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10 July 2007 @ 05:00 pm
Pinch Hit for g_shadowslayer by poisontaster  
Title: What Remains Unseen
Author: poisontaster
Pairing: Claude/Peter
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Gah, this is hard. Boysex. Quasi-public sex. Not-exactly voyeurism. Language. Vaguely D/s overtones. Incestuous longing. General dirtybadwrongness.
Spoilers: None.
Word Count: 1,218
AN: Written as a pinch-hit for g_shadowslayer for the heroes_holidays Joy of Spring ficathon. I really hope that you like this! Many thanks to mona1347 and technosage for helping it become a better story. All remaining screw-ups are mine.


Peter bites down on his sob as Claude's cock slips into him, heavy and thick, spearing him wide. He wasn't ready for that first breaching thrust, still too tight, too tense. Not that Claude listened. Or cared.

I can do what I want to you.

Peter wants to believe this was Claude's idea but he doesn't really know anymore. It hadn't been like this before Claude knew about Nathan, though. Before Claude guessed.

"You want to be quiet now," Claude advises in an undertone, pulling Peter deeper onto him with the hand he's spread over Peter's belly. "Don't want him to hear, do you?"

No. No, Peter really doesn't.

They shouldn't be here.

Nathan's office is quiet, dim, except for the single light on desk, showing the gray springing up at Nathan's temples as gleaming silver. Peter watches Nathan's pen scritch across the page and tries to breathe without sound.

He shouldn't be here, naked and spread out over the lap of another man, a man who doesn't even really exist. It's wanton and slutty and unbelievably stupid.

Anything I want.

"It's another part of your education," Claude told him when they'd first broken in, with one of his many lunatic smiles.

Peter whines a little in discomfort when Claude comes to rest all the way inside him. The quiet violins coming from Nathan's portable CD player cover it—he hopes.

Claude chuckles darkly in Peter's ear and his hand crawls down the concave length of Peter's belly to tangle, first in his pubic hair and then around the base of his cock. Peter writhes—can't help it—and Claude shifts inside him.

"You little pervert." Claude's accent thickens—sign of his pleasure. "You like this, having some man's cock up your arse while your brother's not ten feet away." He strokes, too slow, too loose to do Peter any good. "Would you like it better if he could see?"

Just the thought of it makes Peter's back arch so hard his spine creaks. He's suffocating, hardly able to breathe for fear it will come out as some other noise, one that will betray him.

Claude's tongue laps warmly at the lobe of Peter's ear, compounding sensation. Peter's eyes seal shut, burning with tears of too much. Claude's not even really moving, only short, sly circles of his hips that tease without satisfaction. Peter hates that he's reduced to this, begging without words, clutching and clasping around Claude's cock in desperation.

"Should I do it, then?" Claude's breath roughens, hoarse, damp pants against Peter's ear. Hard, callused fingers tighten around him in punishing friction. Peter feels an obscure shame at the way his cock leaps to greater attention, the thick pearling of his pre-come trickling down to slick the way. "Should I let him see?"

"Don't—" Peter's hand closes over Claude's wrist hard enough that he feels the bones move.

Because you need me.

From across the room, Nathan's head jerks. Peter sees the flash of his eyes, the startled jag of his mouth. It shouldn't make it hotter.

Oh, God, it shouldn't make it hotter.

"Oh, I don't think I will." Claude sounds like he's musing to himself, but Peter knows it's for his benefit. It's all for his benefit. This is his lesson, his education, his punishment. The final outcome of loving his brother just a little too well. "I think I like having you to myself."

It's not privacy Claude wants; it's ownership. Sometimes Peter wonders what it is about him that brings this out in others, from his mother's fussy interference to Nathan's sometimes overbearing protectiveness. It's no surprise that Claude wants him like this as well. A little more literally on his knees than usual, but the end result is the same.

He wonders what it is inside him that lets it happen, even when he sees it coming.

Claude goes back to fondling Peter, to making the same agonizing frictional shifts of hips and cock, grinding over the nerves in Peter's ass that make him mewl and push back, aching for it.

"He's never done this for you, has he, Peter?"

Peter wonders if it would be different if he could see Claude, instead of just having his voice, gravelly and taunting, pouring into his ears. He wonders if it would be different if Claude had arranged them differently than this, so that all he can see is Nathan—beautiful Nathan, cold Nathan, oblivious Nathan. The pleasure floods him, inescapable and nearly crushing, tied up so deeply in the cock in his ass and his brother across the room that he can't separate them.

"But I do," Claude continues. He jerks Peter in earnest now, delirious, ecstatic tugs that go from Peter's cock into the deepest centers of his brain and belly. "I do this for you. I give this to you. Freely and without reservation. And do you know why, Peter?"

He does. He knows. He hates it, resents it—needs it—but he knows.

"Because you're mine."

Peter gasps, the orgasm slamming into him like a freight train and dragging him helplessly in his wake. He has nothing to hold onto, nothing but Claude, unyielding inside him. Peter closes his eyes and turns inside out, clinging to the only thing he has left.

Nathan's radio shuts off suddenly, spreading silence like a stifling blanket. He's been too loud. Even though he feels close to dying with the intensity of it, Peter holds his breath, waiting. Even with his eyes closed, he thinks he can feel Nathan's gaze crawl across him.

"Hello?" Nathan sounds impatient; Peter thinks he's the only person who knows Nathan well enough to also hear the nervousness. Nathan's always been afraid of the dark, an admission he'd rather die than make. It was Peter who'd asked for a night light and taken their mother's scorn. It'd been worth it.


Nathan gets up from his desk in a rustle of expensive silk. Peter pants shallowly. Claude's hand is still clasped loosely around Peter's spent cock in lax possession. He hasn't come. Peter is painfully aware Claude hasn't come.

Nathan chews his lip for a moment and then sweeps from the room, his usual stately deliberation dispensable when there's no one to see. In other circumstances, Peter might like seeing him scurry away.

Peter isn't expecting Claude's push. He falls heavily, clumsily, deep ache spreading from within as Claude leaves his body. A moment later, he feels Claude kneel over him, bony knees pinning his hips, one hand pressed between his shoulder blades. "Don't move."

Claude jerks himself over Peter, movement that translates into Peter like trembles. Peter's overstimulated and twitchy; the friction of the carpet is horrible, too much, but he doesn't move. He doesn't move.

Claude's hiss as he comes dissolves into a laugh, rich and booming. He spurts in the small of Peter's back, hot bursts of marking, like a dog. Peter presses his face deeper into the carpet's pile and digs in with his fingernails as the heat blooms through him, shame and something else.

This is what he chose.

Because you need me.

"Get up." Claude lifts away from him; Peter feels weightless in the moments before he stirs, starts to move. "Get your clothes on. We have work to do."

Peter's soiled, but there's no time to do anything about it. Nathan will be back soon and Peter doesn't want him to see him like this.

Their time will come.
Galenn Shadowslayer (Penemuel): Heroes - Claude/Peterg_shadowslayer on July 11th, 2007 02:05 am (UTC)

This is fantastic! Thank you so much! EEeeeeee!!! Well worth the wait! *fans self* *mems fic*
40 Acres & a Strip Club: Nathanpoisontaster on July 11th, 2007 04:12 am (UTC)
*\o/* I'm so very glad you like it!