My Unintended 1 - Absolutely Cuckoo
Lyle’s eyes swam with death. All around were bodies, some still, some making nauseating guttural moans and grasping at the living. He picked his way between them, looking dead ahead and keeping his gun steady. A hand grabbed his ankle and he swung the weapon down, obliterating the head of one not so lucky as him. He ran on, alert and hungry. He was a hero, and he had work to do.
Something moved in his periphery and he pressed pause, his character frozen just out of reach of a zombie. He took off his headphones and put the gun on the carpet as he turned, peeping over the bed that he was lounged against. There was nothing there. He was alone, like he had been every Saturday for the last two months. Claire was with her Grandmother, apparently still looking at college applications. Dad was out of town on business, Mom was shopping. He didn’t even have Mr Muggles for company since the chocolate incident when his mother had decided that the dog should be minded by Mrs Harper down the street when Lyle was liable to be bored and mischievous. He got up on his knees and looked right over the bed, but no, nothing.
Turning round he went to pick up the console gun but it wasn’t there. He patted around ineffectually, wondering if he was going crazy. He sighed and got back up on his knees to see if he’d left it sat on the bed, and that was when he saw him. All in black, tall and looming, making the plastic gun look real because he looked like the sort of man who would never play games. Lyle bolted for the door but it slammed, untouched. He panicked, grabbing a hockey stick and hurling it at the assailant.
The stick froze in mid-air and gently turned, the man’s hand directing it to pin Lyle against the door by his throat. The boy coughed and scrabbled to get free, his face reddening. “Please….” He whispered, unable to draw any volume to his crushed vocal cords. “Please don’t…”
Abruptly the stick dropped and Lyle followed it to the floor, coughing and panting as his throat throbbed and dizziness overtook him. He cowered against the door, feeling no reason to be brave. He was the only one here, he was going to die and no-one would see it so he didn’t have to put on a front, be the courageous little soldier as some murderous stranger came to the house. It had happened so many times, he had never been protected before but he had always had to pretend to be strong. Now he didn’t care.
Sylar stood over him, head at an angle as if he didn’t recognise what lay before him. “Where’s Claire?” he growled.
Lyle laughed. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help it. Even when the Grim Reaper came calling he was looking for her. “She’s with Angela.”
“You’re telling the truth.” Sylar was confused. Normally people would lie to him three or four times before relentless pain made them suddenly very honest. “Now why would you sell out your own sister like that? Aren’t you worried about what I’ll do to her?” He smirked, pointing a finger at Lyle’s forehead but calling no power to it.
“You already have her ability, right? What do I care what you want with her? Not my business, not my problem.” His voice was shaking, and if he lifted his fingers from where they dug into the carpet he knew they would be too.
Sylar watched him. The boy was terrified but he was putting a brave face on it. His blue eyes were wide and watery, those straw blonde tresses falling over his forehead, greasy at the roots where he’d lied to his mother about having showered. He looked so soft and fragile, unlike his sister who would always look unbreakable whether she was or not. Claire had the steely eyes and determined jaw of her fathers, whereas Lyle was Mom in cargo pants. He had that look of a kicked puppy, who no amount of cuddles and kisses could convince that he wouldn’t be kicked again.
“They left you alone Lyle? A lot of dangerous people know where you live, thanks to your Dad’s insistence at pissing them off.” Sylar went and sat on Lyle’s bed, the comforter still rucked beyond recognition from when he had been dragged from bed this morning.
Lyle relaxed a little. He knew from overheard conversations that sometimes the psycho liked to talk. Maybe he could buy some time. “I can take care of myself.”
“Lie.” Sylar picked up a chunk of petrified wood from the nightstand, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers down the ridges.
“Alright, I have to take care of myself. It’s not like I’m usually in danger, it’s not like I’m Claire.” Lyle bowed his head. He couldn’t explain it but he actually liked the attention he was getting. Sylar was very dangerous, so in a way he was important. And here he was, in Lyle’s room, on Lyle’s bed.
“No, you’re not like Claire are you? You don’t have an ability. So technically, shouldn’t they be protecting you? If Claire was here I could cut her open til the sun went down and she’d be fine. You on the other hand….” He lifted his finger to point at Lyle and shivered a little as the boy closed his eyes serenely. He watched him, sitting, waiting to die. There was a slight wobble of his lips, and a tremor in his body, but he didn’t run, didn’t try to stop it. The seconds ticked by and still he sat, until eventually he opened his eyes, freeing thin tears which ran down his cheeks. Sylar was just sitting there, looking at him.
“Do it.” He managed, forcing out the words past tears and a shake in his voice. “Do it, kill me!” Anger rose in him as he watched Sylar, just sitting, not bothering to interact with him even to end his life. It would take seconds, and still he wouldn’t make the effort. “Do it! Stop looking at me, do it! Fucking do it!” Lyle flew at Sylar, pounding at his shoulders and chest while the killer sat there in shock. “Why won’t you just do it?”
Sylar grabbed his arms, holding him still with nothing more than his own strength as the boy sobbed and heaved. He looked at Lyle like he were a math problem, trying to figure out what was going on with this strange bundle of emotion and heartache. Eventually Lyle stopped struggling and just hung there. His head hurt and he just wanted to be alone. Suddenly he didn’t care that it was a serial killer taking up his time. “Just leave me alone, please.” He whispered. “I just wanna be on my own.”
“You’re always alone Lyle. Maybe that’s the problem, you’re so used to it that it doesn’t hurt anymore, not as much as being ignored does anyway.” Sylar loosened his grip and let Lyle sit on the bed beside him. “Do they know anything about you? What do you do?”
Lyle rubbed his tears away. “I don’t do anything.”
“That’s a lie, what do you do? What do you do that’s just yours and not Claire’s?”
The warmth of proximity between them mixed with Lyle’s adrenaline was making him feel weird. Kind of…if Lyle didn’t know better he’d say horny. He looked up at Sylar. “I tell lies. She does too, and Dad. But people care about those lies, they take the time to find them out. I tell them I go to Tae Kwon Do.”
“And you don’t?”
“No. I just..walk around.”
So sad, thought Sylar. It’s true, he just walks by himself. “Tell me something else, tell me something they don’t know.”
Lyle smiled. He could think of something. “They think my first crush was on this girl who lived down the street from us in Odessa. It wasn’t. ”
Sylar rolled his eyes. “That passes for interesting in this household?”
“It would if they knew who it really was.” Lyle stared at him, daring him to react.
Sylar smirked. “Why Lyle, you’ll make me blush.” He thought for a second, looking at the boy and that cute glaze of ‘nothing to lose’. Poor Lyle, he was spilling his guts thinking it would shock him to find he had a crush. If only the kid could see the last porno mag Sylar - then Gabriel - had ever bought. Full of cute, puppy fatted teenagers like him, with their soft lips and innocent eyes.
“They all hate you, they’d be grossed out.”
“They would. But imagine what a weapon you’d have against them. You may not have an ability but you’d have a secret. And every time they forgot you or yelled at you, or uprooted you from your home or your friends, you’d at least have that. The thing that would kill them if they knew.” Sylar’s eyes were darkening as he looked at Lyle. A weapon. He could forge his own weapon against Bennet by taking his son and making him his.
Lyle’s heart was beating harder. “It wouldn’t kill them if they knew I had a crush on you. They’re not that easily impressed, believe me.”
“No you’re right, they wouldn’t care about that. But what if it was more? What if your secret was more…” He took Lyle’s jaw in his hand and stared him down. “Close your eyes Lyle.”
Lyle’s eyes fluttered closed as they had done when he thought he was giving Sylar his life. A tiny high pitched moan escaped him as he felt Sylar claim his lips. He was gentler than he had imagined, but still firm, pressing on him and retreating like waves washing on a shore, dragging the land back. When he opened his mouth a little and felt Sylar’s tongue brush against his a lightening blot when straight to his cock and he gasped, letting Sylar invade him further. He placed a tentative hand on Sylar’s hip, gripping slightly when the man let it remain there. As Sylar’s pulled out of the kiss Lyle’s eyes were drawn to him, waiting for further instruction. “Well Lyle, that would sure piss them off, wouldn’t it?” Sylar raised his eyebrows.
Lyle gave himself a second to think. “They’d get over it. It’s just a kiss, it’s not like I sucked your dick or anything.” He avoided Sylar’s gaze for as long as he could before looking up innocently. Sylar went for his belt, quickly undoing his pants and pushing Lyle’s shoulder until the boy got down from the bed and dropped tentatively to his knees.
“Have you done this before?” Sylar pushed his underwear down, watching for Lyle’s reaction when he saw his size. When the look came it made him fully hard and he started to feel that ache which meant he had to come whatever happened.
“I…I did once but the guy said I was terrible at it.” Lyle giggled nervously and Sylar smirked a little at the fact that Lyle was telling the truth. “Wow…” he whispered, running a finger tip down the length of Sylar’s cock, “is that..is that like, normal?”
Sylar laughed and felt a blush coming to his cheeks for the first time in years. “From people’s reactions I would guess not. Should I tell you what to do?” He ghosted a hand over Lyle’s cheek, imagining it filled with the impression of his dick while Lyle sucked him, and the look on Bennet’s face if he could see that. When Lyle nodded he took himself in hand and raised the leaking tip to the boy’s lips. “Lick it, and hold it, here.” He took Lyle’s shaking hand and brought it to his cock sighing inwardly when Lyle’s fingers wrapped around him.
“Lick it how, like…like a popsicle?” This time is was Lyle who blushed, he knew that lines sounded like something out of a bad porno but he wanted to get this right.
Heat spread across Sylar’s groin at the question. Surely he was doing this on purpose. “Yes Lyle, just like that.”
The boy instinctively started to stroke a little, and laved his tongue over the tip as instructed. Sylar hummed, trying to encourage him. “Mmm, that’s good. Keep going.” Sylar looked down at him that keen pink tongue brushing over his cock while Lyle’s eyelashes fluttered. God he looked so good, so sweet, so eager to be patted on the head and told that he was the best, the favourite. “Now take it into your mouth, just a little.”
Lyle managed just the tip at first but got braver as Sylar moaned and stroked both hands through the boy’s hair. He started to match things he’d seen girls do in hastily watched clips on his friend’s computer, rolling his tongue and bobbing his head gently.
“Oh yeah, don’t stop, that’s perfect. Just that.” Sylar liked the inexperience, the thought that he could teach Lyle things. Teach him how to please him and him only. But he couldn’t be rough or mean. He had be loving and nurturing to prize him away from his father. Had to fake compassion and encouragement to make Lyle crave it from him. Lyle took more of his cock into his mouth and Sylar felt him gag a little. His instinct was to laugh, to mock him and make him hurt, but he suppressed it. He went into character as the proud nurturing role model. “You’re so good, Lyle” he purred, nudging forward a little. He ran his fingers over the short hair on the back of Lyle’s neck and the boy moaned, sending tiny sparks across Sylar’s skin.
The sucking got hungrier as Lyle gripped Sylar’s thighs, it was artless and sloppy but the friction was still there. Sylar started to breathe faster, his fingers shaking a little as they wound in Lyle’s hair. He took one last look down at the pretty sight before Lyle’s eyes sprang open, two orbs of pale blue framed by soft blonde lashes, and Sylar came, jerking forwards. He lay back on the bed as he heard Lyle grab at the overflowing waste paper bin by his bed and spit into it, coughing. Again he fought his instinct to be cruel and sat up, dressing himself and extending his hand to Lyle.
The boy took it and found himself pulled into an embrace he hadn’t known before, it was a lover’s embrace, tight and intimate in silent thanks. Sylar went to kiss him and Lyle faltered, pointing at his mouth. “Wait, you’ll taste it.. hang on.” He went to turn to his warming bottle of coke abandoned by the Xbox but Sylar pulled him back.
“It’s okay.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked.
Lyle looked a little surprised but shrugged and initiated the kiss, holding Sylar’s shoulders as he leant in. He moaned as he felt Sylar’s insistent tongue invading every corner of his mouth, making him want to gasp for breath. As they broke apart Lyle gave him one last lingering kiss on the lips and Sylar felt triumphant. The boy had fallen for him and it had taken less than an hour. He stroked Lyle’s hair again and he leaned into the touch. “I have to go Lyle.” Sylar expected him to protest but he just nodded sadly. “But I’m coming back..” he said, standing. “I’m coming back to….reciprocate.” He walked to the door, giving Lyle one last look as he left the room.
Lyle jumped on his bed and looked through the window, watching Sylar walking down the driveway and off down the street. He looked like a movie star, Lyle could hardly believe he’d just been in his room, been here kissing him and letting him touch him. He got down off the bed once Sylar had disappeared from sight, and rummaged in his closet until he found what he was looking for.
He flicked through the pristine dictionary, past the inscription which said “To Lyle, Merry Christmas 2006, love from Aunt Frances and Uncle Norm”, to the word he was looking for.
“Reciprocate, to give and take mutually.” A smile spread across his face and he flung the dictionary back into the closet. “Awesome.”