Fic: Ritual (19): Stag
Title: Ritual (19): Stag
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: very mild through 2x04: "The Kindness of Strangers"
Word Count: about 4300
Warnings: Incest, explicit m/m sex, language
Summary: On the night before Nathan's wedding, he and Peter challenge each other's ideas about love, ownership, fidelity, and control. Almost PWP, but not quite. Feedback and concrit extremely welcome, as always.
Previous rituals:
(1) :: (2) :: (3) :: (4) :: (5) :: (6) :: (7) :: (8) :: (9) :: (10)
(11) :: (12) :: (13) :: (14) :: (15) :: (16) :: (17) :: (18)
Heroes is the property of NBC/Universal and Tailwinds Productions. I don't own these characters or generate revenue through them, I am only inspired by them. Thanks, Tim & the gang!
SEVEN YEARS AGO...
"You're drunk, Nathan," observed Peter, sprawled casually in the back of the taxi, his lower leg crossed over his brother's.
"Not too drunk to... make it worth your while," Nathan replied, giving up on trying to get his coat buttoned. His voice had been reduced to a smoky, hesitant growl, what with the cigars and the scotch and the appreciative shouting at the strippers. Nathan's friends had treated him to a classic stag party, complete with a few rounds of high-stakes poker, a lavish dinner of Kobe steaks, and a visit to one of the most high-class strip clubs in the world, where a voluptuous brunette performer re-enacted an aspect of the Bill Clinton-Monica Lewinsky scandal on Nathan's lap.
Organizing the stag party was a task that traditionally should have been Peter's, but Nathan had been keeping Peter strictly separate from all of his wedding plans ever since Nathan announced the engagement at Christmas. (It was a shotgun deal; four weeks from announcement to wedding bells. Nobody wanted a baby bump to disturb the lines of Heidi's Vera Wang gown.) On that night, furious that Nathan didn't tell him first, Peter had punched Nathan so hard that his hand was swollen and useless the next day. Peter had barely heard from Nathan in the intervening weeks, for which Peter was secretly grateful, and he was surprised to be invited along on the stag night activities. He'd figured all he had to do was put on a tux, show up at the church, throw rice, and be happy for Nathan, and nobody cared or expected anything else.
But Nathan had insisted that Peter go out with him and his friends. And, to his surprise, Peter had had a good time. And the erection generated by Peter's own lap dancer (a tiny blonde in a cheerleading uniform which stripped down to pasties and a G-string) was still going strong. And now Nathan was taking him home, and Nathan's hand rested on his own thigh, just centimeters away from Peter's, and Nathan kept tapping and caressing himself, his eyes taking in Peter's every move.
"Mom and Dad aren't home," Peter mentioned. "They're at the hotel already."
"I know," Nathan replied, and smiled.
The taxi swayed a little, turning a corner, pressing their sides together. They made no move to draw apart. "What would you do if I kissed you right now?" Peter asked.
Nathan didn't say anything for a while, and the taxi was instead filled with the sound of the driver's radio, tuned to a high-energy mariachi station. The driver didn't seem to particularly speak English, but he had a clear view to the back of the cab, and a sparkling collection of beads and crucifixes dangling from his rearview mirror. "You wouldn't," Nathan replied.
"Why not? He doesn't know. Maybe we're married." A slow wicked grin spread across Peter's face. "He'll just figure we're a couple of Upper West Side inverts."
"I won't kiss you here," Nathan replied mildly. "But..." He smiled as he hesitated, watching Peter's eyes widen and his lips part with anticipation. If he had a choice, Nathan would freeze this moment in time, and enjoy that look of eager innocence - well, maybe not innocence - for as long as he wanted. Ironically, Peter looked incredibly kissable right then, mouth already open to recieve a hungry tongue. But Nathan just drew his thumb up the seam on the side of his wool trousers, and said, "Unwrap your scarf and show me your neck."
Peter did, angling his head away from Nathan, exposing muscle and tendon, his supple young skin pale against his dark collar. Nathan moved Peter's head forward slightly, angling chin toward chest, and then with his finger, he tapped and circled the dark moles on the back of Peter's neck. "I'm gonna suck... all of these," Nathan murmured, his voice almost inaudible over the music. "I'm going to suck them and kiss them and lick them... and bite into them," he continued, watching the hairs standing up on Peter's skin. "I'm going to touch every spot on your body. I'm going to make you wet."
Peter shuddered and sighed. "Make me wet... I know what you're thinking. You had snatch right up in your face tonight," he said. "That was amazing. I can't believe she did that; I didn't think that was legal. Or safe." He gave a shaky laugh. "You're not supposed to put that there."
"Nah, you shouldn't worry. For one, you were probably sitting too far away to see that it was a dildo - they make 'em that way these days. A very popular item in D.C., I've been told. For two... as long as it was her doing it, and not me... plus, they bend the rules a little bit for a stag party, especially if you put as much money into it as they did. They must have put twenty grand in that girl's thong. Those guys are insane."
"I wouldn't have done anywhere near as good a job, trying to organize a party," Peter said. "You wouldn't have had nearly so much fun."
"Probably not," Nathan agreed. "But... I'm glad you came."
"I was gonna come in my pants, dude," Peter grinned. "God. But still at least my girl wasn't... inserting things into herself right in front of my face; how could you handle that?"
Nathan chuckled. "I just laid back, and thought of England..." He watched as Peter stared out the window at the snowy streets. The melancholy expression that Peter had been fighting off all night came back onto his face. Nathan moved his hand from his own thigh onto Peter's, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. He wouldn't let himself think of how difficult this had to be for Peter; it wasn't Peter's life to live, it was Nathan's, and Peter would just have to figure out a way to deal with it. "Hey," he said, catching Peter's attention again. "The night's not over. We've still got plenty of things to do." He added a wink and a smile.
Peter sighed. "It's probably the last time, isn't it?"
Nathan took Peter's hand and squeezed it, probably too hard, but he needed to get his point across, needed to convince Peter that what he was saying was the truth, at least, the truth of the moment, and what other kind of truth was there? "It's never over between us," Nathan said. "I told you that, don't you remember? Unless you want it to be over. And I think I'd go insane if you did. Please, Peter." He released his hold on Peter's hand, since he now had Peter's full attention. "I need you, too."
"I know you do," Peter replied. "But do you want me? And - can you live with yourself?"
The taxi screeched to a halt before Nathan could think of a reply.
Stumbling out in the cold for a brief moment both sharpened their senses and brought their drunkenness into focus, if such a word could be used for two guys who leaned on each other so hard they almost slipped on the ice and sprawled onto the pavement. By the time they made it inside, they were laughing with the dizzy difficulty of remembering how to walk and where the light switch was. Peter flipped on the lights in the foyer, but Nathan shut them off again, returning them into amber semi-darkness. "We're seriously alone?" Nathan asked, taking the sleeves of Peter's coat between his fingers and pulling his brother in close.
"Yeah," Peter confirmed. "It's three in the morning. Everybody's gone."
Nathan dropped his lips gently over Peter's, not exactly kissing him. Just brushing against him, tightening his mouth just slightly as it ended. Peter shuddered again, his erection making glancing contact with Nathan's side. "I want you in your bed," Nathan whispered. "That's where I want to start, anyway."
They put away their coats and their wet-soled shoes, and then went upstairs together, Peter first and Nathan following, watching Peter's ass move as he mounted the steps. They didn't touch, though, not until they were in Peter's bedroom, both undressed, Nathan completely and Peter stripped down to his underwear and socks. "Let me," Nathan said. He placed Peter's hands on the footboard of the bed frame, maneuvering Peter's feet back a few steps, so that Peter stood bent over, facing the floor, his slim bare back like a blank canvas awaiting the touch of an artist's brush.
True to his word, Nathan began methodically kiss-biting each of the scores of dark-chocolate moles on the back of Peter's neck, scattered over his smooth shoulders and trailing down his back in a random constellation. Nathan wet his fingers in his mouth and connected the dots with a damp, transparent, rapidly cooling trail, then did the same again with his tongue. Peter squirmed with pleasure. His close-fitting boxer briefs suddenly felt entirely too constraining. He slipped one hand down the front of them to soothingly caress his heavy, hyper-sensitive cock, but, as he should have anticipated, Nathan grabbed his wrist and slapped his hand back onto the footboard. "Mine," Nathan growled warningly. "Don't touch until I tell you to."
"You act like you own everything," Peter grumbled.
Nathan bit Peter's shoulder sharply, hard enough to hurt. "I own you," he said.
"Ow!" said Peter. "I got you figured out, Nathan Petrelli. You want cock sex. I can tell. You need it. All those strippers and all those tits and pussy just reminded you of how much you love to get it in you. And only I can do that, huh?"
Nathan made an impatient sound with his breath. "No," he said sulkily.
Peter laughed faintly. "I can fuck you," he whispered, enjoying himself. "I can fuck you good."
Nathan's hand went down the same way Peter's had, slipping under the waistband and taking Peter's cock and balls in hand, gathering them up and squeezing them, which just made them harder and thicker and itchier. "Only if I let you," Nathan murmured against Peter's back, biting him again.
Peter flinched, but continued, "Think of how good it'll feel. My sweet cock in your ass, fucking you until you can't remember why you'd ever..."
"You're just talking about it because you want it so much," Nathan cut him off.
"I'm talking about it to make your dick hard."
They both laughed. Downstairs, the grandfather clock began to chime for three. "It's already hard," Nathan said, demonstrating by thwacking his cock against Peter's leg. That felt so good that he did it again, and hummed lustfully as he peeled Peter's underwear down over his thighs. He gave Peter's buttocks just one rough squeeze, then said, "Get on your knees." Peter did as he was told, and gazed up at Nathan with that same wide-eyed, open-mouthed, semi-innocent look that he'd had in the taxi, but this time Nathan knew Peter wore that expression deliberately. He slipped his cock into Peter's mouth, just enough to get it wet, and then withdrew and smacked Peter's cheek with the rigid shaft. Peter flinched a bit more, but his breath had gotten heavier all of a sudden. Nathan let Peter suck him in, but again, after a second, withdrew and cock-slapped Peter's face. Peter grimaced, a twisted scowl of annoyance and lust.
"Quit it," he grumbled. "That's enough. I'm your bitch; I get it."
To his surprise, Nathan gave Peter a hand up, and when Peter was standing up again, kissed his mouth deeply. "I want to watch you touching yourself," Nathan murmured. "I want to watch you finger yourself. Because I can't." His voice became very soft. "She'll smell you on me."
"She won't smell me on your cock?" Peter asked, half-sarcastically.
"She's not going to give me a blowjob on our wedding night," Nathan said, sounding vaguely scandalized.
"Oh, no?" Peter moved to the bed, and sat up on his knees, watching Nathan sit at the other end of the bed. Peter licked his hand and jerked on his cock lightly and rapidly. It made a delicious moist sound that vanished all too quickly. "She's too much of a good girl? But not so good that she'd fuck you bareback out of wedlock? She'll bear your kids, but not swallow 'em?"
Nathan glared. "Don't talk trash about Heidi, okay?"
Peter scowled back, his cheeks blushing deep red. Then he lowered his eyes, realizing that even here, when they could say anything they wanted to each other, about each other, there were certain things that he shouldn't say out loud. "Suck my dick," he whispered, "while you still can."
Nathan sighed, and slid forward on his stomach toward Peter, and moaned as he pulled Peter's cock into his mouth. Peter sighed and closed his eyes in bliss, forgetting his embarrassment. This was right. This was the way it ought to be. He felt a thousand times better, connected this way, with Nathan's extraordinary combination of licking, sucking, and sideswiping enclosing him in wet, satiny warmth. He flashed back to the sight of the stripper sliding the big stogie into her immaculately waxed, swollen pink slit, and Nathan's expression as he watched that happen, and the ecstatic roar of Nathan's horny friends, and had to struggle to keep his orgasm in check. He could tell from Nathan's "Mmmm" of pleasure that he had started to spill pre-come. "You like that, don't you?" Peter sighed. "Aren't you lucky you have such a nice cock to suck whenever you want to? And nobody else has to know, nobody else knows you're a dick-sucking jizz-hound..."
Nathan rolled his eyes, paused and licked his lips. "Peter..." he said. "I love you, but you gotta understand how things are now."
"I just want the truth. I just want answers," Peter said. "...Don't stop."
"You want answers, or you want a blowjob?" Nathan arched his eyebrow. "I can't do both."
Peter scowled. "I want to fuck you," he hissed, emphasizing "fuck you."
Nathan sighed and smiled, and nuzzled his cheek against Peter's inner thigh. "I want to taste your come," he countered.
"You will."
"And I'm gonna fuck you."
"Yeah," Peter agreed. "Later. Now, though... you. On your knees, head down. Prayer posture."
"Dirty," Nathan whispered.
"You're an agnostic," Peter whispered back.
"I don't have to be in the hospital to find nurses sexy," Nathan quipped back.
"Uh-huh," was Peter's impatient response. He watched as Nathan positioned himself as he had been told, but Peter took his time getting a warm, damp washcloth and his bottle of liquid lube. The wait affected Nathan - he began to squirm and moan hungrily, rubbing his cock and balls in a way that was more comforting than masturbatory. Peter watched him for a while, smiling to himself, but in the absence of banter, he felt the persistent sadness closing in again. To fight it off, he slapped Nathan's buttocks hard with the flat of his hand. Nathan jumped and yelped in surprise. "Get your head down," Peter chided him, his smile returning. "Aw, you can't take a spanking, can you? You can only dish it out."
Nathan didn't reply, only moaned again softly.
Peter caressed the divide between Nathan's buttocks with the warm towel, more to relax Nathan, and for the pleasure of it, than to wash him. He followed the towel with his fingertips, then his tongue, then his fingers again, gently probing Nathan's asshole without the help of lubricant. Finally, he opened the bottle and squirted lube directly onto Nathan's ass, then pushed it inside with his middle finger. "Do you remember..." Peter murmured, fingerfucking Nathan with firm, regular, unrelenting strokes. "That one time we made out when I was younger?"
"We made out all the time, Peter," Nathan said breathlessly.
"I'm thinking of this one specific time. It was here." Peter was breathless, too, amazed that he could be so inebriated, and yet so sexually focused and in the moment. Only with Nathan; only for Nathan, for this one last brilliant chance. "Here, at the house. I was sixteen... it was fall break for me, I remember... and Mom and Dad were in Tokyo, so they asked you if you'd hang out with me over fall break. And we were up in the TV room watching Dangerous Liasons."
"Yeah," Nathan laughed. "I think I remember that."
"It's a great movie, isn't it? You... I was messing with a loose thread on your shirt... and you just kinda grabbed me and held me down on the floor and started kissing me. And, my God, your cock was so hard, I can still feel it." Peter drove his fingers in harder and faster. "And then you pushed me onto my face and held my arms behind my back and started humping me." His words vanished for a moment behind urgent, hissing breaths, in unison with his fingers, in unison with Nathan's gasping. "Oh God - and I came all over the fucking floor. All over my shorts and my stomach and the carpet. Oh... oh... tell me... Nathan, did you come then? I couldn't tell, and you were so mad at me, I... did you come?"
"Please stop," Nathan whispered. "Please stop that and fuck me."
Peter coated his cock with lubricant, and slowly forced himself into Nathan's ass, and rested there, not moving apart from his heavy breathing, from the pounding of the blood in his dick. Nathan shuddered and bit his lip "Did you come?" he asked again.
"Yeah - ah - I came," Nathan said shakily, "I came in my pants. You made me come. I was a mess, too. And - ah - I realized right then that I could do whatever I wanted to you, and you'd be into it. And I thought, oh God, this is gonna be trouble, isn't it?"
"Oh, fuck yeah..."
"Are you happy about that?" Nathan sounded hopeful, his voice high-pitched, like he was talking to a baby or a cute animal. "That make you happy?"
"Tell me something else," Peter said. "If I make you come now, will you still be able to fuck me?"
"I dunno, Pete," Nathan replied. "It's pretty late, and I'm pretty drunk. But I feel like I could come a dozen times and still be hard."
"I gotta fuck you, though," Peter sighed, proceeding to do just that. Nathan moaned helplessly. "Try not to come." But he couldn't resist, himself. He thrust hard into Nathan a dozen times, clenching his hands into fists so that he wouldn't grab Nathan's hips, then felt a violent, shredding, firecracker orgasm rip through him before he could pull out. He cried out raggedly, feeling his spunk gush into Nathan, deciding to stay where he was. Nathan groaned, too, sharing in the pleasure and the dismay, keeping a thumb and forefinger circled around the base of his cock to keep his own orgasm at bay.
Peter drew back, and resisted the urge to give Nathan a taste of himself, just as a wedding present, as a punishment for being everything in the world to Peter. But he realized he shouldn't do either; he had to start learning how to deal. He could love, but even in love there were limits. Nathan looked over his shoulder, almost as if he had heard Peter's dirty urge, and rolled over onto his back, a smile spreading over his face. "Now, weren't you going to finger yourself?" he asked pleasantly.
He grabbed the towel to wipe himself dry, then sat up, while Peter lay back onto his back. He added more lube to his fingers and began to explore the area hidden behind his balls. Nathan leaned forward and held Peter's half-hard cock and balls out of the way, so that he could see what Peter was doing more clearly. Peter didn't really like to finger his own ass, even though he was more flexible now than when he had first attempted it, and he could actually reach his fingers fairly deep inside himself. But if he did it for too long, he'd still get a cramp in his shoulder, and he couldn't get as deep as he wanted. Awkward or no, it fascinated Nathan, who watched avidly, like a cat watching a bird, rubbing his thumbs and forefingers together, wanting so badly to join in. Peter moaned a little, making it worse. "I think I'm good," he murmured. "You wanna?"
"Yeah, I wanna," Nathan growled.
He grabbed Peter's ankles - still in socks - and hoisted them up and out, spreading Peter's legs and shifting his weight back onto his shoulder blades. Peter blinked at Nathan in surprise as he tried to make his cock penetrate Peter without using his hands; it was impossible, but the failure sure felt good. Nathan let Peter's ankles go, kissing Peter's calf while it was handy, and slid his cock inside, forcing it past Peter's still-tight sphincter muscle. Peter cried out involuntarily and his fingers gripped Nathan's shoulders. Nathan quickly kissed Peter's forehead, then his lips, slowly moving in deeper. Once he could move easily, and Peter was fully relaxed, Nathan took Peter's ankles again, and began to pump his pelvis in earnest.
Peter's cries were so loud and urgent that Nathan shushed him, and even slowed down. Peter squinted at Nathan in confusion and annoyance. "Nobody can hear me," he pointed out. "Fuck me like you want to."
"I can't," Nathan confessed, kissing Peter again, but picking up his pace. "I never can."
"Why not?"
"I'd kill you," Nathan gasped.
"I want you to fuck me like you want to," Peter insisted. "Show me! Show me now!"
"I'd kill you," Nathan repeated, softly kissing Peter again. "I don't want to hurt you, Peter."
His cock shoved deep into Peter, over and over again. Peter seemed to have acclimated to it, though, and he watched Nathan defiantly, breathing heavily through his open mouth. His resolution to start "dealing" slipped away, further and further with every thrust. Nathan brought Peter closer to himself and ripped away all the masks, even the ones Nathan himself asked Peter to wear. "Do you fuck her like this?" Peter muttered.
Nathan had gone past anger into something new. This was more like fun, like a vicious game. His cock stayed hard, his hands stayed steady on Peter's legs, holding the younger man spread and open and exposed. "Yeah," he said, just to see what Peter would do.
To his surprise, Peter's cock hardened and began to rise, pointing up toward Nathan, his balls quaking as Peter recieved Nathan's thrusts. "Do you fuck her in the ass like this?" he demanded.
"No," Nathan said.
"Do you fuck her in the ass at all?"
"No."
"Do you want to? Do you want to fuck her in the ass like you do me? Like you want to fuck me?"
"She's not you, Peter."
"Tell me! Ahh-!"
Nathan's arousal threatened to boil over at any second. The only thing keeping him from slamming into Peter dangerously hard was their position - if they had been doing this doggy-style, he'd probably have given Peter the kind of destruction he seemed to want. Peter was still so new; this was about all he could take. "I only want to do that to you," Nathan said.
"That's right," said Peter, seeming relieved. He was drenched in sweat, and his cock twitched madly, preparing to fire again. "Don't hurt her. If you ever want to hurt her, take it out on me. Don't you ever hurt her. Hit me, rape me, break me - but don't hurt her."
"I don't want to hurt you, Peter!" Nathan begged.
"You're a fucking liar," Peter spat back at him. He pressed his back against the bed hard, raising his hips to meet Nathan's, taking what Nathan gave, demanding more. Ah, yes, as always. It would always be this way. "Hurt me! I want you to! I want that part of you! I want it for me. That's the part I'll have. You hurt me so much already... but don't lie to me! You want to hurt me and I can take it if you love me, I can take it - if you - just please don't leave me... give me that..." He ran out of words, another orgasm overtaking him, this time shooting silvery-creamy tracks across Nathan's lower belly. Peter rapidly swept up the semen with his fingers and held them up to Nathan's mouth. Nathan sucked them clean like a starving man.
Nathan was coming before he realized it, like a flashbulb exploding in his sex, a single spurt filling Peter's ass with come.
Nathan withdrew, turned Peter over onto his face, and pulled him into the position he himself had had before. Peter's asshole wept semen. Nathan slid his cock back into the hot, wet space, coming yet again, an aftershock bigger, brighter and more profound than what had come before. He felt dizzy and transcendent, and had to cling to Peter as the only solid thing in a world suddenly gone vague, strange, and far away. Peter might have been crying or laughing, or both, his body convulsively quaking, his mouth on his wrists, and then Nathan's hands, wet and messy and generous. He arched like a cat in Nathan's arms, kissing Nathan's hands. "Yes... yes," he whispered, "beautiful, oh God, yes. I know that was good."
"Love you forever," Nathan murmured. "No matter what. I'll try to give you what you want, but... I don't know. I'll try."
"Just give me what I need," Peter whispered back.
Downstairs, the grandfather clock tolled four, and with it, Nathan and Peter groaned and sighed. "Five hours," Nathan said, shaking his head, cradling Peter in his arms, their lower bodies slick with lube and semen. "Set your alarm for eight, would you?"
"You gonna stay?" Peter's voice was blurry with fatigue. The night's drinking had suddenly caught up with him all at once.
"Sleep with you tonight," Nathan murmured against Peter's neck. "It'll be nice. Like that one time. Over fall break. When I was hanging out with you, when Mom and Dad were away. Do you remember?" he teased.
Peter fumbled with his alarm clock, yawning hugely. "You curled up with me," Peter replied. "In bed. We were both in pajamas and it got so hot I ..." He broke off with a quiet, embarrassed laugh.
"You got naked in your sleep," Nathan completed the thought. "I woke up holding a naked teenage boy with a giant boner, and I bolted across the room so fast I broke the sound barrier. You never woke up."
"Well," Peter added, "when I woke up I was naked and in a big wet spot, so... I used to masturbate to the idea that you had taken off my pajamas in my sleep and sucked me off, and then jacked off on me, and then left."
"That's a... beautiful thought," Nathan said dubiously, and then laughed. "God, and you think I'm a pervert. I think you win."
"You're getting married tomorrow," Peter said wonderingly. "You're a lucky guy. It's the most important day of your life."
"Yeah," Nathan agreed, stroking Peter's hopelessly tousled, tangled hair. "The most important day so far. There'll be more. That's why I need to hold you for a while first. Do you promise not to embarrass me tomorrow?"
Peter sniffled and sighed sleepily. "I can't promise," he said. "But I promise I won't do it on purpose. Will you help me with my bow tie?"
"No, Peter, I'm the groom. I'm gonna be kinda busy. Mom'll help you."
Peter was quiet for long enough that Nathan wondered if he had fallen asleep. When he spoke, it was in a soft, childlike tone. "I guess I can't pretend that you're all mine anymore."
Nathan gave him another gentle kiss, and hugged him. "I never was," he said. "But... I do love you. I love you more than anything."
"You shouldn't," Peter replied after a pause.
"I know," said Nathan.
This time, they did fall asleep, and when they woke up, everything was different.
But not that different.
END PART (19)
A/N: In tribute to our favorite "wedding pictures" of Peter and Nathan. Aren't they a handsome couple?
Liquor does indeed loosen the tongue, doesn't it? The cigar-shaped dildo is about as theoretical, but as likely, as the pewter monkey figurine. Because seriously, you know it's got to exist. ^_^ Thanks to everyone who encouraged me in the last few weeks - I really needed it. Thanks for reading.
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: very mild through 2x04: "The Kindness of Strangers"
Word Count: about 4300
Warnings: Incest, explicit m/m sex, language
Summary: On the night before Nathan's wedding, he and Peter challenge each other's ideas about love, ownership, fidelity, and control. Almost PWP, but not quite. Feedback and concrit extremely welcome, as always.
Previous rituals:
(1) :: (2) :: (3) :: (4) :: (5) :: (6) :: (7) :: (8) :: (9) :: (10)
(11) :: (12) :: (13) :: (14) :: (15) :: (16) :: (17) :: (18)
Heroes is the property of NBC/Universal and Tailwinds Productions. I don't own these characters or generate revenue through them, I am only inspired by them. Thanks, Tim & the gang!
SEVEN YEARS AGO...
"You're drunk, Nathan," observed Peter, sprawled casually in the back of the taxi, his lower leg crossed over his brother's.
"Not too drunk to... make it worth your while," Nathan replied, giving up on trying to get his coat buttoned. His voice had been reduced to a smoky, hesitant growl, what with the cigars and the scotch and the appreciative shouting at the strippers. Nathan's friends had treated him to a classic stag party, complete with a few rounds of high-stakes poker, a lavish dinner of Kobe steaks, and a visit to one of the most high-class strip clubs in the world, where a voluptuous brunette performer re-enacted an aspect of the Bill Clinton-Monica Lewinsky scandal on Nathan's lap.
Organizing the stag party was a task that traditionally should have been Peter's, but Nathan had been keeping Peter strictly separate from all of his wedding plans ever since Nathan announced the engagement at Christmas. (It was a shotgun deal; four weeks from announcement to wedding bells. Nobody wanted a baby bump to disturb the lines of Heidi's Vera Wang gown.) On that night, furious that Nathan didn't tell him first, Peter had punched Nathan so hard that his hand was swollen and useless the next day. Peter had barely heard from Nathan in the intervening weeks, for which Peter was secretly grateful, and he was surprised to be invited along on the stag night activities. He'd figured all he had to do was put on a tux, show up at the church, throw rice, and be happy for Nathan, and nobody cared or expected anything else.
But Nathan had insisted that Peter go out with him and his friends. And, to his surprise, Peter had had a good time. And the erection generated by Peter's own lap dancer (a tiny blonde in a cheerleading uniform which stripped down to pasties and a G-string) was still going strong. And now Nathan was taking him home, and Nathan's hand rested on his own thigh, just centimeters away from Peter's, and Nathan kept tapping and caressing himself, his eyes taking in Peter's every move.
"Mom and Dad aren't home," Peter mentioned. "They're at the hotel already."
"I know," Nathan replied, and smiled.
The taxi swayed a little, turning a corner, pressing their sides together. They made no move to draw apart. "What would you do if I kissed you right now?" Peter asked.
Nathan didn't say anything for a while, and the taxi was instead filled with the sound of the driver's radio, tuned to a high-energy mariachi station. The driver didn't seem to particularly speak English, but he had a clear view to the back of the cab, and a sparkling collection of beads and crucifixes dangling from his rearview mirror. "You wouldn't," Nathan replied.
"Why not? He doesn't know. Maybe we're married." A slow wicked grin spread across Peter's face. "He'll just figure we're a couple of Upper West Side inverts."
"I won't kiss you here," Nathan replied mildly. "But..." He smiled as he hesitated, watching Peter's eyes widen and his lips part with anticipation. If he had a choice, Nathan would freeze this moment in time, and enjoy that look of eager innocence - well, maybe not innocence - for as long as he wanted. Ironically, Peter looked incredibly kissable right then, mouth already open to recieve a hungry tongue. But Nathan just drew his thumb up the seam on the side of his wool trousers, and said, "Unwrap your scarf and show me your neck."
Peter did, angling his head away from Nathan, exposing muscle and tendon, his supple young skin pale against his dark collar. Nathan moved Peter's head forward slightly, angling chin toward chest, and then with his finger, he tapped and circled the dark moles on the back of Peter's neck. "I'm gonna suck... all of these," Nathan murmured, his voice almost inaudible over the music. "I'm going to suck them and kiss them and lick them... and bite into them," he continued, watching the hairs standing up on Peter's skin. "I'm going to touch every spot on your body. I'm going to make you wet."
Peter shuddered and sighed. "Make me wet... I know what you're thinking. You had snatch right up in your face tonight," he said. "That was amazing. I can't believe she did that; I didn't think that was legal. Or safe." He gave a shaky laugh. "You're not supposed to put that there."
"Nah, you shouldn't worry. For one, you were probably sitting too far away to see that it was a dildo - they make 'em that way these days. A very popular item in D.C., I've been told. For two... as long as it was her doing it, and not me... plus, they bend the rules a little bit for a stag party, especially if you put as much money into it as they did. They must have put twenty grand in that girl's thong. Those guys are insane."
"I wouldn't have done anywhere near as good a job, trying to organize a party," Peter said. "You wouldn't have had nearly so much fun."
"Probably not," Nathan agreed. "But... I'm glad you came."
"I was gonna come in my pants, dude," Peter grinned. "God. But still at least my girl wasn't... inserting things into herself right in front of my face; how could you handle that?"
Nathan chuckled. "I just laid back, and thought of England..." He watched as Peter stared out the window at the snowy streets. The melancholy expression that Peter had been fighting off all night came back onto his face. Nathan moved his hand from his own thigh onto Peter's, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. He wouldn't let himself think of how difficult this had to be for Peter; it wasn't Peter's life to live, it was Nathan's, and Peter would just have to figure out a way to deal with it. "Hey," he said, catching Peter's attention again. "The night's not over. We've still got plenty of things to do." He added a wink and a smile.
Peter sighed. "It's probably the last time, isn't it?"
Nathan took Peter's hand and squeezed it, probably too hard, but he needed to get his point across, needed to convince Peter that what he was saying was the truth, at least, the truth of the moment, and what other kind of truth was there? "It's never over between us," Nathan said. "I told you that, don't you remember? Unless you want it to be over. And I think I'd go insane if you did. Please, Peter." He released his hold on Peter's hand, since he now had Peter's full attention. "I need you, too."
"I know you do," Peter replied. "But do you want me? And - can you live with yourself?"
The taxi screeched to a halt before Nathan could think of a reply.
Stumbling out in the cold for a brief moment both sharpened their senses and brought their drunkenness into focus, if such a word could be used for two guys who leaned on each other so hard they almost slipped on the ice and sprawled onto the pavement. By the time they made it inside, they were laughing with the dizzy difficulty of remembering how to walk and where the light switch was. Peter flipped on the lights in the foyer, but Nathan shut them off again, returning them into amber semi-darkness. "We're seriously alone?" Nathan asked, taking the sleeves of Peter's coat between his fingers and pulling his brother in close.
"Yeah," Peter confirmed. "It's three in the morning. Everybody's gone."
Nathan dropped his lips gently over Peter's, not exactly kissing him. Just brushing against him, tightening his mouth just slightly as it ended. Peter shuddered again, his erection making glancing contact with Nathan's side. "I want you in your bed," Nathan whispered. "That's where I want to start, anyway."
They put away their coats and their wet-soled shoes, and then went upstairs together, Peter first and Nathan following, watching Peter's ass move as he mounted the steps. They didn't touch, though, not until they were in Peter's bedroom, both undressed, Nathan completely and Peter stripped down to his underwear and socks. "Let me," Nathan said. He placed Peter's hands on the footboard of the bed frame, maneuvering Peter's feet back a few steps, so that Peter stood bent over, facing the floor, his slim bare back like a blank canvas awaiting the touch of an artist's brush.
True to his word, Nathan began methodically kiss-biting each of the scores of dark-chocolate moles on the back of Peter's neck, scattered over his smooth shoulders and trailing down his back in a random constellation. Nathan wet his fingers in his mouth and connected the dots with a damp, transparent, rapidly cooling trail, then did the same again with his tongue. Peter squirmed with pleasure. His close-fitting boxer briefs suddenly felt entirely too constraining. He slipped one hand down the front of them to soothingly caress his heavy, hyper-sensitive cock, but, as he should have anticipated, Nathan grabbed his wrist and slapped his hand back onto the footboard. "Mine," Nathan growled warningly. "Don't touch until I tell you to."
"You act like you own everything," Peter grumbled.
Nathan bit Peter's shoulder sharply, hard enough to hurt. "I own you," he said.
"Ow!" said Peter. "I got you figured out, Nathan Petrelli. You want cock sex. I can tell. You need it. All those strippers and all those tits and pussy just reminded you of how much you love to get it in you. And only I can do that, huh?"
Nathan made an impatient sound with his breath. "No," he said sulkily.
Peter laughed faintly. "I can fuck you," he whispered, enjoying himself. "I can fuck you good."
Nathan's hand went down the same way Peter's had, slipping under the waistband and taking Peter's cock and balls in hand, gathering them up and squeezing them, which just made them harder and thicker and itchier. "Only if I let you," Nathan murmured against Peter's back, biting him again.
Peter flinched, but continued, "Think of how good it'll feel. My sweet cock in your ass, fucking you until you can't remember why you'd ever..."
"You're just talking about it because you want it so much," Nathan cut him off.
"I'm talking about it to make your dick hard."
They both laughed. Downstairs, the grandfather clock began to chime for three. "It's already hard," Nathan said, demonstrating by thwacking his cock against Peter's leg. That felt so good that he did it again, and hummed lustfully as he peeled Peter's underwear down over his thighs. He gave Peter's buttocks just one rough squeeze, then said, "Get on your knees." Peter did as he was told, and gazed up at Nathan with that same wide-eyed, open-mouthed, semi-innocent look that he'd had in the taxi, but this time Nathan knew Peter wore that expression deliberately. He slipped his cock into Peter's mouth, just enough to get it wet, and then withdrew and smacked Peter's cheek with the rigid shaft. Peter flinched a bit more, but his breath had gotten heavier all of a sudden. Nathan let Peter suck him in, but again, after a second, withdrew and cock-slapped Peter's face. Peter grimaced, a twisted scowl of annoyance and lust.
"Quit it," he grumbled. "That's enough. I'm your bitch; I get it."
To his surprise, Nathan gave Peter a hand up, and when Peter was standing up again, kissed his mouth deeply. "I want to watch you touching yourself," Nathan murmured. "I want to watch you finger yourself. Because I can't." His voice became very soft. "She'll smell you on me."
"She won't smell me on your cock?" Peter asked, half-sarcastically.
"She's not going to give me a blowjob on our wedding night," Nathan said, sounding vaguely scandalized.
"Oh, no?" Peter moved to the bed, and sat up on his knees, watching Nathan sit at the other end of the bed. Peter licked his hand and jerked on his cock lightly and rapidly. It made a delicious moist sound that vanished all too quickly. "She's too much of a good girl? But not so good that she'd fuck you bareback out of wedlock? She'll bear your kids, but not swallow 'em?"
Nathan glared. "Don't talk trash about Heidi, okay?"
Peter scowled back, his cheeks blushing deep red. Then he lowered his eyes, realizing that even here, when they could say anything they wanted to each other, about each other, there were certain things that he shouldn't say out loud. "Suck my dick," he whispered, "while you still can."
Nathan sighed, and slid forward on his stomach toward Peter, and moaned as he pulled Peter's cock into his mouth. Peter sighed and closed his eyes in bliss, forgetting his embarrassment. This was right. This was the way it ought to be. He felt a thousand times better, connected this way, with Nathan's extraordinary combination of licking, sucking, and sideswiping enclosing him in wet, satiny warmth. He flashed back to the sight of the stripper sliding the big stogie into her immaculately waxed, swollen pink slit, and Nathan's expression as he watched that happen, and the ecstatic roar of Nathan's horny friends, and had to struggle to keep his orgasm in check. He could tell from Nathan's "Mmmm" of pleasure that he had started to spill pre-come. "You like that, don't you?" Peter sighed. "Aren't you lucky you have such a nice cock to suck whenever you want to? And nobody else has to know, nobody else knows you're a dick-sucking jizz-hound..."
Nathan rolled his eyes, paused and licked his lips. "Peter..." he said. "I love you, but you gotta understand how things are now."
"I just want the truth. I just want answers," Peter said. "...Don't stop."
"You want answers, or you want a blowjob?" Nathan arched his eyebrow. "I can't do both."
Peter scowled. "I want to fuck you," he hissed, emphasizing "fuck you."
Nathan sighed and smiled, and nuzzled his cheek against Peter's inner thigh. "I want to taste your come," he countered.
"You will."
"And I'm gonna fuck you."
"Yeah," Peter agreed. "Later. Now, though... you. On your knees, head down. Prayer posture."
"Dirty," Nathan whispered.
"You're an agnostic," Peter whispered back.
"I don't have to be in the hospital to find nurses sexy," Nathan quipped back.
"Uh-huh," was Peter's impatient response. He watched as Nathan positioned himself as he had been told, but Peter took his time getting a warm, damp washcloth and his bottle of liquid lube. The wait affected Nathan - he began to squirm and moan hungrily, rubbing his cock and balls in a way that was more comforting than masturbatory. Peter watched him for a while, smiling to himself, but in the absence of banter, he felt the persistent sadness closing in again. To fight it off, he slapped Nathan's buttocks hard with the flat of his hand. Nathan jumped and yelped in surprise. "Get your head down," Peter chided him, his smile returning. "Aw, you can't take a spanking, can you? You can only dish it out."
Nathan didn't reply, only moaned again softly.
Peter caressed the divide between Nathan's buttocks with the warm towel, more to relax Nathan, and for the pleasure of it, than to wash him. He followed the towel with his fingertips, then his tongue, then his fingers again, gently probing Nathan's asshole without the help of lubricant. Finally, he opened the bottle and squirted lube directly onto Nathan's ass, then pushed it inside with his middle finger. "Do you remember..." Peter murmured, fingerfucking Nathan with firm, regular, unrelenting strokes. "That one time we made out when I was younger?"
"We made out all the time, Peter," Nathan said breathlessly.
"I'm thinking of this one specific time. It was here." Peter was breathless, too, amazed that he could be so inebriated, and yet so sexually focused and in the moment. Only with Nathan; only for Nathan, for this one last brilliant chance. "Here, at the house. I was sixteen... it was fall break for me, I remember... and Mom and Dad were in Tokyo, so they asked you if you'd hang out with me over fall break. And we were up in the TV room watching Dangerous Liasons."
"Yeah," Nathan laughed. "I think I remember that."
"It's a great movie, isn't it? You... I was messing with a loose thread on your shirt... and you just kinda grabbed me and held me down on the floor and started kissing me. And, my God, your cock was so hard, I can still feel it." Peter drove his fingers in harder and faster. "And then you pushed me onto my face and held my arms behind my back and started humping me." His words vanished for a moment behind urgent, hissing breaths, in unison with his fingers, in unison with Nathan's gasping. "Oh God - and I came all over the fucking floor. All over my shorts and my stomach and the carpet. Oh... oh... tell me... Nathan, did you come then? I couldn't tell, and you were so mad at me, I... did you come?"
"Please stop," Nathan whispered. "Please stop that and fuck me."
Peter coated his cock with lubricant, and slowly forced himself into Nathan's ass, and rested there, not moving apart from his heavy breathing, from the pounding of the blood in his dick. Nathan shuddered and bit his lip "Did you come?" he asked again.
"Yeah - ah - I came," Nathan said shakily, "I came in my pants. You made me come. I was a mess, too. And - ah - I realized right then that I could do whatever I wanted to you, and you'd be into it. And I thought, oh God, this is gonna be trouble, isn't it?"
"Oh, fuck yeah..."
"Are you happy about that?" Nathan sounded hopeful, his voice high-pitched, like he was talking to a baby or a cute animal. "That make you happy?"
"Tell me something else," Peter said. "If I make you come now, will you still be able to fuck me?"
"I dunno, Pete," Nathan replied. "It's pretty late, and I'm pretty drunk. But I feel like I could come a dozen times and still be hard."
"I gotta fuck you, though," Peter sighed, proceeding to do just that. Nathan moaned helplessly. "Try not to come." But he couldn't resist, himself. He thrust hard into Nathan a dozen times, clenching his hands into fists so that he wouldn't grab Nathan's hips, then felt a violent, shredding, firecracker orgasm rip through him before he could pull out. He cried out raggedly, feeling his spunk gush into Nathan, deciding to stay where he was. Nathan groaned, too, sharing in the pleasure and the dismay, keeping a thumb and forefinger circled around the base of his cock to keep his own orgasm at bay.
Peter drew back, and resisted the urge to give Nathan a taste of himself, just as a wedding present, as a punishment for being everything in the world to Peter. But he realized he shouldn't do either; he had to start learning how to deal. He could love, but even in love there were limits. Nathan looked over his shoulder, almost as if he had heard Peter's dirty urge, and rolled over onto his back, a smile spreading over his face. "Now, weren't you going to finger yourself?" he asked pleasantly.
He grabbed the towel to wipe himself dry, then sat up, while Peter lay back onto his back. He added more lube to his fingers and began to explore the area hidden behind his balls. Nathan leaned forward and held Peter's half-hard cock and balls out of the way, so that he could see what Peter was doing more clearly. Peter didn't really like to finger his own ass, even though he was more flexible now than when he had first attempted it, and he could actually reach his fingers fairly deep inside himself. But if he did it for too long, he'd still get a cramp in his shoulder, and he couldn't get as deep as he wanted. Awkward or no, it fascinated Nathan, who watched avidly, like a cat watching a bird, rubbing his thumbs and forefingers together, wanting so badly to join in. Peter moaned a little, making it worse. "I think I'm good," he murmured. "You wanna?"
"Yeah, I wanna," Nathan growled.
He grabbed Peter's ankles - still in socks - and hoisted them up and out, spreading Peter's legs and shifting his weight back onto his shoulder blades. Peter blinked at Nathan in surprise as he tried to make his cock penetrate Peter without using his hands; it was impossible, but the failure sure felt good. Nathan let Peter's ankles go, kissing Peter's calf while it was handy, and slid his cock inside, forcing it past Peter's still-tight sphincter muscle. Peter cried out involuntarily and his fingers gripped Nathan's shoulders. Nathan quickly kissed Peter's forehead, then his lips, slowly moving in deeper. Once he could move easily, and Peter was fully relaxed, Nathan took Peter's ankles again, and began to pump his pelvis in earnest.
Peter's cries were so loud and urgent that Nathan shushed him, and even slowed down. Peter squinted at Nathan in confusion and annoyance. "Nobody can hear me," he pointed out. "Fuck me like you want to."
"I can't," Nathan confessed, kissing Peter again, but picking up his pace. "I never can."
"Why not?"
"I'd kill you," Nathan gasped.
"I want you to fuck me like you want to," Peter insisted. "Show me! Show me now!"
"I'd kill you," Nathan repeated, softly kissing Peter again. "I don't want to hurt you, Peter."
His cock shoved deep into Peter, over and over again. Peter seemed to have acclimated to it, though, and he watched Nathan defiantly, breathing heavily through his open mouth. His resolution to start "dealing" slipped away, further and further with every thrust. Nathan brought Peter closer to himself and ripped away all the masks, even the ones Nathan himself asked Peter to wear. "Do you fuck her like this?" Peter muttered.
Nathan had gone past anger into something new. This was more like fun, like a vicious game. His cock stayed hard, his hands stayed steady on Peter's legs, holding the younger man spread and open and exposed. "Yeah," he said, just to see what Peter would do.
To his surprise, Peter's cock hardened and began to rise, pointing up toward Nathan, his balls quaking as Peter recieved Nathan's thrusts. "Do you fuck her in the ass like this?" he demanded.
"No," Nathan said.
"Do you fuck her in the ass at all?"
"No."
"Do you want to? Do you want to fuck her in the ass like you do me? Like you want to fuck me?"
"She's not you, Peter."
"Tell me! Ahh-!"
Nathan's arousal threatened to boil over at any second. The only thing keeping him from slamming into Peter dangerously hard was their position - if they had been doing this doggy-style, he'd probably have given Peter the kind of destruction he seemed to want. Peter was still so new; this was about all he could take. "I only want to do that to you," Nathan said.
"That's right," said Peter, seeming relieved. He was drenched in sweat, and his cock twitched madly, preparing to fire again. "Don't hurt her. If you ever want to hurt her, take it out on me. Don't you ever hurt her. Hit me, rape me, break me - but don't hurt her."
"I don't want to hurt you, Peter!" Nathan begged.
"You're a fucking liar," Peter spat back at him. He pressed his back against the bed hard, raising his hips to meet Nathan's, taking what Nathan gave, demanding more. Ah, yes, as always. It would always be this way. "Hurt me! I want you to! I want that part of you! I want it for me. That's the part I'll have. You hurt me so much already... but don't lie to me! You want to hurt me and I can take it if you love me, I can take it - if you - just please don't leave me... give me that..." He ran out of words, another orgasm overtaking him, this time shooting silvery-creamy tracks across Nathan's lower belly. Peter rapidly swept up the semen with his fingers and held them up to Nathan's mouth. Nathan sucked them clean like a starving man.
Nathan was coming before he realized it, like a flashbulb exploding in his sex, a single spurt filling Peter's ass with come.
Nathan withdrew, turned Peter over onto his face, and pulled him into the position he himself had had before. Peter's asshole wept semen. Nathan slid his cock back into the hot, wet space, coming yet again, an aftershock bigger, brighter and more profound than what had come before. He felt dizzy and transcendent, and had to cling to Peter as the only solid thing in a world suddenly gone vague, strange, and far away. Peter might have been crying or laughing, or both, his body convulsively quaking, his mouth on his wrists, and then Nathan's hands, wet and messy and generous. He arched like a cat in Nathan's arms, kissing Nathan's hands. "Yes... yes," he whispered, "beautiful, oh God, yes. I know that was good."
"Love you forever," Nathan murmured. "No matter what. I'll try to give you what you want, but... I don't know. I'll try."
"Just give me what I need," Peter whispered back.
Downstairs, the grandfather clock tolled four, and with it, Nathan and Peter groaned and sighed. "Five hours," Nathan said, shaking his head, cradling Peter in his arms, their lower bodies slick with lube and semen. "Set your alarm for eight, would you?"
"You gonna stay?" Peter's voice was blurry with fatigue. The night's drinking had suddenly caught up with him all at once.
"Sleep with you tonight," Nathan murmured against Peter's neck. "It'll be nice. Like that one time. Over fall break. When I was hanging out with you, when Mom and Dad were away. Do you remember?" he teased.
Peter fumbled with his alarm clock, yawning hugely. "You curled up with me," Peter replied. "In bed. We were both in pajamas and it got so hot I ..." He broke off with a quiet, embarrassed laugh.
"You got naked in your sleep," Nathan completed the thought. "I woke up holding a naked teenage boy with a giant boner, and I bolted across the room so fast I broke the sound barrier. You never woke up."
"Well," Peter added, "when I woke up I was naked and in a big wet spot, so... I used to masturbate to the idea that you had taken off my pajamas in my sleep and sucked me off, and then jacked off on me, and then left."
"That's a... beautiful thought," Nathan said dubiously, and then laughed. "God, and you think I'm a pervert. I think you win."
"You're getting married tomorrow," Peter said wonderingly. "You're a lucky guy. It's the most important day of your life."
"Yeah," Nathan agreed, stroking Peter's hopelessly tousled, tangled hair. "The most important day so far. There'll be more. That's why I need to hold you for a while first. Do you promise not to embarrass me tomorrow?"
Peter sniffled and sighed sleepily. "I can't promise," he said. "But I promise I won't do it on purpose. Will you help me with my bow tie?"
"No, Peter, I'm the groom. I'm gonna be kinda busy. Mom'll help you."
Peter was quiet for long enough that Nathan wondered if he had fallen asleep. When he spoke, it was in a soft, childlike tone. "I guess I can't pretend that you're all mine anymore."
Nathan gave him another gentle kiss, and hugged him. "I never was," he said. "But... I do love you. I love you more than anything."
"You shouldn't," Peter replied after a pause.
"I know," said Nathan.
This time, they did fall asleep, and when they woke up, everything was different.
But not that different.
END PART (19)
A/N: In tribute to our favorite "wedding pictures" of Peter and Nathan. Aren't they a handsome couple?
Liquor does indeed loosen the tongue, doesn't it? The cigar-shaped dildo is about as theoretical, but as likely, as the pewter monkey figurine. Because seriously, you know it's got to exist. ^_^ Thanks to everyone who encouraged me in the last few weeks - I really needed it. Thanks for reading.