fic: Make Me Feel
Title: Make Me Feel
Pairing: Peter/Elle (briefly), Sylar/Elle
Rating: R
Prompt:“I want to feel passion,
I want to feel pain.
I want to weep at the sound of your name.
Come make me laugh,
come make me cry...
just make me feel alive.”
Summary: Her mind isn't focused on much anymore except for the fact that she finds herself not being able to feel anymore.
A/N: Prompt was from di_elle and I couldn't seem to pass it up. This is a Volume 4 AU.
Elle isn't sure how long it has been since she was brought back to life, nor is she sure of exactly how long she was dead. But she's not entirely sure she really cares to know. Being alive again is almost hell. Not that being killed and consequently dying was a picnic, but at least being dead gave her some sort of peace. It wasn't like she was in some sort of heaven, she had done far too many things to land her on the 'naughty' list and besides, she didn't believe there was a God. The thing was, being dead meant she didn't have to sort through the bullshit of the world.
But here she is, walking around New York City aimlessly. How she ended up back here, she's not sure. Her mind isn't focused on much anymore except for the fact that she finds herself not being able to feel anymore. Not like how Pom Pom couldn't feel. This is much more than that.
Nothing. She feels nothing. When the rain falls on her and she lights up a small sphere in her palm, the sting barely registers in her mind. When an attractive man tries to flirt with her, she looks at him blankly, mumbling some words that sound right but there's no emotion behind it. Physical, mental...it's all the same to her, it's all one blur.
Elle's alive but she might as well be dead still. At this point, she feels like a zombie. Just going through the motions of trying to live life without living it or feeling it. And she's not sure if she's fine with that. Everything is just so muddled and muted.
She supposes she should hate him, the one who killed her. But she doesn't. She might have even hated the ones who brought her back to the land of the living...if she could feel. The only time she does feel anything, and even that is brief, is when she fucking someone. Not make love or any of that romantic bullshit. She can't feel so how can she love? It's just fucking.
The first man that made her realize this was Peter. She had found him at his apartment, seemingly as broken as she was. Gone was that optimist that seemed to think that everything would turn out okay. Clearly, something big happened while she had been dead. She didn't say much and he didn't ask much. Instead they just poured out frustrations into each other. The sex was rough, dirty, and even animalistic. Both of them left bruises on the other though Peter's had healed quickly since he seemed to have gained back Claire's healing ability. Their "relationship" lasted for a short while because both knew it wasn't meant to be forever. It was a diversion from their lives. One that they both welcomed. Elle got to feel something and Peter just needed someone.
When Elle decided to leave, Peter didn't try to stop her. They said their goodbyes and left it at that. She moved on and so did he. Though she never admitted it, the boy scout had helped her, if only for a little while. And for that, she was a bit grateful because from then on, she knew what to seek.
Now, Elle descends down the dirty stairs to the subway station and slides her metrocard through the reader and pushes past the turnstile. Silently, she walks to a platform and boards the next train that arrives. Loosely holding onto the pole, her body sways along with the subway car as it navigates the underground turns and she finds herself blinking when they emerge into the bright sunlight.
At one of the stops, Elle pushes her way past the many people in the car and steps out onto the platform. She's not sure why she chooses to get off here but something about it feels right. When she leaves the subway station, something about the neighborhood seems mildly familiar but the feeling quickly dissipates.
It isn't until she finds herself standing at the doorstep of an apartment building does she realize why the neighborhood seemed familiar. She had been here before, it seems like it was a lifetime ago. Though then again, in a way, it was. Under Company orders, she and Noah Bennet toyed with a man's life. Changed him right before their very eyes. A decision that would ultimately lead to her death.
The front door is open so she walks up the stairs, eventually finding herself at his door. Of course, this time she's sans pie and she's certain he's not there. Elle's hand reaches out to the doorknob and she twists it, a little surprised to find it unlocked. Stepping in, she can see that it has been unoccupied for awhile.
The air is musty and Elle can see the dust lining the seemingly endless walls of bookshelves. As she steps around the apartment, she places a finger on a shelf and drags it along as she walks. She stops when she sees the bloody wall. The wall still stained with blood, now brown with age and perhaps Trevor's, asking to forgive for he had sinned.
Elle stares at the wall, her eyes poring over every inch of the writing. She reaches up with a hand, her fingers very lightly tracing over the bloody letters.
"What are you doing here?"
She turns around, her hands dropping to her sides. "That's a good question." Her tone is neither mocking or joking, nothing like she once was. It's just a blank statement. "What are you doing here?" Elle's voice is even, flat, giving nothing away.
"Considering I used to live here, thought I'd come back for a small trip down memory lane," comes his sarcastic reply. Sylar advances towards her. "How are you alive?"
Elle shrugs. "Don't know. Don't care."
He quirks an eyebrow. "Don't care?"
"That's what I said, right?" Elle watches him try to hide the emotion from his face. She sees the little tightening of his jaw and the rapid blinking of his eyes. "Are you going to kill me again?"
"What?"
"Kill me. You know, like you did on the beach."
"Is that what you want?" Sylar stares at her, not knowing who this woman is. It's Elle...but it's not. The Elle he had killed had always been a little unpredictable but she had vitality to her. This one...seems like a shell. Almost like a ghost of the past.
Elle shrugs. "Don't really care either way. If you're going to kill me, right now would be the perfect opportunity though."
"Who are you?" It comes out in almost a whisper. This has to be a lie. This is not Elle.
"Elle."
The tingle doesn't go off in his head and he doesn't want to think that this really is Elle. "You're not lying."
"Well, why would I lie about it? Not like I have anything to gain from lying at this point."
She's broken. That's what it is. He slowly takes a step towards her and she doesn't move. Just looks at him, with eyes that seem almost dead. A stark contrast to the eyes he remembers, so full of life.
"What happened to you?"
"I don't know," she states, plain as day. "All I know is that I don't feel anymore."
"Don't feel?" Sylar stares at her in disbelief. He's felt too many things, all of them buried deep inside where he wanted. But Elle was never one to hide her feelings. Everything used to be right there on the surface.
"Pain. Emotion. Whatever. I don't feel any of it." She holds up her hand, sparks flitting between fingers. "Try hurting me. See what reaction I have."
Sylar's fingers twitch and Elle flies backward slamming into a wall. She crashes back down onto the floor and she looks up at him, no expression breaking on her face.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Do you want to feel?"
"Can you do that now? Is that a power you picked up?"
"Do you want it to be?" He steps even closer to her now, only a foot or two in between them. Bending down, he holds out his hand, wanting to help her up.
Elle accepts, firmly gripping his hand as she rises from the floor. "You've changed." It wasn't accusatory, it was just like everything else she said. Just words flowing out of her, nothing behind them.
"Not as much as you," Sylar folds his arms across his chest after she takes her hand away from his.
Elle nods. "There's only one time I feel anything."
"When is that?"
She doesn't answer. Just looks at him. The seemingly unfeeling ice blue eyes boring into him. He's almost hypnotized by her gaze and doesn't notice her walking closer and closer to him. Only when she is right in front of him, placing her palms flat against his chest and then sending a blast that would have killed an ordinary man, does he snap out of it.
Sylar flies backwards into one of the bookshelf walls, knocking loose books and dust. They've nearly come full circle, with him being the one flying into the wall instead of her. He falls to the floor but picks himself up quickly. Elle walks over to him him, one hand reaching up and grabbing a chunk of his hair and the other hand pressed flat against his chest.
"Fucking," she whispers.
Before Sylar gets a chance to respond, she yanks his head down to hers and her mouth is on his, his bottom lip caught in between her teeth. An arc of electricity flows from her mouth to his and he twists his head away, grimacing slightly.
"What are you doing?" He hisses as his hands grab her sides and he tries to hold her in place.
"Just make me feel alive," she murmurs quietly.
That's all he needs to hear from her. His lips crash down upon hers and he's kissing her with all this urgency and passion he had long forgotten existed in him. Not since...not since that day in the Canfield house. Sylar's not sure if Elle's forgiven him but in her current state, she doesn't seem to even care.
Various items of clothing are torn off and dropped onto the floor as they stumble all over the apartment. He backs her up into a wall, the smack echoing throughout the small apartment. Her gasps are audible as his mouth moves down to leave kisses down her neck and lightly biting the area where her neck meets with her shoulder. Elle's hands run through his thick hair and leaves a trail of sparks.
Elle arches her body into him as she locks her hands together behind his neck and her legs wrap around his waist. His mouth hungrily goes back to hers and he holds onto her. Backing away from the wall, he moves and finds his way towards the bed. Sylar's legs buckle when the back of them hit the foot of the bed and the two fall onto the bed, the kiss never breaking.
His fingers get tangled in her hair as her hands slide down his bare chest, going straight to the button and zipper on his pants. Elle grinds her body down on him, welcoming the feel of him growing hard through his pants.
This was different than when she was with Peter. Surprisingly, Peter had never once tried to fix her. He just accepted the situation at face value and they knew they were just using the other.
But this? Elle knows Sylar is trying to fix her. Maybe trying to apologize for what he did on the beach. So his moves are a little more passionate, a little more emotional. His eyes are dark and hazy with lust with a familiar stare that she hasn't seen in awhile. It stirs a little something in her, she can feel something start to ignite inside.
The rest of their clothes find their way to the floor and Elle suddenly finds herself laying on the bed, looking up at Sylar's face.
"What do you want, Elle?"
"Passion, pain, I just want to feel again," she says in a near whisper.
His lips crash down onto hers and he can feel her teeth sinking into his lips, cutting into them and drawing a small amount of blood before his cut heals. The kiss is intoxicating, powerful, all consuming. It's hard to tell who is in charge anymore. Elle rakes her fingernails down Sylar's back, making him break off the kiss and hiss a little bit in pain. He ducks his head down to her shoulder and bites down lightly at the same moment he enters her.
Elle isn't sure if she's crying out because of the bite or the subsequent thrusts. All she knows that is she finally feels something and she's desperate to hold onto that for as long as she can. Because once this is over, she's going to go back to not feeling anything.
She lets out a scream and electricity when she orgasms. The scream bounces around the apartment, like it's not sure it should be there. Her electricity is white hot, different than the one she had shot at him earlier. There's passion in this and it burns him from the inside out, his body sizzling and healing almost instantaneously. Sylar clutches her tightly as he comes, leaving bruises on her arms where he's grasping her.
Afterwards, they lie side by side, almost touching. Neither one says a word, almost seemingly content to just listen to the other breathe. Though, at one point, Sylar hears something. He turns his head to look over at Elle and he sees tears rolling down her cheek.
"What's wrong?"
She draws in a ragged breath as she wipes the tears away from her now splotchy face. "I think I can actually feel again. For real. And everything hurts."
Pairing: Peter/Elle (briefly), Sylar/Elle
Rating: R
Prompt:“I want to feel passion,
I want to feel pain.
I want to weep at the sound of your name.
Come make me laugh,
come make me cry...
just make me feel alive.”
Summary: Her mind isn't focused on much anymore except for the fact that she finds herself not being able to feel anymore.
A/N: Prompt was from di_elle and I couldn't seem to pass it up. This is a Volume 4 AU.
Elle isn't sure how long it has been since she was brought back to life, nor is she sure of exactly how long she was dead. But she's not entirely sure she really cares to know. Being alive again is almost hell. Not that being killed and consequently dying was a picnic, but at least being dead gave her some sort of peace. It wasn't like she was in some sort of heaven, she had done far too many things to land her on the 'naughty' list and besides, she didn't believe there was a God. The thing was, being dead meant she didn't have to sort through the bullshit of the world.
But here she is, walking around New York City aimlessly. How she ended up back here, she's not sure. Her mind isn't focused on much anymore except for the fact that she finds herself not being able to feel anymore. Not like how Pom Pom couldn't feel. This is much more than that.
Nothing. She feels nothing. When the rain falls on her and she lights up a small sphere in her palm, the sting barely registers in her mind. When an attractive man tries to flirt with her, she looks at him blankly, mumbling some words that sound right but there's no emotion behind it. Physical, mental...it's all the same to her, it's all one blur.
Elle's alive but she might as well be dead still. At this point, she feels like a zombie. Just going through the motions of trying to live life without living it or feeling it. And she's not sure if she's fine with that. Everything is just so muddled and muted.
She supposes she should hate him, the one who killed her. But she doesn't. She might have even hated the ones who brought her back to the land of the living...if she could feel. The only time she does feel anything, and even that is brief, is when she fucking someone. Not make love or any of that romantic bullshit. She can't feel so how can she love? It's just fucking.
The first man that made her realize this was Peter. She had found him at his apartment, seemingly as broken as she was. Gone was that optimist that seemed to think that everything would turn out okay. Clearly, something big happened while she had been dead. She didn't say much and he didn't ask much. Instead they just poured out frustrations into each other. The sex was rough, dirty, and even animalistic. Both of them left bruises on the other though Peter's had healed quickly since he seemed to have gained back Claire's healing ability. Their "relationship" lasted for a short while because both knew it wasn't meant to be forever. It was a diversion from their lives. One that they both welcomed. Elle got to feel something and Peter just needed someone.
When Elle decided to leave, Peter didn't try to stop her. They said their goodbyes and left it at that. She moved on and so did he. Though she never admitted it, the boy scout had helped her, if only for a little while. And for that, she was a bit grateful because from then on, she knew what to seek.
Now, Elle descends down the dirty stairs to the subway station and slides her metrocard through the reader and pushes past the turnstile. Silently, she walks to a platform and boards the next train that arrives. Loosely holding onto the pole, her body sways along with the subway car as it navigates the underground turns and she finds herself blinking when they emerge into the bright sunlight.
At one of the stops, Elle pushes her way past the many people in the car and steps out onto the platform. She's not sure why she chooses to get off here but something about it feels right. When she leaves the subway station, something about the neighborhood seems mildly familiar but the feeling quickly dissipates.
It isn't until she finds herself standing at the doorstep of an apartment building does she realize why the neighborhood seemed familiar. She had been here before, it seems like it was a lifetime ago. Though then again, in a way, it was. Under Company orders, she and Noah Bennet toyed with a man's life. Changed him right before their very eyes. A decision that would ultimately lead to her death.
The front door is open so she walks up the stairs, eventually finding herself at his door. Of course, this time she's sans pie and she's certain he's not there. Elle's hand reaches out to the doorknob and she twists it, a little surprised to find it unlocked. Stepping in, she can see that it has been unoccupied for awhile.
The air is musty and Elle can see the dust lining the seemingly endless walls of bookshelves. As she steps around the apartment, she places a finger on a shelf and drags it along as she walks. She stops when she sees the bloody wall. The wall still stained with blood, now brown with age and perhaps Trevor's, asking to forgive for he had sinned.
Elle stares at the wall, her eyes poring over every inch of the writing. She reaches up with a hand, her fingers very lightly tracing over the bloody letters.
"What are you doing here?"
She turns around, her hands dropping to her sides. "That's a good question." Her tone is neither mocking or joking, nothing like she once was. It's just a blank statement. "What are you doing here?" Elle's voice is even, flat, giving nothing away.
"Considering I used to live here, thought I'd come back for a small trip down memory lane," comes his sarcastic reply. Sylar advances towards her. "How are you alive?"
Elle shrugs. "Don't know. Don't care."
He quirks an eyebrow. "Don't care?"
"That's what I said, right?" Elle watches him try to hide the emotion from his face. She sees the little tightening of his jaw and the rapid blinking of his eyes. "Are you going to kill me again?"
"What?"
"Kill me. You know, like you did on the beach."
"Is that what you want?" Sylar stares at her, not knowing who this woman is. It's Elle...but it's not. The Elle he had killed had always been a little unpredictable but she had vitality to her. This one...seems like a shell. Almost like a ghost of the past.
Elle shrugs. "Don't really care either way. If you're going to kill me, right now would be the perfect opportunity though."
"Who are you?" It comes out in almost a whisper. This has to be a lie. This is not Elle.
"Elle."
The tingle doesn't go off in his head and he doesn't want to think that this really is Elle. "You're not lying."
"Well, why would I lie about it? Not like I have anything to gain from lying at this point."
She's broken. That's what it is. He slowly takes a step towards her and she doesn't move. Just looks at him, with eyes that seem almost dead. A stark contrast to the eyes he remembers, so full of life.
"What happened to you?"
"I don't know," she states, plain as day. "All I know is that I don't feel anymore."
"Don't feel?" Sylar stares at her in disbelief. He's felt too many things, all of them buried deep inside where he wanted. But Elle was never one to hide her feelings. Everything used to be right there on the surface.
"Pain. Emotion. Whatever. I don't feel any of it." She holds up her hand, sparks flitting between fingers. "Try hurting me. See what reaction I have."
Sylar's fingers twitch and Elle flies backward slamming into a wall. She crashes back down onto the floor and she looks up at him, no expression breaking on her face.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Do you want to feel?"
"Can you do that now? Is that a power you picked up?"
"Do you want it to be?" He steps even closer to her now, only a foot or two in between them. Bending down, he holds out his hand, wanting to help her up.
Elle accepts, firmly gripping his hand as she rises from the floor. "You've changed." It wasn't accusatory, it was just like everything else she said. Just words flowing out of her, nothing behind them.
"Not as much as you," Sylar folds his arms across his chest after she takes her hand away from his.
Elle nods. "There's only one time I feel anything."
"When is that?"
She doesn't answer. Just looks at him. The seemingly unfeeling ice blue eyes boring into him. He's almost hypnotized by her gaze and doesn't notice her walking closer and closer to him. Only when she is right in front of him, placing her palms flat against his chest and then sending a blast that would have killed an ordinary man, does he snap out of it.
Sylar flies backwards into one of the bookshelf walls, knocking loose books and dust. They've nearly come full circle, with him being the one flying into the wall instead of her. He falls to the floor but picks himself up quickly. Elle walks over to him him, one hand reaching up and grabbing a chunk of his hair and the other hand pressed flat against his chest.
"Fucking," she whispers.
Before Sylar gets a chance to respond, she yanks his head down to hers and her mouth is on his, his bottom lip caught in between her teeth. An arc of electricity flows from her mouth to his and he twists his head away, grimacing slightly.
"What are you doing?" He hisses as his hands grab her sides and he tries to hold her in place.
"Just make me feel alive," she murmurs quietly.
That's all he needs to hear from her. His lips crash down upon hers and he's kissing her with all this urgency and passion he had long forgotten existed in him. Not since...not since that day in the Canfield house. Sylar's not sure if Elle's forgiven him but in her current state, she doesn't seem to even care.
Various items of clothing are torn off and dropped onto the floor as they stumble all over the apartment. He backs her up into a wall, the smack echoing throughout the small apartment. Her gasps are audible as his mouth moves down to leave kisses down her neck and lightly biting the area where her neck meets with her shoulder. Elle's hands run through his thick hair and leaves a trail of sparks.
Elle arches her body into him as she locks her hands together behind his neck and her legs wrap around his waist. His mouth hungrily goes back to hers and he holds onto her. Backing away from the wall, he moves and finds his way towards the bed. Sylar's legs buckle when the back of them hit the foot of the bed and the two fall onto the bed, the kiss never breaking.
His fingers get tangled in her hair as her hands slide down his bare chest, going straight to the button and zipper on his pants. Elle grinds her body down on him, welcoming the feel of him growing hard through his pants.
This was different than when she was with Peter. Surprisingly, Peter had never once tried to fix her. He just accepted the situation at face value and they knew they were just using the other.
But this? Elle knows Sylar is trying to fix her. Maybe trying to apologize for what he did on the beach. So his moves are a little more passionate, a little more emotional. His eyes are dark and hazy with lust with a familiar stare that she hasn't seen in awhile. It stirs a little something in her, she can feel something start to ignite inside.
The rest of their clothes find their way to the floor and Elle suddenly finds herself laying on the bed, looking up at Sylar's face.
"What do you want, Elle?"
"Passion, pain, I just want to feel again," she says in a near whisper.
His lips crash down onto hers and he can feel her teeth sinking into his lips, cutting into them and drawing a small amount of blood before his cut heals. The kiss is intoxicating, powerful, all consuming. It's hard to tell who is in charge anymore. Elle rakes her fingernails down Sylar's back, making him break off the kiss and hiss a little bit in pain. He ducks his head down to her shoulder and bites down lightly at the same moment he enters her.
Elle isn't sure if she's crying out because of the bite or the subsequent thrusts. All she knows that is she finally feels something and she's desperate to hold onto that for as long as she can. Because once this is over, she's going to go back to not feeling anything.
She lets out a scream and electricity when she orgasms. The scream bounces around the apartment, like it's not sure it should be there. Her electricity is white hot, different than the one she had shot at him earlier. There's passion in this and it burns him from the inside out, his body sizzling and healing almost instantaneously. Sylar clutches her tightly as he comes, leaving bruises on her arms where he's grasping her.
Afterwards, they lie side by side, almost touching. Neither one says a word, almost seemingly content to just listen to the other breathe. Though, at one point, Sylar hears something. He turns his head to look over at Elle and he sees tears rolling down her cheek.
"What's wrong?"
She draws in a ragged breath as she wipes the tears away from her now splotchy face. "I think I can actually feel again. For real. And everything hurts."