In the Biblical Sense (1/1)
Author: lit_chick08
Title: In the Biblical Sense
Recipient: crashgirl82
Pairing(s): Peter/Claire, Nathan/Claire, Peter/Claire/Nathan
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 4,172
Spoilers: Everything to be safe but takes place in an alternate Season 2
Warnings: Incest, sex, language, voyeurism, rough sex, religious illusions
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
Author's Notes: written for the Valentine’s Exchange at heroes_exchange
Summary: Nathan discovers just how close his brother and daughter have become…and he’s jealous
Cain Was Right; Abel Had It Coming
What surprises Nathan Petrelli most about finding his younger brother and his only daughter making love in Peter’s childhood bed is how much it doesn’t surprise him.
He has seen the looks exchanged over dinners, the gentle, unnecessary touches, the whispered conversations they never try to engage others in; he has seen the way their hugs last too long and their goodbye kisses have progressed from pecks on the cheek to lips against the corner of the other’s mouth. Most of all, he has heard the others’ comments about how they have never seen an uncle and niece so close.
He trusts his brother. At least, he had before tonight.
They had come to the fundraiser tonight as ordered, but Angela had quickly reported they ducked out after the photo op. Nathan wasn’t angry about it; he had come to expect it, especially given that she was due on a plane to Costa Verde tomorrow afternoon so she didn’t miss any school.
He never would’ve known what they were doing in the upstairs of the Petrelli mansion if he hadn’t gotten the call from Noah Bennet. Sandra and Lyle had been in a car accident and, while hospitalized, were going to recover; however, he had been trying to get in touch with Claire via her cell phone and had no luck. When Nathan hadn’t been able to reach Peter, he had slipped out of the party to make sure that his daughter received the news. His relationship with Claire was already shaky; good deeds like this could earn him brownie points.
It was Claire’s giggle that had led him upstairs to the room at the end of the hall. When he reached the cracked door, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the scene laid out before him on Egyptian cotton.
For half of a moment, as Nathan sees the muscles in his brother’s back and butt shimmer beneath his skin, he is embarrassed for having intruded upon Peter like this. It is only after Peter has given his partner a particularly deep thrust that the simultaneously sound of a familiar voice moaning coupled with a spill of golden hair over the pillows that Nathan connects the dots.
Peter is having sex with Claire.
His brother is fucking his daughter.
Until this very moment, Nathan has never believed himself capable of murder. He has killed in battle and threatened men with far more power, but he has never actually believed that he could take another man’s life out of anger, let alone his own brother. Peter is one of the few people in the world that Nathan has loved without reservation or condition; Peter is as much his child as Simon or Monty…or Claire.
And yet, as he watches his brother pepper kisses down Claire’s arched neck, his fingers ghost over her plump, rosy nipple, his hips corkscrew to penetrate the girl beneath him, Nathan begins to calculate just how little it would take to actually kill his brother while he is like this. Tactical lessons from Annapolis begin to run through his brain, telling him to strike quickly and at his enemy’s weakest point.
Peter has become his enemy with this sin.
Claire’s nails are clutching at his shoulder blades, tugging his body closer, and Nathan wants to scream at her as much as he wants to pulverize his brother’s skull. She is only sixteen, she shouldn’t be having sex, she definitely shouldn’t be having sex with her uncle!
He is two steps inside the room, prepared to forcibly rip Peter off of Claire, when he hears his daughter’s voice, breathy and emotional, plead, “Don’t ever stop touching me!”
Peter’s laugh is brief as he kisses her collarbone. “Why would I do a stupid thing like that?”
Claire has slid her hand into his brother’s ridiculously floppy hair, tugging his face down to hers. It is then that Nathan hears the words that stop him cold.
“I love you. I love you so much.”
“I love you,” Peter echoes, kissing her soundly.
As he slinks backwards towards the hall, Nathan realizes in that moment that he is jealous. Claire has never said those words to him; in fact, Claire rarely addresses him at all. She has never made any attempt at hiding her preference for Peter and, while bothersome, it has never hurt him until this moment.
He is halfway down the staircase before he realizes that he is erect and throbbing.
He jerks off in the guest bath, wiping his cum on the towels his wife picked out, their monogrammed initials now stained with his shame.
* * *
Samson Never Stood A Chance
It is Heidi’s idea to take a vacation. Her family owns a home in Puerto Vallarta, and their marriage has been tense since she had learned of Claire’s presence. Nathan agreed out of duress, desperate to hold his marriage together and keep his sons happy.
His surprise is genuine when Claire arrives three hours after his family. Heidi explains that she thought it would be a good idea for Claire to spend time with the family without anyone else around, to give her the chance to get to know someone in the Petrelli family other than Peter.
The moment that his brother’s name crosses his wife’s lips, he is back in the hallway watching Peter make love to Claire like she was just any other person. His rage and arousal are equally powerful.
Claire is uneasy and awkward; Heidi is careful and tentative. The boys have no interest in their older, half-sister and Claire is more than happy to avoid arguments over whose turn it is to play Wii. Nathan hides in the bedroom and wills away his erection.
It is on the third night of Nathan’s own personal hell that Heidi demands that he spend time with his daughter. When he attempts to get out of it, usually even tempered Heidi snaps, “You brought her into our lives, so you have to deal with her too!”
When he gets off of the phone with Washington, it is late, the boys are already in bed, and Heidi is dozing in their bed. A quick glance out the window tells him that Claire is soaking in the hot tub on the deck and, knowing his wife will not let him be until he makes some attempt at father/daughter relations, he dons the board shorts that Heidi purchased for him and heads downstairs.
She is wearing a crimson bikini that is so criminally small that Nathan is certain that Noah has never seen it. Her golden hair has been piled in a haphazard, sexy updo to keep it dry, secured with what looks like a chopstick, and she is leaning against the wall of the hot tub, her arms stretched wide across the sides, her head tilted back and looking skyward.
It is her head tilted backward that reminds him of his brother kissing her throat as he slid inside her.
He is halfway into the bubbling water when Claire raises her head and drawls, a hint of Texas in her voice, “Hey there, Daddy. Heidi send you?”
She is pure Meredith in this moment, and Nathan sees more of her mother in her than ever, especially when she twists her mouth into that knowing smirk.
He tries to ignore the surge of arousal he feels at hearing her call him “Daddy.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I function above the neck?” There must be something telling in his expression because she leans in and assures him, “I’ll tell her you played nice if you want to go to bed.”
“Maybe I just want to soak.”
“You don’t,” she states authoritatively, reclining her head once again.
“And how do you know that?”
“Because you never relax, and that’s what a hot tub is for.”
“Is it really that alien a concept that I’d want to spend time with you?”
She lifts her head again and fixes him with a stare that stops him cold. This is not an expression she inherited from her mother; this is one she learned from Peter, the “kicked puppy look” as his father had once referred to it. And it was just as effective from her as it was from Peter.
“Yeah, it is.”
He looks away and finally notices the bottle of wine setting on the steps leading into the tub. “Aren’t you too young to drink?”
“Aren’t you too immoral to care?”
Nathan chuckles. “What makes you think I’m immoral?”
“I’ve met you?” she offers with a smile, lifting the bottle to her mouth and taking a heavy swallow.
“Touché.” He reaches across the tub, taking the bottle from her and drawing his own mouthful. It is only as the alcohol hits his tongue that he realizes the bottle she is drinking from as if it is a bottle of Pepsi is from the ridiculously rare and expensive case of red wine that his father-in-law went to France to procure.
“You know, this bottle of wine probably cost more than your college tuition.”
She shrugs, drawing shapes in the water with her fingertips. “You’re good for it.”
“It’s still polite to be appreciative.”
There is a shift in her expression, her eyes shining, her smile a mixture of teasing and predatory that he recognizes from his own face. “And what do you appreciate?”
Nathan takes another gulp from the wine, enjoying the warmth of it as it spreads through his veins. Leaning in closer, he knows that he is flirting with his own daughter as he counters, “What do you think I appreciate?”
She pushes away from the wall, coming to kneel in the center of the tub, her breasts floating tantalizingly above the water. “Power, money, influence,” she ticks off, holding his gaze better than most grown men can, “and whatever else can get you ahead. You’re a master to ambition and you don’t even notice anyone around you.”
His voice is deliberately patronizing. “Oh, I don’t?”
“Nope,” she confirms, popping the word like a child. “You don’t appreciate Heidi, even though she puts up with your shit. You don’t appreciate your sons, who barely know you. And you don’t appreciate me.”
“Why would you say that?”
As she takes the bottle from him, wrapping her lips around the mouth of it, tipping it back to drink what only the richest of the rich get to experience, her movements belong to someone far older than sixteen. Nathan has never had a Lolita fetish until this very moment.
She sets the bottle back beside the tub. “You don’t appreciate me because I’m the walking, talking proof of your one, massive fuck-up. And I’m a freak, just like you. You tried to bury me, and I showed up. Sometimes I think if you thought you could kill me, you would. And then you’d be perfect again.”
He is disturbed both by how well she has pinpointed him and how wrong she is. “I don’t think that.”
“You lie.”
“Not about this.”
He sees the anger flash in her pretty, green eyes the moment before she literally gets in his face, an inch of space between them. “Well, then, come on,” she challenges. “Appreciate me, Daddy. Prove me wrong.”
And this was how Nathan ended up fucking his oldest child doggy style in the hot tub.
He could never be sure if it was the alcohol or the guilt that clouded his memory but it had evolved so quickly that he could never accurately assess when he had made the decision to have sex with Claire. But what he did remember was that Claire never said no, didn’t even ask him to slow down.
After regularly fucking your uncle, depravity came easier.
It never occurs to him as he strips her of that tiny, string bikini and tosses his own shorts away that his wife and children are asleep not even fifty yards away, that they are doing this where anyone could see. For once he is grateful for the fact that there is nothing of the Petrelli bloodline in her appearance. If a neighbor sees them, they will assume he is fucking the nanny.
Except that when he had fucked the boys’ nanny, he hadn’t been this turned on.
He is rough with her in a way that he has never been with another man; there is something liberating in the knowledge that he can do anything to Claire and it will never hurt her.
She is moaning and panting as he turns her body away from his, his fingers manipulating her clit, enough moisture flowing from her to soak his hand. As he presses her hands against the edge of the tub, he growls into her ear to keep them there, catching her ear between his teeth and tugging.
When he thrusts into her hard and fast, she cries out loudly enough to wake the dead. Nathan wonders if Peter has ever taken her like this, made her scream her like this; pressing his hands atop hers to hold them in place and to give himself better leverage, he decides that Peter would never dare defile his golden girl like this.
Nathan makes it his mission to erase his brother’s tender touch from Claire’s memory.
They move hard and fast, Claire thrusting her hips back against his, his own hips banging hard against her pelvis. His grip on her wrists is tight enough that a normal woman would be bruised the next morning, but Claire is a freak like he is a freak; normalcy is overrated.
He lifts a hand and pulls the chopstick from her hair, sending the locks tumbling over her sweaty shoulders, and he immediately twines a hand into it, tugging her head to the side and sinking his teeth into her neck. Claire screams, clamps down so tightly on his cock that he is afraid he might lose it, and comes hard.
Water is splashing over the edges of the tub, he is soaked with sweat, and he is balls deep in his daughter. With every thrust, he feels himself getting closer to losing it, especially now that Claire has slid a hand beneath the water and begun to rub fast at her sensitive clit, making her internal muscles massage him. Nathan knows that he is getting close to coming and nearly sobs over the fact that he is going to have to pull out.
When he slips out of her, she sobs and moans out a plea for him to stay; he turns her to face him and, at the sight of her like this, Nathan takes himself in hand and begins to rush towards orgasm.
The first splash of semen hits Claire on her breasts, and Nathan ridiculously wishes that he had a camera so that he can always remember this. He aims higher, the second burst hitting her on the cheek, and then he nearly loses the ability to stand when she takes the tip of his cock into her mouth and swallows all he has to offer.
When he is done, sinking back into the water and leaning against the side of the hot tub he will now have to empty, he expects Claire to blush, to feel the same guilt that was beginning to filter through the rush of endorphins. Instead she stands and exits the tub, collecting the pieces of her suit, tucking them into the pockets of the robe that she wraps around herself.
“Claire,” he begins, unsure what he is going to say.
She smiles languidly, bending to collect the chopstick, twisting her hair back into a knot. “Yeah?”
“I - I just - “
“I know,” she interrupts, trying to sound assuring. She heads for the patio doors but stops before entering. Turning back to face him, she says, “Nathan?”
“Hmmm?”
“Next time you watch Peter and me, you don’t have to stand in the hallway.”
And then she disappeared inside the house leaving Nathan to the knowledge that he had just been played.
* * *
Sodom and Gomorrah Come to Manhattan
Nathan had known from the moment that Claire revealed she knew he had watched her and Peter have sex that they would end up like this. He has no sexual feelings for Peter, no desire for any man, but he can’t help but admit that he has had this fantasy enough times to know the steps.
Claire is seventeen now, so beautiful and sensual that men literally stop on the street to watch her. Noah has mentioned that he is worried some teenage boy is going to try to corrupt his baby girl. Nathan wondered what he would do if he knew that Claire had no interest in teenage boys, that his precious daughter pleaded for corruption.
Actually Nathan knows what Noah would do, which is why Noah can never know what is transpiring in the presidential suite of this Boston hotel.
He has set up this trip. Claire is supposedly checking out all the New England colleges she is thinking of applying to and Peter is assisting her. When Nathan enters the hotel room that he is paying for, Claire is kneeling on a Wellesley guidebook, Peter’s dick in her throat, Peter fisting her hair and murmuring such blasphemy that even Nathan is impressed.
Nathan has only watched them a few times since he and Claire’s Mexican adventure; Peter doesn’t like it and Claire doesn’t like to upset him. Nathan knows that his brother is bothered by Claire’s trysts with him; unlike Claire, Nathan doesn’t care.
Once Peter’s cum is residing in Claire’s belly, they realize that there is another person in the room. Peter scowls; Claire climbs to her feet and wipes daintily at the corner of her mouth. Both of them know why Nathan is here and there is no use in pretending.
As Nathan takes his place behind Claire on the massive bed, he looks at his brother, lying prone on his back, his hands resting on Claire’s hips, his erection buried inside an unmoving Claire. Nathan knows the restraint it takes to stay still when Claire is so warm and wet, yet Peter doesn’t move a muscle.
He is not stupid; he knows that Peter has only agreed to this because he is in love with Claire. Claire had asked them both for this and, while Nathan hadn’t relished the idea of a threesome with his brother, he knew that Peter despised it. It makes Nathan pity him as he works one finger, slick with lube, into Claire’s virgin ass; Peter could not enjoy the bounty before him.
It only seems right that he is the one who first gets to experience the tightness of Claire’s ass. When coupled with the fact that his brother is also inside this girl and that this girl is actually his daughter, the debauchery trifecta seems to be incomplete without anal.
Claire is bracing herself on her hands, which rest on Peter’s shoulders. Her whimpers as Nathan adds a second and then third finger only make him harder; with every additional digit, Nathan sees Peter flinch. By the time that Claire is stretched and he has lined his dick up with her ass, Peter looks as if he is going to throw him across the room without his telepathy.
Claire is always a vocal lover but, as he breaches the tightness of her, she seems to be incapable of remaining silent even for a second. Nathan senses instinctively when Peter begins to believe she is crying in pain for he begins to pet her hair, her chest, her face and murmur words of love and encouragement. Claire drops down, her chest now pressed against Peter’s, and Nathan groans in thanks as he finally bottoms out inside of her.
“God!” Claire whispers, her body trembling and sweat soaked.
“Are you okay?” Peter asks, kissing her upper lip, stroking her back comfortingly.
Nathan barely resists the urge to smack him for even thinking that he would do this to Claire if she didn’t like it.
“Full,” Claire manages, expelling her breath in little gusts. “Deep.”
That is all Nathan needs to begin to move, sliding into her with slow, deep thrusts. Peter does not move; he continues to caress Claire’s body, his only stimulation coming from the internal massage of her muscles.
Nathan has picked up the speed of his thrusts, all but slamming into Claire when he realizes that it is not his name that Claire is crying out. Despite the fact that he is giving her all that he has, Claire is all but shouting Peter’s name, pressing kisses to his brother’s face, letting herself be stroked and loved by Peter. As she shaking her way through her second orgasm, Nathan comes to the worst realization of his life.
Yes, Peter is in love with Claire, but Claire is also in love with Peter. She may be letting Nathan fuck her, but she is making love with Peter, and what Nathan is doing to her body cannot compete with what Peter is giving her.
His thrusts falter and Claire slightly turns her head to look over her shoulder. “You okay?” she pants.
It is then that he sees the pity in her eyes and Nathan feels his world begin to crumble.
What began as the greatest sexual experience he had ever had has become humiliating as Nathan imagines what Claire has told Peter as to why she has let this happen, why she wanted this to happen. He has become the pity fuck in an incestuous love triangle, and the only thing more unbelievable than being in an incestuous love triangle was the knowledge that he wasn’t even really in one because she didn’t love him.
He finishes more out of pride than anything else before making up an impromptu meeting to flee the hotel room. When he is leaving, he sees Peter laying Claire back against the pillows, his body moving atop hers to reclaim what is his.
* * *
Lot’s Wife Wasn’t So Dumb After All
Nathan can’t stand to see them together since that night in Boston. Every time he sees Peter open a door for his niece or Claire laugh at something her uncle says, Nathan feels inadequate, embarrassed, and small. He has never like this and can’t help wondering if this is how Peter has felt his whole life.
It is not until Christmas that he has to spend any real stretch of time with them. He has not initiated anything sexual with Claire since that night, and Claire has not pushed. Nathan thinks that she has gotten better at reading him and knows something has changed. She will not say anything to him though; they never talk about this.
For six months, Nathan has slept with his daughter, and for six months, he had been playing second fiddle to his brother.
In the middle of trimming the tree, Nathan realizes that Peter and Claire have disappeared. Claiming he had to make a phone call, he began to search them out, preparing to reprimand them for being so careless as to fool around with a house full of people.
Nathan finds them in the kitchen, Peter removing a sheet of sugar cookies from the oven that Nathan forgot the boys had put in, Claire talking and gesturing with one of her hands. When Peter sets the cookies atop the stove, Claire reaches past him, grabbing one of the hot cookies and popping a piece into her mouth, the heat not bothering her indestructible skin.
“Are they good?” Peter asks with an indulgent smile at her impatience.
“Taste for yourself,” she encourages, grasping the collar of his shirt and pulling him close for a long, sweet kiss.
Nathan watches as Peter samples the taste of the cookies from her lips, struggling not to wince as his brother proclaims them perfect and declaring his love for Claire, who echoes the sentiment. As he watches them in their cocoon, oblivious to the world, Nathan is filled with such longing that it nearly chokes him.
He blows off a meeting that night; instead, he orders a call girl to a hotel room. When the girl he ordered arrives, he quickly checks to make sure she meets his specifications: young, blonde, and green eyed.
“Your name is Claire,” he informs her as she strips, downing the rest of his Scotch.
“And what’s your name?” she coos.
“Peter.”
Title: In the Biblical Sense
Recipient: crashgirl82
Pairing(s): Peter/Claire, Nathan/Claire, Peter/Claire/Nathan
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 4,172
Spoilers: Everything to be safe but takes place in an alternate Season 2
Warnings: Incest, sex, language, voyeurism, rough sex, religious illusions
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
Author's Notes: written for the Valentine’s Exchange at heroes_exchange
Summary: Nathan discovers just how close his brother and daughter have become…and he’s jealous
Cain Was Right; Abel Had It Coming
What surprises Nathan Petrelli most about finding his younger brother and his only daughter making love in Peter’s childhood bed is how much it doesn’t surprise him.
He has seen the looks exchanged over dinners, the gentle, unnecessary touches, the whispered conversations they never try to engage others in; he has seen the way their hugs last too long and their goodbye kisses have progressed from pecks on the cheek to lips against the corner of the other’s mouth. Most of all, he has heard the others’ comments about how they have never seen an uncle and niece so close.
He trusts his brother. At least, he had before tonight.
They had come to the fundraiser tonight as ordered, but Angela had quickly reported they ducked out after the photo op. Nathan wasn’t angry about it; he had come to expect it, especially given that she was due on a plane to Costa Verde tomorrow afternoon so she didn’t miss any school.
He never would’ve known what they were doing in the upstairs of the Petrelli mansion if he hadn’t gotten the call from Noah Bennet. Sandra and Lyle had been in a car accident and, while hospitalized, were going to recover; however, he had been trying to get in touch with Claire via her cell phone and had no luck. When Nathan hadn’t been able to reach Peter, he had slipped out of the party to make sure that his daughter received the news. His relationship with Claire was already shaky; good deeds like this could earn him brownie points.
It was Claire’s giggle that had led him upstairs to the room at the end of the hall. When he reached the cracked door, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the scene laid out before him on Egyptian cotton.
For half of a moment, as Nathan sees the muscles in his brother’s back and butt shimmer beneath his skin, he is embarrassed for having intruded upon Peter like this. It is only after Peter has given his partner a particularly deep thrust that the simultaneously sound of a familiar voice moaning coupled with a spill of golden hair over the pillows that Nathan connects the dots.
Peter is having sex with Claire.
His brother is fucking his daughter.
Until this very moment, Nathan has never believed himself capable of murder. He has killed in battle and threatened men with far more power, but he has never actually believed that he could take another man’s life out of anger, let alone his own brother. Peter is one of the few people in the world that Nathan has loved without reservation or condition; Peter is as much his child as Simon or Monty…or Claire.
And yet, as he watches his brother pepper kisses down Claire’s arched neck, his fingers ghost over her plump, rosy nipple, his hips corkscrew to penetrate the girl beneath him, Nathan begins to calculate just how little it would take to actually kill his brother while he is like this. Tactical lessons from Annapolis begin to run through his brain, telling him to strike quickly and at his enemy’s weakest point.
Peter has become his enemy with this sin.
Claire’s nails are clutching at his shoulder blades, tugging his body closer, and Nathan wants to scream at her as much as he wants to pulverize his brother’s skull. She is only sixteen, she shouldn’t be having sex, she definitely shouldn’t be having sex with her uncle!
He is two steps inside the room, prepared to forcibly rip Peter off of Claire, when he hears his daughter’s voice, breathy and emotional, plead, “Don’t ever stop touching me!”
Peter’s laugh is brief as he kisses her collarbone. “Why would I do a stupid thing like that?”
Claire has slid her hand into his brother’s ridiculously floppy hair, tugging his face down to hers. It is then that Nathan hears the words that stop him cold.
“I love you. I love you so much.”
“I love you,” Peter echoes, kissing her soundly.
As he slinks backwards towards the hall, Nathan realizes in that moment that he is jealous. Claire has never said those words to him; in fact, Claire rarely addresses him at all. She has never made any attempt at hiding her preference for Peter and, while bothersome, it has never hurt him until this moment.
He is halfway down the staircase before he realizes that he is erect and throbbing.
He jerks off in the guest bath, wiping his cum on the towels his wife picked out, their monogrammed initials now stained with his shame.
* * *
Samson Never Stood A Chance
It is Heidi’s idea to take a vacation. Her family owns a home in Puerto Vallarta, and their marriage has been tense since she had learned of Claire’s presence. Nathan agreed out of duress, desperate to hold his marriage together and keep his sons happy.
His surprise is genuine when Claire arrives three hours after his family. Heidi explains that she thought it would be a good idea for Claire to spend time with the family without anyone else around, to give her the chance to get to know someone in the Petrelli family other than Peter.
The moment that his brother’s name crosses his wife’s lips, he is back in the hallway watching Peter make love to Claire like she was just any other person. His rage and arousal are equally powerful.
Claire is uneasy and awkward; Heidi is careful and tentative. The boys have no interest in their older, half-sister and Claire is more than happy to avoid arguments over whose turn it is to play Wii. Nathan hides in the bedroom and wills away his erection.
It is on the third night of Nathan’s own personal hell that Heidi demands that he spend time with his daughter. When he attempts to get out of it, usually even tempered Heidi snaps, “You brought her into our lives, so you have to deal with her too!”
When he gets off of the phone with Washington, it is late, the boys are already in bed, and Heidi is dozing in their bed. A quick glance out the window tells him that Claire is soaking in the hot tub on the deck and, knowing his wife will not let him be until he makes some attempt at father/daughter relations, he dons the board shorts that Heidi purchased for him and heads downstairs.
She is wearing a crimson bikini that is so criminally small that Nathan is certain that Noah has never seen it. Her golden hair has been piled in a haphazard, sexy updo to keep it dry, secured with what looks like a chopstick, and she is leaning against the wall of the hot tub, her arms stretched wide across the sides, her head tilted back and looking skyward.
It is her head tilted backward that reminds him of his brother kissing her throat as he slid inside her.
He is halfway into the bubbling water when Claire raises her head and drawls, a hint of Texas in her voice, “Hey there, Daddy. Heidi send you?”
She is pure Meredith in this moment, and Nathan sees more of her mother in her than ever, especially when she twists her mouth into that knowing smirk.
He tries to ignore the surge of arousal he feels at hearing her call him “Daddy.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I function above the neck?” There must be something telling in his expression because she leans in and assures him, “I’ll tell her you played nice if you want to go to bed.”
“Maybe I just want to soak.”
“You don’t,” she states authoritatively, reclining her head once again.
“And how do you know that?”
“Because you never relax, and that’s what a hot tub is for.”
“Is it really that alien a concept that I’d want to spend time with you?”
She lifts her head again and fixes him with a stare that stops him cold. This is not an expression she inherited from her mother; this is one she learned from Peter, the “kicked puppy look” as his father had once referred to it. And it was just as effective from her as it was from Peter.
“Yeah, it is.”
He looks away and finally notices the bottle of wine setting on the steps leading into the tub. “Aren’t you too young to drink?”
“Aren’t you too immoral to care?”
Nathan chuckles. “What makes you think I’m immoral?”
“I’ve met you?” she offers with a smile, lifting the bottle to her mouth and taking a heavy swallow.
“Touché.” He reaches across the tub, taking the bottle from her and drawing his own mouthful. It is only as the alcohol hits his tongue that he realizes the bottle she is drinking from as if it is a bottle of Pepsi is from the ridiculously rare and expensive case of red wine that his father-in-law went to France to procure.
“You know, this bottle of wine probably cost more than your college tuition.”
She shrugs, drawing shapes in the water with her fingertips. “You’re good for it.”
“It’s still polite to be appreciative.”
There is a shift in her expression, her eyes shining, her smile a mixture of teasing and predatory that he recognizes from his own face. “And what do you appreciate?”
Nathan takes another gulp from the wine, enjoying the warmth of it as it spreads through his veins. Leaning in closer, he knows that he is flirting with his own daughter as he counters, “What do you think I appreciate?”
She pushes away from the wall, coming to kneel in the center of the tub, her breasts floating tantalizingly above the water. “Power, money, influence,” she ticks off, holding his gaze better than most grown men can, “and whatever else can get you ahead. You’re a master to ambition and you don’t even notice anyone around you.”
His voice is deliberately patronizing. “Oh, I don’t?”
“Nope,” she confirms, popping the word like a child. “You don’t appreciate Heidi, even though she puts up with your shit. You don’t appreciate your sons, who barely know you. And you don’t appreciate me.”
“Why would you say that?”
As she takes the bottle from him, wrapping her lips around the mouth of it, tipping it back to drink what only the richest of the rich get to experience, her movements belong to someone far older than sixteen. Nathan has never had a Lolita fetish until this very moment.
She sets the bottle back beside the tub. “You don’t appreciate me because I’m the walking, talking proof of your one, massive fuck-up. And I’m a freak, just like you. You tried to bury me, and I showed up. Sometimes I think if you thought you could kill me, you would. And then you’d be perfect again.”
He is disturbed both by how well she has pinpointed him and how wrong she is. “I don’t think that.”
“You lie.”
“Not about this.”
He sees the anger flash in her pretty, green eyes the moment before she literally gets in his face, an inch of space between them. “Well, then, come on,” she challenges. “Appreciate me, Daddy. Prove me wrong.”
And this was how Nathan ended up fucking his oldest child doggy style in the hot tub.
He could never be sure if it was the alcohol or the guilt that clouded his memory but it had evolved so quickly that he could never accurately assess when he had made the decision to have sex with Claire. But what he did remember was that Claire never said no, didn’t even ask him to slow down.
After regularly fucking your uncle, depravity came easier.
It never occurs to him as he strips her of that tiny, string bikini and tosses his own shorts away that his wife and children are asleep not even fifty yards away, that they are doing this where anyone could see. For once he is grateful for the fact that there is nothing of the Petrelli bloodline in her appearance. If a neighbor sees them, they will assume he is fucking the nanny.
Except that when he had fucked the boys’ nanny, he hadn’t been this turned on.
He is rough with her in a way that he has never been with another man; there is something liberating in the knowledge that he can do anything to Claire and it will never hurt her.
She is moaning and panting as he turns her body away from his, his fingers manipulating her clit, enough moisture flowing from her to soak his hand. As he presses her hands against the edge of the tub, he growls into her ear to keep them there, catching her ear between his teeth and tugging.
When he thrusts into her hard and fast, she cries out loudly enough to wake the dead. Nathan wonders if Peter has ever taken her like this, made her scream her like this; pressing his hands atop hers to hold them in place and to give himself better leverage, he decides that Peter would never dare defile his golden girl like this.
Nathan makes it his mission to erase his brother’s tender touch from Claire’s memory.
They move hard and fast, Claire thrusting her hips back against his, his own hips banging hard against her pelvis. His grip on her wrists is tight enough that a normal woman would be bruised the next morning, but Claire is a freak like he is a freak; normalcy is overrated.
He lifts a hand and pulls the chopstick from her hair, sending the locks tumbling over her sweaty shoulders, and he immediately twines a hand into it, tugging her head to the side and sinking his teeth into her neck. Claire screams, clamps down so tightly on his cock that he is afraid he might lose it, and comes hard.
Water is splashing over the edges of the tub, he is soaked with sweat, and he is balls deep in his daughter. With every thrust, he feels himself getting closer to losing it, especially now that Claire has slid a hand beneath the water and begun to rub fast at her sensitive clit, making her internal muscles massage him. Nathan knows that he is getting close to coming and nearly sobs over the fact that he is going to have to pull out.
When he slips out of her, she sobs and moans out a plea for him to stay; he turns her to face him and, at the sight of her like this, Nathan takes himself in hand and begins to rush towards orgasm.
The first splash of semen hits Claire on her breasts, and Nathan ridiculously wishes that he had a camera so that he can always remember this. He aims higher, the second burst hitting her on the cheek, and then he nearly loses the ability to stand when she takes the tip of his cock into her mouth and swallows all he has to offer.
When he is done, sinking back into the water and leaning against the side of the hot tub he will now have to empty, he expects Claire to blush, to feel the same guilt that was beginning to filter through the rush of endorphins. Instead she stands and exits the tub, collecting the pieces of her suit, tucking them into the pockets of the robe that she wraps around herself.
“Claire,” he begins, unsure what he is going to say.
She smiles languidly, bending to collect the chopstick, twisting her hair back into a knot. “Yeah?”
“I - I just - “
“I know,” she interrupts, trying to sound assuring. She heads for the patio doors but stops before entering. Turning back to face him, she says, “Nathan?”
“Hmmm?”
“Next time you watch Peter and me, you don’t have to stand in the hallway.”
And then she disappeared inside the house leaving Nathan to the knowledge that he had just been played.
* * *
Sodom and Gomorrah Come to Manhattan
Nathan had known from the moment that Claire revealed she knew he had watched her and Peter have sex that they would end up like this. He has no sexual feelings for Peter, no desire for any man, but he can’t help but admit that he has had this fantasy enough times to know the steps.
Claire is seventeen now, so beautiful and sensual that men literally stop on the street to watch her. Noah has mentioned that he is worried some teenage boy is going to try to corrupt his baby girl. Nathan wondered what he would do if he knew that Claire had no interest in teenage boys, that his precious daughter pleaded for corruption.
Actually Nathan knows what Noah would do, which is why Noah can never know what is transpiring in the presidential suite of this Boston hotel.
He has set up this trip. Claire is supposedly checking out all the New England colleges she is thinking of applying to and Peter is assisting her. When Nathan enters the hotel room that he is paying for, Claire is kneeling on a Wellesley guidebook, Peter’s dick in her throat, Peter fisting her hair and murmuring such blasphemy that even Nathan is impressed.
Nathan has only watched them a few times since he and Claire’s Mexican adventure; Peter doesn’t like it and Claire doesn’t like to upset him. Nathan knows that his brother is bothered by Claire’s trysts with him; unlike Claire, Nathan doesn’t care.
Once Peter’s cum is residing in Claire’s belly, they realize that there is another person in the room. Peter scowls; Claire climbs to her feet and wipes daintily at the corner of her mouth. Both of them know why Nathan is here and there is no use in pretending.
As Nathan takes his place behind Claire on the massive bed, he looks at his brother, lying prone on his back, his hands resting on Claire’s hips, his erection buried inside an unmoving Claire. Nathan knows the restraint it takes to stay still when Claire is so warm and wet, yet Peter doesn’t move a muscle.
He is not stupid; he knows that Peter has only agreed to this because he is in love with Claire. Claire had asked them both for this and, while Nathan hadn’t relished the idea of a threesome with his brother, he knew that Peter despised it. It makes Nathan pity him as he works one finger, slick with lube, into Claire’s virgin ass; Peter could not enjoy the bounty before him.
It only seems right that he is the one who first gets to experience the tightness of Claire’s ass. When coupled with the fact that his brother is also inside this girl and that this girl is actually his daughter, the debauchery trifecta seems to be incomplete without anal.
Claire is bracing herself on her hands, which rest on Peter’s shoulders. Her whimpers as Nathan adds a second and then third finger only make him harder; with every additional digit, Nathan sees Peter flinch. By the time that Claire is stretched and he has lined his dick up with her ass, Peter looks as if he is going to throw him across the room without his telepathy.
Claire is always a vocal lover but, as he breaches the tightness of her, she seems to be incapable of remaining silent even for a second. Nathan senses instinctively when Peter begins to believe she is crying in pain for he begins to pet her hair, her chest, her face and murmur words of love and encouragement. Claire drops down, her chest now pressed against Peter’s, and Nathan groans in thanks as he finally bottoms out inside of her.
“God!” Claire whispers, her body trembling and sweat soaked.
“Are you okay?” Peter asks, kissing her upper lip, stroking her back comfortingly.
Nathan barely resists the urge to smack him for even thinking that he would do this to Claire if she didn’t like it.
“Full,” Claire manages, expelling her breath in little gusts. “Deep.”
That is all Nathan needs to begin to move, sliding into her with slow, deep thrusts. Peter does not move; he continues to caress Claire’s body, his only stimulation coming from the internal massage of her muscles.
Nathan has picked up the speed of his thrusts, all but slamming into Claire when he realizes that it is not his name that Claire is crying out. Despite the fact that he is giving her all that he has, Claire is all but shouting Peter’s name, pressing kisses to his brother’s face, letting herself be stroked and loved by Peter. As she shaking her way through her second orgasm, Nathan comes to the worst realization of his life.
Yes, Peter is in love with Claire, but Claire is also in love with Peter. She may be letting Nathan fuck her, but she is making love with Peter, and what Nathan is doing to her body cannot compete with what Peter is giving her.
His thrusts falter and Claire slightly turns her head to look over her shoulder. “You okay?” she pants.
It is then that he sees the pity in her eyes and Nathan feels his world begin to crumble.
What began as the greatest sexual experience he had ever had has become humiliating as Nathan imagines what Claire has told Peter as to why she has let this happen, why she wanted this to happen. He has become the pity fuck in an incestuous love triangle, and the only thing more unbelievable than being in an incestuous love triangle was the knowledge that he wasn’t even really in one because she didn’t love him.
He finishes more out of pride than anything else before making up an impromptu meeting to flee the hotel room. When he is leaving, he sees Peter laying Claire back against the pillows, his body moving atop hers to reclaim what is his.
* * *
Lot’s Wife Wasn’t So Dumb After All
Nathan can’t stand to see them together since that night in Boston. Every time he sees Peter open a door for his niece or Claire laugh at something her uncle says, Nathan feels inadequate, embarrassed, and small. He has never like this and can’t help wondering if this is how Peter has felt his whole life.
It is not until Christmas that he has to spend any real stretch of time with them. He has not initiated anything sexual with Claire since that night, and Claire has not pushed. Nathan thinks that she has gotten better at reading him and knows something has changed. She will not say anything to him though; they never talk about this.
For six months, Nathan has slept with his daughter, and for six months, he had been playing second fiddle to his brother.
In the middle of trimming the tree, Nathan realizes that Peter and Claire have disappeared. Claiming he had to make a phone call, he began to search them out, preparing to reprimand them for being so careless as to fool around with a house full of people.
Nathan finds them in the kitchen, Peter removing a sheet of sugar cookies from the oven that Nathan forgot the boys had put in, Claire talking and gesturing with one of her hands. When Peter sets the cookies atop the stove, Claire reaches past him, grabbing one of the hot cookies and popping a piece into her mouth, the heat not bothering her indestructible skin.
“Are they good?” Peter asks with an indulgent smile at her impatience.
“Taste for yourself,” she encourages, grasping the collar of his shirt and pulling him close for a long, sweet kiss.
Nathan watches as Peter samples the taste of the cookies from her lips, struggling not to wince as his brother proclaims them perfect and declaring his love for Claire, who echoes the sentiment. As he watches them in their cocoon, oblivious to the world, Nathan is filled with such longing that it nearly chokes him.
He blows off a meeting that night; instead, he orders a call girl to a hotel room. When the girl he ordered arrives, he quickly checks to make sure she meets his specifications: young, blonde, and green eyed.
“Your name is Claire,” he informs her as she strips, downing the rest of his Scotch.
“And what’s your name?” she coos.
“Peter.”