The Night Sylar Took What He Wanted, Or The Night Peter Ruined Everything (Fic), 1/2
Title: The Night Sylar Took What He Wanted, Or The Night Peter Ruined Everything
Pairing: Nathan/Peter, Sylar/Nathan, Sylar/Peter, all separately
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, Slash, Sexual Contact, Angst, Non-Graphic Non-Con, Violence, Language.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or its characters; I make no money from the writing of this story.
Spoilers: Anything up to mid-season 3, where this fic takes place, right before the events of “Dying of the Light”
Summary: Sylar grows tired of just watching Nathan and Peter Petrelli, and he finally decides to do something about it.
A/N: I took some liberties with Sylar’s abilities here. He has invisibility from somewhere, and he’s significantly stronger than Peter.
This is Part 1.
Sylar knew he had plenty of better things to do than watch the Petrelli brothers’ incestuous encounters. But for the past few weeks, he’d been following them to the places where they stayed more and more often, sometimes Peter’s apartment, sometimes the Petrelli mansion in Manhattan, sometimes obscenely expensive hotels.
This time it would be one of those said hotels, deep in the bustling heart of midtown Manhattan.
Sylar’s heart raced as he walked invisibly behind the two brothers, much as it always did when he knew he had a front row seat to see the show that was much better, much dirtier than anything that ever had run on Broadway.
He watched as Nathan’s arm slipped around Peter’s narrow waist, underneath Peter’s open pea coat. Nathan pressed a kiss into his brother’s temple, nuzzled his cheek, caught the corner of his mouth while they walked, matching each other’s strides.
Sylar wondered how Nathan could do this out in the open, how he could show such blatant disregard for the hundreds of people who passed them by, countless pairs of nondescript weary feet pounding the cold gray pavement. One look at Nathan and Peter and it was clear they weren’t just lovers; they were close relatives.
Sylar guessed that was the thing about New Yorkers. None of them really cared about anything but getting to their destination. The journey never mattered; the only thing they concentrated on was the end result. Sylar could feel that rubbing off on him as he followed the Petrelli boys into the revolving door. Thinking about what would be the end result of tonight’s journey was getting him hard already.
Nathan Petrelli reached inside his jacket and pulled out his American Express, placed it on the counter, said a few words to the clerk.
Peter Petrelli shoved his hands into his pockets, took them out, fingered his navy blue scarf nervously. Even though Sylar was invisible, Peter somehow always became uneasy when Sylar was around them, as if an unspoken aura of danger, some malignant unseen force alarmed him, penetrated into Peter’s personal space.
Sylar had had to teach himself very early on to shield his thoughts from the younger Petrelli--Peter could read minds, and if Sylar betrayed even one thought to him, his fun would end even before it had begun.
Sylar walked right up behind Peter’s shoulder, leaning in close enough that he could smell Peter’s light cologne, only slightly stronger than the clean scent of the soap he had used. His cock jumped, his painfully sensitive head brushing against the cotton of his briefs. Sylar willed himself to calm down so that Peter would not realize he was there.
Sylar stepped back as the brothers moved away from the counter and headed towards the elevator. He slipped in right behind them, and the doors slid shut on their metal tracks. Nathan punched the button for the 40th floor on the panel by the doorframe.
Sylar watched in unadulterated pleasure as Nathan backed his brother into the wall, sealed his mouth over Peter’s, and ran a hand down the front of Peter’s jeans. Peter’s hands gripped Nathan’s ass, and he moaned into his brother’s mouth as Nathan loosened Peter’s belt buckle and shoved his hand into Peter’s pants, closing it around him.
Nathan grunted, “Oh, Peter, I’ve wanted you so bad all day…just wait until I get you in that bed…”
Peter said, “Nathan…are you gonna let me suck you off tonight?”
Nathan laughed deep in his throat, and answered, “Anything you want tonight. Anything.”
Peter begged, his fingers fumbling at the buttons to Nathan’s blue dress shirt, “Anything? Will you let me fuck you?”
“Anything except for that. Come on, Pete, you know you love it when I fuck you hard in your tight little ass,” Nathan admonished, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Yeah, I do,” Peter moaned. Nathan’s fingers dove between his buttocks, brushed against his most sensitive area, and then Nathan’s fingertip hooked gently inside the rim of his anus. “Sorry, I’m sorry…oh, yes Nathan…” Peter whimpered while Nathan pushed his finger deeper, finding that place that made Peter writhe and cry out.
Nathan looked right through Sylar, glancing over at the number on the panel, and it read 35 in bright red LED numbers. He removed his hand from his brother’s pants, and he closed Peter’s pea coat and buttoned it to cover his erection. Nathan cupped Peter’s chin lovingly, buried his face into his brother’s soft dark hair. “You ready, beautiful?” he asked, pulling back, gazing into Peter’s hazel eyes.
“Yes, Nathan,” Peter answered, the elevator door opening before them, Nathan’s hand clasping around his. Nathan and Peter walked quickly to the door of the room they would occupy tonight, the room they would fill with the sounds of their forbidden coupling, Sylar trailing stealthily behind, following them inside.
Sylar watched while Nathan crushed his mouth against Peter’s, and all of a sudden, it was a fight over which brother could get the other’s clothes off first. Nathan removed Peter’s coat, pulled his sweatshirt and his t-shirt up over his head. Peter yanked off Nathan’s suit jacket, finished unbuttoning Nathan’s shirt, loosened his tie. He unbuckled Nathan’s belt, but Nathan had the advantage after what he done in the elevator.
“I win,” Nathan hissed. In one quick motion Nathan pushed Peter’s jeans down and dropped to his knees, then took the head of Peter’s cock in his mouth.
“Oh, God, what are you doing? You can’t do this…” Peter sighed, as the heat of his brother’s mouth consumed him entirely, his tongue spiraling around his shaft, down to the base of him, his cock almost down Nathan’s throat. Nathan hummed softly, and Peter gasped, “No! You’re gonna make me come!”
Nathan laughed, and the vibration caused Peter to pull himself from his brother’s lips with a soft popping noise.
“Christ, Nate, we just got here!” Peter exclaimed.
Nathan grinned, raising himself slightly, placing kisses on Peter’s stomach, his chest, anchoring one of his nipples in his mouth. He looked up at his younger brother, and he said, “No, Pete, shh…I know you want this…come on. Come in my mouth. You know I love the way you taste, Peter. You’re young. You’ll be hard again in ten minutes, tops.” Nathan pressed a finger to Peter’s lips, silencing his protests, then maneuvered back down, licking and biting at Peter’s alabaster skin, his hands massaging his thighs, even dragging his tongue gently across Peter’s testicles.
“Oh, fuck…fuck…Nathan,” Peter moaned as Nathan’s hot, wet mouth closed around him once again. He gripped his brother’s dark hair between his fingers.
“Please don’t…” Peter begged half-heartedly. But Nathan wouldn’t stop. Once Nathan got it in his head to follow through, he couldn’t be contained, not now, not ever.
Peter came, pushing himself deep into his brother’s throat, then pulling back just a little, so Nathan could get a taste of what he loved most. Nathan sucked every last drop off him, groaning, vibrating around Peter’s now hypersensitive skin. Nathan released him, and he stood up, licking his lips.
He whispered, “Peter…you’re so fucking hot…I’m gonna fuck you so hard…” Nathan’s mouth found Peter’s once again, and Peter could taste himself ever so slightly on Nathan’s tongue. Nathan pushed Peter down on the bed, pulled out a small bottle of lubricant, and proceeded to reacquaint his fingers with Peter’s body.
Sylar shuddered. The Petrelli brothers, Nathan usually more so than Peter, could be so kinky it was sometimes disgusting. He knew he should have just killed the both of them and taken their abilities a long time ago. But something had happened to him while viewing these midnight expressions of brotherly love: he had begun to want Peter. And that was tragic, really, because Peter Petrelli was the most powerful of them all. With that empathic mimicry of his, who knew how many secondary abilities Peter had picked up since his ability had manifested?
Now Sylar couldn’t bring himself to kill Peter. He couldn’t hurt a hair on that pretty little head. And he couldn’t kill Nathan either, because it had become obvious to him how much Peter needed Nathan, how much he loved him.
Sylar thought it was ironic how powerful Peter had become, despite his weaknesses: his emotional tendencies, his naïvete, his sensitivity, his idealism.
It was also hard to believe how quickly he had begun to covet Peter. Sylar had become angry and jealous that he did not have that beautiful, unattainable being that lay beneath Nathan Petrelli almost every night.
Nathan, though; he was a different story entirely.
Sylar had quickly come to understand why Nathan made love to his little brother. Nathan was a man driven by power, very similar in some ways to Sylar himself.
Nathan and Sylar both believed they were entitled to anything they desired. Nathan and Sylar both didn’t let such a silly societal invention as morals get in the way of their animalistic tendencies. Scruples did not prevent them from reaching out with greedy hands and taking what they wanted whether they were actually entitled to it or not. Sylar was not supposed to enjoy murdering people, and Nathan was not supposed to satisfy his need for sex by committing incest with his younger brother. Much like Sylar’s inexhaustible hunt for new abilities, Peter’s body was to Nathan just a thing to desire, seek out and own completely. And Peter enjoyed every minute of it.
Sylar had noticed something else during his voyeuristic adventures as well: Nathan seemed to really love his brother, too. Even though Nathan was sometimes a controlling sexual partner, he treated Peter with such gentleness, always patient with him, always making sure Peter was satisfied. Nathan would oftentimes make Peter come more than once in a night, and after it was all finished, totally exhausted and spent, Peter would fall into the strong safety of Nathan’s arms, and Nathan would hold him close and whisper soft, loving words that Sylar usually didn’t bother to listen to in Peter’s ear, never allowing himself to fall asleep unless Peter had drifted away first.
Sylar grew bored with tonight’s precursors to the main event, nothing special, so while he pleasured himself, instead of watching them he thought about numerous other times he’d watched the brothers commit their sinful acts.
His favorites: the time Peter had climbed on top of Nathan and had ridden him, and Nathan had brought Peter off so hard that the shot of sticky fluid had landed all over Nathan’s chest, some of it actually hitting him in the face; there was the time Nathan had bent Peter over the dresser so Peter could watch in the mirror while Nathan took him from behind; and Sylar’s all-time favorite, that precious gem, the one time Nathan had let Peter take him, leaning against Peter’s kitchen table of all places.
That had been the best of all, because it had only happened once. Nathan hadn’t really seemed to like it all that much, but Peter had really gotten off on taking over Nathan’s usual sexual role as the dominant partner.
The role that Sylar wished he could play every time he watched Nathan ease his length into Peter, every time he watched Peter’s lean, angular body twist and turn, his face contort in ecstasy, every time Peter moaned his brother’s name and panted and begged for more.
He wanted to be the one on top of Peter. He wanted Peter to moan his name while he buried himself into him repeatedly, relentlessly…he could just imagine how it would sound for Peter to say his name in that low, desperate tone…Gabriel…
The thought was enough to send Sylar almost over the edge, and he barely fought off his orgasm, cinching his hand tightly over the swollen head of his rigid penis.
This desire he had developed for the younger Petrelli brother could wait no longer. He would have one or possibly both of them tonight, all depending on the choices Peter made. He couldn’t care less about Nathan either way, though. Nathan was just a bargaining chip. Peter was the ultimate prize.
Peter was especially beautiful tonight. His hair had grown long again, and it fell in a dark chestnut-colored curtain over that pretty, clean-shaven porcelain face. That was, when Nathan didn’t have his fingers tangled all in it, pulling it back and away from Peter’s face while he kissed his mouth, his neck, his shoulders, or when Peter was on his knees taking Nathan’s full length in his mouth like he was doing right now, like Nathan had done for him before.
Sylar loved watching that, too, because Peter never stopped moving, and he never choked, not even when Nathan pulled Peter’s head hard against him, pressing Peter’s face into his dark curls, not even though Nathan was quite well endowed. Nathan really enjoyed receiving oral sex from his little brother, and Sylar was sure he would too.
As beautiful and as perfect as Peter was, he could have any woman or man he wanted. What a shame that the only one he wanted was his brother. Nathan didn’t deserve to have such devotion from him. To Sylar, Nathan was too old, imperfect, ugly even. Nathan’s face and some of his body was scarred from some terrible accident that he’d sustained while serving in the United States Navy. His forty years had started to show a little, lines around his eyes, a slight receding of his hairline, not much, but enough to make it clear he was twelve years Peter’s senior.
Sylar did sometimes enjoy looking into Nathan’s eyes though, partially because they were so similar in color to Peter’s, and also the old saying went that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Nathan was a kindred spirit in a way. Nathan possessed Peter; Nathan had something Sylar wanted more than anything.
And Sylar would take whatever he wanted.
Sylar heard a high-pitched moan, and he snapped out of his reverie. While Sylar had been lost in his carefully shielded thoughts, Peter had begun emitting loud sighing moans, and Nathan had started groaning as he took Peter hard from behind. Peter was in so much ecstasy that his arms shook with the exertion of holding himself up as he looked into Nathan’s eyes in the mirror.
Oh, the dresser again! Sylar was so glad he hadn’t missed it.
Peter craned his neck around so that he could kiss Nathan while his hips ground into him. Nathan kissed him quickly, then turned his head back around to the front.
“No, you watch me when I come inside you, Peter, ” Nathan groaned into his brother’s ear. “Oh--fuck--you’re so tight--I’m gonna come--”
Sylar tried not to laugh at Nathan’s pre-orgasm face, but he failed, so he chose that precise moment to reveal himself from behind his invisibility, eliciting shocked gasps from both of them. He opened his hand, telekinetically seized Nathan by his throat and hissed, “Nope. You’re finished.” He threw him hard across the room, and Nathan’s unfulfilled, unclothed body slipped unceremoniously to the floor.
***
Peter’s eyes went wide. He thought, Sylar? Sylar was in here watching us all this time? Peter’s face burned bright with embarrassment, so taken aback by the absurdity of this situation he didn’t know how to react.
Peter choked ridiculously, “Sylar? How did you get in here? What are you doing here?”
Sylar did not answer, but he did smile, looking Peter’s body over covetously. Peter shivered, disgusted that Sylar had gazed upon him in that way, but he did not bother to cover himself; there was no time, Nathan could be seriously injured. Peter started toward his brother’s unconscious form.
Sylar held Peter still. “You touch him once more in front of me, and I will kill him. I’ve watched him defile your body for long enough. You’re all mine now, pretty boy.” Sylar trailed a rough hand down Peter’s back, and cupped a buttock gently. His arousal was apparent, straining against the front of his jeans, and Peter suddenly felt sick.
He knew in an instant what Sylar wanted, and he also knew he had to protect Nathan at all costs. Peter would heal instantly from almost any mortal injury. Nathan would not.
Peter shied away, swallowed hard, and said softly, “Can I just make sure he’s okay?”
Sylar’s eyes traveled over his nakedness once more, and he brushed his fingers against Peter’s cheek, causing the younger man to flinch almost imperceptibly.
“Fine, since you asked so nicely.”
Peter knelt over his brother, and Nathan was stirring and blinking confusedly. Peter ran his hands through Nathan’s hair, searching for an injury. He found a large raised bruise, but when he took his hand away, he saw no blood. Nathan had taken an extremely hard hit against the wall, and he probably had a slight concussion.
Peter said, “Nathan, are you okay?”
Nathan lifted his head and grunted, “What the fuck--”
Sylar snapped his fingers together, and Nathan’s lips sealed, silenced. He lowered his head and passed out again.
“He’s talking. He’s well enough. For now. For him to stay that way, well, that depends entirely on you, Peter.”
Peter shielded his brother’s body with his own, wrapping his arms around him, knowing perfectly well that Sylar could break his hold easily. If Sylar really wanted to kill Nathan, Peter was virtually powerless to stop him.
“Don’t hurt him, Sylar. Please. You never answered my question. What are you doing here?”
Sylar laughed menacingly. “I came for you, pretty boy. Come here, Peter.”
Sylar attempted to pull Peter towards him, but Peter fought him valiantly. Peter raised his hand and shot a stream of blue electric light at him, missing him completely and hitting the far wall over the bed, leaving a black scorch mark in the paint.
Sylar gave Peter an irritated glance, and raised his own hand. Sylar shot the same electricity back at Peter, hitting him dead center in his chest, blistering and charring his skin, stopping his heart instantly.
Peter fell on top of his brother’s prone body. He lay still for a moment, until his healing ability kicked in. Peter took in a deep breath as his heart resumed pumping blood in his veins. He sat up, slightly dazed, but aware enough to know he’d died and come back to life once again.
“Wrong fucking move. You try to hurt me again, you say even one wrong thing to me, and your brother dies. I’ve always wanted to be able to fly.”
Sylar flung Peter aside and fixed Nathan under his telekinetic grasp. He drew a finger sideways, and a thin line of blood appeared on Nathan’s forehead. Nathan awoke because of the pain and screamed in agony as Sylar began to cut into his skull.
“No! Don’t!” Peter screamed. He crawled back to Nathan, and cradled his head in his hands. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave him alone!” Peter wiped the blood away, and he laid him gently on the floor. Nathan had passed out again, from pain this time, and Peter sent him a mental command to stay out so he would not have to see what Peter knew would inevitably occur. It seemed as soon as that thought entered Peter’s mind, Sylar was pulling Peter toward him once again. This time Peter did not resist.
“Let me cover him. He’s gonna get cold lying on the floor,” Peter said.
“I really couldn’t give a shit, Peter. The only reason he’s still alive right now is because you decided to make the right choice. Kind of a shame, really…I really wanted to learn how to fly tonight.” Sylar seemed to mull something over in his mind. “I could…just take it from you…but then you wouldn’t be any more fun for me.” Sylar delighted at the look of abject horror in Peter’s eyes. He pulled Peter even closer, until Sylar could reach an arm out and touch him, which was exactly what he did.
Sylar brushed the long dark hair out of Peter’s face and sighed. He trailed a hand over Peter’s chest, down his abdomen, closing it around Peter’s now flaccid penis, tugging on it a little harder than was necessary. Peter slapped Sylar’s violating hand away, and before he knew it, his head snapped back, he was falling, and his ass hit the floor--Sylar had punched him hard in the mouth.
Sylar dragged Peter to his feet. Peter felt a thin trickle of blood run down his chin. The wound healed even before Peter wiped the blood away.
“Look what you made me do,” Sylar said, shaking his head in mock compunction. “Now that I have you, pretty boy, I can’t even think of what I’d like to do to you first. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite this close to you for such an extended period of time. Aren’t you excited?”
Peter cringed, his stomach turned, and he felt acid rise in his throat. He wanted to wrap his fingers around Sylar’s neck, choke him to near-unconsciousness, then twist his hands and snap it, just like he’d done once before. That might feel satisfying momentarily, but it would prove nothing. Peter and Sylar could fight for days, until they were both utterly exhausted, but neither of them would die, not permanently anyway.
The only one of them in this room who was vulnerable to a finite death was Nathan. That thought made Peter’s stomach flip once again, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning over and vomiting right on the pristine white carpet.
He fell to his knees and continued to heave, bringing nothing else up, his eyes tearing, breathing in hard gasps.
“Do I really make you that sick, pretty boy?”
“Stop fucking calling me that,” Peter moaned, wiping his mouth.
Sylar shook his head. “Now what did I tell you about being rude?” Sylar motioned threateningly towards Nathan again, and Peter pushed with as much strength as he could muster, knocking Sylar clear across the room, and he crashed into the mini-fridge.
“I won’t let you hurt him!” Peter screamed.
“Oh, that’s it, Peter. I warned you. Such a petulant child you are.”
Sylar grinned, his brown eyes sparkling dangerously. He anchored Peter to the bed with his terrifyingly strong telekinesis, and walked over to where Nathan Petrelli stirred, waking up once more. Peter’s suggestion had not taken because Peter had been so distracted.
With much difficulty, Nathan sat up and pressed his palms to his forehead, one coming away bloody. He groaned, “Pete, what happened? Oh God, my head hurts. Peter?”
Peter couldn’t answer; he couldn’t move. He couldn’t help Nathan at all.
Nathan looked up at Sylar and seethed, “You motherfucker. Stay away from my brother…” He tried to raise himself, but Peter could tell he was too dizzy and in too much pain.
“Oh, you need some help there, Senator?” Sylar cackled, helping Nathan stand up. Nathan raised a fist to hit him, but he collapsed forward and fell into Sylar’s arms. Sylar said, taunting him, “You know, flyboy, I never thought you felt that way about me. How sweet. I just expected to come here so I could fuck your little brother, but you know what? I think I might want to have you first.”
Nathan’s eyes swam, unable to focus, and he pleaded, “Peter…help me…”
“Don’t touch him!” Peter cried. He struggled and fought against Sylar’s mental grip, but he could not break it, and he pleaded, “Sylar, leave him alone! You came for me! You wanted me! Leave Nathan out of it!”
“Not that easy, Peter,” Sylar whispered. “I told you what would happen if you fucked with me.”
***
Sylar enjoyed the look of despair that settled on Peter’s face. He became even more excited as he pressed Nathan against the wall and said, clamping a hand around Nathan’s throat, “I’m gonna tell you just like I told your little sex toy over there…you try to hurt me, and I will kill you. I know how your twisted mind works, Petrelli. You value your own existence over everything else in your life. Sadly, Peter thinks the world of you as well. If you make me kill you, your little brother will not be far behind you on your descent into hell, you sick fuck. Understand?”
Nathan’s eyes still focused on nothing, and he didn’t respond.
Sylar pulled Nathan’s head forward and then snapped it back, banging it yet again on the wall. Nathan emitted a strangled sound, Sylar’s hand cutting off his air once again.
“Do you fucking understand me, Senator?”
Nathan shook his head weakly, acknowledging him, and his head fell forward while Sylar undressed himself, pulling his shirt over his head, his jeans dropping around his ankles. He leaned in and tilted Nathan’s face toward him, and forced his tongue into Nathan’s mouth. Sylar imagined that he could taste a trace of Peter’s come, and his cock ached in response.
“This is going to be fun, Peter. You should watch.” He forcibly turned Peter’s head to the side and held him there. Peter looked absolutely terrified and almost close to tears. Sylar gave Peter a cruel smile. There was nothing Peter could do to stop this.
***
Nathan was still dazed and confused, and he really didn’t know what was happening. All he could hear was a strange ringing sound, and beneath that Peter’s voice in his head.
Listen to me, Nathan. Don’t think about anything but what I’m telling you. Don’t pay attention to anything else, because you don’t want to know. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you. Just listen to me, and it’ll be over soon. I love you.
Nathan was distantly aware of hands traveling over his body; rough, groping hands that were definitely not Peter’s, and Nathan tried hard to fight against it, but he was so tired…while he tried to gather some strength, he listened to the comforting sound of Peter’s voice. Nathan felt a crushing weight come down on him, and he fell to his hands and knees, held there as if he were a marionette, someone’s plaything.
Nathan hated being controlled in any way, and he really hated the fact that he couldn’t think clearly or move. He fought to push Peter out of his head, regardless of Peter’s warning.
No, Nathan, don’t, don’t fight me…oh God…
He heard Peter start to cry inside his head, and Peter’s emotional distraction allowed Nathan to clear his mind fully for a moment. Suddenly, Nathan was plunged deep into the throes of the worst pain he’d ever experienced in his whole life. Nathan knew now exactly what was happening, and he begged silently, Peter, make it stop…please…
Peter’s voice started again, and Nathan tried hard to concentrate on him.
Do you remember the time when I was six and I cut my hand really bad and you fainted because of all the blood? Remember how I took care of you? I’m gonna do that for you right now, but you have to let me. You’re really tired, you don’t feel anything, you’re almost dreaming. Remember when…
The pain flickered and faded away, and Nathan half-listened to Peter talk about random nonsense, slipping in and out of consciousness until he was thrown viciously to the floor.
Go to sleep now, Nathan. Everything’s all right now. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.
Nathan trusted his brother’s words, and he fell into Peter’s induced sleep.
***
Part 2