Choo-Choo, Baby, Choo-Choo
Title: Choo-Choo, Baby, Choo-Choo
Author: cameroncrazed
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: none, really, unless you didn’t know that Sylar’s hot and that some special people have powers.
Disclaimer: Soooo not mine. Really. They’re not.
Response to the 10 Worst Places to Get Caught Having Sex Challenge - location #1, train tracks
A/N: I’m sick and twisted, I know, you don’t have to tell me. Title comes from a song from The Tractors, which I also don't own (sorry, can’t remember which one, I just remember that one line - nevermind, the song is "Baby Likes to Rock It" - check out the video if you aren't familiar with it, it's fairly rocking country). Oh, and I know it was supposed to be a drabble or a short little story - I think some plot got in my porn, whoops?
Sylar rolls over and pulls the blankets up over his head, trying to block out the sounds of people moving around his house. It doesn’t help. The addition of a pillow to the improvised protective ear gear does nothing to help either. Groaning, he sits up enough to glare at the bedroom door, which results in it slamming itself shut, which results in more shrieks and then his wife yelling at him.
“What the hell is wrong with you, slamming the door like that? You woke up the baby! Get up, you lazy bum, and help me! Gabby’s thrown up all over her bedding, and you scared Izzy.”
“It’s five in the morning, you harpy! Shut up!” No one had ever accused him of being a morning person.
“Shut the hell up, both of you!” Their oldest son screams. “Some of us are trying to sleep here! God!”
“Oh, don’t you take that tone with me, young man, and don’t use that language. I will wash your mouth out with soap, so don’t try me.” Claire yells back.
“What she said, Nate. You can’t fucking curse at us.” Sylar calls out as he crawls out of bed, scratching his stomach and pulling on one of the multitude of discarded T-shirts lying on the floor.
He makes his way out into the hallway, stumbling to the kitchen for coffee. The twins are in the living room, watching cartoons, which he didn’t even realize came on at this ungodly hour of the morning. Not bothering with a mug, he pulls the coffee pot out of the machine and drinks straight from the vessel. He can already tell it’s going to be one of those days.
- - - - - - - - - -
Sylar’s already almost asleep as he plops down on their bed that night, sprawling all over the bed, face down. Something’s not right, and he pats around with his right hand until he realizes the problem; Claire’s not in bed. She’d come up an hour earlier, and he’d put the kids to bed - she ought to be there.
“Claire?” he calls out. The only response he gets is a faint snore, which he quickly realizes is coming from the bathroom. He somehow, somewhere finds the strength to get off the bed and go check on her, finding her asleep in the bathtub, water turning cold and her completely unaware. With a low chuckle, he picks her up and starts to towel her off. She doesn’t wake even when he slips her nightgown over her head and carries her to bed. He places her on her side of the bed, and quickly crawls into place behind her, curled against her.
- - - - - - - - - -
He awakes in the middle of the night to find her head pillowed on his chest and her hand resting someplace less innocent, and he has to think about whether she’s trying to seduce him or not. She appears to be asleep, but he’s been tricked by her before. He almost hates to move her, but he’s not up for a romp, not tonight; maybe in the morning he’d feel more willing, but all he wants to do now is sleep. He moves her hand to rest beside her head, and quickly falls back asleep.
- - - - - - - - - -
Claire awakes in the middle of the night to the feeling of a heavy hand lying across her breast. She’d been having a nightmare about Nathan’s teacher screaming at her about how she was an unfit mother while the school was destructed by her offspring, so she isn’t as upset as she’d be if it had been a good dream. A quick look at the alarm clock tells her that it’s just a little past four in the morning, entirely too early for her to be getting up.
She closes her eyes, but can’t fall back asleep. Every time she gets close to nodding off again, a tiny movement keeps her awake. At first, it’s a hot huff against her neck as Sylar sighs in his sleep. Then, his hand drifts ever so slowly further down her breast, and she wonders if he’s awake. She holds her breath, waiting to see if he’s going to do anything else, but his only action is to snort. A few minutes later, on the verge of sleep, she suddenly remembers that she’d forgotten to go shopping the day before, and she wonders if there’s anything in the house to feed her hungry horde for breakfast.
“Sylar?” she whispers, but finds that it’s not loud enough to wake her husband. “Wake up, please?”
He doesn’t move, and she closes her eyes again, thinking that she’s just being silly, but she’s unable to sleep; every time she thinks she’s finally going to get some rest, Sylar moves, or she thinks of what’s going to go wrong next, or the clock ticks too loudly, or she finds that the bedding’s too hot, and then she starts to wonder if she’s losing her mind. Finally, she gives up. If she can’t sleep, then neither will he; it’s not fair to blame him for her inability to sleep, but she can’t help it.
“Wake. Up.” The words are whispered, but loud enough to wake him. They’re aided by an elbow to his chest.
His answer is groggy, but clear enough. “Who did it, and what’s on fire now?”
“Get your hands off of me.”
For a minute, he looks at her as if he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, then looks down at his hand. She thinks he’s going to apologize, but instead he tweaks her nipple and kisses behind her ear. “Up for an early morning roll in the hay?”
Priceless, coming from the man who’d fallen asleep during sex the last two times. “Not funny, hands off now.”
“This coming from the woman who groped me while I was asleep.”
“I did no such thing!” She scoots a few inches further away from him.
“Then whose hand was on my dick? The tooth fairy’s? I don’t think so, Claire. C’mon, sweetheart, we’ve got at least another hour or so before the kids start tearing the place apart.” He pulls her closer, pinning her between his body and the mattress.
He just had to mention the kids, and she’s reminded of all the times that she should have told him ‘no’ before. She pushes him off and rolls away. “No.”
“You’re just upset because we’ve been interrupted the last couple of times.” He tries to nuzzle her ear again, only to have her slap at him. “One time, and if you’re worried about getting knocked up, I’ll use two condoms.”
“No! That’s what you said after Nathan was born, and if I remember correctly, I ended up pregnant with twins.” If she’d known then what she knows now, she would have made him wear a full body protective suit. And sleep with someone else.
“Just oral, then?”
Claire knows that he’s probably not trying to piss her off, but the non-stop begging for sex when all she wants to do is either finally get back to sleep or get up and get the day started is just really annoying her. “And that’s what you said the night I ended up pregnant with Gabrielle. Un-huh. We both know how you just happen to ‘forget’ that it’s just oral.” She gets out of bed and pulls on her robe. “I might as well go ahead and get up, need to run to the grocery store before anyone else gets up anyhow.”
“Please? Pretty please? Hand job? Please?” He sounds almost desperate.
She glares at him as she tries to find her bedroom shoes. She gives up on finding them under the piles of clothes that Sylar had thrown all over the floor, and it makes her even madder. All day long, she works for hours trying to keep the house clean, and he comes home and just throws things everywhere; what had happened to the neat freak she’d married?
“Claire?”
“What is it?” Kicking a pair of discarded boxers out of the way, she finally spots one slipper.
“Anal?”
When she looks up at him, incredulous that he’d even suggest that when she’s not even willing to kiss him at the moment, he tries to look as innocent as possible. It’s the last straw. Her eyes narrow as she glares at him. She stomps, as much as she can stomp while barefooted, into the bathroom and rustles through the cabinets until she finds some cheap hand lotion that she won’t miss. Storming back through their bedroom out into the hall, she pauses just long enough to throw him a box of tissue and the lotion. “Knock yourself out. Do whatever you want. Just don’t get near me!”
He catches the bottle, and groans. “So when can we have sex again?”
She doesn’t answer.
- - - - - - - - - -
After falling back asleep, slightly pissed off and more than slightly turned on, he’d managed to nap for another hour or two. When he stumbles down stairs, he’s expecting Claire to still be ticked off, but to his surprise, she pushes him up against the pantry door and kisses him breathless.
“Wha?”
Claire presses another kiss to his lips, then one to his jaw. “Sorry I was such a bitch to you this morning, I was just so tired after yesterday and all I could think about was how I couldn’t sleep and the parent-teacher conference about Nathan this afternoon and about how the twins tried to set the cat on fire yesterday, and I just really wasn’t in the mood.” One of her hands bats his robe out of the way, and comes to rest just under the waistband of his boxers, just as she kisses him again.
Sylar’s hands are under her shirt before he can even think about how inappropriate it is to grope her in their kitchen as their children are waiting for breakfast, but he’s quickly reminded of the inopportune time and location when he hears “Oh, gross! Not again!” from Nathan, completely disgusted with his parents.
He reluctantly pulls away as she blushes at being caught, but before she can bustle away, he pulls her against him again and whispers “later?” in her ear.
A small nod is his answer.
- - - - - - - - - -
“And then we went to the zoo, and you won’t believe what the monkey…”
Claire sometimes wonders if her daughter’s power was the ability to talk for days without breathing; no one else has managed to get a word in during supper other than Angie. “That’s nice, dear.” She tunes out the rest of her comments, wondering if it would be a horrible thing to give the kids a little something to help them get to sleep; she can’t wait to finally have some quality along time with Sylar.
Nathan scowls. “So he flung some shit, who cares?”
“Nathan!” Sylar and Claire both exclaim at the same time.
“I can’t say the word, but she can discuss it during dinner? Please.” He rolls his eyes.
“Grounded, two weeks.” Claire snaps; she hopes that she was never that bratty to her own parents. “Now, does anyone else have something they’d like to share from school today?” She quickly adds “that doesn’t involve monkeys?” when Angie starts to open her mouth.
“Did you ever tie Mommy to a train track?” Sandie asks.
“What?” Claire thinks she had to have misheard the comment; surely one of her babies hadn’t asked about bondage; not at age ten, not this early. She shakes her head, trying to get rid of the sudden onslaught of memories and fantasies. Surely it’s her imagination run wild, due to a long lonely day thinking about what she wants to do to her husband that night, and some other question had been asked.
“We watched an old movie in school today, and the teacher told us that the bad guy always ties the pretty girl to the train tracks, but that a hero always saves her before a train can smush her into a million pretty pieces. And every time we have a big family dinner, Uncle Peter always says that he’s a hero and that Daddy used to be a bad guy and then they get in a big fight and Grandma yells a lot because her fancy plates get broken, so did you tie Mommy to a train track or was it some other pretty girl and why her and not Mommy? ‘Cause that would be kinda cool but kinda bad at the same time, and train tracks can’t be comfortable, and do trains still run near here any more? Oh, and that monkey at the zoo was so cool but the walrus was even…”
She wonders if her husband’s thinking the same thing she is; she doubts it.
- - - - - - - - - -
He’s lying on the bed when Claire finally comes into the room, closing the door behind her. “Finally! I didn’t think I’d ever get them all bathed and in bed tonight.”
“Even Nate?” he asks, knowing his son’s tendency to insist on just one more game or just one more chapter before turning off the lights.
“Even Nate.” She smiles at him, a slightly sultry smirk. “Now, all the kids are quiet, and it’s just you and me and this big old bed - whatever shall we do?”
He pats the spot beside him. “Come over here, I’m sure we can think of something.” He watches as she kicks off her shoes, then pulls the clip out of her hair, shaking her head and letting her hair fall in a cloud around her shoulders. He can’t wait for her to carry out a slow strip tease, so he telekinetically pulls her over to him, and pulls her shirt loose from her skirt. When he starts to pull down the zipper on her skirt, he’s surprised to find that she’s not wearing any panties. “You bad girl, you,” he growls.
Unexpectedly, she laughs.
He wonders if she’s laughing at him and his attempt at dirty talk. “Come on, Claire. This is no laughing matter.”
“Sorry, babe. The whole ‘bad girl’ thing reminded me of supper - I’m the pretty girl, you know, not the bad guy - that’s your job.” She starts laughing again.
“Where did she come up with that?” Sylar asks, starting to laugh himself. He rolls over on his side, and pulls Claire down beside him, wrapping an arm around her.
“I don’t know. We may never know.” She kisses him, then starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Although…” she pauses her actions.
The look in her eye is pure mischief, and he knows it doesn’t bode well for him. It never has in the past, it’s the same look that ended up with him in messy situations a thousand times over.
“Did you ever think about it?”
“Did I ever think about what?”
“Tying me to a train track.”
He tries to pretend that he can’t hear her heart beating faster, her breath coming quicker. “No.”
“Not even a little bit?” She finally starts working on his shirt again, making quick work of it.
“No.” He wants to say that she’s the one with the fascination for trains, not him, but he keeps his mouth shut.
Claire pushes his shoulder, nudging him to fall onto his back, then crawls on top of him and pushes the shirt off his shoulders. She kisses against his throat, and his head falls back. “Never?” She asks, and before she can receive an answer, her lips trail kisses down to his left nipple.
“No.” The word is a gasp as she lightly bites down.
“I have.”
Her confession causes him to sit up abruptly, and the move causes her to end up fully pressed against him. “What the hell?”
“It’s hot, don’t you think? Me, you, fun with bondage, something coming like a train?” she winks at him, then grinds her hips against his.
“But, but…”
“Want to try it?” She grinds against him again, then moans. “Please? I’ll make it up to you, owe you a fantasy or two. Whatever you want, anything. Totally make it worth your while. Can’t you just picture it, me naked, handcuffed to the rails, to do with whatever you want to?”
“But it’s so… out in the open.” After they’d been caught in the park, he’d never wanted an outdoor assignation again.
“I’m sure we can find a nice tunnel somewhere, we won’t get caught if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just always the same old thing anymore, quick and missionary and quiet so that the kids don’t hear.” Claire sighs. “Don’t you want some excitement?”
Her pulse is racing in his ears, her skin is flushed, and he responds the only way he can, knowing that she wants this so much. “Lead on.”
- - - - - - - - - -
“I can’t believe I agreed to this.” He complains as he follows Claire into the dark tunnel. “You’re crazy.”
“Are you going to bitch all night, or are you going to fuck me?” Her words are harsh, but she’s laughing. “Come on, babe, give it to me good.” She’d never imagined that she’d get him to agree to this, and she just wants to hurry up and get started before he gets cold feet.
“Completely totally insane,” Sylar mutters right before he trips over a train track. “Damnit.”
“Oh, did poor baby hurt himself? Want me to kiss it all better?” She turns around to face him, and pulls him down into a deep kiss. Her hands fumble with his belt buckle, and she’s frantic as she yanks his pants down to his ankles, along with his boxers. “Or do you want me to kiss something else better?” She drops to her knees, hands wrapped around him, and looks at him before proceeding any further. This is by far the sexiest thing they’ve done since they’d gotten married; she’s so glad she thought of it.
“You’re going to get gravel in your knees.”
“Seriously, you’re going to turn down a blow because of gravel?” Her tone is incredulous; the only other time he’d ever turned down a blow job was when they were sharing a hotel room with her parents. “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?” She leans forward, and slowly works her tongue around the sensitive head of his cock, teasing him with little light kisses, then pulls back, waiting for his answer.
Hesitating, he finally responds. “Don’t stop.” Fingers threaded through her hair direct her back to what she’d been doing, and he gasps as she takes him deep into her throat immediately. “Claire!”
She pulls back and then runs her tongue along the underside of him, while her hands gently tug at his balls. Feeling his pulse dance on her tongue, it turns her on even more and she wonders if he can tell how dripping wet she is. She’ll never tire of these feelings, the velvety smoothness of his cock in her mouth and the thrill she gets from the control over him that she exerts, but she’s ever mindful of his actions. When his muscles start to tense, she pulls back. “Not so fast, tiger. You’re not coming until you’re in me.”
Sylar drops to his knees, pushing her back onto her back, before she can finish the statement. “Put your hands up over your head,” he commands. Her obedience is immediate, and he pulls her shirt over her head and off before he tightens a telekinetic bond around her wrists. She moans and writhes underneath him, wondering why he’s not this dominating all the time, but is pulled back from her thoughts when he rips her skirt off. The metal of the rails is cold, and the wooden cross ties are eating into her back, but it feels so good, and she wonders when she became some sort of submissive masochist. She tries to move her arms, but finds that she can’t move even an inch; using his TK to restrain her is even better and more effective than the handcuffs she’d stolen from Matt Parkman. “Sylar, please.”
“Please, what? Please don’t tie you up, please don’t spoil your innocence?” Sylar laughs, a low and evil chuckle, and she realizes he’s putting on the whole bad guy routine for her benefit; it’s almost enough to make her come on the spot.
“Oh, no sir, please don’t take my virginity.” She moans as she strains against her bonds and arches up, grinding her ass against the cross ties and pushing her breasts up so that Sylar can see them better. “Anything but that!”
Sylar laughs again, but it’s not part of the routine; he gives her an apologetic grin. “Sorry, just the thought of you being a sweet and innocent virgin - too funny.”
“Ha. Ha.” She gives him an ‘I am not amused’ look. “I said, please don’t take my virginity, sir! And if you’re going to do it, you better do it fast before a hero shows up to rescue me!”
He just looks at her, and starts laughing uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Look, are you going to ravage me or am I going to have to tie you up instead?”
“Don’t protest, little girl, you’re mine!” He runs his hand along her side, and she shivers at the contact. “And no one’s going to save you from my evil clutches, no matter how hard you scream.”
As one hand finds her clit and his other hand gently pushes her legs apart, all she can do is whimper. “Please.”
“Ahem.” He stops his motions. “I said, no matter how hard you scream.”
Giving her a pointed look, he slowly slides one finger inside of her. A second finger soon joins the first on a gentle exploration, and she gasps as he finds her G-spot. “Please, Sylar, stop teasing.”
When he withdraws his fingers, she thinks she’s going to finally get what she wants, but instead, he gives her a wicked smirk before swiping his tongue against her. She does scream then, her voice reverberating around the tunnel as she bucks against her restraints, impulse and instinct telling her she has to touch him, has to run her fingers through his hair. “Sylar!” She whimpers as he repeats his motions, then breaks apart when he swirls his tongue across her clit. She hadn’t need much stimulus to push her into orgasm, as turned on as she is by the location and the character play. “Please, please, I just want you inside me, please, God, please.”
Sylar quickly obliges, and she whines as he stretches her legs further apart and slides into her. The feeling of completion, and fullness, sets her off again.
“You really are getting off on this, aren’t you?” He whispers in her ear as she tries to recover from her second orgasm of the night.
He hadn’t bothered to restrain her legs, and she quickly wraps them around his waist. “Oh yeah.” The move causes her to press up against one of the rails, and she shivers at the contact. Sylar starts to slowly move, but that’s not what she wants or needs. “Faster,” she whispers as she tightens her legs around him. The pace he sets is brutal, but it’s just exactly what she’d fantasized about, a hot-blooded fuck that leaves her wanting even more and panting for breath. He loses control of his hold on her wrists, and she immediately grabs his shoulders, marking them and his back with her fingernails. Her back is being shredded and blistered from rubbing against the rails, and she couldn’t care less. “More, please, more.”
Understanding her need, a need she doesn’t have the words to express, he uses one hand to brace himself against the rail, and slams into her again as he nips at her neck. She shrieks again, and for just a second, she thinks she sounds like a train whistle. The ground beneath her shakes as he fucks her into the rails, and it’s the best sex they’ve ever had she thinks, and then that whistle-like scream echoes again. Her vision fades black for a second when Sylar coaxes yet another orgasm from her, and then the world goes white. Another whistle, and she finally realizes that she hadn’t screamed that time or the previous time. Her eyes fly open, and she sees the oncoming train, five hundred feet from them and closing fast.
“Sylar! The train’s coming!” She wonders how they’d both managed to miss that fact until now.
“It sure is, baby, just give me a few more seconds to get there.” The muscles in his back tense.
“No, train - freight train, smash time. Train, Sylar!” She shrieks again, endless. While she wanted to see how she fared against a train when she was younger, this is terrifying.
He looks over his shoulder to see the train, and the next thing she knows, they’re back in their bedroom and she’s still screaming, and there are footsteps in the hall rushing to their room just as Sylar bites her shoulder again and comes like he hasn’t in the longest time. He’s still shuddering on top of her, eyes rolled back in his head, when the door opens and Nate rushes in, baseball bat in hand, ready to help his father against what threat faces them.
“Oh, God, my eyes!” He drops the bat and rushes from the room.
Claire can’t help but laugh. Of course they got caught, of course they did; she knew that it wasn’t possible for them to do anything without getting caught by their kids, although this is the first time they’d been caught in flagrante. She tells herself that at least it was better than being hit by the train, but she doubts her son will think that. Oh well, it was time for Sylar to have The Talk with him anyhow.
She wonders what Sylar will say if she asks him to fulfill any more of her little fantasies, then makes up her mind to take Sandie and Angie on a little field trip to a construction zone soon. Maybe one of them would start talking about the cranes during supper. She drifts off to sleep with a large grin on her face.