Say It
Title: Say It.
Author: evil15smiles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1000
Warnings: Oral, slight fluff.
Summary: It's Luke's birthday. He gets more than he asks for.
A/N: Just a little some-something I wrote for perdiccas 's birthday, which helped me break another writing dry spell, I might add. Unbeta'd, don't kill me. D: Happy birthday, love! Hope you like it!
This was almost enough of a gift.
Luke stood, fully dressed, over the sleeping form of Sylar, watching him intently. He’d come in to force the man to wake up, but something had stayed his pillow-wielding hand. He was on his stomach, head turned toward the wall, arms over his head. He always slept in those wife-beaters, too thin to conceal the shoulder blades moving gently beneath his skin in time to his slow, peaceful breathing.
Luke sighed in slight exasperation and set the pillow down, slowly sitting on the bed and laying his head on Sylar’s back. An extremely deep inhale signaled his awakening and Luke turned his head to bury his face in the cotton that smelled so genuinely him.
“Luke?” the groggy greeting came from above his head.
“Christ, you’re a light sleeper.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“It’s my birthday, assface.”
“Is that a fact?”
Luke nodded into Sylar’s back and straightened up so that the other man could move freely. He turned over and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as he searched Luke’s face.
“Eighteen, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Well. This is a big deal.”
“I want cigarettes. And cake.”
Sylar snorted derisively and pulled the blankets off of his legs before standing and stretching his long limbs.
“Cake, I can do. Cigarettes are disgusting.”
“C’mon, you smoke all the time,” Luke whined, pulling his feet up onto the bed.
“I’m immortal, and they’re still disgusting.”
“You’re such a douche.”
Sylar pulled off his shirt and headed to the bathroom. “You keep talking like that and I’m not going to give you your present.
Luke’s eyes brightened at Sylar’s retreating form as it disappeared around the corner. “You got me a present? Seriously?”
“You’re going to have to come in here to get it,” he called from inside the bathroom.
Luke scrambled off of the bed without question, half jogging after Sylar.
He wasn’t expecting to suddenly go blind once he rounded the corner.
“Hey!” he shouted, flailing his arms against his assailant as the blindfold was tied behind his head. “The hell are you doing, you psycho!?”
“Giving you your present, you dumb kid,” Sylar growled, guiding and pushing the disabled teen back into the bedroom. The backs of Luke’s knees hit the bed and he fell back with a small yelp. It wasn’t until he felt Sylar undoing his pants that he understood what was going on.
“You said you wouldn’t…”
“Things change. And it is your birthday,” he smirked as he pulled Luke’s socks off. He stood back for a moment and admired the t-shirt and boxer-clad body before him. He’d wanted this for awhile; they both had. Some silly antiquated stigma had held Sylar back at first, but he was long past that, and this was just the occasion. He crawled over Luke, pushing him down with one hand against his chest as he struggled to sit up. “What’s wrong, Luke?” he whispered against the boy’s ear. “Did you change your mind?” He ran his tongue slowly over the pulse point of Luke’s neck, teething and sucking gently.
“N-no,” he gasped, hands flat against the bed as if he were being held there. “I just… wasn’t expecting…”
“Mm…” Sylar hummed into his neck, hands roaming predatorily over the slender body. He palmed the hem of the t-shirt, pushing it up over the heaving chest it covered. He let his mouth roam over the bare expanse, latching onto a soft, pink nipple, making Luke’s whole body jump as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive area. He let go with a wet noise. “Tell me what you want me to do, Luke.” Sylar pushed himself up to look at the boy… his flushed cheeks, his wet lips, the stark contrast of the black bandana over his eyes against his skin…
“I dunno…” Luke exhaled, caught off guard.
Sylar smirked deviously, mouth resuming its previous work on the boy’s torso. He hooked his fingers into Luke’s absurd plaid boxer shorts, pulling them off, down over pale thighs and awkward knees, exposing his half-hard cock. He’d take what he wanted later, but today, right now… this was about Luke.
Sylar ran his fingers slowly over the length, making the prone body jump again. He leaned in close to inhale the heady scent of sweat and sex that had begun to roll off of the youth with very little coaxing.
“You’re going to have to tell me,” he breathed, lips inches away from the head, fingertips barely brushing still. His eyes flickered up, lips curling at the corners to see Luke gasping, hips rolling up into the touch as best they could. “Say it.”
“Nn… Sylar…”
“Say it, Luke. Wrap that pretty mouth around the words.”
The boy lifted his head, glaring without eyes.
“Suck me off.”
Sylar grinned. “Was that so hard?”
“Fuck you-- ah…” he broke off as Sylar surged forward, taking Luke’s slender dick fully into his mouth as the boy gasped and arched.
“Ho-ly fuck,” he said a little louder than necessary. His hands pulled at the bed sheets as Sylar hollowed his cheeks, eyes on Luke, always on Luke. “Uhhn God…”
Sylar gripped the base of Luke’s cock, twisting his mouth around it, tonguing the sensitive area beneath the head every so often. It was too much at once and Luke came quickly curling up off of the bed with a hoarse, broken cry of Sylar’s name. Sylar swallowed around him dutifully as the boy collapsed back onto the bed, sweaty, panting, spent and content.
Sylar stood slowly to retrieve Luke’s boxers, sliding his legs back into them and tugging his t-shirt back down before crawling up next to him, kissing him for the first time.
“Happy birthday, you dumb kid.”
“Thanks, assface,” he grinned in reply, flinging a lazy arm over the man’s side. After a moment of silence, he opened his eyes slowly, glaring. “I still want cake.” Sylar snorted and punched him in the shoulder before pulling him closer.
Author: evil15smiles
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1000
Warnings: Oral, slight fluff.
Summary: It's Luke's birthday. He gets more than he asks for.
A/N: Just a little some-something I wrote for perdiccas 's birthday, which helped me break another writing dry spell, I might add. Unbeta'd, don't kill me. D: Happy birthday, love! Hope you like it!
This was almost enough of a gift.
Luke stood, fully dressed, over the sleeping form of Sylar, watching him intently. He’d come in to force the man to wake up, but something had stayed his pillow-wielding hand. He was on his stomach, head turned toward the wall, arms over his head. He always slept in those wife-beaters, too thin to conceal the shoulder blades moving gently beneath his skin in time to his slow, peaceful breathing.
Luke sighed in slight exasperation and set the pillow down, slowly sitting on the bed and laying his head on Sylar’s back. An extremely deep inhale signaled his awakening and Luke turned his head to bury his face in the cotton that smelled so genuinely him.
“Luke?” the groggy greeting came from above his head.
“Christ, you’re a light sleeper.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“It’s my birthday, assface.”
“Is that a fact?”
Luke nodded into Sylar’s back and straightened up so that the other man could move freely. He turned over and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as he searched Luke’s face.
“Eighteen, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Well. This is a big deal.”
“I want cigarettes. And cake.”
Sylar snorted derisively and pulled the blankets off of his legs before standing and stretching his long limbs.
“Cake, I can do. Cigarettes are disgusting.”
“C’mon, you smoke all the time,” Luke whined, pulling his feet up onto the bed.
“I’m immortal, and they’re still disgusting.”
“You’re such a douche.”
Sylar pulled off his shirt and headed to the bathroom. “You keep talking like that and I’m not going to give you your present.
Luke’s eyes brightened at Sylar’s retreating form as it disappeared around the corner. “You got me a present? Seriously?”
“You’re going to have to come in here to get it,” he called from inside the bathroom.
Luke scrambled off of the bed without question, half jogging after Sylar.
He wasn’t expecting to suddenly go blind once he rounded the corner.
“Hey!” he shouted, flailing his arms against his assailant as the blindfold was tied behind his head. “The hell are you doing, you psycho!?”
“Giving you your present, you dumb kid,” Sylar growled, guiding and pushing the disabled teen back into the bedroom. The backs of Luke’s knees hit the bed and he fell back with a small yelp. It wasn’t until he felt Sylar undoing his pants that he understood what was going on.
“You said you wouldn’t…”
“Things change. And it is your birthday,” he smirked as he pulled Luke’s socks off. He stood back for a moment and admired the t-shirt and boxer-clad body before him. He’d wanted this for awhile; they both had. Some silly antiquated stigma had held Sylar back at first, but he was long past that, and this was just the occasion. He crawled over Luke, pushing him down with one hand against his chest as he struggled to sit up. “What’s wrong, Luke?” he whispered against the boy’s ear. “Did you change your mind?” He ran his tongue slowly over the pulse point of Luke’s neck, teething and sucking gently.
“N-no,” he gasped, hands flat against the bed as if he were being held there. “I just… wasn’t expecting…”
“Mm…” Sylar hummed into his neck, hands roaming predatorily over the slender body. He palmed the hem of the t-shirt, pushing it up over the heaving chest it covered. He let his mouth roam over the bare expanse, latching onto a soft, pink nipple, making Luke’s whole body jump as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive area. He let go with a wet noise. “Tell me what you want me to do, Luke.” Sylar pushed himself up to look at the boy… his flushed cheeks, his wet lips, the stark contrast of the black bandana over his eyes against his skin…
“I dunno…” Luke exhaled, caught off guard.
Sylar smirked deviously, mouth resuming its previous work on the boy’s torso. He hooked his fingers into Luke’s absurd plaid boxer shorts, pulling them off, down over pale thighs and awkward knees, exposing his half-hard cock. He’d take what he wanted later, but today, right now… this was about Luke.
Sylar ran his fingers slowly over the length, making the prone body jump again. He leaned in close to inhale the heady scent of sweat and sex that had begun to roll off of the youth with very little coaxing.
“You’re going to have to tell me,” he breathed, lips inches away from the head, fingertips barely brushing still. His eyes flickered up, lips curling at the corners to see Luke gasping, hips rolling up into the touch as best they could. “Say it.”
“Nn… Sylar…”
“Say it, Luke. Wrap that pretty mouth around the words.”
The boy lifted his head, glaring without eyes.
“Suck me off.”
Sylar grinned. “Was that so hard?”
“Fuck you-- ah…” he broke off as Sylar surged forward, taking Luke’s slender dick fully into his mouth as the boy gasped and arched.
“Ho-ly fuck,” he said a little louder than necessary. His hands pulled at the bed sheets as Sylar hollowed his cheeks, eyes on Luke, always on Luke. “Uhhn God…”
Sylar gripped the base of Luke’s cock, twisting his mouth around it, tonguing the sensitive area beneath the head every so often. It was too much at once and Luke came quickly curling up off of the bed with a hoarse, broken cry of Sylar’s name. Sylar swallowed around him dutifully as the boy collapsed back onto the bed, sweaty, panting, spent and content.
Sylar stood slowly to retrieve Luke’s boxers, sliding his legs back into them and tugging his t-shirt back down before crawling up next to him, kissing him for the first time.
“Happy birthday, you dumb kid.”
“Thanks, assface,” he grinned in reply, flinging a lazy arm over the man’s side. After a moment of silence, he opened his eyes slowly, glaring. “I still want cake.” Sylar snorted and punched him in the shoulder before pulling him closer.