Rivalry
Title: Rivalry
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Edgar/Sylar
Summary: Everyone wants it to happen. It happens.
Warnings: Spoilers for season 4 and guy/guy sex. Swearing. Violence.
"Now now Edgar, don't pout."
Samuel's trying to console Edgar.
Why shouldn't Edgar be mad? That weak little bastard is going to go sleep with his girl. His.
Fuck this.
He'd go get drunk if his body didn't metabolize alcohol so fast.
So instead, he wanders around the carnival, breaking shit and in general, being a nuisance. It's not until he stumbles into the area around Sylar's trailer that he finds the object of his hatred looking quite sober, leaning against his own trailer and staring up at the stars.
This doesn't make sense, shouldn't he have been...
What?
"Hey!" he calls, walking over with his chest puffed out. He wanted to fuck this guy up, and he didn't care what Samuel had to say about it. He had enough.
"Shouldn't you be with Lydia right now?"
No answer.
So he continues his taunting.
"What'sa matter, did she kick you out? Or maybe you couldn't do it? Eh?" He prod's the other man's chest with his finger, hard.
Sylar looks at him with the most smouldering, crazy look Edgar has ever seen on the other man's face.
"It's not of your business," he practically growls, and shoves Edgar back with a harsh telekinetic push.
Well, Edgar is going to have none of that.
He pulls a knife from his belt and throws it in Sylar's direction, faster than a blink of an eye, and it flies past Sylar, just barely nicking his cheek.
The cut quickly heals.
Isn't that just fucking peachy?
Sylar reaches a hand up and tries to shoot at Edgar with a bolt of electricity, but Edgar is too fast for him. He runs past and throws another knife at Sylar.
This one gets pushed off course by Sylar's telekinesis, again. Fuck. If only Edgar had brought his kukri swords. He could go get them, sure, but that would make him look like a coward.
So he stays.
He only has one knife left, so he runs up really close to the other man and jabs it into his chest. He gets pushed back, and lands with a thunk on the ground.
He watches as Sylar looks down, pulls the knife out, and throws it to the side. His chest heals, and he looks over at Edgar with a daring smirk.
"Seems you're out of weapons, my friend," he says, taking a step forward.
"Not quite," Edgar retorts, and jumps up. He tackles Sylar to the ground and starts hitting him, raining blows on him with his super speed.
He feels a familiar force push him back again, but he manages to land on his feet.
It felt like this stupid fight was never going to end.
He runs forward, pushing Sylar against a wall so hard he hits his head and blacks out for a few seconds. When he reopens his eyes, he seems a little woozy.
Edgar holds the other man's body against the wall with his own.
"So what is it, huh? You got there, all ready to sleep with her, and you couldn't get it up? Is that your problem? You're pathetic."
Edgar can't help but taunt the other man. Like everything he does, Edgar fights dirty. He has no problem with low blows and taking people by surprise.
It would seem, however, that Sylar isn't too affected by this exchange. He just stands there, looking at the other man with a firm expression on his face.
Silence.
That's when Edgar notices something he didn't notice before. Sylar's not fighting back anymore, and...and...
Oh.
He looks up at Sylar and goes, "What?" and then he's being thrown onto the ground. He barely has time to adjust before the other man is on top of him, unbuttoning his shirt
"Now do you understand?" he asks, looking down at Edgar with wide, dilated eyes.
Yes, Edgar most certainly did.
He's not about to let himself be a passive participant in this, however. Hell no. In the blink of an eye, Sylar is the one on the ground with his shirt unbuttoned and Edgar is the one straddling him.
Sylar lets out a little chuckle.
"Touche."
Edgar decides he doesn't like the mouth on this one. He wants to shut it up. So, he grinds his hips down against the other man and Sylar lets out a sharp moan. He feels some kind of force undoing his pants and he growls at the other man's cunning.
No.
Edgar will have the upper hand in this.
He pins Sylar's hands down and bites down on his neck, hard. He can taste blood. Just as quickly, though, the wound heals up. Bugger.
His hands slide down and undo Sylar's pants as he continues to leave bites on Sylar's neck. All the while, Sylar is moaning and bucking like some kind of whore.
Edgar lifts his head.
"What is your problem?" he asks.
Sylar can barely talk.
"Ever since I lost my memory, it's like I'm experiencing everything for the first time and-"
His little explanation gets cut off when Edgar's hand reaches down his jeans and grabs on to his cock.
Edgar can't help but smile. This was going to be just too easy.
Before the other man can react, he flips him over and pulls his pants down just far enough. Now, Edgar is most certainly straight, but this power he's exerting over Sylar, who is supposedly the most powerful of all of them, it's getting him hard.
Achingly hard.
And he intends to put this to good use.
He nudges Sylar's legs further apart, pulls his own cock out of his pants, and spits on his hand.
He tries to lube his cock up the best he can, but who cares? It's not like the fucker can't just heal anyway.
He lines himself up and then shoves in, relishing the tight sensation and the sound of Sylar's hisses of pain.
Bingo.
He pulls out and then slams back in. For good measure, he slaps Sylar's ass. He likes hurting the other man, quite a bit, except hold on...Sylar isn't hissing in pain anymore.
Nope.
Instead, he says, "You call this fucking?"
Edgar doesn't have to see the other man's face to know he's grinning that stupid smirk of his.
He grabs his hips and pulls him up so he on his hands and knees, then starts thrusting harder and faster into Sylar.
He feels pretty victorious when Sylar's retort melts into a moan. Reaching under, he grabs a hold of Sylar's cock and starts to rub it in time to his thrusts.
He was going to make this little bitch come first if it killed him.
Sylar arches his back and suddenly, it's like Edgar is in just the right spot. Sylar is moaning and swearing and panting and trying to push his hips back against Edgar.
It's the hips pushing back that does it, really. Edgar can feel that he's getting ready to come too and decides he'll settle. He starts to pound as hard as he can into the other man and the words continue to flow out of Sylar's mouth.
"Fuck, yes, oh God, oh, right there, oh-"
Edgar gives one last thrust before Sylar is coming all over his hand, moaning and yelling.
Edgar soon follows.
When the after shocks have subsided and they both start to get their breath back, Edgar pushes away and they both sit awkwardly on the grass.
They don't say anything.
Edgar starts to rebutton up his shirt as Sylar pulls his pants back up, and then they're standing ten feet apart like nothing just happened.
"Well that was fun," Sylar muses, and Edgar just glares.
"You better not tell anyone about this," He growls, and Sylar shakes his head.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
There's another pause, and Sylar turns to leave.
"I'll see you around," He says. Edgar calls after him.
"Hey, wait." Sylar turns around.
"Who's Peter?"
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Edgar/Sylar
Summary: Everyone wants it to happen. It happens.
Warnings: Spoilers for season 4 and guy/guy sex. Swearing. Violence.
"Now now Edgar, don't pout."
Samuel's trying to console Edgar.
Why shouldn't Edgar be mad? That weak little bastard is going to go sleep with his girl. His.
Fuck this.
He'd go get drunk if his body didn't metabolize alcohol so fast.
So instead, he wanders around the carnival, breaking shit and in general, being a nuisance. It's not until he stumbles into the area around Sylar's trailer that he finds the object of his hatred looking quite sober, leaning against his own trailer and staring up at the stars.
This doesn't make sense, shouldn't he have been...
What?
"Hey!" he calls, walking over with his chest puffed out. He wanted to fuck this guy up, and he didn't care what Samuel had to say about it. He had enough.
"Shouldn't you be with Lydia right now?"
No answer.
So he continues his taunting.
"What'sa matter, did she kick you out? Or maybe you couldn't do it? Eh?" He prod's the other man's chest with his finger, hard.
Sylar looks at him with the most smouldering, crazy look Edgar has ever seen on the other man's face.
"It's not of your business," he practically growls, and shoves Edgar back with a harsh telekinetic push.
Well, Edgar is going to have none of that.
He pulls a knife from his belt and throws it in Sylar's direction, faster than a blink of an eye, and it flies past Sylar, just barely nicking his cheek.
The cut quickly heals.
Isn't that just fucking peachy?
Sylar reaches a hand up and tries to shoot at Edgar with a bolt of electricity, but Edgar is too fast for him. He runs past and throws another knife at Sylar.
This one gets pushed off course by Sylar's telekinesis, again. Fuck. If only Edgar had brought his kukri swords. He could go get them, sure, but that would make him look like a coward.
So he stays.
He only has one knife left, so he runs up really close to the other man and jabs it into his chest. He gets pushed back, and lands with a thunk on the ground.
He watches as Sylar looks down, pulls the knife out, and throws it to the side. His chest heals, and he looks over at Edgar with a daring smirk.
"Seems you're out of weapons, my friend," he says, taking a step forward.
"Not quite," Edgar retorts, and jumps up. He tackles Sylar to the ground and starts hitting him, raining blows on him with his super speed.
He feels a familiar force push him back again, but he manages to land on his feet.
It felt like this stupid fight was never going to end.
He runs forward, pushing Sylar against a wall so hard he hits his head and blacks out for a few seconds. When he reopens his eyes, he seems a little woozy.
Edgar holds the other man's body against the wall with his own.
"So what is it, huh? You got there, all ready to sleep with her, and you couldn't get it up? Is that your problem? You're pathetic."
Edgar can't help but taunt the other man. Like everything he does, Edgar fights dirty. He has no problem with low blows and taking people by surprise.
It would seem, however, that Sylar isn't too affected by this exchange. He just stands there, looking at the other man with a firm expression on his face.
Silence.
That's when Edgar notices something he didn't notice before. Sylar's not fighting back anymore, and...and...
Oh.
He looks up at Sylar and goes, "What?" and then he's being thrown onto the ground. He barely has time to adjust before the other man is on top of him, unbuttoning his shirt
"Now do you understand?" he asks, looking down at Edgar with wide, dilated eyes.
Yes, Edgar most certainly did.
He's not about to let himself be a passive participant in this, however. Hell no. In the blink of an eye, Sylar is the one on the ground with his shirt unbuttoned and Edgar is the one straddling him.
Sylar lets out a little chuckle.
"Touche."
Edgar decides he doesn't like the mouth on this one. He wants to shut it up. So, he grinds his hips down against the other man and Sylar lets out a sharp moan. He feels some kind of force undoing his pants and he growls at the other man's cunning.
No.
Edgar will have the upper hand in this.
He pins Sylar's hands down and bites down on his neck, hard. He can taste blood. Just as quickly, though, the wound heals up. Bugger.
His hands slide down and undo Sylar's pants as he continues to leave bites on Sylar's neck. All the while, Sylar is moaning and bucking like some kind of whore.
Edgar lifts his head.
"What is your problem?" he asks.
Sylar can barely talk.
"Ever since I lost my memory, it's like I'm experiencing everything for the first time and-"
His little explanation gets cut off when Edgar's hand reaches down his jeans and grabs on to his cock.
Edgar can't help but smile. This was going to be just too easy.
Before the other man can react, he flips him over and pulls his pants down just far enough. Now, Edgar is most certainly straight, but this power he's exerting over Sylar, who is supposedly the most powerful of all of them, it's getting him hard.
Achingly hard.
And he intends to put this to good use.
He nudges Sylar's legs further apart, pulls his own cock out of his pants, and spits on his hand.
He tries to lube his cock up the best he can, but who cares? It's not like the fucker can't just heal anyway.
He lines himself up and then shoves in, relishing the tight sensation and the sound of Sylar's hisses of pain.
Bingo.
He pulls out and then slams back in. For good measure, he slaps Sylar's ass. He likes hurting the other man, quite a bit, except hold on...Sylar isn't hissing in pain anymore.
Nope.
Instead, he says, "You call this fucking?"
Edgar doesn't have to see the other man's face to know he's grinning that stupid smirk of his.
He grabs his hips and pulls him up so he on his hands and knees, then starts thrusting harder and faster into Sylar.
He feels pretty victorious when Sylar's retort melts into a moan. Reaching under, he grabs a hold of Sylar's cock and starts to rub it in time to his thrusts.
He was going to make this little bitch come first if it killed him.
Sylar arches his back and suddenly, it's like Edgar is in just the right spot. Sylar is moaning and swearing and panting and trying to push his hips back against Edgar.
It's the hips pushing back that does it, really. Edgar can feel that he's getting ready to come too and decides he'll settle. He starts to pound as hard as he can into the other man and the words continue to flow out of Sylar's mouth.
"Fuck, yes, oh God, oh, right there, oh-"
Edgar gives one last thrust before Sylar is coming all over his hand, moaning and yelling.
Edgar soon follows.
When the after shocks have subsided and they both start to get their breath back, Edgar pushes away and they both sit awkwardly on the grass.
They don't say anything.
Edgar starts to rebutton up his shirt as Sylar pulls his pants back up, and then they're standing ten feet apart like nothing just happened.
"Well that was fun," Sylar muses, and Edgar just glares.
"You better not tell anyone about this," He growls, and Sylar shakes his head.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
There's another pause, and Sylar turns to leave.
"I'll see you around," He says. Edgar calls after him.
"Hey, wait." Sylar turns around.
"Who's Peter?"