"accidental" video post; sleeping with the enemy virus
[ When the video cuts in, it’s Claire sitting on a bed that’s really obviously not her room. For those who live in or have visited Casa de Serial Killer, it’s recognizably Sylar’s. It’s around the time of Adam and Peter’s wedding, and where is she instead? Here. In a baggy t-shirt and boy shorts.
Sylar wasn’t going to go to that shit anyway. Unless it was to ruin it, but he didn’t even care that much at the moment. He’s also chilling on his bed, wearing clothes that look similar to Claire’s. ]
Are you hungry?
[ The tone of voice is pretty tired and resigned at first. She reaches up to rub her hands over her face. ] No. [ After a beat, she gets some momentum and turns to look at him over her shoulder for a glare. ] No, you know what? Can you just … not? Talk, I mean. In general. Not really in the mood to listen to it.
Yeah, I don't really like the part where we talk anyway. [He inches closer to her on the bed, snaking him arm around her waist to keep her close. And then he starts kissing her neck, slowly making his way up to her jawline.
At first, she turns her head away, looking pretty clearly uncomfortable and disgusted by the action judging by the look on her face and the tenseness in her jaw. She shuts her eyes, frustrated with herself. ]
Sylar … [ It’s said sternly in a tone of ‘cut it out’ but after another moment’s frustration, she shifts in her spot to turn and kiss him more fully -- aggressively, like she’s just channeling all the bad feelings into him instead of dealing. Like it’s her way of getting him to cut it the fuck out except … the opposite. It’s teaching him that he’s not the one in charge here. He doesn’t get to instigate when she’s supposed to be using him.
Since neither of them really require air, this could literally go on forever. And it does, until Sylar feels the need to break away and insert his opinions. As usual. ]
See? You wanted this. You've always wanted this.
[ She just looks frustrated with him for a long moment. ] I said shut up. [ Sitting forward, she straddles his lap and dips back in to kiss him again, hands planted on either side of his face to hold him there, because he’d never just shut up on his own. ]
Sylar wasn’t going to go to that shit anyway. Unless it was to ruin it, but he didn’t even care that much at the moment. He’s also chilling on his bed, wearing clothes that look similar to Claire’s. ]
Are you hungry?
[ The tone of voice is pretty tired and resigned at first. She reaches up to rub her hands over her face. ] No. [ After a beat, she gets some momentum and turns to look at him over her shoulder for a glare. ] No, you know what? Can you just … not? Talk, I mean. In general. Not really in the mood to listen to it.
Yeah, I don't really like the part where we talk anyway. [He inches closer to her on the bed, snaking him arm around her waist to keep her close. And then he starts kissing her neck, slowly making his way up to her jawline.
At first, she turns her head away, looking pretty clearly uncomfortable and disgusted by the action judging by the look on her face and the tenseness in her jaw. She shuts her eyes, frustrated with herself. ]
Sylar … [ It’s said sternly in a tone of ‘cut it out’ but after another moment’s frustration, she shifts in her spot to turn and kiss him more fully -- aggressively, like she’s just channeling all the bad feelings into him instead of dealing. Like it’s her way of getting him to cut it the fuck out except … the opposite. It’s teaching him that he’s not the one in charge here. He doesn’t get to instigate when she’s supposed to be using him.
Since neither of them really require air, this could literally go on forever. And it does, until Sylar feels the need to break away and insert his opinions. As usual. ]
See? You wanted this. You've always wanted this.
[ She just looks frustrated with him for a long moment. ] I said shut up. [ Sitting forward, she straddles his lap and dips back in to kiss him again, hands planted on either side of his face to hold him there, because he’d never just shut up on his own. ]