Title: They Don't Talk About It

Characters/Pairing: Claire/Peter, (Claire/Zack implied)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Incest, underage-sex, little angst

Spoilers: Umm, lets just say, up to "Parasite" to be safe

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm a college student, what do you expect?

A/N: I love feedback, and I'm new to Heroes Fan Fiction, so…

They don't talk about it. Talking about it makes it real. Talking about it makes it wrong. If they just don't talk about it, maybe they can continue to hold on to this fucked up relationship that has gotten far out of hand. This relationship that lasts only minutes at a time, and then parishes with the climax they both seek.

When Peter entered his apartment, fresh scar on his forehead, and found Claire and his mother sitting on his own couch, he was thrown for a loop. Not only did his mother refrain from ever entering his sparse apartment, but Claire was with her. Claire…

He didn't have a chance to catch his breath before his mother was ushering him into the main room and fussing over him. "Peter," she scolded. "You scared us to death. Where have you been?" she demanded.

"Around," Peter answered, distracted. His eyes were on Claire. Had she come to see him? Was that why she was sitting there looking up at him with tears in her eyes, playing with the hem of her shirt, nervously. "Claire," he finally said aloud, finding his voice.

"Peter, I came to find you." Claire answered, a little awkwardly. The world was spinning around her. Just an hour ago, she was the illegitimate daughter of a nameless man. Now, she was Claire Petrelli, daughter of Nathan Petrelli, congress hopeful for the biggest district in the country. She was Claire Petrelli, Peter Petrelli's niece. The world was cruel.

"Right," Angela Petrelli said, sitting back down on the couch. "I see you know each other." She already knew that, but it seemed like the thing to say. "Well, Claire is going to be staying with us for a while," she said, not feeling the need to elaborate.

Peter, on the other hand, did feel like he needed and explanation. "What's going on?" he asked, scratching his head. He felt like he stepped into an alternate universe, which was even more profound for a man who could fly, stop time, heal himself, and read people's thoughts. Though he was having a tough time with the latter at this moment, and he got the feeling it was because of the strange man sitting on his recliner in the corner. He hadn't noticed him before, but now that he did, he could feel power coming off of him in waves.

"Claire is Nathan's daughter," his mother explained, in a voice like it put her out to have to explain things to Peter all the time.

"Daughter?" Peter asked aloud, but he was talking to himself. Claire. The Claire he'd been thinking about since he saved her in Texas was Nathan's daughter. His niece. Oh god! There were so many thoughts going through his head, not the least of which, his brother had a 16 year old daughter that he never knew about, but his mother seemed to.

"Yes, well," Angela said standing up again. "I think you and Claire should get a chance to talk. I'll send a car for her at 7:00," she replied.

And with that, she and the man in the corner stood and left the apartment. Surreal. That was what this whole day was. Absolutely bizarre.

Claire pulled Peter into her arms immediately and he hugged her back, glad that she was safe. "I thought you might be hurt," Claire said, the tears she had held in her eyes just moments ago were now cascading down her face.

The two of them talked for a long time that day. He assured her he was okay, and she explained the events that brought her to his doorstep. They didn't talk about how they were related. They didn't talk about Nathan, or their family. Peter knew Claire didn't need that, and to tell the truth talking about her as his niece just made him feel dirty for the thoughts he'd had about her just two weeks ago. He didn't know what was more bothersome; that he still found her as sexy as the day he met her, or that she was still 16 years old.

The spent a great deal of time together. More accurately, they spent nearly all of their free time together. Peter and Mohinder figured out a way to stop him from blowing up. It was a sort of an anti-power solution that would wear off, but it kept Peter's powers at bay long enough to keep him from destroying the city.

Sylar too, had been captured for the moment, but none of them were deluded enough to believe that Mr. Bennet and his company could keep him forever. They had failed before, ad they would fail again, most assuredly.

The first time they had sex was a mistake. Or, rather, the instances under which it happened could disguise it as a mistake. Neither of them saw it that way, but again, they didn't talk about it.

It was Claire's 17th birthday and she was lonely. Her grandmother was doing something secretive in Las Vegas, Nathan had moved to Washington DC after the election, Heidi and the boys were at the mansion, but she liked being around Heidi and her disapproving looks as much as she would like having her teeth ripped out.

So, she went to Peter's apartment. It was a natural occurrence really. She might as well have lived with Peter since she was always at his apartment. They didn't talk much anymore becuase Peter was off on missions more and more. He never let her come even though she had explained to him a number of time that she was the least likely to be hurt of killed out of all of them. But he wanted to protect her, and deep down that made her happy enough to follow his "orders."

Never the less, his apartment was what had become comfortable. It was her only real "home."

She moved around the empty apartment looking for something to keep her occupied. She wanted to forget everything about the last few months. She sighed and went into the kitchen, idly opening and closing cabinet doors. She opened the fridge and then the freezer. Her eyes set on her prize. She grinned to herself and pulled out a full bottle of vodka. That could help her forget, and if she was lucky, it might help her get some uninterrupted sleep.

She plopped down on the couch, and flipped on the TV. So, she was sitting there drinking vodka straight out of the bottle and watching Jerry Springer. Happy Birthday! She didn't know where Peter was, and frankly she didn't figure he would be around. She just got a little bit of comfort sitting in his apartment, thinking about him moving idly about the rooms, dressing, reading, doing anything. It was the little bit she had to hold onto. And when he wasn't there, she could pretend that she was a part of it.

She was quite surprised when Peter walked through the door less than an hour later. He looked at her, and seemed to know that she would be there. She was always there, and he wouldn't have had it any other way. If he couldn't be with her, he could be her rock. He liked that. He finally had someone to look after, instead of being the one that everyone was always babying.

"Didn't think you'd be here," Claire said, looking up at him. She had been caught off guard, but she was pleasantly surprised. Being in his apartment alone was nice, but having him with her was ever better. Even if they could never be what she dreamt they could.

Her voice was slightly slurred. She wasn't drunk yet, but she was getting there, and Peter could tell. He eyed the bottle in her hands, and took in from her. She almost protested, but as he sat down and brought it to his own lips, she smiled. He wasn't going to reprimand her. She should have known he wouldn't. Peter understood her, even if no one else in the whole world did.

"Happy Birthday, Claire," Peter said, looking at her as she passed the bottle back to him.

She smiled brightly at him. "You're the only one to say that to me today," She said, quietly.

"That's because this family is fucked," he answered, a bitter smirk at the edge of his lips.

"You're not," Claire said. She knew it sounded childish, but she didn't care. She was a little buzzed, and she wanted Peter to know that he almost perfect in her eyes.

"You have no idea," Peter replied quietly. He sure as hell was fucked. He masturbated, every morning, to his underage niece's image. If that wasn't fucked, nothing was.

"Peter…" Claire started to say something, but thought better of it, instead she took another swig and passed it to Peter. She was getting pretty drunk. By the looks of Peter's relaxing form and heavy eyelids, he was on his way there as well.

Claire sat close to him on the couch, feeling his heat radiating off of him. She was drunk. Drunk enough to do something foolish, and drunk enough to not care. So, as Peter finished off the bottle in his hand, she did something very, very foolish.

In one smooth motion, Claire got off the couch and straddled Peter's lap. She didn't know what she was doing, she might say later, but she knew exactly. She wanted him, and somewhere in her, she knew Peter wanted her too. She didn't know why, but she just got the vibe from him. And that boy did send out some major vibes. It was unspoken, but they both knew that their feelings were not completely unrequited.

"Claire, what are you doing?" Peter asked, though there was not fight in his voice. He was going to make this easy, and frankly Claire was pleased. This whole thing had been such a fight to begin with. There was not need to deny what both of them wanted just for principal.

"I want you to fuck me," she said simply, her eyes darkening with lust.

Peter didn't once hesitate. Later he might say it was because he was drunk and vulnerable, but the truth was, he was going to take this as far as she would let him, and she seemed to want to let him get pretty far. He'd deal with the demons tomorrow. Right now his mind was in Claire-land.

As her breath mingled with his, he gripped her hair with both hands and pulled her to him in a rough passionate kiss. Her mouth immediately opened as he licked her bottom lip. She couldn't believe this was happening.

Peter pulled away from her to catch his breath, and looked her in the eye. "You're drunk," he said, breathlessly. He was giving her and out if she wanted to take it because, truth be told, he wasn't going to be able to stop himself if this went any further.

"Who cares," Claire returned, pushing herself into Peter again, attacking his mouth with her kiss swollen lips. Peter didn't care, not at this point, so he returned her kiss, wrapping his arms around her so tight he was sure he was hurting her, but he didn't care.

Claire rocked her hips against the growing bulge in Peter's jeans and smirked as he groaned loudly and pulled her tighter to him. Claire, wordlessly, pulled Peter's shirt over his head, letting her hands roam across his smooth skin. "Yes," she breathed, as she bucked into him harder and harder.

Their clothes needed to come off. Both of them were aware of this, but neither wanted to stop the erotic dance of their hips. Finally, Peter made the decision, stilling Claire's movements and pulling her up to stand in front of him. Claire almost worried that he was changing her mind, but as he reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it off, and then the button of her pants, she smiled down at him, wetness soaking her panties.

When he was done, she reached down and pulled his pants and boxers off before slipping out of her panties, and throwing her bra over her head. "God…" Peter almost sighed as he looked at Claire's naked form. Her skin was smooth and flawless, and as bad as this may have been, he couldn't think of anything more right that fucking her senseless.

Claire smiled warmly at him then straddled his legs again. When he felt the warm wet contact of her pussy on his cock, he had to grip her hips tightly to keep her from moving. "Claire…" he moaned, hoping she understood that he couldn't take much more.

Claire cupped his face, the first sign of tenderness shared between them and kissed his mouth lightly. She reached down and took his cock in her hand, guiding him to her entrance.

Peter held his breath, waiting to feel the hot slick walls of her around his cock. When Claire pushed herself down on him, he felt something tear, and immediately looked up at her, his eyes wide with panic. She was a virgin. Oh god! He took her virginity here on this tattered couch, without so much as a word of love to her. But he couldn't stop. She was so hot and so tight around him. And as he watched her tears subside, he knew she was okay and wanted this as much as he did.

He bucked into her, and she because to rise and fall on him, slowly at first and then faster and faster. "Mmm," she moaned, her eyes screwed shut. It was easier not to look at Peter. She didn't want to know his reaction to her being a virgin, and she didn't want to think about the fact that she was fucking her uncle. She wanted to think about the Peter she met in Odessa. Her hero.

Peter grunted as Claire changed the angle of her hips, bending back slightly so that her hair brushed his knees and he took her in deeper and harder. "Fuck," he growled, pressing his fingers into her thighs. He wanted to mark her, but he knew she would heal immediately. He didn't care, he just needed this.

Claire's breath grew ragged and hitched as she leaned back into Peter, pulling his face to hers. He moaned and fucked her mouth with his tongue as she rode him harder. He knew she was close, and so was he. All the time leading to this was making it hard for him to hold on. He reached between them and flicked her clit with the pad of his thumb.

"Oh yes!" Claire moaned, throwing her head back and coming hard around his cock. He pumped into her a few more times before he came deep inside her, gritting his teeth and letting out a tortured moan.

Claire collapsed, boneless, on top of Peter, trying to catch her breath. She had never felt anything like that. She'd had orgasms before, both self-induced and from boys in the backs of cars, but she had never felt that good before. She wondered if sex was always like that, or if it was just sex with Peter.

Peter rested his head against the back of the couch, and just listened to Claire breathe. They shouldn't have done this. It was wrong, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember why. He just knew it couldn't happen again. This was a one-shot deal.

When Claire rolled off of him, to the side of the couch, he kissed her forehead and got off the couch. "I'm gonna take a shower," Peter said, almost as if what just transpired didn't even happen. "Are you staying the night?"

Claire nodded in response, picking her clothes up off the floor and dressing again. She should have known it would be like this. And she knew it was for the best. She and Peter couldn't be together. It was wrong. She was torn from her thoughts as she heard Peter groan, "Fuck!"

"What?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"Condom," Peter said, looking at her, feeling like a true ass.

She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm on the pill. And I've never had sex with anyone else, so unless you have something…" she didn't finish her sentence. It sounded weird coming out of her mouth. This is why they shouldn't talk.

"No," Peter said, "I'm clean," he sounded almost broken. Claire wondered if she had just ruined the only thing she had going for her. Was Peter going to be distant now? She didn't know. All she did know was that she slept in his bed that night, alone.

But it didn't tear them apart. If anything, that night brought them a little closer. Peter wasn't gone so much, especially after Sylar was killed, and while they never talked about that night, Claire and Peter made every attempt to pretend it didn't happen. That is until they were alone.

In the recesses of their minds they relived the night over and over again, but they did their best, around each other and other people, to appear as if nothing had changed and the whole thing had been forgotten.

That was until one night not long after they had sex.

It was late one night about a month after they had sex. Heidi was with the boys visiting Nathan in DC and Mrs. Petrelli had gone to bed. Peter and Claire sat on the couch together watching a movie.

There was always a tension between them, and that tension only got stronger after they fucked on Peter's couch that night. They were alone now, in the dark. Something they had rarely let themselves do since that night. Claire, not knowing what was motivating her, took the opportunity to lay her head in Peter's lap, and when he didn't protest, she stretched out her legs, getting comfortable.

A few moments passed before he began running his fingers through her hair. Claire suppressed the urge to moan as his fingers touched her in a way that he hadn't let himself touch her in a long time. She rested her hand on his knee, and closed her eyes, as Peter's fingers moved from her hair and down her sides.

Peter knew he was strolling into dangerous territory, and he knew that his hardening cock was something that Claire would have to notice from her position on his lap, but he just didn't care. He'd stayed away from her, physically, for so long that he had no control over his body. They had been spending so much time together, yet avoiding this thing between them, that he was beginning to think he would go mad.

His hands moved up her side, and began caressing the underside of her breast. Claire bit her lip in anticipation, praying for him to keep going. She pushed, just slightly, into the palm of his hand. She knew he was hard, and she knew he wanted this as much as she did. He touched her slowly and seductively, not the caress of a friend or uncle, but rather a lover. His fingers outlined her nipple that was already growing hard with arousal.

She couldn't take it anymore. She needed him. She turned around to face him and asked simply, "Do you want to go to my room?"

Peter stared into her with an intense look of passion and lust and nodded his head. She stood up and took his hand in hers, pulling him off the couch and up the stairs quickly and quietly.

When they got into her room, she shut the door and pushed Peter against it, pulling her body flush against his, and kissing him hard and deep. She nearly kissed the breath out of his lungs.

Peter didn't stand there submissively for very long, though. He quickly picked Claire up in his arms, walking over to the bed and throwing her down on it. Claire was surprised, but excited seeing Peter so dominant and animalistic.

They didn't say a word as they undressed each other. Nothing but moans filled the room as Claire got on her hands and knees and looked back at Peter he sheathed himself with a condom and entered her hard and fast. "Yes…" she moaned, biting her lip as to not make too much noise. They were in her grandmother's house after all. They couldn't be too careful.

Peter fucked the life out of her, thrusting all the way into her and then pulling almost all the way out before starting all over again. Claire was crazy with need and desire. She wanted to scream at him to fuck her harder, faster, more, anything. But she could only eagerly meet his thrusts and throw her head back to look at him with lust colored eyes.

Peter moved his hand around her thin frame, down her stomach and to her erect clit. He slowly circled it with his fingers and groaned as Claire pulsated around him, pushing her head into the pillow to muffle her moans of ecstasy.

Her moans just drove Peter on, fucking her harder and harder. He leaned into her, still rubbing her clit, and bit the back of her neck, silencing the cries that escaped him as she came and he followed right behind.

The both fell on the bed next to each other, chests heaving with exhaustion. Claire felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. She was sleepy, and the activities of the night let her release the tension in her body.

Peter looked at her and smiled before he moved out of the bed, took the condom off, and flushed it down the toilet in the bathroom attached to Claire's bedroom. He pulled his clothes back on and kissed Claire's forehead before tucking her in and quietly leaving the room.

They didn't talk about it. Not once. And when Claire would summon Peter silently to her room or his apartment, depending on convenience, they went at each other like they wouldn't live without one more time. One more torrid romp in the sack, so to speak.

Not once did they try to explore what it what they were doing with words. They seemed to say all they needed to say with thrusts and grunts, and "oh fucks!" yelled into silent rooms.

They expressed everything that way. When Claire became engaged to Zack, her old friend from high school, they didn't talk about it, but later, when Peter pulled her into the linen closet of the mansion, he told her how he felt as he fucked her so hard she nearly cried, and she couldn't have enjoyed it more. His jealousy drove her over the edge.

On her wedding day, he told her how he felt about her as he made love to her for the first time, on the bed of his hotel room, before she slipped into her wedding dress. She cried before she walked down the aisle, damning God for not allowing her to be with the man she truly loved.

But they didn't talk about it. Even 5 years and two divorces after the fact, they never talked about their indiscretion, or the fact that they were in love with each other, or even the fact that their "mistake" was becoming a daily occurrence. They never talked about it.

The End.