Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5761.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Heroes_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Peter_Petrelli/Sylar
  Character:
      Peter_Petrelli, Sylar
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, twin_'verse, Pre-Canon, Alternate_Universe, Porn, Alternate
      Universe_-_High_School, Non-Penetrative_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-08-07 Words: 3157
****** After School Special ******
by perdiccas
Summary
     In the late afternoon, Peter and Gabriel have the house to
     themselves. Instead of doing homework, they take the time to figure
     each other out. [Pre-series AU]
Notes
     Peter and Gabriel are 17.
Thursdays, after school, Peter has soccer. He carpools home with Patrick's mom;
their team never wins. His cleats echo in the too empty halls as he wanders to
his room, because on Thursday's Ma has some charity thing and the staff are
given the afternoon off.
He toes off his shoes at the top of the stairs, peels off his muddy, knee high
socks and shoves them in his gym bag. He pads down the hallway and lingers,
unseen, at Gabriel's half open door. Gabriel doesn't like when he hovers like
this, doesn't like to be snuck up on, calls it 'spying.' But Peter can't help
himself, not when knows Gabriel will be sprawled diagonally across his bed,
worrying a pencil between his teeth as he works through his calculus homework.
Peter loves that look of concentration, that one that makes Gabriel's eyes go
dark and intense, his brow furrowing just slightly as he thinks. And, today is
no different than any other Thursday, Gabriel's bare feet hanging off the
mattress, so absorbed in his problem that he doesn't notice that Peter is
there, though Peter thinks his heart is pounding loud enough for Gabriel to
surely hear. The jeans he wears sit kind of low and loose on his narrow hips,
but seem form fitting over the plump swell of his ass. Peter can't take his
eyes from that perfect curve, can feel his cock twitch a little and start to
rise the more he stares. His fingers itch to touch and he drops his gym bag
softly in the corner before he tiptoes into the room.
Peter slides his hands up the backs of Gabriel's thighs, feeling his twin tense
at the unexpected touch. His spine twists as Gabriel looks over his shoulder,
and then, he relaxes with a breathless, murmured, "Peter."
Peter's hands squeeze and stroke; he moves in closer, perching one knee on the
bed between Gabriel's legs as he cups Gabriel's ass with both hands, the metal
rivets of his jeans digging into his palms as he roughly kneads his flesh.
Gabriel's breathing is deeper now and when Peter shifts his weight onto the
mattress, curling over Gabriel's supine body with one knee at his hips and the
other up tight against his groin, Gabriel gives this gasping laugh that goes
straight to Peter's cock and undulates against the sheets.
His shirt has ridden up, the band of his underwear peeking out above his jeans
and a tantalising strip of lower back is on display. Peter slips one hand into
Gabriel's back pocket, palming his ass with just the cotton lining between hand
and skin, and drops a kiss to each notch of Gabriel's spine that he can see.
When his lips brush against the crack of Gabriel's ass, he has to press the
heel of his other hand, hard, against his crotch, whimpering wordlessly into
the salt of Gabriel's skin.
"Hey," Gabriel breathes, arm reaching back to tangle in Peter's hair, as Peter
pants against his spit-damp skin, eyes scrunched shut against his own arousal.
"Hey," Peter rasps. He takes another moment, swivelling his hand against his
heavy cock, the satin-shiny fabric of his shorts sliding wickedly along his
length. He sucks a hickey to the top curve of Gabriel's ass before Gabriel
moans, "Pete!" in exasperation and swats him away.
Then, Peter's laughing at himself and how far gone he is already, at how turned
on Gabriel seems to make him while doing nothing at all but being. He slides
himself up Gabriel's body, dragging himself up on his elbows so that the
lengths of their bodies press together as he moves. He kisses Gabriel's neck
just above his collar, tilting his chin up and groaning into the hinge of his
jaw as his dick settles against the thick denim seam that runs down the seat of
Gabriel's pants. He rocks his hips, and Gabriel ruts back, too, until Peter
wedges a hand down his jeans, grabs roughly at his bare ass and squeezes hard
enough to bruise.
"You're obsessed," Gabriel teases.
"Uh huh," he agrees. The pads of Peter's fingers skim down the plump swell of
his ass to explore the cleft between, but Gabriel flips over beneath him with a
warning a grunt. Peter yelps as his hand is trapped below them both, the pain
forgotten as their groins are pressed together, the tenting in his gym shorts
nestling next to Gabriel's own erection.
Behind his glasses, Gabriel's eyes are dark, dilated pupils trained on Peter's.
Peter slides the thick frames from his nose and captures his mouth in a messy
kiss. They make out desperately, hips rolling, hands groping, rubbing up
against each other with the unspoken understanding that they need to hurry, to
finish and clean up before anyone else arrives home. Gabriel has one hand up
Peter's shirt, bitten down nails scraping over his shoulders, cupping his neck
with his other hand. He twists his fingers in the hair at the nape of Peter's
neck, and as he does, he pulls away from Peter's kiss with a disgusted groan.
"Oh, ew!"
He scowls at Peter, wiping the grime from Peter's sweaty and mud-flecked hair
on Peter's t-shirt. Peter giggles as his squirms, at the ticklish feel of
Gabriel's hand running up and down his ribs, and at the prim expression on
Gabriel's face.
"It's not funny, you asshole!" Gabriel bitches, squinting up at Peter's grass
stained soccer uniform and at the dirt that's been transferred from Peter's
clothes to his. "You're getting mud on my sheets!"
"So?" Peter sighs. He flexes the hand still moulded to Gabriel's butt, nearly
numb fingers curving weakly, but deliberately enough to make themselves known.
"So, it's gross. And, nuh uh!" he snits, squirming away from the fingers now
sliding along the crack of his ass.
"Fine." Peter pulls his hands away with a reluctant sigh.
He debates leaning in to kiss his twin again, catching that plump lower lip
between his teeth and sucking it into his mouth until Gabriel forgets about the
germs and they make the sheets even messier, but it seems unfair to push
Gabriel like that when he knows, deep in his soul, that Gabriel can never deny
him; it's up to him to respect Gabriel's limits, when Gabriel will so easily
let Peter talk him into things he later regrets.
Instead, he scrunches up his nose, thinking for a moment about what Gabriel
might want right now that'll get them both where they need to be. He smiles
that crooked smile he knows Gabriel finds irresistible and purrs, "Come in the
shower with me?"
Peter arches his eyebrows, like he's seen Nathan do when he makes a dirty joke,
and he grinds his crotch to Gabriel's just a little harder when he growls
'come'.
Gabriel gives him a withering look and a long suffering groan, but when he
snaps back, "Worst come on, ever!" he grips Peter's hips to keep him steady on
his lap, and lifts his own ass from the bed, too.
"Oh fuck," Peter gasps, buckling forward at the delicious friction of their
dicks rubbing together. He shoves Gabriel's shirt up, presses his hand flat to
his lean stomach, thumb brushing over the thick trail of hair below his navel.
He leans his forehead to Gabriel's, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to keep
himself from coming too soon; all he can hear in his mind is Gabriel's voice
rasping, "Come," in that deep, gravelly tone he gets when he's near to coming
himself, and his head is filled with sudden images of Gabriel on his knees,
Gabriel splayed out on the bed beneath him, Peter's come painting his lips a
pretty, sticky white, streaking over his neck and chest. He groans and pants,
sucks desperately at the crook of Gabriel's neck to ground himself, and Gabriel
seems to understand that something's been too much because his arms are gentle
when they wrap around him.
"Okay?" he whispers timidly, eyes a dark, confused mix of arousal and concern.
"What if I wanna come on you?" Peter blurts before he loses his nerve.
Gabriel tilts his chin back with a quiet moan, cracks his neck as he licks his
lips, the tip of his tongue dragging over chapped skin in that way he always
does when he's contemplating something new and unexpected.
"I thought you wanted my ass?" he jokes, not quite meeting Peter's eyes. And
Peter thinks that under his teasing tone, he hears a little uncertainty, a
little disappointment that maybe Peter doesn't anymore.
"No," Peter pants. "No, Gabe, I do. God, want it so bad. Just… want this too."
"Greedy," Gabriel murmurs on reflex. His thumb rubs bruising circles to the
crest of Peter's hip, the growing ache there, deep under Peter's skin, seeming
to mark how very long the question has been hanging in the air, and Peter's
seconds away from saying that it doesn't matter, that it's no big deal if
Gabriel doesn't want to when Gabriel looks at him directly, pupils blown so
wide his eyes look black. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, we can do that."
"Are you serious?"
Gabriel nods his head reverentially. "Shower. Now."
*
They rip off their clothes in Gabriel's en suite bathroom, Gabriel shoving them
both under the spray of the shower even before the water has time to warm. He
crowds Peter up against the shower wall, swallowing down Peter's protests at
the cool press of tiles against his back. Peter feels as if he's being warmed
from the inside out, as if it's the ferocity of their kisses and the heat of
their cocks trapped between their bellies that's warming the water around them.
He moans at the scratch of Gabriel's chest hair against his own smoother skin,
at the press of Gabriel's thigh between his legs, hitching up to grind against
his balls. He slides his hands down Gabriel's back, following the path of the
water that's streaming over the ledge of his ass, digs his fingers into the
plump flesh there, one hand to each cheek, kneading them together and pulling
them roughly apart. Gabriel breaks from their kiss with a gasp, blinking
droplets of water from his eyelashes, his eyebrows, stubble and chest hair
seeming to glitter with caught water.
"Sorry," Peter groans, even as his cock twitches and throbs. He moves to shift
his grip, dragging one hand to Gabriel's upper thigh and the other to the small
of his back, a regretful sigh forming as steam in the humid air.
"No," Gabriel moans back, lips to his ear and his voice rumbling on a direct
line to Peter's dick.
"S'okay," he says. He spins them around and then turns in Peter's embrace so
that his forearms are pressed above his head to the wall below the showerhead
and his hips lilt back, his ass notching to Peter's groin.
"Are you sure?"
Gabriel looks at him over his shoulder, one hand snaking down to stroke his own
cock for reassurance before he catches Peter's eye and breaths a shaky, "Yeah."
"Just…" Gabriel hands him the shower gel and then lets his head hang down, the
steady beat of the water pounding into his hair until dark, sodden locks are
slicked to the back of his neck.
"Yeah," Peter groans, taking the bottle from him. He rocks up on the tips of
his toes and presses a comforting kiss to Gabriel's jaw.
"I'm gonna make this so good for you," he promises.
Peter takes a step back, pinching the base of his dick harshly, to stay his
orgasm. He takes in Gabriel's form, long and lean, his eyes darting everywhere.
And, in the face of permission to do what he's fantasised about for so long,
Peter's barely sure where to start.
"Pete?" Gabriel sounds unsure, now, and Peter can see the ripple of gooseflesh
up his spine, so he reaches out a soothing hand and rubs circles to the small
of his back.
"Right here," he murmurs softly.
He squeezes shower gel on his fingertips, forces himself to work slow, steady
circles into the skin of Gabriel's ass cheeks, working up a thick, frothy
lather as he feels Gabriel relax into his touch. And, when Gabriel's crossed
his arms against the tiles, his forehead pillowed on them and his cock is
swinging heavily between his legs with the subtle twitch of his hips, that's
when Peter holds his breath and slides two slick fingers down the cleft of
Gabriel's ass.
For once, there isn't a 'no' or an exasperated groan, not even a careful jerk
of his hips away, but still, Peter pauses with the tips of his fingers just
down from Gabriel's tailbone, the press of his ass cheeks warm on the side of
his fingers.
"Spread your legs," he says as Gabriel's body stiffens at the new sensations of
being touched there.
Gabriel grunts a 'yes,' his feet skidding on the porcelain as he shifts his
stance and Peter skims one hand around his waist, splaying his fingers over
Gabriel's belly to hold him steady. He slides his soapy fingers down, down---oh
holy fuck---over puckered skin and lower, rubbing at the firm strip of flesh
behind Gabriel's balls where he knows Gabriel likes to touch himself when he
jerks off.
"Okay?" he breathes.
Gabriel groans, "Uh huh," and Peter can see his fingers curling, nails digging
at the grout between the tiles.
He slides his fingers up again and then down, rubbing along the seam of
Gabriel's ass in a steady back and forth, ignoring the way his own dick lurches
up towards his navel, feeling harder than it ever has before each time the pads
of his fingers glide over puckered skin.
When Gabriel's pushing back against him, their throaty moans echoing in the
shower stall, Peter cups his hands under the spray and dumps the water down
between Gabriel's cheeks. He does it again and again, rinsing Gabriel's skin
until there's no soap suds clouding the water that pools around their feet.
Then, he drops to his knees, barely aware of the hard press of porcelain
against his knees and kisses each cheek.
With his thumbs hooked into the crack of Gabriel's ass, he pulls him open. The
tip of his nose is level with Gabriel's tailbone, close enough that he can
smell the vanilla scent of the shower gel and the lingering musk of Gabriel's
arousal. He blinks the gathering water from his eyelashes, jerking his head to
throw his bangs from his eyes as he stares, mouth dry, at Gabriel's pink,
puckered asshole.
"Beautiful," he breathes, blushing when he hears Gabriel's snort of disbelief,
not expecting his voice to sound so needy to his own ears.
And every time he's imagined himself doing this, sweaty fist pumping tight
around his dick, he's seen his fingers sliding in and out, stretching, twisting
and crooking. He's spent every night since he can last remember beating off to
the thought of rubbing his cock right there, his pre-come glistening on
Gabriel's flushed skin, sometimes shoving straight in and fucking him hard,
sometimes stroking himself until he comes like that, pearly semen dripping down
to tickle Gabriel's balls. But instead of doing any of that, any of the things
he'd whispered fitfully in Gabriel's ear when the lay against each other, hands
sliding over each other's dicks until they came, he leans forward and licks a
hot stripe over Gabriel's skin.
"What--?" Gabriel twists quickly, looking down at Peter with a fuck-dazed gaze
and Peter can see he's trembling.
He kneads Gabriel's ass softly and pants, "Is that…?"
"So good." Gabriel's hand drops deliberately between his legs and if Peter
cranes his neck to the side, he can see the glossy head of his twin's cock
poking through the tight circle of his fingers. He wants to touch his own dick
too; it's a heavy weight he can't ignore, doesn't want to ignore, that's
begging with every throbbing pulse of blood through it for some relief.
But, Gabriel's hips rock back and he mewls a sound so needy that Peter can't
deny him. He wrenches Gabriel's ass cheeks wide and shoves his face between
them. His tongue is flat and firm; he licks Gabriel with the same swirling,
sucking mix of motion that uses on the girls he eats out until they cry for
having come so hard. He gathers saliva below his tongue, spits it messily on
Gabriel's asshole, grinning to himself as the sound of Gabriel's hand sliding
on his dick speeds up. Peter traces circles 'round his puckered flesh, the
muscles there twitching at his touch, and then, he's edging the tip of his
tongue inside, one sharp thrust of his pointed tongue is all it takes for
Gabriel to come.
Peter sits back on his haunches, panting. He drags one thumb down Gabriel's
ass, presses the pad against his asshole until the tip slides inside him, but
Gabriel groans a little like maybe it's too much, legs shaking as the shower
slakes his come from the tiles before him. So, Peter pulls his thumb away,
strokes down lower, caressing Gabriel's perineum while he comes down, fondling
his balls in an awkward, backwards way from between his legs.
"Fuck. That was…"
"Yeah," Gabriel agrees. "Do you wanna…?"
"Just…" Peter breathes, his legs unsteady too as he stands. He grasps
desperately at Gabriel's hip to steady him, leaning his weight against him.
"Like this. Just like this."
He presses his dick up against Gabriel's ass, sliding wetly along the swell of
his cheeks, his cock seeming to nestle instinctively in his crack. The feel of
Gabriel's ass cheeks pressing around his length is so much like fucking that it
only takes a frenzied, grunting thrust or two before Peter's coming, too, hot
spunk spurting over Gabriel's lower back.
Peter pulls back enough to watch with glazed eyes as his come trickles down
over the round of Gabriel's ass. Then, his knees seem to give out from under
him and he topples forward, his face pressed between Gabriel's shoulders, his
arms winding around his chest, fingers twisting desperately in his chest hair.
"That was so hot," Gabriel laughs, shakily. He swivels around, so that they're
chest to chest, and before he lets he ass lean back against the tiles, he
reaches a hand back, gathering some of Peter's come on his fingers. Peter
watches, his whole world narrowed to the sight of Gabriel's pink tongue darting
out to taste his spunk.
"Oh, okay," Gabriel says, nose crinkling at the taste, but he licks again, and
again, until his fingers are clean. "Yeah, okay. I don't know. That tastes kind
of weird."
Peter just laughs into his neck, slumped bonelessly against him, and when
Gabriel lathers his hands with shampoo, finally scrubbing the grit from Peter's
hair, Peter doesn't complain, simply snuggles closer.
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