Bricks in the Wall, Chapter 9: Wall Fantasy
((I have the oddest feeling I've posted this before. Or maybe I just shared it by email with a few folks?))
Sylar slammed Peter back against the brick wall, giving up on words, however biting, to express his frustration with the recalcitrant, stubborn Petrelli. Peter's head bounced and his face momentarily took on a dazed look. Seeing a rare opportunity to take advantage, Sylar smashed his lips to Peter's in a rough mockery of a kiss. It wasn't the first time he'd done it - and that first time Peter had fought him off, slapped him and belittled him. So, fine, I'll do it again. Peter came back to awareness a moment later, quickly bringing his hands to Sylar's shoulders. The taller man braced himself, expecting to be thrown back.
But … there was hesitation on Peter's part, and the beginning of confusion on Sylar's. A moment later Peter's hands fisted into the cloth of Sylar's shirt and he twisted his head with a grunt - but it wasn't to escape. Peter was just getting a better angle. His lips moved against Sylar's, his mouth opening.
Now Sylar was the one frozen in indecision as the tables were turned. Holy fuck, he's responding! He pulled back several inches, staring down at Peter, eyes wide. Surely he was just doing that to fuck with me. … Right?
Peter looked up at him inscrutably as several breathless seconds ticked by for Sylar. Peter took a deep breath and let it out, then tugged lightly on Sylar's shirt, pulling him back in.
Too stunned to know what else to do, Sylar complied. For several moments, he stood there awkwardly, only minimally participating, while Peter kissed at him with patience and persistence. He isn't rejecting me. He's not making fun of me. What the hell is he playing at? Why is he doing this? Questions came fast and furious in Sylar's head until finally he pulled away once more, shaking off Peter's hands from his shirt and staring at him in bafflement.
Peter regarded him briefly, then grimaced and rolled his shoulders, working out some cramp or knot from the fight. He acted like he hadn't been doing anything weird at all, like kissing on Sylar was a normal, day-to-day activity not worth reacting to.
Sylar had to ask. It seemed like a pretty stupid question, but Peter would give some response and he'd work from there. "What are you doing, Peter?"
Peter looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly before he glanced to the side and said, "I liked how that felt." His eyes were on Sylar's right shoulder. A moment later he reached for that shoulder and Sylar, mouth gaping slightly, let Peter guide him back in.
Holy shit. I've wanted it … but now that I've got it I don't know what the hell to do with it. Sylar stood stock still. Peter shut his eyes and kissed him on the jaw, Peter's lips and then his teeth working along the edge of Sylar's face, nibbling and nipping. His eyes are shut. Why the fuck is he keeping his eyes shut? Is he pretending he's with some woman? Peter dragged his teeth across a healthy growth of bristle, biting him lightly on the chin and tugging the skin between his teeth. Oh fuck yes! Sylar shivered, putting his hands around Peter's shoulders more out of instinct than intention. When he next had coherent thought, all he could really manage was, There's no way he thinks he's with a woman.
Peter ran his hand behind Sylar's head, turning it, drawing Sylar's face down, and moving his own up carefully, eyes still closed. Peter kissed him tenderly at first, then more passionately, his fingers beginning to twine into Sylar's hair. His breathing sped up and Sylar's did as well, feeling the beginnings of interest in lower regions as well. Peter moaned into Sylar's mouth, lids still shut.
He's pretending I'm someone else, that he's not with me. Well, Petrelli, I've got some bad news for you, I'm the only other person here and you do not get to forget that. With a snarl, Sylar worked his own hand into Peter's hair. It was as silky and lovely to feel as he'd always thought it would be. He made a fist and jerked Peter's head back. Peter gasped and bared his teeth, eyes flying open. Lip curled, Sylar told him, "I know what you're doing, Peter."
Peter yanked his head to the side to free it and Sylar let him rather than hang on and risk damaging that flamboyant mop. He liked it where it was, on Peter's head. What Peter had to say was not what he expected, but this whole encounter was not going to plan - not that Sylar had had much of a plan. "Then let me do it," Peter growled, glaring at him.
Sylar tilted his head a tiny bit, the snarl fading from his face as he seriously considered that. Peter was … touching me. Does it really matter who he's thinking of? Why do I give a fuck about whatever twisted fantasy is going through his stupid brain? He's touching me!
After the pause for Sylar's thought and lack of response, Peter leaned back against the wall behind him and lifted his chin. He let his hands fall from Sylar's shoulders to his own sides and said, "Or would you rather I didn't?"
"No, this is good," Sylar blurted out so fast it took a moment for his thoughts to catch up with his words. Oh, yeah, great. Why don't you get down on your knees and beg while you're at it? But he shoved those thoughts away as Peter closed his eyes again and drew near, letting his hands rest on Sylar's stomach and then trail upwards. Oh, God, that feels good. No begging's being required. Just let him touch me. He wants to pretend; he wants to fantasize; he wants to check out mentally and just … fuck around with my body. Because I'm the only other person here and he hasn't forgotten that. I'm it. No matter what he wants, I'm the only one he can have it with and he knows that.
Peter's hands ghosted over Sylar's chest and found his chin, gracing both cheeks with a gentle touch as the empath leaned in, lips slightly parted. Sylar obliged him by bending for the kiss, letting lips move against lips, feeling Peter's fingers cross over his ears, toying with them briefly before one hand cupped the back of his head and the other went far, far further south to find the small of Sylar's back. Peter pressed lightly there as he stepped forward until they were touching.
Sylar pulled in a faster breath, but Peter's eyes remained hooded. There was something very freeing about being unobserved. Human emotions were strongly affected by knowing one was being watched. There was an element to this like Sylar was alone, yet here was Peter in his arms and under his hands, touching and being touched, giving him sensations, tastes and sounds. And there was nothing to keep Sylar from feasting his eyes wherever he liked. He didn't even need to worry that Peter might take note of where his eyes lingered.
His gaze feasted on Peter's face, so close, so intent, so full of life and passion. Sylar drank it in, drawing in the faint scent of Peter's aftershave and shampoo, savoring the taste of his lips. Sylar tried to stifle the sound of pleasure that lurked in his throat, at the pleasure of having another human being touching him … with care. Or at least it seemed that way. I know he's not thinking of me, but this is so good. I need to make sure he's happy so he might want to do this again. I'm all he has. Make it worth his while and he'll come back.
Peter responded to the noise Sylar made, kissing him harder and teasing at his lips with the tip of his tongue.
You liked that? That noise? Sylar made a small, tentative whimper. I sound weak. Fuck. He didn't have much time to rebuke himself over it though, as Peter groaned in his mouth in response and pulled them together more firmly. Oh! You do like that! Fuck what it sounds like, if it makes him happy, do it! Less bashful, Sylar full-out whined and Peter acted like he wanted to climb inside of him, starting with his mouth. His tongue probed deeply, one hand fisting in Sylar's hair while the other pressed rhythmically at the small of Sylar's back, encouraging him to grind against him.
Sylar took the hint, shoving his hips forward. Peter broke from his mouth and embraced him, his face buried against Sylar's neck. He was breathing heavily on him, hot breath and needy, incessant noises as Peter ground back against him, bracing himself for more friction.
Oh boy, you're really something, Peter! Oh God, I like this. I know he's just using me, but holy fuck this is good. And way nicer than all the other times I've been used. He doesn't seem to mind that I like it. Even seems to want that. Weirdo. Sylar kissed Peter's forehead, hands on Peter's hips for leverage. His hands didn't stray further because he still wasn't sure what was allowed and what would fit in with whatever fantasy was running behind Peter's eyes.
Peter kissed him sloppily on the neck, then bit him and sucked. Sylar groaned, backing Peter the few inches to the wall and fucking against him harder. Peter's hand snaked around between them and started hastily unfastening Sylar's pants.
Whoa! Shit! What the hell is he …? I'm not sure I want to … Don't talk. Don't talk. Don't complain. He has to want to do this again. Make sure he wants to do this again. Don't stop him. Oh my God, he's touching me! Peter fumbled with the elastic band of Sylar's underwear, having trouble getting it to stay down. Sylar hooked his thumb into it and shoved it down firmly, presenting himself with no small amount of fear.
"Oh yeah," Peter murmured, not looking down, not looking at anything, and again that was a big help for Sylar. There could be no judgment or comparison if he didn't look.
Is he going to blow me? Sylar thought incredulously. But no, now Peter was pawing at his own pants with the same energy as before, exposing himself to Sylar's startled eyes. He didn't get to see much though before Peter brought them back together, unbelievably rubbing directly against him, caressing up and down his own shaft, then Sylar's, then his own again. This is really, really weird … sex? Foreplay? Whatever the fuck, it's weird. You are such a pervert, Peter. Leave it to you to be into forms of sex I've never even heard of!
"Come on," Peter whispered, voice hoarse with passion. "Move with me like you were doing before."
Sylar started grinding against him. He swallowed, mouth dry. His voice was so rough he could hardly talk, but he got out, "Like this?" Gotta give him what he wants. Make him happy. Got to. Such a burden. Ha.
"Yeah, yeah," Peter breathed, running his fingers up and down both of them at the same time, in sync with Sylar's faux thrusts.
Peter reached down with his free hand and took one of Sylar's, bringing it to where their members slid against one another. Sylar sucked in air and tensed. I get to touch you?
"Help me out here," Peter panted.
Okay … um … yeah. Sylar helped, just about agape at what he was being allowed to do and touch. For the first time in his life, he took another man's penis into his hand, marveling at how it felt - hot and velvety, hard and spongy. His motions were slow and tentative, like Peter was too delicate to be handled any other way. Peter began kissing his neck again between croons and mewls. Peter sucked on him hard and Sylar was sure he was getting marked up. He felt a swelling pride and pleasure inside that he'd have something to show for this. He won't be able to pretend this didn't happen. It'll be right on my skin. He can't keep his damn eyes shut forever!
Peter's hand slipped to take Sylar's shaft alone in his grip, pumping faster. His other looped around Sylar's neck, holding the nape. Peter leaned back against the wall, eyes closed in apparent bliss as he worked him. Why is he doing me? He's jerking me off, not himself. Am I doing wrong? Am I doing something wrong? Should I be kissing him? Sylar bent and Peter twitched a little when their lips met, then made a lovely, needy sound deep in his throat and opened his mouth. Sylar slid his tongue inside, tasting and probing. I've been manipulated by a lot of Petrellis, but it's never been this good … or literal.
He could feel the rush of orgasm rising through his body. Do I stop? Should I stop him? I shouldn't … I should just let him do it. He wants to do it. He's using me … oh God, Peter, please use me! His eyes rolled back in his head and he curled over Peter, pressing cheek to cheek and probably drooling on him with the intensity of the sensation. A flash of heat and light passed through him as he came, leaving him whimpering helplessly, vaguely aware that he was in Peter's power completely, wondering if that was Peter's point in all of this.
Peter, though, was not done. In fact, he seemed to go just about mad with passion. He brought Sylar's face back to where he could kiss him, and did. The empath growled in the back of his throat with a deep satisfaction. Sylar sagged against him compliantly, feeling as Peter's hand, wet and sticky with Sylar's come, switched to his own shaft. He displaced Sylar's hand where it had been resting, mostly forgotten by its owner, on Peter's cock. I … I should have been stroking him. I … how the hell did I forget that? Well, he was distracting me. His own stupid fault. I can't be blamed. I was letting him do what he wanted. If he'd wanted action for himself, then he shouldn't have been jerking me off.
Peter pumped at himself, rubbing his whole body against him and kissing Sylar deeply. The empath growled and hummed and sometimes even gasped in lewd response to his own touch. He … he's getting off on me. Like I'm turning him on. Was that it? He's turned on by getting me off? Like it's a power thing? Um … okay, you know, Peter, whatever it takes, I'm here to help, he thought almost gleefully at this discovery.
Peter's mouth strayed to Sylar's cheek and then his jaw, getting progressively clumsier as his breathing began to strain and his body tensed. Peter arched against him and came, hot liquid spattering onto the exposed part of Sylar's stomach. Sylar glanced down at the whitish streamer that was now dangling from Peter's dick. More of it was a little under Sylar's navel, rapidly sliding into his pubic hair. Peter Petrelli just jizzed on me. I don't know whether to feel like his whore or proud. I'm his blow-up sex doll … but at least I'm his something, right?
Sylar looked back up and nearly jumped out of his skin, because Peter was looking right at him, eyes fully open. Sylar swallowed and inhaled and pulled back, feeling like he'd been caught doing something nasty and forbidden. Something about Peter's face shifted and Sylar stopped. Regret? Embarrassment? Disappointment maybe? Peter darted forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips, drawing back slowly with a hopeful expression.
Okay … maybe not disappointment. Sylar felt himself smiling without even thinking about it. A moment later, Peter's face echoed his. Yeah, kind of embarrassing, I guess, Petrelli. You just sexed me up with your fucking eyes closed the whole time, obviously pretending it wasn't me. I can see how that would be shameful for you to have to wake up and here I am.
He thought about that quick peck. It was somehow deeply touching, despite the smallness of the gesture. The kiss was nice though. You didn't have to do that. You could just shove me away and go get cleaned up. I wouldn't stop you.
"You liked that?" Sylar asked hesitantly. If it's just him, with his wants, his needs, then it's not me. I'm just letting him use me. I'm just making things here more tolerable for him. I'm just keeping his interest. … Please be interested, Peter?
"Oh yeah," Peter affirmed with a deep exhalation. "Thank you."
"Any time," Sylar offered, daring to let himself feel just a little bit smug.
Peter was slammed back against the brick wall that he'd been trying to maneuver away from. Obviously, Sylar wasn't so interested in giving him space. If that's the way it is, you're just gonna have to get inside his reach and- His head hitting the wall jumbled his thoughts and for a moment he went basically off-line, unable to do anything more complicated than keep his feet (and that was aided enormously by the wall itself). He came conscious to find Sylar … kissing him. It was so incongruous that for a moment Peter couldn't even figure out where he was.
What the hell? Weren't we just fighting? My brains aren't that scrambled! He brought his hands up to Sylar's shoulders to push the man off, but his next thoughts gave him pause. If I push him away, we're gonna keep fighting and that will hurt … more. He pulled this kissing crap before. He seems to really want it. But what is it he wants - the kissing, or is he just trying to skeeve me out? Two can play at that game.
Peter's hands tightened in the fabric, holding Sylar to him and he moved his lips in unison. As he'd expected, Sylar freaked. Peter was disappointed by that. That kind of felt nice. Hell of a lot nicer than getting punched. I can at least make sure he doesn't kiss me again in the middle of a fight. He tugged Sylar back to him, fully expecting the other man to jerk away and the fight to be on.
Sylar let himself be pulled back, without any resistance at all. Oh, wow. Peter's lips pressed to Sylar's soft and warm ones, lovely and plush just like they looked, pliant and delicious. Sylar moved just a little to make it easier. He does want this. Of course Sylar wasn't reciprocating very much, but the situation was awkward and Peter didn't let the limited response deter him. So much nicer than fighting. He just kept kissing, waiting for Sylar to join in as Peter figured he soon would. Either that or he'll freak out again.
It was the latter, but as freak-outs went it was mild. Sylar pulled back carefully and shook Peter off firmly but gently. The other man stared down at him with uncertainty. And what looked a lot like hope. Peter looked over Sylar's face, watching the subtle play of emotions, reading them more accurately than Sylar himself probably perceived them.
Peter rolled his shoulders, trying to pop his stiff neck, but nothing happened. He was very conscious that they were only a couple inches apart and Sylar hadn't moved away. The other man was neither looming nor retreating. They were almost touching even now. The proximity told Peter a lot about Sylar's desires, a closeted homo-(or bi-)sexuality that cloaked itself with violence and aggression rather than admit to what might be seen as a weakness.
"What are you doing, Peter?" Sylar's voice sounded raw, maybe a little afraid and a lot bewildered.
You mean, why am I giving you what you were trying to take? Is it that hard a concept to imagine you might be highly kissable? He looked up at Sylar with narrowed eyes. It's either this or fight with you and I'm sort of tired of being the punching bag for your repressed urges. Especially tired of it when your lips felt that nice. "I liked how that felt," Peter replied, reaching slowly but casually for Sylar's shoulder and pulling him back in.
Peter shut his eyes. He didn't want to be kissing Sylar. The man he was with? Of course. But not Sylar. Sylar had killed Nathan, he'd assaulted Claire, he'd killed Peter a few times, he'd murdered scores of people. The man Peter wanted to touch was someone else - he was the person who so desperately wanted to break out from behind Sylar's shell of cicatrized defenses. He was the person standing so close, letting Peter's mouth find his jaw and lip along it, biting him lightly, teasing his way to the man's chin. He bit and tugged. This other man, the one who disguised himself as Sylar, shivered and Peter's breath caught.
Oh yeah, Peter thought. I like the way you taste. I like the way you feel. You're strong and you're mine … Gabriel. He knew the name from their brief, faux-brotherhood. Peter wanted anything to call him other than the moniker of the killer. He had no idea if the name 'Gabriel' would be welcomed, but he didn't intend to speak it out loud. Peter ran his hand behind Gabriel's head, angling his head for a kiss. It was soft and careful at first. Peter could feel Gabriel's chest rising and falling as if he'd been running. He could feel Gabriel's breath hot on his face. Peter let his hand make a loose fist in the man's hair as he kissed harder, channeling his aggression into this purer form of lust, rather than the bloodlust and violence they'd been indulging earlier.
Sylar, Gabriel, whoever, was not done asserting his dominance though and grabbed Peter's hair to yank him back. It hurt with a flash of pain to his scalp, but that didn't deter Peter from jerking his head to the side as his eyes snapped open. Let go of me or this is over! Sylar let him go, but snarled, "I know what you're doing, Peter."
"Then let me do it," Peter growled, wanting to do something in retaliation. Sylar's hand dropped slowly to his side and Peter's violent urge faded. He's still right here next to me. He doesn't want to fight or he'd back off and get some room to swing. Calm down. Sylar's expression showed vulnerability, not anger, with a mix of hope, fear and uncertainty playing over his features. Peter leaned back against the wall, assuming an arrogant, disinterested pose. I'm not going to let you pretend I'm forcing myself on you, you asshole. "Or would you rather I didn't?"
"No, this is good!" Sylar just about yelped the words and it was all Peter could do to keep from smirking.
Alright. As long as we're all clear on who wants who here. Peter shut his eyes again and leaned in, letting his hands start with Gabriel's stomach - a region he looked forward to exploring in detail some other time - and drift upward over his chest and up his neck to briefly cup his bristle-covered chin before sliding over his cheeks. Peter leaned in, lips parted. He knew Gabriel was watching him. He knew he, himself, was pretty damn defenseless with his eyes shut. If the other man couldn't allow such a weakness without taking advantage of it, Peter wanted to know.
But instead Gabriel bent for the kiss, engaging and letting their lips join in a slow, osculatory dance. Peter's hands moved on to momentarily trace the delicate rim of his partner's ears. Gabriel shifted slightly against him, a half inch closer. I love how he smells, how he feels, how that tingles. Oh! Peter ran one hand into Gabriel's hair again, cradling his skull and using it to guide their kisses. The other hand dropped to the small of the man's back, again trying to offer guidance, not so subtly taking the lead, but Gabriel didn't seem to mind. He was breathing faster and harder, something Peter was doing as well.
Peter took a small step forward, all that was needed to put them in full contact. A thrumming sensation of desire ran all through him, augmented in no small part by the near-gasp Gabriel made. Peter's arousal was drawn off his partner's and every sign Gabriel gave that he was into it was fuel to the fire. Peter moved his head repeatedly in little jogs, rubbing his nose against the other man's as they kissed.
Gabriel made a faint, choked-off noise, too inhibited to do more than that. Oh, no, Peter thought. Please be noisy. Please. Peter pressed to him, making a quick lick at Gabriel's lips, begging entry, begging for more sound and more indication that this was working for Gabriel. The other man opened his mouth and made a pitiful, pleading noise that sounded like exactly the sound Peter wanted to be making himself. Peter groaned in want and need, pulling down on Gabriel's head as he pushed up against him, kissing hard. Gabriel full-out whined and Peter redoubled his efforts even further, tonguing the roof of the other man's mouth and beginning to grind against him. Oh yeah, come on, baby. Come on!
Their passion was building fast. Peter could feel the stiffness of Gabriel's cock through their jeans, straining against his own. He broke off kissing to better respond to Gabriel's somewhat irregular thrusts. Oh my God, I don't think he's ever done this before. Whoa. Peter wrapped his arms around him, his face buried against Gabriel's masculine neck. He panted and used every breath to let Gabriel know, with his vocalizations, that this was totally doing it for him, irregular and clumsy or not. Come on, baby. It's not that tough. Get into the pattern, okay?
They finally got in sync so they were rubbing continually rather than bumping. Yeah, just like that. Oh, yeah. Good, good, good. Peter tried to reward him by kissing the other man on the neck, but it was sloppy. Oh fuck, he tastes good! He switched to biting and sucking. Gabriel groaned, his hands at Peter's hips tightening, fingers digging in and Peter loved that. He groaned again, arching against Gabriel. A moment later, Peter was backed against the wall. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, baby. Put me where you want me. Take a little control.
Gabriel's thrusts were becoming more purposeful and harder - painful actually, now that Peter had unyielding brick behind him. Don't discourage him. Can't tell him to back off. Next step then … Peter reached between them and opened Gabriel's pants. He wasn't unaware of how the other man tensed and gasped. Had he been looking, he'd have seen Gabriel bite his lip. But he felt it when Gabriel helped him with getting his underwear to stay the fuck down and out of the way.
"Oh yeah," Peter whispered, a slow smile lighting up his face. Thank you, thank you, thank you for cooperating. He switched to liberating himself from his own clothes. Working by touch, he brought their shafts together slowly, rubbing one hand up and down his own male organ and then Gabriel's, up and down slowly, relishing the touch. He listened as Gabriel relearned how to breathe. Oh yeah, he's never done this before. Easy, buddy. It's not that tough. This is the good stuff. I'll teach you things that will make you never want to fight again!
"Come on," Peter invited, voice deep and rough with desire. "Move with me like you were doing before." His free hand went to Gabriel's back, urging him on with a steady contact.
Tentatively, Gabriel began grinding against him, letting Peter's hand draw them together so their bare shafts slid over one another. "Like this?" Gabriel croaked, obviously so wound up he could hardly speak.
"Yeah, yeah," Peter reassured, stroking them both with his fingertips. He was kind of surprised Gabriel hadn't popped off already. His other hand had made a fist in Gabriel's shirt over his back. After they seemed to have the pattern down, he reached over and took Gabriel's hand from his hip and brought it to them. The other man tensed up so much he quivered.
Come on, come on. It's okay. It's okay. "Help me out here," Peter panted, feeling a sudden spike of his own vulnerability as foreign fingers, long and slender, curled around his penis. Oh, shit, he's got a hold of me! For fuck's sake, Peter. Calm the fuck down. He's not going to hurt you. I hope the hell not, at least.
As if Gabriel knew his thoughts, he kept his motions cautious and gradual, feeling his way into it rather than just grabbing and going to town. Now it was Peter relearning how to breathe. He started kissing Gabriel's neck again, giving more vocal encouragement. He sucked on him hard enough to give him a hickey. Mine! I can't wait to see that on him. Gabriel's chin was cocked to the side and his neck stretched for the treatment, as eloquent a statement of desire as any.
Peter wrapped his hand around Gabriel's shaft, stroking up and down faster than his previous touches. He adored how Gabriel shuddered against him with each motion. Peter hung off his neck, leaning against the wall and pulling Gabriel over him a little as Peter jerked him off. Gabriel's hand was still on Peter's cock, but the grip was loose like the other man had entirely forgotten what he was holding. That's funny, Peter thought. Kind of flattering. Helps me concentrate on him, that's for sure.
He loved the feeling of Gabriel's legs shifting against his own in time with the motions of his hand. He liked the near-throbbing hardness in his hand, dribbles of pre-come spilling over to slick the tip. Peter jumped when Gabriel's lips touched his. He was so appreciative of the initiative though. Peter made an immediate noise of approval, opening his mouth wide and letting Gabriel slide his tongue within. Peter felt his own dick twitch strongly and he shuddered as Gabriel's tongue explored him. The other man's hips were jerking in time with Peter's hand, his whole body moving at Peter's orchestrating touch.
This is awesome. This is awesome. You are so mine! This is great. Awesome. Yeah, come for me, baby! Peter shifted his hand to Gabriel's tip as the man gave up kissing him and just pressed to him cheek to cheek, mouth slack and wet. Gabriel curled and quivered, whimpering helplessly as he came with the single most erotic sound Peter had ever heard in his life.
Peter was burning with need and that sound … it galvanized him. It made him want to climb all over Gabriel and hump him like a crazed animal. As soon as he reasonably could, he pulled Gabriel's face back to his, growling as he kissed him, reveling in the feel of Gabriel's complete and total submission to him. Peter felt like he was flying. Literally the whole world had faded except the feeling of Gabriel's skin on his, their joined, heaving breaths and the sounds they were making. Peter took his own dick in his hand and started pumping hard and fast, smearing Gabriel's ejaculate over himself.
Peter growled and moaned against his lover, completely lost in the moment. He felt like he was glowing, lighting up from within as his peak approached. He kissed across Gabriel's cheek and jaw, struggling to breathe as the orgasm took his breath away with a final rush. His eyelids fluttered as the crash broke him to pieces and put him back together seconds later, leaving him panting and spent, head spinning.
I don't think I've ever come so hard. Oh God. All those little motions he was making … perfect, just perfect. FUCK ME. Oh … FUCK. He leaned his head wearily against the brick, panting from his still-open mouth, staring blankly at Gabriel, Sylar?, as the other man was looking down at the mess they'd made of one another. Peter let his hand slip off himself and dangle to the side.
The other man looked up and jumped badly, apparently shocked that Peter's eyes were open. The man's face showed a flash of shame and a cringe, like he expected to be hit. Peter blinked, gathering up his sex-scattered wits. No fucking wonder he leads with violence. He thinks I might hurt him now, after that? No, baby. No way.
Sylar stopped, studying Peter's face. Peter moved forward quickly and gave him a peck on the lips. It's good. It's all good. He drew back slowly. Can you let it be good, be someone other than Sylar, at least for a little while?
Sylar gave him a small, very genuine smile that was completely unlike the Sylar whom Peter hated and feared. It was like someone else entirely. Peter smiled back warmly. "You liked that?" Sylar asked hesitantly.
"Oh yeah," Peter affirmed immediately, letting out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you."
Sylar subtly, but noticeably, straightened a little, puffing out his chest just a bit in pride. "Any time," he said.