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]

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.