Slave Verse 3, Chapter 9: End Times Are Upon Us!
A/N: General reminder that italics are thoughts.
They came back inside after a while for sandwiches. The satellite phone rang while they were eating and discussing personal phobias. It was a rude reminder of the world outside of themselves. For a brief moment, Sylar considered melting it for its insolence in disturbing them, but then Peter picked it up.
He talked for a while, giving general answers, telling whoever it was that Nathan was fine and hadn't even managed to get a sunburn yet. After a while he reached up and tapped his temple, then pointed at Sylar. He looked at him intently. Sylar shrugged, having no idea what Peter was trying to communicate.
A moment later he stiffened, feeling, or hearing, a mental feedback as Peter tried to read his mind. Sylar nodded and dropped the defenses that came automatically with that ability.
Peter thought to him, It's Jason again. He wants to talk to you about the latest UN conference. He doesn't like Bob's take on it. Bob was the vice president. He'd been left in charge. Sylar recalled hearing that while he'd been pretending to be Peter, standing around in a daze shortly after killing himself. And some other guys, but they hardly mattered.
Sylar asked, What do you suggest I tell him?
It's complicated. You and I need to talk about it. I'll fill you in later. For now, tell him to do what Bob says. He won't screw it up any worse than it already was. You need to be Nathan to talk to him on the phone though.
Sylar nodded and shifted. Because they were linked, he sensed the wash of reaction from Peter at seeing Nathan's face: anger, hurt, grief, sorrow and confusion. Peter looked away and focused on what Jason was saying. He didn't cut the mental contact or even try to hide his response. He just tried to distract himself.
Sylar figured it was the healthiest thing he could probably do, but he resolved in that moment to minimize being Nathan. He heard a grateful flash of feeling from Peter at his resolution. A minute later Peter handed the phone to him and he listened to Jason describe the situation. Sylar followed Peter's advice, realizing that if he wanted to be in control of things, then he had to know more about what was going on.
Mentally he told Peter, Oh yeah, you and I really need to talk about this. We've got to figure out what we're going to do. Are you… ready for that?
Peter nodded, chewing on his lunch and looking distant. As wonderful as their time together had been, it had to draw to a close. Sylar told Jason he'd be back in DC the next night and the morning after that he wanted a general overview of all the important issues, to be presented like he'd never seen them before. He said, "I've been thinking a lot and I think what I need is a new perspective on things. Get it set up. I want to see the big picture. I've been buried in details too long."
Good, Peter thought to him, but don't overdo it on the perspective thing. They'll flip out and think I'm influencing you. They're kind of sensitive about that.
Fuck 'em, Sylar rejoined, but his thoughts betrayed him. He took Peter seriously. He had not forgotten how easily he had been subdued, when it came down to it.
Sylar wrapped up the conversation. He hung up and shifted back to his natural form. Peter dropped the mental contact as soon as they could speak freely to each other. He said, "So we have today and most of tomorrow."
"Mm-hm," Sylar nodded. "I'd like to spend most of that time figuring out my new job. Are you okay with leaving here in the morning and spending tomorrow daytime going around invisibly? You can show me all the places I should already be familiar with."
Peter agreed. "Yeah. This has been great though - here, together."
Sylar leaned over and kissed him gently. "I'll never forget it." He picked up his sandwich and looked over at the darkened floorboards from where Peter had irradiated the area. "We're a little rough on the place."
Peter snorted. "You and your obsession with flooring products."
Sylar gave him an easy grin and took another bite.
They spent the afternoon and evening deep in conversation, discussing and learning. Generally it was Peter teaching Sylar, but it also went the other way. Peter honestly didn't know what he wanted to do, other than make things better for people and end slavery. For all his impatience with personal issues, Sylar was more methodical and willing to invest in a long-term strategy. Fixing watches and delicate machinery was not a hobby for those who couldn't hold their temper.
The first thing he wanted to do, even before ending slavery, was to restore the election. He had every intention of manipulating it, so it wasn't like he'd had a change of heart and become a sappy goody-two-shoes. No, he was just lazy. It was much easier to have someone else handle the day-to-day affairs of the presidency while he directed them to accomplish what he wanted. Besides, he really, really didn't like how Peter had reacted to seeing him as Nathan.
After Nathan stepped down from the presidency and allowed a successor to take office, he could have a terrible 'accident.' Maybe he'd fly a plane into something and have his body burned almost recognition. It had a sort of irony to it, given his ability to fly. That sort of ending would send a message to anyone who had really known what was going on. Afterwards Sylar and Peter would be free to be together as they were.
All of the issues they were facing were complex. Peter wanted to make them simple, even though he knew better. Sylar plied him with questions and drew out the other factors and refused to accept simple. If it had been simple, then it wouldn't be something worthwhile for the president to tackle. The president had competent lackeys to handle 'simple.' It was his job to wade through 'complicated' and Sylar was exceptionally good at 'complicated.'
He was a lot better at it than Peter had imagined. Once he got his teeth into the problems, he wouldn't let go. Peter had stood by Nathan's side for nearly nine of his ten years of presidency. During that entire time, he'd had eidetic memory. Even if it only allowed him to recall things he'd paid attention to, he'd always been paying attention to something. He had other abilities similar to and including intuitive aptitude that let him make sense of what he remembered, should he turn his mental efforts to it. Sylar pushed him on it as hard as he could.
They were sitting on the beach, on the stolen recliner cushions, having watched the sun set hours before. Now they watched as a storm flashed on the horizon, taking up nearly a third of the sky, leaving the rest starry and pristine. It was coming up from the left, which was to the south, and heading north towards the US. It would certainly miss them, but it was close enough though that they could see the brilliant flashes of lightning and the intriguing formations of the clouds. It gave them something interesting to watch as they talked.
Peter was recounting to him the situation with the Chinese Yuan and the trade imbalance. It was something that had been growing, as a problem, for the last forty years and the accumulated debt (and worse yet, interest on the debt) was bringing the US to its knees. If Sylar was going to undermine the current social structure by doing away with slavery, then he had to understand how that would impact the economy. Peter had had the opportunity to get an explanation of the problem from the chairman of the Federal Reserve some four years earlier. Peter had asked why they couldn't just solve the problem by printing more money. He relayed that answer to Sylar now.
He was getting to the part about the role of the World Bank Group in influencing exchange rates when he rolled to his side and boldly slid his hand along Sylar's belly, making him tense a little at the sudden contact. He relaxed a second later and made an agreeable, "Hmm." He followed it up with, "Peter, I'm paying very close attention to you. Please don't think I'm not, even if I'm being quiet. This is a very important subject, literally worth all the money in the world."
"I know that," Peter murmured. His fingers started to toy with the elastic band of the shorts, poking under it experimentally. He didn't say anything else.
The silence stretched on. After so long of hearing Peter speak, it sounded odd to hear only the wind and the waves and the distant percussion of thunder. Peter leaned over to plant his lips on Sylar's elbow, working his way around his forearm.
"Peter?" There was no answer, as Peter's mouth was otherwise occupied trailing his tongue down towards Sylar's hand and across the back of it to his knuckles, where he paused to lick and suck the rougher skin. Sylar said, "Peter? I know this is… kind of romantic out here and we're alone… but I was listening to you." He needed to know this stuff. He needed to know it a lot more than he needed to have sex for the third time that day - even if it was really great sex.
Peter appeared to ignore him. Instead he moved his hand past the barrier of the waistband and began to feel out how and exactly where Sylar's penis rested within the curls of his pubic hair. Sylar tilted his head back against the cushion and felt his breathing speed up. They'd used terrakinesis to heap up sand behind them so their adjacent cushions were propped up a little.
Peter was just insatiable with the sex and Sylar had come to the conclusion that it wasn't Peter's natural sex drive, because even now he almost certainly wasn't hard. He'd just decided, for whatever bizarre Peter reason, that it was time for Sylar to have sex with him. He was sure it had nothing to do with the conversational topic. Sylar grunted. It was high time to work out what was going on here.
He retrieved Peter's hand from his shorts and pulled the dark-haired man on top of him, straddling him. "Peter?"
"Yes?" he answered petulantly, sulking because he'd been interrupted.
"You said to warn you and let you know before I read you. I want to read you."
"Right now?" Peter pouted.
"Yes. Right now. I need to understand you."
"Why now?"
"Because what I need to know is close to the surface now. If I wait, I'll have to dig for it and you might not let me do that."
Peter grunted. He leaned down, but avoided Sylar's face, instead kissing at his neck. His hands drifted down to fondle Sylar's chest. Sylar swept up his own hands, finding Peter's and twining their fingers together. Peter cooperated for a moment, then realized Sylar had trapped his hands so he couldn't arouse him with them. Peter made a frustrated noise. "Don't you want me?" he whined.
"Yes, Peter. I want you so bad," Sylar growled. "I want you so bad it makes me crazy. I can't think and all I know when you're touching me like that is how much I want to touch you in return and take you and make you scream my name." He leaned forward and bit Peter on the chest, feeling the man arch and groan against him, tasting the lingering residue of the suntan lotion and ocean salt as he sucked his way down to Peter's nipple and gave it singular attention.
He teased it with his tongue, making it stand erect, hard and delicious. He paused, smiling smugly and looking up at Peter. Two could play this game. Peter looked down at him and whimpered at the cessation. Sylar asked, "May I?"
"Yes, of course." Peter pushed his chest forward, as his hands were still gripped by Sylar's.
Sylar leaned forward as if to continue, but just breathed across the wet flesh, giving a flash of heat followed by cool.
"Oh!" Peter squeaked adorably.
Sylar smiled back up at him. It had occurred to him at the last second that Peter might not have realized what he was asking, and he definitely wanted Peter's explicit consent for this, even if he was perfectly willing to addle the man's brains with lust first. "May I read you?" The ability required specialized, intimate contact. Kissing was not the only form this could take.
"Oh…" Peter shifted his hips, rubbing himself against Sylar's belly as he no doubt tried to consider this in the midst of passion, his judgment clouded. After a moment he said, "Yeah, whatever. I don't know what you-"
But Sylar didn't let him finish. He pressed his mouth over the nub and suckled, drawing in along with impressions and desires. He needed to know why… and a moment later he did. He pulled his head back and licked his lips, thinking for a moment. "Take your shorts off."
Peter hurried to comply, baring himself. Sylar shoved his shorts down while Peter was up. The dark haired man hesitated, looking at Sylar for directions. Seeing none, Peter straddled him again.
"You need this," Sylar said, stroking himself with one hand and playing idly with Peter with the other.
"Yes, I need you," Peter agreed, stroking the sides of Sylar's face, leaning in to nuzzle along his eyebrows, fascinated by the strong lineament.
"No, it's more than that. You need to be reassured. You need to know I'm not going to milk you for what you know and move on. You need to know I'm more in love with you than I am with power. You need to know that no matter how involved I am in something, you can reach for me and I'll respond to you, that for all my control, I'll surrender it to you when you offer me your body."
Peter's brows pulled together and he leaned back. "I want you to fuck me, Sylar," he said, sounding almost cross as he grossly over-simplified what was going on. He ran his thumb back and forth across Sylar's lower lip.
Sylar smiled and bit that thumb, biting down until Peter's face went to worried and then past it, letting his mouth fall open a little in desire. Sylar sucked the digit into his mouth and tongued it like it was a small phallus. Peter made a growling noise in his throat. When he Sylar finally moved his mouth to the side, Peter smeared the wet thumb up his cheek, leaving a trail of silvery coolness against Sylar's skin.
"Yeah, you want me to fuck you," Sylar said, "but I needed to know why. Now I do. And now I'm going to fuck you. Because that's just something you need." Peter's face looked uncertain and Sylar told him, "Peter, that's a need I am thrilled to be able to meet."
"Okay," Peter said breathily. "Thank you?" Not waiting for an answer to the ambiguous question, Peter leaned in and kissed him. Sylar stopped stroking himself - there was no further need, as the vulnerability and desire to please he'd seen in Peter's heart totally did it for him - he was rock hard. Instead he curled his fingers into Peter's crack, running them up and down as Peter's tongue explored his mouth.
"Erm. Hunh. Hrng." Peter vocalized into Sylar's mouth and pushed his rear end back against his hand. His fingers toyed with the hot, sensitive tissue of his anus, probing at it gently. He had no lubrication, but that just meant his hand kept spidering up and down, circling and pressing a little, then moving on to caress testicles and thighs and buttocks and ass crack before finding that spot again and repeating.
When Peter had had enough of this sweet torture, he finally lifted from Sylar's face and spat on his hand. He wiped it on his ass. Sylar matched him, smearing his shaft. Peter sunk down on him, taking him in several short descensions. He returned to kissing.
Sylar began stroking him, gripping him fully and moving up and down in time with Peter's motions on him. Every and then he would tighten his other arm around Peter's waist and thrust into him fast and repeatedly, pistoning inside him while Peter moaned wantonly. When those calls subsided, he would relax, settle himself again and go back to stroking and petting and kissing.
After several minutes, Peter leaned back, taking Sylar deeper and rubbing the head of his cock while Sylar still pumped his shaft. Panting, he said, "I'm… I'm supposed to be doing this for you."
Sylar smiled. Peter wasn't an idiot. "You are, Peter. You are. I know you are. Now come for me. I know you're close. You don't know how handsome you look there, riding up and down on me, eyes almost shut, that crooked mouth hanging open, lightning flashing behind you, just barely lit by starlight and the crescent moon. Oh God, Peter, I am so glad I have a perfect memory, because this is one I want to keep forever."
He felt Peter's member throb under his hand, then wet and hot as his ejaculate was deflected down by Peter's hand on the head of it. Peter smeared it down across Sylar's grip and it seemed he was intentionally wiping himself on him. Sylar minded, but not enough to complain if it was what Peter wanted to do. Peter was pretty hard to squick. He was a very biological sort of guy.
Sylar rammed into him several more times, then said, "Hold on now. I'm going to use telekinesis and flip you."
Peter nodded and Sylar shifted them so he was top and Peter was under him, missionary. He pushed back Peter's legs and hooked his hands under the knees where his thumbs were free to press into them.
"Oh!" Peter stiffened, eyes widening at the sensation and the realization of what Sylar might do to him.
Sylar smiled wickedly. "Oh yeah. You thought you were done, didn't you?" He ran his thumbs teasingly up and down, watching as Peter's whole body tightened. His expression was priceless. "Well, I'm not done, Peter. You started this. That means I get to finish it. You know what kind of a control freak I am," he said, still thrusting slowly into the other man, balls deep. Peter whimpered. Sylar grinned at that anticipatory sound.
"I want you to lay there and take it. Okay?"
Peter nodded, smiling a little. He chuckled, then laughed as Sylar's thumbs began to press into him. He squirmed on Sylar's cock, prompting him to shove into him harder, as hard as he could while still massaging the backs of Peter's knees, watching the warring expressions of concentration and a tickling, tingling pleasure so intense Peter almost couldn't stand it.
Sylar bared his teeth in savage joy at mastering him like this. If the little twerp wanted to interrupt his important understanding of the financial processes of the world, then he'd at least make Peter suffer for it. Sylar managed to last quite a while, not coming until Peter was choking on stifled gasps so much that he sounded like he really might asphyxiate. He might not have given him another orgasm, but Sylar knew he'd given him at least that much pleasure, unendurable as it might have been.
He held his position after he came, but shifted his hands to hold the outsides of Peter's knees. He looked up at the distant storm clouds, still buried in Peter's ass and trembling with the aftershocks, hearing Peter's rough breathing below him, feeling the other man's body calming as did his own. He watched the lightning and felt the sea breeze against his sweat dazzled skin, the rush of the orgasm making the whole world weirdly intense. He looked down at his lover's face and said, "This is paradise, Peter. It's heaven. Thank you for giving this to me."
Peter teleported them and the cushions to the bungalow. They retired to bed for a few hours, bodies tangled around one another. Sylar woke eager to get started making their plans into reality. He looked around the room and sighed. He was going to miss the place. But on the other hand, there was no reason why they couldn't come back the next time they had trouble and needed to sort it out.
He kissed the top of Peter's head and reached over to run his fingers across the now-permanently-tanned-on label on Peter's back. He could use regeneration now without losing it, for his body had finally accepted it as a permanent feature, like the left side of his lip or any other mark on him from his pre-ability days. It also meant he could heal his finger, which had swollen badly, but there were no other complications.
He nudged Peter awake, craning his neck to kiss the man's temple and cheek. "Hey there, Peter pet. Rise and shine. It's a brave new world and we need to get to work saving it." He nuzzled Peter's face. "We can be heroes. God knows this world needs some. Are you with me?"
Peter sighed and blinked sleep out of his eyes. He looked at Sylar blearily and said, "Always, master. Always."