Fic: Mad World 6/8
Chapter 6
Peter hovered amongst the clouds, knees drawn up to his middle, arms across his chest. It was bitterly cold this late in the evening with only a t-shirt, but he had other things to think about than frostbite. The giant childish sulk he currently indulged in was one, the stupid hurt he felt at his family’s betrayal was another and finally the worst, the unmistakable truth behind Sylar’s words.
He wanted to go home. Pitiful and sad as it sounded, Peter desperately wanted to go back to his own time. Even if it was to the hatred in Nathan’s eyes, cool manipulation from his mother and Claire’s youthful innocence slowly being tarnished by darkness. It was a terrible thing that his family were more loving here in an apocalyptic future than they’d ever been when Peter was around.
But the one way he could go back and make everything right was currently unavailable to him. Because of the god-damned Spider and his FedMarshal drones, Peter couldn’t time travel, couldn’t go back and fix his family. With the knowledge he had now, Peter could forestall Nathan’s deal with Danko, could stop the President from declaring them all terrorists and he could save Sylar. He’d drag the killer to Matt by his hair if he had to, to get the hunger stopped and allow the human being within to see the light.
He had to get Hiro’s power back. Peter had to end the Spider and fix this fucked-up place once and for all.
After several hours in the air, Peter’s eyes were itchy dry despite the moisture around him. All the wounds from the fight with Sylar long healed, except for the ones on his heart. They might take longer than a sabbatical in the clouds. As the last of the daylight bled into darkness, Peter determined his course of action and descended towards the mansion. He wanted to talk to Claire. She, of all his family, would tell him the straight unvarnished truth. Peter had looked down the barrel of a gun in her small hand and still trusted her.
Peter glided easily through his open bedroom window and quickly pulled off his shoes. He needed a hot shower, a conversation with his niece, five hours of sleep and then he’d leave. The illuminated lamp by his bedside stilled the fingers on his belt. The man seated in the armchair caused Peter’s spine to stiffen in caution.
“They’re worried.” The velvet voice was neutral, free of the hate and scorn that had infused it earlier.
Peter concentrated. In his mental and audible voice he said,
‘Matt, I’m back and fine. Please tell them to stay away.’
‘Matt, I’m back and fine. Please tell them to stay away.”
A pointed glare towards the seated man then the door while Peter pulled his black ‘mission’ clothes from his cupboard.
Chin cupped in his palm, long fingers curled up to his cheek, Sylar spoke casually, as if he hadn’t drilled an electric hole through Peter’s chest scant hours before.
“It’s been a hard lesson for me to understand how completely oblivious you actually are.” The velvet voice was oddly gentle, but Peter barely noticed it over the criticism. Peter hardly needed another set of insults to add to the damage his ego had already taken at this man’s hands.
“Sorry I’m such a failure.” He snarled.
Sylar seemed to repress an eye roll through sheer force of will.
“I meant, before you react like a snake and fang me to death, I realised today you don’t even have any kind of clue what you do to me.” A careless gesture with his free hand.
Blinking at the obscure statement, Peter shook his head to clear some emotional cobwebs.
“I didn’t do anything.” He responded quickly. “I just wanted you to stop being an asshole to the people who love you.”
A long-suffering sigh issued from that handsome mouth. Peter tried to divert himself from paying attention with his completely logical rage. It couldn’t quite take, what with Sylar rising to his feet and stalking over to Peter like a big, sexy hunting cat. Hands caught his shoulders, a strong grip that pulled them dangerously close together. A bump of groin to groin so Peter could feel the unmistakable evidence of the other’s arousal.
“This is what you do to me.” Lips lowered to hover light as gossamer just above his.
Peter was immediately torn. On one hand he wanted to punch the fucker in the face for all the emotional rings he’d been running Peter through, on the other hand Sylar was right there inches away, his body stealing the last of the night chill from Peter’s skin and those lips so very close…
“It doesn’t just fix everything between us by agreeing we want to fuck.” There was still an edge in Peter’s voice, one caused by the gutting pain he’d experienced at this man’s hands.
Lids lifted and the sudden heat in the midnight gaze almost stole the last of his resistance.
“No, but it’ll stop me wanting to burn little holes in your skin just so I can keep your attention fixed completely…” again the wicked mouth made a gentle pass, “…on me.”
With herculean effort, Peter pulled his face back fractionally. “Apologise for being an asshole.” He ordered, suppressing a primal urge to just drop and bare his neck.
A slight smile. “I’m sorry I was an asshole to everyone and I’m sorry…” the whispering mouth moved closer and this time Peter couldn’t even form a thought of denial. “…I took it out on you.”
The intrinsic fairness that was welded to his DNA had Peter saying softly, “It was much my fault as…”
The kiss that stole his words shook Peter to his very core. Such an indecent, talented mouth Sylar possessed and one intent on addicting Peter to it’s every move and push.
Reaching up to lace his fingers through the thick hair, Peter pulled Sylar in closer, pressing them together full length and arching his chest against that delicious body. Sylar 's sudden deep growl sent shivers down Peter's spine despite the warmth of the room. The sensuous mouth locked on his was firm and wet, sliding along Peter's so perfectly.
Their tongues duelled for several seconds, before allowing exploration of teeth and lips. Peter now felt like he was burning from the inside, going up in Ted’s flames and Sylar a solid island of cool to drown in. Not only was he solid, but that iron erection from earlier had now an eager companion in Peter’s denim covered groin. He had been half hard already just from the other’s presence in his room and the smoky velvet voice curling around him. Now Peter’s cock felt like iron inside the prison of his clothes. On and on the kisses continued, dragging the breath out of him, turning his bones to jelly and opening a deep yawning pit of need inside his heart and his body.
Peter never wanted to fuck so badly in his life.
It seemed Sylar agreed because just as Peter pressed in, trying to force himself closer, the other man curved two hands under Peter’s ass and lifted like he was a lightweight. Wrapping his legs around Sylar’s hips, Peter groaned into their locked mouths at the almost painful press of his erection against another. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew Sylar didn’t have superior strength and felt a definite buzz of heat at the human muscle his soon-to-be lover had just displayed.
Using his weight and a little bit of power, Peter pushed them backwards until the back of Sylar’s knees hit the bed. Hmmm. Exactly where he wanted to be, sitting astride Sylar’s lap, tousling that perfect hair while kissing so deep and needy that he thought he never may stop.
A few quick acrobatic movements had Sylar coatless and pressed back into the headboard, while Peter dislodged their shoes and removed shirts as quickly as possible. Sylar was hardly passive, drawing a gasp as Peter’s jaw and throat were tormented with lips and tongue, long fingers pulling at the buttons of his jeans then delving inside to curl and stroke the satin flesh within.
Telekinesis wielded by either of them or both, helpfully removed at the last of their clothes; the power an eager manifestation of their mutual desire to be absolutely, completely naked. Glorious skin finally glided against skin, so wickedly warm together that Peter could see a full body massage in the future somewhere. Just those fingers on him was turning Peter on so completely, he wanted to flat out beg Sylarl to take him any way he wanted. When his length was released he gave a great long shuddering sigh. One that quickly turned into a shudder of need as the hands crept around and delved gently at his ass. Their lips parted on a hiss of pleasure.
“Please…” the word was almost lost in Peter’s heightened breathing, but the want was plain and absolute.
He purred into that striking, handsome face, “If you don’t I may just have to force you.”
Sylar’s sudden sensual chuckle caused a new fizzle of arousal to hit Peter. He had never heard the man issue such a carefree and downright dirty sound before.
“One day.” The former killer vowed, passion laced through the dark promise of his voice.
With a clench of thigh muscles Peter sat higher, raking his hands once again through the thick chocolate hair that had flicked so teasingly at his skin during those bruise rending kisses. Smashing his lips almost clumsily against Sylar’s, Peter curled his hand around the length nudging at his buttocks, adoring its satin feel and size.
The first brush of Sylar's fingers across his opening sent tingles, like tiny electric shocks, up his spine from his ass to his skull. In retaliation Peter tightened his fingers around Sylar's sex and gently rubbed his palm across the silken head. He almost wanted to slide lower and swallow Sylar deep down into his throat, but another part of his body needed that hot hard shaft even more.
As Sylar's talented fingers moved and stretched him, Peter sunk his teeth into his lower lip to stifle the terribly uncontrolled moan threatening to escape him. Eventually the tormenting touches became too much and Peter pulled back and away from their sensual touch. He frankly didn't care if he was ready because he wanted Sylar in him. Right. Now.
Catching two handfuls of that thick hair, Peter pressed his body against Sylar’s in a blatant invitation.
“Now. Now. Inside me…” Peter didn't recognize the lust-filled burr that his voice had become.
Lips dropped light kisses across his jaw as if Peter’s erotic pleading never took place. But beneath his ragged begging, Peter heard the slight hitch in the other man’s breathing and knew that his soon-to-be lover was walking a knife edge of control even more volatile than his own. He wanted to look into those eyes as he came, watch the man's face when they made love for the first time.
The first press of Sylar's hardness inside him had Peter responding instinctively, exhaling and relaxing as he slowly surrendered his body. It burned a little and the ache was intense but Peter felt the friction turn to a riot of bliss as inch by solid inch pressed its way inside him. Peter arched his back and canted his hips to return the pressure. A hand tightened at the base of his skull and Peter could see the same fierce pleasure fill the midnight eyes that gazed with steady control into his own.
Letting gravity finally win, Peter sank all the way down, feeling Sylar slide in impossibly deeper. He gasped at the nascent burn, eyelids fluttering closed, biting his lip at the overwhelming pleasure. The flesh tormented by teeth only for a second as with a sharp pull forwards his lover broke the connection with his tongue, piercing Peter twice both ass and mouth, holding and owning.
Peter began a slow, sensual dance, the lift and pull of his hips drawing the hard flesh in and out of him. Rocking them together in a simply glide dictated by need and gasped murmurs of “yes…right there…you..”
Long seconds passed as Peter worked them closer to the edge, his gaze locked on the bitter chocolate ones that he’d never think of as cold again. Hands braced on Sylar’s shoulders for balance, Peter lost all thought to the pleasure beginning to course from his ass to his cock.
In one smooth motion his wrists were engulfed by Sylar’s longer hands. In a move reminiscent of battle, Peter saw the wall and ceiling spin by in a blur, then was bouncing slightly on the thick mattress, Sylar's taller, delicious body pressing him even deeper into the comfortable softness. Now Peter was caught between the hot, hard body of his lover, still buried deep inside him and the bed. Looking up into Sylar’s deep gaze, he couldn't help the challenge he threw up with only his eyes. Peter was in all kinds of luck as the challenge was answered, sweet, warm breath caressed his cheek and ear, sending wonderful shivers across the sensitive skin at his throat.
“You…are…” Sylar’s was like dark honey they way it curled and sashayed around them.
“Hmm...?” Peter’s gaze now as he looked at the handsome face, high cheekbones flushed, lips brilliant from desperate, needy kisses.
“Everything.” A single perfect thrust.
A full-body shudder had Peter’s eyes closing, his fingers scoring desperate nail marks down the smooth skin over Sylar’s back. When he had the breath to speak he rasped, “Please…” But the vital movements didn’t start, instead long fingers embedded in his hair and warm lips hovered butterfly soft over his own.
“Open your eyes.”
Peter looked into bitter chocolate touched by gold.
“Say my name.”
Lips moist from their duelling mouths, Peter tried to pull his brain online.
“Sy….”
A hard punishing kiss and the taste of copper on his tongue, fingers rough, collecting dark strands and small pulls of pain. Released after long seconds, Peter looked up again at saw the question repeated. For a foolish, lost moment he wondered at what he was supposed to say. But eventually he saw past the long, muscled form atop his own, past the handsome face, wicked mouth and beautiful hard cock pushed to the hilt in his body. A slow breath in and god help him, Peter had never been this obedient with anyone, not even his family, but…
Looking up through his lashes, he allowed the sheer eroticism of what they were doing, what was being done to him and by whom fill his gaze. A slow breath in and…
“Gabriel…” such a delicious name, “…Gabriel...” he played, changing the emphasis, “…Gabriel…” filling his voice with smoke and lust, “…Gab…”
This time the name cut off, not in anger, but in agonised, perfect worship.
Now Gabriel was fucking in and out of his body in a decadent wild rhythm. Nothing slow and sexy any more. All control lost, grasping hands, biting mouths, they pushed hard against each other in a desperate need to reach perfection.
Peter was burning up from inside and out. The fingers stroking his cock in time with the hard iron inside him, meant Peter was revelling in every single contact with Gabriel’s skin. His orgasm was bubbling up to his knee caps right about the time his lover started chanting his name. A hot, feverish hum of want, want, want. Peter gave a moment's thought, a moment was about as much as he was capable of in this position, to trying to suppress the wild exhilaration about to blow his head off. But he couldn't and didn’t want to suppress anything around Gabriel, not anymore.
Peter wasn't coherent enough to wonder if Gabriel was encouraged by his desperate, needy moans, he was too busy feeling and dying and letting that burn run from his thighs to his brain. The hard length slid into him again and again, stretching him, sending his nerves alight; Gabriel's hand stroked and caressed his cock until Peter's eyes rolled back in his head.
Peter almost stopped breathing. The wildfire had taken him over, stealing his voice and rendering him a creature of sensation. Peter’s climax bolted out of him, causing the muscles in his body to spasm to an almost painful degree. Desperately he held onto Gabriel's hair, locking his gaze with dark eyes almost inhuman at the moment of ecstasy. The growling, broken voice in his ear sending him to a white-hot room of instant blistering pleasure.
He had no voice, but his lips shaped one word.
Gabriel.
*****
Peter was just drifting. Kind of like flying or floating down from a cliff, light as a feather. Muscles that were almost but not quite sore, the sweet, peaceful lassitude engulfing him was better than any drug. He'd just had the best orgasm of his adult life.
Reality eventually penetrated Peter’s happy little zone out. Gabriel's name still on his lips and his lover still buried deep inside him.
Blinking slowly, Peter looked into the handsome face pressed into the pillow and registered the magnificent satisfaction that radiated outwards and seemed to haze the room around them. Gabriel had graced his jaw and neck with awesome, possessive kisses just five seconds ago, but Peter had been so high, his body had acquiesced while his mind hadn't really noticed.
Reaching languid arms up to bury his fingers in thick dark hair, Peter tugged until he could kiss his new lover back. Softly blending drugged kisses with shifting limbs they arranged themselves into a more comfortable position, legs entangled, Peter’s cheek resting on one broad smooth shoulder.
‘You’re forgiven.” He murmured cheekily, thinking off the small lamp and plunging them into darkness.
A low rumble of laughter deep within the chest pressed close. “I see…so the next time we fight, we make up in the same way?”
Sudden sadness took Peter’s breath momentarily, but he forced it away, enveloping himself with the rightness of the moment.
“Hmmm…agreed.” Closing his eyes, he breathed in that deeply enticing scent of pine and almonds.
“Peter?”
But between one breath and the next, Peter fell asleep.
*****
Tying his shoes, Peter took one last longing glance around his room and stood up. The mild fall weather was slowly declining towards a chilly winter and he’d need more than just a sweater where he was going. Stalled on his way to the wardrobe, Peter’s heart gave a sudden lurch as he saw Gabriel shift in his sleep.
Like some kind of erotic photograph that Peter had hidden under this same bed during high school, his new lover was a studied contrast of darkness and light. The crisp white sheets lay lovingly along long muscled limbs, lean, tanned back just begging to be touched and a darkly stubbled handsome face pressed comfortably into the pillows.
Walking closer, Peter took a mental snapshot and re-organised the list of his most treasured memories in the back of his mind. Waking up warm and loved with Gabriel was now the flat out best thing that had ever happened to him, beyond even the power that had both enhanced and ruined his life.
So gently as to take no risk of waking the other man, Peter traced one fingertip along the knuckles of lightly curled fingers.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered.
The room didn’t answer as Peter leapt into the sky.