stared at him, watching as the look of determination gave way to disappointment. "Huh," Nathan said, taking his hand back.
"Not hard enough for you?" Peter guessed.
"No," Nathan said.
"You're so weird."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm just very particular."
"I could make it that way," Peter offered. "The way you like it."
Nathan smiled. "Rinse your hair," he said.
"Okay, okay..." Peter submerged his head completely, rinsing off, and popped back up to the surface, combing his wet hair back from his forehead. He was splashing Nathan a little, but Nathan didn't seem to mind. "Better?"
"This smells good," Nathan mused, eyes closed. "Like new lumber. Like... walking into the framework of a new house when it's still being built. Seeing... the skeleton of it. But seeing what it can become."
Peter laughed faintly. "That's kinda poetic for you," he said.
Nathan's mouth quirked, not quite smiling. "Sometimes you bring that out in me."
"Yeah?" Peter shifted in the water, relaxing back. He took Nathan's hand and guided it back to his cock, stroking it back and forth, not demanding that Nathan make contact, but only brush close to him, pushing currents of water against his skin. He was getting hard. He would be there soon. He wanted another kiss.
He took his cock into his own hand, and rubbed it firmly, willing all the blood in his body to pool itself there, to fill him up and make him grow. Make him rigid, so Nathan would touch. He lifted his chin, parting his lips, and Nathan did kiss him again, unfurling his tongue into Peter's mouth, sucking the breath out of him. Peter grabbed Nathan's finger with a crooked pinky, and drew his hand down, making contact at last. The touch was delicious, and his breath shook into Nathan's mouth.
Nathan grasped Peter's cock with his fingers, and drew the skin tight, then let it slacken again. Once again, and again. He dropped kisses against Peter's open lips. Peter arched his hips toward him, his nipples, exposed to the air over the water line, tightening almost painfully.
"This is sex," Nathan whispered.
Peter nodded thoughtlessly.
"We shouldn't."
Peter shook his head.
"You want me to stop?"
Peter shook his head more firmly, and opened his eyes. Nathan's cheek was very near, the unscarred side of his face, all noble lines and lush eyelashes. He longed to kiss his brother's face, but to do so, he'd have to rise out of the tub. And he wasn't quite ready to do that yet. He relaxed again, letting his head rest against the curved lip of the bathtub, intoxicated by the smell of the shower gel and the faint suggestion of whiskey on Nathan's breath. "Please don't," he replied.
"You want more?" Nathan guessed.
"Yes," Peter sighed in response.
Nathan slid his hand between Peter's thighs, kissing Peter on his wet temple. "Why?" he whispered, fingers gripping the sensitive flesh where Peter's thigh became his ass, the tender skin of his groin. "Why would you want something like that? How can you stand it?" He brushed his lips across Peter's eyebrow. "How can you let me do this to you?"
"I've always wanted..." Peter murmured. He shifted himself against the bottom of the tub, spreading his legs as much as he could, raising one knee above the surface of the water. "Do it to me," he said, "do whatever you want to me. I want it. I want it; I dream about it. Don't worry. Just..." His breath caught in his throat.
"Tell me what a dirty boy you are," Nathan whispered.
Peter wondered if Nathan could feel him rolling his eyes. Yes, this was so hot, but a part of him wanted to laugh at Nathan's need to bring roleplay into this, like he couldn't allow himself to have this if he was looking right at it, engaging in it as himself; he had to make it fancy. Dress it up. And yet, it so worked for Peter. Peter could appreciate it; he could get into it. He wanted to be what Nathan wanted. "I'm a dirty boy," Peter said softly. "I need you to get me clean."
That made Nathan laugh. "That's not what I'm going to do," he replied. His fingers rubbed firmly against Peter's anus, scrubbing him. The tip of his finger poked inside. "I like you better dirty."
Peter laughed, too. This was just getting silly. "Lie," he said. His words were interrupted by a groan; Nathan's fingers just kept going. "Ohhh... ohhh..."
"Mmm-hmm," Nathan agreed.
"I want more..."
"Of course you do."
"Because I'm a dirty boy?" Peter guessed.
Nathan smirked, and took his hand back. Peter figured he guessed wrong, and made a mental note not to tease Nathan in situations like this. It was all too easy for Nathan to draw away, to look at things from a sensible, sane perspective. And this wasn't sane; not at all. "I'm going to go eat," Nathan said, standing up.
"No, I'm sorry," Peter begged, sitting up, water sloshing over the lip of the tub. "I didn't..." He broke off with a sigh. "Please come back," he concluded, deathly serious, eyes wide and imploring. "I'm sorry; I'll be good."
Nathan paused, his hand on the doorknob, looking at Peter from the corner of his eye. Peter dropped his gaze, washed between his toes, and pulled the drain plug. "I swear," Peter whispered. He was done playing, for the moment. His cock ached and throbbed; he wanted this too much to let it slip away. A moment ago, they'd been kissing. He wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to give of himself, and take what he could. "I'm done. Come to bed with me? Please?"
"All right," Nathan assented, quiet, thoughtful.
Peter stood up, water cascading from his naked skin; Nathan still didn't look at him. Peter sighed; he was going to have to draw him out again. He grabbed a towel and scrubbed it quickly against his skin, mashing it against his hair. Nathan's voice was so quiet that Peter almost missed it. "Don't dry your hair like that. Do it gently. You're not a savage."
"I am, a little bit," Peter replied, turning his back.
Nathan grasped Peter's shoulders from behind, and with the towel still wrapped around him, firmly kissed and bit and sucked the side of Peter's neck. Peter let the towel drop onto the ground, and moved backward into Nathan's arms, his breath emerging in a faint moan. "You want me; you know you want me," he whispered. He grabbed Nathan's hands and drew them forward, together over his belly, pushing both hands down to where his cock bobbed, stiff and ungainly against the lowest part of his belly, where the translucent fuzz on his stomach thickened suddenly into glossy, wiry pubic hairs. Peter rubbed the backs of Nathan's hands against that area, that gradient, where he shaded from boy to man. "You know you want this. Take it. Please."
Nathan drew his hands back, smoothing them over Peter's pelvic bones, cupping his ass, gripping through the skin into the muscle. Peter twitched involuntarily, and Nathan gave a complex sigh. Before he could think too much about it, Peter craned his neck around, awkwardly planting a kiss on Nathan's jaw, and in answer, Nathan squeezed his ass harder. "Yes," Peter prompted.
"Yes," Nathan replied tightly.
"Let me feel it," said Peter. He pressed himself back against Nathan, seeking out Nathan's manhood with his buttocks. It was growing; hard, but not entirely so. "Come on," Peter said, rubbing back against him a bit more before turning around, pulling Nathan by the hand. He turned the doorknob and opened the door, stepping out into the hall, not letting Nathan go for a second. "Come on." He led Nathan to his bedroom, walking naked through the hallway now, naked and leading his lover, his brother, by the hand, past caring; this was theirs. This was where they lived, the place where no one could understand but the two of them. And the quiet sanctum of Peter's bedroom, with the old movie posters on the walls and the bed that Peter never bothered to make, brought back so many lustful memories, some private, some shared. So many nights there alone, jerking off, thinking about Nathan and hating himself for it; so many nights there with Nathan, cuddled together like puppies, or lying beside each other, gazing at each other, touching, kissing. Feeling so weird about it, but unable to let it go, or stop it from happening again.
Once they were inside, and the door closed, Peter kissed his way down Nathan's chest, unbuttoning the shirt as he went, lowering himself gradually down onto the floor. He impatiently unfastened Nathan's belt and the waist of his trousers, roughly pulling them down, pulling down the underpants. Hopelessly expensive, luxuriously soft, slate-gray knitted silk boxer-briefs, still smelling like they were brand-new. Peter fought off the urge to laugh at how much Nathan spoiled himself-wearing those shorts was practically an erotic experience unto itself-and grasped the head of Nathan's cock with his lips. He slowly nibbled his way down until he had as much as would fit inside his mouth, and then he sucked, gently pressing the moist skin against his palate and teeth. Nathan sighed encouragingly, cupping his hand around the curved base of Peter's skull. Peter stroked the outside of Nathan's thighs, then the inside, taking a break from the cock for a moment to kiss the scars on Nathan's legs.
"Oh," Nathan moaned, drawing in his breath with a long hiss. "That's nice, but I want to fuck. I want to feel the inside of you."
Peter wanted to do exactly what he was doing, and thus didn't respond until he felt Nathan's fingers stroke down below his chin, and then tighten just below his jaw, holding his larynx still. Peter lifted his head and opened his mouth, and Nathan let go, gazing down at him with a vague, unreadable frown. "Okay," Peter assented, "okay."
He stood up, and, taking advantage of the moment, pushed Nathan down against the bed. Nathan reacted instantly, though, resisting the shove, and instead grabbing Peter by the upper arms and twisting him down in his place. It was a brilliant move, and Peter laughed delightedly as he fell; he might have been able to catch himself with his hand, but Nathan didn't give him the chance, keeping Peter's arms against his sides. Nathan's eyes were bright; he liked this, knocking Peter over, holding him down onto the surface of the bed, while Peter put up a game struggle.
"This is sex," Peter whispered, spreading his legs, clutching Nathan's waist between them and arching his body up. If they were really wrestling, it was the set up for a full-body throw, but right now it just rammed his rock-hard dick against Nathan's torso, balls-to-belly button. It felt good to rub against something. "This is sex. Oh, yeah."
Nathan kissed Peter's mouth, hard, his fingers slackening their grip on Peter's arms. "Do you have lube?" he asked, squeezing Peter's nipples, taking Peter's hips in hands and turning-yes, nearly the response to the full-body throw, but instead he was sitting up, Peter on top of him, spread across his lap.
Peter felt deliciously dizzy. "Yeah," he said, kissing back, mussing Nathan's hair with his fingers. He didn't want to break the embrace, but he had to keep the momentum going, and it only took a few seconds for him to get up and get the nearly-full bottle out of his bottom drawer. He lay back onto the bed, stroking his own nipples. Relaxed; energized; ready for anything.
Nathan held the bottle up for his inspection. "This is not particularly good," he said. "You've got to start buying a better brand."
"I bought it a long time ago," Peter explained, hand on his dick now, stroking dry. "I didn't know..." He didn't want to go into the circumstances. They were too depressing for right now. That girl? His plans for that girl? The horrific failure of the last week of high school? No. "I know better now."
"I'm going to have to use all of this," Nathan warned.
"Go ahead," Peter replied. "Please."
"Turn over."
Peter rolled over on his churned-up sheets, sighing as he realized that he was going to have to change them when he was done, and that he needed to change the sheets, anyway. His mother would be horrified that he'd slept on the same sheets for three nights. He pulled a pillow close to his face, burying his nose in it; she would be horrified, wouldn't she? If she could see this? Her boys, like this?
That thought turned him on.
Nathan's slickened finger poked him, slid inside, probing, testing his reactions. Peter lay as still as he could, sighing into the pillow. "More," he asked, when it felt like time. Nathan added a second finger, and more pressure, and Peter found that he couldn't lie quietly anymore, grunting with each slight thrust. "Oh. Oh, fuck."
"You like that?"
"Mmmmm... hmmm... yes."
"Yeah," said Nathan softly. "How can you like this? How can you let me do this to you?"
"I don't know," Peter moaned. "It's so wrong but it feels so good."
That was right. That was what he wanted to hear. Nathan thrust harder, twisting his fingers around inside Peter. Peter gulped back a really loud, animal moan. It wasn't time yet... "You're a little deviant, aren't you?" Nathan said, a faint sneer in his voice. Peter's toes curled. That was what was wrong-that it got him so hot to be talked to like that. But that, too, was true, and he might as well not feel bad about it. No way could he feel bad, with this glorious feeling happening. "You're a fucking slut, aren't you?"
"Y-yeah... yeah... you're right... ohh, fuck. Oh, my God." Peter whined like a hungry dog, arching his hips back, rising up on his knees, demanding more. "Please? Please?"
"Yeah? Yeah, I think I know what you need." With one last caress of Peter's prostate, Nathan withdrew his lube-slicked fingers, rested the damp, chilly hand on Peter's hip, took the other hip in the other hand. Peter gasped for breath, almost hyperventilating in his eagerness, wanting so much for it to happen...
At the first moment of penetration, they moaned together, a single expression of pleasure. Peter kept his head down and his ass in the air, breath coming in quick pants, punctuated by desperate groans, batting at his cock with his hands, since he couldn't quite grab himself at this angle. Nathan pressed himself inward, slow and undemanding. It was too much for Peter to stand. "Fuck me!" he burst out. "Come on-oh, please!"
"Be patient," Nathan replied. "I've got plans for you. Relax; get nice and loose. You'll need it."
Peter could only giggle nervously at that. "You're scaring me."
"You should be scared," Nathan said quietly. "I don't think you've done this before."
Before Peter could break and demand that Nathan explain himself, Nathan withdrew himself, and sat on the edge of the bed, applying more lubrication to his penis. Peter made a faint complaining sound in his throat, and slid over to him, following, unwilling to stop touching him for a moment. "What do you mean?" he whined.
"Sit in my lap. Like this." Nathan pulled Peter over, positioning him in a straddle across Nathan's thighs, his ass pointing toward Nathan's stomach. "Yeah," Nathan said, grasping Peter's buttocks, spreading them, positioning him, cockhead to asshole. Peter bit his lip; Nathan was right. This was new to him. He'd always wanted to-with a girl-
Nathan pulled Peter down against him, over him, his rigid cock spearing right into Peter's interior. Peter let out a low howl, and tried to jerk away. Nathan, holding tight, wouldn't let him. "Didn't I tell you to relax?" he said. He held Peter still, his hands playing across Peter's erection, grasping it, jerking it lightly with his slick fingers. Peter calmed himself, relaxed, tried to let the tension drain out of him the way it had done in the bathtub. Nathan was kissing him, tenderly and gently, on the back of the neck. "Yeah, ssssh. Easy. It's okay. You can take this. I know you can."
"It hurts." Peter felt it was okay to confess. Little voice; scared little-boy voice. He knew it would get Nathan, strike him to his heart. That was sex. That was wrong; so beautifully, gorgeously wrong.
And deliciously, Nathan offered no sympathy. Yes. "Ignore it. It'll go away soon enough. It feels good, too, though, huh?" Nathan caressed Peter's belly, and went back to masturbating him. Peter's toes curled again, this time from sheer pleasure. "Yes. Right? Easy. Tell me when you're ready. And don't rush it. 'Cos... I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you."
"Oh... ah... ah... I'm gonna come..."
"I don't care. If you have to pop off, do so. But it's not gonna make me stop. So I hope you can take it." Nathan's gentle neck kisses had become sharp bites so gradually that Peter forgot to flinch, and his fingers on Peter's cock had gotten rougher, too; rougher and faster. Peter could look down and see how red and swollen his cock was, how much seminal fluid had welled up on its head; he reached down and swiped some up, holding it over his shoulder for Nathan to taste.
Nathan sucked the fingers clean, and took Peter's pelvis in his hand again, raising Peter off just slightly. Even that slight cessation of internal pressure gave Peter enormous relief, and he got the giggles, thinking of a psychophysiological basis for the pleasures of anal sex, and wondering how in the world he could get away with writing a paper about it.
The giggles didn't last long. Taking a deep breath, Nathan held Peter's hips steady, and balancing himself on the edge of the bed, he began to thrust, quick and fast, deep inside Peter's ass.
Peter let out a strangled scream. "No way!" he yelled, more shocked than anything else. "Ah-" But Nathan didn't listen; he kept up his steady, stabbing rhythm, breathing on every fourth thrust, moaning with every second breath. Peter got dizzy, balanced on the sides of his feet, pressed against the floor, arms all tangled up with Nathan's. He couldn't stop crying out long enough to catch his breath. "I'll be good-I'll be good-I'll be good-" he begged, unable to come up with anything else to say; the meaningless phrase becoming a mantra that kept him tethered to earth. Orgasm crackled across his nerves like static electricity, and semen spurted over his hands in a cool, sticky stream.
Nathan released Peter's hips, holding himself in as deep as he could go, then relaxing, drawing back, giving Peter a break; and when Peter bounced back against him, unwilling to set himself free, still wanting more even after that, it was enough for him. Nathan pushed Peter off him, forward, onto all fours on the floor, and followed him down, rubbing his freed cock against the divide between Peter's buttocks, saying nothing as he showered Peter's back and ass cheeks with come. He slid back inside, too, and then out again, savoring all the possible sensations, and Peter moaned for him.
They collapsed together onto the floor.
"Dirty," Peter whispered, laughing, rubbing his own come into his sore, still-hard cock. "See?"
Nathan did see, and bent over him, taking Peter's cock into his mouth, sucking and licking it off, smudging come across his lips, drawing the rest of it out of Peter, massaging the glans with his tongue. Peter lay still, one arm thrown over his face, legs open, offering himself, his guts aching. Yes, this. This was what he wanted.
Once Peter was utterly spent, his cock softening again, Nathan was done. He lifted his head, resting his chin on Peter's lower belly, smiling at him, his eyes shining. "You need a bath," he said.
Peter laughed through his grin. "So do you," he said.
Nathan kissed and nuzzled Peter's stomach. "I'm starving. Are you hungry yet?"
"Yeah," Peter answered, smiling back. "Yeah, finally."
END (53)
A/N: I have the feeling that I should continue this. They've got all evening... ;) Thanks for reading: I appreciate it!
Title: Ritual (53): A Smell Like New Houses
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none
Warnings: see pairing, rating, and summary.
Word Count: 5400
Summary: They are still getting to know each other: what the other feels, what he says, what he really means. Fortunately, they have the house to themselves. Detailed, character-oriented, absolute smut.
• Ritual Readers' Guide •
Heroes and associated characters belong to Tim Kring, Tailwinds Productions, and NBC/Universal, not to me.
FEBRUARY 2000
Nathan called, just at the moment when Peter had decided to ditch class for the afternoon. "Hey," Peter answered.
"Hey," Nathan said. He spoke with that tone of voice... that silky, naughty, curious tone of voice. It made Peter laugh that he recognized it now. It wasn't right, they shouldn't be like this. But, oh, how it made him feel warm and graceful around the hips. It made his whole world different. "How ya doin'?"
"Good, good," Peter replied, still laughing a little.
"Doin' all right with Dad and Ma out of town?"
"Yeah," said Peter. "It's been mellow the last couple of days. It's nice to be away from them for a change. They took the cook with them, though, so I've been living on pizza since the weekend. And I just ate the last piece this morning."
"That means I should probably come over and make sure you get a proper meal," Nathan responded.
The sound of his voice made Peter lightheaded, and he leaned against the nearest wall with his shoulder, bowing his head, curling around his private conversation. "Yeah, you should," he said. He'd spent the last three nights wondering if he should call Nathan and ask him to come by and keep him company, and deciding, over and over again, to leave him alone; that Nathan would contact him if he wanted to get together. Peter didn't want to rush things. Except that he did. "Are you gonna cook for me?"
"No," Nathan replied, as if he couldn't believe that Peter would ever suggest such a thing. They both laughed, and Nathan added, "I'll bring something over."
"Thank you," Peter said sincerely. "It'll be nice to see you."
"Likewise," came the husky voice over the phone. "See you at seven."
Peter clicked the connection closed, and kept walking, smiling so hard he thought his face would split in half. He's in love with me, he thought. He said so. He admitted it. And tonight, he's coming over to see me.
Overflowing with energy, he went to a gym that had a climbing wall that he'd always wanted to try. It was great fun, pulling himself up the wall like Spider-man, but by the time his two-hour slot had ended, he realized that he'd gone way overboard. His belly muscles felt raw, and his thighs quivered so unsteadily that he caught a taxi back uptown to the house rather than taking the subway.
He got home at 6:30, when the Metro would have bypassed the impossibly dense traffic between Union Square and the Upper East Side and gotten him home forty-five minutes earlier. Still, he didn't mind his choice; he felt positively weak as he went into the house and tugged off his wet coat and shoes. He ached all over; even his fingers were stiff.
He hadn't thought to take a hot soak before coming home. He decided that he should have a quick one, now, before Nathan got there. He wanted to be energetic and attentive and ready for anything. He started running hot water from the tap in the bathtub in the hall bathroom, filling the room with steam and liquid noise.
At ten to seven, Nathan arrived at the house, calling out, "Pete? You here?" Peter was still in the bathroom, and didn't hear. "Pete!" Nathan shouted. When there was still no response, he went to the kitchen to set down the food, and went toward the stairs.
Peter came out of the bathroom, startled at the sight of his brother coming up toward him. "Oh! Hi! You're early!"
Nathan just smirked at him. "Running yourself a bath? Right now?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah, I was just gonna... I was climbing on the wall this afternoon and I'm like..." Peter kept losing his train of thought, watching Nathan's approach, seeing how Nathan never took his eyes off him. "Dirty, and stinky, and..." Peter was distracted by the fact that he could feel the blood coursing through his wrists, through his legs, all over his body, but especially-all of a sudden-there, between his legs. "I'm sore," Peter finished.
"You're not hungry?" asked Nathan, raising his eyebrows.
"Not yet," said Peter. Nathan was now close enough to touch, and he stopped there, still staring at Peter, fascinated, patient. Peter couldn't handle the closeness; he lowered his eyes. "I'm like, really sore."
"You mentioned that," Nathan replied, amusement in his voice. "Well, if you want to take a bath, go ahead. I can wait for you."
"Yeah, um. Okay." Peter tried to move past him, but couldn't without touching him; his arm brushed against Nathan's chest, and he couldn't help putting out his hand to touch the warm, firm shirt front, letting Nathan's tie slide through his fingers. Nathan raised his hand and stroked Peter's hair away from his forehead. He still couldn't meet Nathan's eyes; his heart beat so fast that he felt panicky. "I'm gonna... go... get undressed..." Peter mumbled.
"You do that," Nathan replied softly. Peter briefly glanced up at him, hastily looking away again, and Nathan let Peter's forelock go, draping it gentlly across his eyebrows. "You are..." he said, "just... dangerously cute."
A silly, embarrassed smile spread across Peter's face. "Rawr," he said, raising his hands into threatening claws. "Look out, or I'll cute you to death."
Do me right here, in the hallway. Please.
"What a way to go," Nathan said, stepping aside, out of the way. He walked back toward the stairs, shedding his suit jacket, loosening his tie. Peter shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and went to his room. He wondered why Nathan hadn't just grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall and ripped off Peter's clothes himself.
Nothing had happened between them since Christmas, even though Peter felt like there had been plenty of chances. He could have always gone to Nathan's apartment some evening or weekend afternoon, but Nathan never asked, and Peter was still afraid to bring it up. No matter how they felt, this still shouldn't be happening.
Maybe it wasn't. Nathan hadn't directly said anything. Maybe this was just supper. He would let Nathan call the shots tonight, but resolved to keep it up with the "dangerously cute", just in case.
Shoes. Unzip the jeans. Pull off the jeans... and... "Ouch," Peter winced. It hurt to move even slightly. When he pulled off his sweatshirt, a slicing pain went through his shoulder blades, and he whimpered, squinting through the agony. He reminded himself that it was worth it, and shed his underwear and T-shirt and socks, gingerly pulling on his bathrobe. The hallway was deserted when he headed back to the bathroom; he could hear Nathan moving around in the kitchen. Peter sighed. It was time for his bath.
Before he could lower himself into the bathtub, Nathan appeared at the bathroom door, his shirt sleeves rolled up, collar open. Peter blinked at him. "Hello," he said casually.
Nathan held a bottle of scotch and a glass. He came into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. "Want some?" he asked, glancing up as he poured himself a shot. He was casual, too.
"Yeah, give me a minute..." Peter stepped into the tub, hissing at how hot it was. "Ow. Ow." He settled himself in, complaining the whole way, lifting one lobster-red foot out. "Okay, this is too hot..."
"You'll get used to it." Nathan sat on the toilet seat, crossing his legs, watching, lifting his glass to his lips for a sip. Peter rested his behind on the bottom of the tub, willing himself to relax. "You're pretty resilient, I've found."
"Oh, yeah, ha ha..." Peter leaned back into the water. The water really wasn't too hot to stand; it was just a challenge. "Climbing is fun."
"Yeah, I like it okay," Nathan said noncommittally. His eyes traveled openly and shamelessly over Peter's bare body, sweeping back and forth, up and down, from Peter's bright-pink toes to his face and then back again. As the moment stretched on, Peter fought off the urge to put his hands over his junk, instead balling the hands into fists at his sides, then raising them to his belly. "I brought Thai," Nathan added.
"Oh, good," Peter murmured. "No meat. I hope you remembered." The pain seemed like a faraway dream now, leaching out of him into the water. He clenched his fists, one after the other, sending little fountains of water into the air. Jets; squirts. He laughed quietly to himself, raising his eyes to Nathan's. Nathan was still staring, but his eyes were unfocused now, as though he were lost in thought. Peter felt a warm shiver of enjoyment travel over his body. "Mmm...? Drink now?"
"Of course," said Nathan. He lowered himself down onto the bath mat next to the tub, taking a solid slug from the glass. As Peter watched him curiously, Nathan leaned over toward him, and taking Peter's cheek in one hand, pressed their lips together, nudging Peter's mouth open with a liquor-flamed tongue. Peter opened his mouth, and Nathan released his mouthful of whiskey, flooding Peter's palate with it.
Peter accepted the transfer, holding his breath and pushing his tongue against the back of his mouth, so that he'd catch the liquor in his mouth without it going straight down his throat. Keeping himself from coughing was the hardest thing he'd done all day. He drew back from Nathan only long enough to swallow, keeping their lips pressed together, and once the scotch was in his belly, he opened his mouth again.
Peter loved the way Nathan kissed. He was so aggressive at times, but always letting up, softening, breaking into smaller, sharper pecks that then lengthened themselves again, and went back to explorations of mouth and tongue. Peter always had to break away first, gasping for breath; and now the heat of the tub and the fire of the scotch in his belly mounted until he could hardly breathe. He let the kiss go, slumping down in the water luxuriously. "Mmm..." he sighed, smiling blissfully.
"Mmm," Nathan agreed, letting one arm trail in the bathwater, his fingers sending currents against Peter's body, but not touching him. "Do you need anything?" he asked.
"I should wash," Peter replied. "Grab me a new shower gel, would you? I just ran out last night."
Nathan got up again, went to the cupboard, and got a bottle, taking the opportunity to pour and drink another finger of scotch. He sat down next to Peter again. He poured some gel into his hand and sniffed it, then worked the puddle into lather between his palms. The soap smelled great-woodsy and peaty, with a sharp overtone. He rubbed the lather across Peter's shoulders. "Hey, that's not bad," Peter said. "Is that cedar?"
"And ginger. I like it," Nathan agreed. "Reminds me of me."
"Yeah, except that you are bad." Peter chuckled, feeling drunk already. He swiped up some of the lather and rubbed it into his arms and armpits.
Nathan just kept the same slight smile on his face, firmly rubbing the soap into Peter's shoulders, moving his hands down across his chest. "Mmm-hmm," he assented. "How's it feel?"
"Good," Peter replied, catching Nathan's fingers with his, and letting them slide away again. "You know... creamy." Nathan laughed softly, shakily, at that, and Peter knew at that moment that he had him. He sat up, grabbed the bottle, poured more soap into his palm, lathered it up, and stroked a generous line over his cheek, letting it drip off.
"Oh, Good Lord, Peter," Nathan laughed. Peter grinned back, and ran the excess of the suds through his hair. "Oh, Pete, don't wash your hair with that stuff. That's not shampoo."
"I don't care," Peter scoffed, splashing water onto his face and scrubbing his scalp with his fingernails. "My hair's greasy. This is soap. It'll do."
"You're lucky you have such great hair." Nathan indicated his head with his glass. "You should treat it with kindness."
"Oh, whatever," Peter drawled. "What do you know about kindness?"
Nathan put his hand back into the water, reaching without hesitation between Peter's legs, running his fingers along Peter's penis. Peter stared at him, watching as the look of determination gave way to disappointment. "Huh," Nathan said, taking his hand back.
"Not hard enough for you?" Peter guessed.
"No," Nathan said.
"You're so weird."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm just very particular."
"I could make it that way," Peter offered. "The way you like it."
Nathan smiled. "Rinse your hair," he said.
"Okay, okay..." Peter submerged his head completely, rinsing off, and popped back up to the surface, combing his wet hair back from his forehead. He was splashing Nathan a little, but Nathan didn't seem to mind. "Better?"
"This smells good," Nathan mused, eyes closed. "Like new lumber. Like... walking into the framework of a new house when it's still being built. Seeing... the skeleton of it. But seeing what it can become."
Peter laughed faintly. "That's kinda poetic for you," he said.
Nathan's mouth quirked, not quite smiling. "Sometimes you bring that out in me."
"Yeah?" Peter shifted in the water, relaxing back. He took Nathan's hand and guided it back to his cock, stroking it back and forth, not demanding that Nathan make contact, but only brush close to him, pushing currents of water against his skin. He was getting hard. He would be there soon. He wanted another kiss.
He took his cock into his own hand, and rubbed it firmly, willing all the blood in his body to pool itself there, to fill him up and make him grow. Make him rigid, so Nathan would touch. He lifted his chin, parting his lips, and Nathan did kiss him again, unfurling his tongue into Peter's mouth, sucking the breath out of him. Peter grabbed Nathan's finger with a crooked pinky, and drew his hand down, making contact at last. The touch was delicious, and his breath shook into Nathan's mouth.
Nathan grasped Peter's cock with his fingers, and drew the skin tight, then let it slacken again. Once again, and again. He dropped kisses against Peter's open lips. Peter arched his hips toward him, his nipples, exposed to the air over the water line, tightening almost painfully.
"This is sex," Nathan whispered.
Peter nodded thoughtlessly.
"We shouldn't."
Peter shook his head.
"You want me to stop?"
Peter shook his head more firmly, and opened his eyes. Nathan's cheek was very near, the unscarred side of his face, all noble lines and lush eyelashes. He longed to kiss his brother's face, but to do so, he'd have to rise out of the tub. And he wasn't quite ready to do that yet. He relaxed again, letting his head rest against the curved lip of the bathtub, intoxicated by the smell of the shower gel and the faint suggestion of whiskey on Nathan's breath. "Please don't," he replied.
"You want more?" Nathan guessed.
"Yes," Peter sighed in response.
Nathan slid his hand between Peter's thighs, kissing Peter on his wet temple. "Why?" he whispered, fingers gripping the sensitive flesh where Peter's thigh became his ass, the tender skin of his groin. "Why would you want something like that? How can you stand it?" He brushed his lips across Peter's eyebrow. "How can you let me do this to you?"
"I've always wanted..." Peter murmured. He shifted himself against the bottom of the tub, spreading his legs as much as he could, raising one knee above the surface of the water. "Do it to me," he said, "do whatever you want to me. I want it. I want it; I dream about it. Don't worry. Just..." His breath caught in his throat.
"Tell me what a dirty boy you are," Nathan whispered.
Peter wondered if Nathan could feel him rolling his eyes. Yes, this was so hot, but a part of him wanted to laugh at Nathan's need to bring roleplay into this, like he couldn't allow himself to have this if he was looking right at it, engaging in it as himself; he had to make it fancy. Dress it up. And yet, it so worked for Peter. Peter could appreciate it; he could get into it. He wanted to be what Nathan wanted. "I'm a dirty boy," Peter said softly. "I need you to get me clean."
That made Nathan laugh. "That's not what I'm going to do," he replied. His fingers rubbed firmly against Peter's anus, scrubbing him. The tip of his finger poked inside. "I like you better dirty."
Peter laughed, too. This was just getting silly. "Lie," he said. His words were interrupted by a groan; Nathan's fingers just kept going. "Ohhh... ohhh..."
"Mmm-hmm," Nathan agreed.
"I want more..."
"Of course you do."
"Because I'm a dirty boy?" Peter guessed.
Nathan smirked, and took his hand back. Peter figured he guessed wrong, and made a mental note not to tease Nathan in situations like this. It was all too easy for Nathan to draw away, to look at things from a sensible, sane perspective. And this wasn't sane; not at all. "I'm going to go eat," Nathan said, standing up.
"No, I'm sorry," Peter begged, sitting up, water sloshing over the lip of the tub. "I didn't..." He broke off with a sigh. "Please come back," he concluded, deathly serious, eyes wide and imploring. "I'm sorry; I'll be good."
Nathan paused, his hand on the doorknob, looking at Peter from the corner of his eye. Peter dropped his gaze, washed between his toes, and pulled the drain plug. "I swear," Peter whispered. He was done playing, for the moment. His cock ached and throbbed; he wanted this too much to let it slip away. A moment ago, they'd been kissing. He wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to give of himself, and take what he could. "I'm done. Come to bed with me? Please?"
"All right," Nathan assented, quiet, thoughtful.
Peter stood up, water cascading from his naked skin; Nathan still didn't look at him. Peter sighed; he was going to have to draw him out again. He grabbed a towel and scrubbed it quickly against his skin, mashing it against his hair. Nathan's voice was so quiet that Peter almost missed it. "Don't dry your hair like that. Do it gently. You're not a savage."
"I am, a little bit," Peter replied, turning his back.
Nathan grasped Peter's shoulders from behind, and with the towel still wrapped around him, firmly kissed and bit and sucked the side of Peter's neck. Peter let the towel drop onto the ground, and moved backward into Nathan's arms, his breath emerging in a faint moan. "You want me; you know you want me," he whispered. He grabbed Nathan's hands and drew them forward, together over his belly, pushing both hands down to where his cock bobbed, stiff and ungainly against the lowest part of his belly, where the translucent fuzz on his stomach thickened suddenly into glossy, wiry pubic hairs. Peter rubbed the backs of Nathan's hands against that area, that gradient, where he shaded from boy to man. "You know you want this. Take it. Please."
Nathan drew his hands back, smoothing them over Peter's pelvic bones, cupping his ass, gripping through the skin into the muscle. Peter twitched involuntarily, and Nathan gave a complex sigh. Before he could think too much about it, Peter craned his neck around, awkwardly planting a kiss on Nathan's jaw, and in answer, Nathan squeezed his ass harder. "Yes," Peter prompted.
"Yes," Nathan replied tightly.
"Let me feel it," said Peter. He pressed himself back against Nathan, seeking out Nathan's manhood with his buttocks. It was growing; hard, but not entirely so. "Come on," Peter said, rubbing back against him a bit more before turning around, pulling Nathan by the hand. He turned the doorknob and opened the door, stepping out into the hall, not letting Nathan go for a second. "Come on." He led Nathan to his bedroom, walking naked through the hallway now, naked and leading his lover, his brother, by the hand, past caring; this was theirs. This was where they lived, the place where no one could understand but the two of them. And the quiet sanctum of Peter's bedroom, with the old movie posters on the walls and the bed that Peter never bothered to make, brought back so many lustful memories, some private, some shared. So many nights there alone, jerking off, thinking about Nathan and hating himself for it; so many nights there with Nathan, cuddled together like puppies, or lying beside each other, gazing at each other, touching, kissing. Feeling so weird about it, but unable to let it go, or stop it from happening again.
Once they were inside, and the door closed, Peter kissed his way down Nathan's chest, unbuttoning the shirt as he went, lowering himself gradually down onto the floor. He impatiently unfastened Nathan's belt and the waist of his trousers, roughly pulling them down, pulling down the underpants. Hopelessly expensive, luxuriously soft, slate-gray knitted silk boxer-briefs, still smelling like they were brand-new. Peter fought off the urge to laugh at how much Nathan spoiled himself-wearing those shorts was practically an erotic experience unto itself-and grasped the head of Nathan's cock with his lips. He slowly nibbled his way down until he had as much as would fit inside his mouth, and then he sucked, gently pressing the moist skin against his palate and teeth. Nathan sighed encouragingly, cupping his hand around the curved base of Peter's skull. Peter stroked the outside of Nathan's thighs, then the inside, taking a break from the cock for a moment to kiss the scars on Nathan's legs.
"Oh," Nathan moaned, drawing in his breath with a long hiss. "That's nice, but I want to fuck. I want to feel the inside of you."
Peter wanted to do exactly what he was doing, and thus didn't respond until he felt Nathan's fingers stroke down below his chin, and then tighten just below his jaw, holding his larynx still. Peter lifted his head and opened his mouth, and Nathan let go, gazing down at him with a vague, unreadable frown. "Okay," Peter assented, "okay."
He stood up, and, taking advantage of the moment, pushed Nathan down against the bed. Nathan reacted instantly, though, resisting the shove, and instead grabbing Peter by the upper arms and twisting him down in his place. It was a brilliant move, and Peter laughed delightedly as he fell; he might have been able to catch himself with his hand, but Nathan didn't give him the chance, keeping Peter's arms against his sides. Nathan's eyes were bright; he liked this, knocking Peter over, holding him down onto the surface of the bed, while Peter put up a game struggle.
"This is sex," Peter whispered, spreading his legs, clutching Nathan's waist between them and arching his body up. If they were really wrestling, it was the set up for a full-body throw, but right now it just rammed his rock-hard dick against Nathan's torso, balls-to-belly button. It felt good to rub against something. "This is sex. Oh, yeah."
Nathan kissed Peter's mouth, hard, his fingers slackening their grip on Peter's arms. "Do you have lube?" he asked, squeezing Peter's nipples, taking Peter's hips in hands and turning-yes, nearly the response to the full-body throw, but instead he was sitting up, Peter on top of him, spread across his lap.
Peter felt deliciously dizzy. "Yeah," he said, kissing back, mussing Nathan's hair with his fingers. He didn't want to break the embrace, but he had to keep the momentum going, and it only took a few seconds for him to get up and get the nearly-full bottle out of his bottom drawer. He lay back onto the bed, stroking his own nipples. Relaxed; energized; ready for anything.
Nathan held the bottle up for his inspection. "This is not particularly good," he said. "You've got to start buying a better brand."
"I bought it a long time ago," Peter explained, hand on his dick now, stroking dry. "I didn't know..." He didn't want to go into the circumstances. They were too depressing for right now. That girl? His plans for that girl? The horrific failure of the last week of high school? No. "I know better now."
"I'm going to have to use all of this," Nathan warned.
"Go ahead," Peter replied. "Please."
"Turn over."
Peter rolled over on his churned-up sheets, sighing as he realized that he was going to have to change them when he was done, and that he needed to change the sheets, anyway. His mother would be horrified that he'd slept on the same sheets for three nights. He pulled a pillow close to his face, burying his nose in it; she would be horrified, wouldn't she? If she could see this? Her boys, like this?
That thought turned him on.
Nathan's slickened finger poked him, slid inside, probing, testing his reactions. Peter lay as still as he could, sighing into the pillow. "More," he asked, when it felt like time. Nathan added a second finger, and more pressure, and Peter found that he couldn't lie quietly anymore, grunting with each slight thrust. "Oh. Oh, fuck."
"You like that?"
"Mmmmm... hmmm... yes."
"Yeah," said Nathan softly. "How can you like this? How can you let me do this to you?"
"I don't know," Peter moaned. "It's so wrong but it feels so good."
That was right. That was what he wanted to hear. Nathan thrust harder, twisting his fingers around inside Peter. Peter gulped back a really loud, animal moan. It wasn't time yet... "You're a little deviant, aren't you?" Nathan said, a faint sneer in his voice. Peter's toes curled. That was what was wrong-that it got him so hot to be talked to like that. But that, too, was true, and he might as well not feel bad about it. No way could he feel bad, with this glorious feeling happening. "You're a fucking slut, aren't you?"
"Y-yeah... yeah... you're right... ohh, fuck. Oh, my God." Peter whined like a hungry dog, arching his hips back, rising up on his knees, demanding more. "Please? Please?"
"Yeah? Yeah, I think I know what you need." With one last caress of Peter's prostate, Nathan withdrew his lube-slicked fingers, rested the damp, chilly hand on Peter's hip, took the other hip in the other hand. Peter gasped for breath, almost hyperventilating in his eagerness, wanting so much for it to happen...
At the first moment of penetration, they moaned together, a single expression of pleasure. Peter kept his head down and his ass in the air, breath coming in quick pants, punctuated by desperate groans, batting at his cock with his hands, since he couldn't quite grab himself at this angle. Nathan pressed himself inward, slow and undemanding. It was too much for Peter to stand. "Fuck me!" he burst out. "Come on-oh, please!"
"Be patient," Nathan replied. "I've got plans for you. Relax; get nice and loose. You'll need it."
Peter could only giggle nervously at that. "You're scaring me."
"You should be scared," Nathan said quietly. "I don't think you've done this before."
Before Peter could break and demand that Nathan explain himself, Nathan withdrew himself, and sat on the edge of the bed, applying more lubrication to his penis. Peter made a faint complaining sound in his throat, and slid over to him, following, unwilling to stop touching him for a moment. "What do you mean?" he whined.
"Sit in my lap. Like this." Nathan pulled Peter over, positioning him in a straddle across Nathan's thighs, his ass pointing toward Nathan's stomach. "Yeah," Nathan said, grasping Peter's buttocks, spreading them, positioning him, cockhead to asshole. Peter bit his lip; Nathan was right. This was new to him. He'd always wanted to-with a girl-
Nathan pulled Peter down against him, over him, his rigid cock spearing right into Peter's interior. Peter let out a low howl, and tried to jerk away. Nathan, holding tight, wouldn't let him. "Didn't I tell you to relax?" he said. He held Peter still, his hands playing across Peter's erection, grasping it, jerking it lightly with his slick fingers. Peter calmed himself, relaxed, tried to let the tension drain out of him the way it had done in the bathtub. Nathan was kissing him, tenderly and gently, on the back of the neck. "Yeah, ssssh. Easy. It's okay. You can take this. I know you can."
"It hurts." Peter felt it was okay to confess. Little voice; scared little-boy voice. He knew it would get Nathan, strike him to his heart. That was sex. That was wrong; so beautifully, gorgeously wrong.
And deliciously, Nathan offered no sympathy. Yes. "Ignore it. It'll go away soon enough. It feels good, too, though, huh?" Nathan caressed Peter's belly, and went back to masturbating him. Peter's toes curled again, this time from sheer pleasure. "Yes. Right? Easy. Tell me when you're ready. And don't rush it. 'Cos... I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you."
"Oh... ah... ah... I'm gonna come..."
"I don't care. If you have to pop off, do so. But it's not gonna make me stop. So I hope you can take it." Nathan's gentle neck kisses had become sharp bites so gradually that Peter forgot to flinch, and his fingers on Peter's cock had gotten rougher, too; rougher and faster. Peter could look down and see how red and swollen his cock was, how much seminal fluid had welled up on its head; he reached down and swiped some up, holding it over his shoulder for Nathan to taste.
Nathan sucked the fingers clean, and took Peter's pelvis in his hand again, raising Peter off just slightly. Even that slight cessation of internal pressure gave Peter enormous relief, and he got the giggles, thinking of a psychophysiological basis for the pleasures of anal sex, and wondering how in the world he could get away with writing a paper about it.
The giggles didn't last long. Taking a deep breath, Nathan held Peter's hips steady, and balancing himself on the edge of the bed, he began to thrust, quick and fast, deep inside Peter's ass.
Peter let out a strangled scream. "No way!" he yelled, more shocked than anything else. "Ah-" But Nathan didn't listen; he kept up his steady, stabbing rhythm, breathing on every fourth thrust, moaning with every second breath. Peter got dizzy, balanced on the sides of his feet, pressed against the floor, arms all tangled up with Nathan's. He couldn't stop crying out long enough to catch his breath. "I'll be good-I'll be good-I'll be good-" he begged, unable to come up with anything else to say; the meaningless phrase becoming a mantra that kept him tethered to earth. Orgasm crackled across his nerves like static electricity, and semen spurted over his hands in a cool, sticky stream.
Nathan released Peter's hips, holding himself in as deep as he could go, then relaxing, drawing back, giving Peter a break; and when Peter bounced back against him, unwilling to set himself free, still wanting more even after that, it was enough for him. Nathan pushed Peter off him, forward, onto all fours on the floor, and followed him down, rubbing his freed cock against the divide between Peter's buttocks, saying nothing as he showered Peter's back and ass cheeks with come. He slid back inside, too, and then out again, savoring all the possible sensations, and Peter moaned for him.
They collapsed together onto the floor.
"Dirty," Peter whispered, laughing, rubbing his own come into his sore, still-hard cock. "See?"
Nathan did see, and bent over him, taking Peter's cock into his mouth, sucking and licking it off, smudging come across his lips, drawing the rest of it out of Peter, massaging the glans with his tongue. Peter lay still, one arm thrown over his face, legs open, offering himself, his guts aching. Yes, this. This was what he wanted.
Once Peter was utterly spent, his cock softening again, Nathan was done. He lifted his head, resting his chin on Peter's lower belly, smiling at him, his eyes shining. "You need a bath," he said.
Peter laughed through his grin. "So do you," he said.
Nathan kissed and nuzzled Peter's stomach. "I'm starving. Are you hungry yet?"
"Yeah," Peter answered, smiling back. "Yeah, finally."
END (53)
A/N: I have the feeling that I should continue this. They've got all evening... ;) Thanks for reading: I appreciate it!