Getting It For Real
Title: Getting It For Real
Characters: Sylar (Gabriel Gray)/Peter Petrelli
Rating: Probably R (m/m explicit sex, slight hints at Sylar's darker mind)
Word count: ~3k
Setting: Inside the Wall, S4
Summary: A solo continuation of the Getting It series by the wonderful game_byrd. It makes more sense to read the series but it can be considered a stand alone. Written for the Christmas Advent Calendar 2013 at heroes_fic. Sylar gets what he truly wants and discovers that Peter is far more awesome than he ever imagined.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Peter called him baby. Through the ocean-like waves of pleasure that had assaulted every nerve in him, Sylar had heard and latched onto that word.
As completely insulting as that should have been…it kind of melted him. Sylar supposed that’s what most people, men or women, did - moved past the insinuation of infantilism and accepted and enjoyed it as a term of endearment. Did that mean Peter wanted to protect and care for him, then? It was certainly a possessive thing to imply and Sylar liked possession - doing it and receiving it.
Peter had certainly done a fabulous job earlier. The act had felt…well, real. Tender and desirous and immediate. Finally, at long last, it had worked out. It wasn’t quite the joining of flesh he’d…anticipated? Wanted perhaps? (Sylar wondered why he might want it and since Peter clearly did, why he hadn’t consummated the deed). But it was a very good substitute. Sylar didn’t think he’d ever wanted something - someone - in him so badly. The urge, the need, the itch, whatever it was, terrified and thrilled him. It was a shock and catharsis at once. The need still pulsed through him.
Rested, calmed, Sylar became aware of the aromatic, sticky, hard body snug against him, on top of him in most places, actually. He felt like he’d just been fed; it had filled him, he’d digested and now he wanted more. He wanted it again, the same way, a different way, it didn’t matter. His sexual desire hadn’t been quiet per se, but now it was a roaring appetite, only just whetted.
He purred to himself, squirming lightly, deliciously, pressing his face into the firm chest below him. He inhaled and mouthed it gently, feeling naughty as he did. Peter was…pungent; salty; divine. He wanted to roll around in Peter for the sake of the smell. His appetite might be more fleshy than he’d realized and he chuckled privately.
Peter stirred, making a cute ‘waking up’ sound and he felt a hand slide into his hair, seemingly innocent. Pure physical need sliced through him and he was helpless. His mind churned on ideas both evil and erotic for what that hand could…would…might…do in his hair, with the power to direct his head. Sylar gasped a hot puff of air against the Italian’s skin, waiting. It was all he could do not to reflexively whine and writhe his lower half even as his cock twitched.
The fingers passed through his locks, petting him as Peter’s breathing awoke with him. The motion had Sylar’s eyes rolling back; it was so simple, so good. Peter had replaced his pants before lying down. Sylar felt foiled - he hadn’t seen the man naked yet and that just wasn’t fair. The nipple inches from his mouth was distraction enough for the moment; after all, molesting these buds had earned him a growl and some grinding last time. Sylar licked then gave a prolonged, soft suck to the pink flesh.
Peter twitched a little and hummed appreciatively, causing Sylar to smirk into his chest. Since Peter was awake and still interested, Sylar lightly trailed a hand from Peter’s knee up to his inner thigh, squeezing there once, waiting for the reaction with his head down. The advantage of being this close to Peter’ chest was obvious; he heard, saw and felt the response and it was a good one. Looking up at his new partner, Sylar’s chin somewhat intentionally scraped the nipple below and he was in time to see it drop Peter’s sexy mouth open. Oh, this was perfect. Sylar could feel himself hard and more ready then he ever remembered being.
“It’s your turn,” he rasped simply, phrasing it more politely than he felt. “I want to see it.” And by ‘it,’ he meant Peter’s dick, his ass, his hot little body. His hand crept around the man’s covered groin, dipping between his legs to clutch at his thigh. He didn’t know if this would be allowed; he didn’t know if Peter was interested in letting himself be viewed (historically, Peter seemed pretty open to that sort of thing but…well, things had changed. A lot. Maybe this was different, too. Sylar wasn’t too sure of his role or his boundaries yet but he asked anyway).
Peter nodded and brought his hands down to shuck his pants; Sylar propped himself up on an elbow to assist. No underwear, he noted, and God, that was hot; almost as if Peter had come prepared, knowing what would happen, planning for it maybe. Peter’s dick was struggling to swell again so soon after the first round, but that wasn’t important. Yet. Sylar exhaled his triumph and wonder at the sight, the experience. The empath’s penis lay swollen, but not yet hard, against his right hip on a, dare he say it, cute patch of pubic hair, dark and fluffy. Peter’s hand caressed his back as he, too, watched and waited, giving no commands (again, not yet), making no demands and setting no boundaries. Sylar was free to explore.
He didn’t know where to begin. As he stared, he saw the organ twitch and that drove him to action. Extending his hand, he grasped the other man’s penis - Peter’s dick. It was hot and soft to the touch, still a little squishy. He heard Peter suck in air and let it out in a pant of breath - aroused and eager and that was perfection. He looked up at his catch, seeing wide hazel-brown eyes and an open, moist pink mouth. It was too much. Sylar shifted up and snatched a kiss, gentle but passionate (for now). As he did so, his hand began to stroke, pulling up then pushing down to force blood in where he wanted it. Peter moaned into his mouth and Sylar took it and swallowed the sound, watching to see the man’s frown line disappear in the ecstasy his hand provided. This was too easy. Separating them regretfully, he turned back to view his spoils, this time tracing a thumb tenderly around the ring of the mauve corona as it filled. Next that same thumb slid up from underneath the crown, messily disturbing the bead of sticky precum to smear it around. Peter hummed something of a whine in the back of his throat, clutching at his neck and shoulder now. Meanwhile, Sylar’s own prick was snug between his pelvis and Peter’s bony hip but he was too focused to roll his hips or hump his partner for stimulation, not when he was playing in Peter Petrelli’s sexual playground.
Peter got stiff faster than Sylar anticipated; within moments he held a solid tool, sticky and a little wet. Sylar kissed the man’s chest several times until Peter sat up, moving to the middle of the bed, “Come on, come here,” he gestured for Sylar, who followed, getting to his knees. The hand on Sylar’s dick drove his hips forward on instinct, pressing into the sensation once again. When he was within range, Peter took his mouth. Sylar closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, trusting his limbs to situate themselves around Peter without the use of sight. He straddled Peter, cupping his face, melting into the other man’s passionate lips. Letting Peter lead the kiss, sucking and smooching on his lips, less hasty and rough than before but just as hot, just as good, Sylar shifted his lower half around to see what was what. Peter’s dick lay between his cheeks, behind him, hot, hard and alive. It should have been threatening, terrifying, and it was, but he overcame it by wanting, perhaps needing Peter’s mouth on him more. Sitting on Peter’s cock wouldn’t be so bad at all if he did anything like what he’d done before - Sylar longed to shove the little man’s face into his chest and neck and watch him work.
For now, Peter’s hands were stroking down his back, nudging his chin up with his nose to molest his throat. Sylar was panting, clutching at Peter’s head and neck. Either driven by instinct, habit or awareness, Peter seemed to know what he needed and Sylar let him provide it - nibbles and heated breaths, hard hickeys, tender licks and kisses, tasting him. It was the utter vulnerability and intimacy that did it for him, exposing himself and receiving pleasure for it. Yes, some part of him wanted it rougher. This was…new and definitely worth a try. When Peter seemed content to settle in where he was and not proceed, Sylar grew impatient. He’d been waiting for this for so long and he wasn’t going to let Peter draw things out again. Spreading his legs, he ground his groin and buttocks down against Peter’s erection, still a warm, stiff bar against him. He could feel the round ridge rubbing and bumping at his opening. At last, he heard Peter exhale heavily against his clavicle - yes, this was what he wanted. Sylar wanted him overcome and ready to fuck him apart.
When a simple back and forth became redundant, Sylar gyrated on his partner’s cock until his message couldn’t be clearer. He petted at Peter’s hair and neck, both were soft and tempting. The body heat between them and the various sensations were ramping up his arousal to a boil; it would be easy to climax just like this but that wasn’t the plan. Rising up to his knees, releasing the man’s dick to stand straighter, forcing Peter’s head back and out of reach of his throat, Sylar gripped him by the hair and head until they looked the other in the eyes. “Give it to me,” he rasped his demand before dipping down to wetly suck on that pouty lower lip. Rapidly, he was spinning out of control, lust sliding and pumping through his veins.
Peter grunted and grabbed at his ass cheeks, causing Sylar to thrust forward and down - dick pressing against Peter’s abdomen and releasing a noise of want. The grip was tight, the cock was hard and the lip in his mouth was sweet, so sweet that he bit it several times, listening to Peter’s sounds of reluctant approval, his chest heaving just as much as Sylar’s. When Sylar released him with a lewd pop, smirking about that, Peter growled, “Lube.” It was so demanding, Sylar ran his hand through Peter’s hair again, ruffling it, caressing his shoulder before shoving it so Peter was pushed flat to the bed. There he stayed as Sylar made the trip to the bathroom for his bottle of lotion. It felt a little strange to be doing this, but he needed to test if the sex, the treatment, the relationship, the emotion was consistent the second time. That and he wanted another hit of that drug-like feeling. Peter had touched him just about everywhere and none of it had been bad. The relief within him left him nearly shaking; it felt like hope, it felt like a tiny bit of comfort or safety perhaps, or those things might come later. It felt so, so good. And that was the best he could describe it - good. Being kissed and caressed, brought off - he’d gotten something of a hand job!
Peter was idly petting his dick when Sylar returned, looking like an especially scrumptious dessert, laid out silky and warm for him to devour, keeping himself at the perfect temperature for it. Sylar straddled him again, practically shoving the bottle into the man’s hand. Peter sat back up, touching his sides before he took it, kissing him once more, the slowest yet until Sylar couldn’t tell if Peter was winding himself down or winding Sylar up. He must have made a noise because Peter finally moved to open the lotion and smear it between Sylar’s legs. He hissed, equal parts aroused and unnerved. The gel was cold and clingy. Finally Peter was touching him there. All his seductions were being consummated in full. What made it better was Peter teasing all around his opening - it took his breath away and made him grab onto Peter for stability or comfort. It nearly tickled, those fingers caressing his asshole, clutching his cheeks; it felt utterly wicked, a little violating but there was more naughtiness to overwhelm it. He was nervous but Peter didn’t hesitate.
A few moments filled with distracted kisses and heavy breathing led to Peter sliding a well-slicked finger inside him. It felt ridiculously easy, that first finger. This was it; it was really going to happen and Sylar was going to allow it. The empath’s other hand roamed over his back while the finger began to pump in and out. The rhythm alone was wonderful but the second finger was a sweet ache, the third a delicious pain-tinged burn. He couldn’t believe he was so full and there was still - hopefully - more to come. Slowly, Sylar inched his hips around, getting a feel for the fingers.
“Do you have condoms?” Peter rasped, fingers still lodged inside him.
“No!” Sylar replied eagerly, not giving a fuck.
“But-”
“No, shh…” Sylar kissed him, sucking his lip again, mauling his throat to distract him. “Just give it to me.” He could try to deny the need (the begging) in his voice but it wouldn’t do much good. He needed the domination, the ownership, the completion of the act as he understood it.
Sylar’s hand went down to remove the hand inside him, grasping the upthrust shaft below to guide it into place. Briefly their eyes met the instant before Sylar speared himself. Peter gripped his hip and back, holding his breath at odd moments to focus. The man’s concentrating frown was appealing. Sylar’s mouth opened as he accepted the breach, wrapping himself around the head of Peter’s cock, driving it deeper with the weight of his body, consuming the other man’s flesh. “Ah….Oh….Ooh…”
It burned and stretched on the way in and his muscles gripped Peter tight as he held the man around his neck and shoulders. The rigid prick was submerged in him completely and thus Sylar felt he had enough control that he didn’t worry about Peter thrusting before he adjusted. It was hot, thick and the angle was different than anything he’d ever had before, the closeness was an aphrodisiac, the smell of Peter this close…
The lotion made it easy; already Sylar could tell that Peter would be able to thrust for long minutes without discomfort. This going on inside him was both distantly gross and erotic. He petted Peter’s hair, grateful and concerned about the wait he was causing. Peter, in turn, massaged his buttocks, spreading and relaxing them, gently urging him to wriggle forward and back over his penis. Sylar panted, “Uhh!”
As if that was a signal, Peter moved him in earnest, setting an urgent yet sensual pace. The cockhead deep inside thrust him open as it entered and retreated. Sylar’s dick was straight, stiff, dripping, rubbing, poking into his partner. His hand wandered up to the back of Peter’s head and the man dipped down to nip at his collarbone.
“Aah! Uhmm!” Sylar couldn’t help his noise and didn’t feel that he should. Peter did this on purpose and stimulation was impossible to avoid.
“Yeah…” Peter growled into his skin, so close Sylar could feel the vibration. A shift of his hand and Peter was mouthing at his chest, obviously not minding the hair at all, seeming to revel in it. The heat between their bodies was intense. Sylar’s eyes and head rolled back, eagerly humping his ass onto the sexy medic, roughly murmuring, “Fuck…Oh, God…Oh, God…Oh, God…Fuck! Peter! Fuck!”
With that lopsided mouth on his chest, a hand now fisting and twisting on his dick, the other hand with questing fingers down the cleft of his ass, Sylar cried out and burst. His load splattered over Peter’s torso and his rectum clenched until the relentless thrusts edged on a fantastic level of pleasure-pain that was almost too much. “Uuuh…” Sylar was adrift, his head felt opened; he throbbed and ached and shook with after effects. Oh, it was everything he’d worked for and desired.
“Baby…Fuck, yeah!” Peter grunted, lusty and approaching his own peak, still working and grinding Sylar about on his swollen dick. Lazily, Sylar petted his hair and kissed him where he could, awaiting the other man’s orgasm, needing it to be fulfilled. Peter jerked, paused, spasmed and throbbed within him, undoubtedly spilling his own seed.
Content, Sylar impulsively licked the sweaty cheek before him, rubbing his own cheek against him and cradling the man’s head to him, “Mm!” he purred, bumping his nose against Peter’s neck to better smell him. Together they smelled strong, male, definitely sexual and active. The smaller man pulled him back and to the side until they lay beside each other, arms entwined once again. It dislodged Peter from inside him and he gasped at the empty feeling. He definitely wanted to shower but it could wait a few moments at least. He felt possessed and claimed, the act of taking another man’s organ inside himself and allowing himself to be pleasured by it, and he wasn’t freaking out about the sperm issue (perhaps because Peter had jizzed on him before); it was strangely calming; he felt…human and welcome. He petted Peter’s chest and hair, kissing and smelling his deltoid as his partner’s breathing wound down as well.
Grateful and relieved, Sylar was surprised at himself but wasn’t afraid to say, “That was definitely okay.” Being Peter’s baby would have some very nice perks.
Characters: Sylar (Gabriel Gray)/Peter Petrelli
Rating: Probably R (m/m explicit sex, slight hints at Sylar's darker mind)
Word count: ~3k
Setting: Inside the Wall, S4
Summary: A solo continuation of the Getting It series by the wonderful game_byrd. It makes more sense to read the series but it can be considered a stand alone. Written for the Christmas Advent Calendar 2013 at heroes_fic. Sylar gets what he truly wants and discovers that Peter is far more awesome than he ever imagined.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Peter called him baby. Through the ocean-like waves of pleasure that had assaulted every nerve in him, Sylar had heard and latched onto that word.
As completely insulting as that should have been…it kind of melted him. Sylar supposed that’s what most people, men or women, did - moved past the insinuation of infantilism and accepted and enjoyed it as a term of endearment. Did that mean Peter wanted to protect and care for him, then? It was certainly a possessive thing to imply and Sylar liked possession - doing it and receiving it.
Peter had certainly done a fabulous job earlier. The act had felt…well, real. Tender and desirous and immediate. Finally, at long last, it had worked out. It wasn’t quite the joining of flesh he’d…anticipated? Wanted perhaps? (Sylar wondered why he might want it and since Peter clearly did, why he hadn’t consummated the deed). But it was a very good substitute. Sylar didn’t think he’d ever wanted something - someone - in him so badly. The urge, the need, the itch, whatever it was, terrified and thrilled him. It was a shock and catharsis at once. The need still pulsed through him.
Rested, calmed, Sylar became aware of the aromatic, sticky, hard body snug against him, on top of him in most places, actually. He felt like he’d just been fed; it had filled him, he’d digested and now he wanted more. He wanted it again, the same way, a different way, it didn’t matter. His sexual desire hadn’t been quiet per se, but now it was a roaring appetite, only just whetted.
He purred to himself, squirming lightly, deliciously, pressing his face into the firm chest below him. He inhaled and mouthed it gently, feeling naughty as he did. Peter was…pungent; salty; divine. He wanted to roll around in Peter for the sake of the smell. His appetite might be more fleshy than he’d realized and he chuckled privately.
Peter stirred, making a cute ‘waking up’ sound and he felt a hand slide into his hair, seemingly innocent. Pure physical need sliced through him and he was helpless. His mind churned on ideas both evil and erotic for what that hand could…would…might…do in his hair, with the power to direct his head. Sylar gasped a hot puff of air against the Italian’s skin, waiting. It was all he could do not to reflexively whine and writhe his lower half even as his cock twitched.
The fingers passed through his locks, petting him as Peter’s breathing awoke with him. The motion had Sylar’s eyes rolling back; it was so simple, so good. Peter had replaced his pants before lying down. Sylar felt foiled - he hadn’t seen the man naked yet and that just wasn’t fair. The nipple inches from his mouth was distraction enough for the moment; after all, molesting these buds had earned him a growl and some grinding last time. Sylar licked then gave a prolonged, soft suck to the pink flesh.
Peter twitched a little and hummed appreciatively, causing Sylar to smirk into his chest. Since Peter was awake and still interested, Sylar lightly trailed a hand from Peter’s knee up to his inner thigh, squeezing there once, waiting for the reaction with his head down. The advantage of being this close to Peter’ chest was obvious; he heard, saw and felt the response and it was a good one. Looking up at his new partner, Sylar’s chin somewhat intentionally scraped the nipple below and he was in time to see it drop Peter’s sexy mouth open. Oh, this was perfect. Sylar could feel himself hard and more ready then he ever remembered being.
“It’s your turn,” he rasped simply, phrasing it more politely than he felt. “I want to see it.” And by ‘it,’ he meant Peter’s dick, his ass, his hot little body. His hand crept around the man’s covered groin, dipping between his legs to clutch at his thigh. He didn’t know if this would be allowed; he didn’t know if Peter was interested in letting himself be viewed (historically, Peter seemed pretty open to that sort of thing but…well, things had changed. A lot. Maybe this was different, too. Sylar wasn’t too sure of his role or his boundaries yet but he asked anyway).
Peter nodded and brought his hands down to shuck his pants; Sylar propped himself up on an elbow to assist. No underwear, he noted, and God, that was hot; almost as if Peter had come prepared, knowing what would happen, planning for it maybe. Peter’s dick was struggling to swell again so soon after the first round, but that wasn’t important. Yet. Sylar exhaled his triumph and wonder at the sight, the experience. The empath’s penis lay swollen, but not yet hard, against his right hip on a, dare he say it, cute patch of pubic hair, dark and fluffy. Peter’s hand caressed his back as he, too, watched and waited, giving no commands (again, not yet), making no demands and setting no boundaries. Sylar was free to explore.
He didn’t know where to begin. As he stared, he saw the organ twitch and that drove him to action. Extending his hand, he grasped the other man’s penis - Peter’s dick. It was hot and soft to the touch, still a little squishy. He heard Peter suck in air and let it out in a pant of breath - aroused and eager and that was perfection. He looked up at his catch, seeing wide hazel-brown eyes and an open, moist pink mouth. It was too much. Sylar shifted up and snatched a kiss, gentle but passionate (for now). As he did so, his hand began to stroke, pulling up then pushing down to force blood in where he wanted it. Peter moaned into his mouth and Sylar took it and swallowed the sound, watching to see the man’s frown line disappear in the ecstasy his hand provided. This was too easy. Separating them regretfully, he turned back to view his spoils, this time tracing a thumb tenderly around the ring of the mauve corona as it filled. Next that same thumb slid up from underneath the crown, messily disturbing the bead of sticky precum to smear it around. Peter hummed something of a whine in the back of his throat, clutching at his neck and shoulder now. Meanwhile, Sylar’s own prick was snug between his pelvis and Peter’s bony hip but he was too focused to roll his hips or hump his partner for stimulation, not when he was playing in Peter Petrelli’s sexual playground.
Peter got stiff faster than Sylar anticipated; within moments he held a solid tool, sticky and a little wet. Sylar kissed the man’s chest several times until Peter sat up, moving to the middle of the bed, “Come on, come here,” he gestured for Sylar, who followed, getting to his knees. The hand on Sylar’s dick drove his hips forward on instinct, pressing into the sensation once again. When he was within range, Peter took his mouth. Sylar closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, trusting his limbs to situate themselves around Peter without the use of sight. He straddled Peter, cupping his face, melting into the other man’s passionate lips. Letting Peter lead the kiss, sucking and smooching on his lips, less hasty and rough than before but just as hot, just as good, Sylar shifted his lower half around to see what was what. Peter’s dick lay between his cheeks, behind him, hot, hard and alive. It should have been threatening, terrifying, and it was, but he overcame it by wanting, perhaps needing Peter’s mouth on him more. Sitting on Peter’s cock wouldn’t be so bad at all if he did anything like what he’d done before - Sylar longed to shove the little man’s face into his chest and neck and watch him work.
For now, Peter’s hands were stroking down his back, nudging his chin up with his nose to molest his throat. Sylar was panting, clutching at Peter’s head and neck. Either driven by instinct, habit or awareness, Peter seemed to know what he needed and Sylar let him provide it - nibbles and heated breaths, hard hickeys, tender licks and kisses, tasting him. It was the utter vulnerability and intimacy that did it for him, exposing himself and receiving pleasure for it. Yes, some part of him wanted it rougher. This was…new and definitely worth a try. When Peter seemed content to settle in where he was and not proceed, Sylar grew impatient. He’d been waiting for this for so long and he wasn’t going to let Peter draw things out again. Spreading his legs, he ground his groin and buttocks down against Peter’s erection, still a warm, stiff bar against him. He could feel the round ridge rubbing and bumping at his opening. At last, he heard Peter exhale heavily against his clavicle - yes, this was what he wanted. Sylar wanted him overcome and ready to fuck him apart.
When a simple back and forth became redundant, Sylar gyrated on his partner’s cock until his message couldn’t be clearer. He petted at Peter’s hair and neck, both were soft and tempting. The body heat between them and the various sensations were ramping up his arousal to a boil; it would be easy to climax just like this but that wasn’t the plan. Rising up to his knees, releasing the man’s dick to stand straighter, forcing Peter’s head back and out of reach of his throat, Sylar gripped him by the hair and head until they looked the other in the eyes. “Give it to me,” he rasped his demand before dipping down to wetly suck on that pouty lower lip. Rapidly, he was spinning out of control, lust sliding and pumping through his veins.
Peter grunted and grabbed at his ass cheeks, causing Sylar to thrust forward and down - dick pressing against Peter’s abdomen and releasing a noise of want. The grip was tight, the cock was hard and the lip in his mouth was sweet, so sweet that he bit it several times, listening to Peter’s sounds of reluctant approval, his chest heaving just as much as Sylar’s. When Sylar released him with a lewd pop, smirking about that, Peter growled, “Lube.” It was so demanding, Sylar ran his hand through Peter’s hair again, ruffling it, caressing his shoulder before shoving it so Peter was pushed flat to the bed. There he stayed as Sylar made the trip to the bathroom for his bottle of lotion. It felt a little strange to be doing this, but he needed to test if the sex, the treatment, the relationship, the emotion was consistent the second time. That and he wanted another hit of that drug-like feeling. Peter had touched him just about everywhere and none of it had been bad. The relief within him left him nearly shaking; it felt like hope, it felt like a tiny bit of comfort or safety perhaps, or those things might come later. It felt so, so good. And that was the best he could describe it - good. Being kissed and caressed, brought off - he’d gotten something of a hand job!
Peter was idly petting his dick when Sylar returned, looking like an especially scrumptious dessert, laid out silky and warm for him to devour, keeping himself at the perfect temperature for it. Sylar straddled him again, practically shoving the bottle into the man’s hand. Peter sat back up, touching his sides before he took it, kissing him once more, the slowest yet until Sylar couldn’t tell if Peter was winding himself down or winding Sylar up. He must have made a noise because Peter finally moved to open the lotion and smear it between Sylar’s legs. He hissed, equal parts aroused and unnerved. The gel was cold and clingy. Finally Peter was touching him there. All his seductions were being consummated in full. What made it better was Peter teasing all around his opening - it took his breath away and made him grab onto Peter for stability or comfort. It nearly tickled, those fingers caressing his asshole, clutching his cheeks; it felt utterly wicked, a little violating but there was more naughtiness to overwhelm it. He was nervous but Peter didn’t hesitate.
A few moments filled with distracted kisses and heavy breathing led to Peter sliding a well-slicked finger inside him. It felt ridiculously easy, that first finger. This was it; it was really going to happen and Sylar was going to allow it. The empath’s other hand roamed over his back while the finger began to pump in and out. The rhythm alone was wonderful but the second finger was a sweet ache, the third a delicious pain-tinged burn. He couldn’t believe he was so full and there was still - hopefully - more to come. Slowly, Sylar inched his hips around, getting a feel for the fingers.
“Do you have condoms?” Peter rasped, fingers still lodged inside him.
“No!” Sylar replied eagerly, not giving a fuck.
“But-”
“No, shh…” Sylar kissed him, sucking his lip again, mauling his throat to distract him. “Just give it to me.” He could try to deny the need (the begging) in his voice but it wouldn’t do much good. He needed the domination, the ownership, the completion of the act as he understood it.
Sylar’s hand went down to remove the hand inside him, grasping the upthrust shaft below to guide it into place. Briefly their eyes met the instant before Sylar speared himself. Peter gripped his hip and back, holding his breath at odd moments to focus. The man’s concentrating frown was appealing. Sylar’s mouth opened as he accepted the breach, wrapping himself around the head of Peter’s cock, driving it deeper with the weight of his body, consuming the other man’s flesh. “Ah….Oh….Ooh…”
It burned and stretched on the way in and his muscles gripped Peter tight as he held the man around his neck and shoulders. The rigid prick was submerged in him completely and thus Sylar felt he had enough control that he didn’t worry about Peter thrusting before he adjusted. It was hot, thick and the angle was different than anything he’d ever had before, the closeness was an aphrodisiac, the smell of Peter this close…
The lotion made it easy; already Sylar could tell that Peter would be able to thrust for long minutes without discomfort. This going on inside him was both distantly gross and erotic. He petted Peter’s hair, grateful and concerned about the wait he was causing. Peter, in turn, massaged his buttocks, spreading and relaxing them, gently urging him to wriggle forward and back over his penis. Sylar panted, “Uhh!”
As if that was a signal, Peter moved him in earnest, setting an urgent yet sensual pace. The cockhead deep inside thrust him open as it entered and retreated. Sylar’s dick was straight, stiff, dripping, rubbing, poking into his partner. His hand wandered up to the back of Peter’s head and the man dipped down to nip at his collarbone.
“Aah! Uhmm!” Sylar couldn’t help his noise and didn’t feel that he should. Peter did this on purpose and stimulation was impossible to avoid.
“Yeah…” Peter growled into his skin, so close Sylar could feel the vibration. A shift of his hand and Peter was mouthing at his chest, obviously not minding the hair at all, seeming to revel in it. The heat between their bodies was intense. Sylar’s eyes and head rolled back, eagerly humping his ass onto the sexy medic, roughly murmuring, “Fuck…Oh, God…Oh, God…Oh, God…Fuck! Peter! Fuck!”
With that lopsided mouth on his chest, a hand now fisting and twisting on his dick, the other hand with questing fingers down the cleft of his ass, Sylar cried out and burst. His load splattered over Peter’s torso and his rectum clenched until the relentless thrusts edged on a fantastic level of pleasure-pain that was almost too much. “Uuuh…” Sylar was adrift, his head felt opened; he throbbed and ached and shook with after effects. Oh, it was everything he’d worked for and desired.
“Baby…Fuck, yeah!” Peter grunted, lusty and approaching his own peak, still working and grinding Sylar about on his swollen dick. Lazily, Sylar petted his hair and kissed him where he could, awaiting the other man’s orgasm, needing it to be fulfilled. Peter jerked, paused, spasmed and throbbed within him, undoubtedly spilling his own seed.
Content, Sylar impulsively licked the sweaty cheek before him, rubbing his own cheek against him and cradling the man’s head to him, “Mm!” he purred, bumping his nose against Peter’s neck to better smell him. Together they smelled strong, male, definitely sexual and active. The smaller man pulled him back and to the side until they lay beside each other, arms entwined once again. It dislodged Peter from inside him and he gasped at the empty feeling. He definitely wanted to shower but it could wait a few moments at least. He felt possessed and claimed, the act of taking another man’s organ inside himself and allowing himself to be pleasured by it, and he wasn’t freaking out about the sperm issue (perhaps because Peter had jizzed on him before); it was strangely calming; he felt…human and welcome. He petted Peter’s chest and hair, kissing and smelling his deltoid as his partner’s breathing wound down as well.
Grateful and relieved, Sylar was surprised at himself but wasn’t afraid to say, “That was definitely okay.” Being Peter’s baby would have some very nice perks.