Title: Selfish Generosity
Rating: NC-17, maybe R
Pairing: Sylar/Luke
Language, violence, bad attempt at humor, underage sexual content
Word Count:
Author Notes:
This is the result of when boredom takes over and no one's on to roleplay with you. xD This is the only beta'd version of this fic, lol. I got part of Sylar's plan from jaune_chat's fic "Rekindle All Your Dreams". Also, I didn't mean for it to be so long, I just got carried away. D:
I don't own anything except my imagination because, trust me, if I had Zachary Quinto he would not be sexing up Luke right now. ;Db

One thing that had been plaguing Sylar's mind since meeting his father was something he said to him. The accusation that he only hunted weak prey because there was no challenge (or something to that effect. He didn't exactly remember it, too caught up in how pathetic Samson Gray was). It frustrated him mostly because he'd been right. No matter how many times he replayed scenarios of gaining his powers, his victims didn't struggle much, if at all.

Brian Davis was completely unsuspecting, as was Zane Taylor. Trevor Zeitlan had been a setup by that bitch Elle and an equally bastard Noah Bennet, so he was like the other two. Dale Smither didn't even have a chance to fight back, though he was sure she would've. Isaac merely accepted his fate. Michelle or Candice or whoever the hell she was tried vainly to seduce him before he cracked a mug upside her head, in which he didn't even acquire her power because of his physical condition. Sue Landers was shocked into paralysis at his showing (but at least he got cake).

The only people who truly did fight back was Claire Bennet and Elle Bishop, the former whom was still alive. (Even if he was able to kill her it was just too much fun fucking with her life.)

His thoughts drifted to Luke Campbell for a reason unknown to him. That kid was like his mascot, thinking every trick he did was "awesome" or "cool". An untamed, immature brat that didn't know a thing to do with his ability. Had a fight ensued between them, Luke would be dead within mere seconds.

There was potential, however. Sylar saw it when witnessing that darkness in the seventeen-year-old's eyes. With proper training, the boy might be useful exercise. Thus his prey wouldn't be weak when the time came to kill him, resulting in his father's words being false.

A wicked smirk curled Sylar's lips as the flawless plan unfolded before him. Switching gears of the stolen Buick, the car screeched and swerved as it made a U-turn down the two lane road in the middle of nowhere.

"Oh my God, Luke!" Mary's frightened voice called when seeing her son slowly drag himself toward the house. She threw her arms around her only child and hugged him close, whispering endearments and petting his hair.

Luke didn't believe a word of it. His mother hated him, he was convinced of that much, but he had nowhere else to go. Sylar—Fucking asshole.—had stranded him yet again after visiting daddy dearest. Left him right there in that rundown, boarded up diner. Well, it wasn't there anymore. He fried that place to the ground in his anger, which alerted some drivers-by. They thought he'd gotten caught in a wildfire and offered him a ride home because they were headed in that direction. Unfortunately, they hadn't taken him all the way but some cash and two buses later here he was.

Luke Campbell: loser, freak, and nobody once again.

He was so angry he could cry (or heat something up to an alarming degree, but thought differently about that). His mother was still talking and he was able to catch the last bit of what she was saying.

"… so worried. I thought you were dead! Are you hungry?"

All the boy could manage was a faltering smile and a nod. As he stepped into the small house, he realized the mess with Agent Simmons had been cleaned up. Mary must have called the police. Luke wondered if she filed a missing report on him, saying her son had been kidnapped by a deranged psychopath who could move things with his mind. Surely they'd have thought she was crazy.

Once seated at the table, his mom presented him with a bowl of leftover macaroni that had clearly been warmed up in the microwave. He could've just did it himself, but Mary was probably trying to forget that her kid was one step away from being a monster like Sylar.

"I should probably call the police and tell them you're back at home, safe and sound." Mary announced, smiling weakly. Luke didn't register any of this as he gobbled down the food. He hadn't realized how hungry was until now.

When she returned five minutes later, the single parent sat beside her son. "I'm really glad your back," She paused uncertainly, then set her hand atop of his. "He… he didn't hurt you did he?" Her eyes were laced with concern.

Luke shook his head. "No, Mom."

"Didn't force you to do anything, did he?"

"No, Mom."

"You can tell me, Luke. I—"

"He didn't do anything, all right?" The boy slammed his fists down on the table. "To tell you the truth, I wanted to go with him. I wasn't a victim, I wasn't being held hostage or anything like that. I stole the keys to your car, not him."

She looked absolutely flabbergasted. Her jaw was hanging open, eyes impossibly wide. A tense silence passed between them as the mother watched her son fill his stomach. What did a parent say to an outburst like that? Mary had sincerely believed that maniac took her son from him because he saw some deluded cruelty within. She knew that she didn't get along well with Luke, but enough for him to hate her? No, that was unacceptable, untrue.

"I'm going to my room." the teen finally said, pushing his chair back and standing. The woman watched as he climbed up the stairs and then heard a door closing moments later.

The troubled youth was left to wallow in his own thoughts. Part of him was hoping this was a dream. That he was still in the car with Sylar, just having a nightmare. A pinch on his bicep told him otherwise. Anger swelled within again, along with hurt and loss. He ached from losing someone who could understand, someone who he could learn from, someone who could've maybe been his only friend.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he remembers is a loud noise greeting him. Luke bolted upright as heavy footsteps paraded downstairs and muffled voices carried. Frozen for a split second, it took him even less time to figure out it was the agents. He jumped to his feet immediately and darted to his window. Before it was even opened they barged in with guns drawn and pointed at him.

Panic emitted from those clear brown irises as he swallowed audibly. His eyes squeezed shut to await the inevitable. Luke thought the sound of a rifle firing was going to be the last thing he heard, but was actually something colliding with a hard surface. Pained shouts followed and made him peel his lids open.

Now he knew for sure this had to be a dream. There was no way Sylar was standing in his room, telekinetically flinging government dogs this way and that. Saving his life was what the alleged heartless killer was doing. The boy jumped when lightning zapped out of the older man's finger tips, effectively shocking several of the remaining agents. Burnt flesh tingled his nose and brought a wave of light nausea, but he ignored it in favor of gawking at someone he expected to never see again.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Luke blurted, looking just as shocked as Mary had when finding out the truth.

"A simple thank you would suffice, but you clearly haven't learned much about manners since we last parted," Sylar retorted in calm irritation. "I'm saving your ass. How about a little less rudeness and a little more gratitude?"

The situation was finally sinking in. That fury came tumbling back as he glared. "Gratitude? After you left me in some dirty ass diner?" He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Be glad I'm not giving you the fuck-off-and-die salute."

Without warning, the kid was slammed into a wall, feet dangling high off the floor. Sylar was in his face in an instant. Jaw tense, lips pursed, and eyes blazing he looked the picture perfect of furious psychopathic killer. "Should I have left them get you?" he asked rhetorically in a low, dangerous tone.

Luke swallowed down his fear and looked Sylar directly in the eye. "Why'd you come back?" He refused to be afraid of this man. Maybe if he showed a false bravado his life would be spared. There wasn't much for him to live for, but Luke Campbell was afraid of death and the Grim Reaper was right before him in the form of slicked back dark hair and an aggression-packed six-foot-two body.

There was a brief moment of quiet before Sylar stepped back while releasing his mental hold on the younger. "I realized you were more of an asset to me alive rather than caught."

"Oh really?" Luke said after his soles touched the ground. "What made you think that?"

"Not many people have your power. With some training you'll be as much of a threat to the government as am I," That was an exaggeration, but if he expected his plan to work Sylar had to play nice. Somewhat.

He grabbed the chair from the teen's desk, pulled it out, then sat backwards on it. "Dead agents are easily replaced. But if they're hurt, injured to the point of severe medical attention, they'll have to stop in their schemes to take care of them. Money is what makes any establishment strong. Without it, funds for this project would run low, giving people with special abilities time to hide and me a large grocery list without worrying about the guy in front of me taking the last box of cookies."

Luke stared. Sylar was insane. Ingenious, but insane. Then again, most whack jobs are. Despite all he heard, there wasn't a reason for his necessity. "But why me? Why not anyone else?" It's amazing how calm he can be now after his life was threatened just seconds before.

Sylar stiffened, appearing reluctant to answer. The kid just watched him expectantly, a little bit impatiently. When the answer finally came, he couldn't quite believe it himself.

"You're the only one I can trust." The words were soft, the speaker obviously not wanting them to be heard, which isn't possible in the proximity between the two of them.

Luke's lips stretch in a broad grin. He won't make the older man repeat himself, just saying it once is good enough. Gives him hope that the other won't bail on him this time. That he's serious about teaching him to fight with his ability.

"All right, let's do it." Luke agreed.

The smirk that crossed Sylar's face would've made a Slytherin jealous.

Luke was taken to another city where they rented out an apartment neighboring a street basketball court. That was were the lessons began and Luke didn't question why it was out in the open. It was answered whenever they woke up late in the night or in the very early mornings. They didn't talk much outside of training. In fact, their conversations consisted mainly of the youth being shouted at to do better. God knows he tried, but this combat preparation was intense and grueling.

The things he was doing was asthma inducing. He was running awfully long laps around the block repetitively; climbing the gate surrounding the blacktop or ropes tied to the basketball hoop; doing pull-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, jumping rope—just plain activities the military required. It was as if Sylar was preparing him to be the next Terminator or something.

After getting into shape, the sparing began. He sucked royally at it. Luke was pinned to the ground within minutes, sometimes even seconds. Each time damaging his ego and confidence. Eventually his mentor caught on to his lack of enthusiasm when a certain punch he threw bounced off his block. Luke's wrist was grabbed easily and the arm that was attached was twisted behind his back. The teen was shoved roughly against the wire fence face first.

"You're not evening making an effort." Sylar commented conversationally. Harsh pants became the protégé's breathing. He attempted a glare over his shoulder, but had his face pushed into the fence. "You're not even struggling. Why are you giving up?" His tone was harder, disappointed.

"Dude, what's the point of me learning to fight? I thought I was suppose to be mastering my power or whatever. This is pointless."

"It's not pointless. You can't just rely on your ability to save you all the time because there are ways it can disappear," the older man explained. "Knowing defense will help you to use it better as well."

"Whatever you say, sensei." Luke rolled his eyes.

"Why are you giving up?" Sylar repeated.

"Because!" the kid snapped. He took a breath before elaborating. "Because no matter what I do you'll always be better than me. I haven't even laid one hit one you!"

Sylar didn't deem this important enough to reply. He relinquished his grip on Luke and shoved him way. "Try again," he said, beckoning with a hand. "Come at me."

Coffee eyes glaring, Luke charged at the man as fast as he could and swung his fist for a hook. It was blocked by Sylar's wrist, unsurprisingly, but he threw another punch. That one would've struck if Sylar hadn't moved his head out the way. Gritting his teeth, the youth released an angered shout with an attempt to elbow the other's ribcage.

Sylar scooted back, then swooped his foot out. It collided with the smaller one's ankle, causing him to fall and land hard on his back. Air rushed out of his lungs and he struggled to gain oxygen even as a heavier, stronger body laid atop his own with a thick forearm pressed to his throat. He clawed weakly at it.

"Your problem is that you let emotions guide you. Learn to control them, detached yourself from your feelings, and you'll win."

"Yeah, okay, Spock." Luke grunted, glaring indignantly. He ignored the narrowing of Sylar's eyes.

"If you're not going to take this seriously, I'm wasting my time. I won't bother teaching some worthless kid how to save his own ass." Sylar replied, fed up with adolescent hormones. The killer didn't pay any attention to the stunned look on the boy's face as he got to his feet. "We're done for the day. Go get yourself cleaned up. We'll start again in the morning—if you mature, that is." He turned and left Luke lying on the floor.

Sylar awoke some time in the night feeling thirsty. It was usual for him to wake in the middle of sleeping, seeing as he was a bit of an insomniac. His body was restless because his mind was always racing. Plagued with thoughts of the past and future along with that insatiable craving, that hunger dwelling in the pit of his soul—if God was kind enough to give him one, at least.

After downing a glass of tap water, then going to the bathroom, Sylar entered his shared bedroom with Luke. He would've been in the master bedroom, of course, instead of some child's room if the other hadn't told him he wanted Sylar with him in fear of Sylar up and leaving again (which was smart, he had to admit).

He just didn't count on Luke being the one to disappear. The man immediately began searching for any clues as to where the brat might be. Eventually he came across the closet and noticed the clothes Luke usually wore when they trained was gone. The sliding doors were slammed shut as he turned to leave.

As predicted, Sylar found Luke on the blacktop exercising in what he guessed to be boxing. Luke would jab several times at the air before ducking or dodging invisible punches. Occasionally he'd throw a kick in there. He was actually impressed with the kid. How long had Luke been doing this without him knowing? Apparently the younger male was more dedicated than he was given credit.

Wordlessly, the mentor approached his determined pupil from behind quietly. "What're you doing?" he asked once directly at his back.

Luke startled, spun around, and punched Sylar right in the jaw. Eyes turned into saucers as they watched the serial killer raise a hand to his aching chin. Intense bistre eyes stared into innocent chocolate ones for a long moment.

"Nice hit."

The tension visibly disappeared as Luke relaxed, sighing gratefully. "Thanks—" The word was barely out his mouth before knuckles slammed into his lips. He cried out and stumbled back, cupping the bruised tissue.

"Never let your guard down." Sylar warned, smirking as his gaze glinted mischievously.

Blood was wiped from the kid's mouth with his arm before grinning excitedly. It was rare to ever see Sylar in a playful mood. Even as they circled each other, that gleam never left his eyes. This put Luke at ease since the older man wasn't angry about the punch. He watched as Sylar slowly raised his hand, palm up, and egged him on with his fingers.

The fight was on.

Microwave pulses shot out Luke's palm and targeted Sylar. His opponent moved out the way before throwing blue electricity at him. Ducking, the teen charged and slammed into the other around the middle. They hit the gate with exhaled grunts, but didn't let the impact stop them. Two fists scored into Sylar's abdomens, making him hunch over.

Fingers gripped into Luke's sweaty T-shirt to literally launch him away. Before he collided with something, however, he was caught midair by nothingness. That nothingness then slammed him into the backboard of one of the hoops and allowed him to fall to the ground, but cushioned his landing. His body remained there unmoving for several moments.

"Get up, Luke," Sylar called, eyes narrowing. "I know something like that wouldn't bring you down." No response. Annoyed, he stepped closer. "If that managed to knock you out you're not as strong as I imagined." As the tutor neared the immobile body he looked for any signs of trickery. Finding none, Sylar worried that maybe he had thrown the punk a little too hard.

Fuck. He kneeled down and pushed at the boy's shoulder. "Hey, get up." he repeated, then patted the younger's scapula. He stopped when there was no reaction. Panic slowly crept in his veins at the thought of the other being dead.

Luke suddenly sat up, his hand gripped Sylar's throat in the same swift move, and shoved him to the ground on his back. "Never let your guard down." the kid mocked, then released all his power into his palm.

Sylar screamed in pain, which sounded more like roaring, as his flesh burned away from his neck. His foot swung up, catching Luke in the stomach, to backflip their positions instantly. Luke dropped with a painfully thud and nearly two hundred pounds of muscle straddling him and pinning his wrists down. His groan mingled with Sylar's harsh panting. When he looked at the man, he witnessed redden skin reforming over muscles before smoothing out into healthy pale skin.

"That was… impressive." Sylar managed to say after regaining his breath.

"Thanks." Luke smirked.

"I guess I was wrong about you." came a low murmur.

Luke stared at the older man to find what he was referring to, then frowned a bit. "I'm not worthless." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or Sylar.

"No, you're not," Sylar agreed, watching the youth with a penetrating gaze. "You've proved you're not."

A blush dusted Luke's cheeks either at the words or the gaze, he didn't know. Whichever reason, it was enough to make him feel embarrassed or nervous. Maybe both. Sylar had a knack for looking at someone with such focus it made them feel exposed. Like they couldn't hide any secrets from him (which they couldn't since he was a walking lie detector, but that wasn't the point). It made Luke much more aware of the closeness between them. Heat that wasn't his own or his ability comforted him, brought him safety and security. It also brought a stirring to his loins, so he struggled to free himself.

"All right, now get off of me. I think some of this gravel is riding up my ass." he complained.

That actually made Sylar laugh, but he listened and helped the boy to his feet. The two of them headed back to their apartment that was, thankfully, only a block away. With all the noise that had made, Luke was surprised nobody called the cops.

Weeks passed with much improvement. Luke could never actually beat Sylar, but he came close to it on more than one occasion. Sylar would always just pull one last move that rendered him incapable. Soon the time to go after the agents finally came. They were getting ready when a question plagued the youth's mind. He looked up when the older man came down from the bathroom, shirt in hand but wearing pants, and water dripping down his exposed body as he toweled his hair. Seconds passed of Luke getting lost in the rivers outlining the intimidating muscles of the killer's physique, but he shook his head and refocused.

"Hey Sylar," Luke began then continued when the other looked at him. "When this all over and we're done being badass, what happens then? Between us, I mean."

Where the hell did that come from? was the first thing he thought. He looked at Luke as if expecting him to answer the nonverbal question. The kid wasn't telepathtic, so of course he didn't. Sylar turned his back to Luke in favor of moving to the couch in the den. The towel was tossed carelessly on the coffee table. His eyes shifted back to the other.

"I leave you with your mom again. Simple as that." he lied convincingly as he put the white T-shirt on. Luke wasn't too happy with that answer because he immediately responded with "Why?" and made Sylar glance at him.

"I mean, why can't I just stay with you?" the boy pressed on. "My mom's afraid me, I know it. She doesn't have to tell me. I can see it in her eyes. No one's gonna miss me back home 'cause I don't exist, so why can't I stay with you? You could use the help, y'know!"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." he assured tersely.

"Well, I can be a sidekick or something then, I dunno." Luke tried again.

Sylar sat down on the couch and sighed. "What does it matter? Why are you so eager to tag along?"

He shrugged. "I have nothing better to do."

A tingle washed over Sylar's body. "You're lying."

"Man, I still never figured out how you do that—"

"Answer the question, Luke."

That was rewarded with a glare, which was returned with an even unflinching gaze. Naturally the younger one lost the contest and shook his head. "Forget about it." But the other wasn't so keen on that idea. He stood and closed the distance between them until he was a meter away.

"Why, Luke?"

"Just drop it, all right?" he said with annoyance.

"Not until you tell me why."

"Leave it alone—"

"Why, Luke?" Sylar urged, taking a step forward.

" 'Cause I like hanging out with you, okay?" Luke shoved at the man's chest and had his wrists caught. He struggled to break free while continuing in a louder voice. "I just thought that you were beginning to like me, but I guess I was wrong! I didn't know I was still a bother for you. But I'm just some—some toy, aren't I? A trick up the sleeve to surprise the agents, huh? And then when we're done beating the crap outta them, you're just gonna leave me and go shopping for more powers!" The last bit was spat out and was followed a frustrated exhale. "Will you let go already?"

A warm mouth silenced any more protests. Sylar's soft lips were hard against Luke's, firmly shutting him up. He was gawking at the older man, absolutely shocked that he'd pull a stunt like that. Even if he wasn't responding, the results of the kiss went straight to his groin. He didn't even realize when those lips pulled away.

"Seemed like the only way to shut you up." Sylar explained.

Awesome way to shut me up. Luke found himself thinking. He never expected his first kiss to be by a guy, let alone Sylar. Didn't think he'd get semi-hard by it either. "Since you're quiet now," he heard the other saying, "I can correct you on some things."

But the killer never got the chance to. Luke's mouth was mauling his and hands were gripping damp tresses. Sylar automatically set his palms on the youth's hips, which encouraged him to move forward and press their bodies together. A moan sounded from Luke's throat when his bump brushed against a clothed thigh. Inexperienced lips tried opening their counterpart's but received a growl instead.

Sylar took charge with a harsh bite that made Luke wince and gasp. Fingers curled tighter on the younger's hips as a skilled tongue maneuvered inside. It attacked the unsuspecting slick muscle there and engaged in a serpentine battle. Meanwhile, the two of them had somehow been stumbling backwards near the sofa. It wasn't until the back of Sylar's knees hit the arm of the furniture that he came to his senses.

"Wait, wait," he muttered, dislodging from an eager mouth, "you're only seventeen."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and if you double that you get your age. So what?" He shoved the other onto the seat cushions.

Sylar glared at the boy crawling atop him. "I'm not that old. You're four years off."

"That's still old." Luke said, trying to push up the white shirt but his wrists were held and hands halted.

"And you're still jailbait." he reminded sternly.

"You're a damn serial killer, what does the law matter to you?" the teen replied impatiently.

Sylar quirked an eyebrow. Fair enough. Luke was grabbed by his neck and forced into another demanding kiss. Tongues fought yet again while hands explored and ventured urgently as if time was running out. Luke rubbed himself desperately against the growing erection beneath him, basking in the fact it tore a groan from Sylar's vocal chords. The other's hips thrust upward, jabbing him particularly hard and causing a deliciously rough friction.

After breaking away from Sylar's addictive mouth, Luke hurriedly removed the shirt and ran his hands up then down the bare midriff. The kid reveled in the shudder it elicited and made him wonder if the big bad serial killer was sensitive to the touch. He tweaked rosy nipples embedded to muscled pectorals, smirking at the low hiss the pinches produced.

Luke gasped loudly when a large hand cupped his arousal shamelessly. The groping was anything but gentle. It was firm and persistent and made him moan with each squeeze. Sylar leaned up to graze the teen's neck right below his jaw. He full out bit him when Luke ground into his palm, making him arch. His tongue lapped a wet path upward from collarbone to jugular. Lips suctioned Luke's Adam's apple in and left a dark, noticeable hickey.

He fumbled with removing his own shirt and had his hands pushed away, in which calmer more steady fingers finished the job. They trailed down his sides, making him shiver this time, as hot kisses imprinted his skin. He toyed with the small nubs he found on the boy's flat surface, licking and nipping before deciding to suckle them as well. The boy moaned and twitched as each action pooled blood between his legs. Of course he squirmed around when the pressure of his pants became uncomfortable.

Fortunately Sylar took the hint and began unbuttoning him while applying a slow, caressing kiss to his flushed and pouty lips. Luke had to stand up in order to remove the jeans fully. However, both that and his boxers were taken in one yank. He kicked them off before staring at Sylar. His erection was being eyed with such great interest it made him want to shy away or cover up. But he was glad he did neither when that tongue swooped up the length of it. The gasp that escaped ended in a long moan once the point of that sinful muscle swept back and forth over his tip, teasing the precum-leaking slit.

Luke jerked forward when a hot mouth enveloped him, head lolling back at the pleasure of it all. He released a whine that he'd never admit to as his gourd was devoured inch by inch. To think that Sylar would do something so submissive was a turn-on in itself. And then the bobbing began, leaving the kid breathless and panting. He curled his fingers into short dark hair just to have something to hold onto because sanity was slipping out of his ears. Moans couldn't be suppressed when the sucking became harder, faster. And that tongue never stopped twisting and swirling around him.

Something blunt, yet thick and slippery probed his entrance. The younger wasn't aware when Sylar found the time to wet his finger, but wasn't complaining as it pushed its way in. The dual movements made Luke dizzy and weak in the knees. One hand on his hip steadied the youth as he was stretched and received fellatio. Too soon the heat around his length disappeared yet three fingers remained inside.

How did he manage that? Luke wondered absently, but found himself not caring when they brushed a spot that made him jump and shout. Sylar smirked devilishly and repeated the action, tortuously applying stimuli there. The constant quivering was involuntarily as pressure built up in his stomach, twisting and knotting his muscles. He didn't know how much more he could take before erupting against his will.

"S-Sylar!" Luke cried, mentally cringing at how desperate he sounded.

"Yes, Luke?" the bastard said far too calmly.

"Just… fucking get on with it already!" he panted, failing to hold back a needy groan. The boy fell forward but luckily held himself up with the help of the older man's shoulders. "Hurry—I'm g-gonna come!"

His response was to fist the other's cock and pump it quickly. When Luke dropped his hands down there, he truly meant to stop Sylar. However, he ended up assisting him in hastening his own climax. It didn't take long and eventually spurts of sticky ivory shot out his tip, tearing a loud cry from his lungs. Short, choppy snaps of his hips made sure to get all he had to offer.

Sylar pulled his hand away to lick the semen off his thumb and fingers. Luke was both disgusted and pleased. He was going to ask about Sylar's problem when the man stood up and unleashed himself. For some reason, the kid wasn't all that surprised to see no underwear.

Commando. That's kinky. he approved, though didn't have any more time to muse about these things when his sullied hand was set atop Sylar's girth. The thickness alone was enough to shock him, but the size outright scared him. A bull's antler was down there! Once again his attention was distracted by having his head tilted back by slightly rough hands. Sylar's mouth descended over his and another fierce kiss ensued as he milked an intimidating erection.

Luke was barely aware of them being lowered back to the couch into their previous position again. They were still kissing even as his ass was squeezed, tongues colliding like whips. Sylar's hand was what broke the lip-lock; it pushed the teen's head down abruptly. In one motion, Luke was presented the killer's massive arousal. He pushed back the fear of actually choking and went right to business, taking as much as he could into his mouth. A hard-on of his own was reacquired during the makeout and he was eager to finish this session the proper way.

As much as the boy enjoyed the rewarding gasps and heavy breathing, his patience reached its end. His legs were straddling the other's pelvis instantly, one hand against Sylar's chest keeping him up. He gave himself a cautionary fingering just in case. A silent chuckle shook the older man's shoulders at the realization. Luke just gave him a shut-up-glance before grasping his shaft and lowering himself. Hands were placed on his hips to guide him.

Hissing, the youth closed his eyes tightly at being entered and stretched. As painful as it was, there was a lingering masochistic pleasure to it. Brown eyes reopened to witness the chords in Sylar's neck and arms straining, signaling his resistance to just thrusting up reflexively. (Those fingers were going to leave bruises, he just knew it.) Finally, after long last, he was in to the hilt. Luke felt proud of himself to be able to take that much in.

He hadn't even managed to catch his breath before he was being penetrated eagerly. Crying out sharply, he dug his nails in Sylar's pecs, finding the contrasting smoothness of the few hairs there ironic to the harsh thrusts. But he was arching wantonly into those impalements, rocking fast to get as much bliss as he could. The pain had faded away some moments ago and left him with euphoria. His mouth seemed to be left hanging open from the many moans spilling out.

Sylar yanked Luke down with every jut upward. Forever unrelenting to the virgin passage taking him in. Grunts escaped through clenched teeth, inaudible over the commotion sounding from the boy bouncing atop him. His gaze trailed up the lithe form, eyeing the sweat tangling down Luke's body, the spontaneous spasms whenever he struck right there. And the way the younger male's face contorted into painful enjoyment was simply superb. It was enough to make Sylar groan and speed up.

The ecstasy racking both their bodies was the telltale sign of climax approaching. As the older man sat up for a better angle, Luke wrapped his arms around broad shoulders. Kisses rained across his jaw and neck and he let his head fall back to grant more room. The biting convinced him to grind severely on the mast spearing him ruthlessly. Hearing a growl, Luke knew that made Sylar snap because soon he was on his back, shoulders propped on the armrest, and being pounded deeply at an alarming rate.

Now he was unsure if he was arching to reduce the pleasure or beg for more of it. Either way, it left him clawing the wing of the sofa and screaming a mantra of "Sylar!" with incoherent, erotic sounds tumbling out. To which Sylar responded by stabbing his tongue down the boy's throat to silence him.

Their culmination finally crashed over them like a tsunami. Both hollered their joy as messy fluids stained their skin, leaving them quaking and oversensitive. Curt, erratic thrusts emptied Sylar completely inside the body beneath him and took away his remaining strength. He collapsed atop of Luke in a sweaty stupor, fighting to breathe normally again. One glance at Luke read his condition was no better.

After what felt like an hour, Sylar pushed himself up and fell back against the other side of the couch. Luke managed to anchor himself onto wobbly arms and watch as the other ran fingers through his ruined hair.

"I thought you weren't gay." he commented dubiously.

A bark of laughter resonated. "I thought you weren't gay," he countered and looked over, smirking. "Until I saw you looking at me after that night on the court."

That blush appeared even as he glared. "I'm not gay. At least not for any other guys."

"Oh, so I'm special?"

The boy smiled. "We both know you're special, Sylar."

He laughed quietly he stood and pulled his pants back on. The discarded towel from earlier was used to clean the fluids off. "Now I have to take a shower again." he complained as Luke got dressed too, though winced a lot as he did so.

The teen rolled his eyes.

"And to answer the question you had before you ended up mauling me—oh don't give me that look, you totally did—I wasn't going to leave you. I was going to kill you," Luke had to remind himself that Sylar was insane to not be scared shitless by that. "But now I'm not going to. I wasn't lying when I said you impressed me and weren't worthless anymore. Plus," His lips stretched in an actual smile, "who else besides you could be my Kirk?"

Luke laughed boisterously and shook his head. "Yeah, okay, Mr. Spock."

"Ready to 'beat the crap' out of some government agents?" Sylar asked, heading toward the door.

"Better fucking believe it." Luke agreed eagerly, following.