OH WHAT PETRELLI PRON??
Feb. 20th, 2008 05:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityIt's been AGES since I've written these two. I hope this is up to par.
Title: Before you slip into unconsciousness
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: Adult
Words: ~2300
Prompt: Day 65: the subway prompt for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
theyreitalian
Warning: Attempted rape.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC, and other folks who aren’t me. This is purely for entertainment purposes only.
“How much?” An older guy, a little older than Nathan but not half as good looking.
“Depends,” Peter mutters, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, not stopping when he tastes copper on his tongue. “On what you want.”
“Want you to use that pretty mouth on me,” the man with dark, greasy hair drawls, confident, like he’s done this plenty of times before.
Peter swallows and rattles off a price, doesn’t know if its good or not, but the guy nods and Peter pulls a blue foil wrapper out of his pocket, holding it between two fingers for the guy to take. Peter’s confused when he starts laughing at him.
“I’d rather not,” He says, moving closer. “Wouldn’t be able to feel that gorgeous mouth of yours on my dick as good through rubber, would I?”
“No,” Peter shakes his head vehemently. “No rubber, no deal.”
The greasy haired bastard just grins at him, grins like he knows something Peter doesn’t and Peter’s not a violent person, but he’s never wanted to break somebody’s jaw more than he wants to right now. He’s never had this problem before; they all know they have to wear a condom. It’s the fucking twenty-first century for fuck’s sake. He moves to shoulder past the guy, but he reaches out, grabs Peter arms and yanks him back. Peter’s head hit the concrete wall behind him with a deafening crack and his vision whites out; blood pounds thickly in his ears and the only thing he’s vaguely aware of is the tug of his zipper being pulled down.
“St-stop,” Peter mumbles, his words slow and hazy as his head swims in the grey area between consciousness and unconsciousness. He blinks a couple of times, but it doesn’t help. The people in the distance are all one continuous blob of shapes and outlines, all blurring together as they board the train. He opens his mouth to yell out for help, doesn’t care if he gets busted, just wants someone to get the sick bastard off of him. And get him to a hospital. The back of his neck feels warm and sticky with blood and he’s pretty sure he’s got a concussion. He can’t even find use of his arms or legs to push the fucker off of him, even if he had the strength to do it.
Peter’s head rolls to one side as his jeans are forced down around his ankles and the guy grabs him by both of his arms, turning him around to face the concrete wall. The coolness of the gritty concrete feels good pressing into Peter’s cheek; he blinks and feels hot tears roll down his cheeks. How had he ever thought this would be a good idea? Why couldn’t he just suck it up and ask Dad for help? Ask Nathan? If he wasn’t so goddamn proud he wouldn’t be here right now, about to get fucked in more ways than one. Sounds come out of his mouth that are meant to be “please,” and “stop,” but are muffled by the heavy weight of his tongue and the concrete wall he’s being pushed into.
Two dry fingers push into him and Peter’s face is soaked with tears as they stretch him open; this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. His first time isn’t supposed to be with some motherfucking asshole in the depths of the subway who refuses to wear a rubber, raping him with his fingers and then with his fucking diseased dick. He’s been saving this for someone else. It isn’t supposed to be like this.
Peter slumps against the wall, the weight of the man behind him suddenly gone, the same for the fingers that had been working inside of him. He falls to his knees, holding his head in his hands, feels his hair matted together, tacky with blood. He’s not sure what happened or why the guy just suddenly decided he wasn’t worth it, but he doesn’t care. He’s not one to look a miracle in the face…or the mouth…or whatever. The last thing he remembers is the sounds of a jaw shattering behind him, then everything fades to black.
***
Peter wakes up in a hospital. It’s not the one he interns at though, it’s the one they always went to as kids. Lifting his eyes open proves more difficult than it ever should be and daylight fills his vision, temporarily blinding him. When he finally manages to get them in focus and keep them open, he discovers Nathan curled up in the reclining chair in the corner, snoring softly.
“Shit,” He curses under his breath and lays his face in his hands. If Nathan is here…He doesn’t want to finish that sentence. He’s tired and his head hurts and everything is blurred and hazy. He realizes he’s probably on heavy duty painkillers and for that, he’s glad. He doesn’t want to think about anything. Ever again.
***
They don’t say anything on the car ride home. Nathan’s knuckles are white around the black vinyl of the steering wheel and he stares straight ahead until he pulls into the parking space in front of Peter’s building. He gets out, grabs Peter’s bags, and opens the door for him.
“I can open my own door, you know,” Peter says. “I had a concussion, not paralysis.”
Nathan still won’t look at him.
Peter opens the door to his apartment and Nathan shuts it; deadbolts it, yanks the chain shut, and drops Peter’s bags by the front door.
“You fucking idiot.” He says and grabs Peter by the collar of his powder blue polo shirt, and kisses him.
***
“How stupid can you be?” Nathan growls, fingers clamped around Peter’s upper arms tightly, leaving bruises the exact shape and size of his fingers. “God damn it, Peter!”
He crushes Peter’s mouth with his, claiming him with lips and teeth and tongue, marking him with bruises. He needs Peter to know that this is not okay. That he belongs to him, no one else. That its not okay to just give it away like that.
“I’m sorry Nathan, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Peter chants against his brother’s lips, touching him everywhere he can reach; feels Nathan’s hair slip through his fingers, traces the curve of his jaw, presses his thumb to Nathan’s throat, feeling the race of his pulse beneath his skin.
“It’s not okay, Peter,” Nathan holds him at a distance. His eyes are blown, his mouth full and red from kissing hard and rough and desperate and Peter has to catch his breath. “Not this time.”
***
They tumble onto Peter’s bed, Peter’s still murmuring apologizes and endearments and promises to Nathan as Nathan kisses him, tugs his shirt off over his head, and keeps kissing him. Every now and then he catches Nathan muttering something like, “I can’t believe…” or “So stupid,” but he never finishes his sentences, too busy imprinting Peter’s skin with his lips, making him remember each and every time his mouth touches his flesh so that he’ll never want anyone else’s to touch him; not that he ever did.
It’s sometime after Peter has unbuttoned Nathan’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders that Nathan straddles his legs, planting his hands on each side of Peter’s head as he rubs his own erection against Peter’s, watching the pleasure ripple through Peter’s body all the way up from his toes.
“Is this what you want?” Nathan leans forward and asks him, kissing Peter sloppily as he grinds their hips together. “Do you really want this?”
“Yesyes, Nathanyes,” he whimpers, hips arching up to meet Nathan, groaning loudly as Nathan’s thick cock rubs hard against him through his jeans. “Please, never wanted anything more Nathan, please please yes.”
“Do you beg like this for everyone?” Nathan asks, hovering over Peter’s trembling body and Peter stills, frowning up at him.
“Don’t,” He says and Nathan’s lips thin out into a flat line across his face as he stands off the edge of the bed and removes his pants.
***
“How many?” Nathan demands, two slicked fingers inside of Peter, stretching and scissoring him open. Peter’s hands grasp at the sheet beneath them, ripping stitches in the cotton open with his fingernails as he struggles to fill his lungs with air. Every now and then something flickers inside his head: greasy black hair, stench of cheap cigars and whiskey, warm, sticky liquid dripping down his neck, but then Nathan’s fingers move just like that and he forgets about it.
“T-ten,” He gasps, back arching as Nathan works him open. “Maybe e-e-eleven.” Wincing when another finger joins Nathan’s other two, biting down on his bottom lip so that he doesn’t cry out, giving Nathan the impression he can’t take it.
“What did you do for them?” He asks and Peter shudders when one of Nathan’s knuckles brushes over his prostate.
“Nathanplease,” Peter groans; he’s so full of Nathan’s fingers he doesn’t think he can take much more. He needs. Needs Nathan, inside of him, now.
“What. Did. You. Do.” Nathan emphasizes each and every word, nails digging into Peter’s thigh as he continues curling and twisting his fingers into Peter’s tight hole.
“M-mostly blow jobs,” Peter tells him brokenly. “Couple of hand jobs, oh God Nathan, PLEASE.”
Peter makes a noise when Nathan’s fingers slip out of him that’s part whimper, part feral groan, both hating and loving the loss of that feeling of being painfully filled.
“Did you fuck any of them?”
“No. Please Nathan, I need-”
“Did you let any of them fuck you?”
“What?” Peter asks, sobering temporarily. Nathan couldn’t really think- “No. No. Of course not.”
“That bastard in the subway was about to, Peter. He had his fingers inside of you.”
“He knocked me out Nathan, I didn’t-”
“Shut up,” Nathan growls and lifts Peter’s hips off the bed, throwing one of his legs over his shoulders. “I just needed to know.”
He grabs the bottle of lube off the bedside table once more, slicking himself up with a generous amount of the clear, gel-like liquid and watches Peter’s face as he pushes inside.
Peter moans audibly and bites down on his lip, claws at the sheets, at Nathan, at the air, as Nathan’s cock breeches the tight ring of muscles inside of him and he can’t help it when he clenches around Nathan.
“Oh fuck, Peter, fuck,” Nathan pants brokenly, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he grips Peter’s hips, stilling them. He needs a minute to catch his breath, just a minute, to keep himself from coming so embarrassingly soon that he’ll barely remember it. He can hardly help himself though; Peter’s so fucking tight, and hot, and there’s no way he’s lying about being fucked before, he’s just too amazingly tight. The thought that he saved this for him surges through Nathan and he holds onto Peter’s hips even tighter and thrust into him, watching the mixture of pain and pleasure and desperation wash over Peter’s face, his entire body flushed pink. He’s so pretty like this, naked and wanting, just for him. Only for him.
“Nathan, god, you feel,” Peter gasps and pants, moving with Nathan’s thrusts, “so damn good.”
“Amazing,” is all Nathan manages to get out, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth as his skin slaps against Peter’s, balls pressing flush against Peter’s ass with each thrust. It’s getting harder and harder to restrain himself, Peter just feels so good, so tight and hot and his; he knows he’s not going to last much longer.
Peter shouts something unintelligible when Nathan reaches between them and curls his fingers around Peter’s cock, hot and achingly hard, soaking wet with precome. He whimpers as Nathan strokes him, trying to both thrust into Nathan’s hand and against Nathan’s cock. All he can feel are the veins on Nathan’s cock and the ridges on Nathan’s finger tips and then he’s coming, coming, all over Nathan’s hand and his own stomach and Nathan’s shouting, almost screaming his name, and mine, and when he finally collapses on top of Peter, not a care in the world about the sticky mess between them, he mutters, “Never again,” next to Peter’s ear and promptly passes out.
***
Peter wakes him up some time after three with his mouth on his cock and a hand between his legs, and Nathan’s harder than he’s been in a very long time.
“God,” He moans loudly, voice still a little hoarse from earlier, running his fingers through Peter’s soft hair as his head bobs up and down between his legs. “What’s this, Pete?”
Peter smiles as he temporarily releases Nathan’s cock from his lips and looks up at him through dark eyelashes and flushed cheeks, lips so red and glossy Nathan wants to take a bite out of them. “Making it up to you,” He murmurs briefly and slides Nathan’s cock back into his mouth, relaxing the muscles in his throat, sucking him hard and deep.
Nathan comes with a strangled cry of “Christ,” and “Pete,” feeling himself harden again, believe it or not, when he watches Peter’s dart out and lick his come off the corner of his mouth.
Peter crawls up the bed and kisses him slowly, licking inside Nathan’s mouth, and he doesn’t even mind that he can taste himself on Peter’s tongue.
“One down,” Peter smiles lazily as he curls up next to Nathan’s, sprawling his arm out across Nathan’s chest. “Ten more to go.”
“Pete,” Nathan says, tipping Peter’s face to look up at him. “That’s not necessary.”
“Yeah it is,” Peter yawns and burrows into Nathan’s neck. “I wanted all of them to be you anyway.”
Nathan sucks in a breath and brushes his lips across Peter’s forehead, then curls his arm around Peter’s hips and pulls him closer. “Okay,” he says.
“Is it?” Peter asks, pushing up on his elbows to look at Nathan. Nathan’s fingers curl around his neck and pull him forward, kissing him until they’re both breathless and wanting more.
“Yeah,” Nathan breathes out. “Yeah, I think it might be.”
Title: Before you slip into unconsciousness
Pairing: Nathan/Peter
Rating: Adult
Words: ~2300
Prompt: Day 65: the subway prompt for
theyreitalian Warning: Attempted rape.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC, and other folks who aren’t me. This is purely for entertainment purposes only.
“How much?” An older guy, a little older than Nathan but not half as good looking.
“Depends,” Peter mutters, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, not stopping when he tastes copper on his tongue. “On what you want.”
“Want you to use that pretty mouth on me,” the man with dark, greasy hair drawls, confident, like he’s done this plenty of times before.
Peter swallows and rattles off a price, doesn’t know if its good or not, but the guy nods and Peter pulls a blue foil wrapper out of his pocket, holding it between two fingers for the guy to take. Peter’s confused when he starts laughing at him.
“I’d rather not,” He says, moving closer. “Wouldn’t be able to feel that gorgeous mouth of yours on my dick as good through rubber, would I?”
“No,” Peter shakes his head vehemently. “No rubber, no deal.”
The greasy haired bastard just grins at him, grins like he knows something Peter doesn’t and Peter’s not a violent person, but he’s never wanted to break somebody’s jaw more than he wants to right now. He’s never had this problem before; they all know they have to wear a condom. It’s the fucking twenty-first century for fuck’s sake. He moves to shoulder past the guy, but he reaches out, grabs Peter arms and yanks him back. Peter’s head hit the concrete wall behind him with a deafening crack and his vision whites out; blood pounds thickly in his ears and the only thing he’s vaguely aware of is the tug of his zipper being pulled down.
“St-stop,” Peter mumbles, his words slow and hazy as his head swims in the grey area between consciousness and unconsciousness. He blinks a couple of times, but it doesn’t help. The people in the distance are all one continuous blob of shapes and outlines, all blurring together as they board the train. He opens his mouth to yell out for help, doesn’t care if he gets busted, just wants someone to get the sick bastard off of him. And get him to a hospital. The back of his neck feels warm and sticky with blood and he’s pretty sure he’s got a concussion. He can’t even find use of his arms or legs to push the fucker off of him, even if he had the strength to do it.
Peter’s head rolls to one side as his jeans are forced down around his ankles and the guy grabs him by both of his arms, turning him around to face the concrete wall. The coolness of the gritty concrete feels good pressing into Peter’s cheek; he blinks and feels hot tears roll down his cheeks. How had he ever thought this would be a good idea? Why couldn’t he just suck it up and ask Dad for help? Ask Nathan? If he wasn’t so goddamn proud he wouldn’t be here right now, about to get fucked in more ways than one. Sounds come out of his mouth that are meant to be “please,” and “stop,” but are muffled by the heavy weight of his tongue and the concrete wall he’s being pushed into.
Two dry fingers push into him and Peter’s face is soaked with tears as they stretch him open; this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. His first time isn’t supposed to be with some motherfucking asshole in the depths of the subway who refuses to wear a rubber, raping him with his fingers and then with his fucking diseased dick. He’s been saving this for someone else. It isn’t supposed to be like this.
Peter slumps against the wall, the weight of the man behind him suddenly gone, the same for the fingers that had been working inside of him. He falls to his knees, holding his head in his hands, feels his hair matted together, tacky with blood. He’s not sure what happened or why the guy just suddenly decided he wasn’t worth it, but he doesn’t care. He’s not one to look a miracle in the face…or the mouth…or whatever. The last thing he remembers is the sounds of a jaw shattering behind him, then everything fades to black.
***
Peter wakes up in a hospital. It’s not the one he interns at though, it’s the one they always went to as kids. Lifting his eyes open proves more difficult than it ever should be and daylight fills his vision, temporarily blinding him. When he finally manages to get them in focus and keep them open, he discovers Nathan curled up in the reclining chair in the corner, snoring softly.
“Shit,” He curses under his breath and lays his face in his hands. If Nathan is here…He doesn’t want to finish that sentence. He’s tired and his head hurts and everything is blurred and hazy. He realizes he’s probably on heavy duty painkillers and for that, he’s glad. He doesn’t want to think about anything. Ever again.
***
They don’t say anything on the car ride home. Nathan’s knuckles are white around the black vinyl of the steering wheel and he stares straight ahead until he pulls into the parking space in front of Peter’s building. He gets out, grabs Peter’s bags, and opens the door for him.
“I can open my own door, you know,” Peter says. “I had a concussion, not paralysis.”
Nathan still won’t look at him.
Peter opens the door to his apartment and Nathan shuts it; deadbolts it, yanks the chain shut, and drops Peter’s bags by the front door.
“You fucking idiot.” He says and grabs Peter by the collar of his powder blue polo shirt, and kisses him.
***
“How stupid can you be?” Nathan growls, fingers clamped around Peter’s upper arms tightly, leaving bruises the exact shape and size of his fingers. “God damn it, Peter!”
He crushes Peter’s mouth with his, claiming him with lips and teeth and tongue, marking him with bruises. He needs Peter to know that this is not okay. That he belongs to him, no one else. That its not okay to just give it away like that.
“I’m sorry Nathan, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Peter chants against his brother’s lips, touching him everywhere he can reach; feels Nathan’s hair slip through his fingers, traces the curve of his jaw, presses his thumb to Nathan’s throat, feeling the race of his pulse beneath his skin.
“It’s not okay, Peter,” Nathan holds him at a distance. His eyes are blown, his mouth full and red from kissing hard and rough and desperate and Peter has to catch his breath. “Not this time.”
***
They tumble onto Peter’s bed, Peter’s still murmuring apologizes and endearments and promises to Nathan as Nathan kisses him, tugs his shirt off over his head, and keeps kissing him. Every now and then he catches Nathan muttering something like, “I can’t believe…” or “So stupid,” but he never finishes his sentences, too busy imprinting Peter’s skin with his lips, making him remember each and every time his mouth touches his flesh so that he’ll never want anyone else’s to touch him; not that he ever did.
It’s sometime after Peter has unbuttoned Nathan’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders that Nathan straddles his legs, planting his hands on each side of Peter’s head as he rubs his own erection against Peter’s, watching the pleasure ripple through Peter’s body all the way up from his toes.
“Is this what you want?” Nathan leans forward and asks him, kissing Peter sloppily as he grinds their hips together. “Do you really want this?”
“Yesyes, Nathanyes,” he whimpers, hips arching up to meet Nathan, groaning loudly as Nathan’s thick cock rubs hard against him through his jeans. “Please, never wanted anything more Nathan, please please yes.”
“Do you beg like this for everyone?” Nathan asks, hovering over Peter’s trembling body and Peter stills, frowning up at him.
“Don’t,” He says and Nathan’s lips thin out into a flat line across his face as he stands off the edge of the bed and removes his pants.
***
“How many?” Nathan demands, two slicked fingers inside of Peter, stretching and scissoring him open. Peter’s hands grasp at the sheet beneath them, ripping stitches in the cotton open with his fingernails as he struggles to fill his lungs with air. Every now and then something flickers inside his head: greasy black hair, stench of cheap cigars and whiskey, warm, sticky liquid dripping down his neck, but then Nathan’s fingers move just like that and he forgets about it.
“T-ten,” He gasps, back arching as Nathan works him open. “Maybe e-e-eleven.” Wincing when another finger joins Nathan’s other two, biting down on his bottom lip so that he doesn’t cry out, giving Nathan the impression he can’t take it.
“What did you do for them?” He asks and Peter shudders when one of Nathan’s knuckles brushes over his prostate.
“Nathanplease,” Peter groans; he’s so full of Nathan’s fingers he doesn’t think he can take much more. He needs. Needs Nathan, inside of him, now.
“What. Did. You. Do.” Nathan emphasizes each and every word, nails digging into Peter’s thigh as he continues curling and twisting his fingers into Peter’s tight hole.
“M-mostly blow jobs,” Peter tells him brokenly. “Couple of hand jobs, oh God Nathan, PLEASE.”
Peter makes a noise when Nathan’s fingers slip out of him that’s part whimper, part feral groan, both hating and loving the loss of that feeling of being painfully filled.
“Did you fuck any of them?”
“No. Please Nathan, I need-”
“Did you let any of them fuck you?”
“What?” Peter asks, sobering temporarily. Nathan couldn’t really think- “No. No. Of course not.”
“That bastard in the subway was about to, Peter. He had his fingers inside of you.”
“He knocked me out Nathan, I didn’t-”
“Shut up,” Nathan growls and lifts Peter’s hips off the bed, throwing one of his legs over his shoulders. “I just needed to know.”
He grabs the bottle of lube off the bedside table once more, slicking himself up with a generous amount of the clear, gel-like liquid and watches Peter’s face as he pushes inside.
Peter moans audibly and bites down on his lip, claws at the sheets, at Nathan, at the air, as Nathan’s cock breeches the tight ring of muscles inside of him and he can’t help it when he clenches around Nathan.
“Oh fuck, Peter, fuck,” Nathan pants brokenly, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he grips Peter’s hips, stilling them. He needs a minute to catch his breath, just a minute, to keep himself from coming so embarrassingly soon that he’ll barely remember it. He can hardly help himself though; Peter’s so fucking tight, and hot, and there’s no way he’s lying about being fucked before, he’s just too amazingly tight. The thought that he saved this for him surges through Nathan and he holds onto Peter’s hips even tighter and thrust into him, watching the mixture of pain and pleasure and desperation wash over Peter’s face, his entire body flushed pink. He’s so pretty like this, naked and wanting, just for him. Only for him.
“Nathan, god, you feel,” Peter gasps and pants, moving with Nathan’s thrusts, “so damn good.”
“Amazing,” is all Nathan manages to get out, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth as his skin slaps against Peter’s, balls pressing flush against Peter’s ass with each thrust. It’s getting harder and harder to restrain himself, Peter just feels so good, so tight and hot and his; he knows he’s not going to last much longer.
Peter shouts something unintelligible when Nathan reaches between them and curls his fingers around Peter’s cock, hot and achingly hard, soaking wet with precome. He whimpers as Nathan strokes him, trying to both thrust into Nathan’s hand and against Nathan’s cock. All he can feel are the veins on Nathan’s cock and the ridges on Nathan’s finger tips and then he’s coming, coming, all over Nathan’s hand and his own stomach and Nathan’s shouting, almost screaming his name, and mine, and when he finally collapses on top of Peter, not a care in the world about the sticky mess between them, he mutters, “Never again,” next to Peter’s ear and promptly passes out.
***
Peter wakes him up some time after three with his mouth on his cock and a hand between his legs, and Nathan’s harder than he’s been in a very long time.
“God,” He moans loudly, voice still a little hoarse from earlier, running his fingers through Peter’s soft hair as his head bobs up and down between his legs. “What’s this, Pete?”
Peter smiles as he temporarily releases Nathan’s cock from his lips and looks up at him through dark eyelashes and flushed cheeks, lips so red and glossy Nathan wants to take a bite out of them. “Making it up to you,” He murmurs briefly and slides Nathan’s cock back into his mouth, relaxing the muscles in his throat, sucking him hard and deep.
Nathan comes with a strangled cry of “Christ,” and “Pete,” feeling himself harden again, believe it or not, when he watches Peter’s dart out and lick his come off the corner of his mouth.
Peter crawls up the bed and kisses him slowly, licking inside Nathan’s mouth, and he doesn’t even mind that he can taste himself on Peter’s tongue.
“One down,” Peter smiles lazily as he curls up next to Nathan’s, sprawling his arm out across Nathan’s chest. “Ten more to go.”
“Pete,” Nathan says, tipping Peter’s face to look up at him. “That’s not necessary.”
“Yeah it is,” Peter yawns and burrows into Nathan’s neck. “I wanted all of them to be you anyway.”
Nathan sucks in a breath and brushes his lips across Peter’s forehead, then curls his arm around Peter’s hips and pulls him closer. “Okay,” he says.
“Is it?” Peter asks, pushing up on his elbows to look at Nathan. Nathan’s fingers curl around his neck and pull him forward, kissing him until they’re both breathless and wanting more.
“Yeah,” Nathan breathes out. “Yeah, I think it might be.”
no subject
Date: 2008-02-20 11:49 pm (UTC)“I wanted all of them to be you anyway.”
This is my favourite line, because OMG. And the smut - that was hot smut. I love possessive!Nathan, I really do. And Peter begging. Mhmm.
I'm so glad the guy didn't really rape Peter, because D: that was scary. I thought it was gonna end bad. Ah, so glad Nathan (it was Nathan right? Who else!) arrived in time.
Oh, Peter. *snuggles him*
(Also, this reminds me of an RP session I'm doing with Fiore in which Nathan doesn't want to fuck Peter and they fight, so Peter goes around letting other people fuck him and being a general slut xD Your Peter is less whore-ish, and that's kind of hilarious and makes me realize just how slutty my Peter is.)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-21 05:50 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked it, Ery! I was nervous about posting since I haven't written the boys in AGES. GAH.
I LOVE SLUTY PETER DAMMIT I WISH I COULD READ ITALIAN.
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Date: 2008-02-20 11:57 pm (UTC)That was so hot. I loved Peter's naive innocence here (how you have him believing himself to be so street smart when really he is just a dumb, naive kid) and I adore Nathan's possessive jeslousy but at the same time, his care and concern for Peter.
It's so fucked up but beautiful too. Your style is wonderful. I liked this quite a bit. Thanks for posting.
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Date: 2008-02-21 05:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-21 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-21 05:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-21 02:26 am (UTC)Peter opens the door to his apartment and Nathan shuts it; deadbolts it, yanks the chain shut, and drops Peter’s bags by the front door.
“You fucking idiot.” He says and grabs Peter by the collar of his powder blue polo shirt, and kisses him.
I can't even string together words that would make sense.
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Date: 2008-02-21 05:54 am (UTC)oh god just ignore me. i have no shame. i need sex nao.
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Date: 2008-02-21 09:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-21 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-22 07:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-21 11:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-22 07:46 am (UTC)ps: Your icon is so pretty. Ahhhh.
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Date: 2008-02-22 05:29 am (UTC)Love this. Very awesome.
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Date: 2008-02-22 07:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-22 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-22 07:25 am (UTC)i love possessive!nathan. he is awesome :D
and peter, ah peter, poor naive boy, only he would think he's street smart when he really isn't
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Date: 2008-02-22 07:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-23 04:53 pm (UTC)This story continues to be awesome. And hot. And you know what I think about that Nameless Man and his attempt to not wear a condom. In any case, alksdjo! And that is all.
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Date: 2008-02-24 04:52 pm (UTC)Thanks for writing this. The porn is precious. HOTNESS.
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Date: 2008-02-24 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-29 11:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-29 05:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-03 09:40 pm (UTC)Whoa, Baby! that was good.
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Date: 2008-03-05 06:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-24 06:48 pm (UTC)Fic!Pete is such a tart. Doesn't he know that Nathan's the only one for him? :P
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Date: 2008-03-24 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-09-25 03:08 pm (UTC)<3 (Added to bookmarks)