Dang it.
I want to read some Petlar porn and can't find any! Most of the google results are for my own stuff. :( The rest is stuff I've already read.
Sylar supposed he'd become comfortable with how Peter moved while asleep. He briefly wondered when that had happened, but there was something more immediate going on. His upper arm was being ... nuzzled. No, that was a kiss. Definitely, even if sloppy. It wasn't Peter's style to approach him while he was out of it, which meant Peter must be the one asleep. Sylar turned his head, but all he could see in the dim light was Peter's unruly dark bed-head. He could feel the man pressing nose and cheek against his bicep, rolling his face slightly. Then, warm and wet against his elbow. Yes. That was another kiss.
Affectionately amused, Sylar sighed. He rolled to his side, shifted back, and raised his hand in a smooth motion. He cupped Peter's cheek, turning and lifting his face so Sylar could see his lover. As he expected, Peter's eyes were vacant with sleep, hooded and drowsy. They tracked to his uncertainly and for a moment, Sylar thought Peter's lids would droop further and he'd snooze right then and there. Peter was so vulnerable in that moment, so trusting. His subconscious was surely aware of who the killer he'd taken to bed, and yet he brought no defenses to bear. Sylar stroked the man's cheek with his thumb, feeling the skin rough from twenty-odd hours without a shave. The intimacy was so strange, foreign, and delightful. He'd never had this sort of ... sharing before.
It was a span of a dozen heartbeats before the haze began to clear and Peter's eyes focused on him with more purpose. When he tensed, Sylar's thumb stopped moving. Time seemed to freeze. Sylar held his breath, wondering if he'd been wrong, if he'd credited Peter's unconscious intuition with too much. But nothing happened during that frozen moment. Peter stared up at him, brows having risen slightly when he'd realized that his dream didn't match up with reality. Sylar's thumb stroked slowly from Peter's lovely cheekbone, across his cheek and towards the edge of his mouth. It broke the tension. Peter exhaled and leaned into the hand. Sylar breathed, and his lips took on a small smile all on their own. Curling his fingers into Peter's hair, he leaned in and guided the man to him for a kiss.
He didn't know what he was going for. All he'd thought was that he wanted a kiss, and he was going to take it. Peter's response was tentative for a half second. Sylar almost pulled away, but then Peter kissed him hard and Sylar replied by covering Peter's mouth with his own, taking him passionately and rolling Peter to his back, Sylar climbing atop him. Peter moaned. He was already (or depending on the dream, perhaps 'still') hard. Sylar growled approvingly, not yet done kissing and sucking. He switched to Peter's lower lip, chewing it gently between his teeth to the accompaniment of Peter's gasps. Peter's hands had found their members and brought them together, making a sleeve for Sylar to fuck against. Another approving growl, this time as Sylar flung his head back and pistoned his hips.
But his interest in a mere hand job wouldn't last long. It got them both well-started and that was what he wanted. He reached to the side, channeled telekinesis, and brought the bottle of lubricant to his hand. He backed up and adjusted their position to be between Peter's legs. Getting the message, Peter grabbed Sylar's pillow and stuffed it under his ass. Sylar smirked at how readily Petrelli positioned himself for him. He slicked himself up before slathering Peter with the same. Peter splayed his legs around him and leaned back, arching into the questing finger that probed within him.
"Ah, yes," Sylar hissed, watching as Peter writhed at his touch. His dick ached as he feasted with eyes and ears and nose and fingertips. He bared his teeth with another growl, going forward over Peter while he kept his hand engaged at his ass. He licked Peter's chest, right along the breastbone. Peter moaned again, pulling his heels in and lifting his knees. His eyes were shut. "Tell me about your dream, Peter."
"What?" Panting, Peter looked up at him.
Sylar moved to the side and nipped at a flat, taut nipple. In a husky whisper, he repeated, "Tell me who you were dreaming about. Tell me what they were doing to you."
"I ..." Peter stared up at the ceiling, obviously struggling. "You really ...?"
Sylar sucked fiercely at the recalcitrant nipple, forcing it erect so he could better get his teeth on it. Peter squirmed and fisted his hair. Sylar added a second finger, stroking both over Peter's prostate and earning another full-body arch. He loved those, and this one had the added bonus of happening while he was practically lying on Peter, fingering him off. His dick was so hard it hurt. With a shaky breath, he said, "I want to hear you confess your filthy, little secret lover while I fuck your brains out."
Peter looked at him, eyes wide. In that moment, Sylar pulled out his fingers and shifted his hips, moving his cock into position. He nudged and pressed, opening Peter. Sylar growled, showing teeth, "Tell me!"
"It was," Peter took hold of Sylar's forearm. Sylar wondered if it was to restrain him should he be angry with the identity. "Adam."
"Adam Monroe. Hm." Sylar pushed into him a few more inches. Peter's grip tightened on his arm. Sylar pulled back, taking him in gradual, easy thrusts. He remembered what he'd heard about the blond immortal. He knew about the time Peter and Adam had spent in neighboring cells, but as far as he knew, that had been it. He certainly hadn't known Peter had harbored fantasies. "Where?"
"Level Five."
"Oh?" He was deeper now. Peter was relaxing, probably having realized Sylar wasn't going to hurt him for imagined unfaithfulness. It was an ego-stroke that Peter even thought they were enough of an item that Sylar might feel that way. "How?"
"I'd been drugged." Peter panted, moving his feet to the inside of Sylar's calves. "He came in the cell instead of Elle. I was ... on the bed, but so sleepy."
Sylar was in all the way now. His imagination played with the idea that Peter might be recounting something that had actually happened. "What did he do to you?"
"He took off my pants. Oh!" Peter arched into him as Sylar started thrusting harder. "He touched me ..."
Sylar lowered himself to his elbows, covering Peter's body with his own. He could feel Peter's penis rigid between them. He whispered in Peter's ear. "Did he take you like this? Did he fuck you in the ass?"
"Yes!" Peter's arms were wrapped around him now, clinging as he rolled his hips to fuck himself on Sylar as much as Sylar was fucking him.
"Oh! You liked it, didn't you? Maybe you were drugged the first time, but I'll bet you weren't the next. You little whore!"
"Yes," Peter moaned breathily. "Fuck ..."
Sylar bit him on the side of the neck, pounding him hard, seizing him, holding him, claiming him. "You would have let anyone fuck you!" he accused. "Adam could have held the door open and let a train of guards and staff do you and you would have loved every minute of it!"
"God!"
"You're mine now!" Sylar bit him again, harder, and just over the collarbone. He marked him. Peter gasped and tightened a fist into his hair, but didn't pull him away. "Mine!"
"Fuck me ... Oh God ... Fuck!"
"Yeah?" Sylar breathed into his ear again. "Who's fucking you?"
"You, Sylar."
"Who's going to fuck you tomorrow?"
"You! Oh!"
Sylar put a hand between them, taking up Peter's engorged cock. "Who's going to fuck you forever?" He squeezed and tugged in a slow twist. Normally it wouldn't be enough to make Peter pop, but he was already so close.
"You. Oh God, you. Sylar. You. Oh!"
Hot essence of Peter spurted between Sylar's fingers. He could feel Peter's ass spasming around his dick. He gave a low, throaty chuckle at how thoroughly fucked Peter was, because Sylar was never, ever going to give this up. He held him down and fucked him hard through the aftershocked, relishing Peter's every twitch and squirm and gasp, how he arched under him, how he held onto his arms and hooked around him with his legs and surrendered himself body and soul to Sylar's lust. When he filled Petrelli with his seed, it felt blindingly complete, like the perfect revenge or the moment when made an ability part of himself. He surged into Peter for as long as he could, listening to the pounding of his heart and wondering if Peter could hear it, too. It was so loud.
"Jesus," Peter murmured, pulling Sylar down and to the side where he could cuddle in his arms. "I need to have dirty dreams more often."
I guess I should probably title this and post it somewhere. Later, though.
Sylar supposed he'd become comfortable with how Peter moved while asleep. He briefly wondered when that had happened, but there was something more immediate going on. His upper arm was being ... nuzzled. No, that was a kiss. Definitely, even if sloppy. It wasn't Peter's style to approach him while he was out of it, which meant Peter must be the one asleep. Sylar turned his head, but all he could see in the dim light was Peter's unruly dark bed-head. He could feel the man pressing nose and cheek against his bicep, rolling his face slightly. Then, warm and wet against his elbow. Yes. That was another kiss.
Affectionately amused, Sylar sighed. He rolled to his side, shifted back, and raised his hand in a smooth motion. He cupped Peter's cheek, turning and lifting his face so Sylar could see his lover. As he expected, Peter's eyes were vacant with sleep, hooded and drowsy. They tracked to his uncertainly and for a moment, Sylar thought Peter's lids would droop further and he'd snooze right then and there. Peter was so vulnerable in that moment, so trusting. His subconscious was surely aware of who the killer he'd taken to bed, and yet he brought no defenses to bear. Sylar stroked the man's cheek with his thumb, feeling the skin rough from twenty-odd hours without a shave. The intimacy was so strange, foreign, and delightful. He'd never had this sort of ... sharing before.
It was a span of a dozen heartbeats before the haze began to clear and Peter's eyes focused on him with more purpose. When he tensed, Sylar's thumb stopped moving. Time seemed to freeze. Sylar held his breath, wondering if he'd been wrong, if he'd credited Peter's unconscious intuition with too much. But nothing happened during that frozen moment. Peter stared up at him, brows having risen slightly when he'd realized that his dream didn't match up with reality. Sylar's thumb stroked slowly from Peter's lovely cheekbone, across his cheek and towards the edge of his mouth. It broke the tension. Peter exhaled and leaned into the hand. Sylar breathed, and his lips took on a small smile all on their own. Curling his fingers into Peter's hair, he leaned in and guided the man to him for a kiss.
He didn't know what he was going for. All he'd thought was that he wanted a kiss, and he was going to take it. Peter's response was tentative for a half second. Sylar almost pulled away, but then Peter kissed him hard and Sylar replied by covering Peter's mouth with his own, taking him passionately and rolling Peter to his back, Sylar climbing atop him. Peter moaned. He was already (or depending on the dream, perhaps 'still') hard. Sylar growled approvingly, not yet done kissing and sucking. He switched to Peter's lower lip, chewing it gently between his teeth to the accompaniment of Peter's gasps. Peter's hands had found their members and brought them together, making a sleeve for Sylar to fuck against. Another approving growl, this time as Sylar flung his head back and pistoned his hips.
But his interest in a mere hand job wouldn't last long. It got them both well-started and that was what he wanted. He reached to the side, channeled telekinesis, and brought the bottle of lubricant to his hand. He backed up and adjusted their position to be between Peter's legs. Getting the message, Peter grabbed Sylar's pillow and stuffed it under his ass. Sylar smirked at how readily Petrelli positioned himself for him. He slicked himself up before slathering Peter with the same. Peter splayed his legs around him and leaned back, arching into the questing finger that probed within him.
"Ah, yes," Sylar hissed, watching as Peter writhed at his touch. His dick ached as he feasted with eyes and ears and nose and fingertips. He bared his teeth with another growl, going forward over Peter while he kept his hand engaged at his ass. He licked Peter's chest, right along the breastbone. Peter moaned again, pulling his heels in and lifting his knees. His eyes were shut. "Tell me about your dream, Peter."
"What?" Panting, Peter looked up at him.
Sylar moved to the side and nipped at a flat, taut nipple. In a husky whisper, he repeated, "Tell me who you were dreaming about. Tell me what they were doing to you."
"I ..." Peter stared up at the ceiling, obviously struggling. "You really ...?"
Sylar sucked fiercely at the recalcitrant nipple, forcing it erect so he could better get his teeth on it. Peter squirmed and fisted his hair. Sylar added a second finger, stroking both over Peter's prostate and earning another full-body arch. He loved those, and this one had the added bonus of happening while he was practically lying on Peter, fingering him off. His dick was so hard it hurt. With a shaky breath, he said, "I want to hear you confess your filthy, little secret lover while I fuck your brains out."
Peter looked at him, eyes wide. In that moment, Sylar pulled out his fingers and shifted his hips, moving his cock into position. He nudged and pressed, opening Peter. Sylar growled, showing teeth, "Tell me!"
"It was," Peter took hold of Sylar's forearm. Sylar wondered if it was to restrain him should he be angry with the identity. "Adam."
"Adam Monroe. Hm." Sylar pushed into him a few more inches. Peter's grip tightened on his arm. Sylar pulled back, taking him in gradual, easy thrusts. He remembered what he'd heard about the blond immortal. He knew about the time Peter and Adam had spent in neighboring cells, but as far as he knew, that had been it. He certainly hadn't known Peter had harbored fantasies. "Where?"
"Level Five."
"Oh?" He was deeper now. Peter was relaxing, probably having realized Sylar wasn't going to hurt him for imagined unfaithfulness. It was an ego-stroke that Peter even thought they were enough of an item that Sylar might feel that way. "How?"
"I'd been drugged." Peter panted, moving his feet to the inside of Sylar's calves. "He came in the cell instead of Elle. I was ... on the bed, but so sleepy."
Sylar was in all the way now. His imagination played with the idea that Peter might be recounting something that had actually happened. "What did he do to you?"
"He took off my pants. Oh!" Peter arched into him as Sylar started thrusting harder. "He touched me ..."
Sylar lowered himself to his elbows, covering Peter's body with his own. He could feel Peter's penis rigid between them. He whispered in Peter's ear. "Did he take you like this? Did he fuck you in the ass?"
"Yes!" Peter's arms were wrapped around him now, clinging as he rolled his hips to fuck himself on Sylar as much as Sylar was fucking him.
"Oh! You liked it, didn't you? Maybe you were drugged the first time, but I'll bet you weren't the next. You little whore!"
"Yes," Peter moaned breathily. "Fuck ..."
Sylar bit him on the side of the neck, pounding him hard, seizing him, holding him, claiming him. "You would have let anyone fuck you!" he accused. "Adam could have held the door open and let a train of guards and staff do you and you would have loved every minute of it!"
"God!"
"You're mine now!" Sylar bit him again, harder, and just over the collarbone. He marked him. Peter gasped and tightened a fist into his hair, but didn't pull him away. "Mine!"
"Fuck me ... Oh God ... Fuck!"
"Yeah?" Sylar breathed into his ear again. "Who's fucking you?"
"You, Sylar."
"Who's going to fuck you tomorrow?"
"You! Oh!"
Sylar put a hand between them, taking up Peter's engorged cock. "Who's going to fuck you forever?" He squeezed and tugged in a slow twist. Normally it wouldn't be enough to make Peter pop, but he was already so close.
"You. Oh God, you. Sylar. You. Oh!"
Hot essence of Peter spurted between Sylar's fingers. He could feel Peter's ass spasming around his dick. He gave a low, throaty chuckle at how thoroughly fucked Peter was, because Sylar was never, ever going to give this up. He held him down and fucked him hard through the aftershocked, relishing Peter's every twitch and squirm and gasp, how he arched under him, how he held onto his arms and hooked around him with his legs and surrendered himself body and soul to Sylar's lust. When he filled Petrelli with his seed, it felt blindingly complete, like the perfect revenge or the moment when made an ability part of himself. He surged into Peter for as long as he could, listening to the pounding of his heart and wondering if Peter could hear it, too. It was so loud.
"Jesus," Peter murmured, pulling Sylar down and to the side where he could cuddle in his arms. "I need to have dirty dreams more often."
I guess I should probably title this and post it somewhere. Later, though.