FIC: A Funny Taste
Title: A Funny Taste
Characters: Sylar/Luke
Word Count: ~1000
Rating: R for sexytimes
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters.
Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers, just sex.
Summary: What a way to wake up in the morning.
A/N: Written for hihielmo, who won me in the help_haiti fandom auction. It also fits one of the prompt for the Ridiculously Specific Prompt Table.
When Sylar blinked his eyes, waking up slowly, it took a while for him to take in his surroundings. There was a narrow beam of light pouring in from between the world's gaudiest curtains, and there was a clock-radio beside him with garish red letters, and a Gideon's Bible next to that. He was obviously in some kind of motel (either that or his childhood home in Queens, but that was improbable), but aside from that, he was stymied.
Sylar couldn't remember the last time he was this sore. His eyes were crusty with sleep, and they stung even though the light was still dim. His head was pounding, his throat was throbbing. It seemed like every muscle in his body ached, even muscles that he didn't realize he had, mostly in the nether regions.
But, even though he was in so much pain, there was something even more confusing going on. When he lifted his hand to wipe the drool from his chin, another hand came along with it that wasn't his own. He was handcuffed to somebody.
"What the hell...?" Sylar mumbled to himself. He turned over and saw Luke, his protege, sprawled beside him on the bed, still snoring soundly beneath the covers. Sylar tugged on the handcuffs again, pulling Luke's arm at an awkward angle and waking him up.
Luke's speech was garbled by sleep for a moment. "Hey. What...?"
"Very funny, kid," Sylar snarled, jangling the metal chain that held them together. "Just what kind of fuckery is this?"
Luke looked just as confused as Sylar was; his eyebrows nearly met over the bridge of his nose as he furrowed his brow and looked from the handcuffs back to Sylar's sinister glare. "I don't even know. I don't remember."
Sylar sighed as he lifted his other hand and telekinetically sliced the cuffs off them both. "What the hell did we do last night?" he asked himself, but as he peeled back the covers, he questioned whether or not he really wanted to know.
"Oh my god," Luke gasped.
There were at least a dozen condoms, some still in their packaging but most obviously used, littering the sheets.
It took them a moment to get over the initial shock. "Are you even wearing pants?" Sylar asked, somewhat reluctant but somewhat excited, too, as he turned back to Luke.
Luke pulled away the covers just slightly and grimaced. He slid his hand beneath the blanket and came away with a condom that he'd still been wearing (it came off with a jarring pop) and disgustedly he tossed it off the side of the bed. "No," he told Sylar. "Are you?"
Sylar shook his head most solemnly.
Luke's confusion turned to panic. "So did we...?"
"I think we did," Sylar said calmly.
"I have a funny taste in my mouth," Luke said, running his thumb along his lower lip, which was chapped.
"Oh, god," Sylar realized, smacking tongue against the roof of his mouth, "so do I."
As Luke began to calm down, he started to scan the motel room. "Where do you suppose our clothes are?" he asked.
"I don't know," Sylar replied. He unconsciously rubbed his wrist, mumbling "Where did we even get handcuffs in the first place?"
Luke swung his legs over the side of the bed, finding something of interest on the floor. Sylar watched his ass as Luke bent over and snapped back up, holding a tangled piece of elastic with a few bits of candy dangling from it. "Is this a candy necklace?"
"I believe it's something else," Sylar replied coolly. "A delicious delight meant to be worn around some other part of the body." He reached between his legs, where he found a few matching candy bits stuck to the inside of his thigh. "Looks like you got to taste the rainbow," he remarked, flicking them off one at a time.
Luke's face ran the gamut of emotions - confusion and panic again quickly gave way to an expression of complete disappointment. "It's not even fair," he groaned.
Sylar cocked his head in curiousity. "What's not fair?" he asked.
"Well, we obviously... you know... last night," Luke whined, "but I don't remember a goddamn thing." He kicked the night stand next to the bed in frustration. An empty bottle rocked back and forth on top of it. "Whiskey. That explains it." Luke sank back down on the mattress, clutching the sides of his head and rubbing his temples with his thumbs.
"I suppose we could rectify that," Sylar suggested, "if you really wanted to."
"Rectify what?" Luke asked. "The whiskey?"
"No," he whispered. "The other thing."
Sylar leaned over and gently caressed Luke's neck with his lips. Luke shuddered; he was hard almost instantly. For further encouragement, Sylar wrapped his hand around Luke's cock, pumping away a few times while Luke groaned and rolled his head back. "How about you fuck me, Luke? Fuck me hard. And remember it, this time."
"Okay," Luke said, his voice wavering with excitement as he acceded. He ran his hands along the sheets to find one of the unopened condoms. "Why did we use so many anyway?" he asked as he slid one over his erection. "What were we afraid of, chlamydia?"
"It never hurts to be prepared," Sylar replied, his words coming out slowly as he continued moving his lips over Luke's shoulder and collarbone. He spotted a bottle of lube on the floor beside the bed, and telekinetically he brought it to his hand and rubbed some into his palm before spreading it all over Luke's be-condomed cock.
Before long Sylar found himself on his hands and knees, with Luke kneeling on the bed behind him. He held onto Sylar's hips roughly, leaving bruises that nevertheless healed instantly under his grasp. Luke grunted with the effort of thrusting into him repeatedly, pausing every so often to apply more lube. Sylar, for his part, was moaning with enjoyment, offering encouraging dirty talk from time to time, until something else caught his attention.
While Sylar looked over the edge of the bed, he noticed there was a mysterious sheet of paper laying on the carpet, half-folded. When he squinted, he could make out the words "Gabriel Gray" and "Luke Campbell" on the first few lines. Intrigued, he bent his elbows and leaned downwards for a closer look.
"Yeah, you like that, tough guy?" Luke asked, pounding away even harder from behind. But, for Sylar, the mood was lost - he was far too concerned now with his discovery.
"Holy shit," he said.
"Yeah?" Luke asked. "That's good for you?"
"No," Sylar said stiffly. He held out his hand and grabbed the paper, examining it more closely - it was a certificate of some kind. "We... we're married."
Luke halted mid-stroke. "What?" he asked. "How could we... dude, what state are we in?"
"I don't know," Sylar replied. "Denial?"
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Characters: Sylar/Luke
Word Count: ~1000
Rating: R for sexytimes
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters.
Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers, just sex.
Summary: What a way to wake up in the morning.
A/N: Written for hihielmo, who won me in the help_haiti fandom auction. It also fits one of the prompt for the Ridiculously Specific Prompt Table.
When Sylar blinked his eyes, waking up slowly, it took a while for him to take in his surroundings. There was a narrow beam of light pouring in from between the world's gaudiest curtains, and there was a clock-radio beside him with garish red letters, and a Gideon's Bible next to that. He was obviously in some kind of motel (either that or his childhood home in Queens, but that was improbable), but aside from that, he was stymied.
Sylar couldn't remember the last time he was this sore. His eyes were crusty with sleep, and they stung even though the light was still dim. His head was pounding, his throat was throbbing. It seemed like every muscle in his body ached, even muscles that he didn't realize he had, mostly in the nether regions.
But, even though he was in so much pain, there was something even more confusing going on. When he lifted his hand to wipe the drool from his chin, another hand came along with it that wasn't his own. He was handcuffed to somebody.
"What the hell...?" Sylar mumbled to himself. He turned over and saw Luke, his protege, sprawled beside him on the bed, still snoring soundly beneath the covers. Sylar tugged on the handcuffs again, pulling Luke's arm at an awkward angle and waking him up.
Luke's speech was garbled by sleep for a moment. "Hey. What...?"
"Very funny, kid," Sylar snarled, jangling the metal chain that held them together. "Just what kind of fuckery is this?"
Luke looked just as confused as Sylar was; his eyebrows nearly met over the bridge of his nose as he furrowed his brow and looked from the handcuffs back to Sylar's sinister glare. "I don't even know. I don't remember."
Sylar sighed as he lifted his other hand and telekinetically sliced the cuffs off them both. "What the hell did we do last night?" he asked himself, but as he peeled back the covers, he questioned whether or not he really wanted to know.
"Oh my god," Luke gasped.
There were at least a dozen condoms, some still in their packaging but most obviously used, littering the sheets.
It took them a moment to get over the initial shock. "Are you even wearing pants?" Sylar asked, somewhat reluctant but somewhat excited, too, as he turned back to Luke.
Luke pulled away the covers just slightly and grimaced. He slid his hand beneath the blanket and came away with a condom that he'd still been wearing (it came off with a jarring pop) and disgustedly he tossed it off the side of the bed. "No," he told Sylar. "Are you?"
Sylar shook his head most solemnly.
Luke's confusion turned to panic. "So did we...?"
"I think we did," Sylar said calmly.
"I have a funny taste in my mouth," Luke said, running his thumb along his lower lip, which was chapped.
"Oh, god," Sylar realized, smacking tongue against the roof of his mouth, "so do I."
As Luke began to calm down, he started to scan the motel room. "Where do you suppose our clothes are?" he asked.
"I don't know," Sylar replied. He unconsciously rubbed his wrist, mumbling "Where did we even get handcuffs in the first place?"
Luke swung his legs over the side of the bed, finding something of interest on the floor. Sylar watched his ass as Luke bent over and snapped back up, holding a tangled piece of elastic with a few bits of candy dangling from it. "Is this a candy necklace?"
"I believe it's something else," Sylar replied coolly. "A delicious delight meant to be worn around some other part of the body." He reached between his legs, where he found a few matching candy bits stuck to the inside of his thigh. "Looks like you got to taste the rainbow," he remarked, flicking them off one at a time.
Luke's face ran the gamut of emotions - confusion and panic again quickly gave way to an expression of complete disappointment. "It's not even fair," he groaned.
Sylar cocked his head in curiousity. "What's not fair?" he asked.
"Well, we obviously... you know... last night," Luke whined, "but I don't remember a goddamn thing." He kicked the night stand next to the bed in frustration. An empty bottle rocked back and forth on top of it. "Whiskey. That explains it." Luke sank back down on the mattress, clutching the sides of his head and rubbing his temples with his thumbs.
"I suppose we could rectify that," Sylar suggested, "if you really wanted to."
"Rectify what?" Luke asked. "The whiskey?"
"No," he whispered. "The other thing."
Sylar leaned over and gently caressed Luke's neck with his lips. Luke shuddered; he was hard almost instantly. For further encouragement, Sylar wrapped his hand around Luke's cock, pumping away a few times while Luke groaned and rolled his head back. "How about you fuck me, Luke? Fuck me hard. And remember it, this time."
"Okay," Luke said, his voice wavering with excitement as he acceded. He ran his hands along the sheets to find one of the unopened condoms. "Why did we use so many anyway?" he asked as he slid one over his erection. "What were we afraid of, chlamydia?"
"It never hurts to be prepared," Sylar replied, his words coming out slowly as he continued moving his lips over Luke's shoulder and collarbone. He spotted a bottle of lube on the floor beside the bed, and telekinetically he brought it to his hand and rubbed some into his palm before spreading it all over Luke's be-condomed cock.
Before long Sylar found himself on his hands and knees, with Luke kneeling on the bed behind him. He held onto Sylar's hips roughly, leaving bruises that nevertheless healed instantly under his grasp. Luke grunted with the effort of thrusting into him repeatedly, pausing every so often to apply more lube. Sylar, for his part, was moaning with enjoyment, offering encouraging dirty talk from time to time, until something else caught his attention.
While Sylar looked over the edge of the bed, he noticed there was a mysterious sheet of paper laying on the carpet, half-folded. When he squinted, he could make out the words "Gabriel Gray" and "Luke Campbell" on the first few lines. Intrigued, he bent his elbows and leaned downwards for a closer look.
"Yeah, you like that, tough guy?" Luke asked, pounding away even harder from behind. But, for Sylar, the mood was lost - he was far too concerned now with his discovery.
"Holy shit," he said.
"Yeah?" Luke asked. "That's good for you?"
"No," Sylar said stiffly. He held out his hand and grabbed the paper, examining it more closely - it was a certificate of some kind. "We... we're married."
Luke halted mid-stroke. "What?" he asked. "How could we... dude, what state are we in?"
"I don't know," Sylar replied. "Denial?"
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