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

Peter's flashback

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

It wasn't that long of a trip from Maryland to New York, only about an hour and a half tops. But it's been months since I've been home, months since I've seen my family.

Since I've seen my brother.

I made sure to catch the latest flight I could, so that my parents will be asleep when I get there. Because the minute I walk in that door, I'm planning on giving Peter his birthday present, whether he wants it or not.

He'll want it; I'm sure of it.

The house of my childhood is dark, except for the glow of the Christmas lights, white and blue icicle lights that run along the roof. I look up at Peter's window, and it's dark as well. He knows I'm coming home for his birthday, and he's asleep? That's not like him.

I smile at the image that comes to mind, my little brother all wrapped up under his blanket, sleeping peacefully, having no idea what I'm about to do to him. The thought of that...his slender body, his soft white skin, his hot, wet mouth--I'm hard almost to aching when I finally push open his bedroom door.

His bedroom is empty, his bed perfectly made, not a wrinkle on it, and my heart sinks just as quickly as it leapt. What if he's not even here? What if he's spending the night at a friend's house?

I sigh and start down the hall to my room, trying to will away my erection, but it's not easing. Guess I'll have to take care of it myself. Then I notice it, the soft glow beneath the door. My bedroom light is on. I remember suddenly that my windows are not visible from the front lawn.

He's either awake, or all curled up under my blankets. Peter is waiting for me.

Re: Peter's flashback

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I knew he wouldn't forget. Nathan said he wouldn't be home until Christmas Eve, but he never forgets my birthday. Never. I'll be fourteen years old in exactly ten minutes. I've been standing in his room since mom and dad went to bed over two hours ago. Waiting. Waiting. Feeling like Nathan would be here. That he'd make it.

When Izzy barked twice and fell silent, I knew that it was him. My pulse has been racing ever since and I realize that I'm holding my breath for an incredibly long time when he swings open the door.

I'm wearing red flannel pajamas with white white buttons on the collar shirt and no socks, though his room is all hard wood floors. It's cold in this old place, but he is warm, even if he's still got snow in his hair when I launch myself at his chest. "Nathan--" I squeak -- when will my voice stop sounding like a mouse?! -- "You came!"

Of course he did. I'm blushing as I stand on my toes to hug him. I haven't hit my growth spurt yet.

Re: Peter's flashback

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

I step back after Peter's crushing hug, and I look him up and down. He's grown two inches since the end of this summer, but he's still got more to go. Mom must have recently forced a haircut on him, because it's just barely starting to fall into his eyes. He's all smiles, his body almost vibrating with excitement at my arrival, like he's waiting for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.

He's even in these cute little red pajamas, and barefoot. Like a little kid. He's only going to be fourteen. But I don't want to think about that right now, how painfully young he is, how wrong it is for me to even think about what I plan to do to him. His body is almost grown up, but his mind isn't. His heart isn't. I'm his big brother, his hero, but I'm also someone else to him. Someone no brother should be to their younger brother.

I told him what happened to him when he had his first wet dream. I explained to him why he would get hard for no reason in the middle of class. I even showed him mine so he would understand what was happening to him.

Then it happened. Peter asked me if he could touch me, and I told him to go ahead, not even thinking. I don't know what either one of us was thinking when his soft touches became full-handed strokes, his motions more courageous, more fluid. All I remember is the unexpected force of my orgasm, shame burning my face and neck when I moaned his name, when I opened my eyes and saw my come erupt from beneath his hand, run down his wrist.

I threw him out of my room and cried for an hour.

That was two years ago, and we've been doing it to each other ever since, sometimes with nust our hands, sometimes our mouths. No one would ever understand how much I love Peter, and I would never expect them to. I could be arrested for these acts I share with my younger brother behind closed doors.

"Happy birthday, Peter," I whisper, pulling him back in toward me, shamelessly rubbing my hardness into his belly, kissing the top of his head. "I missed you so much."

Re: Peter's flashback

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"I know something else that missed me too!" I guess you can say I'm not exactly shy around my brother. I like our time together more than most kids probably like time with their older siblings. Nathan might be a jerk sometimes, he might be mean to me, but I know it's all for show, all to protect us. Even if that means not making it home to see me sometimes, leaving me at the movies to hang out with the concession stand girl, or dropping me off at a park when we're suppose to go to ballgames to meet someone else.

I get that. Sometimes he needs Nathan time, even if it's months and months between our visits sometimes.

What I can count on is getting to spend the nights Nathan is home in his bed and orgasms. Nathan taught me about orgasms some time ago. And while it's fun giving them to myself, it's more fun when he gives them to me.

"There's some hair on my balls now," I announce proudly, my hand automatically going to his crotch. It's like our 'alone time' greeting. "Like you've got on yours." My fingers pull open his jacket and his belt. We don't waste time.

Re: Peter's flashback

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

"Yeah? Let me see," I tease, as Peter's chilly fingers wrap around my cock, my own skin hot for his touch, his tongue, whatever Peter wants to do to me tonight, whatever he wants for himself. It's his birthday: his rules. At least for a little while.

I pull off my slacks quickly so Peter won't feel the bottle of lube in my pocket and ask me what the hell I've got it for. I set the pants nonchalantly on the nightstand so it will be within reach when I decide it's time to make my first move.

He doesn't know yet what it means to carry on a homosexual relationship, that I have needs that stretch further than a jerk-off here, a blowjob every once in a while. He's gonna find out tonight, though. That's for damn sure. I can't fucking wait anymore.

I don't even know if Peter's even figured out his own sexual orientation yet; I know he's stolen my porn movies and returned them when he didn't think I'd notice, and they're all straight. I wouldn't be surprised if he were bisexual. I am, but I stubbornly won't even admit it to myself, it seems.

Peter wiggles out of his pajamas, and Christ, he's not even weaaring underwear, the little slut he is. Once we're both fully nude, we stand there together, jacking each other, and when I cup his balls in my other hand, I feel the bit of fuzz that's sprouted there.

"Yeah, you're right, Peter," I breathe, bending a little so I can kiss him. His tongue forces itself past my lips, and I enjoy the sweet taste of him, like a favorite dessert I haven't tasted in a long time. My cock seems to pulse with each of his strokes, and I match his speed with my hand on him. He's bigger there too; not as big as I am, but he's getting there.

"So what do you want for your present, birthday boy?"

Re: Peter's flashback

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

"I get two," I tell him, my knees weak as we stand in front of his bed, my little hand moving slowly over his cock. I like to draw it out. I like to make it last. He loves me so much more before he comes. He's so much more gentle. "My birthday today...and Christmas in two days." I've never really minded that my birthday was so close to Christmas. Mom and Dad aren't poor. I do get double the presents, just as much as anyone else. And they usually get me a few things on Nathan's birthday too. We've a generous family, we do.

I'm nearly panting by the time he kisses me again without answering. I use to hate kissing. It felt funny. Slimey. I didn't like his tongue in my mouth. His harsher kisses, the biting ones... Now those I did like. And gradually, I've started to like them all.

Especially when he sucks on my tongue.

I let go of his cock as he continues to jerk me off -- he taught me all the right terms, I can hold my own at school with the other boys when they talk about sex -- and push my body against his until he releases my tongue.

"But for right now...suck on it?" I ask him with bright, honest eyes. There's no shame there, of course not. This is usual for us. I point to the high back reading chair in the corner. "Over there?"

Re: Peter's flashback

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

That's right, you get two, I think, while I lead him over to the chair he's selected. I'll get him back over to the bed in a little while, somehow. Oh, Peter, are you gonna be surprised...

I sit him down and spread his legs, then get down on my knees. For now, I'm going to enjoy this instead. I think I love doing this to him more than he realizes. He thinks by grabbing my hair like that, and shoving his dick into my mouthhe's finally got some control over me, but he's wrong.

Oral pleasure is an ultimate form of control. I decide when he gets little licks, or my whole mouth, my lips sliding back and forth over him, my tongue snaking around the whole width of him, over the head of his cock. I decide if I'll take him all the way into my throat, and I choose when and where he comes, whether it's in my mouth, or if I'll make him jerk off the rest of the way, onto my chest, or into his own hand.

He does not get to come this time. That's going to have to wait until I finally get what I want.

I suck him with eager, loving attention, my tongue swirling around, up, down, and I let him pull at my hair as hard as he wants. He squirms and groans and thrusts his hips into my face, and all the while, I pay close attention to the sounds he makes so I know when to stop. Peter knows he has to keep his voice low; my parents sleep just down the hall, and my mother is often susceptible to bouts of insomnia unless she takes her sleeping medication, which she hates.

I suck on the sensitive place below the head of my little brother's cock, and he responds with a low curse, and then a clipped syllable that I think sounds like half my name. His body jerks, and I feel the first contraction of his coming.

Oh, well. I'm too late, as I feel his semen surge into my mouth, hot and sweet and salty. He does get two presents, so he can come twice, too. He's fourteen, right now, because it's 12:23 am. He'll get hard again in no time.

Re: Peter's flashback

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

It's hard for me to keep my voice down, it really is. I can't help but ride my pleasure against his chin and nose, biting down on the meaty part of my hand like he taught me so long ago. I suck the skin there, between my thumb and forefinger and sigh in bliss as the last jet leaves my body and slides down his throat.

I use to have such trouble swallowing his cum. Not anymore though. He once told me that I'd become addicted to it. And I am. In fact, that's the second gift I want.

I look at him with big, bright brown eyes, moving my bitten hand down to my cock when it leave his mouth. I jerk on it slowly, feeling his saliva sink into my skin. "My turn," I whisper, already licking my lips.

He's so big, twice the size of me at least, and it's my goal to one day swallow him down like he can swallow me. I love it when I slide down in this chair and he stands over me, pumping into my mouth. I like to beat myself off in time to his thrusts so that I can moan around him.

I don't know how I survive the months when he's not here, or when he leaves me alone. I'd do this for him any time he wanted. Doesn't he realize that?

Re: Peter's flashback

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

I thrust myself into Peter's mouth over and over, barely able to control myself now. Holding his head in place, I wait for him to relax the muscles in his throat, just like I taught him, so I can push a little deeper into that slippery heat.

I want to fuck him so badly.

His mouth is so fucking wet, so hot. His eyelids flutter, his nostrils flare, and soon, I'm able to get a deeper range of motion. Jesus Christ. I fucked some girl at a party just last night, but I can't believe how close I am to blasting my load into his throat before he even knows what's happening.

Peter's hand is moving frantically between his legs, and just like I expected, he's hard again, groaning around my shaft, and the vibration runs straight through the head of my cock to the base of my spine.

"That's a good boy, Peter," I moan, petting his face, his hair. "You like sucking me off, Pete?" I gasp, pulling myself out of his mouth before it's too late.

He looks up at me and nods, and gives me his trademark shy, crooked smile, casts a hand over his lips to wipe away his saliva.

He's so beautiful, so perfect, and I just have to have him. I have to get my hands on him, my mouth on him, get my dick inside him.

"You want to try something new?" I suggest casually, gesturing towards the bed. He really doesn't have any suspicion at all of what I'm going to do, and I know that the eagerness I see in those hazel eyes matches mine entirely, the mirror image of one another's.

You just don't know what you're getting yourself into, Pete, I think. But I push that hard stab of guilt away as quickly as it comes.

Re: Peter's flashback

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I nod, licking my lips. I can taste him -- which is what I want -- a little bit of who my brother is coating my tongue. I'm out of breath as he pulls me to my feet, eyes on his eyes and no where else. This is called trust. Complete and utter trust. Nathan had never purposefully hurt me -- I push away the doubt that floods me -- and when he and I climb into bed, I have to wonder if we're done for the night.

He's put his cock between my thighs before, laying side by side, and has come between them while moaning into my hair. That's probably tonight's game, but I'm disappointed. I like him in my mouth. I think I'm happiest when he's there. Still, I climb into bed like he likes and lay on my side for him, waiting.

It's cold, the hairs on my arms and neck standing up to catch and hold the warmth to my skin. At least this way we can get under the covers.

"Nathan?"

My eyes are closed, though he's turning on the lights rather than flicking them off. "Yeah, Pete?" He's the only one that shortens my name. I love it. I use to like it when he called me 'Champ' and 'Buddy' too.

"Tomorrow...are you going out somewhere?" It's my birthday, but that usually doesn't stop him from going out. I want him to stay with me, though, but I know what to offer him. I'm not usually so bold. "Because I can suck you better than those girls." I'm not usually so jealous either. "I'll get better at it if you let me practice."

My eyes open in time to watch him pull something out of his pocket. A little tube.

Re: Peter's flashback

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

I smile at his desperate need for my approval. Of course he can suck me better than any other girl can. Except for this one chick...

I push those ridiculous thoughts away while I direct Peter to lie down on the bed with some of his pillows behind him so he can see everything I'm doing. This is all about Peter tonight. His surprise birthday present, the best one he'll ever have.

Snapping the cap off the tube, I squeeze a little bit into my hand, rub it through my fingers, and then massage the inside of his thigh, and naturally he spreads his legs wider, pulling one knee up. Maybe he does have an idea now, since I've handed him the tube for inspection.

"I love you," I sigh. I trace my fingers up along the soft skin of his thigh, over his cock which is now harder than I've ever felt it, give him a few purposeful strokes.

Peter looks a little scared, but he hasn't made a move to stop me or said he's uncomfortable, so I take it as my cue to continue. My fingers inch closer and closer to his asshole, and the skin tightens even more when I press experimentally with my fingertip.

I feel my own fear rise in me. He's so young, and he's going to be tight, and his nervousness won't help either. I have to go very easy, very slowly.

I snap out of the spell his nubile young body has cast on me, and I realize I'm jerking myself off while I touch him. Control is of the utmost importance right now. I will not hurt him.

"Feel all right, Pete?" I ask, the words sticking in my throat, my mouth suddenly dry.

Re: Peter's flashback

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

The first strokes between my legs are nice. I hardly notice what he's doing at first until he rests the tube on my chest. I pick it up and read the back, interested in what he's doing. As he strokes a finger around the puckered ring I shit from, however, the jokes the boys tell in school hit me.

Faggot. Ass licker. Fudge packer. Homo.

That is what two men that touch each other where they use the bathroom are called. I stiffen at once, my eyes roaming over the tube. It's got a very definate description on it. For intimate use such as for internal sexual contact.

I'm about to protest when Nathan pushes a finger into me. Immediately, I'm up on my elbows, frowning heavily at my brother between my knees. It's uncomfortable, but not painful. "Jesus, Nathan, what are you--"

I pause when he looks into my eyes. He wants me to trust him so I sigh and lay back down in a huff. My eyes screw closed as he wriggles his finger all the way up inside of me. Well now he's gonna have a shitty finger, I think to myself before he pushes back into me. That makes me gasp slightly.

What...an odd feeling.

He does it again. In. Out. In. Out. It stops feeling uncomfortable and starts making me flush. In. Out. In. Out. Stretch! I know he's put another finger inside of me and I buck, pushing downwards unexpectedly. "N-N-Nathan--" I whimper. It doesn't feel good...but it doesn't feel bad either.

The process repeats until I hear the clock strike one in the morning down the hall. I'm trembling all over by then. He's been at this for almost half an hour. There are three of his fingers inside of me. And--

"Aaaha!" I can't be quiet when he finds it. That special place. I arch my back. "Nathan!" If my parents are awake, they'll hear me for sure.

Re: Peter's flashback

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

Before he can scream again I clamp a hand over his mouth. I hiss, "You gotta be quiet, okay, Pete? Mom and Dad can not wake up right now, you got it?"

Peter nods. He's shaking, and he's scared now because of my own outburst. My own heart is thundering in my chest, and my cock is aching. I finger-fucked him for half an hour, loosened him up as best I could. He yielded to my touch slowly at first, and I wasn't sure he'd ever be ready, but now I think he is.

Don't do this to your baby brother. Don't take his innocence like this... my conscience screams at me. I struggle to breathe, and I'm shaking just as badly as he is when I lay atop him, one hand still over his mouth, my other gripping my cock, guiding myself inside him before he can protest, before he can stop me. His heat almosts overwhelms me, and I let out a deep groan of my own. He's still a bit tight, but he'll be okay, I'm sure of it.

I hear his muffled gasp, and his teeth sink into my palm. Peter's little body goes slack beneath me, his muscles relaxing as my first thrust brushes that place inside him.

That's right, Peter.

Re: Peter's flashback

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

I don't know what's happening, not at first. He needs to bend me, roll back my hips so that my knees are nearly to my shoulders in order to put his cock inside of me. It's one thing to suck him off, but this is something else entirely. He's being gentle, but he can only go so far with that. His length seems to take an eternity to push into me. I think I'm going to die.

I'm sure I'm going to die. Tears pour down my cheeks until I feel his heaviness settle against me. They run to his hand, run to my ears and into my hair and the pillow behind me.

Thunder cracks. Whole house seems to shake. And the lights go off.

"Wait--" It's muttered under his hand and I grip his wrist to pull it away from my mouth. "Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, not yet, stay here--" God is going to strike us down for this.

But he strokes my hair. He tells me he loves me. And he gives me time.

I still cry at him though. "Don't move...don't move please..." I heard it in one of his movies once, a baby sitter asking the dad who hired her to just stay where he was for a few moments when he pushed into her ass. I really do need him to stay there. To settle. I squeeze experimentally around him. God down not call down more lightning and though the lights do not come on again, I learn to relax. And then, after he kisses me, I nod just a little.

It's exquisite, really, after a dozen thrusts. He finds the pattern then, and I learn to lean my hips up into him. I find the magic angle and suck on my fingers to keep myself from crying out. It don't really help. I like it. I love it.

I come with such little fanfare it's hardly worth mentioning, dribbling over my chest as my lips part in ecstasy.

I don't want him to stop.

Re: Peter's flashback

[law-anddisorder.livejournal.com]

The first flash of lightning illuminates my brother's face, tearstained and scared. I hear that first crack of thunder, and I know God is passing judgment on us both, sending a loud message to the Devil to make room for two more fallen souls. When the electricity fails, I feel the blackness settle on me, then permeate me completely.

You've corrupted him. You've ruined him. You're going to hell, Nathan Petrelli, and you're taking Peter with you.

I almost stop at these thoughts. They fill my heart with shame and guilt, even as my body is still enjoying the physical sensations.

No...that's not true. It's all in your head, Nathan. You love him, that's why you're doing this. Show him how much you love him.

I try not to cry myself as I reassure him of that very truth. "I love you, Peter, love you so much..." I wipe the tears from his face as he moans my name, as he finally starts to move with me, to enjoy this, and soon, I find a slow, deep rhythm that sends us together towards our peak.

I'll worry about Hell later. Being here with my brother, kissing him, thrusting inside him, hearing his soft cries, feeling his muscles clench around me in orgasm, this is heaven as far as I'm concerned. It's almost like we're flying, even if we've lost our wings.

With a strangled moan into his shoulder, just before he finishes, I come too, everything inside me rushing forth, into my little brother's body. Peter and I fall back to earth together, both of us shaking and clinging to each other.

There's an incredibly long moment of silence, and then I hear it. Rain slaps against the windows relentlessly, and I just know those are God's tears.

He is crying for us, the lost children that we are. We've committed a most unforgivable sin.

[chimeramimic.livejournal.com]

We've managed to sink to the floor, my brother and I, as I wrap my arms around him. He's almost passed out, face against my neck. He had cried himself to a near sleep, though he was still whimpering softly about needing his wife. I shake my head to clear it of memories I didn't know I have.

It was such a vivid flash of thought, and I know I wasn't making it up. I didn't hallucinate. I remember the next day limping downstairs and blaming it on trying to slide down the banister again. I remember trying hard not to look at Nathan across the table at breakfast as he carried on about his girlfriend, his work, his degree.

I frown lightly now, reaching up to stroke Nathan's hair. I wonder if he knows that two days ago was not our first time. I can't bring himself to mention it.

Instead I kiss his temple. "Tomorrow," I whisper, "she'll love you again."

I think I can do that.