Petrelli Kisses (Short)
Title: Petrelli Kisses
Rating: PG-13 - NC-17
Warnings: Language. Detailed kissing. M/M pairing, mentions of outercourse. F/M pairings with large age gaps. Implications of incest/familial-type squick. Details on male hormones? Sylar’s thoughts on kissing people and potential hook-ups/sexual interest.
Setting: Inside The Wall, S4. Flashbacks to Season 3.
Summary: Sylar thinks back on kissing Petrellis, past, present and future.
A/N: Sylar’s follow-up to game_byrd’s Wall Verse, namely "Practice Makes Perfect"/ "Break Time". This is based on her series, with my own touches on Sylar, so it IS a hybrid.
A/N: I am so horrible. Game_byrd also beta'd this for me! Give credit where it's due.
After their first initial grind-fest where Peter had been sneaky, surprising and lucky enough to practically turn Sylar on and startle him to orgasm, Sylar had been thinking about it in detail.
Sure it had been a long time for him (possibly for Peter, too, but he doubted that: Emma). Sure he wanted a connection. Sure he wasn’t exactly hard to please. But this was Peter Petrelli, a man and one-time great enemy and several-times brother which were all very odd and abnormal for a typical Sylar bedmate. Not that he….really had a type, either.
Mainly he was stunned he’d gotten over himself to first of all stay there, let Peter touch him (grind on him, whatever), then let himself get that close and actually….let go. Usually the voices in his head were much, much too loud to allow him to get past the first few minutes with an erection. Then again, it had been a long, long time, even by his standards.
All that to say, they were currently standing outside Peter’s building, embracing and taking their sweet time making out. While Sylar had no clue that Peter still had his empathy, he was aware that Peter was getting interested in the situation. He himself was more than content to kiss for the rest of the night and not go or get anywhere.
Strange thoughts, not unusual, began to filter into his head as his lips were regularly involved and engulfed by Peter’s warm mouth.
You realize you’ve now kissed every living Petrelli besides Nathan’s kids? He shifted his weight, not happy with how that made him sound. Like the perverts his mot- Virginia had warned him about.
Angela - She’d tasted good, surprisingly welcoming, but he remembered there was an underlying sourness, like the aftertaste of wine on her tongue. It hadn’t been from the Thanksgiving dinner, either. His libido at the time had paid attention to her lips, Petrelli lips, the taste therein, and her smell. She smelled….mature, but in a subtle inviting way, like a family house of sorts. It was something you could stand next to and be inside and probably walk away smelling like it (her). It wasn’t ‘OLD’ or rotten (even if her soul was). It was comfortable and appealing in its own way. Her flavor only made him wonder how the rest of her body would taste. Petrellis were soooo much fun to play with because they were absolutely, delightfully expressive (read noisy).
(Sylar willingly skipped over Nathan and Arthur, because, really…While Nathan was good-looking, suave and well-played, Sylar stilled held an increasingly serious grudge against the bastard. And the man, a fucking lawyer, was more stupid than Peter, a male nurse-slash-EMT. Arthur…well. The whole ‘Dad’ thing didn’t do it for him. He didn’t count the aunt and uncle Peter had or Nathan’s boys and he wasn’t sure Heidi counted).
Claire - Claire was like granny in that she had not wanted to play along and kiss back. The ability he’d been using on her at the time was a real overload of information. Claire’s participation would have made things go fast and smooth and nevermind that the poor girl was so sexually frustrated she was kissing her “girlfriend” roommate out of spite and boredom. Claire might *think* she wanted a lot of things, but what she wanted was goddamn Superman and a buttload of attention, not love and acceptance. What she needed was a goddamn spanking and that wasn’t even Nathan playing at bio-dad or Sylar being kinky.
But back to the kiss. Claire had that close, happy family smell. Shampoo and body lotion mixed with her laundry detergent (it admittedly had him thinking about her lingerie). Overall it was a kind of fruity, feminine, flowery smell, something that should have been lively and fresh like sunlight, but wasn’t. Claire’s taste was….muted, dulled down and not the tangy texture or flavor he had expected. Mostly he tasted her stupid lipgloss. He hadn’t bothered to give her tongue.
Peter - Ah, the latest (and greatest) experiment. First of all, Peter had kissed *him*. The first Petrelli to do so, and willingly. Kissing Sylar appeared to turn the medic on, actually, which was another shocker. The man had wanted to rub and thrust all over him, seemingly glad to touch him (maybe even get him off, which was impossible and totally freaky). Thing was, Peter had that damned cute faulty lip yet he was the best kisser of all, above and beyond his relatives. And Sylar was thrilled.
Peter didn’t have a ‘smell’, per se. That is, not a physical one like “sandalwood” or “mint” or whatever the fuck romance novels liked to plaster to a man’s scent. Peter smelled like a man; like sweat and testosterone and virile male. Not that his scent was ‘stronger’ than his relatives’ by dint of being male (although, yes, he was still scent-y after a shower). Peter literally smelled like sex to Sylar. Tasted like it, too.
Sylar had done some research out of boredom and random horniness. Androstadienone effected the moods of straight women and gay men (just his luck); generally in their attention and supposedly increased sexual attraction noted in the right hypothalamus, right orbitofrontal cortex and right fusiform cortex. It served as a metabolism of testosterone and, as an odor, it was considered a male pheromone.
Androstrenol, from the adrenal glands, inspired feelings of intimacy, empathy, and romance while giving off the impression of virility; nicknamed ‘the icebreaker’ pheromone. Also found in the sweat glands and activated shortly after a sweat, it was only viable at about eighteen inches and was only detectable moments after activity; otherwise, it was a turn off once the sweat oxidized in oxygen.
Testosterone, generated in the testicles, was an aphrodisiac in male saliva. And Sylar had gathered up plenty of that from Peter last time and was currently tasting it greedily.
Peter had a sort of clean musk going on and a tangy taste. It suited the little man perfectly and he probably had no clue what it did to Sylar. Plus, Peter liked to slip him tongue fairly often and he really couldn’t get enough of that. That and that grabby, borderline annoying haircut that was begging to be fisted and abused. If anything would make him want to give head, it would be Peter’s smell. (Dimly he wondered if it was so soothing, not arousing, because of Nathan. He didn’t think on it further and didn’t care).
All the Petrellis were quite fuckable, throughout different age-ranges and sexes. But had he kissed Peter before landing in Hell, he would have still chosen the little hero to take to bed. Lucky him that’s who he ended up with.
Rating: PG-13 - NC-17
Warnings: Language. Detailed kissing. M/M pairing, mentions of outercourse. F/M pairings with large age gaps. Implications of incest/familial-type squick. Details on male hormones? Sylar’s thoughts on kissing people and potential hook-ups/sexual interest.
Setting: Inside The Wall, S4. Flashbacks to Season 3.
Summary: Sylar thinks back on kissing Petrellis, past, present and future.
A/N: Sylar’s follow-up to game_byrd’s Wall Verse, namely "Practice Makes Perfect"/ "Break Time". This is based on her series, with my own touches on Sylar, so it IS a hybrid.
A/N: I am so horrible. Game_byrd also beta'd this for me! Give credit where it's due.
After their first initial grind-fest where Peter had been sneaky, surprising and lucky enough to practically turn Sylar on and startle him to orgasm, Sylar had been thinking about it in detail.
Sure it had been a long time for him (possibly for Peter, too, but he doubted that: Emma). Sure he wanted a connection. Sure he wasn’t exactly hard to please. But this was Peter Petrelli, a man and one-time great enemy and several-times brother which were all very odd and abnormal for a typical Sylar bedmate. Not that he….really had a type, either.
Mainly he was stunned he’d gotten over himself to first of all stay there, let Peter touch him (grind on him, whatever), then let himself get that close and actually….let go. Usually the voices in his head were much, much too loud to allow him to get past the first few minutes with an erection. Then again, it had been a long, long time, even by his standards.
All that to say, they were currently standing outside Peter’s building, embracing and taking their sweet time making out. While Sylar had no clue that Peter still had his empathy, he was aware that Peter was getting interested in the situation. He himself was more than content to kiss for the rest of the night and not go or get anywhere.
Strange thoughts, not unusual, began to filter into his head as his lips were regularly involved and engulfed by Peter’s warm mouth.
You realize you’ve now kissed every living Petrelli besides Nathan’s kids? He shifted his weight, not happy with how that made him sound. Like the perverts his mot- Virginia had warned him about.
Angela - She’d tasted good, surprisingly welcoming, but he remembered there was an underlying sourness, like the aftertaste of wine on her tongue. It hadn’t been from the Thanksgiving dinner, either. His libido at the time had paid attention to her lips, Petrelli lips, the taste therein, and her smell. She smelled….mature, but in a subtle inviting way, like a family house of sorts. It was something you could stand next to and be inside and probably walk away smelling like it (her). It wasn’t ‘OLD’ or rotten (even if her soul was). It was comfortable and appealing in its own way. Her flavor only made him wonder how the rest of her body would taste. Petrellis were soooo much fun to play with because they were absolutely, delightfully expressive (read noisy).
(Sylar willingly skipped over Nathan and Arthur, because, really…While Nathan was good-looking, suave and well-played, Sylar stilled held an increasingly serious grudge against the bastard. And the man, a fucking lawyer, was more stupid than Peter, a male nurse-slash-EMT. Arthur…well. The whole ‘Dad’ thing didn’t do it for him. He didn’t count the aunt and uncle Peter had or Nathan’s boys and he wasn’t sure Heidi counted).
Claire - Claire was like granny in that she had not wanted to play along and kiss back. The ability he’d been using on her at the time was a real overload of information. Claire’s participation would have made things go fast and smooth and nevermind that the poor girl was so sexually frustrated she was kissing her “girlfriend” roommate out of spite and boredom. Claire might *think* she wanted a lot of things, but what she wanted was goddamn Superman and a buttload of attention, not love and acceptance. What she needed was a goddamn spanking and that wasn’t even Nathan playing at bio-dad or Sylar being kinky.
But back to the kiss. Claire had that close, happy family smell. Shampoo and body lotion mixed with her laundry detergent (it admittedly had him thinking about her lingerie). Overall it was a kind of fruity, feminine, flowery smell, something that should have been lively and fresh like sunlight, but wasn’t. Claire’s taste was….muted, dulled down and not the tangy texture or flavor he had expected. Mostly he tasted her stupid lipgloss. He hadn’t bothered to give her tongue.
Peter - Ah, the latest (and greatest) experiment. First of all, Peter had kissed *him*. The first Petrelli to do so, and willingly. Kissing Sylar appeared to turn the medic on, actually, which was another shocker. The man had wanted to rub and thrust all over him, seemingly glad to touch him (maybe even get him off, which was impossible and totally freaky). Thing was, Peter had that damned cute faulty lip yet he was the best kisser of all, above and beyond his relatives. And Sylar was thrilled.
Peter didn’t have a ‘smell’, per se. That is, not a physical one like “sandalwood” or “mint” or whatever the fuck romance novels liked to plaster to a man’s scent. Peter smelled like a man; like sweat and testosterone and virile male. Not that his scent was ‘stronger’ than his relatives’ by dint of being male (although, yes, he was still scent-y after a shower). Peter literally smelled like sex to Sylar. Tasted like it, too.
Sylar had done some research out of boredom and random horniness. Androstadienone effected the moods of straight women and gay men (just his luck); generally in their attention and supposedly increased sexual attraction noted in the right hypothalamus, right orbitofrontal cortex and right fusiform cortex. It served as a metabolism of testosterone and, as an odor, it was considered a male pheromone.
Androstrenol, from the adrenal glands, inspired feelings of intimacy, empathy, and romance while giving off the impression of virility; nicknamed ‘the icebreaker’ pheromone. Also found in the sweat glands and activated shortly after a sweat, it was only viable at about eighteen inches and was only detectable moments after activity; otherwise, it was a turn off once the sweat oxidized in oxygen.
Testosterone, generated in the testicles, was an aphrodisiac in male saliva. And Sylar had gathered up plenty of that from Peter last time and was currently tasting it greedily.
Peter had a sort of clean musk going on and a tangy taste. It suited the little man perfectly and he probably had no clue what it did to Sylar. Plus, Peter liked to slip him tongue fairly often and he really couldn’t get enough of that. That and that grabby, borderline annoying haircut that was begging to be fisted and abused. If anything would make him want to give head, it would be Peter’s smell. (Dimly he wondered if it was so soothing, not arousing, because of Nathan. He didn’t think on it further and didn’t care).
All the Petrellis were quite fuckable, throughout different age-ranges and sexes. But had he kissed Peter before landing in Hell, he would have still chosen the little hero to take to bed. Lucky him that’s who he ended up with.