Revelations 22:20 // Chapter Fourteen : Renegotiations // NC-17 [questionable consent]
Title: Renegotiations (Chapter Fourteen)
Characters/pairings: Sylar/Claire
Summary: Claire's more confused than ever by her reaction to Sylar.
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: Kinks are electrical play (for fun), gags, and double penetration.
Notes: ~5200 words. The posting of this chapter got a little delayed by an ER trip. Boo. On the other hand, chapter fifteen is finished and I'm working on chapter sixteen in another window. Go me.
* * *
Success felt good. He'd expected a rush when he finally brought Claire to her breaking point, the same way he got one when he listened to his victims scream, but it'd been so much better than he'd known. Aside from finding his father, which had been massively disappointing, breaking Claire took longer than any other plan he'd finished. So sue him, he got bored easily.
But not now.
He grinned to himself as he leaned back against the closed bedroom door, listening to her calm herself as the little drug cocktail he'd mixed fucked with her head. Encouraging addiction had always had possibilities, especially with a woman who couldn't get high on anything except trying to off herself and who compulsively did that. He'd be literally the only one able to give her this if he wanted and it'd be an easy way to keep her close so he'd at least think about it. For now he shook his head, debating what exactly he planned to do next. The weeks, instead of predicted months, it'd taken to break Claire rushed some of his other plans; he'd have to compensate.
First, though, he needed to take care of Molly so he spent the next ten minutes arranging the living room perfectly: the books she'd left out, unfinished, the night before last; a soft blanket for her to curl up with while they worked; chocolate milk for her to drink; and Mickey Mouse pancakes. She was probably too old for them but he liked pancakes and he'd been making them this way since he'd been five. Then he went to get her, knocking on her door before entering. “Molly? Are you up yet?”
Last night he'd gone into her room after she'd fallen into a heavy, pain killer induced sleep, and removed the coverings from her windows except for a light, lacy curtain. It cast a cheery glow on the room as the door slanted open and he slid his attention over to the bed. The perfectly made bed. His eyebrows rose and he readjusted, finding Molly sitting at her desk and writing something out very carefully. She turned around when she heard him, swallowing hard, and watching him seriously. Then she turned back to her work, finishing up with a last scratch, and grabbed what she'd been writing with her uninjured hand.
When she brought it over to him, presenting it like a present, he took the offer gently. An apology card, colored childishly and with a small written message promising to be better. He smiled softly. When he reached out and stroked her hair it felt soft and fine under his touch. “Accepted. And I'm sorry too. I know the punishment was very hard on you.” He crouched down to her level. “And you were just following what Claire said to do, but when Claire tries to get you to run away she's misbehaving and shouldn't be listened to. Do you understand?”
She nodded quickly, her hair rubbing across his palm. “I finished all my homework and started the next chapter in my math book.” Her attention moved to the desk. “Could I please have another pill?”
Oh, the poor thing had to be in pain. Breaks were hard. “I'll do you one better.” He smiled and pulled out the syringe he'd brought from the fridge when he grabbed the milk. After he found a vein he injected Claire's perfect blood into Molly's small arm and started methodically removing the hand cast. By the time he got the hardened plastic off her arm she'd healed. “All fixed.” Her small hand slipped into his and he tugged her toward the living room. “I made you breakfast. Blackberry pancakes with some fruit.”
Molly dug her teeth into her bottom lip for a beat. “Thanks. Where's Claire now?”
“Resting in my room.” He nudged her down in front of the coffee table on a cushion. “Eat up.”
Taking one look at the offered pancakes she started to devour them, pouring enough syrup the plate almost swam with it and adding a big spoonful of whipped cream. He flicked his fingertips, rearranging the cream into a magician's hat, and grinned when she blinked down at it. She ate with a vengeance, leaving nothing but a small pool of syrup, and the chocolate milk went the way of the food. “Can I have some more? Please.”
He dished up a smaller second helping and placed it front of her. By the time he finished his own meal she'd made history of that too. The punishment of withholding food had really gotten through. “Eat as much as you like. I thought we'd have hamburgers and fries for lunch and Claire's asked if you two can go play in the snow later. I don't see why not if you'd like to.”
Molly's eyes flicked up to him, going wide. “Really? We can go outside? Yes, I want to. I want to go outside.” Lucky he'd bought snow clothes then. “Thank you, Sylar.” She'd gotten so polite.
“You're welcome. We'll work on school this morning and you can spend time with Claire after lunch,” he promised, taking her plate after she finished the last bite of pancake. He set it aside, planning to put it in the sink later - or have Claire do it - and reached for Molly's science book across the table. Now in the eighth grade, he'd assigned her a simple biology text book and started at the beginning so they'd already gone through evolution and were on to birds. “Quiz first.”
The basic question-answer format stayed the same even if he asked the questions aloud and she only missed two questions out of twenty, which he weighed as not enough to warrant thinking up a punishment. She'd clearly been doing her work. Like with all her reading he'd done it already, using a combination of abilities - memory and speed reading - to breeze through the text with perfect recall. So Molly sat there and listened, finishing up her chocolate milk, as he explained about how the migratory pattern of birds had to do with food sources and ideal breeding conditions. Occasionally she even took a note in her loopy handwriting, probably when she thought he might ask a question about that thing later.
Birds and migration took up the first hour of the morning and the rest filled up just as easily: world history and geography, basic algebra, and a more for fun art class as he'd noticed her drawings pinned up to her wall in Suresh's house. For her age they'd even been good. Unsurprisingly she had an instinctive grasp of geography and pushed through that subject the fastest.
During the algebra block he went and got Claire, giving her one of his large t-shirts to wear, and brought her into the living room too. She'd sat between his legs, her back to his chest, while he explained the quadratic equation to Molly, her attention lulling in and out. So long as she paid attention during her work he didn't care. Eventually he gave her a notebook to write in or doodle in to keep her occupied so that he could quiz Molly on what he'd gone over that day. With it so fresh she got all the questions right and Claire gave her an encouraged smile for that.
“Sylar said that after lunch we can go outside,” Molly confided quietly, leaning in to whisper it to Claire as he flipped through the book for the problem set he planned to assign. Claire's whole expression brightened at the news he'd agreed to her request and, unprompted, she turned into his chest and mumbled 'thank you, sir.'
“You're welcome. Make sure to dress warmly,” he warned. “There's winter clothes in the bottom drawers in our room.” She'd already found the coats in the closet but he didn't let that reminder upset him. She'd been punished, it was over, and they could move on now.
“Yes, sir.”
“Sylar,” he corrected and she mimicked that back instead then picked up her pen again. “Okay, Molly...” The younger girl's attention snapped back to him and he pointed out the problem set before wrapping up the lesson and announcing it was time for art. Claire even reluctantly joined in before he sent her to the kitchen to make burgers and fries for lunch.
* * *
Claire grinned with a flushed red face, shaking snow out of her hair as she crossed the front door's threshold. Surprising him when he called them to come in, she waited for Molly to go through first and dropped to her knees at the door, near his feet, waiting for further permission. Every single act she did complied with exactly what he'd asked for.
He found he missed her voice some. He'd become used to the addition.
Down on the floor on her hands and knees, shaking snow out, and grinning, she looked like a puppy wriggling to get clean. Sylar smiled at the cute image. “Come.”
Without hesitation she followed him through the living room. Molly'd already gone to her room to get out of her damp snow clothes and start in on her assignments, like he'd told her to, but he had other plans for Claire. When they got to the room he dropped down on the bed, leaning back on his palms, and nodded for her to get up on her feet. “Why don't you take off your clothes? Slowly.” Her teeth bit into her bottom lip, the only betrayal of her surprise, but she nodded gamely. He flicked on the MP3 player - her MP3 player, actually, with all her favorite songs - and browsed to her second favorite track. Though he didn't recognize the band he liked the slow melody and heavy, rhythmic beats they used. “Go on.”
She closed her eyes, her tongue flicking out across her pretty pink lips as a shaky hand came up to the zip of her jacket. He'd dressed her today and the light blue jacket looked good on her. It looked even better coming off and he smiled, though she couldn't see it, and watched her sway her hips in time with the music. Her hips rolled forward, within reach of him, and then swayed out of reach as she lifted her arms up over her head and danced a little. Like this she relaxed, the tenseness of trying to please him leaving her muscles and replaced by one of her favorite songs. It was hooked into her iPod and this was the second most played track after all.
He watched as she dropped the jacket on the floor near her feet and then started to slowly, tortuously lift the hem of her shirt only to drop it back down the last second before revealing her bra. Her eyes slit open and she smiled, a giggle on her lips - probably at his frustrated expression. “You wanted me to do this,” she reminded him.
Corset; he was definitely putting her in a corset and fucking her while she gasped for breath as punishment. She'd enjoy it too.
“So I did.” Sylar's eyes stayed riveted on the smooth movement of her hands where they grazed the outside of her clothes, over her breasts, cupping her sex. He'd be there soon, his touch replacing her teasing. The pants shook off her hips in little tugs, dropping around her knees, then ankles, until she bent all the way over, her legs still straight, and tugged them off. Hard in more ways than one, he swallowed and thought of all the possibilities for that. They flickered through his mind as his attention stayed with the tights layered underneath. When an almost wicked expression came to her face he had to wonder what she'd thought of. “What are you thinking?”
“I don't want to take the tights off. They're comfy.” He weighed that and flicked his hand, cutting away the parts that covered the front of her panties but nothing else, giving him access but keeping the tights on. That was actually kinda hot and it startled a real, short laugh out of her. “That's not exactly what I meant. At least I wore tie-up underwear today.” Mentioning that, she undid the bows on both sides of her underwear but kept it in place except to let the straps fall, undone, to the sides. Her hips rolled forward again but this time she stopped, waiting for him, and he reached forward to palm her cunt playfully, working one finger against the fabric and pushing the silk inside of her. Her thighs clenched but she stood still as he pumped his finger in and out twice before prying the small bit of clothing away from her damp skin.
Her red and swollen folds, flush with blood, gave him the perfect view of her slick, ready opening, but he held off and pulled his hands back. “That's my good girl.”
She swallowed hard and her eyes drifted shut again, returning to the bottom of her shirt and swinging around. Each raised inch showed a little more of her piercing, following the currently blue ribbon up the crisscrossed trail he'd made secured to rings held just under her skin. Finally her back arched and she leaned forward to strip the shirt off, tossing it aside. To his surprise she didn't turn around, playing slowly with the latch of her bra until it too came off.
Still facing the other way she danced his direction until her tight, fabric covered ass brushed up against his knees and he got her game. He lifted her, letting her spread her legs so that she straddled him, and undid his pants. His hand circled his aching cock gently, tugging it out ready to play, and he kissed her shoulder. “Do you want to come?” Letting her think she had some control over this would make her happier.
She nodded, her blond waves brushing against his chest and her short nails digging into his thighs as she braced herself and rose up. Then, trusting him to position himself, she inched back down and found his cock. The head pushed against her wet opening, ready to fuck her, and she stilled only to roll her hips slowly and moan. His own groan echoed it. “Th-- This is the part I like,” she admitted shyly, ducking her head as she rocked and still didn't sink down. Impatient he yanked at her hips and impaled her, tearing a whine from her lips as her body tensed stock still without any breath. Then she gasped, panting. Her legs shook. “Why does that feel so good? Why do I like this so much?”
“Because we fit.” He kissed the back of her head, his own hips still, and let her raise herself in her own time.
She took it slowly, adjusting, until he fit in her like her cunt was exactly where he belonged, and then she rose up again. Already on edge from her striptease and now his hand reaching around them to rub her clit gently, she came in a handful of thrusts, falling forward until she caught herself on his knees, and cried out. “Oh, fuck!” He used the friction to thrust up again, getting her deeper, and she actually squealed.
After that her breath came out in harsh little pants and she rid the pleasure out until the aftershocks took over. Right after the first one he pulled her off of him, eliciting a whimper, and she curled up on her side, her hand going instinctively to her clenching sex.
He didn't button himself up again but watched her gingerly finger the swollen folds, her eyes closed in sweet pleasure. “Open your eyes.” She did, the surfaces of them hazy and pupils large but focused on him. He smiled and brought her free hand up to kiss the inside of her wrist where her pulse banged in excitement. “Very good girl.”
The shiver told him enough, even if she hadn't given a soft sigh.
When he thought she'd had enough time to recover he nudged her up the bed and asked her to spread out, now naked except for the brown microfiber tights that made her gold skin glow. He uncapped the first jar and dipped a finger in, getting it wet. Then he went to work.
Each stroke he made was deliberate, meant to draw a sigh or moan from her, and he tipped her nipples with the blue, painted across her ribs with the green getting giggles, and drenched her exposed sex in red one small stroke at a time. If she'd been glad she'd come she took it back by the end, gasping for breath and near tears in need. “Please? Please please please.” She whimpered it in whispers, her eyes clenched shut and her head thrashing when he teased her outer folds once more.
But when he got to her clit, he merely let a drop of paint trail down to cover the nerves, applying no pressure. Then his hand sparked.
She flinched, her eyes flying open in terror at the power that had only been used to hurt her so far, but that was the lesson. Everything he did could hurt or it could pleasure. Everything. Keeping the voltage low he touched one of the green streaks under her breasts and let the current ride through the metal flecks in a low, tingling way. Surprise seized her face and then a peculiar pleasure as the sensation started to get to her so he rose the current.
It jumped from green to blue and green to red, splitting off in both directions. He could only imagine how it felt, the gentle feel of a thousand little needles applying pressure with no pain. Then he upped it and she shifted, pain creasing her forehead for the first time. Not too much for her to handle, not too much for her to enjoy. “Ride it, Claire. Let me take care of you. Just pay attention to the sensation.” She squirmed underneath him as that 'sensation' grew and clearly maddened her senses as her hands came up to touch herself. He pinned them down and she gave a short, baleful glare at being denied her pleasure. Sylar chuckled. “Soon, babydoll.” His fingers trailed down closer to her sex and he let the current rise once more, pouring into her until she shook with it.
And shake she did, her thighs trembling and rubbing together, her chest heaving, her head turning back and forth as each second built on the last. Finally she cried out, digging her teeth into her bottom lip until he saw red, and choking down a moan as her hips arched pure off the bed, open legs pushing up toward him. Then, collapse. “Oh my god.”
He chuckled again and stopped the current. “I told you pain could be fun.”
“You weren't even touching - How?” She coughed on air and sat up, shivering and sucking in a breath at the sudden reaction from her sex. “I don't care,” Claire decided, still breathing hard. “Do you want me to finish you now?”
He shook his head. He had other plans for himself. “We're not done.”
She looked ready to whine but merely nodded, dropping back down on her back. Making quick work of it, he rubbed the lotion into her skin until it disappeared, bringing her to edge again as the red faded but stopping just a little too soon. “Bastard.” It sounded affectionate.
“Good girls wait, Claire.”
Her eyes slit open in another baleful glare, the little edges of defiance still there. Then she said a please that sounded a lot like 'go fuck yourself' that he ignored. He'd already decided that he'd like to see her in a gag and he checked out a small, black ball gag hovering in the air before bringing it slam into his palm. When he nudged she lifted her head up and the gag fit snugly, filling her mouth without making her stretch too wide. Pretty. He kissed her lightly and pulled back.
Other toys came out toward him, not in her line of sight, and he weighed which ones he wanted first. His eyes darted to the ceiling as he made a decision and hers followed to find the small but sturdy hooks there. She tried to swallow around the gag and the first bit of drool spilled over her lips. Along with the heavier chains she'd already worn he had thin, stainless steel ones that he brought out now and attached to the cuffs she still wore. He lifted her on her knees and clipped the chains together not far from her wrists, raising them above her head. Using his abilities for the rest the chain was quickly secured to the ceiling and he used rope to tie just below her knees, securing that to the legs of the bed. Finally he secured the ankle cuffs to the headboard.
“Perfect.”
She didn't seem to agree so much. He'd arranged it so that the chain controlling her arms secured to a hook near the head of the bed while the rope stayed short enough to drag her knees forward. Without being able to straighten her legs, due to the ankle restraints, her body arched in a beautiful stretched curve, her spread legs opened wide and her knees lifted just off the surface of the bed. Taunt, slightly painful, and giving him full access. He smiled as her head dropped back against one arm and she did her best to relax. Then he settled between her legs.
“You're being such a good girl. Do you know how much I love making you orgasm? Watching as the pleasure takes over at my hands?” And other body parts. “I could do it all day.” He had, early in her captivity. He stretched up on his knees, higher than her both from height and position, and cupped her flaming red pussy with his hand. Not the paint this time but just her excited skin.
Then he smacked the swollen flesh, little rapid smacks that got grunts from her at first until she processed the pain and those sounds turned to whimpers. The slap of skin against wet skin echoed loudly in the quiet room, punctuated by the sounds she made and his praise.
Constant praise. “Good girl. You're doing so well. You're fitting in here perfectly. Isn't this good? Don't you feel good? You belong here with me.” Pounding the message in over and over as she rode the pleasure.
When he stopped abruptly she sagged back and cried out in loss. She even mumbled around the gag, “Don't stop!”
“I'm not done, princess.” He teased the very edge of her entrance, circling the sensitive skin there until she huffed in frustration. Then, picking up the KY jelly he'd brought out, he slicked his hand up with the warming gel and shifted his hand back.
She didn't understand at first, raising her head to look at him, but then her eyes went wide and she shook her head side to side sharply. Mumbled 'Don't's were ignored. Every inch of her belonged to him. Every inch. Sylar took his time, unfamiliar with this for the most part, and circled her anal entrance like he had her pussy until it spasmed at the contact. Then he carefully worked one finger in, pushing against her desperate clenching attempts to force him out. It seemed to make the passage easier and soon he had his whole finger inside, thrusting slightly. He pulled his hand back, sliding it nearly all the way out, and added another slicked up finger. Unexpected, Claire groaned, her nipples tightening again at the treatment. Distracted by this new development he let the shallow thrusts force him in by centimeters while bending his head down to lick and suck her tight nipples. His thumb stretched up to her sex, brushing her opening where she'd stayed wet and ready, but he just teased for now.
“That's my girl. You know that every single inch of you belongs to me, there's nothing you can hide from me or deny me. I'll take care of you, I won't abuse it. This doesn't hurt.” He kept talking between licks and bites, stopping to raise a quickly disappearing hickey every little bit. “Go on and say it.”
She made a confused noise but when he stayed silent she struggled to say. “I belong to you.” It came out more like “Uh elongh twu ew” but he got the drift. He ordered her to say the rest and she figured it out quickly. “My body belongs to you. I belong to you.”
“Yes, you do.” He kissed her left nipple and made the thrusts a little deeper until he thought she'd been opened up enough.
Adjusting to ease under her and get the right angle he dripped some lubricant on the head of his cock and positioned himself at her asshole carefully. Little rocks got him in, each one widening her a little bit until he felt an immense pressure and pushed up hard, popping through. She grunted and he reached around with his other hand to tease her clit until she relaxed. He didn't stay long, rocking and giving shallow thrusts squeezed between her tight, unexplored muscles but he had other plans for them. Then he pulled out, her hole still gaping as he lubed the wide butt plug and pushed it in. Her muscles sucked it up, securing the plug in place without his help.
“How does that feel? Honestly.”
She struggled on the word 'weird' with drool dripping down her chin and trailing across her raised breasts playfully. After using a tissue to clean off his cock head he repositioned quickly and, without warning, thrust up into her waiting cunt in a mock violation. She shook from the sudden invasion and clenched her fists in their binds. “Do you feel full?” She nodded confirmation and he pulled out to the very tip before pushing back in. Already speeding up his pace in her slicked up sex, Sylar worked up to quick, hard thrusts in a matter of minutes and brought her to the edge of orgasm in a minute more. Perfect. He hadn't experimented with this the other time but now he focused on using his telekinesis to 'finger' her clit, applying pressure in just the way that made her scream. It didn't disappoint.
Claire's vice-like cunt clenched tight around him, making every stroke a battle as he kept up a now punishing pace. The muscles fluttered in need and pleasure around him, feeding into his pleasure as much as the emotional high of doing this with the woman he loved did. Then instead of pulling back like he usually would he kept the mental stimulus going. She cascaded, immediately going into another orgasm that stole her breath again, and he fucked her roughly through it all. By the third a scream tore from her throat and her body froze up, muscles caught in the sensation of all her nerves feeling pleasure at once. He bottomed out in her, hitting her cervix and snatching a whimper from her, as he came from the tight hold, pulsing into the wall of muscles four, five times before he finished, each contraction better than the last.
He sagged against her for a second before kissing her forehead and, after she'd gone through the aftershocks that made her shiver head to toe, he pulled out. She still hadn't recovered by the time he had her hands and ankles free, stumbling forward on her knees and finally collapsing against his upright chest to bury her face against his skin. The drenched ball gag rubbed against his sternum but the other dampness, from her eyes, really caught his attention as he released the gag's strap. “There you go,” he told her gently, kissing the top of her head. “All free. You were perfect, princess.” He gave her another small kiss on the crown of her head and tossed the ball gag to the floor. “You can rest now. You did so well.” Claire shivered against him and clung desperately, still crying and clearly now trying to hide it. But he pulled her back after shedding his pants fully and laid them both down facing each other, his leg hooked over both of hers. He pressed the peak of his forehead against hers and watched the silent tears flow from her closed eyes. It'd been overwhelming; he knew the feeling. “You're safe here.”
“I shouldn't like it so much,” she whispered and turned her face into the bedspread. He gripped her chin and turned it back, asking her to explain. “You raped me. You're still raping me. I'd go home if I could.” Her voice wavered on the last though and her brow furrowed until she said, firmly, “You're my rapist. And my abuser. I shouldn't like that.”
He remembered how, during that first rape, she'd been getting off not on some fantasy that took her away but on their actions right then and there. “You do. It's just how you feel.” Matter-of-fact and calm, maybe it would help.
“Why do I feel like that?” She sounded so confused.
“It's how some people are wired.” Relaxing into the bed, Sylar let her come to him this time when he turned over to his back. But he still kept his eyes on her face. “It's not just me. You've always, since I've known you, taken abuse with little complaint and a lot of allowance. At least from men.” Her mouth twisted up, probably ready to deny that. “How many times has your father lied to you, neglected you, or outright hurt you only to have you forgive and greet him with a hug and a smile?” She flinched. He was only taking advantage of the patterns Noah had taught her. “It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Well, I am.” She'd get over it though eventually. But her breathing evened out not long after that and he thought she'd dozed off into a light sleep. It wasn't really that late and he propped himself up on a book, stroking her hair when she nudged her face against the side of his ribs, and called over a book to read.
Today had been a good day, definitely a good day.
* * *
Comments, questions, and constructive criticism all welcomed.
Characters/pairings: Sylar/Claire
Summary: Claire's more confused than ever by her reaction to Sylar.
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: Kinks are electrical play (for fun), gags, and double penetration.
Notes: ~5200 words. The posting of this chapter got a little delayed by an ER trip. Boo. On the other hand, chapter fifteen is finished and I'm working on chapter sixteen in another window. Go me.
* * *
Success felt good. He'd expected a rush when he finally brought Claire to her breaking point, the same way he got one when he listened to his victims scream, but it'd been so much better than he'd known. Aside from finding his father, which had been massively disappointing, breaking Claire took longer than any other plan he'd finished. So sue him, he got bored easily.
But not now.
He grinned to himself as he leaned back against the closed bedroom door, listening to her calm herself as the little drug cocktail he'd mixed fucked with her head. Encouraging addiction had always had possibilities, especially with a woman who couldn't get high on anything except trying to off herself and who compulsively did that. He'd be literally the only one able to give her this if he wanted and it'd be an easy way to keep her close so he'd at least think about it. For now he shook his head, debating what exactly he planned to do next. The weeks, instead of predicted months, it'd taken to break Claire rushed some of his other plans; he'd have to compensate.
First, though, he needed to take care of Molly so he spent the next ten minutes arranging the living room perfectly: the books she'd left out, unfinished, the night before last; a soft blanket for her to curl up with while they worked; chocolate milk for her to drink; and Mickey Mouse pancakes. She was probably too old for them but he liked pancakes and he'd been making them this way since he'd been five. Then he went to get her, knocking on her door before entering. “Molly? Are you up yet?”
Last night he'd gone into her room after she'd fallen into a heavy, pain killer induced sleep, and removed the coverings from her windows except for a light, lacy curtain. It cast a cheery glow on the room as the door slanted open and he slid his attention over to the bed. The perfectly made bed. His eyebrows rose and he readjusted, finding Molly sitting at her desk and writing something out very carefully. She turned around when she heard him, swallowing hard, and watching him seriously. Then she turned back to her work, finishing up with a last scratch, and grabbed what she'd been writing with her uninjured hand.
When she brought it over to him, presenting it like a present, he took the offer gently. An apology card, colored childishly and with a small written message promising to be better. He smiled softly. When he reached out and stroked her hair it felt soft and fine under his touch. “Accepted. And I'm sorry too. I know the punishment was very hard on you.” He crouched down to her level. “And you were just following what Claire said to do, but when Claire tries to get you to run away she's misbehaving and shouldn't be listened to. Do you understand?”
She nodded quickly, her hair rubbing across his palm. “I finished all my homework and started the next chapter in my math book.” Her attention moved to the desk. “Could I please have another pill?”
Oh, the poor thing had to be in pain. Breaks were hard. “I'll do you one better.” He smiled and pulled out the syringe he'd brought from the fridge when he grabbed the milk. After he found a vein he injected Claire's perfect blood into Molly's small arm and started methodically removing the hand cast. By the time he got the hardened plastic off her arm she'd healed. “All fixed.” Her small hand slipped into his and he tugged her toward the living room. “I made you breakfast. Blackberry pancakes with some fruit.”
Molly dug her teeth into her bottom lip for a beat. “Thanks. Where's Claire now?”
“Resting in my room.” He nudged her down in front of the coffee table on a cushion. “Eat up.”
Taking one look at the offered pancakes she started to devour them, pouring enough syrup the plate almost swam with it and adding a big spoonful of whipped cream. He flicked his fingertips, rearranging the cream into a magician's hat, and grinned when she blinked down at it. She ate with a vengeance, leaving nothing but a small pool of syrup, and the chocolate milk went the way of the food. “Can I have some more? Please.”
He dished up a smaller second helping and placed it front of her. By the time he finished his own meal she'd made history of that too. The punishment of withholding food had really gotten through. “Eat as much as you like. I thought we'd have hamburgers and fries for lunch and Claire's asked if you two can go play in the snow later. I don't see why not if you'd like to.”
Molly's eyes flicked up to him, going wide. “Really? We can go outside? Yes, I want to. I want to go outside.” Lucky he'd bought snow clothes then. “Thank you, Sylar.” She'd gotten so polite.
“You're welcome. We'll work on school this morning and you can spend time with Claire after lunch,” he promised, taking her plate after she finished the last bite of pancake. He set it aside, planning to put it in the sink later - or have Claire do it - and reached for Molly's science book across the table. Now in the eighth grade, he'd assigned her a simple biology text book and started at the beginning so they'd already gone through evolution and were on to birds. “Quiz first.”
The basic question-answer format stayed the same even if he asked the questions aloud and she only missed two questions out of twenty, which he weighed as not enough to warrant thinking up a punishment. She'd clearly been doing her work. Like with all her reading he'd done it already, using a combination of abilities - memory and speed reading - to breeze through the text with perfect recall. So Molly sat there and listened, finishing up her chocolate milk, as he explained about how the migratory pattern of birds had to do with food sources and ideal breeding conditions. Occasionally she even took a note in her loopy handwriting, probably when she thought he might ask a question about that thing later.
Birds and migration took up the first hour of the morning and the rest filled up just as easily: world history and geography, basic algebra, and a more for fun art class as he'd noticed her drawings pinned up to her wall in Suresh's house. For her age they'd even been good. Unsurprisingly she had an instinctive grasp of geography and pushed through that subject the fastest.
During the algebra block he went and got Claire, giving her one of his large t-shirts to wear, and brought her into the living room too. She'd sat between his legs, her back to his chest, while he explained the quadratic equation to Molly, her attention lulling in and out. So long as she paid attention during her work he didn't care. Eventually he gave her a notebook to write in or doodle in to keep her occupied so that he could quiz Molly on what he'd gone over that day. With it so fresh she got all the questions right and Claire gave her an encouraged smile for that.
“Sylar said that after lunch we can go outside,” Molly confided quietly, leaning in to whisper it to Claire as he flipped through the book for the problem set he planned to assign. Claire's whole expression brightened at the news he'd agreed to her request and, unprompted, she turned into his chest and mumbled 'thank you, sir.'
“You're welcome. Make sure to dress warmly,” he warned. “There's winter clothes in the bottom drawers in our room.” She'd already found the coats in the closet but he didn't let that reminder upset him. She'd been punished, it was over, and they could move on now.
“Yes, sir.”
“Sylar,” he corrected and she mimicked that back instead then picked up her pen again. “Okay, Molly...” The younger girl's attention snapped back to him and he pointed out the problem set before wrapping up the lesson and announcing it was time for art. Claire even reluctantly joined in before he sent her to the kitchen to make burgers and fries for lunch.
* * *
Claire grinned with a flushed red face, shaking snow out of her hair as she crossed the front door's threshold. Surprising him when he called them to come in, she waited for Molly to go through first and dropped to her knees at the door, near his feet, waiting for further permission. Every single act she did complied with exactly what he'd asked for.
He found he missed her voice some. He'd become used to the addition.
Down on the floor on her hands and knees, shaking snow out, and grinning, she looked like a puppy wriggling to get clean. Sylar smiled at the cute image. “Come.”
Without hesitation she followed him through the living room. Molly'd already gone to her room to get out of her damp snow clothes and start in on her assignments, like he'd told her to, but he had other plans for Claire. When they got to the room he dropped down on the bed, leaning back on his palms, and nodded for her to get up on her feet. “Why don't you take off your clothes? Slowly.” Her teeth bit into her bottom lip, the only betrayal of her surprise, but she nodded gamely. He flicked on the MP3 player - her MP3 player, actually, with all her favorite songs - and browsed to her second favorite track. Though he didn't recognize the band he liked the slow melody and heavy, rhythmic beats they used. “Go on.”
She closed her eyes, her tongue flicking out across her pretty pink lips as a shaky hand came up to the zip of her jacket. He'd dressed her today and the light blue jacket looked good on her. It looked even better coming off and he smiled, though she couldn't see it, and watched her sway her hips in time with the music. Her hips rolled forward, within reach of him, and then swayed out of reach as she lifted her arms up over her head and danced a little. Like this she relaxed, the tenseness of trying to please him leaving her muscles and replaced by one of her favorite songs. It was hooked into her iPod and this was the second most played track after all.
He watched as she dropped the jacket on the floor near her feet and then started to slowly, tortuously lift the hem of her shirt only to drop it back down the last second before revealing her bra. Her eyes slit open and she smiled, a giggle on her lips - probably at his frustrated expression. “You wanted me to do this,” she reminded him.
Corset; he was definitely putting her in a corset and fucking her while she gasped for breath as punishment. She'd enjoy it too.
“So I did.” Sylar's eyes stayed riveted on the smooth movement of her hands where they grazed the outside of her clothes, over her breasts, cupping her sex. He'd be there soon, his touch replacing her teasing. The pants shook off her hips in little tugs, dropping around her knees, then ankles, until she bent all the way over, her legs still straight, and tugged them off. Hard in more ways than one, he swallowed and thought of all the possibilities for that. They flickered through his mind as his attention stayed with the tights layered underneath. When an almost wicked expression came to her face he had to wonder what she'd thought of. “What are you thinking?”
“I don't want to take the tights off. They're comfy.” He weighed that and flicked his hand, cutting away the parts that covered the front of her panties but nothing else, giving him access but keeping the tights on. That was actually kinda hot and it startled a real, short laugh out of her. “That's not exactly what I meant. At least I wore tie-up underwear today.” Mentioning that, she undid the bows on both sides of her underwear but kept it in place except to let the straps fall, undone, to the sides. Her hips rolled forward again but this time she stopped, waiting for him, and he reached forward to palm her cunt playfully, working one finger against the fabric and pushing the silk inside of her. Her thighs clenched but she stood still as he pumped his finger in and out twice before prying the small bit of clothing away from her damp skin.
Her red and swollen folds, flush with blood, gave him the perfect view of her slick, ready opening, but he held off and pulled his hands back. “That's my good girl.”
She swallowed hard and her eyes drifted shut again, returning to the bottom of her shirt and swinging around. Each raised inch showed a little more of her piercing, following the currently blue ribbon up the crisscrossed trail he'd made secured to rings held just under her skin. Finally her back arched and she leaned forward to strip the shirt off, tossing it aside. To his surprise she didn't turn around, playing slowly with the latch of her bra until it too came off.
Still facing the other way she danced his direction until her tight, fabric covered ass brushed up against his knees and he got her game. He lifted her, letting her spread her legs so that she straddled him, and undid his pants. His hand circled his aching cock gently, tugging it out ready to play, and he kissed her shoulder. “Do you want to come?” Letting her think she had some control over this would make her happier.
She nodded, her blond waves brushing against his chest and her short nails digging into his thighs as she braced herself and rose up. Then, trusting him to position himself, she inched back down and found his cock. The head pushed against her wet opening, ready to fuck her, and she stilled only to roll her hips slowly and moan. His own groan echoed it. “Th-- This is the part I like,” she admitted shyly, ducking her head as she rocked and still didn't sink down. Impatient he yanked at her hips and impaled her, tearing a whine from her lips as her body tensed stock still without any breath. Then she gasped, panting. Her legs shook. “Why does that feel so good? Why do I like this so much?”
“Because we fit.” He kissed the back of her head, his own hips still, and let her raise herself in her own time.
She took it slowly, adjusting, until he fit in her like her cunt was exactly where he belonged, and then she rose up again. Already on edge from her striptease and now his hand reaching around them to rub her clit gently, she came in a handful of thrusts, falling forward until she caught herself on his knees, and cried out. “Oh, fuck!” He used the friction to thrust up again, getting her deeper, and she actually squealed.
After that her breath came out in harsh little pants and she rid the pleasure out until the aftershocks took over. Right after the first one he pulled her off of him, eliciting a whimper, and she curled up on her side, her hand going instinctively to her clenching sex.
He didn't button himself up again but watched her gingerly finger the swollen folds, her eyes closed in sweet pleasure. “Open your eyes.” She did, the surfaces of them hazy and pupils large but focused on him. He smiled and brought her free hand up to kiss the inside of her wrist where her pulse banged in excitement. “Very good girl.”
The shiver told him enough, even if she hadn't given a soft sigh.
When he thought she'd had enough time to recover he nudged her up the bed and asked her to spread out, now naked except for the brown microfiber tights that made her gold skin glow. He uncapped the first jar and dipped a finger in, getting it wet. Then he went to work.
Each stroke he made was deliberate, meant to draw a sigh or moan from her, and he tipped her nipples with the blue, painted across her ribs with the green getting giggles, and drenched her exposed sex in red one small stroke at a time. If she'd been glad she'd come she took it back by the end, gasping for breath and near tears in need. “Please? Please please please.” She whimpered it in whispers, her eyes clenched shut and her head thrashing when he teased her outer folds once more.
But when he got to her clit, he merely let a drop of paint trail down to cover the nerves, applying no pressure. Then his hand sparked.
She flinched, her eyes flying open in terror at the power that had only been used to hurt her so far, but that was the lesson. Everything he did could hurt or it could pleasure. Everything. Keeping the voltage low he touched one of the green streaks under her breasts and let the current ride through the metal flecks in a low, tingling way. Surprise seized her face and then a peculiar pleasure as the sensation started to get to her so he rose the current.
It jumped from green to blue and green to red, splitting off in both directions. He could only imagine how it felt, the gentle feel of a thousand little needles applying pressure with no pain. Then he upped it and she shifted, pain creasing her forehead for the first time. Not too much for her to handle, not too much for her to enjoy. “Ride it, Claire. Let me take care of you. Just pay attention to the sensation.” She squirmed underneath him as that 'sensation' grew and clearly maddened her senses as her hands came up to touch herself. He pinned them down and she gave a short, baleful glare at being denied her pleasure. Sylar chuckled. “Soon, babydoll.” His fingers trailed down closer to her sex and he let the current rise once more, pouring into her until she shook with it.
And shake she did, her thighs trembling and rubbing together, her chest heaving, her head turning back and forth as each second built on the last. Finally she cried out, digging her teeth into her bottom lip until he saw red, and choking down a moan as her hips arched pure off the bed, open legs pushing up toward him. Then, collapse. “Oh my god.”
He chuckled again and stopped the current. “I told you pain could be fun.”
“You weren't even touching - How?” She coughed on air and sat up, shivering and sucking in a breath at the sudden reaction from her sex. “I don't care,” Claire decided, still breathing hard. “Do you want me to finish you now?”
He shook his head. He had other plans for himself. “We're not done.”
She looked ready to whine but merely nodded, dropping back down on her back. Making quick work of it, he rubbed the lotion into her skin until it disappeared, bringing her to edge again as the red faded but stopping just a little too soon. “Bastard.” It sounded affectionate.
“Good girls wait, Claire.”
Her eyes slit open in another baleful glare, the little edges of defiance still there. Then she said a please that sounded a lot like 'go fuck yourself' that he ignored. He'd already decided that he'd like to see her in a gag and he checked out a small, black ball gag hovering in the air before bringing it slam into his palm. When he nudged she lifted her head up and the gag fit snugly, filling her mouth without making her stretch too wide. Pretty. He kissed her lightly and pulled back.
Other toys came out toward him, not in her line of sight, and he weighed which ones he wanted first. His eyes darted to the ceiling as he made a decision and hers followed to find the small but sturdy hooks there. She tried to swallow around the gag and the first bit of drool spilled over her lips. Along with the heavier chains she'd already worn he had thin, stainless steel ones that he brought out now and attached to the cuffs she still wore. He lifted her on her knees and clipped the chains together not far from her wrists, raising them above her head. Using his abilities for the rest the chain was quickly secured to the ceiling and he used rope to tie just below her knees, securing that to the legs of the bed. Finally he secured the ankle cuffs to the headboard.
“Perfect.”
She didn't seem to agree so much. He'd arranged it so that the chain controlling her arms secured to a hook near the head of the bed while the rope stayed short enough to drag her knees forward. Without being able to straighten her legs, due to the ankle restraints, her body arched in a beautiful stretched curve, her spread legs opened wide and her knees lifted just off the surface of the bed. Taunt, slightly painful, and giving him full access. He smiled as her head dropped back against one arm and she did her best to relax. Then he settled between her legs.
“You're being such a good girl. Do you know how much I love making you orgasm? Watching as the pleasure takes over at my hands?” And other body parts. “I could do it all day.” He had, early in her captivity. He stretched up on his knees, higher than her both from height and position, and cupped her flaming red pussy with his hand. Not the paint this time but just her excited skin.
Then he smacked the swollen flesh, little rapid smacks that got grunts from her at first until she processed the pain and those sounds turned to whimpers. The slap of skin against wet skin echoed loudly in the quiet room, punctuated by the sounds she made and his praise.
Constant praise. “Good girl. You're doing so well. You're fitting in here perfectly. Isn't this good? Don't you feel good? You belong here with me.” Pounding the message in over and over as she rode the pleasure.
When he stopped abruptly she sagged back and cried out in loss. She even mumbled around the gag, “Don't stop!”
“I'm not done, princess.” He teased the very edge of her entrance, circling the sensitive skin there until she huffed in frustration. Then, picking up the KY jelly he'd brought out, he slicked his hand up with the warming gel and shifted his hand back.
She didn't understand at first, raising her head to look at him, but then her eyes went wide and she shook her head side to side sharply. Mumbled 'Don't's were ignored. Every inch of her belonged to him. Every inch. Sylar took his time, unfamiliar with this for the most part, and circled her anal entrance like he had her pussy until it spasmed at the contact. Then he carefully worked one finger in, pushing against her desperate clenching attempts to force him out. It seemed to make the passage easier and soon he had his whole finger inside, thrusting slightly. He pulled his hand back, sliding it nearly all the way out, and added another slicked up finger. Unexpected, Claire groaned, her nipples tightening again at the treatment. Distracted by this new development he let the shallow thrusts force him in by centimeters while bending his head down to lick and suck her tight nipples. His thumb stretched up to her sex, brushing her opening where she'd stayed wet and ready, but he just teased for now.
“That's my girl. You know that every single inch of you belongs to me, there's nothing you can hide from me or deny me. I'll take care of you, I won't abuse it. This doesn't hurt.” He kept talking between licks and bites, stopping to raise a quickly disappearing hickey every little bit. “Go on and say it.”
She made a confused noise but when he stayed silent she struggled to say. “I belong to you.” It came out more like “Uh elongh twu ew” but he got the drift. He ordered her to say the rest and she figured it out quickly. “My body belongs to you. I belong to you.”
“Yes, you do.” He kissed her left nipple and made the thrusts a little deeper until he thought she'd been opened up enough.
Adjusting to ease under her and get the right angle he dripped some lubricant on the head of his cock and positioned himself at her asshole carefully. Little rocks got him in, each one widening her a little bit until he felt an immense pressure and pushed up hard, popping through. She grunted and he reached around with his other hand to tease her clit until she relaxed. He didn't stay long, rocking and giving shallow thrusts squeezed between her tight, unexplored muscles but he had other plans for them. Then he pulled out, her hole still gaping as he lubed the wide butt plug and pushed it in. Her muscles sucked it up, securing the plug in place without his help.
“How does that feel? Honestly.”
She struggled on the word 'weird' with drool dripping down her chin and trailing across her raised breasts playfully. After using a tissue to clean off his cock head he repositioned quickly and, without warning, thrust up into her waiting cunt in a mock violation. She shook from the sudden invasion and clenched her fists in their binds. “Do you feel full?” She nodded confirmation and he pulled out to the very tip before pushing back in. Already speeding up his pace in her slicked up sex, Sylar worked up to quick, hard thrusts in a matter of minutes and brought her to the edge of orgasm in a minute more. Perfect. He hadn't experimented with this the other time but now he focused on using his telekinesis to 'finger' her clit, applying pressure in just the way that made her scream. It didn't disappoint.
Claire's vice-like cunt clenched tight around him, making every stroke a battle as he kept up a now punishing pace. The muscles fluttered in need and pleasure around him, feeding into his pleasure as much as the emotional high of doing this with the woman he loved did. Then instead of pulling back like he usually would he kept the mental stimulus going. She cascaded, immediately going into another orgasm that stole her breath again, and he fucked her roughly through it all. By the third a scream tore from her throat and her body froze up, muscles caught in the sensation of all her nerves feeling pleasure at once. He bottomed out in her, hitting her cervix and snatching a whimper from her, as he came from the tight hold, pulsing into the wall of muscles four, five times before he finished, each contraction better than the last.
He sagged against her for a second before kissing her forehead and, after she'd gone through the aftershocks that made her shiver head to toe, he pulled out. She still hadn't recovered by the time he had her hands and ankles free, stumbling forward on her knees and finally collapsing against his upright chest to bury her face against his skin. The drenched ball gag rubbed against his sternum but the other dampness, from her eyes, really caught his attention as he released the gag's strap. “There you go,” he told her gently, kissing the top of her head. “All free. You were perfect, princess.” He gave her another small kiss on the crown of her head and tossed the ball gag to the floor. “You can rest now. You did so well.” Claire shivered against him and clung desperately, still crying and clearly now trying to hide it. But he pulled her back after shedding his pants fully and laid them both down facing each other, his leg hooked over both of hers. He pressed the peak of his forehead against hers and watched the silent tears flow from her closed eyes. It'd been overwhelming; he knew the feeling. “You're safe here.”
“I shouldn't like it so much,” she whispered and turned her face into the bedspread. He gripped her chin and turned it back, asking her to explain. “You raped me. You're still raping me. I'd go home if I could.” Her voice wavered on the last though and her brow furrowed until she said, firmly, “You're my rapist. And my abuser. I shouldn't like that.”
He remembered how, during that first rape, she'd been getting off not on some fantasy that took her away but on their actions right then and there. “You do. It's just how you feel.” Matter-of-fact and calm, maybe it would help.
“Why do I feel like that?” She sounded so confused.
“It's how some people are wired.” Relaxing into the bed, Sylar let her come to him this time when he turned over to his back. But he still kept his eyes on her face. “It's not just me. You've always, since I've known you, taken abuse with little complaint and a lot of allowance. At least from men.” Her mouth twisted up, probably ready to deny that. “How many times has your father lied to you, neglected you, or outright hurt you only to have you forgive and greet him with a hug and a smile?” She flinched. He was only taking advantage of the patterns Noah had taught her. “It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Well, I am.” She'd get over it though eventually. But her breathing evened out not long after that and he thought she'd dozed off into a light sleep. It wasn't really that late and he propped himself up on a book, stroking her hair when she nudged her face against the side of his ribs, and called over a book to read.
Today had been a good day, definitely a good day.
* * *
Comments, questions, and constructive criticism all welcomed.