Wall Verse, Chapter 20, Play the Player
The day passed pretty uneventfully. They goofed around in the park for much of the afternoon, playing around with each other and acting like kids. Peter climbed several trees and jumped down, doing it partly because it seemed to alarm Sylar. It was funny to see him concerned on Peter's behalf. They both climbed on the monkey bars and sat on the swings for a little bit, talking about their different experiences in school and growing up.
That evening they retired to Sylar's apartment and made pizza, then got sucked into a long game of Risk. For a while it looked like a forgone conclusion that Sylar would win, but then he began making so many mistakes that Peter wondered if he was trying to throw the game. The man seemed nervous and distracted. Peter's forces rallied; Sylar got his head back in the game finally and crushed him. Peter was left frowning at the board, rolling the dice in his hand and thinking about probabilities. Sylar insisted it was the only way to win the game and that until Peter figured that out, he was doomed to failure. But I don't want to play a game that I have to work at. That's not any fun. I like taking the gamble. I just don't like losing so damn much.
He sighed, his attention drawn away as Sylar pulled the board out from under Peter's gaze and folded it up. "You want to do anything else tonight?" Peter asked, with the intention of his question mostly being in the direction of another game. It was late though and he was tired. Sylar had asked for him to sleep with him. Peter wondered vaguely what that entailed, because it seemed pretty fast - for Sylar. For anyone else it seemed like a natural progression, but Sylar wasn't 'anyone else'. Maybe Sylar's trying to prove he can get off and not hurt me afterward? I'm pretty sure all these dates are him trying to make up with me. And it's working.
"We could … go to bed," Sylar offered, keeping his attention fixed on putting away the game pieces.
Peter smiled and rose, gathering up their glasses and plates, carrying them to the kitchen. "That sounds great," he replied. When he came back, Sylar was putting the game away in its place in the closet. Peter admired his backside. And … suddenly I don't feel all that tired anymore. Heh. Don't be stupid now, Peter. You'll get a fist to the face if you are. Just chill.
Sylar shut the closet and turned, realizing he'd been the object of somewhat horny scrutiny for nearly a minute. He smiled nervously.
Peter tore his eyes away. "So, um …" He turned and looked at the bed. It was a single - big enough for one person, but two full-grown men would have to be partly on top of each other to share it. He glanced back at Sylar. Maybe I missed a bed around here? Or did he mean he just wanted to fuck and then I should go back to my own place?
The expression on Sylar's face told him that for all the lead-up, the man had not considered the dimensions of the bed any more than he had the sheet they'd used earlier.
"I could sleep on the couch," Peter offered, not sure at all what Sylar had in mind. Maybe he just wants me around as company? I'm okay with that.
"No," Sylar said quickly, a little more decisively than Peter expected. He moved next to Peter, slipping an arm around his waist and guiding him to the bed. Sylar turned and sat on the bed, positioning Peter in front of him. Peter smiled down at him and watched as Sylar's momentary suave, in-control demeanor crumbled. He rested his hands on Peter's hips, breathing faster. He kept his eyes down.
"Hey," Peter said softly, "what's up?" He raised his hand to Sylar's hair, gently carding it back out of his face.
Sylar swallowed and got control of himself again. He smiled up, a dazzling, confident expression, pretty firmly treading into 'arrogant' and 'smug' territory, but Peter wasn't convinced by that look. Sylar's hands rose to Peter's shirt, trying to unbutton it. Peter glanced down when Sylar seemed to be having trouble with it. His hands were trembling. Smug expression or not, he's in trouble. He's trying to deal with it. God, Sylar, please don't hurt me again. If we're going to have anything together, you've got to get control of that. Otherwise you'll break me.
Peter kept stroking the side of Sylar's face with one hand and brushing his hair with the other, letting Sylar work his slow, fumbling way down Peter's shirt. He finally succeeded and pushed it to the sides. Peter stepped back and pulled it off as Sylar did the same. Sylar continued immediately with his own pants, shoving them and underwear both off.
Whoa, all the way naked already! Dang. I thought we might fool around a little first, but okay, whatever. Peter went on to his own pants and underwear, since that seemed to be the order of the day.
Sylar stole a single, furtive glance at Peter's equipment before climbing on the bed, hands and knees, head down. Peter stood next to his pile of clothes, looking at Sylar's presentation. This is wrong. This is very, very wrong. No foreplay, no nothing hardly, just get naked and fuck? Peter wasn't even erect. We haven't even kissed! Kissing was a pretty important prelude to sex for Peter and he'd never even thought about what sex would be like without it. I'm not even sure I can.
At Peter's hesitation, Sylar gave a slight cough and looked over at the bed stand. "I have lotion there. It's just hand lotion, but that should work, shouldn't it?" His voice nearly broke at the end and he stopped talking.
There is no way I can walk out on this without seriously, seriously fucking things up - fucking him up. He's offering himself to me. Maybe he thinks this is payback for hitting me. 'Anything at all', all right. Peter took a slow step over to the bed stand and picked up the lotion, moving back to the side of the bed where he'd need to climb on to be in position for doggy style. "Ultra hydrating lotion for sensitive skin," Peter read off the bottle with a small smile. He had an idea.
"Yeah," Peter went on when Sylar didn't answer, "this should work fine. Go on and lie down flat, on your stomach."
Sylar glanced back. "You … want me that way?"
Peter chuckled. "I want you a lot of ways. Now lie down and I'll get started."
Sylar complied and Peter climbed on, straddling the other man's thighs. He squirted a generous amount of lotion in his hand and leaned forward over Sylar's back, rubbing it between his palms to warm it. He could see the tension standing out clearly in the bunched muscles and short, almost panting breaths Sylar was taking. Peter turned his hands downward and put them over Sylar's shoulder blades, noticing the man twitched like a horse with a fly on its skin. He rubbed a slow circle, spiraling outward.
Sylar's breathing deepened and slowed a little. Sylar asked, "What are you doing?"
"You wanted me to use the lotion, right?" Peter asked, deliberately misconstruing Sylar's offer to give Peter his body for sex.
"Uh … yeah." Sylar sounded baffled.
Peter continued to smear the substance around, pausing to squirt out some more. "Dry skin's a bitch, man," Peter murmured. Sylar choked and said nothing. Peter grinned and added, "When I'm done, do you think you could do the same for me?"
Sylar struggled with himself for a moment and then got out, "I thought you were going to fuck me?"
"If you want." I'd need some foreplay for that though and to know you were into it, which is clearly not happening on either front. "I like this too, though. I like touching you." Peter's hands worked down over Sylar's lumbar region and the small of his back. "You didn't answer my question though. Would you do this for me?"
There was a brief pause and Sylar relaxed profoundly under Peter's hands. "Yes," he said, voice raw and open.
Peter finished up and wiped the excess on his own thighs, then leaned forward, letting his hands come down on either side of Sylar's head. He felt the man tense all over, sucking in air, as Peter's genitals brushed Sylar's ass. "I'd like that," Peter said softly, nuzzling the side of Sylar's head, nosing at the shell of his ear. "We don't have to do anything serious here. Just touch me and let me touch you and I'll be happy." Peter leaned away, moving so Sylar could get up, which he did. Peter lay down immediately, with a great sigh. He stretched a little.
After a moment, Sylar picked up the lotion and started using it, never being quite bold enough to straddle Peter. Instead he crouched to the side and leaned awkwardly over him. Peter reached a hand down and cupped Sylar's knee, stroking it as the other man's hands ran across his back. When he got to the top of Peter's buttocks, he paused. "Go lower if you want," Peter prompted. Sylar's hands strayed down a couple more inches, but that was as brave as he was for now.
When he was done, Sylar climbed off the bed and replaced the lotion. Peter rolled onto his side and pulled down the covers, getting under them. He patted the mattress when Sylar looked at him uncertainly. "Come on," Peter invited. The uncertainty was chased away a moment later by Sylar's expression of false confidence and the other man climbed in bed to lie on his side, facing Peter. Peter smiled at him warmly, letting himself fall into Sylar's beautiful eyes.
For a moment, all they did was look into one another's eyes. Eventually Sylar's gaze dipped to Peter's lips, then back to his eyes. Then he did it again. Peter raised his chin a little and puckered his lips, which was enough of an invitation for Sylar. The other man leaned in, opening his mouth slightly and working his lips over Peter's. After a few short seconds, Peter groaned against him. The sound seemed to galvanize Sylar, who ran his hand behind Peter's head, cupping it and holding them together while he kissed harder, lips pressed to teeth. Sylar licked across Peter's mouth and Peter opened for him with another moan, more wanton this time.
Sylar's breathing, like Peter's, was picking up as their arousal built. Peter ran his hand up and down Sylar's arm, feeling the swell of his bicep and deltoid, where he gripped in a moment of passion, his blunt fingers digging into Sylar's skin. Peter's eyes were shut, so he didn't see the wary expression on Sylar's face as his eyes flew wide. Sylar growled in the back of his throat and pushed forward, thrusting his tongue into Peter's mouth. Peter gripped him hard again, drawing the man against him.
Encouraged, Sylar pressed Peter back with the force of his pursuit, engulfing Peter's mouth with his own, tasting him and drinking him in. Oh God, Peter thought, get on top of me, Sylar. Come on … He gripped him again a few times, stoking Sylar's ardor and slid his hand behind Sylar's shoulder, trying to urge him forward and onto him. Come on, baby, it's okay.
But Sylar had found a limit and stopped there, unwilling to push Peter flat and mount him. Frustrated, Peter kissed harder in return, letting his tongue tangle with the other man's and exploring the edges of his teeth. Peter hooked a leg over Sylar's thighs and wrapped his arm further around Sylar's back, drawing them together more tightly. Sylar whimpered. For some reason, that was the point when Peter's empathy started working. The whimper could have been many things - a sound of fear, a pained noise, or maybe a surrender - but Peter correctly and immediately identified it as a plea. He tightened his grip even more, sucking in Sylar's upper lip and chewing it lightly.
"Oh, Peter," Sylar breathed, and gave another whimper. This time with it came a clumsy thrust of Sylar's hips. Wow, he is so lost in this, Peter thought. Peter was pretty lost in it too, getting swept up fast just like he'd been before, when he could feel how much Sylar wanted it. He switched to Sylar's lower lip, kneading it with his own and nipping at it teasingly. Peter started rocking their hips together slowly. Oh God, this is incredible. This is awesome. Oh please … Oh fuck … They were both hard and bare and he could feel that most sensitive of skin brushing tantalizingly one across the other.
So could Sylar. Fear ran through the other man like a sudden shock and he jerked back. Peter pulled back too, hands up, not sure if he needed to be warding off a blow. Oh no. No no. No, Sylar. It's okay. It's okay. Christ, I'm sorry. I fucked up. I did too much. Calm down. He said none of that, but he might as well could have, because Sylar blinked, looked down at the mattress, licked his lips and seemed to relax. He gave a hopeful, oh-so-cautious smile at Peter.
Peter reached out and stroked Sylar's cheek softly, which led the other man to take in a deep breath, let it out, and then scoot back in enough to lean forward and offer a kiss. Peter met him, letting his hand slip beyond Sylar's cheek to toy briefly with his ear, then bury itself in his hair. Sylar whined into his mouth, sagging against him in relief. The emotional connection was still there. Peter started to wiggle just a little bit closer with his upper body only, but Sylar leaned away, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder to stop him.
Sylar regarded him for a long moment, then brought his hand to Peter's injured cheek. Peter winced slightly, but Sylar moved on quickly. With several 'checking' glances between Peter's eyes and where Sylar's fingers touched, he took his fingers to Peter's upper lip. Peter relaxed in place, enjoying the touch and feeling as Sylar explored him slowly, taking in each finger-width at a time, stroking and brushing from one side to the other before dropping to examine the lower lip as well. His fingers slowed when they came over the nerve-damaged part, Sylar's eyes doing another round of darting to meet Peter's, making sure he wasn't trespassing. Peter gave him a small smile to reassure. It felt weird, perpetually numb, but he was fine with allowing Sylar to check him out.
Sylar turned Peter's chin slightly and leaned in, giving him a tiny peck on that blemished part of his face. Peter chuckled and tugged his chin from Sylar's loose grip, giving the man a playful smooch full on the lips. Sylar responded, and they began another round of osculation, though this time more sedate and unhurried than their previous frantic, passionate mouthing. They kissed forever, until Peter's neck began to get sore from holding his head up. His lips were thoroughly over-stimulated, almost numb all the way across now, from going at it for what seemed like hours. Honestly, as much as he hated to admit it, he was getting a bit tired. He'd long since lost most of his erection and his mouth tasted more of Sylar than of himself (which was wonderful - absolutely fantastic even). It had been a long, active day.
He pulled back from their latest lip-lock and scooted down a little, snuggling in and tucking his head against Sylar's hairy chest. He figured that Sylar would get the hint and it seemed the man did. Sylar adjusted the sheets and blankets over them both and hugged Peter to him. Peter fell asleep in the man's arms.