Fic: Or the Fool Who Follows Him

[brighteyedjill]

I end my self-imposed fandom hiatus in three days! Yay! So what am I doing? Not writing my heroes_bigboom, but screwing around at the heroes_exchange... Meh. I regret nothing.


Title: Or the Fool Who Follows Him
Pairing: Nathan/Peter/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Power play, toys, see pairing
Notes: Written for jaune_chat's day of power at heroes_exchange. All hail the CEO.
Summary: Nathan and Sylar are playing with Peter. But who’s really in control?



Peter was having trouble keeping his hands from shaking. His whole body was fairly buzzing with tension. His orders were to keep still, but that was much easier said than done, considering the circumstances. Thanks to the soft, plush blindfold tied around his head, he could see nothing, but he could hear.


Somewhere in front of him, close enough to touch if the loudness of the sounds was any indication, someone was getting his cock sucked. And Peter was dying to know which of the two men it was. The slurping noises and soft grunts gave him no clues. He needed to hear a moan. He thought it wouldn't be too hard to identify from a moan who exactly was receiving what sounded like a hell of a blowjob. Or if Peter could just reach out and touch, maybe even help...


A sharp smack across his cheek sent Peter jerking back into position. He must have moved without even realizing it.


"Uh uh uh," said Sylar. He tousled Peter's hair, and Peter couldn't tell if he was reaching up or reaching down to do so. No clues. "You stay there."


"Have a little patience, Pete." That was Nathan's voice, of course. He stroked a hand down Peter's bare torso, stopping just short of where Peter's hard and leaking dick strained against his belly. “Good things come to those who wait.”


Then Nathan’s hand went away. The sounds resumed, louder and more obscene before, and now Peter thought for sure he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He longed to touch one of them, to touch himself, something.


Then he heard a low moan escape Sylar, and he couldn’t help the gasp that came out of him in response. If Sylar’s mouth was free to make sounds like that, it meant Nathan was the one on his knees sucking down cock like candy.


“Please,” Peter whispered. They hadn’t said not to talk, but Peter knew he was pushing his luck. “I need something.”


“Greedy,” Sylar scolded.


“Glad someone else thinks so,” Nathan muttered.


“Please,” Peter said again. “Let me see watch.”


“No,” Sylar said. “But I think we can give you something.”


There was some shifting, and then Nathan stood in front of Peter. Peter knew him by smell: the lingering scent of his aftershave, the musk of his arousal. “Give me your hand.” Peter obediently put his hand out, and Nathan slapped an oblong, hard object into it. Peter gripped it with both hands to feel the shape of it: a dildo, long and ribbed.


“Go on,” Sylar said, from a little further away. “I know you can suck as well as your brother. So do it.”


Peter slid the tip of the plastic cock between his lips. By the sound of flesh on flesh, Nathan was imitating his actions on Sylar. That thought was enough to spur Peter on, and soon he was sucking down the dildo as if it he needed it to breathe, shoving as much down his throat as he could take without choking.


“Yes,” Sylar hissed. “Good boy, Peter.”


Peter pulled the ridged cock almost all the way out of his mouth, and then thrust it back in, fucking his throat with the hard plastic.


From nearby, he caught the familiar sound of Nathan moaning, but the noise was muffled. Peter could picture it, Nathan taking Sylar all the way to the root even as Peter deep-throated his dildo.


“Now,” Sylar growled. “That all you can do?”


Peter grinned around his mouth full of dildo, then slowly pulled his mouth free. “No,” he said brightly. “Please, let me play.”


“We are, Pete,” Nathan whispered in his ear, and now Peter could feel the heat of Nathan close to his naked skin. “You’re lucky we’re giving you this.” He pressed something into Peter’s hand, and it took Peter a moment to identify it as a tube of lubricant.


The air whooshed out of Peter’s lungs in a single huff. He wondered if this meant one of them was going to fuck him. God, he hoped so. Quickly he flipped the top of the bottle and drizzled lube onto his fingers. He raised himself up on his knees and slid a hand between his legs. With a little reaching, he was able to work two fingers into himself. He listened hard, trying to gauge what Sylar and Nathan were doing, but he couldn’t hear over the sound of his own ragged breath. He tightened his grip on the dildo still held in his other hand.


“He looks like he likes that,” Sylar said. “What do you think?”


“Feels good,” Nathan said. His voice was strangely tight.


Encouraged, Peter slid another lubed finger into his ass, and this time he distinctly heard Nathan’s breath catch. “Nathan?” He said tentatively. “Is this okay?”


“Yeah, he definitely likes the feel of that,” Sylar broke in.


It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, but then Peter felt his mouth drop open. “You’re…?”


“He looks so good with his ass stretched around my fingers,” Sylar purred.


“Get on with it, Peter,” Nathan said.


Peter nodded mechanically, and resumed working his fingers in and out of his ass. He stretched and twisted for longer than he normally would, knowing that Nathan might need more prep. At last, Sylar said, “You know what’s next.”


Peter poured more lube onto his hand, and rubbed it generously over the dildo he was still clutching. He positioned it under him and rose up on his knees. The image sprang to mind too easily of Sylar, positioning Nathan on his knees inside the v of Sylar’s legs, facing away from him, the flushed look Nathan got on his face when he was aroused, the dark, bulbous head of Sylar’s cock poised at Nathan’s ass.


Peter began to lower himself down, slowly, feeling each ridge as the dildo fed into him.


“Fuck,” Sylar breathed. “So tight. So good, Petrelli.”


Nathan’s breath was harsh enough for Peter to hear above his own. They fell into a pattern together, Peter trying to draw deep breaths and relax as he lowered himself, and Nathan following suit. After a long, tediously slow push, Peter’s ass rested against the floor, the dildo buried fully inside him.


“All the way, Peter,” Sylar said softly. “Good boy. You know that’s how he likes it. You know what else he needs, don’t you?”


“Sylar--,” Nathan began.


“You do,” Sylar cut in. “Better than he does. Don’t you, Peter?”


Peter nodded slowly. Arousal thrummed through him as he pictured Nathan, spread and impaled on Sylar’s cock, his wide brown eyes gone dark as he tried to maintain control.


Peter bent forward, lowering one hand to the floor and bringing the other back between his legs to grip the base of the dildo.


“Yes,” Sylar breathed.


Peter grabbed the base of the plastic toy and began fucking himself with it, fast, short jerks at first, then harder and deeper, slamming it in with as much force as he could manage in this position. How much better could Sylar do, he imagined, bending Nathan over, hips snapping into him from behind, setting a punishing pace.


“Please,” Peter whined.


“If you could see him, Peter,” Sylar said. His tone was clipped, as if he were out of breath. “Bent over for me, letting himself be used like this. He loves it hard. He loves what you do to yourself. He wishes he could be more like you, you know. Not ashamed to take it. Eager to take it, so eager that everyone knows just looking at you what a little slut you are. He wants it so bad, all the time, for someone to use him like this. But you’ve always been better at this, Peter. You can show him how it’s done. You can show him how it works. Go on, Peter.”


“Touch him,” Peter panted. “Please, please.”


“Not yet. More, Peter.”


As Peter kept up the pace, pounding himself hard with the dildo, he slid down on his chest and shoved the fingers of his free hand into his mouth, sucking them furiously as he fucked himself.


He heard Nathan moan through a full mouth, and Peter fucked his ass faster, hips working desperately against the air, so close to completion, but unable to get there. “Please,” he moaned through the fingers in his mouth. “Sylar, let him come. Please.”


“He has to say it,” Sylar snapped. “Come on, Nathan.”


“Nugh,” Nathan said. His mouth was full, too—sucking on Sylar’s fingers, Peter wondered, or had Sylar given him a toy to fill his mouth?


Peter let his fingers slip from between his lips, and he dug his fingers into his leg, desperate to keep from touching himself before it was time. “Come on, Nathan,” Peter pleaded. “Say what you need. Just say it.”


“I can’t…” Nathan panted.


“Nathan, please,” Peter begged. “I need to come. Please, do it.”


“Come on, Nathan,” Sylar said, goading him. “Be a good boy.”


Peter fucked himself harder, more desperately with the dildo, as if by sheer willpower he could fuck his bother into submission. At last, he heard a sob of breath rip from Nathan’s mouth, then, “Please, Sylar. Please let me come.”


“Good boys,” Sylar said. “Go ahead.”


Peter’s hand immediately to his own dick, and from Nathan’s almost-instant strangled cry, he knew Sylar had touched Nathan. The image, of the angry set of Nathan’s jaw as Sylar stroked him, sent Peter tumbling over the edge, and his hips jerked, sending ropey spurts of him onto the floor below.


Before he could collapse into the wet spot, arms caught him from either side, holding him up, pulling off his blindfold. Nathan was on his right, and Sylar was on his left: both were gloriously sweaty, out-of-breath, and reeking of sex.


“Thanks,” Peter whispered.


Sylar smirked, and Nathan nodded solemnly, and together they dragged him off to bed.