Three's Company
Title: Three's Company
Words: 4,500
Characters: Sylar/Claire/Peter, Maury Parkman
Rating: NC-17 for graphic sexual content
Dedication: Written for dancingdragon3
Setting: Shattered Salvation, May 2011
Notes: If the parts within the mental construct seem a bit contrived and the characterization there is off, that's intentional. It's a mental projection, and most importantly, it's what Claire wants it to be. Fic features fantasies of highly dubious dub-con, double penetration and uncle/niece incest.
Summary: Claire works for the Company now. Maury Parkman is alive and a director there. She's made a deal with him to let him siphon off some of her restorative blood for whatever shady purposes he has for it and in exchange he gives her a virtual reality tour de force of whatever subject she wants.
Claire walked in to Maury Parkman's office. She felt very weird doing it here. 'Doing it'. Yes, that was the problem. She was going to be 'doing it' in Maury Parkman's office. The old telepath, now (and apparently having always been) a director of the Company that she worked for, had made her an offer. In exchange for a few vials of her blood slipped to him under the table, off the books and on the sly, he would give her a virtual reality tour of whatever fantasy she wanted. It would be completely and utterly real.
What had been discussed was a sexual threesome with herself, Sylar and Peter, because there was no way in hell she'd do either of them, ever, in real life. This would be her only chance. Since then, her mind had wandered to other possibilities. She'd already had a taste of Parkman's power and while she seemed to have a knack for throwing off his mental construct when necessary, that had only made her more eager to explore.
She flushed crimson as soon as she crossed the threshold. Even though he was her boss, the director assigned to oversee her operations and give her little team their goals and take regular progress reports, she still felt self-conscious about coming here. There was every reason why she should be seen going into his office. She'd been in it more than a score of times in the past and she'd only worked for him for a few months. She stood at the door and cleared her throat, even though Mr. Parkman was already looking at her.
If her dad knew she was doing this he'd … what would he do? She wasn't actually doing anything. And that had been Gretchen's take on it as well, without any prompting at all from Claire. So she was going to masturbate with some creepy old guy nearby. Whatever. Gretchen seemed to think that was odd, but it didn't trigger any of her relationship insecurities. She'd seen Maury. She knew Claire wasn't going to get attached to him, and so she'd given the all-clear for Claire to go do … whatever.
Claire slipped into the chair, breathing a little too fast. From behind his desk, Maury folded his hands over one another and said, "Do you really want to do this?"
She nodded immediately. "Y-yes." She swallowed nervously. "And you'll know what I want to fan-" She looked back at the open door behind her and changed her word choice, "what I want to see, right?"
"I'll see what's in your mind, yes." He rose and walked to the door, shutting it and engaging the lock. He looked at her and said, "I've already turned off my phone, not that it matters much. You won't be aware of what's going on in the room." He waved his hand at her in a shooing motion and said, "Move to the other chair. I'll need to be close enough to touch you. Ideally, holding your hands like we did before."
She nodded and switched seats. He moved his chair to face hers and sat down. Claire took a deep, centering breath and thought about her plan. Yes, this was really what she wanted to do. She offered her hands, palms down. He slipped them into his and a moment later, she shut her eyes.
She woke from the trance after almost a half hour, feeling immensely relaxed and pleased with herself. She couldn't stop grinning. It had been completely realistic in every detail - even the regeneration was perfect. Sylar's expressions had been priceless.
Maury leaned back and licked his lips. "Well. That … wasn't what I was expecting."
"You said any fantasy I wanted," she said immediately and aggressively, without a trace of defensiveness.
He nodded agreeably. "Yes, yes. Anything at all. That was obviously very cathartic - a wise choice. I just didn't expect you to torture the man to death. And certainly not so … inventively."
The second time she slipped her hands into Maury's, she felt confident enough to go through with the original plan.
She found herself in a warehouse, full of dusty boxes, pallets and shelves. Sylar was stalking her. Perhaps he was still angry about how their last encounter had gone. He'd laughed at first, but she'd broken him in the end. It seemed reasonable that he'd want revenge. She hurried down an aisle, straining her ears to listen but she heard nothing but her own panicked breaths.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement up high, a darker patch of blackness among the rafters. She didn't think he had the angle to see her yet, so she squeezed between a set of boxes under the cover of a shelf and waited while he flew overhead. Once he had moved on, she ran as quietly as she could to the offices, opening the door and slipping inside. With any luck, Sylar would continue fruitlessly searching the warehouse while she got away.
As she ran more freely down the enclosed hallway, someone stepped out in front of her. She skidded to a stop, yelping in surprise, but it was only Peter, who had thrown up his empty hands to show he was no threat. As soon as she recognized him, she whispered hoarsely, "Oh my God, Peter! He's after me!"
"Again?"
"Yes!" she said, her voice high and tight.
Peter looked levelly down the corridor, unafraid. "I'll protect you."
"Thank God!" She grabbed his sleeve. "Come on! We've got to hide!"
He nodded and followed her as they searched through offices and supply rooms until they found a cramped but out-of-the-way niche to conceal themselves in. They stood close to one another in the limited space. Seconds ticked by and then minutes, with no sign of life except Peter's body, warm and tantalizingly close beside her. She could smell his cologne and under that, the scent of a man. It brought back all those inappropriate thoughts she'd entertained about him, even after she knew he was her uncle. It didn't matter - her libido had a mind of its own. He had always been so kind to her, so helpful and giving. His hand brushed hers and it was like electricity had shot through her.
She gasped, which was ludicrously loud in the confined space. He looked to her immediately, putting an arm around her shoulder. "Hey, it's okay to be scared. It's gonna be alright."
"How do you know that?" she whispered, letting him hold her closer. Perhaps she was even pressing her body to his. He felt so good.
"Because I know Sylar. He's not going to keep looking in the same place. He's not going to wait. He'll move on." Peter leaned over and opened the sliding door just a crack, looking out into the small conference room. "He's probably outside the building already. He'll watch for a while to see if we'll leave, but not long. We're alone."
She stayed close to him anyway, enjoying where she was. His information made her relax though, letting her melt against him and rest her head on his chest. His hand, previously resting on her shoulders, reached up to stroke her hair. It could easily be passed off as a comforting gesture. She suspected it was more than that, especially given the way he shifted a few moments later, like maybe his pants were becoming unaccountably tight.
Peter ducked his head towards the top of hers and said quietly, "Claire?"
"Yes?" she still spoke in a whisper, even though he spoke normally.
"It's just us," he said, in a marvelously ambiguous tone.
She looked up at him and pulled in a breath, putting her hand flat on his chest. She could feel his heart beating strongly underneath her palm. "I know," she said, no longer whispering. She swallowed and chewed on her lip for a moment as he looked down at her with those gorgeous eyes, so dark in the dimness of the room, but she'd seen them be almost golden in the right light. She summoned the courage to say, "No one would … ever know, would they?"
He searched her face, trying to divine her meaning. "No," he said softly, watching her face carefully for her response. "No, they wouldn't." He pursed his lips briefly and brought his hand to her chin, tilting it up. He bent to her, hesitating at that last moment because the decision had to be hers. She kissed him with an eager desperation born of years of suppressing something she'd felt from the first time she'd met him. Uncle be damned! He'd been a handsome stranger who saved her life out of the goodness of his heart and that was what he'd always be to her, first and foremost. He was a hero who swept out of nowhere and gave his life for hers, with the full intention of dying for her. It was mind-boggling. She'd lusted for him ever since.
Now his mouth was on hers and she could feel that he too desired her. His hands slipped around her shoulders and held her to him as his mouth slowly opened before hers and she let her tongue trace the edges of it, tasting him, savoring that which had been forbidden to her for so long. She had so wanted to jump his bones, but every opportunity was closed off and he'd always been such a gentleman about it, so proper and distant! She'd known from the way he acted that he felt it too. He was supposedly a god-damn empath, so that only made sense. He'd always been so careful to shut her down, but that was all behind them now. She let her passion flow through her and she knew he could feel it.
He backed them up slowly to the conference table and then kicked away the chairs. He sat on the table and waggled his brows at her, making an inviting gesture with his hands. She grinned and climbed up, straddling his lap and sitting up. It gave her the extra height she needed to kiss him easily. For a while, that was all they did, as her fingers explored the stubble of his jaw line and felt over the section of his lip that never seemed to move quite right. She ran her hands through his dark hair, finding it as lustrous and silky as she'd always thought it would be. Peter had incredible hair for a guy.
His fingertips caressed her face and then traveled down her neck to her chest, only barely pausing to trace the swell of her bosom before moving on. Even that brief touch though made her breath catch and her body tighten in anticipation. He paused to smile a little at her reaction, before letting his hands circle slowly to the small of her back and start upward. He buried his fingers in her hair and held her head to him as he moaned deep in his throat and she answered him, beginning to tremble.
"We're really going to do it, aren't we?" she asked when they parted.
"I'd like to," he said with deceptive mildness. She could feel his erection hard beneath her pubic bone. "Do you?"
"Fuck yeah," she said immediately and reached down to pull out his shirt. She hadn't come this far with the intention of chickening out. He helped her tug his shirt up and over his head. He laid it out behind him with what seemed like odd care, then leaned back on it. She grinned at him, rocking her body slowly on top of his, feeling him long and hard under his jeans, ready for her. She was hot all over and breathing faster. Her skin tingled as she looked down at him - so handsome, so kind, so lovely, so perfect. Even in his imperfections he was perfect. She shucked her shirt on her own, baring herself to his view.
He grinned, reaching up for her breasts for a moment, then changing his mind and taking hold on her hips. He worked her on himself while he watched the show, entranced by the bobbing and swaying. He was rubbing her against him and she found herself rising to a fever pitch of need. She needed him in her, she needed to be against him. She had on too many clothes and she felt that keenly. She climbed off suddenly, provoking a "Huh?" from him.
"Get your jeans off!" she said, taking care of her own and tossing them on a nearby chair. Peter smiled broadly and did as directed. She hesitated before climbing back up. She took a deep, steadying breath. He was bigger than she'd expected, bigger than she'd had before. She'd thought maybe that he just felt bigger through the clothes. She looked up at him, full of nervous desire. Maybe he misread her expression, but he reached out for his jeans and rummaged through them, producing his wallet, and a moment later a condom.
"You carry a condom around with you?" she said dubiously.
He gave a little tilt of his head and said, "Hey, they don't call me the Boy Scout for nothing." He tossed the packet down on his stomach and laced his fingers behind his head. It showed off the muscles in his chest and he did something that caused the ones in his abdomen to ripple as well. Claire felt her mouth water and other parts moisten as well. He was the most spectacular-looking man she'd ever seen naked.
She swallowed and took up the packet, opening it. She set the condom on top of his organ and unrolled it slowly, feeling the velvety skin of his penis for a moment before it was sheathed. She touched his balls briefly and looked up to see his reaction. He looked thrilled, so she rolled them in her palm while her other hand gripped his shaft. He was so hard. She panted, unable to wait any longer. She climbed atop him and arranged herself.
He spat on his hand and reached down to slick himself a little, obviously having done this sort of thing more often than she had. His hand drifted up to her parts, stroking over the outside lightly while his eyes were so intent on hers. She felt like she would drown in them. Her lids fluttered and her hips moved back as if of their own accord. She felt his tip hard against her in not quite the right spot. He put his hand back to himself and aimed, putting his other hand at her hip, guiding her.
She rocked back and felt the spongy head slip within her with surprising ease at first, before the hard shaft began to fill her. He felt enormous. He made a slight groan and flexed his buttocks just a little, working his way into her slowly. She gasped out, "Oh my God, that feels fantastic!"
"I wanna fuck you so bad," he responded.
She started moving faster on him, feeling him driving deeper within her, plumbing her innermost depths, hitting a spot inside her that seemed like a little explosion of sensation with every thrust. She bent forward, feeling herself weaken as her entire body responded to him. She was going to come. She could feel it building inside her. She moaned against his muscular chest, feeling that crest rising …
The door opened and although it opened smoothly and fairly quietly, it still opened. Terror gripped her, but so did Peter, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him. "Hold still! Easy, easy, easy."
"Oh my God …" She froze, having no idea what else to do. She was naked, so was Peter, and that was definitely Sylar standing only a half dozen feet away, moving easily and calmly closer. She shivered. Peter's cock was still buried within her and to her eternal astonishment, he rolled his hips slowly and gave her a single thrust.
Her wide eyes turned from Sylar to Peter, staring into his face in disbelief.
He didn't look startled or put off. "It's okay," he said, still holding her tight. He thrust into her again and she felt Sylar's hand on the left side of her butt. She sucked in air so hard she squeaked.
It was Sylar's voice that shocked her next. "Is this going to work, Peter?" He was still touching her, stroking her gently. All she could think of was that with the way she was straddling Peter and bent forward in his arms, her body was open and exposed to the killer.
"Maybe," Peter answered carefully. "Claire?"
"What?" she said, high-pitched and alarmed.
"Can I join the party?" Sylar said in his deepest, most gravelly voice, a tone that was pure sex and even terrified as she was, she couldn't deny that was arousing. "I promise I won't hurt you."
She looked down at Peter, eyes flashing. "You planned this, didn't you? You bastards, both of you!" She might have said something else, but Sylar's lips came down on her ass and she jerked her head around as much as she could to look.
"Of course we did, Claire," Sylar answered her, looking up from under those brows to do it before dipping his mouth back to her skin and chewing lightly.
Oh my God, that feels good. She panted hard, suddenly confused and feeling very vulnerable. Peter moved one hand down to the small of her back, continuing to very slowly fuck her, while the other was locked firmly across her shoulder blades, holding her chest flush to his. There was no way she could escape.
Sylar's hand dropped between her legs and did something to Peter that pulled a deep groan from the man and an almost convulsive, harder thrust into her. Sylar chuckled, a sound that was so sinful it ought to be illegal. Claire whined and relaxed against Peter, her limbs shaking in surrender to whatever was going to happen. She felt Sylar's finger trace up her crack to her anus and she thought she was going to breathe so fast she'd hyperventilate. "Do I have permission, Claire?" he asked for some reason.
"Wh- What? Why?" She could barely get even that out. She heard him unzip and fabric shifted, all the while his wet finger was still making tiny, slow circles around her opening.
Sylar leaned over her, letting his now obviously exposed cock ride up the cleft of her ass, putting his hands on her shoulders and his mouth by her ear. "Because I want to hear you say it, Claire," he growled, the stubble of his cheek brushing her ear as he reached past her and stroked Peter's face. Peter responded to him, pushing into her faster, holding her tighter. She felt the hand that had been at the small of her back slide down and grip Sylar's shaft, beginning to pump him. Sylar groaned softly. "Ask for it, Claire. Ask for it, or we'll play with each other … and not you."
Peter moved the hand from her back to her head, bringing her to his mouth for a kiss. His tongue stroked over hers and she felt like she was losing touch with reality she was so fucking aroused. When he parted, he whispered, "Say yes, Claire."
"Yes?" she asked as a question. But it didn't matter what her tone was - she'd said the word.
Sylar straightened from her and separated for a moment, but only a moment, before he was back and spreading something slick across her entrance.
"Oh! He's going to …" she squeaked, thinking she ought to fight or run or protest or something, but she felt paralyzed, still being steadily fucked by Peter, with two sets of hands on her, controlling her, positioning her, and opening her. Peter dropped both hands to spread her cheeks as the head of Sylar's cock nudged against her.
"Easy," Peter murmured and she wasn't sure who he was talking to. She'd just about collapsed on him, giving herself over to it entirely. "Slow, slow," Peter said and now Claire was sure he wasn't talking to her. She made a stifled sob as Sylar pushed within her. It didn't hurt much at first, then there was a sudden spasm and spark of pain. She gasped and Peter started thrusting a little faster, a little harder.
"Oh, that's good," Sylar purred, just in case she needed a reminder of who was entering her. She felt tears stand out in her eyes from the stress of it all. Peter's hands left her rear and began to rub soothingly up and down her back as Sylar shoved in more. "Oh Peter, I can feel you," the killer rasped. "I can feel you in her, through her."
Claire whimpered. She'd never felt so full in her life. She could feel Sylar's loins touching and then pressing against her ass as he drove himself all the way within her.
Peter groaned loudly. "Oh man, I'm not going to last much longer." He shook his head and she felt Sylar take his hand and squeeze it.
For some reason that comforting gesture drove home to Claire more than any other that they really did love each other and somehow … that made all of this okay. They were all together, all three of them, together. She wasn't in danger. She pushed back against Sylar, provoking a little "Oh!" of surprise. She twisted her head upward and pulled Peter to her for another breathless kiss, rocking against him, feeling herself stretched to fullness as both men moved within her. Sylar's hands gripped her hips and steadied her, giving her something to push against. They worked out a rhythm almost immediately once they were all working together. Peter thrust, she rolled back to meet him and Sylar shoved forward into her all in the same motion, then they reset and repeated.
Peter went first, having hooked his legs behind Sylar's and finally bursting within Claire, shuddering and having the most delightful expression on his face. His mouth gaped open, but was pulled to one side as his eyes rolled up and his hands tightened on her. She thought she felt him surge within her. He shook and was spent, staring up at her, and then past her at Sylar, in complete bliss.
Sylar started pounding her harder, pulling her up a little as Peter slipped out. Sylar wrapped one hand across her chest, his fingers finding a nipple and teasing it, while his other hand went to her clit. He hardly had to do anything. One stroke of her button and her body, so long and desperately yearning for release, let go in a cascade of spasms as she rode his cock. He fucked her hard through the whole thing, coming within her only after the very last of her orgasm had passed.
Peter watched the two of them and raised his brows slowly. "That … is the most awesome thing I have ever seen in my life."
Sylar turned her head slightly and he leaned in to give her a small peck on the cheek. "Thank you," he told her very sincerely, "for helping me make one of Peter's fantasies come true."
"Peter?" she said, looking at him incredulously.
He managed to look embarrassed even under the circumstances. He cleared his throat and said, "We should, ehem, probably clean up."
"Were you 'prepared' for that too?"
"Well, as a matter of fact … uh, yeah."
Something nudged Claire's elbow and she glanced back. Sylar was offering to help her off the table. Blinking, she allowed it and he followed it up by graciously handing her clothes to her before turning his back to refasten his pants and put his own shirt back on. She stared at him for a long moment while Peter sat up and began arranging himself.
Peter said quietly, "He's not the guy you think he is."
She looked at him, thinking back to the gruesome torture and death she'd inflicted on Sylar … before. But no, that had been fake. She blinked rapidly. This was all fake - every bit of it. How the hell had she forgotten that? A moment later, it all faded away as Maury shifted back in his seat, letting go of her hands.
She was back in his office, clean, and fully clothed. She breathed hard for a moment. "That was," she hesitated, not sure of what she was trying to say, "he's not really like that, is he?" She meant Sylar and she knew that Maury, as a telepath, would know who she was talking about.
"Like what?"
"Nice. That's just the way he was for the fantasy. You made him that way, right?"
Maury raised a single, cryptic brow. "I didn't make him any way that your mind, on some level, does not already perceive as reality."