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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[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."