Sexual Tension Chapter 18: There's Fire
Title: There's Fire
Characters: Sylar, Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, bondage, light domination, all very consensual
Word count: 5,500
Setting: The Wall, Sexual Tension AU
Summary: The final walls between one another are torn down.
Peter ended up chained to two poles much like Sylar had been before. However, his arms were somewhat free to move up and down rather than being forced above his head, and he faced into the set of four poles rather than out of it. He was also naked. Sylar had covered the blue tarp with the mattress, taking up the space between the poles and sticking out a little on each side. It was an event that had tempted Peter with all manner of dirty thoughts and naughty promises.
Sylar had not given him a play-by-play or even so much as a general theme. He'd mentioned the intense and immediate climax Peter had experienced the day before when he'd been held down - that was what Sylar wanted to play to, and that was what he wanted Peter's cooperation on. He'd skated around one other thing until it was Peter who made it verbal: "You want to know if I trust you." Sylar had merely swallowed and kissed him as an answer - a resounding 'yes' of insecurity that Peter wanted to dispel.
Peter's toes squirmed against the edge of the mattress, rubbing up and down against the shoddy fabric. He was tense, muscles tightening as he shifted uneasily, eyes tracking his 'captor'. Sylar was circling him slowly, devouring him with his eyes, an activity that left Peter's skin tingling and blood rushing to his cock. He had never in his life been so thoroughly and hungrily examined. He faced straight forward, not turning his head to follow Sylar's movements, but unable to stop the course of his eyes. When Sylar passed behind him, it was even more delicious to go without the certainty of sight. Every measured step across the smooth concrete reverberated through his body. He could hear Sylar's breathing as an echo of his own deepening, excited breaths. The anticipation built inside of him, knowing that at any moment Sylar would pounce, perhaps strike, hopefully not hurt, and definitely sex him up - and there was nothing Peter could do about any of it. He jerked at his bonds again.
While there were some things Peter could do - yell, struggle, curse, threaten revenge, and fight within the limitations the handcuffs placed on him, he knew that ultimately, Sylar could have his way with him, whatever 'way' that might be. When that second cuff had clicked into place, Peter was showing his complete trust, knowing what that cold, metal wrist-embrace meant. It whittled down his options so much that Sylar could enact any of those things Peter had feared when he first came into this room - abuse, torture, depravity, long-term confinement … anything. He has to be tempted, Peter thought. He has to be thinking I might be more fun like this than anything consensual. Every disconnect between them that had played out for the previous two days was in sharp relief in Peter's mind; every disappointment and frustration that had shown, however briefly, on Sylar's face was being held up as evidence for why Sylar might do something very unpleasant. Peter, already ridiculously tense, trembled.
But he'd let himself be chained up anyway. Did Sylar still question his trust?
Sylar came close behind, his hand touching Peter's forearm and sliding over the swell of flexor and extensor muscles. Peter pulled in a sharp breath, all raw nerves and high strung from nothing but anticipation and being looked at. Being touched was a relief and a danger at once - the comforting presence could turn harrowing so easily. Sylar paused, humming a speculative, "Hmm," as he drew the moment out, stroking the softer, thinner skin at the inner bend of the elbow. That was when Peter couldn't keep up his attempted indifference by looking forward. He turned his head to watch as Sylar's hand drifted behind him, hand trailing over bicep and deltoid to settle on the back of Peter's neck, gripping hard enough to manhandle him if he wished.
"Huh," Peter panted, swaying forward a little to avoid the grip. There was very little sexiness that could come of Sylar putting him in his place. It wasn't a place Peter wanted to be. Peter was always striving to be something else, to be more, to be someone … someone other than who he thought people saw him as. He didn't want to be made to be that person who couldn't stop others, who couldn't change anything, who was a passive victim of oppression. But Sylar didn't know Peter's internal script. He pulled him back, fingers digging in enough to bruise. "There's no getting away this time, Peter."
Unable to escape, Peter made a faint, pained grunt and the pressure abated slightly. Sylar's other hand slid around the front of Peter's neck, cupping his chin and then gliding down his throat to the clavicle before coming back up. "No getting away at all," Sylar told him with a small sneer. "I could do anything I wanted to you right now." The two hands wrapped around him without squeezing, but even just their presence made Peter fidget and squirm. He couldn't do anything else effective to stop it. Muscles tensed and stood out along his arms as the metal of the cuffs pressed painfully into the back of his hands. The bones in his wrists complained of the pressure enough that even the normally bull-headed Peter let up. If I really trust him, I'll calm down. Calm down, right? Can I calm down?
"So much life," Sylar murmured, his mouth near Peter's ear as he snuffled at his hair. "So easy to end. So precious for that." Peter let out his breath as Sylar's hands pulled away from his throat to run over his shoulders and then down his back. "Mmm," Sylar purred appreciatively, fingers sliding around his waist, tracing hip bones and iliac muscles before dipping lower to circle around his bare buttocks. He wasn't being threatened with asphyxiation anymore; a ridiculous degree of gratitude flashed through him for that, along with a pleased frisson that danced along his skin and made him shiver at the confirmation that his trust might be rewarded. That was so fucking sexy - the whole thing was. It felt like heat was shimmering off his skin; his heart was pounding, his cock was at stiff attention and nudging his belly. Peter spread his legs, bowing his head and biting his lip to keep from begging for more.
He didn't have to beg. Sylar's lips came down on his shoulder, hot and wet, taking his skin between them and tugging in light, playful bites as his hands continued to fondle his ass cheeks. Peter pushed backwards into them with his rump, presenting himself and spreading just a bit more, breath coming in noisy pants around his bitten lip. "You are so easy," Sylar whispered to him, running his hands over and around Peter's hips before seizing them to grind himself against Peter's backside.
"Yeah!" Peter huffed out in a whine, not stopping himself from giving voice to how much he wanted this. He could feel Sylar erect as well, rubbing firmly along his crack through the layer of denim between them. He wanted that cock inside of him, any way he could get it. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."
Sylar chuckled and gave him a hard pat on the ass as he moved away, his departure an unsettling loss. Now Peter was craning his neck, twisting in place to watch the man, hungry with his own eyes the way Sylar had been before. Sylar had his full attention in every way - he didn't disguise it. Peter's mouth was open, eyes bright, hair dangling over half his face as a result of putting his head down. He wished like hell his hands were free; he was so glad they weren't, because it forced him to put his faith in Sylar, allowed Sylar to prove it wasn't misplaced. It was wildly turning him on. He felt like a spring that was wound too tightly.
Sylar rounded in front of him, stepping carefully across the squishy mattress. It gave him a few more inches of already intimidating height and Peter was reminded again of how wide the power differential was at the moment. He pulled back the few inches he was allowed, looking up further than normal and feeling very much at Sylar's mercy. Sylar was fully clothed, fully free, and there was no one else in the world to hold him accountable for anything he did.
What he did was to tilt Peter's head up, kissing him uninhibitedly like he wanted to devour his mouth. His tongue boldly pressed inside of Peter, welcomed and caressed by Peter's tongue in turn. Peter's hands made fists, pulling at the restraints and having a better appreciation of the exquisite psychological torture by denial he'd put Sylar through in not allowing the man to touch him. Touch meant so much to Peter - giving it was a sign of control. To receive it passively underscored who was in control at the moment and it wasn't Peter. Sylar carded Peter's hair back from his face, running his fingers through it and scrunching it at the nape of his neck as the kiss went on, his hands eventually circling to Peter's chest when he finally pulled away. Peter panted up at him, his plundered mouth still hanging open as he rattled noisily at the restraints. "The things I want to do to you," he managed to collect himself enough to say.
Sylar lazily looked down Peter's naked body and then back up, gaze lingering on his groin. "The things I'm going to have you do to me," he said with a single quirked brow.
Peter leaned forward, lips framing an attempted kiss because he wanted more of Sylar's tongue, his taste, his hands, being touched and surrendering to it. Sylar had other ideas. He took Peter's shoulder and pushed him down to his knees, making Peter kneel with his knees on the mattress and feet behind on the concrete. The cuffs scraped along the poles at the change in height. Sylar was even more enormous this way, but Peter's attention was immediately distracted by the bulging groin he was now eye level with. Sylar took a step back to keep his balance on the shifting surface, then he returned to stroke Peter's hair, swiping it back and to one side. Peter pressed his face forward, glancing up to make sure he understood. And yes, that was where Sylar wanted him - face to groin, or at least upper thigh. Peter licked his lips, salivating in anticipation. This would be an even better taste than Sylar's mouth. Peter had gotten off by sucking people before, but he wasn't sure if he could climax without a hand free to stroke himself, or at least something to grind against.
After a few moments of shamelessly rubbing Peter's face against his crotch, Sylar let Peter go so he could open his pants … slowly, gradually. Peter kissed his hand a few times as he had the opportunity, eagerly sucking in Sylar's thumb and massaging it with his tongue to hurry him along, looking upwards to see Sylar's smirking, lustful expression. Sylar looked like one of his wildest fantasies was in the process of coming true. Peter's encouragements worked enough that Sylar's last motions weren't slow at all. With a heavy exhalation, Sylar exposed himself, pushing down his pants only enough to free his turgid length. Peter breathed against it, letting it air out for a moment, blowing on it and watching it bob in the open air. The aroma was masculine and delicious, stoking his fire even more, as if that were possible. Sylar made a nearly inaudible whimper. Peter looked up with another flash of eyes. Sylar was biting his lower lip; he didn't seem to know what to do now. It was cute that the thought of forcing his dick into Peter's mouth didn't seem to have occurred to him. It would be so easy to do.
Peter teased by licking the frenulum with only the pointed tip of his tongue. Sylar reached his left hand to the pole, bracing himself as his eyes slid shut in bliss and he leaned his body inward towards Peter. Maybe he'd had the thought after all and merely decided to let Peter do this at his own pace. Control and a sense of power settled over Peter even though he was the one chained, spread, nude and on his knees. The great and mighty Sylar was willing to put his little head into, if not the lion's mouth, then at least Peter's. Peter puffed another hot breath against the penis, opening his mouth and making a shallow spoon of his tongue. With an upward motion of his neck, Peter slid Sylar's cock into his mouth and over his tongue, the flaring head of it widening Peter's mouth until his lips popped over the ridge. The tenor of Sylar's breathing changed - he panted open-mouthed now. Peter could taste the salty, meaty flavor of Sylar's skin. It left his own member throbbing helplessly, desperate for stimulation that he was only getting orally. Peter wrapped his lips around the top of the shaft and sucked with lewd enthusiasm. He breathed through his nose as his lungs were filled with Sylar's scent. Sylar put his free hand into Peter's hair and made a fist of it, holding him close as he groaned in pleasure.
Peter made a noise in his throat in response, feeling himself drooling around the corners of his mouth and being powerless to do anything about it. Oh yes - Sylar was literally mouth-watering. Peter pushed forward, taking him deeper inside. He wanted the whole thing in him if he could manage it. He made a semi-convulsive swallowing motion at the back of his throat, then pulled in a couple deep breaths in succession. He relaxed and swallowed Sylar down, letting the entire length inside of him at last. In a moment, his nose was buried in Sylar's pubic hair and the sense of forced fullness was incredibly erotic. He was drooling uncontrollably now; feeling drops of his own saliva hitting his chest and dick. He moaned around the cock in his mouth, wishing for anything - a mouth, a hand, even a god-damn stiff breeze against his own dick. He was sure he needed only the slightest contact there to get off.
"Oh, God," Sylar whimpered. Peter rolled his eyes upwards, able to see Sylar's face on the backstroke as the man began to fuck his face, using the hand in Peter's hair to guide his head back and forth. He looked staggered, blown away by what was happening. Peter couldn't continue it for more than a few thrusts before some involuntary twitch had him fighting the gag reflex, but those moments were ecstasy anyway. Sylar pulled out, letting Peter hang his head and breathe deeply, ridding himself of the urge as quickly as he could. He wanted to get back to giving head as soon as possible.
Sylar petted him soothingly. "Now we see who really sucks between the two of us, don't we?"
Peter looked up at him, giving his head a jerk to flip his hair out of his eyes. "It's the only way to deal with you being such a huge dick all the time," he said sweetly before dipping back for a second course.
Sylar chuckled, but shifted himself out of the limited reach of Peter's questing mouth. "That was fantastic - making you eat me. Now I'm going to make you take me." He pulled his pants up somewhat and crouched, tugging Peter's legs out and arranging him face-up, arms still chained. His head ended up on the edge of the mattress, where his knees had been before. Sylar fetched lube, disrobed quickly, and knelt between Peter's bent legs.
Peter spread his knees immediately, scooting down as far as he could go, feeling the pull in his shoulders. He wanted to be closer, as close as possible. There was no question of trust anymore - Peter gave it, total and complete. Now it was simply a matter of when he'd get off, and how. He could imagine Sylar fucking him while he was bound like this, unable to escape, held down and kept captive for Sylar's amusement. It was a delicious, double-edged fantasy, one that didn't hold fear anymore, but still derived no end of energy and intensity from the illusion of danger. Sylar applied wet, slippery fingers to generously spread the lube everywhere between Peter's legs, delighting him in how Sylar didn't go straight in. The teasing had Peter pushing his hips down, trying to spear himself on the exploring fingers, fighting against the increasing burn in his shoulders as he did. His efforts were rewarded with a smug smile and just a fingertip, wiggling back and forth, in and out.
"Oh, fuck, Sylar!" Peter gasped out when he realized he wasn't going to get as much as he wanted. He still had the rich taste of Sylar's cock on his tongue and the smell of his groin in his nose, but Sylar had not so much as brushed his dick and was giving him less than an inch of fingertip.
"Hm?"
"Please?"
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me!"
Sylar chuckled with evident satisfaction, probing inward with that single finger in an easy, well-lubricated slide.
"Ah! Ah!" Peter flexed upwards, relieving his shoulders and reveling in the feeling of Sylar's bunched knuckles pressing firmly into his perineum with that one insertion. A moment later though, before Peter had had a chance to work himself on it, Sylar withdrew his hand for even more lube. This time he finally gave some attention to Peter's prominent prong, spreading the cool lubricant all over Peter's dick like he had their first time. Peter writhed slightly, trying to thrust into a hand that refused to grip him, sliding off to the side and covering him thoroughly. "I want you," Peter bleated, willing to beg in whatever way would motivate Sylar to give him release.
"You'll get me," Sylar responded. There was another squirt of lube, but Sylar only held it in his hand as he crawled up Peter's body, straddling him with long, bent legs.
What?
Sylar reached behind with the lubricant, applying it to himself.
You know, he won't answer unless I say it out loud. "Oh, wait … what?"
Sylar smirked at the surprised expression Peter was wearing, "Your face." He reached back, found Peter's hard shaft and stroked it, provoking a jerk and a buck mostly as a continuation of surprise. It was what Peter wanted - a tight grip to get him off, but he was too busy trying to process what was going on. "That's it," Sylar crooned, settling back and lining himself up. "I told you," he breathed as Peter felt the head of his cock press against the very wet seam, Sylar inexpertly seeking the right spot, "that I'd make you take me."
Oh. Everything made sense suddenly, as Peter finally got enough brain cells distracted from the engrossing topic of racing to orgasm to consider what else was going on. Sylar was exploiting the situation just as Peter had the first time - making him helpless had emboldened Sylar to try things that maybe he wasn't willing to do when hands were free and the other body able to take things faster than Sylar might want them. Peter could feel Sylar's body yield slightly as the man found the right place. Helpfully Peter offered, "You should go slow. You didn't do any prep; it's probably going to hurt."
"Don't distract me."
Peter felt the hot flesh part slightly around him, pressure causing his dick to bend. It wasn't painful, but it was … difficult. His arousal had dipped a lot, mostly because thinking was not a turn on for Peter. He held very still, letting Sylar push his own limits and use Peter's body to do it. Peter felt honored by that, understanding too why Sylar hadn't wanted to share anything of what he had planned. Peter suspected that assumption he'd made, that sentence said aloud, 'You want to know if I trust you', had been only partly true. Sylar wanted to know if they trusted each other - including if he trusted Peter enough to do this with him. Peter grunted as he felt the primary resistance of Sylar's body wane, the remaining rigidity of his cock winning out over the strength of Sylar's sphincter. As he'd expected, Sylar's expression was pained.
"Does it always feel this way?"
"No," Peter said softly. "It gets better. It'll get better now if you keep moving a little. Touch yourself. Don't try to put me further in you."
Sylar swallowed and nodded, but after a moment, he pulled off completely. He squatted there awkwardly, looking confused and uncertain. In case he was shamed by the perception of failure, Peter made lips at him and said, "Kiss me?"
"It was burning. Is that normal?"
"If you go too fast, yes." He repeated the invitation for a kiss, duck-facing hopefully in Sylar's direction.
Not knowing what else to do, Sylar lowered himself to all fours to kiss Peter's lips. When he lifted off, he asked, "How much did I hurt you the other day?"
"You didn't. Not much. It's okay. I've done it a lot. You haven't." He wished he could soothe more directly, but lacking the ability to touch, he made up for it with a soft expression, gentle words, and complete attention.
Sylar kissed him again and then again and once more Peter's instincts screamed for him to hug, embrace, and somehow hang onto the source of affection. He wanted to give comfort and reassurance. He felt stupid and frustrated in an entirely non-sexy way that he was unable to do much physically. All he could do was bring his knees up, his thighs touching up against the back of Sylar's. And he nuzzled Sylar's face while he had the chance. This, though, was probably exactly what Sylar needed - time to make his own decisions without Peter getting in his way. Peter tried to settle back and relax, hanging onto that thought instead.
Sylar reached back, shifting himself to try again, but Peter wasn't entirely hard. He gave Peter a quizzical look. Peter shrugged, because he simply wasn't going to stay erect under these circumstances. "Kiss me more - I'll come back."
"I have a better idea." Sylar wasn't as erect as before either. He moved up the rest of the way until he was spreading his knees so they nudged Peter's elbows, the head of his somewhat dangling cock bumping up against Peter's chin, Sylar using his thumb at the base of his cock to angle it down further. Peter dipped and maneuvered his head, opening his mouth to receive. The glans was still slick with precome, salty and delicious. Peter sucked at it, feeling his dick harden again as the taste ran through him. Given their position, he could only get the head in his mouth, but that was enough. It was where most of the nerves were anyway - a fact that Sylar's immediate, quiet groan made clear. Peter's lips sealed around the flared edge as his tongue swirled and lapped at the spongy tip.
"That's my boy," Sylar whispered, taking his previous pose of one hand on the metal pole and the other making a fist in Peter's hair. Sylar exhaled heavily and shuddered slightly at a particularly talented motion of lips and tongue on Peter's part. "All mine; no one else's. Special. My very own filthy, little cock-sucking Petrelli."
Peter looked up at him, locking eyes as he wondered how he was going to take that. He was chained down, performing fellatio on his brother's murderer, the guy's hand in his hair and balls on his neck. Sylar's words made it all very stark for him - no denial, no turning a blind eye, no pretending they were normal lovers who didn't have a past. They had a past and Sylar was claiming him, Peter, as his, and making humiliating comments about it at the same time. Peter blinked several times, teeth pressing into tender flesh easily hard enough to hurt. Sylar's breaths came faster, mouth opening and eyes visibly dilating. The hand in Peter's hair tightened and a flush crept over his features.
"Fuck ..." Sylar said in a very small, trembling voice. It sounded a lot like the beginning of a 'fuck me' or the end of an 'I'm fucked'. Or maybe, given the way Sylar's cock was fairly throbbing in Peter's mouth, it was a 'this is so hot I'm about to come.'
Peter let him go and spat him out. There was no way to resolve what had happened in the past with what was happening now except to accept it - baldly, right on the face of it. Things had changed; he had to accept them as they were. One thing he knew and accepted - Sylar did not think ill of him. He seemed to think that Peter's affection was the most incredible and desirable thing in the world, something Sylar was willing to risk his life to gain. The rough words were Sylar's way of coping with emotional overload, just as Peter had in his own ways. Licking his lips languorously, Peter made his peace with it and snarked, "Don't you forget it. If I belong to you, then it's your job to keep me safe." He faked a nip at the erect penis bobbing next to his cheek. "And fed."
Sylar stared for a moment, then laughed, his hand releasing Peter's hair and stroking it affectionately several times. He scooted back, bending to kiss Peter repeatedly and giving him elated pecks across his face. Peter returned them, the infectious joy leading him to breathe deeper and roll his hips, finding he could rub himself into the crease between Sylar's scrotum and thigh. Sylar sat up to give both Peter and himself another healthy application of lube. Peter shut his eyes and let his head tilt back over the edge of the mattress, feeling Sylar stroking and aiming him. He was fully hard again, no reservations, no distracting thoughts. Peter pushed into Sylar's hand, feeling himself guided into position until it was Sylar's butt cheeks brushing the head of his dick, warm testicles settling on his lower abdomen. Sylar found the spot faster this time, pressing back with a gradual, steady pressure.
Peter nudged in, still flexing his hips to prod against Sylar's opening, feeling resistance give way to tight, hot envelopment. He penetrated, 'taking' Sylar just as had been promised. Sylar was doing this all of his own accord, as willing as could be, as giving as possible.
With Peter fully inserted at last, Sylar's breath surged out in a huff with an "Ah!" and he came down with his hands on the mattress on either side, body still bowed to allow Peter to move within him. Peter didn't stop, but he raised his head, eyes opening to watch Sylar's expression. Through the man's hair, he could see amazement - mouth open and no words coming out. Peter knew what it felt like - that moment of realization that you had a part of someone else inside of your body, so much more intimate and vulnerable than you might have ever felt before. Opening to someone willingly in an act that could so easily be violation, but giving trust and having it vindicated instead. Not wanting to ask Sylar to move (not wanting to interrupt the profoundly personal moment he was having), Peter twisted his hands to grip the chains, pulling himself up - a little more off the mattress, but giving him a bit more leverage to thrust. It let him make long, easy strokes, curling his back and bending his legs until his groin cupped Sylar's ass, then away and down until he felt the head of his cock nearly, almost free itself before repeating the stroke.
Sylar groaned, a noise that sounded like it was pulled from the very bottom of his lungs. His hands tightened to fists and he raised his head, grinning savagely at Peter and licking his lips. He was starting to really enjoy it - that delicate, initial period of going slow was passing. With the next motion, Sylar pushed back with a grunt, his posterior slapping against Peter's thighs and belly with a rude noise that bounced around the odd room.
"Yeah!" Peter said, thrusting faster, sinking all the way into that hot, slick orifice, filling him up. He let his head sag again, but the next moment it was lifted. Sylar bent to wrap one hand behind Peter's head, cradling it and bringing him back for a kiss. Someone holding him; someone lifting him up; someone being there for him - it was something he'd wanted forever, sacrificed for it and been betrayed by Nathan, who'd never wanted to be that for him. Now he had someone who did want to be that for him. Peter scooted back down, getting his head on the mattress again. Giving Sylar one last, impassioned kiss, he directed, "Sit up. Let me watch you stroke yourself while I'm in you."
Sylar fondled his hair again before sitting up, eyes widening at how that changed the sensation. Peter grinned, going a bit easier at it as Sylar adjusted. He watched as Sylar took his well-sucked member into hand and started stroking it, thumbing over the tip as he watched Peter in turn. His other hand was cocked back, supporting himself on one of Peter's upraised knees. Peter matched the increasing pace of Sylar's hand with the pumping of his hips, watching and following his partner's lead. His hands were wrapped around the chains, keeping them from biting into his wrists and giving him some support for his thrusts.
It was quite a vision - Sylar splayed above him, eyes glazed, expression dazed, mouth loose, breathing hard, skin reddened with arousal, rapidly tugging at his cock, legs trembling as his breath eventually caught, long eyelashes fluttering as his mouth opened more. He looked surprised, maybe pained, brows drawing together as his mouth formed a soundless 'o'. Peter could feel the man's ass clench around his dick before the come surged out across Peter's stomach - hot, wet, reeking of sex. Peter only wished he could taste it again. That was when Sylar made noise again, another deep groan that sounded like it had been pulled from his gut. Sylar's eyes met his and the subtle shift in expression - from vulnerability to devotion, from hunger to satiation - did it perfectly for Peter. He'd made a difference; he'd helped; he'd changed; he'd saved. Sylar was his.
Heat and irresistible climax burned inside of him, driving his last hectic thrusts to be erratic, sinking inside of Sylar's pliant body until he released, a powerful shudder sweeping down him, making everything tighten. A flashing sensation of chill ran over him as he gave everything he had to Sylar.
Sylar bent down, giving Peter a long, complaisant kiss before struggling over his body to unlock the handcuffs. Free at last, Peter tangled his limbs with Sylar's in a mutual embrace, cooling down and enjoying the high.
Weary from their efforts, Sylar offered, "We could leave now. From … here. Out of Matt's nightmare." He nudged Peter's shoulder with his nose. "I'll save Emma for you. I'll do anything you want."
"Mm," Peter said, having felt the same distant awareness that waking up and leaving was now an option. "Hardly a nightmare. I saw the future, Sylar. You're going to save her. You know what that means?"
"That you knew this would happen all along?"
"Well … not this exactly, but what it means is that even if we stayed here a little bit longer," he brought his hand up to caress Sylar's cheek, "or maybe a lot longer, then you'll still save her." Sylar pulled his head back so he could focus better on Peter's face, listening. Peter smiled, running his thumb along Sylar's so-serious brow, wicking away a bit of sweat from their labors. "There's no hurry. There are a lot of other toys here I want to play with first."
Sylar gave a narrow-eyed, smug smile that had 'I knew it' pasted all over it. Peter laughed and pulled him into a tighter hug.
THE END