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 mouth finds mine again, and I can't tear myself away. His soft lips, the velvet heat of his tongue against mine. Never leave you...love you, never leave you.

"I'll never leave you," I choke out, against more tears. "I love you, Peter."

I'm learning now what it is that my brother needs. What Peter has wanted from me his whole life. My love, my affection, my undivided attention. I'll stay with him here forever if I have to, just touching him, listening to the beautiful, desperate sounds that leave his throat, the ones I match with my own, as we touch each other in the way we've always wanted to, the way brothers never should.

Peter releases me unexpectedly, puts both his hands on my back and pulls me down to him. His thighs clench around my sides, and his cock slides against mine, his body shifting beneath me to increase the contact. I want him so badly, but I have to wait.

"Peter...I have to find something..." I gasp, as Peter moves upward, my cock sliding downward, suddenly pressed right up against his asshole. I have to look for something for us to use; I have to do this right. I won't hurt him this time.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"No--" I can hear my voice but it's far away. I'm drunk on him, I can't let him go, but he is smarter than I am. He realizes that pain will only draw up apart again. No. I correct myself. Not again. This is our first time.

Nathan leaves my side for the bathroom, finding hand cream in there. Technically, it's not for this sort of thing, but what else is he going to use? Spray on vegetable oil? At least the cream is not scented. I use it for dry elbows in the winter, but it hasn't gotten used in months. As he rummages around for anything else, just in case, I sit up and move closer to the headboard.

I can see my reflection, the curve of my nakedness, in the mirrored closets. I am not self conscious, however. I'm never been.

Nathan is still wearing his socks when he returns, tube in hand, thick, fat cock punching the air in front of him. I'm afraid to look at it. I think he accepts that, understands that. I gaze at him with a look he's always called my puppy eyes, though those eyes close the moment he kisses me. Lays me down. Strokes my chest, my hips, my calves, my inner thighs. I relax almost at once, gasping softly when he slips a slick finger inside of me. I can't believe how hungry I am for him. I suck him in, clamping down hard.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

I'm bitterly happy that my hands are so injured; my right hand is throbbing, forcing me to be slow, gentle with him. I don't care how long it takes. Ten minutes. An hour. Forever. My brother is worth it. He's everything to me.

My fingers ache as I gently try to find that spot inside Peter that makes him shake and cry out. I do, and I hear his breath leave him, a long, shuddery sigh that is followed by a full body tremor. He's not anywhere near as tight as he was before, and I can't help but smile. He may have never stopped loving me, but he definitely stopped trusting me. Until now.

I'm finally earning it back. Touching him the way he wanted me to. Not fucking. Making love.

With my bandaged left hand, I stroke along the muscle of his inner thigh, cradle his testicles briefly. My fingers travel up the underside to the head of his cock, which is now shiny and wet with pre-come. I bring my fingers to my mouth so I can taste him, and he just watches me, surprise in those wide brown eyes. Every time I push my fingertips in the right place, Peter gasps and bites into his lip and thrusts his hips.

"Tell me what you want me to do next. Whatever you want. Anything."

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

It's like Christmas, only better. It's like my birthday when he would save up his leave to visit me and take me out on the town. Just the two of us. I've never been happier, never wanted to be happier, than I have been with Nathan. Just the same, I have never been more miserable than I have been with him. Pushing that thought -- and all thoughts -- out of my mind, I relax at his touch, letting him press against me like an instrument, playing me so gently that I almost weep for more.

I let it draw out though. I tell him what I like, where to move his fingers, how fast. I can feel my cock weeping for joy as I look up at him. He's always in my gaze. We hold each other in the connection between us, eyes locked.

Finally, when I've teased myself enough, when I've stretched the foreplay out so far that I'm spun up and ready to spring, I pull Nathan down for another kiss.

"I need to have you," I whisper, the little puppy inside of me almost barking with a growl. I want to watch us in the mirror. I want to watch him make me his.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

I need to have you. His plea, needy, desperate, rings in my ears, makes my heart ache and my nerves spark like live wires.

"I need you too," I whisper, kissing him, turning his head to the side so he can see the reflection of our tangled bodies, about to become one.

"Oh, Peter. Needed you forever. Love you. So much. Peter."

I can hardly breathe, my chest is so tight with happiness for this moment, sorrow for all the moments I wasted and ruined. I push that away as quickly as it comes. None of that matters anymore. I'm making up for it all. What happened before, it never did. This is the first time. Everything it should have been. Everything we are. Everything we'll always be.

I spread his legs wide, and rub some more of the cream on myself. I take hold of myself, then press forward into him, feeling his muscles part and grip and guide me inside, and I slide into him, his heat almost too much, too quickly. I stop, letting him adjust to me.

"Never hurt you, Peter. I love you." The words alone are not enough, they'll never mean just how much, so I'll show him instead.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

Oh, I'm sure that's not true. He'll hurt me again, its in his nature to do so. I'll fight him, push him away, and come crying back to him because it's in my nature to do so as well. He kisses my neck now, once I feel the head of his cock slide into me, and it pushes my head to the side so that I can watch him sink the rest of the way into my body.

I groan the entire way. There's pain, but it's not much. Discomfort, really. Stretching. I feel -- and see -- my toes curling as I focus on the point of our bonding. I lift one leg a little more, bringing my knee closer to my chest until I see -- and feel -- the root of his cock anchor into me.

I'm breathing so fast I'm going to hyperventilate and he nuzzles me like a baby lamb, like I'm precious to him. My eyes close and I turn my head around to taste his lips before I gaze into him. His fingers are in my short hair. My fingers are in trembling against his cheek.

"Unn...Nathan..." I actually relax into him, impaling myself deeper onto his throbbing shaft. "I can...I can feel you...everywhere--" It's the truth. His fat cock is buried so far up into my body I can almost taste it. In desperation I suck on his tongue as it slips into my mouth.

Was this what all of his other women felt the first time he entered them? Like that were part of the world and everything in it with each and every breath? My nails lightly scratch his cheeks.

"Please...please...more..."

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Peter is bucking and writhing beneath me, my hips suddenly flush with his ass. I'm inside him, all the way, and he's groaning, sweat forming on his temples.

I know he's not used to this, and I want him to be comfortable before I really give him what he's asking for. My brother's masculine beauty spread out beneath me, his gasps of pain and pleasure, it's enough to make me want to forget everything I've said before. Take him hard, fast, rough.

It's in our nature to oppose one another, but it's also natural to build upon each other as well. His need is becoming my own. Two men making love is nothing like when a man and a woman do. He doesn't know that yet, and he has to learn.

"Calm down, Peter," I say, blinking the sweat out of my own eyes. Controlling myself is so difficult, and it's hurting my back. My thigh muscles are tensing and spasming as I hold myself still, even while my brain screams at me to fuck him, make him cry, make him scream, make him come.

"Get used to it. You'll like it more if you're totally relaxed, okay?" To make him happy, I assume a short, shallow rhythm, moving slightly inside him, the head of my dick right up against that little place in him.

Please get used to this soon, I try to tell him without words, begging him with my eyes, my lips, my hands. I don't know how much longer I can hold on.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I know his breathing has already changed. I recognize it from the last time. The need in his voice is just as intense and I wrap my arms around his neck and nod slowly, almost painfully. I'm not going to deny him a thing. I'm torn between wanting to keep this rhythme and wanting it to escalate, just as he obviously wants it to. What if it ends too quickly? What if I decide it should never end? "All...all right." It's followed by the smallest of whines.

I turn my face from him again, not to hide, but to watch the way we move together. I'm like a cacoon, wrapped completely around him, my ass off of the bed as I thrust up to meet him.

He takes my cue, my go ahead, and slams into me so hard I see stars, so hard that I actually cry out. This is not in pain I am far too gone to separate myself from discomfort. It simply dissolves away into nothingness.

"God, Nathan! God, do that again!" Why do I have to be silent when I love how he drills me? I scratch up his back, moaning like any wanton girl I've watched in porno movies. I arch my back and he fucks me hard. I want him to fuck me. We've already made love the first few minutes, and now, now I'm too far gone for romance.

With a red face and swollen lips I command him to thrust harder. He does. And I explode over his chest.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Peter's body thrashes beneath me, and I feel his muscles clench and close around me as he comes from the anal stimulation alone, a guttural, animal cry unleashed from his throat, his fingernails tearing at my back, my shoulders, his eyes rolling back into his head. Unadulterated pleasure. My brother, coming beneath me. So beautiful, and all mine, now and forever.

And still he moves beneath me, moaning and pulling at my hair while I continue to fuck him. This time, he wanted it, and this time, he loved it.

I did it right this time.

"Oh, Peter, did you like that?" I whisper, kissing, biting at his soft white skin while I feel the tension build in my belly, my thighs tightening. God, I'm so close.

So close.

He knows it.

He urges me on, repeating my name, the first beautiful burst of orgasm burning through my spine, my body shuddering, my cock pulsing inside him, spilling myself into him.

And to my surprise, Peter's hand slides once over his own cock, still half-hard, and he actually comes again, nowhere near as violently as the first time, but beautiful just the same.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I paint my brother with the essence of myself, a long stream of everything that makes up who I am, at the most cellular level creating a glue to bind us, to keep us connected. I whimper now, softly, sucking on his lower lip when the last of my orgasmic spasms is over and my body aches for me. When the last of my brother's bliss fills me with thick and heavy cream, I realize that my lust is not sated, just left to sleep for the time being.

He's talking, stroking my hair, but I have no idea what he's saying. I can only hear our hearts, beating so wildly I almost think we're going to die, locked together like this.

I realize, as Nathan pushes a hand against my hip, that I am still crashing up into him, still milking him for everything he's worth. It keeps him hard though, keeps him inside of me. In fact, when he tries to pull out so that he can hold me, I almost cry, shaking so terribly as the tears well up that he is concerned.

"Nathan....Nathan....don't even go..." I want him inside of me forever.

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Peter looks heartbroken when the last of my erection fades and slips from his body, and I know neither of us wanted it to end so soon. I stroke his hair, his face, his shoulders, until he's finally still beneath me, and he sighs with each of my soft touches.

If he wants to go again, he's going to have to give me some time. Forty years isn't quite that old, but I still need to recover, especially after the intensity of that encounter. "I'm not as young as I used to be, Pete," I say, smiling. I roll us both on our sides, our bodies still pressed together, my arms still wrapped around him. I hold him like this until both of us have stopped breathing so hard, until our frantic heartbeats slow.

"Shh. Shh," I admonish him gently. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?" I wonder if Peter thinks I'm just going to get up and get dressed and act like nothing happened. Does he think I'm that callous with all my lovers? And even if I were, doesn't he realize he's the most special one of all, because he's my brother? The one I've wanted for what feels like forever?

Never, never leave you.

"I love you, Peter, you know that, don't you?"