Heroes Fic--Milk
Title: Milk
Summary: Peter discusses breastfeeding.
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Rating: Uh...K+ I guess...
This was born out of a wonderful comment conversation with tasteslikestfu. This one's for you.
And if anyone wants to follow my Twiter, it's http://twitter.com/Neas_needles.
Now with fanart by the wonderful Blishfan! img10.imageshack.us/img10/5690/neawax.jpg
3rd Person POV
Pregnancy entailed many things: weight gain, odd cravings, swollen extremities, mood swings, and lactation. Male pregnancy entailed those very same things with the added bonus of chest waxing, in Sylar's case at any rate. He really hadn't thought he'd develop breasts in the first place. The uterus had been an explicitly thought out plan that had required a lot of concentration and a really ridiculous heart to heart with his own brain. The breasts...well Sylar supposed that was his brain's way of saying 'fuck you Sylar and your lack of faith in me!' Sylar had decided it would be in poor form to underestimate himself again and was on the look out for new developments.
At the moment, Sylar was five months pregnant, and his pecs were turning mushing and had begun producing milk. He had tried in vain to hide it, but Peter was more touchy than usual, remarkably turned on by his new pudge. Once the nurse had seen, the lectures had set in. 'You have to wash your chest thoroughly with non-scented, gentle soap.' 'You shouldn't spray your chest with cologne or body spray.' 'You shouldn't pierce your nipples.'
That last comment had raised an eyebrow but Sylar knew better than to interrupt Peter when he was in nurse mode. Thankfully, not long after Sylar's stomach grumbled and Peter went to the kitchen to make him a decent meal. Then he was fussed over as he ate said meal. Sylar took it in stride, oddly nostalgic for his mother's attention. He had eaten his soup with vigor and plenty of 'hm' noises to keep Peter happy. The nurse had draped himself across Sylar's side and was hugging across his stomach possessively. It wasn't until Sylar tried to prop up his feet that there had been a problem.
Not wanting to persuade Peter to move, Sylar opted to just fling his feet up and out and hope they smacked into the nearby chair. It worked, but he spilled his soup in the process. It splashed down his chest and splattered onto Peter's arm raising a wince. At once Peter hopped into action, setting the soup aside and helping Sylar forward so he could remove the shirt. It had gotten tangled briefly around Sylar's upturned elbows but was quickly tossed aside regardless. Peter had then snatched up a napkin to clean the soup off of Sylar's chest, and his chest hair.
Sylar knew something was amiss when Peter's passes over his nipples raised contemplative looks. He said nothing however, in hopes that it would all pass and he would be able to finish his soup in peace. But as Peter set the napkins aside his contemplative look morphed into something else, something wary. It was the same look Peter got when he asked to top for the first time. The same look he had when he approached Sylar for sex the first time. The same look he had when he brought home a pink maternity shirt.
“What?”
“Oh...I just noticed...because of the soup. Not that I didn't always notice...I just never thought...never connected...”
“What?”
Sylar looked back and forth between his own 'breasts' and Peter's cautious face. He knew that the squirmy feeling in his gut wasn't just due to the child.
“Your chest hair...”
“...is shaped like a heart?”
Peter smiled and ran a hand through his hair before looking out the window with a feigned innocence.
“Well yeah, but I meant the chest hair around your nipples.”
Sylar's face twitched.
“And?”
“Well I didn't realize before, but that won't be good for the baby. It would be uncomfortable for one thing. And just think, what if some pulls loose in its mouth? And chest hair would make it harder for you to keep your nipples clean.”
Sylar had heard enough, he eased himself out of the chair and tried to make a break for the bedroom. He didn't make it far. Peter grabbed him by the biceps and spun him around.
“Think of the baby. Would you want a curly hair in your dinner?”
Sylar sputtered at Peter's word choice but didn't deny the claim. After struggling out of Peter's grasp he nodded.
“So what? You shave my-“
“Wax actually.”
“Wax?!”
Sylar balked at Peter and held his hands protectively over his nipples.
“Yeah, and we should start soon so that you can get use to the feel because you'll have to wax the entire time you nurse. The skin will already be sensitive and if you wait to wax the feeling might be to painful.”
Peter reached out and pulled Sylar's hands away from his nipples, then raked his fingers through the chest hair.
“We don't have to wax all of it. Just the nipples. Or-“
Sylar smiled at the prospect of an alternative.
“Or? Or?”
“Oooor, you could manually evacuate the milk. I don't trust pumps, but you can do it with your hands.”
Sylar nodded slowly listened intently as Peter pulled his hands away so he could make hand motions.
“You'll have to start by gently messaging the breast to get the milk flowing. Then work evenly with the pressure, moving it downwards towards the areola. Then start about half way up and run your thumb firmly down until you reach the areola. Press in and up and the milk will squirt out. You have to be careful not to squeeze the nipple because that'll close the duct. And you have to stop when the milk comes out in drops instead of jets. Too much will hurt you later.”
Sylar's face was a cross between disgusted shock and curiosity. One eye was open wider than the other and the corresponding eyebrow was raised high. He opened his mouth a few times but ultimately said nothing, as Peter looked like he was going to continue.
“But then if you get some sort of curdled obstruction it would just be best for the baby to latch on and suck it out. Then we'd have to use a sucker to clean it out of the babies mouth.”
“Curdled...”
Sylar looked down at his chest, with the same bemused face, and poked one of his new breasts in utter disbelief.
Ha! BTW, this is not a part of my Settled World Verse. Sylar is on his own in this one. I just really wanted to write this after the comments I shared with tasteslikestfu. Those facts are right, even about the curdle and manual milking. Yeah...take that home and enjoy it.
Summary: Peter discusses breastfeeding.
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Rating: Uh...K+ I guess...
This was born out of a wonderful comment conversation with tasteslikestfu. This one's for you.
And if anyone wants to follow my Twiter, it's http://twitter.com/Neas_needles.
Now with fanart by the wonderful Blishfan! img10.imageshack.us/img10/5690/neawax.jpg
3rd Person POV
Pregnancy entailed many things: weight gain, odd cravings, swollen extremities, mood swings, and lactation. Male pregnancy entailed those very same things with the added bonus of chest waxing, in Sylar's case at any rate. He really hadn't thought he'd develop breasts in the first place. The uterus had been an explicitly thought out plan that had required a lot of concentration and a really ridiculous heart to heart with his own brain. The breasts...well Sylar supposed that was his brain's way of saying 'fuck you Sylar and your lack of faith in me!' Sylar had decided it would be in poor form to underestimate himself again and was on the look out for new developments.
At the moment, Sylar was five months pregnant, and his pecs were turning mushing and had begun producing milk. He had tried in vain to hide it, but Peter was more touchy than usual, remarkably turned on by his new pudge. Once the nurse had seen, the lectures had set in. 'You have to wash your chest thoroughly with non-scented, gentle soap.' 'You shouldn't spray your chest with cologne or body spray.' 'You shouldn't pierce your nipples.'
That last comment had raised an eyebrow but Sylar knew better than to interrupt Peter when he was in nurse mode. Thankfully, not long after Sylar's stomach grumbled and Peter went to the kitchen to make him a decent meal. Then he was fussed over as he ate said meal. Sylar took it in stride, oddly nostalgic for his mother's attention. He had eaten his soup with vigor and plenty of 'hm' noises to keep Peter happy. The nurse had draped himself across Sylar's side and was hugging across his stomach possessively. It wasn't until Sylar tried to prop up his feet that there had been a problem.
Not wanting to persuade Peter to move, Sylar opted to just fling his feet up and out and hope they smacked into the nearby chair. It worked, but he spilled his soup in the process. It splashed down his chest and splattered onto Peter's arm raising a wince. At once Peter hopped into action, setting the soup aside and helping Sylar forward so he could remove the shirt. It had gotten tangled briefly around Sylar's upturned elbows but was quickly tossed aside regardless. Peter had then snatched up a napkin to clean the soup off of Sylar's chest, and his chest hair.
Sylar knew something was amiss when Peter's passes over his nipples raised contemplative looks. He said nothing however, in hopes that it would all pass and he would be able to finish his soup in peace. But as Peter set the napkins aside his contemplative look morphed into something else, something wary. It was the same look Peter got when he asked to top for the first time. The same look he had when he approached Sylar for sex the first time. The same look he had when he brought home a pink maternity shirt.
“What?”
“Oh...I just noticed...because of the soup. Not that I didn't always notice...I just never thought...never connected...”
“What?”
Sylar looked back and forth between his own 'breasts' and Peter's cautious face. He knew that the squirmy feeling in his gut wasn't just due to the child.
“Your chest hair...”
“...is shaped like a heart?”
Peter smiled and ran a hand through his hair before looking out the window with a feigned innocence.
“Well yeah, but I meant the chest hair around your nipples.”
Sylar's face twitched.
“And?”
“Well I didn't realize before, but that won't be good for the baby. It would be uncomfortable for one thing. And just think, what if some pulls loose in its mouth? And chest hair would make it harder for you to keep your nipples clean.”
Sylar had heard enough, he eased himself out of the chair and tried to make a break for the bedroom. He didn't make it far. Peter grabbed him by the biceps and spun him around.
“Think of the baby. Would you want a curly hair in your dinner?”
Sylar sputtered at Peter's word choice but didn't deny the claim. After struggling out of Peter's grasp he nodded.
“So what? You shave my-“
“Wax actually.”
“Wax?!”
Sylar balked at Peter and held his hands protectively over his nipples.
“Yeah, and we should start soon so that you can get use to the feel because you'll have to wax the entire time you nurse. The skin will already be sensitive and if you wait to wax the feeling might be to painful.”
Peter reached out and pulled Sylar's hands away from his nipples, then raked his fingers through the chest hair.
“We don't have to wax all of it. Just the nipples. Or-“
Sylar smiled at the prospect of an alternative.
“Or? Or?”
“Oooor, you could manually evacuate the milk. I don't trust pumps, but you can do it with your hands.”
Sylar nodded slowly listened intently as Peter pulled his hands away so he could make hand motions.
“You'll have to start by gently messaging the breast to get the milk flowing. Then work evenly with the pressure, moving it downwards towards the areola. Then start about half way up and run your thumb firmly down until you reach the areola. Press in and up and the milk will squirt out. You have to be careful not to squeeze the nipple because that'll close the duct. And you have to stop when the milk comes out in drops instead of jets. Too much will hurt you later.”
Sylar's face was a cross between disgusted shock and curiosity. One eye was open wider than the other and the corresponding eyebrow was raised high. He opened his mouth a few times but ultimately said nothing, as Peter looked like he was going to continue.
“But then if you get some sort of curdled obstruction it would just be best for the baby to latch on and suck it out. Then we'd have to use a sucker to clean it out of the babies mouth.”
“Curdled...”
Sylar looked down at his chest, with the same bemused face, and poked one of his new breasts in utter disbelief.
Ha! BTW, this is not a part of my Settled World Verse. Sylar is on his own in this one. I just really wanted to write this after the comments I shared with tasteslikestfu. Those facts are right, even about the curdle and manual milking. Yeah...take that home and enjoy it.