gift for sourcefic
Title: Hands of Death (Burn Baby Burn)
Pairings: Sylar/Peter, hints of Sylar/Claire
Warnings: dark, obsession, masturbation, fantasized murder
Rating: hard R/NC-17
Summary: Spoilers for series up to 1x14, Distractions. When following Claire to New York, Sylar finds another one who got away.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC and loads of other people who are definitely not me.
Notes: Written for sourcefic for the hero_valentines exchange. She deleted her journal, but I hope she's still watching, since this is so very much so not the usual sort of thing that I write! This should be commemorated, lol! Also, first line comes from this comment in just_katarin's journal, because I completely agree with her. XDDD Title comes from a Rob Zombie song (that I've never listened to, lol).
Gabriel Gray had never gotten laid a day in his life.
Some psychoanalysts would contribute Sylar's obsessions - which are so sexual in nature - to this fact. He saw the recognition of his obsession in Claire Bennet's mother's eyes, and it made him want to laugh, and strike out and hurt this woman. This woman, whose house he had been sitting in playing nice while his cock was hard in his pants, waiting for Claire to come home, so he could satiate himself on her powers, which would make him nearly invincible.
But then that bastard, Bennet, had showed up and ruined his plans, at least for the moment. But Claire herself had brought the opportunity right back to him, by running off to New York, a city so easy for people to disappear in. Nobody'd notice she was gone, not until it was too late, and he was spent, gorged on her powers, semen staining his pants.
He hadn't expected to find the other one that had gotten away on that fateful Homecoming night. Peter Petrelli. Claire's uncle. An interesting turn of events, but one that just made Sylar's cock even harder than it had been in the Bennet home back in Texas. He'd have them both, though he'd play with Peter first. He'd have to pay for making Sylar wait for Claire. He'd have had her then if it hadn't been for his interference.
He hadn't anticipated not being able to find him. He had staked out Peter's apartment for days, even going inside and lying on his bed, achingly hard, waiting for his prey to show up. It was a trial, to not reach down and undo the zip of his pants and take care of himself right there, right on Peter's sheets, so that he'd know that someone had been there, so he could see that flash of fear in his eyes before he struck.
And just like that, his pants and underwear were drawn down to this thighs, his purpling cock in one tight fist, precum already leaking freely from the tip.
He imagined Peter coming home, entering his bedroom, and smelling the musk of sex and cum permeating the room, causing his eyes to flare open wide, looking around for what - who - could have caused the scent, knowing it wasn't there when he had last been in his room. Sylar'd allow him that moment of fear, a second that seems suspended for an eternity, before moving in to strike. He'd hold him down, perhaps pin him to the wall so he can't move, but not kill him, not just yet. He'd have to suffer first for getting away from him the first time.
Breath catching in his throat, Sylar quickened the pace, grasping at his dick and stroking it roughly, base to tip and back again, grip getting tighter at the head, before loosening again on the downstroke. He reached down with his other hand, cupping his balls and squeezing them in time with his strokes.
Then; then he would grasp Peter's cock, while his own was hard against Peter's thigh, and he'd smooth back his hair. As he ground against Peter, listening to his cries of pain, delighting in his struggles as he cut through flesh and bone, stealing what had made Peter so special, what would now make him, Sylar, even more special.
Back in Peter's apartment, lying on Peter's bed, Sylar gasped as he squeezed his cock again, hips thrusting up off the bed as he came, spurts of hot spunk shooting from his dick to land splattered on the sheets and himself. It was a moment before he came back into himself, realizing that Peter wasn't there, his taste wasn't on his lips, and he had to make himself let go of his spent cock, too lethargic to tuck it back into his pants.
Besides, he'd have the real thing soon enough, so there was no point in hiding now. It was just a matter of waiting.
Pairings: Sylar/Peter, hints of Sylar/Claire
Warnings: dark, obsession, masturbation, fantasized murder
Rating: hard R/NC-17
Summary: Spoilers for series up to 1x14, Distractions. When following Claire to New York, Sylar finds another one who got away.
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC and loads of other people who are definitely not me.
Notes: Written for sourcefic for the hero_valentines exchange. She deleted her journal, but I hope she's still watching, since this is so very much so not the usual sort of thing that I write! This should be commemorated, lol! Also, first line comes from this comment in just_katarin's journal, because I completely agree with her. XDDD Title comes from a Rob Zombie song (that I've never listened to, lol).
Gabriel Gray had never gotten laid a day in his life.
Some psychoanalysts would contribute Sylar's obsessions - which are so sexual in nature - to this fact. He saw the recognition of his obsession in Claire Bennet's mother's eyes, and it made him want to laugh, and strike out and hurt this woman. This woman, whose house he had been sitting in playing nice while his cock was hard in his pants, waiting for Claire to come home, so he could satiate himself on her powers, which would make him nearly invincible.
But then that bastard, Bennet, had showed up and ruined his plans, at least for the moment. But Claire herself had brought the opportunity right back to him, by running off to New York, a city so easy for people to disappear in. Nobody'd notice she was gone, not until it was too late, and he was spent, gorged on her powers, semen staining his pants.
He hadn't expected to find the other one that had gotten away on that fateful Homecoming night. Peter Petrelli. Claire's uncle. An interesting turn of events, but one that just made Sylar's cock even harder than it had been in the Bennet home back in Texas. He'd have them both, though he'd play with Peter first. He'd have to pay for making Sylar wait for Claire. He'd have had her then if it hadn't been for his interference.
He hadn't anticipated not being able to find him. He had staked out Peter's apartment for days, even going inside and lying on his bed, achingly hard, waiting for his prey to show up. It was a trial, to not reach down and undo the zip of his pants and take care of himself right there, right on Peter's sheets, so that he'd know that someone had been there, so he could see that flash of fear in his eyes before he struck.
And just like that, his pants and underwear were drawn down to this thighs, his purpling cock in one tight fist, precum already leaking freely from the tip.
He imagined Peter coming home, entering his bedroom, and smelling the musk of sex and cum permeating the room, causing his eyes to flare open wide, looking around for what - who - could have caused the scent, knowing it wasn't there when he had last been in his room. Sylar'd allow him that moment of fear, a second that seems suspended for an eternity, before moving in to strike. He'd hold him down, perhaps pin him to the wall so he can't move, but not kill him, not just yet. He'd have to suffer first for getting away from him the first time.
Breath catching in his throat, Sylar quickened the pace, grasping at his dick and stroking it roughly, base to tip and back again, grip getting tighter at the head, before loosening again on the downstroke. He reached down with his other hand, cupping his balls and squeezing them in time with his strokes.
Then; then he would grasp Peter's cock, while his own was hard against Peter's thigh, and he'd smooth back his hair. As he ground against Peter, listening to his cries of pain, delighting in his struggles as he cut through flesh and bone, stealing what had made Peter so special, what would now make him, Sylar, even more special.
Back in Peter's apartment, lying on Peter's bed, Sylar gasped as he squeezed his cock again, hips thrusting up off the bed as he came, spurts of hot spunk shooting from his dick to land splattered on the sheets and himself. It was a moment before he came back into himself, realizing that Peter wasn't there, his taste wasn't on his lips, and he had to make himself let go of his spent cock, too lethargic to tuck it back into his pants.
Besides, he'd have the real thing soon enough, so there was no point in hiding now. It was just a matter of waiting.