Claire had a headache.
The throbbing pain that covered the upper half of her brain and made her skull ache like it was on fire. She rarely got headaches, but when she did she became unbearably grouchy. Adding into the fact that she'd had a crap day that day, starting with falling out of bed that morning and the fact that right that second, her keys were simply refusing to open the door.
Frustrated, she kicked the door and wrenched the key. The door clicked, and fell open. Claire hit the floor before she could register what happened and then rolled onto her back to look at the ceiling. She glared at it for a second and then rolled her eyes before climbing to her feet and checking to make sure her blackberry wasn't harmed. Then she gathered her bag and books and dumped them on the kitchen counter, the yellow post-it on the fridge demanding attention. Rubbing her hip, Claire stomped over and snatched it off the fridge door.
'Taken Lyle to his doctor's appointment. Back later, chicken in the fridge. DON'T FORGET TO FEED MR. MUGGLES. Love you, Mom.'
She mimicked what she imaged her mother uppercase statement would sound like as she crumpled it and dumped it into the garbage. With a sigh, she clicked on the radio and called for the dog while she opened his food cupboard. When she straightened and opened a bag of food, she frowned. Muggles should be there acting like he wanted a good boot in the ribs by dancing around her ankles and biting at her toes. She listened over the mindless yammer of the radio for the sound of his toenails on the floor. Nothing. Claire grunted something in frustration, pouring the dog food out and putting the bag back. Deciding the dog was a lazy piece of fluff with teeth, she cracked the fridge and came face-to-face with her chicken dinner.
It looked shrivelled and cold, glazed in something Claire could only assume was meant for chicken meat. Peas and mashed potatoes accompanied the chicken, and Claire felt her stomach turn over involuntarily. She had had enough peas, the one vegetable she hated. The tang on the back of your tongue compared with the thinly skinned outside and pathetically mushy inside.
It was even worse if they were canned, because then they were just ridiculously mushy and bitter as well as being a gross colour. That type of green should not exist.
The fridge was kicked shut and Claire glanced at the bowl.
She went up on her tiptoes and looked outside, expecting to see him pacing in front of the back door. She saw nothing and frowned, something on her neck prickling. Something wasn't right. Whirling on her heel, she whipped around as her heart pounded through her ribs. The room was completely empty, nothing having even stirred when she was turned around. It was just, in the movies it's always right when the main character clues in that they get attacked and killed. Frowning, she put a hand on her forehead and silently chastised herself for her idiocy.
"MUGGLES. GET DOWN HERE," She bellowed into the house, knowing damn well the little dog wasn't going to respond.
Claire moaned something about animals and being in trouble and clicked off the radio before she rushed out of the kitchen and swung around the corner, taking the steps into the living room two at a time.
The man sitting calmly on the couch stopped her dead in her tracks with a squeak.
He was tall, wearing a dark t-shirt and fitted grey jeans, right leg casually crossed so his ankle was resting on his opposite knee. She recognized him faster than she should have, and thousands of alarm bells went off in her head as the room spun and the ground seemed to whoosh up at her. Her earth seemed to spin and groan as her heart hammered its way up her trachea and her nerves absorbed the pulse wave of shock and adrenaline that coursed through her. She shivered almost instantly, curling her toes.
He barely looked up, ignoring her as if it was usual for him to be sitting in her living room flipping through her journal. Claire started, looking closely at the book as a volatile anger and embarrassment erupted somewhere around her navel. She stopped, forgetting to be afraid, and planted her hand on her hip.
"What are YOU doing here?"
He kept reading, eyebrows raised as he read the last few pages, turning the paper with his long, slender fingers. Sylar was as long and lean and dark as she remembered all power and sinewy goodness. Granted, her mind hadn't exactly retained the pure danger the poured off him in waves. He virtually emanated come-hither-vibes, combined with I'll-kill-you vibes. It was a perplexing mix, and Claire vowed over the bubble of sheer hysteria about not wanting her head cut open (again) that she would NOT think about sex.
Although, as he thumped the journal shut and put it on the coffee table the rage returned. She shook, her skin erupting in goosebumps as his black eyes slipped up to look at her and a self-satisfied smile slunk onto his face. Claire mustered her best sneer, trying to tug on one emotion so she could decide on a way to react.
"Hello. Good to see you again."
"Not really," Claire admitted with a flippant shrug. She wanted to snatch the book off the table and beat him with it until his was a bloody stump, watch him grow back, and then beat him again. He'd probably kill her before she could kill him, but she was so mad at that point she was willing to take a gamble.
"Have a seat."
He rolled his eyes slightly and lifted his hand, and Claire made a noise of frustration when he muscles stiffened and acted on their own, moving her in front of the couch and lowering her down facing him over the coffee table. With a twitch of the finger he even impishly crossed her leg, and she felt like her eyes might fall out she was glaring at him so hard. He seemed rather aloof as he pointed towards her journal, and Claire's cheeks flamed hotly again.
"I've never tried to turn dust to gold. Interesting idea."
Claire could spit venom, and her heart was pounding so hard she could feel the blood rush through her veins in her neck. She wanted to leap across the table and rip his head off, and she wanted the couch to swallow her up. She'd always been adverse to writing in journals for this very reason, and knowing that he'd read through all her lusty thoughts about him made her clench her jaw and grind her teeth. It was an embarrassment and humiliation worth dying over.
The muscles in her chest seemed to burn and curled, and she started to grind her teeth.
A smirk twitched on his lips as he leaned forwards and braced his elbows on his knees and she felt the telekinetic hold free her. She sat forwards and plunged her hand into her back pocket, whipping out her phone as her thumb already started pounding the speed dial for her Dad. His arm shot out, easily covering the distance over the coffee table and his warm fingers wrapped around her wrist whilst his other hand plucked the phone from her hand. She snarled at him when he held it up behind him and the phone melted into gold with a slight muffled cracking sound.
Now a solid chunk of gold, Sylar tossed it onto the couch cushion beside her and she yanked her wrist free as the skin seemed to warm and sing under his touch.
"Why do you bother with the dumb things? I always wondered that. You're not going to PHONE someone," He said with a trace of exasperation. Claire levelled a nasty look his way and lifted her chin.
"I wasn't going to phone anyone," She lied impulsively.
His eyes flickered and he seemed to shiver minutely and Claire's stomach turned to ice. Visions of him helplessly shaking as she sat atop him, veins in his neck pulsing and fingers digging into her working hips erupted behind her eyes, and she looked away from him as she slammed the breaks on those mental memories. Her brain recorded the feel of his hips desperately rocking between her legs as those images faded and she clenched her jaw.
Sylar's smirk widened while he watched her reaction.
He could see the blush in her cheeks, and the way her chest was rising and falling. He knew what she was experiencing on some level, feeling his awareness reach for her and his skin flush faintly. The stress in the room was heavy, coating every aspect of the air between them with a dangerous combination of anger, curiosity and sex. She sat stiffly, and he sat forced into a casual reclining position.
"Been having dreams Claire?" He asked her softly, and her head whipped around as her eyes locked on his and sparked dangerously. Curiosity and amusement danced on his features, and he lightly touched his gaze on the book before returning to her. If anyone could smirk with their eyes as well as their lips, this man could. It was such a turn on, and such an irritant at the same time.
"Do you make house calls to every unfortunate soul who has a dream about you?"
"Only when they're interesting. And yours are very interesting. Do you carry spare underwear in your bag so you can change after class?"
"Go to hell."
A hold slammed down onto her body, and she went rigid. He got up, towering over her as he stepped lithely over the coffee table and sat down beside her. He sat and just looked at her, twisting his mouth slightly as he examined her face. It struck her then that his facial expressions were...varied. In her mind, Sylar had about five expressions. Normal, mad, bloodthirsty, cocky and climaxing. And even then, she was hazarding a guess at the last one.
Despite the aura about him, he was normal guy to an extent. She looked back at him, eyes falling over the pale skin and the dark hair. The strong jaw was relaxed as he tilted his head and looked flatly at her.
He switched expressions so fluidly it was unnerving.
The only catch was all of his expressions carried one emotion on top of everything else. Curiosity. He studied and dissected, learned and understood.
Claire was caught as to whether or not this should turn her on, or freak her out. Her breath hitched slightly, and her mind burned as her muscles tightened for a different reason. His proximity was having unwanted effects on her, and she cursed herself and her recently acquired libidinous mind. He reached out, large hand going for her throat. She flinched slightly, trying to pull away to no avail. She felt the skin burn and shiver as his fingers touched her collarbones, sliding along her neck and grasping the clasp of the pendant necklace. His other hand rose and gently plucked the jewellery from between her breasts as the clasp gave.
When he moved his hands away, smiling dangerously at her as he took her necklace, Claire realized she'd been holding her breath and let it out shakily. He seemed to pause and his eye focused on the necklace in his hand. She watched the chain glitter maliciously as it slid between his fingers. Her brain conjured the image of her leaning forwards and taking on in her mouth, watching his reaction to that. Logically, she knew it wouldn't be favourably. He chuckled and her gaze snapped from his fingers and the delicious images they generated to his face, which had cracked into a youthful smile.
Claire blinked, noting his whole expression changed when he smiled, even if it was the slightly bitter grin that graced him now. He held it up, looking at her with both eyebrows raised.
"Peter gave this to you. It's almost pedophilic, but permissible given the fact that the both of you are too noble to do anything mildly entertaining," He told her conversationally, flicking a knowing look at her. She slit her eyes while he raised both eyebrows and continued chatting at the necklace, nodding to himself slightly.
"That family is merely hanging by a thread. A wonderful thread enforced by lies and dirty money, but a thread nonetheless. You need a good old fashioned scandal. Keep it in the family."
"That's disgusting. You have no idea what you're talking about," Claire snarled, and he made a sound that could have been considered a giggle if it hadn't come out of such a huge man. He looked at her with a genuinely amused smile, dangling the pendant freely and shaking it slightly as he sat up and faced her, leaning one arm over the back of the couch.
Then his face melted, dissolving into a serious expression that cause her heart to beat frantically and her pupils to dilate. The flick in his eyes let her know he noticed, and she could practically hear thousands of cogs turning in his head. It was like whenever he was around all you could hear was the distant ticking of clocks.
"But you have no idea what you're capable of, do you?"
She stared at him, completely lost. She was unnerved, because while certain parts of her anatomy wanted to throw him against a wall and mistreat him in the most un-ladylike of ways, her mind had decided his psychopath was showing. She gulped dryly, her mouth like cotton. Apparently all the water had run south, something she was determined to not acknowledge at all.
The fact that she was reacting like this in a situation like this was so completely beyond her that she was bound to end up in therapy about it for the rest of eternity.
He tilted his head, studying her with a bemused expression. She felt like a piece of meat, and she could feel him looking at her. He leaned closer, breath tickling her neck and his heavy scent invading her nostrils. Her eyes sunk shut as his body loomed closer to hers as his gaze caressed her neck and collarbones, smirk playing across his lips. She could feel the wall of heat hitting her and the way her skin seemed to beg for contact while her nerves shivered and writhed.
"I know what you are capable of. I know what you're hiding under all that hair. I've seen it. You should read your journal, Claire. Your mind is trying to tell you something."
"No? So, you just picked me for your elaborate fantasies...why? Do I have the right height leverage?"
"It was an accident."
"Ooops doesn't begin to sum us up."
"There is no us."
"That's right. Because you don't see the parallels between us, do you?"
"Nope," She breathed. She sounded more confident than she felt, her instincts pushing for her to tilt her head and for him to touch her. The fact that he hadn't had her whole body on fire, and his velvet voice pouring into her ears was causing a red stain to creep over her cheeks and her heart to hammer hopefully. He smelled like outside and musk with the distant tinge of aftershave.
"Aren't you glad that in 2100 I'll be the only familiar face on this planet that isn't at risk of dying at a moment's notice? Tell you what, in a couple thousand years, meet me at the top of the Empire State Building. We'll watch the world end," He whispered, hot breath playing over the sensitive skin of her neck. She couldn't breathe, wound tight as a chord, and she didn't notice.
"We're spending so much time together, we should learn each other. What happens in a couple hundred years when no one knows how to push you? What happens what no one knows what makes your mind...," He raised a hand, fingers tips brushing over the nipple pebbled through her thin shirt and Claire's eye snapped open as she gasped and forcibly smothered the urge to arch.
"Ever considered a career as a car salesman?" She ground out, and sunk back against the couch weakly as his hold on her body released her. Sylar chuckled at her again, turning and pitching the necklace out of the room. She heard it hit the floor, clattering loudly and she winced slightly. He sat up and snapped up the book smartly, acting completely normal. Claire's body felt like mush while it weakly protested that lack of proximity. She sat up, glaring at him reprehensibly while he flicked open to a page. She caught the blue ink and set her jaw as she glared at the couch opposite her when she recognized the entry.
He massaged his jaw languidly, frowning slightly while he read over parts.
"You're a creative person, Claire. This only supports my theory," He added plainly, looking at her with a helpless shrug. She chewed on her inner cheek, ignoring him and the barbs. He turned a few pages, settling back and flipping idly. He looked up enthusiastically, pointing down at the page. She turned slightly to glare at him, loathing the joy he got out of this at her expense. If he was here to poke around in her head again, she wished he would just get it over with.
"Actually, my favourite is the cell. It's a side of you that should come out more. One that doesn't really look the best and excel, but just does things on instinct. Very carnal. Your Daddy would disapprove," He commented, biting down on a finger mockingly. Claire's upper lip curled into a sneer.
"You're one to talk. You're the murderous sociopath."
"My mother always said to be true to yourself. That could have contributed to her murder, but that's not up for discussion."
"Good, this isn't a support group," Claire snapped irritably.
The horribly amused smile that bled onto his face made her stomach jump slightly. That smile was the smile a cat gave a canary as it bared down on it. It meant that things were going to go very badly for the canary. She flicked him an annoyed look and he only raised his eyebrows innocently.
"If you're here to slice my head open, can you just get it over with? And preferably in the kitchen so it's easier to clean up," She added bitterly. The stains had never come out of the carpet at the old place.
Sylar moved like a shadow, looming into her as his hand swept up her neck and brought her mouth down on his. The shockwave that pulsed through her almost overrode the painfully pleasurable shudder as her nerves celebrated the feel of his mouth on hers. His lips were soft as they firmly commanded her mouth, manipulating it and sending both their bodies into different states of frenzy. The hand on her neck was huge and warm, pulling her against him as he pressed against her.
The reality of who she was kissing slammed into her, and with a muffled squeak she shoved him away.
A smug smirk bloomed, and her palm slammed across his cheek before she could process the do and don'ts of slapping murderers. Especially ones that were super powered with every annoying power known to man.
"Don't you even start. Just don't. I don't need this," She groaned at him.
"I don't care," Claire cried, furiously facing him and jarring her hand uselessly against his shoulder, which didn't budge.
He looked slyly at her, and tilted his head to the side as he seemed to consider something. Alarm bells went off in her head automatically as the canary image came to mind. He leaned forwards, coming within inches of her face. He gave her a lopsided smile, hand running up her arm.
"Then try and stop me."
She shrieked as he grabbed her and she was tossed gently onto the floor, and slid off the couch and leaned over her. She struggled for normal breath as he leaned down on her and swept over her mouth. As his body slid gingerly over hers, she struggled to sit up with her mouth fused hotly to his. He nipped her lip, fingers pressing down her back and causing her to shiver. Involuntarily, she moved back as she kissed him furiously. A hand grabbed the back of her head and jerked it back, exposing her throat.
A strangled sound burst from her lips as he found the sweet spot in the join of her neck and shoulders. Her nipples seemed to twinge and she was hyper-aware of how heavy he was.
He parted, biting the edge of her bottom lip and causing her to jerk slightly.
"You know, you're not the only one with fantasies," He muttered breathlessly. He crushed her lips and she fought back harshly against him, feeling his breathing hitch and all the hard muscle pressed against her tense. She broke from him, reaching up and sinking her fingers through his hair and pulling.
"I don't want to hear that." She gasped at him as he pulled free and dominated her mouth, tongue teasing her lips. Angrily, she pulled back slightly and caught his lower lip in her mouth, sucking on the flesh. There was an auditory catch in his breathing, and she took that opportunity to bite down on him sharply.
He jumped, and an electrical spark bridged between them as he punished her back. Her lips were numbed momentarily, and she felt his tongue slip into her mouth and curl possessively. She battled back with her own, giving in to the urges waging through her body. She felt the success slide through him in the change in his body, and seized that opportunity to arch her body and throw him off of her.
Claire was up and skittering slightly as she vaulted out of the living room.
Sylar sat up, watching her retreating back. He concentrated, visibly working and then aimed at her retreating back.
"Claire," He groaned, and it slammed into her like getting a slap on a sunburn. She screamed as her nerves and muscles seized and released, giving way to the feeling of a miniature orgasm ripping through her. Her leg gave out and she cascaded sideways, choking for air. Surprise and embarrassment caught her for a few seconds, before she pushed herself up as she realized he was right on her heels. She got two steps before a hand wrapped around her upper arm and swung her around to face him.
She let out a noise of anger, frustrated slightly and shocked to the bone. Her free hand, with its curled fingers, sliced downwards over his face. He grabbed both arms and she noisily floundered for air as he breathed heavily and the cuts from her nails knitted together magically.
"Why are you resisting?" He asked her forcefully.
"Because you were less of an asshole in my head!" Claire shrieked back at him while her legs threatened to give out. She missed the look as his mind clicked, and was too tired to struggle against his grip anymore. Before she could process, he leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss to her. Claire froze at the complete change from before, feeling his lips travel warmly over hers. Coaxingly, he tempted her with a gentle suck on her lip and a careful flick of his tongue. Claire melted like an ice cube, the apex of her legs giving a vicious throb as she leaned into him and his hands dropped from her arms.
She allowed him entrance to her mouth and he explored it softly, deftly flicking her tongue and testing it with his own. She kissed him back, falling prey to the screaming of her skin and the hard ache in her abdomen. Unconsciously, she pressed her body against his and her hands drifted to his jaw and head. He was so much taller than her that he seemed to be curled over her body protectively.
Claire kissed him firmly again, insisting on more than the gentle caress. A predatory smile spread over his mouth, and he bit her lip. Claire jumped at the pain, and moved her hand to pinch his shoulder. He seemed to enjoy it, sending a current through her mouth and causing her to make a sound of malcontent.
She flattened her hand and smacked him in the ribs with a hollow thud. He exhaled heavily as his body relaxed after her blow.
Claire shoved him gently, backing away from him. He remained locked with her, following her slowly. His hand slipped up her front, grasping her breast and rolling the nipple through the shirt. He sent a current through his fingers, and Claire couldn't help but moan. She thrust herself further into his hand, which he obligingly took. His free arm circled around her waist, and she felt one of her ass cheeks cupped and squeezed gently. She broke and traced the outline of his parted lips with the tip of her tongue before pinching his nipple through his shirt. They bumped into the wall at the bottom of the stairs, and Sylar used the hand on her ass to lift her slightly as he pressed her against the wall and smoothed his body against hers.
They both gasped slightly as she rubbed against a very prominent feature of his anatomy, which was begging to be released.
It surprised her again, the feeling of need that he gave off. He needed her, and all the evidence to support that fact was moulded against her right now, electrocuting her and causing her to pulse and want him in ways she'd never really felt before. She moaned again, and Sylar's mouth swallowed the noise as his hand gently pulled up the fabric of her shirt.
His finger found her bellybutton, dipping into it and pressing towards her spine. He broke from her and looked her in the eye as he wiggled the jewellery there. Claire didn't bother explaining the eclipse and healing, beyond the point of words. He smiled wickedly and crooked his finger downwards. Claire gasped slightly as a strange nerve embedded in her abdomen twinged pleasurably.
Gently, she smacked the side of his face, and he smirked and zapped her with the finger in her bellybutton. Claire jumped again, lips parting in surprise. His face was clouded, completely consumed by lust as he watched and studied her carefully. Claire aimed a forceful kick to the inside of his knee and then squealed when they both fell forwards onto the stairs.
Pain from the edges of the steps digging into her back momentarily paralyzed her, and she coughed as he moved over her again.
He gave her a dirty look and jammed both hands up her shirt, ripping the shirt over her head without much consent. His eyes were darkened, and his skin was boiling. Claire huffed at him, and reached between them to grab the hem of his shirt. He shifted and she missed, hand connecting with the hard ridge in his jeans.
He froze, and it was Claire's turn to smirk. Shyly, she caught his eye and gingerly felt him through his jeans. His hips moved forwards encouragingly, but he glowered at her impressively.
He took a deep breath and breathed throatily at her.
The sound whooshed over her skin and made goosebumps erupt. It bled through her ears in a pleasurable hiss and made her keen quietly as she arched under the administration of the power. He twitched a smirk at her, fingers running lazy eights up the skin on her sides and causing her muscles to shift and contract as they were tickled. She snagged the hem of his shirt and pulled it up roughly, catching it on purpose around his shoulders and head.
"I hate when you do that," She lied, and he twitched noticeably. She wiggled out from under him and backed up the stairs on all fours, hands slapping the wood as he struggled to get the shirt off and over his head. She reached the first landing and glanced back at him. He was watching her, stripped down to his jeans.
His long torso was riddled with muscle, from the bulge of his biceps to the faint abdominals and deep cut lines that disappeared teasingly under his low-slung jeans. Wide shoulders and a powerful chest tapered down into narrow hips upon which his pants sat. He took a step up the stairs and she crab-crawled backwards.
"I knew you would come for me. You're very out of shape. You'd make a fantastic blond," She lied frantically. Sylar twitched and shivered as every lie hit him like a softball, but it didn't slow his ascent towards her. Claire turned and bolted up the stairs, gaining as much ground as possible. She swung down the hallway and her hand had just closed upon the handle to her room when he slammed into her and they fell onto the door, which gave in.
She landed on top of him, and sat up to straddle his hips, swinging her hand down and letting a slap resound in the room. The only reaction she got out of that was him arching his hips up against her and giving her a sadistic smile. The look on his face announced he enjoyed the abuse and she ground down on him to punish him.
A strangled sound burst from his lips, and he gripped her waist to pull her down on him.
"I don't like this," Claire hissed at him, and felt something ghost up her back. Her bra unclasped itself and was torn roughly down her arms, dropped carelessly across the room telekinetically. Sylar's lips fastened to the peak of her breast before she could stop him, and she cried out and pushed against him as both fingers buried into his hair and held him to her.
Sylar zapped her with his mouth, chuckling against her skin when she raked her nails down his back and barked his name.
"You're a freakshow," She hissed, pushing him away from her and attempting to slide off of him. She grunted and struggled as he grabbed her ponytail and ripped the elastic from her head, causing her blond hair to tumble caustically around her shoulders as she stood up and rounded on him.
He held it up and cocked an eyebrow, turning it to gold and smirking at her. He clambered to his feet, and Claire yelled as she launched herself at him and they stumbled backwards into her bureau and he dropped the gold to grab her hips. Claire slammed his head against the doors and attacked his neck, dragging the inside of her lower lip along the ridge of his jaw and nipping his earlobe. His breathing was laboured, and she whined in pain when he slapped the skin on her back and drifted down to cup her rear. Easily, he lifted her and she slung her legs over his hips as she ran her tongue in wide circles down the column of his throat before biting down on the join of his collarbones.
"Ugh, Claire," He groaned as she arched her hips up and moved the seam of her jeans against him. He tweaked a nipple and then let her go, causing her to shriek and nearly fall flat on her ass. She caught herself and was bowled over before she could stand again, hauled across the room and bent over her desk. Books, pens, her phone and other various desk things including her laptop were sent crashing everywhere, but not before she got a hold of a pen and stabbed at him randomly over her shoulder. She gouged him twice before he flipped her over and mentally ripped the pen from her hand.
"That was considerate," She snapped, and he smothered her mouth with his as his fingers found the button and zipper to her jeans. Claire kissed him back, lifting her hips to assist him in getting the jeans off. She was wet, needing him to touch her so violently that it was like a silent chant in her head. She wanted the clothes to be gone and relief to come.
The pulled the jeans down and she frantically kicked her ankles clear as he slammed his hips suggestively against hers. Quickly, she undid his belt and snagged the link as he stepped away from her. She yanked it out of his pants, causing him to stumble slightly backwards. He hit the foot of her bed with his knees.
Claire smiled childishly, tilting her head to the side and biting her lip. He seemed to freeze for a second, and she thought she saw a slight awkward emotion flicker across his face. She dropped the belt, knowing she wouldn't be able to generate enough haul to smack him well enough anyways, and stepped closer to him.
He peered down at her, focused on her eyes. Sylar's eyes were deep pools and his face a mask of lust as she stepped close enough that her breasts brushed his chest. She found the button, lowered the zipper and let go, hearing the muffled 'phwump' as they pooled around his ankles. Almost hesitantly, he leaned down as she tilted her head up.
Her lips melded with his softly, almost apologizing for the abuse she inflicted on him. They stilled, Claire's hand braced gently on his chest and his hands resting lightly on the swell of her hips. She looked at him, breath splaying over his neck. His dark hair was mussed and tousled, lips swollen and he looked every bit as serious as someone at a funeral.
His fingers snagged the bands of her underwear and pulled them down slowly as he looked at her questioningly. Claire didn't respond, merely letting him push them down until they could fall by themselves. A sudden impish smile slipped onto her face and she gave him a hard shove. His knees bent, and he sprawled back over her bed.
"You're too tall, you're really creepy, and just so you know, I think this is totally healthy," She told him sweetly, crawling onto the bed beside him and swinging a leg over his torso so she could loom over him. He shuddered and grunted, frowning at her as she twisted her mouth up at one corner and nodded in agreement with her own lies.
He sat up, bracing himself on his elbows as the effect wore off and she tossed all of her hair over one shoulder.
"I thought encouraging you to be forwards or aggressive would be a challenge," Sylar sniped, lifting his hips so she could work his boxer briefs down. She slithered down his thighs, pulling his last article of clothing down after her and glanced up at him, focusing on his eyes despite the erection that flagged between them. She took that opportunity to bite his knee and he hissed at her. Claire sat up on her haunches and tossed her hair again, looking pensive and completely ignoring his crotch.
"I thought that too. I mean, I've always been a bit of a giver and not a taker. And you," She said, eyes raking over him almost critically. She shrugged. "We all know you're more the taking type."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Actually, I'm more surprised you haven't pulled that magical taser out from somewhere. It's normal form for you to try and kill me."
She smiled sarcastically at him.
"I probably left it in my other skin. I can try later though."
"Great," He commented blithely, gritting his teeth and hissing through them when she reached out and wrapped her hand around his shaft. She pumped him boldly, twisting her hand over the head and then plunging back down, only to come back up to the top and twist the other way. He dug his heels into the mattress, gasping and reclining so he could see. His hips thrust up erratically, meeting her hand and begging for a quicker tempo. Claire ignored it, pulling and pushing.
With a frustrated groan, Sylar sat up and grabbed her around the waist to throw her down on the bed beside him and muffle her squawk of laughter with his mouth as he crawled over her body. She laughed into his mouth, quietening as she kissed him back. Gently, he traced his left hand down her body, feeling the silky skin.
Claire shivered as his fingertips lit trails of fire and pleasurable itches, especially as it descended past her belly button, down the inside of her hip and up the inside of her thigh, gently pushing her legs apart. Something in her nervously questioned what was happening, but it was instantly quelled under the rage of his touch that was making her a slick wonderland. His hand drifted down her thigh, little shocks dancing from his finger tips. She arched up slightly, to no avail. She made a noise of frustration and scraped his tongue with her upper teeth.
His fingers danced down her slit until he found the opening, and she winged into his mouth as he plunged one finger in and drew it out just as quickly, repeating it with a second.
She held onto his head, spreading her legs wider and trying to coax him.
He rewarded her by slowly pressing two fingers into her, and she sighed as she stretched around them. His thumb found her clit, rubbing it circularly as he picked a rhythm and crooked his fingers slightly. Claire moaned, breaking away to breath heavily as she twisted and undulated against his hand.
He hit certain strong nerves in her clit, and they sent violent pings into her muscles as her legs twitched slightly and she breathlessly nipped at his lips. She arched against him, kissing him insistently and wiggling.
"Faster," She muttered.
"No," He mumbled back.
She made a noise between a groan and a frustrated sigh, reaching down his torso and grasping his cock. She jumped again as he circled her clit viciously and moaned a velvet sound into her ear that caused all of her skin to ripple and spark. Spitefully, she tugged him and spread the bead of precum at the tip with her finger as he breathed hotly in her ear.
She squeezed him.
"C'mon. Do it."
He muttered some sort of an epithet into her pillow, thrusting his fingers into her violently. Then they were gone, and she whimpered at the loss of delicious friction and he shifted over her and braced himself over her. She guided him, and frowned slightly when he reached down and lifted her left leg to trap it against his rib under his arm.
"We don't have to do this," Sylar said bluntly. She could feel the shake in his muscles and see the carefully constructed mask on his face. From the bed hair to the five o'clock shadow, she stared into the face that had haunted so many of her dreams and been the boogeyman to many a person's existence.
He didn't' look any different, with dark eyebrows and strong forehead and long face. He didn't sound any different, although his husky silk voice had gotten slightly tight and rough. Something in her twinged, and she realized that his face was the one she was going to see until the day she somehow managed to die for good.
And it wasn't something he'd been born with, it was something he'd taken from her. He chose it. He chose her.
She cocked her head to the side and imitated his eyebrow raise.
"What? Are you afraid it's going to be awkward the next time you try to kill my family members?"
Genuine amusement shone through in his face and he shrugged.
She smirked at him, and pulled his face down to kiss him chastely. She caught his face between her hands and whispered her favourite lie.
"I want you to be gentle with me."
His eyes rolled back slightly and she felt the deep shudder that ran down his spine. She arched and he pushed into her, causing them both to groan and their nails to pierce into each other's flesh. He leaned closer, biting her neck gently as her arms encircled his shoulders and he began to move. Claire moaned, turning her head and sucking his ear lobe until he claimed her mouth and moved in her.
She sighed, feeling a spark jump through her nipples as her rolled them between his fingers, and the scrape of her teeth on his skin. He pulled her leg up higher, angling himself deeper and she bit her lip and whimpered as the friction built and he started hitting another spot, deeper inside her.
He grasped her hips and lifted her slightly. She heard words falling from her lips, but had no idea what she was saying, stumbling through words or encouragement. His fingers slid in her folds, finding her clit and giving it an unsure rub. She used her hand to guide him around, and he followed her lead, sparking her occasionally. She dug her right ankle into his butt as he worked and she watched the play on his face as she her body coiled tightly, screaming with success.
He kept hitting nerves, plus the friction, plus the deep massage within her. The roar of orgasm built in her head, and she whimpered for him to keep going, her head pressing back into the pillow as her eyes slid shut and she felt like she was climbing uphill in a rollercoaster. A warning shudder surged through her, and she helplessly bit down into his shoulder as she came apart and her muscles seized.
Claire's cry was muffled by his shoulder, and she clamped down around him forcefully, her walls seeming to squeeze and pull as she shuddered.
She felt him thrusting, and relaxed slightly as she came down, but was still suspended in the feeling of him moving in and out of her.
He cupped her jaw and forced her to look at him.
He clenched his jaw and she watched a tiny shudder sink his eyes shut.
"I -," He started, and then grunted and pounded into her before burying his face into her neck. She felt the shaking intensify, and heard the bellow into the pillow and her skin as he came. He quivered and then was still, relaxing on top of her. Claire's skin was singing and if her muscles could smile, they were doing so contentedly.
He pulled out of her and lay beside her with a delicious smirk.
Claire let out a huge breath and glanced at him, finding him smirking with his eyes shut, one arm thrown over the bottom of her ribs. They were sweaty, tangled in a pile of smooth tanned skin and dark hairy legs.
She snuggled down and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
He smirked into her shoulder, biting down on it lightly.
"Stop staring at me," He muttered.
"I'm not. I'm just wondering."
"You're wondering if you just made the biggest mistake of your life. Don't worry. I'm sure it'll all blow over when your Dad dies."
She looked at his contented face, and even though her body simmered with sleep and content, she was astonished and fighting a giggle. She frowned and smacked him lightly on the forehead.
"I remember why I don't like you," She commented, and he merely inhaled sleepily and lifted a shoulder as he pulled her closer.
Luke got out of the cab, slamming the door and tossing his little money onto the passenger seat. He leaned down.
The cab driver nodded, and put the car in gear, pulling away from the curb. Luke glanced up and down the street, not spotting their car. He glanced up at the house, which was mostly dark except for the lower levels, and the purple sky as the sun set in the distance. He stretched, sore from his journey from the middle of fucking nowhere.
And he looked in the most recent phonebook, finding no Bennet. After asking around, and some particular sleuthing on his part, he found an address here.
Which, in his opinion, was better than a park bench.
He sighed, stomping up the driveway and onto the front walk that led up to the impressive door. Impatiently, he rang the doorbell and waited. A wind picked up, and the tropical trees on the warm street blustered, blowing hot air around. A dog barked somewhere in the distance but aside from that, the street was eerily silent.
He straightened as he heard footsteps, a light tread of barefeet on wood floors. The lock clicked, and the door was tugged open noisily. Luke froze as a gorgeous blond girl looked at him questioningly, hair pulled into a messy bun and wearing a t-shirt with short red shorts and no bra. He was going to have fantasies forever.
She looked at him, smiling hesitantly and raising her eyebrows.
"Hi. Can I help you?"
He cleared his throat, brushing his hair back.
"Uh. You don't...happen to have seen a guy around. Or know him. Know him, uh, a friend. Sylar? You know a Sylar?" He asked, tripping over his words. The green in her eyes was only brought out by the blond hair and the smooth tan. And the adorable smile. She seemed to jump as a bark of laughter came from somewhere deep in the house.
She glanced over her shoulder and looked back at him with a sheepish smile.
"Yeah, actually. He's in the kitchen," She told him softly, stepping aside and letting him into the house. He shut the door after himself and she gestured for him to follow her down the hall. Luke did, scoping out the way the shorts bent and clung to her ass cheeks. She led him into the kitchen, and Sylar was leaning against the counter in only a pair of jeans.
The girl scooted up onto a barstool and wrapped her hands around a glass of orange juice.
Luke froze, staring at them. He put two and two together and his jaw fell open.
Sylar pointed at the girl and then to him.
"Claire, this is Luke. Luke, this is Claire."
Luke couldn't stop staring.
Sylar gave him a dangerous smirk and crossed his arms.
"This is my invincible girl."
This was the grand finale! I am so saddened and depressed that this has to end, and that this story will no longer have fun, raunchy sex. I will be putting out other stories of course, so no worries there. If any of you are wondering what Sylar was doing to Claire's bellybutton with his finger, it's a scientific fact that there are nerves in your bellybutton directly connected to your clitoris (if you are female). Go ahead and try it. Stick your finger in your bellybutton, press all the way to the back and wiggle the tip in a reverse come-hither motion, pressing down towards your legs. Play around with it, see what happens. ;D
Special thanks to Courbeau, for letting me wake her at 3 am to edit my chapters, and putting up with my Almighty Syndrome and bad typos. You are the ooh to my aaah and I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks to all of my other friends, who put up with invasive questions, long and detailed explanations and embarrassing re-writes of their various sex lives. Special thanks to Marvin, FEF and Mal, who all pointed me in the right direction, pitched ideas, gave me detailed descriptions of the male orgasm and everything before that, and inspired me to keep writing.
Also, thank you to my reviewers. My readers, reviewers, fans, haters, and those couple thousand people who only read the first chapter. I couldn't have done it without your dedicated support and appreciation, and I can't wait to write for you all again.
Please feel free to contact me for any reason, and check back to my profile for other delicious stories and one-shots that will soon be hitting cyberspace. I could not have done this without you guys, the love is never ending.
What was your favourite chapter? I'd love to hear fav lines, chapters and moments.
Love you all!
READ, READ, AND REVIEW! ( hart! )