Author's Note: Oh, my god, she's ALIVE! I'm so sorry for my mini hiatus you guys but the last few days have been rotten to the core. Things are slowly but surely piecing themselves back together and I finally have time to trot out some more SSS one shots. Work on my in progress stories will resume over the weekend and the majority of next week. I get out for Winter Break on the 12th and I'm out until the 23rd.

Now, the time has come to branch out again, this time into the HEROES fandom. My big sister and her best friend have gotten me hopelessly hooked on the show and the majority of my devotion comes from the delectable Zachary Quinto's role as Sylar and his thing with Claire Bennet. Many see it as a hateship. I see it as something much more positive. Twisted but at the end of the day, positive.

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

It was wrong.

Being with him was just…plain…wrong.

Being with him spat in the eye of everyone and every little principle she held dear.

Being with him was like touching the spilled blood of the innocents, like loving Lucifer himself.

Yet, Claire Bennet continued this unholy union, willingly letting him touch and love and protect her like he was just a regular guy. He wasn't just a regular guy. He was Sylar. He was the source of many nightmares and the loss of her innocence. He had cut her head open and stole her ability like a thief in the night, treating her like a gazelle to be devoured. He had killed so many people, including her biological father. He had stolen so much from her.

If anyone had the right to hate and tear him apart, it was her. She should. She would do the world a great service if she did…

But, she couldn't. The raging hatred she had felt for him had been destroyed by his utter honesty in that classroom, the way he had yielded 6 simple words like a prayer, like an olive branch.

"I don't want to be alone."

Take me in, he had said. Do what you wish to me, just don't leave me alone. I'm terrified of being alone, of dying unloved and unwanted. Claire knew that fear intimately. Although she was physically incapable of dying (despite her and his best efforts), she knew that death could take many forms. Yes, a heart could beat eternally and flesh could heal but nothing could undo the cold death of hopelessness and of loneliness.

Nothing but a companion. Against her better judgment, she had yielded to him and slowly but surely let him in, becoming his friend and eventually his aide when Noah and the "good guys" came after him to cage him after Samuel and his band of merry psychos finally did themselves in.

Coincidentally, all of them had forgotten that their victory wouldn't have happened without him but not Claire. She had saved him. She had been his liberator.

A sharp gasp and moan echoed through the tiny hotel room, causing her back to arch as he suckled upon her coral nipples.

Now, she was so much more. She was his partner. His lover. His salvation, as he called her in the wee hours of the morning, when he was Gabriel Gray and not the sarcastic, sociopath bastard she had grown accustomed to. Even when he didn't say it, he showed it.

He protected her from the company agents that constantly followed them. He was 100% honest with her, something that not even Peter could claim. He let her rant and rave and beat on him, defending himself only when absolutely necessary. Most importantly, he let her be herself. He didn't expect her to be the Damsel in Distress or the Perfect, Normal Daughter. He just expected her to be Claire and took her to task when she tried to be anything but Claire.

That was why she stayed. That was why she let him love and touch and protect. She needed the knowledge that no matter what happened, no matter how much time passed, she would have someone that let her be her and accepted it.

Tugging at his hair impatiently, she took his mouth with hers, digging her nails into his back, feeling cuts open and close as she trailed them down his spine. In retaliation, he bit down on her lower lip, rupturing it and licking at the blood as it knit together.

"Fucker!" she growled as he reopened the wound, deeper and uglier this time.

"You fucking started it, princess. Put your legs around my waist." he retorted while sitting them up.

"Make m-!"

The invisible grip around her throat made her vision swim just like she knew it would. When they were intimate (she didn't dare call it making love but it definitely wasn't fucking), it was a power struggle, sometimes playful but often not. Her provoking him into choking her was a common game, one both enjoyed immensely.

Her eyes rolled back as he plunged into her greedily, moaning and growling like a rutting dragon, causing her to whimper in answer and for more.

The invisible grip loosened and tightened periodically, keeping her just on the brink of unconsciousness. It made the sensations she felt (thankfully, she could feel again) all the more intense. Her core twitched and surged as she came ever closer to climax and his blunt nails dug into her hips with bruising force as he came close to his own release.

The grip tightened once and he shattered with a muted howl, filling her with streams of thick warmth.

Claire choked out a moan and came with him, shakily moaning his name, his given name into the still night.

His hand went to her back and rubbed gentle circles as she coughed and wheezed for air, the rawness in her windpipe seeping away like sand in her hands.

"You okay?" he asked after getting his own air back.

She nodded silently and gently grazed her teeth against his chest, her way of saying "I love you."

He nuzzled her in response and laid her down, resting his head against her eternally smooth and golden skin.

Claire sighed and glanced out at the full moon, taking in its ethereal beauty.

Looking down at his slumbering form, she pressed a tender kiss to his brow.

Being with him was wrong.

Loving him was wrong.

But, she would never stop doing either one.