Fic: Ritual (54): Overlap
Title: Ritual (54): Overlap
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: see pairing and rating, freaky dubcon roleplay, angst
Word Count: ~4600
Summary: Following Ritual 53: Nathan's got a dark side. It doesn't scare Peter, even if Nathan wishes if it did.
• Ritual Reader's Guide •
Heroes and associated characters belong to Tim Kring, Tailwinds Productions, and NBC/Universal, not to me.
FEBRUARY 2000
Petrelli family home, Upper West Side, Manhattan
Did they really have all night?
All night, from now till morning, just to be together? All night, hours of this... those strong, hard, curious hands on his body, the warmth from his skin, close enough to touch as his whim dictated? All his, all night?
Peter was afraid to ask.
He didn't want to hear about it if the answer was no, and he didn't want to risk breaking Nathan out of his sensual, attentive reverie. He never wanted this to end.
Tonight, Nathan seemed to be trying to act out a dream, making a fantasy explicit, his eyes heavy-lidded and his movements lazy and languid, almost like he was hypnotized or drugged. His skin was flushed and damp, his breathing deep, measured, and meditative. And his cock had grown hard again. He was getting off on being horrified about how completely he was getting off. And with who. Shame as aphrodisiac.
Peter's own dreams and fantasies were slightly different, but there was enough overlap that he got enjoyment out of it. Enjoyment? No, more like joy; gratitude that he got to have this experience. This was his dream, his fantasy, just creating sexual pleasure with the one he loved more than any other. Every time they got together, and it came to an end because one of them had to leave, he wondered if it was the last time. Like Nathan was going away to die. He felt like a dog sometimes, unable to reason. He wondered when he would finally get over it, and truly believe that Nathan wasn't leaving forever just because it was time to go home.
***
When, after they had finished eating dinner, and stood awkwardly in the kitchen after they had washed the oil and chili off their hands, Peter had mumbled that he figured Nathan would take off, Nathan just shook his head and smiled. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I'm not done with you."
It was too thrilling. "Cool." Peter lowered his eyes, his face turning bright red, and joked awkwardly, "Use me up." Daring Nathan; daring him to be shocked and leave. Testing the limits. Nathan just stared at him, narrowing his eyes, admitting nothing.
Peter headed back to his bedroom. Nathan followed close behind, his fingers brushing Peter's outstretched hand, but never clasping it, never taking hold. He switched off the lamp, enfolding them in darkness. "You know you shouldn't say things like that to me."
Peter stretched himself out on his messy bed, grinning. "Why not?"
Nathan stroked Peter's cheek, fingers trailing down to his neck. "Because I might," Nathan replied. "Maybe that's not a good thing." He turned away for a moment, stripping off his shirt and pants, then sat beside Peter, reaching out for him.
"I can take what you dish out," said Peter, taking Nathan's hand, drawing the fingers to his mouth and sucking the tips.
Nathan slowly shook his head. "No, I've been pretty easy on you," he said. "I've... kinda got a dark side."
"I've seen it," Peter replied blithely.
"No..."
"It's okay. I love it when you fuck me hard." He slid his mouth over Nathan's forefinger and flickered his tongue against it, swishing slowly side to side.
"Fucking's only a part of it," Nathan told him. "You should know that." His voice dropped to a whisper as Peter sucked his finger, moving his mouth slowly back and forth, up and down. "You get me so hot, I might just... I'm sure you just think it's fun, but it drives me crazy. I worry a little. I can get into some pretty intense stuff. There are things I could do to you that-"
"That's okay," Peter said again, reveling in the knowledge that he could make Nathan lose control. He'd done it so many times in the past, and even if it was sometimes painful, it was worth it, just to know he'd made Nathan break. "I trust you."
"You shouldn't..." Nathan had his eyes closed, even in the dark.
Clucking his tongue comfortingly, Peter pulled Nathan over to him, over him, across him. Peter still wore the T-shirt and underpants that he'd put on to go down into the dining room to eat. He'd left on a few garments to give Nathan the pleasure of either watching Peter strip them off, or taking them off himself. "Play with me; it's okay," Peter whispered. He bumped his lips against Nathan's chin. "It's okay. You can touch me." Nathan's hands found him, discovered the parts he most wanted touched-which was, really, all of him. "Touch me." Peter gently kissed Nathan's bottom lip, shifting his body underneath him, urging Nathan to make himself comfortable.
But Nathan refused to take the bait. He edged himself up, balanced on one elbow, looking down at Peter, studying him. Fighting off frustration-he really wanted another kiss-Peter ran his hand up through Nathan's hair, making it all stand on end. "Mmm," Peter murmured suggestively, "you know you can make me do whatever you want, right? Whatever you want." He stared back wide-eyed, his gaze as innocent as he could manage with his stiff dick ludicrously bulging in his shorts. He glanced at it, then up at Nathan; his brother's eyes were locked onto his erection. Peter was tempted to stroke it, but he wanted even more for Nathan to do it, so he spread his legs a little, shifting his hips. "Tell me what to do," he said. "What do you want to do? What do you want to see?"
The skin around Nathan's eyes tightened when he smiled; his dreamy expression hardened too, sharpening, focusing. "Get up on your hands and knees," he commanded, his voice a menacing whisper.
"Okay," Peter agreed. He slid out from under Nathan, missing his warmth immediately, and made sure that he kept his fingers on Nathan's wrist as he rose up on all fours beside him. But Nathan took even that touch away, moving aside to the edge of the bed, staring at Peter with the unblinking, single-minded intensity of a cobra. Peter sighed and hung his head, his arms shaking slightly, noting the pendulum swing of his cock between his legs.
Obviously, Nathan had noticed, too. He reached between Peter's thighs, and, giving a quiet grunt of satisfaction, took the cloth-bound cock into his hand, squeezing and massaging with his thumb. He slid his hand into the left leg hole of the underpants, contacting flesh, the hair on the back of his fingers tickling Peter's thigh, his fingertips finding Peter's balls. Peter moaned in faint distress, not from the touch, but by the sudden, restrictive tightness of his underwear against his penis, pinching the hairs lining his groin. "Nathan...?" he moaned, unsure of what he was asking for. Whatever it was, Nathan withdrew his hand, then parted Peter's thighs just a little more before stroking the stiff cock through the fabric again. He squeezed Peter's buttocks, spanking them lightly with the back of his hand, pulling down the waistband of the shorts to expose the curve of an ass cheek for him to nuzzle and kiss. Peter smiled so much his face ached; how he loved to be touched all over like this, rough and delicate by turns. How he loved it when Nathan kissed his ass, and how he moaned with satisfaction as he did so. Oh, divine; divine.
Nathan pulled the shorts back up, covering Peter again. Peter looked inquiringly over his shoulder. Nathan had that cold, lustful expression on his face. Peter knew that look well; it always scared him and made him wonder if he'd gone too far, and, at the same time, knew that it was to his advantage. Nathan would never have touched him in the first place if he hadn't lost control, and let something simpler and more animal take over. Something jealous, possessive, and cruel, not caring about why not. Only how. And Right now. And My way. And, just a little bit, I hate you for doing this to me, and you'll pay.
So that was Nathan's dark side. Fair enough. He could call it whatever he wanted; as long as he stayed. As long as this togetherness never had to end.
"Lie down," said Nathan. "Face up."
Peter did as he was told. Immediately, Nathan lay back over him again, kissing his mouth hard and closed, his hands stroking over the T-shirt, down to the undershorts, his fingers dragging against the cloth, but not removing it. Peter wrapped his arms around Nathan's waist and sighed happily, "Yeah..."
"Tell me to stop," Nathan whispered. "Tell me not to."
Peter shook his head, not getting it, too much in lust to understand anything but fulfillment. "But I want you to." His hands swarmed across Nathan's back, across his waist and ass and hard, muscular thighs. He wanted to be locked together, beautifully and incredibly one, or as close to it as they could get.
"Play with me," Nathan begged, breathless and desperate, his eyes squinting shut. "Please." His fingers circled Peter's nipples through the T-shirt, grasping the tiny nubs between his fingers and rolling them. When Peter tried to reach down and touch himself, Nathan sharply grabbed Peter's wrists, forcing them back behind him, to the bed. When Peter struggled slightly, instinctively trying to resist, Nathan leaned into him, his weight threatening to crush out Peter's breath, murmuring, "Yes."
And then Peter understood. He nodded a little. "Don't hurt me," he whispered, knowing that, in those words, he gave Nathan the permission to do just that.
Nathan moved his grip from Peter's wrists to his shoulders, pressing his mouth against Peter's nipples under the T-shirt, and biting through the thin cotton, catching the tender skin between his teeth. Peter let out an involuntary groan of arousal, but managed to whimper, "Don't…" He was pleased at how vulnerable and immature he sounded. "W-w-what are you doing?"
Nathan gave a shaky gasp, and both his hands slid up under the T-shirt, toying with the now-moistened nipples. He buried his face under Peter's neck, his teeth nipping the skin. Not too hard. "Ow," Peter responded. "Quit it." Nathan chuckled, and pushed the T-shirt up, biting the now-bare nipples, sucking firmly with lips and tongue. Peter squirmed, genuinely ticklish, and his voice came out as a bitchy, childish whine. "Ow... Nathan, don't, please." He struggled, and Nathan grabbed his wrists again, holding them tight. God, he was strong. He could snap Peter's wrist like a twig. And yet, again, not too hard. That wasn't what this was about. Or maybe just not yet. Peter kind of wanted it to go there, and yet, was a little afraid. But there was no real reason to be afraid; Nathan had hurt him before, and he'd survived; they still loved each other. Even more, now, maybe. "You shouldn't..."
"But I will," Nathan whispered. He ground his own erection against Peter's thigh, releasing a wrist to run his hand possessively down Peter's side. "Now, you just be good, okay?" He slid a hand down inside Peter's shorts, grasping his cock, stroking it, chafing the head against the fabric just enough to make it tingle. "The more you fight me, the longer this is going to take." His fingers slid under the waistband, tentatively touching Peter's erection, sliding down and down. "Little one... Such a sweet boy... Just let me..."
Dangerous, strange, intensely twisted play, this was. But Nathan needed it; wanted to be reminded of just how wrong it was. How young and vulnerable Peter was (or at least, he had been; he didn't feel young or vulnerable right now. He wasn't. Nathan was in the palm of his hand. Who else could understand this? Who else would allow this?) "Uh… oh… Nathan… please… don't do this to me. Please stop. Please?" His cock was leaking all over the place, wetting Nathan's hand and wrist and the waistband of his shorts. If Nathan was twisted, so was he. Peter struggled some more, freeing a hand to lightly slap against the side of Nathan's face, pretending to push Nathan's face away, then relaxing, pretending to give up, pretending to choke off a humiliated sob. "Oh-h-h..."
"Ss-sh," Nathan replied, kissing Peter's neck, sucking his earlobe, sliding those pre-come-wet fingers over Peter's balls and toward his asshole. "Just sit still. Just be still and let me do this. I won't hurt you. It'll feel good."
"Hey, um," Peter said, his clearer, saner voice an interruption. "What if I, um, actually need you to stop doing something?"
Nathan actually made eye contact for a moment, hands stilled, weighing his answer. "Pinch me," Nathan decided. He smiled. "I want to ignore 'no' for a while."
"Okay," Peter agreed, smiling back. He knew he trusted Nathan for a reason, even if his fingers didn't stop, and in fact grew more insistent, seeking and probing.
"You can't stop me if I don't want to stop," Nathan said. He lifted one of Peter's legs by the knee, parting him, effortlessly holding him down with his body while his hands were full.
Peter weakly shoved against Nathan's shoulders with his palms. "Oh… no, not my butthole… oh, please, don't; don't do that. A-anything but that..." When really, what he wanted was for Nathan to eat him out, lick him sticky and wet, fuck him hard and leave him crying and shattered. If telling Nathan "no" would make that happen, faster and harder and better, Peter was more than willing. Weird and twisted; he could take it. "Don't-I'm not like that-"
"Sssh. It's okay, little brother. I won't hurt you. I won't tell anybody. It's okay to like it."
Peter drew his breath in with a hiss, and his cock jumped so hard against Nathan's wrist that he could almost hear it tapping against the bone. "You fuck," he muttered, "you sick fuck. Leave me alone. Don't do this to me."
Nathan reached up with the unoccupied hand and covered Peter's mouth with it. Peter moaned, squirming more vigorously, and Nathan slid his scar-tipped thumb between Peter's lips. "Sssh," Nathan said again. He didn't seem to object to the desperate way that Peter sucked on that thumb, moaning as his lips moved back and forth over the rough-textured joint. He nuzzled his face into Peter's armpits. "Sssh, I love you. Just be still; be quiet; let it happen."
Nathan kept his thumb in Peter's mouth even as he slid down the bed, pressing kisses and bites and swipes of tongue against Peter's exposed chest and belly, but as he went down further, he had to take his hand back. He used the left hand to tug down Peter's shorts, just enough to expose his straining, blood-stiffened cock, raging hot and wet and sensitive, kissing down toward it.
"Ahh," Peter gasped, "ahhh, oh, please… ahhh… uh, don't…" He struggled not to break character. He was supposed to be the young, helpless kid for Nathan to ravage, not the lust-crazed horndog who wanted to shove Nathan down onto the floor and sit on his face.
"Sssh," Nathan said again. He ran his nose along the thickening line of hair at Peter's groin, burying his face in the dense, glossy black thatch. Peter ran his fingers over the back of Nathan's skull, pulling his hair, but gently; he definitely didn't want Nathan to stop. He wanted Nathan to hurry.
"Please," he breathed, reducing his voice into tiny, heartbroken gasps. If he could make himself cry, he knew he'd win, but at the moment, tears were a million miles away. This was splendid torture. "Don't…"
He could feel Nathan's cock jump against him, and he wanted it. He wondered if Nathan would eventually make Peter suck him off, forcing him to give head, gently murmuring assurances all the while. He could get into that, as long as Nathan wasn't too rough. He did want to believe that Nathan wouldn't hurt him, but Peter's own lust had been stoked so high that he wasn't sure that he'd be able to come to his senses if he tried to do too much. There were limits to the human body, after all. The thought of choking on Nathan's cock was much more erotic than the experience of it. Still… oh, oh, the thought. "Please," he moaned again. "Please stop."
"Sssh. Take it easy." Nathan glanced up at Peter, a slight, enigmatic smile on his face. "I won't hurt you."
He lifted Peter's cock away from his body with his left hand, and nuzzled his nose and cheek against Peter's ball sac. Peter's eyes rolled back into his head, and his fingers and toes curled tight, trying to maintain control and not go spurting off into Nathan's hair. If Nathan noticed this, he gave no indication, rubbing his nose and lips against the loose, hair-sprinkled skin. Kissing it; licking it. Peter moaned out loud, and then louder as Nathan's damp forefinger slid into his anus, still warm and lubricated from their fuck earlier that night. "Oh, Jesus God, ohhhhh… oh!"
"Sssh," Nathan whispered, looking up, arching his eyebrow warningly. "Sssh… mmmm," he concluded, licking the base of Peter's cock, licking up and up until he had the head in his mouth. "Mmm-mmmm."
"Oh, my fuck. Oh, God. Yeah-h-h-huh." To hell with the little-boy act; this felt too good not to yell about. He actually bit his knuckles as Nathan sucked and sucked, and pulsed his fingers up his ass just right. Exactly right. No one could do it better... this was what he dreamed about, had dreamed about since he was probably the age that Nathan was fantasizing that he was... oh, sick, oh, beautiful, Nathan had always known, he had just been saving it for now. "I'm coming, c-coming, Nathan," Peter babbled, his thighs spreading wide, then closing onto Nathan's shoulders, releasing him, only to clasp him again. "Oh, I-oh! Uh! Uhh! Can you taste it? Oh! Oh, my God, that's so-! Oh! Yes, oh, yes, oh yessss..."
Somehow Nathan drew him all the way into his mouth, past his teeth; into his throat. Sucking and swallowing, pausing to gasp for air with foamy traces of semen smearing the corners of his mouth, only to go down again. His fingers inside Peter's ass stroked his prostate, massaging it, milking it, making Peter's interior muscles go into spasm again. "Oh, my God!" Peter cried out. Coming so soon, right on the heels of a previous orgasm, was almost too much for him to bear; like the dizzy feeling of danger of swinging too high, climbing too high, seeing the world invert, not knowing if he would take off and fly, or go crashing down to his death. Sweat trickled over his forehead and chest. Nathan moaned happily, sucking harder, swallowing again, licking his lips.
"Again," Nathan whispered.
"No-oh, God, I can't-" Oh, but he could. Nathan could roll that gland inside him, applying just the right pressure with his fingertip, combined with powerful, demanding suction on Peter's cock to keep it hard, keep the blood trapped in it to complete its purpose a third time. Once again, Peter convulsed with pleasure and release-much more release than pleasure, but the release shook every cell in his body, flooding him with electricity and leaving behind bewilderment and bliss.
Peter wept at last, and it wasn't acting. "Please, stop," he begged. "Oh, please, Nathan, please don't… I can't…" He still felt like the world was upside down, and Nathan was sucking him again, harder now, relentless. Insatiable. Peter shook his head, and said sharply, "Fuck, give me a break for a minute!"
Nathan just laughed, rubbing his tongue along the underside of Peter's now-aching, softening cock. Peter reached down and pinched Nathan's shoulder with his fingernails, and Nathan jerked his head up and grabbed Peter's hand. "Ow, I get it, okay?" Nathan said. "Shit. Your nails are sharp!"
"Sorry. I just couldn't take it anymore."
Nathan grunted. "You can take what I dish out. You told me so. I'm not listening to you anymore. Now, you do what I say. Turn over."
Peter gratefully positioned himself face down, grabbing one of his pillows for comfort since he couldn't cling to Nathan. His brother moved on top of him, behind him, pulling his legs out and hips up, so that he could fit between Peter's legs. He spit onto Peter's behind, rubbing it roughly into Peter's anus and balls. Peter moaned. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes." Even with all of the ejaculations, a fuck would still be delicious, even if it couldn't possibly get him to come again. He wanted Nathan inside him, thick and rough and insistent. And now Nathan was angry. It would be good. Frightening and incredibly satisfying.
But instead of penetrating him, Nathan rubbed his cock against the slickness on Peter's ass crack, holding Peter's arms against the bed. They groaned at the first thrusting slide, their hips together, the strong shelf of Nathan's pelvis against the softness of Peter's buttocks.
"God. Yeah. Ahhh."
"Oh-oh-Nathan-ohhh, uhhhh."
"You just-be a good boy-uh-and give me what I want."
"Are you gonna fuck me?"
"Ahhhh.... No, no. I wouldn't do that to you. I won't hurt you like that." Coldly amused. Enjoying this.
"Please..." Peter squinted his eyes shut, taking the chance. "Please just do it. Fuck me. Please. Hurt me. Please!"
"No. Hush." Making everything worse, Nathan slapped Peter's right buttock, hard enough to throb and ache.
Peter's voice came out rough and loud. "Please, Nathan, I'm-I'm not a kid. I'm begging you. Please. Please fuck me. Put it inside me. Put your cock inside me; I want your cock. Please. I want it! I want it!"
"Sssh. Just be still."
Peter completely lost his patience. "God damn it. Damn it! Fuck you! You're pissing me off."
"Fuck you, you stupid kid. Do you even know what you're asking? You think-" Nathan repositioned himself, took his cock in his hand, and pressed the head against Peter's asshole. For a moment they were at an impasse, and then Peter remembered to relax and bear down, and then Nathan was inside him again. Moving in slow, slower than he ever needed to. But it felt incredible, hot and tight, but still lubed and loosened enough from before to make it gloriously possible. Peter howled and bit his pillow. "See? I told you. I didn't want to hurt you. You don't know what the fuck you want. You don't know what you're talking about." Deeper, deeper; all the way. So good. But Nathan stopped there and didn't move.
"Fuck you, then," Peter sneered, breathless and dizzy. "Get out. Get out of here and leave me alone. I need to sleep. Come in here in the middle of the night and fuck me... like you own me... Fuck you, Nathan. Fuck you." Fuck me.
Nathan took a deep breath, ran his hands along Peter's back, and withdrew his cock completely. Peter turned over again, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, looking at him, watching him, watching the sudden energetic flashing of Nathan's fingers on his dark, glistening cock. The initial jet of semen striped against his belly, the next few dripping creamy ribbons over his fingers. "Peter," Nathan moaned faintly, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy, his body shaking.
When he returned to himself, he stared down at Peter, his face impassive, stretching out the fingers his spunk-drenched hand, showing it to his brother, obviously expecting him to eagerly lick it off. Peter arched his eyebrow, then, with an impish grin and a giggle, jumped out of bed and ran out the door.
In the bathroom, Peter enjoyed a quick, tingling wash-up with a tiny dot of his new shower gel and some splashes of water, expecting any second for Nathan to come in, and then they could laugh and recap their favorite sensations, and Peter could lovingly wash Nathan's body and then get back in bed.
The minutes passed, and Peter remained alone. He toweled himself dry, and crept back down the hall, back to his bedroom. Maybe Nathan just wanted him clean, and wanted to remain dirty. Dirty old man, molesting little boys in their beds. Taking advantage of his horny, confused little brother. Peter couldn't help laughing at the thought; maybe if they went for another round, Peter would consent to taste Nathan's come. He didn't mind the taste; it was that there was just so much of it. Nathan didn't exactly dispense porn-star loads, but really, anything more than a taste just grossed Peter out. He admired Nathan for being different...
The lights were back on in Peter's room. Nathan was dressed again, shirt neatly tucked into trousers and sleeve cuffs buttoned, putting on his shoes. He had even combed his wild, sex-tousled hair, a neat side part taming the unruly strands back against his skull. He glanced over at Peter expressionlessly.
"Oh," Peter said softly. "I'm sorry. I thought you were going to follow me."
"That's all right," Nathan assured him.
"No, I'm, like, really, really sorry."
"You didn't do anything wrong." Nathan finished tying his shoelace and straightened up, adjusting his collar. "We were done."
"Not even," Peter protested. He shook his head, his heart dropping through the floor and into the black depths of the earth. "No." He frowned. "So you're just gonna leave now?"
"I need to go home and get some sleep."
"You can sleep here." Peter's voice cracked, for the first time since he was fifteen or something. He sounded like a complete tool.
Nathan arched his eyebrow. "I said, we were done. I don't want to sleep here. I want to sleep in my own bed. I have to work tomorrow. I know you have no idea what that's about."
"Fuck you; that's not what it's about."
"You don't get to tell me what it's about," Nathan snapped. "Grow up and live in the real world for a while and then we can talk about what it's about. I got a life I need to live." He walked over toward Peter, his stance more threatening than anything else. "And I need to get my sleep," he added coldly. "And I can already tell that you'd make it difficult. If not impossible."
"You're the one who came over," Peter muttered.
"Yep," Nathan said. "And now I'm leaving."
In less than a minute, Peter was all alone in the house.
He morosely changed his own sheets and lay down in bed with a textbook, trying to study. He couldn't concentrate; a combination of bone-deep fatigue and a wildly racing brain, trying to figure out what had happened, reduced his brain to mush. He turned on some music, hoping it would relax him, but the rhythms just reminded him of the regular, delicious stroking of Nathan's fingers inside him, and his mind reeled again. He shut off the stereo and picked up the phone, dialling Nathan's home number. Hoping to leave a voicemail to apologize, he held the phone, patiently listening to the purring rings on the line, and actually jumped when the line was connected. "Peter," Nathan answered tersely, "what is it?"
"I just-I-I'm sorry, okay?"
"No big deal, Pete," Nathan responded with a sigh. "Get some sleep."
"I-" That was it. Further protest, explanations, or justifications would go nowhere. How had he gone from winning so completely to losing it all? He wanted to howl, but he only nodded at the phone, forgetting that Nathan couldn't see him. "Okay," he assented softly. "Thanks for dinner."
"You're welcome," Nathan said. "Good night."
And he hung up first. Peter set down the phone handset slowly, pushing it away from him with his fingertips, and put his textbook on the desk. He put on some sweats and a T-shirt, grabbed the duvet from his bed, and went to the den, stretching himself out on the floor. He put his DVD of Australian surfing footage into the player, and switched on the TV set, the volume turned down low, staring at the images of transparent, curling blue waves until his eyelids got heavy and he fell asleep.
END (54)
Note: I almost called this fic "Venn Diagram". Aren't you glad I didn't? ;) Thanks!
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: see pairing and rating, freaky dubcon roleplay, angst
Word Count: ~4600
Summary: Following Ritual 53: Nathan's got a dark side. It doesn't scare Peter, even if Nathan wishes if it did.
• Ritual Reader's Guide •
Heroes and associated characters belong to Tim Kring, Tailwinds Productions, and NBC/Universal, not to me.
FEBRUARY 2000
Petrelli family home, Upper West Side, Manhattan
Did they really have all night?
All night, from now till morning, just to be together? All night, hours of this... those strong, hard, curious hands on his body, the warmth from his skin, close enough to touch as his whim dictated? All his, all night?
Peter was afraid to ask.
He didn't want to hear about it if the answer was no, and he didn't want to risk breaking Nathan out of his sensual, attentive reverie. He never wanted this to end.
Tonight, Nathan seemed to be trying to act out a dream, making a fantasy explicit, his eyes heavy-lidded and his movements lazy and languid, almost like he was hypnotized or drugged. His skin was flushed and damp, his breathing deep, measured, and meditative. And his cock had grown hard again. He was getting off on being horrified about how completely he was getting off. And with who. Shame as aphrodisiac.
Peter's own dreams and fantasies were slightly different, but there was enough overlap that he got enjoyment out of it. Enjoyment? No, more like joy; gratitude that he got to have this experience. This was his dream, his fantasy, just creating sexual pleasure with the one he loved more than any other. Every time they got together, and it came to an end because one of them had to leave, he wondered if it was the last time. Like Nathan was going away to die. He felt like a dog sometimes, unable to reason. He wondered when he would finally get over it, and truly believe that Nathan wasn't leaving forever just because it was time to go home.
***
When, after they had finished eating dinner, and stood awkwardly in the kitchen after they had washed the oil and chili off their hands, Peter had mumbled that he figured Nathan would take off, Nathan just shook his head and smiled. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I'm not done with you."
It was too thrilling. "Cool." Peter lowered his eyes, his face turning bright red, and joked awkwardly, "Use me up." Daring Nathan; daring him to be shocked and leave. Testing the limits. Nathan just stared at him, narrowing his eyes, admitting nothing.
Peter headed back to his bedroom. Nathan followed close behind, his fingers brushing Peter's outstretched hand, but never clasping it, never taking hold. He switched off the lamp, enfolding them in darkness. "You know you shouldn't say things like that to me."
Peter stretched himself out on his messy bed, grinning. "Why not?"
Nathan stroked Peter's cheek, fingers trailing down to his neck. "Because I might," Nathan replied. "Maybe that's not a good thing." He turned away for a moment, stripping off his shirt and pants, then sat beside Peter, reaching out for him.
"I can take what you dish out," said Peter, taking Nathan's hand, drawing the fingers to his mouth and sucking the tips.
Nathan slowly shook his head. "No, I've been pretty easy on you," he said. "I've... kinda got a dark side."
"I've seen it," Peter replied blithely.
"No..."
"It's okay. I love it when you fuck me hard." He slid his mouth over Nathan's forefinger and flickered his tongue against it, swishing slowly side to side.
"Fucking's only a part of it," Nathan told him. "You should know that." His voice dropped to a whisper as Peter sucked his finger, moving his mouth slowly back and forth, up and down. "You get me so hot, I might just... I'm sure you just think it's fun, but it drives me crazy. I worry a little. I can get into some pretty intense stuff. There are things I could do to you that-"
"That's okay," Peter said again, reveling in the knowledge that he could make Nathan lose control. He'd done it so many times in the past, and even if it was sometimes painful, it was worth it, just to know he'd made Nathan break. "I trust you."
"You shouldn't..." Nathan had his eyes closed, even in the dark.
Clucking his tongue comfortingly, Peter pulled Nathan over to him, over him, across him. Peter still wore the T-shirt and underpants that he'd put on to go down into the dining room to eat. He'd left on a few garments to give Nathan the pleasure of either watching Peter strip them off, or taking them off himself. "Play with me; it's okay," Peter whispered. He bumped his lips against Nathan's chin. "It's okay. You can touch me." Nathan's hands found him, discovered the parts he most wanted touched-which was, really, all of him. "Touch me." Peter gently kissed Nathan's bottom lip, shifting his body underneath him, urging Nathan to make himself comfortable.
But Nathan refused to take the bait. He edged himself up, balanced on one elbow, looking down at Peter, studying him. Fighting off frustration-he really wanted another kiss-Peter ran his hand up through Nathan's hair, making it all stand on end. "Mmm," Peter murmured suggestively, "you know you can make me do whatever you want, right? Whatever you want." He stared back wide-eyed, his gaze as innocent as he could manage with his stiff dick ludicrously bulging in his shorts. He glanced at it, then up at Nathan; his brother's eyes were locked onto his erection. Peter was tempted to stroke it, but he wanted even more for Nathan to do it, so he spread his legs a little, shifting his hips. "Tell me what to do," he said. "What do you want to do? What do you want to see?"
The skin around Nathan's eyes tightened when he smiled; his dreamy expression hardened too, sharpening, focusing. "Get up on your hands and knees," he commanded, his voice a menacing whisper.
"Okay," Peter agreed. He slid out from under Nathan, missing his warmth immediately, and made sure that he kept his fingers on Nathan's wrist as he rose up on all fours beside him. But Nathan took even that touch away, moving aside to the edge of the bed, staring at Peter with the unblinking, single-minded intensity of a cobra. Peter sighed and hung his head, his arms shaking slightly, noting the pendulum swing of his cock between his legs.
Obviously, Nathan had noticed, too. He reached between Peter's thighs, and, giving a quiet grunt of satisfaction, took the cloth-bound cock into his hand, squeezing and massaging with his thumb. He slid his hand into the left leg hole of the underpants, contacting flesh, the hair on the back of his fingers tickling Peter's thigh, his fingertips finding Peter's balls. Peter moaned in faint distress, not from the touch, but by the sudden, restrictive tightness of his underwear against his penis, pinching the hairs lining his groin. "Nathan...?" he moaned, unsure of what he was asking for. Whatever it was, Nathan withdrew his hand, then parted Peter's thighs just a little more before stroking the stiff cock through the fabric again. He squeezed Peter's buttocks, spanking them lightly with the back of his hand, pulling down the waistband of the shorts to expose the curve of an ass cheek for him to nuzzle and kiss. Peter smiled so much his face ached; how he loved to be touched all over like this, rough and delicate by turns. How he loved it when Nathan kissed his ass, and how he moaned with satisfaction as he did so. Oh, divine; divine.
Nathan pulled the shorts back up, covering Peter again. Peter looked inquiringly over his shoulder. Nathan had that cold, lustful expression on his face. Peter knew that look well; it always scared him and made him wonder if he'd gone too far, and, at the same time, knew that it was to his advantage. Nathan would never have touched him in the first place if he hadn't lost control, and let something simpler and more animal take over. Something jealous, possessive, and cruel, not caring about why not. Only how. And Right now. And My way. And, just a little bit, I hate you for doing this to me, and you'll pay.
So that was Nathan's dark side. Fair enough. He could call it whatever he wanted; as long as he stayed. As long as this togetherness never had to end.
"Lie down," said Nathan. "Face up."
Peter did as he was told. Immediately, Nathan lay back over him again, kissing his mouth hard and closed, his hands stroking over the T-shirt, down to the undershorts, his fingers dragging against the cloth, but not removing it. Peter wrapped his arms around Nathan's waist and sighed happily, "Yeah..."
"Tell me to stop," Nathan whispered. "Tell me not to."
Peter shook his head, not getting it, too much in lust to understand anything but fulfillment. "But I want you to." His hands swarmed across Nathan's back, across his waist and ass and hard, muscular thighs. He wanted to be locked together, beautifully and incredibly one, or as close to it as they could get.
"Play with me," Nathan begged, breathless and desperate, his eyes squinting shut. "Please." His fingers circled Peter's nipples through the T-shirt, grasping the tiny nubs between his fingers and rolling them. When Peter tried to reach down and touch himself, Nathan sharply grabbed Peter's wrists, forcing them back behind him, to the bed. When Peter struggled slightly, instinctively trying to resist, Nathan leaned into him, his weight threatening to crush out Peter's breath, murmuring, "Yes."
And then Peter understood. He nodded a little. "Don't hurt me," he whispered, knowing that, in those words, he gave Nathan the permission to do just that.
Nathan moved his grip from Peter's wrists to his shoulders, pressing his mouth against Peter's nipples under the T-shirt, and biting through the thin cotton, catching the tender skin between his teeth. Peter let out an involuntary groan of arousal, but managed to whimper, "Don't…" He was pleased at how vulnerable and immature he sounded. "W-w-what are you doing?"
Nathan gave a shaky gasp, and both his hands slid up under the T-shirt, toying with the now-moistened nipples. He buried his face under Peter's neck, his teeth nipping the skin. Not too hard. "Ow," Peter responded. "Quit it." Nathan chuckled, and pushed the T-shirt up, biting the now-bare nipples, sucking firmly with lips and tongue. Peter squirmed, genuinely ticklish, and his voice came out as a bitchy, childish whine. "Ow... Nathan, don't, please." He struggled, and Nathan grabbed his wrists again, holding them tight. God, he was strong. He could snap Peter's wrist like a twig. And yet, again, not too hard. That wasn't what this was about. Or maybe just not yet. Peter kind of wanted it to go there, and yet, was a little afraid. But there was no real reason to be afraid; Nathan had hurt him before, and he'd survived; they still loved each other. Even more, now, maybe. "You shouldn't..."
"But I will," Nathan whispered. He ground his own erection against Peter's thigh, releasing a wrist to run his hand possessively down Peter's side. "Now, you just be good, okay?" He slid a hand down inside Peter's shorts, grasping his cock, stroking it, chafing the head against the fabric just enough to make it tingle. "The more you fight me, the longer this is going to take." His fingers slid under the waistband, tentatively touching Peter's erection, sliding down and down. "Little one... Such a sweet boy... Just let me..."
Dangerous, strange, intensely twisted play, this was. But Nathan needed it; wanted to be reminded of just how wrong it was. How young and vulnerable Peter was (or at least, he had been; he didn't feel young or vulnerable right now. He wasn't. Nathan was in the palm of his hand. Who else could understand this? Who else would allow this?) "Uh… oh… Nathan… please… don't do this to me. Please stop. Please?" His cock was leaking all over the place, wetting Nathan's hand and wrist and the waistband of his shorts. If Nathan was twisted, so was he. Peter struggled some more, freeing a hand to lightly slap against the side of Nathan's face, pretending to push Nathan's face away, then relaxing, pretending to give up, pretending to choke off a humiliated sob. "Oh-h-h..."
"Ss-sh," Nathan replied, kissing Peter's neck, sucking his earlobe, sliding those pre-come-wet fingers over Peter's balls and toward his asshole. "Just sit still. Just be still and let me do this. I won't hurt you. It'll feel good."
"Hey, um," Peter said, his clearer, saner voice an interruption. "What if I, um, actually need you to stop doing something?"
Nathan actually made eye contact for a moment, hands stilled, weighing his answer. "Pinch me," Nathan decided. He smiled. "I want to ignore 'no' for a while."
"Okay," Peter agreed, smiling back. He knew he trusted Nathan for a reason, even if his fingers didn't stop, and in fact grew more insistent, seeking and probing.
"You can't stop me if I don't want to stop," Nathan said. He lifted one of Peter's legs by the knee, parting him, effortlessly holding him down with his body while his hands were full.
Peter weakly shoved against Nathan's shoulders with his palms. "Oh… no, not my butthole… oh, please, don't; don't do that. A-anything but that..." When really, what he wanted was for Nathan to eat him out, lick him sticky and wet, fuck him hard and leave him crying and shattered. If telling Nathan "no" would make that happen, faster and harder and better, Peter was more than willing. Weird and twisted; he could take it. "Don't-I'm not like that-"
"Sssh. It's okay, little brother. I won't hurt you. I won't tell anybody. It's okay to like it."
Peter drew his breath in with a hiss, and his cock jumped so hard against Nathan's wrist that he could almost hear it tapping against the bone. "You fuck," he muttered, "you sick fuck. Leave me alone. Don't do this to me."
Nathan reached up with the unoccupied hand and covered Peter's mouth with it. Peter moaned, squirming more vigorously, and Nathan slid his scar-tipped thumb between Peter's lips. "Sssh," Nathan said again. He didn't seem to object to the desperate way that Peter sucked on that thumb, moaning as his lips moved back and forth over the rough-textured joint. He nuzzled his face into Peter's armpits. "Sssh, I love you. Just be still; be quiet; let it happen."
Nathan kept his thumb in Peter's mouth even as he slid down the bed, pressing kisses and bites and swipes of tongue against Peter's exposed chest and belly, but as he went down further, he had to take his hand back. He used the left hand to tug down Peter's shorts, just enough to expose his straining, blood-stiffened cock, raging hot and wet and sensitive, kissing down toward it.
"Ahh," Peter gasped, "ahhh, oh, please… ahhh… uh, don't…" He struggled not to break character. He was supposed to be the young, helpless kid for Nathan to ravage, not the lust-crazed horndog who wanted to shove Nathan down onto the floor and sit on his face.
"Sssh," Nathan said again. He ran his nose along the thickening line of hair at Peter's groin, burying his face in the dense, glossy black thatch. Peter ran his fingers over the back of Nathan's skull, pulling his hair, but gently; he definitely didn't want Nathan to stop. He wanted Nathan to hurry.
"Please," he breathed, reducing his voice into tiny, heartbroken gasps. If he could make himself cry, he knew he'd win, but at the moment, tears were a million miles away. This was splendid torture. "Don't…"
He could feel Nathan's cock jump against him, and he wanted it. He wondered if Nathan would eventually make Peter suck him off, forcing him to give head, gently murmuring assurances all the while. He could get into that, as long as Nathan wasn't too rough. He did want to believe that Nathan wouldn't hurt him, but Peter's own lust had been stoked so high that he wasn't sure that he'd be able to come to his senses if he tried to do too much. There were limits to the human body, after all. The thought of choking on Nathan's cock was much more erotic than the experience of it. Still… oh, oh, the thought. "Please," he moaned again. "Please stop."
"Sssh. Take it easy." Nathan glanced up at Peter, a slight, enigmatic smile on his face. "I won't hurt you."
He lifted Peter's cock away from his body with his left hand, and nuzzled his nose and cheek against Peter's ball sac. Peter's eyes rolled back into his head, and his fingers and toes curled tight, trying to maintain control and not go spurting off into Nathan's hair. If Nathan noticed this, he gave no indication, rubbing his nose and lips against the loose, hair-sprinkled skin. Kissing it; licking it. Peter moaned out loud, and then louder as Nathan's damp forefinger slid into his anus, still warm and lubricated from their fuck earlier that night. "Oh, Jesus God, ohhhhh… oh!"
"Sssh," Nathan whispered, looking up, arching his eyebrow warningly. "Sssh… mmmm," he concluded, licking the base of Peter's cock, licking up and up until he had the head in his mouth. "Mmm-mmmm."
"Oh, my fuck. Oh, God. Yeah-h-h-huh." To hell with the little-boy act; this felt too good not to yell about. He actually bit his knuckles as Nathan sucked and sucked, and pulsed his fingers up his ass just right. Exactly right. No one could do it better... this was what he dreamed about, had dreamed about since he was probably the age that Nathan was fantasizing that he was... oh, sick, oh, beautiful, Nathan had always known, he had just been saving it for now. "I'm coming, c-coming, Nathan," Peter babbled, his thighs spreading wide, then closing onto Nathan's shoulders, releasing him, only to clasp him again. "Oh, I-oh! Uh! Uhh! Can you taste it? Oh! Oh, my God, that's so-! Oh! Yes, oh, yes, oh yessss..."
Somehow Nathan drew him all the way into his mouth, past his teeth; into his throat. Sucking and swallowing, pausing to gasp for air with foamy traces of semen smearing the corners of his mouth, only to go down again. His fingers inside Peter's ass stroked his prostate, massaging it, milking it, making Peter's interior muscles go into spasm again. "Oh, my God!" Peter cried out. Coming so soon, right on the heels of a previous orgasm, was almost too much for him to bear; like the dizzy feeling of danger of swinging too high, climbing too high, seeing the world invert, not knowing if he would take off and fly, or go crashing down to his death. Sweat trickled over his forehead and chest. Nathan moaned happily, sucking harder, swallowing again, licking his lips.
"Again," Nathan whispered.
"No-oh, God, I can't-" Oh, but he could. Nathan could roll that gland inside him, applying just the right pressure with his fingertip, combined with powerful, demanding suction on Peter's cock to keep it hard, keep the blood trapped in it to complete its purpose a third time. Once again, Peter convulsed with pleasure and release-much more release than pleasure, but the release shook every cell in his body, flooding him with electricity and leaving behind bewilderment and bliss.
Peter wept at last, and it wasn't acting. "Please, stop," he begged. "Oh, please, Nathan, please don't… I can't…" He still felt like the world was upside down, and Nathan was sucking him again, harder now, relentless. Insatiable. Peter shook his head, and said sharply, "Fuck, give me a break for a minute!"
Nathan just laughed, rubbing his tongue along the underside of Peter's now-aching, softening cock. Peter reached down and pinched Nathan's shoulder with his fingernails, and Nathan jerked his head up and grabbed Peter's hand. "Ow, I get it, okay?" Nathan said. "Shit. Your nails are sharp!"
"Sorry. I just couldn't take it anymore."
Nathan grunted. "You can take what I dish out. You told me so. I'm not listening to you anymore. Now, you do what I say. Turn over."
Peter gratefully positioned himself face down, grabbing one of his pillows for comfort since he couldn't cling to Nathan. His brother moved on top of him, behind him, pulling his legs out and hips up, so that he could fit between Peter's legs. He spit onto Peter's behind, rubbing it roughly into Peter's anus and balls. Peter moaned. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes." Even with all of the ejaculations, a fuck would still be delicious, even if it couldn't possibly get him to come again. He wanted Nathan inside him, thick and rough and insistent. And now Nathan was angry. It would be good. Frightening and incredibly satisfying.
But instead of penetrating him, Nathan rubbed his cock against the slickness on Peter's ass crack, holding Peter's arms against the bed. They groaned at the first thrusting slide, their hips together, the strong shelf of Nathan's pelvis against the softness of Peter's buttocks.
"God. Yeah. Ahhh."
"Oh-oh-Nathan-ohhh, uhhhh."
"You just-be a good boy-uh-and give me what I want."
"Are you gonna fuck me?"
"Ahhhh.... No, no. I wouldn't do that to you. I won't hurt you like that." Coldly amused. Enjoying this.
"Please..." Peter squinted his eyes shut, taking the chance. "Please just do it. Fuck me. Please. Hurt me. Please!"
"No. Hush." Making everything worse, Nathan slapped Peter's right buttock, hard enough to throb and ache.
Peter's voice came out rough and loud. "Please, Nathan, I'm-I'm not a kid. I'm begging you. Please. Please fuck me. Put it inside me. Put your cock inside me; I want your cock. Please. I want it! I want it!"
"Sssh. Just be still."
Peter completely lost his patience. "God damn it. Damn it! Fuck you! You're pissing me off."
"Fuck you, you stupid kid. Do you even know what you're asking? You think-" Nathan repositioned himself, took his cock in his hand, and pressed the head against Peter's asshole. For a moment they were at an impasse, and then Peter remembered to relax and bear down, and then Nathan was inside him again. Moving in slow, slower than he ever needed to. But it felt incredible, hot and tight, but still lubed and loosened enough from before to make it gloriously possible. Peter howled and bit his pillow. "See? I told you. I didn't want to hurt you. You don't know what the fuck you want. You don't know what you're talking about." Deeper, deeper; all the way. So good. But Nathan stopped there and didn't move.
"Fuck you, then," Peter sneered, breathless and dizzy. "Get out. Get out of here and leave me alone. I need to sleep. Come in here in the middle of the night and fuck me... like you own me... Fuck you, Nathan. Fuck you." Fuck me.
Nathan took a deep breath, ran his hands along Peter's back, and withdrew his cock completely. Peter turned over again, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, looking at him, watching him, watching the sudden energetic flashing of Nathan's fingers on his dark, glistening cock. The initial jet of semen striped against his belly, the next few dripping creamy ribbons over his fingers. "Peter," Nathan moaned faintly, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy, his body shaking.
When he returned to himself, he stared down at Peter, his face impassive, stretching out the fingers his spunk-drenched hand, showing it to his brother, obviously expecting him to eagerly lick it off. Peter arched his eyebrow, then, with an impish grin and a giggle, jumped out of bed and ran out the door.
In the bathroom, Peter enjoyed a quick, tingling wash-up with a tiny dot of his new shower gel and some splashes of water, expecting any second for Nathan to come in, and then they could laugh and recap their favorite sensations, and Peter could lovingly wash Nathan's body and then get back in bed.
The minutes passed, and Peter remained alone. He toweled himself dry, and crept back down the hall, back to his bedroom. Maybe Nathan just wanted him clean, and wanted to remain dirty. Dirty old man, molesting little boys in their beds. Taking advantage of his horny, confused little brother. Peter couldn't help laughing at the thought; maybe if they went for another round, Peter would consent to taste Nathan's come. He didn't mind the taste; it was that there was just so much of it. Nathan didn't exactly dispense porn-star loads, but really, anything more than a taste just grossed Peter out. He admired Nathan for being different...
The lights were back on in Peter's room. Nathan was dressed again, shirt neatly tucked into trousers and sleeve cuffs buttoned, putting on his shoes. He had even combed his wild, sex-tousled hair, a neat side part taming the unruly strands back against his skull. He glanced over at Peter expressionlessly.
"Oh," Peter said softly. "I'm sorry. I thought you were going to follow me."
"That's all right," Nathan assured him.
"No, I'm, like, really, really sorry."
"You didn't do anything wrong." Nathan finished tying his shoelace and straightened up, adjusting his collar. "We were done."
"Not even," Peter protested. He shook his head, his heart dropping through the floor and into the black depths of the earth. "No." He frowned. "So you're just gonna leave now?"
"I need to go home and get some sleep."
"You can sleep here." Peter's voice cracked, for the first time since he was fifteen or something. He sounded like a complete tool.
Nathan arched his eyebrow. "I said, we were done. I don't want to sleep here. I want to sleep in my own bed. I have to work tomorrow. I know you have no idea what that's about."
"Fuck you; that's not what it's about."
"You don't get to tell me what it's about," Nathan snapped. "Grow up and live in the real world for a while and then we can talk about what it's about. I got a life I need to live." He walked over toward Peter, his stance more threatening than anything else. "And I need to get my sleep," he added coldly. "And I can already tell that you'd make it difficult. If not impossible."
"You're the one who came over," Peter muttered.
"Yep," Nathan said. "And now I'm leaving."
In less than a minute, Peter was all alone in the house.
He morosely changed his own sheets and lay down in bed with a textbook, trying to study. He couldn't concentrate; a combination of bone-deep fatigue and a wildly racing brain, trying to figure out what had happened, reduced his brain to mush. He turned on some music, hoping it would relax him, but the rhythms just reminded him of the regular, delicious stroking of Nathan's fingers inside him, and his mind reeled again. He shut off the stereo and picked up the phone, dialling Nathan's home number. Hoping to leave a voicemail to apologize, he held the phone, patiently listening to the purring rings on the line, and actually jumped when the line was connected. "Peter," Nathan answered tersely, "what is it?"
"I just-I-I'm sorry, okay?"
"No big deal, Pete," Nathan responded with a sigh. "Get some sleep."
"I-" That was it. Further protest, explanations, or justifications would go nowhere. How had he gone from winning so completely to losing it all? He wanted to howl, but he only nodded at the phone, forgetting that Nathan couldn't see him. "Okay," he assented softly. "Thanks for dinner."
"You're welcome," Nathan said. "Good night."
And he hung up first. Peter set down the phone handset slowly, pushing it away from him with his fingertips, and put his textbook on the desk. He put on some sweats and a T-shirt, grabbed the duvet from his bed, and went to the den, stretching himself out on the floor. He put his DVD of Australian surfing footage into the player, and switched on the TV set, the volume turned down low, staring at the images of transparent, curling blue waves until his eyelids got heavy and he fell asleep.
END (54)
Note: I almost called this fic "Venn Diagram". Aren't you glad I didn't? ;) Thanks!