You reap what you sow
Title: You reap what you sow
Author: Mackeygenius
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: Nc-17
A/N: Written for the Spring Hiatus Ficathon, for cloud_sprite, the prompt was: Peter is in trouble when Nathan finds him.
Thanks to mf_luder_xf and lunais_cross for the amazing betaing.
His hair smells like pot and the taste of tequila still lingers on his tongue as he slides into his room stealthily; an ability he mastered these past two years in hope of eluding the increasing confrontations he has with his father. Shedding his leather jacket and stifling a yawn, his eyes glance blurrily at his alarm clock glowing in the dark. It's very late or very early in the morning, depending on your point of view and the only thing he wants to do is slide in his bed and sleep for weeks.
"Is this some kind of cry for attention?"
He freezes at the voice behind his back, mentally berating himself because he should have expected it. He swallows heavily, the nice fuzzy feelings from earlier dissolving; Nathan has a way of sobering people up. There's the sound of a chair being pushed back and footsteps heading in his direction but he's rooted on the spot, unable to move.
"Because let me tell you, Pete, right now, you've certainly got mine."
He knows better than to trust the tone of his brother's voice. It might sound collected but it's just the calm before the storm. Suppressing a sigh, he decides the sooner he faces it, the sooner it's over. Peter hates how much Nathan emulates their father, he doesn't need light to know his brother is crossing his arms over his chest and looking at him with a disapproving frown.
"Where were you?"
Ah, the perpetual questioning. Can't say he missed it. Sometimes he gets the feeling Nathan acts more like a parent than a brother. The condescension in Nathan's tone irks him.
Nathan wants to play the grown up? Fine. He'll play the brat.
"Out." Succinct answer, no elaboration, all the ingredients to piss Nathan off.
"Don't play smart, it's four in the morning."
Peter's laid back nature is definitely absent at the moment and yeah, the pot kind of drown his survival instinct.
“Good powers of observation, I'm impressed, but spare me the lecture. I've got Dad for that." says Peter, nonchalantly. "I believe you know the way out."
"Oh no, you're not getting away with it so easily," states Nathan, squeezing his brother's shoulder rather painfully. "You owe me an explanation, because I was the one Mom called tonight and who spent fifty minutes listening her hysterical ravings about how Dad and you are at each other’s throats. Again. What is about you threatening to leave?"
"Sorry for the inconvenience but you know how Mom is when she starts popping pills," replies Peter. "Always tends to exaggerate."
Nathan is literally seething now, his anger comes in waves, threatening to crush him.
“I have enough with the attitude. Don't you think you're a little too old for the teenage rebellion?" wonders Nathan snidely. "Jesus Christ, Peter, I'm the youngest lawyer at the DA office, I don't have time to play buffer between you and Dad."
"I didn't ask you for anything. Believe it or not, I'm able to deal with problems on my own."
"Yeah, I can see that with you getting drunk and high," shoots back Nathan with irony. "Smart move."
Peter glares at him, balling his hands into fists. His brother has a way of making him feel stupid and two years old; it's frustrating. True, he admits taking pot hadn't been his brightest idea but the possibility of being able to forget how he failed to reach his father's expectations, once again, had been a relief.
"What's the problem, now?" asks Nathan with a resigned sigh.
"None of your business," he says through gritted teeth.
"Wrong again. You're my brother, whether you want it or not, you always will be my business ."
"Fine. Dad just can't handle the fact that one of his sons is queer."
"Nonsense." scoffs Nathan, brushing him off. "You're young, you don't know what you want."
"Fuck you, Nathan, stop telling me how I should feel," he hisses. "I'm fed up of you and Dad patronizing me, I've made up my mind. I'm leaving this house."
"No, you're not. First, you'll break Mom's heart and two, you're seventeen."
"I'll be eighteen in a week, old enough. I'm not one of your pawns, you can't control me."
"Tough." states Nathan, pushing his younger brother in the chest. "Time to learn we don't always get what we want."
Peter loses his balance as his knees collide with the bed and soon finds himself sprawled on the bed.
"You done playing the little brat?" he questions, pinning Peter with his weight as he grabs flaying limbs in his hands. "Because you're going to listen to me now."
"Let go of me," Peter hisses, but Nathan's hands are like unbreakable shackles around his wrists; despite struggling, Peter finds himself unable to shrug off Nathan. "I'll scream."
"No, you won't," shoots back Nathan, grabbing both wrists in one hand. "You won't take the risk of waking them up."
What goes through Nathan's head at this moment, Peter has no idea, but he nearly dies of shock when Nathan grabs his crotch, squeezing lightly and Peter can't breathe, can't quite realize what's happening. It's wrong, even through the haze of drugs, he knows that, however, it doesn't stop him from getting hard. He feels like he should protest when Nathan's left hand expertly pop his jeans open but the words just don't come. All he can do is stare at his brother in bewilderment, shivering as he feels puffs of warm breath against his cheek.
"Nathan..." he begins breathlessly, blood rapidly pounding in his ears.
He moans when the hand slides inside his boxers, strong fingers wrapping themselves around his erected cock. The sensation of cold metal against his skin sends jolts to his spine.
"Is this what you want?"
He doesn't recognize his brother's voice, rough and thick with arousal and he's choking on want and fear and forbidden. His conscience shuts up, though, when Nathan starts stroking, fast and hard, as if he knows exactly the way Peter likes it. He nods, surrendering, eyes fluttering shut when Nathan's lips crush upon his. It's a battle, as usual, Nathan's got to be the one in control but here, Peter can't bring himself to care. The moment his wrists are released, he entwines himself like a snake around Nathan's broad shoulders, sighing as Nathan's fingers, slick with precome, slide inside. Nathan's fingers are wide and blunt, stretching him and Peter loves the sensation, offering lazy kisses as Nathan's other hand joins the party and resumes jerking him off.
“You like that, don't you?" It is more a statement than a question. "You'll learn, little brother, that sex is always enjoyable if it's done right. The gender of the person has little to do with it. I bet you've never been harder in your life; what does it feel like, Pete? Knowing you're getting off on your brother's fingers. Feel any shame yet?"
Peter chokes on a moan, pushing his hips restlessly against the strong digits, shivering each time he feels the ring brush against his asshole. Nathan's precious Princeton ring is splitting him open which thrills and turns on Peter like nothing else before.
"See, you don't care," announces Nathan, speeding up his rhythm. "Sex is just sex. You can like it with both women and men. It's perfectly normal."
Peter listens distractively, his senses too focused on the hands making him lose his mind. He shakes when Nathan crooks his fingers and hits his prostate again and suddenly he's coming, burying his head in the crook of his brother's neck and biting on his shoulder to muffle his groan of pleasure. A few seconds later, he lets his head fall back on the bed, panting heavily, spent. He can feel his brother's erection digging against his hip but Nathan ignores it as he wipes his hands clean on Peter's bedsheet.
"In a few months, you'll leave home for college. You'll have plenty opportunities to experiment there, it's alright to be curious at your age. But for the time being, please, Pete, be discreet and don't flaunt it in Dad's face, ok?"
Peter stares at his brother, stunned to see him talk so normally after what they've just done. His self-righteous anger, so strong earlier, is gone. He got Nathan's point. Though he got the impression his brother just played him.
"Ok." he murmurs, licking his swollen lips. "Ok."
"Good." says Nathan, patting his cheek and standing up, unwrinkling his shirt. "Now, go to sleep and tomorrow after taking a shower, you'll go downstairs and eat breakfast with us. Dad won't say anything, I'll take care of it."
Peter passes a shaking hand over his eyes.
"One more thing," adds Nathan. "I don't want to see you in this state ever again. No more getting high. I'm not particularly fond at the idea of learning you took a swan dive from a roof of a building because you thought you could fly."
And on those words, Nathan leaves, closing the door and heading toward his old room. Peter sighs, staring at the ceiling, he vaguely thinks he should feel guilty but all he feels is post orgasmic bliss.
END
Author: Mackeygenius
Pairing: Peter/Nathan
Rating: Nc-17
A/N: Written for the Spring Hiatus Ficathon, for cloud_sprite, the prompt was: Peter is in trouble when Nathan finds him.
Thanks to mf_luder_xf and lunais_cross for the amazing betaing.
His hair smells like pot and the taste of tequila still lingers on his tongue as he slides into his room stealthily; an ability he mastered these past two years in hope of eluding the increasing confrontations he has with his father. Shedding his leather jacket and stifling a yawn, his eyes glance blurrily at his alarm clock glowing in the dark. It's very late or very early in the morning, depending on your point of view and the only thing he wants to do is slide in his bed and sleep for weeks.
"Is this some kind of cry for attention?"
He freezes at the voice behind his back, mentally berating himself because he should have expected it. He swallows heavily, the nice fuzzy feelings from earlier dissolving; Nathan has a way of sobering people up. There's the sound of a chair being pushed back and footsteps heading in his direction but he's rooted on the spot, unable to move.
"Because let me tell you, Pete, right now, you've certainly got mine."
He knows better than to trust the tone of his brother's voice. It might sound collected but it's just the calm before the storm. Suppressing a sigh, he decides the sooner he faces it, the sooner it's over. Peter hates how much Nathan emulates their father, he doesn't need light to know his brother is crossing his arms over his chest and looking at him with a disapproving frown.
"Where were you?"
Ah, the perpetual questioning. Can't say he missed it. Sometimes he gets the feeling Nathan acts more like a parent than a brother. The condescension in Nathan's tone irks him.
Nathan wants to play the grown up? Fine. He'll play the brat.
"Out." Succinct answer, no elaboration, all the ingredients to piss Nathan off.
"Don't play smart, it's four in the morning."
Peter's laid back nature is definitely absent at the moment and yeah, the pot kind of drown his survival instinct.
“Good powers of observation, I'm impressed, but spare me the lecture. I've got Dad for that." says Peter, nonchalantly. "I believe you know the way out."
"Oh no, you're not getting away with it so easily," states Nathan, squeezing his brother's shoulder rather painfully. "You owe me an explanation, because I was the one Mom called tonight and who spent fifty minutes listening her hysterical ravings about how Dad and you are at each other’s throats. Again. What is about you threatening to leave?"
"Sorry for the inconvenience but you know how Mom is when she starts popping pills," replies Peter. "Always tends to exaggerate."
Nathan is literally seething now, his anger comes in waves, threatening to crush him.
“I have enough with the attitude. Don't you think you're a little too old for the teenage rebellion?" wonders Nathan snidely. "Jesus Christ, Peter, I'm the youngest lawyer at the DA office, I don't have time to play buffer between you and Dad."
"I didn't ask you for anything. Believe it or not, I'm able to deal with problems on my own."
"Yeah, I can see that with you getting drunk and high," shoots back Nathan with irony. "Smart move."
Peter glares at him, balling his hands into fists. His brother has a way of making him feel stupid and two years old; it's frustrating. True, he admits taking pot hadn't been his brightest idea but the possibility of being able to forget how he failed to reach his father's expectations, once again, had been a relief.
"What's the problem, now?" asks Nathan with a resigned sigh.
"None of your business," he says through gritted teeth.
"Wrong again. You're my brother, whether you want it or not, you always will be my business ."
"Fine. Dad just can't handle the fact that one of his sons is queer."
"Nonsense." scoffs Nathan, brushing him off. "You're young, you don't know what you want."
"Fuck you, Nathan, stop telling me how I should feel," he hisses. "I'm fed up of you and Dad patronizing me, I've made up my mind. I'm leaving this house."
"No, you're not. First, you'll break Mom's heart and two, you're seventeen."
"I'll be eighteen in a week, old enough. I'm not one of your pawns, you can't control me."
"Tough." states Nathan, pushing his younger brother in the chest. "Time to learn we don't always get what we want."
Peter loses his balance as his knees collide with the bed and soon finds himself sprawled on the bed.
"You done playing the little brat?" he questions, pinning Peter with his weight as he grabs flaying limbs in his hands. "Because you're going to listen to me now."
"Let go of me," Peter hisses, but Nathan's hands are like unbreakable shackles around his wrists; despite struggling, Peter finds himself unable to shrug off Nathan. "I'll scream."
"No, you won't," shoots back Nathan, grabbing both wrists in one hand. "You won't take the risk of waking them up."
What goes through Nathan's head at this moment, Peter has no idea, but he nearly dies of shock when Nathan grabs his crotch, squeezing lightly and Peter can't breathe, can't quite realize what's happening. It's wrong, even through the haze of drugs, he knows that, however, it doesn't stop him from getting hard. He feels like he should protest when Nathan's left hand expertly pop his jeans open but the words just don't come. All he can do is stare at his brother in bewilderment, shivering as he feels puffs of warm breath against his cheek.
"Nathan..." he begins breathlessly, blood rapidly pounding in his ears.
He moans when the hand slides inside his boxers, strong fingers wrapping themselves around his erected cock. The sensation of cold metal against his skin sends jolts to his spine.
"Is this what you want?"
He doesn't recognize his brother's voice, rough and thick with arousal and he's choking on want and fear and forbidden. His conscience shuts up, though, when Nathan starts stroking, fast and hard, as if he knows exactly the way Peter likes it. He nods, surrendering, eyes fluttering shut when Nathan's lips crush upon his. It's a battle, as usual, Nathan's got to be the one in control but here, Peter can't bring himself to care. The moment his wrists are released, he entwines himself like a snake around Nathan's broad shoulders, sighing as Nathan's fingers, slick with precome, slide inside. Nathan's fingers are wide and blunt, stretching him and Peter loves the sensation, offering lazy kisses as Nathan's other hand joins the party and resumes jerking him off.
“You like that, don't you?" It is more a statement than a question. "You'll learn, little brother, that sex is always enjoyable if it's done right. The gender of the person has little to do with it. I bet you've never been harder in your life; what does it feel like, Pete? Knowing you're getting off on your brother's fingers. Feel any shame yet?"
Peter chokes on a moan, pushing his hips restlessly against the strong digits, shivering each time he feels the ring brush against his asshole. Nathan's precious Princeton ring is splitting him open which thrills and turns on Peter like nothing else before.
"See, you don't care," announces Nathan, speeding up his rhythm. "Sex is just sex. You can like it with both women and men. It's perfectly normal."
Peter listens distractively, his senses too focused on the hands making him lose his mind. He shakes when Nathan crooks his fingers and hits his prostate again and suddenly he's coming, burying his head in the crook of his brother's neck and biting on his shoulder to muffle his groan of pleasure. A few seconds later, he lets his head fall back on the bed, panting heavily, spent. He can feel his brother's erection digging against his hip but Nathan ignores it as he wipes his hands clean on Peter's bedsheet.
"In a few months, you'll leave home for college. You'll have plenty opportunities to experiment there, it's alright to be curious at your age. But for the time being, please, Pete, be discreet and don't flaunt it in Dad's face, ok?"
Peter stares at his brother, stunned to see him talk so normally after what they've just done. His self-righteous anger, so strong earlier, is gone. He got Nathan's point. Though he got the impression his brother just played him.
"Ok." he murmurs, licking his swollen lips. "Ok."
"Good." says Nathan, patting his cheek and standing up, unwrinkling his shirt. "Now, go to sleep and tomorrow after taking a shower, you'll go downstairs and eat breakfast with us. Dad won't say anything, I'll take care of it."
Peter passes a shaking hand over his eyes.
"One more thing," adds Nathan. "I don't want to see you in this state ever again. No more getting high. I'm not particularly fond at the idea of learning you took a swan dive from a roof of a building because you thought you could fly."
And on those words, Nathan leaves, closing the door and heading toward his old room. Peter sighs, staring at the ceiling, he vaguely thinks he should feel guilty but all he feels is post orgasmic bliss.
END