Fic: Final Confrontation

Oct 16, 2007 11:12

Title: Final Confrontation
Rating: R
Pairing: Sylar/Peter
Spoilers/Warnings (if any): attempted non-con, violence, 5YG
Prompts: 1. Peter shown using at least one of Sylar's powers. 2. Mention of a past relationship on Sylar's part (but not with Mohinder) 3. Answers to a question of who is really good and who is really evil. (Last one, unfortunately, not used)
Summary: Sylar finally gets what he wants. Or does he?
A/N: Written for the rare_heroes fic exchange for marcal_92



“My brother can’t walk through walls! Who are you?”

I hold back a silent laugh. Peter Petrelli obviously hasn’t gotten any smarter over the years. And this is my nemesis, my proclaimed adversary?

Really, who does he think I am?

I smile and let my features morph back into the face I’ve rarely worn in years. My own. It feels good to drop the illusion, and to see the look of disgust and shock that crosses his face. Oh, Peter, did you really believe my act? How touching.

So, do we fight, or just stare at each other for an endless moment? I’m fine with either. You can make the first move, Petrelli. I’ll just wait.

I’ve been waiting a long time, after all. A few more minutes can’t hurt.

Because I will win. And this time, I will get what I want. What I’ve wanted since the first moment I saw you, in that high school in Texas. When you had the gall to try to stop me, and somehow, against all odds, succeeded.

I want you. I want to own you. I want to break you. I don’t want your powers, not any more. That would be a waste. You’re too pretty to kill.

His eyes flicker, like he’s trying to think of a plan. Too late, Petrelli. There aren’t any plans that can help you.

You’re mine. My smile slowly widens as I look him up and down, taking in all that he is. Harder now than he was when we met, but that will just make things more interesting. He’ll be harder to conquer now. More of a challenge. Even that long scar doesn’t really mar the attraction he generates just by existing. Peter Petrelli is a force of nature, strong and enduring, but soft over all.

And I, I can tame anything to my hand. God rules over nature, after all.

Actually, I don’t think I’m going to give him a chance to fight back. I gesture sharply, sending him back against the wall. It won’t hold him for long; he knows that trick too well. But I have a few more up my sleeves that I’ve acquired since the last time we met like this. And so, while he’s still fighting that, I call up one that I’ve found quite handy this past year. A hand to the wall behind him swiftly awakens the wood of the paneling, and vines sprout from it, entangling my prize in their iron grip. Try to break out of that, Petrelli. I’m waiting.

Not really. Before he can react to anything, I’m in front of him, pressing against him, feeling the caress of the leaves I conjured against my flesh. And his mouth is mine. Just the first of all I mean to claim.

He tries to pull back, of course, but I’m not having that. My mind holds his head still, and I let my eyes close in a moment of weakness. I’ve been longing for this for… forever, it seems sometimes. How many times I’ve dreamed of having you…

Suddenly my mouth fills with breath like ice. My lips ache from the chill, and frost begins to form on my cheeks. Clever, Petrelli. Using one of my little skills against me. I smile painfully as I look at him, wondering how to punish him for that little stunt.

Clever, but not smart. Definitely not smart. He’s awoken the vicious side of me.

Well, more vicious, anyway. My hand closes around his throat, squeezing tightly, cutting off his airflow. Like that, Petrelli? He struggles. I didn’t think so. I notice that my little plants are starting to wilt in the chill emanating from him. It takes barely an effort to grow some new ones. I don’t think he’ll be using the cryokinesis until he works out how to breathe. This being Peter, it’ll probably be a few minutes. Well, not that long, or he’ll be dead. I just want him weakened.

His head moves fitfully, eyes widening as he realizes he can’t get free. That look… it’s all I’ve wanted to see for a long, long time. An eternity. You don’t know, do you, Peter, how you saved me? How dreams of you, of this, got me through that time, deep in the cells of that damned place? How every time he touched me, I pictured myself doing the same to you? My pretty boy, the one who put me in a position for him to catch me. Payback. Transference. Call it what you will, it kept me going. It helped me escape. Of course, I went after his daughter first. I knew where she was. You, Peter, I had to find.

I’m still not sure if I love you or hate you, Petrelli. I think it’s both. But I will have you.

I loosen my fingers, letting him suck in deep, gasping breaths. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. And then I halt his breath again, forcing my tongue into his mouth. There’s still a hint of cold, but it’s quickly warming up. He tastes exquisite, like cinnamon, with a tint of blood. I must have hurt him a bit. What a shame.

This is almost too easy, but I’m not going to complain. I’d rather have it this way than have him escape me again. He’s done that too often.

He’s stopped fighting. Planning something, Peter, or just giving in? That’s not like you. I’ll have to keep an eye out, won’t I? I almost laugh at that. I’ve got you, Peter. Right where I want you.

Well, not quite. You’re still dressed, and my vines are getting in the way. Shame, really. If you’d just cooperate… I press closer to him, effectively pinning him with my body. As my tongue slows its frenzied caress, I let the plants retract and wither. A quick gesture slices his shirt in half, freeing his flesh for my hands. A brief slide of my palms against his chest, beautiful heat I never really thought I’d feel, despite all my dreams. Oh, Peter, you’re mine. My kiss is now almost gentle, and my eyes close again.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Worse than Petrelli. There’s a sickening crack that I hear more than feel as he slams me against the wall. I’m numb with shock, slipping dangerously towards blackness as the pain suddenly, belatedly hits me. No. This isn’t happening.

I claw at the unseen hands closing on my throat. No. Not like this.

slash, rare heroes fic exchange, heroes, fic

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