fic: our swan song is better suited for wolves; claire/sylar; r
Title: our swan song is better suited for wolves [1/1]
Author: Eliza Ann (frozenmolasses)
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Sylar
Summary: It's pain and heat and desperation and a little bit of comfort all tossed and turned into motel bed sheets and alleyway walls. .
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Vague, AU, future-ish.
Words: 290
A/N: Written for comment_fic. Prompt was stolen kisses.
They leave roses unpicked and candles unlit, not trying for any imitation of romance. They both know what this is. And they know what it's not; love story makes the list.
It's pain and heat and desperation and a little bit of comfort all tossed and turned into motel bed sheets and alleyway walls.
To Claire, it's more an affair of the mind than of the body.
Her skin is a joke now anyway, just a shell that will never change as her insides are twisted up and broken as she lies underneath him. Her heart is skipping all the important beats and she struggles to think and not to feel.
When she flips them over, it's funny how she doesn't feel as if she's gained anymore control. But not funny enough to laugh or smile or even break away from Sylar's mouth long enough to breathe. She doesn't need to, could die like that and it wouldn't make a difference. She'd wake up, shiny and new, with him looking at her.
He always looks at her, past the pale part and into the places where she can break. She's either become hyperaware of the fact, or he's doing it a lot more often. Probably a little of both.
This is how they work, gauging each other's reactions because neither will say what they really mean. Neither knows what they really mean.
He's got the unfair advantage (but doesn't he always?), can tell what makes her tick with a simple glance while she's left only with the power to bend, bend, bend, but never break, not even when she wants to.
It twists her stomach and breaks her heart, yet she knows in the end she'll be back for more.
Author: Eliza Ann (frozenmolasses)
Characters/Pairings: Claire/Sylar
Summary: It's pain and heat and desperation and a little bit of comfort all tossed and turned into motel bed sheets and alleyway walls. .
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Vague, AU, future-ish.
Words: 290
A/N: Written for comment_fic. Prompt was stolen kisses.
They leave roses unpicked and candles unlit, not trying for any imitation of romance. They both know what this is. And they know what it's not; love story makes the list.
It's pain and heat and desperation and a little bit of comfort all tossed and turned into motel bed sheets and alleyway walls.
To Claire, it's more an affair of the mind than of the body.
Her skin is a joke now anyway, just a shell that will never change as her insides are twisted up and broken as she lies underneath him. Her heart is skipping all the important beats and she struggles to think and not to feel.
When she flips them over, it's funny how she doesn't feel as if she's gained anymore control. But not funny enough to laugh or smile or even break away from Sylar's mouth long enough to breathe. She doesn't need to, could die like that and it wouldn't make a difference. She'd wake up, shiny and new, with him looking at her.
He always looks at her, past the pale part and into the places where she can break. She's either become hyperaware of the fact, or he's doing it a lot more often. Probably a little of both.
This is how they work, gauging each other's reactions because neither will say what they really mean. Neither knows what they really mean.
He's got the unfair advantage (but doesn't he always?), can tell what makes her tick with a simple glance while she's left only with the power to bend, bend, bend, but never break, not even when she wants to.
It twists her stomach and breaks her heart, yet she knows in the end she'll be back for more.