Seduction of the Senses - 8
Previous chapters
A/N: Longest chapter yet :) So much praise for
freetheelves2 for beta work! I had originally planned on making this a two-part chapter, but changed my mind. I promise I'll start working on chapter 9 today :)
After much debate between Noah and Sandra over where they're going to go after leaving the hotel, Sylar settles the argument by planting the subtle suggestion in Noah's mind that it's safe to go home. The adult Bennets settle into comfortable silence as their van speeds through the night. A combination of the silence and the darkness lulls Lyle into sleep, slumping against the window, and then Claire follows, resting her head on Lyle's legs. An hour of soothing monotonous petting settles Mr. Muggles into a deep slumber as well, and only the adults are still awake. Sylar can't help but think that it's nice, like he's part of the family, even though it's odd. It gives him time to subtly dive into Noah's and Sandra's thoughts, and to review and modify his plans.
When they pull into the driveway four hours later, Sylar hates to see Noah shake Lyle and Claire awake. If he'd been able to help her without revealing himself, he could have easily carried her up to their room or floated her there telekinetically. Instead, he has to settle for following her into the house and up the stairs, still cloaked in invisibility and silence.
As soon as she's in her bedroom, she closes the door, almost hitting him in the face with it, and immediately collapses on her bed. He's more than a bit amazed that she can sleep like this, fully dressed and with her shoes still on, sprawled on top of the covers. He makes a faint noise, testing to see how deep she's sleeping, and finds that she doesn't move. Taking a chance that she won't wake, he carefully slips her shoes off and lets them fall next to the bed. Next, the covers roll back and he maneuvers her under the sheets and blankets. There's no reason she shouldn't be comfortable.
He's content just to sit there on the edge of her bed, watching her sleep, but he knows that's a waste of his time. There's a limited amount of time that she'll sleep, or before Noah comes to check on her, and he needs to learn everything he can about her in the meantime. He starts his fact-finding mission with a brief perusal of her room. It looks like a typical teenager's room, until he starts sorting through everything. He had no clue that a girl would have that many bottles of perfume, and he quickly goes through her selection, sniffing and picking out his favorites. Some of them are entirely too mature for her, and he wonders why she even has them.
Next up on his tour is her closet and armoire. He almost hates himself as he pulls open the top drawer and finds her stash of lingerie. Almost. Hate gives way to fascination and lust as he pulls out lacy bra after lacy bra, satin panties, and barely-there thongs. He never would have guessed that little Claire-bear would ever wear anything like these items. The next drawer down yields silky nighties and corsets and lingerie that he can't find the correct name for. It's only when he pulls the last item from the drawer and lets the silk slide through his fingers that he uncovers her diary.
The underthings and lingerie carefully fly back up into the air, rearranging themselves to their exact positions before with much care, and the drawers close. With a quick look at the bed, he sees that Claire's still sound asleep, so he lets himself take the risk of sitting on the bed next to her, propped up against the headboard, legs stretched out until his feet are touching the footboard. He opens the diary, and a few pieces of loose leaf paper fall out from where she'd carefully tucked them into the journal. Unfolding the first piece of paper, he reveals a list of names, all except one of which have been marked out. His name is the only one still unmarred by a thick black line, and he can think of no reason that there would ever be a list with his and Peter's names both on it. The second piece of paper appears to be a shopping list of sorts, only written in a variety of colored inks and marked liberally with highlighter fluid. He recognizes some of the items as the perfumes on her vanity and as the lingerie he'd sorted through earlier. The diary makes for interesting reading, giving him further insight to her lists and her plans, and he quickly loses track of time. Dawn is breaking, light streaming through the window and throwing beams across the bed, as he finishes reading the last page. Claire is starting to wake, stirring and mumbling as she begins to swim up through levels of sleep to full awareness, and he hurriedly jumps from the bed and replaces the diary. He's glad that he'd taken the time; he's certainly got a much better understanding of her and what he needs to do next.
- - - - - - - - - -
As Claire wipes the sleep from her eyes, she's confused as to how she got in the position that she's in. The last thing she can remember is falling face-first across the bed, shoes still on, on top of the covers; yet now she's lying on her back under the covers with no shoes. She tells herself that she must have stirred just long enough to get more comfortable at one point or that her parents had checked on her and moved her, but it's strange. Slowly pushing the covers back, she rises and stretches. She tells herself that she's just being paranoid and jumpy, acting like her dad, when she thinks she can feel something or someone watching her. A quick sniff, and she makes the decision to grab a shower before breakfast. Grabbing matching bra and pair of panties from the drawer, she walks into her en suite bathroom and starts her shower.
She feels like she's being watched; it's an odd sensation. Peeling off her clothes from the night before, she climbs into the shower. If it wasn't for the sound of the cascading water, she would have heard Sylar's quick intake of breath as she'd pulled her T-shirt over her head and unlatched her bra. Instead, she goes completely unaware.
Even after bathing and dressing, she still can sense something in her room. "Hello?" she calls out, feeling incredibly silly. "Is there someone here? Peter?"
"Hello? Am I just talking to myself?"
No answer, not that she'd really expected one, and she laughs nervously and makes her way downstairs for breakfast.
- - - - - - - - - -
He wants to grab her at breakfast, but he doesn't let himself. Satisfaction delayed can only make him stronger, and he needs to make sure that their house is perfect before he takes her there. He follows Claire and Lyle as they walk to school, making sure that she makes it to her first class safely, and then he teleports back to Florida.
Before he makes his way back to Claire's side, the crisp white cotton sheets in the master bedroom have been moved back to the linen closet, making room for black satin sheets that he knows she'd look amazing against. The ripest strawberries that he can find and a magnum of champagne are chilling in the refrigerator, and the rest of the items on her grocery list are in the cupboards. A wicked grin graces his face as he contemplates the caramel sauce; he'd never considered ice cream toppings quite that way before. Really, he needs to thank her for opening his mind to all sorts of new ideas.
A quick shower and change of clothing later, he teleports back to the outside of the Bennet home just in time for supper.
- - - - - - - - - -
"So, how was school? Anything strange, interesting, worrisome?" Noah asks as he passes the bread basket to Lyle.
"Dad, its school." Claire rolls her eyes. "When has anything interesting ever happened at school?"
"Oh, I don't know. I seem to remember homecoming a few years ago as being quite interesting, my dear."
Sylar hadn't planned on announcing his presence so early in the evening, but she's given him the perfect opening. He lets his invisibility fall off, and gives the shocked Bennets a smile that's more accurately described as a smirk. "Or has my babydoll forgotten me so easily? Really, Claire, I doubt that you have." He knows for a fact that she hasn't.
A quick wave of his hand, and Noah's stuck in his seat. He'd just heard the man think about going after his gun, and he can't let that happen. As a matter of form, he freezes Lyle and Sandra in their chairs as well. He doesn't think any of the rest of the Bennets would shoot him, but he's been surprised by that family before and won't that let that happen again.
"Oh Noah, that really wasn't very nice." The telekinetic bonds tighten until Bennet gasps. "Not the least little bit polite or hospitable. So, what's for supper?" He smiles at them. "Mrs. Bennet, it smells amazing, whatever it is. Hmm… looks like meatloaf. My compliments to the chef."
All four of them just stare at him like he's lost his mind, or they've lost theirs. He does so love playing mind games with them, and as he contemplates his next move, he pulls over a chair and sits down in between Claire and Sandra, just like he had at the hotel restaurant, wondering if anyone would pick up on his subtle hint about the real identity of 'Andy.'
- - - - - - - - - -
Claire cannot believe that he's actually here, sitting down at their table and calmly discussing meatloaf. She's about to hyperventilate, her thoughts racing between 'oh my God, what is he doing?' and 'what am I going to do? Can I actually go through with this now?' She watches, mouth hanging open in shock, as he helps himself to her fork and her plate of food. He takes a bite, closes his eyes in gustatory bliss, and opens them to smile at her again. Another tiny bit of food makes it way onto the fork, but she's not expecting him to lift it her lips.
"Well, open up already. This lovely supper's not going to eat itself."
She's wondering if someone has the power to shift things into an alternate reality and is using it as she opens her mouth and lets him feed her choice little bits.
"Excellent. Really, Sandra, you've done a fabulous job."
All four Bennets continue to stare at him in shock.
"What do you want?" Noah finally realizes that he can talk even though his mouth is the only part of his body that he can move.
"What do I always want?" Sylar smirks.
"What are you going to do to us? Let my family go, take me instead." Noah decides to immediately start bargaining. If he can get Sylar to let them loose, maybe he can get to the gun in his coat pocket.
With a quick look and finger gesture, the gun rises out of the coat and makes its way to the center of the table, where it liquefies into a puddle of goo into an empty bowl. "What makes you think that I wouldn't hear that little thought? Please, Noah, give me a bit more credit." He leans back in his chair, letting his arm fall around the back of Claire's chair.
If he could, Noah would narrow his eyes. "Leave her out of this."
"Oh, Noah, you are so clueless, playing the big bad Papa Bear protecting his little cub. So, Sandra, dessert or no?"
No one answers.
"I'm guessing that there isn't any dessert. Disappointing, really. Guess I'll have to take care of getting a taste of something sweet myself." The look he gives Claire is easily interpreted by Noah, who starts struggling again.
He rises from the table, making his way over to Sandra's side. Leaning down, he presses a chaste kiss against her cheek and whispers to her. "Really, an amazing supper. Thank you." He makes his way back to Claire's side, and places his hand on her shoulder. Just before he teleports the two of them back to Florida, he loosens the bonds on the rest of the family.
Noah immediately goes for his backup gun, and aims. He's a second too late, and the bullet imbeds itself into the wall just behind where Sylar had been standing.
- - - - - - - - - -
Claire wants to scream as the Bennet dining room fades into swirls of color that leave her dizzy and nauseous, but the swirls dissolve away to reveal a living room that she's never seen before. Even though it's dark outside, she can see and hear the ocean through the open glass doors. Gauzy white chiffon curtains float on the light breeze and thousands of tiny candles light the room. Sylar's still standing behind her, and she's glad to find that she's not dead. Yet.
"Where are we?" She means to ask 'why haven't you killed me,' but the words won't leave her mouth.
"My house." He loosens his grasp on her shoulder and walks away.
"What are you going to do to me?" He's acting so out of character that she doesn't know how to deal with him. She's so used to him showing up, wanting to kill her and acting all dark and evil, that this version, with its smiles and teasing, is a mystery to her.
Making his way to the sofa, he sits down before answering her. "I don't know yet. Got any suggestions?"
She takes a deep breath, gathering all her courage, and makes her way to him. "Maybe," she answers, trying to sound as sexy as she can.
"Oh? I doubt you could suggest anything more interesting than what I'm already thinking. I just brought you here to mess with Noah's mind. I figure he'll be going insane, worrying about you. I'll return you home in a little bit, just long enough to make him sweat. Of course, I can't promise that you'll still be alive or in one piece, but I will take you home."
Something tells her that it won't be as easy to seduce him as she'd been hoping for, and she frowns briefly before wiping that look off her face and replacing it with a sultry smile. She steps forward again so that she's standing in between his open legs. Another deep breath, and she reaches to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I have another idea. One that might be more… satisfactory… to both of us."
"No, I think I like my idea. It's a good plan. Any particular requests for how I kill you? I'm a bit bored with the usual. You know Noah much better - what will really set him off?"
Claire can't do this. He's not picking up any of her signals, and she can't figure out how to get through to him. The sultry and sexy smiles and tones of voice aren't giving him the slightest clue. If she were to lean down and kiss him, she knows that he'll just misinterpret that as well. Dammit, it's never this hard to seduce a man in the movies!
Just when she's about to give up, he mentions her dad and she gets a wicked idea. "Oh, I know exactly what will drive him absolutely nuts."
His eyes light up. "What?"
She leans forward until she's flush against him, and whispers in his ear. "To know that you've touched me."
"No, that won't do it. I was touching you at supper, he reacted a little bit but not like I want."
It's the final straw. "You're a moron." Her common sense starts screaming at her that calling a mass murderer a moron to his face is a very bad idea, but she ignores it. "I'm trying to seduce you here, and you don't get it. Let me spell it out for you. My dad will go ballistic if he thinks that you've fucked me. Now, kiss me."
- - - - - - - - - -
Sylar keeps a firm hold of his self-control, and doesn't react to any of her flirting or looks. He's amused by her seduction attempts, and he's going to make her work for her reward. When she demands he kiss her, he almost starts laughing. The little minx is a lot more forward than he'd remembered, although he knows he shouldn't be surprised after reading her diary; she has more hidden depths than anyone's realized.
"Now, why would I want to do that? Especially with you." He stands up abruptly, and his movements throw her off balance. She starts to fall, and while he could catch her with his telekinesis, it's more fun to catch her physically. Wondering just how far he can go with his games before she finally loses all control, he decides to test her limits, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder and stalking over to the kitchen.
He plops her down on the counter. "Much better," he comments, referring to how more accessible she is now, but not wanting to let her know. "Do you have any clue how much easier it is to get blood off of tile and marble than off of carpet? It's a bitch, really." He lets his finger trail over her forehead, just like he would if he was actually planning on taking her head, and she trembles against him.
"Please don't do this." Her voice doesn't tremble, though. Instead, her head is held high and she's looking him straight in the eye.
He turns away from her, turning around to pull the strawberries out of the fridge. Enough of teasing her, he wants to get on to the good portion of the evening. He's not expecting her to leap off the counter onto his back, knocking him to the floor. As soon as she's got him down, she starts smacking at him and battering him about the head.
Without his powers, he's sure that he'd feel something other than mildly annoyed. He focuses on his TK and lifts her off of him, still struggling in the air.
"Oh, Claire-bear, that wasn't very nice."
"Go to hell."
"Aren't you just the one who was demanding I kiss you? Make up your mind, babydoll. If you really want me, you could be just a bit nicer. If you just want me to kill you, keep up the curses and attitude."
- - - - - - - - - -
She's convinced that her plan is never going to work, but she's going to give it one last try. He hadn't responded to flirting, teasing, or attitude, so she's going to attempt absolute bluntness. "Honestly, I think it doesn't matter what I say or do. You're going to do as you please, regardless. Now let me down; this is not comfortable by any stretch of the imagination."
He floats her back over to the counter top and as soon as she's seated, takes a step towards her. She rolls her eyes and grabs his shirt, pulling him in between her open thighs. "Now, are you going to kiss me or not? I'm getting bored here."
The kiss she gets is almost sweet and innocent, completely opposite from what she'd been expecting. She wraps her legs around his waist, and nips at his lips. He opens them slightly, in surprise she's sure, and she takes advantage of the opportunity. The kiss goes from tentative to overheated in less than a second after she runs her tongue along his teeth and nibbles at his lower lip again. One hand lets go of his shirt, and trails down towards his belt. His hand stops hers before she can reach it, and holds her in place. He deepens the kiss, and she starts to slide backwards before hitting her head on the kitchen cabinets behind her.
Her moan changes from 'yes, more, please' into more of 'ow, that hurt,' and he must have picked up on the subtle differences between the two because he's picking her up off the counter top. "Bed or table?" he asks, stopping to trail kisses along her neck before nipping at her clavicle.
He hits just the right spot, and she gasps out "table" without having to really think about it. The house seems huge, or at least what's she seen of it, and she knows that she'll never make it to the bedroom in time. The dining room table, on the other hand, is close by and more than big enough for the two of them. The china and silverware, painstakingly laid out perfectly as if a large formal party was planned, flies off the table and into the kitchen. The vase of flowers moves itself over to the buffet, and the napkins follow, stacking into neat order. She realizes that he's left the tablecloth on the table when she feels the smooth linen underneath her suddenly bare back. She has no clue how she's lost her shirt, but she doesn't really mind when his mouth trails further south to toy with the lace on her bra.
"Oh, God-- Sylar!" She had no clue that he'd be so much like her dream lover, or that it would feel so good.
He chuckles against her skin, but doesn't stop his actions. While one hand and his mouth keep occupied with her bra and breasts, the other hand is focused on getting her out of her jeans. When the button won't give way, he uses his telekinesis to slice the pants off of her, leaving her shaking beneath him in just her bra and panties. She's glad she'd picked one of the better matching sets that morning, a set that she'd bought with him in mind. Realizing that she's being entirely too passive, especially since she's the one who'd started everything, she slips one hand into his hair, caressing his scalp and running her fingers through the dark locks, while the other hand starts the same journey it had earlier. This time, however, when she reaches his belt, he doesn't stop her. His pants are hurriedly undone and unzipped, and he stops his actions just long enough to slice them off and let them fall off. She hadn't been expecting to find black silk boxers, but the feel of the cool silk and overheated flesh makes for a perfect marriage of sensation.
She manages to pull the boxers down at the same time that he's finally figured out how to undo the closure of her bra, and her panties are rapidly removed next.
He's mumbling, rapid words and phrases and pleas, the words tickling the skin under his mouth, but she can't understand any of it. The only thing she understands is when his hands come to rest on her hips and he looks up and asks, "are you sure?"
- - - - - - - - - -
If she says anything other than "yes," he's going to kill her. Not permanently, of course, but enough to give her an attitude adjustment. He doesn't think that's going to be the case, though.
She slowly nods her approval, but it's not enough. He needs to hear the words, and remaining still, he asks her again. This time he gets a whispered "yes." It's all he needs to hear.
Being with her is nothing like being with all the whores he's been encountering lately, and he's not exactly sure how to initiate the act. She's a virgin, and she's giving herself to him, becoming his in mind, body, and soul, and he's got to be careful with her. He leans down to kiss her again, this time letting more of his body weight come to rest on hers. While she's distracted with the kiss, he lifts her left leg to settle it around his hips. She picks up on his intentions, and wraps her right leg around him without prompting. He's about to slide into her, when he realizes that a few kisses and breast play probably aren't enough foreplay for her, and he stills again.
"What now? You can't stop now!" She grumbles into his mouth.
He doesn't know how to phrase his question any way but brusquely. "Are you wet enough, or do we need to play a bit first?"
She doesn't verbally answer; instead she reaches down until she's got her hand wrapped around him. Guiding him to her entrance, she raises her hips again, impaling herself on him, immediately stilling. He doesn't know what to do. He does know, however, that he's just asked a very stupid question when he feels how hot and wet she is around him. The sensation's enough to make him not really care about how she's feeling, but he can't treat her that way.
"Fine. Just… you're a bit bigger than I was expecting."
He can't hide his grin on hearing that, and he doesn't try. She wriggles against him, and tightens her pelvic muscles, and he groans at the feeling. "Oh, Claire. So good, so good. Please, can I move now?"
She laughs, and he realizes that teasing and laughter and love were the things missing with his previous encounters. "If you don't, I'm going to hurt you."
It's all the permission he needs, and he loses himself as he pounds her into the table. The only thing he's really aware of is the blood burning in his veins, the feel of her around him, and the sounds of his moans and her cries. She keeps calling out to God, and it spurs him on, even though she's not referring to him as her God. It's too soon, he knows, she's not aware of their deeper connection yet.
He changes the angle of his thrusts, and apparently hits another erogenous spot because she's digging her fingernails into his shoulders and tightening even more around him, before erupting into the most beautiful orgasm he's ever seen; he quickly follows, words of praise on his lips for his Goddess, bubbling over his tongue and out of his mouth like a babbling brook, words and phrases that mean nothing and yet everything all at the same time. She's finally his, his to have forever and ever and always, and he's never going to leave. It's a shame that he's too exhausted and too high on the feelings racing through his body to read her mind; he'd find that she'd never intended that he be anything other than a one-night stand.
Chapter Nine
A/N: Longest chapter yet :) So much praise for
freetheelves2 for beta work! I had originally planned on making this a two-part chapter, but changed my mind. I promise I'll start working on chapter 9 today :)
After much debate between Noah and Sandra over where they're going to go after leaving the hotel, Sylar settles the argument by planting the subtle suggestion in Noah's mind that it's safe to go home. The adult Bennets settle into comfortable silence as their van speeds through the night. A combination of the silence and the darkness lulls Lyle into sleep, slumping against the window, and then Claire follows, resting her head on Lyle's legs. An hour of soothing monotonous petting settles Mr. Muggles into a deep slumber as well, and only the adults are still awake. Sylar can't help but think that it's nice, like he's part of the family, even though it's odd. It gives him time to subtly dive into Noah's and Sandra's thoughts, and to review and modify his plans.
When they pull into the driveway four hours later, Sylar hates to see Noah shake Lyle and Claire awake. If he'd been able to help her without revealing himself, he could have easily carried her up to their room or floated her there telekinetically. Instead, he has to settle for following her into the house and up the stairs, still cloaked in invisibility and silence.
As soon as she's in her bedroom, she closes the door, almost hitting him in the face with it, and immediately collapses on her bed. He's more than a bit amazed that she can sleep like this, fully dressed and with her shoes still on, sprawled on top of the covers. He makes a faint noise, testing to see how deep she's sleeping, and finds that she doesn't move. Taking a chance that she won't wake, he carefully slips her shoes off and lets them fall next to the bed. Next, the covers roll back and he maneuvers her under the sheets and blankets. There's no reason she shouldn't be comfortable.
He's content just to sit there on the edge of her bed, watching her sleep, but he knows that's a waste of his time. There's a limited amount of time that she'll sleep, or before Noah comes to check on her, and he needs to learn everything he can about her in the meantime. He starts his fact-finding mission with a brief perusal of her room. It looks like a typical teenager's room, until he starts sorting through everything. He had no clue that a girl would have that many bottles of perfume, and he quickly goes through her selection, sniffing and picking out his favorites. Some of them are entirely too mature for her, and he wonders why she even has them.
Next up on his tour is her closet and armoire. He almost hates himself as he pulls open the top drawer and finds her stash of lingerie. Almost. Hate gives way to fascination and lust as he pulls out lacy bra after lacy bra, satin panties, and barely-there thongs. He never would have guessed that little Claire-bear would ever wear anything like these items. The next drawer down yields silky nighties and corsets and lingerie that he can't find the correct name for. It's only when he pulls the last item from the drawer and lets the silk slide through his fingers that he uncovers her diary.
The underthings and lingerie carefully fly back up into the air, rearranging themselves to their exact positions before with much care, and the drawers close. With a quick look at the bed, he sees that Claire's still sound asleep, so he lets himself take the risk of sitting on the bed next to her, propped up against the headboard, legs stretched out until his feet are touching the footboard. He opens the diary, and a few pieces of loose leaf paper fall out from where she'd carefully tucked them into the journal. Unfolding the first piece of paper, he reveals a list of names, all except one of which have been marked out. His name is the only one still unmarred by a thick black line, and he can think of no reason that there would ever be a list with his and Peter's names both on it. The second piece of paper appears to be a shopping list of sorts, only written in a variety of colored inks and marked liberally with highlighter fluid. He recognizes some of the items as the perfumes on her vanity and as the lingerie he'd sorted through earlier. The diary makes for interesting reading, giving him further insight to her lists and her plans, and he quickly loses track of time. Dawn is breaking, light streaming through the window and throwing beams across the bed, as he finishes reading the last page. Claire is starting to wake, stirring and mumbling as she begins to swim up through levels of sleep to full awareness, and he hurriedly jumps from the bed and replaces the diary. He's glad that he'd taken the time; he's certainly got a much better understanding of her and what he needs to do next.
- - - - - - - - - -
As Claire wipes the sleep from her eyes, she's confused as to how she got in the position that she's in. The last thing she can remember is falling face-first across the bed, shoes still on, on top of the covers; yet now she's lying on her back under the covers with no shoes. She tells herself that she must have stirred just long enough to get more comfortable at one point or that her parents had checked on her and moved her, but it's strange. Slowly pushing the covers back, she rises and stretches. She tells herself that she's just being paranoid and jumpy, acting like her dad, when she thinks she can feel something or someone watching her. A quick sniff, and she makes the decision to grab a shower before breakfast. Grabbing matching bra and pair of panties from the drawer, she walks into her en suite bathroom and starts her shower.
She feels like she's being watched; it's an odd sensation. Peeling off her clothes from the night before, she climbs into the shower. If it wasn't for the sound of the cascading water, she would have heard Sylar's quick intake of breath as she'd pulled her T-shirt over her head and unlatched her bra. Instead, she goes completely unaware.
Even after bathing and dressing, she still can sense something in her room. "Hello?" she calls out, feeling incredibly silly. "Is there someone here? Peter?"
"Hello? Am I just talking to myself?"
No answer, not that she'd really expected one, and she laughs nervously and makes her way downstairs for breakfast.
- - - - - - - - - -
He wants to grab her at breakfast, but he doesn't let himself. Satisfaction delayed can only make him stronger, and he needs to make sure that their house is perfect before he takes her there. He follows Claire and Lyle as they walk to school, making sure that she makes it to her first class safely, and then he teleports back to Florida.
Before he makes his way back to Claire's side, the crisp white cotton sheets in the master bedroom have been moved back to the linen closet, making room for black satin sheets that he knows she'd look amazing against. The ripest strawberries that he can find and a magnum of champagne are chilling in the refrigerator, and the rest of the items on her grocery list are in the cupboards. A wicked grin graces his face as he contemplates the caramel sauce; he'd never considered ice cream toppings quite that way before. Really, he needs to thank her for opening his mind to all sorts of new ideas.
A quick shower and change of clothing later, he teleports back to the outside of the Bennet home just in time for supper.
- - - - - - - - - -
"So, how was school? Anything strange, interesting, worrisome?" Noah asks as he passes the bread basket to Lyle.
"Dad, its school." Claire rolls her eyes. "When has anything interesting ever happened at school?"
"Oh, I don't know. I seem to remember homecoming a few years ago as being quite interesting, my dear."
Sylar hadn't planned on announcing his presence so early in the evening, but she's given him the perfect opening. He lets his invisibility fall off, and gives the shocked Bennets a smile that's more accurately described as a smirk. "Or has my babydoll forgotten me so easily? Really, Claire, I doubt that you have." He knows for a fact that she hasn't.
A quick wave of his hand, and Noah's stuck in his seat. He'd just heard the man think about going after his gun, and he can't let that happen. As a matter of form, he freezes Lyle and Sandra in their chairs as well. He doesn't think any of the rest of the Bennets would shoot him, but he's been surprised by that family before and won't that let that happen again.
"Oh Noah, that really wasn't very nice." The telekinetic bonds tighten until Bennet gasps. "Not the least little bit polite or hospitable. So, what's for supper?" He smiles at them. "Mrs. Bennet, it smells amazing, whatever it is. Hmm… looks like meatloaf. My compliments to the chef."
All four of them just stare at him like he's lost his mind, or they've lost theirs. He does so love playing mind games with them, and as he contemplates his next move, he pulls over a chair and sits down in between Claire and Sandra, just like he had at the hotel restaurant, wondering if anyone would pick up on his subtle hint about the real identity of 'Andy.'
- - - - - - - - - -
Claire cannot believe that he's actually here, sitting down at their table and calmly discussing meatloaf. She's about to hyperventilate, her thoughts racing between 'oh my God, what is he doing?' and 'what am I going to do? Can I actually go through with this now?' She watches, mouth hanging open in shock, as he helps himself to her fork and her plate of food. He takes a bite, closes his eyes in gustatory bliss, and opens them to smile at her again. Another tiny bit of food makes it way onto the fork, but she's not expecting him to lift it her lips.
"Well, open up already. This lovely supper's not going to eat itself."
She's wondering if someone has the power to shift things into an alternate reality and is using it as she opens her mouth and lets him feed her choice little bits.
"Excellent. Really, Sandra, you've done a fabulous job."
All four Bennets continue to stare at him in shock.
"What do you want?" Noah finally realizes that he can talk even though his mouth is the only part of his body that he can move.
"What do I always want?" Sylar smirks.
"What are you going to do to us? Let my family go, take me instead." Noah decides to immediately start bargaining. If he can get Sylar to let them loose, maybe he can get to the gun in his coat pocket.
With a quick look and finger gesture, the gun rises out of the coat and makes its way to the center of the table, where it liquefies into a puddle of goo into an empty bowl. "What makes you think that I wouldn't hear that little thought? Please, Noah, give me a bit more credit." He leans back in his chair, letting his arm fall around the back of Claire's chair.
If he could, Noah would narrow his eyes. "Leave her out of this."
"Oh, Noah, you are so clueless, playing the big bad Papa Bear protecting his little cub. So, Sandra, dessert or no?"
No one answers.
"I'm guessing that there isn't any dessert. Disappointing, really. Guess I'll have to take care of getting a taste of something sweet myself." The look he gives Claire is easily interpreted by Noah, who starts struggling again.
He rises from the table, making his way over to Sandra's side. Leaning down, he presses a chaste kiss against her cheek and whispers to her. "Really, an amazing supper. Thank you." He makes his way back to Claire's side, and places his hand on her shoulder. Just before he teleports the two of them back to Florida, he loosens the bonds on the rest of the family.
Noah immediately goes for his backup gun, and aims. He's a second too late, and the bullet imbeds itself into the wall just behind where Sylar had been standing.
- - - - - - - - - -
Claire wants to scream as the Bennet dining room fades into swirls of color that leave her dizzy and nauseous, but the swirls dissolve away to reveal a living room that she's never seen before. Even though it's dark outside, she can see and hear the ocean through the open glass doors. Gauzy white chiffon curtains float on the light breeze and thousands of tiny candles light the room. Sylar's still standing behind her, and she's glad to find that she's not dead. Yet.
"Where are we?" She means to ask 'why haven't you killed me,' but the words won't leave her mouth.
"My house." He loosens his grasp on her shoulder and walks away.
"What are you going to do to me?" He's acting so out of character that she doesn't know how to deal with him. She's so used to him showing up, wanting to kill her and acting all dark and evil, that this version, with its smiles and teasing, is a mystery to her.
Making his way to the sofa, he sits down before answering her. "I don't know yet. Got any suggestions?"
She takes a deep breath, gathering all her courage, and makes her way to him. "Maybe," she answers, trying to sound as sexy as she can.
"Oh? I doubt you could suggest anything more interesting than what I'm already thinking. I just brought you here to mess with Noah's mind. I figure he'll be going insane, worrying about you. I'll return you home in a little bit, just long enough to make him sweat. Of course, I can't promise that you'll still be alive or in one piece, but I will take you home."
Something tells her that it won't be as easy to seduce him as she'd been hoping for, and she frowns briefly before wiping that look off her face and replacing it with a sultry smile. She steps forward again so that she's standing in between his open legs. Another deep breath, and she reaches to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I have another idea. One that might be more… satisfactory… to both of us."
"No, I think I like my idea. It's a good plan. Any particular requests for how I kill you? I'm a bit bored with the usual. You know Noah much better - what will really set him off?"
Claire can't do this. He's not picking up any of her signals, and she can't figure out how to get through to him. The sultry and sexy smiles and tones of voice aren't giving him the slightest clue. If she were to lean down and kiss him, she knows that he'll just misinterpret that as well. Dammit, it's never this hard to seduce a man in the movies!
Just when she's about to give up, he mentions her dad and she gets a wicked idea. "Oh, I know exactly what will drive him absolutely nuts."
His eyes light up. "What?"
She leans forward until she's flush against him, and whispers in his ear. "To know that you've touched me."
"No, that won't do it. I was touching you at supper, he reacted a little bit but not like I want."
It's the final straw. "You're a moron." Her common sense starts screaming at her that calling a mass murderer a moron to his face is a very bad idea, but she ignores it. "I'm trying to seduce you here, and you don't get it. Let me spell it out for you. My dad will go ballistic if he thinks that you've fucked me. Now, kiss me."
- - - - - - - - - -
Sylar keeps a firm hold of his self-control, and doesn't react to any of her flirting or looks. He's amused by her seduction attempts, and he's going to make her work for her reward. When she demands he kiss her, he almost starts laughing. The little minx is a lot more forward than he'd remembered, although he knows he shouldn't be surprised after reading her diary; she has more hidden depths than anyone's realized.
"Now, why would I want to do that? Especially with you." He stands up abruptly, and his movements throw her off balance. She starts to fall, and while he could catch her with his telekinesis, it's more fun to catch her physically. Wondering just how far he can go with his games before she finally loses all control, he decides to test her limits, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder and stalking over to the kitchen.
He plops her down on the counter. "Much better," he comments, referring to how more accessible she is now, but not wanting to let her know. "Do you have any clue how much easier it is to get blood off of tile and marble than off of carpet? It's a bitch, really." He lets his finger trail over her forehead, just like he would if he was actually planning on taking her head, and she trembles against him.
"Please don't do this." Her voice doesn't tremble, though. Instead, her head is held high and she's looking him straight in the eye.
He turns away from her, turning around to pull the strawberries out of the fridge. Enough of teasing her, he wants to get on to the good portion of the evening. He's not expecting her to leap off the counter onto his back, knocking him to the floor. As soon as she's got him down, she starts smacking at him and battering him about the head.
Without his powers, he's sure that he'd feel something other than mildly annoyed. He focuses on his TK and lifts her off of him, still struggling in the air.
"Oh, Claire-bear, that wasn't very nice."
"Go to hell."
"Aren't you just the one who was demanding I kiss you? Make up your mind, babydoll. If you really want me, you could be just a bit nicer. If you just want me to kill you, keep up the curses and attitude."
- - - - - - - - - -
She's convinced that her plan is never going to work, but she's going to give it one last try. He hadn't responded to flirting, teasing, or attitude, so she's going to attempt absolute bluntness. "Honestly, I think it doesn't matter what I say or do. You're going to do as you please, regardless. Now let me down; this is not comfortable by any stretch of the imagination."
He floats her back over to the counter top and as soon as she's seated, takes a step towards her. She rolls her eyes and grabs his shirt, pulling him in between her open thighs. "Now, are you going to kiss me or not? I'm getting bored here."
The kiss she gets is almost sweet and innocent, completely opposite from what she'd been expecting. She wraps her legs around his waist, and nips at his lips. He opens them slightly, in surprise she's sure, and she takes advantage of the opportunity. The kiss goes from tentative to overheated in less than a second after she runs her tongue along his teeth and nibbles at his lower lip again. One hand lets go of his shirt, and trails down towards his belt. His hand stops hers before she can reach it, and holds her in place. He deepens the kiss, and she starts to slide backwards before hitting her head on the kitchen cabinets behind her.
Her moan changes from 'yes, more, please' into more of 'ow, that hurt,' and he must have picked up on the subtle differences between the two because he's picking her up off the counter top. "Bed or table?" he asks, stopping to trail kisses along her neck before nipping at her clavicle.
He hits just the right spot, and she gasps out "table" without having to really think about it. The house seems huge, or at least what's she seen of it, and she knows that she'll never make it to the bedroom in time. The dining room table, on the other hand, is close by and more than big enough for the two of them. The china and silverware, painstakingly laid out perfectly as if a large formal party was planned, flies off the table and into the kitchen. The vase of flowers moves itself over to the buffet, and the napkins follow, stacking into neat order. She realizes that he's left the tablecloth on the table when she feels the smooth linen underneath her suddenly bare back. She has no clue how she's lost her shirt, but she doesn't really mind when his mouth trails further south to toy with the lace on her bra.
"Oh, God-- Sylar!" She had no clue that he'd be so much like her dream lover, or that it would feel so good.
He chuckles against her skin, but doesn't stop his actions. While one hand and his mouth keep occupied with her bra and breasts, the other hand is focused on getting her out of her jeans. When the button won't give way, he uses his telekinesis to slice the pants off of her, leaving her shaking beneath him in just her bra and panties. She's glad she'd picked one of the better matching sets that morning, a set that she'd bought with him in mind. Realizing that she's being entirely too passive, especially since she's the one who'd started everything, she slips one hand into his hair, caressing his scalp and running her fingers through the dark locks, while the other hand starts the same journey it had earlier. This time, however, when she reaches his belt, he doesn't stop her. His pants are hurriedly undone and unzipped, and he stops his actions just long enough to slice them off and let them fall off. She hadn't been expecting to find black silk boxers, but the feel of the cool silk and overheated flesh makes for a perfect marriage of sensation.
She manages to pull the boxers down at the same time that he's finally figured out how to undo the closure of her bra, and her panties are rapidly removed next.
He's mumbling, rapid words and phrases and pleas, the words tickling the skin under his mouth, but she can't understand any of it. The only thing she understands is when his hands come to rest on her hips and he looks up and asks, "are you sure?"
- - - - - - - - - -
If she says anything other than "yes," he's going to kill her. Not permanently, of course, but enough to give her an attitude adjustment. He doesn't think that's going to be the case, though.
She slowly nods her approval, but it's not enough. He needs to hear the words, and remaining still, he asks her again. This time he gets a whispered "yes." It's all he needs to hear.
Being with her is nothing like being with all the whores he's been encountering lately, and he's not exactly sure how to initiate the act. She's a virgin, and she's giving herself to him, becoming his in mind, body, and soul, and he's got to be careful with her. He leans down to kiss her again, this time letting more of his body weight come to rest on hers. While she's distracted with the kiss, he lifts her left leg to settle it around his hips. She picks up on his intentions, and wraps her right leg around him without prompting. He's about to slide into her, when he realizes that a few kisses and breast play probably aren't enough foreplay for her, and he stills again.
"What now? You can't stop now!" She grumbles into his mouth.
He doesn't know how to phrase his question any way but brusquely. "Are you wet enough, or do we need to play a bit first?"
She doesn't verbally answer; instead she reaches down until she's got her hand wrapped around him. Guiding him to her entrance, she raises her hips again, impaling herself on him, immediately stilling. He doesn't know what to do. He does know, however, that he's just asked a very stupid question when he feels how hot and wet she is around him. The sensation's enough to make him not really care about how she's feeling, but he can't treat her that way.
"Fine. Just… you're a bit bigger than I was expecting."
He can't hide his grin on hearing that, and he doesn't try. She wriggles against him, and tightens her pelvic muscles, and he groans at the feeling. "Oh, Claire. So good, so good. Please, can I move now?"
She laughs, and he realizes that teasing and laughter and love were the things missing with his previous encounters. "If you don't, I'm going to hurt you."
It's all the permission he needs, and he loses himself as he pounds her into the table. The only thing he's really aware of is the blood burning in his veins, the feel of her around him, and the sounds of his moans and her cries. She keeps calling out to God, and it spurs him on, even though she's not referring to him as her God. It's too soon, he knows, she's not aware of their deeper connection yet.
He changes the angle of his thrusts, and apparently hits another erogenous spot because she's digging her fingernails into his shoulders and tightening even more around him, before erupting into the most beautiful orgasm he's ever seen; he quickly follows, words of praise on his lips for his Goddess, bubbling over his tongue and out of his mouth like a babbling brook, words and phrases that mean nothing and yet everything all at the same time. She's finally his, his to have forever and ever and always, and he's never going to leave. It's a shame that he's too exhausted and too high on the feelings racing through his body to read her mind; he'd find that she'd never intended that he be anything other than a one-night stand.
Chapter Nine