Kisses for Sylar
Jun. 22nd, 2010 06:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spongetasticThe day was scorching hot but since Peter was stuck wearing the same clothes he had on when he entered Sylar’s head, he made due. He peeled off his jacket first but he still sweated like crazy. Should he even be hot when he was trapped in someone’s mind? Probably he and Sylar were creating the weather together so their prison wasn’t so monotonous.
Sylar decided to show up after Peter pounded away at the wall for hours. His shirt and jacket lay in a pile next to him. Peter paused in his work, wiping the sweat from his brow. Sylar’s eyes were on him but Peter ignored the killer. They’d been stuck here for almost two years now so Peter was past the point of modesty.
Suddenly the killer shoved him against the wall. His lips pressed hot against Peter’s bare back, capturing a drop of sweat as it trickled its way down. Then another, and another. Peter didn’t encourage but he didn’t fight it either.
--
In Peter’s mind it was still his apartment. He let Sylar move in for two reasons. One, the killer really had nowhere else to go. Two, they already lived together for five years so it only made sense. But it was still mostly Peter’s.
“Do we really need an extra bed?” Sylar asked him.
“Yes,” Peter answered.
“…Really?” Sylar leaned forward, lips grazing Peter’s throat. Peter shivered and let out a soft moan. Sylar sucked on the pulse point slowly.
“Oh, god,” Peter breathed. Turned out they didn’t need an extra bed. They didn’t need a bed period when Sylar was in the mood.
--
The repair shop was full of broken clocks. Peter looked them over wondering if this was a part of Sylar’s hell: an endless supply of clocks to fix. He found the killer at the table tinkering with a watch. Peter drew closer and was a little relieved to see that the inner mechanics made no sense to him.
“Sylar, I think it’s time for a break,” Peter decided.
“Almost done,” the other man muttered in reply. It was just like Peter with the wall: an exercise in futility that he couldn’t help but continue.
“It’s time for a break,” Peter insisted, and this time he emphasized that by kissing Sylar’s shoulder. The man stopped, turning to look at Peter.
“Yes,” the killer breathed out. “I think it is.”
--
Peter couldn’t believe how much he’d missed Sylar. One long month he went without speaking to the killer and that was really all he could ever stand. Hearing the man’s voice again was a great relief. But that month of solitude and silence did something to Peter-- to both of them.
Being around each other and talking suddenly wasn’t enough. Peter’s kiss was hesitant at first. It was something he never thought he would do and wasn’t sure he wanted it now. But then he kissed Sylar again, and this time let the kiss grow and deepen. His arms were around Sylar’s neck and he felt the killer’s hands press up against his back. His tongue ran over Sylar’s bottom lip. Then it was inside tasting Sylar’s mouth, nudging up against the other man’s tongue. It only stopped when Peter needed to breathe.
“…Well.” Sylar exhaled slowly. “That was unexpected.”
As much as Peter liked hearing that voice after so long, he wanted the mouth occupied in a different way. He kissed Sylar and this time there was no hesitation. His tongue slid out in seconds and he pushed up against Sylar as tight as he could, needing connection.
Sylar decided to show up after Peter pounded away at the wall for hours. His shirt and jacket lay in a pile next to him. Peter paused in his work, wiping the sweat from his brow. Sylar’s eyes were on him but Peter ignored the killer. They’d been stuck here for almost two years now so Peter was past the point of modesty.
Suddenly the killer shoved him against the wall. His lips pressed hot against Peter’s bare back, capturing a drop of sweat as it trickled its way down. Then another, and another. Peter didn’t encourage but he didn’t fight it either.
--
In Peter’s mind it was still his apartment. He let Sylar move in for two reasons. One, the killer really had nowhere else to go. Two, they already lived together for five years so it only made sense. But it was still mostly Peter’s.
“Do we really need an extra bed?” Sylar asked him.
“Yes,” Peter answered.
“…Really?” Sylar leaned forward, lips grazing Peter’s throat. Peter shivered and let out a soft moan. Sylar sucked on the pulse point slowly.
“Oh, god,” Peter breathed. Turned out they didn’t need an extra bed. They didn’t need a bed period when Sylar was in the mood.
--
The repair shop was full of broken clocks. Peter looked them over wondering if this was a part of Sylar’s hell: an endless supply of clocks to fix. He found the killer at the table tinkering with a watch. Peter drew closer and was a little relieved to see that the inner mechanics made no sense to him.
“Sylar, I think it’s time for a break,” Peter decided.
“Almost done,” the other man muttered in reply. It was just like Peter with the wall: an exercise in futility that he couldn’t help but continue.
“It’s time for a break,” Peter insisted, and this time he emphasized that by kissing Sylar’s shoulder. The man stopped, turning to look at Peter.
“Yes,” the killer breathed out. “I think it is.”
--
Peter couldn’t believe how much he’d missed Sylar. One long month he went without speaking to the killer and that was really all he could ever stand. Hearing the man’s voice again was a great relief. But that month of solitude and silence did something to Peter-- to both of them.
Being around each other and talking suddenly wasn’t enough. Peter’s kiss was hesitant at first. It was something he never thought he would do and wasn’t sure he wanted it now. But then he kissed Sylar again, and this time let the kiss grow and deepen. His arms were around Sylar’s neck and he felt the killer’s hands press up against his back. His tongue ran over Sylar’s bottom lip. Then it was inside tasting Sylar’s mouth, nudging up against the other man’s tongue. It only stopped when Peter needed to breathe.
“…Well.” Sylar exhaled slowly. “That was unexpected.”
As much as Peter liked hearing that voice after so long, he wanted the mouth occupied in a different way. He kissed Sylar and this time there was no hesitation. His tongue slid out in seconds and he pushed up against Sylar as tight as he could, needing connection.