Taking a Turn Towards Eternity: Chapter 3
Chapter 3...
Sylar loves Doctor Who... And no one is surprised by it.
Except Claire... Who has no idea what he's talking about...
Warnings for Language of the adult variety and general adult themes.
CHAPTER 3
A couple hours later...
Sylar and Claire were sitting Indian style on opposite ends of the couch facing each other with a pecan pie between them.
"So, you're telling me that Scarfy dies?" Claire stabbed her fork into the pie, Sylar had been right on point with Emma's confections. "Why did you give me his awesomeness only to take it away?"
"He regenerates, it's different. He gets a whole new body, quirks and personality, but always retains his general essence of awesomeness and badassery."
"But he's not Scarfy…" Stupid Sylar with his damn additive TV show.
"Right, but he's still 'The Doctor.'"
"Check," Claire slanted her eyes towards the blinds where the offensive sunlight was encroaching into the room. If anyone had told her yesterday that she was going to spend her Friday night watching sci-fi adventures and chatting with Sylar, she would have called them an idiot.
Turns out, Claire was the idiot around here... He was easy to talk to, surprisingly funny, insightful to an extreme and terrifyingly perceptive. He'd told her of his endearing obsession of "Doctor Who" from his childhood, and despite herself she could easily picture a tiny, innocent Sylar pondering the wonders of time and space, flying imaginary ships around his living room.
He'd seemingly accidentally mentioned his mother once in passing, as she had been apparently been the one to introduce him to the show when he was just 4-years-old, he'd told Claire in hushed tones. Sylar had subsequently gone eerily silent, and Claire assumed there was some terrible serial-killer-story that had made him clam up for the only time in about 4 hours. Then... lord in heaven... She'd felt compelled to give him a hug and at that point, she had literally pinched herself, attempting to get a fuckin' grip of some kind.
This feeling had led Claire to yet another big problem rumbling around in her terribly conflicted mind … the comfort level. Sylar and 'comfort" should not live in the same sentence. Oh, but they did. The first ten minutes on the couch, she had sat with her back iron straight, limiting her responses to one word, hoping he would fall asleep so she could just go home. But then...she had been seriously sucked in. Claire had never really been one for sci-fi television, it's true, but it didn't take long for her to see a uniqueness and depth that wasn't in a lot of shows.
Nonetheless, regarding Sylar, Claire was generally doing anything to maintain her super cool and aloof façade. Claire sighed loudly because said façade had fallen apart mere minutes after being constructed as he had discreetly pried her open with wit, feeling and humor. When he wasn't being a creepy-ass serial killer/stalker/power stealer it was baffling how easy it was to relax around him. Claire had no idea what, but something had changed in him on an elemental level. He was relaxed in a way she had never seen, just maybe, there was some truth to this redemption that Peter had prattled on about.
Oh, and did she happen to mention that he was really, just terribly, unfairly, hot? Damn, damn and double damn. It was truly wrong that he was this attractive. It was bad enough that his damnable eyes were just so dark… so bloody focused, all the time… despite his "relax-itude" he was still... Sylar. A few times she'd locked eyes with him for a few seconds and those eyes just kept sucking her precious resolve down the proverbial drain.
Of course he had remained shirtless the whole damn time… Claire was beginning to think it was purposeful. Claire had caught herself staring multiple times at the flat plane of his stomach, just barely rippling with muscle. Later she'd had to force herself to look away from the curve of skin where his neck met his shoulder, because her gaze kept wandering there, distracting her from critical plot points with the desire to nuzzle into him. Where was the justice, Universe? Does "Murderer" mean nothing to you Libido? She had tried to stop noticing… she really had.
She had failed miserably.
For crying out loud, who knew that it would be fun hanging out with Sylar? That was actually the worst part of this whole business, she was genuinely having a great time… alone… with Sylar. Claire was swiftly coming to the conclusion that she was in trouble if she didn't get out of here stat. She just needed some fresh air, and then this madness would pass… she could go back to hating him, ignoring him and everything would be great.
Sylar really couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. It was getting a little frustrating. She was still here. That was weird. She hadn't stabbed a sharp implement in his eye. That was weirder. She had sat happily 3 feet from him for hours… and if he didn't know any better he could have swore that she had been checking him out… multiple times. That was the weirdest.
It hadn't taken long for Claire to ask him a boat load of questions about the show. She was curious, intelligent and obviously interested despite herself. He had had to start the whole episode over, in order to explain from the beginning of the story arc. She had relaxed more and more as the sun had come up. They had discussed the intricacies of time travel, favorite TV shows of childhood, favorite pies and the awesomeness of having a robot dog. He estimated he was ahead of schedule by about 100 years.
"So… I think I'm going to head out," Claire stood and stretched, which of course, drew his attention to her incredible breasts pressed taut against the black fabric of her top. Damn, she was beautiful. He was going to end up spending eternity beating the punks off of her with a fucking stick.
A few times he had wondered if it was part of her ability had made her so unbelievably attractive. Maybe her DNA was just the optimal genetic possibility of woman-kind. He should look into that… Suresh would probably know… not that the bastard would tell Sylar anything. Everybody's gotta hold a grudge…
"Okay, you want me to make a pot of tea before you hit the road?" She had asked for it after all and if it would keep her there for 10 more minutes, that was just a bonus.
"No!" she exclaimed then cleared her throat, "I mean, no thanks, I've got tons of stuff to do today."
She had to get out of here right now. Out, out, out, now, now, now. The situation was seriously serious here. No more fucking around, her resolve was crumbling like the Berlin Wall. Claire headed for the hallway like her shoes were on fire.
Sylar followed her down the hall, "Are you going to be okay? About Noah and stuff? We didn't really get back to it after your initial rant…"
Oh God, she had completely forgotten about the problem that had gotten her here in the first place. Claire sighed and massaged her temples, "I suppose. I think I'm going to form a resistance against his stupid kidnapping ways. I don't know... I'll figure something out. I guess I'll just learn some fighting moves or something…" God, her inherent ability was suck for rescue missions.
Sylar had got in front of her and had his hand on the doorknob to let her out of the apartment. "You should probably think that one through a little more, girlie," He was right there and just smiling at her, dark eyes drawing her in with sincerity. Damnit, he just looked so happy and approachable. She felt her stomach drop to her knees.
"Fuck it," Claire whispered, her thoughts scattered and her hand was spearing into his hair and dragging him down to her.
Sylar was shell shocked.
…For approximately .157 seconds. The following 3.698 seconds he used to appreciate the feel/taste/essence of her, something he had been fully prepared to wait for. He was using his original ability for all it was worth, analyzing each subtle move she made. At the end of the day, the telekinesis would always be Sylar's favorite ability but he really enjoyed his intuitive aptitude. The ability was much more varied and applicable than anyone thought. It had added a whole new level of appreciation of nearly every facet of his life, once he had learned the intricacies of the ability, and his sex life was definitely one of those areas.
Every person, even his Claire, had rules that they ran by, and once his ability understood those rules... then he could manipulate any system he understood. He was really looking forward to learning all of Claire... her brain had been an amazing treat in and of itself, but her, that's what he needed, what he craved. He could still taste the sweetness of the pie and it blended with her own unique taste even better than he had imagined… hell, he had obsessed over the taste of her for about 124 days in his hell.
Second 4 of the kiss comprised of Sylar coming to the determination that no one touched her but him ever again. No one would ever compare to what she was to him. He had made a promise to Peter, that he would stop killing, and he fully intended to keep that promise. Unless someone touched what was his... then... well... Peter would forgive him eventually.
In the middle of second 5, she moaned and it echoed through his head, snapping any semblance of control he might have hoped to maintain. His hands fisted into her hair and his tongue dove between her lips. She belonged to him and sweet God, she tasted like glory…
Good thing she was immortal because Claire was going to hell, seventh circle variety, the part that's reserved for betrayers. God, the Devil, Buddha or any deity you cared to pray to was coming for her ass with a vengeance.
She couldn't have cared less.
As the word: "WOW," reverberated on an endless loop in her mind, she felt her arms and hands going wild. She had to touch him… Jesus, she needed to touch him everywhere. She was clawing at his back with one hand, grabbing at his arm with the other, maybe trying to pull him closer, maybe trying to pull him apart, she didn't know. His tongue was caressing hers, matching her intensity as she pressed herself against him, desperate for more contact, more feeling, more of whatever was happening to her, more, please, God. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and nipped it, moaning as the sensation sent a surge of lust through her.
On one level she was attempting to analyze his technique, she felt so fucking good... she... she felt... oh God... he made her feel... but her thoughts just kept scattering. One of his hands had begun almost lazily stroking her neck while the other cupped her hip, hooking one finger in her belt loop, pulling her ever closer toward him. She was doomed. He was destroying her for all other men, it was like he was consuming her, learning her and rebuilding her all at once.
Jesus… fantasy could never compare to reality. Touching Claire was everything he had expected, almost everything he had ever dreamed about, except her skin was softer and the sounds she made sexier than he had ever hoped. After the moan that had broke him, she had let out a half-sigh that had made him rock hard in an instant. Sylar had never anticipated that Claire be as… vivacious as she turned out to be. Her hips were arching up towards him, her upper body accented perfectly by her movements, God bless a cheerleader body. He could feel her short nails digging into his arm, leading his sexually focused brain into a frenzy of fantasy. He moving his tongue against hers with the fervor of a man possessed. He was going to ruin her, he was going to mark her, claim her, take her.
He was over analyzing every moment… doing his best to solidify this into his memory.
Oh, Jeez, how lame could he possibly be? Now he felt like he was trapped in some kind of hokey romance novel. Snap out of it Sylar! He had to play it cool, for the love of God!
Any second now, she was probably going to turn into a raving mad-woman, desperate for a quick eye stab. Sylar needed to take back control of this situation right this minute, before it exploded in his face. She had surprised him… and that would not happen again. It was time to turn the tables.
"Claire," he whispered her name against her lips, and she opened her glazed eyes to look at him, her breath caught in her throat. Sylar grazed his lips across hers once more and gently cupped her face with both hands, and in the same quiet voice, "This is the part where I say something terribly witty, charming and/or emotionally easing, and you don't get really, really angry at either of us."
Claire blinked twice, "I… I..."
What the fuck was she supposed to do now? GOD! Obviously she had overplayed her hand… oh God… she'd just made out with Sylar! Oh God, fuck…
"Umm…" Claire's brain stubbornly refused to restart.
Sylar chuckled and kissed her quickly on the forehead, "Well, you're not pissed. That's good."
She looked up at him and fixed a scowl on her face, "Good? Nothing about this is good." She knew that much for sure!
Sylar smiled indulgently, "Of course not, Claire."
Now she was just confused. "Huh?" Obviously full sentences were still slightly beyond her cogitative capacity.
He opened the door and backed her into the hallway, "We could stand here and fight about this, and I'm sure it would be very stimulating, albeit time-consuming. But that's unnecessary as I would like to think you are completely aware that you are mine." he didn't even pause to let her respond to that crazy stalker talk, "So you can just go home and get some damn sleep, and I will get a hold of you later."
Woah, what the hell was going on here! How had things gotten so far out of her control? Her hands went to her hips before she could think about it, "Are you seriously kicking me out?"
"Yeah," he smiled at her one last time, kissed her on the forehead again before she could even think to evade and slammed the door in her face.
Sylar loves Doctor Who... And no one is surprised by it.
Except Claire... Who has no idea what he's talking about...
Warnings for Language of the adult variety and general adult themes.
CHAPTER 3
A couple hours later...
Sylar and Claire were sitting Indian style on opposite ends of the couch facing each other with a pecan pie between them.
"So, you're telling me that Scarfy dies?" Claire stabbed her fork into the pie, Sylar had been right on point with Emma's confections. "Why did you give me his awesomeness only to take it away?"
"He regenerates, it's different. He gets a whole new body, quirks and personality, but always retains his general essence of awesomeness and badassery."
"But he's not Scarfy…" Stupid Sylar with his damn additive TV show.
"Right, but he's still 'The Doctor.'"
"Check," Claire slanted her eyes towards the blinds where the offensive sunlight was encroaching into the room. If anyone had told her yesterday that she was going to spend her Friday night watching sci-fi adventures and chatting with Sylar, she would have called them an idiot.
Turns out, Claire was the idiot around here... He was easy to talk to, surprisingly funny, insightful to an extreme and terrifyingly perceptive. He'd told her of his endearing obsession of "Doctor Who" from his childhood, and despite herself she could easily picture a tiny, innocent Sylar pondering the wonders of time and space, flying imaginary ships around his living room.
He'd seemingly accidentally mentioned his mother once in passing, as she had been apparently been the one to introduce him to the show when he was just 4-years-old, he'd told Claire in hushed tones. Sylar had subsequently gone eerily silent, and Claire assumed there was some terrible serial-killer-story that had made him clam up for the only time in about 4 hours. Then... lord in heaven... She'd felt compelled to give him a hug and at that point, she had literally pinched herself, attempting to get a fuckin' grip of some kind.
This feeling had led Claire to yet another big problem rumbling around in her terribly conflicted mind … the comfort level. Sylar and 'comfort" should not live in the same sentence. Oh, but they did. The first ten minutes on the couch, she had sat with her back iron straight, limiting her responses to one word, hoping he would fall asleep so she could just go home. But then...she had been seriously sucked in. Claire had never really been one for sci-fi television, it's true, but it didn't take long for her to see a uniqueness and depth that wasn't in a lot of shows.
Nonetheless, regarding Sylar, Claire was generally doing anything to maintain her super cool and aloof façade. Claire sighed loudly because said façade had fallen apart mere minutes after being constructed as he had discreetly pried her open with wit, feeling and humor. When he wasn't being a creepy-ass serial killer/stalker/power stealer it was baffling how easy it was to relax around him. Claire had no idea what, but something had changed in him on an elemental level. He was relaxed in a way she had never seen, just maybe, there was some truth to this redemption that Peter had prattled on about.
Oh, and did she happen to mention that he was really, just terribly, unfairly, hot? Damn, damn and double damn. It was truly wrong that he was this attractive. It was bad enough that his damnable eyes were just so dark… so bloody focused, all the time… despite his "relax-itude" he was still... Sylar. A few times she'd locked eyes with him for a few seconds and those eyes just kept sucking her precious resolve down the proverbial drain.
Of course he had remained shirtless the whole damn time… Claire was beginning to think it was purposeful. Claire had caught herself staring multiple times at the flat plane of his stomach, just barely rippling with muscle. Later she'd had to force herself to look away from the curve of skin where his neck met his shoulder, because her gaze kept wandering there, distracting her from critical plot points with the desire to nuzzle into him. Where was the justice, Universe? Does "Murderer" mean nothing to you Libido? She had tried to stop noticing… she really had.
She had failed miserably.
For crying out loud, who knew that it would be fun hanging out with Sylar? That was actually the worst part of this whole business, she was genuinely having a great time… alone… with Sylar. Claire was swiftly coming to the conclusion that she was in trouble if she didn't get out of here stat. She just needed some fresh air, and then this madness would pass… she could go back to hating him, ignoring him and everything would be great.
Sylar really couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. It was getting a little frustrating. She was still here. That was weird. She hadn't stabbed a sharp implement in his eye. That was weirder. She had sat happily 3 feet from him for hours… and if he didn't know any better he could have swore that she had been checking him out… multiple times. That was the weirdest.
It hadn't taken long for Claire to ask him a boat load of questions about the show. She was curious, intelligent and obviously interested despite herself. He had had to start the whole episode over, in order to explain from the beginning of the story arc. She had relaxed more and more as the sun had come up. They had discussed the intricacies of time travel, favorite TV shows of childhood, favorite pies and the awesomeness of having a robot dog. He estimated he was ahead of schedule by about 100 years.
"So… I think I'm going to head out," Claire stood and stretched, which of course, drew his attention to her incredible breasts pressed taut against the black fabric of her top. Damn, she was beautiful. He was going to end up spending eternity beating the punks off of her with a fucking stick.
A few times he had wondered if it was part of her ability had made her so unbelievably attractive. Maybe her DNA was just the optimal genetic possibility of woman-kind. He should look into that… Suresh would probably know… not that the bastard would tell Sylar anything. Everybody's gotta hold a grudge…
"Okay, you want me to make a pot of tea before you hit the road?" She had asked for it after all and if it would keep her there for 10 more minutes, that was just a bonus.
"No!" she exclaimed then cleared her throat, "I mean, no thanks, I've got tons of stuff to do today."
She had to get out of here right now. Out, out, out, now, now, now. The situation was seriously serious here. No more fucking around, her resolve was crumbling like the Berlin Wall. Claire headed for the hallway like her shoes were on fire.
Sylar followed her down the hall, "Are you going to be okay? About Noah and stuff? We didn't really get back to it after your initial rant…"
Oh God, she had completely forgotten about the problem that had gotten her here in the first place. Claire sighed and massaged her temples, "I suppose. I think I'm going to form a resistance against his stupid kidnapping ways. I don't know... I'll figure something out. I guess I'll just learn some fighting moves or something…" God, her inherent ability was suck for rescue missions.
Sylar had got in front of her and had his hand on the doorknob to let her out of the apartment. "You should probably think that one through a little more, girlie," He was right there and just smiling at her, dark eyes drawing her in with sincerity. Damnit, he just looked so happy and approachable. She felt her stomach drop to her knees.
"Fuck it," Claire whispered, her thoughts scattered and her hand was spearing into his hair and dragging him down to her.
Sylar was shell shocked.
…For approximately .157 seconds. The following 3.698 seconds he used to appreciate the feel/taste/essence of her, something he had been fully prepared to wait for. He was using his original ability for all it was worth, analyzing each subtle move she made. At the end of the day, the telekinesis would always be Sylar's favorite ability but he really enjoyed his intuitive aptitude. The ability was much more varied and applicable than anyone thought. It had added a whole new level of appreciation of nearly every facet of his life, once he had learned the intricacies of the ability, and his sex life was definitely one of those areas.
Every person, even his Claire, had rules that they ran by, and once his ability understood those rules... then he could manipulate any system he understood. He was really looking forward to learning all of Claire... her brain had been an amazing treat in and of itself, but her, that's what he needed, what he craved. He could still taste the sweetness of the pie and it blended with her own unique taste even better than he had imagined… hell, he had obsessed over the taste of her for about 124 days in his hell.
Second 4 of the kiss comprised of Sylar coming to the determination that no one touched her but him ever again. No one would ever compare to what she was to him. He had made a promise to Peter, that he would stop killing, and he fully intended to keep that promise. Unless someone touched what was his... then... well... Peter would forgive him eventually.
In the middle of second 5, she moaned and it echoed through his head, snapping any semblance of control he might have hoped to maintain. His hands fisted into her hair and his tongue dove between her lips. She belonged to him and sweet God, she tasted like glory…
Good thing she was immortal because Claire was going to hell, seventh circle variety, the part that's reserved for betrayers. God, the Devil, Buddha or any deity you cared to pray to was coming for her ass with a vengeance.
She couldn't have cared less.
As the word: "WOW," reverberated on an endless loop in her mind, she felt her arms and hands going wild. She had to touch him… Jesus, she needed to touch him everywhere. She was clawing at his back with one hand, grabbing at his arm with the other, maybe trying to pull him closer, maybe trying to pull him apart, she didn't know. His tongue was caressing hers, matching her intensity as she pressed herself against him, desperate for more contact, more feeling, more of whatever was happening to her, more, please, God. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and nipped it, moaning as the sensation sent a surge of lust through her.
On one level she was attempting to analyze his technique, she felt so fucking good... she... she felt... oh God... he made her feel... but her thoughts just kept scattering. One of his hands had begun almost lazily stroking her neck while the other cupped her hip, hooking one finger in her belt loop, pulling her ever closer toward him. She was doomed. He was destroying her for all other men, it was like he was consuming her, learning her and rebuilding her all at once.
Jesus… fantasy could never compare to reality. Touching Claire was everything he had expected, almost everything he had ever dreamed about, except her skin was softer and the sounds she made sexier than he had ever hoped. After the moan that had broke him, she had let out a half-sigh that had made him rock hard in an instant. Sylar had never anticipated that Claire be as… vivacious as she turned out to be. Her hips were arching up towards him, her upper body accented perfectly by her movements, God bless a cheerleader body. He could feel her short nails digging into his arm, leading his sexually focused brain into a frenzy of fantasy. He moving his tongue against hers with the fervor of a man possessed. He was going to ruin her, he was going to mark her, claim her, take her.
He was over analyzing every moment… doing his best to solidify this into his memory.
Oh, Jeez, how lame could he possibly be? Now he felt like he was trapped in some kind of hokey romance novel. Snap out of it Sylar! He had to play it cool, for the love of God!
Any second now, she was probably going to turn into a raving mad-woman, desperate for a quick eye stab. Sylar needed to take back control of this situation right this minute, before it exploded in his face. She had surprised him… and that would not happen again. It was time to turn the tables.
"Claire," he whispered her name against her lips, and she opened her glazed eyes to look at him, her breath caught in her throat. Sylar grazed his lips across hers once more and gently cupped her face with both hands, and in the same quiet voice, "This is the part where I say something terribly witty, charming and/or emotionally easing, and you don't get really, really angry at either of us."
Claire blinked twice, "I… I..."
What the fuck was she supposed to do now? GOD! Obviously she had overplayed her hand… oh God… she'd just made out with Sylar! Oh God, fuck…
"Umm…" Claire's brain stubbornly refused to restart.
Sylar chuckled and kissed her quickly on the forehead, "Well, you're not pissed. That's good."
She looked up at him and fixed a scowl on her face, "Good? Nothing about this is good." She knew that much for sure!
Sylar smiled indulgently, "Of course not, Claire."
Now she was just confused. "Huh?" Obviously full sentences were still slightly beyond her cogitative capacity.
He opened the door and backed her into the hallway, "We could stand here and fight about this, and I'm sure it would be very stimulating, albeit time-consuming. But that's unnecessary as I would like to think you are completely aware that you are mine." he didn't even pause to let her respond to that crazy stalker talk, "So you can just go home and get some damn sleep, and I will get a hold of you later."
Woah, what the hell was going on here! How had things gotten so far out of her control? Her hands went to her hips before she could think about it, "Are you seriously kicking me out?"
"Yeah," he smiled at her one last time, kissed her on the forehead again before she could even think to evade and slammed the door in her face.