A Hard Lesson

Nathan moaned, “Peter, you’re hurting me! Please stop burning me! You can do whatever you want, you know I can’t stop you! You can do whatever you want, just please, don’t hurt me anymore…” Peter’s weight shifted off him, and crying openly, Nathan turned his head around, trying to see what Peter was doing now.

“Are you going to stop fighting, Nate?”

“Yes, Pete, please, just stop…please, stop hurting me,” he pleaded, hating the desperate whine in his voice. Nathan tried to stop crying, but he just couldn’t. His mouth was filled with the metallic taste of his own blood, his head and nose throbbed with each of his heartbeats, and his neck and back screamed agony where Peter’s lips and tongue had been.

Peter rubbed his thumb cruelly over one of the blisters he had left on Nathan’s neck, breaking it, and Nathan winced as Peter touched the tender, raw flesh beneath. He commanded, “Get on your knees, Nathan. Now. Unless you want some electrical burns along with those.” Peter opened his other hand, bright blue sparks emanating from his palm.

“Oh, God…” Nathan did as his brother asked, his body trembling, his muscles weak with fear. He thought about screaming, but he knew no one would hear him, and it would just make Peter angrier. He kept his mouth shut, praying for this to be over soon.

Peter’s hands were on him now, one clenched in his hair, the other on his belly, reaching down, sliding over his genitals, grasping his limp member momentarily, then his testicles, rolling them between his fingers with just enough pressure to make Nathan’s stomach sick. Nathan groaned, shocked to find that his cock was swelling, standing to attention because of his brother’s ministrations.

Peter took him in his hand and stroked him to full hardness.

His voice strangely calm, Peter breathed, “Oh, look at that. You really do want to know what it’s like for me to fuck you.” Peter moved his hand further back and found the place that Nathan had never let him touch before. Nathan bit back a sob.

“Pete, if you’re going to do it, please don’t hurt me. I didn’t hurt you the first time. Please.”

Peter seemed not to hear him. He played with the puckered skin briefly, and then forced a finger inside him. Nathan did scream this time, the outrageous violation of this maneuver tearing the sound from his lungs.

Nathan couldn’t believe this was happening. This doppelganger, this person who was and at the same time was not his brother, was fucking raping him.

Peter said, “You’re right, Nathan, you didn’t hurt me the first time. But what about all those times after? Who’s crying now, Nate? I want to hear you beg me. I want to hear you beg me not to.”

Nathan kept silent.

Peter struck Nathan hard just over his left temple, and Nathan’s head dropped, bright alternating pinpoints of light peppering his vision. He moaned, “Peter, please don’t. Please don’t do this to me, Peter.”

Peter resumed his monologue, his voice still eerily gentle. “Nate, how many names did you call me? How many bones of mine did you break? How many times did you make me bleed? How many times did you make me beg you to stop? To keep going?” He stabbed another finger into his brother, two inside him now, and he pulled his hand back and forth rapidly, his brother’s delicate, formerly virgin insides tightening against him, trying to force him back. Nathan’s body trembled, and his fingers dug into the carpet while Peter fucked him hard with his hand.

“Peter, please,” Nathan moaned, his voice a strangled cry. “Please stop.” He couldn’t get away from this. This depraved version of Peter was going to force himself on him, and he was absolutely powerless to stop him.

“Okay, Nate. I know it hurts. I’ll try to make it easier for you, but unfortunately it seems that I’ve forgotten something, so I’ll have to improvise. But before I do, I’ll give you a choice. You either stop crying now and try to enjoy yourself, or it’s just going to hurt even worse. Okay, baby?” Peter said, taunting him, calling Nathan that little pet name he used for him. He twisted his fingers one more time inside him, then removed them, and saw that Nathan had bled slightly. He wiped his hand on Nathan’s discarded, bloodied shirt.

Peter pulled his brother up so that his ass was in the air, and he laid those burning lips against the back of Nathan’s thigh, holding them there until Nathan cried, his face buried into the thick carpet, “Please, Peter, I promise I’ll stop, but you have to stop hurting me! Please!”

“Can’t do that, Nathan. Sorry. Much as I hate to see you crying.” The simple fact that his brother was finally begging him made Peter want to fuck him even more.

Peter dragged his tongue up the back of Nathan’s thigh, no longer using his radiation power. He left a line of saliva across Nathan’s buttock, and delved deeper until his tongue found Nathan’s opening. Nathan’s muscles tensed against the contact, so much that he could barely push his tongue inside his brother; Nathan just wouldn’t relax at all. Understandable, since he had just hurt him terribly. As Peter licked him, forced his tongue inside him, he wondered how he would ever fit himself into that tiny entrance.

Time to find out.

Peter pushed himself up and said, “You’d better stop fighting it, Nathan. Or it’s really going to hurt. Trust me…I know.”

Nathan could not fathom the harsh reality that Peter was doing this to him. Maybe not his brother from this time, but his brother nonetheless. Peter couldn’t have possibly lost all his compassion, could he have? This future incarnation of his little brother was hardened, hateful, and cruel. How had he become like this? What had happened to him? Why wasn’t he taking it out on the future Nathan? Why was he here, taking it out on him?

Peter rubbed the head of his cock against Nathan’s entrance, feeling his brother’s muscles seize, then give when he applied more force. He forced his cock into him all the way in a swift, brutal move, pulling his brother’s body back against him.

“You’re so tight, Nate,” Peter groaned, assuming a quick rhythm. Since the only lubrication was a bit of Peter’s saliva, nowhere near enough, Nathan’s insides protested violently, bile rising in his throat. The pain was so bad that everything began to spin, and his vision darkened. Nathan felt like throwing up, and if he tried very hard, he could distance himself from the pain just enough so that he could hear himself sob with each of his brother’s thrusts, his brother’s cock like white-hot steel repeatedly branding his insides. His knees were chafing from the carpet’s friction on his skin, and he could not move. Nathan was entirely at Peter’s mercy for the first time in his life.

Peter reached beneath him, roughly fondled his testicles, then gripped his cock, and perversely, Nathan got hard once again, his body desperately seeking some kind of escape from all this agony. Nathan felt minute, sickening shocks of pleasure as Peter’s cock repetitively hammered against a very sensitive place inside him.

“I want you to touch yourself,” Peter commanded. "You're going to come for me, Nathan." He pulled Nathan’s hand out from beneath him, and placed it on his brother’s cock, covering it with his own, forcing Nathan to stroke himself.

Peter fucked Nathan ruthlessly, and somehow, through all the pain, entirely against his will, Nathan reached a convulsive release, his come landing all over the carpeting.

But Peter wasn’t finished yet. He was holding himself back for as long as possible.

Nathan was ashamed at himself, and the pain in his heart and in his body was so severe, he wanted to die. If Peter hated him so much for hurting him so badly, why didn’t Peter just kill him? Nathan would rather die than feel like this, so vulnerable, so sickened, so humiliated.

Peter moved in and out of his brother a bit more slowly, but did not stop. He said, “No, Nate. I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re hoping for. I want you to feel every bit of this pain. I want you to feel how I did all those times you hurt me.”

Suddenly, Nathan understood.

This future Peter existed because actions that were occurring in Nathan’s time now had made it so. All the times he had hurt his little brother, very similarly to this treatment he was receiving, had made this Peter the man he was, and he was trying to change it. Trying to teach Nathan a hard lesson, and also trying to save himself from becoming this bleak shell of the once beautiful, once innocent, compassionate man he had been. The one his Peter still was. He had made this Peter this way. This was the future he was condemning his baby brother to if he kept them both on the path they were traveling.

“That’s right, Nathan. Now you understand. I’m proud of you, figuring it out all by yourself.” Peter had been listening in on Nathan’s thoughts, and was happy to see that Nathan finally understood why he was inflicting this torment on him.

He continued his vicious assault until he came, a low groan escaping him, driving himself as deeply into Nathan as he could go, coating his brother’s raw, injured insides with his final insult. He withdrew and let his invisible hold on Nathan go.

“Killing you, that would be too easy, and besides, I’ve already done that,” Peter said, his voice a soft whisper.

“What--what are you talking about?” Nathan cried, unable to even hold himself up anymore. His arms and legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor in a quivering heap, his tears blurring his vision, breathing hard, fighting the urge to throw up. The world spun violently, and Nathan was sure he would black out if Peter started in on him again.

“In the future where I come from, Nathan, you did this to me so much that I--I killed you. I ruined everything for everyone. Mom committed suicide. Heidi hates me. Claire, Monty and Simon are trying to kill me. I need you alive. For everyone. For Mom, for Claire, for me. For the world. I’m broken because of you.” Peter felt hot tears run down his face. He hadn’t cried once since the night his brother died.

“I don’t feel anything anymore, nothing but anger and pain. This was the only way to stop it. To save you. I--I’ve missed you so much, Nate.”