Feelings (1/2)
Feelings (1/2)
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar, Mohinder
Rating: PGish
Summary: Sylar finds Peter and finds out something surprising.
Warnings: I think mostly just slight implied gayness, here. Possible season 3 spoilers.
"Hello Peter."
The deep velvet voice behind Peter's back made his blood run cold. He turned only to be thrown against the door with powerful telekinesis. Standing in the corner of the small storage room, hidden partially in shadow, was none other than Sylar. He was smiling and looking at Peter from under those marvelous eyebrows.
Peter struggled against the hold, but it did no good. He was held fast. Sylar stalked forward to stand uncomfortably close to Peter.
"Are you going to kill me?" Peter demanded, glaring daggers in the taller man's direction. Sylar shook his head, smiling all the while.
"Now why would I do that, Peter?" he asked, stepping impossibly closer to Peter. Peter swallowed and eyed the distance between them.
"So what then, you came here to taunt me, because you got nothing better to do? What, do you need my help?" he spat. "Of course you do, you'r-"
"I. Don't. Need. Your. Help," Sylar snarled, his hands digging into Peter's collar. His body was now completely pressed against Peter. His eyes burned with anger. Suddenly Peter was very, very glad that the last person's power he absorbed was Matt's. He strained to look into Sylar's mind but all he encountered was static.
"Then what do you want?" Peter asked. Sylar's eyes seemed to search Peter's face before he dropped Peter's collar and he backed off. Suddenly, he seemed...shy?
"I...I..." He paused. "I need to fix you." His eyes were cast to the floor, like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
"Fix me?" Peter asked, eyebrows raising in disbelief.
You're broken... echoed through Sylar's head. I need to fix you. I need to understand...
"Why?"
Because you're the only one who's completely like me...I need you to be back to normal...
And suddenly Peter understood.
"I'll let you fix me if you let me save you," he offered. Sylar moved back to stand in front of him (but not close enough). "I painted us. Together. It was going to happen eventually."
"Save me?" Sylar whispered, moving in to close the gap between himself and Peter. His face lingered tantalizingly close to Peter's, his eyes closed, his mouth tempting Peter. He didn't respond to Peter's remark about the paintings.
"I want to save you, before you get lost forever..." Sylar's hands slid up to clasp around Peter's waist.
"And why would you do that?" he asked, opening his eyes to look at Peter.
"Because I'm in love with you."
Sylar waited for that familiar tingle in his mind to tell him Peter was lying, but nothing came.
"You're telling the truth," he whispered, disbelieving.
"Why wouldn't I?" Peter replied. He gently placed his hands around the back of Sylar's neck, the space between their lips suddenly seeming too far away. Peter could hear the words echoing in Sylar's mind, hearing him think he loves me, I love him too, I need him and that was exactly what Peter was aching to hear.
"Sylar," he breathed, trying in vain to will Sylar to kiss him. Sylar did the one thing he always did when confronted with this sort of emotion. He ran.
Peter never saw Sylar's telekinetic push into the wall coming. He was knocked unconscious.
"I'm sorry Peter..." he whispered, before gingerly stepping over Peter's body and storming out of the building. He had to knock Mohinder out of the way to get out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Mohinder got air back in his lungs, he ran into the back room and shook Peter awake.
"Peter! Sylar was just here! Did he hurt you?" he babbled, helping Peter up. Peter's head hurt. He swore.
"I'll be fine." Mohinder looked at Peter and narrowed his eyes.
"Peter, what happened between you two? What did Sylar want?" Peter shoved past Mohinder.
"I don't want to talk about it." And that was it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sylar spent the next few days locked in his apartment, painting and painting, and everytime, only coming up with paintings of him and Peter, entwined in various sexual positions, looking passionate.
He shook his head.
Peter was completely right. He had known all along. With a sigh, he washed the paint from his hands. He couldn't escape this any longer. He knew what he had to do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was about a week later when Peter woke up in the middle of the night. A sudden weight at the foot of the bed prompted it. Turning over on to his back, he sat up groggily. Sitting on the foot of his bed, his back to him, was Sylar.
"No one has ever said they loved me before and meant it," he said, almost to himself. He turned to Peter. "Did you mean it?"
"Of course I did."
Sylar and Peter's eyes met and they didn't break contact. Slowly, carefully, Sylar crawled forward and stretched out until his face was inches from Peter's. Never breaking eye contact, he gently brought their lips together into a chaste kiss. Pulling away, their eyes met again before they crashed back together with the force of their lust.
Peter's hands clasped behind Sylar's neck and Sylar grabbed at Peter's waist. He rubbed his hands all over Peter's bare chest. It was only when his hands started to wander down that he realized that Peter was completely naked.
"I think you're a little overdressed, Sylar," Peter purred, a devious look on his face.
"I agree completely," he murmured back, and the two of them started working on the button's of Sylar's button down shirt and the buckle of his pants. With a little help of telekinesis, Sylar was divested of his clothes, and the two of them settled together, burning hot flesh against flesh.
Sylar was trying his hardest to meld his body with Peter's when suddenly he felt a rush and Peter let out a loud gasp.
"Sylar...I think...I think it worked," he babbled, and it took Sylar a minute to realize exactly what Peter had meant. He had fixed Peter. Feeling a renewed vigor, Sylar moaned and threw himself into claiming Peter's body again.
"Peter," he breathed, "Save me."
And Peter did just that.
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Sylar, Mohinder
Rating: PGish
Summary: Sylar finds Peter and finds out something surprising.
Warnings: I think mostly just slight implied gayness, here. Possible season 3 spoilers.
"Hello Peter."
The deep velvet voice behind Peter's back made his blood run cold. He turned only to be thrown against the door with powerful telekinesis. Standing in the corner of the small storage room, hidden partially in shadow, was none other than Sylar. He was smiling and looking at Peter from under those marvelous eyebrows.
Peter struggled against the hold, but it did no good. He was held fast. Sylar stalked forward to stand uncomfortably close to Peter.
"Are you going to kill me?" Peter demanded, glaring daggers in the taller man's direction. Sylar shook his head, smiling all the while.
"Now why would I do that, Peter?" he asked, stepping impossibly closer to Peter. Peter swallowed and eyed the distance between them.
"So what then, you came here to taunt me, because you got nothing better to do? What, do you need my help?" he spat. "Of course you do, you'r-"
"I. Don't. Need. Your. Help," Sylar snarled, his hands digging into Peter's collar. His body was now completely pressed against Peter. His eyes burned with anger. Suddenly Peter was very, very glad that the last person's power he absorbed was Matt's. He strained to look into Sylar's mind but all he encountered was static.
"Then what do you want?" Peter asked. Sylar's eyes seemed to search Peter's face before he dropped Peter's collar and he backed off. Suddenly, he seemed...shy?
"I...I..." He paused. "I need to fix you." His eyes were cast to the floor, like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
"Fix me?" Peter asked, eyebrows raising in disbelief.
You're broken... echoed through Sylar's head. I need to fix you. I need to understand...
"Why?"
Because you're the only one who's completely like me...I need you to be back to normal...
And suddenly Peter understood.
"I'll let you fix me if you let me save you," he offered. Sylar moved back to stand in front of him (but not close enough). "I painted us. Together. It was going to happen eventually."
"Save me?" Sylar whispered, moving in to close the gap between himself and Peter. His face lingered tantalizingly close to Peter's, his eyes closed, his mouth tempting Peter. He didn't respond to Peter's remark about the paintings.
"I want to save you, before you get lost forever..." Sylar's hands slid up to clasp around Peter's waist.
"And why would you do that?" he asked, opening his eyes to look at Peter.
"Because I'm in love with you."
Sylar waited for that familiar tingle in his mind to tell him Peter was lying, but nothing came.
"You're telling the truth," he whispered, disbelieving.
"Why wouldn't I?" Peter replied. He gently placed his hands around the back of Sylar's neck, the space between their lips suddenly seeming too far away. Peter could hear the words echoing in Sylar's mind, hearing him think he loves me, I love him too, I need him and that was exactly what Peter was aching to hear.
"Sylar," he breathed, trying in vain to will Sylar to kiss him. Sylar did the one thing he always did when confronted with this sort of emotion. He ran.
Peter never saw Sylar's telekinetic push into the wall coming. He was knocked unconscious.
"I'm sorry Peter..." he whispered, before gingerly stepping over Peter's body and storming out of the building. He had to knock Mohinder out of the way to get out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Mohinder got air back in his lungs, he ran into the back room and shook Peter awake.
"Peter! Sylar was just here! Did he hurt you?" he babbled, helping Peter up. Peter's head hurt. He swore.
"I'll be fine." Mohinder looked at Peter and narrowed his eyes.
"Peter, what happened between you two? What did Sylar want?" Peter shoved past Mohinder.
"I don't want to talk about it." And that was it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sylar spent the next few days locked in his apartment, painting and painting, and everytime, only coming up with paintings of him and Peter, entwined in various sexual positions, looking passionate.
He shook his head.
Peter was completely right. He had known all along. With a sigh, he washed the paint from his hands. He couldn't escape this any longer. He knew what he had to do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was about a week later when Peter woke up in the middle of the night. A sudden weight at the foot of the bed prompted it. Turning over on to his back, he sat up groggily. Sitting on the foot of his bed, his back to him, was Sylar.
"No one has ever said they loved me before and meant it," he said, almost to himself. He turned to Peter. "Did you mean it?"
"Of course I did."
Sylar and Peter's eyes met and they didn't break contact. Slowly, carefully, Sylar crawled forward and stretched out until his face was inches from Peter's. Never breaking eye contact, he gently brought their lips together into a chaste kiss. Pulling away, their eyes met again before they crashed back together with the force of their lust.
Peter's hands clasped behind Sylar's neck and Sylar grabbed at Peter's waist. He rubbed his hands all over Peter's bare chest. It was only when his hands started to wander down that he realized that Peter was completely naked.
"I think you're a little overdressed, Sylar," Peter purred, a devious look on his face.
"I agree completely," he murmured back, and the two of them started working on the button's of Sylar's button down shirt and the buckle of his pants. With a little help of telekinesis, Sylar was divested of his clothes, and the two of them settled together, burning hot flesh against flesh.
Sylar was trying his hardest to meld his body with Peter's when suddenly he felt a rush and Peter let out a loud gasp.
"Sylar...I think...I think it worked," he babbled, and it took Sylar a minute to realize exactly what Peter had meant. He had fixed Peter. Feeling a renewed vigor, Sylar moaned and threw himself into claiming Peter's body again.
"Peter," he breathed, "Save me."
And Peter did just that.