Heroes: a hunger that's insatiable (Nathan/Peter, Mohinder/Peter, NC17) for poisontaster
Title: a hunger that's insatiable
Characters: Mohinder/Peter, Nathan/Peter, hints of Mohinder/Nathan/Peter
Rating/Warning: NC17, incest, slash.
Word Count: 4318
Spoilers: general character spoilers, but otherwise, completely AU.
Disclaimer: Oh, I wish.
Summary: Peter needs Nathan, and Nathan's not playing ball. Peter takes matters into his own hands, and jealous Nathan ensues, and pursues.
Notes: Beta and massive handholding by my lovely lovely ficwife just_katarin, and audienced by shuiraya and toxictattoo. Thank you! (And you too nymeria for letting me porn at you after midnight.) This story is for the beautiful poisontaster, and I'm honored to have been asked to write it.
All of their real business gets done in private: coded text messages, Catlock encrypted email, Matt-relays, Peter-dreams, Hiro-timedrops, Isaac-paintings, occasionally Nathan-flights if two of them have to talk, but that's risky and they avoid it.
They meet in public, pretending secrecy poorly, so they can be followed, monitored. Mohinder suggested it; he's surprisingly good at the cloak-and-dagger aspect, and Peter thinks that's probably because he has no "ability" to fall back on. Nathan grasped the necessity at once. It's all politics to him. It was Hiro who explained in excited tones both that they should pretend to be secretive about the meetings, and that they should fail at it. "If our enemies think we are stupid, they will underestimate us."
All of which is just outstanding for keeping them alive while Mohinder tries to unlock the puzzle of their DNA but is doing nothing for getting Peter fucked. Maybe he should feel bad about thinking about sex with his brother while they're trying to keep Mr. Bennet's organization off the scent, but, hey, the idiot routine works for Bruce Wayne. And it's not like he and Claire are saving the world at the moment.
Across the initial-carved tabletop from him, she warms her hands on a mug of hot chocolate and rolls her eyes. "What. Ever. Niki is obviously Faith, and I am totally Buffy."
Eyebrows arched and lips thinned to an annoyed frown, she looks ridiculously like Nathan. Her father. And how weird is that? It probably says something about him that their chemistry bothers him more because of her age than because she's his niece.
He smiles, but he's watching Nathan and Mohinder argue in a booth across the dive bar they rented out for the night. "Who's Willow then?"
"Hana." And the oh my god, you're so clueless couldn't be clearer if she'd actually said it.
"Xander?"
"Zach, duh. And Mohinder is Giles, Claude is Spike and you're Angel." Dainty fingers that can't be broken lift the mug to her lips. She drinks, challenging him over the rim with Nathan's eyes.
His dick lurches at the look. Down boy, one incestuous relationship is enough, don't you think? Well, it would be if it were more incestuous and less relationship. He scowls Nathan's direction before answering her. "Gee, thanks. I always wanted to destroy the world."
Her eyes shadow then, shoulders stiffen. "I didn't mean… God, why can't I just shut up?"
Shit, he hadn't meant for her to get upset. Poking her forearm, he grins, then tilts his head to let his bangs fall in his face. "Hey, no, it's cool. I've got the emo hair and everything, right?"
Her eyes brighten, and his grin turns lopsided. She's beautiful when she smiles. "Angel broods more. And he uses more product."
"Guess that's something." Too bad his Cordelia has a Wes or whatever, though Isaac's more like Gunn really. Not that he's interested; sharing Simone is a bad solution to the problem of his empty ass anyway. "Who's Nathan?"
"Buffy's dad."
He can't blame her for the hint of bitterness in her tone. Sure, Nathan's here now, but the Hank Summers routine had sucked. And having Nathan shine on you when it suits him blows. Not in the good way.
Hiro drops into the seat next to Claire, eyes flashing geeky mischief as he adjusts his glasses. "Nathan is Scott Summers."
There's a twisted joke there, about Buffy, the Summers men, Jean Grey and incest, but Peter can't put the pieces together. Because in the other booth, Mohinder's staring Nathan down, Nathan's running a finger against his bottom lip in thoughtful irritation, and Peter can't make his brain move past the sense-memory of that finger on his mouth.
Well, he can but the only place it's going is Scott/Jean/Professor X, and that's so not helping. "Maybe." He clears his throat of the sudden thickness. "If you'll excuse me, I think Giles needs an intervention."
Claire rolls her eyes again when he gets up. Hiro's expression turns very earnest. "I read a story about Giles and Angel on the internet-"
At Peter's glare, they both burst into giggles. "Giles" has been politely "courting" him for weeks, and "Darla" (Nathan's more his sire than their dad ever was, which makes him and Claire like brother and sister and that's too weird to contemplate) hasn't fucked him in over a month.
It's kind of screwed up that his brother somehow comes out a hot, pushy blonde in this scenario, but considering his daughter, maybe it's fitting.
xxx
"Can't you apply for some kind of a grant?" Nathan's saying when Peter sets his hands on the edge of the table.
Mohinder glances up, expression warming when their eyes meet. "Hello, Peter."
Nathan doesn't bother. He's too busy scowling at Mohinder.
"Giles, Darla."
That gets Nathan's attention. He turns his go away, the grownups are talking look on Peter. "This isn't a game, Pete."
"Yeah, it kinda is." And not just the meeting. Dipping his head a little, he gives Mohinder the seductive smile that makes Nathan growl and softens his voice. "Slide over?"
His jacket's on the seat beside him, and Mohinder makes a deliberate point of transferring it to the other side before making room. For as slow as he's taking the whole issue of the chemistry between them, Mohinder never hides his interest.
"Thanks." He slips into the booth, sliding over until his thigh and shoulder press against Mohinder's. It feels good to touch him, and not just because it makes Nathan scowl that much harder. "So. Paint me red and call me shocked, you two are fighting again. What is it this time?"
"Money," Nathan snaps.
They shouldn't be talking about this in public. It skirts too close to things they don't want people to know. "If I pay for drinks, does that solve everything?" Pointed stare for Nathan, while he rubs the side of his hand against Mohinder's leg.
That earns him a tortured look from Mohinder, and Peter almost laughs. He'd have gone to his knees for Mohinder minutes after they met. It's Mohinder's sense of propriety that's kept them from doing so much as kissing.
But it's not Mohinder he's interested in tonight, not really. What he wants, he can only get from Nathan, and it's starting to look, from the thin white line of Nathan's mouth and the tic in his jaw, like he just might get it too. "Well, does it?" He slouches down into the bench, wiggling his hips to get comfortable on the uneven padding.
"Don't be cute. You know what we're talking about."
"Yeah, Nate, I do." It's Nathan, so he doesn't have to tilt his head and arch his eyebrows, but he does anyway.
Mohinder gets the wrong idea, or maybe it's the right one, because he lays his hand over Peter's on his thigh. There's a zing of heat, and Peter licks his lips; maybe he can get what he wants even if Nathan's not going to play ball.
"I was just about to explain to your brother that grants come with strings. Supervision and reporting. If I have to do two layers of research, one public, one private, I'm no better off than I am without the grant money."
The two of them know better, but he can't say anything without alerting anyone who might be listening to their deceit. Then again, what the hell, it's not like their enemies don't know Mohinder's researching the genetic sequence. He only drives the cab because of his father and…well, that's an idea. "Nathan can hire you as a driver for his unstable, flight-risk of a brother." He puts on his sweetest, most disarming smile, to offset the barb to his words, and Nathan buys it hook, line and sinker.
"Not a chance."
"Actually, the idea has merit," Mohinder begins. "An explanation for the money, and it provides an acceptable excuse for all of us being seen together in public, as well as a location we can carefully monitor-"
"I said no." Jaw working, Nathan glares at them both, which provokes an irritable sigh from Mohinder who pinches the bridge of his nose.
Peter can almost hear Nathan thinking he's not letting him and Mohinder spend that kind of time alone together. He can almost hear Mohinder trying to figure out why he's fighting Peter's brother for his attention. Too bad he hasn't mastered Matt's abilities yet.
Bangs falling in his eyes, Peter shrugs and fiddles with the edge of Mohinder's damp cocktail napkin. "I've got money Dad left me. I can hire him myself."
"Mohinder, if you'll excuse us. I need to speak to my brother."
The cold snap in Nathan's voice gives him pause, but he's got to play this one to the end. If he doesn't, Nathan will shove him around, growl in his face, but he'll find some excuse not to give him what they both want.
"Later, Nathan." He adds a meaningful look and enough heat to tell Nathan just exactly what he's hoping will happen later, then turns to Mohinder. "Would you want to drive me to the art theater tomorrow? I hear the Pan's Labyrinth is fantastic. You said you liked foreign films, right?" Voice soft and flirty, he watches through lowered eyelashes as Mohinder's expression moves from annoyed to flustered.
"I…Yes, I do like them. I'm flattered you remember."
He might be playing it up for Nathan's sake, but that voice always gets him, and the heat in his eyes is real. Mohinder strokes his thumb over the back of Peter's hand, a small but significant expression of desire and affection. The sort he's been waiting almost a month for. If anything, that makes him feel guilty. He wants to be with Mohinder, but he needs Nathan, and that makes everything complicated.
Whatever. It's tomorrow's problem. "So, is that a yes?" he asks, and between Nathan's hard glare and Mohinder's fuck me eyes, Peter's dick pulses against the seam of his jeans. When that summons the thought of Scott/Jean/Xavier again, he has to rake his teeth over his bottom lip to keep from groaning.
Mohinder slants a quick look, almost a challenge at Nathan, then his lips curve in a way that makes Peter think about sucking him off - it probably ought to make him think of being sucked off but his threesome fantasies have him trapped between two hard dicks, and he likes Nathan's in his ass.
"I'd like that."
Me too, he thinks, but before he can answer, Nathan slams his palms on the table and pushes out of the booth. "We'll discuss the arrangements later. Peter. Mohinder. I'm going to see my daughter."
No one ever accused Nathan of being subtle, but even from him, that's harsh. Peter's cheeks burn and part of him wants to chase after Nathan, but he won't give Nathan that victory, or walk away from Mohinder when things are going so well. Instead, he blinks slowly, lets disgust twist his mouth, then sort of melts against Mohinder.
xxx
They're leaning up against Mohinder's cab, he and Mohinder, saying goodnight. Even with gloves, the cold makes his fingers ache. Warmed by the promise in Mohinder's eyes, his breath makes a cloud between their faces.
If he tilts his head, their mouths will touch, and he's tired of waiting for Mohinder to make the move. When he wets his lips, Mohinder's eyes darken, so he lifts his chin.
"Our first date isn't until tomorrow," Mohinder chides, but his voice is warm and he is smiling.
Peter shrugs, grins against his mouth. "I like to mix things up."
"Somehow…" The wet heat of Mohinder's breath teases his lips. "I believe that."
Guilt flips his stomach, but want replaces it when the kiss he's been chasing for three weeks begins. And maybe Mohinder has been a gentleman, but he doesn't kiss like one. He kisses slow and sultry, taking Peter's mouth with aching thoroughness. First the press of lips parting to cover his, then the slick slide of his tongue seeking entrance; not like he needs to ask, because Peter gives up a soft moan, opening for him almost immediately.
Mohinder's hand is just sliding into his hair, when someone - Nathan - clears his throat, and everything comes to a halt. "Exactly what do you think you're doing?"
Shutting his eyes against the assault of seventeen different kinds of could you possibly have worse timing?, Peter pulls his mouth away, but his gloved hand seeks Mohinder's and squeezes.
Mohinder's thumb presses into his palm. "This hardly concerns you, Nathan."
If he felt guilty before… "It's all right, Mohinder. He's right. We probably shouldn't be kissing where everyone and their brother can see us. I wasn't thinking."
"You never think, Pete." Nathan opens the door to Mohinder's cab and grabs him roughly by the shoulder. "Get in. Both of you." There isn't an ounce of give in Nathan's voice, and Peter's heard that tone far too often to disobey. Even if the idea has his dick leaking in his jeans.
He scrambles into the backseat, but Mohinder's not so quick to comply. Lifting his head to meet Nathan's gaze, Mohinder breathes out a slow ten count. Peter knows. He counts. It's kind of hot to have them fighting over him. Scratch kind of. Very. Unbelievably. Hot.
It doesn't even matter which one of them fucks him tonight. As long as one of them does.
Palm open, Mohinder waves Nathan into the car, and it’s the most elegant turnabout he's ever seen anyone pull on his brother. "Where would you like me to take you?"
x x x
Peter hasn't said a word since getting in the cab, and that's due in no insignificant part to the fact that Nathan's got his arm around his shoulders while he watches Mohinder in the rearview mirror. Possibly it looks innocent, brotherly, but if so, it's only because Mohinder can't feel Peter's heart thumping against his ribs, or see the hand Nathan warmed in his then set on his thigh.
He'd pull it back into his own lap, but that would only call attention to it. Or it might make Nathan do something more obvious. He considers stretching his fingers across the stretched-tight wool of Nathan's trousers and stroking the line of his erection instead.
What would Nathan do? What would Mohinder think if he saw? What would Nathan do if someone found out? He's not sure if he's more terrified or charged up.
When they pull up outside Peter's building, he still hasn't decided. And now he'll have to speak, even if his mouth feels like the dentist just swabbed it down with cotton before applying anesthetic.
He leans away from Nathan, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, but Nathan smacks his wrist. "I've got that." Giving Mohinder his sleaziest politician smile, Nathan leans over the back of the seat. "If you'll excuse us. I'm going to see my brother upstairs, and then we'll need to talk. You'll wait here."
Goddamnit, Nathan. That's not fair. For the first time, he actually wants to punch Nathan for this possessive posturing bullshit. Then Mohinder's jaw tightens and his eyes go flat, and Peter's not sure it's Mohinder he needs to worry about.
"I'll not. I have work to do, but I'll gladly call you another cab. I'm certain one will arrive before you're ready to leave." The way he says it, the way he's glancing between him and Nathan in the mirror, Peter has to wonder whether he's figured it out.
"I'm not interested in a cab. You indicated you would be interested in the position of our chauffeur. You're hired, and you begin tonight." With that, Nathan gives Peter a nudge toward the door. "There's an all-night newsstand and coffee-shop three streets over-" Oh, fuck no. There are limits. He steps down hard on Nathan's foot, and Nathan arches an eyebrow at him. "-if you need a hot drink to stay warm without wasting gas."
x x x
They're barely through the door when Nathan grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and slams him into the wall. The force of it knocks the wind out of him. His keys fall to the floor with a clatter, then Nathan's mouth is on his. Fierce, ruthless, biting at his lips and forcing him to open.
It's everything he wanted. Except now he doesn't. He shoves back, gets enough space to bring his hand up to his mouth. It comes away bloody. "Jesus, Nathan."
"Isn't this what you wanted, Pete? Me to show you who you belong to?" Nathan's not really asking. He's already reaching for his belt.
"Yeah, maybe before you-"
"Before I interrupted your little tête-à-tête with your boyfriend?" His eyes match his tone, cold and sneering.
He doesn't care. He's shaking. "Fuck you, Nathan. You have Heidi-"
"So go fuck Simone." Nathan's pants fall, and he shoves down his boxers.
God, Nathan's hard, and, damn it, Peter wants him. Wants to be spitted on his brother's dick. He shouldn't but he does. It's so screwed up. "You didn't have to talk to Mohinder like that."
"You should've thought of that before you decided to use him to get to me. Get undressed, Pete."
His face flames, because Nathan's right. Mohinder deserves better. Fingers on his belt buckle, he looks at his brother from under his bangs. "You still shouldn't have taken it out on him."
Nathan rolls his eyes, and if it weren't for the fact that his jaw is set square and tight, it'd be almost funny. Bare-ass naked, cock jutting out, and his eyes rolling white like his sixteen year-old daughter's. "He'll get over it, or we'll fight. It won't be the first time."
Or the last, which is why he and Nathan are such a mess. There's always something or someone to come between them, and that's no more fair to Nathan or him than it is to Mohinder. He shucks his jeans down, steps out of them, not bothering to hide that he's leaking all over his boxer-briefs when he tugs them down, too. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well, it's a little late for that, Pete." Nathan closes on him, forcing his thigh between Peter's legs. So twisted and tangled he doesn't know which way is up or down, except he knows he needs Nathan, Peter, gasps, biting his lip. "What did you think, that I'd just let him have you?"
One hand curls around the back of his neck. Under his jacket, the other grips Peter's hip, tugging him forward. Nathan's breath fans Peter's cheeks, and already his eyelids feel weighted, his cock heavy and tight.
"Answer me, or I'm leaving." As if to emphasize that he will do it, the hand on Peter's hip falls away.
"No, Nathan…please. It's just…" He grabs two fistfuls of shirt, pulling him back. Nathan growls, low and soft, and Peter lets go, smoothing down the shirt front with sweaty palms. "It's just been a long time." Head up, eyes wide, he pleads, "I needed you."
Bending low over Peter's mouth, Nathan looks him right in the eyes. "Next time, just ask."
He keeps on moving, bypassing Peter's lips, and Peter almost whines with his need. Then Nathan sinks his teeth into Peter's pulse, and he does whine -- up on his toes with the rush of pain and tears swimming in his eyes. "I did, I tried."
"Try harder. And don't call me 'Darla'. Now turn around."
He wants to protest. Tell Nathan tonight wasn't the first time, but Nathan had been so busy. But it doesn't matter, not anymore. Nathan's right here, giving him what he needs. "Whatever you want, Nathan, anything," he breathes, already moving to face the wall.
Almost gentle now, Nathan strips his jacket off. "That's right, little brother." He leans into Peter, sliding his leaking cock between his thighs. His mouth hot over the shell of Peter's ear, Nathan croons, coaxes, "Right now, I want you to come."
When his fist wraps around Peter's cock, it's all Peter can do not whimper, it feels so good. "Oh god."
Nathan's hand slides down to the root, and Peter bucks, hard, and whines low in his throat. Then it's back up, thumb over the head to gather his precome and slick it back over the shaft. "Then I'm going to open you wide and fuck you raw. You're going to beg me for it, and thank me when it's over."
And just like that, he's at the edge. Nathan knows it, too, because he spits on his fingers, and forces two into Peter's unfucked, unprepped hole. "Hurts, god, fuck, it hurts." Hurts but he needs it, oh god, he needs this, to be stretched wide and quivering around his brother's fingers, his dick. Whatever Nathan wants.
"Good. You'll remember." Harsh, hot breath against his throat, while Nathan's fingers piston in and out. He grips the base of Peter's cock, thumb and forefinger keeping him from coming, even though his sac's drawn up tight and his hips burn with it. "What do I want you to remember, Pete?"
He can't think, can barely breathe, but he forces out, "Yours. Yours, I'm yours."
"That's right." Nathan's hand twists, palm up, and his fingers graze Peter's prostate. White light blazes behind Peter's eyes; he keens while Nathan spits in his palm, then works a third finger into Peter's abused hole. "What else?"
"God, oh, god… I don't know, let me come, Nathan, fuck me, I don't know. Please."
"Don't play me, little brother." Nathan slams all three fingers deep and holds them there, wedged tight. He's stuffed and mounted on his brother's hand, dick so hard it aches. He can't move, can't come, can't do anything Nathan doesn't want him to do. "Don't play me, Pete. You'll lose."
"O-kay." It comes out half hiccough, half sob.
Nathan jacks his cock once, fast. "What's that?"
"Okay, okay, god…yours, I'm yours, I won't play you, jesuschristNathanletmecome." He presses his face into his forearm, fingernails clawing at the wall. "Please."
"Of course, Peter. Don't I always take care of you?" Nathan sounds so calm, so rational, Peter wants to cry. He's going to die if he doesn't come, and Nathan's barely breathing hard.
But then his mouth clamps down over Peter's throat again, and his fist is a blur over Peter's cock. His hips rock, driving his hand forward and up into Peter, and when Nathan growls, "do it," against his neck, Peter's already there.
Everything stops. His ass clenches around Nathan's fingers. His balls draw tight. He breaks with a sob, and then he is coming. Shooting hard and fast, thick hot bursts into the cup of Nathan's palm.
"Beg for it." Nathan's voice is hoarse, raw when he pulls his fingers free.
Peter keens for the loss. He's still shaking, still seeing spots, but this is what Nathan wants. What they both need to make it right. "Fuck me, Nathan. God, please."
The heat of his hand moves away. Slippery sounds of his come on Nathan's dick, and then there's no more waiting. Nathan's cock fills his ass in a single, bruising thrust.
It's good. It's perfect. He's done, emptied, and now Nathan's filling him up again. Making him his with every brutal stroke.
And it is brutal. Nathan reams him, thick cock spitting him and forcing him wide. Arms up, bracing him, all Peter can do is take it and take it and take it. He can't push back, can't move away, can only grunt and moan and be Nathan's.
Nathan's fingers grip his hips, jerk him back hard against his groin. The next thrust makes Peter's eyes tear again, or maybe it was the last. His cheek wets his forearm, but it's not pain. It's relief. "Needed you, Nathan, needed you so much."
His brother moans, fucks deep into his ass. "I know." He stills, then soft lips brush the sweaty nape of Peter's neck. "Need you too," he whispers, confesses, then comes without a sound.
Peter lifts his head, catches the corner of Nathan's mouth in a soft kiss. "Thank you."
x x x
He didn't want to dress and come back down, but Nathan's right. It looks less suspicious with him seeing Nathan off. Not to mention that he owes Mohinder an apology, even if he can't say what for.
So here they stand, Nathan's arm around his shoulders, his ass full of Nathan's come, and the collar turned up on his jacket to hide the bruises from Nathan's mouth.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long," Nathan is saying.
Mohinder watches them both, dark eyes hard and cold.
They warm when Peter dips his head, giving a shy but genuine smile. He's not sure what he's going to do, but he wants to make this work with Mohinder. He needs more than a once a month tête-à-tête with his brother. In his saner moments, Nathan agrees. "We had more to talk about than we thought. I'm really sorry, Mohinder."
His hands tighten on the steering wheel, then loosen again. They slide from the top to the bottom of the wheel, and his thumb ring glints in the moonlight. Mohinder exhales slowly, then nods. "I am being paid, and the newsstand unexpectedly has excellent chai."
Nathan squeezes Peter's shoulders and it feels like a blessing. "Next time, we'll invite you up."
Peter slants Nathan a look, and Nathan smiles. Just like that, Peter's thinking about Scott, Jean and Professor X again. "I'd like that."
Maybe he should feel bad for thinking about sex with his brother and his new 'boyfriend' when they're trying to apologize, but they do all their real business in private. And it's not like any of them are saving the world at the moment.
Extended Notes: So, the fabulous poisontaster is having a bad time RL, and nymeria being of the awesome, schemed with mona1347 who is also of the awesome and having a birthday today (happy birthday, Mona!), to do a week of porn for her. Mona and Kyra found the five other writers - but who are they? Well... I'm one of them. But who are the others? Here are the first two:
nymeria wrote Riding in the Midnight Blue (Supernatural, Sam/Dean, NC17) on Sunday.
merepersiflage wrote Silence Between Promises (Supernatural, Sam/Dean, NC17) on Monday.
Mona's obviously the fourth, but for the others, you'll just have to wait and see.
Couldn't help throwing in the M/P, Erin. Hope you forgive me for it, and hopefully this satisfies your craving for Nathan/Peter; Peter NEEDS Nathan to pay attention to him. And takes matters into his own hands. Jealous!Nathan a plus.
I ♥ you.
Characters: Mohinder/Peter, Nathan/Peter, hints of Mohinder/Nathan/Peter
Rating/Warning: NC17, incest, slash.
Word Count: 4318
Spoilers: general character spoilers, but otherwise, completely AU.
Disclaimer: Oh, I wish.
Summary: Peter needs Nathan, and Nathan's not playing ball. Peter takes matters into his own hands, and jealous Nathan ensues, and pursues.
Notes: Beta and massive handholding by my lovely lovely ficwife just_katarin, and audienced by shuiraya and toxictattoo. Thank you! (And you too nymeria for letting me porn at you after midnight.) This story is for the beautiful poisontaster, and I'm honored to have been asked to write it.
All of their real business gets done in private: coded text messages, Catlock encrypted email, Matt-relays, Peter-dreams, Hiro-timedrops, Isaac-paintings, occasionally Nathan-flights if two of them have to talk, but that's risky and they avoid it.
They meet in public, pretending secrecy poorly, so they can be followed, monitored. Mohinder suggested it; he's surprisingly good at the cloak-and-dagger aspect, and Peter thinks that's probably because he has no "ability" to fall back on. Nathan grasped the necessity at once. It's all politics to him. It was Hiro who explained in excited tones both that they should pretend to be secretive about the meetings, and that they should fail at it. "If our enemies think we are stupid, they will underestimate us."
All of which is just outstanding for keeping them alive while Mohinder tries to unlock the puzzle of their DNA but is doing nothing for getting Peter fucked. Maybe he should feel bad about thinking about sex with his brother while they're trying to keep Mr. Bennet's organization off the scent, but, hey, the idiot routine works for Bruce Wayne. And it's not like he and Claire are saving the world at the moment.
Across the initial-carved tabletop from him, she warms her hands on a mug of hot chocolate and rolls her eyes. "What. Ever. Niki is obviously Faith, and I am totally Buffy."
Eyebrows arched and lips thinned to an annoyed frown, she looks ridiculously like Nathan. Her father. And how weird is that? It probably says something about him that their chemistry bothers him more because of her age than because she's his niece.
He smiles, but he's watching Nathan and Mohinder argue in a booth across the dive bar they rented out for the night. "Who's Willow then?"
"Hana." And the oh my god, you're so clueless couldn't be clearer if she'd actually said it.
"Xander?"
"Zach, duh. And Mohinder is Giles, Claude is Spike and you're Angel." Dainty fingers that can't be broken lift the mug to her lips. She drinks, challenging him over the rim with Nathan's eyes.
His dick lurches at the look. Down boy, one incestuous relationship is enough, don't you think? Well, it would be if it were more incestuous and less relationship. He scowls Nathan's direction before answering her. "Gee, thanks. I always wanted to destroy the world."
Her eyes shadow then, shoulders stiffen. "I didn't mean… God, why can't I just shut up?"
Shit, he hadn't meant for her to get upset. Poking her forearm, he grins, then tilts his head to let his bangs fall in his face. "Hey, no, it's cool. I've got the emo hair and everything, right?"
Her eyes brighten, and his grin turns lopsided. She's beautiful when she smiles. "Angel broods more. And he uses more product."
"Guess that's something." Too bad his Cordelia has a Wes or whatever, though Isaac's more like Gunn really. Not that he's interested; sharing Simone is a bad solution to the problem of his empty ass anyway. "Who's Nathan?"
"Buffy's dad."
He can't blame her for the hint of bitterness in her tone. Sure, Nathan's here now, but the Hank Summers routine had sucked. And having Nathan shine on you when it suits him blows. Not in the good way.
Hiro drops into the seat next to Claire, eyes flashing geeky mischief as he adjusts his glasses. "Nathan is Scott Summers."
There's a twisted joke there, about Buffy, the Summers men, Jean Grey and incest, but Peter can't put the pieces together. Because in the other booth, Mohinder's staring Nathan down, Nathan's running a finger against his bottom lip in thoughtful irritation, and Peter can't make his brain move past the sense-memory of that finger on his mouth.
Well, he can but the only place it's going is Scott/Jean/Professor X, and that's so not helping. "Maybe." He clears his throat of the sudden thickness. "If you'll excuse me, I think Giles needs an intervention."
Claire rolls her eyes again when he gets up. Hiro's expression turns very earnest. "I read a story about Giles and Angel on the internet-"
At Peter's glare, they both burst into giggles. "Giles" has been politely "courting" him for weeks, and "Darla" (Nathan's more his sire than their dad ever was, which makes him and Claire like brother and sister and that's too weird to contemplate) hasn't fucked him in over a month.
It's kind of screwed up that his brother somehow comes out a hot, pushy blonde in this scenario, but considering his daughter, maybe it's fitting.
xxx
"Can't you apply for some kind of a grant?" Nathan's saying when Peter sets his hands on the edge of the table.
Mohinder glances up, expression warming when their eyes meet. "Hello, Peter."
Nathan doesn't bother. He's too busy scowling at Mohinder.
"Giles, Darla."
That gets Nathan's attention. He turns his go away, the grownups are talking look on Peter. "This isn't a game, Pete."
"Yeah, it kinda is." And not just the meeting. Dipping his head a little, he gives Mohinder the seductive smile that makes Nathan growl and softens his voice. "Slide over?"
His jacket's on the seat beside him, and Mohinder makes a deliberate point of transferring it to the other side before making room. For as slow as he's taking the whole issue of the chemistry between them, Mohinder never hides his interest.
"Thanks." He slips into the booth, sliding over until his thigh and shoulder press against Mohinder's. It feels good to touch him, and not just because it makes Nathan scowl that much harder. "So. Paint me red and call me shocked, you two are fighting again. What is it this time?"
"Money," Nathan snaps.
They shouldn't be talking about this in public. It skirts too close to things they don't want people to know. "If I pay for drinks, does that solve everything?" Pointed stare for Nathan, while he rubs the side of his hand against Mohinder's leg.
That earns him a tortured look from Mohinder, and Peter almost laughs. He'd have gone to his knees for Mohinder minutes after they met. It's Mohinder's sense of propriety that's kept them from doing so much as kissing.
But it's not Mohinder he's interested in tonight, not really. What he wants, he can only get from Nathan, and it's starting to look, from the thin white line of Nathan's mouth and the tic in his jaw, like he just might get it too. "Well, does it?" He slouches down into the bench, wiggling his hips to get comfortable on the uneven padding.
"Don't be cute. You know what we're talking about."
"Yeah, Nate, I do." It's Nathan, so he doesn't have to tilt his head and arch his eyebrows, but he does anyway.
Mohinder gets the wrong idea, or maybe it's the right one, because he lays his hand over Peter's on his thigh. There's a zing of heat, and Peter licks his lips; maybe he can get what he wants even if Nathan's not going to play ball.
"I was just about to explain to your brother that grants come with strings. Supervision and reporting. If I have to do two layers of research, one public, one private, I'm no better off than I am without the grant money."
The two of them know better, but he can't say anything without alerting anyone who might be listening to their deceit. Then again, what the hell, it's not like their enemies don't know Mohinder's researching the genetic sequence. He only drives the cab because of his father and…well, that's an idea. "Nathan can hire you as a driver for his unstable, flight-risk of a brother." He puts on his sweetest, most disarming smile, to offset the barb to his words, and Nathan buys it hook, line and sinker.
"Not a chance."
"Actually, the idea has merit," Mohinder begins. "An explanation for the money, and it provides an acceptable excuse for all of us being seen together in public, as well as a location we can carefully monitor-"
"I said no." Jaw working, Nathan glares at them both, which provokes an irritable sigh from Mohinder who pinches the bridge of his nose.
Peter can almost hear Nathan thinking he's not letting him and Mohinder spend that kind of time alone together. He can almost hear Mohinder trying to figure out why he's fighting Peter's brother for his attention. Too bad he hasn't mastered Matt's abilities yet.
Bangs falling in his eyes, Peter shrugs and fiddles with the edge of Mohinder's damp cocktail napkin. "I've got money Dad left me. I can hire him myself."
"Mohinder, if you'll excuse us. I need to speak to my brother."
The cold snap in Nathan's voice gives him pause, but he's got to play this one to the end. If he doesn't, Nathan will shove him around, growl in his face, but he'll find some excuse not to give him what they both want.
"Later, Nathan." He adds a meaningful look and enough heat to tell Nathan just exactly what he's hoping will happen later, then turns to Mohinder. "Would you want to drive me to the art theater tomorrow? I hear the Pan's Labyrinth is fantastic. You said you liked foreign films, right?" Voice soft and flirty, he watches through lowered eyelashes as Mohinder's expression moves from annoyed to flustered.
"I…Yes, I do like them. I'm flattered you remember."
He might be playing it up for Nathan's sake, but that voice always gets him, and the heat in his eyes is real. Mohinder strokes his thumb over the back of Peter's hand, a small but significant expression of desire and affection. The sort he's been waiting almost a month for. If anything, that makes him feel guilty. He wants to be with Mohinder, but he needs Nathan, and that makes everything complicated.
Whatever. It's tomorrow's problem. "So, is that a yes?" he asks, and between Nathan's hard glare and Mohinder's fuck me eyes, Peter's dick pulses against the seam of his jeans. When that summons the thought of Scott/Jean/Xavier again, he has to rake his teeth over his bottom lip to keep from groaning.
Mohinder slants a quick look, almost a challenge at Nathan, then his lips curve in a way that makes Peter think about sucking him off - it probably ought to make him think of being sucked off but his threesome fantasies have him trapped between two hard dicks, and he likes Nathan's in his ass.
"I'd like that."
Me too, he thinks, but before he can answer, Nathan slams his palms on the table and pushes out of the booth. "We'll discuss the arrangements later. Peter. Mohinder. I'm going to see my daughter."
No one ever accused Nathan of being subtle, but even from him, that's harsh. Peter's cheeks burn and part of him wants to chase after Nathan, but he won't give Nathan that victory, or walk away from Mohinder when things are going so well. Instead, he blinks slowly, lets disgust twist his mouth, then sort of melts against Mohinder.
xxx
They're leaning up against Mohinder's cab, he and Mohinder, saying goodnight. Even with gloves, the cold makes his fingers ache. Warmed by the promise in Mohinder's eyes, his breath makes a cloud between their faces.
If he tilts his head, their mouths will touch, and he's tired of waiting for Mohinder to make the move. When he wets his lips, Mohinder's eyes darken, so he lifts his chin.
"Our first date isn't until tomorrow," Mohinder chides, but his voice is warm and he is smiling.
Peter shrugs, grins against his mouth. "I like to mix things up."
"Somehow…" The wet heat of Mohinder's breath teases his lips. "I believe that."
Guilt flips his stomach, but want replaces it when the kiss he's been chasing for three weeks begins. And maybe Mohinder has been a gentleman, but he doesn't kiss like one. He kisses slow and sultry, taking Peter's mouth with aching thoroughness. First the press of lips parting to cover his, then the slick slide of his tongue seeking entrance; not like he needs to ask, because Peter gives up a soft moan, opening for him almost immediately.
Mohinder's hand is just sliding into his hair, when someone - Nathan - clears his throat, and everything comes to a halt. "Exactly what do you think you're doing?"
Shutting his eyes against the assault of seventeen different kinds of could you possibly have worse timing?, Peter pulls his mouth away, but his gloved hand seeks Mohinder's and squeezes.
Mohinder's thumb presses into his palm. "This hardly concerns you, Nathan."
If he felt guilty before… "It's all right, Mohinder. He's right. We probably shouldn't be kissing where everyone and their brother can see us. I wasn't thinking."
"You never think, Pete." Nathan opens the door to Mohinder's cab and grabs him roughly by the shoulder. "Get in. Both of you." There isn't an ounce of give in Nathan's voice, and Peter's heard that tone far too often to disobey. Even if the idea has his dick leaking in his jeans.
He scrambles into the backseat, but Mohinder's not so quick to comply. Lifting his head to meet Nathan's gaze, Mohinder breathes out a slow ten count. Peter knows. He counts. It's kind of hot to have them fighting over him. Scratch kind of. Very. Unbelievably. Hot.
It doesn't even matter which one of them fucks him tonight. As long as one of them does.
Palm open, Mohinder waves Nathan into the car, and it’s the most elegant turnabout he's ever seen anyone pull on his brother. "Where would you like me to take you?"
x x x
Peter hasn't said a word since getting in the cab, and that's due in no insignificant part to the fact that Nathan's got his arm around his shoulders while he watches Mohinder in the rearview mirror. Possibly it looks innocent, brotherly, but if so, it's only because Mohinder can't feel Peter's heart thumping against his ribs, or see the hand Nathan warmed in his then set on his thigh.
He'd pull it back into his own lap, but that would only call attention to it. Or it might make Nathan do something more obvious. He considers stretching his fingers across the stretched-tight wool of Nathan's trousers and stroking the line of his erection instead.
What would Nathan do? What would Mohinder think if he saw? What would Nathan do if someone found out? He's not sure if he's more terrified or charged up.
When they pull up outside Peter's building, he still hasn't decided. And now he'll have to speak, even if his mouth feels like the dentist just swabbed it down with cotton before applying anesthetic.
He leans away from Nathan, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, but Nathan smacks his wrist. "I've got that." Giving Mohinder his sleaziest politician smile, Nathan leans over the back of the seat. "If you'll excuse us. I'm going to see my brother upstairs, and then we'll need to talk. You'll wait here."
Goddamnit, Nathan. That's not fair. For the first time, he actually wants to punch Nathan for this possessive posturing bullshit. Then Mohinder's jaw tightens and his eyes go flat, and Peter's not sure it's Mohinder he needs to worry about.
"I'll not. I have work to do, but I'll gladly call you another cab. I'm certain one will arrive before you're ready to leave." The way he says it, the way he's glancing between him and Nathan in the mirror, Peter has to wonder whether he's figured it out.
"I'm not interested in a cab. You indicated you would be interested in the position of our chauffeur. You're hired, and you begin tonight." With that, Nathan gives Peter a nudge toward the door. "There's an all-night newsstand and coffee-shop three streets over-" Oh, fuck no. There are limits. He steps down hard on Nathan's foot, and Nathan arches an eyebrow at him. "-if you need a hot drink to stay warm without wasting gas."
x x x
They're barely through the door when Nathan grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and slams him into the wall. The force of it knocks the wind out of him. His keys fall to the floor with a clatter, then Nathan's mouth is on his. Fierce, ruthless, biting at his lips and forcing him to open.
It's everything he wanted. Except now he doesn't. He shoves back, gets enough space to bring his hand up to his mouth. It comes away bloody. "Jesus, Nathan."
"Isn't this what you wanted, Pete? Me to show you who you belong to?" Nathan's not really asking. He's already reaching for his belt.
"Yeah, maybe before you-"
"Before I interrupted your little tête-à-tête with your boyfriend?" His eyes match his tone, cold and sneering.
He doesn't care. He's shaking. "Fuck you, Nathan. You have Heidi-"
"So go fuck Simone." Nathan's pants fall, and he shoves down his boxers.
God, Nathan's hard, and, damn it, Peter wants him. Wants to be spitted on his brother's dick. He shouldn't but he does. It's so screwed up. "You didn't have to talk to Mohinder like that."
"You should've thought of that before you decided to use him to get to me. Get undressed, Pete."
His face flames, because Nathan's right. Mohinder deserves better. Fingers on his belt buckle, he looks at his brother from under his bangs. "You still shouldn't have taken it out on him."
Nathan rolls his eyes, and if it weren't for the fact that his jaw is set square and tight, it'd be almost funny. Bare-ass naked, cock jutting out, and his eyes rolling white like his sixteen year-old daughter's. "He'll get over it, or we'll fight. It won't be the first time."
Or the last, which is why he and Nathan are such a mess. There's always something or someone to come between them, and that's no more fair to Nathan or him than it is to Mohinder. He shucks his jeans down, steps out of them, not bothering to hide that he's leaking all over his boxer-briefs when he tugs them down, too. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well, it's a little late for that, Pete." Nathan closes on him, forcing his thigh between Peter's legs. So twisted and tangled he doesn't know which way is up or down, except he knows he needs Nathan, Peter, gasps, biting his lip. "What did you think, that I'd just let him have you?"
One hand curls around the back of his neck. Under his jacket, the other grips Peter's hip, tugging him forward. Nathan's breath fans Peter's cheeks, and already his eyelids feel weighted, his cock heavy and tight.
"Answer me, or I'm leaving." As if to emphasize that he will do it, the hand on Peter's hip falls away.
"No, Nathan…please. It's just…" He grabs two fistfuls of shirt, pulling him back. Nathan growls, low and soft, and Peter lets go, smoothing down the shirt front with sweaty palms. "It's just been a long time." Head up, eyes wide, he pleads, "I needed you."
Bending low over Peter's mouth, Nathan looks him right in the eyes. "Next time, just ask."
He keeps on moving, bypassing Peter's lips, and Peter almost whines with his need. Then Nathan sinks his teeth into Peter's pulse, and he does whine -- up on his toes with the rush of pain and tears swimming in his eyes. "I did, I tried."
"Try harder. And don't call me 'Darla'. Now turn around."
He wants to protest. Tell Nathan tonight wasn't the first time, but Nathan had been so busy. But it doesn't matter, not anymore. Nathan's right here, giving him what he needs. "Whatever you want, Nathan, anything," he breathes, already moving to face the wall.
Almost gentle now, Nathan strips his jacket off. "That's right, little brother." He leans into Peter, sliding his leaking cock between his thighs. His mouth hot over the shell of Peter's ear, Nathan croons, coaxes, "Right now, I want you to come."
When his fist wraps around Peter's cock, it's all Peter can do not whimper, it feels so good. "Oh god."
Nathan's hand slides down to the root, and Peter bucks, hard, and whines low in his throat. Then it's back up, thumb over the head to gather his precome and slick it back over the shaft. "Then I'm going to open you wide and fuck you raw. You're going to beg me for it, and thank me when it's over."
And just like that, he's at the edge. Nathan knows it, too, because he spits on his fingers, and forces two into Peter's unfucked, unprepped hole. "Hurts, god, fuck, it hurts." Hurts but he needs it, oh god, he needs this, to be stretched wide and quivering around his brother's fingers, his dick. Whatever Nathan wants.
"Good. You'll remember." Harsh, hot breath against his throat, while Nathan's fingers piston in and out. He grips the base of Peter's cock, thumb and forefinger keeping him from coming, even though his sac's drawn up tight and his hips burn with it. "What do I want you to remember, Pete?"
He can't think, can barely breathe, but he forces out, "Yours. Yours, I'm yours."
"That's right." Nathan's hand twists, palm up, and his fingers graze Peter's prostate. White light blazes behind Peter's eyes; he keens while Nathan spits in his palm, then works a third finger into Peter's abused hole. "What else?"
"God, oh, god… I don't know, let me come, Nathan, fuck me, I don't know. Please."
"Don't play me, little brother." Nathan slams all three fingers deep and holds them there, wedged tight. He's stuffed and mounted on his brother's hand, dick so hard it aches. He can't move, can't come, can't do anything Nathan doesn't want him to do. "Don't play me, Pete. You'll lose."
"O-kay." It comes out half hiccough, half sob.
Nathan jacks his cock once, fast. "What's that?"
"Okay, okay, god…yours, I'm yours, I won't play you, jesuschristNathanletmecome." He presses his face into his forearm, fingernails clawing at the wall. "Please."
"Of course, Peter. Don't I always take care of you?" Nathan sounds so calm, so rational, Peter wants to cry. He's going to die if he doesn't come, and Nathan's barely breathing hard.
But then his mouth clamps down over Peter's throat again, and his fist is a blur over Peter's cock. His hips rock, driving his hand forward and up into Peter, and when Nathan growls, "do it," against his neck, Peter's already there.
Everything stops. His ass clenches around Nathan's fingers. His balls draw tight. He breaks with a sob, and then he is coming. Shooting hard and fast, thick hot bursts into the cup of Nathan's palm.
"Beg for it." Nathan's voice is hoarse, raw when he pulls his fingers free.
Peter keens for the loss. He's still shaking, still seeing spots, but this is what Nathan wants. What they both need to make it right. "Fuck me, Nathan. God, please."
The heat of his hand moves away. Slippery sounds of his come on Nathan's dick, and then there's no more waiting. Nathan's cock fills his ass in a single, bruising thrust.
It's good. It's perfect. He's done, emptied, and now Nathan's filling him up again. Making him his with every brutal stroke.
And it is brutal. Nathan reams him, thick cock spitting him and forcing him wide. Arms up, bracing him, all Peter can do is take it and take it and take it. He can't push back, can't move away, can only grunt and moan and be Nathan's.
Nathan's fingers grip his hips, jerk him back hard against his groin. The next thrust makes Peter's eyes tear again, or maybe it was the last. His cheek wets his forearm, but it's not pain. It's relief. "Needed you, Nathan, needed you so much."
His brother moans, fucks deep into his ass. "I know." He stills, then soft lips brush the sweaty nape of Peter's neck. "Need you too," he whispers, confesses, then comes without a sound.
Peter lifts his head, catches the corner of Nathan's mouth in a soft kiss. "Thank you."
x x x
He didn't want to dress and come back down, but Nathan's right. It looks less suspicious with him seeing Nathan off. Not to mention that he owes Mohinder an apology, even if he can't say what for.
So here they stand, Nathan's arm around his shoulders, his ass full of Nathan's come, and the collar turned up on his jacket to hide the bruises from Nathan's mouth.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long," Nathan is saying.
Mohinder watches them both, dark eyes hard and cold.
They warm when Peter dips his head, giving a shy but genuine smile. He's not sure what he's going to do, but he wants to make this work with Mohinder. He needs more than a once a month tête-à-tête with his brother. In his saner moments, Nathan agrees. "We had more to talk about than we thought. I'm really sorry, Mohinder."
His hands tighten on the steering wheel, then loosen again. They slide from the top to the bottom of the wheel, and his thumb ring glints in the moonlight. Mohinder exhales slowly, then nods. "I am being paid, and the newsstand unexpectedly has excellent chai."
Nathan squeezes Peter's shoulders and it feels like a blessing. "Next time, we'll invite you up."
Peter slants Nathan a look, and Nathan smiles. Just like that, Peter's thinking about Scott, Jean and Professor X again. "I'd like that."
Maybe he should feel bad for thinking about sex with his brother and his new 'boyfriend' when they're trying to apologize, but they do all their real business in private. And it's not like any of them are saving the world at the moment.
Extended Notes: So, the fabulous poisontaster is having a bad time RL, and nymeria being of the awesome, schemed with mona1347 who is also of the awesome and having a birthday today (happy birthday, Mona!), to do a week of porn for her. Mona and Kyra found the five other writers - but who are they? Well... I'm one of them. But who are the others? Here are the first two:
nymeria wrote Riding in the Midnight Blue (Supernatural, Sam/Dean, NC17) on Sunday.
merepersiflage wrote Silence Between Promises (Supernatural, Sam/Dean, NC17) on Monday.
Mona's obviously the fourth, but for the others, you'll just have to wait and see.
Couldn't help throwing in the M/P, Erin. Hope you forgive me for it, and hopefully this satisfies your craving for Nathan/Peter; Peter NEEDS Nathan to pay attention to him. And takes matters into his own hands. Jealous!Nathan a plus.
I ♥ you.