Bed Mates
Title: Bed Mates
Characters: Sylar (Gabriel Gray)/Peter Petrelli
Rating: NC-17 (for some explicit narrative, otherwise PG-13 slash)
Word count: 650
Setting: Inside the Wall
Summary: Sylar feels a change; he knows what they both need.
Something was changing - with him, with them. Sylar found himself gazing at his companion more, in a different way than before. It was a beautiful, angelic face belonging to a flawed but decent man. Peter smiled and laughed more, touching Sylar more freely. Peter was relaxed like he used to be when Nathan was around, before everything in their lives went to hell. Sylar felt this fluttering feeling in start in his stomach and spread to shudder around in his chest. It ached most of the time, with or without Peter.
It was during sex that he really noticed it. Peter always spoke of ‘making love’ but to Sylar that meant nothing. Love was enduring abuse, terrified of being abandoned, struggling desperately with everything he had to be better and worthy. Peter even said that’s what they were doing together, ‘making love,’ the two of them. It was…more than Sylar had ever dared to hope for, from Peter or anyone else. The unworthiness he felt was nothing new - he didn’t focus on it now.
About the sex…
While pumping himself into his moaning partner whether Peter was cradling him on his back or being mounted from behind, Sylar would begin to feel it. It would start in his brain, the chemical side, making him weak and even more wild for their coupling. Then the feeling grew in his chest, as if it would tear his cardiovascular system apart from the inside straining outwards. His genitals were next, enflamed and beyond control. When he came inside Peter now, he felt like part of his soul was being purposefully spilled into Peter along with his seed and his pleasure. It made him very…happy and calm.
Mentally, he felt weak. He was ready to defend himself against any interrogation about it. Sylar wondered if his partner noticed the (hopefully slight) change. It wouldn’t do to get with Peter only to turn to mush on him, just like he said he wouldn’t and indeed, couldn’t.
He found himself touching Peter more and less desperately - to contact, affirm, comfort, and bond. He stole innumerable kisses when Peter wasn’t counting, sometimes resting his forehead against the empath’s.
Finally, it got to him. He couldn’t take it any more. The separations were pointless and too lengthy. Peter needed to be in his sight or within reach always. Sylar needed to sleep against him, shower with him, feed him, see the back of his head and know who and what he was and what he meant to Sylar; he needed to bump into him unexpectedly because he wasn’t used to another person being around, let alone so close and so safe, so welcome; he needed to see the corner of his smile and catch his light chuckling, be there for the moods and the tears because they were important. Peter needed to be in his sight or within reach always.
“What kind of bed do you like - hard or soft or…something else?”
“I’ve always had a…nice mattress with a soft top,” Peter hedged his way around saying the words ‘expensive’ and ‘my parents bought.’
Typical. Sylar preferred a harder mattress. But whatever soft beds they’d been using had more…sensual appeal for non-sleep activities. He nodded.
“Why do you ask?”
He was busted. “I need to find a bed for us, for my apartment. You-you don’t have any things except your clothes, so…” Sylar wasn’t asking Peter to move in. Peter was going to move in, whether he knew it, liked it or not. Peter needed to be in his sight or within reach always.
“Are you asking me to move in with you?”
Sylar huffed. No, no, he wasn’t. Peter was already his. The other apartment was nearly as unfurnished as Peter had made it years ago, it served no purpose; it was getting in the way of everything. “What kind of pillow do you like?”
Characters: Sylar (Gabriel Gray)/Peter Petrelli
Rating: NC-17 (for some explicit narrative, otherwise PG-13 slash)
Word count: 650
Setting: Inside the Wall
Summary: Sylar feels a change; he knows what they both need.
Something was changing - with him, with them. Sylar found himself gazing at his companion more, in a different way than before. It was a beautiful, angelic face belonging to a flawed but decent man. Peter smiled and laughed more, touching Sylar more freely. Peter was relaxed like he used to be when Nathan was around, before everything in their lives went to hell. Sylar felt this fluttering feeling in start in his stomach and spread to shudder around in his chest. It ached most of the time, with or without Peter.
It was during sex that he really noticed it. Peter always spoke of ‘making love’ but to Sylar that meant nothing. Love was enduring abuse, terrified of being abandoned, struggling desperately with everything he had to be better and worthy. Peter even said that’s what they were doing together, ‘making love,’ the two of them. It was…more than Sylar had ever dared to hope for, from Peter or anyone else. The unworthiness he felt was nothing new - he didn’t focus on it now.
About the sex…
While pumping himself into his moaning partner whether Peter was cradling him on his back or being mounted from behind, Sylar would begin to feel it. It would start in his brain, the chemical side, making him weak and even more wild for their coupling. Then the feeling grew in his chest, as if it would tear his cardiovascular system apart from the inside straining outwards. His genitals were next, enflamed and beyond control. When he came inside Peter now, he felt like part of his soul was being purposefully spilled into Peter along with his seed and his pleasure. It made him very…happy and calm.
Mentally, he felt weak. He was ready to defend himself against any interrogation about it. Sylar wondered if his partner noticed the (hopefully slight) change. It wouldn’t do to get with Peter only to turn to mush on him, just like he said he wouldn’t and indeed, couldn’t.
He found himself touching Peter more and less desperately - to contact, affirm, comfort, and bond. He stole innumerable kisses when Peter wasn’t counting, sometimes resting his forehead against the empath’s.
Finally, it got to him. He couldn’t take it any more. The separations were pointless and too lengthy. Peter needed to be in his sight or within reach always. Sylar needed to sleep against him, shower with him, feed him, see the back of his head and know who and what he was and what he meant to Sylar; he needed to bump into him unexpectedly because he wasn’t used to another person being around, let alone so close and so safe, so welcome; he needed to see the corner of his smile and catch his light chuckling, be there for the moods and the tears because they were important. Peter needed to be in his sight or within reach always.
“What kind of bed do you like - hard or soft or…something else?”
“I’ve always had a…nice mattress with a soft top,” Peter hedged his way around saying the words ‘expensive’ and ‘my parents bought.’
Typical. Sylar preferred a harder mattress. But whatever soft beds they’d been using had more…sensual appeal for non-sleep activities. He nodded.
“Why do you ask?”
He was busted. “I need to find a bed for us, for my apartment. You-you don’t have any things except your clothes, so…” Sylar wasn’t asking Peter to move in. Peter was going to move in, whether he knew it, liked it or not. Peter needed to be in his sight or within reach always.
“Are you asking me to move in with you?”
Sylar huffed. No, no, he wasn’t. Peter was already his. The other apartment was nearly as unfurnished as Peter had made it years ago, it served no purpose; it was getting in the way of everything. “What kind of pillow do you like?”