Wall Verse, Chapter 22, Let Me Hear Your Body Talk
Peter waited, quiet and still, trying to be relaxed while Sylar decided whether he, Sylar, was worthy of love. Because to Peter, that was the question hanging in the air here. Peter had no doubt about his own emotions, and he was also confident that he'd been loved by others in the past. Back when his empathy had worked better, he'd been sure of it. But had Sylar ever been loved in his life, so far as the man could recall? Sadly, Peter suspected the answer was no.
He wasn't a big fan of how Sylar was turning Peter's head back and forth, as if staring into Peter's eyes would tell him what he wanted to know. It was an uncomfortable reminder of other days - not distant enough to dull the memory of the fear and pain, but Peter held his peace and allowed it. He understood that Sylar doubted him - doubted it was even possible that someone might love him, especially Peter. After so many long seconds that it felt like minutes had passed, Sylar's gaze dropped, his eyes lost focus and his grip slackened. Peter waited still, for Sylar was finally looking in the only place where he'd find the answer to his doubts.
Once he looked in the right spot, Sylar made up his mind quickly. His hand, still holding Peter's chin, now served to gently guide their faces together as he took Peter's mouth in a kiss that started heart-breakingly tender and quickly became wildly impassioned. As the kiss progressed, Sylar's arms slid around Peter and a growl sprang up in the back of his throat. Peter welcomed him in, feeling that emotional connection between them flare to life faster and easier than before. Sylar was giving himself a chance. He was believing in himself. He was believing that Peter loved him. Yeah, happy, huh? Happy with yourself. Maybe the first time ever. Peter was so glad of that. He answered the embrace energetically, letting his tongue stroke over Sylar's and plunge as deep as it could. Long practice the night before paid off in telling him exactly how to turn Sylar on.
When they parted, Peter whispered breathlessly against Sylar's lips, "You're so special. I want to be with you. I really do. You're worth it." He hugged Sylar tightly, feeling the joy bubbling up inside the other man. He was surprised, though, when Sylar turned his head and bit him - hard - on the shoulder. "Ow! Hey!" Peter leaned back to see his partner putting on a very convincing act of complete innocence. Peter scoffed at that, then rolled his eyes and pulled him close again with a soft "Come here." Sylar complied, but he was tense, expecting retaliation. Peter laid sweet, harmless little kisses up the side of the neck Sylar considerately (and hopefully) bared to him, nipping only lightly as he worked his way up to the ear … whereupon he plunged his tongue inside of it.
Sylar squawked in indignation at the wet willie and then burst out laughing. It was a wonderful sound to hear ringing through the cramped apartment - startlingly uninhibited and joyous. For a moment they wrestled playfully in the confined space, mattress squeaking in protest as they pushed and pulled on each other, tangling limbs until Sylar submitted with a pleased and somewhat theatrical groan. Half atop him, Peter paused to crow in victory, "You're not getting away from me this time!"
Sylar chuckled and hugged him exuberantly, pulling them close once more. Peter retraced his mouth's previous route. Sylar didn't draw away as Peter came to his ear, but this time Peter limited himself to gnawing at the earlobe (accompanied by some truly delicious squirming on Sylar's part) and then mouthing the shell of it, breathing hotly into his ear, "I love you." Sylar shivered in response.
"Jesus, Peter," Sylar whimpered after his full-body shudder had dissipated.
Peter climbed fully on top of him, straddling Sylar and trapping him underneath. Sylar froze up, uneasy with the arrangement. Acting on a hunch, Peter took the man's wrists and held them to the mattress on either side of Sylar's head. Peter could feel Sylar's arousal jump as he saw his expression shift, revealing how vulnerable, how fragile, and how easily broken he was letting himself be - letting himself be that way … for Peter. Peter waited for a very long beat, saying nothing, doing nothing. Sylar's disclosure about being abused knocked around in Peter's head, along with how Sylar had positioned him when they were next to the piano. He knew he was being extended enormous trust here - and that was something that was definitely a two-way street at the moment.
Peter leaned in gradually, mouth sliding slowly and tantalizingly over Sylar's while he continued holding the man's hands down. Peter was oh-so-gratified to feel Sylar's body arch subtly beneath him, feeling a firm erection press against him. "Yeah," Peter whispered as they parted. "That's what I want." Peter rubbed the point of his nose against Sylar's cheek and nose, following it a moment later with tiny pecks. "I want you to want me."
Sylar snorted immediately, blurting out, "Not hard." To Peter's quizzical look, he elaborated, "It's not hard to want you right now. Or, well, anytime."
Peter chuckled softly, rewarding the appreciation with another kiss and then another after that. He took Sylar's hands - first one, then the other - and planted them on his rear end before coming back for more kisses. Sylar took the hint, sliding his hands up and down the generous curve of Peter's buttocks, feeling the muscle firm and taut under his grip due to Peter basically squatting over him. Peter leaned down, settling in chest to chest as they continued making out. He moaned into Sylar's mouth when the man began to knead his ass, the motion alternately stretching and compressing his crack, making him feel so open. Oh yeah. Oh yeah. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he breathed.
Encouraged, Sylar rubbed him more - a little harder and a lot more extensively, hands roaming up to the small of his back and then down to the tops of his thighs. He went out to the sides of Peter's hips and in towards the middle. Peter groaned again at that last touch, a plaintive noise this time as he pressed his body against Sylar's. Sylar stilled for a moment, then repeated his last motion: fingers right at the edge of Peter's crack, gripping, pulling and manipulating. Peter nodded a little and groaned again, kissing more fiercely.
"Mmm," Sylar said, taking the direction well. He let his fingertips work their way inward, a half inch at a time, while Peter squirmed atop him, begging for more as he finally broke from Sylar's mouth to chew and suck at his neck. Able to speak now, Sylar purred, "You like this, huh?"
Oh, yeah, talking. Might be a good idea to do that. Awash in sensations, both his own emotions and those of his partner, it was difficult for Peter to find words. Certainly he failed to find any with more than one syllable. "Yes. I like that. Fuck, please more."
"Mm, like this?" Sylar let the tip of a long, slender middle finger play over the sensitive, stretched flesh of Peter's anus. He sounded like he was starting to understand just how much control Peter was willing to give him here, and Sylar was reveling in that.
"Ahh! Yes, yes, yes!" Peter bit him, which provoked an answering whine and a stretch from Sylar, who repeated his touches at Peter's posterior. He pressed a bit harder against the opening, making Peter leave off the mouthing of Sylar's collarbone and arch at the pressure. "Ah! Fuck. Lotion."
"Hm?"
Peter struggled partly off of Sylar, flailing in an uncoordinated mess at the nightstand. Yes, the lotion was still there from last night. (Thank God!) He managed to grab it first try (cool; got it!) and scrambled back to his previous position. "Lotion," he repeated, shifting to squirt an outrageous amount into his hand, which was then sent behind himself to apply it copiously. He wiped the excess off on the sheets, missing Sylar's deep frown at that and too enthusiastic to pick up on the nuance of the momentary emotional dip.
Instead, he interpreted it as a sign he'd been too long away from the activities (all of a handful of seconds) and Peter remedied that by going straight to Sylar's mouth and kissing him passionately. It was a good distraction. Sylar groaned, letting Peter press his head into the bed, opening wide for the intrusion and running his hands up and down Peter's sides for the moment. Peter shuddered and tightened his knees against Sylar's hips in response.
Peter pulled back, panting, as Sylar's hands dipped back to Peter's ass, exploring the slick wetness Peter had added to the situation. The man's delicate fingers probed carefully, making Peter twitch and press against him once more. "Yes, please!"
"Fuck?" Sylar said in a bland, uninflected voice.
"Yes!"
"Hm, you weren't kidding," Sylar mused.
"Uh?"
Thoroughly amused now by Peter's limited vocabulary, Sylar grinned, stifled a laugh, and kissed Peter on the forehead, working his way down Peter's face to nip at his jaw and chin. "You are adorable." One fingertip had found the right spot and dipped within. Peter made a choked noise followed by a whine. Sylar murmured in mock-threat, "We'll see who's not getting away this time." His voice was a deep rumble that made Peter's stomach somersault. "I have you right where I want you."
"Uh-huh," Peter groaned cooperatively, shifting and wriggling as Sylar kept prodding within and pulling out, then repeating. It was a fantastic feeling - one sensation after another, a continuous series of small invasions. Sylar moved his other hand closer so he could alternate fingers - one hand and then the other - as Peter began a muted rutting against him. Peter felt Sylar tense and the fear flare up in him at that motion - a fear that hadn't triggered when Peter had been merely squirming erratically. Peter stopped, confused, having trouble dragging the thinking part of his brain out of the morass of lust he was in, knowing he needed to process that emotion and respond to it better.
But a second later, Sylar worked two fingertips at once within him and Peter's attempt to think coherently flopped. He arched, and anyway he felt Sylar's negative emotion fade fast, along with his own concerns about it.
"Right where I want you," Sylar murmured in such a deep voice that Peter shivered to hear it, gooseflesh prickling along the backs of his arms. "Completely at my mercy."
Peter groaned as Sylar wiggled his fingers back and forth, two within him, pulling in opposite directions. Peter collapsed back onto him with a whimper, his mouth finding Sylar's bristly throat and chewing at it hard enough to mark him. At that, Sylar's fingers slipped in deeper and tugged him open. Peter flattened himself, spreading his knees to either side in instinctive prostration until his hips hurt.
"Yes. Fuck. Please!"
"Hmm," Sylar hummed teasingly, obviously enjoying having Peter at his complete disposal. His hands shifted slightly, his inserted fingers ringing Peter's anus. "So responsive," Sylar whispered to him.
Peter just couldn't think verbally, something that wasn't always limited to sex. He could, and he did, weigh out his next course of action before doing it, deciding it was now or never. He reached back for Sylar's dick, lifted himself up a little, and pushed the member's erect length behind him so it stood at attention along his crack. Sylar had sucked in air and tensed, but when Peter took his hand away and started rubbing backwards it seemed to defuse the stress.
Sylar blinked at Peter, their faces inches apart as Peter withdrew a little to speak with surprising coherence, saying, "I love you. I want you. I want you in me." This was important - Sylar's jolt when Peter had touched him had been deep and his emotions had gone haywire for a moment even if Sylar had done little physically. Sylar took a moment to feel his way around the concept, then gave his own non-verbal, but unequivocal, response. He reached up and sucked Peter's lower lip into his mouth, gnawing at it while Peter sighed and then groaned. A second after that, fingers began to work him open again, methodical and thorough, carefully probing inside of him.
"Peter?" The calm, collected and almost indifferent tone of voice caught Peter's attention instantly.
"Uh? Yeah?"
"This is what you want?" Sylar made a push with his hips, watching Peter attentively.
Peter tried to figure out why this question was being asked at this point in time. It was so fucking ridiculous that it left him momentarily befuddled, wondering if they were really in the same bed, or if he'd been a little less vocal, indicative and enthusiastic than he thought he'd been. But the hang-up had nothing to do with Peter and a moment later what flashed through his mind was Sylar presenting himself for anal, completely unprepped, treating it like it was … an assault that he had to endure in order to get the affection he craved. Peter's arousal nose-dived a bit as he realized part of Sylar's difficulty was in imagining that someone else actually wanted this sort of thing. He was not about to let Sylar inflict his issues on him, though.
Exhaling deeply, uncomfortable for the moment about how Sylar's hands were still moving and stimulating him, Peter said as clearly as he could, "Yes. I want you; I want this. Fuck me."
Sylar didn't speak an answer, but he shifted his hips, and Peter's rear end, lining him up. Peter rose up to get a better angle, letting his hands trail down Sylar's chest, fingertips tickling in the curly hair. He smiled, wishing he had more time to check that out, but Sylar was already nudging at him from behind. Peter was already as loose and open as he could get. He twitched and breathed out a sharp, "Oh!" as Sylar, with an expression of concentration and masterful self-control, worked the head of his cock inside. A moment later, the man glanced up at the ceiling above, biting his lower lip as he brought Peter down all the way.
Peter let loose a deep groan, his fingers clutching convulsively at Sylar's sides as his eyes slammed shut. "Oh, God! Yes. OH!" He rocked back and then forward, having not expected to get the whole length at once. They fit together fantastically, though. Sylar felt perfect inside of him. He didn't need to look down to know Sylar was watching him in trepidation and uncertainty. "Fuck! Good," Peter got out, pretty sure he needed to say something more articulate than that, but he had a dick up his ass. If he had to be loquacious at a time like this, then maybe this whole fucking-Sylar-thing was too complicated to manage.
Thankfully, his few but fervent words seemed like reinforcement enough for his partner, who moved his hands to Peter's hips, guiding him in tandem with the thrusts that Sylar was starting to make. Peter found his own hands on Sylar's forearms, stroking them gratefully, aware of how huge a hurdle Sylar had just tackled for him - with not so much as a peep of challenge or disagreement. Peter knew it was big. This was what he'd been punched over, after all - pushing Sylar to go all the way and here he was, doing it. It was a deep statement of how much Sylar would grow for him.
Peter's ass was making rude slapping, sucking noises around Sylar. Once Peter was meeting the rhythm, he took one of Sylar's hands and put it on his penis, looking down to see another moment of super-uncertainty, followed by a grin. Sylar was starting to get over the shocks faster and easier.
Soft fingers wrapped around Peter's erection, stroking irregularly at first as Sylar adjusted his grip a few times, then Peter began getting it earnest as Sylar pumped him fast, in time to the thrusts. Brief setbacks notwithstanding, he was still outrageously turned on. Peter leaned back, bracing himself on Sylar's flexing thighs so he could take the athletic hammering in a way that hit his prostate.
"Oh, yes. Fuck!" Peter growled once he got to where he wanted to be, accompanied a moment later by a wanton mewl as he moved his legs restlessly, letting himself be helpless in the grip of the surfeit of stimulation. He was practically writhing on top of Sylar's dick, his own ragingly hard in Sylar's grip. He was totally in the man's thrall, letting Sylar play him like an instrument and giving himself over to it fully. Peter knew he was putting on a show, leaned back, his whole body on lewd display. The way Sylar was watching him (eyes wide, mouth slightly open, a totally captivated expression on his features) was really something else. It tickled a lot of kinks for Peter, not that he really needed the help at the moment.
"Ng … come! Ya …" Peter arched backwards, the position forcing Sylar's cock to rub the exact right spot inside of him. His whole body tingled, burning up from within as his entire world narrowed down to the euphoria Sylar's was inflicting on him. It had been so long since Peter had actually had someone inside of him, their body surging beneath his own, handling him with intent and desire, to feel Sylar's emotions burning at such a fever pitch … it pushed Peter over the edge far faster than he'd expected. "Ah!" And a moment later: "Oh God …" He shifted forward when Sylar paused, literally missing a beat as he looked down at the mess Peter had dribbled all over his hand. He supposed, given where he was pointed, that Sylar was lucky he wasn't a spurter.
Sylar looked up at him with a small, knowing smile, twisting and pulling on Peter's dick with the same perfect stroke he'd been using before. Peter nearly seized up, trying to come forward with the gesture, but being held in place by Sylar's other hand at his hip. The thumb dug in sharply to show him where to stay. He was going nowhere. Peter sagged over him, twitching with each experimental prod Sylar gave him through slow rocks of his hips, and suffering through the overstimulation the man delivered to his cock. Peter could feel the barely restrained urges racing up and down Sylar's form. The man might be lying there looking smug and calm, but he was rock hard within Peter and almost trembling with the effort of holding himself together.
Getting his breath back, Peter said, "Go to town, man. I know you want to."
"You're done," Sylar said evenly, like that mattered in some way.
Peter's brows rose slowly. "Uh … so? It's not like there's a limited supply of my ass, Sylar. You're not going to use it up. Go for it."
Peter would have sworn that Sylar's eyes bugged a little at that comment before the other man grinned and released Peter's rapidly softening dick. Sylar grimaced at his hand briefly before wiping it off on the sheets with a grumbled, "We're washing later."
"Course." Peter came forward to brace his hands on either side, keeping his spine arched as Sylar's focus returned to the sex. He began to piston within Peter again, making Peter's lids flutter with the sensation of being overused. He was glad he was forward, but he still twitched and jerked when Sylar hit particularly deep. The other man's hands were on Peter's hips for now, holding him in place as he went harder and faster, having taken Peter at his word. His hands slipped around to the sides of Peter's buttocks, gripping and clenching so tight it hurt. Peter made a muffled grunt as he panted, taking the jogging thrusts with occasional moans. He'd rarely been fucked quite this hard, being pounded into time after time.
He watched through dazed eyes as Sylar's pale skin started to shine with a light sweat and then flushed pink. A moment later, Sylar hesitated, breaking his brutal pace, his eyes going back up to the ceiling and mouth dropping open as he gave an involuntary shudder. Peter could feel the man's member sunk entirely within him, Sylar's fingers clutching at him spasmodically as he came. A faint throbbing emanated from his cock. Sylar looked like he was having a moment of pure transcendence. Peter smiled gently, warmth suffusing him and pride filling him up that he could make anyone look like they were experiencing spiritual fucking ecstasy. It tickled Peter's ego all the way down to his toes.
Sylar jerked and gave a final shiver of aftershock, fingers tightening again for a moment as his eyes found Peter's. Peter leaned in to kiss him softly, feeling their still-heavy breaths mingling between them. Sylar stared directly into his eyes and made an unguarded sound like a whimper. Who's the one in charge now? Peter mentally gloried. His expression still one of wonderstruck awe, Sylar brought his hands to either side of Peter's head, running them into his hair (um, one of those hands used to be covered with my come … but … whatever) and pulling Peter's face in again for a deep, slow, and luxurious coupling of lips. Peter let himself drown in that kiss.
They wound down slowly, with Sylar trailing his fingers up and down Peter's sides, across his back and over his arms, leaving little trails of pleasure wherever he touched. Peter watched the play of emotions across Sylar's relaxed, blissful features. It looked like bone-deep contentment. Peter had that phenomenal feeling that came after a particularly hard fuck - muscles sore, nerves singing, blood rushing and totally buzzed on endorphins. Maybe Sylar had never been loved before - but he was now.
(for those not getting the reference: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-t64OXKVGvk)