Fic: You and Him and Me (1/3)
Title: You and Him and Me (part 1)
Pairing/Characters: Claire/Nathan/Peter, all 2-member variations thereof
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: episode 2.08, "Four Months Ago"
Warnings: Consensual incest, explicit m/m and m/f sex, language, angst
Word Count: (this section) about 4,500 (total) about 14,000
Summary: Peter teaches Claire how to love Nathan the way he does, because he knows he won't always be there. Set in a dystopian near-future. 50% plot, 50% smut. :)
Disclaimer: Don't own Heroes, just like to play with 'em...
PART ONE
All they really have in the whole world is each other. They are the only ones left, the only ones who can possibly understand.
Somehow, that makes it all right.
-----
For her, it started-really started-with Nathan.
Strange, since she'd been in love with Peter for years. But Peter had not been the first one to act, to make it real. To show her that they could now make their own rules.
----
Before that, she and Peter had embraced, cuddled with each other for comfort, traded kisses on the cheek, forehead, chin. Really the entire face except the lips. Sometimes, after a job or an escape, they needed more than a hug. But months went by without an escalation. It drove Claire insane, but she didn't know how to talk about it. She had seen Peter and Nathan hold each other and kiss, and sleep curled up together, stroking each other's bodies, but that was them; it wasn't her. She didn't know how to tell them how she felt, or even describe what it was. When she slept near them, she wrapped herself in her blankets and kept her back to them, and they left her alone to dream about what they must have been doing while she slept.
When she was alone, her own fingers were far from being enough to satisfy her cravings, though she tried every single chance she got.
One early morning, on their way to a task outside Grand Rapids, Claire tried to kiss Peter's mouth. He evaded her lips, instead hugging her more tightly, whispering, "No, no, don't."
"I'm sorry," Claire replied, sounding sad and petulant at the same time. "...Did I do something wrong?"
He laughed a little. "No... it's... that if I kiss you right now, I'm not gonna stop."
She fell silent at that, so amazed at the thought that she didn't pursue it right away, and Peter let her go, and they had to keep moving. But then, later, she asked him, "What do you mean, you wouldn't stop?"
Peter barely met her eyes, and took a deep breath. "I want you," he said, matter-of-factly.
Claire felt like the sun had just come out. "I want you," she confessed. Finally. After so long of wanting to tell him. But it was too late to do anything about it; all they could do then was smile at each other like total dorks, and then they had to go save a bus full of kids from an oncoming train.
Soon after that, Peter began having visions of power-dampening tranquilizer darts and Claire being dragged away screaming from a bed where she slept alone, and asked her to stay with him and Nathan until he could find out more. Claire wasn't afraid of any stupid tranq darts, no matter how many other Specials had been captured and slaughtered that way, and if she was being dragged from bed, of course she'd be screaming; but Peter seemed so desperately worried that she agreed. She was with them more than half the time, anyway, whenever she wasn't busy doing any heroic, life-saving stuff.
The only part of it that made her hesitate was wondering how she was going to get any free time to masturbate and manage her overwhelming sexuality, and tried to convince herself that perhaps it wasn't important, not compared to saving lives. But still... it felt like her frustrated sex drive would tear her into pieces. And she couldn't even go to bars and try to pick up guys; she had no identification that would get her into a bar (and technically, she wasn't old enough yet, anyway). Even being out in public might be dangerous, with her famous face and that rich reward offered by the government for her capture. She couldn't endanger Peter and Nathan that way. But unfulfilled desire was driving her crazy; the constant horny longing was starting to make her reckless and irritable.
And there went Peter and Nathan, sucking on each other's earlobes while they watched TV news on a hotwired digital set; there were Peter and Nathan going out of their way to brush up against each other, and then staring at her, as if asking, What are you waiting for?
-----
All too often, Peter was away, investigating future timelines, monitoring situations around the country and around the world. During one of his absences, Claire and Nathan went out together on a job, trying to defuse or prevent some bio-weapons deal, which turned ugly when one of the participants heard something they didn't like, and started shooting with their newly acquired assault guns. Claire took twenty-seven bullets before Nathan could fly her out of there. He brought her to their most recent "home", an empty single room in a flophouse hotel, and set her gently down on a chair.
By then, Claire had already regenerated, and sat up, shaking bullets out of her bloody clothes, sobbing angrily. "That was so stupid," she muttered. "Why the hell did Peter send us to do that? We didn't do any good at all! Why the hell do we even listen to him? Half the time he's wrong and we get ourselves killed-oh, fuck this!" She stood up, ripping the crusty garments from her body and tossing them on the floor as she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Nathan slowly followed, and let himself into the bathroom without knocking. Claire sat in the shower stall with her arms wrapped around her knees, crying. Nathan just looked at her for a while, watching her small body trembling, before he spoke. "You want me to turn the water on?" he asked.
Claire shook her head without looking up. "I'm still wearing my underwear," she pointed out.
"Your ruined underwear," Nathan responded. True - one bra strap had been shot through and the cups were both shredded into lacy flinders, and her white nylon panties looked as though they had been dyed red.
She sighed. "I'll do it," she said, standing up, then blinking suspiciously at him, standing there watching her with a calm, unbothered look in his eyes. He was making no move to go. Tossing her head unconcernedly, she half-turned away and stripped off her blood-soaked bra and tossed it into the sink, then realized that there was no way she could take off her panties without showing the secret space between her legs. She wondered what the hell he thought he was doing, then turned one side to him and wriggled herself nude. "It's fine," she said, rolling her eyes. She wasn't ashamed of her body, and there was no point in trying to hide it from a person who had saved her life half a dozen times, whose life she had saved at least that much. It was all so weird; the fact that they were related had become a simple abstraction, but at times like this, she couldn't help but think about it. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. "At least we get to get out of this dump." She couldn't help glancing back at him; he smiled a little.
"We have to trust Peter," he responded. "We're helping in the only way that we can anymore. And maybe not wrong; maybe just incomplete. We can never know every little detail. All we can do is try." He had gotten a little bloody, too, just holding her during their flight; she hoped he'd get into the shower with her, and wash this whole day off of both of them. But he just stood there, looking at her thoughtfully. Not a pervy or lascivious look. Or a critical or disgusted look, either. His gaze didn't make Claire uncomfortable at all. He just accepted her. In a funny way, it made her feel better to be watched like that. It made her feel safe. Silently, he left the bathroom and closed the door.
Claire scrubbed her skin clean with soap and the hottest water she could stand. She got out of the shower, wrapped the one clean towel they had left around her body, and came back to the main room. Nathan now sat on the bed, stripped down to his T-shirt and police-issue black slacks, his unblinking eyes on the bathroom door. Waiting for her. Sometimes, instead of making her feel protected and relaxed, he was so intense that it scared her. She wondered if he was angry at her for doubting his brother, for showing herself to him so blatantly. Even now, after all they'd been through, she did not quite trust him yet, and she couldn't read him the way she could with Peter. But he was gorgeous. Before him, she thought the oldest man she'd ever find attractive was Peter (if you didn't count Jeremy Irons). Nathan took handsomeness to a whole new level, made it strange and sexy and a little frightening. It was hard for her to look at Nathan, where it was easy for her and Peter to just stare into each other's eyes for hours. Nathan was intimidating. And her father. And she shouldn't get aroused just being around him. Claire chalked that up to her being just that desperate.
She sat down on the bed beside him, wound into a tight knot of anxiety and remembered pain. She had never been shot so many times at once before, and now the delayed reaction was making her shake violently. Getting shot once or twice wasn't so bad, but dozens of times? It was going to take a while for her to get over that one.
Nathan took one of her hands and cradled it briefly in his, her hand swallowed up in his big palm. He kissed the back of her wrist, then took her into his arms and held her tightly. "It's all right. It's over for now, it's over," he murmured, kissing her damp hair. "We're all right." Claire breathed her thanks, breathing deep, relaxing. "It's all right; I've got you."
He carefully lay her back, still holding her, then slowly peeled back the damp towel from her ribcage and waist, wonderingly stroking his thumb across the smooth, tender flesh that he had seen blasted and ravaged less than thirty minutes ago. He kissed the curves of her breasts, hollow of her stomach, his lips gentle but firm, not treating her as something delicate and breakable. Treating her like a grown woman. Desire burned inside her like a dark coal, springing to sparky, glowing life when you blew air against it. He was awakening her. Claire sighed and ran her fingers through his hair, spread her thighs, welcoming him. He acknowledged that with a quiet "Mmm-hmm," like he was just accepting what was due. Not asking her if it was all right; just knowing that it was. Knowing it was what she wanted.
He licked her pussy up and down, tasting it; side to side, spreading the delicate lips apart, then sucked them back together again and lightly raked the tip of his tongue against the swelling, scrolled edges. Claire mewed and bucked her hips, spreading her legs wider. "Is that okay?" Nathan asked, then trained the tip of his tongue against her clit and held it there, his mouth watering.
She was still shaking, but it was different now. "Yeah... Oh, God, I've wanted... for such a long time..." she stammered, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Mmm... I'll give it to you whenever you want it. Sweet Claire... any time..."
He made her come over and over again with his mouth-just his mouth, just lips on lips, just tongue, delving as deep inside her as he could go, wetting his face from ear to ear with her juices-but he never used his fingers for a moment, only penetrating her with the soft spike of his tongue. Claire could hardly move when he finally stopped and said, "You're done." He got up leaving her sprawled on the bed, her hair wild and her fingers wonderingly stroking her pussy, amazed that she could ever feel like that, or like this-all cummed out, but still hungry for more, for more. But she couldn't demand it from Nathan. She still didn't quite trust him... trust herself with him... he was technically her father, after all, even if he didn't seem that way... even if she didn't feel that way about him... She kept her thoughts to herself, and Nathan gave her a mildly curious look, but didn't say anything about it either. He only said, "We have to go. Check your pockets, in case Peter left us a clue."
Late that night, when they arrived at their next destination, a candle-lit room in an abandoned roadside motel outside Gary, Indiana, Peter was already there, curled into a chair, drawing in his sketchbook with his set of colored pens. He jumped up from the chair as soon as Nathan and Claire arrived, and he gave Claire a quick, brisk kiss on the cheek and a hug-so quick and so brisk that Claire got annoyed. Hadn't she just taken a chest full of hot lead on his say-so? And not even a kiss on the lips?
"I'm glad you're okay." Peter said to Nathan, wrapping his arms around his brother and hugging him tight, half-twisting with him as though he hadn't seen Nathan for years. Then Peter kissed him, hungrily and demandingly on the lips.
Claire sat down on the bed and watched them, momentarily forgetting her annoyance. Peter inclined his head back, and Nathan half-kissed, half-bit a line down Peter's neck from the ear to the collar of his rough gray sweater. Peter arched against him and shuddered. "Mmm... Obviously, you got my note," he purred.
"You practically gave me a road map," Nathan said, kissing Peter on the lips again, and very gently pulling away from him. "I like your colored pens. They really bring out the details."
"I didn't... road map where?"
"I found it in my inside pocket." Nathan brought out the folded square of paper, obviously ripped out of Peter's sketchbook.
Peter blinked at it. "I don't remember having done that," he said. "I wrote a note on a business card in your wallet."
Nathan checked his wallet, and found the business card in question, but the ink had gotten wet and smudged, and Nathan couldn't quite read what it said. "Your future selves are starting to double-bag each other," Nathan mused, taking off his coat.
"It must be important that we be here, then," Peter said. "It's a rift that escalated this mess in the first place, so if I'm willing to risk it again..." He sat next to Claire. "You okay?" he asked her, ruefully playing with the curling, shortened edges of her blonde hair brushing against the top of her shoulder. "This new?"
Claire thought about saying something snappy in reply, but she couldn't bitch at Peter when he was looking at her like that. "Yeah, I thought it was smart to get a haircut," she told him. "It's darker, too. I thought it might disguise who I am. Looks stupid, huh?"
"You look beautiful," Peter said. In the candlelight, he did too. "But you do still look like you. You're still blonde. For which I'm grateful." It was so easy to get lost in his eyes, in his quirked half-smile, noting the dark lines of fatigue that had stacked up at the corners of his eyes. He didn't age anymore, having been killed and regenerated enough times, but he could still look exhausted.
"Did Future Pete tell you anything else about this place?" Nathan broke into their reverie, his voice holding just a tang of sarcasm, a hint of black humor.
Peter was so tired he didn't even snark at Nathan for using the term "Future Pete", which he hated and had no sense of humor about. He thought for a minute, rubbing his hands backward through his shaggy hair, itself getting towards needing to be cut. "Yeah," he said after a pause. "We need to stay here tonight and tomorrow until nightfall, and not go out. Lights out. But candles okay. He left candles. I mean, I. I left candles." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wish I'd leave a timestamp of where I'm coming from, when I'm leaving all these little notes around everywhere. But maybe that would wreck things. I guess I'm only supposed to know where I am. This me. I-" He broke off, his voice thin and desperate. "I'm sorry it went wrong back there. It happened for a reason, though-I know it."
Nathan put his arms around Peter again, and hugged him tightly. "It's all right," Nathan said soothingly. "You're just tired. You're driving yourself into the ground with all this. You should really get in bed. I mean, drawing by candlelight. You're insane."
Peter smiled at him. "I don't really need to be able to see," he said. "And I'm not tired."
"I'm tired," Claire pointed out. "It's two A.M. and I just had to fly through a 'lake weather' snowstorm. And Nathan, you're slippery." She took off her heavy wool coat with the overstuffed pockets, pulled off her boots, and then stretched out on the bed. "Wake me when there's donuts."
Immediately both Peter and Nathan were at her side, Peter taking her sweater and jeans off, and Nathan piling blankets on top of her until she laughed at him to stop. They bent one at a time and kissed her on the cheek, and said, "Good night. I love you." Claire lay there, well bundled up under twenty pounds of blankets, and watched them move to the far end of the room, Peter sitting in the chair again and Nathan on the floor at his feet, arms wrapped around Peter's legs and his cheek resting against Peter's thigh.
They murmured faintly to each other, and Claire turned a little over to her side away from them, but strained her ears to make out what they were saying. "There's that big thing coming up," Peter said. "I've been trying to avoid it, but the more I see, the more I... feel that it's my responsibility to act."
"Do you know when?"
"No. Soon, though. Sooner than I want. I... kinda don't want to lose this."
"World gone to shit? Lose it. I kinda like this whole higher-forms-of-life thing."
"No... you. If I do it right, I can't ever come back. You'll stay here. Without me. You won't ever see things get better."
"Well, don't tell me about it. We've got work to do, still. Besides, that's not necessarily the end."
They were quiet for a moment, and Claire felt herself tugged toward sleep. But a stray phrase reached her ears and she was awake again. Nathan's half-audible murmur: "Have you tasted her yet?"
"No. I want to."
"God, it's good. Very wet. Little-girl wet."
Peter's faint hiss. "Yeah..."
They said nothing else after that, and Claire wanted so badly to turn over and watch them, but before she could decide to do it, she fell asleep.
----
She woke up because she was hot.
She was hot because she was enfolded in the arms of two warm men, Nathan spooning her from behind, and Peter facing her, lightly kissing the tip of her nose. Claire sighed and held Peter closer for a moment, then kissed him on the lips for the first time. He moaned softly, and quivered in her embrace. Softly, Nathan laughed against her shoulder. She realized that they were all naked, and her moist skin was sticking to them, thigh against thigh against thigh.
Peter's tongue in her mouth, Nathan's broad hand against her hip, sliding over to the front of her, between her and Peter. She was caught between them, still half-asleep, not resisting Nathan's hand slipping between her legs, touching the very lips that he had tickled with his tongue. He pressed his erection against the small of her back. Claire moaned herself, the sound caught inside Peter's mouth.
She tore herself away from him with difficulty, struggling for breath. "Please, stop," she begged. "Please... I need to sleep. Just a little bit more." Truth be told, she was a little scared, dizzy from all the desire crashing together like this, all at once. "You two just... go have fun together, okay?"
At a distance of a few inches, Peter smiled sleepily at her. He gave her one last tiny kiss. "Okay," he conceded. "Nathan... c'mon." Behind her, Nathan pulled away, too, and as soon as they left the bed, Claire felt cold. They moved to the floor on the side of the bed, spreading out layers of the spare blankets, and Nathan stood on his knees while Peter lay in front of him and began to suck his cock. Claire stared at them, knowing she wasn't going back to sleep any time soon, making no attempt to hide the fact that she was watching.
But they paid no attention to her; Peter sucking, bobbing his mouth gently, occasionally glancing up at Nathan with a worshipful expression, and Nathan, obsessively stroking Peter's hair, moving his hips slowly back and forth, moving his thick, swollen cock in and out of Peter's mouth. Peter's own cock was hidden somewhere out of sight beneath his body, but as Claire angled her head to get a better look, she saw Peter humping against the blankets, his ass cheeks tightening, and she had to bite her lip to stifle a groan.
"I want it," Peter whispered.
"Might have to switch off," Nathan replied.
Peter moaned, and pressed his hips into the floor. "You can just do it," he said. "I'm ready. You can be later."
Claire's eyes felt about ten feet wide.
Nathan climbed over Peter, holding his balls for Peter to quickly swipe his tongue against before coming to rest facing Peter's ass, rubbing his damp cock against Peter's buttocks, spreading them slowly with wiggles of his hips. Then he grabbed Peter's buttocks and pulled them apart sharply, then spit against his anus, drawing a quick gasp from Peter. Peter lifted himself onto his knees, but kept his head down, pillowed against his folded arms. Nathan took his cock in hand and forced it, fed it, into Peter. Peter moaned helplessly, biting down onto his forefinger. Nathan shushed him, kissing him on the spine, then held onto Peter's hips and started fucking, quickly and lightly, half his cock still outside Peter's body.
Peter called out, "Oh, fuck!", and Claire couldn't help moaning too. Immediately both brothers looked at her with very similar, sly smiles on their faces.
"Hi, Claire," Nathan whispered. He looked away immediately, twisted his mouth into a sneer, and began to fuck Peter harder. Peter yelped and groaned, but quickly seemed to get used to it, bucking his hips back against Nathan.
"Stop," Peter said suddenly.
Nathan stopped. "What?"
"I want to get on top," Peter replied.
Nathan agreed with a laugh. "Yeah... show her what you're made of."
They switched positions on the blanket, Nathan on his back and Peter over him with his legs spread across Nathan's hips, and Claire sat up in bed, drawing the blankets up with her, knowing that if she so much as brushed herself, she'd come instantly. Peter held her gaze as he repositioned himself, then focused his attention to his hand gripping Nathan's cock, and Nathan's hand doing the same, and together they found his entrance with the thick, blunt, slippery head. Holding his belly muscles taut, Peter slid down the shaft, burying it completely within him, then shuddered. "God, that's so much," he remarked, putting his hands on the ground on either side of Nathan's waist, and raising himself halfway again. "Ahh, your cock's so big. Feels good. Yeah."
Claire had to reach for herself, gasping faintly as her hand encountered a gush of sloppy wetness. Her pussy was ready to be fucked ten times, but she couldn't take her eyes off Nathan's cock piercing Peter's ass, Peter rising and falling along it, fucking himself with it, Nathan muttering, "Oh, yeah, you can take it. That's right. Ahhh, yes, you can take it." She didn't think she could get any more wet... but as a quick, sharp orgasm burned across her nerves, she felt her own wetness coating her thighs all the way to the knees.
"Oh... God... please..." she groaned.
"Please... what, Claire?" Peter laughed helplessly, feeling himself rocked up from beneath. Nathan was taking his share.
"Please... fuck me," she admitted, blurting it out before she lost her nerve.
"Right now?" asked Peter. He seemed amenable to that idea.
Nathan gave a sharp hiss, punctuated with a shuddering moan. Peter quivered and tensed, biting his lip, savoring the sensation for a moment before he got up and let Nathan's spent cock slip out of him, trailing sticky threads of semen as he went. Claire stuck two fingers into her crevice, feeling her long nails nicking the flesh, only serving to make it more sensitive, watching Peter climb onto the bed toward her. He ran his hands up her inner thighs, smiling as his hands got wet with her, looking at her fingering herself. "You want me to?" Peter offered quietly, seeking out her hooded clitoris with his fingertip. Her whole body jerked violently with another orgasm, this one stronger, shaking her like an electric shock. "You want me inside?" He spread her thighs open wide, wider than she'd felt them in a long time, wider than was necessary for his narrow hips to fit between. Over the horizon of the edge of the bed, Nathan watched them with that unreadable look on his face again.
"Are you jealous?" Claire finally asked. Peter settled between her legs and pressed his cock against her pussy; he slid all the way up, across her vaginal opening, against her clit; she gasped, and grabbed Peter's wrist hard. He grabbed her back, just as hard or harder, and forced her hand down to the surface of the bed, keeping it out of the way.
"No," Nathan replied, his voice reduced to a smoky growl. "I just want to make sure he does it right. Hold her open, Peter; don't waste time. She's had to wait and wait..."
"I didn't make her wait," Peter replied. He kissed her restrained arm, and let it go. He needed both hands for this. "Wasn't up to me."
"I was scared," Claire confessed desperately. "I didn't know what ... was gonna happen. I don't know what this means. I don't-oh, my God-uhhh!" He had found his place, forced his way inside, feeling like he was dragging half of her vulva with him. She reached down and spread herself open more, and he backed out and then pressed in again, going slow, stretching her inside terribly.
"It just means you want this," Nathan said. "Does it hurt?"
"Yes," Claire admitted, her voice a thin, strained whisper. Sweat streamed down her temples, over the sides of her breasts, the nipples aggressively swollen and pointed, longing for the touch of Peter's chest on them. Peter had another angle, his cock going straight into her, toward her back, not up toward her face. "It's okay..."
"So... tight..." Peter gasped. "Ohmygod ohmygod so tight. I can't..." At once, he and Claire cried out as the head of his cock strained against her hymen, and then broke through the thin tissue and shoved deep inside her. She whimpered and clung to him, white-knuckled, taking deep breaths to calm herself. It was just more pain; nothing she couldn't handle, and nothing she hadn't experienced before. But not like this. Not when she wanted it so much like this. Peter paused and stared at her with a mixture of horror and lust as he read the thoughts from her mind-the memories-the first time she'd busted her cherry, with the handle of a battery-powered toothbrush, her first masturbation tool, and how scared she'd been at all the blood, and buried the toothbrush in the backyard; and after that, the brush handles and carrots and cucumbers and flashlights and hammer handles, breaking her hymen again and again, the first time every time, and Jackie bragging about remaining an intact virgin because Guys Could Tell. "I could tell," Peter answered her softly, gently thrusting inside her. "But I didn't know."
"Just fuck it," Claire told him. "Or it'll start healing. Just fuck it hard."
"Yeah," Nathan murmured, still watching, his eyes at the level of their bodies. "Oh, Peter. Claire, is he doing it right?"
"Yes," Claire responded, clutching Peter's body close to hers, holding him tight until he surrendered a kiss to her mouth. She wrapped her legs around his hips and arched up to him, offering herself more, the wetness flowing out of her and down the crack of her ass, and knowing without seeing it that a lot of it was blood. "Oh, yes, he's-yeah, yeah!"
It didn't take much for her to come again, a sharp spreading explosion like a firecracker in her womb. Peter withdrew before he came too, blinking with concern at the blood, then sighing as Nathan reached out and grabbed his cock, jerking quickly on the shaft, sending a long spurt of come out along Claire's thigh. "I'm sorry," Peter sighed. "We should have been safer."
"We passed 'safe'," Nathan said ruefully, chuckling. "We left 'safe' behind a long time ago." He climbed onto the bed, kissed Peter on the lips, then Claire, lingering on her. She could taste Peter's cock in his mouth, and she liked the faint salty tang. She wanted to taste it herself.
But for now, she really was sleepy, and so was Peter. He collapsed alongside her, and she spooned his back the way he had done to her, and Nathan spooned her, kissing the back of her neck. She half-turned to kiss Nathan's lips again, then settled again, holding Nathan's hand, one of her legs between Peter's and his touch on her thigh.
She knew this was only the beginning.
Part Two
Part Three
Pairing/Characters: Claire/Nathan/Peter, all 2-member variations thereof
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: episode 2.08, "Four Months Ago"
Warnings: Consensual incest, explicit m/m and m/f sex, language, angst
Word Count: (this section) about 4,500 (total) about 14,000
Summary: Peter teaches Claire how to love Nathan the way he does, because he knows he won't always be there. Set in a dystopian near-future. 50% plot, 50% smut. :)
Disclaimer: Don't own Heroes, just like to play with 'em...
PART ONE
All they really have in the whole world is each other. They are the only ones left, the only ones who can possibly understand.
Somehow, that makes it all right.
-----
For her, it started-really started-with Nathan.
Strange, since she'd been in love with Peter for years. But Peter had not been the first one to act, to make it real. To show her that they could now make their own rules.
----
Before that, she and Peter had embraced, cuddled with each other for comfort, traded kisses on the cheek, forehead, chin. Really the entire face except the lips. Sometimes, after a job or an escape, they needed more than a hug. But months went by without an escalation. It drove Claire insane, but she didn't know how to talk about it. She had seen Peter and Nathan hold each other and kiss, and sleep curled up together, stroking each other's bodies, but that was them; it wasn't her. She didn't know how to tell them how she felt, or even describe what it was. When she slept near them, she wrapped herself in her blankets and kept her back to them, and they left her alone to dream about what they must have been doing while she slept.
When she was alone, her own fingers were far from being enough to satisfy her cravings, though she tried every single chance she got.
One early morning, on their way to a task outside Grand Rapids, Claire tried to kiss Peter's mouth. He evaded her lips, instead hugging her more tightly, whispering, "No, no, don't."
"I'm sorry," Claire replied, sounding sad and petulant at the same time. "...Did I do something wrong?"
He laughed a little. "No... it's... that if I kiss you right now, I'm not gonna stop."
She fell silent at that, so amazed at the thought that she didn't pursue it right away, and Peter let her go, and they had to keep moving. But then, later, she asked him, "What do you mean, you wouldn't stop?"
Peter barely met her eyes, and took a deep breath. "I want you," he said, matter-of-factly.
Claire felt like the sun had just come out. "I want you," she confessed. Finally. After so long of wanting to tell him. But it was too late to do anything about it; all they could do then was smile at each other like total dorks, and then they had to go save a bus full of kids from an oncoming train.
Soon after that, Peter began having visions of power-dampening tranquilizer darts and Claire being dragged away screaming from a bed where she slept alone, and asked her to stay with him and Nathan until he could find out more. Claire wasn't afraid of any stupid tranq darts, no matter how many other Specials had been captured and slaughtered that way, and if she was being dragged from bed, of course she'd be screaming; but Peter seemed so desperately worried that she agreed. She was with them more than half the time, anyway, whenever she wasn't busy doing any heroic, life-saving stuff.
The only part of it that made her hesitate was wondering how she was going to get any free time to masturbate and manage her overwhelming sexuality, and tried to convince herself that perhaps it wasn't important, not compared to saving lives. But still... it felt like her frustrated sex drive would tear her into pieces. And she couldn't even go to bars and try to pick up guys; she had no identification that would get her into a bar (and technically, she wasn't old enough yet, anyway). Even being out in public might be dangerous, with her famous face and that rich reward offered by the government for her capture. She couldn't endanger Peter and Nathan that way. But unfulfilled desire was driving her crazy; the constant horny longing was starting to make her reckless and irritable.
And there went Peter and Nathan, sucking on each other's earlobes while they watched TV news on a hotwired digital set; there were Peter and Nathan going out of their way to brush up against each other, and then staring at her, as if asking, What are you waiting for?
-----
All too often, Peter was away, investigating future timelines, monitoring situations around the country and around the world. During one of his absences, Claire and Nathan went out together on a job, trying to defuse or prevent some bio-weapons deal, which turned ugly when one of the participants heard something they didn't like, and started shooting with their newly acquired assault guns. Claire took twenty-seven bullets before Nathan could fly her out of there. He brought her to their most recent "home", an empty single room in a flophouse hotel, and set her gently down on a chair.
By then, Claire had already regenerated, and sat up, shaking bullets out of her bloody clothes, sobbing angrily. "That was so stupid," she muttered. "Why the hell did Peter send us to do that? We didn't do any good at all! Why the hell do we even listen to him? Half the time he's wrong and we get ourselves killed-oh, fuck this!" She stood up, ripping the crusty garments from her body and tossing them on the floor as she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Nathan slowly followed, and let himself into the bathroom without knocking. Claire sat in the shower stall with her arms wrapped around her knees, crying. Nathan just looked at her for a while, watching her small body trembling, before he spoke. "You want me to turn the water on?" he asked.
Claire shook her head without looking up. "I'm still wearing my underwear," she pointed out.
"Your ruined underwear," Nathan responded. True - one bra strap had been shot through and the cups were both shredded into lacy flinders, and her white nylon panties looked as though they had been dyed red.
She sighed. "I'll do it," she said, standing up, then blinking suspiciously at him, standing there watching her with a calm, unbothered look in his eyes. He was making no move to go. Tossing her head unconcernedly, she half-turned away and stripped off her blood-soaked bra and tossed it into the sink, then realized that there was no way she could take off her panties without showing the secret space between her legs. She wondered what the hell he thought he was doing, then turned one side to him and wriggled herself nude. "It's fine," she said, rolling her eyes. She wasn't ashamed of her body, and there was no point in trying to hide it from a person who had saved her life half a dozen times, whose life she had saved at least that much. It was all so weird; the fact that they were related had become a simple abstraction, but at times like this, she couldn't help but think about it. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. "At least we get to get out of this dump." She couldn't help glancing back at him; he smiled a little.
"We have to trust Peter," he responded. "We're helping in the only way that we can anymore. And maybe not wrong; maybe just incomplete. We can never know every little detail. All we can do is try." He had gotten a little bloody, too, just holding her during their flight; she hoped he'd get into the shower with her, and wash this whole day off of both of them. But he just stood there, looking at her thoughtfully. Not a pervy or lascivious look. Or a critical or disgusted look, either. His gaze didn't make Claire uncomfortable at all. He just accepted her. In a funny way, it made her feel better to be watched like that. It made her feel safe. Silently, he left the bathroom and closed the door.
Claire scrubbed her skin clean with soap and the hottest water she could stand. She got out of the shower, wrapped the one clean towel they had left around her body, and came back to the main room. Nathan now sat on the bed, stripped down to his T-shirt and police-issue black slacks, his unblinking eyes on the bathroom door. Waiting for her. Sometimes, instead of making her feel protected and relaxed, he was so intense that it scared her. She wondered if he was angry at her for doubting his brother, for showing herself to him so blatantly. Even now, after all they'd been through, she did not quite trust him yet, and she couldn't read him the way she could with Peter. But he was gorgeous. Before him, she thought the oldest man she'd ever find attractive was Peter (if you didn't count Jeremy Irons). Nathan took handsomeness to a whole new level, made it strange and sexy and a little frightening. It was hard for her to look at Nathan, where it was easy for her and Peter to just stare into each other's eyes for hours. Nathan was intimidating. And her father. And she shouldn't get aroused just being around him. Claire chalked that up to her being just that desperate.
She sat down on the bed beside him, wound into a tight knot of anxiety and remembered pain. She had never been shot so many times at once before, and now the delayed reaction was making her shake violently. Getting shot once or twice wasn't so bad, but dozens of times? It was going to take a while for her to get over that one.
Nathan took one of her hands and cradled it briefly in his, her hand swallowed up in his big palm. He kissed the back of her wrist, then took her into his arms and held her tightly. "It's all right. It's over for now, it's over," he murmured, kissing her damp hair. "We're all right." Claire breathed her thanks, breathing deep, relaxing. "It's all right; I've got you."
He carefully lay her back, still holding her, then slowly peeled back the damp towel from her ribcage and waist, wonderingly stroking his thumb across the smooth, tender flesh that he had seen blasted and ravaged less than thirty minutes ago. He kissed the curves of her breasts, hollow of her stomach, his lips gentle but firm, not treating her as something delicate and breakable. Treating her like a grown woman. Desire burned inside her like a dark coal, springing to sparky, glowing life when you blew air against it. He was awakening her. Claire sighed and ran her fingers through his hair, spread her thighs, welcoming him. He acknowledged that with a quiet "Mmm-hmm," like he was just accepting what was due. Not asking her if it was all right; just knowing that it was. Knowing it was what she wanted.
He licked her pussy up and down, tasting it; side to side, spreading the delicate lips apart, then sucked them back together again and lightly raked the tip of his tongue against the swelling, scrolled edges. Claire mewed and bucked her hips, spreading her legs wider. "Is that okay?" Nathan asked, then trained the tip of his tongue against her clit and held it there, his mouth watering.
She was still shaking, but it was different now. "Yeah... Oh, God, I've wanted... for such a long time..." she stammered, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Mmm... I'll give it to you whenever you want it. Sweet Claire... any time..."
He made her come over and over again with his mouth-just his mouth, just lips on lips, just tongue, delving as deep inside her as he could go, wetting his face from ear to ear with her juices-but he never used his fingers for a moment, only penetrating her with the soft spike of his tongue. Claire could hardly move when he finally stopped and said, "You're done." He got up leaving her sprawled on the bed, her hair wild and her fingers wonderingly stroking her pussy, amazed that she could ever feel like that, or like this-all cummed out, but still hungry for more, for more. But she couldn't demand it from Nathan. She still didn't quite trust him... trust herself with him... he was technically her father, after all, even if he didn't seem that way... even if she didn't feel that way about him... She kept her thoughts to herself, and Nathan gave her a mildly curious look, but didn't say anything about it either. He only said, "We have to go. Check your pockets, in case Peter left us a clue."
Late that night, when they arrived at their next destination, a candle-lit room in an abandoned roadside motel outside Gary, Indiana, Peter was already there, curled into a chair, drawing in his sketchbook with his set of colored pens. He jumped up from the chair as soon as Nathan and Claire arrived, and he gave Claire a quick, brisk kiss on the cheek and a hug-so quick and so brisk that Claire got annoyed. Hadn't she just taken a chest full of hot lead on his say-so? And not even a kiss on the lips?
"I'm glad you're okay." Peter said to Nathan, wrapping his arms around his brother and hugging him tight, half-twisting with him as though he hadn't seen Nathan for years. Then Peter kissed him, hungrily and demandingly on the lips.
Claire sat down on the bed and watched them, momentarily forgetting her annoyance. Peter inclined his head back, and Nathan half-kissed, half-bit a line down Peter's neck from the ear to the collar of his rough gray sweater. Peter arched against him and shuddered. "Mmm... Obviously, you got my note," he purred.
"You practically gave me a road map," Nathan said, kissing Peter on the lips again, and very gently pulling away from him. "I like your colored pens. They really bring out the details."
"I didn't... road map where?"
"I found it in my inside pocket." Nathan brought out the folded square of paper, obviously ripped out of Peter's sketchbook.
Peter blinked at it. "I don't remember having done that," he said. "I wrote a note on a business card in your wallet."
Nathan checked his wallet, and found the business card in question, but the ink had gotten wet and smudged, and Nathan couldn't quite read what it said. "Your future selves are starting to double-bag each other," Nathan mused, taking off his coat.
"It must be important that we be here, then," Peter said. "It's a rift that escalated this mess in the first place, so if I'm willing to risk it again..." He sat next to Claire. "You okay?" he asked her, ruefully playing with the curling, shortened edges of her blonde hair brushing against the top of her shoulder. "This new?"
Claire thought about saying something snappy in reply, but she couldn't bitch at Peter when he was looking at her like that. "Yeah, I thought it was smart to get a haircut," she told him. "It's darker, too. I thought it might disguise who I am. Looks stupid, huh?"
"You look beautiful," Peter said. In the candlelight, he did too. "But you do still look like you. You're still blonde. For which I'm grateful." It was so easy to get lost in his eyes, in his quirked half-smile, noting the dark lines of fatigue that had stacked up at the corners of his eyes. He didn't age anymore, having been killed and regenerated enough times, but he could still look exhausted.
"Did Future Pete tell you anything else about this place?" Nathan broke into their reverie, his voice holding just a tang of sarcasm, a hint of black humor.
Peter was so tired he didn't even snark at Nathan for using the term "Future Pete", which he hated and had no sense of humor about. He thought for a minute, rubbing his hands backward through his shaggy hair, itself getting towards needing to be cut. "Yeah," he said after a pause. "We need to stay here tonight and tomorrow until nightfall, and not go out. Lights out. But candles okay. He left candles. I mean, I. I left candles." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wish I'd leave a timestamp of where I'm coming from, when I'm leaving all these little notes around everywhere. But maybe that would wreck things. I guess I'm only supposed to know where I am. This me. I-" He broke off, his voice thin and desperate. "I'm sorry it went wrong back there. It happened for a reason, though-I know it."
Nathan put his arms around Peter again, and hugged him tightly. "It's all right," Nathan said soothingly. "You're just tired. You're driving yourself into the ground with all this. You should really get in bed. I mean, drawing by candlelight. You're insane."
Peter smiled at him. "I don't really need to be able to see," he said. "And I'm not tired."
"I'm tired," Claire pointed out. "It's two A.M. and I just had to fly through a 'lake weather' snowstorm. And Nathan, you're slippery." She took off her heavy wool coat with the overstuffed pockets, pulled off her boots, and then stretched out on the bed. "Wake me when there's donuts."
Immediately both Peter and Nathan were at her side, Peter taking her sweater and jeans off, and Nathan piling blankets on top of her until she laughed at him to stop. They bent one at a time and kissed her on the cheek, and said, "Good night. I love you." Claire lay there, well bundled up under twenty pounds of blankets, and watched them move to the far end of the room, Peter sitting in the chair again and Nathan on the floor at his feet, arms wrapped around Peter's legs and his cheek resting against Peter's thigh.
They murmured faintly to each other, and Claire turned a little over to her side away from them, but strained her ears to make out what they were saying. "There's that big thing coming up," Peter said. "I've been trying to avoid it, but the more I see, the more I... feel that it's my responsibility to act."
"Do you know when?"
"No. Soon, though. Sooner than I want. I... kinda don't want to lose this."
"World gone to shit? Lose it. I kinda like this whole higher-forms-of-life thing."
"No... you. If I do it right, I can't ever come back. You'll stay here. Without me. You won't ever see things get better."
"Well, don't tell me about it. We've got work to do, still. Besides, that's not necessarily the end."
They were quiet for a moment, and Claire felt herself tugged toward sleep. But a stray phrase reached her ears and she was awake again. Nathan's half-audible murmur: "Have you tasted her yet?"
"No. I want to."
"God, it's good. Very wet. Little-girl wet."
Peter's faint hiss. "Yeah..."
They said nothing else after that, and Claire wanted so badly to turn over and watch them, but before she could decide to do it, she fell asleep.
----
She woke up because she was hot.
She was hot because she was enfolded in the arms of two warm men, Nathan spooning her from behind, and Peter facing her, lightly kissing the tip of her nose. Claire sighed and held Peter closer for a moment, then kissed him on the lips for the first time. He moaned softly, and quivered in her embrace. Softly, Nathan laughed against her shoulder. She realized that they were all naked, and her moist skin was sticking to them, thigh against thigh against thigh.
Peter's tongue in her mouth, Nathan's broad hand against her hip, sliding over to the front of her, between her and Peter. She was caught between them, still half-asleep, not resisting Nathan's hand slipping between her legs, touching the very lips that he had tickled with his tongue. He pressed his erection against the small of her back. Claire moaned herself, the sound caught inside Peter's mouth.
She tore herself away from him with difficulty, struggling for breath. "Please, stop," she begged. "Please... I need to sleep. Just a little bit more." Truth be told, she was a little scared, dizzy from all the desire crashing together like this, all at once. "You two just... go have fun together, okay?"
At a distance of a few inches, Peter smiled sleepily at her. He gave her one last tiny kiss. "Okay," he conceded. "Nathan... c'mon." Behind her, Nathan pulled away, too, and as soon as they left the bed, Claire felt cold. They moved to the floor on the side of the bed, spreading out layers of the spare blankets, and Nathan stood on his knees while Peter lay in front of him and began to suck his cock. Claire stared at them, knowing she wasn't going back to sleep any time soon, making no attempt to hide the fact that she was watching.
But they paid no attention to her; Peter sucking, bobbing his mouth gently, occasionally glancing up at Nathan with a worshipful expression, and Nathan, obsessively stroking Peter's hair, moving his hips slowly back and forth, moving his thick, swollen cock in and out of Peter's mouth. Peter's own cock was hidden somewhere out of sight beneath his body, but as Claire angled her head to get a better look, she saw Peter humping against the blankets, his ass cheeks tightening, and she had to bite her lip to stifle a groan.
"I want it," Peter whispered.
"Might have to switch off," Nathan replied.
Peter moaned, and pressed his hips into the floor. "You can just do it," he said. "I'm ready. You can be later."
Claire's eyes felt about ten feet wide.
Nathan climbed over Peter, holding his balls for Peter to quickly swipe his tongue against before coming to rest facing Peter's ass, rubbing his damp cock against Peter's buttocks, spreading them slowly with wiggles of his hips. Then he grabbed Peter's buttocks and pulled them apart sharply, then spit against his anus, drawing a quick gasp from Peter. Peter lifted himself onto his knees, but kept his head down, pillowed against his folded arms. Nathan took his cock in hand and forced it, fed it, into Peter. Peter moaned helplessly, biting down onto his forefinger. Nathan shushed him, kissing him on the spine, then held onto Peter's hips and started fucking, quickly and lightly, half his cock still outside Peter's body.
Peter called out, "Oh, fuck!", and Claire couldn't help moaning too. Immediately both brothers looked at her with very similar, sly smiles on their faces.
"Hi, Claire," Nathan whispered. He looked away immediately, twisted his mouth into a sneer, and began to fuck Peter harder. Peter yelped and groaned, but quickly seemed to get used to it, bucking his hips back against Nathan.
"Stop," Peter said suddenly.
Nathan stopped. "What?"
"I want to get on top," Peter replied.
Nathan agreed with a laugh. "Yeah... show her what you're made of."
They switched positions on the blanket, Nathan on his back and Peter over him with his legs spread across Nathan's hips, and Claire sat up in bed, drawing the blankets up with her, knowing that if she so much as brushed herself, she'd come instantly. Peter held her gaze as he repositioned himself, then focused his attention to his hand gripping Nathan's cock, and Nathan's hand doing the same, and together they found his entrance with the thick, blunt, slippery head. Holding his belly muscles taut, Peter slid down the shaft, burying it completely within him, then shuddered. "God, that's so much," he remarked, putting his hands on the ground on either side of Nathan's waist, and raising himself halfway again. "Ahh, your cock's so big. Feels good. Yeah."
Claire had to reach for herself, gasping faintly as her hand encountered a gush of sloppy wetness. Her pussy was ready to be fucked ten times, but she couldn't take her eyes off Nathan's cock piercing Peter's ass, Peter rising and falling along it, fucking himself with it, Nathan muttering, "Oh, yeah, you can take it. That's right. Ahhh, yes, you can take it." She didn't think she could get any more wet... but as a quick, sharp orgasm burned across her nerves, she felt her own wetness coating her thighs all the way to the knees.
"Oh... God... please..." she groaned.
"Please... what, Claire?" Peter laughed helplessly, feeling himself rocked up from beneath. Nathan was taking his share.
"Please... fuck me," she admitted, blurting it out before she lost her nerve.
"Right now?" asked Peter. He seemed amenable to that idea.
Nathan gave a sharp hiss, punctuated with a shuddering moan. Peter quivered and tensed, biting his lip, savoring the sensation for a moment before he got up and let Nathan's spent cock slip out of him, trailing sticky threads of semen as he went. Claire stuck two fingers into her crevice, feeling her long nails nicking the flesh, only serving to make it more sensitive, watching Peter climb onto the bed toward her. He ran his hands up her inner thighs, smiling as his hands got wet with her, looking at her fingering herself. "You want me to?" Peter offered quietly, seeking out her hooded clitoris with his fingertip. Her whole body jerked violently with another orgasm, this one stronger, shaking her like an electric shock. "You want me inside?" He spread her thighs open wide, wider than she'd felt them in a long time, wider than was necessary for his narrow hips to fit between. Over the horizon of the edge of the bed, Nathan watched them with that unreadable look on his face again.
"Are you jealous?" Claire finally asked. Peter settled between her legs and pressed his cock against her pussy; he slid all the way up, across her vaginal opening, against her clit; she gasped, and grabbed Peter's wrist hard. He grabbed her back, just as hard or harder, and forced her hand down to the surface of the bed, keeping it out of the way.
"No," Nathan replied, his voice reduced to a smoky growl. "I just want to make sure he does it right. Hold her open, Peter; don't waste time. She's had to wait and wait..."
"I didn't make her wait," Peter replied. He kissed her restrained arm, and let it go. He needed both hands for this. "Wasn't up to me."
"I was scared," Claire confessed desperately. "I didn't know what ... was gonna happen. I don't know what this means. I don't-oh, my God-uhhh!" He had found his place, forced his way inside, feeling like he was dragging half of her vulva with him. She reached down and spread herself open more, and he backed out and then pressed in again, going slow, stretching her inside terribly.
"It just means you want this," Nathan said. "Does it hurt?"
"Yes," Claire admitted, her voice a thin, strained whisper. Sweat streamed down her temples, over the sides of her breasts, the nipples aggressively swollen and pointed, longing for the touch of Peter's chest on them. Peter had another angle, his cock going straight into her, toward her back, not up toward her face. "It's okay..."
"So... tight..." Peter gasped. "Ohmygod ohmygod so tight. I can't..." At once, he and Claire cried out as the head of his cock strained against her hymen, and then broke through the thin tissue and shoved deep inside her. She whimpered and clung to him, white-knuckled, taking deep breaths to calm herself. It was just more pain; nothing she couldn't handle, and nothing she hadn't experienced before. But not like this. Not when she wanted it so much like this. Peter paused and stared at her with a mixture of horror and lust as he read the thoughts from her mind-the memories-the first time she'd busted her cherry, with the handle of a battery-powered toothbrush, her first masturbation tool, and how scared she'd been at all the blood, and buried the toothbrush in the backyard; and after that, the brush handles and carrots and cucumbers and flashlights and hammer handles, breaking her hymen again and again, the first time every time, and Jackie bragging about remaining an intact virgin because Guys Could Tell. "I could tell," Peter answered her softly, gently thrusting inside her. "But I didn't know."
"Just fuck it," Claire told him. "Or it'll start healing. Just fuck it hard."
"Yeah," Nathan murmured, still watching, his eyes at the level of their bodies. "Oh, Peter. Claire, is he doing it right?"
"Yes," Claire responded, clutching Peter's body close to hers, holding him tight until he surrendered a kiss to her mouth. She wrapped her legs around his hips and arched up to him, offering herself more, the wetness flowing out of her and down the crack of her ass, and knowing without seeing it that a lot of it was blood. "Oh, yes, he's-yeah, yeah!"
It didn't take much for her to come again, a sharp spreading explosion like a firecracker in her womb. Peter withdrew before he came too, blinking with concern at the blood, then sighing as Nathan reached out and grabbed his cock, jerking quickly on the shaft, sending a long spurt of come out along Claire's thigh. "I'm sorry," Peter sighed. "We should have been safer."
"We passed 'safe'," Nathan said ruefully, chuckling. "We left 'safe' behind a long time ago." He climbed onto the bed, kissed Peter on the lips, then Claire, lingering on her. She could taste Peter's cock in his mouth, and she liked the faint salty tang. She wanted to taste it herself.
But for now, she really was sleepy, and so was Peter. He collapsed alongside her, and she spooned his back the way he had done to her, and Nathan spooned her, kissing the back of her neck. She half-turned to kiss Nathan's lips again, then settled again, holding Nathan's hand, one of her legs between Peter's and his touch on her thigh.
She knew this was only the beginning.
Part Two
Part Three