Wall Verse Chapter 3, Virtuous Cycle
A/N: Just like last time - one point of view, then the other.
Sylar waited, poised, stalking his prey as always. This time was a little different though, as he was sitting at a piano bench to do it and no one's life was in danger. Interestingly, that did not diminish the thrill of the hunt.
"This," Peter said, showing Sylar the chord. He reached over with his right hand, keeping a couple inches between them, "then this," he said as he demonstrated the sequence of notes, "and this." Sylar moved immediately, having timed it just right. He slipped his right hand over Peter's, bagging his prize - a fleeting moment of near-intimate touch. The back of Peter's hand was warm and human and delicious to feel, so different from anything else in this world. It was to the sensation of touch what a beautiful sunset was to the eyes. Yet this was only a glimpse. It was all he was allowed.
Peter hesitated and Sylar knew he'd been noticed - of course he'd expected the touch itself to be noticed. Peter wasn't insensate and he seemed as hyper-aware of Sylar's proximity as Sylar was to Peter's. Even now he could sense every breath the man took, but that was because Peter was right next to him. Perhaps though Peter would just think it had been accidental. The empath withdrew his hand deliberately as Sylar began talking to distract from the contact. "Right, right. Like this then?"
Sylar depressed the chord, then followed it up with the other notes as demonstrated, but honestly he hadn't been paying the closest attention to which keys Peter had been hitting. He was sure he was missing one. Fuck! He didn't want to try Peter's patience, especially now. This was their first time to try to play together - Peter on the guitar and Sylar on the piano. He cursed himself. He should have waited, giving up this early opportunity for more chances later. He didn't want Peter discouraged because he was touchy or difficult to teach.
"Here, that's not quite right," Peter said and to Sylar's relief, his tone evinced no displeasure. He reached across for Sylar's right hand with his own and to the watchmaker's surprise, slipped his hand smoothly over Sylar's, showing not the least reticence about touching him. He did it so casually that it took a second to register the surprise, and then breath-holding wonder as Peter's fingers moved over his own, hitting the proper keys. "Right here, and here." Not only was he touching Sylar's hand, but he leaned into him a little with the latter instruction, letting his forearm brush the seated man's chest, a shoulder rubbing against his.
Sylar's mouth was dry and his eyes wide as Peter drew back and with a matching lack of affectation, brought his hand down on Sylar's shoulder. He gave a brief squeeze. "Try it again now." He took his hand away then and walked over to pick up the guitar.
Sylar blinked a few times. Yes, the music. He debated screwing it up again just to see if he could get another 'lesson', but prudence overrode the desire for instant gratification. One thing was for sure, he was entirely dedicated now to making sure Peter wanted to do this again.
Peter waited, relaxed, eager to help as always. This time was a little different though, as he was merely going to reiterate a basic sequence to Sylar and then perhaps they would play together. It was a small thing, but he looked forward to it anyway. Maybe it would stem the constant fights Sylar seemed intent on picking with him.
"This," he said, showing Sylar the chord. He leaned forward a little and reached past the other man. "Then this," he said as he struck the keys in order, "and this." Sylar's hand moved quickly to cover his own, soft skin and long fingers giving him a brief caress as Peter blinked and froze for a second. It was lovely … and quite intentional. He was perfectly aware of that, even as Sylar began speaking nervously, trying to cover up what he'd done. "Right, right. Like this then?"
Then as if with the purpose of showing just how little attention he'd been paying when Peter had shown him the notes, Sylar proceeded to butcher them. He was a very smart man - Peter would even go so far as to say brilliant - so if he'd been paying the least attention to the music, he would have been able to replicate such a short pattern. That he couldn't confirmed for Peter that Sylar's mind had been firmly elsewhere.
It was … well, Peter wouldn't deny that he adored the ego boost. It made him feel warm and special and well-regarded, watched, approved of and wanted. Sylar was so dismissive of him much of the time, acting superior and above him; deliberately antagonistic until Sylar was hurt, when he'd become meek and solicitous. The idea the man was falling all over himself for a chance to pet Peter's hand - Peter barely suppressed his grin. A lot of things were starting to make sense to him.
"Here, that's not quite right," he said as he gave Sylar a lot more than the shy taste he was stealing, like a furtive child taking a single finger-swipe of icing from a cake when he thinks no one is looking. Peter gave him a full piece. He leaned into him, rested his hand on Sylar's and showed him the keys again, though he doubted the lesson would stick any better. He didn't care, either. He was too busy reveling at the feel of a warm and firm shoulder against his own and the faint aroma of another person. "Right here, and here," he said, trying to stay focused enough that he didn't give himself away. Sylar wasn't even breathing at this point. Peter straightened and put his hand on Sylar's shoulder just like he was a bosom buddy and gave him a squeeze. "Try it again now."
When Sylar still didn't react for a second, Peter walked away to his guitar, leaving the other man to plink at the keys just as badly as before. One thing was for sure, bad or not, Peter definitely wanted to do this again.