Fic- Whatever it takes 24

[faythbrady]

Title: Whatever it takes 24
Author- faythbrady
Show/Ship: Heroes, Sylar/Claire
Disclaimer: I own a Hiro Nakamura samurai sword and am willing to use it.
Rating: Higher rating due to sexiness- yes we're finally there possibly YA or nc17ish
Summary: talking and other things that include the mouth.



Chapter. 24

The four of them all but fell out of the restaurant laughing.

“-and then,” Peter choked out, “Nathan held a tea-cloth over his ass, looked his secretary dead in the face and said “This is not what it looks like!”.”

Claire grabbed Sylar's arm as she bent double. “Oh my god, he did not!”

“Would I lie to you?” Peter grinned. “I swear if mom could have Haitian-ed everyone in that office she would have.”

Sylar wiped his eyes. “I'm surprised she didn't.”

“There were no law suits so who knows?” Peter wrapped his arm around Emma. “Claire, are you stopping at ours?”

She shook her head. “No, I need to go home and sleep. My boss is a real jerk about me coming in late.”

Peter poked her. “Too true. You college kids are all slackers, you have to know your place. You want me to call you a cab?”

He motioned out at the street and Claire shook her head.

“Nah, it's a nice night out. I'm gonna walk.”

“Your boss will spring for a taxi, Claire.” Peter frowned slightly. “It's dangerous at night.”

“I'll be okay,” she rolled her eyes at him.

“I'll walk you home,” Sylar piped up. “That way you get to walk and Peter gets to have peace of mind.”

Claire bit her lip and stared at him. In the darkness Sylar could see the amusement on her face at his transparency. Peter, on the other hand, only knew that she was hesitating and he pushed as subtly as he could.

“Go on, Claire. Either Sy walks you home or I spring for a cab.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “All right, dad. Sylar can walk me home.”

Peter gave him a smugly satisfied look and a wink.

Sylar just shook his head. Peter thought he was doing Sylar a favor. Since Claire didn't want their whatever it was to be public, Peter was still under the assumption that she needed to be persuaded to spend time with him. He loved playing matchmaker. Either that or Peter wanted some alone time in the apartment with Emma.

Sylar was okay with that.

One good turn deserves another.

He licked his lip. “I might go for a walk afterward so don't wait up.”

Peter gave him a look of gratitude and, after their farewells, headed back to the apartment to spend some quality time with his fiancee.

Sylar quickly fell into pace with Claire as they walked through the darkened New York City streets.

“I love New York at night,” Claire confessed. “It's kind of scary but at the same time just so full of life- different life than during the day but still.”

Sylar smiled. “I get what you mean. It's like daytime is for one class of people and when darkness falls the special people, those lost and alone get to come out and make the city theirs.”

She tilted her head and gave him her best grin. “Exactly.”

He stepped around a pothole and brushed her hand with his. Claire reached back and grasped his hand, lacing their fingers together.

It was slightly surreal to be walking down the street holding hands with Sylar, Claire thought. Only slightly more surreal than wanting to just jump him.

She'd been thinking about that Ferris Wheel kiss all day and had been unable to resist going to Peter's place to see him. When it was him who opened the door nothing on Earth could have stopped her kissing him. It seemed like Sylar's lips were somewhat addictive. Whether it was his intuitive adaptability or the fact that he was a thirty two year old male; he knew how to kiss a girl.

He knew how to touch her in just the right place to make her legs feel like jelly and her heart pound. He knew that less was more and tiny frantic brushes against her lips were better than a full attack. He knew that caressing her sides made her ache for him to move those hands up and in and he was too much of a damn gentleman to do that.

He also was honoring her wishes and was doing nothing to make Peter or Emma suspicious, which meant that he hadn't so much as brushed her hand whilst they'd been out.

Unacceptable.

Claire paused in the middle of the street and Sylar stopped, cocking one eyebrow at her.

“Claire?”

She stepped into him, dropping his hand and wrapping her arms around his neck. She had to stand on tip toe to reach and her breasts were pushed against him chest.

He didn't seem to mind, though.

“Kiss me,” she demanded and he wasted no time. His head ducked down and he pressed his lips to hers, slanting his mouth to fit perfectly against her.

He wanted to be a gentleman, to show Claire that he wasn't a monster and that he could be the man she'd waited for all of her life. But the part of him that was possessive, the part of him that hungered and was more Sylar than any other part just wanted her to know that she was his; that now she had given him the green light there was no way that he was ever going to let her go. He wanted to lay claim to her in every way and force his eternal partner into acknowledging that she belonged to him just as he belonged to her.

He tried to reign in that force, to pull it back under his control but it was no good.

His hands hovered uncertainly over her hips for a moment before the animal broke free of the gentleman and he hauled her closer.

She was locked in his arms and his lips were hard, demanding. But instead of submission, instead of acknowledging his strength, Claire gave as good as she got.

It was a power struggle, a battle to see who would dominate the kiss and the raw heat just made the passion ignite.

Sylar's arms dropped, his hands anchoring against her waist and lifting her, crushing against him as he devoured her mouth.

Sylar stopped thinking, from the instant she had accepted this he'd stepped over the edge into a world ruled by the hunger. He was used to it demanding, screaming at him, bringing him pain and craving for more abilities, more power but now it was screaming for something else; now it craved and demanded and ached for Claire Bennet.

He had to have more, had to take what she was so freely giving and he did. He moved into her, nudged her legs apart and--

“Jeez, get a room!”

They both jumped, clutched each other as the world rushed back into focus and their senses returned.

Sylar was aware of a slow rhythmic noise and he blinked twice to see a gang of teenaged boys clapping and whistling at them. The Sylar part of him wanted to smirk and eviscerate them for even daring to look at Claire. But it was the Gabriel part that won out.

He flushed and let Claire slide down his body until her feet touched the floor.

Claire was delightfully bewildered and had to shake her head twice before she could focus on anything.

After a moment it seemed that she also noticed the attention they were getting and blushed vividly.

“Oops,” she muttered and stepped back.

Sylar immediately missed the warmth that her body had provided and wanted nothing more than to haul her back into his arms and carry on. But there was a time and place and midnight on a dirty New York sidewalk wasn't it.

He grabbed her hand and started walking back to her apartment, avoiding the crude cat-calling of the boys.

“Well,” Claire said finally, “I wasn't expecting that.”

“Or me,” Sylar smiled softly. “I told you we had a lot in common, Claire.”

“Yeah.”

They let the silence comfort them until they reached her apartment. She turned to face him and suddenly chuckled.

He looked askance at her. “What?”

“Why does this feel like the end of a first date when you know that the guy's been wondering all night if you're gonna let him kiss you?”

“And is hoping he'll be asked in?” He grinned. “Maybe because he is.”

“Except this wasn't a date.” She reminded him.

And it hadn't been. It had been a celebration of Angela Petrelli's arrogance and Luke Campbell's  ascension to human being. It had been a dinner with friends and a memorial to Nathan and it had been light and fun and definitely not a date.

“I want to take you on a date,” he blurted suddenly, “I want us to go to the movies and eat popcorn and hold hands. I want us to dress up and go out to dinner at some fancy restaurant. I know you don't want anyone to know about us... if there is an us-” a horrific thought crossed his mind “-there is an 'us', right, Claire?”

She blinked slowly.  She just looked at him, her expression blank.

Panic rose in his chest. Was this just lust? She had forgiven him and given him a chance but what if that was all this was. He couldn't handle that. He couldn't possibly have her in his arms and not have her love him. That would kill him.

“Claire?”

She took a deep breath.

“I think you'd better come in.”

Sylar had never been to her apartment. He had never been invited. He had often heard Peter and Emma and even Angela talk about going to Claire's place or, when she first moved in, saw Peter haul boxes for her.

She had never asked him and he had never pushed, knowing his company wasn't welcome.

So it was with as much triumph as curiosity that made his heart pound when she slipped the key into the lock and finally let him in to her sanctuary.

He stepped inside noting immediately the soft plush carpet and warm yellow of her hallway. There was a cherry wood table, which she slung her keys and purse on, and a small section that housed more shoes than he owned. Claire kicked off her heels and promptly lost two inches in height.

Then with bare feet she motioned for him to follow her.

Her living space was just as warm and accommodating as the hallway. Done out in rich jewel tones and luxurious fabrics it seemed that little miss Bennet was a sensualist. The idea made Sylar's lips curve- of course she was. When you lost the ability to feel pain it was only logical that you try to cling to as many other sensations as possible.

She could feel pleasure and she would try to incorporate that into as many aspects of her life as possible. Either that or she just really loved the colors.

She dropped her coat onto the chair and perched on the edge of the sofa, eying him cautiously. She looked so comfortable in her own home, in her own space; it was like all of her walls and barriers just vanished and she became just Claire.

Beautiful, sensual Claire.

He dug his hands into his pockets in a vain attempt to quell the urge to reach out and tug her into his arms again.

“Drink?” she offered and he just shook his head.

“You've got a real nice place here.”

She gave him a half smile. “Thanks, it's taken a while but it feels like home now.”

There was an uncomfortable silence which stretched taut before Sylar inhaled deeply.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” In typical Claire style she went straight for the jugular. “This thing between us. I just wanted to see if you're okay with keeping it between us for now.”

Sylar shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yes. I understand you want to keep everything quiet right now. I don't want anything to spoil Peter's big day either but I suppose, since nobody else knows, there's a part of me that thinks you are too embarrassed to be seen with me, or that thinks you're just in this for kicks.”

“I'm not,” she assured him, “this is something and it's been building for a while. I'm just not sure what it is and I want to be sure before we open any can of worms that might include my dad shooting you.”

He appreciated that- nothing cooled the blood more than getting shot.

He swallowed hard. “Wha- what do you think it might be?”

He knew what he wanted it to be. He wanted happily ever after. He wanted the fairy-tale he'd stopped believing in years ago and he was starting to hope that he could have it with his chosen princess.

Claire bit down hard on her lip. “I don't know.”

Sylar's world shuddered and his face fell. “Don't lie to me, Claire.”

“I'm not. I don't know what I feel right now, or even what I want. This situation is new and I'm finding my way here. You can't expect me to have all the answers. I mean, do you?”

“Yes.”

She put her hands on her hips, a challenge in her eyes. “Like what?”

Sylar clenched his jaw. How in the hell didn't she know what this was for him? It wasn't like he'd made a secret of his feelings or had hidden what he wanted from her.

Damn it, even Luke knew and he was the most self-absorbed little shit.

Was she really so oblivious?

His silence made her snort. “Thought not. Look,” she softened, “right now I just want to play this by ear, okay. I want to get to know you better and make sure that this is something that both of us want, so neither of us gets hurt.”

There was something in her voice that made him pause. He tilted his head, allowing his Intuitive ability to come to the fore. There was something that he wasn't quite getting.

Then it hit him.

“You think I'm going to hurt you?” He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

Claire bit her lip.

“Claire?”

“I'm sick of being hurt, being let down and being left, okay?” She said defensively. She folded her arms over her chest. “Most guys say they don't mind that I'm a freak but after a while the novelty gets old.”

His jaw clenched as he understood where she was going with this. “I don't view you as a challenge, Claire. I'm not going to go off you once we're together.”

She said nothing but the disbelief was there in her eyes. It riled his temper.

“You don't trust me.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Don't get mad. I just... can't see why you'd stick around.”

Sylar took a deep breath and decided that he had nothing to lose. He laid it all out.

“Because I love you.”

Claire sucked in a breath, her eyes widening. “What?”

“I love you, am in love with you, Claire.” His dark eyes met hers, captured her gaze and refused to surrender. “I want you. Hell, I need you. Not because we're going to be the last people on Earth one day or because we've both got idiots for parents but because you are you. What I want from you? Kisses and hugs and holding hands and admitting in public that we're together. One day I want you to wear my ring and have my kids and walk my dogs and curl up with me at night and feed the damn goldfish. I want us to be superheroes and save the world and get stuck doing our kids' homework and stop bad guys and wear fairy tiaras and be one of those really annoying couples who prefer to be with each other in front of the TV than with anyone else. I want to finish your sentences and watch you sleep and hold you when you cry. I want us to drink margaritas as the sun burns out and I want to start it all over again on a different planet. I want to never grow old with you. I want a life with you. I love you.”

The raw emotion made his own head spin and he dragged in as much air as he could. His chest literally ached with the truth.

Claire's mouth was as wide as her eyes. “Oh.”

Her dramatic understatement forced out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, 'oh'.”

“I... I have no idea what to say to that,” she confessed. “I don't even know where to start.”

“I'd rather die than hurt you, Claire. If you let me I'm going to stick around forever and I understand if it's going to take some time for you to believe that truly. And I'll give you as much time as you need.” He gave her a half-smile and then braced himself. “I will wait, Claire. You said you've forgiven me. You're giving me a chance and, I know I don't even deserve that much and this is all new but, Claire,” he took a deep breath, “could you ever love me?”

He waited, his whole body humming with tension.

Please.

If she said no it would probably kill him.

Please.

The moment grew, stretched until his hands itched and his eyes began to sting.

“You know what?” she said so softly that he wasn't sure he'd even heard her. “I think... I think that I could.”

“Yeah?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

He shuddered, his knees almost giving way as relief and genuine shock charged through him like electricity. “Good, good. That's good.”

She eyed him carefully. “You look like you're about to pass out.”

He shook his head. “Nope. I'm fine.” His eyes raked her, fed up of talking and wanting to do something else. Claire seemed to be on the same page.

“So,” she rocked back on her heels, “wanna make out?”

This time he reached for her, drew her to him and kissed her ravenously, making no secret of how much he needed her.

Claire responded, enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself as close to him as possible, letting her body say the words that she couldn't quite bring herself to voice.

Lips locked with hers, he shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor, then he lifted her. To his surprise and delight she raised her legs and wound them around his hips.

Temptation didn't whisper, it screamed and he was powerless to stop it.

His arms circling her hips, holding her tightly to him, he stumbled the few paces to the couch. Without breaking the kiss, without releasing her or missing a beat he dropped to his knees and laid her back against the cool leather.

Claire sank into the butter soft leather and felt the material respond to her body heat, molding around her form. And his. Sylar's body was all hot, hard muscle, raw dangerous male pressing down on her. It was the best kind of force and all she wanted to do was rip off his t-shirt and run her hands all over his naked chest.

He had devastated her tonight. His insistent and heated kisses aside, those words had left indelible marks on her soul.

Sylar. Sylar the serial killer, Sylar the murderer, the boogey-man, the psychopathic killer, the reason for nightmares and tears loved her. He loved her, was in love with her and had not just admitted but laid his heart at her feet.

Claire had thought that she'd been through scary things before; after she had survived the reigns of Sylar and Danko and Nathan and Samuel. But to know that she held that much influence over the world's most powerful man was the scariest thing she had ever heard. She wanted to step back and say it was all too much too soon.

But it wasn't.

Bit by bit Sylar had been inching his way into her heart. From the moment he had lost his temper at that rep at the wedding fair, showing that he valued Peter so much, Claire had started to fall for him. She'd fought and rallied against it but it had happened and now there was no turning back.

He'd asked her if she could love him. The damning thing was that she was already falling.

Falling so fast and so hard it terrified her.

Because with Sylar it wasn't just going to be simple and soft and sweet and short-lived. It had been bloody and brutal and bitter and not just a little bewildering.

Love with Sylar wouldn't be a walk in the park.

Unless the park was in Afghanistan. Filled with dangerous animals. And radiation. In hunting season.

She grinned against his mouth at the thought.

It might be dangerous but damn there were perks.

His hand slipped down between them and cupped around her breast and suddenly all thought fled from her mind.

Pleasure, pure and sharp shot through her, stealing her breath and making her arch into his warm palm. Sylar took that as invitation and his long fingers caressed and stroked over her thin shirt.

She forgot about breathing: it no longer seemed necessary. The sensations he was evoking in her claimed all her attention, clearing her mind and giving her over to pure sensation.

She moaned into his mouth and felt his response as he shuddered against her; her delicious writhing pressing him ever closer. His hand left her breast, startling a plaintive cry from her but it was swiftly forgotten as those clever fingers undid her top buttons, flicking them from their holes.

The shirt undone to mid-waist was pushed aside and his hand slipped inside. Calloused hands on satin soft skin made her break the kiss, slamming her head back and gasping at the exquisite feeling.

She bit her lip, groaning in pleasure. There was a light chuckle and she opened her eyes enough to see a purely masculine grin, wolfish and sinister cross over his face.

Before she could do anything she felt the soft brush of his hair against her bare skin, followed by the hot brand of his mouth.

His lips skated over her collarbone, nipped at her pulse point and opened over the little dip below her neck. He opened his mouth and sucked at that delicate strip of skin.

“Oh god,” she moaned.

His laugh reverberated against her and she arched more, pushing closer to him. He dipped his head lower, his hot breath ghosting over the upper swell of her breasts. He dragged his teeth down over the sensitive curve and yanked her bra down, closing his mouth over her nipple.

It was like he'd used Elle's power on her spine, her hips jumped involuntarily and she could feel evidence of his satisfaction against her thigh.

He licked and sucked one whilst his other hand reached up, palming the other breast in those hot hands.

“Sylar!” Claire threw her head back and shifted her hips against his.

It was his turn to moan as the action jolted his ministrations making him lose his rhythm. As soon as his mouth left her chest, Claire had her hands digging into his hair, yanking him back up to her mouth.

He obliged, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the movement of his hips against hers. He reached down with one hand, holding her hips against his as he circled his pelvis, grinding their lower halves together.

Claire cried out and scrambled to get closer, to enhance that delicious friction. Sylar was only holding onto the sofa by one hand and as she shifted he let go to draw her nearer and overbalanced.

They fell to the floor with a thud.

“Oof!” Sylar had managed to roll them so that he bore the brunt of the fall.

She'd landed on top of him, straddling his thighs, which was lovely.

His head had landed on the hard floor, which was not.

He tried hard to catch his breath before managing to say. “I think we're going to need a bigger couch.”

Claire burst into giggles.