Fic: Battlefield
Title: Battlefield
Pairing: Sylar/Luke
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Plot? What plot?
Author’s note: Written for Yet Another Heroes Anonymous Kink Meme. As per usual for such things, written at speed and unbeta’d.
Summary: After a battle, Sylar and Luke channel their bloodlust into a different activity.
The blood roars in Sylar’s ears with such vigor that he’s having trouble concentrating on anything else. Before him, the bodies of his enemies-more government peons-lay steaming on the ground. Some have their necks broken, throats slit, heads burst open. Others lay in stinking puddles of their own melted flesh, courtesy of Luke.
Luke.
Sylar whirls around to scan the parking lot. The landscape is mostly quiet, as after an apocalypse. And there’s Luke, squatting next to one of the bloody bodies and wiping his hands on a dead man’s shirt. When he sees Sylar, he grins-a feral wolf-puppy grin-and trots over.
“You were right,” Luke says. “After the fight, I’ve got all this energy. God, it’s like-Bring it on. I want to kill them all, you know?”
“I know.” Sylar seizes Luke by the back of the head and pulls him into a brutal kiss.
Luke grabs Sylar’s arms and slams their bodies together. With a teenager’s eagerness, he is already hard. Maybe he’s been hard since the battle began. Maybe, like Sylar, the fighting gets him hard.
“Cops will be here any minute,” Sylar mutters against Luke’s lips.
“Let ‘em come, We’ll kill them all. We’ll fucking-fuck.”
Sylar’s hand shoved down the front of Luke’s pants shuts him up. Luke frantically unzips and unbuttons to give Sylar more room to maneuver, and then sets to work opening Sylar’s jeans to free him, too.
“Shit-fuck-yeah,” Luke pants against Sylar’s cheek.
Sylar loves reducing his mouthy protégé to incoherent curses.
Luke and Sylar stroke each other in rough, synchronized jerks. It’s violent, competitive of course: a test of Sylar’s power, of his dominance over Luke. Even in the race to get off, it’s still like that between them.
To get the upper hand, Sylar uses his telekinesis to penetrate Luke’s ass in a sudden thrust.
Luke’s knees buckle in surprise, Sylar overbalances, and they go down. Luke falls on his back atop one of Sylar’s still-warm victims, and Sylar crashes down on top of him.
“Playing dirty,” Luke protests breathlessly. He slaps his unoccupied hand against Sylar’s chest and burns him, Sylar spears into Luke’s ass with another telekinetic thrust, and then they’re both coming, slicking each other’s hands and mingling their semen with the blood on their clothes.
Pairing: Sylar/Luke
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Plot? What plot?
Author’s note: Written for Yet Another Heroes Anonymous Kink Meme. As per usual for such things, written at speed and unbeta’d.
Summary: After a battle, Sylar and Luke channel their bloodlust into a different activity.
The blood roars in Sylar’s ears with such vigor that he’s having trouble concentrating on anything else. Before him, the bodies of his enemies-more government peons-lay steaming on the ground. Some have their necks broken, throats slit, heads burst open. Others lay in stinking puddles of their own melted flesh, courtesy of Luke.
Luke.
Sylar whirls around to scan the parking lot. The landscape is mostly quiet, as after an apocalypse. And there’s Luke, squatting next to one of the bloody bodies and wiping his hands on a dead man’s shirt. When he sees Sylar, he grins-a feral wolf-puppy grin-and trots over.
“You were right,” Luke says. “After the fight, I’ve got all this energy. God, it’s like-Bring it on. I want to kill them all, you know?”
“I know.” Sylar seizes Luke by the back of the head and pulls him into a brutal kiss.
Luke grabs Sylar’s arms and slams their bodies together. With a teenager’s eagerness, he is already hard. Maybe he’s been hard since the battle began. Maybe, like Sylar, the fighting gets him hard.
“Cops will be here any minute,” Sylar mutters against Luke’s lips.
“Let ‘em come, We’ll kill them all. We’ll fucking-fuck.”
Sylar’s hand shoved down the front of Luke’s pants shuts him up. Luke frantically unzips and unbuttons to give Sylar more room to maneuver, and then sets to work opening Sylar’s jeans to free him, too.
“Shit-fuck-yeah,” Luke pants against Sylar’s cheek.
Sylar loves reducing his mouthy protégé to incoherent curses.
Luke and Sylar stroke each other in rough, synchronized jerks. It’s violent, competitive of course: a test of Sylar’s power, of his dominance over Luke. Even in the race to get off, it’s still like that between them.
To get the upper hand, Sylar uses his telekinesis to penetrate Luke’s ass in a sudden thrust.
Luke’s knees buckle in surprise, Sylar overbalances, and they go down. Luke falls on his back atop one of Sylar’s still-warm victims, and Sylar crashes down on top of him.
“Playing dirty,” Luke protests breathlessly. He slaps his unoccupied hand against Sylar’s chest and burns him, Sylar spears into Luke’s ass with another telekinetic thrust, and then they’re both coming, slicking each other’s hands and mingling their semen with the blood on their clothes.