The phones were hung up, but he'd come over anyway. If it was lust and attraction Sylar was feeling, he might as well reciprocate that far. His shoes crunched through the broken glass of the mirror Sylar had broken--must've been murder for that hyper-hearing
( ... )
It was tea. At least, it had started out as tea. The Doctor had meant it to be only tea with Nyssa, to reminisce on old times and chat about the new.
This, though, this situation, with his teeth nipping at her neck and her nails digging into his shoulders, was decidedly not tea.
It started with a comment, which turned into an argument, which turned into grief, which turned into relief in one another--a kiss, two kisses, and hand where it should not go, and more. While the Last and the Last were always alone themselves, they could always find solace within each other.
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This, though, this situation, with his teeth nipping at her neck and her nails digging into his shoulders, was decidedly not tea.
It started with a comment, which turned into an argument, which turned into grief, which turned into relief in one another--a kiss, two kisses, and hand where it should not go, and more. While the Last and the Last were always alone themselves, they could always find solace within each other.
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