Getting It, Chapter 5: Getting It Right
Title: Getting It Right
Characters: Peter, Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Graphic sexual content
Words: 2,200
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Hot sex.
Peter cupped Sylar's chin and leaned in a slow, gradual motion that left no doubt about what he was intending to do, in case Sylar wanted to pull away or opt out. Sylar met him instead. Peter's lips pillowed against Sylar's and he cocked his head to increase the contact. A tremor ran through Sylar, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath and then rapid pants through his nose. Sylar's hands fisted in Peter's shirt. Peter's hand pressed against the side of Sylar's knee, pulling it to the side so he could slide between them, riding on the surge of passion that moved both of them. Peter's other hand drifted from chin to shoulder, where it bunched the yielding fabric in a twin of Sylar's grip. He groaned as his breathing deepened, his cock stiffened rapidly in his jeans, and his skin flushed with warmth.
"Bed," Peter said when he came up for air.
Sylar nodded and they shoved the chairs out of the way in their rush to the narrow mattress of the single bed. Sylar climbed on first, squatting on his knees and turning back to reach for Peter, half pulling him onto the bed in his encouraging haste. They joined at the mouth again in hungry desire, leaving their bodies to work out the geometry. Peter slid one knee between Sylar's legs and scooted close, his arms warring briefly with Sylar's for top placement. He rose up; gaining height and winning the battle, bending Sylar back as he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue inside Sylar's willing mouth.
A keening moan answered him and Peter groaned again, voice and hands shaking a little. He couldn't believe this was happening, but it was. Peter grabbed the long hair at the back of Sylar's head with both hands, making fists and drawing him back so Peter could run his teeth from the underside of chin over Adam's apple and to the join of the collarbone. Sylar whined and his body bucked involuntarily. The air was too hot, too stifling, and they were both wearing far too many clothes.
Peter let go and worked Sylar's shirt as fast as he could. Apparently it wasn't fast enough - Sylar ripped it off after only two buttons were out of the way, then hoisted his under-shirt over his head. Peter pushed Sylar over backwards, narrowly avoiding racking himself on Sylar's knee as the taller man tried to get himself sorted out with Peter climbing aggressively on top of him. As he worked his way up, Peter bit him on the sensitive skin over the short ribs, evoking a surprised yelp and a jerk. He grinned at Sylar, seeing a matching expression of desire. It sent a surge through him so hard that he paused to rut mindlessly against Sylar's thigh, eyes sliding shut to imprison that lusty image for a moment longer.
Sylar's fingers brought him out of it, tugging at the sides of his long-sleeved shirt. Peter bowed his back and let the other man pull it off over his head and toss it aside, before diving back to the glory of Sylar's hirsute chest. He buried his face in the thickest part of curly hair, scratching his face back and forth against it and sucking in lungfuls of the man's scent. Sylar's hands cradled and stroked his head, fondling hair in return. Long legs folded around Peter's hips, pressing a hardened length into his abdomen. He shifted to rub his own erection against Sylar's groin. Sylar's mouth gaped open as he breathed harder. Peter bent to lick at a nipple, getting a twitch of incredible responsiveness. He licked the other as well, giving it a brief kiss and hearing a whimper from his partner.
Peter pushed forward in a long, hard thrust, rubbing himself against Sylar so hard that it hurt his dick a little where the pressure was greatest. As they kissed, Peter felt Sylar's hands smooth up and down his back, coming to rest over his denim-clad buttocks and circling around them. Sylar was starting to move against him in a regular motion, grinding them together. Peter shut his eyes in bliss, rolling with it until he couldn't stand it anymore. He had to have more! He pushed up and away, scooting back with the intention of ridding himself of his jeans.
Misunderstanding Peter's sudden departure, Sylar sat up, face paling, brows drawn together in hurt. He grabbed both of Peter's forearms, but Peter twisted free of the half-hearted grip, confused by the interference. "Peter?" One look at Sylar's panicked face explained the grabbiness.
"Oh no, I'm not done." Bracing himself on the wall with one hand, Peter leaned forward to snake the other behind Sylar's neck, forcing him forward into a deep, punishing kiss, plundering the man's mouth until he felt Sylar's tension melting away - his breathing came easier, his hands started stroking up and down Peter's bare chest, and he yielded to the kiss eagerly. Long, skillful fingers found Peter's nipples and pinched them between thumb and forefinger, making him growl deep in his throat and press into the man harder.
Peter parted from him, hand rising into Sylar's hair, clenching and unclenching mindlessly as he savored the taste of Sylar's mouth still lingering on his lips. He wanted to jerk Sylar around by that hair, control and direct him, but that was something to ask permission for some other time. At the moment, Peter didn't want to complicate things by pushing for things Sylar might not want done. Shifting his weight, Peter let go and put his hands on Sylar's shoulders to guide him to face away. "I want to see your ass," Peter murmured, kissing down Sylar's back, one hand tickling along the man's side while the other, on the wall, supported him.
Sylar's free hand went to his waist, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them open. Peter sat back, using both hands to peel the pants and underwear off, rolling and scrunching them down Sylar's thighs and helping him wriggle out of one leg. One leg was all he had patience for before wetly kissing the man's posterior, then biting it hard enough to leave a mark. How he'd dreamed of having this! Sylar jerked under him with a sudden noise, spreading his legs further instinctively. Peter reached underneath and fondled his balls, hearing Sylar whimper and seeing him drop his shoulders to the mattress, yanking over a pillow to bury his face in.
He was fully presented and it was so fucking sexy that Peter tore at his jeans, opening them and shoving them down the bare minimum to free his aching cock. It was full and rock hard, filling his hand and making him gasp with relief as he began to stroke it. His other hand went to Sylar's hip and then his buttock, kneading him as Peter pumped his straining organ. He spread Sylar's crack to the side, watching the skin pull and feeling Sylar tremble at his touch. "You like this?" he asked, wanting and needing to know that Sylar was a willing and enthusiastic participant in what Peter was doing to him. Sylar nodded with a vigorous enough motion to leave no room for doubt. Peter rubbed the head of his cock on Sylar's cheek while his hand worked the shaft. He wasn't going to last long - he could tell that much. Peter stuck his thumb in his mouth, coating it copiously before placing it against the center of Sylar's opening, rubbing in a lewd circle, watching the give and quiver of the flesh as his grip tightened and sped up on his dick.
He could hear Sylar's breath catch as the man rocked back into him, pressing hard enough that Peter's thumb breached him. Sylar made a muffled cry into the pillow as his ass spasmed around Peter's digit. He jerked furiously at his dick, the fingers of his other hand splayed over the sacrum of Sylar's back as he wiggled his thumb, provoking more noises from Sylar, pitching higher as Sylar spread his legs another inch and flattened himself even further in the most abject submission possible.
Peter tugged at the flesh with his thumb, watching as the sphincter relaxed enough for him to pull it to one side slightly, stretching the pink skin. He couldn't wait until he got to bury his cock to the hilt in that hole. But for now it was enough to see Sylar in full prostration, begging for a fucking he wasn't going to get. Not only was there the issue that Peter wouldn't penetrate him without more explicit permission than he was going to ask for in the middle of the act, but he also liked the control. The head rush of imagining he was denying Sylar the satisfaction of being directly responsible for getting Peter off turned him on like crazy. It pushed him over the edge and lit him up inside. Ejaculate spurted and gushed from his dick onto Sylar's ass cheek, spattering him with his come.
Peter slumped away for the moment, leaving his left hand where it was at, thumb still inside Sylar's hot body. He felt so good, so complete, and more willing to see to Sylar's pleasure than he'd ever been before. He'd gotten off without having to do the least bit for Sylar and paradoxically, that left him feeling overwhelmingly generous. Sylar whined quietly. He might have sobbed, and if he were feeling neglected, that would not do. "I've got you, baby," Peter murmured, reaching between Sylar's opened legs to caress his dangling, swollen penis, stroking it softly and tenderly. Now Sylar definitely made a noise like a sob and hunched his hips involuntarily. Peter withdrew his thumb, spat on his fingers and returned them, slowly working them inside Sylar's anus with slow twists of his wrist. Sylar's ass came back towards Peter in response, his toes curling and skin flushing. The man was gasping.
"Oh yeah," Peter breathed. "You're so close, Sylar. I've got you." He stroked his fingers lazily around the rounded head of Sylar's dick, still not giving him enough pressure or friction to get him off. "Not quite yet. I want you to ride the edge for a little longer if you can." Peter had come so quick. He wanted to give Sylar more than he'd gotten himself.
Sylar squirmed, hissing out, "Yesss," as he thrust back onto Peter's fingers, pushing them fully inside of his body.
Peter hooked them down, finding the tender, over-sensitive bulb of flesh he was looking for and hearing Sylar's instant reaction, another gasp and full body shudder. "Oh yeah. Right there." Peter gripped harder now, slowly working Sylar's cock in his fist while his other hand milked his prostate. "You got it." It was mere seconds before the asshole clenched around his fingers and hot sperm shot over his other hand.
Peter pulled his fingers out slowly and found Sylar's ruined shirt to wipe himself off. He scrubbed his jism off Sylar's ass as well and tucked himself away, loosely pulling his jeans back up. Sylar shoved off the last leg of his pants, clad now only in socks. Peter kicked off his shoes, unaware of when Sylar had lost his, or if he'd even worn any to start with. Sylar turned so he could stare at Peter, eyes wide and utterly vulnerable. Sylar's fingers curled tensely into the sheets, white-knuckled and the man probably didn't even realize it. Peter climbed back on the narrow bed and hugged him close, giving him a long, tender kiss followed by holding Sylar's chin by thumb and forefinger so he could peck lightly across his cheeks and nose. "You okay?"
The answer looked like a very complicated 'maybe'. Sylar badly faked a smile and nodded. He touched Peter's sides with very slight plucking motions. Peter embraced him again, whispering into his ear, "It's going to be okay." A whole bunch of things were suddenly making sense. He wondered how much of Sylar's insults were fueled by insecure bravado - he suspected all or nearly all. "You ever done something like this before?"
The immediacy of the moment loosened Sylar's tongue more than usual. "Not like this. Never like this."
"Did I hurt you? We don't don't have to do that again. Nothing like it."
"No!" Sylar jerked back from the hug to kiss Peter with sudden, unrestrained fervor. "Again. I want to do that again," he said when they parted.
Peter looked at him for a moment of stillness, with Sylar looking back and forth between his eyes and only inches away. Peter nodded. Sylar started breathing hard and with deep, great gusts like he was trying to get his breath after too long of tense, shallow panting.
Peter sorted out the covers enough to wedge his feet under them and tug up a layer over the both of them. He moved up a few inches on the bed to wrap an arm around Sylar's shoulders, kissing him on the forehead and rubbing his cheek on Sylar's crown. His breathing winding back to normal, Sylar sank forward against him, letting his forehead rest on Peter's chest. Peter pulled over the pillow and cocked it so they could both use it, then shut his eyes and let himself let go, flying high on endorphins. "Gonna be okay," he murmured to Sylar, who answered equally quiet and low, "Yes, I think it will be."