(you come in) burned, nathan/peter (heroes), nc-17
Title: (you come in) burned
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, underage sex (Peter is sixteen)
Summary: He's let it in, now. He's opened the box, he's started the fire. And no matter what he does, he knows he's never going to be able to shut it out again. Nathan and Peter, and their beginning.
A/N: Title from The Dandy Warhols. I must have worked on this for weeks. Partly because it is so long, and partly because it drove me insane. I'm so glad it's finally finished. This is my how-things-got-started fic for the Petrellis, and I dedicate it to eryslash, kimmy_dreamer and fiorediloto, for not letting me give up. ♥
It's Christmas Eve, and Peter stands in Nathan's doorway with his hands shaking.
"Too excited to sleep?" asks Nathan blearily from his bed.
Peter shrugs, coming further into the room. He usually says something about a bad dream or a headache, but tonight he can't seem to speak at all. Nathan shuffles aside easily in his bed, leaving space for Peter to join him.
Peter's just turned sixteen and he's too old for this. They both know it.
He climbs into the bed, feeling Nathan's rough, cold feet brush his own under the covers as he settles in. For a moment, he lies still, on his back with his feet together and his arms by his sides, staring straight up into the darkness.
But Nathan's been gone for months that felt like forever, and Peter can't hold himself back, so within seconds he's curled up against his brother, skin touching everywhere that it can, his face in the crook of Nathan's shoulder.
And Nathan chuckles, low and rough in Peter's ear, gently bringing his head back. Peter can feel his cheeks burning, blushing as Nathan looks him in the eye. "Hey, hey. Pete. What's going on? You okay?"
"Missed you," Peter murmurs, words tumbling out easily, as natural as breathing. He's said it so many times.
He nuzzles closer, because now that he's started this he can't stop, and he presses his nose to Nathan's shoulder again, inhaling. They're something about him that smells like home and safety in the way that even home doesn't quite manage, and he doesn't know why, because Nathan smells like everybody else really -- soap and sweat and washing powder.
He can feel Nathan's smile against his head. "Missed you too."
They stay like that for a long time, and Peter wants to stay forever, but then Nathan is rubbing gently at his shoulder. "Peter, Pete, wake up."
Peter's not asleep, but he stretches slightly and rubs his eyes anyway, pulling himself reluctantly away from the warmth of Nathan's body.
"Look, Pete, it's snowing," Nathan whispers, pointing towards the window. A slow, thin drift of snow is coming down, stark and white against the black night, the tiny flakes just visible through the gap in Nathan's curtains.
"It never snows," Peter says, smiling tiredly. His arm is still underneath Nathan's body, and it's going numb, but he doesn't want to move it.
"I know," Nathan murmurs, turning back. Their eyes meet, and Peter nearly looks away, but something makes him stay, gazing at his brother.
It's such a small thing, but Nathan doesn't look away either, and that's when Peter knows. Something in Nathan's expression softens, and Peter's hand against his chest can feel his heart beating too quickly. He waits for Nathan to speak -- to ask him what he's doing, or to carry on talking about the snow -- but he doesn't. His arm is still around Peter's shoulders.
Their heads come together at the same time, gentle and slow, foreheads meeting. And it could stop there, Peter knows, but he's already let the feeling in, and now it's never going to stop. It's easy -- almost too easy -- to tip his head, to close the gap with the joining of their lips.
Nathan doesn't move, and Peter opens his eyes. Nathan's face is blurry so close up, and all Peter can see is his eyes, closed, the eyelashes fluttering anxiously against his skin. He shuts his own eyes again, and presses his hand more firmly against Nathan's chest, parting his lips and willing him to stay, not to stop this.
Nathan speaks with his eyes still closed and his lips still brushing Peter's. "Go back to bed, Peter."
His expression hardens again, and he pulls away.
"But--" Peter begins, something flaring up inside him.
"Go back to bed, Peter."
Peter goes back to bed.
* * *
Nathan opens the bathroom door and nearly walks straight into Peter, who is standing directly in front of him with his arms crossed like some petulant little child.
"Nathan," he says.
Nathan nods. "Peter," he replies, and tries to sidestep his brother and head for the stairs, but within seconds Peter's managed to get them both into the nearest room -- Mom and Dad's bedroom -- and Nathan realises he's not going to be able to escape this one.
He's managed to avoid Peter most of the day, or at least, avoid being on his own with him. The whole house is filling up with family -- aunts, uncles, cousins; relatives he never even knew he had -- and really, it's easy acting normal around them, acting like there's nothing wrong or weird going on, like he and 'young Peter' didn't share a kiss much more than brotherly the previous night.
And all he could do, really, was mutter to Peter while they were helping Ma set the table that they weren't going to talk about it and then continue to avoid him as much as he could for the rest of the evening.
And now he can't avoid him at all.
"We have to talk about it," Peter says urgently, eyes wide and bright. Nathan frowns at him. He's treating this like he's on some kind of fucking soap opera, not like it's his actual life and it's just been turned upside down.
"Why?" Nathan snaps back.
"Because -- because -- Nathan," Peter says, placing a hand on Nathan's chest and trying to catch his eye.
"Peter, don't touch me," Nathan says sternly, but immediately he wants to take the words back because Peter latches on to them right away.
"Why not?" he asks, almost excitedly, and doesn't move his hand. "Why don't you want me to touch you, Nathan? What happens when I do?"
There's a click of a door opening somewhere down the hall, and footsteps.
"What happens when I touch you, Nathan?" Peter asks again, lowering his voice, leaning closer to Nathan and almost hissing the words.
"Stop it, Peter," Nathan says firmly, reaching to take his brother's hand off his chest. But Peter is quicker, and places his hand on top, holding Nathan's hand over his own.
"I can feel your heart beating," Peter says quietly, gently shifting the hand that's underneath Nathan's. "It's going really fast. And your palms are sweaty."
"Peter," says Nathan warningly. He can hear their younger cousins playing downstairs, and their mother's voice. There are more footsteps and he can't tell where they're coming from, whether it's someone on their way downstairs or upstairs or even someone walking along the hall towards the bedroom.
"Come on, Nathan, please," Peter whispers, leaning in closer. "Tell me you feel the same things I do. I know you do."
"Peter, stop it," Nathan says, managing to free his hand, and he shakes it down by his side, starting to turn away towards the door.
"Why? What happens if I don't?" Peter asks, goading him, pressing his hands to Nathan's back. "I want you to admit it, Nathan. How are we supposed to work out what we're going to do about this if you won't even--"
-- and Nathan snaps. He knew deep down that he was going to, but his heart sinks anyway as he grabs hold of his brother and pushes him up against the wall, smashing their mouths together with such force that it almost hurts. Peter just sighs against his lips and lets his mouth fall open, and that's when Nathan forces himself to pull back.
"You really don't care, do you?" he hisses, and Peter juts out his chin, glaring back at him defiantly.
"No, I don't," he spits out. "I want this."
"You're sixteen, Peter, you don't know what the hell you want," Nathan sighs, turning on his heel to pace across the room.
"Yes I do!" Peter snaps, raising his voice.
"Keep your voice down!"
Peter crosses the room quickly, and raises himself up on tip-toe to whisper in Nathan's ear. "I want this, and I know you want it too. I'm not stupid, Nathan, I know you. And I know you don't want to admit what's going on but you've got to, this isn't something we can just ignore."
He stays there, his breath hot against Nathan's ear, and Nathan feels his defenses crumbling. It's Peter, and he does know him, and he can't keep hiding from this forever. He's let it in, now. He's opened the box, he's started the fire. And no matter what he does, he knows he's never going to be able to shut it out again.
They fall together again, lips moving softly, slowly. There are still kids screaming downstairs, and the clattering of dishes. There are still footsteps, everywhere, but the sounds turn muffled and blurry until they're almost entirely muted out. Nathan wraps his arms around his brother and holds him right, and the thoughts and feelings that have been locked up run freely through him.
"Peter? Peter, dear, are you up there?" Ma's voice calls suddenly, and Nathan jumps back immediately, heart in his throat.
"Coming!" Peter yells, heading for the door. He turns back to Nathan. "I'm gonna say we were making up the bed in the spare room for Aunt Lucy," he says quietly, and then presses the back of his hand to his mouth.
"Okay," says Nathan, swallowing hard. "I'll go and do that. I'll be down in a few minutes."
Peter turns and goes, and Nathan heads towards the linen cupboard with a dry throat and a throbbing head. Sneaking away during family gatherings, hiding, lying -- if this is going to be their whole life, he doesn't think he wants it.
* * *
Nathan has had too much wine. When Peter excuses himself from the dinner table and vanishes from the room, Nathan finds himself following. Peter has been almost silent throughout the meal, just watching Nathan from across the table, his eyes set. And Nathan finds him just outside the door of the dining room, just waiting there, leaning against the wall just out of sight. He chews on a fingernail, and looks at Nathan.
"Can we go somewhere?" he says.
As they slip out of the back door, Nathan runs words through his mind like he's preparing a speech. He wants to tell Peter that he's thought things through and they really can't do this. He knows there's no point in stating the obvious, using words like wrong and illegal because they'll have no effect on Peter. But there's got to be something he can say that will get through to him.
He knows, though, that whatever he says he can't make himself believe it, even if he convinces his brother. As they turn the corner to the back of the house, Peter stops and looks at him, his expression so trusting and open, his eyes wide and his lips wet, and Nathan knows he's had these feelings for maybe a whole year now. And he knows Peter has had them longer. For years, he's recognised the look in Peter's eye when he's come home, understood Peter's reactions when he pulled him into a tight hug. He's managed to ignore these things, blot them out, and distract himself, but it's all come out, and he never prepared himself for that.
Peter says, "What is this?"
And Nathan says, "I thought you didn't care."
And they smile at each other as though maybe it doesn't really matter anyway, and then it just happens again, and Nathan has Peter against the wall, holding onto him like he's trying to stop himself falling, but he's falling anyway, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to Peter's neck and feeling tears welling up in his eyes as the sounds of the city hum around them. The night air is cold, but Peter's body is warm, his skin smooth and flushed as he presses himself against Nathan and lets out a long, soft sigh.
"I'm so happy," he murmurs into Nathan's chest, and Nathan hushes him, pulling away for a moment to tilt his brother's chin up before claiming his mouth in a kiss.
"We need to go back inside," Nathan says eventually, and Peter groans, twisting his hands in the fabric of Nathan's shirt.
"Can't we stay out here?"
"How long for?"
Peter wraps himself back into Nathan's arms. "Forever," he mumbles, and Nathan chuckles, ruffling his hair. "I'm serious," Peter says. "You can't leave me after this. You can't keep leaving, you just can't. Don't leave again."
Nathan strokes Peter's head, curling his hand around the nape of his neck, holding him closer.
He's leaving tomorrow.
* * *
Peter's pillow is damp. His head is aching, and his whole body is drained and weary from crying. He rolls over, pulling his duvet tightly around him. He stares at the glowing numbers of his alarm clock. Nathan leaves in six hours. He doesn't even know when he's going to see him again.
He hears the gentle creak of his bedroom door and he almost leaps out of bed, throwing the duvet off as he sits up straight, peering across the room in the dark.
"Hey, relax," Nathan whispers, "it's just me."
"I know," Peter whispers back, smiling, rubbing his eyes.
Nathan shuts the door carefully behind him and crosses the room. He doesn't say anything, just sits on the bed and smiles at Peter in the dark, and Peter reaches out for him, running a small pale hand down his brother's bare chest. He embraces Nathan slowly, savouring the feel of skin on skin.
"I had to see you before I went," Nathan murmurs, wrapping his arms around Peter, and Peter shudders at the extra contact.
They hold each other for a long time, and then Nathan says softly, "Lie down."
Peter does, and Nathan settles down next to him, and they turn towards each other. Nathan kisses him softly, and Peter feels his heart jump.
"You've been crying," says Nathan, his lips travelling up across Peter's cheekbone, and Peter knows he can taste the salt of his tears there.
"Don't want you to go," Peter mumbles, feeling pathetic, shifting closer into Nathan's arms.
Nathan presses his lips to Peter's head. "Oh, God, I love you," Nathan breathes, shakily, drawing even closer.
"I love you," Peter whispers back, knee slotting between Nathan's legs. His thigh brushes against the crotch of Nathan's pajama pants, and he jerks back, surprised to feel an erection beneath the fabric.
Nathan doesn't move, or say anything, just holds Peter close, but after a few moments he lets out a breath in a way that makes Peter think he'd been holding it in, and shifts next to him. His erection presses against Peter, now, and Peter's heart starts racing. He starts to whisper Nathan's name, but Nathan interrupts.
"That's from you," is what he says, his voice low and gruff, and he looks him right in the eye as he says it. Peter feels himself starting to get hard and he wonders what's going to happen as Nathan slowly begins to rock his hips against Peter's.
Nathan kisses him again, a rough wet slide of his lips, and Peter's cock strains against his boxers now, aching dull and hard between his legs. Nathan rolls him over gently, and runs a hand from the arch of Peter's neck to the waistband of his boxers, and Peter shudders, hips bucking from the bed almost automatically.
He pulls Nathan closer, pressing his lips to his brother's jaw. Nathan shifts around, half on top of him, pulling down his pants, and Peter's heart starts racing again. This is really going to happen.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulls, slowly down over his hard-on, lifting himself up to pull them legs. He lies back. The duvet is around his ankles, still, and Nathan is standing next to the bed, still undressing himself. When he turns around, he is naked, utterly naked, and Peter almost can't look, blushing as he crawls back onto the bed with him.
"Do you want to touch me?" Nathan whispers. "Or do you want me to touch you?"
"Both," Peter chokes out honestly, cheeks flaring up, and Nathan laughs, but it's a gentle, friendly laugh.
He strokes Peter's chest with his fingertips, running them tenderly down to his stomach, and then Peter feels them against the coarse hair between his legs.
"You're so beautiful, Pete," Nathan breathes, and then he lifts one of his legs and lowers it down on Peter's other side, shifting so that he's on top of him, straddling him. Peter stares.
Nathan lowers himself slowly, moving closer until his cock aligns with Peter's, and Peter gasps at the contact. Nathan rocks slowly against him, cock sliding slickly against Peter's, and slipping to rub up against Peter's hips and thighs. Peter echoes the movements, clinging onto the edges of his mattress and raising his hips to move in time with his brother. He throws his head back hard against the pillow as Nathan thrusts forward, and he can feel Nathan watching him.
Nathan's hand curls around Peter's hip, steadying them, and he seems to be trying to find a rhythm, but Peter doesn't care, he just needs this, needs it now, and he makes a pleading, whining sound and wraps his arms around Nathan, pulling him down until he's right on top of him, and he just moves, bucking and grinding against his brother until Nathan is groaning low in his throat.
The bedsprings creak quietly, and Nathan smiles down at him, but Peter is too far gone to smile back, the feeling too intense, coursing through him. He wants to watch Nathan, but when he looks at him it makes him feel like he might never be able to breathe again. Nathan's sweaty and his eyes are dark and he's frowning now as he rocks back and forth, and it's an expression Peter's seen before when Nathan's concentrating really hard on something, and Peter really, really likes it.
Nathan's moving like this, sliding and pushing like it's the only thing that matters, and his breathing is heavy, and it's all because of him. He's the one making Nathan feel like this, feel this good.
"Nathan," he pants out, "Oh, god, Nathan."
"Shh," Nathan hisses, stroking Peter's hair from his face soothingly. "We have to be quiet."
He keeps his hand there, gently cupping Peter's face, and Peter turns his head, sucking two of Nathan's fingers into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around them, closes his lips, trying to keep himself quiet, and Nathan stares at him and starts moving quicker, their hips bumping together with the erratic thrusts. Peter sucks hard on Nathan's fingers, whimpering around them.
Nathan suddenly slows down, his whole body tensing and then jerking, muscles shuddering, and Peter watches in amazement. Nathan's coming -- and it's because of him. The come splashes hot over Peter's stomach and cock, and he writhes beneath Nathan, needing to get the friction back, but Nathan has his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his mouth open and it seems like he's gone completely limp.
For a moment nothing happens, and then Nathan draws in a sharp breath and looks at him again. "Fuck, Pete," he murmurs, taking his fingers from Peter's mouth and bringing his hand down between their legs.
He steadies himself, and then curls his fingers around Peter's cock, his strong hand tugging once, twice, and then again and again, faster and faster. Peter gasps loudly, wrapping his arms around Nathan, and Nathan smiles, twists his wrist, his hand sliding slick with his come and Peter's spit up and down the length of Peter's cock.
"Oh, god," Peter gasps out, unable to stop himself, shuddering hard. It feels like all his nerves are on fire, and he's close, so close, and the feeling is almost too much.
Nathan leans down and kisses Peter hard, and Peter sobs against his brother's mouth.
"It's okay, I've got you, I've got you," Nathan murmurs against Peter's lips, voice low and rough as he draws Peter's orgasm from him with his tight fist.
Peter grapples at Nathan's back, his whole body jerking fitfully. He feels like he's going to keep coming forever, seeing stars behind his eyelids and curling his toes.
But then Nathan is smoothing back his hair for him, kissing him softly, and cleaning them both up with tissues, and Peter just sighs, overwhelmed and exhausted, lying motionless on the bed.
"You okay, Pete?" Nathan asks him, helping him back into his boxers.
"Mmhm," Peter replies. "I can't...Nathan, that was -- will you stay?"
"What?" asks Nathan, turning away from him to pull his pajama pants back on.
"Here. In bed with me," Peter says. "Please?"
Nathan frowns, rubbing at his chin, and Peter feels his heart sink. "Peter, you know I can't," Nathan says eventually.
"Just for a while?" Peter pleads.
Nathan seems to consider it, but then he shakes his head. "We should get some sleep," he says. "I have to get up early tomorrow."
Peter's face falls. "But Nathan..." he says weakly.
Nathan's expression softens, but only slightly, as he bends over to kiss Peter lightly on the lips. "Goodnight, Pete."
Peter doesn't speak as Nathan quietly slips back out of the room. Tears are stinging the corners of his eyes again and he holds them back fiercely, staring at the closed door.
* * *
When Peter wakes up, his clock reads ten minutes to nine.
"Mom?" he shouts, throwing off his covers and leaping out of bed. "Mom!"
He races down the stairs and finds her in the living room, frowning at him.
"Peter, don't shout like that, what is it?" she says, crossing her arms.
"Where's Nathan?" he asks impatiently.
"Well, he left already of course," his mother replies. "I know you would have liked to say goodbye, but he didn't want to wake you. Now for goodness' sake, go and get dressed."
Peter stares at her in disbelief. "He left without saying goodbye? Did he really say he didn't want to wake me up?"
"Well, he's going to stay in touch, Peter," she says tiredly, "don't over-react. You'll be seeing him again in the summer."
"The summer?" Peter cries. "He's not coming back until summer?"
"That's when his service ends," replies his mother calmly. "I'm sure you knew that already. Now go and get dressed, breakfast is ready."
* * *
"A lot can change in six months," is all Peter says after he shrugs off Nathan's touches the following June, and Nathan frowns at him. Peter welcomed him with open arms when he came through the front door, asking him how he was and saying he'd missed him, but clearly it was all for show -- all for their parents.
"I missed you, Pete," Nathan says, trying again, gently placing a hand on Peter's shoulder.
But Peter squirms away, and won't look at him. "Didn't miss me enough to keep in touch," he says. "Like you said you would."
Nathan bristles. "It's difficult."
"You're telling me."
"Peter..."
"What?"
Nathan looks at his brother. He hasn't changed all that much. He's used to coming home and finding that Peter's grown several inches, or that his voice is deeper, but this time the only thing different is his expression. It's harder, more serious. This isn't simply sulking -- that, he's used to. This is something worse, deeper. He remembers quietly slipping into Peter's room the morning he left, remembers Peter's soft, sleeping, smiling face. Remembers how he pressed a light kiss to his brother's forehead and left the room -- and then the house -- without a word to him.
It wasn't that he didn't want to say goodbye. There was just something inside him that stopped him. He didn't think he could face saying goodbye after the night they'd shared. He could hardly look Peter in the eye immediately afterwards anyway, couldn't stand to see the sheer hope and joy he'd awakened. He'd never seen his brother as happy as in that moment, lying back on the bed like he'd had all of his life drained out of him and he couldn't have been happier to see it go.
It'd made him happy, too, of course, but he had a life to get on with. But it was as though Peter had clung to that one moment as though it defined the rest of his life, and that scared Nathan. He couldn't handle that -- especially not the fact that it was something he did that made it happen.
But has he really hurt Peter that much?
"I'm sorry, Peter," he says quietly, taking a step closer, but Peter stands with his head down, scuffing his feet on the carpet, ignoring him.
"I get it," he says after a long moment. "Leaving without saying goodbye after -- after what we did, that was a pretty big deal. And I get what it meant. You don't have to explain."
Nathan opens his mouth -- to do just that, explain, but Peter doesn't give him a chance.
"Nathan, don't," he snaps. "Please don't do this. Don't lie to me just to make me feel better, because it won't work. You always fucking do that."
"I'm not--" Nathan tries to say, but Peter barely even hears him, just carries on talking.
"I get it, okay? I don't agree with you but I get it, and I know I can't change your mind, so I've been trying to get over it," Peter goes on, and Nathan realises he's still not looking him in the eye, just picking at his too-long sleeves and staring down at the floor. "It's hard. But I know you want me to, so I'm trying. Please don't fuck it up."
Nathan opens his mouth and then shuts it again. A part of him desperately wants to take this poor, broken Peter into his arms and hold him and fix things, explain everything. But the other part of him knows that this is his chance to put an end to something that really never should have started. Peter is trying to move on, and Nathan knows deep down that in the long run, if this stops now, they will both be much happier.
"I'm proud of you," he says, hating himself with each word. "And I'm glad you understand. You're being so mature about this. Well done."
He steps forward, about to embrace his brother, and that's when Peter finally looks at him. His eyes are dark and pained, angry.
"Please don't touch me," he says weakly.
He leaves the room, and Nathan stands there motionless and alone until their mother calls him. He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, and tries to clear his mind.
It's not quite the 'welcome back' he expected, but he knows it's for the best.
* * *
Peter knows it's only been a few days, but he's already beginning to think that things will never return to normal. He's not quite sure what he considers normal -- is normal what it was before anything happened? Or when things first started happening? It's difficult to tell, but at the moment, he'd take either version over the way things are now.
He and Nathan aren't really talking.
They're civil to each other, which he supposes he should be happy with, but it's so, so far away from how they're supposed to be that it makes him physically ache.
They speak more around their parents, because neither of them want them to become suspicious, but Peter knows they already are.
He overhears a conversation between Nathan and their mother when he's supposed to be in bed. He expects her to be worried, asking if the two of them have had an argument, but that's not the way she approaches the discussion. She says Peter's being 'difficult', that it's hard for him when Nathan's not around. She suggests maybe he's trying to punish Nathan for it, says she's always telling him not to get so attached to him but that he won't listen.
"Really, Nathan, do you understand the effect you have on him?" she asks. "He really does cling to people, you especially, and it's not healthy. He can't be so dependent. Especially at this time in his life -- he's supposed to be growing up, becoming more confident..."
It's all variations of things Peter's heard before, but the idea of her saying these things to Nathan makes him nervous. She ends the conversation by telling Nathan that she and their father are going out for dinner tomorrow night, for their anniversary. She tells Nathan she wants him to talk to Peter, to 'try and make things right' between them.
Nathan just says "Yes, Ma," and Peter can't gauge any further reaction, so he slips back to his room silently, wondering what tomorrow will bring.
* * *
"Do you have to read that for school?" Nathan asks, hovering awkwardly in the doorway and eyeing Peter, who is flicking through pages of The Lord of the Flies.
Peter shrugs and nods, keeps flicking.
"What do you think of it?"
Peter shrugs again. "S'okay."
Nathan exhales loudly, coming into the room. "I want it to go back to normal, Pete," he says, willing Peter to look up at him, but he doesn't. "Don't you?"
"Depends what 'normal' is," Peter mumbles moodily. He folds down a corner of a page and sets the book aside.
"Peter -- I know you want--" Nathan begins, and then sighs again, rubbing his fingers against his temples. Does he really know what Peter wants? Is assuming things really going to get him anywhere? "We can't. You understand that, don't you?"
Peter opens his mouth and then closes it again. He drags his hair back out of his eyes, and looks up at Nathan, his eyes blazing. "No, actually," he snaps. "I keep saying I do, but I don't. No one will know, Nathan. And no one's going to get hurt."
"You're hurting now," says Nathan weakly, crossing the room to sit beside his brother. He finds himself too scared to touch him, though, and though he wants to soothe Peter by stroking his shoulder, or his thigh, his hand stays firmly by his side.
This isn't what his mother meant when she said she wanted him to talk to Peter, of course, and it wasn't even a topic of discussion that Nathan was planning on, but with the two of them alone in the house and the situation left without a conclusion, it was bound to happen.
"Aren't you?" Peter shoots back, and Nathan hesitates, but nods. "And that's because we're fighting this. And I don't think we're supposed to. I don't think you can fight things like this. Not when they're so big."
"We just -- we have to be strong," Nathan says, but his voice is nowhere near as confident as he wants it to be. "We can get through this, Peter. You were already on your way there, you said so."
"Nathan, it's too hard," Peter groans. "I can't do it. And I don't want to."
Nathan gives in a little, even though he knows it's dangerous. He takes Peter's hand. "You can do this. You can do this for me."
"You don't know what you're asking me to do," Peter says, staring him straight in the eye. "This is all I've ever wanted. And I know you want it too -- you can't tell me to just forget about something like this. Especially not after what we've done."
Nathan lets Peter's words ring in the air. Peter is moving closer to him, and he knows he should be moving away, but he feels like he's rooted to the spot.
Peter's lips are nearly touching his when he says, "Peter, no," but the words are ignored, and then swallowed away as their lips meet. And Nathan feels himself giving in once again, feels the familiar breakdown of every excuse. But this time it's even more intense. It's been so long, and just the feeling of Peter's body so close to his makes him ache for more, his strength crumbling under Peter's determination. But when they pull apart, Peter doesn't seem triumphant -- he isn't gloating, or saying I knew you'd give in. He's just looking at Nathan, a sad smile across his face.
"Please don't leave," he whispers. "Please let this -- let this be it."
Nathan shudders. What a choice he has to make. He knows what the right thing is to do. He knows that he should stand up and leave the room, do whatever it takes to keep Peter away from him, until he can build up his own willpower. He knows it shouldn't matter how hard it is, and that he should do it anyway.
But he loves Peter, wants him, and the thought of pushing him away is too painful to bear. He knows that even if he put a stop to this now, it would be something he would struggle with for the rest of his life. He knows that deep down, these feelings will never truly go away, especially now that he knows that Peter shares them.
"I am so weak," he murmurs, tilting his head back towards Peter's again, letting their lips brush, their skin touch.
"You're the strongest person I know," says Peter, his eyes bright as he takes Nathan's lips again.
Nathan sighs into the kiss, letting his hands roam Peter's back. This is the Peter he's been missing, the Peter he wanted to welcome him home.
"Can we go to your room?" Peter asks tentatively. "I miss it. I don't go in there when you're not here."
* * *
Moments later they find themselves on Nathan's dark blue bedsheets, Nathan with Peter on top of him, unbuttoning his shirt.
It's happening too fast for Nathan to stop and think, but he can't even bring himself to care.
"While you've been away," Peter is whispering as he fiddles with Nathan's buttons, "every time I've touched myself...I've thought of that night."
Nathan's voice cracks as it leaves his mouth. "Me too."
"Really?"
Nathan nods, letting a smile creep across his lips, and he reaches down to hold Peter's hands in his, keeping them still.
"Oh, fuck," says Peter, shifting slightly, tossing his head back to get his hair out of his eyes. He leans down to kiss Nathan again, and Nathan kisses him firmly back, wanting to reassure him as much as he wants to reassure himself.
"You're sure you want to do this?" he murmurs.
"Oh, god, Nathan, yes," Peter groans. "Stop asking me."
"I need to hear you say it," Nathan says urgently, stroking Peter's cheek. "I can't...I can't do this if you're not sure."
"I am sure," Peter says, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "I want this so badly that I might die if it doesn't happen."
"Ah, emotional blackmail," nods Nathan solemnly, and Peter thumps him.
"Please," he says, twisting Nathan's remaining shirt buttons, pulling them loose.
Nathan raises himself up off the mattress onto his hands, and kisses Peter deeply, running his hands over Peter's chest and back.
"I'm so hard," Peter confesses against Nathan's mouth, and Nathan feels his own cock stir at the words.
"I know," he says soothingly, gently pushing Peter back in order to start undoing his jeans for him.
There is a tiny dark patch on Peter's boxers, precome leaking through, his cock making a large, heavy bulge in the fabric.
"Oh, Peter," Nathan breathes as he continues undressing his brother, pausing every so often to press his nose and mouth to Peter's smooth skin, wanting to breathe him in, savour every moment of this.
But Peter is impatient, reaching out to grab Nathan's arm and sighing, "Please touch me. Touch me properly."
Nathan slips off his own shirt and then spreads Peter out on the bed, and settles down between his wide-open legs.
"Oh, Nathan, yes, please," Peter splutters, before Nathan is even close, clearly anticipating what is to come.
Nathan presses a hand to Peter's hipbone, and lowers his head, letting his lips lightly brush the shaft of Peter's cock. Peter jolts, hips bucking even under Nathan's firm grip.
"God, Nathan, please, now," he chokes out. "I need you -- your mouth -- so bad--"
Nathan hushes him, rubbing his hip to calm him. With his other hand, he steadies Peter's cock, curling his fingers around the base, and Peter's body jolts again. Nathan presses his tongue flat against Peter's cock, dragging upwards with it, then circles the head. Peter groans. Nathan's done this before, of course, but it was always awkward and meaningless, desperate exchanges of satisfaction with friends during college and the military. Nothing like this, nothing like having Peter spread out on the bed in front of him, naked and gasping, his cock so hard, everything for him.
He takes the head of Peter's cock between his lips, and Peter's breath catches sharply in his throat. His hand flies out to squeeze Nathan's, the one he still has resting on Peter's hip, and Nathan takes him in, ever so slowly, pulling Peter's length into the wet heat of his mouth. He stills, tasting his brother, and Peter writhes beneath him, wanting more. Nathan aches between his legs, his cock straining against his pants, but he ignores it, sliding Peter's cock back out of his mouth and then in again, picking up the speed, knowing Peter needs him to.
"Oh -- oh, Nathan, fuck," Peter gasps out, squeezing his hand even tighter. "Oh, that feels so good."
Nathan ducks and bobs, lips sliding over the tight, hot skin as he moves in a steady rhythm, sucking Peter hard. He presses his hips against the mattress, needing friction against his own erection, and then Peter makes a noise in his throat and squeezes his hand so tightly it hurts.
"Nathan, I'm gonna--" is as far as Peter gets before he's shuddering on the bed and spurting into Nathan's mouth, and Nathan feels it hot in his throat as he struggles to swallow.
"Oh -- fuck, I'm sorry," Peter is gasping out a second later as he pulls Nathan down on top of him. "I didn't mean to--"
Nathan wipes his mouth, and smiles down at him. "I don't mind, Pete," he says softly, and Peter cranes his neck, pulling his head off the pillow for a moment.
"Can I--?" he asks shyly, tilting his chin to brush his lips lightly against Nathan's.
Nathan parts his lips in response, and Peter kisses him, clumsily, lazily, tasting himself. When they part, Peter is flushed and smiling. He wraps his arms around Nathan's neck.
"Will you fuck me?" he asks, his voice low.
"What? Jesus, Peter!" cries Nathan, jerking back, caught off guard.
"Do you not want to?" Peter asks in a small voice. "That's okay -- I just thought --"
"Peter, that's a big deal," Nathan interrupts him, trying to calm himself down and speak as firmly and seriously as he can. Suddenly a thought strikes him. "You haven't -- you haven't done that before, have you?"
Peter bites his lip and shakes his head. "No," he says. "I want it you be you. Always you."
Nathan feels short of breath. He sits up straight, shifting Peter's legs aside so he has more room.
"It's okay if you don't want to," Peter says in a small voice. "We can forget I said it."
Nathan takes a deep breath. "Peter, I want to," he says, laughing a little hollowly. "God, I want to."
His erection is still straining against his trousers, it hasn't gone down a bit. Just the thought of doing that to Peter -- doing that with Peter -- makes him even harder. It feels like all the blood in his body is between his legs, none left in his brain to think this through properly. He turns back to Peter, who is looking at him worriedly from behind his bangs.
"No one will know," he murmurs softly to himself, and Peter smiles nervously, nodding slightly. "This is just between us, okay?"
Peter nods more emphatically. "Yes," he says. "I promise, Nathan."
Nathan shakes his head, hardly able to even believe the situation. "And you really want this to happen?"
"Yes," Peter sighs frustratedly. "So, so much."
He knows he keeps asking, but the idea of doing this if Peter's not absolutely certain terrifies him. His own words echo suddenly in his head -- you're sixteen, Peter, you don't know what the hell you want -- and he freezes. Peter's a teenager, and although Nathan doesn't really see him as one (he just sees him as his brother, a person), it doesn't really make a difference. Nathan can remember being sixteen, though, and he can remember being so, so sure of how he felt and what he wanted. He remembers feeling like he knew everything, was already an adult, could make all his own decisions easily.
He also remembers regretting things, looking back on things in the past and wishing he'd done them differently.
"Nathan, please," whines Peter suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts.
Nathan is rooting through the bottom drawer of his bedside table, looking for lube and condoms, before he even really realises he's there. Something about that look in Peter's eyes, that promise, no one will know -- it makes him forget everything. He loves Peter, loves him more than anything in the world, and he knows Peter feels the same way about him. Whatever happens, they'll get through this together -- all of this.
Peter helps him out of the rest of his clothes, and when Nathan is about to lie Peter back, Peter stops him, reaching out to place a hand on his stomach. Nathan rocks back again, and Peter takes his cock in his hand, timidly curling his pale, slender fingers around the base. Nathan shudders, thankful for the pressure that Peter's hand brings.
"Sorry, I just -- I didn't really get to, you know, see the last time," Peter explains, twisting his hand a little, holding Nathan tighter. "You're so hard."
Nathan chuckles a little, and Peter looks up at him, grinning at him crookedly. He starts to slid his hand up Nathan's shaft, but Nathan stops him.
"Lie back," he says gently, and Peter does. Nathan can see the anticipation in his eyes as he reaches for the lube. "Do you ever use your fingers, Pete?"
"Yeah," Peter says, nodding. "Sometimes."
"Show me," Nathan tells him, heart thudding in his chest as he pushes the lube across the bed to Peter.
Peter squirms, looking a little unsure, but he's starting to get hard -- again -- and when he takes the lube and slicks up his fingers, Nathan knows he wants to do this. For him.
Peter bends his knees and spreads his legs, reaching down between them, and Nathan's cock aches as he watches. He shuffles closer, tucking Peter's hair behind his ear, and kisses him softly. Peter moans into his mouth after a moment, and Nathan knows he's sliding the first finger inside himself, pushing it in deep. He doesn't even want to watch, just wants to wrap his arms around Peter and kiss him, and feel every tiny reaction. Peter trembles slightly, moans again, and kisses Nathan harder, tugging on his bottom lip.
"Do you want me to take over?" Nathan whispers.
"Please," Peter groans, and in seconds his fingers are replaced by Nathan's, stretching him, fucking him.
He's so, so tight, and Nathan clenches his teeth as he curls his fingers inside, watching Peter throw back his head and moan. He's loving this, Nathan realises, seeing now that Peter is fully hard again, his cock laying heavy and thick against his stomach.
"Now, Nathan," Peter says suddenly, loudly, spreading his legs even wider.
Nathan's heart is practically in his throat as he reaches for a condom, fumbling with it in his hurry to slide it on. The moment he touches his cock again he feels dizzy and hot, and he wonders how he's going to last with Peter spread out like this in front of him, naked and open and waiting.
Nathan grits his teeth as he pushes in, feeling Peter slick and tight around him. Peter groans "Please, please, please," against Nathan's collarbone, his lips ghosting hot and wet over the skin there. He nearly sobs when the head of Nathan's cock slides inside him, and he clutches his own cock in a weak grip, angling his hips upwards and trying to pull Nathan in deeper.
"Doesn't it hurt?" Nathan manages to say.
Peter sort of gasps and nods, wetting his lips with his tongue and wrapping his arms around him. "Ye-yeah," he stammers, but twists his hips beneath Nathan anyway, pushing up against him. "But -- I don't care, Nathan, please. Come on. Wanted -- needed this for so long, Nathan, please."
"Jesus," Nathan spits out, his voice hoarse. "Jesus, Peter. Stop begging."
He slides in even further despite himself, the smooth heat clenching around him.
"Can't help it," Peter pants, fingers scrabbling at Nathan's back. "Oh, God."
Nathan wants to tell him to get a hold of himself, for God's sake, but instead he just dips his head and joins their lips, Peter's wet and open against his own. Peter takes his mouth gladly, tongue slipping in as he clutches at Nathan's back. He can hear the pleading even now, echoing in his ears -- please, Nathan, fuck me -- and he shivers, pulling out a little only to slide back in.
Peter lets out a long, low sound, wrapping his legs around Nathan now, ankles hooked together, and Nathan swears, starting to thrust, slowly, all his muscles tense and his nerves jangling from feeling of Peter around him. All around him. "Fuck. Fuck."
"Nathan -- ah -- I'm okay, please -- harder," Peter breathes out against Nathan's cheek, and Nathan kisses him again, messily, trying to get him to be quiet. Every time he speaks Nathan feels like he's just going to lose whatever control he has left, and just pound into him relentlessly until he's coming hard and fast. Peter whimpers into his mouth, and Nathan's starting to get used to that sound, which should make him feel worse than it does.
Peter's hand is between their stomachs, wrapped around his own cock, pulling and jerking frantically, at a completely different rhythm to the movement of Nathan's thrusts. He pulls back and sinks in again, and again, quicker and quicker, and Peter moans gratefully, digging his fingernails into Nathan's back.
"I'm gonna come, Nathan, I'm gonna--" he's spluttering, and Nathan wants to say me too but he can't even speak, all he can do is keep moving, keep fucking him.
Peter cries out and his body tenses, hips jerking suddenly as he comes, and Nathan can barely register it because the muscles clamp down around his cock and he comes a second later, the whole world blurring around him with his release. It feels like a wall's been broken down -- or rather, the remaining bricks have been kicked in -- and he can't even believe how good it feels.
He pulls out and slumps back against the pillows, his whole body feeling numb and exhausted, and he's vaguely aware of Peter cleaning him up -- peeling off the condom, wiping them both down, and getting up to throw everything away.
"How can you even move?" he asks weakly, wiping his sweaty forehead.
"Dunno," Peter laughs, climbing back onto the bed and settling down next to him. He wraps Nathan's arm around him.
"It's too hot for that," Nathan grumbles.
"You're not moving away," Peter retorts.
"Can't."
He wants desperately to fall asleep, here, like this, with Peter in his arms, but it's too risky when they both know that Mom and Dad will be coming home soon. He manages to bring up enough energy to stroke his fingers through Peter's hair, and Peter makes a contented little noise and snuggles up even closer to him.
"Don't leave again," he says quietly against Nathan's chest.
"What?"
"Don't leave me again," Peter says, tilting his head up to look at Nathan.
Nathan runs his fingers through Peter's hair again, and leans down to press a kiss to his brother's forehead. "I won't leave you," he murmurs.
He's going to start law school, and he's going to get a job, and he knows at some point in the future he's going to meet a girl and get married and have children. He's an adult, he's living an adult life, and he has plans for his future -- he always has. But he'll never leave Peter for them, never again. He knew all along that these feelings were here to stay, and now that they've acted on them, they're not going to be able to stop. He knows himself -- and Peter -- well enough to be sure of that.
Ma told him she wanted Peter to be less dependent on people. That she wanted him not to be so attached to Nathan. And Nathan knows he's made it all worse, but he can't bring himself to care. He pulls his brother closer. Peter will always be his.
They'll always be together, no matter what happens.
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, underage sex (Peter is sixteen)
Summary: He's let it in, now. He's opened the box, he's started the fire. And no matter what he does, he knows he's never going to be able to shut it out again. Nathan and Peter, and their beginning.
A/N: Title from The Dandy Warhols. I must have worked on this for weeks. Partly because it is so long, and partly because it drove me insane. I'm so glad it's finally finished. This is my how-things-got-started fic for the Petrellis, and I dedicate it to eryslash, kimmy_dreamer and fiorediloto, for not letting me give up. ♥
It's Christmas Eve, and Peter stands in Nathan's doorway with his hands shaking.
"Too excited to sleep?" asks Nathan blearily from his bed.
Peter shrugs, coming further into the room. He usually says something about a bad dream or a headache, but tonight he can't seem to speak at all. Nathan shuffles aside easily in his bed, leaving space for Peter to join him.
Peter's just turned sixteen and he's too old for this. They both know it.
He climbs into the bed, feeling Nathan's rough, cold feet brush his own under the covers as he settles in. For a moment, he lies still, on his back with his feet together and his arms by his sides, staring straight up into the darkness.
But Nathan's been gone for months that felt like forever, and Peter can't hold himself back, so within seconds he's curled up against his brother, skin touching everywhere that it can, his face in the crook of Nathan's shoulder.
And Nathan chuckles, low and rough in Peter's ear, gently bringing his head back. Peter can feel his cheeks burning, blushing as Nathan looks him in the eye. "Hey, hey. Pete. What's going on? You okay?"
"Missed you," Peter murmurs, words tumbling out easily, as natural as breathing. He's said it so many times.
He nuzzles closer, because now that he's started this he can't stop, and he presses his nose to Nathan's shoulder again, inhaling. They're something about him that smells like home and safety in the way that even home doesn't quite manage, and he doesn't know why, because Nathan smells like everybody else really -- soap and sweat and washing powder.
He can feel Nathan's smile against his head. "Missed you too."
They stay like that for a long time, and Peter wants to stay forever, but then Nathan is rubbing gently at his shoulder. "Peter, Pete, wake up."
Peter's not asleep, but he stretches slightly and rubs his eyes anyway, pulling himself reluctantly away from the warmth of Nathan's body.
"Look, Pete, it's snowing," Nathan whispers, pointing towards the window. A slow, thin drift of snow is coming down, stark and white against the black night, the tiny flakes just visible through the gap in Nathan's curtains.
"It never snows," Peter says, smiling tiredly. His arm is still underneath Nathan's body, and it's going numb, but he doesn't want to move it.
"I know," Nathan murmurs, turning back. Their eyes meet, and Peter nearly looks away, but something makes him stay, gazing at his brother.
It's such a small thing, but Nathan doesn't look away either, and that's when Peter knows. Something in Nathan's expression softens, and Peter's hand against his chest can feel his heart beating too quickly. He waits for Nathan to speak -- to ask him what he's doing, or to carry on talking about the snow -- but he doesn't. His arm is still around Peter's shoulders.
Their heads come together at the same time, gentle and slow, foreheads meeting. And it could stop there, Peter knows, but he's already let the feeling in, and now it's never going to stop. It's easy -- almost too easy -- to tip his head, to close the gap with the joining of their lips.
Nathan doesn't move, and Peter opens his eyes. Nathan's face is blurry so close up, and all Peter can see is his eyes, closed, the eyelashes fluttering anxiously against his skin. He shuts his own eyes again, and presses his hand more firmly against Nathan's chest, parting his lips and willing him to stay, not to stop this.
Nathan speaks with his eyes still closed and his lips still brushing Peter's. "Go back to bed, Peter."
His expression hardens again, and he pulls away.
"But--" Peter begins, something flaring up inside him.
"Go back to bed, Peter."
Peter goes back to bed.
* * *
Nathan opens the bathroom door and nearly walks straight into Peter, who is standing directly in front of him with his arms crossed like some petulant little child.
"Nathan," he says.
Nathan nods. "Peter," he replies, and tries to sidestep his brother and head for the stairs, but within seconds Peter's managed to get them both into the nearest room -- Mom and Dad's bedroom -- and Nathan realises he's not going to be able to escape this one.
He's managed to avoid Peter most of the day, or at least, avoid being on his own with him. The whole house is filling up with family -- aunts, uncles, cousins; relatives he never even knew he had -- and really, it's easy acting normal around them, acting like there's nothing wrong or weird going on, like he and 'young Peter' didn't share a kiss much more than brotherly the previous night.
And all he could do, really, was mutter to Peter while they were helping Ma set the table that they weren't going to talk about it and then continue to avoid him as much as he could for the rest of the evening.
And now he can't avoid him at all.
"We have to talk about it," Peter says urgently, eyes wide and bright. Nathan frowns at him. He's treating this like he's on some kind of fucking soap opera, not like it's his actual life and it's just been turned upside down.
"Why?" Nathan snaps back.
"Because -- because -- Nathan," Peter says, placing a hand on Nathan's chest and trying to catch his eye.
"Peter, don't touch me," Nathan says sternly, but immediately he wants to take the words back because Peter latches on to them right away.
"Why not?" he asks, almost excitedly, and doesn't move his hand. "Why don't you want me to touch you, Nathan? What happens when I do?"
There's a click of a door opening somewhere down the hall, and footsteps.
"What happens when I touch you, Nathan?" Peter asks again, lowering his voice, leaning closer to Nathan and almost hissing the words.
"Stop it, Peter," Nathan says firmly, reaching to take his brother's hand off his chest. But Peter is quicker, and places his hand on top, holding Nathan's hand over his own.
"I can feel your heart beating," Peter says quietly, gently shifting the hand that's underneath Nathan's. "It's going really fast. And your palms are sweaty."
"Peter," says Nathan warningly. He can hear their younger cousins playing downstairs, and their mother's voice. There are more footsteps and he can't tell where they're coming from, whether it's someone on their way downstairs or upstairs or even someone walking along the hall towards the bedroom.
"Come on, Nathan, please," Peter whispers, leaning in closer. "Tell me you feel the same things I do. I know you do."
"Peter, stop it," Nathan says, managing to free his hand, and he shakes it down by his side, starting to turn away towards the door.
"Why? What happens if I don't?" Peter asks, goading him, pressing his hands to Nathan's back. "I want you to admit it, Nathan. How are we supposed to work out what we're going to do about this if you won't even--"
-- and Nathan snaps. He knew deep down that he was going to, but his heart sinks anyway as he grabs hold of his brother and pushes him up against the wall, smashing their mouths together with such force that it almost hurts. Peter just sighs against his lips and lets his mouth fall open, and that's when Nathan forces himself to pull back.
"You really don't care, do you?" he hisses, and Peter juts out his chin, glaring back at him defiantly.
"No, I don't," he spits out. "I want this."
"You're sixteen, Peter, you don't know what the hell you want," Nathan sighs, turning on his heel to pace across the room.
"Yes I do!" Peter snaps, raising his voice.
"Keep your voice down!"
Peter crosses the room quickly, and raises himself up on tip-toe to whisper in Nathan's ear. "I want this, and I know you want it too. I'm not stupid, Nathan, I know you. And I know you don't want to admit what's going on but you've got to, this isn't something we can just ignore."
He stays there, his breath hot against Nathan's ear, and Nathan feels his defenses crumbling. It's Peter, and he does know him, and he can't keep hiding from this forever. He's let it in, now. He's opened the box, he's started the fire. And no matter what he does, he knows he's never going to be able to shut it out again.
They fall together again, lips moving softly, slowly. There are still kids screaming downstairs, and the clattering of dishes. There are still footsteps, everywhere, but the sounds turn muffled and blurry until they're almost entirely muted out. Nathan wraps his arms around his brother and holds him right, and the thoughts and feelings that have been locked up run freely through him.
"Peter? Peter, dear, are you up there?" Ma's voice calls suddenly, and Nathan jumps back immediately, heart in his throat.
"Coming!" Peter yells, heading for the door. He turns back to Nathan. "I'm gonna say we were making up the bed in the spare room for Aunt Lucy," he says quietly, and then presses the back of his hand to his mouth.
"Okay," says Nathan, swallowing hard. "I'll go and do that. I'll be down in a few minutes."
Peter turns and goes, and Nathan heads towards the linen cupboard with a dry throat and a throbbing head. Sneaking away during family gatherings, hiding, lying -- if this is going to be their whole life, he doesn't think he wants it.
* * *
Nathan has had too much wine. When Peter excuses himself from the dinner table and vanishes from the room, Nathan finds himself following. Peter has been almost silent throughout the meal, just watching Nathan from across the table, his eyes set. And Nathan finds him just outside the door of the dining room, just waiting there, leaning against the wall just out of sight. He chews on a fingernail, and looks at Nathan.
"Can we go somewhere?" he says.
As they slip out of the back door, Nathan runs words through his mind like he's preparing a speech. He wants to tell Peter that he's thought things through and they really can't do this. He knows there's no point in stating the obvious, using words like wrong and illegal because they'll have no effect on Peter. But there's got to be something he can say that will get through to him.
He knows, though, that whatever he says he can't make himself believe it, even if he convinces his brother. As they turn the corner to the back of the house, Peter stops and looks at him, his expression so trusting and open, his eyes wide and his lips wet, and Nathan knows he's had these feelings for maybe a whole year now. And he knows Peter has had them longer. For years, he's recognised the look in Peter's eye when he's come home, understood Peter's reactions when he pulled him into a tight hug. He's managed to ignore these things, blot them out, and distract himself, but it's all come out, and he never prepared himself for that.
Peter says, "What is this?"
And Nathan says, "I thought you didn't care."
And they smile at each other as though maybe it doesn't really matter anyway, and then it just happens again, and Nathan has Peter against the wall, holding onto him like he's trying to stop himself falling, but he's falling anyway, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to Peter's neck and feeling tears welling up in his eyes as the sounds of the city hum around them. The night air is cold, but Peter's body is warm, his skin smooth and flushed as he presses himself against Nathan and lets out a long, soft sigh.
"I'm so happy," he murmurs into Nathan's chest, and Nathan hushes him, pulling away for a moment to tilt his brother's chin up before claiming his mouth in a kiss.
"We need to go back inside," Nathan says eventually, and Peter groans, twisting his hands in the fabric of Nathan's shirt.
"Can't we stay out here?"
"How long for?"
Peter wraps himself back into Nathan's arms. "Forever," he mumbles, and Nathan chuckles, ruffling his hair. "I'm serious," Peter says. "You can't leave me after this. You can't keep leaving, you just can't. Don't leave again."
Nathan strokes Peter's head, curling his hand around the nape of his neck, holding him closer.
He's leaving tomorrow.
* * *
Peter's pillow is damp. His head is aching, and his whole body is drained and weary from crying. He rolls over, pulling his duvet tightly around him. He stares at the glowing numbers of his alarm clock. Nathan leaves in six hours. He doesn't even know when he's going to see him again.
He hears the gentle creak of his bedroom door and he almost leaps out of bed, throwing the duvet off as he sits up straight, peering across the room in the dark.
"Hey, relax," Nathan whispers, "it's just me."
"I know," Peter whispers back, smiling, rubbing his eyes.
Nathan shuts the door carefully behind him and crosses the room. He doesn't say anything, just sits on the bed and smiles at Peter in the dark, and Peter reaches out for him, running a small pale hand down his brother's bare chest. He embraces Nathan slowly, savouring the feel of skin on skin.
"I had to see you before I went," Nathan murmurs, wrapping his arms around Peter, and Peter shudders at the extra contact.
They hold each other for a long time, and then Nathan says softly, "Lie down."
Peter does, and Nathan settles down next to him, and they turn towards each other. Nathan kisses him softly, and Peter feels his heart jump.
"You've been crying," says Nathan, his lips travelling up across Peter's cheekbone, and Peter knows he can taste the salt of his tears there.
"Don't want you to go," Peter mumbles, feeling pathetic, shifting closer into Nathan's arms.
Nathan presses his lips to Peter's head. "Oh, God, I love you," Nathan breathes, shakily, drawing even closer.
"I love you," Peter whispers back, knee slotting between Nathan's legs. His thigh brushes against the crotch of Nathan's pajama pants, and he jerks back, surprised to feel an erection beneath the fabric.
Nathan doesn't move, or say anything, just holds Peter close, but after a few moments he lets out a breath in a way that makes Peter think he'd been holding it in, and shifts next to him. His erection presses against Peter, now, and Peter's heart starts racing. He starts to whisper Nathan's name, but Nathan interrupts.
"That's from you," is what he says, his voice low and gruff, and he looks him right in the eye as he says it. Peter feels himself starting to get hard and he wonders what's going to happen as Nathan slowly begins to rock his hips against Peter's.
Nathan kisses him again, a rough wet slide of his lips, and Peter's cock strains against his boxers now, aching dull and hard between his legs. Nathan rolls him over gently, and runs a hand from the arch of Peter's neck to the waistband of his boxers, and Peter shudders, hips bucking from the bed almost automatically.
He pulls Nathan closer, pressing his lips to his brother's jaw. Nathan shifts around, half on top of him, pulling down his pants, and Peter's heart starts racing again. This is really going to happen.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pulls, slowly down over his hard-on, lifting himself up to pull them legs. He lies back. The duvet is around his ankles, still, and Nathan is standing next to the bed, still undressing himself. When he turns around, he is naked, utterly naked, and Peter almost can't look, blushing as he crawls back onto the bed with him.
"Do you want to touch me?" Nathan whispers. "Or do you want me to touch you?"
"Both," Peter chokes out honestly, cheeks flaring up, and Nathan laughs, but it's a gentle, friendly laugh.
He strokes Peter's chest with his fingertips, running them tenderly down to his stomach, and then Peter feels them against the coarse hair between his legs.
"You're so beautiful, Pete," Nathan breathes, and then he lifts one of his legs and lowers it down on Peter's other side, shifting so that he's on top of him, straddling him. Peter stares.
Nathan lowers himself slowly, moving closer until his cock aligns with Peter's, and Peter gasps at the contact. Nathan rocks slowly against him, cock sliding slickly against Peter's, and slipping to rub up against Peter's hips and thighs. Peter echoes the movements, clinging onto the edges of his mattress and raising his hips to move in time with his brother. He throws his head back hard against the pillow as Nathan thrusts forward, and he can feel Nathan watching him.
Nathan's hand curls around Peter's hip, steadying them, and he seems to be trying to find a rhythm, but Peter doesn't care, he just needs this, needs it now, and he makes a pleading, whining sound and wraps his arms around Nathan, pulling him down until he's right on top of him, and he just moves, bucking and grinding against his brother until Nathan is groaning low in his throat.
The bedsprings creak quietly, and Nathan smiles down at him, but Peter is too far gone to smile back, the feeling too intense, coursing through him. He wants to watch Nathan, but when he looks at him it makes him feel like he might never be able to breathe again. Nathan's sweaty and his eyes are dark and he's frowning now as he rocks back and forth, and it's an expression Peter's seen before when Nathan's concentrating really hard on something, and Peter really, really likes it.
Nathan's moving like this, sliding and pushing like it's the only thing that matters, and his breathing is heavy, and it's all because of him. He's the one making Nathan feel like this, feel this good.
"Nathan," he pants out, "Oh, god, Nathan."
"Shh," Nathan hisses, stroking Peter's hair from his face soothingly. "We have to be quiet."
He keeps his hand there, gently cupping Peter's face, and Peter turns his head, sucking two of Nathan's fingers into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around them, closes his lips, trying to keep himself quiet, and Nathan stares at him and starts moving quicker, their hips bumping together with the erratic thrusts. Peter sucks hard on Nathan's fingers, whimpering around them.
Nathan suddenly slows down, his whole body tensing and then jerking, muscles shuddering, and Peter watches in amazement. Nathan's coming -- and it's because of him. The come splashes hot over Peter's stomach and cock, and he writhes beneath Nathan, needing to get the friction back, but Nathan has his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his mouth open and it seems like he's gone completely limp.
For a moment nothing happens, and then Nathan draws in a sharp breath and looks at him again. "Fuck, Pete," he murmurs, taking his fingers from Peter's mouth and bringing his hand down between their legs.
He steadies himself, and then curls his fingers around Peter's cock, his strong hand tugging once, twice, and then again and again, faster and faster. Peter gasps loudly, wrapping his arms around Nathan, and Nathan smiles, twists his wrist, his hand sliding slick with his come and Peter's spit up and down the length of Peter's cock.
"Oh, god," Peter gasps out, unable to stop himself, shuddering hard. It feels like all his nerves are on fire, and he's close, so close, and the feeling is almost too much.
Nathan leans down and kisses Peter hard, and Peter sobs against his brother's mouth.
"It's okay, I've got you, I've got you," Nathan murmurs against Peter's lips, voice low and rough as he draws Peter's orgasm from him with his tight fist.
Peter grapples at Nathan's back, his whole body jerking fitfully. He feels like he's going to keep coming forever, seeing stars behind his eyelids and curling his toes.
But then Nathan is smoothing back his hair for him, kissing him softly, and cleaning them both up with tissues, and Peter just sighs, overwhelmed and exhausted, lying motionless on the bed.
"You okay, Pete?" Nathan asks him, helping him back into his boxers.
"Mmhm," Peter replies. "I can't...Nathan, that was -- will you stay?"
"What?" asks Nathan, turning away from him to pull his pajama pants back on.
"Here. In bed with me," Peter says. "Please?"
Nathan frowns, rubbing at his chin, and Peter feels his heart sink. "Peter, you know I can't," Nathan says eventually.
"Just for a while?" Peter pleads.
Nathan seems to consider it, but then he shakes his head. "We should get some sleep," he says. "I have to get up early tomorrow."
Peter's face falls. "But Nathan..." he says weakly.
Nathan's expression softens, but only slightly, as he bends over to kiss Peter lightly on the lips. "Goodnight, Pete."
Peter doesn't speak as Nathan quietly slips back out of the room. Tears are stinging the corners of his eyes again and he holds them back fiercely, staring at the closed door.
* * *
When Peter wakes up, his clock reads ten minutes to nine.
"Mom?" he shouts, throwing off his covers and leaping out of bed. "Mom!"
He races down the stairs and finds her in the living room, frowning at him.
"Peter, don't shout like that, what is it?" she says, crossing her arms.
"Where's Nathan?" he asks impatiently.
"Well, he left already of course," his mother replies. "I know you would have liked to say goodbye, but he didn't want to wake you. Now for goodness' sake, go and get dressed."
Peter stares at her in disbelief. "He left without saying goodbye? Did he really say he didn't want to wake me up?"
"Well, he's going to stay in touch, Peter," she says tiredly, "don't over-react. You'll be seeing him again in the summer."
"The summer?" Peter cries. "He's not coming back until summer?"
"That's when his service ends," replies his mother calmly. "I'm sure you knew that already. Now go and get dressed, breakfast is ready."
* * *
"A lot can change in six months," is all Peter says after he shrugs off Nathan's touches the following June, and Nathan frowns at him. Peter welcomed him with open arms when he came through the front door, asking him how he was and saying he'd missed him, but clearly it was all for show -- all for their parents.
"I missed you, Pete," Nathan says, trying again, gently placing a hand on Peter's shoulder.
But Peter squirms away, and won't look at him. "Didn't miss me enough to keep in touch," he says. "Like you said you would."
Nathan bristles. "It's difficult."
"You're telling me."
"Peter..."
"What?"
Nathan looks at his brother. He hasn't changed all that much. He's used to coming home and finding that Peter's grown several inches, or that his voice is deeper, but this time the only thing different is his expression. It's harder, more serious. This isn't simply sulking -- that, he's used to. This is something worse, deeper. He remembers quietly slipping into Peter's room the morning he left, remembers Peter's soft, sleeping, smiling face. Remembers how he pressed a light kiss to his brother's forehead and left the room -- and then the house -- without a word to him.
It wasn't that he didn't want to say goodbye. There was just something inside him that stopped him. He didn't think he could face saying goodbye after the night they'd shared. He could hardly look Peter in the eye immediately afterwards anyway, couldn't stand to see the sheer hope and joy he'd awakened. He'd never seen his brother as happy as in that moment, lying back on the bed like he'd had all of his life drained out of him and he couldn't have been happier to see it go.
It'd made him happy, too, of course, but he had a life to get on with. But it was as though Peter had clung to that one moment as though it defined the rest of his life, and that scared Nathan. He couldn't handle that -- especially not the fact that it was something he did that made it happen.
But has he really hurt Peter that much?
"I'm sorry, Peter," he says quietly, taking a step closer, but Peter stands with his head down, scuffing his feet on the carpet, ignoring him.
"I get it," he says after a long moment. "Leaving without saying goodbye after -- after what we did, that was a pretty big deal. And I get what it meant. You don't have to explain."
Nathan opens his mouth -- to do just that, explain, but Peter doesn't give him a chance.
"Nathan, don't," he snaps. "Please don't do this. Don't lie to me just to make me feel better, because it won't work. You always fucking do that."
"I'm not--" Nathan tries to say, but Peter barely even hears him, just carries on talking.
"I get it, okay? I don't agree with you but I get it, and I know I can't change your mind, so I've been trying to get over it," Peter goes on, and Nathan realises he's still not looking him in the eye, just picking at his too-long sleeves and staring down at the floor. "It's hard. But I know you want me to, so I'm trying. Please don't fuck it up."
Nathan opens his mouth and then shuts it again. A part of him desperately wants to take this poor, broken Peter into his arms and hold him and fix things, explain everything. But the other part of him knows that this is his chance to put an end to something that really never should have started. Peter is trying to move on, and Nathan knows deep down that in the long run, if this stops now, they will both be much happier.
"I'm proud of you," he says, hating himself with each word. "And I'm glad you understand. You're being so mature about this. Well done."
He steps forward, about to embrace his brother, and that's when Peter finally looks at him. His eyes are dark and pained, angry.
"Please don't touch me," he says weakly.
He leaves the room, and Nathan stands there motionless and alone until their mother calls him. He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, and tries to clear his mind.
It's not quite the 'welcome back' he expected, but he knows it's for the best.
* * *
Peter knows it's only been a few days, but he's already beginning to think that things will never return to normal. He's not quite sure what he considers normal -- is normal what it was before anything happened? Or when things first started happening? It's difficult to tell, but at the moment, he'd take either version over the way things are now.
He and Nathan aren't really talking.
They're civil to each other, which he supposes he should be happy with, but it's so, so far away from how they're supposed to be that it makes him physically ache.
They speak more around their parents, because neither of them want them to become suspicious, but Peter knows they already are.
He overhears a conversation between Nathan and their mother when he's supposed to be in bed. He expects her to be worried, asking if the two of them have had an argument, but that's not the way she approaches the discussion. She says Peter's being 'difficult', that it's hard for him when Nathan's not around. She suggests maybe he's trying to punish Nathan for it, says she's always telling him not to get so attached to him but that he won't listen.
"Really, Nathan, do you understand the effect you have on him?" she asks. "He really does cling to people, you especially, and it's not healthy. He can't be so dependent. Especially at this time in his life -- he's supposed to be growing up, becoming more confident..."
It's all variations of things Peter's heard before, but the idea of her saying these things to Nathan makes him nervous. She ends the conversation by telling Nathan that she and their father are going out for dinner tomorrow night, for their anniversary. She tells Nathan she wants him to talk to Peter, to 'try and make things right' between them.
Nathan just says "Yes, Ma," and Peter can't gauge any further reaction, so he slips back to his room silently, wondering what tomorrow will bring.
* * *
"Do you have to read that for school?" Nathan asks, hovering awkwardly in the doorway and eyeing Peter, who is flicking through pages of The Lord of the Flies.
Peter shrugs and nods, keeps flicking.
"What do you think of it?"
Peter shrugs again. "S'okay."
Nathan exhales loudly, coming into the room. "I want it to go back to normal, Pete," he says, willing Peter to look up at him, but he doesn't. "Don't you?"
"Depends what 'normal' is," Peter mumbles moodily. He folds down a corner of a page and sets the book aside.
"Peter -- I know you want--" Nathan begins, and then sighs again, rubbing his fingers against his temples. Does he really know what Peter wants? Is assuming things really going to get him anywhere? "We can't. You understand that, don't you?"
Peter opens his mouth and then closes it again. He drags his hair back out of his eyes, and looks up at Nathan, his eyes blazing. "No, actually," he snaps. "I keep saying I do, but I don't. No one will know, Nathan. And no one's going to get hurt."
"You're hurting now," says Nathan weakly, crossing the room to sit beside his brother. He finds himself too scared to touch him, though, and though he wants to soothe Peter by stroking his shoulder, or his thigh, his hand stays firmly by his side.
This isn't what his mother meant when she said she wanted him to talk to Peter, of course, and it wasn't even a topic of discussion that Nathan was planning on, but with the two of them alone in the house and the situation left without a conclusion, it was bound to happen.
"Aren't you?" Peter shoots back, and Nathan hesitates, but nods. "And that's because we're fighting this. And I don't think we're supposed to. I don't think you can fight things like this. Not when they're so big."
"We just -- we have to be strong," Nathan says, but his voice is nowhere near as confident as he wants it to be. "We can get through this, Peter. You were already on your way there, you said so."
"Nathan, it's too hard," Peter groans. "I can't do it. And I don't want to."
Nathan gives in a little, even though he knows it's dangerous. He takes Peter's hand. "You can do this. You can do this for me."
"You don't know what you're asking me to do," Peter says, staring him straight in the eye. "This is all I've ever wanted. And I know you want it too -- you can't tell me to just forget about something like this. Especially not after what we've done."
Nathan lets Peter's words ring in the air. Peter is moving closer to him, and he knows he should be moving away, but he feels like he's rooted to the spot.
Peter's lips are nearly touching his when he says, "Peter, no," but the words are ignored, and then swallowed away as their lips meet. And Nathan feels himself giving in once again, feels the familiar breakdown of every excuse. But this time it's even more intense. It's been so long, and just the feeling of Peter's body so close to his makes him ache for more, his strength crumbling under Peter's determination. But when they pull apart, Peter doesn't seem triumphant -- he isn't gloating, or saying I knew you'd give in. He's just looking at Nathan, a sad smile across his face.
"Please don't leave," he whispers. "Please let this -- let this be it."
Nathan shudders. What a choice he has to make. He knows what the right thing is to do. He knows that he should stand up and leave the room, do whatever it takes to keep Peter away from him, until he can build up his own willpower. He knows it shouldn't matter how hard it is, and that he should do it anyway.
But he loves Peter, wants him, and the thought of pushing him away is too painful to bear. He knows that even if he put a stop to this now, it would be something he would struggle with for the rest of his life. He knows that deep down, these feelings will never truly go away, especially now that he knows that Peter shares them.
"I am so weak," he murmurs, tilting his head back towards Peter's again, letting their lips brush, their skin touch.
"You're the strongest person I know," says Peter, his eyes bright as he takes Nathan's lips again.
Nathan sighs into the kiss, letting his hands roam Peter's back. This is the Peter he's been missing, the Peter he wanted to welcome him home.
"Can we go to your room?" Peter asks tentatively. "I miss it. I don't go in there when you're not here."
* * *
Moments later they find themselves on Nathan's dark blue bedsheets, Nathan with Peter on top of him, unbuttoning his shirt.
It's happening too fast for Nathan to stop and think, but he can't even bring himself to care.
"While you've been away," Peter is whispering as he fiddles with Nathan's buttons, "every time I've touched myself...I've thought of that night."
Nathan's voice cracks as it leaves his mouth. "Me too."
"Really?"
Nathan nods, letting a smile creep across his lips, and he reaches down to hold Peter's hands in his, keeping them still.
"Oh, fuck," says Peter, shifting slightly, tossing his head back to get his hair out of his eyes. He leans down to kiss Nathan again, and Nathan kisses him firmly back, wanting to reassure him as much as he wants to reassure himself.
"You're sure you want to do this?" he murmurs.
"Oh, god, Nathan, yes," Peter groans. "Stop asking me."
"I need to hear you say it," Nathan says urgently, stroking Peter's cheek. "I can't...I can't do this if you're not sure."
"I am sure," Peter says, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "I want this so badly that I might die if it doesn't happen."
"Ah, emotional blackmail," nods Nathan solemnly, and Peter thumps him.
"Please," he says, twisting Nathan's remaining shirt buttons, pulling them loose.
Nathan raises himself up off the mattress onto his hands, and kisses Peter deeply, running his hands over Peter's chest and back.
"I'm so hard," Peter confesses against Nathan's mouth, and Nathan feels his own cock stir at the words.
"I know," he says soothingly, gently pushing Peter back in order to start undoing his jeans for him.
There is a tiny dark patch on Peter's boxers, precome leaking through, his cock making a large, heavy bulge in the fabric.
"Oh, Peter," Nathan breathes as he continues undressing his brother, pausing every so often to press his nose and mouth to Peter's smooth skin, wanting to breathe him in, savour every moment of this.
But Peter is impatient, reaching out to grab Nathan's arm and sighing, "Please touch me. Touch me properly."
Nathan slips off his own shirt and then spreads Peter out on the bed, and settles down between his wide-open legs.
"Oh, Nathan, yes, please," Peter splutters, before Nathan is even close, clearly anticipating what is to come.
Nathan presses a hand to Peter's hipbone, and lowers his head, letting his lips lightly brush the shaft of Peter's cock. Peter jolts, hips bucking even under Nathan's firm grip.
"God, Nathan, please, now," he chokes out. "I need you -- your mouth -- so bad--"
Nathan hushes him, rubbing his hip to calm him. With his other hand, he steadies Peter's cock, curling his fingers around the base, and Peter's body jolts again. Nathan presses his tongue flat against Peter's cock, dragging upwards with it, then circles the head. Peter groans. Nathan's done this before, of course, but it was always awkward and meaningless, desperate exchanges of satisfaction with friends during college and the military. Nothing like this, nothing like having Peter spread out on the bed in front of him, naked and gasping, his cock so hard, everything for him.
He takes the head of Peter's cock between his lips, and Peter's breath catches sharply in his throat. His hand flies out to squeeze Nathan's, the one he still has resting on Peter's hip, and Nathan takes him in, ever so slowly, pulling Peter's length into the wet heat of his mouth. He stills, tasting his brother, and Peter writhes beneath him, wanting more. Nathan aches between his legs, his cock straining against his pants, but he ignores it, sliding Peter's cock back out of his mouth and then in again, picking up the speed, knowing Peter needs him to.
"Oh -- oh, Nathan, fuck," Peter gasps out, squeezing his hand even tighter. "Oh, that feels so good."
Nathan ducks and bobs, lips sliding over the tight, hot skin as he moves in a steady rhythm, sucking Peter hard. He presses his hips against the mattress, needing friction against his own erection, and then Peter makes a noise in his throat and squeezes his hand so tightly it hurts.
"Nathan, I'm gonna--" is as far as Peter gets before he's shuddering on the bed and spurting into Nathan's mouth, and Nathan feels it hot in his throat as he struggles to swallow.
"Oh -- fuck, I'm sorry," Peter is gasping out a second later as he pulls Nathan down on top of him. "I didn't mean to--"
Nathan wipes his mouth, and smiles down at him. "I don't mind, Pete," he says softly, and Peter cranes his neck, pulling his head off the pillow for a moment.
"Can I--?" he asks shyly, tilting his chin to brush his lips lightly against Nathan's.
Nathan parts his lips in response, and Peter kisses him, clumsily, lazily, tasting himself. When they part, Peter is flushed and smiling. He wraps his arms around Nathan's neck.
"Will you fuck me?" he asks, his voice low.
"What? Jesus, Peter!" cries Nathan, jerking back, caught off guard.
"Do you not want to?" Peter asks in a small voice. "That's okay -- I just thought --"
"Peter, that's a big deal," Nathan interrupts him, trying to calm himself down and speak as firmly and seriously as he can. Suddenly a thought strikes him. "You haven't -- you haven't done that before, have you?"
Peter bites his lip and shakes his head. "No," he says. "I want it you be you. Always you."
Nathan feels short of breath. He sits up straight, shifting Peter's legs aside so he has more room.
"It's okay if you don't want to," Peter says in a small voice. "We can forget I said it."
Nathan takes a deep breath. "Peter, I want to," he says, laughing a little hollowly. "God, I want to."
His erection is still straining against his trousers, it hasn't gone down a bit. Just the thought of doing that to Peter -- doing that with Peter -- makes him even harder. It feels like all the blood in his body is between his legs, none left in his brain to think this through properly. He turns back to Peter, who is looking at him worriedly from behind his bangs.
"No one will know," he murmurs softly to himself, and Peter smiles nervously, nodding slightly. "This is just between us, okay?"
Peter nods more emphatically. "Yes," he says. "I promise, Nathan."
Nathan shakes his head, hardly able to even believe the situation. "And you really want this to happen?"
"Yes," Peter sighs frustratedly. "So, so much."
He knows he keeps asking, but the idea of doing this if Peter's not absolutely certain terrifies him. His own words echo suddenly in his head -- you're sixteen, Peter, you don't know what the hell you want -- and he freezes. Peter's a teenager, and although Nathan doesn't really see him as one (he just sees him as his brother, a person), it doesn't really make a difference. Nathan can remember being sixteen, though, and he can remember being so, so sure of how he felt and what he wanted. He remembers feeling like he knew everything, was already an adult, could make all his own decisions easily.
He also remembers regretting things, looking back on things in the past and wishing he'd done them differently.
"Nathan, please," whines Peter suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts.
Nathan is rooting through the bottom drawer of his bedside table, looking for lube and condoms, before he even really realises he's there. Something about that look in Peter's eyes, that promise, no one will know -- it makes him forget everything. He loves Peter, loves him more than anything in the world, and he knows Peter feels the same way about him. Whatever happens, they'll get through this together -- all of this.
Peter helps him out of the rest of his clothes, and when Nathan is about to lie Peter back, Peter stops him, reaching out to place a hand on his stomach. Nathan rocks back again, and Peter takes his cock in his hand, timidly curling his pale, slender fingers around the base. Nathan shudders, thankful for the pressure that Peter's hand brings.
"Sorry, I just -- I didn't really get to, you know, see the last time," Peter explains, twisting his hand a little, holding Nathan tighter. "You're so hard."
Nathan chuckles a little, and Peter looks up at him, grinning at him crookedly. He starts to slid his hand up Nathan's shaft, but Nathan stops him.
"Lie back," he says gently, and Peter does. Nathan can see the anticipation in his eyes as he reaches for the lube. "Do you ever use your fingers, Pete?"
"Yeah," Peter says, nodding. "Sometimes."
"Show me," Nathan tells him, heart thudding in his chest as he pushes the lube across the bed to Peter.
Peter squirms, looking a little unsure, but he's starting to get hard -- again -- and when he takes the lube and slicks up his fingers, Nathan knows he wants to do this. For him.
Peter bends his knees and spreads his legs, reaching down between them, and Nathan's cock aches as he watches. He shuffles closer, tucking Peter's hair behind his ear, and kisses him softly. Peter moans into his mouth after a moment, and Nathan knows he's sliding the first finger inside himself, pushing it in deep. He doesn't even want to watch, just wants to wrap his arms around Peter and kiss him, and feel every tiny reaction. Peter trembles slightly, moans again, and kisses Nathan harder, tugging on his bottom lip.
"Do you want me to take over?" Nathan whispers.
"Please," Peter groans, and in seconds his fingers are replaced by Nathan's, stretching him, fucking him.
He's so, so tight, and Nathan clenches his teeth as he curls his fingers inside, watching Peter throw back his head and moan. He's loving this, Nathan realises, seeing now that Peter is fully hard again, his cock laying heavy and thick against his stomach.
"Now, Nathan," Peter says suddenly, loudly, spreading his legs even wider.
Nathan's heart is practically in his throat as he reaches for a condom, fumbling with it in his hurry to slide it on. The moment he touches his cock again he feels dizzy and hot, and he wonders how he's going to last with Peter spread out like this in front of him, naked and open and waiting.
Nathan grits his teeth as he pushes in, feeling Peter slick and tight around him. Peter groans "Please, please, please," against Nathan's collarbone, his lips ghosting hot and wet over the skin there. He nearly sobs when the head of Nathan's cock slides inside him, and he clutches his own cock in a weak grip, angling his hips upwards and trying to pull Nathan in deeper.
"Doesn't it hurt?" Nathan manages to say.
Peter sort of gasps and nods, wetting his lips with his tongue and wrapping his arms around him. "Ye-yeah," he stammers, but twists his hips beneath Nathan anyway, pushing up against him. "But -- I don't care, Nathan, please. Come on. Wanted -- needed this for so long, Nathan, please."
"Jesus," Nathan spits out, his voice hoarse. "Jesus, Peter. Stop begging."
He slides in even further despite himself, the smooth heat clenching around him.
"Can't help it," Peter pants, fingers scrabbling at Nathan's back. "Oh, God."
Nathan wants to tell him to get a hold of himself, for God's sake, but instead he just dips his head and joins their lips, Peter's wet and open against his own. Peter takes his mouth gladly, tongue slipping in as he clutches at Nathan's back. He can hear the pleading even now, echoing in his ears -- please, Nathan, fuck me -- and he shivers, pulling out a little only to slide back in.
Peter lets out a long, low sound, wrapping his legs around Nathan now, ankles hooked together, and Nathan swears, starting to thrust, slowly, all his muscles tense and his nerves jangling from feeling of Peter around him. All around him. "Fuck. Fuck."
"Nathan -- ah -- I'm okay, please -- harder," Peter breathes out against Nathan's cheek, and Nathan kisses him again, messily, trying to get him to be quiet. Every time he speaks Nathan feels like he's just going to lose whatever control he has left, and just pound into him relentlessly until he's coming hard and fast. Peter whimpers into his mouth, and Nathan's starting to get used to that sound, which should make him feel worse than it does.
Peter's hand is between their stomachs, wrapped around his own cock, pulling and jerking frantically, at a completely different rhythm to the movement of Nathan's thrusts. He pulls back and sinks in again, and again, quicker and quicker, and Peter moans gratefully, digging his fingernails into Nathan's back.
"I'm gonna come, Nathan, I'm gonna--" he's spluttering, and Nathan wants to say me too but he can't even speak, all he can do is keep moving, keep fucking him.
Peter cries out and his body tenses, hips jerking suddenly as he comes, and Nathan can barely register it because the muscles clamp down around his cock and he comes a second later, the whole world blurring around him with his release. It feels like a wall's been broken down -- or rather, the remaining bricks have been kicked in -- and he can't even believe how good it feels.
He pulls out and slumps back against the pillows, his whole body feeling numb and exhausted, and he's vaguely aware of Peter cleaning him up -- peeling off the condom, wiping them both down, and getting up to throw everything away.
"How can you even move?" he asks weakly, wiping his sweaty forehead.
"Dunno," Peter laughs, climbing back onto the bed and settling down next to him. He wraps Nathan's arm around him.
"It's too hot for that," Nathan grumbles.
"You're not moving away," Peter retorts.
"Can't."
He wants desperately to fall asleep, here, like this, with Peter in his arms, but it's too risky when they both know that Mom and Dad will be coming home soon. He manages to bring up enough energy to stroke his fingers through Peter's hair, and Peter makes a contented little noise and snuggles up even closer to him.
"Don't leave again," he says quietly against Nathan's chest.
"What?"
"Don't leave me again," Peter says, tilting his head up to look at Nathan.
Nathan runs his fingers through Peter's hair again, and leans down to press a kiss to his brother's forehead. "I won't leave you," he murmurs.
He's going to start law school, and he's going to get a job, and he knows at some point in the future he's going to meet a girl and get married and have children. He's an adult, he's living an adult life, and he has plans for his future -- he always has. But he'll never leave Peter for them, never again. He knew all along that these feelings were here to stay, and now that they've acted on them, they're not going to be able to stop. He knows himself -- and Peter -- well enough to be sure of that.
Ma told him she wanted Peter to be less dependent on people. That she wanted him not to be so attached to Nathan. And Nathan knows he's made it all worse, but he can't bring himself to care. He pulls his brother closer. Peter will always be his.
They'll always be together, no matter what happens.