Bricks in the Wall, Chapter 96: Warm Fuzzies
Title: Warm Fuzzies
Characters: Sylar, Peter Petrelli
Words: 1,100
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None. A little POV-flip-flopping. I don't know if that sort of thing bothers anyone.
Summary: Set in the Wall. The boys routinely sleep together to help Sylar deal with his anxiety about being alone. After they argue or fight, they usually separate. This is a time when they get back together and start to share a little more than just the same bed.
Peter slid into bed, facing Sylar's side and waiting for a long moment. It had been a while since they'd been together. Sylar glanced over at him, aware even in the dim light that he was being stared at. Peter exhaled sharply and turned away, rolling to his other side. It had been a while, yes, but he just needed to go to sleep.
Minutes later, he rolled back over. Sylar's eyes were shut, but Peter doubted he was already sleeping. Quietly, he scooted closer and stuck out his foot until it touched Sylar's calf. He heard the slight shift in Sylar's breathing. Peter shut his eyes and relaxed for a while, feeling that human presence through the pads of his toes where they bent upward a little at the point of contact. It was nice. He valued it. He wanted more.
He snaked out his hand, finding Sylar's bare bicep. He touched it lightly. It was such warm, dry, lovely skin - soft, even. Smooth. Peter curled his fingers and rested his knuckles against it. It felt right. He relaxed, feeling himself drowse.
XXX
Two. Two points of contact. That was new. Sylar controlled his breathing (or tried to) and lay very still. Peter had never shared that much with him. Some nights, especially when they'd fought or argued (assuming they slept together at all after such), Peter didn't touch him at all. But now twice. He couldn't stop his mind from playing over and over again the way he'd woke up a few days ago, the last time they'd slept together, curled around Peter's body, spooning him. And how Peter hadn't reacted badly to it. Peter had blown it off, said it didn't matter, and given Sylar a freaking massage like it was a consolation prize for not fucking him. That had been intense and inexplicable all by itself, but here he was touching Sylar again, and more.
He kept wondering if Peter was going to do something else, if this was the start of putting moves on him, but it just seemed like Peter was going to sleep. That was frustrating. So typical. Peter would arouse his curiosity, then check out. Sylar would have been aggravated, but this time was charming. Sweet. Sylar took matters into his own hands. That was always how it worked, wasn't it? He rolled to his side, facing Peter, and slid his hand over Peter's side. He moved his knee up and in so it was touching Peter's, their shins resting next to one another.
XXX
Peter went still, not even breathing. Was this going somewhere? Was Sylar about to do something? Had he made a bad mistake by putting his hand on the guy and making it seem like he was open to anything? But seconds passed and nothing more happened. Peter sighed. It was warm between them. He felt safe here, perverse as that was given Sylar's history, but he felt it anyway. He scooted forward a few inches until his lower forearm was folded against Sylar's chest and his upper mirrored Sylar's by loosely holding his back and side. They'd probably get too hot to hold the position for long, but maybe Sylar would throw off the covers and it would be okay. In any case, Peter didn't care. He fell asleep long before that happened.
XXX
XXX
It started the same as the night before - Peter flounced into bed, then flipped to face away. He often did that, but nearly always ended up facing Sylar sooner or later. Sylar was facing him, watching. He wondered what would happen if he started it instead of Peter. Again, he obsessed over how he'd felt spooning Peter. It had been so nice. Equally as nice as holding Peter in his arms had been the night before. The amazing thing about that was that Peter had allowed it, moved into it, cooperated. There was no excuse that he'd been asleep and hadn't known what was going on. Of course they didn't speak of it the next day, but it had happened regardless. No denial.
He wouldn't wait anymore. No waiting until Peter rolled over and deigned or did not deign to touch him. Sylar moved across the foot or two that separated them and intentionally, deliberately, positioned himself around Peter's very-still form. He settled in. He took a deep breath and waited. He wasn't hard or erect like he'd been that morning when Peter had woke up to find him like this. What he was doing now was … more platonic. He wouldn't mind sex, but that wasn't what he was angling for. He wanted what he'd taken - possession, contact, intimate proximity and a right to touch as he wished. He was waiting for Peter's rejection, but instead he felt Peter's hand move up to rest atop his own where it was against Peter's waist. Peter petted the hand once, breathed out deeply, and was still in a less tense, easier manner.
Sylar let his forehead move forward until it touched the back of Peter's head. He was ridiculously thankful and pleased at the acceptance. He breathed in the scent of Peter's hair and found that he did, indeed, want one thing more. Nuzzling Peter's hair out of the way (and Peter still tolerated it!), he planted a single, chaste kiss against the side of the man's throat. Lip-kissing, Peter had resisted and warned him off about several times before. It was strictly off-limits and when Sylar did it, it was to aggravate. This, though, wasn't meant for that. Maybe this would pass since so much else was going well.
He felt it when every muscle in Peter's body tensed. Kissing, perhaps of any kind, not wise. He felt a stab of remorse and regret that he might have spoiled things with that gesture. It wasn't fair! He'd just wanted to … he wasn't sure why he'd wanted to do it, but he had and so he'd done it. But wait … Peter was settling back down. His hand on Sylar's, which had lifted, came down again. It smoothed over his hand, not quite petting it but at least resuming gentle touch, and then rested. Sylar relaxed. It was going to be okay.
And it was.