Fanfiction: Heroes: Virgin State Of Mind
Title: Virgin State of Mind
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gabriel/Elle
Summary: Elle comes to your apartment late at night, sparking and shivering, and despite your better judgment, despite the little voice ticking away in your head when she admits to lying to you, you invite her to stay. (3x08 AU)
Author’s Note: Written for the Porn Battle prompt “Gabriel”. Also using it for the 100heroesfics prompt of “Fixed”. I don’t normally write in second person, or in present tense, but this fic insisted on being written in both. So there you go. This is probably one of my favorite things I’ve written in a while. I really like how it came out. This is unbetad, as I wanted to get it up before the time limit came up.
You have never felt this way about someone before: so irrational, so passionate. The same day as when you ate pie together on the floor of your living room Elle comes to your apartment late at night, sparking and shivering. There’s something amiss with her showing up here so late but despite your better judgment, despite the little voice ticking away in your head when she admits to lying to you -to tricking you-you invite her to stay. She bites her lips before she starts her story, obviously nervous about what she’s admitting to you, what she’s been hiding from you since she caught you falling from that noose.
She tells you about the kind of person she was before, what her father made her become because of what she could do. She even risks showing you what she can do; knowing full and well that you might just bash her head in and take it away from her. She’s the only one you’ve ever told about Brian. Perhaps it’s that reason that you don’t kill her. Because she clearly trusts you. Most people wouldn’t if they knew what she did. You had killed someone in cold blood, just to take what he had. Can such a thing really be forgiven? You never would have thought so, before meeting her.
But despite everything, you find yourself still believing that with her at your side, maybe you can change. And she believes you can change too. She left her job, her father, everything for this belief. So maybe believing in her and yourself aren’t such bad things. You give her a towel and dry her off and suddenly she’s pressing against you and even more importantly, more shockingly, she’s kissing you. And there’s something so innocent, so pure about the way her lips fit perfectly against your own that it hurts you. In spite of everything she’s admitted to you about her past, you can’t believe she’s anything other than an angel. Although she delivered you from evil she is leading you into an almost dangerous temptation, but you’re enjoying it far too much to get yourself to worry about it.
So you kiss her back, hesitantly exploring her body with your hands. You make a conscious effort to be gentle with her, all too aware of the fact that she feels disturbingly small between your own large hands. You’re almost afraid she might push you away from disgust like the girls you used to know always did, but she kissed you first, so maybe it was going to be okay.
As her hands grasp at your sweater vest, you grow bolder, grabbing her breast. She’s damp and warm under the material of her shirt, and you can feel her perked nipple. You flick it, and she grinds against you, calling out your name.
Gabriel.
Thanks to her, you’ll stay Gabriel. You know it with an unwavering uncertainty now. Sylar was a fluke, a onetime thing. A mistake. You were broken before, but now she’s fixing you in more than one way. As you pull down her pants, revealing soft blonde curls, your breath hitches and you feel painfully aroused. She was perfect. It’s like looking at a piece of art. You almost feel hesitant to attempt to touch her. After all, the only other girls you had ever seen were in magazines you had bought behind your mother’s back as a teenager. But her beauty is real unlike the airbrushed beauties of Hustler and Playboy. You can see scars scattered across her pale skin from where her father probably experimented on her, but they don’t bother you. If anything, they make you think even more of her. She’s had to endure so much. How could someone like you, someone so insignificant, ever be good enough?
But then she grabs your hand and guides it down her body, letting you know it’s okay to touch her. Not only is it okay, but more so, she wants you to touch her. And somehow, that makes it even better. You dig your fingers inside of her, and like a watch, she begins to wind up. Her hitched, shallow, ragged breathing almost sounds like a tic-tic-tic in your brain keeping perfect time with the clock on your wall. It’s possibly the best sound you’ve ever heard. Or it is until you rub against just the right place, sending her over the edge. Her back arcs like an acrobat as she cries out your name.
Gabriel.
As you remove your fingers from inside of her, she grabs your hand, licking up her own essence. Her tongue is slow and deliberate, teasing you, making you want more and more of her. She gently pushes you down onto the floor now, her hands playing with the opening of your jeans. She tugs them down along with your cotton boxers and then she positions herself above you, her hair falling down around her face like a golden halo. She asks if you’re sure about all this and you can’t help but laugh in response to her question.
You laugh because you’re pretty sure you’ve never wanted anything or anyone as much as you want her in this moment. Even Brian Davis’ handy power of telekinesis seems to pale in comparison. But instead of verbally answering her, you press your lips against hers once more, and she seems to get the message loud and clear, lowering herself down so that her wetness brushes against your hardened member. She is so close now, you can’t resist any longer.
You thrust upwards to push inside her body, unable to repress the moan escaping your lips as you did so. She’s tight and warm, and you can’t help but feel complete inside of her. It’s as if you belong inside Elle, and perhaps such notions are a little crazy, but you don’t care. Because it’s true. With her here, you feel complete. You don’t need Sylar. Maybe you really can just be Gabriel again.
Her nails dig into your skin, and it causes your whole body to seize up. The pain clears away any clouds and grounds you. You groan into her ear and she giggles in response, shocking you playfully with another kiss. You should be angry, but instead you just push into her deeper as the pleasure of release overwhelms you. Your hand drops so that your large fingers brush against her tiny center and she digs those nails in deeper, drawing blood as she comes a second time.
Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel.
She chants your name out like a prayer and it ties you to the ground.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gabriel/Elle
Summary: Elle comes to your apartment late at night, sparking and shivering, and despite your better judgment, despite the little voice ticking away in your head when she admits to lying to you, you invite her to stay. (3x08 AU)
Author’s Note: Written for the Porn Battle prompt “Gabriel”. Also using it for the 100heroesfics prompt of “Fixed”. I don’t normally write in second person, or in present tense, but this fic insisted on being written in both. So there you go. This is probably one of my favorite things I’ve written in a while. I really like how it came out. This is unbetad, as I wanted to get it up before the time limit came up.
You have never felt this way about someone before: so irrational, so passionate. The same day as when you ate pie together on the floor of your living room Elle comes to your apartment late at night, sparking and shivering. There’s something amiss with her showing up here so late but despite your better judgment, despite the little voice ticking away in your head when she admits to lying to you -to tricking you-you invite her to stay. She bites her lips before she starts her story, obviously nervous about what she’s admitting to you, what she’s been hiding from you since she caught you falling from that noose.
She tells you about the kind of person she was before, what her father made her become because of what she could do. She even risks showing you what she can do; knowing full and well that you might just bash her head in and take it away from her. She’s the only one you’ve ever told about Brian. Perhaps it’s that reason that you don’t kill her. Because she clearly trusts you. Most people wouldn’t if they knew what she did. You had killed someone in cold blood, just to take what he had. Can such a thing really be forgiven? You never would have thought so, before meeting her.
But despite everything, you find yourself still believing that with her at your side, maybe you can change. And she believes you can change too. She left her job, her father, everything for this belief. So maybe believing in her and yourself aren’t such bad things. You give her a towel and dry her off and suddenly she’s pressing against you and even more importantly, more shockingly, she’s kissing you. And there’s something so innocent, so pure about the way her lips fit perfectly against your own that it hurts you. In spite of everything she’s admitted to you about her past, you can’t believe she’s anything other than an angel. Although she delivered you from evil she is leading you into an almost dangerous temptation, but you’re enjoying it far too much to get yourself to worry about it.
So you kiss her back, hesitantly exploring her body with your hands. You make a conscious effort to be gentle with her, all too aware of the fact that she feels disturbingly small between your own large hands. You’re almost afraid she might push you away from disgust like the girls you used to know always did, but she kissed you first, so maybe it was going to be okay.
As her hands grasp at your sweater vest, you grow bolder, grabbing her breast. She’s damp and warm under the material of her shirt, and you can feel her perked nipple. You flick it, and she grinds against you, calling out your name.
Gabriel.
Thanks to her, you’ll stay Gabriel. You know it with an unwavering uncertainty now. Sylar was a fluke, a onetime thing. A mistake. You were broken before, but now she’s fixing you in more than one way. As you pull down her pants, revealing soft blonde curls, your breath hitches and you feel painfully aroused. She was perfect. It’s like looking at a piece of art. You almost feel hesitant to attempt to touch her. After all, the only other girls you had ever seen were in magazines you had bought behind your mother’s back as a teenager. But her beauty is real unlike the airbrushed beauties of Hustler and Playboy. You can see scars scattered across her pale skin from where her father probably experimented on her, but they don’t bother you. If anything, they make you think even more of her. She’s had to endure so much. How could someone like you, someone so insignificant, ever be good enough?
But then she grabs your hand and guides it down her body, letting you know it’s okay to touch her. Not only is it okay, but more so, she wants you to touch her. And somehow, that makes it even better. You dig your fingers inside of her, and like a watch, she begins to wind up. Her hitched, shallow, ragged breathing almost sounds like a tic-tic-tic in your brain keeping perfect time with the clock on your wall. It’s possibly the best sound you’ve ever heard. Or it is until you rub against just the right place, sending her over the edge. Her back arcs like an acrobat as she cries out your name.
Gabriel.
As you remove your fingers from inside of her, she grabs your hand, licking up her own essence. Her tongue is slow and deliberate, teasing you, making you want more and more of her. She gently pushes you down onto the floor now, her hands playing with the opening of your jeans. She tugs them down along with your cotton boxers and then she positions herself above you, her hair falling down around her face like a golden halo. She asks if you’re sure about all this and you can’t help but laugh in response to her question.
You laugh because you’re pretty sure you’ve never wanted anything or anyone as much as you want her in this moment. Even Brian Davis’ handy power of telekinesis seems to pale in comparison. But instead of verbally answering her, you press your lips against hers once more, and she seems to get the message loud and clear, lowering herself down so that her wetness brushes against your hardened member. She is so close now, you can’t resist any longer.
You thrust upwards to push inside her body, unable to repress the moan escaping your lips as you did so. She’s tight and warm, and you can’t help but feel complete inside of her. It’s as if you belong inside Elle, and perhaps such notions are a little crazy, but you don’t care. Because it’s true. With her here, you feel complete. You don’t need Sylar. Maybe you really can just be Gabriel again.
Her nails dig into your skin, and it causes your whole body to seize up. The pain clears away any clouds and grounds you. You groan into her ear and she giggles in response, shocking you playfully with another kiss. You should be angry, but instead you just push into her deeper as the pleasure of release overwhelms you. Your hand drops so that your large fingers brush against her tiny center and she digs those nails in deeper, drawing blood as she comes a second time.
Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel.
She chants your name out like a prayer and it ties you to the ground.