Fic: Ritual (20): The Milky Way
Title: Ritual (20): The Milky Way
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: all episodes through 2x01: "Four Months Later"
Word Count: ~5800
Warnings: Incest, explicit m/m sex, language
Summary: Nathan and Peter make the most of the Great Northeast Blackout of 2003.
Previous rituals:
(1) :: (2) :: (3) :: (4) :: (5) :: (6) :: (7) :: (8) :: (9) :: (10)
(11) :: (12) :: (13) :: (14) :: (15) :: (16) :: (17) :: (18) :: (19)
Heroes is the property of NBC/Universal and Tailwinds Productions. This is a work of fanfiction.
THREE YEARS BEFORE THE ECLIPSE...
Nathan decided to take the train into the office that mid-August day.
Usually Nathan drove himself into town in the Mercedes, and Heidi had the Jaguar, but the Jag was in the shop with engine troubles again and Heidi also had a "social business" lunch date in Haviland that day. He didn't mind taking the train; it would give him time to read over the notes for the big fraud case he was working on. He told Heidi he'd be home by seven for dinner; she gave him a distracted kiss and wished him a good day.
Work was busy, but relatively uneventful. Nathan was so enmeshed in the details of the case and assigning tasks to his paralegals that he worked straight through the day. At 3:30, his executive assistant slammed her hands down on the desk in front of him, making him jump. "Get out of here!" she yelled good-naturedly at him. "I can hear your stomach growling from my office! Go get lunch, at least - but, really, I can take it from here. You're done for the day."
Nathan smirked at her, but obligingly began shutting down his computer. Although she was perfectly good-looking, he hadn't slept with her yet; she was too good at her job and he didn't want to lose her expertise, even if she did overstep her bounds of authority on a regular basis. She did look after him, though, with the kind of brisk, bullying efficiency that sometimes made him want to toss her across the top of a desk and fuck her breathless, and he could tell by the way she looked at him that she also hoped that day would come. Oh well, maybe later, after this case. He'd have time to interview someone else by then. Few things were less pleasant than having to keep working with a subordinate that he'd slept with; good thing they were easily replaceable.
Once upon a time, before Peter had dropped out of pre-law school, Nathan had hoped that perhaps one day Peter could be his assistant. But now that was just an idle afternoon thought that sometimes flitted through Nathan's mind.
Peter in suit and tie and polished oxfords, bent over the desk blotter, blinking over his shoulder, awaiting instructions.
Nathan caught a cab several blocks downtown, heading for the nice little Italian place that was near Peter's apartment, where they knew Nathan and he could get a light meal and also bring home some of their anisette cookies for tonight's dessert. While he was in the taxi, Nathan thought about his assistant, and wondered if she wore sexy lingerie, or something more basic and plain. Panties that looked like boy's underwear, for example. That was fashionable right now. She'd look good in that, but probably not as good as an actual boy.
Not that Nathan thought about boys in their underwear; it really wasn't what he was all about. Not really. There was really just the one.
He wondered what Peter would look like in lacy bikini panties. Probably not as good as an actual girl. But pretty good, nonetheless.
Nathan got out of the taxi and walked down the block to the restaurant. It was hot out now, the sun still high in the sky, heat bouncing up from the pavement. As he approached the door, he saw all the neon signs on all the storefronts wink, then darken completely.
Tires squealed and horns honked in agitation; Nathan squinted behind him, and saw that the traffic lights were out, too. A huge, collective groan rose around him, followed by a flurry of frustrated cursing. Nathan immediately looked up at the cloudless, placid blue sky and listened for the sounds of sirens or explosions. There were none, just the grumbling and yelling of a lot of pissed-off people.
"Power's out," Nathan muttered to himself.
He went forward into the Trattoria Navarro, and smirked and held up his arms in the universal gesture of Whaddaya gonna do? The host returned the gesture, and shook his head understandingly. "Just you today, Mr. Petrelli? The minestrone is still hot. For now, anyway."
"Actually..." Nathan gazed around the dark interior of the restaurant, feeling the return of the restlessness that had been dogging him all day. "I think I'll just have a coffee..."
"No coffee. No electricity. We make each coffee fresh."
"Oh - right. Um... let me just get a pound of anisette cookies," Nathan amended. The host nodded pragmatically, and moved behind the glass dessert counter at the front of the restaurant. "Do you know what's going on?"
"No idea," said the host. "I hope it is not the Iraqis have bombed our power station."
"I... yeah, I hope not, too," Nathan replied, feeling nervous suddenly. He paid for the cookies and wandered back out onto the sunny sidewalk. All the way across the immensity of Lafayette Street, every light was out, as far as the eye could see.
Oh, shit, Nathan thought, Peter's probably freaking out right now. He pulled out his cell phone, but there was no signal to speak of. Nathan started walking toward Peter's building. He knew Peter's schedule well - his brother would be out of class by now, and this was Thursday, one of Peter's two nights off - and he had keys to the apartment. If nothing else, he could stay there and wait for Peter to come home, and try to figure out what was still working.
It took almost an hour to walk the four blocks that separated the trattoria from the apartment building - three buses were stalled in the middle of the street, and the sidewalks and intersections were packed. The subway trains had stopped, too, and the people who would otherwise have been standing down on the platforms or riding the train were now walking along with him, holding up useless cell phones in search of a signal. It wasn't good. Nathan hadn't been in the city on 9/11, but in his anxiety dreams, he had imagined something like this, just with more screaming.
Nathan stayed calm, but with all his senses alert.
There was a bar in the middle of the block, next to Peter's apartment building, with a large-ish crowd of people spilling onto the street around it, holding drinks and sandwiches and cigarettes and cameras, and seemingly having quite a good time, in stark contrast with the grumpy, frustrated commuters. There was even music playing from someone's car stereo. At the edge of the crowd, Nathan spotted a familiar mop-topped figure, draining a brown glass bottle of beer, setting it down, then grabbing another bottle.
That was Nathan's little brother, all right.
Nathan cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Peter!" down the street. A couple of men turned their faces toward him, but let their eyes slide off him; but the one head Nathan hoped would turn didn't, too busy drinking. Nathan walked closer and yelled louder. "Peter!"
Peter turned then, and his face lit up with an ecstatic smile of relief. "Nathan!" Nathan grinned, too, jogging up to the table. Peter immediately wrapped Nathan in a big, intense hug. He even gave Nathan a quick kiss on the mouth. "I'm glad you're OK. Nice to see you! Hey, want a beer?" At least Peter was dressed for the weather, in white T-shirt, dark-blue linen drawstring trousers, and canvas sneakers with no socks; Nathan hadn't even taken off his wool suit jacket.
Nathan was still reeling from the heat and from the kiss. "What? Oh. Yeah, I guess so."
Peter reached into a bucket of water on the table, uncapped a bottle, and handed it to Nathan. "I bought ten; there's six left. We have to drink them while they're still cold. Hurry. That bucket used to be full of ice."
"You and your priorities," Nathan said chidingly, but the beer was marvelously refreshing on his dry throat. He loosened his tie and undid his top shirt button. "So do you know what's going on? I caught some snippets, but nothing solid."
"Just a power outage, but a big one," Peter answered, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his forearm. "Whole city's down; apparently, most of the state is, too. They don't know what caused it, so they're not sure how to fix it. Except they know it wasn't terrorists, thank God."
"The whole state's dark?" Nathan sat down in a spare chair and sighed some more. "Shit... I gotta call Heidi... can I go to your place and try your land line? I know the land lines are still working, aren't they?"
"I wouldn't try the phones yet," Peter said, setting down his now-empty bottle and starting on a fresh one. "Circuits are totally overloaded. You might as well chill out. Nobody's going anywhere for a while. We've got beer. Plus, I'm sure it's really hot up there. God, take your jacket off - you're making me hot, looking at you."
Nathan met Peter's eyes for a moment, and they traded a faint smile. "You always say that," Nathan said quietly, with an edge of humor in his voice. He slid the jacket off, and rolled up his sleeves.
"I always mean it," Peter countered, and then burped extensively and grinned.
He lowered himself to the sidewalk next to Nathan's chair, and they sat together, drinking steadily, watching the people out on the street. A waitress came out to fetch their empty bottles, and brought them out a plate of sandwiches and four bottles of water. "They're on the house," she said, "the food's just gonna go bad, anyway. Plus, you guys are foxy." She winked at Peter as she went back inside.
"Done 'er?" Nathan asked reflexively.
"She's gay." Peter shook his head. "She's just a flirt."
"Maybe she'd change for you."
"Huh...no thanks. I got my hands full with the straight ones."
Having something to eat, not to mention three beers in rapid succession, made Nathan feel a thousand times better. He put out his hand to tousle Peter's sweat-spiky hair, and let his hand linger there for a while, idly stroking and separating the strands with his fingers. It just reminded him of all the times he'd done that before, but they'd always been alone then, and Peter's breathing heavier, catching slightly as he relaxed beside Nathan, or on top of him. Someplace near and intimate. Nathan realized that they were in public, and this was Peter's neighborhood, and took his hand back. Peter glanced up at him and smiled in understanding.
"Grab the bottles," Peter said. "You want to come up and change? Maybe take a shower, if the water's working? Maybe," he added, a little more reluctantly, "give the phones a try?"
Nathan checked the time on his phone. It was almost six-thirty. "Yeah, I'd better," he said. "I said I'd be home by seven for dinner."
"Well, that ain't gonna happen, no matter what," Peter said.
They had to climb fourteen flights of stairs on foot, which was no problem for Nathan, but Peter's legs were weaker and he didn't have Nathan's iron-clad cardiovascular fitness. Peter let them into the apartment and immediately collapsed into his red leather chair, breathing hard, leaving Nathan to go around opening the windows. It reminded him of the day he'd helped Peter move in here two years ago. Since then, though, Peter had accumulated a lot more stuff. That chair, for example. "Peter, where'd you get that chair?" he asked, hanging his jacket on the coat rack, and taking off his tie.
Peter slowly opened his eyes. "From this guy who used to live down the hall," he said. "He didn't feel like moving it, and I thought it was cool, so he just gave it to me. He tried to pick me up once." Peter wiped his face with the hem of his T-shirt, and Nathan's eyes locked onto the small, brief exposure of belly skin, lightly furred down the center with a strip of fine, dark hair.
"I don't blame him," Nathan murmured.
"I picked you up this time," Peter said, and, smiling, sat up and pulled the T-shirt off slowly, letting it drag across his sweat-damp chest and shoulders before pulling it over his head, thoroughly mussing his hair. He stood up, undid the drawstring of his trousers and let them drop off. He wasn't wearing anything (lacy or otherwise) underneath. "Phone's over there," he said, "you should give it a try."
Nathan's mouth had gone dry again. He turned away reluctantly, and went to the kitchen to uncap one of the last beers. It was warm now, though, and agitated from having been taken up the stairs, and it foamed all over his hands and the sink. He cursed and jumped back, but he'd still gotten beer flecks on his shirt.
"Aww," Peter said sympathetically, coming up behind him, naked except for his sneakers. Nathan couldn't help snickering at the sight, even as Peter began unbuttoning Nathan's shirt, even as Peter drew a line of tiny bites across Nathan's jawline. "Now we've only got one beer left."
"You can have it," Nathan said. He held out his arms, letting Peter take his cloth shirt off, and raised his arms to let Peter remove his undershirt. He stayed a few inches away, though, when Peter tried to kiss him. "I gotta call my wife," Nathan reminded Peter gently.
"So call her," said Peter disinterestedly, and unfastened Nathan's belt.
Nathan picked up the phone receiver, and breathed out slow and steady. "I've got a dial tone," Nathan reported. Peter didn't reply. He was busy.
Nathan dialed his home phone number, only to be told by an automated voice, "We're sorry - all circuits are currently busy. Please try your call again later."
Nathan watched Peter finish undressing him. He slowly put the receiver back onto the cradle. "It's... not working yet."
"Oh damn," said Peter. "Whatever shall we do?" He held his hand a few centimeters away from Nathan's chest, not touching, but close enough that Nathan could feel his body heat.
"Aren't you worried about whether or not Heidi's OK?" Nathan teased. "Monty and Simon?"
"I believe they're all right," Peter said quietly. "I have to. It's just a power outage. The power could come back any second now. But here you are."
The hand made contact.
"Are you worried?" Peter asked.
Nathan sighed, and picked up the phone again. Peter pouted a little, and sat down on a wooden kitchen chair, drawing up close to where Nathan stood. Nathan tried the call again, and this time it started ringing.
"Hello?"
"Heidi - it's me."
"Oh, Nathan, thank God. Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm just fine." Nathan closed his eyes at the touch of Peter's lips on his lower belly, but his voice didn't change. "I'm over at Peter's."
"Is he all right?"
"Yeah, he's ... he's fine." Peter nuzzled Nathan's pubic hair, grasped Nathan's cock, and played the head against his lips. Nathan couldn't help sighing. "It's... pretty chaotic down here."
"I can imagine," Heidi said. "I was at the club, on one of the indoor courts with Gloria Nixey. That place is scary with the lights out! The doors automatically lock, there's no lights anywhere... We had to be rescued! They had the big flashlights and first-aid kits and everything." She laughed. She sounded very relaxed, like two-glasses-of-chardonnay relaxed. She could take care of herself. "Oh well, I assume you won't be home for dinner?"
"I don't know when they're going to get the trains running again," Nathan said, "and the city's kind of a nightmare to drive in right now -"
"Well, stay put," said Heidi. "We're fine here. And you're fine at Peter's. Call your mother if you can, though; I'm sure she's concerned." She didn't quite manage to keep the edge out of her voice when she said that. "If you absolutely need to come home tonight, I'll send someone to come get you. I'm not driving."
"No, no, no problem," Nathan said, then gasped sharply as Peter licked and began to suck.
"You okay, honey?" Heidi asked.
"Yeah," Nathan replied, and gripped Peter's hair firmly, making him stop. Peter grimaced up at him, but didn't make a sound. "Peter just... put a cold bottle against my neck."
"Hey, at least he found a cold bottle somewhere," Heidi said. "You two have fun. Don't stay up too late."
"Okay," Nathan said. "Love you. See you soon." He put the phone down, and glared at Peter. Peter glared right back. Nathan wanted to slap him. "Don't you have any respect?"
"I love it when you pull my hair," Peter whispered defiantly, and Nathan couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "I can tell you were thinking about me all day." He grinned hazily. "I been thinking about you all day, too. It's weird how sometimes I can tell. But... if I hadn't seen you tonight, you better believe I would have been on the phone with you, trying to see if you could make some time for me." Peter twisted his mouth slowly along the length of Nathan's cock, now hard enough to stand up. "Would you make time for me?"
"I need some water," Nathan said, letting Peter's hair go, running his hand gently along Peter's cheek, wondering what Peter would do if he got a slap right across his pretty face. Peter leaned into Nathan's hand like a cat being petted. "You should drink some water, too. You're gonna get dehydrated."
Peter stood up, and unscrewed the cap on one of the two remaining bottles of water. He took a solid swallow, then handed Nathan the bottle, and sat back down on the chair. The touch of his mouth was now slick and wet. Nathan rolled his eyes, and drank some water before he grabbed Peter's hair again. "Get up," he said chidingly. "Go to your room."
"Don't you want to call Mom?" Peter mumbled, pouting.
"The phones are swamped right now. I'll call her later. Go get on the bed."
"Yes, sir," Peter snapped, rolled his eyes, and went.
Nathan followed close behind, and waited until Peter had climbed onto the bed before he spoke. "Don't call me that," he said, his voice softer than before. "I don't like it."
"Reminds you of... what was his name... Captain Dixon?"
"Reminds me of Dad," said Nathan.
"Oh." Peter lowered his eyes, a little ashamed.
"He shouldn't be here," Nathan added. "This is just us."
"I'm sorry."
Nathan sat beside Peter and stroked Peter's knee comfortingly. Peter slumped over close, and Nathan leaned into him, too, and they relaxed together, lying back. "Do you really like it when I pull your hair?"
"Kinda, sometimes," Peter replied. "In the heat of passion. But it's not something you should use to teach me a lesson."
"You were being a brat," Nathan countered. "Were you trying to sabotage me?"
"I was just having fun," Peter said. "I'm just a little drunk."
"I have to be able to trust you," said Nathan. "Drinking too much is dangerous. You're good usually, but... you never know when you're going to be drunk and say the wrong dumb thing to the wrong person at the wrong time. I know you're jealous, Peter. I don't blame you. But if we're going to keep doing this, she cannot find out. She cannot suspect. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I'm not six," Peter said. "I'm sorry, okay?" He smiled at Nathan. "I was giddy. I'll be good from now on." His wide eyes gazed at Nathan with that same blindingly intense, obsessively adoring expression that was all Peter's, his trademark since he was a small child, that look that terrified and exhilarated Nathan, knowing that he was its focus. "I'll be good."
Heidi never, ever looked at Nathan like that.
He shut her out of his mind, and kissed Peter.
Nathan knew how to make sixteen ounces of bottled drinking water, and half a bathroom-sinkful from the tap, all the pipes could produce, go a long way. He and Peter rubbed each other down with damp washcloths, getting clean, refreshed, and cool and using only a little of the tap water that wasn't safe to drink anyway. From the bottle, Peter filled his mouth, and then Nathan kissed him and drank from him at once.
They returned to bed, and to their play. Now that his mouth wasn't dry, Peter's mouth on Nathan's cock felt even better. Nathan sat near the edge of the bed, and Peter straddled him in an inverted position, on his knees, head down, his ass rubbing against Nathan's collarbones. Nathan couldn't resist attempting to tongue Peter's buttocks, but the angle wasn't quite right, and to lift Peter to his mouth level would make Peter lose his balance. And he wasn't willing to interrupt his blowjob, and he didn't quite have enough saliva, or the freedom of his arms, to lube his fingers and slide them into Peter's ass. He was more or less trapped while Peter held him down and did cock-sucking yoga on top of him.
It was wonderful.
Nathan lay back just as an orgasm crackled along his nervous system, and his body helplessly convulsed underneath Peter's. "Uh - uh! - oh, God, suck it, you slut!" he cried out, quivering. Then he relaxed, profoundly, all at once, grimacing slightly with regret. "Oh, my God... oh... I'm sorry, Pete. I didn't mean to say that."
Peter climbed off, and grinned at him. His face was flushed but flawless; he had effortlessly swallowed the load of Nathan's semen without a trace. "The hell you didn't," Peter laughed back. "You liked that, huh? That was hot. You can call me slut any time, you know. Because it's true." Peter licked the corner of his mouth. Nathan gazed wonderingly at him; usually, Peter didn't swallow unless he was told to. Maybe he'd developed a taste. Nathan hoped so. "Still, because you talked mean to me, I'm gonna fuck you." He kissed Nathan roughly, sliding his tongue into Nathan's mouth. He tasted strongly of Nathan's come, the flavor so different from Peter's - Peter's smooth and sour-bitter-sweet, Nathan's sharper, muskier, saltier. But good, swirled around Peter's mouth, like Peter washed some of the corruption out of it. Nathan wanted to come in Peter's mouth again and again until he was clean and empty, but what would become of Peter then? What would that do to him?
Heedless of Nathan's tangled thoughts, Peter licked and pinched his nipples, purring, "I'm gonna fuck you right in that big, sweet ass of yours."
"It's not big," Nathan muttered, his face flushing, hopelessly turned on.
"It is too. And sweet."
"It just seems that way because your ass is tiny."
"Yeah," Peter agreed, and when he didn't add anything to it, Nathan lightly punched him on the upper arm, then followed it with a kiss and a bite. Peter giggled. "It's 'cos I'm so young," he needled. "But I'm still gonna fuck you." He kissed Nathan's mouth again, and moved away for a moment to access his bedside table, and his bottle of lube. "What do you think of that?"
"I'm... not as clean as I ought to be," Nathan protested softly. "You - "
"Shut up," Peter said.
He pushed Nathan's shoulder, turning him over, face down, his lower legs sticking out over the edge of the bed. Nathan slid down a little, then a little more, his just his toes touching the ground. Peter gave a "Hm!" of satisfaction, slid down onto his knees on the floor, grasped Nathan's left buttock in one hand and squeezed it. "You think I care?" Peter continued. "Immaculately clean's your thing. Life isn't clean. Lust isn't clean. And if I don't like it, well, I'll just make you suck it off. 'Cos I bet you would."
"Nuh-uh," Nathan replied breathily. Peter gave the left buttock a kiss and a bite, then did the same with the other cheek, massaging him, spreading him. Peter moved over so that he was between Nathan's legs, forcing him to spread even more. "I wouldn't," Nathan added.
"Shut up," whispered Peter. He spit against Nathan's asshole, and pushed it in with his fingertip, his touch first gentle, then uncompromisingly firm. He withdrew the finger, spread lubricant on it, and slid it in again. "Yeah. Because I was thinking about you all day, you know? And what I was thinking of was fucking you. You were thinking about fucking someone - didn't matter who - and making them do what you said. And maybe thinking about me, too. But I was thinking about fucking your sweet, tight ass, Nathan. All day. All day, with a boner, thinking about this." Peter caressed Nathan's behind with his cheek and his lips. "This, right here."
"I... I thought you were... all about my cock," Nathan murmured, just to say something.
"Oh, I had that. Don't you remember? Five minutes ago?" Peter laughed, and dug in his fingers insistently, finally getting his wish and rendering Nathan wordless. "I was good and everything. I swallowed, like a good slut, didn't I? Didn't I?" His voice broke, and trailed away. Nathan didn't move a muscle, waiting for the next step, the next word; Peter did nothing for what seemed like forever, until Nathan felt like screaming.
Peter warned him with a soft, glancing kiss. And then he forced his lubed cock inside, slowly and carefully, but never letting up, even when Nathan gasped, flinched, and screamed, "Oh... fuck! Oh God!"
Peter just pushed Nathan's face down into the bedding. "You'll be all right," he said. He wasn't thrusting, but his muscles slowly and threateningly gathered tension, as if preparing for a sprint.
"I - I wish - I wish you could fuck me every day," Nathan gasped out. "But I don't. Okay? Please..."
"I wish I could fuck you every day, too," Peter said. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm not angry at you. I don't want to punish you. You love me, and that's so good." He kissed Nathan's back, and caressed his ribs, his fingers finding Nathan's scars, as he always did, lingering over them, lightly circling the raised seams of flesh. "I want to make love to you. I want to give you what you can't get at home, you know?" He kissed Nathan again, and stroked his hair. "This is just... special and rare. This happened for a reason."
"What, the... blackout?"
"It's for us."
Nathan let out a shuddering laugh. "Oh, my God, your ego is huge."
Peter sighed in annoyance. "Your butt is huge," he countered, and began to thrust.
In no time, their bodies were both pouring sweat, slicking their skins, making everything wet and salty and slippery. They moved together and apart in unison, Nathan, to his surprise, bucking back to meet Peter's gently insistent strokes, sharpening them. Moaning together into the silence, their bodies rising and falling in a sinuous, liquid wave. Holding hands, pulling Nathan's arms back, tightening his stomach muscles, giving Peter more resistance to thrust against. No pain, no anxiety, no worry, just hot, melting glory.
"Can I come inside you?" Peter asked, stopping suddenly.
"N-no," Nathan decided, his husky voice weighted with sadness. He wished it could be; it would be the perfect culmination of this. "I can't take a shower."
"I'd come in your mouth, but - "
"Don't."
"Okay," Peter said obligingly, and have a half-sob as he pulled out. He flung himself onto his back on the bed beside Nathan, and with a single stroke of his thumb, shot an long stripe of semen back over his stomach. Nathan lay mere inches away, watching in fevered excitement, and reached out with his hand, trailing his fingers through the stripe, spreading the spunk across Peter's flat belly.
"Oh, my God, that's beautiful," Nathan whispered.
Peter smiled exhaustedly at him. "I love you," he said.
"I love you, too." Nathan slumped against the bed. "Oh, my God, I'm so hot."
"Uh-huh," Peter agreed. "Smokin'."
Nathan laughed. "You're not funny," he said.
"Call Mom," Peter said, sitting up. "I'm gonna go clean up a bit. Try to cool down."
"Save some water for me," Nathan directed.
Nathan made the call, but no one answered at the Petrelli residence, and there was still no cellular service. It was getting dark now, and Nathan stared out the front-room window at the lightless city street below. Peter joined Nathan at the window, handing Nathan a moist hand towel, and looked out himself. "We should go get some more drinking water," Peter said.
"I'll go get it," Nathan said. "I won't make you climb those stairs again. You should stay here and try Mom and Dad again; they didn't pick up." He gave Peter a kiss, then another one. "I'm glad I found you," he added.
Peter smiled and let his hair flop over his face. "When you come back, we can go up on the roof," he said. "I've got red wine; that doesn't have to be cold. See if you can find something else to eat, too. You wore me out."
Nathan dressed in T-shirt and suit trousers, and went out, and returned almost an hour later with a big shopping bag holding six slices of cheese pizza, a paper bag of falafel, a stack of vegan chocolate brownies, and seven bottles of water, all different brands. Peter sat curled up in his leather chair, looking out the window, the room illuminated by candlelight. He'd changed into a white ribbed tank top and put the linen trousers back on, but now he was barefoot. He looked so beautiful that at first, Nathan couldn't speak. Peter sat up and looked accusingly at Nathan. "That took long enough," he complained.
"I had to go to a dozen different places. Almost everything's closed, and what's open sold out of water a long time ago. And now they're charging exorbitant prices for it on the street. This all?" Nathan set the bag on the kitchen counter. "Cost me eighty-eight dollars. And the pizza was free."
"Jesus," Peter remarked, grabbing a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth. "Good thing you're rich."
"Yeah," Nathan agreed. Peter rolled his eyes. "Let's see this fabulous roof. Let's hope it's cooler up there."
"It should be. You grab the food; I'll grab my sleeping bag, so we can have something to sit on. Oh, yeah, and the wine, and the corkscrew. And the flashlight. Right on. Let's do it."
The roof was seven stories up, and because the building was tucked between two taller buildings, had been protected from the direct sunlight for most of the day, and was substantially cooler than Peter's apartment had been. Also, at least for the time being, they had it to themselves. Peter crowed with triumph, and spread out the sleeping bag on a surface less covered in pigeon shit than most of the rest of the roof. "Suh-weet," he sang, settling down cross-legged, and expertly uncorking the wine bottle. "Oh," he realized suddenly. "I didn't bring any glasses."
"Whatever," Nathan said, resigned. He took the bottle from Peter, and took a swig, sitting next to his brother. Peter grinned at him, his teeth wetly flashing in the fading orange light from the sunset.
"I hope you don't mind being stuck with me," Peter said, taking the wine back.
"If I did," said Nathan, "I'd just walk home."
"Yeah, all ninety miles." Peter sighed. He munched on a lukewarm disk of falafel. "I wish you didn't live so far out of town."
Nathan shrugged. "Dad bought us the house," he said. "What, were we supposed to say no?"
"No, I just..."
"I miss you, too," Nathan said. "But on the other hand, I don't. I see you all the damn time." He softened his words with a laugh. "I've got a family now, Pete."
"You had a family before," Peter pointed out.
"That's not the same and you know it."
"I know, I know, I know."
"You should get your own," said Nathan. "Peter... my marriage is not a competition."
"Look, I know, okay? You must realize that it just pisses me off to have you point that out to me all the time. It just reminds me. It's irritating. I'm doing the best I can. I just try to appreciate you when I get a chance - but then you insist on making it as difficult for me as possible. Why do you have to be so perverse about that?" Peter stared at Nathan, then shook his head and sighed and took a pull on the wine bottle. "It's hard enough as it is. Do we even have to talk about this right now? I'm just trying to enjoy."
"Sure, Pete," Nathan conceded. "Sorry. I'm just trying to be your big brother, I guess."
"Well, quit it," Peter said. "At least, quit it with the patronizing dickhead part of it. For now. Just for now, okay? Let's just..." He ran his fingers up the inside of Nathan's wrist.
It was still too hot to snuggle, but they lay side by side, holding hands, passing the bottle back and forth between them. When a small group of young women came out onto the roof with lawn chairs, Peter greeted them with a "hey", and they said "hey" back, but sat well away from them on the roof. After a while, two of the girls began to kiss and make out; Peter and Nathan watched them for a moment, then looked at each other. Peter rolled over and kissed Nathan on the side of his mouth.
The stars began to come out even before it was fully dark - blazingly bright prickles in a a sky unfamiliar with them. More and more appeared all the time until the sky seemed sprinkled in glitter. "Check it out," Peter breathed. "Wow. Have you ever seen anything like it?"
"In Rwanda," Nathan said. "In the rural areas. But even there, there was some light - we brought it with us. This is... wow."
Later, when night fell completely, Peter caught his breath in surprise. "Cool... it's the Milky Way," he said, his finger tracing an arc in the sky, dark against the fine, bright spray of stars. "I've never seen it before. Not in real life."
"It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" Nathan grinned at Peter's childlike awe. "You can see it again if you go to Nevada. Out to the desert. Middle of nowhere. Maybe." He handed the wine bottle to Peter. "Maybe from space," he said. "Once upon a time, I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to go see the stars close up."
"Really?" said Peter.
"Yeah. I was a little kid. Saw astronauts on TV and thought, I want that. But then I changed my mind and decided that I wanted to be a pilot instead."
"I think you sold yourself short," Peter said. "I think you could have been an astronaut. You've got the background, you've got the body..."
"I'm supposed to be a lawyer," Nathan murmured. "And more. I've got something bigger to do. But when I was little... I just wanted to fly. I still want to."
Peter watched him and nodded, and leaned over and kissed him again, fully on the mouth this time, and they put their arms around each other and curled up, leaning against each other, gazing skyward.
"Me, too," Peter whispered.
No one on the roof noticed the silently hovering black-clad figure who had appeared out of nowhere in the velvety, starlit darkness. No one looked up from their cuddles and chianti to see him, and he was grateful for their preoccupation. All he wanted to do was look, to gaze down and see himself - his younger self, so far behind from him now that he barely recognized the creature that was also, somehow, him - casually curled up with his brother on a ratty old sleeping bag, their eyes full of extraordinary stars and their hearts full of each other.
And Peter Petrelli smiled, and thought that overloading a couple of power stations in Ohio, disrupting the lives of millions of people, was worth it, for this moment. Sure, some people died, and he made no attempt to save them, even though he could have. But it wouldn't have been right. Sometimes people died for random and stupid reasons. But everyone died, eventually; time and causality had no moral compass. He could only look after himself, and seize his own moments of happiness.
Peter Petrelli knew this now. He wasn't young anymore.
He let his eyes linger for a moment longer, then turned away, wrapped his arms around himself, closed his eyes, and clicked back into the time from where he had come.
END (20)
This is the last story of the Ritual series (perhaps forever; at least for now). I hope you enjoyed it. I'm gonna take a proper break now. Thanks to airspaniel for the Great Blackout concept and for being an inspiration in general.
And thanks to Heroes for inspiring me.
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: all episodes through 2x01: "Four Months Later"
Word Count: ~5800
Warnings: Incest, explicit m/m sex, language
Summary: Nathan and Peter make the most of the Great Northeast Blackout of 2003.
Previous rituals:
(1) :: (2) :: (3) :: (4) :: (5) :: (6) :: (7) :: (8) :: (9) :: (10)
(11) :: (12) :: (13) :: (14) :: (15) :: (16) :: (17) :: (18) :: (19)
Heroes is the property of NBC/Universal and Tailwinds Productions. This is a work of fanfiction.
THREE YEARS BEFORE THE ECLIPSE...
Nathan decided to take the train into the office that mid-August day.
Usually Nathan drove himself into town in the Mercedes, and Heidi had the Jaguar, but the Jag was in the shop with engine troubles again and Heidi also had a "social business" lunch date in Haviland that day. He didn't mind taking the train; it would give him time to read over the notes for the big fraud case he was working on. He told Heidi he'd be home by seven for dinner; she gave him a distracted kiss and wished him a good day.
Work was busy, but relatively uneventful. Nathan was so enmeshed in the details of the case and assigning tasks to his paralegals that he worked straight through the day. At 3:30, his executive assistant slammed her hands down on the desk in front of him, making him jump. "Get out of here!" she yelled good-naturedly at him. "I can hear your stomach growling from my office! Go get lunch, at least - but, really, I can take it from here. You're done for the day."
Nathan smirked at her, but obligingly began shutting down his computer. Although she was perfectly good-looking, he hadn't slept with her yet; she was too good at her job and he didn't want to lose her expertise, even if she did overstep her bounds of authority on a regular basis. She did look after him, though, with the kind of brisk, bullying efficiency that sometimes made him want to toss her across the top of a desk and fuck her breathless, and he could tell by the way she looked at him that she also hoped that day would come. Oh well, maybe later, after this case. He'd have time to interview someone else by then. Few things were less pleasant than having to keep working with a subordinate that he'd slept with; good thing they were easily replaceable.
Once upon a time, before Peter had dropped out of pre-law school, Nathan had hoped that perhaps one day Peter could be his assistant. But now that was just an idle afternoon thought that sometimes flitted through Nathan's mind.
Peter in suit and tie and polished oxfords, bent over the desk blotter, blinking over his shoulder, awaiting instructions.
Nathan caught a cab several blocks downtown, heading for the nice little Italian place that was near Peter's apartment, where they knew Nathan and he could get a light meal and also bring home some of their anisette cookies for tonight's dessert. While he was in the taxi, Nathan thought about his assistant, and wondered if she wore sexy lingerie, or something more basic and plain. Panties that looked like boy's underwear, for example. That was fashionable right now. She'd look good in that, but probably not as good as an actual boy.
Not that Nathan thought about boys in their underwear; it really wasn't what he was all about. Not really. There was really just the one.
He wondered what Peter would look like in lacy bikini panties. Probably not as good as an actual girl. But pretty good, nonetheless.
Nathan got out of the taxi and walked down the block to the restaurant. It was hot out now, the sun still high in the sky, heat bouncing up from the pavement. As he approached the door, he saw all the neon signs on all the storefronts wink, then darken completely.
Tires squealed and horns honked in agitation; Nathan squinted behind him, and saw that the traffic lights were out, too. A huge, collective groan rose around him, followed by a flurry of frustrated cursing. Nathan immediately looked up at the cloudless, placid blue sky and listened for the sounds of sirens or explosions. There were none, just the grumbling and yelling of a lot of pissed-off people.
"Power's out," Nathan muttered to himself.
He went forward into the Trattoria Navarro, and smirked and held up his arms in the universal gesture of Whaddaya gonna do? The host returned the gesture, and shook his head understandingly. "Just you today, Mr. Petrelli? The minestrone is still hot. For now, anyway."
"Actually..." Nathan gazed around the dark interior of the restaurant, feeling the return of the restlessness that had been dogging him all day. "I think I'll just have a coffee..."
"No coffee. No electricity. We make each coffee fresh."
"Oh - right. Um... let me just get a pound of anisette cookies," Nathan amended. The host nodded pragmatically, and moved behind the glass dessert counter at the front of the restaurant. "Do you know what's going on?"
"No idea," said the host. "I hope it is not the Iraqis have bombed our power station."
"I... yeah, I hope not, too," Nathan replied, feeling nervous suddenly. He paid for the cookies and wandered back out onto the sunny sidewalk. All the way across the immensity of Lafayette Street, every light was out, as far as the eye could see.
Oh, shit, Nathan thought, Peter's probably freaking out right now. He pulled out his cell phone, but there was no signal to speak of. Nathan started walking toward Peter's building. He knew Peter's schedule well - his brother would be out of class by now, and this was Thursday, one of Peter's two nights off - and he had keys to the apartment. If nothing else, he could stay there and wait for Peter to come home, and try to figure out what was still working.
It took almost an hour to walk the four blocks that separated the trattoria from the apartment building - three buses were stalled in the middle of the street, and the sidewalks and intersections were packed. The subway trains had stopped, too, and the people who would otherwise have been standing down on the platforms or riding the train were now walking along with him, holding up useless cell phones in search of a signal. It wasn't good. Nathan hadn't been in the city on 9/11, but in his anxiety dreams, he had imagined something like this, just with more screaming.
Nathan stayed calm, but with all his senses alert.
There was a bar in the middle of the block, next to Peter's apartment building, with a large-ish crowd of people spilling onto the street around it, holding drinks and sandwiches and cigarettes and cameras, and seemingly having quite a good time, in stark contrast with the grumpy, frustrated commuters. There was even music playing from someone's car stereo. At the edge of the crowd, Nathan spotted a familiar mop-topped figure, draining a brown glass bottle of beer, setting it down, then grabbing another bottle.
That was Nathan's little brother, all right.
Nathan cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Peter!" down the street. A couple of men turned their faces toward him, but let their eyes slide off him; but the one head Nathan hoped would turn didn't, too busy drinking. Nathan walked closer and yelled louder. "Peter!"
Peter turned then, and his face lit up with an ecstatic smile of relief. "Nathan!" Nathan grinned, too, jogging up to the table. Peter immediately wrapped Nathan in a big, intense hug. He even gave Nathan a quick kiss on the mouth. "I'm glad you're OK. Nice to see you! Hey, want a beer?" At least Peter was dressed for the weather, in white T-shirt, dark-blue linen drawstring trousers, and canvas sneakers with no socks; Nathan hadn't even taken off his wool suit jacket.
Nathan was still reeling from the heat and from the kiss. "What? Oh. Yeah, I guess so."
Peter reached into a bucket of water on the table, uncapped a bottle, and handed it to Nathan. "I bought ten; there's six left. We have to drink them while they're still cold. Hurry. That bucket used to be full of ice."
"You and your priorities," Nathan said chidingly, but the beer was marvelously refreshing on his dry throat. He loosened his tie and undid his top shirt button. "So do you know what's going on? I caught some snippets, but nothing solid."
"Just a power outage, but a big one," Peter answered, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his forearm. "Whole city's down; apparently, most of the state is, too. They don't know what caused it, so they're not sure how to fix it. Except they know it wasn't terrorists, thank God."
"The whole state's dark?" Nathan sat down in a spare chair and sighed some more. "Shit... I gotta call Heidi... can I go to your place and try your land line? I know the land lines are still working, aren't they?"
"I wouldn't try the phones yet," Peter said, setting down his now-empty bottle and starting on a fresh one. "Circuits are totally overloaded. You might as well chill out. Nobody's going anywhere for a while. We've got beer. Plus, I'm sure it's really hot up there. God, take your jacket off - you're making me hot, looking at you."
Nathan met Peter's eyes for a moment, and they traded a faint smile. "You always say that," Nathan said quietly, with an edge of humor in his voice. He slid the jacket off, and rolled up his sleeves.
"I always mean it," Peter countered, and then burped extensively and grinned.
He lowered himself to the sidewalk next to Nathan's chair, and they sat together, drinking steadily, watching the people out on the street. A waitress came out to fetch their empty bottles, and brought them out a plate of sandwiches and four bottles of water. "They're on the house," she said, "the food's just gonna go bad, anyway. Plus, you guys are foxy." She winked at Peter as she went back inside.
"Done 'er?" Nathan asked reflexively.
"She's gay." Peter shook his head. "She's just a flirt."
"Maybe she'd change for you."
"Huh...no thanks. I got my hands full with the straight ones."
Having something to eat, not to mention three beers in rapid succession, made Nathan feel a thousand times better. He put out his hand to tousle Peter's sweat-spiky hair, and let his hand linger there for a while, idly stroking and separating the strands with his fingers. It just reminded him of all the times he'd done that before, but they'd always been alone then, and Peter's breathing heavier, catching slightly as he relaxed beside Nathan, or on top of him. Someplace near and intimate. Nathan realized that they were in public, and this was Peter's neighborhood, and took his hand back. Peter glanced up at him and smiled in understanding.
"Grab the bottles," Peter said. "You want to come up and change? Maybe take a shower, if the water's working? Maybe," he added, a little more reluctantly, "give the phones a try?"
Nathan checked the time on his phone. It was almost six-thirty. "Yeah, I'd better," he said. "I said I'd be home by seven for dinner."
"Well, that ain't gonna happen, no matter what," Peter said.
They had to climb fourteen flights of stairs on foot, which was no problem for Nathan, but Peter's legs were weaker and he didn't have Nathan's iron-clad cardiovascular fitness. Peter let them into the apartment and immediately collapsed into his red leather chair, breathing hard, leaving Nathan to go around opening the windows. It reminded him of the day he'd helped Peter move in here two years ago. Since then, though, Peter had accumulated a lot more stuff. That chair, for example. "Peter, where'd you get that chair?" he asked, hanging his jacket on the coat rack, and taking off his tie.
Peter slowly opened his eyes. "From this guy who used to live down the hall," he said. "He didn't feel like moving it, and I thought it was cool, so he just gave it to me. He tried to pick me up once." Peter wiped his face with the hem of his T-shirt, and Nathan's eyes locked onto the small, brief exposure of belly skin, lightly furred down the center with a strip of fine, dark hair.
"I don't blame him," Nathan murmured.
"I picked you up this time," Peter said, and, smiling, sat up and pulled the T-shirt off slowly, letting it drag across his sweat-damp chest and shoulders before pulling it over his head, thoroughly mussing his hair. He stood up, undid the drawstring of his trousers and let them drop off. He wasn't wearing anything (lacy or otherwise) underneath. "Phone's over there," he said, "you should give it a try."
Nathan's mouth had gone dry again. He turned away reluctantly, and went to the kitchen to uncap one of the last beers. It was warm now, though, and agitated from having been taken up the stairs, and it foamed all over his hands and the sink. He cursed and jumped back, but he'd still gotten beer flecks on his shirt.
"Aww," Peter said sympathetically, coming up behind him, naked except for his sneakers. Nathan couldn't help snickering at the sight, even as Peter began unbuttoning Nathan's shirt, even as Peter drew a line of tiny bites across Nathan's jawline. "Now we've only got one beer left."
"You can have it," Nathan said. He held out his arms, letting Peter take his cloth shirt off, and raised his arms to let Peter remove his undershirt. He stayed a few inches away, though, when Peter tried to kiss him. "I gotta call my wife," Nathan reminded Peter gently.
"So call her," said Peter disinterestedly, and unfastened Nathan's belt.
Nathan picked up the phone receiver, and breathed out slow and steady. "I've got a dial tone," Nathan reported. Peter didn't reply. He was busy.
Nathan dialed his home phone number, only to be told by an automated voice, "We're sorry - all circuits are currently busy. Please try your call again later."
Nathan watched Peter finish undressing him. He slowly put the receiver back onto the cradle. "It's... not working yet."
"Oh damn," said Peter. "Whatever shall we do?" He held his hand a few centimeters away from Nathan's chest, not touching, but close enough that Nathan could feel his body heat.
"Aren't you worried about whether or not Heidi's OK?" Nathan teased. "Monty and Simon?"
"I believe they're all right," Peter said quietly. "I have to. It's just a power outage. The power could come back any second now. But here you are."
The hand made contact.
"Are you worried?" Peter asked.
Nathan sighed, and picked up the phone again. Peter pouted a little, and sat down on a wooden kitchen chair, drawing up close to where Nathan stood. Nathan tried the call again, and this time it started ringing.
"Hello?"
"Heidi - it's me."
"Oh, Nathan, thank God. Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm just fine." Nathan closed his eyes at the touch of Peter's lips on his lower belly, but his voice didn't change. "I'm over at Peter's."
"Is he all right?"
"Yeah, he's ... he's fine." Peter nuzzled Nathan's pubic hair, grasped Nathan's cock, and played the head against his lips. Nathan couldn't help sighing. "It's... pretty chaotic down here."
"I can imagine," Heidi said. "I was at the club, on one of the indoor courts with Gloria Nixey. That place is scary with the lights out! The doors automatically lock, there's no lights anywhere... We had to be rescued! They had the big flashlights and first-aid kits and everything." She laughed. She sounded very relaxed, like two-glasses-of-chardonnay relaxed. She could take care of herself. "Oh well, I assume you won't be home for dinner?"
"I don't know when they're going to get the trains running again," Nathan said, "and the city's kind of a nightmare to drive in right now -"
"Well, stay put," said Heidi. "We're fine here. And you're fine at Peter's. Call your mother if you can, though; I'm sure she's concerned." She didn't quite manage to keep the edge out of her voice when she said that. "If you absolutely need to come home tonight, I'll send someone to come get you. I'm not driving."
"No, no, no problem," Nathan said, then gasped sharply as Peter licked and began to suck.
"You okay, honey?" Heidi asked.
"Yeah," Nathan replied, and gripped Peter's hair firmly, making him stop. Peter grimaced up at him, but didn't make a sound. "Peter just... put a cold bottle against my neck."
"Hey, at least he found a cold bottle somewhere," Heidi said. "You two have fun. Don't stay up too late."
"Okay," Nathan said. "Love you. See you soon." He put the phone down, and glared at Peter. Peter glared right back. Nathan wanted to slap him. "Don't you have any respect?"
"I love it when you pull my hair," Peter whispered defiantly, and Nathan couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "I can tell you were thinking about me all day." He grinned hazily. "I been thinking about you all day, too. It's weird how sometimes I can tell. But... if I hadn't seen you tonight, you better believe I would have been on the phone with you, trying to see if you could make some time for me." Peter twisted his mouth slowly along the length of Nathan's cock, now hard enough to stand up. "Would you make time for me?"
"I need some water," Nathan said, letting Peter's hair go, running his hand gently along Peter's cheek, wondering what Peter would do if he got a slap right across his pretty face. Peter leaned into Nathan's hand like a cat being petted. "You should drink some water, too. You're gonna get dehydrated."
Peter stood up, and unscrewed the cap on one of the two remaining bottles of water. He took a solid swallow, then handed Nathan the bottle, and sat back down on the chair. The touch of his mouth was now slick and wet. Nathan rolled his eyes, and drank some water before he grabbed Peter's hair again. "Get up," he said chidingly. "Go to your room."
"Don't you want to call Mom?" Peter mumbled, pouting.
"The phones are swamped right now. I'll call her later. Go get on the bed."
"Yes, sir," Peter snapped, rolled his eyes, and went.
Nathan followed close behind, and waited until Peter had climbed onto the bed before he spoke. "Don't call me that," he said, his voice softer than before. "I don't like it."
"Reminds you of... what was his name... Captain Dixon?"
"Reminds me of Dad," said Nathan.
"Oh." Peter lowered his eyes, a little ashamed.
"He shouldn't be here," Nathan added. "This is just us."
"I'm sorry."
Nathan sat beside Peter and stroked Peter's knee comfortingly. Peter slumped over close, and Nathan leaned into him, too, and they relaxed together, lying back. "Do you really like it when I pull your hair?"
"Kinda, sometimes," Peter replied. "In the heat of passion. But it's not something you should use to teach me a lesson."
"You were being a brat," Nathan countered. "Were you trying to sabotage me?"
"I was just having fun," Peter said. "I'm just a little drunk."
"I have to be able to trust you," said Nathan. "Drinking too much is dangerous. You're good usually, but... you never know when you're going to be drunk and say the wrong dumb thing to the wrong person at the wrong time. I know you're jealous, Peter. I don't blame you. But if we're going to keep doing this, she cannot find out. She cannot suspect. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, I'm not six," Peter said. "I'm sorry, okay?" He smiled at Nathan. "I was giddy. I'll be good from now on." His wide eyes gazed at Nathan with that same blindingly intense, obsessively adoring expression that was all Peter's, his trademark since he was a small child, that look that terrified and exhilarated Nathan, knowing that he was its focus. "I'll be good."
Heidi never, ever looked at Nathan like that.
He shut her out of his mind, and kissed Peter.
Nathan knew how to make sixteen ounces of bottled drinking water, and half a bathroom-sinkful from the tap, all the pipes could produce, go a long way. He and Peter rubbed each other down with damp washcloths, getting clean, refreshed, and cool and using only a little of the tap water that wasn't safe to drink anyway. From the bottle, Peter filled his mouth, and then Nathan kissed him and drank from him at once.
They returned to bed, and to their play. Now that his mouth wasn't dry, Peter's mouth on Nathan's cock felt even better. Nathan sat near the edge of the bed, and Peter straddled him in an inverted position, on his knees, head down, his ass rubbing against Nathan's collarbones. Nathan couldn't resist attempting to tongue Peter's buttocks, but the angle wasn't quite right, and to lift Peter to his mouth level would make Peter lose his balance. And he wasn't willing to interrupt his blowjob, and he didn't quite have enough saliva, or the freedom of his arms, to lube his fingers and slide them into Peter's ass. He was more or less trapped while Peter held him down and did cock-sucking yoga on top of him.
It was wonderful.
Nathan lay back just as an orgasm crackled along his nervous system, and his body helplessly convulsed underneath Peter's. "Uh - uh! - oh, God, suck it, you slut!" he cried out, quivering. Then he relaxed, profoundly, all at once, grimacing slightly with regret. "Oh, my God... oh... I'm sorry, Pete. I didn't mean to say that."
Peter climbed off, and grinned at him. His face was flushed but flawless; he had effortlessly swallowed the load of Nathan's semen without a trace. "The hell you didn't," Peter laughed back. "You liked that, huh? That was hot. You can call me slut any time, you know. Because it's true." Peter licked the corner of his mouth. Nathan gazed wonderingly at him; usually, Peter didn't swallow unless he was told to. Maybe he'd developed a taste. Nathan hoped so. "Still, because you talked mean to me, I'm gonna fuck you." He kissed Nathan roughly, sliding his tongue into Nathan's mouth. He tasted strongly of Nathan's come, the flavor so different from Peter's - Peter's smooth and sour-bitter-sweet, Nathan's sharper, muskier, saltier. But good, swirled around Peter's mouth, like Peter washed some of the corruption out of it. Nathan wanted to come in Peter's mouth again and again until he was clean and empty, but what would become of Peter then? What would that do to him?
Heedless of Nathan's tangled thoughts, Peter licked and pinched his nipples, purring, "I'm gonna fuck you right in that big, sweet ass of yours."
"It's not big," Nathan muttered, his face flushing, hopelessly turned on.
"It is too. And sweet."
"It just seems that way because your ass is tiny."
"Yeah," Peter agreed, and when he didn't add anything to it, Nathan lightly punched him on the upper arm, then followed it with a kiss and a bite. Peter giggled. "It's 'cos I'm so young," he needled. "But I'm still gonna fuck you." He kissed Nathan's mouth again, and moved away for a moment to access his bedside table, and his bottle of lube. "What do you think of that?"
"I'm... not as clean as I ought to be," Nathan protested softly. "You - "
"Shut up," Peter said.
He pushed Nathan's shoulder, turning him over, face down, his lower legs sticking out over the edge of the bed. Nathan slid down a little, then a little more, his just his toes touching the ground. Peter gave a "Hm!" of satisfaction, slid down onto his knees on the floor, grasped Nathan's left buttock in one hand and squeezed it. "You think I care?" Peter continued. "Immaculately clean's your thing. Life isn't clean. Lust isn't clean. And if I don't like it, well, I'll just make you suck it off. 'Cos I bet you would."
"Nuh-uh," Nathan replied breathily. Peter gave the left buttock a kiss and a bite, then did the same with the other cheek, massaging him, spreading him. Peter moved over so that he was between Nathan's legs, forcing him to spread even more. "I wouldn't," Nathan added.
"Shut up," whispered Peter. He spit against Nathan's asshole, and pushed it in with his fingertip, his touch first gentle, then uncompromisingly firm. He withdrew the finger, spread lubricant on it, and slid it in again. "Yeah. Because I was thinking about you all day, you know? And what I was thinking of was fucking you. You were thinking about fucking someone - didn't matter who - and making them do what you said. And maybe thinking about me, too. But I was thinking about fucking your sweet, tight ass, Nathan. All day. All day, with a boner, thinking about this." Peter caressed Nathan's behind with his cheek and his lips. "This, right here."
"I... I thought you were... all about my cock," Nathan murmured, just to say something.
"Oh, I had that. Don't you remember? Five minutes ago?" Peter laughed, and dug in his fingers insistently, finally getting his wish and rendering Nathan wordless. "I was good and everything. I swallowed, like a good slut, didn't I? Didn't I?" His voice broke, and trailed away. Nathan didn't move a muscle, waiting for the next step, the next word; Peter did nothing for what seemed like forever, until Nathan felt like screaming.
Peter warned him with a soft, glancing kiss. And then he forced his lubed cock inside, slowly and carefully, but never letting up, even when Nathan gasped, flinched, and screamed, "Oh... fuck! Oh God!"
Peter just pushed Nathan's face down into the bedding. "You'll be all right," he said. He wasn't thrusting, but his muscles slowly and threateningly gathered tension, as if preparing for a sprint.
"I - I wish - I wish you could fuck me every day," Nathan gasped out. "But I don't. Okay? Please..."
"I wish I could fuck you every day, too," Peter said. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm not angry at you. I don't want to punish you. You love me, and that's so good." He kissed Nathan's back, and caressed his ribs, his fingers finding Nathan's scars, as he always did, lingering over them, lightly circling the raised seams of flesh. "I want to make love to you. I want to give you what you can't get at home, you know?" He kissed Nathan again, and stroked his hair. "This is just... special and rare. This happened for a reason."
"What, the... blackout?"
"It's for us."
Nathan let out a shuddering laugh. "Oh, my God, your ego is huge."
Peter sighed in annoyance. "Your butt is huge," he countered, and began to thrust.
In no time, their bodies were both pouring sweat, slicking their skins, making everything wet and salty and slippery. They moved together and apart in unison, Nathan, to his surprise, bucking back to meet Peter's gently insistent strokes, sharpening them. Moaning together into the silence, their bodies rising and falling in a sinuous, liquid wave. Holding hands, pulling Nathan's arms back, tightening his stomach muscles, giving Peter more resistance to thrust against. No pain, no anxiety, no worry, just hot, melting glory.
"Can I come inside you?" Peter asked, stopping suddenly.
"N-no," Nathan decided, his husky voice weighted with sadness. He wished it could be; it would be the perfect culmination of this. "I can't take a shower."
"I'd come in your mouth, but - "
"Don't."
"Okay," Peter said obligingly, and have a half-sob as he pulled out. He flung himself onto his back on the bed beside Nathan, and with a single stroke of his thumb, shot an long stripe of semen back over his stomach. Nathan lay mere inches away, watching in fevered excitement, and reached out with his hand, trailing his fingers through the stripe, spreading the spunk across Peter's flat belly.
"Oh, my God, that's beautiful," Nathan whispered.
Peter smiled exhaustedly at him. "I love you," he said.
"I love you, too." Nathan slumped against the bed. "Oh, my God, I'm so hot."
"Uh-huh," Peter agreed. "Smokin'."
Nathan laughed. "You're not funny," he said.
"Call Mom," Peter said, sitting up. "I'm gonna go clean up a bit. Try to cool down."
"Save some water for me," Nathan directed.
Nathan made the call, but no one answered at the Petrelli residence, and there was still no cellular service. It was getting dark now, and Nathan stared out the front-room window at the lightless city street below. Peter joined Nathan at the window, handing Nathan a moist hand towel, and looked out himself. "We should go get some more drinking water," Peter said.
"I'll go get it," Nathan said. "I won't make you climb those stairs again. You should stay here and try Mom and Dad again; they didn't pick up." He gave Peter a kiss, then another one. "I'm glad I found you," he added.
Peter smiled and let his hair flop over his face. "When you come back, we can go up on the roof," he said. "I've got red wine; that doesn't have to be cold. See if you can find something else to eat, too. You wore me out."
Nathan dressed in T-shirt and suit trousers, and went out, and returned almost an hour later with a big shopping bag holding six slices of cheese pizza, a paper bag of falafel, a stack of vegan chocolate brownies, and seven bottles of water, all different brands. Peter sat curled up in his leather chair, looking out the window, the room illuminated by candlelight. He'd changed into a white ribbed tank top and put the linen trousers back on, but now he was barefoot. He looked so beautiful that at first, Nathan couldn't speak. Peter sat up and looked accusingly at Nathan. "That took long enough," he complained.
"I had to go to a dozen different places. Almost everything's closed, and what's open sold out of water a long time ago. And now they're charging exorbitant prices for it on the street. This all?" Nathan set the bag on the kitchen counter. "Cost me eighty-eight dollars. And the pizza was free."
"Jesus," Peter remarked, grabbing a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth. "Good thing you're rich."
"Yeah," Nathan agreed. Peter rolled his eyes. "Let's see this fabulous roof. Let's hope it's cooler up there."
"It should be. You grab the food; I'll grab my sleeping bag, so we can have something to sit on. Oh, yeah, and the wine, and the corkscrew. And the flashlight. Right on. Let's do it."
The roof was seven stories up, and because the building was tucked between two taller buildings, had been protected from the direct sunlight for most of the day, and was substantially cooler than Peter's apartment had been. Also, at least for the time being, they had it to themselves. Peter crowed with triumph, and spread out the sleeping bag on a surface less covered in pigeon shit than most of the rest of the roof. "Suh-weet," he sang, settling down cross-legged, and expertly uncorking the wine bottle. "Oh," he realized suddenly. "I didn't bring any glasses."
"Whatever," Nathan said, resigned. He took the bottle from Peter, and took a swig, sitting next to his brother. Peter grinned at him, his teeth wetly flashing in the fading orange light from the sunset.
"I hope you don't mind being stuck with me," Peter said, taking the wine back.
"If I did," said Nathan, "I'd just walk home."
"Yeah, all ninety miles." Peter sighed. He munched on a lukewarm disk of falafel. "I wish you didn't live so far out of town."
Nathan shrugged. "Dad bought us the house," he said. "What, were we supposed to say no?"
"No, I just..."
"I miss you, too," Nathan said. "But on the other hand, I don't. I see you all the damn time." He softened his words with a laugh. "I've got a family now, Pete."
"You had a family before," Peter pointed out.
"That's not the same and you know it."
"I know, I know, I know."
"You should get your own," said Nathan. "Peter... my marriage is not a competition."
"Look, I know, okay? You must realize that it just pisses me off to have you point that out to me all the time. It just reminds me. It's irritating. I'm doing the best I can. I just try to appreciate you when I get a chance - but then you insist on making it as difficult for me as possible. Why do you have to be so perverse about that?" Peter stared at Nathan, then shook his head and sighed and took a pull on the wine bottle. "It's hard enough as it is. Do we even have to talk about this right now? I'm just trying to enjoy."
"Sure, Pete," Nathan conceded. "Sorry. I'm just trying to be your big brother, I guess."
"Well, quit it," Peter said. "At least, quit it with the patronizing dickhead part of it. For now. Just for now, okay? Let's just..." He ran his fingers up the inside of Nathan's wrist.
It was still too hot to snuggle, but they lay side by side, holding hands, passing the bottle back and forth between them. When a small group of young women came out onto the roof with lawn chairs, Peter greeted them with a "hey", and they said "hey" back, but sat well away from them on the roof. After a while, two of the girls began to kiss and make out; Peter and Nathan watched them for a moment, then looked at each other. Peter rolled over and kissed Nathan on the side of his mouth.
The stars began to come out even before it was fully dark - blazingly bright prickles in a a sky unfamiliar with them. More and more appeared all the time until the sky seemed sprinkled in glitter. "Check it out," Peter breathed. "Wow. Have you ever seen anything like it?"
"In Rwanda," Nathan said. "In the rural areas. But even there, there was some light - we brought it with us. This is... wow."
Later, when night fell completely, Peter caught his breath in surprise. "Cool... it's the Milky Way," he said, his finger tracing an arc in the sky, dark against the fine, bright spray of stars. "I've never seen it before. Not in real life."
"It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" Nathan grinned at Peter's childlike awe. "You can see it again if you go to Nevada. Out to the desert. Middle of nowhere. Maybe." He handed the wine bottle to Peter. "Maybe from space," he said. "Once upon a time, I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to go see the stars close up."
"Really?" said Peter.
"Yeah. I was a little kid. Saw astronauts on TV and thought, I want that. But then I changed my mind and decided that I wanted to be a pilot instead."
"I think you sold yourself short," Peter said. "I think you could have been an astronaut. You've got the background, you've got the body..."
"I'm supposed to be a lawyer," Nathan murmured. "And more. I've got something bigger to do. But when I was little... I just wanted to fly. I still want to."
Peter watched him and nodded, and leaned over and kissed him again, fully on the mouth this time, and they put their arms around each other and curled up, leaning against each other, gazing skyward.
"Me, too," Peter whispered.
No one on the roof noticed the silently hovering black-clad figure who had appeared out of nowhere in the velvety, starlit darkness. No one looked up from their cuddles and chianti to see him, and he was grateful for their preoccupation. All he wanted to do was look, to gaze down and see himself - his younger self, so far behind from him now that he barely recognized the creature that was also, somehow, him - casually curled up with his brother on a ratty old sleeping bag, their eyes full of extraordinary stars and their hearts full of each other.
And Peter Petrelli smiled, and thought that overloading a couple of power stations in Ohio, disrupting the lives of millions of people, was worth it, for this moment. Sure, some people died, and he made no attempt to save them, even though he could have. But it wouldn't have been right. Sometimes people died for random and stupid reasons. But everyone died, eventually; time and causality had no moral compass. He could only look after himself, and seize his own moments of happiness.
Peter Petrelli knew this now. He wasn't young anymore.
He let his eyes linger for a moment longer, then turned away, wrapped his arms around himself, closed his eyes, and clicked back into the time from where he had come.
END (20)
This is the last story of the Ritual series (perhaps forever; at least for now). I hope you enjoyed it. I'm gonna take a proper break now. Thanks to airspaniel for the Great Blackout concept and for being an inspiration in general.
And thanks to Heroes for inspiring me.