FIC: Electrified, Times Seven
Title: Electrified, Times Seven
Characters/Pairings: Adam/Elle, Haitian/Elle, HRG/Elle, Peter/Elle, Mohinder/Elle, Claire/Elle, Sylar/Elle
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes of any of its characters.
Word Count: 2200
Spoiler alert: Spoilers for pretty much all of Heroes
Warnings: Pretty much straight-up porn. If you're bothered by oral sex, fingerbanging, or femslash, don't click.
Summary: Six people Elle never had sex with, and the one she did.
A/N: This one's dedicated to dragynflies, whose writing is so hot that it burns.
Also, Claire is 18 now plzkthnxbai.
i. Adam Monroe
Adam liked to say he "gave in" to her, but that really hadn't been the case at all. After more than two decades of life in a cell, he'd been hungry for some female companionship, and she happened to be available, if not willing. It took a little manipulation on his part. First he'd flatter her with little compliments, and she grew to like him. Then he'd invite her to linger a little while longer when she brought him clean clothes, his pills, other necessities. She believed him when he told her how dreadfully lonely it was to eat alone, so she began bringing two plates, one for each of them, at mealtimes.
He only pretended to enjoy her company, but it was obvious that she relished his. She blushed once when he brushed away a crumb that had stubbornly clung to the corner of her mouth. She nearly fainted from excitement when one day he leaned over and tucked her hair behind her ear for her. The next day it took him almost no effort to have her completely undressed in his bed.
She was so nervous that she was shaking, unable to take her eyes away from his as pools of tears began overflowing at the corners. For the first time, Adam felt guilty, and so he looked down at her still-developing breasts as she lay still and wrapped her hands around his neck. She thought it took him so long to come on purpose, because he liked being with her, but really he just didn't feel right about it anymore.
He wasted no time in cuddling; he'd already taken what he wanted from her, there was no reason to lead her on any further. He rolled out of bed and got dressed again quickly, collecting her clothes from the floor and tossing them at her feet. Her voice shook as she confessed to him her undying love; he scoffed and called her a silly teenager. Confused and angry, she furrowed her eyebrows and gave him a shock in a place that he wouldn't soon forget.
She had put him off blondes forever.
ii. The Haitian
When she was young, he'd simply cup her head in his hand and erase everything that she'd gone through. She'd be so exhausted from experimentation that she barely registered his presence. He had no feeling for her but pity as he tucked her blanket around her tiny frame.
The experiments didn't stop when she reached adolescence, but after being put through so much already (whether or not she remembered) she had built up enough tolerance that she wasn't the pale, wilting child she had been before. In fact, the experiments left her positively energized, but seething with hatred and resentment.
When the Haitian was sent to her room, her electrical charge would fizzle out and she'd have to find another way to take out her anger. She'd pin him against the wall and shove her hand down his pants; she didn't waste time being gentle as she felt for his cock through the fabric of his underwear. On her tip toes she'd press her mouth against his neck, sucking and biting and barely taking time to breathe.
The first time it happened the Haitian panicked and grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her away, mind-wiping her so sloppily that she collapsed on the floor of her room. He'd felt horrible about it; he delicately picked her up and laid her on her bed, taking extra care to tuck her in, just as he had done for her when she was a child.
The next time it happened (and each time it happened after that) the Haitian simply let her take out her anger on him. They never kissed, but instead pressed their lips on every other surface of one another's bodies - across each other's shoulders, down the smooth contours of each other's chests, between each other's legs. It always culminated with her on top of him, riding him almost frantically, until he made her collapse again.
And each time, he felt nothing for her but pity as he erased it all away.
iii. Noah Bennet
They had been partners once. The assignment - to witness a murderer in action, to observe how he used his powers as though they were filming a documentary. She had been against it; she thought there was a chance the murderer could be redeemed.
"Oh, you like him," Bennet smiled sardonically. She stammered and refused, but Bennet couldn't let it rest at that. "Then prove it. Prove you don't have feelings for this sap."
She did him one better - she proved it to him twice. Once, right there, on the floor of the van, after she pulled the glasses from his face and set them carefully on the driver's seat, out of harm's way. She pulled his thinning hair and kissed him fiercely, biting his lip. Her hands fluttered from the back of his neck to the small of his back as he laid her on the scratchy automobile carpeting. Aside from his glasses, they left all their other clothes on, wriggling out of their pants only as much as necessary. Four, five, six forceful thrusts of his hips, and they went back to business.
The second time was on the way back to the seedy motor inn where they spent their evenings - she started by stroking his cock through his pants to pass the time while they were caught in traffic on the Grand Central Parkway. He kept his eyes on the road as she unzipped his trousers and pulled his dick out through the fly of his boxers. She licked his tip gingerly before taking it all in her mouth, rhythmically moving up and down with her lips and hand, until he shuddered and shot his load into the back of her throat.
He was convinced now, even if she wasn't.
iv. Peter Petrelli
The plan had just been to keep her distracted enough. He didn't want her to notice that he hadn't been taking her pills, but he also didn't want to lead her on. When he took her by her hips and pulled her onto the bed beside him, he had only meant to kiss her. He recoiled with the pain of her sudden electric shock, but it wasn't the shock that made him feel awful for doing it. She was so happy that he had started playing her game; her laughter and surprise and her arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders was too much for him. With her chest pressed into his back and her head nuzzled between his neck and his shoulder, Peter suddenly found one of his hands caressing the side of her face and the other stroking the inside of her thigh.
With Peter, everything was slow and deliberate. He touched her like she was a breakable object, he treated her like he almost cared about her. He peeled off her clothing one piece at a time, smiling shyly as he covered her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, her nipples with his gentle kisses. She followed his lead as she took his shirt by the hem and tugged it over his head, running her hands over the muscles in his chest and stomach, almost purring with approval.
He let her think she was in control. He lay back on the uncomfortable cot, holding her hips again as the rocked back and forth, watching the expression of her face as she moaned quietly, almost politely. Finally, Peter sighed and threw back his head, calling out with pleasure, forgetting that he could be heard in the adjoining cell.
She was the Delilah to his Samson.
v. Mohinder Suresh
She frightened him a little - no, change that, she frightened him a lot. He was amazed at her sharpshooting accuracy, and he couldn't help but wonder how many people she had killed, even if she wouldn't answer the question. He'd never have guessed how thankful he was when she arrived out of nowhere and scared Sylar away - a bolt from the blue.
She turned up later that night the same way at his apartment. Mohinder had let Maya have his room, and Molly was asleep in her own bed, when he answered the door to find her standing there. She still had one arm in a sling, but that wasn't about to stop her from taking what she wanted.
"We have to be quiet," he muttered as he struggled for breath from her advances. She didn't say a word in response, instead using her free arm to help her slip right out of her pants. Before she had even entered the kitchen, she was naked from the waist down, reclining on the couch and looking towards him through narrowed eyes, she let Mohinder know how he could best express his gratitude.
Mohinder knelt before her as she spread her legs, and he bent his head towards her and tentatively explored with his tongue. He took his time trying to decipher what she liked from the tiny twists of her torso, her quickening breath, the fluttering of her eyelids. She hiked her feet up and rested them on his shoulders and he pressed his face down further; the stubble on his cheeks scratched her, and she shuddered. Apologetically he kissed the insides of her thighs before he gently took her clit between his teeth and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. She twisted her fingers into his curls and sighed when she came.
A bolt from the blue - it was a perfect way to describe her.
vi. Claire Bennet
That plane ride had been one of many firsts for Claire Bennet. It was the first time she'd gone on a trip on such short notice, it was the first time they offered her alcohol without carding. It was the first time she'd flown with a short-circuiting sociopath, and the first time she'd held hands with another girl for so long, and so intently, as she absorbed all that electricity into her system without feeling a thing.
But she wasn't completely numb - Claire had felt a strange sensation when she held Elle's hand. It wasn't pain but it wasn't exactly pleasure, either; it was something she'd never felt before. Claire needed to find out what that tingling was; perhaps it was the key to feeling human again. It was curiosity more than anything that made Claire follow her to the bathroom at back of the plane, made her linger until she heard the toilet flush. When the door opened, Claire forced herself in before the other girl could step out; they were trapped in there together.
Without a word, Claire pinned Elle to the wall and crushed her with her lips. Elle hesitantly returned the kiss, and Claire snuck her tongue into her mouth, ignoring the electricity that sparked in the moisture between their mouths. Elle tasted like spent batteries.
Claire didn't know what she was doing, but she was eager to find out. She slipped one hand underneath the waistband of Elle's pants, tracing the elastic of Elle's panties. She slid her fingers into the groove underneath, finding her clit and circling it with her index finger. Elle gasped and sighed as Claire went deeper in between Elle's legs, going back and forth between her clit and her slit more and more rapidly until Elle, dizzy with pleasure, had to beg her to stop.
It wasn't quite a feeling, but it was enough for Claire.
vii. Sylar
Sylar had grown accustomed to taking what he wanted, powers or no powers, and right now what he wanted was her. Steering clear of the gaping hole still there from his recent visit, Sylar roughly undid her pants, tearing holes in the fabric as he pulled them off her. Afterwards, he undid his dress shirt with greater care, setting it aside as she smirked invitingly. He kissed her violently as he pulled her to the floor with him.
It had been so long since he'd had to feel pain that lingered for longer than it took to heal that he enjoyed the sensation of it. And she could really bring him pain. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, whipping his head around first one way, then another, as she clamored for his neck, biting it until it bruised in places. Neither one of them was aware they were being watched, and so neither of them felt self-conscious when yelling and screaming and scratching and biting. Finally satisfied with the number of mottled purple marks she left him, she sat straight up, letting her hair fall into her eyes.
When she lowered herself onto his hardened cock, he shuddered from his neck to his knees and his head fell back with a crack against the slatted flooring. She didn't stop to see if he was all right - she didn't even acknowledge it, except to move with increasing rhythm, pinching his nipples until his whole body cried out with the pleasure her pain caused him. She tossed her head back like an animal as they climaxed together. Afterwards she folded herself on top of him like a cat, pulling his dress shirt on to cover her nakedness.
When she called him "Gabriel" over and over, he pretended that was still his name.
Characters/Pairings: Adam/Elle, Haitian/Elle, HRG/Elle, Peter/Elle, Mohinder/Elle, Claire/Elle, Sylar/Elle
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes of any of its characters.
Word Count: 2200
Spoiler alert: Spoilers for pretty much all of Heroes
Warnings: Pretty much straight-up porn. If you're bothered by oral sex, fingerbanging, or femslash, don't click.
Summary: Six people Elle never had sex with, and the one she did.
A/N: This one's dedicated to dragynflies, whose writing is so hot that it burns.
Also, Claire is 18 now plzkthnxbai.
i. Adam Monroe
Adam liked to say he "gave in" to her, but that really hadn't been the case at all. After more than two decades of life in a cell, he'd been hungry for some female companionship, and she happened to be available, if not willing. It took a little manipulation on his part. First he'd flatter her with little compliments, and she grew to like him. Then he'd invite her to linger a little while longer when she brought him clean clothes, his pills, other necessities. She believed him when he told her how dreadfully lonely it was to eat alone, so she began bringing two plates, one for each of them, at mealtimes.
He only pretended to enjoy her company, but it was obvious that she relished his. She blushed once when he brushed away a crumb that had stubbornly clung to the corner of her mouth. She nearly fainted from excitement when one day he leaned over and tucked her hair behind her ear for her. The next day it took him almost no effort to have her completely undressed in his bed.
She was so nervous that she was shaking, unable to take her eyes away from his as pools of tears began overflowing at the corners. For the first time, Adam felt guilty, and so he looked down at her still-developing breasts as she lay still and wrapped her hands around his neck. She thought it took him so long to come on purpose, because he liked being with her, but really he just didn't feel right about it anymore.
He wasted no time in cuddling; he'd already taken what he wanted from her, there was no reason to lead her on any further. He rolled out of bed and got dressed again quickly, collecting her clothes from the floor and tossing them at her feet. Her voice shook as she confessed to him her undying love; he scoffed and called her a silly teenager. Confused and angry, she furrowed her eyebrows and gave him a shock in a place that he wouldn't soon forget.
She had put him off blondes forever.
ii. The Haitian
When she was young, he'd simply cup her head in his hand and erase everything that she'd gone through. She'd be so exhausted from experimentation that she barely registered his presence. He had no feeling for her but pity as he tucked her blanket around her tiny frame.
The experiments didn't stop when she reached adolescence, but after being put through so much already (whether or not she remembered) she had built up enough tolerance that she wasn't the pale, wilting child she had been before. In fact, the experiments left her positively energized, but seething with hatred and resentment.
When the Haitian was sent to her room, her electrical charge would fizzle out and she'd have to find another way to take out her anger. She'd pin him against the wall and shove her hand down his pants; she didn't waste time being gentle as she felt for his cock through the fabric of his underwear. On her tip toes she'd press her mouth against his neck, sucking and biting and barely taking time to breathe.
The first time it happened the Haitian panicked and grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her away, mind-wiping her so sloppily that she collapsed on the floor of her room. He'd felt horrible about it; he delicately picked her up and laid her on her bed, taking extra care to tuck her in, just as he had done for her when she was a child.
The next time it happened (and each time it happened after that) the Haitian simply let her take out her anger on him. They never kissed, but instead pressed their lips on every other surface of one another's bodies - across each other's shoulders, down the smooth contours of each other's chests, between each other's legs. It always culminated with her on top of him, riding him almost frantically, until he made her collapse again.
And each time, he felt nothing for her but pity as he erased it all away.
iii. Noah Bennet
They had been partners once. The assignment - to witness a murderer in action, to observe how he used his powers as though they were filming a documentary. She had been against it; she thought there was a chance the murderer could be redeemed.
"Oh, you like him," Bennet smiled sardonically. She stammered and refused, but Bennet couldn't let it rest at that. "Then prove it. Prove you don't have feelings for this sap."
She did him one better - she proved it to him twice. Once, right there, on the floor of the van, after she pulled the glasses from his face and set them carefully on the driver's seat, out of harm's way. She pulled his thinning hair and kissed him fiercely, biting his lip. Her hands fluttered from the back of his neck to the small of his back as he laid her on the scratchy automobile carpeting. Aside from his glasses, they left all their other clothes on, wriggling out of their pants only as much as necessary. Four, five, six forceful thrusts of his hips, and they went back to business.
The second time was on the way back to the seedy motor inn where they spent their evenings - she started by stroking his cock through his pants to pass the time while they were caught in traffic on the Grand Central Parkway. He kept his eyes on the road as she unzipped his trousers and pulled his dick out through the fly of his boxers. She licked his tip gingerly before taking it all in her mouth, rhythmically moving up and down with her lips and hand, until he shuddered and shot his load into the back of her throat.
He was convinced now, even if she wasn't.
iv. Peter Petrelli
The plan had just been to keep her distracted enough. He didn't want her to notice that he hadn't been taking her pills, but he also didn't want to lead her on. When he took her by her hips and pulled her onto the bed beside him, he had only meant to kiss her. He recoiled with the pain of her sudden electric shock, but it wasn't the shock that made him feel awful for doing it. She was so happy that he had started playing her game; her laughter and surprise and her arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders was too much for him. With her chest pressed into his back and her head nuzzled between his neck and his shoulder, Peter suddenly found one of his hands caressing the side of her face and the other stroking the inside of her thigh.
With Peter, everything was slow and deliberate. He touched her like she was a breakable object, he treated her like he almost cared about her. He peeled off her clothing one piece at a time, smiling shyly as he covered her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, her nipples with his gentle kisses. She followed his lead as she took his shirt by the hem and tugged it over his head, running her hands over the muscles in his chest and stomach, almost purring with approval.
He let her think she was in control. He lay back on the uncomfortable cot, holding her hips again as the rocked back and forth, watching the expression of her face as she moaned quietly, almost politely. Finally, Peter sighed and threw back his head, calling out with pleasure, forgetting that he could be heard in the adjoining cell.
She was the Delilah to his Samson.
v. Mohinder Suresh
She frightened him a little - no, change that, she frightened him a lot. He was amazed at her sharpshooting accuracy, and he couldn't help but wonder how many people she had killed, even if she wouldn't answer the question. He'd never have guessed how thankful he was when she arrived out of nowhere and scared Sylar away - a bolt from the blue.
She turned up later that night the same way at his apartment. Mohinder had let Maya have his room, and Molly was asleep in her own bed, when he answered the door to find her standing there. She still had one arm in a sling, but that wasn't about to stop her from taking what she wanted.
"We have to be quiet," he muttered as he struggled for breath from her advances. She didn't say a word in response, instead using her free arm to help her slip right out of her pants. Before she had even entered the kitchen, she was naked from the waist down, reclining on the couch and looking towards him through narrowed eyes, she let Mohinder know how he could best express his gratitude.
Mohinder knelt before her as she spread her legs, and he bent his head towards her and tentatively explored with his tongue. He took his time trying to decipher what she liked from the tiny twists of her torso, her quickening breath, the fluttering of her eyelids. She hiked her feet up and rested them on his shoulders and he pressed his face down further; the stubble on his cheeks scratched her, and she shuddered. Apologetically he kissed the insides of her thighs before he gently took her clit between his teeth and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. She twisted her fingers into his curls and sighed when she came.
A bolt from the blue - it was a perfect way to describe her.
vi. Claire Bennet
That plane ride had been one of many firsts for Claire Bennet. It was the first time she'd gone on a trip on such short notice, it was the first time they offered her alcohol without carding. It was the first time she'd flown with a short-circuiting sociopath, and the first time she'd held hands with another girl for so long, and so intently, as she absorbed all that electricity into her system without feeling a thing.
But she wasn't completely numb - Claire had felt a strange sensation when she held Elle's hand. It wasn't pain but it wasn't exactly pleasure, either; it was something she'd never felt before. Claire needed to find out what that tingling was; perhaps it was the key to feeling human again. It was curiosity more than anything that made Claire follow her to the bathroom at back of the plane, made her linger until she heard the toilet flush. When the door opened, Claire forced herself in before the other girl could step out; they were trapped in there together.
Without a word, Claire pinned Elle to the wall and crushed her with her lips. Elle hesitantly returned the kiss, and Claire snuck her tongue into her mouth, ignoring the electricity that sparked in the moisture between their mouths. Elle tasted like spent batteries.
Claire didn't know what she was doing, but she was eager to find out. She slipped one hand underneath the waistband of Elle's pants, tracing the elastic of Elle's panties. She slid her fingers into the groove underneath, finding her clit and circling it with her index finger. Elle gasped and sighed as Claire went deeper in between Elle's legs, going back and forth between her clit and her slit more and more rapidly until Elle, dizzy with pleasure, had to beg her to stop.
It wasn't quite a feeling, but it was enough for Claire.
vii. Sylar
Sylar had grown accustomed to taking what he wanted, powers or no powers, and right now what he wanted was her. Steering clear of the gaping hole still there from his recent visit, Sylar roughly undid her pants, tearing holes in the fabric as he pulled them off her. Afterwards, he undid his dress shirt with greater care, setting it aside as she smirked invitingly. He kissed her violently as he pulled her to the floor with him.
It had been so long since he'd had to feel pain that lingered for longer than it took to heal that he enjoyed the sensation of it. And she could really bring him pain. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, whipping his head around first one way, then another, as she clamored for his neck, biting it until it bruised in places. Neither one of them was aware they were being watched, and so neither of them felt self-conscious when yelling and screaming and scratching and biting. Finally satisfied with the number of mottled purple marks she left him, she sat straight up, letting her hair fall into her eyes.
When she lowered herself onto his hardened cock, he shuddered from his neck to his knees and his head fell back with a crack against the slatted flooring. She didn't stop to see if he was all right - she didn't even acknowledge it, except to move with increasing rhythm, pinching his nipples until his whole body cried out with the pleasure her pain caused him. She tossed her head back like an animal as they climaxed together. Afterwards she folded herself on top of him like a cat, pulling his dress shirt on to cover her nakedness.
When she called him "Gabriel" over and over, he pretended that was still his name.