Ficlet: Power
Title: Power
Author: kathrynthegr8
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar!Nathan/Claire
Rating: R
Word Count: Less than 1000
Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Quasi Incest, Dub-Con
Disclaimer: I own nothing you see here.
A/N: Written for Porn Battle VIII. Using the prompts "blood play" and "laugh". Many thanks and cups of high quality coffee to cruiscin_lan for her lightning fast beta skills and not yelling at me for waiting around til the last minute. (She totally should have!) All mistakes are mine.
She's grown up, changed in every way except the physical. Anyone looking still sees the innocent girl with the wide green eyes and honey blonde hair. Anyone but him, that is. He sees the real her, the dark parts she keeps hidden from the casual observer. The little girl who believed her daddy would keep her safe from monsters is gone, replaced by a woman who knows the monsters are all around, even looking back at her in the mirror.
He spends almost a year being another man before he remembers, before it all comes crashing back and dragging him down like an undertow. By then he's firmly implanted in this new life, being someone he's not. He plays along because it's whats expected of him, and he has all the time in the world to get his revenge. This will do, he thinks, for now.
Sylar can hide from everyone in the world, even the three that trapped him in this cage, except for her. One day she looks at him across the table and she knows. He waits for the screams and accusations, but she stays silent. Chews her food and uses her linen napkin. So prim and proper. He wants to tear her apart limb by limb.
He can't kill, hunt like he used to. He craves it, dreams about it, fantasizes. Sleepless nights draw him to her bed and he watches and waits for her to wake up and confront him, call him out on his lies and machinations. Instead she sleeps like the dead and the irony isn't entirely lost on him. There in the dark with her he wants to be himself, needs her to see his face. His skin and bones crackle and morph into his own shape, he wears his own body for the first time in this new life and climbs on her bed.
Claire doesn't wake or move when he pulls the blanket down and exposes the nightshirt and panties she's wearing. She doesn't respond when he straddles her hips and leans down to get a closer look at her pretty face and wraps a fist in her silken hair.
"Wake up, darling..."
When she finally opens her eyes and looks through the dark at him her face doesn't change. There's no surprise or horror. She blinks at him a couple times but says nothing, waiting for him to make the next move. Anger that he wasn't aware of boils in his blood and Sylar digs his fingers into her shoulders and gives her a shake. He wants to see terror, fear, something to remind him of who he was, what he lost. Her shirt rips under his fingers and he doesn't stop until it's nothing more than shreds and she's lying beneath him exposed and bare from the waist up.
"I would apologize, but we both know I'm not sorry." He speaks through clenched teeth, feels his anticipation building, thick like static before a thunderstorm. He can taste it like ozone on the back of his tongue.
"I'm not scared of you, Nathan. Get the hell off of me so I can go back to sleep." Her smirk is arsenic laced, she's goading him now, daring him to punish her.
His hands move of their own accord, hovering above her skin and leaving cuts in their wake. Droplets of blood well and run moments before the wounds knit themselves closed, leaving behind no evidence that he touched her at all. He carves into her again and again, until the sheets are red and sticky, and the tang of copper tickles his nose. Using his favorite ability on her leaves him feeling powerful and breathless.
Until she laughs, right in his face. Giggles really, all feminine and girly, as if he just told her a joke. "Is that the best you got, Senator? I'm unimpressed."
"My name is Sylar!" It's a choked scream of frustration and he feels one of her arms break with his loss of control.
"Are you sure?" She isn't even out of breath from his attentions. Instead she appears bored and worse, pissed off. "In case you didn't notice, none of this hurts. You're wasting your time."
"I could kill you." He's serious. He's already close to doing so now.
"You could try." She rolls her eyes and waits for the inevitable.
This isn't what he expected or wanted from her. He needed the fight, the panic and shock she had always shown him before. Sylar lowers his hands to her chest, runs his fingers across the sensitive skin of her breasts and watches in satisfaction when she gasps and her eyes dilate.
"You have a thing for your daddy Claire-bear?"
Finally she moves, squirms and bucks against him in an attempt to break free. "Get off of me, you sick fuck!"
Sylar uses his body to hold her down, presses his lips to her neck and tastes the salty skin over her pulse. His fingers dance along the surface of her body, between her breasts, down her ribcage, finally pushing aside the crotch of her underwear and delving into the wetness between her legs. It's the final answer to his queries and she stills when he thrusts two fingers inside.
Her whimpers and moans spur him on until he's blind with lust and fucking her so hard the bed breaks beneath them.
This is power.
He falls asleep with his head against her chest, listening to the beat of her heart. It is a steady ticking of a clock that time will never stop.
Author: kathrynthegr8
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar!Nathan/Claire
Rating: R
Word Count: Less than 1000
Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Quasi Incest, Dub-Con
Disclaimer: I own nothing you see here.
A/N: Written for Porn Battle VIII. Using the prompts "blood play" and "laugh". Many thanks and cups of high quality coffee to cruiscin_lan for her lightning fast beta skills and not yelling at me for waiting around til the last minute. (She totally should have!) All mistakes are mine.
She's grown up, changed in every way except the physical. Anyone looking still sees the innocent girl with the wide green eyes and honey blonde hair. Anyone but him, that is. He sees the real her, the dark parts she keeps hidden from the casual observer. The little girl who believed her daddy would keep her safe from monsters is gone, replaced by a woman who knows the monsters are all around, even looking back at her in the mirror.
He spends almost a year being another man before he remembers, before it all comes crashing back and dragging him down like an undertow. By then he's firmly implanted in this new life, being someone he's not. He plays along because it's whats expected of him, and he has all the time in the world to get his revenge. This will do, he thinks, for now.
Sylar can hide from everyone in the world, even the three that trapped him in this cage, except for her. One day she looks at him across the table and she knows. He waits for the screams and accusations, but she stays silent. Chews her food and uses her linen napkin. So prim and proper. He wants to tear her apart limb by limb.
He can't kill, hunt like he used to. He craves it, dreams about it, fantasizes. Sleepless nights draw him to her bed and he watches and waits for her to wake up and confront him, call him out on his lies and machinations. Instead she sleeps like the dead and the irony isn't entirely lost on him. There in the dark with her he wants to be himself, needs her to see his face. His skin and bones crackle and morph into his own shape, he wears his own body for the first time in this new life and climbs on her bed.
Claire doesn't wake or move when he pulls the blanket down and exposes the nightshirt and panties she's wearing. She doesn't respond when he straddles her hips and leans down to get a closer look at her pretty face and wraps a fist in her silken hair.
"Wake up, darling..."
When she finally opens her eyes and looks through the dark at him her face doesn't change. There's no surprise or horror. She blinks at him a couple times but says nothing, waiting for him to make the next move. Anger that he wasn't aware of boils in his blood and Sylar digs his fingers into her shoulders and gives her a shake. He wants to see terror, fear, something to remind him of who he was, what he lost. Her shirt rips under his fingers and he doesn't stop until it's nothing more than shreds and she's lying beneath him exposed and bare from the waist up.
"I would apologize, but we both know I'm not sorry." He speaks through clenched teeth, feels his anticipation building, thick like static before a thunderstorm. He can taste it like ozone on the back of his tongue.
"I'm not scared of you, Nathan. Get the hell off of me so I can go back to sleep." Her smirk is arsenic laced, she's goading him now, daring him to punish her.
His hands move of their own accord, hovering above her skin and leaving cuts in their wake. Droplets of blood well and run moments before the wounds knit themselves closed, leaving behind no evidence that he touched her at all. He carves into her again and again, until the sheets are red and sticky, and the tang of copper tickles his nose. Using his favorite ability on her leaves him feeling powerful and breathless.
Until she laughs, right in his face. Giggles really, all feminine and girly, as if he just told her a joke. "Is that the best you got, Senator? I'm unimpressed."
"My name is Sylar!" It's a choked scream of frustration and he feels one of her arms break with his loss of control.
"Are you sure?" She isn't even out of breath from his attentions. Instead she appears bored and worse, pissed off. "In case you didn't notice, none of this hurts. You're wasting your time."
"I could kill you." He's serious. He's already close to doing so now.
"You could try." She rolls her eyes and waits for the inevitable.
This isn't what he expected or wanted from her. He needed the fight, the panic and shock she had always shown him before. Sylar lowers his hands to her chest, runs his fingers across the sensitive skin of her breasts and watches in satisfaction when she gasps and her eyes dilate.
"You have a thing for your daddy Claire-bear?"
Finally she moves, squirms and bucks against him in an attempt to break free. "Get off of me, you sick fuck!"
Sylar uses his body to hold her down, presses his lips to her neck and tastes the salty skin over her pulse. His fingers dance along the surface of her body, between her breasts, down her ribcage, finally pushing aside the crotch of her underwear and delving into the wetness between her legs. It's the final answer to his queries and she stills when he thrusts two fingers inside.
Her whimpers and moans spur him on until he's blind with lust and fucking her so hard the bed breaks beneath them.
This is power.
He falls asleep with his head against her chest, listening to the beat of her heart. It is a steady ticking of a clock that time will never stop.