Forget Me Not Chapter 15/?
Title: Forget Me Not
Author: Bunny
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Don’t own this stuff and too broke to pay.
Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.
A/N: Hi everyone! Same old, same old on this end. Real life, blah blah blah, schools, blah blah blah, work, blah blah blah. But, huzzah! New chappie! And if I might say some rather…fun stuff happens here. ;-P
Prelude Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
I don’t know what’s worth fighting for or why I have to scream.
I don’t know why I instigate and say what I don’t mean.
I don’t know how I got this way, I know it’s not alright.
So I’m breaking the habit Tonight.
~ Breaking the Habit; Linkin Park
After the camera in Emma’s hand flashed she nodded at her subject, using a finger to twirl in the air. “Good, now turn.” Relifting up her shirt to expose her belly, Claire did as she was instructed. Standing against the blank wall in her living room she stood still as the other woman snapped another image. “Everything looks good, as usual,” smiled Emma, shutting the camera off. “I think soon we should go to the hospital to do another ultrasound, just to be sure.” As she slipped the object back into the med bag she brought she pulled out two photos. “Here are the ones from last week.”
Adjusting her shirt to cover herself up, Claire accepted the photographs. Looking on them she saw herself doing the same poses she had just performed, only with a stomach that was an inch and a half smaller. The right corner reflected the month, date, and time it had been taken. A box under the coffee table held pictures from weeks past, it was something Peter suggested as soon as the condition of the pregnancy had been discovered. As she added it to the collection she noted the gleeful way Emma put away her equipment. “You just want to see the colors again.” She gave a sheepish grin continuing her cleaning. The younger blonde sighed, no longer able to keep her thoughts to herself. “Peter’s still mad at me, isn’t he?”
Emma ducked her gaze down. “Every time I come to see you I try to let him know,” she offered with a sympathetic smile. She had been stopping by twice a week to keep up with the neonatal checkups.
“But he still won’t call me back,” she uttered, awkwardly shifting the position of the magazines in front of her.
The other blonde sighed, “If it makes you feel better I haven’t talked with him in days.”
She blinked. “No, that does not make me feel better.”
“Something else is bothering him,” she admitted reluctantly. “He took vacation from the hospital and the last time I saw him there was a man visiting. He was in a suit, had large glasses. There were papers and notes everywhere that they tried to hide from me.”
“Oh, God,” sighed Claire rubbing her forehead to will the stress away. “I really hope they’re not on a revenge bend.”
Emma’s lip twitched up. Gently touching her arm she asked, “Do you love him, that man?”
Her stomach clenched and breath left her body as she closed her eyes. Flashes of the past few months came to mind that warmed her heart against her will. With a hand she caught the tear that began to fall down her cheek as she nodded. “I do. I really do.”
“I know he’s done a lot of terrible things, but do you believe in him?”
“Absolutely.”
“I know that Peter believes in you. It’s difficult to see now, but he has faith in what you believe in. He is going to come around eventually.”
“That’s going to be a tall order,” she muttered, wishing desperately things would turn out that simply. The phone in her pocket rang showing the unknown number that Sylar had been using for the past couple of calls. Her mouth quirking up she held the mobile for Emma to see. “It’s Sylar. I should take it.”
Her doctor, ever closer friend, smiled widely before she saw herself out.
***
The bubbles in the large tub had still remained, but Claire still didn’t feel refreshed. With pruney fingers she rubbed the swollen belly and let out a tiny sigh. Almost four months ago she had shared this place with Sylar. He would sit behind holding her, his fingers trailing patterns over her skin, whisper things in her ear while his chest rumbled against her. Using the loofa ball she unconsciously copied the phantom touches along her arms and chest. It didn’t take long for her nipples to become sensitive to her actions.
He used to do this too, wash her body down, but tease her as he moved the ball all over. Swooping the loofa over her breast again she hitched in a quick breath of air. In response Claire used her free hand to immediately grasp onto the flesh, flicking and squeezing the little nub. A more guttural groan escaped her while her eyes fluttered shut. “Sylar,” she muttered, almost feeling and seeing him there with her.
She was jolted out of her daydream as her phone buzzed abnormally loud on the sink counter. While embarrassment settled in the pit of her stomach her hands jerked away from her body as she sat up suddenly, sloshing water around in the processes. Smoothing back her hair she breathed out to cool down. Realizing the mobile still rang she grasped it up, accepting the call.
“It took you longer to answer than normal.”
Sylar’s tone held no accusation, only observation. The water around her waved slightly as she fidgeted coming up with a less embarrassing answer, the blush on her skin mounting furiously. “Angela’s been calling a lot lately and I would prefer to continue avoiding her.”
“Be still my heart,” he breathed sending a shiver down her spine, not at all quelling the desire from moments before.
Before the conversation could progress to territory she wouldn’t have the capacity to back track on, she asked, “When was the last time you killed someone?”
“Just over a month ago,” he replied obviously having anticipated the inquiry. “Where are you right now?”
Lifting a leg she allowed the water drops hitting the bath surface to be heard through the phone. “I’m in the tub,” she stated coyly, unable to keep the mirth out of her voice. “Just trying to relax a little, but the bath alone isn’t quite…cutting it.” She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears, anxiously awaiting his response.
Sylar remained quiet for a moment while she held her breath for what seemed like forever. “And you’re looking for someone to give you relaxation tips?”
“Uh-huh,” she affirmed, feeling her heartbeat in her ears. “Where are you right now?”
“Alone,” he assured. The click of a lock could be heard. “And not to be disturbed.”
He was clearly waiting for her to do or say something to gauge her comfort level. Nervously, the blonde asked, “Don’t these things usually start with a question? Something like, what are you wearing?”
“That’s not a very fair question,” he purred, calming her just a little. “Considering the fact that you’re answer will be nothing.”
“I was actually going to say bubbles,” she replied biting her lip becoming more and more excited. “And, I would appreciate it if your answer was nothing as well.”
“You’re feeling take charge tonight, aren’t you?” he observed. In the background she could faintly hear clothing rustle, a noise that made her scoot up with just a little more attention. In the middle of these movements he asked, “Where are your hands right now?”
“I’m holding my phone with a hand,” she answered, frozen in place and blushing even harder.
Sylar tutted on the other end. “And the other one?”
Suddenly very shy, she gulped. “It’s on my chest.”
“What’s it doing on your chest?
“It’s…I’m…” A squeak of embarrassment left her as she blurted out the answer. “I’m playing with my nipple.”
“That a girl!” He chuckled on the other end obviously amused by her nervousness. “Would you like to know where my hands are?” Claire managed to peep out an affirmative. “Like you, one is holding the phone, but my other has a hold on my dick.”
“Oh, God,” she moaned with a hip jerk at the mental image presented to her.
“I want you to keep playing with that nipple for now,” he hissed out trying to maintain his own control. “But I want your hands to make their way down to your thighs.”
Her nipple was tugged at again while the other hand firmly rubbed along her sides and behind. “God I miss you,” she murmured slightly breathless, her admission changing his breathing pattern again. The hand continued down to settle just inside her thigh. The one still minding her breast suddenly left its place, obviously speeding down to beat the other fingers.
“Don’t touch your center yet,” he ordered and Claire ceased her movements.
A deep tremor of desire rippled through and settled in her stomach. “I thought I was the one who was taking charge tonight.”
“When you’ve earned it,” he informed. “I’m standing in the middle of the room, imagining it’s you on your knees, your mouth and hands all over me.” Her inner muscles flexed in excitement, but she did not move her hands. “Am I in the tub with you?”
She licked her lips before confirming, “You’re behind me, reaching around to take care of me, but every time I shift my hips I’m rubbing against your erection. And the noises you make, like that one there, only make me move around more. I crave those noises.”
The man on the other side moaned in appreciation that only pulled on her deeper down below. “I need you, Claire,” he stated hoarsely. “I need you to admit it too.”
Wanting to touch herself but being denied, Claire all but missed his request as she dug her nails deep into her skin. “Sylar, please, let me…”
“Say it again,” he demanded she could tell through clinched teeth. “Say you missed me.”
“I’ve missed you so much,” she gasped out, rubbing her thighs together in a vain attempt at some sort of friction. “I think about you, when you’re going to call, I need you too…”
At last he gave permission, “Take two fingers and move them straight in, fast and hard. The other hand traces around those lips.” Finally being able to touch where she ached, she was under the impression it would ease some tension. Instead the opposite happened and she was left feeling more sexually frustrated, but did it feel fantastic.
His fervent grunts egged her on to redouble her efforts down south, which in turn added to her gasps and moans; an endless cycle between the two. Feeling herself start to twitch she instructed while panting, “Squeeze the top tightly and quick stroke the base.”
In the background she thought she heard a bump as though Sylar had firmly backed into something for support. Pleased her suggestion had an effect she couldn’t help the little laugh that eased out. “I don’t think you’re paying enough attention to yourself,” he chastised. “Remove both hands.”
She followed his direction, her breath hitching from loss of contact. The sounds of him still pleasuring himself made it nearly impossible to obey.
“Now three fingers straight in, then your other thumb pressed hard on your clit.” She did as she was told and was immediately rewarded with her first orgasm in weeks, with a throaty groan to prove it. As she rode out the blissful waves she heard him cry out a, “Yes!” from a distance, obviously having dropped the phone. When it was clear he had picked up the device again she couldn’t keep the goofy grin off her face.
“So,” sighed Claire absolutely contented, settling back into the tub. “How was your day?”
***
Arriving at Sweetie’s apartment for the second ‘tea time’ of the week, Claire was a bit surprised at the speed at which the old woman ushered her inside. However, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her grandmother standing in the middle of the cluttered living room.
“You have got to be kidding me,” muttered Claire, turning around with the intention of leaving.
“What did you expect, Claire, you wouldn’t return my calls,” informed Angela appearing far too pleased with herself.
Her plans of getting out of there were thwarted when she saw Sweetie firmly blocking the exit. “You’re in on this? You hate her.”
“Exactly, so you know if I think her idea holds water it’s worth listening to,” she explained with an expression that made it clear she wouldn’t be moving.
Agitation and tension settled in her joints as she turned back to Angela. Crossing her arms and tilting her head, Claire wanted to make it explicitly clear she did not care to listen to anything she had to say. “I’m giving you five minutes. And it had better be good.”
Her grandmother shifted her shoulders and readjusted her hands. “What sort of plans have you made for this child?”
“Excuse me?” asked Claire, anger punching her chest. “My plan? My plan is to raise, take care of, and love it without any lies. The way you’re talking makes this baby sound like a mission. And I refuse to treat it like that.”
“You misunderstand me,” Angela clarified, apparently amused by her assumption which only irked Claire more. “Have you prepped for a nursery yet? Purchased clothing or diapers of any sort? Baby proofed anything? Read any literature on the subject?”
A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She hadn’t thought about any of that. Though in her defense it had only been about three months, her due date was rapidly approaching. “No,” she admitted quietly. “No, I haven’t done any of that.”
“No, you’ve been too busy flirting with the baby’s daddy to consider much else,” she stated pointedly with disapproval.
The blonde whipped around to Sweetie. “Did you tell her?”
“She didn’t betray your confidence, Claire, I saw it,” she explained coming up to her, taking both hands in hers. “I implore you to cease communication with him. That way only lays pain for you and everyone involved.”
Claire slipped her hands away and felt her eyes narrow. “This wasn’t the part I particularly agreed with,” interjected Sweetie from behind.
Angela glared towards the other woman before continuing. “I realize I cannot force you to do that, nor can I force you to come live at my manor for a time.”
“What?” stated Claire in disbelief. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I have everything prepared for the child. Basic needs, room, clothing, protection, security; for both you and it,” she listed, brushing back bangs that weren’t in her way. “You can stay for as little or as long as you need.”
Pursing her lips she made a distrusting tick sound with her tongue. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch, dear,” explained her grandmother, regret all over her features. “I told you before that I am simply trying to make amends. Consider this another olive branch.”
Not caring to admit this was a sound option, she stiffly offered, “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” Angela squeezed her arm once and saw herself out of the room.
***
The hunger ate away at him.
He tried to hold it off.
Tried to ignore it, distract himself from it.
However he knew from past attempts the draw of it would only grow.
That was why he hunted this particular family.
A husband, wife, and teenage son that he believed each had an ability. He figured a feast this large would settle him for a long while.
Sylar played out the motions as he used to. Putting the victims on edge with paranoia, sneaking into their home, cutting off communication to the outside world, pinning them down one by one. He started with the man. Ignoring the screams of protest and fear from the other two family members he dutifully sawed open his skull and dug around his brain. Once he reached the center that held the answer he looked for.
He paused.
It was a power he already held.
In frustration he flipped the lifeless body across the room, landing it in front of the other two. Growling in anger he next took the woman, thrusting her down onto the ground near her husband. Her cries went unnoticed as he sawed off her skull spraying a bloody mess in his wake. Despite the hallow sensation mounting in his chest, he continued with his work. While he took her ability, the boy somehow got loose without him noticing.
A golf club connected with his head and he fell to the ground. The teenager continued to beat at him for a few moments, killing Sylar for a short time. Once the boy let up determining the attacker was defeated, Sylar shot him across the room. The boy crashed into a metal sculpture hanging on the wall, impaling him through the chest and killing him instantly.
Sylar stood looking at the destruction he had caused. The room torn apart from the initial struggle, blood was spattered across almost every surface, a significant amount still dripped from the teenagers mouth and chest wound.
Observing the carnage he created he couldn’t help but feel off. Wrong.
This ‘victory’ tasted bitter. The hunger quieted slightly, but even it was almost mocking him. This wasn’t what he needed anymore. It wasn’t what was needed to sate the desire. What had changed?
He now felt disappointed?
Unsatisfied?
Numb?
Unable to tear his eyes away, he removed the cell phone from his pocket with bloodied and stiff fingers. Working on autopilot he pressed redial and placed it against his ear as he slid down the wall still staring at the bodies. “Hey, you,” came a sweet voice that he in no way deserved. “I’m glad you called. There’s actually been something I want to talk to you about.”
“What have you done to me?” he roughly accused.
“What have I done to you?” clipped Claire. “It should be more like the other way around.”
“Ask me the question.”
“Question? Sylar, what are you -”
“Every time I call you ask me a question. So ask me it,” he demanded with haggard desperation.
She started and stopped a sentence a few times before doing as he requested, the hesitation and dread evident from her. “When was the last time you killed someone?”
“About 47 seconds ago,” he replied blankly, not able to look away from the carnage. He heard her sharp gasp on the other end. “There were three of them, a family, all with what I thought I needed -”
“Why?” she asked. He could hear the tears from her already, a sound that didn’t fit with what he was seeing. “Why would you do that?”
“I used to do this all the time. No second thought, no mess ups, I would get what I wanted and leave,” continued Sylar not really listening to her. “Everything went wrong. It’s a mess…”
“I don’t want to hear -”
“I’m still with them,” he stated, feeling unbearably empty as he watched the pet cat step over to its master. The woman remained on the ground where he left her and the cat meowed before it began licking up the blood that had splattered all over her face. Again, there was nothing. “They’re son is still lodged on the wall, he died surprisingly fast.”
“Stop -”
“The mother’s brain is still under my nails -”
“Sylar!” she shouted loud enough to jar him to momentary quiet. “Could you pause the details of decorating the walls with intestines, please, and give me a moment?” He allowed her the time as he continued to stare. The silence in the room proved to be deafening as the hunger scratched away at him a little more. “Why would you call me immediately after murdering people?” she requested with even words. “Why would you even do it in the first place, you promised me…”
Her voice sounded so far away, it was difficult to focus on. “I couldn’t control the hunger. It needed an outlet, something to make it just be quiet. But now that I’m done, it wasn’t enough. I need more.”
“Please don’t kill anyone else,” she pleaded.
“I hate being this way,” he admitted, only half hearing her. “The hunger was born to hunt, to find what would make me complete, but now harvesting abilities isn’t enough to make it stop. It needs something else.”
Silence once more. A car alarm sounded in the distance as the stench of what he had done began to become clear. “You can’t keep hiding behind that excuse,” expressed Claire, just sounding saddened, “You didn’t keep your promise, and instead went right back to a creepy hobby you enjoy.”
“I didn’t enjoy it,” he realized, putting the broken pieces together slowly as the reality of the situation bore down on him more deeply with each passing minute. “There was something missing…”
“Sylar, I love you, but you cannot keep doing this. This hasn’t been easy for me either. I have stood up for you time after time in recent weeks and I refuse to back down. I don’t believe you are willing to just throw everything away between us either. Not now.”
Something clicked inside him. “What did you say?”
“You’re not going to throw everything away after what we’ve been through.”
“No, before that,” he demanded almost eagerly finding the energy to stand up, turning away from the carnage.
“I said -” Her sudden silence indicated she caught up to his point and despite his predicament Sylar smiled. It was fairly obvious to him what the hunger needed. “We need to talk about your victims,” continued Claire, obviously moving right past her other point. “All of them. I need to know what you did to everyone and why. And after that…I want to meet up with you.”
“Are you sure that’s something you want to go through?” he asked. He wouldn’t hide anything from her, in fact the thought eased him to confess it all.
“It’s time, I don’t think we should hide anything from each other anymore,” she announced. “Get out of there, get cleaned up, then call me back. I think we have a long couple of talks ahead of us.”
Both hung up and Sylar could only stare at the mobile device in his hand. Ignoring the blood caking it from his last victims, his lip quirked up at the screen that still flashed the call ended number. “I love you, Claire Bennett.”
Prelude Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Author: Bunny
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Don’t own this stuff and too broke to pay.
Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.
A/N: Hi everyone! Same old, same old on this end. Real life, blah blah blah, schools, blah blah blah, work, blah blah blah. But, huzzah! New chappie! And if I might say some rather…fun stuff happens here. ;-P
Prelude Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
I don’t know what’s worth fighting for or why I have to scream.
I don’t know why I instigate and say what I don’t mean.
I don’t know how I got this way, I know it’s not alright.
So I’m breaking the habit Tonight.
~ Breaking the Habit; Linkin Park
After the camera in Emma’s hand flashed she nodded at her subject, using a finger to twirl in the air. “Good, now turn.” Relifting up her shirt to expose her belly, Claire did as she was instructed. Standing against the blank wall in her living room she stood still as the other woman snapped another image. “Everything looks good, as usual,” smiled Emma, shutting the camera off. “I think soon we should go to the hospital to do another ultrasound, just to be sure.” As she slipped the object back into the med bag she brought she pulled out two photos. “Here are the ones from last week.”
Adjusting her shirt to cover herself up, Claire accepted the photographs. Looking on them she saw herself doing the same poses she had just performed, only with a stomach that was an inch and a half smaller. The right corner reflected the month, date, and time it had been taken. A box under the coffee table held pictures from weeks past, it was something Peter suggested as soon as the condition of the pregnancy had been discovered. As she added it to the collection she noted the gleeful way Emma put away her equipment. “You just want to see the colors again.” She gave a sheepish grin continuing her cleaning. The younger blonde sighed, no longer able to keep her thoughts to herself. “Peter’s still mad at me, isn’t he?”
Emma ducked her gaze down. “Every time I come to see you I try to let him know,” she offered with a sympathetic smile. She had been stopping by twice a week to keep up with the neonatal checkups.
“But he still won’t call me back,” she uttered, awkwardly shifting the position of the magazines in front of her.
The other blonde sighed, “If it makes you feel better I haven’t talked with him in days.”
She blinked. “No, that does not make me feel better.”
“Something else is bothering him,” she admitted reluctantly. “He took vacation from the hospital and the last time I saw him there was a man visiting. He was in a suit, had large glasses. There were papers and notes everywhere that they tried to hide from me.”
“Oh, God,” sighed Claire rubbing her forehead to will the stress away. “I really hope they’re not on a revenge bend.”
Emma’s lip twitched up. Gently touching her arm she asked, “Do you love him, that man?”
Her stomach clenched and breath left her body as she closed her eyes. Flashes of the past few months came to mind that warmed her heart against her will. With a hand she caught the tear that began to fall down her cheek as she nodded. “I do. I really do.”
“I know he’s done a lot of terrible things, but do you believe in him?”
“Absolutely.”
“I know that Peter believes in you. It’s difficult to see now, but he has faith in what you believe in. He is going to come around eventually.”
“That’s going to be a tall order,” she muttered, wishing desperately things would turn out that simply. The phone in her pocket rang showing the unknown number that Sylar had been using for the past couple of calls. Her mouth quirking up she held the mobile for Emma to see. “It’s Sylar. I should take it.”
Her doctor, ever closer friend, smiled widely before she saw herself out.
***
The bubbles in the large tub had still remained, but Claire still didn’t feel refreshed. With pruney fingers she rubbed the swollen belly and let out a tiny sigh. Almost four months ago she had shared this place with Sylar. He would sit behind holding her, his fingers trailing patterns over her skin, whisper things in her ear while his chest rumbled against her. Using the loofa ball she unconsciously copied the phantom touches along her arms and chest. It didn’t take long for her nipples to become sensitive to her actions.
He used to do this too, wash her body down, but tease her as he moved the ball all over. Swooping the loofa over her breast again she hitched in a quick breath of air. In response Claire used her free hand to immediately grasp onto the flesh, flicking and squeezing the little nub. A more guttural groan escaped her while her eyes fluttered shut. “Sylar,” she muttered, almost feeling and seeing him there with her.
She was jolted out of her daydream as her phone buzzed abnormally loud on the sink counter. While embarrassment settled in the pit of her stomach her hands jerked away from her body as she sat up suddenly, sloshing water around in the processes. Smoothing back her hair she breathed out to cool down. Realizing the mobile still rang she grasped it up, accepting the call.
“It took you longer to answer than normal.”
Sylar’s tone held no accusation, only observation. The water around her waved slightly as she fidgeted coming up with a less embarrassing answer, the blush on her skin mounting furiously. “Angela’s been calling a lot lately and I would prefer to continue avoiding her.”
“Be still my heart,” he breathed sending a shiver down her spine, not at all quelling the desire from moments before.
Before the conversation could progress to territory she wouldn’t have the capacity to back track on, she asked, “When was the last time you killed someone?”
“Just over a month ago,” he replied obviously having anticipated the inquiry. “Where are you right now?”
Lifting a leg she allowed the water drops hitting the bath surface to be heard through the phone. “I’m in the tub,” she stated coyly, unable to keep the mirth out of her voice. “Just trying to relax a little, but the bath alone isn’t quite…cutting it.” She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears, anxiously awaiting his response.
Sylar remained quiet for a moment while she held her breath for what seemed like forever. “And you’re looking for someone to give you relaxation tips?”
“Uh-huh,” she affirmed, feeling her heartbeat in her ears. “Where are you right now?”
“Alone,” he assured. The click of a lock could be heard. “And not to be disturbed.”
He was clearly waiting for her to do or say something to gauge her comfort level. Nervously, the blonde asked, “Don’t these things usually start with a question? Something like, what are you wearing?”
“That’s not a very fair question,” he purred, calming her just a little. “Considering the fact that you’re answer will be nothing.”
“I was actually going to say bubbles,” she replied biting her lip becoming more and more excited. “And, I would appreciate it if your answer was nothing as well.”
“You’re feeling take charge tonight, aren’t you?” he observed. In the background she could faintly hear clothing rustle, a noise that made her scoot up with just a little more attention. In the middle of these movements he asked, “Where are your hands right now?”
“I’m holding my phone with a hand,” she answered, frozen in place and blushing even harder.
Sylar tutted on the other end. “And the other one?”
Suddenly very shy, she gulped. “It’s on my chest.”
“What’s it doing on your chest?
“It’s…I’m…” A squeak of embarrassment left her as she blurted out the answer. “I’m playing with my nipple.”
“That a girl!” He chuckled on the other end obviously amused by her nervousness. “Would you like to know where my hands are?” Claire managed to peep out an affirmative. “Like you, one is holding the phone, but my other has a hold on my dick.”
“Oh, God,” she moaned with a hip jerk at the mental image presented to her.
“I want you to keep playing with that nipple for now,” he hissed out trying to maintain his own control. “But I want your hands to make their way down to your thighs.”
Her nipple was tugged at again while the other hand firmly rubbed along her sides and behind. “God I miss you,” she murmured slightly breathless, her admission changing his breathing pattern again. The hand continued down to settle just inside her thigh. The one still minding her breast suddenly left its place, obviously speeding down to beat the other fingers.
“Don’t touch your center yet,” he ordered and Claire ceased her movements.
A deep tremor of desire rippled through and settled in her stomach. “I thought I was the one who was taking charge tonight.”
“When you’ve earned it,” he informed. “I’m standing in the middle of the room, imagining it’s you on your knees, your mouth and hands all over me.” Her inner muscles flexed in excitement, but she did not move her hands. “Am I in the tub with you?”
She licked her lips before confirming, “You’re behind me, reaching around to take care of me, but every time I shift my hips I’m rubbing against your erection. And the noises you make, like that one there, only make me move around more. I crave those noises.”
The man on the other side moaned in appreciation that only pulled on her deeper down below. “I need you, Claire,” he stated hoarsely. “I need you to admit it too.”
Wanting to touch herself but being denied, Claire all but missed his request as she dug her nails deep into her skin. “Sylar, please, let me…”
“Say it again,” he demanded she could tell through clinched teeth. “Say you missed me.”
“I’ve missed you so much,” she gasped out, rubbing her thighs together in a vain attempt at some sort of friction. “I think about you, when you’re going to call, I need you too…”
At last he gave permission, “Take two fingers and move them straight in, fast and hard. The other hand traces around those lips.” Finally being able to touch where she ached, she was under the impression it would ease some tension. Instead the opposite happened and she was left feeling more sexually frustrated, but did it feel fantastic.
His fervent grunts egged her on to redouble her efforts down south, which in turn added to her gasps and moans; an endless cycle between the two. Feeling herself start to twitch she instructed while panting, “Squeeze the top tightly and quick stroke the base.”
In the background she thought she heard a bump as though Sylar had firmly backed into something for support. Pleased her suggestion had an effect she couldn’t help the little laugh that eased out. “I don’t think you’re paying enough attention to yourself,” he chastised. “Remove both hands.”
She followed his direction, her breath hitching from loss of contact. The sounds of him still pleasuring himself made it nearly impossible to obey.
“Now three fingers straight in, then your other thumb pressed hard on your clit.” She did as she was told and was immediately rewarded with her first orgasm in weeks, with a throaty groan to prove it. As she rode out the blissful waves she heard him cry out a, “Yes!” from a distance, obviously having dropped the phone. When it was clear he had picked up the device again she couldn’t keep the goofy grin off her face.
“So,” sighed Claire absolutely contented, settling back into the tub. “How was your day?”
***
Arriving at Sweetie’s apartment for the second ‘tea time’ of the week, Claire was a bit surprised at the speed at which the old woman ushered her inside. However, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her grandmother standing in the middle of the cluttered living room.
“You have got to be kidding me,” muttered Claire, turning around with the intention of leaving.
“What did you expect, Claire, you wouldn’t return my calls,” informed Angela appearing far too pleased with herself.
Her plans of getting out of there were thwarted when she saw Sweetie firmly blocking the exit. “You’re in on this? You hate her.”
“Exactly, so you know if I think her idea holds water it’s worth listening to,” she explained with an expression that made it clear she wouldn’t be moving.
Agitation and tension settled in her joints as she turned back to Angela. Crossing her arms and tilting her head, Claire wanted to make it explicitly clear she did not care to listen to anything she had to say. “I’m giving you five minutes. And it had better be good.”
Her grandmother shifted her shoulders and readjusted her hands. “What sort of plans have you made for this child?”
“Excuse me?” asked Claire, anger punching her chest. “My plan? My plan is to raise, take care of, and love it without any lies. The way you’re talking makes this baby sound like a mission. And I refuse to treat it like that.”
“You misunderstand me,” Angela clarified, apparently amused by her assumption which only irked Claire more. “Have you prepped for a nursery yet? Purchased clothing or diapers of any sort? Baby proofed anything? Read any literature on the subject?”
A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She hadn’t thought about any of that. Though in her defense it had only been about three months, her due date was rapidly approaching. “No,” she admitted quietly. “No, I haven’t done any of that.”
“No, you’ve been too busy flirting with the baby’s daddy to consider much else,” she stated pointedly with disapproval.
The blonde whipped around to Sweetie. “Did you tell her?”
“She didn’t betray your confidence, Claire, I saw it,” she explained coming up to her, taking both hands in hers. “I implore you to cease communication with him. That way only lays pain for you and everyone involved.”
Claire slipped her hands away and felt her eyes narrow. “This wasn’t the part I particularly agreed with,” interjected Sweetie from behind.
Angela glared towards the other woman before continuing. “I realize I cannot force you to do that, nor can I force you to come live at my manor for a time.”
“What?” stated Claire in disbelief. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I have everything prepared for the child. Basic needs, room, clothing, protection, security; for both you and it,” she listed, brushing back bangs that weren’t in her way. “You can stay for as little or as long as you need.”
Pursing her lips she made a distrusting tick sound with her tongue. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch, dear,” explained her grandmother, regret all over her features. “I told you before that I am simply trying to make amends. Consider this another olive branch.”
Not caring to admit this was a sound option, she stiffly offered, “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” Angela squeezed her arm once and saw herself out of the room.
***
The hunger ate away at him.
He tried to hold it off.
Tried to ignore it, distract himself from it.
However he knew from past attempts the draw of it would only grow.
That was why he hunted this particular family.
A husband, wife, and teenage son that he believed each had an ability. He figured a feast this large would settle him for a long while.
Sylar played out the motions as he used to. Putting the victims on edge with paranoia, sneaking into their home, cutting off communication to the outside world, pinning them down one by one. He started with the man. Ignoring the screams of protest and fear from the other two family members he dutifully sawed open his skull and dug around his brain. Once he reached the center that held the answer he looked for.
He paused.
It was a power he already held.
In frustration he flipped the lifeless body across the room, landing it in front of the other two. Growling in anger he next took the woman, thrusting her down onto the ground near her husband. Her cries went unnoticed as he sawed off her skull spraying a bloody mess in his wake. Despite the hallow sensation mounting in his chest, he continued with his work. While he took her ability, the boy somehow got loose without him noticing.
A golf club connected with his head and he fell to the ground. The teenager continued to beat at him for a few moments, killing Sylar for a short time. Once the boy let up determining the attacker was defeated, Sylar shot him across the room. The boy crashed into a metal sculpture hanging on the wall, impaling him through the chest and killing him instantly.
Sylar stood looking at the destruction he had caused. The room torn apart from the initial struggle, blood was spattered across almost every surface, a significant amount still dripped from the teenagers mouth and chest wound.
Observing the carnage he created he couldn’t help but feel off. Wrong.
This ‘victory’ tasted bitter. The hunger quieted slightly, but even it was almost mocking him. This wasn’t what he needed anymore. It wasn’t what was needed to sate the desire. What had changed?
He now felt disappointed?
Unsatisfied?
Numb?
Unable to tear his eyes away, he removed the cell phone from his pocket with bloodied and stiff fingers. Working on autopilot he pressed redial and placed it against his ear as he slid down the wall still staring at the bodies. “Hey, you,” came a sweet voice that he in no way deserved. “I’m glad you called. There’s actually been something I want to talk to you about.”
“What have you done to me?” he roughly accused.
“What have I done to you?” clipped Claire. “It should be more like the other way around.”
“Ask me the question.”
“Question? Sylar, what are you -”
“Every time I call you ask me a question. So ask me it,” he demanded with haggard desperation.
She started and stopped a sentence a few times before doing as he requested, the hesitation and dread evident from her. “When was the last time you killed someone?”
“About 47 seconds ago,” he replied blankly, not able to look away from the carnage. He heard her sharp gasp on the other end. “There were three of them, a family, all with what I thought I needed -”
“Why?” she asked. He could hear the tears from her already, a sound that didn’t fit with what he was seeing. “Why would you do that?”
“I used to do this all the time. No second thought, no mess ups, I would get what I wanted and leave,” continued Sylar not really listening to her. “Everything went wrong. It’s a mess…”
“I don’t want to hear -”
“I’m still with them,” he stated, feeling unbearably empty as he watched the pet cat step over to its master. The woman remained on the ground where he left her and the cat meowed before it began licking up the blood that had splattered all over her face. Again, there was nothing. “They’re son is still lodged on the wall, he died surprisingly fast.”
“Stop -”
“The mother’s brain is still under my nails -”
“Sylar!” she shouted loud enough to jar him to momentary quiet. “Could you pause the details of decorating the walls with intestines, please, and give me a moment?” He allowed her the time as he continued to stare. The silence in the room proved to be deafening as the hunger scratched away at him a little more. “Why would you call me immediately after murdering people?” she requested with even words. “Why would you even do it in the first place, you promised me…”
Her voice sounded so far away, it was difficult to focus on. “I couldn’t control the hunger. It needed an outlet, something to make it just be quiet. But now that I’m done, it wasn’t enough. I need more.”
“Please don’t kill anyone else,” she pleaded.
“I hate being this way,” he admitted, only half hearing her. “The hunger was born to hunt, to find what would make me complete, but now harvesting abilities isn’t enough to make it stop. It needs something else.”
Silence once more. A car alarm sounded in the distance as the stench of what he had done began to become clear. “You can’t keep hiding behind that excuse,” expressed Claire, just sounding saddened, “You didn’t keep your promise, and instead went right back to a creepy hobby you enjoy.”
“I didn’t enjoy it,” he realized, putting the broken pieces together slowly as the reality of the situation bore down on him more deeply with each passing minute. “There was something missing…”
“Sylar, I love you, but you cannot keep doing this. This hasn’t been easy for me either. I have stood up for you time after time in recent weeks and I refuse to back down. I don’t believe you are willing to just throw everything away between us either. Not now.”
Something clicked inside him. “What did you say?”
“You’re not going to throw everything away after what we’ve been through.”
“No, before that,” he demanded almost eagerly finding the energy to stand up, turning away from the carnage.
“I said -” Her sudden silence indicated she caught up to his point and despite his predicament Sylar smiled. It was fairly obvious to him what the hunger needed. “We need to talk about your victims,” continued Claire, obviously moving right past her other point. “All of them. I need to know what you did to everyone and why. And after that…I want to meet up with you.”
“Are you sure that’s something you want to go through?” he asked. He wouldn’t hide anything from her, in fact the thought eased him to confess it all.
“It’s time, I don’t think we should hide anything from each other anymore,” she announced. “Get out of there, get cleaned up, then call me back. I think we have a long couple of talks ahead of us.”
Both hung up and Sylar could only stare at the mobile device in his hand. Ignoring the blood caking it from his last victims, his lip quirked up at the screen that still flashed the call ended number. “I love you, Claire Bennett.”
Prelude Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16