FIC: Incognito
Title: Incognito
Characters: Sylar!Claire/Claire
Word Count: ~1300
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters.
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for the last aired episode. Warnings for should be implicit in the pairing and rating, I think.
Summary: In the distant future, Sylar seeks Claire's help, but they're both distracted by an unanticipated transformation.
A/N: Written for missbreese, who won me in the help_haiti fandom auction. kathrynthegr8 beta'ed it for me!
It was long after the sun had gone down, and Claire Bennet was finally making her way home. The future had not been kind to specials - not after her bold revelation about their existence - and since then she did her best to remain under the radar, which often meant going out at night rather than during the day, when she'd be mormore readily recognized.
When she returned to her apartment hallway, she noticed a sliver of light beneath the doorway. Someone was waiting for her inside. She inhaled deeply and steeled herself for whatever unpleasant surprise was waiting for her within.
She flung the door open and stepped inside, relaxing a little when she saw an old friend - and older nemesis - reclining on her couch, flipping through an old issue of some long-dead periodical that Claire had saved from another lifetime. "Sylar," she sighed, narrowing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Where have you been all day?" he asked, not even lifting his eyes from the magazine. "I had totally forgotten about half of this shit, by the way. Remember Michael Jackson? I mean, wow, it's been a lifetime since then."
"Sylar," Claire repeated, tossing her keys onto a nearby table and letting the door slam shut behind her. "What are you doing here? If anyone saw you come in here, my cover would be blown, and we'll both be in danger of getting caught."
"My powers are out of control," Sylar said, setting the magazine down beside him as he sat up on the couch. "They act up whenever they feel like it. It makes it difficult to travel incognito, so I thought I'd hide out here for a while. Maybe you could help me?
"And just how do you expect me to help?" Claire asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"I don't know," Sylar said smoothly. "I was hoping you could at least help me gain some insight."
Claire smirked. "You want to kiss me again, don't you?"
"It might help," Sylar said, smiling.
"You must be more hard up than I thought," she teased. "Been having a pretty rough dry spell?"
"Come on, Claire. It's just a kiss."
"Fine," she said, pushing the magazine on the couch aside and sitting down beside him. It was unromantic - he simply wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her close, pressing his lips into hers. But even as their lips still touched, Sylar could feel himself transforming; there was some sort of shift within him that he had no control over. He opened his eyes and watched as his perspective changed. In a moment he found himself looking at Claire at the same level.
"Holy shit," she breathed.
Sylar glanced at the back of his hands - they were small, perfectly manicured, and mirror images of Claire's. He raised his hands to his chest and found breasts, without benefit of a bra, beneath his shirt. The transformation hadn't extended to his clothes, which hung on his new, small frame - one identical to Claire's. "Fuck," he hissed, his voice not sounding like his own except in tone. "I told you things have been messed up lately."
"You didn't do that on purpose?" Claire asked, almost accusatory.
"Not everyone wants to be just like you, Claire," Sylar replied sarcastically. "Can I borrow some of your clothes? Something that might fit?"
"Fine," Claire said, rolling her eyes. "Follow me."
She took Sylar by the hand and led him to her bedroom. She gestured for him to sit on her bed, which was unexpectedly soft. As he sunk down into the mattress, he looked over and saw his reflection in her vanity mirror. As she fumbled through her closet, Sylar fell back against the comforter, admiring his new appearance.
It wasn't as though this was the first time he'd occupied a woman's body - it wasn't even the first time he'd occupied Claire's. But since he'd lost control of his powers, he was feeling tense, stressed out, and he needed some kind of release, and seeing himself in Claire's body made him feel an unfamiliar warmth between his legs.
Without even thinking he let his hand wander beneath his waistband, letting his fingers slide through the ?
"Sylar, what the hell are you doing?" Claire asked, grimacing. She had stopped looking through the closet and stood there, hand on hip, her face pulled into an expression of disapproval.
Sylar turned his attention away from the mirror, darting to his feet and pulling his hand from his pants as he wandered to the vanity and leaned against it, trying to appear nonchalant. His heart raced from the brief sensation he'd felt when he touched himself, but also with the thrill of having been caught in the act. "Oh, come on, princess," he teased. "It's natural. Don't tell me you wouldn't be curious if you had the chance to be someone else for a day."
"Do you have to do it in front of me?" Claire sighed, shaking her head as she tossed a few items of clothing she'd selected onto the bed.
Sylar shook his head and laughed. He turned around and looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Got any tips?" he asked.
"Now that's just weird," Claire mumbled under her breath.
"It's not any weirder than watching yourself in a mirror," Sylar said. He shifted his weight and watched the way the curve of his hip jutted out. Unconsciously he began twirling a long blonde lock of hair, twisting it around his finger and tugging at it.
And then he felt her breath, warm and wet, on the back of his neck. "It should go like this," she said from behind him, unbuttoning the jeans and pulling the zipper down. His boxers slid down, on their own, too large to stay up without the help of his pants. She pressed her hand into the soft golden curls, and while she snaked her other arm around his waist, she let her fingers explore below.
She held held his body flush against her own, her breasts pushing into his back. Sylar was getting undeniably slick, and Claire slid one finger into his pussy without any effort at all. Encouraged by his moans of pleasure, she slid in two, then three, and thrust in rhythm with the circles her thumb was making did against his clit.
"Shit, Claire," he breathed, letting his head rest against her shoulder, his eyelids fluttering. "Where'd you learn to -"
"Oh, please," Claire interrupted him. "I've been with more girls than guys in my lifetime."
"I thought you said this was too weird."
"I changed my mind. It's just weird enough." She leaned into him, extending her tongue and flicking it against the back of Sylar's earlobe. While he was distracted, she let go of his waist and slipped her hand beneath his shirt. She cupped his breast and ran the pad of her thumb against his nipple; he shuddered. When she pinched and pulled at it, already hard, she could feel the way his knees trembled, and he had to clutch the edge of the vanity to keep from falling.
And then he came.
He came hard. It was like no other orgasm he'd ever had. He could feel his whole body flush with a sudden rush of warmth, as liquid gushed between his legs. He bucked uncontrollably against Claire's hand, still working feverishly to keep him coming. "Oh my god, Claire!" he called out between moans. His knees gave out and his grip relaxed on the vanity, but Claire followed him as he sank to the floor without removing herhis hand. He couldn't take any more; he thrashed and cried out and grabbed Claire's wrist to pull her away.
He lay breathlessly on the floor for a moment while his body, somehow sated, returned to its original form. He still felt warm and wet all the way through the crotch of his jeans, and even as he struggled to sit up he felt a little dizzy.
"Hey," Claire smiled wickedly. "Looks like I fixed you after all. Guess I'm just that good."
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Characters: Sylar!Claire/Claire
Word Count: ~1300
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or any of its characters.
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for the last aired episode. Warnings for should be implicit in the pairing and rating, I think.
Summary: In the distant future, Sylar seeks Claire's help, but they're both distracted by an unanticipated transformation.
A/N: Written for missbreese, who won me in the help_haiti fandom auction. kathrynthegr8 beta'ed it for me!
It was long after the sun had gone down, and Claire Bennet was finally making her way home. The future had not been kind to specials - not after her bold revelation about their existence - and since then she did her best to remain under the radar, which often meant going out at night rather than during the day, when she'd be mormore readily recognized.
When she returned to her apartment hallway, she noticed a sliver of light beneath the doorway. Someone was waiting for her inside. She inhaled deeply and steeled herself for whatever unpleasant surprise was waiting for her within.
She flung the door open and stepped inside, relaxing a little when she saw an old friend - and older nemesis - reclining on her couch, flipping through an old issue of some long-dead periodical that Claire had saved from another lifetime. "Sylar," she sighed, narrowing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Where have you been all day?" he asked, not even lifting his eyes from the magazine. "I had totally forgotten about half of this shit, by the way. Remember Michael Jackson? I mean, wow, it's been a lifetime since then."
"Sylar," Claire repeated, tossing her keys onto a nearby table and letting the door slam shut behind her. "What are you doing here? If anyone saw you come in here, my cover would be blown, and we'll both be in danger of getting caught."
"My powers are out of control," Sylar said, setting the magazine down beside him as he sat up on the couch. "They act up whenever they feel like it. It makes it difficult to travel incognito, so I thought I'd hide out here for a while. Maybe you could help me?
"And just how do you expect me to help?" Claire asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"I don't know," Sylar said smoothly. "I was hoping you could at least help me gain some insight."
Claire smirked. "You want to kiss me again, don't you?"
"It might help," Sylar said, smiling.
"You must be more hard up than I thought," she teased. "Been having a pretty rough dry spell?"
"Come on, Claire. It's just a kiss."
"Fine," she said, pushing the magazine on the couch aside and sitting down beside him. It was unromantic - he simply wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her close, pressing his lips into hers. But even as their lips still touched, Sylar could feel himself transforming; there was some sort of shift within him that he had no control over. He opened his eyes and watched as his perspective changed. In a moment he found himself looking at Claire at the same level.
"Holy shit," she breathed.
Sylar glanced at the back of his hands - they were small, perfectly manicured, and mirror images of Claire's. He raised his hands to his chest and found breasts, without benefit of a bra, beneath his shirt. The transformation hadn't extended to his clothes, which hung on his new, small frame - one identical to Claire's. "Fuck," he hissed, his voice not sounding like his own except in tone. "I told you things have been messed up lately."
"You didn't do that on purpose?" Claire asked, almost accusatory.
"Not everyone wants to be just like you, Claire," Sylar replied sarcastically. "Can I borrow some of your clothes? Something that might fit?"
"Fine," Claire said, rolling her eyes. "Follow me."
She took Sylar by the hand and led him to her bedroom. She gestured for him to sit on her bed, which was unexpectedly soft. As he sunk down into the mattress, he looked over and saw his reflection in her vanity mirror. As she fumbled through her closet, Sylar fell back against the comforter, admiring his new appearance.
It wasn't as though this was the first time he'd occupied a woman's body - it wasn't even the first time he'd occupied Claire's. But since he'd lost control of his powers, he was feeling tense, stressed out, and he needed some kind of release, and seeing himself in Claire's body made him feel an unfamiliar warmth between his legs.
Without even thinking he let his hand wander beneath his waistband, letting his fingers slide through the ?
"Sylar, what the hell are you doing?" Claire asked, grimacing. She had stopped looking through the closet and stood there, hand on hip, her face pulled into an expression of disapproval.
Sylar turned his attention away from the mirror, darting to his feet and pulling his hand from his pants as he wandered to the vanity and leaned against it, trying to appear nonchalant. His heart raced from the brief sensation he'd felt when he touched himself, but also with the thrill of having been caught in the act. "Oh, come on, princess," he teased. "It's natural. Don't tell me you wouldn't be curious if you had the chance to be someone else for a day."
"Do you have to do it in front of me?" Claire sighed, shaking her head as she tossed a few items of clothing she'd selected onto the bed.
Sylar shook his head and laughed. He turned around and looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Got any tips?" he asked.
"Now that's just weird," Claire mumbled under her breath.
"It's not any weirder than watching yourself in a mirror," Sylar said. He shifted his weight and watched the way the curve of his hip jutted out. Unconsciously he began twirling a long blonde lock of hair, twisting it around his finger and tugging at it.
And then he felt her breath, warm and wet, on the back of his neck. "It should go like this," she said from behind him, unbuttoning the jeans and pulling the zipper down. His boxers slid down, on their own, too large to stay up without the help of his pants. She pressed her hand into the soft golden curls, and while she snaked her other arm around his waist, she let her fingers explore below.
She held held his body flush against her own, her breasts pushing into his back. Sylar was getting undeniably slick, and Claire slid one finger into his pussy without any effort at all. Encouraged by his moans of pleasure, she slid in two, then three, and thrust in rhythm with the circles her thumb was making did against his clit.
"Shit, Claire," he breathed, letting his head rest against her shoulder, his eyelids fluttering. "Where'd you learn to -"
"Oh, please," Claire interrupted him. "I've been with more girls than guys in my lifetime."
"I thought you said this was too weird."
"I changed my mind. It's just weird enough." She leaned into him, extending her tongue and flicking it against the back of Sylar's earlobe. While he was distracted, she let go of his waist and slipped her hand beneath his shirt. She cupped his breast and ran the pad of her thumb against his nipple; he shuddered. When she pinched and pulled at it, already hard, she could feel the way his knees trembled, and he had to clutch the edge of the vanity to keep from falling.
And then he came.
He came hard. It was like no other orgasm he'd ever had. He could feel his whole body flush with a sudden rush of warmth, as liquid gushed between his legs. He bucked uncontrollably against Claire's hand, still working feverishly to keep him coming. "Oh my god, Claire!" he called out between moans. His knees gave out and his grip relaxed on the vanity, but Claire followed him as he sank to the floor without removing herhis hand. He couldn't take any more; he thrashed and cried out and grabbed Claire's wrist to pull her away.
He lay breathlessly on the floor for a moment while his body, somehow sated, returned to its original form. He still felt warm and wet all the way through the crotch of his jeans, and even as he struggled to sit up he felt a little dizzy.
"Hey," Claire smiled wickedly. "Looks like I fixed you after all. Guess I'm just that good."
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