[Heroes] His own kind (FYGverse, Nathan/Peter, NC-17)
Title: His own kind
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 628 (W)
Warning(s): Incest. Angst. Morally grey Nathan.
Note(s): Set in the alternate timeline of Five Years Gone.
Thanks to: snopes_faith for beta-reading and everything else.
As if you were distant cousins joined only in grief, you meet at your mother's funeral. You hardly look at each other and share a hug of condolence. The family chapel is a sober place to rest eternally in, without statues or decorations - Dad wanted it like this. You lean a last kiss on the frozen wood of the coffin and then step back. You're happy your mother didn't see you after you got the scar. She used to say you had a beautiful face.
Later, in the bedroom, Nathan takes off his black tie and pours whisky in a glass. He's got his smooth cheeks, perfectly shaven, and his glance is colourless. You watch him and no matter how hard you try, you can't recognize him.
"How did you get that?" he asks, handing you the glass.
You take it and barely wet your lips. "Hiro Nakamura."
"I thought scars didn't last on you."
You thought so too. You don't know exactly how it happened, but you don't care. "Maybe I wanted this to last."
Nathan doesn't comment this, sipping silently from his whisky.
"You want to fuck?" you say after a bit.
He looks at you for more than half a minute. You can distinctly hear his thoughts, Is this a trap? If he were a fake he wouldn't ask me like this.
"Yes."
You put down your glass next to his on the nightstand, and Nathan precedes you on the bed unbottoning his shirt. After two years, three months and fourteen days, his tastes haven't changed, nor have yours. He still uses the same cologne you never liked and he still grasps your hair a little too strongly when you suck him off. He still gets hard as quickly as before, stroking your back while you kiss each other (and it still gives you shivers as always). He still calls you with the same hoarse voice, distorted in the same way, and when he comes on your tongue he still looks at you in the same way he always did, like he loved you.
But you think it's just a matter of habit.
"You did it, eventually," you comment. The whisky rolls down your throat washing away the taste of sperm, but not the pain.
"What?"
"Your law. It's passed."
Nathan leans his arm on his eyes and you hear him sigh. The question was in the air, anyway. You only had to decide either to ask it before the sex, or after. Or during it.
"It's not my law," he says eventually. "I didn't propose it. It was voted. Democratically," he adds after a moment.
"Why didn't you go and get your Star of David on your chest, then?"
"Stop that."
"I'll go tomorrow. I couldn't ever deprive the Country of the pleasure to know..."
"Enough, Peter."
"... that the President's brother is one of them."
You feel the rage mount inside you, but it's a bland feeling, a barely tepid flame agonizing in the darkness, comparing it with what you would've felt once. Nothing touches you anymore. Burning everything you had, you burnt yourself as well.
"It was a thing that needed to be done," Nathan says, brusquely. "I couldn't stop that. Nobody could."
And you don't know what he's talking about anymore, because you think you've heard these words before.
You close your eyes.
"You want to fuck me before I go?"
Nathan lays a hand on your chest and leans a kiss on your temple, as slow and warm as once.
"I always love you the same way, Pete. You must never forget it."
"Yeah," you murmur, without opening your eyes. You were wrong, the taste of sperm didn't go away.
But you think it's just a matter of habit.
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 628 (W)
Warning(s): Incest. Angst. Morally grey Nathan.
Note(s): Set in the alternate timeline of Five Years Gone.
Thanks to: snopes_faith for beta-reading and everything else.
As if you were distant cousins joined only in grief, you meet at your mother's funeral. You hardly look at each other and share a hug of condolence. The family chapel is a sober place to rest eternally in, without statues or decorations - Dad wanted it like this. You lean a last kiss on the frozen wood of the coffin and then step back. You're happy your mother didn't see you after you got the scar. She used to say you had a beautiful face.
Later, in the bedroom, Nathan takes off his black tie and pours whisky in a glass. He's got his smooth cheeks, perfectly shaven, and his glance is colourless. You watch him and no matter how hard you try, you can't recognize him.
"How did you get that?" he asks, handing you the glass.
You take it and barely wet your lips. "Hiro Nakamura."
"I thought scars didn't last on you."
You thought so too. You don't know exactly how it happened, but you don't care. "Maybe I wanted this to last."
Nathan doesn't comment this, sipping silently from his whisky.
"You want to fuck?" you say after a bit.
He looks at you for more than half a minute. You can distinctly hear his thoughts, Is this a trap? If he were a fake he wouldn't ask me like this.
"Yes."
You put down your glass next to his on the nightstand, and Nathan precedes you on the bed unbottoning his shirt. After two years, three months and fourteen days, his tastes haven't changed, nor have yours. He still uses the same cologne you never liked and he still grasps your hair a little too strongly when you suck him off. He still gets hard as quickly as before, stroking your back while you kiss each other (and it still gives you shivers as always). He still calls you with the same hoarse voice, distorted in the same way, and when he comes on your tongue he still looks at you in the same way he always did, like he loved you.
But you think it's just a matter of habit.
"You did it, eventually," you comment. The whisky rolls down your throat washing away the taste of sperm, but not the pain.
"What?"
"Your law. It's passed."
Nathan leans his arm on his eyes and you hear him sigh. The question was in the air, anyway. You only had to decide either to ask it before the sex, or after. Or during it.
"It's not my law," he says eventually. "I didn't propose it. It was voted. Democratically," he adds after a moment.
"Why didn't you go and get your Star of David on your chest, then?"
"Stop that."
"I'll go tomorrow. I couldn't ever deprive the Country of the pleasure to know..."
"Enough, Peter."
"... that the President's brother is one of them."
You feel the rage mount inside you, but it's a bland feeling, a barely tepid flame agonizing in the darkness, comparing it with what you would've felt once. Nothing touches you anymore. Burning everything you had, you burnt yourself as well.
"It was a thing that needed to be done," Nathan says, brusquely. "I couldn't stop that. Nobody could."
And you don't know what he's talking about anymore, because you think you've heard these words before.
You close your eyes.
"You want to fuck me before I go?"
Nathan lays a hand on your chest and leans a kiss on your temple, as slow and warm as once.
"I always love you the same way, Pete. You must never forget it."
"Yeah," you murmur, without opening your eyes. You were wrong, the taste of sperm didn't go away.
But you think it's just a matter of habit.