Bring Her Home
Title: Bring Her Home
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing/Characters: Claire/Gretchen/Elle/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,191
Spoilers: Through S4
Warnings: foursome, power-play, D/s, collaring, toys
Disclaimer Heroes doesn’t belong to me, and I don’t make a penny off of it.
Author’s Notes: Written for dragynflies for heroes_exchange. Thanks to brighteyed_jill for betaing!
Summary: Sylar wants to bring Claire into his fold. Elle and Gretchen are more than happy to welcome her.
Sylar mouthed hungrily at her breasts, his tongue reaching out to press into her flesh. Claire squirmed, trying to angle away from him, and Gretchen pulled her lips away from Claire’s, making Claire whimper very softly.
“Pom-Pom, this is a three-for-one deal,” Elle said firmly, her small hands grasping Claire’s hips. “And really, you don’t have much of a leg to stand on.” She thrust lightly in a reminder than her strap-on was deep in Claire’s ass, the metal toy tingling as Elle let light sparks dance over her skin.
Elle looked good for a dead girl. Rings of metal and rubber sporadically marched their way across her body, hiding something here, revealing something there, making her into an erotic peek-a-boo. Insider her wrought-iron cage, Elle had looked like a black-and-blonde tiger, pacing hungrily back and forth when Sylar left her chained.
But now the tiger was loose, going for the weak spot, her only restraint the slinky metal collar circling her neck. Claire had recognized it after her first flush of panic had dissipated; it was the same style as the band on Sylar’s watch.
Gretchen soothed the sides of Claire’s neck with her fingertips as she descended to kiss her again. Claire’s anxieties faded as Gretchen’s familiar touch calmed her, warmed her, gave her back a tiny feeling of normalcy in the midst of pure madness. Gretchen’s long, slender body was woven all over with purple ribbon, emphasizing her slender curves, making soft patches of warm and slick cool when Claire’s hands found places to tickle and caress. Inside her cage, Gretchen had looked like some kind of sexy, elegant doll, but now was arranged to keep Claire in place. Her own slick metal collar was something she’d been wearing for weeks. Claire even remembered complimenting Gretchen on her choice of jewelry.
“It was custom made for me,” Gretchen had said, an odd smile on her face. “I’ll take you to the place sometime.”
That place was here. That time was now. The maker was Sylar.
Sylar, her bodyguard. The one she’d learned to trust, to forgive, at Peter and Gretchen’s insistence. The one who’d kept people from taking pictures of her, had taken bullets for her and Gretchen, who’d been living in her pocket for so many weeks she hadn’t even realized he was stalking her.
He leaned forward again, a dark and dominating presence, laying his claim on her. This time Claire didn’t flinch away. She let him cover her, touch her. She’d known what she was in for since Sylar had taken her to this place and let him see his other masterworks. Elle, whom everyone thought was dead, and Gretchen, whom Claire had been neglecting in order to handle the “special situation.” Sylar had taken them in, cared for them, created something even more beautiful out of each of them.
And he wanted to create something beautiful out of her. Out of the strange trust they’d developed, the connection they shared, the intimacy they’d had together. She’d stabbed him, he’d put his hand in her head: penetration didn’t get much deeper than that. What was the alternative? Remain pure and untouched, feared by half the population and held in awe by the other half? Or become part of something far more enduring and real than Samuel’s carnival, the Petrelli family, or her father’s Company?
Gretchen’s kiss deepened, her tongue pushing into Claire’s mouth, hot and wicked as she dueled with Claire, teasing her and sending warmth cascading down her body. With every deepening kiss, Sylar become bolder, his mouth hot to the point of burning on her breasts. Elle only chuckled softly, holding Claire still with the toy she’d impaled deep into her body. Claire’s initial squawk of indignation at Elle’s version of a handshake had faded when she’d gotten a better grasp of the situation. The pressure inside her only added an extra spark to what everyone was doing to her body.
She didn’t want to fight this, didn’t want to have to hate, didn’t want to spend time feeling bad when she had a choice.
“Claire…” Sylar’s voice was a rumble, deep and magnified against her bones. Gretchen sighed against Claire’s mouth at the sound, her breath suddenly hitching as Sylar pulled away for a moment, watching the three girls entwined. Elle threw her head back and laughed as Sylar gestured, his telekinetic fingers tugging on her and Gretchen’s collars, pulling them closer against Claire. “You’re almost home.”
Cool metal slunk around her neck, a loose platinum coil that pooled in the hollow of her throat, dripping down her skin like rain. Claire couldn’t look at it, but she could feel it warming against her as Sylar descended, his eyes locked with hers. Every time he touched her, she could feel the collar move at Sylar’s will, slowly ascending her throat.
Elle curled her hands around Claire’s breasts, clutching with blithe abandon as she began to rock farther into Claire’s body. The collar hitched up slightly as Claire moaned softly as the feel of Elle’s rubber and metal-clad body pressing hard into her own.
A single word would stop it.
Gretchen’s kiss became insistent, breath-stealing, her voice murmuring half-heard phrases of, “Love you.” “Need this.” “Want you here.” “…So happy.” “Please!” Claire reached out, stroking down Gretchen’s ribbon-woven thigh to side into her slick, heated core, Claire’s fingers stroking inside in time to Gretchen’s tongue in her mouth. The collar settled higher.
A shake of her head, and Claire would be free. She knew it.
Sylar was in her space now, his cock throbbing hot against her thigh as his hands slid up her ribs, his thumbs tickling her soft skin. Closer now, looming over Gretchen, bracketing her with Elle, his gaze palpable as pressure and heat against her body. Closer again, and Claire broke away from Gretchen long enough to nearly scream with impatience.
Gretchen captured her mouth again as Sylar’s hand slid into her hair, gripping the strands as his hips snapped forward, filling Claire completely. Pleasure burned through her like slow-moving lava, Elle’s laughter, Gretchen’s sigh, and Sylar’s possessive growl still not covering the sound of the collar latching shut loosely.
Claire writhed, impaled and smothered and wanting more, her cries muffled as Sylar moved, burying himself inside her again and again, each thrust tightening the collar around her neck. Elle moved with him, bending to kiss over the metal around Claire’s throat, her electric tingles sparking against Sylar’s own shocks, both of them making Gretchen moan.
The collar stretched taut and prominent against Claire’s flesh, branding her, forcing her senses into overdrive as Sylar’s telekinetic touch pushed and twisted and caressed all over her body, playing her and Elle and Gretchen like notes in a chord. He strummed, touching deep inside her, inside them, launching them irresistibly into bliss, again, and again, and once more, until they were plunged back to Earth to sprawl in the aftermath. Together.
“You’re home, Claire.” Sylar’s voice was wrecked and exhausted and compelling. Claire was looking forward to hearing it again, as close to her and Gretchen and Elle as their hearts, beating as one.
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing/Characters: Claire/Gretchen/Elle/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,191
Spoilers: Through S4
Warnings: foursome, power-play, D/s, collaring, toys
Disclaimer Heroes doesn’t belong to me, and I don’t make a penny off of it.
Author’s Notes: Written for dragynflies for heroes_exchange. Thanks to brighteyed_jill for betaing!
Summary: Sylar wants to bring Claire into his fold. Elle and Gretchen are more than happy to welcome her.
Sylar mouthed hungrily at her breasts, his tongue reaching out to press into her flesh. Claire squirmed, trying to angle away from him, and Gretchen pulled her lips away from Claire’s, making Claire whimper very softly.
“Pom-Pom, this is a three-for-one deal,” Elle said firmly, her small hands grasping Claire’s hips. “And really, you don’t have much of a leg to stand on.” She thrust lightly in a reminder than her strap-on was deep in Claire’s ass, the metal toy tingling as Elle let light sparks dance over her skin.
Elle looked good for a dead girl. Rings of metal and rubber sporadically marched their way across her body, hiding something here, revealing something there, making her into an erotic peek-a-boo. Insider her wrought-iron cage, Elle had looked like a black-and-blonde tiger, pacing hungrily back and forth when Sylar left her chained.
But now the tiger was loose, going for the weak spot, her only restraint the slinky metal collar circling her neck. Claire had recognized it after her first flush of panic had dissipated; it was the same style as the band on Sylar’s watch.
Gretchen soothed the sides of Claire’s neck with her fingertips as she descended to kiss her again. Claire’s anxieties faded as Gretchen’s familiar touch calmed her, warmed her, gave her back a tiny feeling of normalcy in the midst of pure madness. Gretchen’s long, slender body was woven all over with purple ribbon, emphasizing her slender curves, making soft patches of warm and slick cool when Claire’s hands found places to tickle and caress. Inside her cage, Gretchen had looked like some kind of sexy, elegant doll, but now was arranged to keep Claire in place. Her own slick metal collar was something she’d been wearing for weeks. Claire even remembered complimenting Gretchen on her choice of jewelry.
“It was custom made for me,” Gretchen had said, an odd smile on her face. “I’ll take you to the place sometime.”
That place was here. That time was now. The maker was Sylar.
Sylar, her bodyguard. The one she’d learned to trust, to forgive, at Peter and Gretchen’s insistence. The one who’d kept people from taking pictures of her, had taken bullets for her and Gretchen, who’d been living in her pocket for so many weeks she hadn’t even realized he was stalking her.
He leaned forward again, a dark and dominating presence, laying his claim on her. This time Claire didn’t flinch away. She let him cover her, touch her. She’d known what she was in for since Sylar had taken her to this place and let him see his other masterworks. Elle, whom everyone thought was dead, and Gretchen, whom Claire had been neglecting in order to handle the “special situation.” Sylar had taken them in, cared for them, created something even more beautiful out of each of them.
And he wanted to create something beautiful out of her. Out of the strange trust they’d developed, the connection they shared, the intimacy they’d had together. She’d stabbed him, he’d put his hand in her head: penetration didn’t get much deeper than that. What was the alternative? Remain pure and untouched, feared by half the population and held in awe by the other half? Or become part of something far more enduring and real than Samuel’s carnival, the Petrelli family, or her father’s Company?
Gretchen’s kiss deepened, her tongue pushing into Claire’s mouth, hot and wicked as she dueled with Claire, teasing her and sending warmth cascading down her body. With every deepening kiss, Sylar become bolder, his mouth hot to the point of burning on her breasts. Elle only chuckled softly, holding Claire still with the toy she’d impaled deep into her body. Claire’s initial squawk of indignation at Elle’s version of a handshake had faded when she’d gotten a better grasp of the situation. The pressure inside her only added an extra spark to what everyone was doing to her body.
She didn’t want to fight this, didn’t want to have to hate, didn’t want to spend time feeling bad when she had a choice.
“Claire…” Sylar’s voice was a rumble, deep and magnified against her bones. Gretchen sighed against Claire’s mouth at the sound, her breath suddenly hitching as Sylar pulled away for a moment, watching the three girls entwined. Elle threw her head back and laughed as Sylar gestured, his telekinetic fingers tugging on her and Gretchen’s collars, pulling them closer against Claire. “You’re almost home.”
Cool metal slunk around her neck, a loose platinum coil that pooled in the hollow of her throat, dripping down her skin like rain. Claire couldn’t look at it, but she could feel it warming against her as Sylar descended, his eyes locked with hers. Every time he touched her, she could feel the collar move at Sylar’s will, slowly ascending her throat.
Elle curled her hands around Claire’s breasts, clutching with blithe abandon as she began to rock farther into Claire’s body. The collar hitched up slightly as Claire moaned softly as the feel of Elle’s rubber and metal-clad body pressing hard into her own.
A single word would stop it.
Gretchen’s kiss became insistent, breath-stealing, her voice murmuring half-heard phrases of, “Love you.” “Need this.” “Want you here.” “…So happy.” “Please!” Claire reached out, stroking down Gretchen’s ribbon-woven thigh to side into her slick, heated core, Claire’s fingers stroking inside in time to Gretchen’s tongue in her mouth. The collar settled higher.
A shake of her head, and Claire would be free. She knew it.
Sylar was in her space now, his cock throbbing hot against her thigh as his hands slid up her ribs, his thumbs tickling her soft skin. Closer now, looming over Gretchen, bracketing her with Elle, his gaze palpable as pressure and heat against her body. Closer again, and Claire broke away from Gretchen long enough to nearly scream with impatience.
Gretchen captured her mouth again as Sylar’s hand slid into her hair, gripping the strands as his hips snapped forward, filling Claire completely. Pleasure burned through her like slow-moving lava, Elle’s laughter, Gretchen’s sigh, and Sylar’s possessive growl still not covering the sound of the collar latching shut loosely.
Claire writhed, impaled and smothered and wanting more, her cries muffled as Sylar moved, burying himself inside her again and again, each thrust tightening the collar around her neck. Elle moved with him, bending to kiss over the metal around Claire’s throat, her electric tingles sparking against Sylar’s own shocks, both of them making Gretchen moan.
The collar stretched taut and prominent against Claire’s flesh, branding her, forcing her senses into overdrive as Sylar’s telekinetic touch pushed and twisted and caressed all over her body, playing her and Elle and Gretchen like notes in a chord. He strummed, touching deep inside her, inside them, launching them irresistibly into bliss, again, and again, and once more, until they were plunged back to Earth to sprawl in the aftermath. Together.
“You’re home, Claire.” Sylar’s voice was wrecked and exhausted and compelling. Claire was looking forward to hearing it again, as close to her and Gretchen and Elle as their hearts, beating as one.