Fic: Puppets
Title: Puppets
Author: Sapphire17
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to 3x07
Warnings: Some language, mild violence, voyeurism, forced sex lol...
Summary: When Eric Doyle escapes Level 5 once again, Arthur Petrelli assigns Sylar to bring Doyle to Pinehearst by any means necessary. Once H.R.G. and Meredith catch news of ‘The Puppet Man’s’ escape, they agree that they can’t deal with him right away. Peter, however, decides to take the matter into his hands when he realizes that Pinehearst may already be after the escapee on the slight chance that his father may want to recruit Doyle in order to gain his services or steal his ability. Peter manages to slip away from the others and make his way to Doyle’s theatre, where a more than interesting surprise awaits him...
Prompt: #31 @ 50kinkyways - Voyuer
A/N: I wrote this before I saw how easily Sylar was able to defeat Eric Doyle, so forgive me for this... I'll just pretend that this fic is why Sylar was able to do so. XD;;
Puppets
*************
*******
A bell rang on the front desk.
Over and over and over again.
Sylar was quickly becoming impatient. He looked down at the file his father had given him, and opened it once more to take another look at the photograph and information inside.
The subject has also developed a number of accompanying defense mechanisms, such as a radical perception of justice and vengeance that validates virtually any action against any given victim.
“Body manipulation, huh?” Sylar murmured to himself, closing the manila file. “Interesting...”
Very interesting.
From what Sylar had already read about this guy, and from what his father had told him, whoever this ‘Eric Doyle’ was possessed the ability to control the physical movements of anyone at sheer will, giving him the power to make them do virtually anything to themselves, or to another. Doyle’s record indicated that he had been placed into Level 5 after several mysterious ‘suicides’ had taken place, all to which Doyle was present for. Obviously, the Company had eventually put two-and-two together, and had come to realize that Doyle had used his ability to force his victims to take their own lives. The list of his crimes didn’t end here, however. His record also shown that he had even forced people to perform various sexual acts on either himself, or on one another.
Now that was really sick, even to Sylar. Still... Sylar couldn’t help but be intrigued at the thought of possessing this power for himself... But, Sylar had been given specific instructions by the man who was now supposedly his father not to kill Doyle unless it absolutely came to that. For some reason or another, Sylar couldn’t help but be suspicious about this factor. Hell, after what Arthur had done to Peter... what if he was intent on doing the same thing to Sylar in the end? Back on Level 5, when Daphne and Knox had greeted him with an invitation to join Pinehearst Industries, Daphne had specifically stated that the owner liked Sylar exactly the way his was. As a killer. Was this because Arthur actually accepted Sylar for what he was and wanted him at his side, or could his father possibly have ulterior motives? Send Sylar out to kill the targets who wouldn’t corporate and acquire their abilities so that in the end, his father could drain Sylar of his powers just as he had done to Peter? Was he even Sylar’s biological parent?
But no... that couldn’t be it, right? Sylar’s father had been telling him the truth about everything, even when he had told him the grotesque story of how his own mother - the mother he had quickly come to adore - had tried to kill him, and of how Angela had merely been using him all along.
Manipulating him.
Hell... after this, Sylar was feeling more fucked-up in the head than ever. More lost, betrayed, and even more enraged than ever. He wasn’t even sure he knew who or even what he was anymore, much less who to trust. So far, it seemed like the only one who had been completely honest with him was Peter... Why he chose to stay behind rather than escaping with Peter he still didn’t know. Why he had chosen to save Peter rather than kill him he still didn’t know.
What Sylar did know, however, was that as opposed to escaping Pinehearst on his own, Peter had ultimately chosen to come back for him... which had ultimately led Sylar to believe that Peter did give a damn about him in the end. Peter had risked his very life by coming back for Sylar, so even after Arthur had given Sylar the order to kill Peter, Sylar just... hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it... Instead, Sylar had purposely made it so that Peter would not only survive what would normally be a fatal fall, but at the same time, made it so that Peter would escape Pinehearst with barely a scratch on him.
Because of this, Arthur was already having his doubts regarding Sylar’s loyalty, so Sylar knew he had to complete this new mission of his. He couldn’t disappoint his father because he... he just had to belong somewhere now, now that he no longer had his mother.
He had to have someone.
Sylar didn’t want to be alone anymore.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Sylar turned his head, his contemplation immediately broken by the sound of a foreign voice. There, in the shadows, emerged who Sylar recognized to be his assigned target.
Sylar made eye-contact with the man, and aimed to speak.
“I’m Ga...”
No he wasn’t, was he? Who was he now? Gabriel Gray, Gabriel Petrelli, Sylar, or somebody else altogether?
Fuck.
Eric let out a laugh.
“You’re ‘Gay’? Well, from the looks of you, that’s a fitting name.”
Sylar frowned, already wanting to slice this guy’s head open. “Gabriel, but you can just call me Sylar.”
Eric steadily began to approach Sylar, his face still bearing a look of amusement.
“Well Gay-I mean, Gabriel or Sylar or whatever the hell you want to call yourself, I don’t like uninvited guests, so what in the hell are you doing here? Wait, don’t tell me... you work for the Company and Noah Bennet?”
“Not anymore,” Sylar truthfully answered.
Eric smiled. “I’m not convinced.”
And then, before Sylar could make another move, his entire body froze in place.
“How about you and I take a little walk?” Eric suggested, turning around. As he walked back into the darkness he had emerged from, Sylar found his legs moving all on their own. While Sylar followed Doyle against his will, he tried to telekinetically knock the man in front of him over, but to no success. It seemed that as long as he was under Doyle’s control, his own abilities were out of his reach.
When Sylar had entered the back room of Doyle’s theatre, he immediately took into view the hundreds - maybe even thousands - of various dolls, manikins, and puppets hung and scattered all about. Sylar instantly knew that he was dealing with someone who didn’t need a second guess to be classified as clinically insane.
Not that Sylar was any different in that department, he figured.
Upon reaching a circular, wooden table, Eric pulled out a chair, forcing Sylar to mimic his actions and pull out the chair on the opposing side of the table. When Eric took a seat, Sylar took a seat. When Eric held out his right-arm, Sylar held out his right-arm.
Doyle took the file from Sylar’s hand, and instantly opened it. After seeing his photograph within the file, Doyle immediately shot his glance upwards and back to Sylar.
“And you seriously expect me to believe you don’t work for the Company?”
“I don’t,” Sylar hissed, sounding more than just a little pissed-off, “I work for another company called Pinehearst Industries, and was sent here to give you a proposition.”
Eric leaned over the table, still appearing rather unconvinced. “I’m listening.”
“I was sent here to recruit you,” Sylar insisted, amusing Eric all the more at the way he seemed to be trying to force himself to make any physical movement on his own, “Pinehearst is working against the Company that held you prisoner on Level 5. I know, because I was once a prisoner there myself. Just like you.”
“So that’s where I recognize you from,” Doyle spoke, rubbing his chin, “I thought you looked familiar, Gay.”
“Stop.. calling me that..” Sylar growled in warning, before Doyle observed the way his half-empty glass of whiskey cracked down one side. Even so, Eric appeared as if he didn’t feel all that threatened, and picked up the damaged glass in order to take a sip of its contents.
“I see,” Eric began, “You have an ability too. Moving things with your mind, a lot like the way I move people and their abilities with mine. Just so you know, as long as I have control of your body, I have control of your ability. My sweet Meredith has an ability as well. You see, that’s the only reason I came back here. I know she’ll come back for me eventually... Apparently she’s with the Company too, now, so maybe if I hold you here hostage long enough, I can anticipate her arrival.”
“I told you already,” protested Sylar, “I’m not with that goddamned company anymore. However, you are right about one thing. If I don’t return with you, you can be expecting the arrival of someone. Only it want be whoever the hell your ‘sweet Meredith’ is, it’ll be your death. If you don’t release me now, I promise you that I will kill you myself.”
Eric clapped his hands together. “Oh goody, more puppets for me to play with. But, anyhow... I don’t see how you’ll be able to kill me when you’re dead.”
And then, from his pocket, Doyle removed a small pocket knife. He opened the silvery blade, and then placed it on the table’s surface directly in front of Sylar.
“And now, I’m going to watch you kill yourself,” Eric announced, sounding rather excited. Before Sylar could speak up again, Eric did the same thing he had done to Meredith. With a flick of Eric’s hand, Sylar found his mouth closed. Afterwards, Doyle motioned his hand to the table, causing Sylar to do the same. Sylar suddenly found himself picking up the knife, and shakily bringing it to his throat...
“Well,” Eric continued with a large grin on his face, “It’s been fun ‘Gay’, but I’m afraid your time has run out.”
And with that said, Eric made another motion with his hand. As he slowly dragged his finger across his throat, Sylar, meanwhile, dragged the blade against his. Sylar seethed in temporary pain, blood pouring down to coat his neck.
However... Eric’s eyes immediately widened to a degree when Sylar’s freshly-inflicted wound began to heal itself... Just like that blonde-haired girl’s bullet-wounds had before. That’s right, the one who had supposedly been Meredith’s niece. What was her name again? That’s right... Claire.
“You can’t kill me,” Sylar then informed in a harsh voice just as soon as he was able to speak again, “I can never die.”
“Oh my, well this changes everything!” Eric stated in a happy voice, “Since you can heal like this too, that must make you Meredith’s brother! And that girl... Claire, your daughter, right? This just keeps getting better by the second!”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Sylar growled, wishing he had ‘cut some cranium’ when he’d had the chance.
Eric formed an expression of false bedazzlement. “So you’re denying that you’re related to that Claire girl?”
And then, Sylar said nothing. He still wasn’t completely positive, but he had been under the impression that Claire was actually Peter’s niece or something. If so, that would make Claire his niece as well... Fuck, Sylar hadn’t even really thought about it.
“I’ve... never heard of her,” Sylar eventually responded, lying.
Of course, Eric was able to deduce that this was a lie just by the momentary pause Sylar had taken to answer him. Once Sylar was able to tell that Doyle knew this merely by the maniacal expression plastered upon Eric’s face, he realized that he had fucked-up big time.
Hell, Sylar had fucked-up this entire mission big time. He was still determined to find a way out of this whole situation, however, because he couldn’t disappoint his father... Not to mention the fact that Sylar was very, very angry. The second he had the chance, even if it meant waiting for Knox and the others to arrive, Sylar was going to give-in to his hunger and steal Doyle’s power in an instance. Just being here now, and witnessing such a powerful ability in action made Sylar’s sheer desire to posses it himself stronger than ever.
Just then, Sylar found himself crying out in pain once again when he was forced to stab himself directly in the heart.
Eric, of course, seemed more delighted than ever. It was like this whole thing was some sort of... game to him. With his closed fist placed over his chest, Eric motioned his fist away from it - causing Sylar to rip the knife from his own flesh in a fluent shift.
“Oh God, this is so fun!” Eric squealed, successfully managing to appear all the more insane, “This means that until my Meredith comes for me, I can have all the fun I want torturing her beloved brother. Then when she gets here, I’ll have you hold that gun of yours to your head and threaten to have you blow your own brains out if she refuses to be my bride. I know she’ll love me, then. She’ll have to. God, I haven’t stopped thinking about her for a second. I’ve always adored her since the moment I laid eyes on her in that antique shop...” he admitted, sighing longingly, “And then after we’re married, I guess you’ll be my brother, too, Gay.”
Good.. fucking.. lord..
And people thought Sylar was nuts.
***
I wonder if he’s here... if they’re all here... If they’re not, I’ll just buy a puppet and leave.
Peter Petrelli thought this to himself, eyeing what appeared to be nothing more than some old, abandoned theatre. But this was it.
Back at his apartment amidst all the commotion, Noah Bennet had suddenly gotten a cell-phone call to inform him that a Level 5 prisoner had escaped. Vaguely, Peter had overheard the majority of the conversation. When Noah had closed his phone after saying he’d ‘get around to it later’, he promptly told Meredith that ‘Eric Doyle had escaped once again’ after forcing someone ‘like Michael’ who had been stupid enough to get close to Eric kill himself. Afterwards, Meredith had apparently becoming quite alarmed, along with Claire.
Claire then told Peter the short story of what had happened when the killer known as ‘The Puppet Man’ had taken her along with both of her mothers captive, and had forced them to play a rather nightmarish game of Russian Roulette with one another. In doing so, Claire had stated that he ‘had probably gone back to that creepy theatre of his’. Meredith had then given away the theatre’s exact location during a small conversation with Claire’s father, but when Meredith had asked Noah if they should pursue him, he had stated that they had bigger fish to fry for the time being, but would get on it soon. Noah seemingly knew what the industry known as Pinehearst was without even saying the company’s name. He had merely said that there was some sort of ‘dangerous organization’ made-up of other Level 5 fugitives along with more people who possessed abilities who might try to recruit Eric Doyle to their side. Because of this, Noah had probably decided that he needed to formulate a plan of attack.
Not much more had been said regarding the issue after that, as Noah had apparently wanted to keep the information private. Meredith, who now appeared to be Noah’s new Company partner or something, hadn’t delved into the issue, either.
Baffled and still in obvious disbelief that his father could still be alive, Nathan had soon left with Tracy Strauss - a woman who, for some reason, Peter already didn’t trust. Also, despite Nathan’s promise that he wouldn’t go to Pinehearst Industries, Peter just knew it was exactly where his brother was probably headed to... Fuck, if only Peter hadn’t lost his powers, then he could actually do something to help stop his crazed father and the army he was building.
An army that now sadly seemed to include Sylar...
He saved my life... Peter reminded himself. Even after how horribly I treated him...
Peter was almost still in disbelief. What he didn’t understand, however, was how Sylar had been so quick to turn on the mother he cherished. Before delivering Sylar a rather brutal beating and leaving him in a cell unconscious, Peter had been able to read Sylar’s thoughts while they were together at their mother’s side. Sylar actually loved her. Sylar actually loved somebody. After returning from that hellish future only to slam Sylar into a wall and snap his neck, Sylar had also proved this when he had stopped Peter from killing his own mother.
Hell... what if Sylar hadn’t stopped him? Peter probably never would have recovered from that. He still hadn’t fully recovered from what he had seen and done in the future.
A horrible future that was literally Hell on Earth.
A future where he was a murderer and a despised terrorist, a future where a psychotic version of Claire had killed his future self, and a future where Nathan was able to walk into a room and overlook his dead body with seemingly no remorse. If Peter had complied with Nathan’s future self’s request and hadn’t teleported back to the present precisely when he did, Nathan probably would have left the room only to then give Claire the okay for her to come back in and ‘finish the job’...
But just as puzzling to Peter, it was also a future where Sylar had loved him, and a future where the man Peter had once despised more than anyone else in the world had somehow transformed from some soulless creature into a moral human being who had learned how to love and forgotten how to hate.
In the end, maybe that was why Peter was even here, at this theatre, at all.
His father had already recruited multiple Level 5 prisoners to his side, so maybe, just maybe, he would send someone after this ‘Eric Doyle’ as well, and maybe, just maybe, that someone would be Sylar...
Peter knew it was slim chance, but he had to take it. Even if it possibly meant risking his own life in the process. But again, Peter knew he was probably here for nothing... Sylar was more than likely still at Pinehearst, being further manipulated by Arthur that very second. That is, unless Arthur had chosen to do to Sylar as he had done to Peter, and stolen his abilities before deciding to do away with him.
God, how he wished... how he wished that Sylar had come with him.
Stepping forth into the theatre’s front, Peter saw the bell on the desk, but chose to ignore it. Instead, he decided he would sneak around into the back.
...Especially after he heard what appeared to be a crash of some sort originating from the theatre’s confines, along with a fit of dark laughter.
Quietly, Peter turned to his left and began to approach the entrance that would most definitely lead him into the old theatre’s confines. He did just that, taking one slow step after another. Once inside, Peter peered his head around the corner, and what he saw caused him to gasp out loud.
For there, in the center of the large, theatrical room, stood not only who just had to be Eric Doyle, but none other than Sylar... Only, Sylar seemed to be acting as if he had lost his lights...
Doyle was standing next to Sylar, with his hands and arms extended upwards before him. At the same time, Sylar seemed to be mimicking Doyle’s stance and body movements. Above them, a set of manikins were moving through the air all on their own.
Eric squealed with excitement as the puppets danced through the air.
“I always wanted to try this ability out!” Eric admitted with an alongside laugh.
Oh.. shit..
From Peter’s angle, it didn’t take long for him to realize what was going on here. Eric Doyle had obviously taken control of Sylar’s body, hadn’t he? And, from what Peter was able to see from his current spot, it seemed as if Doyle was also able to control the abilities in his captives as if they were his own.
Again, if Peter only had his powers, he would be able to get Sylar out of this mess in no time flat. But now... he felt almost... helpless. Still, there just had to be something he could do. Then, an idea, however risky it was, came to Peter... He turned on his heel, and then, began to sneak his way backstage.
Meanwhile, Doyle continued to toy with Sylar and his power of telekinesis.
Though Doyle was effectively keeping Sylar’s mouth shut, Sylar groaned inwardly nevertheless. This fact that Doyle was forcing him to use his ability to play with puppets and dolls was utterly humiliating. Ugh... Sylar couldn’t wait to kill this man.
Just then, however, Eric’s ‘funtime’ was interrupted when he heard a loud crash coming from backstage. Eric frowned, and lost his concentration long enough for the many puppets floating through the air to fall back down to the floor. Being that a couple of them were partially made of porcelain, the dolls broke the second they hit the wooden floor.
“Look what you did to my babies!” Eric cursed, before slapping Sylar directly across the face. “You’re going to pay for that!”
Another crash.
Sylar managed a small smirk. Looks like someone had arrived earlier than expected. Sylar partially hoped it was Flint, since then, Flint could use his pyrokinesis to set this God-awful place along with Doyle’s precious ‘babies’ on fire.
And then Sylar would kill Doyle.
“Okay... I do believe that one of your little friends is definitely back there,” Doyle insisted, rubbing his chin in thought, “Probably trying to distract me and make me go back there, leaving you here. But, I’m not stupid, so you’re going with me. If it’s not my Meredith, I’ll simply have you use your power to slice them to pieces.”
Sylar almost went pale. Come to think... how did Sylar know who was really back there? What if it was someone from the Company? After the stunts Sylar had pulled at Pinehearst, Noah Bennet or anyone else sent from the Company would probably try to capture him and have him imprisoned in Level 5 all over again. As for Angela... she would be mad, wouldn’t she?
Very mad.
Sylar was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice that he was following Doyle’s lead towards the stage.
Another bang.
With Doyle preceding Sylar by a few steps, he stopped when he reached the front of the stage. The tattered curtains were pulled closed, shielding whatever or whoever was behind them. With a smile, Doyle forced Sylar to hold up his hands, before then forcing Sylar to use his telekinetic power to part the curtains fully.
When they had parted, however, Doyle and Sylar both took into view a blank stage. There was no one there.
“Come out come out wherever you are?” Doyle taunted in a loud voice, making sure that whoever was hiding in the theatre could hear him, “Meredith, is that you by any chance? Are you watching me right now?”
No response.
“Well in that case...” Eric began, his voice taking on a dark hint of derision to it, “We’ll see how you react to this.”
Eric turned to the motionless Sylar, and once again, began to make a few motions of his own - causing Sylar to mimic them. Sylar’s right arm began shaking, when he realized he was being forced to un-strap the loaded pistol from his belt. Having no control over his own actions, Sylar brought the gun to the side of his head, and even if he couldn’t show it, Sylar was scared. If he were forced to shoot himself in the head, was there really any coming back from that one? After all, no working brain, no working abilities.
“Come out my dear,” Doyle repeated, “For if you don’t, your brother ‘Gay’ here will blow his brains out. I’m going to give you to the count of ten to show yourself, starting... Now. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five...”
“Alright!”
Sylar’s eyes widened. That voice... it had sounded like... like Peter’s...
And sure enough, it had been. From behind the stage, Peter emerged, slowly walking his way out into the light with a led pipe in hand.
Doyle seemed relatively disappointed. “And just who the hell are you?”
Doyle turned to Sylar, allowing him to speak. “Do you know this man?”
No response.
“Well do you?”
Doyle rolled his eyes. “So if I were to have him bash his head in with that pipe, you wouldn’t care?”
“No, don’t...” Sylar said in a silent plea, “He... he’s my brother...”
Eric used one had to rub his temples, seeming annoyed and frustrated. “Another brother? Sheesh, how many brothers does Meredith have?”
“We’re not Meredith’s brothers,” Peter hissed from his spot on stage, “Sylar doesn’t even know her, but I do. She mentioned you to me before I came here. You put her and Claire through hell the other day.”
“So...” Doyle said, clasping his hands behind his back as he took a few steps closer to the stage, “Can I expect Meredith’s arrival any time soon?”
Peter’s grip on the pipe he held tightened, and he glared down at Eric. “As a matter of fact, yes. Her and Noah Bennet will be here shortly and then you’re going right back to Level 5 where monsters like you belong.”
The Puppet Man sighed. “Why does everyone always feel the need to lie to me?”
Peter remained composed, despite the fact that he knew part of what he had just said had been a lie. Bennet and Meredith weren’t on their ways here. Not yet, at least.
Doyle turned back to Sylar, and grunted at him. “So you have just been wasting my time?”
“I told you why I came here,” Sylar answered, his eyebrows narrowed, “But you were so lost in your delusional fantasies that you just couldn’t get the point.”
At this moment, Peter took the opportunity, and jumped off the stage - led pipe in hand. Even if he no longer had his superstrength, he was going to bash Doyle’s head in.
However, Eric had seen it coming before it even had.
Swiftly, he pointed to Sylar with both hands, and reversed their positions. By the time Peter was in midair, bringing the pipe down with his hands, Sylar was now the one who would be forced to take the impact of the blow.
At the last second, Peter realized this. He released his grasp on the metal pipe, and crashed into Sylar from behind. Before they knew it, both Sylar, and Peter, were on the floor.
Eric shook his head. “Pa-thetic. Now I’m going to have to teach both of you a lesson...”
Using his power, Doyle quickly took control of Peter’s body as well. He forced his two captives to stand back to their feet, and then looked them over. Eric walked up to Peter first.
“Now, what exactly is your name? I hope you’re better at it than your ‘brother’ Gay is here. He doesn’t seem to know who the hell he is.”
“I’m Peter,” Peter replied beneath his glare, “Peter Petrelli.”
Doyle suddenly appeared highly interested. “Petrelli? As in Angela Petrelli? And this guy Gay here is your brother? Oh my... oh my oh my oh my. I just knew there had to be a nifty little twist in here somewhere. And just when I thought my day couldn’t get anymore interesting. So tell me, Peter, what exactly is it that you can do?”
“He doesn’t have any powers,” Sylar answered first, “He’s of no threat to you, so just leave him alone.”
“Uh-huh,” Eric responded in a perky voice, “I guess that would explain why you tried to bash me on the head with a pipe. Someone with abilities most definitely would have used their powers in that situation. Well, I suppose every family has its useless ones. In fact, you kind of remind me of my Uncle Ned, so I already don’t like you. Ned wasn’t special, either, so he just chose to beat me up whenever he felt like it, until that day at the beach where I had him drown himself.”
Unable to turn his head to face Peter, Sylar instead spoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“What are you doing here, Peter?”
“I came in the hopes that I might find you,” Peter clarified, “I figured my father would manipulate you and send you or someone else he’s managed to brainwash after this man. I was obviously right.”
“Well I didn’t save you just so you could set-out on a suicide mission,” Sylar griped, “I can’t believe you would do something this stupid when you don’t even have your powers anymore.”
Peter grunted, glaring at Sylar out of the corner of his eye, “And I can’t believe that you would be so stupid. My father is only going to do the same thing to you that he did to me, and then he will kill you, and you know it. Are you so lost now that you’ve allowed your need to feel accepted blind you?” he questioned with sincerity, “You convinced me, Sylar. You’ve convinced me that you actually want to change, that you actually want to be a hero. If that’s true, you’ll come back to right side. I want you, Sylar, I want you on our side. I want you to do what you know in your heart is right.”
“It’s... too late for me, Peter,” Sylar quietly murmured.
“No, it’s not,” Peter argued, his voice becoming louder, “You offered to help me, but I was too stubborn and full of hatred to listen to you. Now I’m here to help you. I’m not going to let you make the same mistake that I did,” he harshly assured, “In the hellish future I was forced to go to... you were the only part of my life there that wasn’t a nightmare. I’ve seen the person you can become, and I haven’t given up hope on that.”
Eric blinked. These two were talking to each other like he wasn’t even there anymore.
Doyle finally spoke up, addressing to Sylar. “Are you sure this is your brother and not your lover?” he laughed, only managing to agitate Sylar all the more. Peter hadn’t seemed especially thrilled with Doyle’s statement, either.
Doyle then looked to Peter. “Well, you kept referring to your father as ‘my father’, and not ‘our father’, so you act like you don’t actually consider this guy to be your brother. Well, do you?”
Peter adverted his eyes, looking off to the side. “I don’t know what he is to me, but he is not my brother...”
“Uh-huh,” Eric repeated, his tone taunting once again as his eyes remained set on Peter, “I think I know what’s going on here...”
Doyle took a single step forwards, and after making sure Sylar was completely immobile, he ran his hand down Sylar’s face in what some would consider to be a seductive manner. Sylar was going to demand that Eric stop, but Doyle had once again made it so that Sylar was unable to speak. His hand trailed further down Sylar’s face, to his jaw-line, and then finally to his neck. Doyle gripped him beneath the chin and titled his head back, as if he were examining Sylar’s profile or something.
Either way, Peter didn’t like it.
“Get your filthy hands off of him you sick fuck,” Peter ordered, finishing his sentence off with a word that he seldom used. God, Peter knew Meredith had been forced to spend an entire night with this psychopathic man. What else had he possibly done to her that she hadn’t mentioned?
“That’s what I thought,” Eric said, trying to sound like a typical psychologist, “Peter, isn’t it? You’re the one ‘in denial’, but secretly, Gay here’s your puppet.”
“What?” Sylar questioned just as soon as he found he could speak, sounding both insulted, and bewildered that one would even aim to suggest such a thing.
“Well you see, I have gift for these sorts of things,” Eric continued before Peter had the chance to snap-back with something else, “In any relationship, there’s always two kinds of people: the puppet, and the master. You know, I do believe that is my Meredith’s main problem with our relationship... she’s such a dominant, fiery woman.”
“I’m nobody’s puppet,” Sylar sneered, highly offended.
“Quiet,” Doyle sighed, snapping Sylar’s mouth shut once again, “Well, I’m sorry to break the news to you, but in this relationship, you are. You’re obviously very easily manipulated, so I’m sure anyone you allow yourself to so much as vaguely trust can toy with you like, well, a toy. But, your ‘friend’ here, well, he seems quite possessive, and acts as if he doesn’t trust anyone at the moment. Maybe not even himself. Uncle Ned was much the same way,” he compared, turning his attention back to Peter, “You must be the real ‘sick fuck’ here. I mean, Gay here has the ability to heal from any wound, so that way, you can have all the fun you want torturing the guy without having to worry about getting into any trouble for it. Do you two fags have some sort of kinky, twisted S&M thing going on behind the curtains?”
Peter sneered between teeth, putting every ounce of energy he had into making a movement.
Even if he was no longer suffering from the hunger, it didn’t matter. Peter wanted to kill this man.
Doyle stared back into Peter’s angry eyes, and chuckled. “You’re feisty. I bet coming here to rescue your ‘buddy’ made you feel so badass, didn’t it? Just remember that when you come to my theatre, I’m the one in control. There’s only one puppet master here.”
After Doyle had slapped Peter across the face with the back of his hand, Sylar began struggling more than ever. Sadly, it was still to no avail.
Doyle took a step back, still seeming completely amused with the scene before him. He continued to look back and forth between his angry set of captives; a rather horrid idea of the sorts coming to mind. The crazed man raised his hands up, and twirled them around, twirling Peter’s and Sylar’s bodies in the process. Now that Peter and Sylar were facing each other, Sylar became shocked when Peter’s hands suddenly rose to cup his face. Before Sylar knew it, he was leaning down and forwards, as Peter’s face rose up.
And then, their lips were pressed together.
And then, they were kissing.
The act itself seemed to lack any intimacy, however, considering the fact that both Peter and Sylar had their eyes open and widened, compelled with the fact that they were making a desperate effort to pull away from one another.
“Oh come now, put a little spice into that,” Eric laughed, “Use some tongue.”
Eric made a few more motions with his hands, as if his left hand was meant to control Sylar, and his right hand was meant to control Peter.
Though Sylar believed he couldn’t become anymore shocked than he already was, he did when his mouth opened itself just before Peter’s tongue slipped its way inside.
Of course, Peter was just as shocked as Sylar was. He felt his hands pull Sylar’s face closer to his, and his tongue slipped out of Sylar’s mouth before he found himself lazily and sloppily licking the taller man’s lips. With their bodies pressed so closely together, Peter could easily feel Sylar’s heart pounding through his chest. Hell, Sylar could probably feel Peter’s doing the same thing.
When Doyle finally had Peter and Sylar pull away from one another, they were breathing faster, and both of them still had their dark eyes widened to the maximum degree.
“You know,” said Eric, who once again seemed to be cooking-up another scheme, “I’m bored. Until Meredith or any of your other little friends get her, I’m going to have you two get on stage and put on a little show for me...”
With still another flick of the hand, Doyle had his two captives heading up to the stage.
Skipping their way up the stairs like they were both a couple of underage idiots.
Peter and Sylar both had a very, very bad feeling about what Doyle was proposing when he had said ‘put on a show for me’. Was Doyle going to have them fight, dance, jump, skip some more, or possibly...
Oh hell no.
That was it, wasn’t it? Doyle was going to have them... do things to one another, wasn’t he...?
After Peter and Sylar had both reached center stage, Eric took a comfortable seat in one of his chairs and momentarily lounged for a bit, appearing as if he was cooking up another dirty scheme.
Sylar stared at the crazed Puppet Man with wrath, knowing that if he could round up enough telekinetic energy, he could get himself, and Peter, out of this mess. Sylar could feel it. Doyle’s control rate wasn’t one-hundred percent, it was more like eighty, so if Sylar could...
A loud moan was heard. Sylar wasn’t able to look down just yet, but Peter was apparently on his knees, caressing Sylar’s cock through the ebony fabric. Then, Peter began to open up his belt-buckle before throwing the belt in its entirety across the stage.
Sylar struggled still more, but to no ease. The moment Peter had pulled out his dick and delivered the first lick, Sylar’s thoughts of fighting Doyle back were eradicated from his mind.
Meanwhile, Peter was fighting his own mental battle. A battle to stay sane. He wanted to stop what he was doing right this second so badly, but since he was literally powerless now, he was powerless to stop this mad man from making him go down on who could possibly be his own brother. Oh well, right now it really didn’t even matter. Especially when he was forced to deep-throat Sylar - gagging around the other man’s forming hardness.
Sylar tried to fight, but this time, he was trying to fight the level of pleasure he was being forced to endure. At this particular moment, Sylar was feeling more sorry for Peter than he was for himself, but, fuck, it felt so damned good... to have Peter sucking him off like this. In the back of his mind, Sylar knew deep down that he had always desired Peter; had his fantasies, but none of them had ever included a psychopathic voyeur. The more horrible factor was that this probably wouldn’t be the end of Eric Doyle’s so-called ‘show’.
As Peter continued to lick and suck and perform pleasurable tricks with his tongue, Sylar suddenly felt the urge to grab handfuls of Peter’s hair and start fucking his mouth, only he was still unable to move. He couldn’t concentrate on freeing his body from Doyle’s grasp now that he was being fully distracted by Peter. Now, all of Sylar’s thoughts had been abridged to this, abridged to nothing but the way Peter was sucking him off. Sylar didn’t even notice Doyle’s laughter in the background.
Sylar panted between teeth, his hands magically running their way through Peter’s hair in and adoring manner. When Sylar realized he was about to come, he tried to stop himself, but he just... couldn’t. Moments later, he let go of his will to fight back as warm jets shot down Peter’s throat.
Peter gagged still more as he was forced to swallow every last bit of Sylar’s hot essence; a small stream leaking out of the corner of his mouth. When Doyle finally released his grip on Peter, Peter nearly fell to the side as he began coughing wildly for oxygen.
“Don’t fret, the show’s just begun!” Eric shouted, clapping either of his hands together once more.
Unfortunately, the revelation of these words were enough to inform Sylar and Peter of what else was to come.
Literally speaking.
Still unable to say a word, Eric once more took full control of Peter’s body and forced him to stand. He threw his arms around Sylar’s neck, and closed in the space between he and Sylar as the two were forced to make-out once again. Sylar could taste himself on Peter’s tongue, and felt somewhat sickened that he was actually enjoying it. Hell, he would have been enjoying every second of this weren’t it for the fact that he had a rather undesired audience present.
But then, things only got worse when Sylar was forced to the ground, onto his hands and knees, just like Peter was.
Peter trembled when he was forced to get behind Sylar, especially when he watched his hands grab hold of Sylar pants and pull them down far enough to reveal Sylar’s bare ass.
“Please s-stop this...” Peter managed to get out, though Doyle was making it very hard for him to speak.
“Be quiet,” Eric ordered as he turned on the popcorn machine, wondering how Peter had been able to get any words out. Peter definitely had a strong will, this much was sure. Possibly a stronger will than anyone he had ever played puppet with. “You two are only doing what you usually do, so what’s the problem?” questioned Eric, “Just pretend I’m not even here...” he chortled.
And then, Peter felt his face moving forwards and down, and next thing he knew, he was licking his way down Sylar’s crack, which led to a reactive moan from Sylar. Peter’s tongue began probing its way around Sylar’s most intimate crevice, rimming him in ongoing motions.
Sylar wanted to cover his mouth to mask his growing pleasure and his moans of desire, but again, it was to no avail. He felt as if his wrists and ankles were locked to the wooden floor. When Peter eventually pulled his face away, it wasn’t long before Sylar heard the sound of Peter unzipping his own pants.
Oh fuck.
For a moment, Doyle temporary left Sylar and Peter frozen on stage while he collected a hefty amount of popcorn from the machine adjacent to him. He began snacking away, smiling and popping kernels in his mouth as if he were watching a very entertaining movie. And to him, he most definitely was.
Peter once again tried to stop his movements as he was forced to remove his own cock from his jeans, but it was to no avail. His body continued to move all on its own. His body in its entirety quivered as his was forced to align the tip of his growing hardness with Sylar slick opening, full well knowing what was to come next.
“I’m.. sor..ry..” Peter forced out. It was incredibly hard to speak, but still, he had found the will too.
Sylar wanted to say something back, but found that he still couldn’t. He was still in so much... shock to get right down to it. Everything was happening so fast, and his surroundings seemed to be spinning. It wasn’t until he felt Peter pushing into him that any sounds were to finally be heard from him. Well, what sounded like a muffled scream, anyway. Peter slipped further and further inside of Sylar’s prone form, until he had reached the hilt.
And at this moment, both Peter, and Sylar, lost all will to fight back what was happening to them.
Eric could only smirk.
They were just like all the others.
Nothing like a good fuck to take your mind off of being controlled, he always said.
With his pants bunched up around his ankles, Sylar felt as Peter began moving. He knew he should have felt disgusted, but he didn’t. No, instead, he felt... good. Maybe a little too good, and as Peter’s momentum increased, so did Sylar’s impending pleasure along with it. It wasn’t long before he was screaming Peter’s name, just as soon as he found he was able to speak again.
Eric, meanwhile, decided it was time for another little trick...
As Peter continued to thrust into the writhing body beneath him, he suddenly found that he was able to tighten his grasp on Sylar’s hips. Control and angle his thrusts. He was in full control of his body now, and yet, he was still going along with this. Hell, he couldn’t help himself. He was so close... so close that he just couldn’t stop. Not now, not ever.
Sylar too realized the change. He was suddenly able to arch his hips back against Peter; able to match his movements into him. One of his hands quickly left the floor so he could take his own hardness into hand and begin pumping it. He too realized that he was back in control. Only... not at the same time. The pleasure was in control of his body, not his will. If that even made any sense.
“Peter...” Sylar moaned between teeth, encouraging the other man to continue all the more, “Oh fuck Peter...”
“Sylar...” Peter said in return, “I... so sorry...” he struggled to get out, feeling as if he were going to come at any given moment. And then, he did. Sylar’s name once again escaped Peter’s lips, only this time in a jolting cry of pleasure.
Sylar moaned deep in the back of his throat when he felt Peter’s hot essence coating his insides. It was a sensation like no other he had ever felt, and as Peter kept thrusting through the aftershocks, Sylar felt a second hand join the one already sheathing his own cock. Peter had begun jacking him off too, trying to bring Sylar over the edge with him. And, it worked. Seconds later, Peter felt as his right-hand was coated in warm, sticky semen.
Eric decided it was time to take back control at this moment. After all, the show had just begun...
Despite how physically drained Peter and Sylar both were, they were forced to rise from the ground; Sylar pulling up the pants that bagged around his ankles back into place while Peter meanwhile redid his pants. Then, Sylar was forced to watch as Peter began to quite literally go down on his own hand; licking Sylar’s release off down to every single last drop. Watching this act alone made Sylar feel like he was getting hard all over again.
“Alright,” Eric stated, loud enough for his two captives to hear him, “Now Gay gets to fuck Peter!” he clapped, before stuffing some more popcorn into his mouth. “Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to think of all the dirty things I can have you do to one another.”
And then, Peter leaned towards Sylar and pulled him close, biting hard into the crook of his neck - hard enough to draw a considerable amount of blood, before Peter too licked that clean.
Sylar’s entire body was trembling with sparks of pleasure from the aftermath of his second orgasm of the day. Was he actually... excited by this madman’s words?
“Hold it right there...”
A gun went off.
Peter and Sylar blinked, suddenly able to move again all on their own.
Doyle on the other hand... well, he had just been shot in the shoulder from behind by none other than Noah Bennet.
Shit.
Sylar quickly made a break from it, but was just as quickly followed by Peter.
Sylar dashed down the small flight of stairs that lead backstage, until he came upon the exit door. He wanted out of here more than anything now; mission or no mission. He’d get around to killing Doyle later. That much was fact.
What Sylar couldn’t shake was why Peter was following him.
Once outside the building, Sylar halted, turning to face Peter.
“Don’t go back,” Peter urged, “Please...”
“I... I have to, Peter,” Sylar informed, “I have to.”
“Even after what just happened in there?” Peter harshly stated, “Because you sure seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me!”
Sylar didn’t hesitate, and telekinetically hurled Peter into the nearest brick wall. Sylar approached Peter then, slowly, as if he wanted to take his time.
“Me? What about you?” Sylar seethed, “I should kill you for that.”
“I couldn’t.. stop myself...” Peter offered.
“Oh? Even when that crazed man released his grip on you for a moment?”
Peter side-glanced. “He... never did. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sylar further shoved Peter into the wall, until Peter felt the brick scraping his scalp.
“I’m talking about this,” Sylar said, just before he crushed his lips against Peter’s.
When Sylar released his telekinetic grip on Peter’s body, he kissed Sylar back wholeheartedly, fast, and unable to stop himself. The both of them fought for control of the kiss, until Peter ultimately gave-in and allowed Sylar's tongue to explore his mouth.
When Sylar finally pulled away, dark eyes met, and no words passed between the two men for a long time.
“Well?” Peter questioned.
“Well what?”
“What now?”
Sylar cracked a small smile, examining his surroundings just to be on the safe side. No one from Pinehearst had come for him, but if he didn’t get out of the alleyway soon, Noah Bennet and Meredith wouldn’t be far behind.
“What do you say we beat it?” Sylar suggested.
“What?” Peter inquired, sounding authentically perplexed.
“You heard me,” Sylar said, “What do you say we beat it and continue the rest of Doyle’s game somewhere else? You game?”
Peter smiled that crooked smile of his.
“Yeah. Yeah I am.”
--End!
A/N: Yeah... I know, what was that?! LOL... Please review! That is, unless you wanna flame me. *runs off and hides*
Author: Sapphire17
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to 3x07
Warnings: Some language, mild violence, voyeurism, forced sex lol...
Summary: When Eric Doyle escapes Level 5 once again, Arthur Petrelli assigns Sylar to bring Doyle to Pinehearst by any means necessary. Once H.R.G. and Meredith catch news of ‘The Puppet Man’s’ escape, they agree that they can’t deal with him right away. Peter, however, decides to take the matter into his hands when he realizes that Pinehearst may already be after the escapee on the slight chance that his father may want to recruit Doyle in order to gain his services or steal his ability. Peter manages to slip away from the others and make his way to Doyle’s theatre, where a more than interesting surprise awaits him...
Prompt: #31 @ 50kinkyways - Voyuer
A/N: I wrote this before I saw how easily Sylar was able to defeat Eric Doyle, so forgive me for this... I'll just pretend that this fic is why Sylar was able to do so. XD;;
Puppets
*************
*******
A bell rang on the front desk.
Over and over and over again.
Sylar was quickly becoming impatient. He looked down at the file his father had given him, and opened it once more to take another look at the photograph and information inside.
The subject has also developed a number of accompanying defense mechanisms, such as a radical perception of justice and vengeance that validates virtually any action against any given victim.
“Body manipulation, huh?” Sylar murmured to himself, closing the manila file. “Interesting...”
Very interesting.
From what Sylar had already read about this guy, and from what his father had told him, whoever this ‘Eric Doyle’ was possessed the ability to control the physical movements of anyone at sheer will, giving him the power to make them do virtually anything to themselves, or to another. Doyle’s record indicated that he had been placed into Level 5 after several mysterious ‘suicides’ had taken place, all to which Doyle was present for. Obviously, the Company had eventually put two-and-two together, and had come to realize that Doyle had used his ability to force his victims to take their own lives. The list of his crimes didn’t end here, however. His record also shown that he had even forced people to perform various sexual acts on either himself, or on one another.
Now that was really sick, even to Sylar. Still... Sylar couldn’t help but be intrigued at the thought of possessing this power for himself... But, Sylar had been given specific instructions by the man who was now supposedly his father not to kill Doyle unless it absolutely came to that. For some reason or another, Sylar couldn’t help but be suspicious about this factor. Hell, after what Arthur had done to Peter... what if he was intent on doing the same thing to Sylar in the end? Back on Level 5, when Daphne and Knox had greeted him with an invitation to join Pinehearst Industries, Daphne had specifically stated that the owner liked Sylar exactly the way his was. As a killer. Was this because Arthur actually accepted Sylar for what he was and wanted him at his side, or could his father possibly have ulterior motives? Send Sylar out to kill the targets who wouldn’t corporate and acquire their abilities so that in the end, his father could drain Sylar of his powers just as he had done to Peter? Was he even Sylar’s biological parent?
But no... that couldn’t be it, right? Sylar’s father had been telling him the truth about everything, even when he had told him the grotesque story of how his own mother - the mother he had quickly come to adore - had tried to kill him, and of how Angela had merely been using him all along.
Manipulating him.
Hell... after this, Sylar was feeling more fucked-up in the head than ever. More lost, betrayed, and even more enraged than ever. He wasn’t even sure he knew who or even what he was anymore, much less who to trust. So far, it seemed like the only one who had been completely honest with him was Peter... Why he chose to stay behind rather than escaping with Peter he still didn’t know. Why he had chosen to save Peter rather than kill him he still didn’t know.
What Sylar did know, however, was that as opposed to escaping Pinehearst on his own, Peter had ultimately chosen to come back for him... which had ultimately led Sylar to believe that Peter did give a damn about him in the end. Peter had risked his very life by coming back for Sylar, so even after Arthur had given Sylar the order to kill Peter, Sylar just... hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it... Instead, Sylar had purposely made it so that Peter would not only survive what would normally be a fatal fall, but at the same time, made it so that Peter would escape Pinehearst with barely a scratch on him.
Because of this, Arthur was already having his doubts regarding Sylar’s loyalty, so Sylar knew he had to complete this new mission of his. He couldn’t disappoint his father because he... he just had to belong somewhere now, now that he no longer had his mother.
He had to have someone.
Sylar didn’t want to be alone anymore.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Sylar turned his head, his contemplation immediately broken by the sound of a foreign voice. There, in the shadows, emerged who Sylar recognized to be his assigned target.
Sylar made eye-contact with the man, and aimed to speak.
“I’m Ga...”
No he wasn’t, was he? Who was he now? Gabriel Gray, Gabriel Petrelli, Sylar, or somebody else altogether?
Fuck.
Eric let out a laugh.
“You’re ‘Gay’? Well, from the looks of you, that’s a fitting name.”
Sylar frowned, already wanting to slice this guy’s head open. “Gabriel, but you can just call me Sylar.”
Eric steadily began to approach Sylar, his face still bearing a look of amusement.
“Well Gay-I mean, Gabriel or Sylar or whatever the hell you want to call yourself, I don’t like uninvited guests, so what in the hell are you doing here? Wait, don’t tell me... you work for the Company and Noah Bennet?”
“Not anymore,” Sylar truthfully answered.
Eric smiled. “I’m not convinced.”
And then, before Sylar could make another move, his entire body froze in place.
“How about you and I take a little walk?” Eric suggested, turning around. As he walked back into the darkness he had emerged from, Sylar found his legs moving all on their own. While Sylar followed Doyle against his will, he tried to telekinetically knock the man in front of him over, but to no success. It seemed that as long as he was under Doyle’s control, his own abilities were out of his reach.
When Sylar had entered the back room of Doyle’s theatre, he immediately took into view the hundreds - maybe even thousands - of various dolls, manikins, and puppets hung and scattered all about. Sylar instantly knew that he was dealing with someone who didn’t need a second guess to be classified as clinically insane.
Not that Sylar was any different in that department, he figured.
Upon reaching a circular, wooden table, Eric pulled out a chair, forcing Sylar to mimic his actions and pull out the chair on the opposing side of the table. When Eric took a seat, Sylar took a seat. When Eric held out his right-arm, Sylar held out his right-arm.
Doyle took the file from Sylar’s hand, and instantly opened it. After seeing his photograph within the file, Doyle immediately shot his glance upwards and back to Sylar.
“And you seriously expect me to believe you don’t work for the Company?”
“I don’t,” Sylar hissed, sounding more than just a little pissed-off, “I work for another company called Pinehearst Industries, and was sent here to give you a proposition.”
Eric leaned over the table, still appearing rather unconvinced. “I’m listening.”
“I was sent here to recruit you,” Sylar insisted, amusing Eric all the more at the way he seemed to be trying to force himself to make any physical movement on his own, “Pinehearst is working against the Company that held you prisoner on Level 5. I know, because I was once a prisoner there myself. Just like you.”
“So that’s where I recognize you from,” Doyle spoke, rubbing his chin, “I thought you looked familiar, Gay.”
“Stop.. calling me that..” Sylar growled in warning, before Doyle observed the way his half-empty glass of whiskey cracked down one side. Even so, Eric appeared as if he didn’t feel all that threatened, and picked up the damaged glass in order to take a sip of its contents.
“I see,” Eric began, “You have an ability too. Moving things with your mind, a lot like the way I move people and their abilities with mine. Just so you know, as long as I have control of your body, I have control of your ability. My sweet Meredith has an ability as well. You see, that’s the only reason I came back here. I know she’ll come back for me eventually... Apparently she’s with the Company too, now, so maybe if I hold you here hostage long enough, I can anticipate her arrival.”
“I told you already,” protested Sylar, “I’m not with that goddamned company anymore. However, you are right about one thing. If I don’t return with you, you can be expecting the arrival of someone. Only it want be whoever the hell your ‘sweet Meredith’ is, it’ll be your death. If you don’t release me now, I promise you that I will kill you myself.”
Eric clapped his hands together. “Oh goody, more puppets for me to play with. But, anyhow... I don’t see how you’ll be able to kill me when you’re dead.”
And then, from his pocket, Doyle removed a small pocket knife. He opened the silvery blade, and then placed it on the table’s surface directly in front of Sylar.
“And now, I’m going to watch you kill yourself,” Eric announced, sounding rather excited. Before Sylar could speak up again, Eric did the same thing he had done to Meredith. With a flick of Eric’s hand, Sylar found his mouth closed. Afterwards, Doyle motioned his hand to the table, causing Sylar to do the same. Sylar suddenly found himself picking up the knife, and shakily bringing it to his throat...
“Well,” Eric continued with a large grin on his face, “It’s been fun ‘Gay’, but I’m afraid your time has run out.”
And with that said, Eric made another motion with his hand. As he slowly dragged his finger across his throat, Sylar, meanwhile, dragged the blade against his. Sylar seethed in temporary pain, blood pouring down to coat his neck.
However... Eric’s eyes immediately widened to a degree when Sylar’s freshly-inflicted wound began to heal itself... Just like that blonde-haired girl’s bullet-wounds had before. That’s right, the one who had supposedly been Meredith’s niece. What was her name again? That’s right... Claire.
“You can’t kill me,” Sylar then informed in a harsh voice just as soon as he was able to speak again, “I can never die.”
“Oh my, well this changes everything!” Eric stated in a happy voice, “Since you can heal like this too, that must make you Meredith’s brother! And that girl... Claire, your daughter, right? This just keeps getting better by the second!”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Sylar growled, wishing he had ‘cut some cranium’ when he’d had the chance.
Eric formed an expression of false bedazzlement. “So you’re denying that you’re related to that Claire girl?”
And then, Sylar said nothing. He still wasn’t completely positive, but he had been under the impression that Claire was actually Peter’s niece or something. If so, that would make Claire his niece as well... Fuck, Sylar hadn’t even really thought about it.
“I’ve... never heard of her,” Sylar eventually responded, lying.
Of course, Eric was able to deduce that this was a lie just by the momentary pause Sylar had taken to answer him. Once Sylar was able to tell that Doyle knew this merely by the maniacal expression plastered upon Eric’s face, he realized that he had fucked-up big time.
Hell, Sylar had fucked-up this entire mission big time. He was still determined to find a way out of this whole situation, however, because he couldn’t disappoint his father... Not to mention the fact that Sylar was very, very angry. The second he had the chance, even if it meant waiting for Knox and the others to arrive, Sylar was going to give-in to his hunger and steal Doyle’s power in an instance. Just being here now, and witnessing such a powerful ability in action made Sylar’s sheer desire to posses it himself stronger than ever.
Just then, Sylar found himself crying out in pain once again when he was forced to stab himself directly in the heart.
Eric, of course, seemed more delighted than ever. It was like this whole thing was some sort of... game to him. With his closed fist placed over his chest, Eric motioned his fist away from it - causing Sylar to rip the knife from his own flesh in a fluent shift.
“Oh God, this is so fun!” Eric squealed, successfully managing to appear all the more insane, “This means that until my Meredith comes for me, I can have all the fun I want torturing her beloved brother. Then when she gets here, I’ll have you hold that gun of yours to your head and threaten to have you blow your own brains out if she refuses to be my bride. I know she’ll love me, then. She’ll have to. God, I haven’t stopped thinking about her for a second. I’ve always adored her since the moment I laid eyes on her in that antique shop...” he admitted, sighing longingly, “And then after we’re married, I guess you’ll be my brother, too, Gay.”
Good.. fucking.. lord..
And people thought Sylar was nuts.
***
I wonder if he’s here... if they’re all here... If they’re not, I’ll just buy a puppet and leave.
Peter Petrelli thought this to himself, eyeing what appeared to be nothing more than some old, abandoned theatre. But this was it.
Back at his apartment amidst all the commotion, Noah Bennet had suddenly gotten a cell-phone call to inform him that a Level 5 prisoner had escaped. Vaguely, Peter had overheard the majority of the conversation. When Noah had closed his phone after saying he’d ‘get around to it later’, he promptly told Meredith that ‘Eric Doyle had escaped once again’ after forcing someone ‘like Michael’ who had been stupid enough to get close to Eric kill himself. Afterwards, Meredith had apparently becoming quite alarmed, along with Claire.
Claire then told Peter the short story of what had happened when the killer known as ‘The Puppet Man’ had taken her along with both of her mothers captive, and had forced them to play a rather nightmarish game of Russian Roulette with one another. In doing so, Claire had stated that he ‘had probably gone back to that creepy theatre of his’. Meredith had then given away the theatre’s exact location during a small conversation with Claire’s father, but when Meredith had asked Noah if they should pursue him, he had stated that they had bigger fish to fry for the time being, but would get on it soon. Noah seemingly knew what the industry known as Pinehearst was without even saying the company’s name. He had merely said that there was some sort of ‘dangerous organization’ made-up of other Level 5 fugitives along with more people who possessed abilities who might try to recruit Eric Doyle to their side. Because of this, Noah had probably decided that he needed to formulate a plan of attack.
Not much more had been said regarding the issue after that, as Noah had apparently wanted to keep the information private. Meredith, who now appeared to be Noah’s new Company partner or something, hadn’t delved into the issue, either.
Baffled and still in obvious disbelief that his father could still be alive, Nathan had soon left with Tracy Strauss - a woman who, for some reason, Peter already didn’t trust. Also, despite Nathan’s promise that he wouldn’t go to Pinehearst Industries, Peter just knew it was exactly where his brother was probably headed to... Fuck, if only Peter hadn’t lost his powers, then he could actually do something to help stop his crazed father and the army he was building.
An army that now sadly seemed to include Sylar...
He saved my life... Peter reminded himself. Even after how horribly I treated him...
Peter was almost still in disbelief. What he didn’t understand, however, was how Sylar had been so quick to turn on the mother he cherished. Before delivering Sylar a rather brutal beating and leaving him in a cell unconscious, Peter had been able to read Sylar’s thoughts while they were together at their mother’s side. Sylar actually loved her. Sylar actually loved somebody. After returning from that hellish future only to slam Sylar into a wall and snap his neck, Sylar had also proved this when he had stopped Peter from killing his own mother.
Hell... what if Sylar hadn’t stopped him? Peter probably never would have recovered from that. He still hadn’t fully recovered from what he had seen and done in the future.
A horrible future that was literally Hell on Earth.
A future where he was a murderer and a despised terrorist, a future where a psychotic version of Claire had killed his future self, and a future where Nathan was able to walk into a room and overlook his dead body with seemingly no remorse. If Peter had complied with Nathan’s future self’s request and hadn’t teleported back to the present precisely when he did, Nathan probably would have left the room only to then give Claire the okay for her to come back in and ‘finish the job’...
But just as puzzling to Peter, it was also a future where Sylar had loved him, and a future where the man Peter had once despised more than anyone else in the world had somehow transformed from some soulless creature into a moral human being who had learned how to love and forgotten how to hate.
In the end, maybe that was why Peter was even here, at this theatre, at all.
His father had already recruited multiple Level 5 prisoners to his side, so maybe, just maybe, he would send someone after this ‘Eric Doyle’ as well, and maybe, just maybe, that someone would be Sylar...
Peter knew it was slim chance, but he had to take it. Even if it possibly meant risking his own life in the process. But again, Peter knew he was probably here for nothing... Sylar was more than likely still at Pinehearst, being further manipulated by Arthur that very second. That is, unless Arthur had chosen to do to Sylar as he had done to Peter, and stolen his abilities before deciding to do away with him.
God, how he wished... how he wished that Sylar had come with him.
Stepping forth into the theatre’s front, Peter saw the bell on the desk, but chose to ignore it. Instead, he decided he would sneak around into the back.
...Especially after he heard what appeared to be a crash of some sort originating from the theatre’s confines, along with a fit of dark laughter.
Quietly, Peter turned to his left and began to approach the entrance that would most definitely lead him into the old theatre’s confines. He did just that, taking one slow step after another. Once inside, Peter peered his head around the corner, and what he saw caused him to gasp out loud.
For there, in the center of the large, theatrical room, stood not only who just had to be Eric Doyle, but none other than Sylar... Only, Sylar seemed to be acting as if he had lost his lights...
Doyle was standing next to Sylar, with his hands and arms extended upwards before him. At the same time, Sylar seemed to be mimicking Doyle’s stance and body movements. Above them, a set of manikins were moving through the air all on their own.
Eric squealed with excitement as the puppets danced through the air.
“I always wanted to try this ability out!” Eric admitted with an alongside laugh.
Oh.. shit..
From Peter’s angle, it didn’t take long for him to realize what was going on here. Eric Doyle had obviously taken control of Sylar’s body, hadn’t he? And, from what Peter was able to see from his current spot, it seemed as if Doyle was also able to control the abilities in his captives as if they were his own.
Again, if Peter only had his powers, he would be able to get Sylar out of this mess in no time flat. But now... he felt almost... helpless. Still, there just had to be something he could do. Then, an idea, however risky it was, came to Peter... He turned on his heel, and then, began to sneak his way backstage.
Meanwhile, Doyle continued to toy with Sylar and his power of telekinesis.
Though Doyle was effectively keeping Sylar’s mouth shut, Sylar groaned inwardly nevertheless. This fact that Doyle was forcing him to use his ability to play with puppets and dolls was utterly humiliating. Ugh... Sylar couldn’t wait to kill this man.
Just then, however, Eric’s ‘funtime’ was interrupted when he heard a loud crash coming from backstage. Eric frowned, and lost his concentration long enough for the many puppets floating through the air to fall back down to the floor. Being that a couple of them were partially made of porcelain, the dolls broke the second they hit the wooden floor.
“Look what you did to my babies!” Eric cursed, before slapping Sylar directly across the face. “You’re going to pay for that!”
Another crash.
Sylar managed a small smirk. Looks like someone had arrived earlier than expected. Sylar partially hoped it was Flint, since then, Flint could use his pyrokinesis to set this God-awful place along with Doyle’s precious ‘babies’ on fire.
And then Sylar would kill Doyle.
“Okay... I do believe that one of your little friends is definitely back there,” Doyle insisted, rubbing his chin in thought, “Probably trying to distract me and make me go back there, leaving you here. But, I’m not stupid, so you’re going with me. If it’s not my Meredith, I’ll simply have you use your power to slice them to pieces.”
Sylar almost went pale. Come to think... how did Sylar know who was really back there? What if it was someone from the Company? After the stunts Sylar had pulled at Pinehearst, Noah Bennet or anyone else sent from the Company would probably try to capture him and have him imprisoned in Level 5 all over again. As for Angela... she would be mad, wouldn’t she?
Very mad.
Sylar was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice that he was following Doyle’s lead towards the stage.
Another bang.
With Doyle preceding Sylar by a few steps, he stopped when he reached the front of the stage. The tattered curtains were pulled closed, shielding whatever or whoever was behind them. With a smile, Doyle forced Sylar to hold up his hands, before then forcing Sylar to use his telekinetic power to part the curtains fully.
When they had parted, however, Doyle and Sylar both took into view a blank stage. There was no one there.
“Come out come out wherever you are?” Doyle taunted in a loud voice, making sure that whoever was hiding in the theatre could hear him, “Meredith, is that you by any chance? Are you watching me right now?”
No response.
“Well in that case...” Eric began, his voice taking on a dark hint of derision to it, “We’ll see how you react to this.”
Eric turned to the motionless Sylar, and once again, began to make a few motions of his own - causing Sylar to mimic them. Sylar’s right arm began shaking, when he realized he was being forced to un-strap the loaded pistol from his belt. Having no control over his own actions, Sylar brought the gun to the side of his head, and even if he couldn’t show it, Sylar was scared. If he were forced to shoot himself in the head, was there really any coming back from that one? After all, no working brain, no working abilities.
“Come out my dear,” Doyle repeated, “For if you don’t, your brother ‘Gay’ here will blow his brains out. I’m going to give you to the count of ten to show yourself, starting... Now. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five...”
“Alright!”
Sylar’s eyes widened. That voice... it had sounded like... like Peter’s...
And sure enough, it had been. From behind the stage, Peter emerged, slowly walking his way out into the light with a led pipe in hand.
Doyle seemed relatively disappointed. “And just who the hell are you?”
Doyle turned to Sylar, allowing him to speak. “Do you know this man?”
No response.
“Well do you?”
Doyle rolled his eyes. “So if I were to have him bash his head in with that pipe, you wouldn’t care?”
“No, don’t...” Sylar said in a silent plea, “He... he’s my brother...”
Eric used one had to rub his temples, seeming annoyed and frustrated. “Another brother? Sheesh, how many brothers does Meredith have?”
“We’re not Meredith’s brothers,” Peter hissed from his spot on stage, “Sylar doesn’t even know her, but I do. She mentioned you to me before I came here. You put her and Claire through hell the other day.”
“So...” Doyle said, clasping his hands behind his back as he took a few steps closer to the stage, “Can I expect Meredith’s arrival any time soon?”
Peter’s grip on the pipe he held tightened, and he glared down at Eric. “As a matter of fact, yes. Her and Noah Bennet will be here shortly and then you’re going right back to Level 5 where monsters like you belong.”
The Puppet Man sighed. “Why does everyone always feel the need to lie to me?”
Peter remained composed, despite the fact that he knew part of what he had just said had been a lie. Bennet and Meredith weren’t on their ways here. Not yet, at least.
Doyle turned back to Sylar, and grunted at him. “So you have just been wasting my time?”
“I told you why I came here,” Sylar answered, his eyebrows narrowed, “But you were so lost in your delusional fantasies that you just couldn’t get the point.”
At this moment, Peter took the opportunity, and jumped off the stage - led pipe in hand. Even if he no longer had his superstrength, he was going to bash Doyle’s head in.
However, Eric had seen it coming before it even had.
Swiftly, he pointed to Sylar with both hands, and reversed their positions. By the time Peter was in midair, bringing the pipe down with his hands, Sylar was now the one who would be forced to take the impact of the blow.
At the last second, Peter realized this. He released his grasp on the metal pipe, and crashed into Sylar from behind. Before they knew it, both Sylar, and Peter, were on the floor.
Eric shook his head. “Pa-thetic. Now I’m going to have to teach both of you a lesson...”
Using his power, Doyle quickly took control of Peter’s body as well. He forced his two captives to stand back to their feet, and then looked them over. Eric walked up to Peter first.
“Now, what exactly is your name? I hope you’re better at it than your ‘brother’ Gay is here. He doesn’t seem to know who the hell he is.”
“I’m Peter,” Peter replied beneath his glare, “Peter Petrelli.”
Doyle suddenly appeared highly interested. “Petrelli? As in Angela Petrelli? And this guy Gay here is your brother? Oh my... oh my oh my oh my. I just knew there had to be a nifty little twist in here somewhere. And just when I thought my day couldn’t get anymore interesting. So tell me, Peter, what exactly is it that you can do?”
“He doesn’t have any powers,” Sylar answered first, “He’s of no threat to you, so just leave him alone.”
“Uh-huh,” Eric responded in a perky voice, “I guess that would explain why you tried to bash me on the head with a pipe. Someone with abilities most definitely would have used their powers in that situation. Well, I suppose every family has its useless ones. In fact, you kind of remind me of my Uncle Ned, so I already don’t like you. Ned wasn’t special, either, so he just chose to beat me up whenever he felt like it, until that day at the beach where I had him drown himself.”
Unable to turn his head to face Peter, Sylar instead spoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“What are you doing here, Peter?”
“I came in the hopes that I might find you,” Peter clarified, “I figured my father would manipulate you and send you or someone else he’s managed to brainwash after this man. I was obviously right.”
“Well I didn’t save you just so you could set-out on a suicide mission,” Sylar griped, “I can’t believe you would do something this stupid when you don’t even have your powers anymore.”
Peter grunted, glaring at Sylar out of the corner of his eye, “And I can’t believe that you would be so stupid. My father is only going to do the same thing to you that he did to me, and then he will kill you, and you know it. Are you so lost now that you’ve allowed your need to feel accepted blind you?” he questioned with sincerity, “You convinced me, Sylar. You’ve convinced me that you actually want to change, that you actually want to be a hero. If that’s true, you’ll come back to right side. I want you, Sylar, I want you on our side. I want you to do what you know in your heart is right.”
“It’s... too late for me, Peter,” Sylar quietly murmured.
“No, it’s not,” Peter argued, his voice becoming louder, “You offered to help me, but I was too stubborn and full of hatred to listen to you. Now I’m here to help you. I’m not going to let you make the same mistake that I did,” he harshly assured, “In the hellish future I was forced to go to... you were the only part of my life there that wasn’t a nightmare. I’ve seen the person you can become, and I haven’t given up hope on that.”
Eric blinked. These two were talking to each other like he wasn’t even there anymore.
Doyle finally spoke up, addressing to Sylar. “Are you sure this is your brother and not your lover?” he laughed, only managing to agitate Sylar all the more. Peter hadn’t seemed especially thrilled with Doyle’s statement, either.
Doyle then looked to Peter. “Well, you kept referring to your father as ‘my father’, and not ‘our father’, so you act like you don’t actually consider this guy to be your brother. Well, do you?”
Peter adverted his eyes, looking off to the side. “I don’t know what he is to me, but he is not my brother...”
“Uh-huh,” Eric repeated, his tone taunting once again as his eyes remained set on Peter, “I think I know what’s going on here...”
Doyle took a single step forwards, and after making sure Sylar was completely immobile, he ran his hand down Sylar’s face in what some would consider to be a seductive manner. Sylar was going to demand that Eric stop, but Doyle had once again made it so that Sylar was unable to speak. His hand trailed further down Sylar’s face, to his jaw-line, and then finally to his neck. Doyle gripped him beneath the chin and titled his head back, as if he were examining Sylar’s profile or something.
Either way, Peter didn’t like it.
“Get your filthy hands off of him you sick fuck,” Peter ordered, finishing his sentence off with a word that he seldom used. God, Peter knew Meredith had been forced to spend an entire night with this psychopathic man. What else had he possibly done to her that she hadn’t mentioned?
“That’s what I thought,” Eric said, trying to sound like a typical psychologist, “Peter, isn’t it? You’re the one ‘in denial’, but secretly, Gay here’s your puppet.”
“What?” Sylar questioned just as soon as he found he could speak, sounding both insulted, and bewildered that one would even aim to suggest such a thing.
“Well you see, I have gift for these sorts of things,” Eric continued before Peter had the chance to snap-back with something else, “In any relationship, there’s always two kinds of people: the puppet, and the master. You know, I do believe that is my Meredith’s main problem with our relationship... she’s such a dominant, fiery woman.”
“I’m nobody’s puppet,” Sylar sneered, highly offended.
“Quiet,” Doyle sighed, snapping Sylar’s mouth shut once again, “Well, I’m sorry to break the news to you, but in this relationship, you are. You’re obviously very easily manipulated, so I’m sure anyone you allow yourself to so much as vaguely trust can toy with you like, well, a toy. But, your ‘friend’ here, well, he seems quite possessive, and acts as if he doesn’t trust anyone at the moment. Maybe not even himself. Uncle Ned was much the same way,” he compared, turning his attention back to Peter, “You must be the real ‘sick fuck’ here. I mean, Gay here has the ability to heal from any wound, so that way, you can have all the fun you want torturing the guy without having to worry about getting into any trouble for it. Do you two fags have some sort of kinky, twisted S&M thing going on behind the curtains?”
Peter sneered between teeth, putting every ounce of energy he had into making a movement.
Even if he was no longer suffering from the hunger, it didn’t matter. Peter wanted to kill this man.
Doyle stared back into Peter’s angry eyes, and chuckled. “You’re feisty. I bet coming here to rescue your ‘buddy’ made you feel so badass, didn’t it? Just remember that when you come to my theatre, I’m the one in control. There’s only one puppet master here.”
After Doyle had slapped Peter across the face with the back of his hand, Sylar began struggling more than ever. Sadly, it was still to no avail.
Doyle took a step back, still seeming completely amused with the scene before him. He continued to look back and forth between his angry set of captives; a rather horrid idea of the sorts coming to mind. The crazed man raised his hands up, and twirled them around, twirling Peter’s and Sylar’s bodies in the process. Now that Peter and Sylar were facing each other, Sylar became shocked when Peter’s hands suddenly rose to cup his face. Before Sylar knew it, he was leaning down and forwards, as Peter’s face rose up.
And then, their lips were pressed together.
And then, they were kissing.
The act itself seemed to lack any intimacy, however, considering the fact that both Peter and Sylar had their eyes open and widened, compelled with the fact that they were making a desperate effort to pull away from one another.
“Oh come now, put a little spice into that,” Eric laughed, “Use some tongue.”
Eric made a few more motions with his hands, as if his left hand was meant to control Sylar, and his right hand was meant to control Peter.
Though Sylar believed he couldn’t become anymore shocked than he already was, he did when his mouth opened itself just before Peter’s tongue slipped its way inside.
Of course, Peter was just as shocked as Sylar was. He felt his hands pull Sylar’s face closer to his, and his tongue slipped out of Sylar’s mouth before he found himself lazily and sloppily licking the taller man’s lips. With their bodies pressed so closely together, Peter could easily feel Sylar’s heart pounding through his chest. Hell, Sylar could probably feel Peter’s doing the same thing.
When Doyle finally had Peter and Sylar pull away from one another, they were breathing faster, and both of them still had their dark eyes widened to the maximum degree.
“You know,” said Eric, who once again seemed to be cooking-up another scheme, “I’m bored. Until Meredith or any of your other little friends get her, I’m going to have you two get on stage and put on a little show for me...”
With still another flick of the hand, Doyle had his two captives heading up to the stage.
Skipping their way up the stairs like they were both a couple of underage idiots.
Peter and Sylar both had a very, very bad feeling about what Doyle was proposing when he had said ‘put on a show for me’. Was Doyle going to have them fight, dance, jump, skip some more, or possibly...
Oh hell no.
That was it, wasn’t it? Doyle was going to have them... do things to one another, wasn’t he...?
After Peter and Sylar had both reached center stage, Eric took a comfortable seat in one of his chairs and momentarily lounged for a bit, appearing as if he was cooking up another dirty scheme.
Sylar stared at the crazed Puppet Man with wrath, knowing that if he could round up enough telekinetic energy, he could get himself, and Peter, out of this mess. Sylar could feel it. Doyle’s control rate wasn’t one-hundred percent, it was more like eighty, so if Sylar could...
A loud moan was heard. Sylar wasn’t able to look down just yet, but Peter was apparently on his knees, caressing Sylar’s cock through the ebony fabric. Then, Peter began to open up his belt-buckle before throwing the belt in its entirety across the stage.
Sylar struggled still more, but to no ease. The moment Peter had pulled out his dick and delivered the first lick, Sylar’s thoughts of fighting Doyle back were eradicated from his mind.
Meanwhile, Peter was fighting his own mental battle. A battle to stay sane. He wanted to stop what he was doing right this second so badly, but since he was literally powerless now, he was powerless to stop this mad man from making him go down on who could possibly be his own brother. Oh well, right now it really didn’t even matter. Especially when he was forced to deep-throat Sylar - gagging around the other man’s forming hardness.
Sylar tried to fight, but this time, he was trying to fight the level of pleasure he was being forced to endure. At this particular moment, Sylar was feeling more sorry for Peter than he was for himself, but, fuck, it felt so damned good... to have Peter sucking him off like this. In the back of his mind, Sylar knew deep down that he had always desired Peter; had his fantasies, but none of them had ever included a psychopathic voyeur. The more horrible factor was that this probably wouldn’t be the end of Eric Doyle’s so-called ‘show’.
As Peter continued to lick and suck and perform pleasurable tricks with his tongue, Sylar suddenly felt the urge to grab handfuls of Peter’s hair and start fucking his mouth, only he was still unable to move. He couldn’t concentrate on freeing his body from Doyle’s grasp now that he was being fully distracted by Peter. Now, all of Sylar’s thoughts had been abridged to this, abridged to nothing but the way Peter was sucking him off. Sylar didn’t even notice Doyle’s laughter in the background.
Sylar panted between teeth, his hands magically running their way through Peter’s hair in and adoring manner. When Sylar realized he was about to come, he tried to stop himself, but he just... couldn’t. Moments later, he let go of his will to fight back as warm jets shot down Peter’s throat.
Peter gagged still more as he was forced to swallow every last bit of Sylar’s hot essence; a small stream leaking out of the corner of his mouth. When Doyle finally released his grip on Peter, Peter nearly fell to the side as he began coughing wildly for oxygen.
“Don’t fret, the show’s just begun!” Eric shouted, clapping either of his hands together once more.
Unfortunately, the revelation of these words were enough to inform Sylar and Peter of what else was to come.
Literally speaking.
Still unable to say a word, Eric once more took full control of Peter’s body and forced him to stand. He threw his arms around Sylar’s neck, and closed in the space between he and Sylar as the two were forced to make-out once again. Sylar could taste himself on Peter’s tongue, and felt somewhat sickened that he was actually enjoying it. Hell, he would have been enjoying every second of this weren’t it for the fact that he had a rather undesired audience present.
But then, things only got worse when Sylar was forced to the ground, onto his hands and knees, just like Peter was.
Peter trembled when he was forced to get behind Sylar, especially when he watched his hands grab hold of Sylar pants and pull them down far enough to reveal Sylar’s bare ass.
“Please s-stop this...” Peter managed to get out, though Doyle was making it very hard for him to speak.
“Be quiet,” Eric ordered as he turned on the popcorn machine, wondering how Peter had been able to get any words out. Peter definitely had a strong will, this much was sure. Possibly a stronger will than anyone he had ever played puppet with. “You two are only doing what you usually do, so what’s the problem?” questioned Eric, “Just pretend I’m not even here...” he chortled.
And then, Peter felt his face moving forwards and down, and next thing he knew, he was licking his way down Sylar’s crack, which led to a reactive moan from Sylar. Peter’s tongue began probing its way around Sylar’s most intimate crevice, rimming him in ongoing motions.
Sylar wanted to cover his mouth to mask his growing pleasure and his moans of desire, but again, it was to no avail. He felt as if his wrists and ankles were locked to the wooden floor. When Peter eventually pulled his face away, it wasn’t long before Sylar heard the sound of Peter unzipping his own pants.
Oh fuck.
For a moment, Doyle temporary left Sylar and Peter frozen on stage while he collected a hefty amount of popcorn from the machine adjacent to him. He began snacking away, smiling and popping kernels in his mouth as if he were watching a very entertaining movie. And to him, he most definitely was.
Peter once again tried to stop his movements as he was forced to remove his own cock from his jeans, but it was to no avail. His body continued to move all on its own. His body in its entirety quivered as his was forced to align the tip of his growing hardness with Sylar slick opening, full well knowing what was to come next.
“I’m.. sor..ry..” Peter forced out. It was incredibly hard to speak, but still, he had found the will too.
Sylar wanted to say something back, but found that he still couldn’t. He was still in so much... shock to get right down to it. Everything was happening so fast, and his surroundings seemed to be spinning. It wasn’t until he felt Peter pushing into him that any sounds were to finally be heard from him. Well, what sounded like a muffled scream, anyway. Peter slipped further and further inside of Sylar’s prone form, until he had reached the hilt.
And at this moment, both Peter, and Sylar, lost all will to fight back what was happening to them.
Eric could only smirk.
They were just like all the others.
Nothing like a good fuck to take your mind off of being controlled, he always said.
With his pants bunched up around his ankles, Sylar felt as Peter began moving. He knew he should have felt disgusted, but he didn’t. No, instead, he felt... good. Maybe a little too good, and as Peter’s momentum increased, so did Sylar’s impending pleasure along with it. It wasn’t long before he was screaming Peter’s name, just as soon as he found he was able to speak again.
Eric, meanwhile, decided it was time for another little trick...
As Peter continued to thrust into the writhing body beneath him, he suddenly found that he was able to tighten his grasp on Sylar’s hips. Control and angle his thrusts. He was in full control of his body now, and yet, he was still going along with this. Hell, he couldn’t help himself. He was so close... so close that he just couldn’t stop. Not now, not ever.
Sylar too realized the change. He was suddenly able to arch his hips back against Peter; able to match his movements into him. One of his hands quickly left the floor so he could take his own hardness into hand and begin pumping it. He too realized that he was back in control. Only... not at the same time. The pleasure was in control of his body, not his will. If that even made any sense.
“Peter...” Sylar moaned between teeth, encouraging the other man to continue all the more, “Oh fuck Peter...”
“Sylar...” Peter said in return, “I... so sorry...” he struggled to get out, feeling as if he were going to come at any given moment. And then, he did. Sylar’s name once again escaped Peter’s lips, only this time in a jolting cry of pleasure.
Sylar moaned deep in the back of his throat when he felt Peter’s hot essence coating his insides. It was a sensation like no other he had ever felt, and as Peter kept thrusting through the aftershocks, Sylar felt a second hand join the one already sheathing his own cock. Peter had begun jacking him off too, trying to bring Sylar over the edge with him. And, it worked. Seconds later, Peter felt as his right-hand was coated in warm, sticky semen.
Eric decided it was time to take back control at this moment. After all, the show had just begun...
Despite how physically drained Peter and Sylar both were, they were forced to rise from the ground; Sylar pulling up the pants that bagged around his ankles back into place while Peter meanwhile redid his pants. Then, Sylar was forced to watch as Peter began to quite literally go down on his own hand; licking Sylar’s release off down to every single last drop. Watching this act alone made Sylar feel like he was getting hard all over again.
“Alright,” Eric stated, loud enough for his two captives to hear him, “Now Gay gets to fuck Peter!” he clapped, before stuffing some more popcorn into his mouth. “Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to think of all the dirty things I can have you do to one another.”
And then, Peter leaned towards Sylar and pulled him close, biting hard into the crook of his neck - hard enough to draw a considerable amount of blood, before Peter too licked that clean.
Sylar’s entire body was trembling with sparks of pleasure from the aftermath of his second orgasm of the day. Was he actually... excited by this madman’s words?
“Hold it right there...”
A gun went off.
Peter and Sylar blinked, suddenly able to move again all on their own.
Doyle on the other hand... well, he had just been shot in the shoulder from behind by none other than Noah Bennet.
Shit.
Sylar quickly made a break from it, but was just as quickly followed by Peter.
Sylar dashed down the small flight of stairs that lead backstage, until he came upon the exit door. He wanted out of here more than anything now; mission or no mission. He’d get around to killing Doyle later. That much was fact.
What Sylar couldn’t shake was why Peter was following him.
Once outside the building, Sylar halted, turning to face Peter.
“Don’t go back,” Peter urged, “Please...”
“I... I have to, Peter,” Sylar informed, “I have to.”
“Even after what just happened in there?” Peter harshly stated, “Because you sure seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me!”
Sylar didn’t hesitate, and telekinetically hurled Peter into the nearest brick wall. Sylar approached Peter then, slowly, as if he wanted to take his time.
“Me? What about you?” Sylar seethed, “I should kill you for that.”
“I couldn’t.. stop myself...” Peter offered.
“Oh? Even when that crazed man released his grip on you for a moment?”
Peter side-glanced. “He... never did. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sylar further shoved Peter into the wall, until Peter felt the brick scraping his scalp.
“I’m talking about this,” Sylar said, just before he crushed his lips against Peter’s.
When Sylar released his telekinetic grip on Peter’s body, he kissed Sylar back wholeheartedly, fast, and unable to stop himself. The both of them fought for control of the kiss, until Peter ultimately gave-in and allowed Sylar's tongue to explore his mouth.
When Sylar finally pulled away, dark eyes met, and no words passed between the two men for a long time.
“Well?” Peter questioned.
“Well what?”
“What now?”
Sylar cracked a small smile, examining his surroundings just to be on the safe side. No one from Pinehearst had come for him, but if he didn’t get out of the alleyway soon, Noah Bennet and Meredith wouldn’t be far behind.
“What do you say we beat it?” Sylar suggested.
“What?” Peter inquired, sounding authentically perplexed.
“You heard me,” Sylar said, “What do you say we beat it and continue the rest of Doyle’s game somewhere else? You game?”
Peter smiled that crooked smile of his.
“Yeah. Yeah I am.”
--End!
A/N: Yeah... I know, what was that?! LOL... Please review! That is, unless you wanna flame me. *runs off and hides*