Fic: Ritual (1)
Title: Ritual (1): Bring It Here
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Petrellicest, alcohol use, power play
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: about 2500
A/N: First part of an open-ended Petrellicest exercise in sheer depravity. I got kicked by the pornfic-bunny! If slash or incest squicks you out, run at top speed in the other direction - I don't shy away from either. Set about a year before the events of the first episode.
Summary: Nathan needs Peter, this time. Peter understands; sometimes it's the other way around.
Heroes belongs to NBC/Universal, not me. I, however, am totally owned by Heroes.
It had been going on so long, neither of them remembered when it started. It was just one of those things they did. It didn't happen as often these days, now that their adult lives took them in different directions, but it did still happen; still needed to happen. They needed it, both of them, to stay sane. A ritual, in a secret society of two.
Ritual (1)
"Hey, Pete, it's your brother. Could you come over? I need to talk to you about something. Bring your overnights. I know it's spring break; we'll order in. Call when you're on your way."
Peter immediately deleted the voicemail and hung up with a tap of his fingernail. He understood the code. It was like arranging drug deals over the phone; it sounded meaningless to any eavesdropper. Nathan's voice sounded a little tight and weird. Like summoning Peter over was just another thing on his daily to-do list, and one that Nathan wasn't too thrilled about.
Still, Nathan had called him, and that meant Peter had to go, whether or not he felt like it. Peter had only once not responded to Nathan's summons (because he was so hung over he could barely move), about which Nathan was still annoyed. Years after the fact.
Nathan had never not responded to Peter's call.
Fortunately, Peter didn't have anything going on that night that he'd have to cancel. He packed his messenger bag with all the necessaries - running shoes, a change of shirt, underwear, socks, toothbrush, eye drops, two different brands of lube, unscented massage oil, aloe vera gel for the occasional, inevitable bruise. He looked in the mirror and noticed that he hadn't bothered to shave that morning, decided to leave it that way. Nathan could deal.
In the taxi, Peter called. "Hey, I'm ten minutes away."
"Took you long enough."
"Dude, what's your problem? Dinner getting cold?"
Nathan didn't have a comeback; he was obviously tense. "Need me to pay for the cab?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm broke till payday on Monday..."
"Typical." Nathan hung up. Peter smirked and slipped his phone back into his pocket, thinking, Right back atcha.
Nathan waited just inside the gates of his property, and gave the taxi driver a factory-crisp $100 bill without looking at him (and overpaying the fare by a good forty bucks). Peter thanked the driver and hopped out of the back seat. "What's up?" Peter asked. "Where's your gate security guy?"
"Staff night off."
"Oh," said Peter. "Heidi around?"
"At her mom's with the kids for the weekend." Nathan wasn't looking at Peter as they walked up the path, his profile etched against the dusky evening sky, the fading sunset still too bright for the lights to have come on. Despite the warmth left over from the hot day, he was still in shirtsleeves with the cuffs buttoned, silk tie still knotted against his throat.
"Just us, huh?"
"Yeah."
They went inside, and as soon as they were inside the door, Peter stroked his hand against Nathan's lower back, finding it a solid wall of muscular tension. "Hey, hey, Nathan, c'mere," Peter said, grabbing Nathan's shoulder, his damp hand wrinkling the fabric, and yanking his brother against him in a hug. Nathan reluctantly raised his arms to return the hug, but clearly wasn't in the mood to be embraced at the moment. Peter edged back and stared at Nathan; Nathan wouldn't meet his eyes. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Don't want to talk about it."
Peter countered quietly, "D'you want to fuck about it?"
No change of expression. "That's why I called you."
"Well, go take a shower," said Peter, starting to feel cranky. "Maybe you should do ten minutes on the treadmill, then take a shower, because you need to loosen the hell up. You never get make any attempts to relax before I get here, do you? You make me bully you into it... Whatever. Got anything to drink? You need that, too."
"Oh, that's very nurturing of you, Peter, getting me drunk." At least Nathan was being sarcastic now, however clumsily; he couldn't help but meet Peter's eyes, and when he saw Peter smiling at him, Nathan reluctantly smiled back. "All right. You know where the liquor cabinet is; please don't open anything that isn't already open, and don't pour anything older than 12 years."
Peter fixed one weak drink and one strong drink in identical glasses, then wandered through the enormous house, rapidly gulping down the weak drink, choosing a guest room at random. Lights low, but not off. He set his open bag at the side of the bed, then got took off his clothes and got into bed, lying perfectly still except for the finger and thumb that he gently, rhythmically tapped against the base of his dick. If he touched himself more, he'd be spilling all over the bedsheets before Nathan could ever find him.
As it was, Peter was almost fully erect by the time Nathan poked his head into the room. "What're you doing under there?" Nathan asked casually.
"I don't know," Peter replied. "Come find out."
Nathan picked up the strong drink and looked at it, then looking at the other, mostly-empty glass. He drank until both glasses had the same amount left over, blinking at Peter. "Was there any water in that scotch?" he asked.
"A splash," Peter replied, slurring a little, trying to sound tipsy, even though he was sober. He held up the covers, and Nathan wiggled out of his immaculate white terrycloth bathrobe and slid into bed.
Peter's hand immediately transferred itself to the base of Nathan's cock, and slid his leg between Nathan's. Nathan shuddered, arched his back, his hands on Peter's chest, stroking his nipples. Peter gave a loud sigh of relief. It was on. Now Nathan could quit pretending that this wasn't going to happen.
Peter rubbed his stubbly chin against Nathan's painstakingly clean-shaven one, kissed Nathan's scars, then kissed him briefly on the mouth. It was a kiss of pure affection, the kind they shared all the time, whenever they felt like it. They could do that in public - well, at least around their parents. They both glanced at each other's cocks, then met eyes, darting back and forth, asking unspoken questions. What do you want? What are you willing to let me do?
Peter made a decision first. "Okay, turn over," he said. "I'm going to rub your back. Get some of that military posture out of you."
Nathan arched an eyebrow. "A backrub? How... collegiate."
Peter said nothing, not taking Nathan's bait. He didn't feel like talking. Nathan obediently did as he was told, and lay face down with his chin on his crossed arms, offering up the starkly muscled planes of his back and the round, vulnerable swell of his ass. His olive skin was pale; he'd been spending too much of the summer indoors, wearing too much clothing. Next to Nathan, Peter's golden-brown tanned arms looked slender and savage.
Peter only allowed himself a brief moment to bite into the most sensitive, voluptuous curve of a buttock before he spread a little oil on his hands and began to work Nathan's lower back with his thumbs. Nathan didn't complain when Peter found a group of knotted muscles and dug in hard, even though it obviously hurt; he just sighed with immense relief when the tension was finally worked out.
"Yeah... Yeah, I think I need you in me," Nathan muttered.
"You think you do, or you know you do?" Peter kissed where he had bitten, then trailed his tongue down the cleft, up again, down further. Threatening. Teasing. So attuned to Nathan's body that he could feel Nathan's mouth briefly tighten from his hands on Nathan's back muscles. A little grimace of excitement; something else that they both did.
"I know I do. I know I need you in me. But first, I gotta suck you before you get any dirtier."
"But I'm so dirty already, Nathan. Can I even get dirtier?" Before Nathan could answer, Peter pushed his tongue all the way down with a shameless "Mmmm," pressing his lips against Nathan's sweet, immaculately clean entrance, rubbing the tip of his tongue against it until Nathan moaned out loud. One of the many essentials Peter provided - Nathan's wife was a frisky, spirited lady, but he seriously doubted that a nice Ivy League girl and mother of two would eat Nathan's ass. And Peter never did it for anyone else; never wanted to. It was for Nathan. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do, nothing he didn't want to do, didn't love to do for him. To him.
"Oh, Peter... God, stop it. Bring it here."
"Be careful," Peter said, climbing up next to Nathan's head, sitting on the pillows, legs spread and his stiff cock held in his hand, offering himself up. "I'm running a little hot. If you want it - "
"I get it. You just control yourself."
"I'm just sayin'. You spitting or swallowing these days?" Peter grinned, but he didn't get an answer because Nathan's mouth was already busy opening wide, and sliding down over Peter's cock, tongue swirling back and forth firmly but gently against Peter's most sensitive spot. They did everything to each other directly, without fumbling around; they knew by now what the other responded to, and how he responded. A tenative touch on Peter right then would have sent him spiralling out of control, and possibly remind him of someone else; some woman, relevant or otherwise. They kept their minds on each other when they were together; those other people were other people, and had nothing to do with this.
No one else touched either one of them the way they touched each other. No one else knew that small area on Peter's dick, an inch or two below the head, a little to the right, responded so thrillingly to the touch of a tongue, especially while being sucked. No one else knew how to sustain that pleasure without making Peter come instantly. Nathan had put years of research into it. Peter enjoyed the benefits, but understood that Nathan did it because he needed it, because he felt compelled to perfect it to some standard that had almost nothing to do with Peter himself.
The minstrations of Nathan's mouth were blessedly brief, and Peter sighed with relief when Nathan's mouth let him go after twenty or thirty seconds. Nathan's eyes remained closed, his eyelashes resting like dark butterflies on his flushed cheeks. "Just needed to feel that," he murmured. "I'll get you tomorrow. I'm gonna suck you till you're black and blue. I'm gonna wreck you in the morning."
"I'm gonna wreck you tonight. Calling me up like I don't have a life." Peter rummaged in his bag, and held up the two different bottles of lube. "Oh yeah, and... two months."
"Six," Nathan responded, tapping one of the bottles with his finger. Peter tossed the other back into his bag. "Would you do my next one?"
"No, man, let your physician handle that. I'm not going to hijack a lab just to give you private blood tests. It's really unethical." Peter squeezed out some lubricant across his fingers. "Although... I guess that doesn't really matter to you, does it?"
"You're talking," said Nathan, giving Peter a searching look, then burying his face in his arms again. The muscles in his ass gave an expectant twitch, then relaxed again.
"Yeah, sorry," Peter murmured, slicking his fingers where he had just licked, circling the pucker with his fingertip. Nathan trembled, his body visibly quivering with need. It made Peter's mouth water to see it. "Do you want it nice, or do you want it now?"
Nathan's sighed, "Make it hurt. Please."
Peter took a deep breath to calm himself, sliding a slippery finger inside Nathan, then following it almost immediately with his cock. Nathan wasn't ready at all; he gave a staggered cry of pain. Because he'd said "please", Peter stopped once he was inside, neither progressing nor retreating, but pressing his chest and his wrists against Nathan's body so Nathan could clearly feel his pounding heartbreat. Feel how fast Peter would be going, if he didn't care, if Nathan hadn't said "please." He could make it hurt enough to shut Nathan up all night.
But Peter understood. And he understood when Nathan swung his arm around to grip Peter's hand in his, when Nathan's back began to shift back and forth, that he wanted more. When Nathan dragged Peter's hand and wrist against his mouth, pressing Peter's fingers against the sensitive scars on his chin. When he bit off another yelp as Peter began to move, even slowly. Peter kissed the back of Nathan's neck and purred to him, "It hurts, huh? What you want - it hurts, huh? I know." Peter's hips picked up their pace, faster than Nathan could keep up with; Nathan settled for muffling his cries in the pillow. "We're alone," Peter insisted, pulling Nathan's head up by the hair, thrusting forward hard with his hips, wincing at the incredible pressure gripping down on his dick. "Remember? We're alone? If it hurts, I want to hear it. It's been too long since I heard it!"
"Ah, God, no, it doesn't hurt! It doesn't hurt!" Nathan moaned, the ecstatic tone of his voice and the quivering, wincing tension of his body telling two different stories. Peter withdrew, added a liberal layer of lube to his cock, and slid it in again, this time quite easily, and suddenly almost all of Nathan's tension was gone. "Oh, yes, that. That right there. Oh, I'm gonna fucking destroy your ass tomorrow..."
Peter pushed Nathan's head down, angled his hips up, and began to fuck him quickly, but not too hard; there might be time for that, but this wasn't it. He didn't want to hurt Nathan - cause him a little pain, sure. That was different. Right now, though, it was about getting off. He felt the climax rapidly building inside him, and he drove it forward, leaping for the moment when it happened. Peter hissed, "Oh, fuck yeah," and Nathan gave a despairing sigh as he felt the come spurting into him from Peter's twitching, throbbing cock. "Oh, you're sweet. God, that's good."
"You're not even making sense," Nathan mumbled, sliding out from under Peter, allowing Peter to collapse face-first right where Nathan had been. Peter turned over immediately, though, tossing his hair out of his face, staring up at Nathan expectantly with his eyes wide and hazy and shining. "You're fuckin' beautiful, you know that?" Nathan gave Peter another friendly little kiss, then crouched over him, wanking himself off with just his thumb and forefinger.
Peter smiled up crookedly. "Looks good, looks good," he murmured.
"You can get dirtier," Nathan promised, licking his lips, grimacing, throwing his head back and frowning into his orgasm, his abundant come spotting and striping Peter's stomach and chest. "Oh yeah, I'll make you dirtier. See?"
Peter smiled even wider, ready to tease Nathan for getting dirty himself when he inevitably lay down on top of Peter. Instead, Nathan winked, stood up, and put his robe back on. Before Peter could react, Nathan had gathered the two glasses, and spoke over his shoulder from the door. "So if you want to hear what's wrong, I'll be out on the terrace. And I'll open the Cragganmore 29-year."
Peter lay there alone in the guest room, covered in sweat and lube and come, shaking his head and sighing. "Not even a fuckin' thank you. So lame," he muttered to himself. "Why can't I have a normal family?"
END PART (1)
Note: Hope you like this! I plan to keep writing; no story, no end in sight. Please help me in wishing away the plot bunnies; they'll only get in the way.
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Petrellicest, alcohol use, power play
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: about 2500
A/N: First part of an open-ended Petrellicest exercise in sheer depravity. I got kicked by the pornfic-bunny! If slash or incest squicks you out, run at top speed in the other direction - I don't shy away from either. Set about a year before the events of the first episode.
Summary: Nathan needs Peter, this time. Peter understands; sometimes it's the other way around.
Heroes belongs to NBC/Universal, not me. I, however, am totally owned by Heroes.
It had been going on so long, neither of them remembered when it started. It was just one of those things they did. It didn't happen as often these days, now that their adult lives took them in different directions, but it did still happen; still needed to happen. They needed it, both of them, to stay sane. A ritual, in a secret society of two.
Ritual (1)
"Hey, Pete, it's your brother. Could you come over? I need to talk to you about something. Bring your overnights. I know it's spring break; we'll order in. Call when you're on your way."
Peter immediately deleted the voicemail and hung up with a tap of his fingernail. He understood the code. It was like arranging drug deals over the phone; it sounded meaningless to any eavesdropper. Nathan's voice sounded a little tight and weird. Like summoning Peter over was just another thing on his daily to-do list, and one that Nathan wasn't too thrilled about.
Still, Nathan had called him, and that meant Peter had to go, whether or not he felt like it. Peter had only once not responded to Nathan's summons (because he was so hung over he could barely move), about which Nathan was still annoyed. Years after the fact.
Nathan had never not responded to Peter's call.
Fortunately, Peter didn't have anything going on that night that he'd have to cancel. He packed his messenger bag with all the necessaries - running shoes, a change of shirt, underwear, socks, toothbrush, eye drops, two different brands of lube, unscented massage oil, aloe vera gel for the occasional, inevitable bruise. He looked in the mirror and noticed that he hadn't bothered to shave that morning, decided to leave it that way. Nathan could deal.
In the taxi, Peter called. "Hey, I'm ten minutes away."
"Took you long enough."
"Dude, what's your problem? Dinner getting cold?"
Nathan didn't have a comeback; he was obviously tense. "Need me to pay for the cab?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm broke till payday on Monday..."
"Typical." Nathan hung up. Peter smirked and slipped his phone back into his pocket, thinking, Right back atcha.
Nathan waited just inside the gates of his property, and gave the taxi driver a factory-crisp $100 bill without looking at him (and overpaying the fare by a good forty bucks). Peter thanked the driver and hopped out of the back seat. "What's up?" Peter asked. "Where's your gate security guy?"
"Staff night off."
"Oh," said Peter. "Heidi around?"
"At her mom's with the kids for the weekend." Nathan wasn't looking at Peter as they walked up the path, his profile etched against the dusky evening sky, the fading sunset still too bright for the lights to have come on. Despite the warmth left over from the hot day, he was still in shirtsleeves with the cuffs buttoned, silk tie still knotted against his throat.
"Just us, huh?"
"Yeah."
They went inside, and as soon as they were inside the door, Peter stroked his hand against Nathan's lower back, finding it a solid wall of muscular tension. "Hey, hey, Nathan, c'mere," Peter said, grabbing Nathan's shoulder, his damp hand wrinkling the fabric, and yanking his brother against him in a hug. Nathan reluctantly raised his arms to return the hug, but clearly wasn't in the mood to be embraced at the moment. Peter edged back and stared at Nathan; Nathan wouldn't meet his eyes. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Don't want to talk about it."
Peter countered quietly, "D'you want to fuck about it?"
No change of expression. "That's why I called you."
"Well, go take a shower," said Peter, starting to feel cranky. "Maybe you should do ten minutes on the treadmill, then take a shower, because you need to loosen the hell up. You never get make any attempts to relax before I get here, do you? You make me bully you into it... Whatever. Got anything to drink? You need that, too."
"Oh, that's very nurturing of you, Peter, getting me drunk." At least Nathan was being sarcastic now, however clumsily; he couldn't help but meet Peter's eyes, and when he saw Peter smiling at him, Nathan reluctantly smiled back. "All right. You know where the liquor cabinet is; please don't open anything that isn't already open, and don't pour anything older than 12 years."
Peter fixed one weak drink and one strong drink in identical glasses, then wandered through the enormous house, rapidly gulping down the weak drink, choosing a guest room at random. Lights low, but not off. He set his open bag at the side of the bed, then got took off his clothes and got into bed, lying perfectly still except for the finger and thumb that he gently, rhythmically tapped against the base of his dick. If he touched himself more, he'd be spilling all over the bedsheets before Nathan could ever find him.
As it was, Peter was almost fully erect by the time Nathan poked his head into the room. "What're you doing under there?" Nathan asked casually.
"I don't know," Peter replied. "Come find out."
Nathan picked up the strong drink and looked at it, then looking at the other, mostly-empty glass. He drank until both glasses had the same amount left over, blinking at Peter. "Was there any water in that scotch?" he asked.
"A splash," Peter replied, slurring a little, trying to sound tipsy, even though he was sober. He held up the covers, and Nathan wiggled out of his immaculate white terrycloth bathrobe and slid into bed.
Peter's hand immediately transferred itself to the base of Nathan's cock, and slid his leg between Nathan's. Nathan shuddered, arched his back, his hands on Peter's chest, stroking his nipples. Peter gave a loud sigh of relief. It was on. Now Nathan could quit pretending that this wasn't going to happen.
Peter rubbed his stubbly chin against Nathan's painstakingly clean-shaven one, kissed Nathan's scars, then kissed him briefly on the mouth. It was a kiss of pure affection, the kind they shared all the time, whenever they felt like it. They could do that in public - well, at least around their parents. They both glanced at each other's cocks, then met eyes, darting back and forth, asking unspoken questions. What do you want? What are you willing to let me do?
Peter made a decision first. "Okay, turn over," he said. "I'm going to rub your back. Get some of that military posture out of you."
Nathan arched an eyebrow. "A backrub? How... collegiate."
Peter said nothing, not taking Nathan's bait. He didn't feel like talking. Nathan obediently did as he was told, and lay face down with his chin on his crossed arms, offering up the starkly muscled planes of his back and the round, vulnerable swell of his ass. His olive skin was pale; he'd been spending too much of the summer indoors, wearing too much clothing. Next to Nathan, Peter's golden-brown tanned arms looked slender and savage.
Peter only allowed himself a brief moment to bite into the most sensitive, voluptuous curve of a buttock before he spread a little oil on his hands and began to work Nathan's lower back with his thumbs. Nathan didn't complain when Peter found a group of knotted muscles and dug in hard, even though it obviously hurt; he just sighed with immense relief when the tension was finally worked out.
"Yeah... Yeah, I think I need you in me," Nathan muttered.
"You think you do, or you know you do?" Peter kissed where he had bitten, then trailed his tongue down the cleft, up again, down further. Threatening. Teasing. So attuned to Nathan's body that he could feel Nathan's mouth briefly tighten from his hands on Nathan's back muscles. A little grimace of excitement; something else that they both did.
"I know I do. I know I need you in me. But first, I gotta suck you before you get any dirtier."
"But I'm so dirty already, Nathan. Can I even get dirtier?" Before Nathan could answer, Peter pushed his tongue all the way down with a shameless "Mmmm," pressing his lips against Nathan's sweet, immaculately clean entrance, rubbing the tip of his tongue against it until Nathan moaned out loud. One of the many essentials Peter provided - Nathan's wife was a frisky, spirited lady, but he seriously doubted that a nice Ivy League girl and mother of two would eat Nathan's ass. And Peter never did it for anyone else; never wanted to. It was for Nathan. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do, nothing he didn't want to do, didn't love to do for him. To him.
"Oh, Peter... God, stop it. Bring it here."
"Be careful," Peter said, climbing up next to Nathan's head, sitting on the pillows, legs spread and his stiff cock held in his hand, offering himself up. "I'm running a little hot. If you want it - "
"I get it. You just control yourself."
"I'm just sayin'. You spitting or swallowing these days?" Peter grinned, but he didn't get an answer because Nathan's mouth was already busy opening wide, and sliding down over Peter's cock, tongue swirling back and forth firmly but gently against Peter's most sensitive spot. They did everything to each other directly, without fumbling around; they knew by now what the other responded to, and how he responded. A tenative touch on Peter right then would have sent him spiralling out of control, and possibly remind him of someone else; some woman, relevant or otherwise. They kept their minds on each other when they were together; those other people were other people, and had nothing to do with this.
No one else touched either one of them the way they touched each other. No one else knew that small area on Peter's dick, an inch or two below the head, a little to the right, responded so thrillingly to the touch of a tongue, especially while being sucked. No one else knew how to sustain that pleasure without making Peter come instantly. Nathan had put years of research into it. Peter enjoyed the benefits, but understood that Nathan did it because he needed it, because he felt compelled to perfect it to some standard that had almost nothing to do with Peter himself.
The minstrations of Nathan's mouth were blessedly brief, and Peter sighed with relief when Nathan's mouth let him go after twenty or thirty seconds. Nathan's eyes remained closed, his eyelashes resting like dark butterflies on his flushed cheeks. "Just needed to feel that," he murmured. "I'll get you tomorrow. I'm gonna suck you till you're black and blue. I'm gonna wreck you in the morning."
"I'm gonna wreck you tonight. Calling me up like I don't have a life." Peter rummaged in his bag, and held up the two different bottles of lube. "Oh yeah, and... two months."
"Six," Nathan responded, tapping one of the bottles with his finger. Peter tossed the other back into his bag. "Would you do my next one?"
"No, man, let your physician handle that. I'm not going to hijack a lab just to give you private blood tests. It's really unethical." Peter squeezed out some lubricant across his fingers. "Although... I guess that doesn't really matter to you, does it?"
"You're talking," said Nathan, giving Peter a searching look, then burying his face in his arms again. The muscles in his ass gave an expectant twitch, then relaxed again.
"Yeah, sorry," Peter murmured, slicking his fingers where he had just licked, circling the pucker with his fingertip. Nathan trembled, his body visibly quivering with need. It made Peter's mouth water to see it. "Do you want it nice, or do you want it now?"
Nathan's sighed, "Make it hurt. Please."
Peter took a deep breath to calm himself, sliding a slippery finger inside Nathan, then following it almost immediately with his cock. Nathan wasn't ready at all; he gave a staggered cry of pain. Because he'd said "please", Peter stopped once he was inside, neither progressing nor retreating, but pressing his chest and his wrists against Nathan's body so Nathan could clearly feel his pounding heartbreat. Feel how fast Peter would be going, if he didn't care, if Nathan hadn't said "please." He could make it hurt enough to shut Nathan up all night.
But Peter understood. And he understood when Nathan swung his arm around to grip Peter's hand in his, when Nathan's back began to shift back and forth, that he wanted more. When Nathan dragged Peter's hand and wrist against his mouth, pressing Peter's fingers against the sensitive scars on his chin. When he bit off another yelp as Peter began to move, even slowly. Peter kissed the back of Nathan's neck and purred to him, "It hurts, huh? What you want - it hurts, huh? I know." Peter's hips picked up their pace, faster than Nathan could keep up with; Nathan settled for muffling his cries in the pillow. "We're alone," Peter insisted, pulling Nathan's head up by the hair, thrusting forward hard with his hips, wincing at the incredible pressure gripping down on his dick. "Remember? We're alone? If it hurts, I want to hear it. It's been too long since I heard it!"
"Ah, God, no, it doesn't hurt! It doesn't hurt!" Nathan moaned, the ecstatic tone of his voice and the quivering, wincing tension of his body telling two different stories. Peter withdrew, added a liberal layer of lube to his cock, and slid it in again, this time quite easily, and suddenly almost all of Nathan's tension was gone. "Oh, yes, that. That right there. Oh, I'm gonna fucking destroy your ass tomorrow..."
Peter pushed Nathan's head down, angled his hips up, and began to fuck him quickly, but not too hard; there might be time for that, but this wasn't it. He didn't want to hurt Nathan - cause him a little pain, sure. That was different. Right now, though, it was about getting off. He felt the climax rapidly building inside him, and he drove it forward, leaping for the moment when it happened. Peter hissed, "Oh, fuck yeah," and Nathan gave a despairing sigh as he felt the come spurting into him from Peter's twitching, throbbing cock. "Oh, you're sweet. God, that's good."
"You're not even making sense," Nathan mumbled, sliding out from under Peter, allowing Peter to collapse face-first right where Nathan had been. Peter turned over immediately, though, tossing his hair out of his face, staring up at Nathan expectantly with his eyes wide and hazy and shining. "You're fuckin' beautiful, you know that?" Nathan gave Peter another friendly little kiss, then crouched over him, wanking himself off with just his thumb and forefinger.
Peter smiled up crookedly. "Looks good, looks good," he murmured.
"You can get dirtier," Nathan promised, licking his lips, grimacing, throwing his head back and frowning into his orgasm, his abundant come spotting and striping Peter's stomach and chest. "Oh yeah, I'll make you dirtier. See?"
Peter smiled even wider, ready to tease Nathan for getting dirty himself when he inevitably lay down on top of Peter. Instead, Nathan winked, stood up, and put his robe back on. Before Peter could react, Nathan had gathered the two glasses, and spoke over his shoulder from the door. "So if you want to hear what's wrong, I'll be out on the terrace. And I'll open the Cragganmore 29-year."
Peter lay there alone in the guest room, covered in sweat and lube and come, shaking his head and sighing. "Not even a fuckin' thank you. So lame," he muttered to himself. "Why can't I have a normal family?"
END PART (1)
Note: Hope you like this! I plan to keep writing; no story, no end in sight. Please help me in wishing away the plot bunnies; they'll only get in the way.