Fill: Nice Guys Finish Last
Fic: Nice Guys Finish last (Or, I Jizzed. In. My. Pants.)
Rating: Rish? (If you've seen the Ugly Truth, it's about as bad as that.)
Characters: Peter/Sylar, Emma, Hesam
Summary: Someone requested a fic where Sylar makes Peter come in a public place without touching him, and their companions are all WTF?
Warnings: Public sex (ish), gayness, the usual for this blog, basically.
Peter wasn't sure whose idea it was to invite Sylar to lunch with them, but it didn't really matter, since Peter was currently sitting between Sylar and Emma, with Hesam sitting across from him. Naturally, Sylar had to shift into some random, generic person, seeing as how the NYPD was still after Gabriel Gray for murder.
What Emma and Peter told Hesam was that Sylar (going under the name Gabe, here) was Peter's roommate, an old friend he's known since college.
They left out the part where Sylar is a reformed serial killer who spent five imaginary years inside his own head with Peter, which lead to them saving the world, which lead to them living together, which lead to them becoming an item.
It was easier that way.
They were waiting for their food, chatting, when Hesam turns to Peter.
"I can't believe they're cutting the hospital budget again," he laments, and Peter nods glumly.
"Last time they did this the nurses went on strike-" Peter's voice falters as he feels a light stroke across his inner thigh. Since no one is touching him, there's only one explanation.
What are you doing? he thinks, not looking Sylar in the eye.
Just showing a little affection. Sylar's looking at Hesam, seemingly uninterested, but his eyes are sparkling with mischief.
Now's not the time, Peter tries to reply, but suddenly the caresses have moved inward and he has to clench his fingers to keep it from showing on his face.
Hesam's continued his rant, completely oblivious to Peter's plight, and Emma's eyes are glued to the other man's mouth, trying to catch his words.
The touches start to speed up and Peter has to hide his groan in a cough.
"Are you okay?" Hesam asks, and Peter nods. His co-worker continues talking, mostly to Emma.
So I should stop? Sylar's mouth has crooked into his trademark smirk, but his hands remain completely still on the table.
Fuck. No, just...at least finish what you started. Peter shifts slightly and tries to act casual.
"...So I was thinking," Hesam's saying, "That maybe if we stopped letting everyone and their grandmother come in to the ER just for doctor's visits, then maybe we could save some money-"
"-YES!"
Peter's hand claps over his mouth when he realizes he just yelled out, and everyone stops and looks at him. Sylar's laughing, Peter can tell, but he can't bring himself to care because it just feels so damn good.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Emma asks, and Peter shifts and tries his hardest not to show any particular emotion on his face.
"I was just agreeing with Hesam. I completely agree," he lies, and Hesam laughs.
"I had no idea you were so passionate about the whole health care thing, Peter," he says, and Peter just shrugs. Hesam continues, listening to what Emma was saying.
I hate you,
That's not what you said last night, Sylar thinks back cheerily, adding more pressure to his telekinetic strokes.
Peter digs his fingers into the arms of the chair he's sitting in and arches his back. He's very, very glad for the napkin in his lap, hiding it from view of everyone else.
His eyes are fluttering closed when Emma interrupts again.
"Peter, you don't look so good. Are you sick?"
He decides maybe a lie is in order.
"Maybe I caught something from one of the patients," he tries to will his body to relax, but it's harder than he thought.
It's even harder when Sylar, that smug bastard, reaches a hand out and places it on the juncture between his shoulder and neck, rubbing slightly.
"Do you want to go home?" he asks, and it's all over.
Peter's head thunks into the table and he groans quite audibly, hiding his orgasm by pretending to be in pain.
After a few seconds of tense silence, Peter manages a muffled "Yes" from where his face has hit the table cloth.
"I'd better get him home, then. We'll have to try this again, sometime," Sylar says, cheerily and helps Peter to his feet. As they walk off, Peter grabs Sylar's wrist and takes his power of telekinesis.
"You are SO getting it when we get home," he growls in the other man's ear, and Sylar just smiles.
"That was the idea."
Rating: Rish? (If you've seen the Ugly Truth, it's about as bad as that.)
Characters: Peter/Sylar, Emma, Hesam
Summary: Someone requested a fic where Sylar makes Peter come in a public place without touching him, and their companions are all WTF?
Warnings: Public sex (ish), gayness, the usual for this blog, basically.
Peter wasn't sure whose idea it was to invite Sylar to lunch with them, but it didn't really matter, since Peter was currently sitting between Sylar and Emma, with Hesam sitting across from him. Naturally, Sylar had to shift into some random, generic person, seeing as how the NYPD was still after Gabriel Gray for murder.
What Emma and Peter told Hesam was that Sylar (going under the name Gabe, here) was Peter's roommate, an old friend he's known since college.
They left out the part where Sylar is a reformed serial killer who spent five imaginary years inside his own head with Peter, which lead to them saving the world, which lead to them living together, which lead to them becoming an item.
It was easier that way.
They were waiting for their food, chatting, when Hesam turns to Peter.
"I can't believe they're cutting the hospital budget again," he laments, and Peter nods glumly.
"Last time they did this the nurses went on strike-" Peter's voice falters as he feels a light stroke across his inner thigh. Since no one is touching him, there's only one explanation.
What are you doing? he thinks, not looking Sylar in the eye.
Just showing a little affection. Sylar's looking at Hesam, seemingly uninterested, but his eyes are sparkling with mischief.
Now's not the time, Peter tries to reply, but suddenly the caresses have moved inward and he has to clench his fingers to keep it from showing on his face.
Hesam's continued his rant, completely oblivious to Peter's plight, and Emma's eyes are glued to the other man's mouth, trying to catch his words.
The touches start to speed up and Peter has to hide his groan in a cough.
"Are you okay?" Hesam asks, and Peter nods. His co-worker continues talking, mostly to Emma.
So I should stop? Sylar's mouth has crooked into his trademark smirk, but his hands remain completely still on the table.
Fuck. No, just...at least finish what you started. Peter shifts slightly and tries to act casual.
"...So I was thinking," Hesam's saying, "That maybe if we stopped letting everyone and their grandmother come in to the ER just for doctor's visits, then maybe we could save some money-"
"-YES!"
Peter's hand claps over his mouth when he realizes he just yelled out, and everyone stops and looks at him. Sylar's laughing, Peter can tell, but he can't bring himself to care because it just feels so damn good.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Emma asks, and Peter shifts and tries his hardest not to show any particular emotion on his face.
"I was just agreeing with Hesam. I completely agree," he lies, and Hesam laughs.
"I had no idea you were so passionate about the whole health care thing, Peter," he says, and Peter just shrugs. Hesam continues, listening to what Emma was saying.
I hate you,
That's not what you said last night, Sylar thinks back cheerily, adding more pressure to his telekinetic strokes.
Peter digs his fingers into the arms of the chair he's sitting in and arches his back. He's very, very glad for the napkin in his lap, hiding it from view of everyone else.
His eyes are fluttering closed when Emma interrupts again.
"Peter, you don't look so good. Are you sick?"
He decides maybe a lie is in order.
"Maybe I caught something from one of the patients," he tries to will his body to relax, but it's harder than he thought.
It's even harder when Sylar, that smug bastard, reaches a hand out and places it on the juncture between his shoulder and neck, rubbing slightly.
"Do you want to go home?" he asks, and it's all over.
Peter's head thunks into the table and he groans quite audibly, hiding his orgasm by pretending to be in pain.
After a few seconds of tense silence, Peter manages a muffled "Yes" from where his face has hit the table cloth.
"I'd better get him home, then. We'll have to try this again, sometime," Sylar says, cheerily and helps Peter to his feet. As they walk off, Peter grabs Sylar's wrist and takes his power of telekinesis.
"You are SO getting it when we get home," he growls in the other man's ear, and Sylar just smiles.
"That was the idea."