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Notes: Set in the universe of "String Theory", Chapter Twenty "Five Years Gone."
Summary: Hiro now knows what it means to live after having cut out his heart.
He isn't surprised when Peter just steps through the door like it isn't there. There are puzzles with Peter, but no surprises. Not now.
Peter starts kissing him without a word and Hiro kisses back, tilting his head, one hand going behind Peter's neck to hold him place. As if Peter could be held by anyone. The kisses aren't sweet. There isn't room for sweetness in their world, but the kisses do what they're supposed to, get them both hard.
Hiro tugs at Peter's clothes with his hands. Only hands here, no abilities, no heroes, just men. Peter is slender, like Ando was, not that Hiro ever touched Ando like this. The thought never even occurred to him, not until after Ando was gone.
Sliding a hand down, he presses his palm to Peter's cock just to make him gasp. There may not be sweetness between them, but Hiro still likes making Peter gasp, getting him off. It's the closest thing Hiro has to kindness.
The first time they did this Peter slid to his knees and took Hiro into his mouth. Hiro came almost immediately, shouting embarrassingly. He hadn't known how to reciprocate, but Peter had guided his hand, showing Hiro how to stroke him, how to touch him. Peter coming had been one of the most beautiful things Hiro had ever seen. The second time Peter had come to him, a string of men, none of whom had looked like Ando or Peter, had made sure Hiro knew what to do.
Everything Hiro knows about sex he learned after Ando was gone.
Peter's hands are on his back now, sliding over bare skin. Hiro knows that if he places his hands on Peter's shoulders, he'll go to his knees. Part of him wants to. It's been a bad week, too much killing, too much terrorism.
He had wanted to be a hero.
There is irony there, he supposes, in the difference between what he wanted to be and what he became. But a Japanese man named after Hiroshima can't afford to understand irony.
He pushes Peter onto the bed and onto his stomach. Peter doesn't turn his head, doesn't look at him as Hiro squirts lube onto crinkled skin and works it in with his fingers. Peter was the first man Hiro ever did this to. It was like a revelation, all that smooth heat constricting his cock, making him use his strength, making him work for it. Like a man, Hiro had thought.
He had firmly ignored that part of him that had wondered what Ando would have thought.
He hadn't been able to deny the part of him that had wanted it to be Ando beneath him.
Peter takes it when Hiro pushes into him, working his cock into a space that wasn't designed for it. It's his whole life in a nutshell. He isn't content to simply be in Peter, to move with him. Hiro has to fuck him.
His thrusts are as strong as he can make them, but Peter simply arches upward, lifting himself from the bed just enough that Hiro's thrusts rub his cock against the sheets. Hiro presses down against him, stretching out over his back, letting the strength Peter got from Nikki hold them both.
Peter grunts in time with Hiro's thrusts, small sounds that blend in with the slap of skin meeting skin. Hiro tries to focus on the pleasure, on nothing but the sensation. He almost succeeds, curling a hand around Peter's cock, resting his cheek on the back of Peter's shoulder.
"Why?" It's the question that's been haunting him for more than a year now. "Why do you do this?"
"Because Ando can't." Peter's voice is different now, as scarred as his face, but Hiro hears the words in the voice Peter had had when they first met.
He comes hard, taking Peter with him, but as powerful as the feeling is, he's still hollow when it's over.
The next time Peter comes to him, Hiro sends him away.