Fic : ''Marked''
Word count : 673
Pairing : Luke / Sylar
Rating : PG13
Spoilers : None
Notes : for my first heroes_bingo square 'Writing on the body'
Summary : Sylar comes up with a solution to Luke's lack of body confidence
Luke shivered as a droplet of water from the washcloth dripped onto his bare skin. He felt Sylar's sure hands smoothing the cloth over his back and let out the breath he had been holding since he had obeyed and lay on his stomach as Sylar cut off his shirt. The previous evening they had been so close to finally going all the way. Luke had never been able to predict when Sylar would be 'in the mood'. They had made their way from 'Thank God we're alive' kissing to 'I just want someone to touch me' hand jobs and 'I own you so get on your knees'blowjobs . (Only Sylar had been on the receiving end of those.) When Sylar had finally tried to pin him to the bed and literally rip his clothes off, Luke had frozen. Luke hated his body, his skin in particular. He didn't want Sylar to see his acne ravaged back and be repulsed by him, so he had said no. Yelled no, actually, until Sylar had backed off.
Later, when Luke's angry tears had dried, he had explained. He didn't have much choice, seeing as Sylar's lie detection ability was making him buzz like a badly played game of Operation every time Luke spoke. Sylar had explained that he knew Luke was lying when he said he didn't want sex, which is why he had pushed it. Finally, when the truth outed, Sylar almost laughed. "I don't care about that." He had said.
Now Luke lay on the bed of the recently acquired cabin and was glad he couldn't see Sylar's look of revulsion. Sylar said he had a solution, and Luke would do anything if it meant he could feel Sylar on him, in him. He wasn't allowed to look, until Sylar was done. He was half excited and half terrified.
"Are you ready?" Sylar's voice rumbled through the silence.
Luke nodded and closed his eyes, his breaths hitching. After what seemed like an age he shivered as something brushed against his skin. There were cold strokes, the path of which Luke couldn't determine, but the sensation was like being gently licked by someone who had been eating a snowcone. His dick hardened and he scrunched his eyes shut, trying to kill his erection while he knew he was probably a way away from being sated.
All was silent while the strokes continued. The only other sensation was the warmth of Sylar's breath on Luke's back, moving gradually from his shoulders down to the small of his back and then up the right side and down the left. Finally, Sylar kissed his gently between his shoulder blades and told him to stay still for just one more hour. Luke had no concept of the time passing and drifted off as he listened to Sylar moving around the cabin, making tea, flicking through a book. Underneath his body the old fashioned waffle knit bedspread was getting warm but he dared not move. Slowly but surely, he drifted into sleep.
"You can look now." Sylar voice awoke him and he drowsily heaved himself up off the bed, standing before the mirror. "Turn around." Sylar ordered, giving him a hand mirror from the bedroom dresser. Luke held up the mirror, angling it slightly, and gasped. His entire back was filled with an intricate design in brown ink. There were tendrils as if from a vine, flames, an eclipse, randomhelixes , and in the centre a stylised rendering of the name 'Sylar'. "It's henna, it won't last forever. When it starts to fade I'll go over it."
Luke smiled. It covered his acne, but it also marked him. Not in a cruel way, not a tattoo, permanent and painful, but an ink which might fade and would have to be renewed. "It's amazing." Luke managed, seeing something new every time he looked at the design. "It's beautiful."
Sylar traced his fingers over his own name on Luke's skin and held him close. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes it could be."
Pairing : Luke / Sylar
Rating : PG13
Spoilers : None
Notes : for my first heroes_bingo square 'Writing on the body'
Summary : Sylar comes up with a solution to Luke's lack of body confidence
Luke shivered as a droplet of water from the washcloth dripped onto his bare skin. He felt Sylar's sure hands smoothing the cloth over his back and let out the breath he had been holding since he had obeyed and lay on his stomach as Sylar cut off his shirt. The previous evening they had been so close to finally going all the way. Luke had never been able to predict when Sylar would be 'in the mood'. They had made their way from 'Thank God we're alive' kissing to 'I just want someone to touch me' hand jobs and 'I own you so get on your knees'blowjobs . (Only Sylar had been on the receiving end of those.) When Sylar had finally tried to pin him to the bed and literally rip his clothes off, Luke had frozen. Luke hated his body, his skin in particular. He didn't want Sylar to see his acne ravaged back and be repulsed by him, so he had said no. Yelled no, actually, until Sylar had backed off.
Later, when Luke's angry tears had dried, he had explained. He didn't have much choice, seeing as Sylar's lie detection ability was making him buzz like a badly played game of Operation every time Luke spoke. Sylar had explained that he knew Luke was lying when he said he didn't want sex, which is why he had pushed it. Finally, when the truth outed, Sylar almost laughed. "I don't care about that." He had said.
Now Luke lay on the bed of the recently acquired cabin and was glad he couldn't see Sylar's look of revulsion. Sylar said he had a solution, and Luke would do anything if it meant he could feel Sylar on him, in him. He wasn't allowed to look, until Sylar was done. He was half excited and half terrified.
"Are you ready?" Sylar's voice rumbled through the silence.
Luke nodded and closed his eyes, his breaths hitching. After what seemed like an age he shivered as something brushed against his skin. There were cold strokes, the path of which Luke couldn't determine, but the sensation was like being gently licked by someone who had been eating a snowcone. His dick hardened and he scrunched his eyes shut, trying to kill his erection while he knew he was probably a way away from being sated.
All was silent while the strokes continued. The only other sensation was the warmth of Sylar's breath on Luke's back, moving gradually from his shoulders down to the small of his back and then up the right side and down the left. Finally, Sylar kissed his gently between his shoulder blades and told him to stay still for just one more hour. Luke had no concept of the time passing and drifted off as he listened to Sylar moving around the cabin, making tea, flicking through a book. Underneath his body the old fashioned waffle knit bedspread was getting warm but he dared not move. Slowly but surely, he drifted into sleep.
"You can look now." Sylar voice awoke him and he drowsily heaved himself up off the bed, standing before the mirror. "Turn around." Sylar ordered, giving him a hand mirror from the bedroom dresser. Luke held up the mirror, angling it slightly, and gasped. His entire back was filled with an intricate design in brown ink. There were tendrils as if from a vine, flames, an eclipse, randomhelixes , and in the centre a stylised rendering of the name 'Sylar'. "It's henna, it won't last forever. When it starts to fade I'll go over it."
Luke smiled. It covered his acne, but it also marked him. Not in a cruel way, not a tattoo, permanent and painful, but an ink which might fade and would have to be renewed. "It's amazing." Luke managed, seeing something new every time he looked at the design. "It's beautiful."
Sylar traced his fingers over his own name on Luke's skin and held him close. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes it could be."