Fic: Ritual (15): Moving
Title: Ritual (15): Moving
Pairings: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 1
Warnings: Incest, explicit m/m sex, strong adult language and themes, description of minor injuries
Word Count: 5800
Summary: Nathan helps Peter move into his own apartment. Romantic, fluffy, and very, very dirty. Thanks to 47_trek_47 for the nudge!
Previous rituals:
(1) :: (2) :: (3) :: (4) :: (5) :: (6) :: (7) :: (8) :: (9) :: (10) :: (11) :: (12) :: (13) :: (14)
Heroes and all associated characters are the property of NBC/Universal Television and Tailwind Productions. This is a work of fan fiction and an attempt to not write so much angsty angst. ^_^
FIVE YEARS AND SIX MONTHS BEFORE THE ECLIPSE...
The service elevator could only hold so much stuff, and they had to make multiple trips, loading up as much as they could and then locking up the rest in the truck down in the parking garage. Peter's divided-studio apartment was fairly large, but compared to what he was used to, it seemed small and intimate - and quickly filling up with what Peter had originally thought wasn't that much stuff.
Nathan immediately determined his own system for maximum efficiency, and he proceeded to bark orders at Peter like a drill sergeant. "No, no, put the books into the bathroom... why do you have to own so many books, Pete?... Suitcases in the closet... toiletries in there, in the bathroom sink. Are those linens? Good. Shove them back there, too. No, don't stack them up like that! Get those boxes out of the way, we've got to move that bureau up through here so it can go along that wall. It's not going to work anywhere else. No, not there. Peter, don't you know anything?"
"Look, I've never moved before, okay?" Peter snapped, breathing hard, leaning against the door frame separating the kitchen from the back of the apartment.
Nathan shook his head, sweat trickling over his forehead. "Common sense helps, though."
"You know I don't have common sense, Nathan. I'm the stupid one, remember? Ow!" he yelped suddenly, snatching his hand away from the door frame. "Shit."
"What's the matter?" Nathan moved closer, and took Peter's hand.
"It's just a splinter. Don't trip." Peter stared at it. Despite his careless tone, his face went a little pale.
Nathan raised his eyebrows. "A splinter you could stake a vampire with. Good work. That's what you get for moving into this dump. And for having such soft hands."
"I'll be sure to scrub them with bricks from now on," Peter muttered, letting Nathan examine his hand. The splinter, almost an inch long and thicker than a paper clip, had dug deeply, almost vertically, into the ball of his thumb, and the skin around it was beginning to swell closed, hiding the emergent tip. "Should I... cut it out?"
"No, I don't think that'll be necessary," Nathan said. He brought Peter's thumb to his mouth and ran his tongue over it, sucking gently. Peter stared at him, but Nathan didn't seem to notice. He thoroughly wet and softened the skin with saliva, then pinched and pulled out the splinter with his fingernails. A thick drop of blood welled out of the hole in the skin. "I think that's probably all of it - the blood'll wash out whatever's left. Wash your hands and slap a Band-Aid over it, you'll be all right."
"Uh... thanks for your help," Peter said, chuckling a little. "I could probably have taken care of it myself."
"Yeah, but..." Nathan smiled nervously, suddenly realizing what he'd just done. "Um..."
"It's okay," Peter teased, holding out his bloody thumb to Nathan. "If you want to suck on me, all you have to do is ask."
Nathan stood still and closed his eyes as Peter slipped his thumb back into Nathan's mouth. He gently pulled Nathan closer as he sucked the salty trace of blood. Peter ran his other hand through Nathan's sweaty hair, brought him even closer, and pulling his thumb out, pressed his lips against Nathan's.
Nathan drew back, smiling at Peter. "You really don't have any common sense, do you?"
Peter shook his head and grinned. "Actually," he said, glancing into the other room, "we ought to go and bring up the bookshelves and the bureau right now, so we can have some surfaces to put things on. And after that, we can bring up the bed."
"Oh yeah? You've thought this out, huh." Nathan pursued Peter the few steps he'd taken, and kissed him, curling his tongue into Peter's mouth, tasting the sharp sweat clinging to Peter's lips, the metallic tang of the dirt that had been on Peter's thumb, gone into his mouth, back to Peter, and now shared with him again. It was so easy to get lost in the exchange, so difficult to stop kissing once they'd started.
But Peter lightly pushed Nathan away, following it with a punch to his upper arm that almost hurt. "Hey, now, you just get a hold of yourself there, officer. That furniture isn't going to move itself - and we've still got all the kitchen stuff."
Nathan chuckled ruefully. "All right, all right..."
In the service elevator, crammed in with the bookcases and another several boxes of books, there wasn't much room for both Peter and Nathan to stand. "You probably should have taken the regular elevator," Peter said.
"And miss this? You crazy?" Nathan faced Peter, standing between his body and the bookcase, and lightly kissed him on the lips again. Peter ran his hands down Nathan's back and arched against him, smiling as Nathan tried to move away and couldn't. They were both trapped. "Good God, Peter, you stink," Nathan remarked.
Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I do. I didn't shower this morning, because what would be the point? I'd just get all sweaty and rank all over again."
"The point is me stuck in an elevator with your stench."
"You didn't have to take the elevator with me!" Peter protested.
"I gotta keep an eye on you... make sure you don't hurt yourself any more."
"You like it, don't you," Peter said quietly, intensely. He smiled as he felt Nathan's erection bump against his own. He rubbed against it, pressing his hardness into a soft, yielding part of Nathan's groin, then bringing their cocks together again. He reached down and cupped Nathan's balls through his light cotton track pants. Peter didn't feel any underwear beneath... He drew in his breath in a seductive hiss. "You like it. You like me to be your stinky, dirty boy, don't you?"
"Oh... God," Nathan whispered, momentarily forgetting what he had been meaning to say.
"Yeah," Peter said for him, his voice purring right at the edge of audibility. "That's it. You're so immaculate. So perfect, so clean, all the time. Your hair is always perfect. Your manicure... perfect. Of course, you gotta get me to dirty you up. That's why you're here, isn't it? You're here to get dirty with me... stinky and bloody and filthy..."
"No, you - you really do just smell too bad," Nathan protested, pulling away as hard as he could. The elevator doors screeched open just then, and Nathan almost fell backward into the hall. Peter snickered at him, and Nathan continued, "Like, it's not sexy. It's just foul."
Peter pressed the "open door" button, and turned the key in the control panel to keep the elevator stopped on that floor. "So I reek like a hyena," Peter said. "Whatever. I still think you like it."
"And you taste like a rusty pipe." Nathan wiped his face on the shoulder of his T-shirt and grabbed a box. "C'mon, let's do this load - I think we can get the rest in one trip, and then we'll be done."
The bed frame and mattresses, the kitchen items, the toiletries, and the rest of the sundry items took two more trips down to the truck and back, two more trips crammed together in the packed and sweltering elevator, their straining crotches pressed together, exchanging firm closed-mouth kisses dampened only with sweat. By the time the last pieces had been hauled inside, Peter's blue T-shirt was soaked through and his hair was plastered to his forehead.
The apartment had gotten hot and stuffy, now that afternoon had come. Nathan opened all the windows and leaned out, staring down fourteen stories to the street below. "Not much of a view," he said. "You have got to get some A/C in here - it's an oven already, and it's not even summer yet. You're going to be hating it by July. And these cheap plastic venetian blinds look like crap. You've got to... get... some new ones..."
His voice trailed off as Peter moved up behind him and ran his hands down Nathan's front, from collarbones to knees, lingering for a second on the nipples and the points of the hipbones, rubbing against Nathan's tailbone. "It is pretty hot in here, yeah," Peter agreed. "Too hot for this." He hooked his fingers under the hem of Nathan's T-shirt and pulled it off, dropping it into a damp heap on the floor. He jerked his head back and grimaced. "Oh, man, you're pretty ripe, too! You don't even have an excuse - I know you showered today. You're... gamy."
"That's what a day's honest work will do to a man." Nathan broke into a laugh. "Gamy! Do you even know what that word means?"
"More," Peter whispered, pressing his cheek against Nathan's bare, sweat-slick back, touching his tongue to the raised, pinkish scars on his shoulder, holding Nathan's hips in place, his pelvis rising up against Nathan's buttocks.
Nathan's breath grew shaky. "That's... not what it means."
"That's what I mean."
Nathan turned around, and pulled off Peter's T-shirt as well, draping it on the windowsill beside him. He drew Peter in close again, bare chests and bellies touching. They just stared at each other for a moment, their noses almost touching, running fingers across damp, naked skin, Nathan toying with the fine wisps of hair on Peter's chest, growing in a dark trail leading to and away from his navel, like an arrow pointing toward his heart, anchored between his legs. Peter firmly stroked Nathan's nipples, the scars on his shoulder and lower belly, just above the waistline of his gray track bottoms, running his fingertip teasingly along the top. Nathan broke first. "Kiss me," he growled, "kiss me with tongue. I want you to."
Peter pressed Nathan backward, up against the wall next to the window, and attacked his mouth with hard, sloppy-wet, biting kisses. Nathan roughly grabbed Peter's erection through his jeans, making Peter moan in protest. He retaliated by grabbing Nathan's, but with only a light cotton barrier, it didn't hurt Nathan at all. Nathan sighed pleasurably, smiling and shaking his head, his fingers firmly massaging the ridge of the crotch seam against Peter's cock. "Hey, frisky," he murmured.
"Okay, you know what?" Peter broke in. "We gotta put my bed together. If we don't just get it done with now, it's not going to happen, and I'm just going to throw you down on the floor."
"Throw me down on the floor and fuck me?" Nathan whispered, his eyes narrowing with sudden lustful interest.
"You want that?" Peter asked curiously.
"...One of these days," Nathan said. "Maybe. Not here. Someplace clean."
Peter laughed. "I'm gonna buy some rugs. You want me to fuck you down on the rug? I'll do it." He traced a finger along the curve of Nathan's neck. "You know I'll do it, if you want me to."
"Yeah, I know... yeah, maybe sometime." Nathan reluctantly moved away, letting his touch linger on Peter's inseam. "Anyway, okay, the bed. Right... I put the toolbox on the kitchen counter, and I hope you didn't put anything on top of it. And put some duct tape over that splinter forest on your door frame - I don't want it mistaking me for Dracula."
They worked together to assemble the bed. As he struggled to hold up the heavy, dark-wood headboard and footboard, Peter felt a moment's regret for dragging the antique along with him, but when it was all put together, he had to admit that it looked beautiful. Suddenly, the place seemed like a home to him - maybe not his home, not yet, but a residence, where someone could live, eat, sleep, make love. He'd still have to work to make it feel like it was his home, but he wasn't sure he even knew what that felt like. The place where he had been living - his parents' house - hadn't felt like home in years.
Along the wall by the window, Peter found the box that had all his bedding in it, but he didn't manage to find the right sheets before Nathan took him by the arm and pulled him back over to the bed. While Peter watched, curious and silent, Nathan unzipped Peter's sweat-wet jeans and peeled them off, underwear and all, and folded them neatly on the floor next to the bed. Nathan pushed Peter down to a sitting position at the edge of the bare mattresses, and lowered himself down onto his knees on the folded jeans. He didn't look at Peter as he bent toward him, grasped Peter's cock in his hand, and brought it to his mouth.
It was so hot in the room, and he was so tired, Peter just sat there in a vague daze until he felt the warm, wet, slick contact of the inside of Nathan's cheek on the tip of his cock. Peter gave a soft, surprised "Uh," then, shuddering, let his head fall back. His right hand moved down to Nathan's lips, wanting to touch him, wanting even more to touch himself. Nathan kissed Peter's fingers, and impatiently nudged them aside with his nose and jaw, sucking harder.
"How can you... stand to have... something so dirty in your mouth?" Peter whispered, reaching desperately for himself, and being denied again; Nathan grabbed Peter's hand and held it down to the surface of the mattress. Peter said "Uh!" again, but sharper this time, and ending on a shuddering sigh. The orgasm felt like thousands of fingers lightly tapping his body. It wasn't enough; his head was clearer, but he hadn't felt it in his balls or in his guts, both of which were still clenched tight with tension. Ten seconds from zero to cum was not enough. He would have to try for another one.
Nathan grimaced as he sat back, savoring the brief burst of Peter's semen in his mouth, and frowned when he finally swallowed. Peter watched him anxiously. "That wasn't very good," Nathan decided, his voice dry and distant. "Go get cleaned up."
Peter felt his face go hot, a cold bolt of anger and shame striking him in the chest. Why did Nathan have to say that? Why'd he have to use those words? You're no good, it meant. I'm done with you. Get out of my sight. I hate what you've done to me and you should be ashamed of yourself. "Fine," he replied, glad that his voice didn't waver.
Nathan stood up, and held out his hand, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "You really need to take a shower."
Peter shook his head, staring at the outstretched hand, relief socking him so hard it made him dizzy. "You're an asshole," he muttered.
"What? You need a shower." Nathan lowered his eyelashes, his smile growing. Oh, he knew. He knew exactly what he was saying, what he was doing, what it did to Peter. "We need to test whether or not your shower's any good, don't we?" He brought Peter's hand to his lips, and delicately kissed the back of Peter's fingers. "Lighten up."
Peter pulled his hand back, and crossed his arms. It felt like his face was on fire, he was blushing so hard. "Fuck you."
Nathan smiled. "God, I hope so."
"No," Peter murmured. "Fuck me."
"It's your place; you call the shots." Nathan chuckled, and when Peter glanced up, he saw Nathan gazing at him, almost unrecognizable with his hair a sticky, disheveled mess, face streaked with dirt, and his eyes wide, clear, and adoring. Far from perfect, but incomparably beautiful. It was his Nathan, the one only he got to see. "It's your party. I'm for you today."
"In that case," Peter replied, "I demand that you stop being cruel, stop bullying me, stop insulting me, and stop lying to me. Just for today. Okay?"
"Okay, that's fair. Any other requests?" Nathan reached out his hand again, and caressed the small of Peter's back.
Peter closed his eyes. "Don't hurt me. I've had enough pain today." He opened his eyes again, and smiled impishly. "And for God's sake, wash those skunky armpits of yours, you're grossing me out."
Nathan arched his eyebrow. "Do you even remember where you packed the soap?"
Peter's grin slowly vanished. "Oh... shit..."
***
The shower stall was about as much of a close fit as the box-filled elevator, but at least it was water-tight and enclosed with proper doors, unlike some that Peter had seen in his friends' "bohemian" downtown apartments. He had managed to find the bottle of liquid soap that he used as both body soap and shampoo, and he and Nathan slathered generous handfuls over each other under the chilly running water.
After the stifling heat of the front room, the cold water felt like freedom itself. The water could get hotter - Peter had nearly scalded himself testing it - but this temperature, just a few degrees down from lukewarm, was enough to lather the soap but also take the sticky discomfort off his skin. He let Nathan wash his hair, but Nathan didn't want the cheap soap touching his own. "It'll make my hair curl," he claimed.
"I forgot your hair was curly. You keep it so short." Peter rinsed his hands before gently running his fingers through Nathan's hair, wiping the dirt off the smooth strands.
"It's wavy. It hasn't been curly since I was a little kid. I'm jealous of your hair." Nathan kissed him. "It's so nice and straight."
"That's because it's greasy. Mine'll get curly too, if I wash it too much, and it's long enough..." Peter trailed off, letting the kiss continue. Nathan put fresh soap into his palm, and ran it down to Peter's groin, briskly and gently lathering up cock and balls and inner thighs. Peter sighed. His dick wasn't hard, but the soapy fingers still felt good. "I still can't believe you went down on me, after all that complaining about how bad I smell."
"I do kinda like it," Nathan whispered his confession against Peter's ear.
"Taste good?" Peter murmured.
"Like a rusty pipe."
"So, in other words, no."
"So, in other words, not the point." Nathan licked the inside curve of Peter's ear. "I wanted it. I wanted to taste your cum. And your smell... it means something to me... it excites me. It gets me hard."
Peter got goosebumps, and they weren't caused by the cool water. "Even in a cold shower? You're amazing." He felt Nathan to check, and gathered a handful of hot, lightly pulsing flesh that wasn't hard, but heavy and full, twitching against his palm. Nathan pushed his tongue into Peter's mouth, his own hand cupping Peter's balls, stroking with his thumb.
Nathan slowly backed out of the kiss, turning the tap until the water came out pleasantly hot. He held up his arms, finishing his rinse. "I'm going to see if I can find your box fan and set it up in the window," he said, opening the shower door and slipping out into the bathroom. "Get good and clean for me." Peter watched him, then leaned against the wall of the shower, stroking his cock, pinching his nipples and caressing himself all over, then fingering himself inside as far as he could reach until the hot water ran out.
He didn't come. He was saving it.
When Peter came out of the bathroom, the bed had been made up with sheets, duvet, pillows and all. Nathan, wet hair finger-combed, sat cross-legged in the center, toying with something he held in his lap. "Hey, thanks," Peter said gratefully, "I'm glad you found the sheets."
It was slightly surreal to have Nathan naked on his bed, in broad daylight, with the uncovered windows open to the world. So many afternoons, Peter had lain on that very same bed, wishing for such a thing, but never really believing that it would ever become real. As he approached the bed, he saw that Nathan held the brand-new bottle of lubricant that Peter had tucked into the case with his other toiletries, with the soap. Peter had left the case lying open in the sink, not even thinking about it; Nathan must have seen it. Peter still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the concept that Nathan knew, let alone that Nathan participated. So much of the time, Peter felt alone with his bizarre desires. It was strange to have the object of those desires right there in front of him, naked and masturbating, waiting for him. Strange and scary and rollercoaster wonderful.
Nathan set the bottle on the bedside table, and held out his hand. Peter's heart fluttered in his chest like a moth in a lampshade. He sat on the bed, slid across it until he was touching Nathan, holding him tight. "Tell me the truth," he said.
"I will," said Nathan.
Peter kissed Nathan's shoulder, then pulled back until he could look into Nathan's eyes. "Do you love me as much as I love you?" he asked.
"I hope so," Nathan smiled back.
Peter found it impossible to keep looking. He shifted around until he sat between Nathan's legs, his back to Nathan, holding Nathan's hands up to his mouth and kissing them, pulling Nathan's arms around him. "Okay... now... hold me."
"Yes," Nathan whispered, kissing the back of Peter's neck.
Peter pulled his knees together and rose up slightly, his behind sliding up Nathan's belly, still holding Nathan's arms tight. He rubbed his tailbone up and down against Nathan's abdomen, dipping a little lower each time, first his balls and then his buttocks brushing against Nathan's erection, slow, slow, slow.
He did this until he heard Nathan gasp. Satisfied with that reaction, he moved forward, releasing Nathan's hands, placing his own hands flat on the mattress in front of him, sitting on his heels in the space between Nathan's spread legs. Nathan grasped Peter's buttocks with both hands, kneading the flesh, raising Peter up onto his knees. "Now eat me," Peter murmured. "Lick me. Just for a little while. I'm clean, I swear."
"I know you are," Nathan replied. "I'll lick you for as long as I want."
Peter sighed at the tentative wet touch of Nathan's tongue on the hypersensitive skin. "Oh... so good... Will you come visit me?" When Nathan didn't stop to reply, Peter moaned on, "Will you come over when I get a rug so I can throw you down... and ah... fuck you on the rug...?" Nathan stopped circling his tongue, and his damp, cool forefinger twiddled its way inside Peter.
"If I really needed to be fucked, maybe, yeah," said Nathan coolly. He gently twisted the finger around, pulled it out, and slipped it in again, giving a faint hum of satisfaction at the same time as Peter's gasp. "Like you, right now."
"Right now," Peter echoed.
Within seconds, he felt the thick, insistent head of Nathan's cock trying to force its way inside of him, then the slippery finger, and two slippery fingers, and then the cockhead again, making it this time, slowly stretching him, filling him. Everything happened much too slowly for there to be any pain, just pressure, and then the delightful feeling of fingers caressing his balls and grabbing the base of his dick, pulling it slightly to the side, almost as if making more room inside him. He knew it didn't physically work that way, but it felt amazing. Nathan wasn't thrusting; he wasn't even in all the way. He was taking his time.
Peter felt dizzy. "Is it good? Do you like it?" he panted.
"Uh huh," Nathan replied. "Do you like it?"
"Oh, man!"
"Good. It doesn't hurt, does it?"
"No, no. Not at all. I just feel all ... it's so great." Peter petted Nathan's leg with his toes.
"Can I make a request?" Nathan said.
"Yeah."
"Turn over. I want to see more than the back of your head."
As much as Peter didn't want the cock to leave him, he did have a sudden violent urge to kiss Nathan. He turned over, spread his legs and balanced on his upper and middle back, and helped Nathan find his way back in. Nathan bent over him and joined their open mouths together, his hands holding Peter's waist, pulling Peter onto him, still gentle, but moving now, definitely moving, definitely fucking. Peter groaned loudly; this wasn't a familiar position for him. "Oh - God - you're - right - on it," he stuttered.
"Does it hurt?" Nathan asked mildly, gently biting Peter's stubble-flecked chin.
"No! - But -"
"So shut up and enjoy the prostate massage."
"No, it's too much. It's too much. Maybe - maybe if you don't move..."
"I can't stay still anymore," Nathan whispered, his voice fraying. "I gotta fuck you. I've been wanting to fuck you all day."
Despite himself, Peter couldn't help moving too, slowly, in time with Nathan's hands on him, pressing himself further and tighter until he could feel Nathan's balls brushing his buttocks. "Yeah... it... it does feel good, doesn't it?" he laughed.
"So good," Nathan agreed.
"Can you feel it in there?"
"I'm not that sensitive. But..."
"No, but - right - right there."
"Ah," said Nathan, "ah, yeah! Mmmm. You're right, I really am right on it, aren't I?" He sounded pleased, and gave a few quick, light thrusts that nudged against Peter's prostate.
Peter groaned and bit his knuckles. He was getting really hot again, despite the insistent breeze produced by the box fan in the window. As much as he was tempted to just let go and lose himself in whatever happened, he felt he had to regain control of situation. It was so rare that Nathan did what Peter told him to do. "You... you know what, though?" Peter leaned up, kissing and licking Nathan's neck until Nathan offered his lips. "You're going to make me come too fast that way, and I want to fuck you for a long time. As long as I can... deal with it, anyway." He let out a breathless laugh. "So why don't you lay back, okay? I'll get on top of you. We can still kiss."
"Aw, Pete," Nathan complained, but he kissed Peter and did what he was told.
Peter lowered himself onto Nathan's cock. He held himself up a bit on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, but Nathan thrust sharply into him from below. "You said you'd kiss me," Nathan said. "Kiss me."
"Don't be mean, or we're done."
"You couldn't stop if you wanted to," Nathan countered. He put his hands on Peter's back and moved him forward, arching up until he could reach Peter's mouth. They exchanged more of a swift brush of tongue against tongue than a kiss. Nathan lay back, running his fingers roughly through Peter's hair. "Ride me if you want to so bad... it does look good. You sexy little fuck."
"That's right," Peter agreed. Even though his legs were shaking from fatigue, he was able to find exactly the angle he wanted, and his quick, stabbing thrusts generated hard, repetitive moaning from them both. He resisted touching himself for as long as he could, but when Nathan rubbed his thumb across the tip of Peter's cock, making Peter suddenly aware of the pre-come welling out of him, he bit his lip until he tasted blood, trying to control the abrupt spasm in his groin. "Oh God," he gasped.
"Just come," Nathan murmured. "I'm gonna come. It's all right. You're at home. You can come all you want. You can say whatever you want. You can scream if you feel like it. Just come."
"Are you gonna come?" Peter replied breathlessly. "Help me come, get me off, come with me, please?"
"Kiss me - God - fuck - ah." Nathan stiffened and quivered underneath Peter, eyes rolling back, his fingers twitching like he'd been shocked. Peter tried to kiss him back to life, but bending forward pressed Nathan's still-hard cock against that agonizingly delicious, sensitive spot inside him.
Nothing that Peter said resembled words except in the most abstract sense; it was more of a multi-syllabic howl, a coughing bark, a raw and pure animal sound. Awoo awoo yah yarrrgh uhhhhh ah ah ah. And yet somehow Nathan understood it, gained meaning from it, knew what he was being asked to do: Get me off and make me come harder and harder still, the way only you can.
Without pulling out, Nathan turned Peter over onto his back, raised Peter's knees to his shoulders, and thrust into him until Peter made more of those sounds, his spasming cock smearing both of their bellies with semen. "You're home," Nathan said again, kissing the sides of Peter's face, afraid to get too close to his mouth, as Peter kept snapping his jaws, clicking his teeth together, not coming anymore, but still locked in the intensity of the sensation. Nathan held Peter tightly in his arms, stroking his hair, calming him. "You're home; welcome home. You're beautiful. You're my one. Yeah, you are... you know it. You know I love you. Don't you?"
Peter couldn't speak, but he gazed into Nathan's eyes and nodded, and kissed Nathan as much as he wanted to be kissed.
***
No one had bothered to unpack a clock, and the long late-spring afternoon got hotter and then cooler as they lay tangled up in bed, relaxing and kissing and trying to tickle each other.
"You really are beautiful," Nathan said.
"You're beautiful."
"It's good grooming." Nathan grinned.
"Your teeth are fake," Peter pointed out.
Nathan frowned. "They're not fake; they're capped. You saw me when I got back from R..." Nathan actually couldn't say the name Rwanda. It had no place here, in this cozy nest of pleasure.
Peter nuzzled Nathan's cheek understandingly. "Does it still hurt?" he asked.
"Yeah," Nathan replied. "It helps when you kiss them, though."
Peter kissed the scars on Nathan's face, then the ones on his chest and belly and hip. "I always knew it would," Peter murmured. "It's like reiki. I'm giving you my positive energy."
"Ray who?"
"Reiki," Peter explained patiently. "It's a form of energy healing."
"Oh, great," Nathan rolled his eyes. "Are you going to make me drink that funny mushroom tea again?"
"It did make you feel better, though, didn't it?"
"It was tea. I could have just had some hot water with honey and it would have done the same thing, and tasted a whole heck of a lot better." Nathan smiled down at Peter, who was now lay across him, one arm resting across Nathan's stomach, gazing up at him. "What are you thinking?" Nathan asked.
Peter blinked and smiled. "I'm thinking I want to get a tattoo," he said.
"Oh, Pete," Nathan groaned, but he smiled too. "What of?"
"I was thinking..." Peter traced a line across his breastbone, trailing longer on the left side. "A-ampersand-T-ampersand-F-Y-S-S." He grinned. "Right here on my heart."
Nathan frowned at him. "Are you serious?"
"And then you can get one, too. And then we'll match, like a friendship necklace. And every time you see me with my shirt off, you'll see it and you'll know that I'm always and totally and forever your sex slave. Cool, huh?"
"Peter," said Nathan quietly, "if you get that tattoo, I swear I'll never fuck you again. I'll never touch you again, I'll never kiss you again."
Peter tried to keep the smile on his face, but Nathan looked so serious, and seriously offended, that he couldn't. He lowered his eyes and shrugged. "Okay, fine," Peter said. "I'm kidding."
"You better be kidding. This isn't a game."
"Jeez, who needs to lighten up now? Somebody needs a nap." Peter turned over and his arms locked around himself, fingers digging tightly into the flesh of his shoulders. He felt that same cold/hot fear and anger and embarrassment again, that horrible feeling that had no place here. It took a while for him to respond even when Nathan slid over to rest against him, and put his arms around Peter, hugged him tight, and kissed him.
"I think you need a nap. Hey, you just moved into your own place," Nathan murmured, kissing Peter's ears and neck until Peter finally gave in and unraveled and locked his arms around Nathan. "That didn't count as being mean, just in case you're wondering. That was part of not lying to you. That's the truth, Pete."
"I just love you so much, and I can't figure out how to tell you," Peter mumbled into Nathan's neck. "I can't figure out how to show you."
"I know," Nathan soothed, stroking Peter's back. "I don't know, either."
"I just love you and I want you so much."
"I know, I know... it's impossible..." When Peter didn't calm that way, Nathan began to stroke Peter's hair, and almost instantly, all the tension drained from Peter's body. Nathan gave him a tight hug, then relaxed again, and returned to the hair-petting. "It's all impossible."
"I'm glad you love me," Peter whispered.
"I do love you, I do," Nathan confirmed.
Without another word, Peter fell hard asleep. Nathan kept petting him for a while longer, half-hypnotized himself from the repetitive motion, but eventually took a deep, slow breath and moved away from his brother's limp form. Peter had even already started to snore, soft little snores like a very tired puppy. Nathan couldn't resist bending over and lightly kissing Peter on the eyebrow; Peter clumsily raised his hand to swipe at it. Nathan shook his head and smiled, his heart expanding painfully in his chest. He turned and went back to Peter's bathroom to wash up.
As much as he didn't want to, he had no choice but to put his now-dry, sweat-reeking clothes back on. The only comfort was the fact that the tang of sweat was strong enough that Heidi wouldn't be able to smell Peter on him.
Before he left, Nathan located a pad of paper and a pencil left behind in one of the kitchen drawers, and leaned against the counter while he wrote.
Congratulations on your new place. Once upon a time, your bed was mine, and it is a fine platform for the creation of dreams. I hope all the ones you have are happy ones. I love you.
-your Nathan
He set the pad and pencil down on the one part of the kitchen counter not covered with boxes of things, snapped closed his toolbox, took one last longing glance through the apartment to the bed where his brother slept, his arms now tightly wrapped around a pillow in the same place where Nathan had been.
Smiling, Nathan left Peter's apartment.
end part (15)
A/N: I retconned Ritual 6: A&T&FYSS very slightly in this story; it was an accident. Oops. This makes for a better story, anyway (and you can always fanwank it that Nathan chose not to remember Peter getting upset, and the tenderness that ends this story. ... For reference for Peter's orgasmic howl, think of the scream he gives when he wakes up from that coma in the hospital in "Fallout", but more of the happy and less of the "OMG THEY FUCKING VAPORIZED O SHIT", of course. ^_^ Thanks for reading.
Pairings: Nathan/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 1
Warnings: Incest, explicit m/m sex, strong adult language and themes, description of minor injuries
Word Count: 5800
Summary: Nathan helps Peter move into his own apartment. Romantic, fluffy, and very, very dirty. Thanks to 47_trek_47 for the nudge!
Previous rituals:
(1) :: (2) :: (3) :: (4) :: (5) :: (6) :: (7) :: (8) :: (9) :: (10) :: (11) :: (12) :: (13) :: (14)
Heroes and all associated characters are the property of NBC/Universal Television and Tailwind Productions. This is a work of fan fiction and an attempt to not write so much angsty angst. ^_^
FIVE YEARS AND SIX MONTHS BEFORE THE ECLIPSE...
The service elevator could only hold so much stuff, and they had to make multiple trips, loading up as much as they could and then locking up the rest in the truck down in the parking garage. Peter's divided-studio apartment was fairly large, but compared to what he was used to, it seemed small and intimate - and quickly filling up with what Peter had originally thought wasn't that much stuff.
Nathan immediately determined his own system for maximum efficiency, and he proceeded to bark orders at Peter like a drill sergeant. "No, no, put the books into the bathroom... why do you have to own so many books, Pete?... Suitcases in the closet... toiletries in there, in the bathroom sink. Are those linens? Good. Shove them back there, too. No, don't stack them up like that! Get those boxes out of the way, we've got to move that bureau up through here so it can go along that wall. It's not going to work anywhere else. No, not there. Peter, don't you know anything?"
"Look, I've never moved before, okay?" Peter snapped, breathing hard, leaning against the door frame separating the kitchen from the back of the apartment.
Nathan shook his head, sweat trickling over his forehead. "Common sense helps, though."
"You know I don't have common sense, Nathan. I'm the stupid one, remember? Ow!" he yelped suddenly, snatching his hand away from the door frame. "Shit."
"What's the matter?" Nathan moved closer, and took Peter's hand.
"It's just a splinter. Don't trip." Peter stared at it. Despite his careless tone, his face went a little pale.
Nathan raised his eyebrows. "A splinter you could stake a vampire with. Good work. That's what you get for moving into this dump. And for having such soft hands."
"I'll be sure to scrub them with bricks from now on," Peter muttered, letting Nathan examine his hand. The splinter, almost an inch long and thicker than a paper clip, had dug deeply, almost vertically, into the ball of his thumb, and the skin around it was beginning to swell closed, hiding the emergent tip. "Should I... cut it out?"
"No, I don't think that'll be necessary," Nathan said. He brought Peter's thumb to his mouth and ran his tongue over it, sucking gently. Peter stared at him, but Nathan didn't seem to notice. He thoroughly wet and softened the skin with saliva, then pinched and pulled out the splinter with his fingernails. A thick drop of blood welled out of the hole in the skin. "I think that's probably all of it - the blood'll wash out whatever's left. Wash your hands and slap a Band-Aid over it, you'll be all right."
"Uh... thanks for your help," Peter said, chuckling a little. "I could probably have taken care of it myself."
"Yeah, but..." Nathan smiled nervously, suddenly realizing what he'd just done. "Um..."
"It's okay," Peter teased, holding out his bloody thumb to Nathan. "If you want to suck on me, all you have to do is ask."
Nathan stood still and closed his eyes as Peter slipped his thumb back into Nathan's mouth. He gently pulled Nathan closer as he sucked the salty trace of blood. Peter ran his other hand through Nathan's sweaty hair, brought him even closer, and pulling his thumb out, pressed his lips against Nathan's.
Nathan drew back, smiling at Peter. "You really don't have any common sense, do you?"
Peter shook his head and grinned. "Actually," he said, glancing into the other room, "we ought to go and bring up the bookshelves and the bureau right now, so we can have some surfaces to put things on. And after that, we can bring up the bed."
"Oh yeah? You've thought this out, huh." Nathan pursued Peter the few steps he'd taken, and kissed him, curling his tongue into Peter's mouth, tasting the sharp sweat clinging to Peter's lips, the metallic tang of the dirt that had been on Peter's thumb, gone into his mouth, back to Peter, and now shared with him again. It was so easy to get lost in the exchange, so difficult to stop kissing once they'd started.
But Peter lightly pushed Nathan away, following it with a punch to his upper arm that almost hurt. "Hey, now, you just get a hold of yourself there, officer. That furniture isn't going to move itself - and we've still got all the kitchen stuff."
Nathan chuckled ruefully. "All right, all right..."
In the service elevator, crammed in with the bookcases and another several boxes of books, there wasn't much room for both Peter and Nathan to stand. "You probably should have taken the regular elevator," Peter said.
"And miss this? You crazy?" Nathan faced Peter, standing between his body and the bookcase, and lightly kissed him on the lips again. Peter ran his hands down Nathan's back and arched against him, smiling as Nathan tried to move away and couldn't. They were both trapped. "Good God, Peter, you stink," Nathan remarked.
Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I do. I didn't shower this morning, because what would be the point? I'd just get all sweaty and rank all over again."
"The point is me stuck in an elevator with your stench."
"You didn't have to take the elevator with me!" Peter protested.
"I gotta keep an eye on you... make sure you don't hurt yourself any more."
"You like it, don't you," Peter said quietly, intensely. He smiled as he felt Nathan's erection bump against his own. He rubbed against it, pressing his hardness into a soft, yielding part of Nathan's groin, then bringing their cocks together again. He reached down and cupped Nathan's balls through his light cotton track pants. Peter didn't feel any underwear beneath... He drew in his breath in a seductive hiss. "You like it. You like me to be your stinky, dirty boy, don't you?"
"Oh... God," Nathan whispered, momentarily forgetting what he had been meaning to say.
"Yeah," Peter said for him, his voice purring right at the edge of audibility. "That's it. You're so immaculate. So perfect, so clean, all the time. Your hair is always perfect. Your manicure... perfect. Of course, you gotta get me to dirty you up. That's why you're here, isn't it? You're here to get dirty with me... stinky and bloody and filthy..."
"No, you - you really do just smell too bad," Nathan protested, pulling away as hard as he could. The elevator doors screeched open just then, and Nathan almost fell backward into the hall. Peter snickered at him, and Nathan continued, "Like, it's not sexy. It's just foul."
Peter pressed the "open door" button, and turned the key in the control panel to keep the elevator stopped on that floor. "So I reek like a hyena," Peter said. "Whatever. I still think you like it."
"And you taste like a rusty pipe." Nathan wiped his face on the shoulder of his T-shirt and grabbed a box. "C'mon, let's do this load - I think we can get the rest in one trip, and then we'll be done."
The bed frame and mattresses, the kitchen items, the toiletries, and the rest of the sundry items took two more trips down to the truck and back, two more trips crammed together in the packed and sweltering elevator, their straining crotches pressed together, exchanging firm closed-mouth kisses dampened only with sweat. By the time the last pieces had been hauled inside, Peter's blue T-shirt was soaked through and his hair was plastered to his forehead.
The apartment had gotten hot and stuffy, now that afternoon had come. Nathan opened all the windows and leaned out, staring down fourteen stories to the street below. "Not much of a view," he said. "You have got to get some A/C in here - it's an oven already, and it's not even summer yet. You're going to be hating it by July. And these cheap plastic venetian blinds look like crap. You've got to... get... some new ones..."
His voice trailed off as Peter moved up behind him and ran his hands down Nathan's front, from collarbones to knees, lingering for a second on the nipples and the points of the hipbones, rubbing against Nathan's tailbone. "It is pretty hot in here, yeah," Peter agreed. "Too hot for this." He hooked his fingers under the hem of Nathan's T-shirt and pulled it off, dropping it into a damp heap on the floor. He jerked his head back and grimaced. "Oh, man, you're pretty ripe, too! You don't even have an excuse - I know you showered today. You're... gamy."
"That's what a day's honest work will do to a man." Nathan broke into a laugh. "Gamy! Do you even know what that word means?"
"More," Peter whispered, pressing his cheek against Nathan's bare, sweat-slick back, touching his tongue to the raised, pinkish scars on his shoulder, holding Nathan's hips in place, his pelvis rising up against Nathan's buttocks.
Nathan's breath grew shaky. "That's... not what it means."
"That's what I mean."
Nathan turned around, and pulled off Peter's T-shirt as well, draping it on the windowsill beside him. He drew Peter in close again, bare chests and bellies touching. They just stared at each other for a moment, their noses almost touching, running fingers across damp, naked skin, Nathan toying with the fine wisps of hair on Peter's chest, growing in a dark trail leading to and away from his navel, like an arrow pointing toward his heart, anchored between his legs. Peter firmly stroked Nathan's nipples, the scars on his shoulder and lower belly, just above the waistline of his gray track bottoms, running his fingertip teasingly along the top. Nathan broke first. "Kiss me," he growled, "kiss me with tongue. I want you to."
Peter pressed Nathan backward, up against the wall next to the window, and attacked his mouth with hard, sloppy-wet, biting kisses. Nathan roughly grabbed Peter's erection through his jeans, making Peter moan in protest. He retaliated by grabbing Nathan's, but with only a light cotton barrier, it didn't hurt Nathan at all. Nathan sighed pleasurably, smiling and shaking his head, his fingers firmly massaging the ridge of the crotch seam against Peter's cock. "Hey, frisky," he murmured.
"Okay, you know what?" Peter broke in. "We gotta put my bed together. If we don't just get it done with now, it's not going to happen, and I'm just going to throw you down on the floor."
"Throw me down on the floor and fuck me?" Nathan whispered, his eyes narrowing with sudden lustful interest.
"You want that?" Peter asked curiously.
"...One of these days," Nathan said. "Maybe. Not here. Someplace clean."
Peter laughed. "I'm gonna buy some rugs. You want me to fuck you down on the rug? I'll do it." He traced a finger along the curve of Nathan's neck. "You know I'll do it, if you want me to."
"Yeah, I know... yeah, maybe sometime." Nathan reluctantly moved away, letting his touch linger on Peter's inseam. "Anyway, okay, the bed. Right... I put the toolbox on the kitchen counter, and I hope you didn't put anything on top of it. And put some duct tape over that splinter forest on your door frame - I don't want it mistaking me for Dracula."
They worked together to assemble the bed. As he struggled to hold up the heavy, dark-wood headboard and footboard, Peter felt a moment's regret for dragging the antique along with him, but when it was all put together, he had to admit that it looked beautiful. Suddenly, the place seemed like a home to him - maybe not his home, not yet, but a residence, where someone could live, eat, sleep, make love. He'd still have to work to make it feel like it was his home, but he wasn't sure he even knew what that felt like. The place where he had been living - his parents' house - hadn't felt like home in years.
Along the wall by the window, Peter found the box that had all his bedding in it, but he didn't manage to find the right sheets before Nathan took him by the arm and pulled him back over to the bed. While Peter watched, curious and silent, Nathan unzipped Peter's sweat-wet jeans and peeled them off, underwear and all, and folded them neatly on the floor next to the bed. Nathan pushed Peter down to a sitting position at the edge of the bare mattresses, and lowered himself down onto his knees on the folded jeans. He didn't look at Peter as he bent toward him, grasped Peter's cock in his hand, and brought it to his mouth.
It was so hot in the room, and he was so tired, Peter just sat there in a vague daze until he felt the warm, wet, slick contact of the inside of Nathan's cheek on the tip of his cock. Peter gave a soft, surprised "Uh," then, shuddering, let his head fall back. His right hand moved down to Nathan's lips, wanting to touch him, wanting even more to touch himself. Nathan kissed Peter's fingers, and impatiently nudged them aside with his nose and jaw, sucking harder.
"How can you... stand to have... something so dirty in your mouth?" Peter whispered, reaching desperately for himself, and being denied again; Nathan grabbed Peter's hand and held it down to the surface of the mattress. Peter said "Uh!" again, but sharper this time, and ending on a shuddering sigh. The orgasm felt like thousands of fingers lightly tapping his body. It wasn't enough; his head was clearer, but he hadn't felt it in his balls or in his guts, both of which were still clenched tight with tension. Ten seconds from zero to cum was not enough. He would have to try for another one.
Nathan grimaced as he sat back, savoring the brief burst of Peter's semen in his mouth, and frowned when he finally swallowed. Peter watched him anxiously. "That wasn't very good," Nathan decided, his voice dry and distant. "Go get cleaned up."
Peter felt his face go hot, a cold bolt of anger and shame striking him in the chest. Why did Nathan have to say that? Why'd he have to use those words? You're no good, it meant. I'm done with you. Get out of my sight. I hate what you've done to me and you should be ashamed of yourself. "Fine," he replied, glad that his voice didn't waver.
Nathan stood up, and held out his hand, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "You really need to take a shower."
Peter shook his head, staring at the outstretched hand, relief socking him so hard it made him dizzy. "You're an asshole," he muttered.
"What? You need a shower." Nathan lowered his eyelashes, his smile growing. Oh, he knew. He knew exactly what he was saying, what he was doing, what it did to Peter. "We need to test whether or not your shower's any good, don't we?" He brought Peter's hand to his lips, and delicately kissed the back of Peter's fingers. "Lighten up."
Peter pulled his hand back, and crossed his arms. It felt like his face was on fire, he was blushing so hard. "Fuck you."
Nathan smiled. "God, I hope so."
"No," Peter murmured. "Fuck me."
"It's your place; you call the shots." Nathan chuckled, and when Peter glanced up, he saw Nathan gazing at him, almost unrecognizable with his hair a sticky, disheveled mess, face streaked with dirt, and his eyes wide, clear, and adoring. Far from perfect, but incomparably beautiful. It was his Nathan, the one only he got to see. "It's your party. I'm for you today."
"In that case," Peter replied, "I demand that you stop being cruel, stop bullying me, stop insulting me, and stop lying to me. Just for today. Okay?"
"Okay, that's fair. Any other requests?" Nathan reached out his hand again, and caressed the small of Peter's back.
Peter closed his eyes. "Don't hurt me. I've had enough pain today." He opened his eyes again, and smiled impishly. "And for God's sake, wash those skunky armpits of yours, you're grossing me out."
Nathan arched his eyebrow. "Do you even remember where you packed the soap?"
Peter's grin slowly vanished. "Oh... shit..."
***
The shower stall was about as much of a close fit as the box-filled elevator, but at least it was water-tight and enclosed with proper doors, unlike some that Peter had seen in his friends' "bohemian" downtown apartments. He had managed to find the bottle of liquid soap that he used as both body soap and shampoo, and he and Nathan slathered generous handfuls over each other under the chilly running water.
After the stifling heat of the front room, the cold water felt like freedom itself. The water could get hotter - Peter had nearly scalded himself testing it - but this temperature, just a few degrees down from lukewarm, was enough to lather the soap but also take the sticky discomfort off his skin. He let Nathan wash his hair, but Nathan didn't want the cheap soap touching his own. "It'll make my hair curl," he claimed.
"I forgot your hair was curly. You keep it so short." Peter rinsed his hands before gently running his fingers through Nathan's hair, wiping the dirt off the smooth strands.
"It's wavy. It hasn't been curly since I was a little kid. I'm jealous of your hair." Nathan kissed him. "It's so nice and straight."
"That's because it's greasy. Mine'll get curly too, if I wash it too much, and it's long enough..." Peter trailed off, letting the kiss continue. Nathan put fresh soap into his palm, and ran it down to Peter's groin, briskly and gently lathering up cock and balls and inner thighs. Peter sighed. His dick wasn't hard, but the soapy fingers still felt good. "I still can't believe you went down on me, after all that complaining about how bad I smell."
"I do kinda like it," Nathan whispered his confession against Peter's ear.
"Taste good?" Peter murmured.
"Like a rusty pipe."
"So, in other words, no."
"So, in other words, not the point." Nathan licked the inside curve of Peter's ear. "I wanted it. I wanted to taste your cum. And your smell... it means something to me... it excites me. It gets me hard."
Peter got goosebumps, and they weren't caused by the cool water. "Even in a cold shower? You're amazing." He felt Nathan to check, and gathered a handful of hot, lightly pulsing flesh that wasn't hard, but heavy and full, twitching against his palm. Nathan pushed his tongue into Peter's mouth, his own hand cupping Peter's balls, stroking with his thumb.
Nathan slowly backed out of the kiss, turning the tap until the water came out pleasantly hot. He held up his arms, finishing his rinse. "I'm going to see if I can find your box fan and set it up in the window," he said, opening the shower door and slipping out into the bathroom. "Get good and clean for me." Peter watched him, then leaned against the wall of the shower, stroking his cock, pinching his nipples and caressing himself all over, then fingering himself inside as far as he could reach until the hot water ran out.
He didn't come. He was saving it.
When Peter came out of the bathroom, the bed had been made up with sheets, duvet, pillows and all. Nathan, wet hair finger-combed, sat cross-legged in the center, toying with something he held in his lap. "Hey, thanks," Peter said gratefully, "I'm glad you found the sheets."
It was slightly surreal to have Nathan naked on his bed, in broad daylight, with the uncovered windows open to the world. So many afternoons, Peter had lain on that very same bed, wishing for such a thing, but never really believing that it would ever become real. As he approached the bed, he saw that Nathan held the brand-new bottle of lubricant that Peter had tucked into the case with his other toiletries, with the soap. Peter had left the case lying open in the sink, not even thinking about it; Nathan must have seen it. Peter still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the concept that Nathan knew, let alone that Nathan participated. So much of the time, Peter felt alone with his bizarre desires. It was strange to have the object of those desires right there in front of him, naked and masturbating, waiting for him. Strange and scary and rollercoaster wonderful.
Nathan set the bottle on the bedside table, and held out his hand. Peter's heart fluttered in his chest like a moth in a lampshade. He sat on the bed, slid across it until he was touching Nathan, holding him tight. "Tell me the truth," he said.
"I will," said Nathan.
Peter kissed Nathan's shoulder, then pulled back until he could look into Nathan's eyes. "Do you love me as much as I love you?" he asked.
"I hope so," Nathan smiled back.
Peter found it impossible to keep looking. He shifted around until he sat between Nathan's legs, his back to Nathan, holding Nathan's hands up to his mouth and kissing them, pulling Nathan's arms around him. "Okay... now... hold me."
"Yes," Nathan whispered, kissing the back of Peter's neck.
Peter pulled his knees together and rose up slightly, his behind sliding up Nathan's belly, still holding Nathan's arms tight. He rubbed his tailbone up and down against Nathan's abdomen, dipping a little lower each time, first his balls and then his buttocks brushing against Nathan's erection, slow, slow, slow.
He did this until he heard Nathan gasp. Satisfied with that reaction, he moved forward, releasing Nathan's hands, placing his own hands flat on the mattress in front of him, sitting on his heels in the space between Nathan's spread legs. Nathan grasped Peter's buttocks with both hands, kneading the flesh, raising Peter up onto his knees. "Now eat me," Peter murmured. "Lick me. Just for a little while. I'm clean, I swear."
"I know you are," Nathan replied. "I'll lick you for as long as I want."
Peter sighed at the tentative wet touch of Nathan's tongue on the hypersensitive skin. "Oh... so good... Will you come visit me?" When Nathan didn't stop to reply, Peter moaned on, "Will you come over when I get a rug so I can throw you down... and ah... fuck you on the rug...?" Nathan stopped circling his tongue, and his damp, cool forefinger twiddled its way inside Peter.
"If I really needed to be fucked, maybe, yeah," said Nathan coolly. He gently twisted the finger around, pulled it out, and slipped it in again, giving a faint hum of satisfaction at the same time as Peter's gasp. "Like you, right now."
"Right now," Peter echoed.
Within seconds, he felt the thick, insistent head of Nathan's cock trying to force its way inside of him, then the slippery finger, and two slippery fingers, and then the cockhead again, making it this time, slowly stretching him, filling him. Everything happened much too slowly for there to be any pain, just pressure, and then the delightful feeling of fingers caressing his balls and grabbing the base of his dick, pulling it slightly to the side, almost as if making more room inside him. He knew it didn't physically work that way, but it felt amazing. Nathan wasn't thrusting; he wasn't even in all the way. He was taking his time.
Peter felt dizzy. "Is it good? Do you like it?" he panted.
"Uh huh," Nathan replied. "Do you like it?"
"Oh, man!"
"Good. It doesn't hurt, does it?"
"No, no. Not at all. I just feel all ... it's so great." Peter petted Nathan's leg with his toes.
"Can I make a request?" Nathan said.
"Yeah."
"Turn over. I want to see more than the back of your head."
As much as Peter didn't want the cock to leave him, he did have a sudden violent urge to kiss Nathan. He turned over, spread his legs and balanced on his upper and middle back, and helped Nathan find his way back in. Nathan bent over him and joined their open mouths together, his hands holding Peter's waist, pulling Peter onto him, still gentle, but moving now, definitely moving, definitely fucking. Peter groaned loudly; this wasn't a familiar position for him. "Oh - God - you're - right - on it," he stuttered.
"Does it hurt?" Nathan asked mildly, gently biting Peter's stubble-flecked chin.
"No! - But -"
"So shut up and enjoy the prostate massage."
"No, it's too much. It's too much. Maybe - maybe if you don't move..."
"I can't stay still anymore," Nathan whispered, his voice fraying. "I gotta fuck you. I've been wanting to fuck you all day."
Despite himself, Peter couldn't help moving too, slowly, in time with Nathan's hands on him, pressing himself further and tighter until he could feel Nathan's balls brushing his buttocks. "Yeah... it... it does feel good, doesn't it?" he laughed.
"So good," Nathan agreed.
"Can you feel it in there?"
"I'm not that sensitive. But..."
"No, but - right - right there."
"Ah," said Nathan, "ah, yeah! Mmmm. You're right, I really am right on it, aren't I?" He sounded pleased, and gave a few quick, light thrusts that nudged against Peter's prostate.
Peter groaned and bit his knuckles. He was getting really hot again, despite the insistent breeze produced by the box fan in the window. As much as he was tempted to just let go and lose himself in whatever happened, he felt he had to regain control of situation. It was so rare that Nathan did what Peter told him to do. "You... you know what, though?" Peter leaned up, kissing and licking Nathan's neck until Nathan offered his lips. "You're going to make me come too fast that way, and I want to fuck you for a long time. As long as I can... deal with it, anyway." He let out a breathless laugh. "So why don't you lay back, okay? I'll get on top of you. We can still kiss."
"Aw, Pete," Nathan complained, but he kissed Peter and did what he was told.
Peter lowered himself onto Nathan's cock. He held himself up a bit on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, but Nathan thrust sharply into him from below. "You said you'd kiss me," Nathan said. "Kiss me."
"Don't be mean, or we're done."
"You couldn't stop if you wanted to," Nathan countered. He put his hands on Peter's back and moved him forward, arching up until he could reach Peter's mouth. They exchanged more of a swift brush of tongue against tongue than a kiss. Nathan lay back, running his fingers roughly through Peter's hair. "Ride me if you want to so bad... it does look good. You sexy little fuck."
"That's right," Peter agreed. Even though his legs were shaking from fatigue, he was able to find exactly the angle he wanted, and his quick, stabbing thrusts generated hard, repetitive moaning from them both. He resisted touching himself for as long as he could, but when Nathan rubbed his thumb across the tip of Peter's cock, making Peter suddenly aware of the pre-come welling out of him, he bit his lip until he tasted blood, trying to control the abrupt spasm in his groin. "Oh God," he gasped.
"Just come," Nathan murmured. "I'm gonna come. It's all right. You're at home. You can come all you want. You can say whatever you want. You can scream if you feel like it. Just come."
"Are you gonna come?" Peter replied breathlessly. "Help me come, get me off, come with me, please?"
"Kiss me - God - fuck - ah." Nathan stiffened and quivered underneath Peter, eyes rolling back, his fingers twitching like he'd been shocked. Peter tried to kiss him back to life, but bending forward pressed Nathan's still-hard cock against that agonizingly delicious, sensitive spot inside him.
Nothing that Peter said resembled words except in the most abstract sense; it was more of a multi-syllabic howl, a coughing bark, a raw and pure animal sound. Awoo awoo yah yarrrgh uhhhhh ah ah ah. And yet somehow Nathan understood it, gained meaning from it, knew what he was being asked to do: Get me off and make me come harder and harder still, the way only you can.
Without pulling out, Nathan turned Peter over onto his back, raised Peter's knees to his shoulders, and thrust into him until Peter made more of those sounds, his spasming cock smearing both of their bellies with semen. "You're home," Nathan said again, kissing the sides of Peter's face, afraid to get too close to his mouth, as Peter kept snapping his jaws, clicking his teeth together, not coming anymore, but still locked in the intensity of the sensation. Nathan held Peter tightly in his arms, stroking his hair, calming him. "You're home; welcome home. You're beautiful. You're my one. Yeah, you are... you know it. You know I love you. Don't you?"
Peter couldn't speak, but he gazed into Nathan's eyes and nodded, and kissed Nathan as much as he wanted to be kissed.
***
No one had bothered to unpack a clock, and the long late-spring afternoon got hotter and then cooler as they lay tangled up in bed, relaxing and kissing and trying to tickle each other.
"You really are beautiful," Nathan said.
"You're beautiful."
"It's good grooming." Nathan grinned.
"Your teeth are fake," Peter pointed out.
Nathan frowned. "They're not fake; they're capped. You saw me when I got back from R..." Nathan actually couldn't say the name Rwanda. It had no place here, in this cozy nest of pleasure.
Peter nuzzled Nathan's cheek understandingly. "Does it still hurt?" he asked.
"Yeah," Nathan replied. "It helps when you kiss them, though."
Peter kissed the scars on Nathan's face, then the ones on his chest and belly and hip. "I always knew it would," Peter murmured. "It's like reiki. I'm giving you my positive energy."
"Ray who?"
"Reiki," Peter explained patiently. "It's a form of energy healing."
"Oh, great," Nathan rolled his eyes. "Are you going to make me drink that funny mushroom tea again?"
"It did make you feel better, though, didn't it?"
"It was tea. I could have just had some hot water with honey and it would have done the same thing, and tasted a whole heck of a lot better." Nathan smiled down at Peter, who was now lay across him, one arm resting across Nathan's stomach, gazing up at him. "What are you thinking?" Nathan asked.
Peter blinked and smiled. "I'm thinking I want to get a tattoo," he said.
"Oh, Pete," Nathan groaned, but he smiled too. "What of?"
"I was thinking..." Peter traced a line across his breastbone, trailing longer on the left side. "A-ampersand-T-ampersand-F-Y-S-S." He grinned. "Right here on my heart."
Nathan frowned at him. "Are you serious?"
"And then you can get one, too. And then we'll match, like a friendship necklace. And every time you see me with my shirt off, you'll see it and you'll know that I'm always and totally and forever your sex slave. Cool, huh?"
"Peter," said Nathan quietly, "if you get that tattoo, I swear I'll never fuck you again. I'll never touch you again, I'll never kiss you again."
Peter tried to keep the smile on his face, but Nathan looked so serious, and seriously offended, that he couldn't. He lowered his eyes and shrugged. "Okay, fine," Peter said. "I'm kidding."
"You better be kidding. This isn't a game."
"Jeez, who needs to lighten up now? Somebody needs a nap." Peter turned over and his arms locked around himself, fingers digging tightly into the flesh of his shoulders. He felt that same cold/hot fear and anger and embarrassment again, that horrible feeling that had no place here. It took a while for him to respond even when Nathan slid over to rest against him, and put his arms around Peter, hugged him tight, and kissed him.
"I think you need a nap. Hey, you just moved into your own place," Nathan murmured, kissing Peter's ears and neck until Peter finally gave in and unraveled and locked his arms around Nathan. "That didn't count as being mean, just in case you're wondering. That was part of not lying to you. That's the truth, Pete."
"I just love you so much, and I can't figure out how to tell you," Peter mumbled into Nathan's neck. "I can't figure out how to show you."
"I know," Nathan soothed, stroking Peter's back. "I don't know, either."
"I just love you and I want you so much."
"I know, I know... it's impossible..." When Peter didn't calm that way, Nathan began to stroke Peter's hair, and almost instantly, all the tension drained from Peter's body. Nathan gave him a tight hug, then relaxed again, and returned to the hair-petting. "It's all impossible."
"I'm glad you love me," Peter whispered.
"I do love you, I do," Nathan confirmed.
Without another word, Peter fell hard asleep. Nathan kept petting him for a while longer, half-hypnotized himself from the repetitive motion, but eventually took a deep, slow breath and moved away from his brother's limp form. Peter had even already started to snore, soft little snores like a very tired puppy. Nathan couldn't resist bending over and lightly kissing Peter on the eyebrow; Peter clumsily raised his hand to swipe at it. Nathan shook his head and smiled, his heart expanding painfully in his chest. He turned and went back to Peter's bathroom to wash up.
As much as he didn't want to, he had no choice but to put his now-dry, sweat-reeking clothes back on. The only comfort was the fact that the tang of sweat was strong enough that Heidi wouldn't be able to smell Peter on him.
Before he left, Nathan located a pad of paper and a pencil left behind in one of the kitchen drawers, and leaned against the counter while he wrote.
Congratulations on your new place. Once upon a time, your bed was mine, and it is a fine platform for the creation of dreams. I hope all the ones you have are happy ones. I love you.
-your Nathan
He set the pad and pencil down on the one part of the kitchen counter not covered with boxes of things, snapped closed his toolbox, took one last longing glance through the apartment to the bed where his brother slept, his arms now tightly wrapped around a pillow in the same place where Nathan had been.
Smiling, Nathan left Peter's apartment.
end part (15)
A/N: I retconned Ritual 6: A&T&FYSS very slightly in this story; it was an accident. Oops. This makes for a better story, anyway (and you can always fanwank it that Nathan chose not to remember Peter getting upset, and the tenderness that ends this story. ... For reference for Peter's orgasmic howl, think of the scream he gives when he wakes up from that coma in the hospital in "Fallout", but more of the happy and less of the "OMG THEY FUCKING VAPORIZED O SHIT", of course. ^_^ Thanks for reading.