|callisto24 (callisto24) wrote,|
@ 2009-12-23 18:08:00
Christmas Slash 2009-12-23
Genre: Crossover – Slash – Drabble
Pairing: Peter Petrelli/Jack Bauer.
Warnings: Spoilers for Heroes Season 4 for anyone who hasn’t heard or seen the tragedy. Not my native language and unbetaed. You were warned! As always corrections are very welcome.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, no money made.
Author’s notes: Must be the revenge of the greater good. I left Jack for Nathan and then the Powers punished me. Cruelly they took him away, and not only once. They did it again and again. They tortured me by distributing rumors until I felt devastated. But Jack always had a way to fix things so I’m giving him a try.
* * *
Peter crawled over the mattress, straight to the delicious body lying sprawled in front of him. Alcohol made him feel dizzy and a bit nauseous, but that was okay. In fact considering the date it was ideal.
At last this year his biggest nightmare had come true. And just when he had thought it couldn’t get worse Christmas came and brought back the memories he wanted to avoid so desperately.
No wonder he ended up in a bar, no wonder he started to honor his one and only brother by drinking himself into a stupor.
God, he knew that Nathan would do it in case things went the other way round. In fact he had done it.
But Peter was different. Alcohol alone couldn’t help him.
Peter needed the touch of a human body. He needed the warmth and the strength of a person who was able to provide it. Who was strong enough and giving enough to share.
Like Nathan had done. Every time Peter needed him.
But Nathan wasn’t there anymore. He was gone and nothing in the world would change this.
Peter tried to fight it, tried to fight the temptation. He wouldn’t follow Nathan into the void, wouldn’t be as weak as he once had been, years ago. He learnt better, he became more, became tough.
But when his eyes locked with the blue ones of the man sitting next to him, Peter felt like drowning.
In the eyes of this man he watched his own emotions mirrored. And though they didn’t talk, Peter knew what the man had lost, knew the life he had lived.
The man who called himself Jack when they finally started to speak, When the next drink burnt his insides and the next glance of the stranger burnt Peter’s soul.
He knew him. Peter knew these eyes. Though his brother’s eyes had been of a warm and hazelnut color he had seen them turn ice cold and distant more than once.
And he knew, knew at once that Jack was capable of the same change. He saw it in crystal clearness.
He wasn’t wrong.
Peter watched the other man melting under him, watched the hardness in his soul, the tension in his body fade away as soon as he felt the slightest touch, the simple caress of Peters skilled fingers roaming over the countless scars covering Jack’s body.
He watched something break inside of Jack, when Peter lowered himself down on the straining shaft. He heard the man who appeared to be so unapproachable whimper softly when Peter started a rhythm.
And just in this moment Peter recognized Jack as who he was.
Just another desperate man who couldn’t stay alone at Christmas.
Jack needed something different. And this was it. This was different enough and at the same time similar enough to what he had lost, to whom he had lost.
He thrust up again and felt the young and perfect body clench around his length.
Jack couldn’t close his eyes. He didn’t want to.
He watched Peter lean his head back, watched the dark hair fall back from his face, from the forehead it just had covered. Exactly like the dark curls of another man, of the other man.
Jack wouldn’t shut his eyes. He wouldn’t think about Tony, wouldn’t think about the place he was now. He wouldn’t think about the feelings crashing through him when he had lost his love this time for the second time.
It couldn’t be worse, could it?
Jack increased the pace. He pushed up into the tight warmth, listened to the quiet moans escaping the young man’s delicious lips.
He had never seen a man before who looked so old and so young at the same time.
It wasn’t important to know what tortured him, what had brought Peter into the place where it wasn’t necessary to exchange words.
They both had come there for the same reason.
And they had left together, trying to lighten the weight on their shoulders for one night, for the one special night in the year, where a loss hurt more.
Even if you thought it wasn’t possible.
Maybe they wouldn’t be able to look at each other as soon as they were done. Maybe Peter would run away as soon as he had gotten what he wanted.
Jack thrust up and couldn’t help the silent cry filling his lungs. A cry he would never allow to be heard. Never did.
But maybe Peter would stay with him, in this damn shitty Motel room. Maybe he would gift him with his company just for this night.
Maybe there still existed empathy in the pale body.
And when Jack climaxed he watched a single tear leaving the dark eyes locked with his.