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.

Comments

[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.