Fic: Ritual (21): Just a Kiss
Title: Ritual (21): Just a Kiss
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: R
Spoilers: none really; Season 1 to be safe
Word Count: about 2700
Warnings: Incest, underage character, sexual situations, language
Summary: Peter wants a real kiss from Nathan. First installment in the "Fall Break" story arc. Feedback+ concrit = love. My backsliding is your gain!
Previous rituals:
(1) :: (2) :: (3) :: (4) :: (5) :: (6) :: (7) :: (8) :: (9) :: (10)
(11) :: (12) :: (13) :: (14) :: (15) :: (16) :: (17) :: (18) :: (19)
(20)
Heroes is the property of NBC/Universal and Tailwinds Productions. This is a work of fan fiction and no revenue is generated or accepted by the author by its publication on the internet.
TEN YEARS BEFORE THE ECLIPSE...
Spontaneously, without meaning anything by it, Peter kissed Nathan.
They were hanging out in Dad's cigar room, examining their father's collection of glasses and bottles from around the world, the antique weapons, the big old atlas that was in such bad shape their father didn't care about it getting infused with cigar smoke. They weren't really supposed to be in there - it was Dad's locked private room - but everybody knew where the key was, and besides, their parents were on the opposite side of the planet right now, and they had the whole house to themselves for the night. The room was tiny, barely larger than a closet, and crammed full of old, weird stuff; not much room to move around. Either you were sitting in one of the two overstuffed chairs, or standing between the bookshelf and the humidor, as they were doing. Peter barely had to make an effort to lean over and smooch Nathan square on the lips.
A quick, fraternal kiss. It should have been absolutely nothing - just an ordinary, puppyish response to Nathan actually laughing out loud at something funny that Peter had said - except that Peter had just licked his lips a few seconds before, and while brief and friendly, the kiss was moist, and cinnamon-cocoa-scented from the Mexican hot chocolate Peter had had for dessert.
Peter drew back and smiled, a little pleased and a little shy. Nathan stared at him very strangely, and Peter averted his eyes, his cheeks flaring so hot it nearly blinded him. He blushed so hard that it gave him a headache from all the blood rushing into his face. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Which made it worse. His quiet, murmuring tone of voice made it sound even more like... well, like he was doing and feeling things that he knew good and well he shouldn't do or feel. He didn't want to, but he did. But damn it, it was just a kiss. He was allowed to kiss his own brother, wasn't he? They were family. They were friends. Peter looked up at Nathan, straightening his shoulders, daring Nathan to have a problem with it.
Nathan's expression was still confusing to Peter. Nathan wasn't smiling, but he didn't seem angry or disgusted or impatient or anything like that. His eyes seemed enormous, though, full of dark questions and barely maintained restraint, flickering over Peter's face, examining the details of eyebrows and lips and nose as though he'd never seen them before. Or maybe it was just dark in there. Dad liked the cigar room to be kept dim, lit only by a tiny pair of antique Italian-made lamps, one with a red glass shade and the other with a green one. Peter concentrated on the red and green sparks in Nathan's eyes, willing himself not to look away.
He hadn't done anything he had to be ashamed of. He loved his brother.
When Nathan spoke, his voice was quiet and rational, but soft at the edges. "What do you want, Peter?" he asked.
At first, Peter didn't know what to say. He didn't know exactly what he was being asked. So many things could qualify - What do you want from life? What do you want for breakfast tomorrow? Do you like these 18th-century pistols and want to inherit them? Nathan just looked at him, and waited patiently, and then licked his own lips - and Peter could actually see Nathan tasting the sugar suddenly on his tongue, the chocolate and cinnamon, the microscopic crystals still undissolved, passed from Peter's lips onto his own. He could see the tiny change in Nathan's expression; he could almost taste it himself.
The sweetness.
And suddenly, Peter knew.
"I want a kiss," he said.
"You just had one," Nathan pointed out.
"No, I mean..." Peter had to look away, to gather himself again. He was going to drown in Nathan's eyes if he didn't, chasing that sensation - the transfer of sweetness - down into oblivion, and that would break their connection - it would, if Peter was lost - and he could never allow that to happen. "A real one."
"A real one," Nathan repeated, an edge of disbelief in his voice.
"Yeah. You know, kiss me like... somebody... you know, you're into. Someone you feel affectionate toward, you know, attracted to. I dunno, like I'm a girl, I guess." Peter focused his eyes on the red lamp.
Nathan exhaled through his nose, a tiny, impatient huff. "Peter..." he began. "Do you want to be a girl?"
"No," Peter said without hesitation. "Not even a little bit."
"Well, then, why-"
"Just an experiment." Peter looked up at Nathan. "I want to know what it's like."
"Haven't you ever kissed a girl before?" Nathan hadn't moved away. He was still close enough that Peter could feel his nearby warmth. There wasn't much room, but there was enough room for Nathan move away, to bring more space between them, and he hadn't. Peter couldn't help smiling a little. The sweetness.
"Yeah," Peter said. "I told you I had. I've done a lot more than that."
"Then why don't you-"
"Because I want to kiss you," Peter said. "And you're right here. And stop making such a big deal about it. It's just a kiss; it doesn't mean anything. It's just fun." Peter smiled at Nathan without really looking at him. It was dangerous to look too closely, too intently, at Nathan right now - because there was room for him to move away, and maybe he should. He'd probably think so, for sure.
Maybe they really were too close.
Nathan leaned in, and pressed his lips to Peter's. Drew away, then pressed them in again, more firmly this time - but still feathery-light - his lower lip tightening, paradoxically softening the lip, plumping it out a little, right between Peter's lips. Of course Peter opened his mouth a little to grasp Nathan's bottom lip between his, and it became, in that instance, a real kiss, not fraternal and friendly, but something else.
Nathan slid his fingers around the back of Peter's neck, the fingertips slipping upward into Peter's hair, over the back of his skull. Peter got goosebumps, and his mouth opened wider. Nathan's tongue tentatively crept forward, nudging into Peter's mouth; Peter pushed back with his tongue, a little startled, and before he knew it, his tongue was in Nathan's mouth, tasting the inside of him - hot and soft and a little salty in contrast with the chocolate taste in Peter's mouth. Their bodies made contact, then pressed together, sticking tight, not quite fitting together, the friction of collarbone against ribs, pelvic crest against belly, fabric on fabric generating a rough, uncomfortable heat. Peter put his hand on the back of Nathan's neck, too, mirroring Nathan's movements. Learning from him.
Yes, that's what he was doing. That's all.
Peter's heart raced and his face felt hot again, but he didn't have a headache anymore; it was weird. He still ached, though, but this was more of a generalized, whole-body feeling, almost like that worn-out feeling he got when he knew he was catching the flu, except that this didn't hurt exactly, and he didn't feel sick. Weak, a little, though, yes, and all the hairs on his body were standing up like he was cold, but he wasn't cold. Nathan's mouth on his made the ache feel better, and worse at the same time - more urgent. Peter felt very urgent, a little crazy and dizzy and...
It's lust, Peter thought, and a little moan escaped him, into Nathan's mouth, and Nathan kind of shoved it back in with his tongue, now fully inside Peter's mouth, dipping into him over and over again like he was trying to steal all the sugar. All the sweetness. But there was always more. He was made out of it. He wanted to give it to Nathan - all of it, all of him, kiss him endlessly. He wanted to sink to the floor and pull Nathan on top of him, like a blanket, something to keep him warm. He'd give Nathan anything he wanted if he could have that, if they could do that now. Lust. Oh, God, it's real. And this isn't just me, either. He wouldn't be holding me like this, sucking my tongue - oh my God, he's sucking me! OhGodOhGodOhGod, I love him so much, he's so good, he's so good...
Peter moaned again, louder and harder this time, and Nathan broke off the kiss. He let go of Peter's hair, and took a step back, looking at Peter with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Peter took a deep breath, pushed his hair back with his hand, and tried unsuccessfully to give Nathan a casual, goofy, all-in-good-fun smile. "You're... a really good kisser," Peter said. He sounded breathless. "Was I okay?"
"Yeah," Nathan replied, and Peter's heart flipped quickly in his chest. Nathan sounded sad, though, worried and regretful. "What's going on with you, Peter?" Nathan asked. Peter just blinked at him, unable to come up with an answer, and Nathan added, "Do you think you might... be... gay? It's okay; you can tell me."
Peter very slowly shook his head. "I guess," he said, contradicting his gesture. "But I don't think I am. It's just... you're a better kisser than any of the girls I've ever kissed. I thought you would be... and I was right."
Nathan was staring at him again, but not at his face; his eyes were directed downward now. Peter glanced down and saw the crotch of his baggy jeans warped by the erection straining against it from inside. He hadn't even really noticed it exactly; it was all just part of that dizzy ache, like his whole body was his hard-on, but now that their bodies were separated, he could feel it distinctly. At the angle from where he looked, it logically followed that he'd look toward Nathan, and see a bigger, heavier, and yet still more elegant version of the same thing, the stiff curvature clearly outlined against the crotch of his mohair wool slacks. Nathan's hard-on looked like it ached badly, with that same ache that Peter's whole body had (now, though, mostly just his dick, and his chilly, lonely lips) and Peter had reached his hand out to touch it, caress it, pet it until it calmed down, before he thought.
Nathan backed away even more, evading Peter's hand. "Don't," he said. Like he hadn't just, a few seconds ago, had the same organ pressed against Peter's belly (and Peter hadn't even really noticed, he had only realized that in remembrance - Nathan's big hard cock rubbing against him! He felt like passing out. But not gay. But what would you call it? A male feeling desire for another male, for his sex organs, thrilled half delirious at the sight and the idea?). Weird, weird, weird. And yet perfectly logical and right.
"Sorry," said Peter out of reflex.
"That's all right," Nathan replied, also probably out of reflex; because if it was all right, why hadn't he let Peter touch him? "Did you like that?" he asked.
Peter wanted to gush Oh fucking Jesus on a skateboard yes, but he just nodded, looking at Nathan now, unafraid, knowing Nathan wouldn't let him fall into his gaze. Nathan would hold him back, keep him safe. Nathan blinked, though, returning Peter's stare. Peter wouldn't back down this time. He was curious. He wondered how far it could go; if he were the stronger one, the braver one. Peter hadn't been the one to back away. "It was nice," he said. "Really, really nice."
"I'm gonna call it a night," Nathan said.
Peter blinked and frowned. "You're not going to stay?"
"No, Pete, I have to work in the morning."
"You're supposed to stay. That's what you told Mom."
Nathan rolled his eyes. "I said I'd have dinner with you and spend time with you in the evenings; that doesn't mean that I have to sleep over. I don't want to sleep in a guest room."
Peter rolled his eyes too. "Stay in my bed," he said, his voice flattening as he realized as he spoke how pointless it was to even ask.
"Oh, c'mon, Pete. Get real. It's fall break and the folks are away; you can stay up all night and play video games or watch porn if you want to. But I've got to get up at five-thirty."
"I don't have any porn," Peter complained.
Nathan smiled at him. "And you don't have a computer with the internet on it, either. Too bad. I'll bring you some tomorrow," he said. "But tonight, I guess you'll have to be content with Nintendo."
"Thanks, I guess," Peter muttered.
"No problem - what's a brother good for, if not to bring you pornography?" Nathan joked. Peter fixed him with a stare of pure venom, and it actually made Nathan squirm - and maybe his cheeks flushed a little, too. Peter couldn't be sure, in the colored light. Nathan reached out and tousled Peter's hair, like Peter was a little kid. "You want to go out tomorrow night? Patsy's for pizza, maybe?"
Instantly, Peter's anger was forgotten. "Oh, totally!" he said.
"I'll be here at six to pick you up. Oh, and um... do you like blondes or brunettes?" Already Nathan was heading for the door, and Peter followed him out of the cigar room into the hallway, glaringly bright in comparison, even with only the chandelier lit.
"Eh... it doesn't matter," said Peter. "I'm not picky. I don't know what I like yet - I pretty much like it all."
Nathan blinked and smiled at him, then, perhaps not even realizing what he was doing, licked his lips.
Sudddenly, Peter was very sick of Nathan. Sick of the ache and the games and the questions and the satisfyingly pat, half-truth answers. Sick of the tease and the chase. He was tired. He wanted to be alone so he could beat off and get some peace. "Go home," he said.
"Love you, see you tomorrow," said Nathan, cheerful, oblivious.
Peter went back to the kitchen and began fixing himself another Mexican hot chocolate. It was only Monday night; four more nights of this. Maybe by Friday night, he'd be over Nathan, and would never look at him with longing, or fantasize about him, ever again.
But that kiss... oh, that kiss. He wasn't sure he could forget about that so soon.
He would have to try. He didn't want to be in love with Nathan; Nathan was a jerk. And also too old. And also related. But mostly, a jerk, and Peter really hated dealing with mean, duplicitous people.
But the sweetness...
Peter sipped the scalding hot chocolate. He could make his own sweetness. For tonight, at least. And then tomorrow, the best pizza on the planet, and some filthy video from Nathan's archives, and...
Maybe by Friday, he'd be over it.
END PART (21)
Continues in 22: Hot Cinnamon
Patsy Grimaldi's may not be the best pizza in the world, but it's pretty freakin' good - a real NY slice with oil that drips up your arm in a place that just seethes with New York mafia atmosphere. It really is enough to make you not mind about your sexual frustration, at least temporarily. It is Thursday night of this week where Peter and Nathan watch Dangerous Liasons, as referenced in Ritual (19), so obviously, Peter fails at his quest (but it's not like that's unusual for our Pete, now is it?)...
^_^ Thanks for reading.
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: R
Spoilers: none really; Season 1 to be safe
Word Count: about 2700
Warnings: Incest, underage character, sexual situations, language
Summary: Peter wants a real kiss from Nathan. First installment in the "Fall Break" story arc. Feedback+ concrit = love. My backsliding is your gain!
Previous rituals:
(1) :: (2) :: (3) :: (4) :: (5) :: (6) :: (7) :: (8) :: (9) :: (10)
(11) :: (12) :: (13) :: (14) :: (15) :: (16) :: (17) :: (18) :: (19)
(20)
Heroes is the property of NBC/Universal and Tailwinds Productions. This is a work of fan fiction and no revenue is generated or accepted by the author by its publication on the internet.
TEN YEARS BEFORE THE ECLIPSE...
Spontaneously, without meaning anything by it, Peter kissed Nathan.
They were hanging out in Dad's cigar room, examining their father's collection of glasses and bottles from around the world, the antique weapons, the big old atlas that was in such bad shape their father didn't care about it getting infused with cigar smoke. They weren't really supposed to be in there - it was Dad's locked private room - but everybody knew where the key was, and besides, their parents were on the opposite side of the planet right now, and they had the whole house to themselves for the night. The room was tiny, barely larger than a closet, and crammed full of old, weird stuff; not much room to move around. Either you were sitting in one of the two overstuffed chairs, or standing between the bookshelf and the humidor, as they were doing. Peter barely had to make an effort to lean over and smooch Nathan square on the lips.
A quick, fraternal kiss. It should have been absolutely nothing - just an ordinary, puppyish response to Nathan actually laughing out loud at something funny that Peter had said - except that Peter had just licked his lips a few seconds before, and while brief and friendly, the kiss was moist, and cinnamon-cocoa-scented from the Mexican hot chocolate Peter had had for dessert.
Peter drew back and smiled, a little pleased and a little shy. Nathan stared at him very strangely, and Peter averted his eyes, his cheeks flaring so hot it nearly blinded him. He blushed so hard that it gave him a headache from all the blood rushing into his face. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Which made it worse. His quiet, murmuring tone of voice made it sound even more like... well, like he was doing and feeling things that he knew good and well he shouldn't do or feel. He didn't want to, but he did. But damn it, it was just a kiss. He was allowed to kiss his own brother, wasn't he? They were family. They were friends. Peter looked up at Nathan, straightening his shoulders, daring Nathan to have a problem with it.
Nathan's expression was still confusing to Peter. Nathan wasn't smiling, but he didn't seem angry or disgusted or impatient or anything like that. His eyes seemed enormous, though, full of dark questions and barely maintained restraint, flickering over Peter's face, examining the details of eyebrows and lips and nose as though he'd never seen them before. Or maybe it was just dark in there. Dad liked the cigar room to be kept dim, lit only by a tiny pair of antique Italian-made lamps, one with a red glass shade and the other with a green one. Peter concentrated on the red and green sparks in Nathan's eyes, willing himself not to look away.
He hadn't done anything he had to be ashamed of. He loved his brother.
When Nathan spoke, his voice was quiet and rational, but soft at the edges. "What do you want, Peter?" he asked.
At first, Peter didn't know what to say. He didn't know exactly what he was being asked. So many things could qualify - What do you want from life? What do you want for breakfast tomorrow? Do you like these 18th-century pistols and want to inherit them? Nathan just looked at him, and waited patiently, and then licked his own lips - and Peter could actually see Nathan tasting the sugar suddenly on his tongue, the chocolate and cinnamon, the microscopic crystals still undissolved, passed from Peter's lips onto his own. He could see the tiny change in Nathan's expression; he could almost taste it himself.
The sweetness.
And suddenly, Peter knew.
"I want a kiss," he said.
"You just had one," Nathan pointed out.
"No, I mean..." Peter had to look away, to gather himself again. He was going to drown in Nathan's eyes if he didn't, chasing that sensation - the transfer of sweetness - down into oblivion, and that would break their connection - it would, if Peter was lost - and he could never allow that to happen. "A real one."
"A real one," Nathan repeated, an edge of disbelief in his voice.
"Yeah. You know, kiss me like... somebody... you know, you're into. Someone you feel affectionate toward, you know, attracted to. I dunno, like I'm a girl, I guess." Peter focused his eyes on the red lamp.
Nathan exhaled through his nose, a tiny, impatient huff. "Peter..." he began. "Do you want to be a girl?"
"No," Peter said without hesitation. "Not even a little bit."
"Well, then, why-"
"Just an experiment." Peter looked up at Nathan. "I want to know what it's like."
"Haven't you ever kissed a girl before?" Nathan hadn't moved away. He was still close enough that Peter could feel his nearby warmth. There wasn't much room, but there was enough room for Nathan move away, to bring more space between them, and he hadn't. Peter couldn't help smiling a little. The sweetness.
"Yeah," Peter said. "I told you I had. I've done a lot more than that."
"Then why don't you-"
"Because I want to kiss you," Peter said. "And you're right here. And stop making such a big deal about it. It's just a kiss; it doesn't mean anything. It's just fun." Peter smiled at Nathan without really looking at him. It was dangerous to look too closely, too intently, at Nathan right now - because there was room for him to move away, and maybe he should. He'd probably think so, for sure.
Maybe they really were too close.
Nathan leaned in, and pressed his lips to Peter's. Drew away, then pressed them in again, more firmly this time - but still feathery-light - his lower lip tightening, paradoxically softening the lip, plumping it out a little, right between Peter's lips. Of course Peter opened his mouth a little to grasp Nathan's bottom lip between his, and it became, in that instance, a real kiss, not fraternal and friendly, but something else.
Nathan slid his fingers around the back of Peter's neck, the fingertips slipping upward into Peter's hair, over the back of his skull. Peter got goosebumps, and his mouth opened wider. Nathan's tongue tentatively crept forward, nudging into Peter's mouth; Peter pushed back with his tongue, a little startled, and before he knew it, his tongue was in Nathan's mouth, tasting the inside of him - hot and soft and a little salty in contrast with the chocolate taste in Peter's mouth. Their bodies made contact, then pressed together, sticking tight, not quite fitting together, the friction of collarbone against ribs, pelvic crest against belly, fabric on fabric generating a rough, uncomfortable heat. Peter put his hand on the back of Nathan's neck, too, mirroring Nathan's movements. Learning from him.
Yes, that's what he was doing. That's all.
Peter's heart raced and his face felt hot again, but he didn't have a headache anymore; it was weird. He still ached, though, but this was more of a generalized, whole-body feeling, almost like that worn-out feeling he got when he knew he was catching the flu, except that this didn't hurt exactly, and he didn't feel sick. Weak, a little, though, yes, and all the hairs on his body were standing up like he was cold, but he wasn't cold. Nathan's mouth on his made the ache feel better, and worse at the same time - more urgent. Peter felt very urgent, a little crazy and dizzy and...
It's lust, Peter thought, and a little moan escaped him, into Nathan's mouth, and Nathan kind of shoved it back in with his tongue, now fully inside Peter's mouth, dipping into him over and over again like he was trying to steal all the sugar. All the sweetness. But there was always more. He was made out of it. He wanted to give it to Nathan - all of it, all of him, kiss him endlessly. He wanted to sink to the floor and pull Nathan on top of him, like a blanket, something to keep him warm. He'd give Nathan anything he wanted if he could have that, if they could do that now. Lust. Oh, God, it's real. And this isn't just me, either. He wouldn't be holding me like this, sucking my tongue - oh my God, he's sucking me! OhGodOhGodOhGod, I love him so much, he's so good, he's so good...
Peter moaned again, louder and harder this time, and Nathan broke off the kiss. He let go of Peter's hair, and took a step back, looking at Peter with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Peter took a deep breath, pushed his hair back with his hand, and tried unsuccessfully to give Nathan a casual, goofy, all-in-good-fun smile. "You're... a really good kisser," Peter said. He sounded breathless. "Was I okay?"
"Yeah," Nathan replied, and Peter's heart flipped quickly in his chest. Nathan sounded sad, though, worried and regretful. "What's going on with you, Peter?" Nathan asked. Peter just blinked at him, unable to come up with an answer, and Nathan added, "Do you think you might... be... gay? It's okay; you can tell me."
Peter very slowly shook his head. "I guess," he said, contradicting his gesture. "But I don't think I am. It's just... you're a better kisser than any of the girls I've ever kissed. I thought you would be... and I was right."
Nathan was staring at him again, but not at his face; his eyes were directed downward now. Peter glanced down and saw the crotch of his baggy jeans warped by the erection straining against it from inside. He hadn't even really noticed it exactly; it was all just part of that dizzy ache, like his whole body was his hard-on, but now that their bodies were separated, he could feel it distinctly. At the angle from where he looked, it logically followed that he'd look toward Nathan, and see a bigger, heavier, and yet still more elegant version of the same thing, the stiff curvature clearly outlined against the crotch of his mohair wool slacks. Nathan's hard-on looked like it ached badly, with that same ache that Peter's whole body had (now, though, mostly just his dick, and his chilly, lonely lips) and Peter had reached his hand out to touch it, caress it, pet it until it calmed down, before he thought.
Nathan backed away even more, evading Peter's hand. "Don't," he said. Like he hadn't just, a few seconds ago, had the same organ pressed against Peter's belly (and Peter hadn't even really noticed, he had only realized that in remembrance - Nathan's big hard cock rubbing against him! He felt like passing out. But not gay. But what would you call it? A male feeling desire for another male, for his sex organs, thrilled half delirious at the sight and the idea?). Weird, weird, weird. And yet perfectly logical and right.
"Sorry," said Peter out of reflex.
"That's all right," Nathan replied, also probably out of reflex; because if it was all right, why hadn't he let Peter touch him? "Did you like that?" he asked.
Peter wanted to gush Oh fucking Jesus on a skateboard yes, but he just nodded, looking at Nathan now, unafraid, knowing Nathan wouldn't let him fall into his gaze. Nathan would hold him back, keep him safe. Nathan blinked, though, returning Peter's stare. Peter wouldn't back down this time. He was curious. He wondered how far it could go; if he were the stronger one, the braver one. Peter hadn't been the one to back away. "It was nice," he said. "Really, really nice."
"I'm gonna call it a night," Nathan said.
Peter blinked and frowned. "You're not going to stay?"
"No, Pete, I have to work in the morning."
"You're supposed to stay. That's what you told Mom."
Nathan rolled his eyes. "I said I'd have dinner with you and spend time with you in the evenings; that doesn't mean that I have to sleep over. I don't want to sleep in a guest room."
Peter rolled his eyes too. "Stay in my bed," he said, his voice flattening as he realized as he spoke how pointless it was to even ask.
"Oh, c'mon, Pete. Get real. It's fall break and the folks are away; you can stay up all night and play video games or watch porn if you want to. But I've got to get up at five-thirty."
"I don't have any porn," Peter complained.
Nathan smiled at him. "And you don't have a computer with the internet on it, either. Too bad. I'll bring you some tomorrow," he said. "But tonight, I guess you'll have to be content with Nintendo."
"Thanks, I guess," Peter muttered.
"No problem - what's a brother good for, if not to bring you pornography?" Nathan joked. Peter fixed him with a stare of pure venom, and it actually made Nathan squirm - and maybe his cheeks flushed a little, too. Peter couldn't be sure, in the colored light. Nathan reached out and tousled Peter's hair, like Peter was a little kid. "You want to go out tomorrow night? Patsy's for pizza, maybe?"
Instantly, Peter's anger was forgotten. "Oh, totally!" he said.
"I'll be here at six to pick you up. Oh, and um... do you like blondes or brunettes?" Already Nathan was heading for the door, and Peter followed him out of the cigar room into the hallway, glaringly bright in comparison, even with only the chandelier lit.
"Eh... it doesn't matter," said Peter. "I'm not picky. I don't know what I like yet - I pretty much like it all."
Nathan blinked and smiled at him, then, perhaps not even realizing what he was doing, licked his lips.
Sudddenly, Peter was very sick of Nathan. Sick of the ache and the games and the questions and the satisfyingly pat, half-truth answers. Sick of the tease and the chase. He was tired. He wanted to be alone so he could beat off and get some peace. "Go home," he said.
"Love you, see you tomorrow," said Nathan, cheerful, oblivious.
Peter went back to the kitchen and began fixing himself another Mexican hot chocolate. It was only Monday night; four more nights of this. Maybe by Friday night, he'd be over Nathan, and would never look at him with longing, or fantasize about him, ever again.
But that kiss... oh, that kiss. He wasn't sure he could forget about that so soon.
He would have to try. He didn't want to be in love with Nathan; Nathan was a jerk. And also too old. And also related. But mostly, a jerk, and Peter really hated dealing with mean, duplicitous people.
But the sweetness...
Peter sipped the scalding hot chocolate. He could make his own sweetness. For tonight, at least. And then tomorrow, the best pizza on the planet, and some filthy video from Nathan's archives, and...
Maybe by Friday, he'd be over it.
END PART (21)
Continues in 22: Hot Cinnamon
Patsy Grimaldi's may not be the best pizza in the world, but it's pretty freakin' good - a real NY slice with oil that drips up your arm in a place that just seethes with New York mafia atmosphere. It really is enough to make you not mind about your sexual frustration, at least temporarily. It is Thursday night of this week where Peter and Nathan watch Dangerous Liasons, as referenced in Ritual (19), so obviously, Peter fails at his quest (but it's not like that's unusual for our Pete, now is it?)...
^_^ Thanks for reading.