A Long Trip Home

[chimeramimicry]

The door is two yards away but I can't move from the top of the stairs.  It's been months, four or so, since I've been here, in this spot.  Gone were the days of trudging up the stairs with my satchel on the way home from work because my building's landlords refused to fix the elevators properly.  Gone too was the pleasure I had of returning to this apartment I paid for with my own money and not from my trust fund.  I donated all of that to charity the moment I turned twenty-five and finished paying off my loans to school.  It was two years ago.  It feels like forever.

I'm not the same man I had been.  I'm not a child anymore.  At least, I want to think that.

I'm still clutching the photograph of my brother and I in our tuxedos.  There's a smudge on it from my thumb and full of creases.  I've not let it go since I opened that box containing everything that I am.  Everything I was.  I left Ireland without looking back.  There was, there is only one thing on my mind.  Nathan.

Nathan.

Nathan.

I know he's here.  I've always felt a connection to him.  Mohinder Suresh called it part of my empathy, to feel things like that.  Funny to be so empathically linked to someone I spent my whole life pining for, who has always had a life to live without me.  He's never had time for me.  Never.

"Just walk, Peter," I whisper to myself as I move to a door I have not touched in a long time.  I swallow.  And knock.  I know he's in here without knowing it.  I almost lose the nerve to knock.  Please answer, Nathan.  Please.

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[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I catch the thought as easily as if he meant me to hear it. I have his cheeks spread in front of me. The act itself is degrading and fulfilling and powerful all at once. "You're already mine," I say as gently as possible, taking a moment to take a bite out of his perfect ass. He hisses in the most satisfying way and sucking in a breath, and plunge back down against parts of a person that one should not typically have their face anywhere near.

Tonguing the star shaped ring of muscles, depositing packets of saliva that I lick across a moment later. He shivers and I take another bite of him. This is adventurous in a way I never considered. My hand moves to the small of his back and with very little ever, I squash him back down to the mattress. On his belly, he looks confused, his thighs on the bed, knees bent and spread.

I really can't wait much more. Spitting on my hand a few times, my thumb thrusts between his ass and I tug him open again. At least I'm slow about actually slipping into him. I'm long, not as long as he is, but long enough to be uncomfortable at first and I feel him back as he gets use to me. I'm not as wide as he is either, so the pressure of stretching is not as great as it always is when he slips into my body.

Scratching his ribs and stomach, I guide myself into him and make just a small thrust until we're united. I don't know why, but it makes me laugh when my balls hit his ass. I lean over him, kissing the back of his bowed neck and his shoulders.

"I...I can't believe I'm..." God, it's perfect. I'm still humming with joy as I thrust into him again and again, shallow little movements, my thighs meeting the resistance of his ass as I leave more bruises across his body.

He really is mine. I've claimed him. I'll make him black and blue if I have to.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

He wastes no time working his tongue into me again, and my cock is positively aching. I run my hand over myself, just to relieve some of the tension, and the sheer amount of clear fluid that's collected at the head of my cock makes it extremely enjoyable to stroke myself while Peter revels in this thing I'm letting him do.

It's suddenly out of my control, and surprisingly, I don't care. I want it. I want him.

"Oh, God," I moan as Peter's tongue pushes into me over and over, each time a little deeper. When I think this pleasure will be too much, he takes it away and bites me, hard enough to hurt. He makes me curse and press back into him, gripping the bedsheets in the fingers of my left hand while I stroke my cock in my right.

He knows what I'm doing, and he pushes me down on my stomach, teaching me a lesson. That I'm on his terms now, and that I like being his. No, no. In fact, I love it.

"Oh, Christ--" One of his fingers slips into me, opening me up a little more.

"Peter, fuck me--" I choke, just as I feel the tip of his cock push through my resistance.

I never thought I'd feel this again, that I'd allow myself to feel it. Not after I realized the power I wielded over my partners, men and women alike. With Peter, it's different, and Christ, it hurts and feels wonderful all at once, as he pushes into me slowly, so much of his saliva inside me that it's almost easy. He lets me adjust while he enjoys it himself.

He's laughing, and kissing me, biting me, hurting me with his teeth and his hands, making the pleasure that much more intense. Each thrust nudges up against something inside me, sending an electric crackle up my spine, spiking inside my brain, my cock twitching against the mattress. Peter's full weight and his super-strength hold me right where he wants me, and I can't reach beneath me to touch myself, so I make do with the friction against the bedsheets.

"Harder, Pete--" He doesn't miss a beat, and suddenly he's hammering into me, my body closing in on orgasm, and I still can't believe the moans and groans that tear from me. I sound just like he usually does. I never want this to stop.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

With one knee I am able to push my brother's thighs further apart. With my hands I am able to pull his cheeks apart. I use these things to get closer to Nathan, to push as much of myself inside of him as possible. It's not just thrusting... I've never been inside of someone like this, so I do what I usually do with women, rolling my hips, bucking at different paces, pulling all the way out to plunge back in... It's a bit like an art form, and one that Nathan seems to be enjoying too.

Oh, this is not to say that I don't love the jackrabbit feel of his cock as it pogos inside of me, bouncing off of my prostate in the most beautiful way. My tired tongue collects the taste of the sweat from his shoulder as I bow again over him, my cheek finding the spot a moment later. Hair in my face, fingers gripping the sheets at either side of his head, I settle into a more regular pattern.

I can't believe that I'm whimpering and whining even now, cuddling Nathan as I thrust. I'm like that little dog our neighbors use to have, humping the couch and Nathan's leg as I feel the pressure in my balls give way to orgasm.

"N-N-Nathan!" I call, almost afraid at how sudden it all is. It ends with my brother's semen soaking into the sheets and my own deposited neatly into his bowels. I don't roll over, nuzzling his neck and his hair instead.

Slowly, very slowly, I move my weight off of him, gripping my brother's hips as I look down between us to watch my glistening cock slip out of his ass. The sight alone makes me hard again.

I don't know where I find the strength, but in the next hour, I fuck him two more times, coming so hard the last time that I doubt he can hold any more of my seed inside of him. He mostly pants through the last few, desperate thrusts. I'm sweating, hair a mess, and dick throbbing. I need a break.

Nathan needs a break.

But my God, I never want to stop this.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Peter's last thrust gives me just a shadow of another orgasm, a small burst of sensation that spreads inside me, and he finally lets me go. I collapse face-first and Peter rolls off me, finding his place at my side, his breathing fast and ragged, his head thrown back, sweat pouring off his temples, down his neck. I should have realized just how this would be, remembering the last time we went for hours like this. Not that I'm complaining.

My insides ache from overuse, the pain a bittersweet memory of my brother inside me, a memory I never want to lose.

I press my face into the pillow, strangled sounds still coming from me even though Peter's no longer pounding relentlessly into my ass. "Holy fucking shit, Pete," I comment breathlessly. He laughs, and then I do too, and suddenly we're both hysterical, even though we're exhausted and spent.

His come fills me in a strangely satisfying way, but I need to lie down, so I turn to my back and as expected, there's a warm trickle between my legs as his semen leaves my body. I even like the way this feels.

The rest of me positively aches, though. My knees are chafed from their prolonged contact with the mattress, sweat clings to my thighs and my back, and my own semen is sticking to my belly. Bite marks and bruises pepper my skin, painful proof of Peter's love for me, and I trace over them with my fingers. Never more in my life have I felt like I belonged to someone, and never more have I enjoyed it.

"Are you this rough with all your lovers, Peter?" I ask rhetorically, knowing he definitely isn't.

Just with me.

I pull him into my arms and kiss his mouth, the thought of where it's been today making me smile. "Christ, Pete. That was fucking beautiful, wasn't it?"

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

My arm is over his chest a moment later and I curl against his side as I always do after sex. I lay my head against his shoulder and kiss his neck. His ear. I'm so afraid to leave him. One hour and a half session of mindblowing sex is not going to change the world. For a long while, I don't say a thing. I run my hands through his hair instead, playing in the sweaty curls there.

He's...pretty. My brother. I gently move my fingertips against the curve of his ear, gazing at him for a long while as my mind turns over and over again like a busted car engine. It keeps settling on just one thing.

One idea.

And though I am loathe to say it because of afterglow and because of my brother's fierce need to dangle himself in front of me like a carrot, it needs to be said.

It must be said.

If I don't get it out, if I don't stake the claim, I will be lost. In a world like this, in a world where Sylar's probably killed two dozen people with the dinner he make of me because I've been holed up in this hotel suite playing nurse with my brother, there's only one option if I don't want to play dirty. And that is finally coming clean.

"Nathan... I'll share you. With Heidi. But no one else." I wait for him to turn his head to look at me and I harden my eyes. "Do...you understand me?" Power plays are not my thing. So I've gone for a compromise instead. "And you'll make time for me. And come to see me whenever I call. And you'll never...you'll never drink again Nathan. Or I will drag you off and make you suffer all of this again."

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

His hands are gentle as they thread through my hair, and I lean into his touch. This man that loves me more than life, the man I love more than I love myself. My brother's words...they're something else entirely. His voice, his though it's always been deeper than mine, is harsh with the afterglow of sex, filled with truth, with insistence. His deepest needs made into words, something he always has trouble sharing with me.

He wants me to be exclusive to him and Heidi. That won't be a problem, not at all. I don't need any other man than him, and because of him, no other woman than my wife. He's given me back my life. I owe him that much, and I'm happy to give it to him. It's the other thing he's asking me to do.

Never drink again.

I have to bite back a laugh, and I hope he doesn't see the mirth in my eyes. He can't be serious. I know I won't touch alcohol for a long time after going through this pain, this terrible withdrawal. I never want to hurt like that again, never hurt him again either.

But a stone-cold sober life is no life for a man like myself. I want to lie and say I'll never touch another drop, but he'll see right through it.

"You and Heidi. Promise. But the drinking...I can't promise you that, Peter. But one thing I can promise...it'll never get that bad again. Because you came back to me, Peter. You saved me. I love you. Thank you." I don't give him a chance to retort, because I crush my lips to his, pull him in tight against me. "I love you."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Doing my best to give him my best means compromise on my end. He gets his family. I get him when the loneliness creeps up and becomes too much for me to bear. That's not what I want. But I've got to settle. As he kisses me, I wrap my arms around his neck, eyes closing. My jaw opens and our tongues slide against each other. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.

I can feel my need rising to the surface again as he rolls me only my back. I tug at his hair until he looks up and I smile slowly. Very slowly. He returns it, goes to kiss me again, and I turn my head to the side.

"Do you think I should settle down?"

I'm changing the subject away from the alochol. If he ever shows up drunk around me again.... I don't think I'll let him keep Heidi after that. My hands move up his back as I shift and settle, perfectly willing for him to press me into the mattress again.

He looks startled. I don't blame him. "Find a girlfriend, I mean. Start a family. Be normal."

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Peter chooses the strangest times to talk about these things. We've just fucked for two hours straight, just barely rested, and I can't believe this, but my cock is stirring almost reluctantly to attention again. My mind wants more of Peter; my body's slow to respond, but it's getting there.

"I'm not the one you should ask about that, Pete. It's up to you. Is that what you want?" I ask him, my voice a whisper into his sweaty skin, trailing a few errant kisses over his chest, anchoring one of his nipples between my teeth.

"It'd be nice to see you make a woman as happy as you make me. You'd be a good husband, a good father. Better than me, I'm sure. "

I reach between his legs, stroke him gently, and his body arches into my touch. "Is it what you want?" I repeat, my question a dual-edged sword. Because I just really want to suck his cock.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Oh, I can't believe I'm getting hard again. I close my eyes as he touches me, as his lips move over my skin. My chin juts out slightly before I sigh, his fingertips ghosting over my chest. "I need... I need something when you're not..." I suck in a breath at lift my hands from his hair to pillow them under my head. He knows I like to watch.

Our sex...our sex is beautiful, I don't care what anyone says. My eyes flutter closed as he pulls me into his mouth before they opened again, fingertips curling in strands of my own hair.

"You...you have Heidi. And...the boys... And I..."

Have no one.

"I don't...want to be alone."