Impeccable Timing!
Okay, so that's just funny, anyone who's been waiting for a Vampire AU is going to be thinking "Typical, I've waited for ages, now here's two at once..." SRSLY, didn't mean to wear the same dress to the party 'Wari *apologetic grin*
Title: It's in the Blood
Author: Lana
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In a very different world, Sylar is still Patient Zero, written for svhreea_24's Vampire!Peter, Vampire!sex prompt. AU,
Spoilers: Season one for safety
Disclaimer: The characters and parts of the storyline belong to NBC et al. No profit being made, this is just for fun and naughty thoughts...
Warnings: AU, graphic m/m sex, bloodplay (seems like a bit of a pointless warning but some innocent soul might be surprised)
Author's Note: Neath's been playing in the Heroes Verse in Redemption Tag, it only seemed fair that the boys should get to play in hers...
In deference to those who don't like AU (a number I know includes svhreea_24) there's a 'Norty Bits' edit, which just has the Vampire!Petlar PWP.
Peter stared at the monster. I can’t be like you, he thought frantically. How can I be like you, you’re a monster, a bogeyman, Jesus, you’re a fucking vampire. A real vampire. And I have fangs… And I don’t like bright lights, and I sucked your blood and it tasted so right…. Oh Jesus H fucking Christ I’m like you…
Sylar was running his tongue along the length of Peter’s throat, making sure he’d got every last drop of spilt blood. Part of him craved nothing more than to rip open the pale skin, rend and tear and kill and feed. But a stronger part wanted another, wanted someone else like him so desperately.
There was still chaos reigning outside. Their captors had relied a little too heavily on the ultrasound; once you could avoid it they were obviously lost.
The smell of the blood on Sylar’s mouth and chin was driving Peter insane. He fought it, but his guts twisted with hunger, hot/cold shakes. And his jaw felt like it was on fire; he needed, needed so badly. No, no, no this can’t be happening, he trembled. He tried to ignore his want, but Sylar noticed a patch of blood on the end of his nose and licked again, a quick swipe. It brought his bloody mouth a little too close and Peter’s body took over again and demanded a taste. He licked Sylar’s chin, tried to bite, but the other pulled away with a warning snarl. The taste was too much for Peter to resist, he fought his way closer and licked again, Sylar’s chin and lower lip. Then his lower lip again, then his upper lip, the corner of his mouth. Tiny, lost, little tastes. The blood hunger was intense, but an older instinct started to tangle with it, get confused, and the tastes turned into a kiss.
Sylar tried to back away, a little surprised, but it felt good. Unbelievably so. He opened his mouth and let the other deepen the kiss. Peter did, growling a little, pushing his fingers into Sylar’s dense black hair. He kissed roughly, not quite daring to bite but coming very close. The blood smeared, tasting sweet/salt on his tongue. The tangled instincts ruled him now and he worked his way down Sylar’s face and nuzzled his throat, still hungry.
Sylar fought the urge to extend his chin and let the younger vampire feed. It was almost overpowering, but he couldn’t give in to it. He was still hungry himself. And if he got too hungry he knew he would kill the other. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. He leant down and found Peter’s mouth again, trying to distract him with another kiss. It seemed to work; Peter mewled again and kissed back hungrily. He wrapped his legs around Sylar’s torso and pushed him down into the gurney. Sylar allowed the treatment, knowing he was strong enough to shove the other away if needed. He wanted this. He hadn’t known it, but it had been there. In the back of his mind, festering. A hunger to be touched, to have contact with another like himself. The realisation was disturbing, but he wasn’t going to fight. He’d learnt over the last six months you couldn’t fight this new set of wants and needs, your own body turned against you if you did. And it always won.
Peter mewled and tried to bite again, Sylar had to grab him by the hair to stop him. He fought, growling. Sylar waited for him to calm down, realise what he was doing. Peter did.
“Oh My God, what are we doing? I can’t do this. This can’t happen.”
Sylar flipped them over, pinning the smaller man. “Yes it can.” He ground into him, wanting contact, he could feel the other’s erection through the thin cotton of their hospital whites. He pushed against him again, wanting friction.
“Stop it. I don’t want this. I’m not gay.”
“Your body is. Cock-tease.” He kissed Peter, hard, to stop his complaints. Peter tasted blood again; it was too much for him, he stopped fighting and relaxed into the other’s mouth, his body taking over, bypassing his brain.
Sylar grinned wolfishly and started to move back and forth, grinding them together. Peter arched and pushed his pelvis up, increasing the friction between them, desperate to satisfy at least one hunger. He kissed hard, wanting more, wanting blood, food, peace. Sylar was surprised when he felt himself being spun over, pushed back to the bottom. This one was surprisingly strong. Peter moved on top of him, keeping the rhythm going, the grind. They kissed, fingers tangling in hair, limbs wrapping together. Ignoring the outside world. The chaos in the building, the repeated electrical current being passed uselessly through the walls and floor, the steady hum of the ultrasound alarm burning itself out from being left on too long...
Peter bit Sylar, sudden and unexpected, down near his collarbone. For a moment Sylar was furious, determined to rip him free and hurt him for the insolence. But then he realised he could reach Peter. He bit back, revelling in the unusual taste. The similarities were more pronounced now; the mixture of different infections in his system had started to reproduce in Peter’s. They clung together, lost in sensation, in the rhythmic grind of hips, the taste of each other, the connection. Every ghosting breath across skin, every twitching movement, every drop of pumping blood. Sylar scratched Peter’s back and felt a mirror pain slide down his own flesh, ran his fingers across the other’s flanks and felt the caress with him. Peter moaned and writhed, stroked Sylar’s chest. Sylar felt a ghost of sensation across his palm and knew Peter had felt the mirror caress. He forced a hand between them, into the other’s hospital pants, and grabbed Peter’s erection. The shared experience of that caress nearly undid him, he cried out, unaware of the impact his yell had on those outside. Peter got the idea and did the same; they both released their bites, desperate to satisfy a different hunger now. Moving in unison, they kept each stroke equal, because to use different rhythms was too much sensation, too much overload. Hands squeezed and teased, rubbing against each other’s cocks, stimulating pressure. The kiss was savage and brutal, plundering each other’s mouths, slicing tongues and lips on extended fangs. The taste of mingling blood only added to the mutual lust. Sylar was shaking inside, he hadn’t realised anything like this could ever exist. Peter whimpered, trying not to think about what he was doing. He lost himself in the red fog, let his body take over, it knew what to do. The pleasure built exponentially, hot waves slamming through them, sparking off each other, rebounding and twisting. Each experiencing the other’s every internal sensation, every tingling bubble of yes. Sylar felt Peter’s orgasm start, a shivery explosion deep inside, it was enough to push him over the edge, he screeched with overload, his wail mingling with Peter’s as they bucked against each other. ohyesohyesohyesohyesohyes. The orgasm nearly tore each of them apart, each burst amplified by the other feeling it too and passing it back. An overpowering tidal wave. Caught in a feedback loop of pleasure, they didn’t notice at first when the door opened abruptly.
“What are you doing are you insane?” A voice hissed.
“They’re killing each other in there, if none of you will stop it I will.” Nathan snarled. The sight in front of his eyes stopped him in his tracks. He’d expected blood and destruction; he’d expected to find a monster stood over the remaining chunks of his brother. The last thing he had expected was to be confronted by two bleary eyed, sexually satisfied, blood smeared faces. The last thing he had expected to see was his brother on top of the monster with his hand down his pants.
“Holy Crap,” Parkman summed everybody’s thoughts in one fell swoop. “Are they doing what I think they’re doing?”
fake cut to full version
Title: It's in the Blood
Author: Lana
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In a very different world, Sylar is still Patient Zero, written for svhreea_24's Vampire!Peter, Vampire!sex prompt. AU,
Spoilers: Season one for safety
Disclaimer: The characters and parts of the storyline belong to NBC et al. No profit being made, this is just for fun and naughty thoughts...
Warnings: AU, graphic m/m sex, bloodplay (seems like a bit of a pointless warning but some innocent soul might be surprised)
Author's Note: Neath's been playing in the Heroes Verse in Redemption Tag, it only seemed fair that the boys should get to play in hers...
In deference to those who don't like AU (a number I know includes svhreea_24) there's a 'Norty Bits' edit, which just has the Vampire!Petlar PWP.
Peter stared at the monster. I can’t be like you, he thought frantically. How can I be like you, you’re a monster, a bogeyman, Jesus, you’re a fucking vampire. A real vampire. And I have fangs… And I don’t like bright lights, and I sucked your blood and it tasted so right…. Oh Jesus H fucking Christ I’m like you…
Sylar was running his tongue along the length of Peter’s throat, making sure he’d got every last drop of spilt blood. Part of him craved nothing more than to rip open the pale skin, rend and tear and kill and feed. But a stronger part wanted another, wanted someone else like him so desperately.
There was still chaos reigning outside. Their captors had relied a little too heavily on the ultrasound; once you could avoid it they were obviously lost.
The smell of the blood on Sylar’s mouth and chin was driving Peter insane. He fought it, but his guts twisted with hunger, hot/cold shakes. And his jaw felt like it was on fire; he needed, needed so badly. No, no, no this can’t be happening, he trembled. He tried to ignore his want, but Sylar noticed a patch of blood on the end of his nose and licked again, a quick swipe. It brought his bloody mouth a little too close and Peter’s body took over again and demanded a taste. He licked Sylar’s chin, tried to bite, but the other pulled away with a warning snarl. The taste was too much for Peter to resist, he fought his way closer and licked again, Sylar’s chin and lower lip. Then his lower lip again, then his upper lip, the corner of his mouth. Tiny, lost, little tastes. The blood hunger was intense, but an older instinct started to tangle with it, get confused, and the tastes turned into a kiss.
Sylar tried to back away, a little surprised, but it felt good. Unbelievably so. He opened his mouth and let the other deepen the kiss. Peter did, growling a little, pushing his fingers into Sylar’s dense black hair. He kissed roughly, not quite daring to bite but coming very close. The blood smeared, tasting sweet/salt on his tongue. The tangled instincts ruled him now and he worked his way down Sylar’s face and nuzzled his throat, still hungry.
Sylar fought the urge to extend his chin and let the younger vampire feed. It was almost overpowering, but he couldn’t give in to it. He was still hungry himself. And if he got too hungry he knew he would kill the other. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. He leant down and found Peter’s mouth again, trying to distract him with another kiss. It seemed to work; Peter mewled again and kissed back hungrily. He wrapped his legs around Sylar’s torso and pushed him down into the gurney. Sylar allowed the treatment, knowing he was strong enough to shove the other away if needed. He wanted this. He hadn’t known it, but it had been there. In the back of his mind, festering. A hunger to be touched, to have contact with another like himself. The realisation was disturbing, but he wasn’t going to fight. He’d learnt over the last six months you couldn’t fight this new set of wants and needs, your own body turned against you if you did. And it always won.
Peter mewled and tried to bite again, Sylar had to grab him by the hair to stop him. He fought, growling. Sylar waited for him to calm down, realise what he was doing. Peter did.
“Oh My God, what are we doing? I can’t do this. This can’t happen.”
Sylar flipped them over, pinning the smaller man. “Yes it can.” He ground into him, wanting contact, he could feel the other’s erection through the thin cotton of their hospital whites. He pushed against him again, wanting friction.
“Stop it. I don’t want this. I’m not gay.”
“Your body is. Cock-tease.” He kissed Peter, hard, to stop his complaints. Peter tasted blood again; it was too much for him, he stopped fighting and relaxed into the other’s mouth, his body taking over, bypassing his brain.
Sylar grinned wolfishly and started to move back and forth, grinding them together. Peter arched and pushed his pelvis up, increasing the friction between them, desperate to satisfy at least one hunger. He kissed hard, wanting more, wanting blood, food, peace. Sylar was surprised when he felt himself being spun over, pushed back to the bottom. This one was surprisingly strong. Peter moved on top of him, keeping the rhythm going, the grind. They kissed, fingers tangling in hair, limbs wrapping together. Ignoring the outside world. The chaos in the building, the repeated electrical current being passed uselessly through the walls and floor, the steady hum of the ultrasound alarm burning itself out from being left on too long...
Peter bit Sylar, sudden and unexpected, down near his collarbone. For a moment Sylar was furious, determined to rip him free and hurt him for the insolence. But then he realised he could reach Peter. He bit back, revelling in the unusual taste. The similarities were more pronounced now; the mixture of different infections in his system had started to reproduce in Peter’s. They clung together, lost in sensation, in the rhythmic grind of hips, the taste of each other, the connection. Every ghosting breath across skin, every twitching movement, every drop of pumping blood. Sylar scratched Peter’s back and felt a mirror pain slide down his own flesh, ran his fingers across the other’s flanks and felt the caress with him. Peter moaned and writhed, stroked Sylar’s chest. Sylar felt a ghost of sensation across his palm and knew Peter had felt the mirror caress. He forced a hand between them, into the other’s hospital pants, and grabbed Peter’s erection. The shared experience of that caress nearly undid him, he cried out, unaware of the impact his yell had on those outside. Peter got the idea and did the same; they both released their bites, desperate to satisfy a different hunger now. Moving in unison, they kept each stroke equal, because to use different rhythms was too much sensation, too much overload. Hands squeezed and teased, rubbing against each other’s cocks, stimulating pressure. The kiss was savage and brutal, plundering each other’s mouths, slicing tongues and lips on extended fangs. The taste of mingling blood only added to the mutual lust. Sylar was shaking inside, he hadn’t realised anything like this could ever exist. Peter whimpered, trying not to think about what he was doing. He lost himself in the red fog, let his body take over, it knew what to do. The pleasure built exponentially, hot waves slamming through them, sparking off each other, rebounding and twisting. Each experiencing the other’s every internal sensation, every tingling bubble of yes. Sylar felt Peter’s orgasm start, a shivery explosion deep inside, it was enough to push him over the edge, he screeched with overload, his wail mingling with Peter’s as they bucked against each other. ohyesohyesohyesohyesohyes. The orgasm nearly tore each of them apart, each burst amplified by the other feeling it too and passing it back. An overpowering tidal wave. Caught in a feedback loop of pleasure, they didn’t notice at first when the door opened abruptly.
“What are you doing are you insane?” A voice hissed.
“They’re killing each other in there, if none of you will stop it I will.” Nathan snarled. The sight in front of his eyes stopped him in his tracks. He’d expected blood and destruction; he’d expected to find a monster stood over the remaining chunks of his brother. The last thing he had expected was to be confronted by two bleary eyed, sexually satisfied, blood smeared faces. The last thing he had expected to see was his brother on top of the monster with his hand down his pants.
“Holy Crap,” Parkman summed everybody’s thoughts in one fell swoop. “Are they doing what I think they’re doing?”
fake cut to full version