A fic for laurazel
Fic: Well, I'm Not Paralyzed (But I Seem to be Struck By You)
Rating: PG-13ish
Characters/Pairings: Sylar/Peter
Summary: Peter figures out what's happened since the Wall: He's infatuated.
Warnings: Unbeta'd, gay, all that.
Notes: Dedicated for laurazel and her amazing, fantastic, orgasmic Petlar fan art. I took exact scenes from her drawings. I hope you like this, dear!
PS Title from "Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven. Yup, I dunno either.
Peter can't sleep, which isn't much of a surprise since he really can't, but ever since that night, the night, he can't close his eyes without remembering...
...Well.
He doesn't like to think about what happened. But if he had to sum it up, he's say that the night before he and Sylar got out of the nightmare-if there really were such a thing as days and nights in that place- something happened.
And by something, he means that they were yelling at each other, again, although he forgot the exact reason, and the next thing he knows, he's backed the other man against The Wall and was breathing hard and watching him and then they're kissing, God, they were kissing, and maybe Peter can chalk it up to loneliness or temporary insanity, but it felt so good. He groans when Sylar slides his arms around him and starts to tug lightly on his hair, so he slides his arms up to hold him closer, and it seems like forever before they have to pull away for air, but when they do, Peter can't even begin to try and look away from the other man's searching gaze. So he doesn't, and they end up shedding their jackets, throwing them on top of each other on the ground.
"Peter," Sylar says, voice barely above a whisper, and Peter grabs him by the collar of his shirt and tugs him back down to kissing level. just so he doesn't have to hear him talk, because if they were to actually say something, to acknowledge whatever that this is....
Peter doesn't want to think about it, and instead, they end up tugging some clothes off and rearranging others until they're pressed together, naked chest to naked chest, and Peter can feel how hard the other man's heart is beating, and he just presses a kiss to his forehead and lets him trail kisses across his jaw and pull him close.
They fuck.
It's frantic, and messy, and afterwards, Peter can feel come slowly making its way down his ass and he can't bring himself to care because Sylar is pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and they're both shaking a little and Peter knows, fuck, he just knows that things are going to be so different. The next day, or whatever, is when they get out and go to the carnival, barely speaking the whole time. Afterwards, Peter doesn't see the other man for months.
He misses him.
He won't say it out loud, but he really does, and most of all, God, he misses those dark eyes, watching him, looking at him like he's the most amazing thing that Sylar has ever seen.
So he really can't explain how he ends up knocking on the door of some skeezy, run down motel that has monthly rentals, somewhere in New Jersey, and the person on the other side of the door seems to hesitate for a moment, as if listening to something. The door opens a second later, and Sylar watches Peter for a moment, before asking, quietly, "How did you find me?"
Peter just shrugs and replies, "I always know where to find you."
He doesn't add that he waited so long to find the other man because he was scared. Instead, Sylar lets him inside and he shuts the door and Peter is pulling him into a hug before he realizes that he's even moved. They stand there for a while before Sylar gently extricates Peter away from him, and he walks over to his bed and sits down, dropping his head in his hands.
"Peter, about what happened..."
The medic cuts him off.
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it all the time." Sylar lifts his head at that, and Peter continues. "I'd also be lying if I said that every song on the radio doesn't remind me of you, and that I sometimes pass by a watch repair shop and don't think of you, either."
He moves to stand in front of the other man, smiling a little when Sylar reaches up to gently put a hand on his hip.
"And I'm lying when I say that I don't care about you."
Sylar sits up straighter, wrapping his arms around Peter's middle, holding him close and burying his face into the other man's stomach.
"Come home, Gabriel," Peter says, because he doesn't know what else to, and Sylar tenses at hearing his real name.
"I don't have a home anymore, Peter," he sighs in response, and Peter reaches his arms up and slides them around Sylar's shoulders, tangling his fingers in his hair.
"You would if you came back with me."
Sylar pulls back, eyes wide with surprise, but then his features soften and he ends up craning his neck up to capture Peter's lips with his own and dammit, Peter can't help kissing him back just as hard, moving his right knee so it's on the bed, and then Sylar is falling back against the bed, making the empath fall on top of him, and it's actually kind of nice, just the two of them.
This time, they remove clothes slowly, exploring and tasting, feeling the way their bodies slide together, and afterwards, Peter stares at the hideous wallpaper decorating the walls and laughs to himself.
"What's so funny?" Sylar asks, eyes heavily lidded.
"I just never thought that such an important event in my life would take place in a shady motel in New Jersey."
The other man raises an eyebrow, clearly confused by what Peter just said, so he elaborates.
"Finally finding the one."
"The one the one?"
Peter nods, already feeling the flush spreading across his face, but when Sylar tilts his chin up for another breathtaking kiss, he knows that he's done the right thing for once. It's a thought that makes him smile and sink contentedly into a beat up old mattress, next to an ex-serial killer, in a sketch hotel in Jersey, where people are living around them but he doesn't even notice.
It's absolutely perfect.
Rating: PG-13ish
Characters/Pairings: Sylar/Peter
Summary: Peter figures out what's happened since the Wall: He's infatuated.
Warnings: Unbeta'd, gay, all that.
Notes: Dedicated for laurazel and her amazing, fantastic, orgasmic Petlar fan art. I took exact scenes from her drawings. I hope you like this, dear!
PS Title from "Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven. Yup, I dunno either.
Peter can't sleep, which isn't much of a surprise since he really can't, but ever since that night, the night, he can't close his eyes without remembering...
...Well.
He doesn't like to think about what happened. But if he had to sum it up, he's say that the night before he and Sylar got out of the nightmare-if there really were such a thing as days and nights in that place- something happened.
And by something, he means that they were yelling at each other, again, although he forgot the exact reason, and the next thing he knows, he's backed the other man against The Wall and was breathing hard and watching him and then they're kissing, God, they were kissing, and maybe Peter can chalk it up to loneliness or temporary insanity, but it felt so good. He groans when Sylar slides his arms around him and starts to tug lightly on his hair, so he slides his arms up to hold him closer, and it seems like forever before they have to pull away for air, but when they do, Peter can't even begin to try and look away from the other man's searching gaze. So he doesn't, and they end up shedding their jackets, throwing them on top of each other on the ground.
"Peter," Sylar says, voice barely above a whisper, and Peter grabs him by the collar of his shirt and tugs him back down to kissing level. just so he doesn't have to hear him talk, because if they were to actually say something, to acknowledge whatever that this is....
Peter doesn't want to think about it, and instead, they end up tugging some clothes off and rearranging others until they're pressed together, naked chest to naked chest, and Peter can feel how hard the other man's heart is beating, and he just presses a kiss to his forehead and lets him trail kisses across his jaw and pull him close.
They fuck.
It's frantic, and messy, and afterwards, Peter can feel come slowly making its way down his ass and he can't bring himself to care because Sylar is pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and they're both shaking a little and Peter knows, fuck, he just knows that things are going to be so different. The next day, or whatever, is when they get out and go to the carnival, barely speaking the whole time. Afterwards, Peter doesn't see the other man for months.
He misses him.
He won't say it out loud, but he really does, and most of all, God, he misses those dark eyes, watching him, looking at him like he's the most amazing thing that Sylar has ever seen.
So he really can't explain how he ends up knocking on the door of some skeezy, run down motel that has monthly rentals, somewhere in New Jersey, and the person on the other side of the door seems to hesitate for a moment, as if listening to something. The door opens a second later, and Sylar watches Peter for a moment, before asking, quietly, "How did you find me?"
Peter just shrugs and replies, "I always know where to find you."
He doesn't add that he waited so long to find the other man because he was scared. Instead, Sylar lets him inside and he shuts the door and Peter is pulling him into a hug before he realizes that he's even moved. They stand there for a while before Sylar gently extricates Peter away from him, and he walks over to his bed and sits down, dropping his head in his hands.
"Peter, about what happened..."
The medic cuts him off.
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it all the time." Sylar lifts his head at that, and Peter continues. "I'd also be lying if I said that every song on the radio doesn't remind me of you, and that I sometimes pass by a watch repair shop and don't think of you, either."
He moves to stand in front of the other man, smiling a little when Sylar reaches up to gently put a hand on his hip.
"And I'm lying when I say that I don't care about you."
Sylar sits up straighter, wrapping his arms around Peter's middle, holding him close and burying his face into the other man's stomach.
"Come home, Gabriel," Peter says, because he doesn't know what else to, and Sylar tenses at hearing his real name.
"I don't have a home anymore, Peter," he sighs in response, and Peter reaches his arms up and slides them around Sylar's shoulders, tangling his fingers in his hair.
"You would if you came back with me."
Sylar pulls back, eyes wide with surprise, but then his features soften and he ends up craning his neck up to capture Peter's lips with his own and dammit, Peter can't help kissing him back just as hard, moving his right knee so it's on the bed, and then Sylar is falling back against the bed, making the empath fall on top of him, and it's actually kind of nice, just the two of them.
This time, they remove clothes slowly, exploring and tasting, feeling the way their bodies slide together, and afterwards, Peter stares at the hideous wallpaper decorating the walls and laughs to himself.
"What's so funny?" Sylar asks, eyes heavily lidded.
"I just never thought that such an important event in my life would take place in a shady motel in New Jersey."
The other man raises an eyebrow, clearly confused by what Peter just said, so he elaborates.
"Finally finding the one."
"The one the one?"
Peter nods, already feeling the flush spreading across his face, but when Sylar tilts his chin up for another breathtaking kiss, he knows that he's done the right thing for once. It's a thought that makes him smile and sink contentedly into a beat up old mattress, next to an ex-serial killer, in a sketch hotel in Jersey, where people are living around them but he doesn't even notice.
It's absolutely perfect.