Attractive
Title: Attractive
Characters: Sylar/Gabriel Gray (implied Peter Petrelli, Virginia Gray and Petlar)
Rating: NC-17 to be safe.
Warnings: m/m implications, mentions of oral sex, gay community, sodomy (Hell therein in religious soul-damning contexts) and drag.
Setting: Inside the Wall, S4
A/N: Unbeta'd. I have no idea where this came from. Maybe a partial character study of Sylar's head when he's bored (and horny). Is it totally bad that I'm posting this so I can organize it away in my ex-HDD? Talk about motivation.
What if I’m only attractive to women? Sylar thought as yet another not-so-subtle innuendo was laid on Peter, who once again scoffed at it, laughing it off as impossible. Sylar knew from Nathan’s hazy recollections of Peter’s dates (the few he’d seen and been introduced to, the few he’d noticed) that Peter didn’t appear to have a ‘type’. If he did, Sylar didn’t and probably wouldn’t know it - Peter would certainly never cough it up. And if he did, the information would be something useless like ‘sporty’ or ‘vixen’ or something equally inapplicable to him as a man in this person-less world.
And then there’s the hair…Maybe I should shave it all off and see…but he’d know and that might still gross him out. I’m not dirty, though. Living with my mom for all those years; I’m not a filthy child.
What do gay men look for in…a guy? He’d always figured they just shut their eyes, ignored the testicles and pictured screwing a woman’s ass. Hair would be a factor as would his body size. If I have to wear a bra and a dress and lipstick and drag and sparkles and whatever else I’m… I just can’t. I won’t. That’s too much just to get laid.
I made it pretty clear, or so he thought, that I wouldn’t be picky. I’m not being needy, overly needy. I’m so low-maintenance, I wouldn’t be trouble. Does he know how little I expect of him in this? Sure, Peter, come rock my world, you’re the only one here. The only one who can rock my world, hero-boy.
The true bummer about all this was the lengths he had to go to get what he wanted - simple contact. He couldn’t very well ask for cuddling and a few affectionate gestures now could he? Sex was the go-to for that shortcut operation. It pleased his partner and he got to touch a real, live, warm, moving human being. Sylar figured if he put in the hours (read: years), one day Peter might actually fall asleep with him afterwards, sort of let him stay. Sex, the actual orgasm didn’t interest him nearly as much as he presumed he wouldn’t be getting much of either - sex or orgasms - at least in a way that was halfway acceptable to him.
What really got under his skin was Peter acting like Sylar was scum of the earth, not good enough. Most of the time Sylar felt like he had a severely contagious form of leprosy and Peter, a nurse, was paranoid about catching, rubbing shoulders with him. It was not a new feeling, but it was amplified now. That Peter wouldn’t even use him in an alley or bent over a desk rankled Sylar’s pride and ego to dangerous levels. Peter was too good for him, wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.
Maybe I’ll get stuck being…oral-only. Oh, goodie. Look, ma; no hands.
Peter refused to be seduced and Sylar…honestly didn’t dare to try to dominate the guy. Peter was better with his fists than Sylar was, Peter seemed a lot more self-important about boundaries (when *he* desired they exist, Sylar noted) and annoying things like consent. And Peter had already smacked him with a rapist label, yet another thing that wasn’t new, true, or appreciated. Knowing Peter, being come onto like that would make Peter’s delicate feelings feel like a piece of meat - ugh! I’m not used to having to tiptoe around a girl’s feelings! I see what I want, I grab what I want and I…bang it nicely enough, no bruises, no tears (until the death part rolls around); no general complaints about my performance anyways. I only killed the one; what’s so wrong with me with this?
Sylar didn’t bother to look at his hands. The only important thing about you has always ever been your brain. That’s useless now. Peter doesn’t want to hear what you have to say and you don’t really have anything useful to say…Peter, darling, please, let’s skip the talk, skip the dinner, the movie. Take me away to bed to shut me up…Promise I’ll do my best to keep my mouth…um…occupied?
Gay men…Sylar could honestly say he’d never really run into any. Sure, he heard things with half an ear, but he never paid much attention to it. People always said ‘community’ like it was some kind of club or cult, which followed Virginia’s belief system to a T. Sodomy sent you to hell, plain and simple. Sylar was already on Hell’s list, many times over for a variety of deadly sins. (Some weren’t his fault). Of course, he had no plans of enjoying any homosexual acts; he hoped in the end that his name would be clean of that particular stain. Murderer, thief, rapist and now gay - half of those things were untrue, but his peers and judges sure believed them and that was all that mattered in *his* community. Conveniently, the same community that shut him out before he’d even entered it.
Why on earth won’t he just…! Get with the program? He’s so bossy and opinionated about everything else on the planet, including me, whether he knows about it or not. So why is this guy not taking what he wants?
And thus he arrived back at his starting point of the increasingly tight circle of logic.
Because he doesn’t want you, duh.
Characters: Sylar/Gabriel Gray (implied Peter Petrelli, Virginia Gray and Petlar)
Rating: NC-17 to be safe.
Warnings: m/m implications, mentions of oral sex, gay community, sodomy (Hell therein in religious soul-damning contexts) and drag.
Setting: Inside the Wall, S4
A/N: Unbeta'd. I have no idea where this came from. Maybe a partial character study of Sylar's head when he's bored (and horny). Is it totally bad that I'm posting this so I can organize it away in my ex-HDD? Talk about motivation.
What if I’m only attractive to women? Sylar thought as yet another not-so-subtle innuendo was laid on Peter, who once again scoffed at it, laughing it off as impossible. Sylar knew from Nathan’s hazy recollections of Peter’s dates (the few he’d seen and been introduced to, the few he’d noticed) that Peter didn’t appear to have a ‘type’. If he did, Sylar didn’t and probably wouldn’t know it - Peter would certainly never cough it up. And if he did, the information would be something useless like ‘sporty’ or ‘vixen’ or something equally inapplicable to him as a man in this person-less world.
And then there’s the hair…Maybe I should shave it all off and see…but he’d know and that might still gross him out. I’m not dirty, though. Living with my mom for all those years; I’m not a filthy child.
What do gay men look for in…a guy? He’d always figured they just shut their eyes, ignored the testicles and pictured screwing a woman’s ass. Hair would be a factor as would his body size. If I have to wear a bra and a dress and lipstick and drag and sparkles and whatever else I’m… I just can’t. I won’t. That’s too much just to get laid.
I made it pretty clear, or so he thought, that I wouldn’t be picky. I’m not being needy, overly needy. I’m so low-maintenance, I wouldn’t be trouble. Does he know how little I expect of him in this? Sure, Peter, come rock my world, you’re the only one here. The only one who can rock my world, hero-boy.
The true bummer about all this was the lengths he had to go to get what he wanted - simple contact. He couldn’t very well ask for cuddling and a few affectionate gestures now could he? Sex was the go-to for that shortcut operation. It pleased his partner and he got to touch a real, live, warm, moving human being. Sylar figured if he put in the hours (read: years), one day Peter might actually fall asleep with him afterwards, sort of let him stay. Sex, the actual orgasm didn’t interest him nearly as much as he presumed he wouldn’t be getting much of either - sex or orgasms - at least in a way that was halfway acceptable to him.
What really got under his skin was Peter acting like Sylar was scum of the earth, not good enough. Most of the time Sylar felt like he had a severely contagious form of leprosy and Peter, a nurse, was paranoid about catching, rubbing shoulders with him. It was not a new feeling, but it was amplified now. That Peter wouldn’t even use him in an alley or bent over a desk rankled Sylar’s pride and ego to dangerous levels. Peter was too good for him, wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.
Maybe I’ll get stuck being…oral-only. Oh, goodie. Look, ma; no hands.
Peter refused to be seduced and Sylar…honestly didn’t dare to try to dominate the guy. Peter was better with his fists than Sylar was, Peter seemed a lot more self-important about boundaries (when *he* desired they exist, Sylar noted) and annoying things like consent. And Peter had already smacked him with a rapist label, yet another thing that wasn’t new, true, or appreciated. Knowing Peter, being come onto like that would make Peter’s delicate feelings feel like a piece of meat - ugh! I’m not used to having to tiptoe around a girl’s feelings! I see what I want, I grab what I want and I…bang it nicely enough, no bruises, no tears (until the death part rolls around); no general complaints about my performance anyways. I only killed the one; what’s so wrong with me with this?
Sylar didn’t bother to look at his hands. The only important thing about you has always ever been your brain. That’s useless now. Peter doesn’t want to hear what you have to say and you don’t really have anything useful to say…Peter, darling, please, let’s skip the talk, skip the dinner, the movie. Take me away to bed to shut me up…Promise I’ll do my best to keep my mouth…um…occupied?
Gay men…Sylar could honestly say he’d never really run into any. Sure, he heard things with half an ear, but he never paid much attention to it. People always said ‘community’ like it was some kind of club or cult, which followed Virginia’s belief system to a T. Sodomy sent you to hell, plain and simple. Sylar was already on Hell’s list, many times over for a variety of deadly sins. (Some weren’t his fault). Of course, he had no plans of enjoying any homosexual acts; he hoped in the end that his name would be clean of that particular stain. Murderer, thief, rapist and now gay - half of those things were untrue, but his peers and judges sure believed them and that was all that mattered in *his* community. Conveniently, the same community that shut him out before he’d even entered it.
Why on earth won’t he just…! Get with the program? He’s so bossy and opinionated about everything else on the planet, including me, whether he knows about it or not. So why is this guy not taking what he wants?
And thus he arrived back at his starting point of the increasingly tight circle of logic.
Because he doesn’t want you, duh.