Summer Heat
Title: Summer Heat
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Characters: Sylar/Luke
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1,124
Spoilers: If you know who Sylar and Luke are, you’re ok.
Warnings: slash, Luke’s 17, which is underage in places
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
A/N: brighteyed_jill’s AC isn’t working, it’s in the 90s where she is. So I wrote her some consolation porn based on a delightfully warm prompt she gave me! Also, for those who haven’t had the delightful opportunity to live in the American Midwest, we have winters that can get down to -25 degrees F, and summers that can climb to over 90 degrees F with high humidity. It’s fun! *eyeroll*
Summary: The AC went out in the car, and Luke’s really, really hot…
The air conditioner in the car finally gave up the ghost about halfway to Des Moines. Later Sylar would claim Luke had actually whimpered in dismay when it happened. Luke maintained he had just done some very manly swearing. Regardless, it left him and Sylar in closed car in ninety-plus degree humid weather driving westward.
Turning on the vents didn’t help; it just blew hot air around. Rolling down the windows helped marginally, but Sylar had telekinetically rolled them back up just when Luke was starting to cool down. Luke was absolutely positive it was because it was messing with Sylar’s hairstyle.
“Come on man, I’m going to die of heatstroke or something!” Luke begged after an agonizing… five minutes.
Sylar didn’t deign to look at him, focusing instead on driving. Luke couldn’t imagine what there was to focus on. The road was virtually straight, not that busy, and must have been purposely planned to go through the most boring stretch of America. Luke reached into the backseat to grab something to drink to try to cool down, only to find the last can of pop was at best lukewarm. He drank it anyway and tried to let the hot vent air dry the sweat that was popping out all over his skin.
He was almost getting to the “tolerable” stage when they hit a traffic jam. Looking down the road, Luke bit back a cry of dismay when he realized there was no less than five miles of concrete barriers and orange safety cones ahead, and nobody was going over five miles an hour. Most were stopped dead.
He suddenly remembered what a kid at school, after a summer road trip, had said about the “Four Seasons of the Midwest.” “There’s Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter, and Construction.”
As the car slowed down to almost a dead stop, the vents whirred down to a faint ghost of their former speed, and the heat in the car soared.
This time Luke did whimper, and wasn’t afraid to admit it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a half-hour stuck in the traffic jam, Luke was ready to get out and walk. And he would have, if he could have mustered the energy to get out of his seat. His clothes were so soaked through with sweat that he might as well have been standing under a shower. He had no idea how Sylar, still dressed in black, with his damn coat on was managing to look so cool and unmoved. Must have had to do with that healing thing…
Luke squirmed slightly, trying to find any part of his seat that was marginally cooler than another part, and failing miserably. Groaning, he finally pushed off his shoes and socks, wiggling his toes in the thick, sticky air to try to find some relief from the heat.
Five minutes later, he flung his long-sleeved overshirt into the back seat.
Raking his sweaty hair with his knuckles, he glanced over at Sylar out of the corner of his eye. Yeah, he was definitely looking at him. And there definitely wasn’t anything else to look at. A spirit of mischief (compounded by a rising body temperature and extreme boredom) overtook him.
Luke let his head loll back on the headrest and began to slowly pull his t-shirt free of his jeans. He had to keep himself from smirking when he heard the leather tightening over the steering wheel from Sylar clenching his grip. Slowly (he damn sure couldn’t do anything fast in this swamp-like inferno) he dragged the wet cotton over his head and dropped it on the floor.
Sweat started to trickle down his chest, and Luke traced their paths with his fingers idly. He was starting to get dizzy from the unrelenting warmth, and wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. When the drops soaked into the waistband of his jeans, Luke naturally began pulling at his belt, undoing the button, starting to slide down the zipper…
Invisible fingers clamped down on his hands, and Luke moaned slightly in disappointment. The heat had him swollen and thick between his legs, and he had to do something about it.
“Don’t,” Sylar said tersely.
“Why not?” Luke breathed, pushing his head back and baring his throat. Sylar made a very peculiar noise in his throat. It almost sounded like a strangled whimper…
“Because there are a dozen construction workers outside your window enjoying the free show.” Sylar’s tone was sharp, and Luke smiled lazily, tossing his head to get the drops of sweat out of his eyes.
“Don’t care,” he breathed, trying to squirm under Sylar’s invisible grip. “I’m so hot. Gotta cool down somehow.”
Sylar actually turned and looked at Luke squarely, finally seeming to seem to take in his flushed and sweaty skin, dilated eyes, and unfocused gaze. With a wrench of the wheel and extremely judicious (and, Luke was tempted to say later, blatant) use of telekinesis, Sylar cleared a path to the nearest rest stop and parked behind it in the shade.
The invisible grip loosened, and Luke’s hands continued their interrupted journey to slide his jeans off, revealing boxers tented with his swollen dick. With the breath of relatively cooler air, he started to harden, and Luke unselfconsciously pushed a hand inside to stroke lazily along its length, blinking at Sylar slowly. The heat seemed to rise in the car even in the shade, and soon Luke found his grip slackening, and finally falling still as even jerking off became too much effort.
Sylar reached out and pulled Luke down, laying his head on his lap, one hand on top possessively. The other hand, blessedly cool, closed around Luke’s cock, stroking in ever-increasing speed as Luke’s body, running on autopilot, thrust mindlessly into his grip. Staring blindly into Sylar’s face, Luke reached up one uncertain hand to touch his face, smiling out of focus as he hissed in pleasure, body spending itself into the hot, moist air, his orgasm seemingly as slow and endless as the heat around him.
Sylar leaned down, body contorting to kiss Luke’s damp face all over, crushing his lips, ghosting over his cheeks, tasting the salt of the skin under his eyes until Luke had finally recovered.
“Still hot?” he asked, and Luke only nodded vaguely, brain too busy simmering in a combination of afterglow and heat exhaustion to even muster up a coherent word.
Sylar slid out of the car, and had the AC fixed in ten minutes flat.
Five minutes later, on the road again, the cool air had revived Luke to the point of actually being able to think. Realizing his skin was pebbling in the cold breeze, Luke realized he now had the perfect excuse to want to heat up again…
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Characters: Sylar/Luke
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1,124
Spoilers: If you know who Sylar and Luke are, you’re ok.
Warnings: slash, Luke’s 17, which is underage in places
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
A/N: brighteyed_jill’s AC isn’t working, it’s in the 90s where she is. So I wrote her some consolation porn based on a delightfully warm prompt she gave me! Also, for those who haven’t had the delightful opportunity to live in the American Midwest, we have winters that can get down to -25 degrees F, and summers that can climb to over 90 degrees F with high humidity. It’s fun! *eyeroll*
Summary: The AC went out in the car, and Luke’s really, really hot…
The air conditioner in the car finally gave up the ghost about halfway to Des Moines. Later Sylar would claim Luke had actually whimpered in dismay when it happened. Luke maintained he had just done some very manly swearing. Regardless, it left him and Sylar in closed car in ninety-plus degree humid weather driving westward.
Turning on the vents didn’t help; it just blew hot air around. Rolling down the windows helped marginally, but Sylar had telekinetically rolled them back up just when Luke was starting to cool down. Luke was absolutely positive it was because it was messing with Sylar’s hairstyle.
“Come on man, I’m going to die of heatstroke or something!” Luke begged after an agonizing… five minutes.
Sylar didn’t deign to look at him, focusing instead on driving. Luke couldn’t imagine what there was to focus on. The road was virtually straight, not that busy, and must have been purposely planned to go through the most boring stretch of America. Luke reached into the backseat to grab something to drink to try to cool down, only to find the last can of pop was at best lukewarm. He drank it anyway and tried to let the hot vent air dry the sweat that was popping out all over his skin.
He was almost getting to the “tolerable” stage when they hit a traffic jam. Looking down the road, Luke bit back a cry of dismay when he realized there was no less than five miles of concrete barriers and orange safety cones ahead, and nobody was going over five miles an hour. Most were stopped dead.
He suddenly remembered what a kid at school, after a summer road trip, had said about the “Four Seasons of the Midwest.” “There’s Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter, and Construction.”
As the car slowed down to almost a dead stop, the vents whirred down to a faint ghost of their former speed, and the heat in the car soared.
This time Luke did whimper, and wasn’t afraid to admit it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a half-hour stuck in the traffic jam, Luke was ready to get out and walk. And he would have, if he could have mustered the energy to get out of his seat. His clothes were so soaked through with sweat that he might as well have been standing under a shower. He had no idea how Sylar, still dressed in black, with his damn coat on was managing to look so cool and unmoved. Must have had to do with that healing thing…
Luke squirmed slightly, trying to find any part of his seat that was marginally cooler than another part, and failing miserably. Groaning, he finally pushed off his shoes and socks, wiggling his toes in the thick, sticky air to try to find some relief from the heat.
Five minutes later, he flung his long-sleeved overshirt into the back seat.
Raking his sweaty hair with his knuckles, he glanced over at Sylar out of the corner of his eye. Yeah, he was definitely looking at him. And there definitely wasn’t anything else to look at. A spirit of mischief (compounded by a rising body temperature and extreme boredom) overtook him.
Luke let his head loll back on the headrest and began to slowly pull his t-shirt free of his jeans. He had to keep himself from smirking when he heard the leather tightening over the steering wheel from Sylar clenching his grip. Slowly (he damn sure couldn’t do anything fast in this swamp-like inferno) he dragged the wet cotton over his head and dropped it on the floor.
Sweat started to trickle down his chest, and Luke traced their paths with his fingers idly. He was starting to get dizzy from the unrelenting warmth, and wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. When the drops soaked into the waistband of his jeans, Luke naturally began pulling at his belt, undoing the button, starting to slide down the zipper…
Invisible fingers clamped down on his hands, and Luke moaned slightly in disappointment. The heat had him swollen and thick between his legs, and he had to do something about it.
“Don’t,” Sylar said tersely.
“Why not?” Luke breathed, pushing his head back and baring his throat. Sylar made a very peculiar noise in his throat. It almost sounded like a strangled whimper…
“Because there are a dozen construction workers outside your window enjoying the free show.” Sylar’s tone was sharp, and Luke smiled lazily, tossing his head to get the drops of sweat out of his eyes.
“Don’t care,” he breathed, trying to squirm under Sylar’s invisible grip. “I’m so hot. Gotta cool down somehow.”
Sylar actually turned and looked at Luke squarely, finally seeming to seem to take in his flushed and sweaty skin, dilated eyes, and unfocused gaze. With a wrench of the wheel and extremely judicious (and, Luke was tempted to say later, blatant) use of telekinesis, Sylar cleared a path to the nearest rest stop and parked behind it in the shade.
The invisible grip loosened, and Luke’s hands continued their interrupted journey to slide his jeans off, revealing boxers tented with his swollen dick. With the breath of relatively cooler air, he started to harden, and Luke unselfconsciously pushed a hand inside to stroke lazily along its length, blinking at Sylar slowly. The heat seemed to rise in the car even in the shade, and soon Luke found his grip slackening, and finally falling still as even jerking off became too much effort.
Sylar reached out and pulled Luke down, laying his head on his lap, one hand on top possessively. The other hand, blessedly cool, closed around Luke’s cock, stroking in ever-increasing speed as Luke’s body, running on autopilot, thrust mindlessly into his grip. Staring blindly into Sylar’s face, Luke reached up one uncertain hand to touch his face, smiling out of focus as he hissed in pleasure, body spending itself into the hot, moist air, his orgasm seemingly as slow and endless as the heat around him.
Sylar leaned down, body contorting to kiss Luke’s damp face all over, crushing his lips, ghosting over his cheeks, tasting the salt of the skin under his eyes until Luke had finally recovered.
“Still hot?” he asked, and Luke only nodded vaguely, brain too busy simmering in a combination of afterglow and heat exhaustion to even muster up a coherent word.
Sylar slid out of the car, and had the AC fixed in ten minutes flat.
Five minutes later, on the road again, the cool air had revived Luke to the point of actually being able to think. Realizing his skin was pebbling in the cold breeze, Luke realized he now had the perfect excuse to want to heat up again…