Look
Title: Look
Characters: Sylar (Gabriel Gray)/Peter Petrelli (off-screen)
Rating: heavy PG-13 - light NC-17 (m/m intimacy)
Setting: Inside the Wall, S4
Word count: 364
Summary: A Sylar first-person/stream of consciousness tale. Sylar reflects on Peter's attraction and how it makes him feel.
A/N: Unbeta'd. Not sure what this is, but I like it. Kind of plot-less, in their flirty stage, but whatever it is, it's "finished" in my head so I thought I'd post it. Inspired by my fic "A Room with a View" and game_byrd's "What I Like About You" as well as recent discussions with her (Sylar's kinks, Peter's attractive qualities/his masculinity). This is a fic about Sylar's growing awareness and genuine desire towards Peter.
There’s something in the way he looks at me. He makes me feel butterflies and I don’t know why. I don’t much care why but I’m curious. I wonder what he sees. Sometimes he just looks at me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. It’s scary and wonderful at the same time. For being so short and adorable, Peter Petrelli can sure layer on or level up the intimidation. Not that I’d tell him that.
I’ll do or say some straightforward thing and he’ll get this grin on his face, like I’m cute or something. Other times he’ll smile kindly at something I’ve done. I get the feeling it’s like being awarded a gold star but it means so much more and it makes me tingle.
Sometimes I’ll catch him looking at me. It never fails to make me smirk and smile. I have his attention; I’m getting attention. Sometimes he blushes, like he knows it’s wrong - strangely I like that. Maybe he’s a good boy and he’s being naughty. I like his ‘innocence’ and I can’t help but want to defile and ravish him in pleasant ways.
My favorite look (not counting his orgasm-face) is when he focuses on me and his eyelids relax lower, his facial muscles relax and his mouth does this thing…I can feel the blood rush through me, pure heat and desire enough for both of us. My flesh must be hot to the touch.
Sometimes he’ll look me up and down. Like he’s starving and I’m a hunk of meat or I’m a dessert he can’t wait to taste-test. I’ve never felt so…sexy. Yeah, the whole nine-yards - weak joints, watery gut, dry throat, sweaty palms, alert skin, spreading, warm sensations...With one look, he makes me feel naked. I always end up that way, or close to it.
I could lay in his arms forever, let him hold me and never have sex with him - but that would be a shame because he’s the best lay I’ve ever had; he’s the best lay I think I’ll ever have. He calls us 'lovers.'
I think his acceptance is my favorite thing about him.
Post-coitus, I tell him, "You're beautiful."
Characters: Sylar (Gabriel Gray)/Peter Petrelli (off-screen)
Rating: heavy PG-13 - light NC-17 (m/m intimacy)
Setting: Inside the Wall, S4
Word count: 364
Summary: A Sylar first-person/stream of consciousness tale. Sylar reflects on Peter's attraction and how it makes him feel.
A/N: Unbeta'd. Not sure what this is, but I like it. Kind of plot-less, in their flirty stage, but whatever it is, it's "finished" in my head so I thought I'd post it. Inspired by my fic "A Room with a View" and game_byrd's "What I Like About You" as well as recent discussions with her (Sylar's kinks, Peter's attractive qualities/his masculinity). This is a fic about Sylar's growing awareness and genuine desire towards Peter.
There’s something in the way he looks at me. He makes me feel butterflies and I don’t know why. I don’t much care why but I’m curious. I wonder what he sees. Sometimes he just looks at me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. It’s scary and wonderful at the same time. For being so short and adorable, Peter Petrelli can sure layer on or level up the intimidation. Not that I’d tell him that.
I’ll do or say some straightforward thing and he’ll get this grin on his face, like I’m cute or something. Other times he’ll smile kindly at something I’ve done. I get the feeling it’s like being awarded a gold star but it means so much more and it makes me tingle.
Sometimes I’ll catch him looking at me. It never fails to make me smirk and smile. I have his attention; I’m getting attention. Sometimes he blushes, like he knows it’s wrong - strangely I like that. Maybe he’s a good boy and he’s being naughty. I like his ‘innocence’ and I can’t help but want to defile and ravish him in pleasant ways.
My favorite look (not counting his orgasm-face) is when he focuses on me and his eyelids relax lower, his facial muscles relax and his mouth does this thing…I can feel the blood rush through me, pure heat and desire enough for both of us. My flesh must be hot to the touch.
Sometimes he’ll look me up and down. Like he’s starving and I’m a hunk of meat or I’m a dessert he can’t wait to taste-test. I’ve never felt so…sexy. Yeah, the whole nine-yards - weak joints, watery gut, dry throat, sweaty palms, alert skin, spreading, warm sensations...With one look, he makes me feel naked. I always end up that way, or close to it.
I could lay in his arms forever, let him hold me and never have sex with him - but that would be a shame because he’s the best lay I’ve ever had; he’s the best lay I think I’ll ever have. He calls us 'lovers.'
I think his acceptance is my favorite thing about him.
Post-coitus, I tell him, "You're beautiful."