Fic: The Long Goodbye
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,432
Disclaimer: Heroes characters belong to Tim Kring.
A/N: Heh, this was fun, even if it got all weird.
Summary: For the Anonymous Fic Meme prompt "Peter/Claude: noir role-play."
Dust motes float among sunbeams that stab through the Venetian blinds. Summer in New York, blazing hot. Makes a person want to creep into the shadows and stay there, no matter what they find.
From his seat Peter eyes the silhouetted figure leaning against the edge of a table in front of him. Long legs crossed, one arm braced on the wood while the other holds up a cigarette that never seems to make it to his lips, just releases a gray ribbon of smoke to wreath his fedora and twine among the motes. His button-down shirt is as rumpled as his tie and wrinkles awkwardly beneath suspenders, sleeves rolled to the elbow probably hiding frayed cuffs.
“What can I do for you today?”
“My brother is missing. I want to hire you to find him.”
A tilt of the man’s head reveals the surprised blink of sky blue eyes. The questioning glance.
“His name is Nathan Petrelli,” Peter presses on, “The senator.”
The man sighs, but says, “Petrelli family’s well connected. What’s brought the black sheep down to beg help from a two-bit private detective like me?”
“They don’t really care about finding him. Just keeping other people from finding out he’s gone. They’ll keep making excuses for the papers, and he- he could be dead already.”
“... Peter-”
“Do you want the case or not, Detective Rains?”
Rains frowns, stubs out his cigarette in a coffee mug and draws a thumbnail across his forehead. He slowly unfolds himself and sidles closer to Peter, who has to crane his head back to maintain eye contact. “Could be dangerous, yeah? You don’t happen to know what kind of people your brother was keepin’ company with before his disappearance? What kind of activities he might’ve been getting up to?”
Peter stands sharply with a frown of his own, “My brother’s a good man. He’ll be a great man, if we can just get him back where he belongs.”
“Enough of this ‘we’ talk, friend. We haven’t even discussed payment yet.”
Peter falters, and curses the blood he can feel already rushing to his cheeks. “I... I don’t have much money.”
“Youngest son of the Petrellis is strapped for cash? Right, yeah, pull the other one.”
“I got cut off a long time ago. I’m a nurse now, so I’m not exactly swimming in dough, got it?”
Rains holds up his hands, “Okay, mate, have it your way- you’re poor as a church mouse. My question is, where’s my payment coming from then? And I’ll tell ya’ right now, I’m not interested in a free examination.” His gaze drifts down, “That is, unless...” It rises back up, now filled with dark promise.
Peter’s pulse speeds up and his skin prickles with heat. Okay- okay, play it cool. This is what you wanted. “Yeah, uh- yeah, if, uh...” He closes his eyes briefly and tries to swallow his horrible awkwardness. To pitch his voice low and tempting as he says, “If that’s what you want.”
Rains gives a one-sided smirk that’s too gentle. He steps closer, and brushes a cheek against Peter’s. “And what if I just wanted to take care of you?”
Peter’s eyes fall shut again and he sets his jaw. “I didn’t come here to be taken care of. Do you wanna get paid or not, detective?”
Rains leans back, and his voice now holds the coolness of a stranger’s, overlaid with raw lust. “Very well then, Pete, just thought I’d ask.”
Wide hands land on his shoulders, and Peter leans in, but is instead pushed down, back into the chair. A small thrill runs through him, and he’s not sure if it’s good or bad. He brings his own hands up to run down Rains’ sides, stopping at the top of his pants. Peter glances up with an unspoken question.
Rains just chuckles, and pushes Peter back against the chair. Then he kneels, and his hat hides his face as he gets to work on Peter’s belt and fly. The younger man holds in any sound of surprise, manages to just watch and trail what he hopes are welcoming palms along Rains’ shoulders and arms. He’s only starting to get hard when the man frees his cock, but the process is speeded considerably by a wet mouth sucking on the head. Peter gasps, legs falling open and fingers clenching into Rains’ muscles.
He moans as more of his length slides into the heat of Rains’ mouth, and Peter finds himself silently cursing the battered fedora that blocks his view. He tries to pull it off, but Rains bats his hand away and presses a warning edge of teeth into Peter’s flesh. So he just sits there, lets his head fall back and his hips twitch into the bob and sink. It’s good- god, it’s great, the best he’s felt since... Rains gives a small grunt and hoists Peter’s knees up over his shoulders, canting his hips to a new angle and taking even more down his throat. Peter knows he can’t possibly last much longer like this, and tries to telegraph a warning in squeezes of Rains’ shoulder. The man pulls off with a long suck that has his hand following right after, tight- tighter than his mouth and moving faster, just right with a twist that practically has Peter arching off the chair when he comes all over his clothes in a moment of blissful non-being.
He slumps back and tries to breathe, fails not to shudder as Rains tucks his over-sensitive cock into his pants. Peter is completely presentable, besides being flushed and boneless and semen-spattered, by the time he can breathe normally and keep his eyes open. “Cl- detective...”
That damn fedora is still hiding most of Rains’ face. Peter sits up and takes hold of his shoulder and chin so he can see his eyes. They’re still bright, hungry, and almost black with lust.
“Is... is that all you want?”
He clears his throat. “Whatever happened to half now, half when the job’s done?”
Sorrow prick’s Peter’s heart. He leans forward, and so does Rains, until his cheek can rest against his collarbone and his arms can wrap around him. “Who’s to say what’s half?” Peter feels Rains sigh. “Please.”
Two strong arms band around Peter’s waist and lift him to his feet. There’s a moment where Rains simply looks at him, and Peter tries to smile. Then he’s being kissed fiercely, a tight grip tilting his head to the right angle as he’s walked backwards against the table, which is sturdier than he would’ve guessed as he none too gently sits on it. He does his best to meet every one of Rains’ fevered kisses as his hands slide under the man’s suspenders and push them off. Rains hurriedly disentangles his arms from them, yanks his shirt from his pants, and undoes his fly. Then they both get somewhat distracted with deep kisses and arms squeezing tight around shoulders and torso. Rains leans forward, tipping Peter onto his back. Nimble fingers make short work of his waistcoat and shirt buttons and don’t bother to stop until he’s lifting his hips to pull down his pants and boxers.
Peter lifts his legs and Rains obligingly ducks to let them rest on his shoulders again. He bites his lip as a slicked finger pushes inside him. He feels exposed, invaded, and trapped by the clothing hanging around his ankles, but somehow it only makes it better. He arches, wraps his arms around Rains neck and asks for more. The stretch and scissor of another two fingers has him begging for it. The fingers are replaced by a thick cock that doesn’t stop until it’s in to the base. Peter can only shut his eyes and gasp, consumed by the feeling of fullness beneath Rains. He isn’t given much time to savor it, as Rains begins thrusting into him hard and fast.
The man is bent over him, clutching his thighs in twin bruising grips. Heavy breaths and kisses fall on Peter’s neck and chest. “I’ll find him... find him for you...” he pants.
“I know,” Peter sighs.
“... L-love you,” Claude chokes out as he comes with a few more sharp thrusts and a deep shudder. He barely rests a moment before ducking out from under Peter’s legs and walking away, one hand holding up his pants as his suspenders sway and the other taking off the fedora.
Peter stays lying on the table, his whole protesting backside a preferable feeling to confused and bitter guilt. “I know.”
Word Count: 1,432
Disclaimer: Heroes characters belong to Tim Kring.
A/N: Heh, this was fun, even if it got all weird.
Summary: For the Anonymous Fic Meme prompt "Peter/Claude: noir role-play."
Dust motes float among sunbeams that stab through the Venetian blinds. Summer in New York, blazing hot. Makes a person want to creep into the shadows and stay there, no matter what they find.
From his seat Peter eyes the silhouetted figure leaning against the edge of a table in front of him. Long legs crossed, one arm braced on the wood while the other holds up a cigarette that never seems to make it to his lips, just releases a gray ribbon of smoke to wreath his fedora and twine among the motes. His button-down shirt is as rumpled as his tie and wrinkles awkwardly beneath suspenders, sleeves rolled to the elbow probably hiding frayed cuffs.
“What can I do for you today?”
“My brother is missing. I want to hire you to find him.”
A tilt of the man’s head reveals the surprised blink of sky blue eyes. The questioning glance.
“His name is Nathan Petrelli,” Peter presses on, “The senator.”
The man sighs, but says, “Petrelli family’s well connected. What’s brought the black sheep down to beg help from a two-bit private detective like me?”
“They don’t really care about finding him. Just keeping other people from finding out he’s gone. They’ll keep making excuses for the papers, and he- he could be dead already.”
“... Peter-”
“Do you want the case or not, Detective Rains?”
Rains frowns, stubs out his cigarette in a coffee mug and draws a thumbnail across his forehead. He slowly unfolds himself and sidles closer to Peter, who has to crane his head back to maintain eye contact. “Could be dangerous, yeah? You don’t happen to know what kind of people your brother was keepin’ company with before his disappearance? What kind of activities he might’ve been getting up to?”
Peter stands sharply with a frown of his own, “My brother’s a good man. He’ll be a great man, if we can just get him back where he belongs.”
“Enough of this ‘we’ talk, friend. We haven’t even discussed payment yet.”
Peter falters, and curses the blood he can feel already rushing to his cheeks. “I... I don’t have much money.”
“Youngest son of the Petrellis is strapped for cash? Right, yeah, pull the other one.”
“I got cut off a long time ago. I’m a nurse now, so I’m not exactly swimming in dough, got it?”
Rains holds up his hands, “Okay, mate, have it your way- you’re poor as a church mouse. My question is, where’s my payment coming from then? And I’ll tell ya’ right now, I’m not interested in a free examination.” His gaze drifts down, “That is, unless...” It rises back up, now filled with dark promise.
Peter’s pulse speeds up and his skin prickles with heat. Okay- okay, play it cool. This is what you wanted. “Yeah, uh- yeah, if, uh...” He closes his eyes briefly and tries to swallow his horrible awkwardness. To pitch his voice low and tempting as he says, “If that’s what you want.”
Rains gives a one-sided smirk that’s too gentle. He steps closer, and brushes a cheek against Peter’s. “And what if I just wanted to take care of you?”
Peter’s eyes fall shut again and he sets his jaw. “I didn’t come here to be taken care of. Do you wanna get paid or not, detective?”
Rains leans back, and his voice now holds the coolness of a stranger’s, overlaid with raw lust. “Very well then, Pete, just thought I’d ask.”
Wide hands land on his shoulders, and Peter leans in, but is instead pushed down, back into the chair. A small thrill runs through him, and he’s not sure if it’s good or bad. He brings his own hands up to run down Rains’ sides, stopping at the top of his pants. Peter glances up with an unspoken question.
Rains just chuckles, and pushes Peter back against the chair. Then he kneels, and his hat hides his face as he gets to work on Peter’s belt and fly. The younger man holds in any sound of surprise, manages to just watch and trail what he hopes are welcoming palms along Rains’ shoulders and arms. He’s only starting to get hard when the man frees his cock, but the process is speeded considerably by a wet mouth sucking on the head. Peter gasps, legs falling open and fingers clenching into Rains’ muscles.
He moans as more of his length slides into the heat of Rains’ mouth, and Peter finds himself silently cursing the battered fedora that blocks his view. He tries to pull it off, but Rains bats his hand away and presses a warning edge of teeth into Peter’s flesh. So he just sits there, lets his head fall back and his hips twitch into the bob and sink. It’s good- god, it’s great, the best he’s felt since... Rains gives a small grunt and hoists Peter’s knees up over his shoulders, canting his hips to a new angle and taking even more down his throat. Peter knows he can’t possibly last much longer like this, and tries to telegraph a warning in squeezes of Rains’ shoulder. The man pulls off with a long suck that has his hand following right after, tight- tighter than his mouth and moving faster, just right with a twist that practically has Peter arching off the chair when he comes all over his clothes in a moment of blissful non-being.
He slumps back and tries to breathe, fails not to shudder as Rains tucks his over-sensitive cock into his pants. Peter is completely presentable, besides being flushed and boneless and semen-spattered, by the time he can breathe normally and keep his eyes open. “Cl- detective...”
That damn fedora is still hiding most of Rains’ face. Peter sits up and takes hold of his shoulder and chin so he can see his eyes. They’re still bright, hungry, and almost black with lust.
“Is... is that all you want?”
He clears his throat. “Whatever happened to half now, half when the job’s done?”
Sorrow prick’s Peter’s heart. He leans forward, and so does Rains, until his cheek can rest against his collarbone and his arms can wrap around him. “Who’s to say what’s half?” Peter feels Rains sigh. “Please.”
Two strong arms band around Peter’s waist and lift him to his feet. There’s a moment where Rains simply looks at him, and Peter tries to smile. Then he’s being kissed fiercely, a tight grip tilting his head to the right angle as he’s walked backwards against the table, which is sturdier than he would’ve guessed as he none too gently sits on it. He does his best to meet every one of Rains’ fevered kisses as his hands slide under the man’s suspenders and push them off. Rains hurriedly disentangles his arms from them, yanks his shirt from his pants, and undoes his fly. Then they both get somewhat distracted with deep kisses and arms squeezing tight around shoulders and torso. Rains leans forward, tipping Peter onto his back. Nimble fingers make short work of his waistcoat and shirt buttons and don’t bother to stop until he’s lifting his hips to pull down his pants and boxers.
Peter lifts his legs and Rains obligingly ducks to let them rest on his shoulders again. He bites his lip as a slicked finger pushes inside him. He feels exposed, invaded, and trapped by the clothing hanging around his ankles, but somehow it only makes it better. He arches, wraps his arms around Rains neck and asks for more. The stretch and scissor of another two fingers has him begging for it. The fingers are replaced by a thick cock that doesn’t stop until it’s in to the base. Peter can only shut his eyes and gasp, consumed by the feeling of fullness beneath Rains. He isn’t given much time to savor it, as Rains begins thrusting into him hard and fast.
The man is bent over him, clutching his thighs in twin bruising grips. Heavy breaths and kisses fall on Peter’s neck and chest. “I’ll find him... find him for you...” he pants.
“I know,” Peter sighs.
“... L-love you,” Claude chokes out as he comes with a few more sharp thrusts and a deep shudder. He barely rests a moment before ducking out from under Peter’s legs and walking away, one hand holding up his pants as his suspenders sway and the other taking off the fedora.
Peter stays lying on the table, his whole protesting backside a preferable feeling to confused and bitter guilt. “I know.”