Sexual Tension Part X: 'Prep Work'
Title: Sexual Tension Part X: 'Prep Work'
Characters: Sylar (Gabriel Gray)/Peter Petrelli
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, bondage, dominance/submission, implied torture.
Word count: 3,651
Setting: Inside the Wall
Summary: The World's Most Effed Up Gift RP expansion with game_byrd (writing for Peter). After years of unresolved sexual tension, Sylar finally can't take it anymore. He creates a situation where he gives himself to Peter to do with as Peter wishes - torture, sex, death - doesn't matter. Sylar just wants resolution.
Sylar returned the kiss, containing the impulse to press into Peter harder. He felt his axons firing lava-ice through his nerves, nearly trembling from desire. Oh, Jesus. I am not gonna last a minute. He accepted the hug, enjoying the warm, firm, broad chest he lay on (even with the shirt on). He supported Peter's head against him, lightly feeling the man's hair as he did so. A jolt zinged down to his cock when Peter whispered in his ear, entirely intimate and seductive even if the words weren't. Oh, he thought simply, his brain silent for a moment to take it in; That's a really good analogy. This was all very serious and he took it that way, ignoring even the part where Peter thought...feared he would 'fuck it up'. He didn’t appreciate the thought, begrudging it. It was their mutual reality nonetheless.
He started to nod, then desisted as it was disruptive. "Yes. I can do that, Peter." He couldn't think of anything else better to say or add, knowing what he was dealing with. With that in mind, he knew he needed to get control over his own arousal first thing. It had been a long while, but he succeeded in switching his mind from greedy self-absorption and pleasuring-seeking to putting his erection on hold (as much as was possible); enjoying a new experience, a new person - his date - and making Peter feel incredible and comfortable. Patience was key. It would finally pay off, not today so much, but later. Crap. Does he give me instructions or do I...? He knows I don't know, so he'll...at least show me.
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Peter lay back, looking up at Sylar for a long, still moment, studying his face as if he was memorizing the features. Maybe he was. He was letting himself see Sylar in a different light. Peter had walked into the room suspicious, a little afraid, and way more tense and closed off than he’d realized. Now he was dropping those defenses. Sylar looked uncertain. Peter reflected on what he’d said. Heh. Way to up to pressure on the guy, Peter. Hasn’t done this before and you tell him if he fucks it up, it’s all over? Yeah, smart move there.
He smiled a little and whispered softly, “It’s going to be okay.” He slid his hand under Sylar’s shirt, up to the top of his chest, over his shoulder and behind his neck. Peter guided Sylar down for another slow, gentle kiss, feeling want and need and desire spiral up inside himself as he shed his inhibitions and let himself go in the moment. Peter’s body arched into Sylar’s as their lips moved against one another. The hand not cupping the back of Sylar’s head wrapped around the man’s back to hold them together as he raised his knee vertical, pressing against Sylar’s hip with his thigh. Peter’s eyes slid shut, breaths coming deeper as he opened his mouth and turned his head, tongue teasing along the edges of Sylar’s teeth. He moaned when Sylar’s tongue joined his in exploration.
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Sylar was pretty sure he was trembling. Not a clue what to do and presented with the one thing - and person - he wanted most in the world. He wanted to please, to blow Peter's mind, but he knew realistically he should set his sights at a more average level, though the pressure was on to make it good for Peter. Sylar looked back, desperate not to squirm or do or say something to ruin the mood or whatever examination Peter was doubtlessly doing. Probably re-thinking it. He should, if he's smart. But he's smart and he's still doing this - how crazy is that? This is actually going to happen - like this, with him. I think he likes me. Does he know that I don't know what to do about that either? This is incredible!
Check-in or inspection complete, Peter stroked over his body and Sylar felt his eyelids droop as he squirmed, appropriately, a little. He followed Peter's lead in kissing, for now. The empath's needs were...different than his own. Not bad, hardly; just different, mostly just new. Thinking 'going slow' meant a snail's pace all the way, Sylar had just settled in when Peter rubbed his body against him during the kiss, beginning to wrap around him with his legs as well. He grunted and hummed in approval, groaning a little bit when Peter finally let him taste. Uhh; tongue, was all he could think. He petted along Peter's bicep and shoulder, tasting Peter with small flicks of motion. They were quickly progressing to where they'd left off before. It was different, but it had the added aspect of liking and being liked in return - a whole new relationship open to them, changing the dynamic.
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Peter kissed along Sylar’s cheek, feeling Sylar do the same. He could sense the tension through Sylar’s frame. It made Peter’s fingers clench and release, upping his own arousal - he wanted to crawl on top of Sylar and do … well, something. Planning wasn’t a strong suit. “Come here,” Peter said huskily, prodding Sylar to move and rolling them so they faced, side to side. Peter exhaled, smiling cheeky delight at the position change. He’d liked being under him, but he liked this better at the moment.
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Sylar moved as directed, at first a little confused. The shift didn't make much sense to him but it didn't bar him from much other than the use of his right arm, somewhat trapped under Peter's armpit, his hand on the man's back. It's a great back, too. He could feel the muscles moving around even through the shirt. He was now laying more against the mattress where he hadn't been before, instead having lain on Peter, braced against his pelvis, really. It was kind of a crappy mattress. It had come with the room and Sylar, thinking they wouldn't be needing it, had flipped it on its side against the wall. Well, now they were using it. Not knowing if it mattered or not, being accustomed to the floor for sexual activity, he asked, "Do you want to find a better bed?"
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“No,” Peter replied shortly. “I like the room.” To emphasize his point, he hiked his knee up over Sylar’s hip, hooking it behind them and synching them together with a slight adjustment of position. He could feel Sylar’s erection through his pants, pressing to his own. “Heh,” Peter said happily, slipping his outer arm under Sylar’s and around his back as Peter returned to kiss him again. He kissed softly, then pulled back to break for a second before kissing again, then repeating a third time. This time he made a growl of desire and kissed harder, longer, and fiercer, holding Sylar tight against him as his tongue probed inside and his hips ground up-and-forward, down-and-back.
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You like the room? You're weird, he narrowed his eyes at his partner in amusement. Peter wiped his mind clean of humor and question when he aligned their organs. Sylar was beginning to feel Peter now; again, he ignored it for now. They were still clothed but they wouldn't be for long. Sylar was astounded at how much safer he felt already - he hadn't expected it to be so easy or attainable at all. It was a relief he hadn't been looking for but it felt like a pleasurable cramp, like his muscles had been massaged after running or something and the tension that built now had a cleaner baseline. Sylar's left arm was atop Peter's. At first he ran his fingers in the man's hair, combing it back away from his darling face, busily smooching away at his lips. The stop-start pattern was annoying, that Peter pattern of kissing was a learning curve, giving the impression that Peter very much wanted his participation and pleasure which made it more than alright. He did not go unsatisfied either. Sylar held the man's neck and opened his mouth wide to avidly lick about the inside of Peter's tempting mouth, at last getting the taste-test he wanted. He kept his mouth skin-tight to Peter, savoring the wet heat therein while the man's hips began to push against him. "Ughn," he rumbled in his chest, dropping his free hand down to clutch at the available thigh over his hip, eagerly assisting in the sexual rubbing.
His cock was once more hard and aching, a slower burn, no less intense. With his emotions almost completely out of his control, it may have been more intense this second round of humping. Each thrust against each other scraped denim against denim and denim against his cockhead and shaft, straining for every bit of friction and pressure. Sylar found himself too breathless to moan. His handsome target disengaged at the mouth to cover him everywhere else in kisses. The idea was pure eroticism, causing his cock to yearn for those kiss-swollen, stunningly pink lips on itself. God, he looks good.
Somewhat sweaty, somewhat sticky, a bit tear-stained and flushed, a mess of sex-teased hair swept back from his face, Peter looked like he'd already been fucked. Sylar couldn't help but feel masculine and desirous looking at that. He ground harder on the available pelvis, kissing back on Peter's face for a few moments before halting Peter's facial pecking. Pushing Peter's head away and back, he exposed a long neck, dipping down to lick it with long strokes, kissing it with puckered lips then nipping firmly from jaw down to the neckline of shirt. He would have continued but the fabric made for an unsexy mouthful, though he tugged at it to get at more flesh, attempting to continue down Peter's wonderful shoulders. By then, the nurse's cock was poking just as desperately into his hip; Sylar found himself very caught up in providing that much pleasure.
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Peter parted from his lover, panting heavily, and jerked his shirt up. “Taking this off,” he muttered unnecessarily, making a quick nod at Sylar. “Get yours, too.” He flexed and wriggled, making a show and enjoying every second of it. He hoped he was being watched. He started to toss the shirt aside, then thought better of it and threw it on top of the towels Sylar had brought over. Peter took Sylar’s shirt and put it over there as well, a vague intention of using them to prop him up later coming to mind. In the meantime, though, he scooted back closer to his partner, touching along Sylar’s chest and watching the man’s face. Peter thumbed a nipple once, twice, then a third time, tangling his legs with Sylar’s.
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A low growl issued from Sylar's throat, partly at the separation (though he approved of the cause) and partly with the knowledge that his companion would soon lack a shirt. His own garment was shed in three precise motions, leaving him all the time in the world to watch Peter...Wow, he has bulked up. That was more than fantastic; the view made him ache still further: defined pecs and abdominals - Sylar could see the disappearing iliac muscles leading into Peter's pants, all of this covered in smooth, lightly olive skin, flexing fit and healthy. He shamelessly ogled. Peter's nipples appeared almost brown in comparison to his own rather pink pair, not that it mattered. The other man's were tight, tilted, oval buds and only today Sylar had found out how sensitive his own chest was to another's touch. Peter likes touch, he'll get his fair share. His hand went to the nearest nipple, skimming it gently, watching the man's face carefully at first. Seeing no disagreement, he continued on to plucking and rubbing and barely twisting it, feeling his own chest being played. He breathed harder, making small noises as the treatment aroused him, very ready to penetrate and establish a firm rhythm inside.
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Peter arched with a pleased moan at Sylar's touches - he was delighted by the initiative and touching. He squirmed against Sylar's body, putting a few rotations into their grinding rather than straight thrusts. He grinned and leaned in for a quick, appreciative kiss before leaning back and looking down as his right hand took on a new project. He slowed, making his motions more deliberate as he went lower. The smooth, soft, yielding skin of Sylar’s stomach passed under his fingers. He looked up and raised his brows slightly as if asking permission as his fingertips drew up against the waistband of the other man’s pants. “Hm?” he hummed, dipping the very end of one finger under the fabric and running it up and then down, crossing the button in the center twice.
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Sylar found his eyes opening wider, a silly reaction given the circumstances, surprised nonetheless at the wandering hand. He bit his lip briefly, nodding as if Peter needed it, and gasping as Peter slid a finger under his pants again. Does he know how hot that is? I don't even care where he learned all this. He's really good. Sylar was grateful that the other man had experience and seemed willing to share it with him. He gripped at the man's flank, not sure if groping at his ass would be interpreted as 'rushing' or impatience, otherwise stroking along the medic's back. He didn't know what else to do beyond letting Peter undo his pants - it seemed counter-intuitive, allowing the receiving partner to 'do the work for him.' Only now he began to feel his nerves returning as the contact dimmed slightly, the awareness that he had a role to play - an active one at that! - that he might be failing at.
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Peter leaned forward to kiss again, leaving his hands exactly where they were, the fingers of the hand at Sylar’s pants curling around the waistband and tugging him closer. Lips moved hotly against one another until he pulled back again, looking down as his hand made quick work of the button. Mouth hanging partly open, he snuck a quick glance up at Sylar, then drew down the zipper. “Ohhh, yeah.” He grinned, slipping a finger inside, stroking it up and down the velvety skin sheathing the hot, engorged organ. “Yeah, yeah.” Eyes alight, he spread the zippered sides and slid his whole hand in to grip very, very lightly. “Mmm,” he hummed, coming back in for a kiss, lips light and soft, delicate as the hold he kept on Sylar’s cock.
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Kissing. Hmmmm, fuck, kissing. Yeah, that helps. That helps everything. Cure-all kissing with Nurse Petrelli. Oh, God...Sylar darted his hand along Peter's own waistband now, delighting in the heavy, moist kissing. They broke apart, Sylar more reluctant to look at his partner. Why would anyone not give you what you need when you offer yourself on this kind of a silver platter? Their loss; very much my gain. Peter gave him a naughty look, poking a finger into his opened jeans before pulling out his inflamed erection, making greedy noises that had Sylar gasping, clinging more than he wanted to. "Uh....oh...." Peter barely had hold of him and he was practically gone already. He fought for the surface of his lust, driven to please Peter the same way - hopefully before the man made him pop even with the light hold he had. The memory of Peter begging him to come from the previous hand job worked hard to undermine his reasons for not bursting right then and there.
Sylar leaned away slightly, eyes squeezed shut in concentration, gripping at the other man's shoulder briefly. Taking deep breaths, he opened his eyes and touched his way down Peter's lovely abdomen to the front of his pants. Sylar had to look around Peter's arm and his own penis to see what he was doing because opening someone else's pants was opposite of what he was used to (his own). He felt a spark of shame and anger that he didn't have more practice at this even, but it was hardly an important function. He saw a bulging pair of underwear before Peter's hand distracted him. "Oh, Jesus, stop that," he blurted breathlessly, grabbing hold of the nearest thing which was Peter's hipbone. He swallowed and recovered himself, blinking wide-eyed at Peter, hastening to clarify lest he sound pained or disinterested, "I won't last if you do that." Another nervous grin given, he kissed Peter in thanks anyway.
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Peter chuckled, deeply pleased that Sylar was so turned on. Also, that the man was willing to tell him what to do that worked or didn't work for him. He liked that Sylar had limits. He moved his hand to stroke Sylar's arm instead. Unlike Sylar, Peter was wearing underwear and it was going to take more maneuvering than he'd done for the shirt to strip. Since they were going to have to part for that anyway, Peter directed, “Go get that lube over there. And-” a condom. But … there was no need. This was all in their heads and no reason to have a layer of latex between them. It had been a really long time since he'd had the pleasure of complete contact. Thrilled with that realization, Peter amended, “Just the lube.”
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Sylar gave him a slightly questioning look, not arguing. He sure as hell didn't want to move or leave, but he stood and allowed his pants to drop to his ankles where he stepped out of them and threw them with the pile of clothes - Peter was making a nest over there for whatever reason. Having toed off his shoes and socks with the pants; he proceeded, naked, to the table for lube. Peter made no mention of a condom. Another sort-of odd choice. I'm clean, I assume he is. I guess it doesn't...matter as much when its just us. Procuring it after a brief search (some of the items had been jostled during their fight), he carried it back to the sensation of his erection bobbing heavily at each step. It helped him with what would otherwise have been a prematurity problem...until he saw Peter shimmying out of his pants. Oh, there it is. Somehow he kept his feet moving forward until he knelt between Peter's open legs, glancing between the bared cock and swelled cheeks under him and his partner's eyes and to be sure looking wasn't offensive. Through main force of will, he kept his hands away from his dick, though the urge to touch himself was strong in the face of such temptation. He gripped the lube bottle hard instead.
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Peter paused to watch Sylar walk away. Watching the bob and flex of those lean buttocks made him grin and briefly shiver. He kept ogling raptly as Sylar leaned over the table to reach for his goal, muscles in the man's back tensing and bunching. About then, Peter realized he needed to get undressed before Sylar got back and he hurried to do that. As Sylar approached, Peter splayed invitingly, his lower body dipping a bit when Sylar knelt on the mattress between his legs, eyes darting between Peter's face and over his displayed body. Peter flexed, glutes tensing to raise his ass an inch as his knees fell a little further to the side and his mouth opened. His cock twitched and he reached down to fondle himself idly under Sylar's observant eyes. A blush and gooseflesh announced just how much Peter liked being looked at.
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Oh, you dirty boy, Sylar thought with affection and desire. He looked his fill when Peter showed every sign of encouragement and interest in being watched - a good thing, too. His curiosity didn't abate on seeing Peter bare, far from it, instead it enflamed. He wanted to know everything there was to know about this wonderful body. Information, answers, experience was all on tap here and it was overwhelming how much was being offered; Sylar could drown in it easily. That it was attainable at all spoke of something far more loving than Sylar knew how to process.
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Such intense scrutiny could have easily become intimidating, but Sylar broke it by smiling sexily and murmuring, “God, you look good.” He smoothed his hands up Peter's shins, leaning to kiss one knee. Peter made an approving noise, scooting a tiny bit closer. He shut his eyes and tugged himself slowly as Sylar explored him. The other man leaned over to run his hands from Peter's chest down his abdomen, over his hips and up his thighs.
Peter whined and shifted his hips back and forth. “I want you,” Peter whispered hoarsely, looking at Sylar hungrily. He cast his eyes next to the towels and clothes, letting go of himself to pull those over. “We've got to lift me up a little.” He raised his rear end off the mattress and stuffed towels and clothing under him, letting Sylar handle smoothing it out. When he was done, hands cupped his butt cheeks unexpectedly, Sylar shooting him a careful look that turned into a smile when Peter showed pleased acceptance. Sylar kneaded gently as Peter relaxed, settling down on his impromptu butt-pillow.
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Sylar made a growling sound at that, his instinct to snarl his appreciation, but he held off, at least the facial expression. More animalistic sounds filled his head. That's it, Peter, he thought, feeling exhilaration and delight bouncing off his very skin. It was confirmed - Peter wanted him. He'd now heard words he thought his ears would never truthfully witness. He calmed himself from what was sure to be a chokingly emotional reaction, unsure of what else to do with it or himself. I want you, too, really bad. He didn't understand the need to prop Peter up, not that he minded - it gave him better access. He could only marvel at these moments: Peter Petrelli, frightened and vulnerable (turned on), naked and wanting him, allowing him to touch and be with him, be inside him. Sylar had no frame of reference, it was too incredible. He wanted this again and again and they hadn't even finished yet. He determined to make it good; Somehow, I'll figure it out so you like this, he thought to Peter.
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Characters: Sylar (Gabriel Gray)/Peter Petrelli
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, bondage, dominance/submission, implied torture.
Word count: 3,651
Setting: Inside the Wall
Summary: The World's Most Effed Up Gift RP expansion with game_byrd (writing for Peter). After years of unresolved sexual tension, Sylar finally can't take it anymore. He creates a situation where he gives himself to Peter to do with as Peter wishes - torture, sex, death - doesn't matter. Sylar just wants resolution.
Sylar returned the kiss, containing the impulse to press into Peter harder. He felt his axons firing lava-ice through his nerves, nearly trembling from desire. Oh, Jesus. I am not gonna last a minute. He accepted the hug, enjoying the warm, firm, broad chest he lay on (even with the shirt on). He supported Peter's head against him, lightly feeling the man's hair as he did so. A jolt zinged down to his cock when Peter whispered in his ear, entirely intimate and seductive even if the words weren't. Oh, he thought simply, his brain silent for a moment to take it in; That's a really good analogy. This was all very serious and he took it that way, ignoring even the part where Peter thought...feared he would 'fuck it up'. He didn’t appreciate the thought, begrudging it. It was their mutual reality nonetheless.
He started to nod, then desisted as it was disruptive. "Yes. I can do that, Peter." He couldn't think of anything else better to say or add, knowing what he was dealing with. With that in mind, he knew he needed to get control over his own arousal first thing. It had been a long while, but he succeeded in switching his mind from greedy self-absorption and pleasuring-seeking to putting his erection on hold (as much as was possible); enjoying a new experience, a new person - his date - and making Peter feel incredible and comfortable. Patience was key. It would finally pay off, not today so much, but later. Crap. Does he give me instructions or do I...? He knows I don't know, so he'll...at least show me.
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Peter lay back, looking up at Sylar for a long, still moment, studying his face as if he was memorizing the features. Maybe he was. He was letting himself see Sylar in a different light. Peter had walked into the room suspicious, a little afraid, and way more tense and closed off than he’d realized. Now he was dropping those defenses. Sylar looked uncertain. Peter reflected on what he’d said. Heh. Way to up to pressure on the guy, Peter. Hasn’t done this before and you tell him if he fucks it up, it’s all over? Yeah, smart move there.
He smiled a little and whispered softly, “It’s going to be okay.” He slid his hand under Sylar’s shirt, up to the top of his chest, over his shoulder and behind his neck. Peter guided Sylar down for another slow, gentle kiss, feeling want and need and desire spiral up inside himself as he shed his inhibitions and let himself go in the moment. Peter’s body arched into Sylar’s as their lips moved against one another. The hand not cupping the back of Sylar’s head wrapped around the man’s back to hold them together as he raised his knee vertical, pressing against Sylar’s hip with his thigh. Peter’s eyes slid shut, breaths coming deeper as he opened his mouth and turned his head, tongue teasing along the edges of Sylar’s teeth. He moaned when Sylar’s tongue joined his in exploration.
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Sylar was pretty sure he was trembling. Not a clue what to do and presented with the one thing - and person - he wanted most in the world. He wanted to please, to blow Peter's mind, but he knew realistically he should set his sights at a more average level, though the pressure was on to make it good for Peter. Sylar looked back, desperate not to squirm or do or say something to ruin the mood or whatever examination Peter was doubtlessly doing. Probably re-thinking it. He should, if he's smart. But he's smart and he's still doing this - how crazy is that? This is actually going to happen - like this, with him. I think he likes me. Does he know that I don't know what to do about that either? This is incredible!
Check-in or inspection complete, Peter stroked over his body and Sylar felt his eyelids droop as he squirmed, appropriately, a little. He followed Peter's lead in kissing, for now. The empath's needs were...different than his own. Not bad, hardly; just different, mostly just new. Thinking 'going slow' meant a snail's pace all the way, Sylar had just settled in when Peter rubbed his body against him during the kiss, beginning to wrap around him with his legs as well. He grunted and hummed in approval, groaning a little bit when Peter finally let him taste. Uhh; tongue, was all he could think. He petted along Peter's bicep and shoulder, tasting Peter with small flicks of motion. They were quickly progressing to where they'd left off before. It was different, but it had the added aspect of liking and being liked in return - a whole new relationship open to them, changing the dynamic.
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Peter kissed along Sylar’s cheek, feeling Sylar do the same. He could sense the tension through Sylar’s frame. It made Peter’s fingers clench and release, upping his own arousal - he wanted to crawl on top of Sylar and do … well, something. Planning wasn’t a strong suit. “Come here,” Peter said huskily, prodding Sylar to move and rolling them so they faced, side to side. Peter exhaled, smiling cheeky delight at the position change. He’d liked being under him, but he liked this better at the moment.
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Sylar moved as directed, at first a little confused. The shift didn't make much sense to him but it didn't bar him from much other than the use of his right arm, somewhat trapped under Peter's armpit, his hand on the man's back. It's a great back, too. He could feel the muscles moving around even through the shirt. He was now laying more against the mattress where he hadn't been before, instead having lain on Peter, braced against his pelvis, really. It was kind of a crappy mattress. It had come with the room and Sylar, thinking they wouldn't be needing it, had flipped it on its side against the wall. Well, now they were using it. Not knowing if it mattered or not, being accustomed to the floor for sexual activity, he asked, "Do you want to find a better bed?"
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“No,” Peter replied shortly. “I like the room.” To emphasize his point, he hiked his knee up over Sylar’s hip, hooking it behind them and synching them together with a slight adjustment of position. He could feel Sylar’s erection through his pants, pressing to his own. “Heh,” Peter said happily, slipping his outer arm under Sylar’s and around his back as Peter returned to kiss him again. He kissed softly, then pulled back to break for a second before kissing again, then repeating a third time. This time he made a growl of desire and kissed harder, longer, and fiercer, holding Sylar tight against him as his tongue probed inside and his hips ground up-and-forward, down-and-back.
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You like the room? You're weird, he narrowed his eyes at his partner in amusement. Peter wiped his mind clean of humor and question when he aligned their organs. Sylar was beginning to feel Peter now; again, he ignored it for now. They were still clothed but they wouldn't be for long. Sylar was astounded at how much safer he felt already - he hadn't expected it to be so easy or attainable at all. It was a relief he hadn't been looking for but it felt like a pleasurable cramp, like his muscles had been massaged after running or something and the tension that built now had a cleaner baseline. Sylar's left arm was atop Peter's. At first he ran his fingers in the man's hair, combing it back away from his darling face, busily smooching away at his lips. The stop-start pattern was annoying, that Peter pattern of kissing was a learning curve, giving the impression that Peter very much wanted his participation and pleasure which made it more than alright. He did not go unsatisfied either. Sylar held the man's neck and opened his mouth wide to avidly lick about the inside of Peter's tempting mouth, at last getting the taste-test he wanted. He kept his mouth skin-tight to Peter, savoring the wet heat therein while the man's hips began to push against him. "Ughn," he rumbled in his chest, dropping his free hand down to clutch at the available thigh over his hip, eagerly assisting in the sexual rubbing.
His cock was once more hard and aching, a slower burn, no less intense. With his emotions almost completely out of his control, it may have been more intense this second round of humping. Each thrust against each other scraped denim against denim and denim against his cockhead and shaft, straining for every bit of friction and pressure. Sylar found himself too breathless to moan. His handsome target disengaged at the mouth to cover him everywhere else in kisses. The idea was pure eroticism, causing his cock to yearn for those kiss-swollen, stunningly pink lips on itself. God, he looks good.
Somewhat sweaty, somewhat sticky, a bit tear-stained and flushed, a mess of sex-teased hair swept back from his face, Peter looked like he'd already been fucked. Sylar couldn't help but feel masculine and desirous looking at that. He ground harder on the available pelvis, kissing back on Peter's face for a few moments before halting Peter's facial pecking. Pushing Peter's head away and back, he exposed a long neck, dipping down to lick it with long strokes, kissing it with puckered lips then nipping firmly from jaw down to the neckline of shirt. He would have continued but the fabric made for an unsexy mouthful, though he tugged at it to get at more flesh, attempting to continue down Peter's wonderful shoulders. By then, the nurse's cock was poking just as desperately into his hip; Sylar found himself very caught up in providing that much pleasure.
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Peter parted from his lover, panting heavily, and jerked his shirt up. “Taking this off,” he muttered unnecessarily, making a quick nod at Sylar. “Get yours, too.” He flexed and wriggled, making a show and enjoying every second of it. He hoped he was being watched. He started to toss the shirt aside, then thought better of it and threw it on top of the towels Sylar had brought over. Peter took Sylar’s shirt and put it over there as well, a vague intention of using them to prop him up later coming to mind. In the meantime, though, he scooted back closer to his partner, touching along Sylar’s chest and watching the man’s face. Peter thumbed a nipple once, twice, then a third time, tangling his legs with Sylar’s.
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A low growl issued from Sylar's throat, partly at the separation (though he approved of the cause) and partly with the knowledge that his companion would soon lack a shirt. His own garment was shed in three precise motions, leaving him all the time in the world to watch Peter...Wow, he has bulked up. That was more than fantastic; the view made him ache still further: defined pecs and abdominals - Sylar could see the disappearing iliac muscles leading into Peter's pants, all of this covered in smooth, lightly olive skin, flexing fit and healthy. He shamelessly ogled. Peter's nipples appeared almost brown in comparison to his own rather pink pair, not that it mattered. The other man's were tight, tilted, oval buds and only today Sylar had found out how sensitive his own chest was to another's touch. Peter likes touch, he'll get his fair share. His hand went to the nearest nipple, skimming it gently, watching the man's face carefully at first. Seeing no disagreement, he continued on to plucking and rubbing and barely twisting it, feeling his own chest being played. He breathed harder, making small noises as the treatment aroused him, very ready to penetrate and establish a firm rhythm inside.
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Peter arched with a pleased moan at Sylar's touches - he was delighted by the initiative and touching. He squirmed against Sylar's body, putting a few rotations into their grinding rather than straight thrusts. He grinned and leaned in for a quick, appreciative kiss before leaning back and looking down as his right hand took on a new project. He slowed, making his motions more deliberate as he went lower. The smooth, soft, yielding skin of Sylar’s stomach passed under his fingers. He looked up and raised his brows slightly as if asking permission as his fingertips drew up against the waistband of the other man’s pants. “Hm?” he hummed, dipping the very end of one finger under the fabric and running it up and then down, crossing the button in the center twice.
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Sylar found his eyes opening wider, a silly reaction given the circumstances, surprised nonetheless at the wandering hand. He bit his lip briefly, nodding as if Peter needed it, and gasping as Peter slid a finger under his pants again. Does he know how hot that is? I don't even care where he learned all this. He's really good. Sylar was grateful that the other man had experience and seemed willing to share it with him. He gripped at the man's flank, not sure if groping at his ass would be interpreted as 'rushing' or impatience, otherwise stroking along the medic's back. He didn't know what else to do beyond letting Peter undo his pants - it seemed counter-intuitive, allowing the receiving partner to 'do the work for him.' Only now he began to feel his nerves returning as the contact dimmed slightly, the awareness that he had a role to play - an active one at that! - that he might be failing at.
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Peter leaned forward to kiss again, leaving his hands exactly where they were, the fingers of the hand at Sylar’s pants curling around the waistband and tugging him closer. Lips moved hotly against one another until he pulled back again, looking down as his hand made quick work of the button. Mouth hanging partly open, he snuck a quick glance up at Sylar, then drew down the zipper. “Ohhh, yeah.” He grinned, slipping a finger inside, stroking it up and down the velvety skin sheathing the hot, engorged organ. “Yeah, yeah.” Eyes alight, he spread the zippered sides and slid his whole hand in to grip very, very lightly. “Mmm,” he hummed, coming back in for a kiss, lips light and soft, delicate as the hold he kept on Sylar’s cock.
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Kissing. Hmmmm, fuck, kissing. Yeah, that helps. That helps everything. Cure-all kissing with Nurse Petrelli. Oh, God...Sylar darted his hand along Peter's own waistband now, delighting in the heavy, moist kissing. They broke apart, Sylar more reluctant to look at his partner. Why would anyone not give you what you need when you offer yourself on this kind of a silver platter? Their loss; very much my gain. Peter gave him a naughty look, poking a finger into his opened jeans before pulling out his inflamed erection, making greedy noises that had Sylar gasping, clinging more than he wanted to. "Uh....oh...." Peter barely had hold of him and he was practically gone already. He fought for the surface of his lust, driven to please Peter the same way - hopefully before the man made him pop even with the light hold he had. The memory of Peter begging him to come from the previous hand job worked hard to undermine his reasons for not bursting right then and there.
Sylar leaned away slightly, eyes squeezed shut in concentration, gripping at the other man's shoulder briefly. Taking deep breaths, he opened his eyes and touched his way down Peter's lovely abdomen to the front of his pants. Sylar had to look around Peter's arm and his own penis to see what he was doing because opening someone else's pants was opposite of what he was used to (his own). He felt a spark of shame and anger that he didn't have more practice at this even, but it was hardly an important function. He saw a bulging pair of underwear before Peter's hand distracted him. "Oh, Jesus, stop that," he blurted breathlessly, grabbing hold of the nearest thing which was Peter's hipbone. He swallowed and recovered himself, blinking wide-eyed at Peter, hastening to clarify lest he sound pained or disinterested, "I won't last if you do that." Another nervous grin given, he kissed Peter in thanks anyway.
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Peter chuckled, deeply pleased that Sylar was so turned on. Also, that the man was willing to tell him what to do that worked or didn't work for him. He liked that Sylar had limits. He moved his hand to stroke Sylar's arm instead. Unlike Sylar, Peter was wearing underwear and it was going to take more maneuvering than he'd done for the shirt to strip. Since they were going to have to part for that anyway, Peter directed, “Go get that lube over there. And-” a condom. But … there was no need. This was all in their heads and no reason to have a layer of latex between them. It had been a really long time since he'd had the pleasure of complete contact. Thrilled with that realization, Peter amended, “Just the lube.”
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Sylar gave him a slightly questioning look, not arguing. He sure as hell didn't want to move or leave, but he stood and allowed his pants to drop to his ankles where he stepped out of them and threw them with the pile of clothes - Peter was making a nest over there for whatever reason. Having toed off his shoes and socks with the pants; he proceeded, naked, to the table for lube. Peter made no mention of a condom. Another sort-of odd choice. I'm clean, I assume he is. I guess it doesn't...matter as much when its just us. Procuring it after a brief search (some of the items had been jostled during their fight), he carried it back to the sensation of his erection bobbing heavily at each step. It helped him with what would otherwise have been a prematurity problem...until he saw Peter shimmying out of his pants. Oh, there it is. Somehow he kept his feet moving forward until he knelt between Peter's open legs, glancing between the bared cock and swelled cheeks under him and his partner's eyes and to be sure looking wasn't offensive. Through main force of will, he kept his hands away from his dick, though the urge to touch himself was strong in the face of such temptation. He gripped the lube bottle hard instead.
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Peter paused to watch Sylar walk away. Watching the bob and flex of those lean buttocks made him grin and briefly shiver. He kept ogling raptly as Sylar leaned over the table to reach for his goal, muscles in the man's back tensing and bunching. About then, Peter realized he needed to get undressed before Sylar got back and he hurried to do that. As Sylar approached, Peter splayed invitingly, his lower body dipping a bit when Sylar knelt on the mattress between his legs, eyes darting between Peter's face and over his displayed body. Peter flexed, glutes tensing to raise his ass an inch as his knees fell a little further to the side and his mouth opened. His cock twitched and he reached down to fondle himself idly under Sylar's observant eyes. A blush and gooseflesh announced just how much Peter liked being looked at.
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Oh, you dirty boy, Sylar thought with affection and desire. He looked his fill when Peter showed every sign of encouragement and interest in being watched - a good thing, too. His curiosity didn't abate on seeing Peter bare, far from it, instead it enflamed. He wanted to know everything there was to know about this wonderful body. Information, answers, experience was all on tap here and it was overwhelming how much was being offered; Sylar could drown in it easily. That it was attainable at all spoke of something far more loving than Sylar knew how to process.
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Such intense scrutiny could have easily become intimidating, but Sylar broke it by smiling sexily and murmuring, “God, you look good.” He smoothed his hands up Peter's shins, leaning to kiss one knee. Peter made an approving noise, scooting a tiny bit closer. He shut his eyes and tugged himself slowly as Sylar explored him. The other man leaned over to run his hands from Peter's chest down his abdomen, over his hips and up his thighs.
Peter whined and shifted his hips back and forth. “I want you,” Peter whispered hoarsely, looking at Sylar hungrily. He cast his eyes next to the towels and clothes, letting go of himself to pull those over. “We've got to lift me up a little.” He raised his rear end off the mattress and stuffed towels and clothing under him, letting Sylar handle smoothing it out. When he was done, hands cupped his butt cheeks unexpectedly, Sylar shooting him a careful look that turned into a smile when Peter showed pleased acceptance. Sylar kneaded gently as Peter relaxed, settling down on his impromptu butt-pillow.
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Sylar made a growling sound at that, his instinct to snarl his appreciation, but he held off, at least the facial expression. More animalistic sounds filled his head. That's it, Peter, he thought, feeling exhilaration and delight bouncing off his very skin. It was confirmed - Peter wanted him. He'd now heard words he thought his ears would never truthfully witness. He calmed himself from what was sure to be a chokingly emotional reaction, unsure of what else to do with it or himself. I want you, too, really bad. He didn't understand the need to prop Peter up, not that he minded - it gave him better access. He could only marvel at these moments: Peter Petrelli, frightened and vulnerable (turned on), naked and wanting him, allowing him to touch and be with him, be inside him. Sylar had no frame of reference, it was too incredible. He wanted this again and again and they hadn't even finished yet. He determined to make it good; Somehow, I'll figure it out so you like this, he thought to Peter.
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