[Heroes] Family Thing (Nathan/Peter/Claire, PWP)
Title: Family Thing
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter/Claire
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Did you see the pairing and the rating, didn't you?
Word Count: 897 (W)
Written for: The Italian P0rn Fest, prompt Heroes, Claire/Nathan/Peter, "Now we're family".
Note: No plot. Not even the slightest bit. And infinite thanks to the amazing super-beta snopes_faith, because I wouldn't know what to do without her.
The last thing Claire remembers when she’s still sober is Peter’s hands interwining across her belly, his arms enclosing her waist from behind, and his voice - a hot breath against her ear - whispering: “Now we’re family, Claire. You’re one of us”. At the corner of her eye, Nathan smiles, thanks the guests and raising his champagne says: “Happy New Year everyone”. The glasses tinkle and Claire wonders how much they paid for the crystal chandelier hanging above their heads.
After, Peter is carrying her in his arms through infinite corridors and swaying like a drunk - but he can’t be, he didn’t drink that much; not more than Claire, anyway. Then there’s a mattress stretching and releasing under her back, the world spins around, the walls are pink and Claire can’t stop laughing.
“Did you see Aunt Margaret’s face when I told her...”
“Which one of the six?” Claire interrupts him, and it sounds like a very funny thing that the Petrellis’ relatives have all the same names. She’s already counted six Aunt Margarets, five Uncle Bobs and an unspecified number of Cousin Arthurs.
“I don’t know,” admits Peter, rising on his elbow, his face near to Claire’s. “One. The one with the mustache.”
Okay, this is really funny. Claire laughs and her voice sounds distorted to her ears, like the stupid giggle of the schoolgirl she still is, but Peter’s laughing too, so who cares. His breath smells like alcohol, he’s drunk and probably she’s too. (You can never be sure when you’re by this side of the question.)
Peter leans a hand on her thigh, caressing her skin under the hem of her skirt. Maybe it’s the alcohol’s effect that makes everything look a bit more wow than it is, but Claire thinks the way Peter’s caressing the back of her right knee is very erotic. Therefore he should stop it, maybe, or maybe he shouldn’t.
“What’re you doing?” she asks, bending the concerned leg to give him more space. Peter’s fingers accept the invitation and shift some inches up. Claire’s hot, burning hot, even if her dress is sleeveless and the fabric is withdrawing from her thighs from second to second, gathering in a heap of crinkles more and more near to her hips.
“Does it bother you?” asks Peter, kissing her neck.
“No,” she answers, and laughs because Peter’s stubble tickles.
Now the fingers are already jumping over the hem of her panties and Claire feels them move lower, rustle through her soft candy blond hair, and Peter comes closer, breathing against her ear. Claire moans too loudly, a rush of blood all across her face. Peter lifts his eyes and smiles while Claire’s gaze blurs slightly around the edges. Then he kisses her. He’s as slow and tender as his fingers, and instinctively Claire closes her thighs, to block them and have them come deeper.
Instead Peter rises up and withdraws his hand, earning a displeased moan from Claire. He shifts on the bed between her legs and slowly slips off her wet panties and her shoes with the thin heels Claire was pointing decidedly against the mattress. Maybe it’s the alcohol’s effect, but the way he’s caressing her left foot before putting it gently on the bedcover is giving her shivers.
It’s only when her dress is all collected around her hips and everything has got very vague and multicolored apart from the soft, flexuous consistency of Peter’s tongue against her clit, it’s only then that Claire sees him.
Motionless, with his lips clenched in a thin line, his left hand in the front pocket of his trousers and his right one encircled around a glass of liquor, who knows how long Nathan’s been there. Their glances meet and Nathan looks unmoved, but the slightest tremble of the hand that’s holding the glass makes the ice inside tinkle and betrays him. There’s an erection, perfectly visible, stretching the fabric of his trousers.
Claire comes like this, without a word, her eyes hooked with her father’s. Right after that, Peter emerges licking his lips and looks at Nathan with no surprise, apparently comfortable. Claire tries to breathe in a way the sound of the air doesn’t rumble in her ears like a whirl, but finds she can’t.
“You’re drunk,” says Nathan, placing the glass on the nightstand. “Both of you are.”
“You’re drunk too,” replies Peter. He holds out a hand, but Nathan doesn’t take it. Claire sees him step towards the bed and stop in front of Peter, who’s still on his knees between her naked legs. Nathan grabs his wrist, stretching it aside with a violence that is unnecessary but Peter seems to enjoy. Then he’s kissing Peter with his open mouth and Peter must still have a bit of her taste on his tongue, and Claire wonders if Nathan can feel it. The very thought is enough to arouse her again.
Something indecipherable passes through Nathan and Peter; then Peter grabs Nathan’s hand and guides it with gentle firmness between Claire’s thighs. Claire lets out a trembling sigh and Nathan closes his eyes for a second, before moving them to his brother again.
“We love her, don’t we?” murmurs Peter.
Nathan looks at Claire and Claire shivers again, for the expectation and something else that suddenly she can feel burning inside.
“Yes,” whispers Nathan. “We do.”
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter/Claire
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Did you see the pairing and the rating, didn't you?
Word Count: 897 (W)
Written for: The Italian P0rn Fest, prompt Heroes, Claire/Nathan/Peter, "Now we're family".
Note: No plot. Not even the slightest bit. And infinite thanks to the amazing super-beta snopes_faith, because I wouldn't know what to do without her.
The last thing Claire remembers when she’s still sober is Peter’s hands interwining across her belly, his arms enclosing her waist from behind, and his voice - a hot breath against her ear - whispering: “Now we’re family, Claire. You’re one of us”. At the corner of her eye, Nathan smiles, thanks the guests and raising his champagne says: “Happy New Year everyone”. The glasses tinkle and Claire wonders how much they paid for the crystal chandelier hanging above their heads.
After, Peter is carrying her in his arms through infinite corridors and swaying like a drunk - but he can’t be, he didn’t drink that much; not more than Claire, anyway. Then there’s a mattress stretching and releasing under her back, the world spins around, the walls are pink and Claire can’t stop laughing.
“Did you see Aunt Margaret’s face when I told her...”
“Which one of the six?” Claire interrupts him, and it sounds like a very funny thing that the Petrellis’ relatives have all the same names. She’s already counted six Aunt Margarets, five Uncle Bobs and an unspecified number of Cousin Arthurs.
“I don’t know,” admits Peter, rising on his elbow, his face near to Claire’s. “One. The one with the mustache.”
Okay, this is really funny. Claire laughs and her voice sounds distorted to her ears, like the stupid giggle of the schoolgirl she still is, but Peter’s laughing too, so who cares. His breath smells like alcohol, he’s drunk and probably she’s too. (You can never be sure when you’re by this side of the question.)
Peter leans a hand on her thigh, caressing her skin under the hem of her skirt. Maybe it’s the alcohol’s effect that makes everything look a bit more wow than it is, but Claire thinks the way Peter’s caressing the back of her right knee is very erotic. Therefore he should stop it, maybe, or maybe he shouldn’t.
“What’re you doing?” she asks, bending the concerned leg to give him more space. Peter’s fingers accept the invitation and shift some inches up. Claire’s hot, burning hot, even if her dress is sleeveless and the fabric is withdrawing from her thighs from second to second, gathering in a heap of crinkles more and more near to her hips.
“Does it bother you?” asks Peter, kissing her neck.
“No,” she answers, and laughs because Peter’s stubble tickles.
Now the fingers are already jumping over the hem of her panties and Claire feels them move lower, rustle through her soft candy blond hair, and Peter comes closer, breathing against her ear. Claire moans too loudly, a rush of blood all across her face. Peter lifts his eyes and smiles while Claire’s gaze blurs slightly around the edges. Then he kisses her. He’s as slow and tender as his fingers, and instinctively Claire closes her thighs, to block them and have them come deeper.
Instead Peter rises up and withdraws his hand, earning a displeased moan from Claire. He shifts on the bed between her legs and slowly slips off her wet panties and her shoes with the thin heels Claire was pointing decidedly against the mattress. Maybe it’s the alcohol’s effect, but the way he’s caressing her left foot before putting it gently on the bedcover is giving her shivers.
It’s only when her dress is all collected around her hips and everything has got very vague and multicolored apart from the soft, flexuous consistency of Peter’s tongue against her clit, it’s only then that Claire sees him.
Motionless, with his lips clenched in a thin line, his left hand in the front pocket of his trousers and his right one encircled around a glass of liquor, who knows how long Nathan’s been there. Their glances meet and Nathan looks unmoved, but the slightest tremble of the hand that’s holding the glass makes the ice inside tinkle and betrays him. There’s an erection, perfectly visible, stretching the fabric of his trousers.
Claire comes like this, without a word, her eyes hooked with her father’s. Right after that, Peter emerges licking his lips and looks at Nathan with no surprise, apparently comfortable. Claire tries to breathe in a way the sound of the air doesn’t rumble in her ears like a whirl, but finds she can’t.
“You’re drunk,” says Nathan, placing the glass on the nightstand. “Both of you are.”
“You’re drunk too,” replies Peter. He holds out a hand, but Nathan doesn’t take it. Claire sees him step towards the bed and stop in front of Peter, who’s still on his knees between her naked legs. Nathan grabs his wrist, stretching it aside with a violence that is unnecessary but Peter seems to enjoy. Then he’s kissing Peter with his open mouth and Peter must still have a bit of her taste on his tongue, and Claire wonders if Nathan can feel it. The very thought is enough to arouse her again.
Something indecipherable passes through Nathan and Peter; then Peter grabs Nathan’s hand and guides it with gentle firmness between Claire’s thighs. Claire lets out a trembling sigh and Nathan closes his eyes for a second, before moving them to his brother again.
“We love her, don’t we?” murmurs Peter.
Nathan looks at Claire and Claire shivers again, for the expectation and something else that suddenly she can feel burning inside.
“Yes,” whispers Nathan. “We do.”