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]

My hand travels over his hip, below the hem of the shirt, and up his thigh to the swell of his ass. No panties, of course. Peter's still the same person he was before, and underwear to him was just something that would get in the way. Not that I'm complaining.

I give his ass a playful slap, and pull his thighs slightly apart so I can slip my fingers in between them, feel that slippery warmth gathering there.

"I think it's time you learned how good this body can make you feel, Peter," I whisper against his lips. He kisses just the same, even if his mouth is a bit smaller. I've fucked him twice like this, but I haven't made love to him, not yet. We might both miss his male body, but that's no reason not to take advantage of this.

I take him by his hands and walk backward, leading him into the bedroom, and I scoop him up and lay him down. My fingers work slowly at the buttons of the shirt he's wearing, yet again unwrapping the gift that was always meant for me, every time.

He looks excited, and he has every right to be. Another first time for my little brother. His face and chest flush a deep pink when I use my teeth to give a tug at each of his nipples, not spending too much time there, continuing on to my final destination. I try not to rush my way down, but it's difficult; each time my lips press to a new spot on his soft skin, I'm reminded that my mouth has better places to be, one in particular.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I've shaved since the last time we've done this. It had started off as an experiement -- I was already shaving my legs and under my arms for work -- and it naturally led me to doing more than cleaning up the hair between my legs. After that, the shaving continued to fight off the itch of the hair growing back. It's part of my routine now, just as shaving my face and neck use to be a morning routine except when I was trying to have a masculine, stubbly sort of look.

I sit up on the edge of the bed -- the heel of one foot tucked up against my thigh and ass -- to watch him as his tongue presses between the lips below my navel and his nose rests on the hairless mouth there. He spreads me apart, delicate, as if he was gently unfolding the petals of a flower, the tip of his tongue zipping across my clit in the most delicious of ways.

I love to watch him, the intensity of his eyes making me shudder in passion as his tongue darts down towards my slit and back up again. It feels different than my fingers -- which do this in a no-nonsense sort of quick way to relieve stress more than anything -- firm yet yielding.

My hips undulate forward and I bite at my lower lip, grinning shyly when his eyes meet mine.

"I want to get a camera," I whisper, breathing growing harder. "I want to watch. I don't like this angle..."

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

I let out a slight laugh, my lips vibrating into him, causing him to jerk his hips slightly. A camera. He's always loved to watch me perform oral sex, and it's quite hard for him to see what I'm doing now. At Peter's words, I remember the mirrored closets he has in his New York bedroom. I can't help but wonder if they came with the apartment, or he had them installed on purpose.

"Little voyeur, aren't you," I lift my head long enough to tease. "Like to watch your brother do naughty things to you?" The grin never leaves his face, and I try my best to keep my eyes on his as I flick and circle my tongue at the center of him, then follow the slippery heat of him down to the source, push my tongue inside him, once, twice. He moans softly, and I feel another rush of arousal flow from his body, into my eager mouth. I love the taste of him, and I could stay down here forever if he wanted me to.

Well, that is, if my dick weren't straining at my pants, wanting a taste of him also. I'm so hot for his female body I just know there's probably a wet spot on the front of my boxers from pre-come. I remember now a lot of the times he used to suck me off, and I haven't had it in such a long time. What's fair is fair.

"I'll get you a camera--I'll get you anything you want," I moan, finally tearing my face away. I push myself up on my hands to kiss him so he can get a taste of himself, which I know he likes too. "Just--suck my dick. Please." God, that sounded so crude. I'd never ask a real woman like that. But Peter knows just how I like it, and I hope he's feeling generous.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

It's like all of those times we spent as younger people, back over a decade ago. I'd gladly go down on him the moment he came home from college, from the military, from law school. It was my gift, my prerogative. Sure, I wasn't the first to do it. I just wanted to be the last. Maybe now he'll let me.

As he stands up, I get to my knees on the bed and gently push him away from the kiss. He can have more of that later. We both can. For now, I lean forward, part my lips, and engulf him into my mouth.

I don't remember that last time I did this. I don't remember when I had his cock against my tongue. So I take my time, naked and kneeling and ready for this.

I wish his own tongue was still against me, but my pleasure will return soon.

And besides. I love it when he watches me do this.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

His long hair tickles the inside of my thigh as he wraps his little hand around the base of me and lowers his head into my lap. I tuck the stray strands out of his face so I can see the way he closes his eyes and laps at the head of my cock with his tongue quickly before taking me all the way into his mouth.

I lean back against the ruffled pillows he's got scattered across his bed, and shudder each time I feel the head of my cock slide into his throat. He's so fucking good at this.

"Oh, God, Peter--" I gasp, when his tongue snakes expertly around my width, when he sucks at and kisses the underside of my cock. Is it possible that he's even better at doing this than I remember? Or is it maybe because he's a woman right now? I don't know, don't care. Can't think, can't concentrate on anything except preventing the urge to raise my hips into his face, make him take more of me.

I have to stop him or it's going to be over before it starts, and Peter knows it. I let him give me a few more obscene little licks before I pull his head gently away.

"I love when you do that for me," I tell him, almost breathless. He just gives me his shy crooked smile, the one I've always known. He knows that too.

I slip an arm around him and bring him down flat to the mattress with me, entirely too desperate to have him once again.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I laugh as my brother takes me down to the mattress and the whole bed bounces for a moment as he settles down on top of me. I smile at him, my fingers creeping up his arm to his neck and then curling around his ear. My lips are red from sucking on him. His lips taste like a different sort of me. I'm happy, happy that despite the lust, I'm absolutely left having a giggle fit in his arms.

He pinches my nipple, so I pinch his, his lips curling upwards until he joins me in a laugh that can only be stilled by a kiss. We look at each other fondly after that and as he slowly pushes his cock into me, making me gasp and spread my legs for me, I whisper in an almost timid voice, "We're having a baby, Nathan."

His belly, firm despite his age, presses flush against mine. I can feel him fill me completely and my eyes close for a moment as heat settles over me. I mewl quietly and he kisses me again while my hand moves to the back of his neck.

"It's going to be perfect." He trusts gently inside of me, making the sensations last. "He's sharing my blood. My blood...it heals people, Nathan. It makes them perfect. Our baby will be perfect."

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

"Perfect..." I echo, realizing just what he's telling me. I gave Claire life, and she gave her ability to my brother. Now the simple fact that he has it insures that our baby will, just as Peter says, be perfect. "Perfect," I moan against his lips, swollen from this kiss that we just can't seem to break away from. I bury my fingers in his softly scented hair, immerse myself in everything Peter has always wanted to be for me, give myself to him the way he's always needed. "Perfect. Just like you. Like this. Like us."

Peter's gender switch is the most wonderful thing that's ever happened, I'm sure of it now. His very empathic nature has insured that Peter and I are everything we were always meant to be for each other. The cruel trick of fate that made us brothers no longer applies. It's mindbending and wrong and beautiful all at once.

He's everything to me. I knew it when he was just an hour old, and it's a truth that no one can ever take from me.

"I love you," I gasp, as my emotional love for him gives way to the physical. The tension that's built inside me finally bursts, and I come inside him, enjoying each deep thrust as my pleasure peaks and fades. Peter cries out, a high, clear moan: the contractions of my orgasm have triggered his. Just perfect.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

As we recline against each other, stroking our fingertips against soft skin, I let my eyes flicker up to him. I smell like his sweat, something that makes me flush with pleasure as I bare my throat for him to touch. He's delicious. Our fingers lace as his gaze meets mine and I smile at him with big brown eyes.

The television is on in the background, just noise for us to ignore. The sound of my phone ringing, however, I can not ignore.

I stride across the bedroom naked, knowing he's watching me. I let him. I want him to. As I scoop up the phone, I turn back to him, letting him gaze at my breasts, at the swell of our child. I even rest my hand on the bump as I answer. "Paige.... Peggy! Hi! Oh, yes I'm fine. More than fine. I...got engaged!"

There's a scream. I have to hold the phone out so I don't go deaf. I grin at my brother and head back into bed with him. Peggy's still screaming in excitement. I can't get the glow off of my cheeks.

[crashgirl82.livejournal.com]

I hold Peter in my arms while his girlfriend squeals madly into the phone. I can hear the happiness in her voice as she goes on and on about a baby shower, just as I had suggested they might want. I feel a bit of regret for moving Peter away from his friends, but it's not as if he can never visit them. I wonder how Peter's going to handle this double life he's created for himself after he has our child and turns back into the man he used to be.

I don't need to worry about that right now. It doesn't matter what happens in the future; all that matters is Peter is here with me, safe, and above all, finally happy. There really isn't anything more I could ask for.

I nudge him lightly. "Pete?" He doesn't answer me. "Peter." He shoots me a incredulous look and points at the phone.

Oh, shit. Right. This is going to be difficult, remembering to use his female name.

"Paige," I call a bit louder, trying to get his attention off the mindless, giddy chatter coming through the other end of the line. "Why don't I take you and your girlfriends out to dinner tonight? Little celebration? I do have to be back in New York in the morning," I ask.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I look at Nathan with a frown. Of course he had to go back. I never thought otherwise. I still thought, though, that I had some more time with him. Any more time with him would have been better than two days. I take his hand in mine and tell Peggy to give Slice a call with the name of an upscale restaurant before I hang up the phone and let Nathan pull me into his arms to kiss my forehead.

"Tomorrow? Already? I need to stay for a little longer...you'll--" He's not leave me. He's got a meeting tomorrow in New York and three in DC over the next few days. "You'll come back for the weekend right?"

I'm only relieved when he nods his head, dark hair falling over his eyes. I blanch at once.

"I need to dye my hair!" I say, almost frantic. There's nothing we can do about our eyes matching, but our hair can't match too. "And we have to think of a story...something..."

I don't want them to guess. I don't want Nathan taken from me.

[crashgirl82.livejournal.com]

Peter is almost ready to jump out of the bed with his excitement and nervousness of actually going out with me, our first appearance in public as more than just brothers, and I can't help but laugh. He does have a point about the hair dye, though.

"How about you let me do all the talking? You know that's what I'm good at," I say, leaning in to kiss him again, letting my lips graze over his smooth cheek to his ear. "Actually, I'm good at a lot of things," I whisper into his skin on my way back down his shoulder, my kisses stopping right above one brownish-pink nipple.

Peter makes an affirmative sound, his fingers tangling in my hair as I part my lips and work the flesh to a hard knot, and I don't stop until he actually reaches down and closes his hand on my cock, pulls me toward him.

We make love again, and I prove just how good I am when he comes twice before I'm even anywhere close.

We go into his bathroom to shower, and I catch a glimpse of my scratched-up back in the wall-to-wall mirrors. "Jesus Christ, you're vicious!" I tease. Peter just laughs, and we shower together, kissing, washing each other, taking so long that the water runs cold.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

It was easiest to simply put red over my dark hair. It's subtle and almost unnoticeable except in the sunlight. Still, standing side my side with my brother in the mirror over the sink, we look different enough for me to feel comfortable. He doesn't have the droopy lower lip. His mouth is different from mine. His stubble makes him look mysterious and hides his jawline, just enough like mine to have made me uncomfortable.

"Don't slick it back," I murmur, having him sit on the toilet. I run mouse through his curls to give them body and as his hair dries, I tie my own hair up in a loose and messy twist.

He's wearing his suit, newly washed. I'm in a red dress he's never seen before. I bought it on one of my first shopping trips with the girls. I bought it just so that I would not be the only one without a bag at the boutiques.

It's low. Plunging. The skirt is tight and cut high. There's really almost no fabric at all. I know what he's thinking about when he looks at me. I wink at him as I put on red lipstick, bending over as if to get a better view in the mirror. No underwear yet again. It's an invitation. A quicky. We've got some time.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

I'm glad Peter didn't decide to go blonde; reddish highlights suit his eye color and skin tone much better. Yes, I know. I notice things like that about beautiful women. Peter really does dress up nicely.

I watch him in the mirror, his mascaraed eyes batting at me, tempting me to take what I want. As if he doesn't want it just as much. He's wiggling his ass at me, bent over the sink, pretending to touch up lipstick that's already perfectly applied.

I get up from my seat on the toilet lid and rub my clothed erection against the flimsy red fabric that separates me from that sexy little ass. I hitch the long dress up until I can rest my hands on the two perfect curves of his asscheeks. No underwear again. Is he trying to keep me hard all night just thinking about him?

Her. I need to start thinking of him as her. Paige. Not Peter.

"Paige, you naughty girl," I breathe, the room quiet except for the sound of me opening my belt and pants. I drag my cock along the inside of one cream white thigh, soft and smooth, over her ass, and down the other leg. She sighs, probably thinking I'm going to tease her a bit more, just what I hoped for.

Not even my brother the mind-reader is prepared when I push forward in one swift thrust, then assume a hard, fast rhythm, jostling the cosmetics and bottles that surround the sink. Her position makes her even tighter than usual around me and I can't help but curse under my breath.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

We're late, but i needed to fix my makeup. Nathan haadn't been playing with me. We fucked, and fucked hard, my face to the mirror, my lipstick coating it even now. It's almost impossible to get lipstick off of skin once it's smeared like it had been.

Now I look just fine. Everything is in place as it should be. Peggy is squealing in my ear. Slice didn't even get up from the bar until Nathan charmed her away from it. This whole business is not as amazing as I had hoped. I'm nervous now.

Nathan's got it covered. He makes up some story about being married when we first met. About being divorced. About taking two months to find me from when I left New York. It's romantic. And they're buying it.

I'm buying it too. No wonder Nathan kept me on such a short leash. He waas good at manipulating me. But no more. Now we're together.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Paige's two girlfriends are quite a pair. Peggy is bouncy and bubbly and almost bursting with joy for her. She pulls Paige aside to hug her and congratulate her over and over, and I'm left sitting at the bar with Slice. She's probably a lesbian, and she's got purple hair and shocking green contact lenses. She seems to hold a grudge against me until I'm able to chat her up, buy her a drink. I even find out Slice's real name: Ashley.

We're all seated at our table a little while later, and I feel Paige's leg press against mine under the table, her hand slide high on my inner thigh.

My mind goes instantly to how I took her in front of the bathroom sink, and I'm hard again. She's enjoying this power she holds over me that she never did when she was Peter.

My brother lets me do all the talking, and my ability to fabricate Paige's and my past increases substantially with the amount of alcohol I ingest. So does my lust. By the time the entree arrives, Peggy herself is almost in love with me, and Slice is actually smiling, but I can't even look over at my brother without wanting to tear her clothes off.

I can't wait to get her home.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

We kiss the entire way home. There's a diamond on my finger and a promise of forever in my heart as we give the cab driver a bit of a show. It can be established by now that I'm as much an exhibitionist as I am a voyeur. Nathan pushes aside the fabric covering my breasts and plays with my nipples as he sucks bruises that disappear against my throat. He hikes up my dress and slips his fingers against my wet slit, wiggling them as if he was tuning a trumpet. I'm not quiet, I'd let the world know how addicted to Nathan I am if it was possible.

And I can do so as Paige, even if I still resent this persona. Just a little bit. Paige gets to be open about her love of Nathan. Peter, the real me, has to keep it quiet.

We're back up in my apartment half an hour later. I've already come once, but the beautiful thing about a woman's body is that there's not exactly a limit on orgasms per hour.

We dance across the foyer as I slip off my shoes -- instantly four inches shorter than before -- and let Nathan carry me to bed.

"How long will you be gone," I ask, watching him undress. I'm barechested, breasts flatter and wider from gravity.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

"Friday night," I answer automatically, hanging my suit and slacks among the dresses and tight pants Paige has in her closet. "Before you know it," I murmur, sliding into the bed with her.

I have a lot of work waiting for me on my desk on Monday morning. I have three meetings in Washington, and one in New York, and then a press conference to attend. I also have to put Peter's false identification in the works. I have to break it off with Vanessa the intern. Tracy's not going to be as easy, but I push her out of my mind before Peter catches wind of her existence.

I gaze down at Paige, as she peeks up at me through half-lidded, thickly lashed eyes. I let my eyes travel over her full breasts, the gentle curve of the child growing inside her. It's becoming easier to think of my brother's female incarnation as Paige, and I can't get enough of her. But the alcohol has put a bitter taste in my throat, worsened the ache in my heart for my brother's real body. I miss Peter.

Peter and his three-day-old stubble, his deep, husky voice. His shy smile, his sarcasm. His beautiful, forbidden male body. I may love women, but I also loved him. He's different like this, even though he's still the same person on the inside. I touch Paige, but I want Peter. I make love to my fiancee, but I want my brother.

Why can't anything be as perfect when I have it as when I first desired it? Why are there always strings attached, debts to be paid?

I'm soon able to forget those thoughts as I immerse myself in her. She's all I know now, our bodies heaving together as one. Paige's perfectly manicured nails rake into the scratches already on my back, the velvet heat inside her urging me on towards the height of our pleasure, a further perversion of the sins Peter and I could never leave behind.

I've made a trade with the devil-woman, and she owns my soul.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

My brother sleeps uneasily but I am worse off, unable to keep my eyes closed or rest at all. I turn to look at his shoulder. We fell asleep together spooning, my arms around him. It's rare that Nathan's needed to be held, but the contents of his dreams are enligtening. I try my best not to be worried about it, but he's got a pathetic track record.

He cheated on Heidi with at least three women each time she was pregnant, and those are the only ones I know about. He's had more one night stands than he and I have fucked...and that's saying something, even for our ten year dry spell.

I touch his back and slip my arm under his to gently sooth him by stroking his chest. He settled back against me and I kiss his neck.

Nathan is not a man that can be trusted. At no point in our relationship has he ever been with just me. He's got women in New York and in DC waiting for him. It leaves me feeling cold inside and I slip out of bed and into a robe before headed out onto the tiny balcony my apartment boasts.

"He still loves you," I whisper, touching my belly, but I am not talking to the child who does not yet know about love. I am reminding myself that love does not equal exclusivity for Nathan.