Fic: Persuasion (Sylar/Claire, NC-17)
Lies were the most beautiful thing I have seen in my life, and so I plucked out all of my eyes except for one and only looked at lies.
If you're still wanting to participate, I think it's about time to get in your Orient Express Challenge Entries... or ask me for an extension.
Also, am on new laptop! It has been duly dubbed Sasan and has a bigger penis than Edmund did. (Read: screen size, 17in vs. 15in) HP Pavilion zd8000 with a motherfucking NUMBER PAD on the side. :D
The New Year hasn't started for me yet. I quote myself, in a note I wrote to someone so close, yet so far away right at this moment...
I had this silly idea last night that I wouldn’t start the New Year until I could do it properly, with a kiss from you. Because I don’t want to start the New Year without knowing that I’ll be able to end it with you, too.
How great of a 20th Birthday I have (FRIDAY!) does depend on this, yes, and... well. You'll know, f-list, that something truly amazing has happened when I officially declare it 2008.
Nevertheless, the New Year has started for most of you, so I'll answer the few questions you have.
1. When did you get into Heroes? (aymiah)
I want to say... March. Don't quote me on that. You can duly blame no_urges for the obsession, effectively getting me hooked on it after no more than Episode One. I sort of want to say I was hooked after the first five minutes because... oh my god. It was so amazing. Watched 1-18 in a week. x_x
2. What's your favorite ice cream? (morelen)
HAHAH, I'm allergic to dairy, isn't that great? But I do so love ice cream. Personal favorite would have to be Dean & Deluca's Banana Gelato. It is so ridiculously good it makes me want to cry. Mmmmm.
3. How old were you when you first realized that you wanted to be a _____? (summer_cities)
Hm. Two-part answer!
- Writer. I would say... that it festered itself... very early. I mean, it was rooted in there ever since I did better than most in elementary school writing stuff. But I really realized that I wanted to write novels when I was in Junior Year. I think. Don't quote me on that.
- Actor. This one started when I was five. Went away. Came back. Went away again. Etc. It always went away again because I couldn't see it being stable in any way at all. Now I'm at a point in my life where I realize that it doesn't matter. That I need to do what make me happy, no matter at what cost. Given a few things... it looks like it won't cost anything at all. God, I love acting.
4. If you could choose one author to write the story of your life, who would you choose? (cheap_valentine)
I adore Austen, but she would turn it into a giant romantic comedy. Given... a few very interesting variables in my life, I would say give it to Pratchett & Gaiman. I adored Good Omens. They'd know how to make it suitably fun and suitably supernatural with a romantic twist... yeah. Definitely those two.
And... while we're doing plenty of rping fic over HERE (yes, that will be updated regularly)... it's only fair I post some actual fic. XD
Title: Persuasion
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Sylar/Sylar/Sylar/Claire
Word Count: 2,613
Summary: Sylar decides to make an offer Claire can't refuse on New Year's Eve. With backup and means of persuasion.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Should it come to this, this is AU and all characters involved in sexual relations in this story are 18 or older.
Author's Note: For the amazing lienne for putting up with me so much and being so awesome and have I MENTIONED RP???? and of course jesslared who really is doing me a huge fucking favor atm.
The only way to destroy the immortal is to make them feel alone, forlorn, abandoned.
The only way to do that is to outnumber them.
***
"I don't want to be here anymore."
"Oh, come on, Claire, it's not so bad," Peter says, and Claire is left to wonder whether he holds this opinion dear only because he's just poured himself his fifth glass of wine.
Perhaps.
"I've had to smile and nod and shake hands every single evening since… Christmas Eve, because apparently your mother has so many friends and is so connected and-"
Why bother.
"It's New Years Eve! Relax, have a few drinks!"
"No one would serve a girl that looks permanently sixteen any alcohol."
"I will," he says, grinning.
"I'm going to find… the buffet table," she says, brushing past him.
Instead, she finds the bathroom, awkward hands fumbling with her dress to try and readjust it, try to make it more comfortable. It's not even that it's too long for her tastes, or too stuffy, or too revealing…
It's just this place, she thinks morosely to herself as she tries to readjust the shimmery gold fabric.
Futile. Perhaps she'd step outside for a little bit. Too stuffy in here, surrounded by politicians and people with secrets, everyone with a general air of importance about them.
And perhaps she'd stop by the bar on her way out.
***
She has to admit, it's a lovely night out.
A bit cold, goose bumps on her bare arms and shoulders, but it's peaceful, and the gardens out back look just a little bit like a winter wonderland, beautifully lit by the string lights everywhere.
"Hey Claire," a voice behind her says softly, and she turns around to look who it came from.
No one.
There's nothing there.
Shaking her head to dismiss it, she keeps walking until she finds herself by the fountain, lined with benches around. They’re covered in snow, but she brushes one off and sits anyway, closing her eyes if only for a moment as the cool air caresses her skin, sending shivers down her spine to pool down low.
“Claire.”
Just a hint of a whisper, a phantom breath, hot on her ear, and her own catches in her throat as her eyes go wide.
When she turns around to look, there’s nothing there. Just the fountain, water frozen inside, surface just slightly cracked.
Nevertheless unsettled, she gets up and heads down the path, further away from the house. She doesn’t want to go back, not yet. Too stifling, too obtrusive, too much all at once.
***
The gardens are set up to look like they’re being maintained around the clock by overworked laboring hands.
In a way, they are, reminding her rather of Louis XIV’s gardens at his palace at Versailles.
Her grandmother had always been the ostentatious kind; lavish to an extent only royalty could compete with.
“Your mind playing tricks with you, Claire-bear?”
This time she recognizes the voice and doesn’t bear to look, picking up her dress and duly losing one of her shoes as she’s running, running through the maze of the gardens before her until she finally thinks she’s run enough, away from immediate harm as she leans her body - hot all of a sudden - in contrast against the cool stone of the outer wall.
It’s a small corner on the side of the house, the area where the fence reaches hardly providing a lot of room for anything useful to be done with the space at all.
Except for now, out of breath, adrenaline rushing through her veins, ending with a pounding, throbbing sensation in her head.
She takes one second to lean her head back and close her eyes.
One second too many.
“Hey, princess.”
She screams, trying to run again, but he grabs her arm in a vice-grip, pulling her flush against him.
“How did you-“
“I’m everywhere,” he growls with a smile that sends chills down her spine. “With every ability I get, I come closer and closer to being God.”
She balks at him, eyes wide, face ashen, and tries to pull away again.
“I’m not going to kill you,” he whispers softly. “I’m everywhere. Forever. I don’t need your brain. And it would be such a waste of a beautiful creature…”
Long fingers run down her face, her neck, her décolleté as her heart pounds in her throat, her back against his chest as he holds her there.
He wouldn’t have to, anymore. She’s stilled in his grasp completely.
“You’ve-“
“I’ve been watching you, Claire. And just as I thought I’d have to say goodbye to such wonder… along came this guy who’s had almost four hundred years on his head and plenty of bad deeds. The company was searching for him; they locked him up and threw away the key. Your uncle would know him. He was almost manipulated by him in an effort to destroy the world.”
There’s a pause during which she can feel her own heart thrumming in her chest, and then-
“I don’t want to destroy the world, Claire. I just want as much as I can get.”
“How did you do it?” she asked suddenly, unexpectedly.
“I had to be everywhere. It takes more than one man to kill an immortal being.”
Before she can ask him how he did it, he appears in front of her.
“I was by here all along… but I can create multiples of myself. That’s how I was there-“ the one in front of her says, pointing,
“-and there,” another said as he suddenly appears, gesturing towards the porch,
“-and here,” the one behind her finishes. “I’m everywhere, sweetheart.”
She swallows, taking a deep breath.
“What do you want from me?”
If you’re not here to kill me, is the qualifier here, and she waits with baited breath.
“I didn’t kill you,” he says, almost puzzled in his tone. “I’m the hero. For just this once, I’m the hero. And the hero always gets the girl.”
…oh.
“But you haven’t changed,” she says defiantly.
“You don’t know that,” the one beside her argues back, his hand slowly running up her side almost absentmindedly, making her shiver.
“I don’t know any better,” she breathes, her head softly falling back against his chest.
“You know that in through those doors,” one of them gestures to the backdoor, “is a virtual cesspool of special people. I haven’t so much as touched one of them except for you. Not even your wonderful uncle.”
Claire’s eyes fall shut as the one in front of her steps forward and takes her face into his hands.
“A God among men… must have his Goddess. And of course she must be eternal. I will not waste my time on…”
“…follies. Who tempt me and die, leaving me heartbroken in their wake. If the one I choose breaks my heart…”
“… I want to be able to win her back. Forever. My efforts would never cease.”
Another one appears on her other side, leaving her trapped in every direction.
She doesn’t think she minds all that much.
“Perhaps your father doesn’t… your grandmother… even Peter…”
“… but I’m different, Claire.”
“If I choose to mate…”
“…that’s for life.”
“An awfully long time to be stuck with me.”
Claire takes a deep, shaky breath.
“Are you offering me a choice here?”
It’s the first time that she hears him pause, feels them still completely, and the world freezes with them.
“I’m not sure, princess. Why don’t you decide for me?”
“That makes this a much harder decision,” she says after a beat.
“Good. It’s not meant to be easy.”
Another deep breath.
“What if I say no?”
“I won’t kill you,” he reassures, smiling against the back of her neck.
“… that is out of the question. However…”
“… I have to tell you that I can be very… shall we say, persuasive?”
Claire doesn’t know whether it was to drive his point home, but the one before her, her face in his hands, leans in to softly kiss her.
Much more softly than she could have ever anticipated from a man like him.
“… persuasive?” Claire stammers when he finally pulls away, smiling contentedly.
“Yes, rather,” the one beside her answers, placing gentle kisses up her arm until he reaches the strap of her gown, tugging it down until he has her nipple exposed to the cool night air.
She doesn’t even have it in her to stop him.
Not even when he leans forward and takes the soft pink bud into his mouth, a moan slipping out, unexpectedly.
It takes her a moment or two to realize that that came from her.
“A-and-,” she stammers helplessly, trying to get a hold of herself just as long fingers run up her thigh, pushing the material of her dress up, up, up, “what if I say y-yes?”
“A million things, princess,” one of them whispers - she’s losing her sense of orientation - hot breath against her ear. “You’d rightfully acknowledge your place. By my side. My Queen…”
“… you would never have to want for anything…”
“…you’d have constant protection by your side” he chuckles lightly, “as if you needed it…”
“…you would, of course, be able to see your family, your friends-“
When he cuts himself off, her eyes snap open again, and she thinks about this for a moment or two.
“Where’s the catch?” she breathes somewhat helplessly, confused.
“You mustn’t tell anyone about me.”
Things are very quiet then, for a very long time.
“No one, ever?”
“No one, ever.”
It implies that she would have to tell them all that she was quitting school. Leaving to live the Good Life by herself in a mansion or something like it in someplace nice.
Vermont, perhaps. The leaves were so nice during autumn, there.
Or perchance Paris. If one was not dragged off to there against ones will… well, it could be a pleasant enough place.
Really, in a way, they could be everywhere. Travel around the world at a moment’s notice. Denver for Christmas, New York for New Years…
She could hardly spend eternity with Peter. He was, after all, her uncle.
As if reading her thoughts, the seemingly invisible hand slid higher as his hot breath spoke softly against her ear, “you don’t want to live forever, Claire, while all the people you love die around you.”
A beat, then-
“I don’t either.”
She blinks for too long, chooses to blink at all, and the next moment he’s kissing her again, hands running up and down her sides, her legs, his mouth on her breast, on her mouth, placing small kisses up the inside of her thigh-
It happens so quickly that she hardly has the time to catch her breath.
“You know what else is amazing about this ability, princess, ignoring for a second the fact that I can kiss your pretty little mouth, those perfect pert breasts, and all the way up to your center… all at once…” He grins. “It effectively takes care of the refractory period between coming.”
It’s a sudden onwash of realizations. This is where this is headed.
She understands. Claire doesn’t even so much as mind.
“It’s a shame you’re wearing panties,” a muffled voice from below comes out just as Sylar lightly runs his tongue over her mouth, asking her permission.
Granted.
As if on cue - of course, they’re all internally choreographed in some way or another - her panties suddenly tear, and before she can pretend to care, his mouth is viciously attacking her slit, slipping up to draw circles around her quim.
She’s already wet - didn’t know until just now, whimpering into his mouth just as one of them bites down on her nipple.
Behind her, pressing into the small of her back, is his erection. Significant, yes, because he’s the one where this all started from.
Without him, the others don’t even so much as exist.
And while, yes, they might operate just as well as he does, might as well be him, might be doing miracles to her body, overwhelming her with sensations, her eyes rolling into the back of her head-
He’s the one that truly matters.
“You’re not-o-oh!-not getting any yourself at all,” she says after a moment of thought, when her mouth is free and that one is preoccupied with her other breast, making quick work of the gown.
He catches on to her train of thought rather quickly, lightly chuckling as nimble hands run up and down her sides. “I get an… echo. Of the sensations. All of them. Like a ghost of a feeling on my lips…”
He grins, leaning down to lave his tongue at her neck, before kissing the spot softly.
“You taste amazing,” he breathes, and she gives a sigh.
Inevitable.
“Besides… I’m getting a fantastic show. And-oh, fuck.”
He doesn’t have to explain. With the mess they’ve effectively made of her dress at this point, Claire can see, somewhat, what’s going on - and it’s a little hard to miss how one of them has started touching himself, effectively jerking himself off as he eats her out.
“Oh god,” she whimpers.
Until he turns her slightly, leaning into his touch from behind, tilting her face upward just so that me might lean down to kiss her.
When he does, it’s genuine, more still than when one of the others does it.
“Persuasive,” she whispers helplessly against his lips, wishing she could tangle a hand in his hair, currently trapped by the others. “Not necessary.”
“I wouldn’t have let you miss out on it either way,” he says, leaning in to kiss her again.
“Oh-ooh, oh god,” she whimpers loudly, her hips bucking forward as she grabs hold of the other two - currently preoccupied with her breasts - ‘s arms. “Oh god, ooh, fuck, please, Sylar-“
She doesn’t know what she’s pleading for, either, but it doesn’t particularly matter either way, as she comes then, hard, against him, rocking back and forth.
“Claire-“ he chokes out from behind her, and all of a sudden each one of them disappears, leaving only him.
It takes him two seconds to pin her to the fence, a strangled moan escaping when two more seconds pass and he slides home.
“The friction was unbear-I, oh god, you feel fucking fantastic. So fucking tight,” he growls, low and deep from his throat.
She whimpers.
“Tell me when.”
“I get over pain quickly,” she says, as if on cue.
“Thought so.”
What follows is… unbelievable, in a way. He starts moving, thrusting hard and deep inside of her, and it’s all she can do to keep from crying out loud and the unbelievably filling feeling of it all, one lone thumb continuing its assault on her abused quim as he moves, holding her up - most likely - with a little help from telekinesis.
The tiniest of noises, uttered in the heat of the moment like this from him-they say almost more than words can.
Her fingernails dig almost painfully into his back, her other hand tangled in his hair as she holds him close, closer, never enough.
He comes quickly with a grunt and a whisper that she can’t hear, and she whimpers against his skin.
They don’t move for a good several beats, until he takes his forehead off the fence to rest it on hers instead.
“Persuasion?” he feebly asks.
“How could I say no to that?” she whispers back softly, smiling shyly.
“Then that’s that. Go get your things. We’re leaving tonight.”
If you're still wanting to participate, I think it's about time to get in your Orient Express Challenge Entries... or ask me for an extension.
Also, am on new laptop! It has been duly dubbed Sasan and has a bigger penis than Edmund did. (Read: screen size, 17in vs. 15in) HP Pavilion zd8000 with a motherfucking NUMBER PAD on the side. :D
The New Year hasn't started for me yet. I quote myself, in a note I wrote to someone so close, yet so far away right at this moment...
I had this silly idea last night that I wouldn’t start the New Year until I could do it properly, with a kiss from you. Because I don’t want to start the New Year without knowing that I’ll be able to end it with you, too.
How great of a 20th Birthday I have (FRIDAY!) does depend on this, yes, and... well. You'll know, f-list, that something truly amazing has happened when I officially declare it 2008.
Nevertheless, the New Year has started for most of you, so I'll answer the few questions you have.
1. When did you get into Heroes? (aymiah)
I want to say... March. Don't quote me on that. You can duly blame no_urges for the obsession, effectively getting me hooked on it after no more than Episode One. I sort of want to say I was hooked after the first five minutes because... oh my god. It was so amazing. Watched 1-18 in a week. x_x
2. What's your favorite ice cream? (morelen)
HAHAH, I'm allergic to dairy, isn't that great? But I do so love ice cream. Personal favorite would have to be Dean & Deluca's Banana Gelato. It is so ridiculously good it makes me want to cry. Mmmmm.
3. How old were you when you first realized that you wanted to be a _____? (summer_cities)
Hm. Two-part answer!
- Writer. I would say... that it festered itself... very early. I mean, it was rooted in there ever since I did better than most in elementary school writing stuff. But I really realized that I wanted to write novels when I was in Junior Year. I think. Don't quote me on that.
- Actor. This one started when I was five. Went away. Came back. Went away again. Etc. It always went away again because I couldn't see it being stable in any way at all. Now I'm at a point in my life where I realize that it doesn't matter. That I need to do what make me happy, no matter at what cost. Given a few things... it looks like it won't cost anything at all. God, I love acting.
4. If you could choose one author to write the story of your life, who would you choose? (cheap_valentine)
I adore Austen, but she would turn it into a giant romantic comedy. Given... a few very interesting variables in my life, I would say give it to Pratchett & Gaiman. I adored Good Omens. They'd know how to make it suitably fun and suitably supernatural with a romantic twist... yeah. Definitely those two.
And... while we're doing plenty of rping fic over HERE (yes, that will be updated regularly)... it's only fair I post some actual fic. XD
Title: Persuasion
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Sylar/Sylar/Sylar/Claire
Word Count: 2,613
Summary: Sylar decides to make an offer Claire can't refuse on New Year's Eve. With backup and means of persuasion.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Should it come to this, this is AU and all characters involved in sexual relations in this story are 18 or older.
Author's Note: For the amazing lienne for putting up with me so much and being so awesome and have I MENTIONED RP???? and of course jesslared who really is doing me a huge fucking favor atm.
The only way to destroy the immortal is to make them feel alone, forlorn, abandoned.
The only way to do that is to outnumber them.
***
"I don't want to be here anymore."
"Oh, come on, Claire, it's not so bad," Peter says, and Claire is left to wonder whether he holds this opinion dear only because he's just poured himself his fifth glass of wine.
Perhaps.
"I've had to smile and nod and shake hands every single evening since… Christmas Eve, because apparently your mother has so many friends and is so connected and-"
Why bother.
"It's New Years Eve! Relax, have a few drinks!"
"No one would serve a girl that looks permanently sixteen any alcohol."
"I will," he says, grinning.
"I'm going to find… the buffet table," she says, brushing past him.
Instead, she finds the bathroom, awkward hands fumbling with her dress to try and readjust it, try to make it more comfortable. It's not even that it's too long for her tastes, or too stuffy, or too revealing…
It's just this place, she thinks morosely to herself as she tries to readjust the shimmery gold fabric.
Futile. Perhaps she'd step outside for a little bit. Too stuffy in here, surrounded by politicians and people with secrets, everyone with a general air of importance about them.
And perhaps she'd stop by the bar on her way out.
***
She has to admit, it's a lovely night out.
A bit cold, goose bumps on her bare arms and shoulders, but it's peaceful, and the gardens out back look just a little bit like a winter wonderland, beautifully lit by the string lights everywhere.
"Hey Claire," a voice behind her says softly, and she turns around to look who it came from.
No one.
There's nothing there.
Shaking her head to dismiss it, she keeps walking until she finds herself by the fountain, lined with benches around. They’re covered in snow, but she brushes one off and sits anyway, closing her eyes if only for a moment as the cool air caresses her skin, sending shivers down her spine to pool down low.
“Claire.”
Just a hint of a whisper, a phantom breath, hot on her ear, and her own catches in her throat as her eyes go wide.
When she turns around to look, there’s nothing there. Just the fountain, water frozen inside, surface just slightly cracked.
Nevertheless unsettled, she gets up and heads down the path, further away from the house. She doesn’t want to go back, not yet. Too stifling, too obtrusive, too much all at once.
***
The gardens are set up to look like they’re being maintained around the clock by overworked laboring hands.
In a way, they are, reminding her rather of Louis XIV’s gardens at his palace at Versailles.
Her grandmother had always been the ostentatious kind; lavish to an extent only royalty could compete with.
“Your mind playing tricks with you, Claire-bear?”
This time she recognizes the voice and doesn’t bear to look, picking up her dress and duly losing one of her shoes as she’s running, running through the maze of the gardens before her until she finally thinks she’s run enough, away from immediate harm as she leans her body - hot all of a sudden - in contrast against the cool stone of the outer wall.
It’s a small corner on the side of the house, the area where the fence reaches hardly providing a lot of room for anything useful to be done with the space at all.
Except for now, out of breath, adrenaline rushing through her veins, ending with a pounding, throbbing sensation in her head.
She takes one second to lean her head back and close her eyes.
One second too many.
“Hey, princess.”
She screams, trying to run again, but he grabs her arm in a vice-grip, pulling her flush against him.
“How did you-“
“I’m everywhere,” he growls with a smile that sends chills down her spine. “With every ability I get, I come closer and closer to being God.”
She balks at him, eyes wide, face ashen, and tries to pull away again.
“I’m not going to kill you,” he whispers softly. “I’m everywhere. Forever. I don’t need your brain. And it would be such a waste of a beautiful creature…”
Long fingers run down her face, her neck, her décolleté as her heart pounds in her throat, her back against his chest as he holds her there.
He wouldn’t have to, anymore. She’s stilled in his grasp completely.
“You’ve-“
“I’ve been watching you, Claire. And just as I thought I’d have to say goodbye to such wonder… along came this guy who’s had almost four hundred years on his head and plenty of bad deeds. The company was searching for him; they locked him up and threw away the key. Your uncle would know him. He was almost manipulated by him in an effort to destroy the world.”
There’s a pause during which she can feel her own heart thrumming in her chest, and then-
“I don’t want to destroy the world, Claire. I just want as much as I can get.”
“How did you do it?” she asked suddenly, unexpectedly.
“I had to be everywhere. It takes more than one man to kill an immortal being.”
Before she can ask him how he did it, he appears in front of her.
“I was by here all along… but I can create multiples of myself. That’s how I was there-“ the one in front of her says, pointing,
“-and there,” another said as he suddenly appears, gesturing towards the porch,
“-and here,” the one behind her finishes. “I’m everywhere, sweetheart.”
She swallows, taking a deep breath.
“What do you want from me?”
If you’re not here to kill me, is the qualifier here, and she waits with baited breath.
“I didn’t kill you,” he says, almost puzzled in his tone. “I’m the hero. For just this once, I’m the hero. And the hero always gets the girl.”
…oh.
“But you haven’t changed,” she says defiantly.
“You don’t know that,” the one beside her argues back, his hand slowly running up her side almost absentmindedly, making her shiver.
“I don’t know any better,” she breathes, her head softly falling back against his chest.
“You know that in through those doors,” one of them gestures to the backdoor, “is a virtual cesspool of special people. I haven’t so much as touched one of them except for you. Not even your wonderful uncle.”
Claire’s eyes fall shut as the one in front of her steps forward and takes her face into his hands.
“A God among men… must have his Goddess. And of course she must be eternal. I will not waste my time on…”
“…follies. Who tempt me and die, leaving me heartbroken in their wake. If the one I choose breaks my heart…”
“… I want to be able to win her back. Forever. My efforts would never cease.”
Another one appears on her other side, leaving her trapped in every direction.
She doesn’t think she minds all that much.
“Perhaps your father doesn’t… your grandmother… even Peter…”
“… but I’m different, Claire.”
“If I choose to mate…”
“…that’s for life.”
“An awfully long time to be stuck with me.”
Claire takes a deep, shaky breath.
“Are you offering me a choice here?”
It’s the first time that she hears him pause, feels them still completely, and the world freezes with them.
“I’m not sure, princess. Why don’t you decide for me?”
“That makes this a much harder decision,” she says after a beat.
“Good. It’s not meant to be easy.”
Another deep breath.
“What if I say no?”
“I won’t kill you,” he reassures, smiling against the back of her neck.
“… that is out of the question. However…”
“… I have to tell you that I can be very… shall we say, persuasive?”
Claire doesn’t know whether it was to drive his point home, but the one before her, her face in his hands, leans in to softly kiss her.
Much more softly than she could have ever anticipated from a man like him.
“… persuasive?” Claire stammers when he finally pulls away, smiling contentedly.
“Yes, rather,” the one beside her answers, placing gentle kisses up her arm until he reaches the strap of her gown, tugging it down until he has her nipple exposed to the cool night air.
She doesn’t even have it in her to stop him.
Not even when he leans forward and takes the soft pink bud into his mouth, a moan slipping out, unexpectedly.
It takes her a moment or two to realize that that came from her.
“A-and-,” she stammers helplessly, trying to get a hold of herself just as long fingers run up her thigh, pushing the material of her dress up, up, up, “what if I say y-yes?”
“A million things, princess,” one of them whispers - she’s losing her sense of orientation - hot breath against her ear. “You’d rightfully acknowledge your place. By my side. My Queen…”
“… you would never have to want for anything…”
“…you’d have constant protection by your side” he chuckles lightly, “as if you needed it…”
“…you would, of course, be able to see your family, your friends-“
When he cuts himself off, her eyes snap open again, and she thinks about this for a moment or two.
“Where’s the catch?” she breathes somewhat helplessly, confused.
“You mustn’t tell anyone about me.”
Things are very quiet then, for a very long time.
“No one, ever?”
“No one, ever.”
It implies that she would have to tell them all that she was quitting school. Leaving to live the Good Life by herself in a mansion or something like it in someplace nice.
Vermont, perhaps. The leaves were so nice during autumn, there.
Or perchance Paris. If one was not dragged off to there against ones will… well, it could be a pleasant enough place.
Really, in a way, they could be everywhere. Travel around the world at a moment’s notice. Denver for Christmas, New York for New Years…
She could hardly spend eternity with Peter. He was, after all, her uncle.
As if reading her thoughts, the seemingly invisible hand slid higher as his hot breath spoke softly against her ear, “you don’t want to live forever, Claire, while all the people you love die around you.”
A beat, then-
“I don’t either.”
She blinks for too long, chooses to blink at all, and the next moment he’s kissing her again, hands running up and down her sides, her legs, his mouth on her breast, on her mouth, placing small kisses up the inside of her thigh-
It happens so quickly that she hardly has the time to catch her breath.
“You know what else is amazing about this ability, princess, ignoring for a second the fact that I can kiss your pretty little mouth, those perfect pert breasts, and all the way up to your center… all at once…” He grins. “It effectively takes care of the refractory period between coming.”
It’s a sudden onwash of realizations. This is where this is headed.
She understands. Claire doesn’t even so much as mind.
“It’s a shame you’re wearing panties,” a muffled voice from below comes out just as Sylar lightly runs his tongue over her mouth, asking her permission.
Granted.
As if on cue - of course, they’re all internally choreographed in some way or another - her panties suddenly tear, and before she can pretend to care, his mouth is viciously attacking her slit, slipping up to draw circles around her quim.
She’s already wet - didn’t know until just now, whimpering into his mouth just as one of them bites down on her nipple.
Behind her, pressing into the small of her back, is his erection. Significant, yes, because he’s the one where this all started from.
Without him, the others don’t even so much as exist.
And while, yes, they might operate just as well as he does, might as well be him, might be doing miracles to her body, overwhelming her with sensations, her eyes rolling into the back of her head-
He’s the one that truly matters.
“You’re not-o-oh!-not getting any yourself at all,” she says after a moment of thought, when her mouth is free and that one is preoccupied with her other breast, making quick work of the gown.
He catches on to her train of thought rather quickly, lightly chuckling as nimble hands run up and down her sides. “I get an… echo. Of the sensations. All of them. Like a ghost of a feeling on my lips…”
He grins, leaning down to lave his tongue at her neck, before kissing the spot softly.
“You taste amazing,” he breathes, and she gives a sigh.
Inevitable.
“Besides… I’m getting a fantastic show. And-oh, fuck.”
He doesn’t have to explain. With the mess they’ve effectively made of her dress at this point, Claire can see, somewhat, what’s going on - and it’s a little hard to miss how one of them has started touching himself, effectively jerking himself off as he eats her out.
“Oh god,” she whimpers.
Until he turns her slightly, leaning into his touch from behind, tilting her face upward just so that me might lean down to kiss her.
When he does, it’s genuine, more still than when one of the others does it.
“Persuasive,” she whispers helplessly against his lips, wishing she could tangle a hand in his hair, currently trapped by the others. “Not necessary.”
“I wouldn’t have let you miss out on it either way,” he says, leaning in to kiss her again.
“Oh-ooh, oh god,” she whimpers loudly, her hips bucking forward as she grabs hold of the other two - currently preoccupied with her breasts - ‘s arms. “Oh god, ooh, fuck, please, Sylar-“
She doesn’t know what she’s pleading for, either, but it doesn’t particularly matter either way, as she comes then, hard, against him, rocking back and forth.
“Claire-“ he chokes out from behind her, and all of a sudden each one of them disappears, leaving only him.
It takes him two seconds to pin her to the fence, a strangled moan escaping when two more seconds pass and he slides home.
“The friction was unbear-I, oh god, you feel fucking fantastic. So fucking tight,” he growls, low and deep from his throat.
She whimpers.
“Tell me when.”
“I get over pain quickly,” she says, as if on cue.
“Thought so.”
What follows is… unbelievable, in a way. He starts moving, thrusting hard and deep inside of her, and it’s all she can do to keep from crying out loud and the unbelievably filling feeling of it all, one lone thumb continuing its assault on her abused quim as he moves, holding her up - most likely - with a little help from telekinesis.
The tiniest of noises, uttered in the heat of the moment like this from him-they say almost more than words can.
Her fingernails dig almost painfully into his back, her other hand tangled in his hair as she holds him close, closer, never enough.
He comes quickly with a grunt and a whisper that she can’t hear, and she whimpers against his skin.
They don’t move for a good several beats, until he takes his forehead off the fence to rest it on hers instead.
“Persuasion?” he feebly asks.
“How could I say no to that?” she whispers back softly, smiling shyly.
“Then that’s that. Go get your things. We’re leaving tonight.”