Title: Dream Interlude One

Pairing: Sylar/Peter

Genre: slash, romance

Rating: M for sexual content

Summary: Takes place after the story Gabriel. Sylar has saved Peter from Danko's men. They have fallen asleep together, and Sylar has unintentionally brought Peter into his dream state, the same way he did with Angela in Eris Quod Sum.

Disclaimer: The show Heroes and it's characters are the property of NBC. No rights infringement intended.

A/N: This is my interpretation of the ability that allowed Sylar and Angela to communicate when she was comatose during Eris Quod Sum. These interludes form a sort of secondary story-line, parallel to Rescue Me, that will be explained in the third one. In them, the boys remember the waking world, but when awake, don't remember the dreams, yet. Beta by adahleida.


Peter was standing in a darkened motel room. He turned to see Sylar - Gabriel standing next to him looking as confused as he felt. On the bed in front of them lay their bodies, still curled together.

"Are we... dead?" Sylar asked in a hushed voice.

Automatically Peter moved to check vitals. After a moment's examination he straightened back up.

"They're warm, breathing, steady heartbeats, pupils normal... whatever else you and I might be, those bodies are definitely alive. Unless we really are dead and this is purgatory."

Sylar scoffed. "Astral projection then?"

Peter appeared thoughtful. The theory definitely intrigued him. He closed his eyes to try something.

Sylar thought he looked constipated. "Peter, what are you doing?"

"Trying to will myself to Paris. What? It's what people in astral projection books are always doing."

Sylar rolled his eyes. Why am I even surprised? he mused. But, he might have an idea. He stretched out his hand, but nothing happened. He shook the other one. Still nothing. He tried shaking out both hands. Nothing.

"Now what the hell are you trying to do?"

"Use my powers. What does it look like?" Sylar said defensively.

"Uh, well, it looks like your powers are still in that body over there." Peter responded, enjoying this unusual circumstance. Being equally powerless was almost like having the upper hand. And he had a feeling that a powerless Sylar would be an amusing Sylar.

"Then what the hell are we?"

"Maybe we're just dreaming."

"The same dream? Of watching ourselves sleep?" The killer was getting more frustrated by the moment. "What kind of stupid dream is that?"

"Maybe we're lucid dreaming. You know where you're in control of the action." Peter closed his eyes again, without looking constipated this time, and when he opened them, he was wearing sweat pants instead of Gabriel's boxers.

"Hey, check it out, I was right! Lucid dreaming." Peter indicated his pants with satisfaction.

"And you changed your clothes? See Peter, this is why you could never control all those powers, you have absolutely no idea what to do with them once you have them." I refuse to beleive he figured this out before I did.

"And I suppose hunting and killing is a much more productive use of them?" Peter challenged, stepping into the taller man's space.

"At least I have an objective. I'm not just floating around all willy nilly." He waved an arm around for emphasis.

"You realize that I am never going to be able to properly fear you now that I've heard you use the phrase 'willy nilly'?" Peter smiled up at his strange companion.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Sylar looked off to the side. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't want you to fear me anymore. "

Feeling bold, and maybe even a bit little reckless given the situation, the younger man let his gaze turn playful. "How do you want me to feel about you?" At the other man's suddenly haunted look, he moved even closer, reaching out. "Hey, don't get shy on me now, killer. We're dreaming remember? Anything goes here."

Sylar glanced at the hand on his arm before focusing his stare on the men laying on the bed. His... body's arm was still around Peter's waist, face pressed into the smaller man's hair. They looked... good together. Comfortable, like they fit.

"Anything goes, huh?"

"Well, within reason. Why? What did you have in mind?"

"Do you think we, they, whatever, will remember this when we wake up?"

Peter too turned to regard the sleeping men. He remembered how good it felt, lying there like that with Gabriel's arms around him. His warm, muscular arms.

"It's doubtful. It looks like we just fell asleep. We haven't moved around yet. We're probably only in our first or second REM stage. If we sleep for as long as we both probably need to, we'll have at least a couple more before we wake up. Usually you only remember the last dream you have, and sometimes then only then if you wake up during it."

Peter turned to the handsome man beside him, taking in dark features and rough stubble. Part of him was still protesting that this was new levels of crazy. Another look at Gabriel's black wife beater stretched across his broad hairy chest had Peter's libido coming up with new justifications. He was willing to follow a little ways more, see if this dream led somewhere interesting...

"So what did you want to do that you also don't want to remember in the morning, or rather, don't want me to remember?" Please, please, don't let it be some weird confession, like that he wants to fuck Claire or, even worse, my mom.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Sylar spared a glance at the other, empty bed before facing Peter. It's his eyes. They are so...

For the first time that night, Sylar felt like he was dreaming as he allowed the fingers of one hand to trail lightly up Peter's bare arm before giving in, and slowly, very slowly, moving just the tips across the younger man's face, through the still-too-short hair, curving around his ear and back down to settle along the jaw line, until finally he had that warm work of art cupped securely in his palm. He stroked his thumb over Peter's perfectly smooth, pale skin. Followed the curve of the impossibly high cheek bone, his zygomatic arch.

The killer smiled. Such a dramatic name for something so delicate, so functionless. Just there for beauty's sake. Realizing that he had probably been zoned out for a good minute, Sylar looked back up to see Peter's reaction.

Peter was blown away. Absolutely blown away and completely turned on. Gabriel's soft touch. His obvious pleasure at touching such an innocent part of himself. Like he'd been wanting to since forever. The nervous blinking. If Peter didn't know any better...

There is no way, absolutely no way in any time or place that this insanely powerful man, who looks good even as he's cutting your head open, is a... virgin. Is there?

Holding his gaze steady and moving as slowly as Sylar had, he reached up and gripped the back of the taller man's neck, bringing his mouth close enough to kiss. Their lips met softly. Small, brief, repeated touches, eyes still open, testing, asking. They felt so good. Addictive.

Peter's eyes drifted closed as he felt Gabriel's large hand move down his throat, fingers so long they curled more than halfway around it. Gabriel's grip was firm but not choking, his thumb still softly stroking up and down, as soft as the kisses they were sharing. It was maddening. The possessive hold made him feel safe, wanted. It made his dick throb.

Then their lips parted. Mouths opened. Tongues met, and the kiss changed. From one second to the next, it was like being swept into a hurricane. Like falling, pulling each other off that school roof all over again. It was just as scary, as exhilarating. Just as life changing. And just like that night in Texas, it felt like destiny.

The next time Peter came up for air, they had moved to his bed, moans coming from them both. Sylar was on top, cradled between his thighs, licking and biting at his neck. They had lost their shirts, but their loose pants were not proving a hindrance to the grinding of their hard cocks.

It had been years since he had been with another man and Peter had forgotten how overwhelming it could be. Gabriel was heavy on top of him, around him, chest hair scratching and sensitizing his nipples. One arm was at his side holding onto his shoulder, while the other was somehow underneath him and he could feel Gabriel's hand reach up to wrap around the back of his neck. Intoxicating.

As Sylar held Peter's head still to receive the deep thrusts of his tongue, matching the slow, hard thrusts of his body, the younger man was shaken inside.

This is too much, Peter thought. A comfort fuck, alone and on the run was one thing, but this... he was on fire and his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest and consume them both.

"Sylar, wait." He managed to put some space between them.

"Are you... do you want to stop?" Dark, anxious eyes searched Peter's.

"No! No, I just need a breath. I'm a little over excited." He stroked up Sylar's chest and neck to his face. Tickled his finger tips on the stubble. He ran his hands through the thick, black hair, scratching at the scalp and smiling as this dangerous and deadly man turned to putty in his hands.

Sylar's eyes closed as his head moved into Peter's petting like a cat demanding more.

"It's been a long time, for me, and this...is crazy. How good you're making me feel." Peter, his voice husky already, looked over the muscular curves of shoulder and chest, hands following. He raked his fingers through the fur pelt this time. "It's crazy how sexy you are."

After leaning down to give another deep kiss, Sylar pulled back to rub his forehead against Peter's. He was feeling pretty overwhelmed himself. Having so many questions answered at once. He realized that he had wanted to be in this position for a long time now. And although he had always been pretty sure of what Peter's touches, albeit usually violent, told him... that he was willing to act on those feelings... Sylar hadn't been sure of that at all.

He had thought his first time with a man would be awkward, not this amazing thing. It was ridiculous really, and completely illogical how arousing rubbing his cock against another's was. They weren't even completely naked yet. And the set of balls nudging against his own? Who could know that would feel good?

And even though Peter was slim, his soft curves nearly hairless, there was no mistaking him for a woman. His small hands and feminine features just made him seem sexy and exotic. Fragile, breakable. But Sylar didn't feel like breaking, and he was good with fragile things. He knew how to be delicate, precise. He wanted this to be good for Peter. Didn't want to fuck it up because of impatience, inexperience or his current lack of intuitive aptitude.

He was so close to letting go completely, but he forced himself to slow down. Sylar was determined to make the most of this dream, even if it meant being honest in a way he normally wouldn't have to be.

"I should probably mention that I've never done this before, with a man I mean. Not that I'm an idiot or anything. I know how things... fit together so to speak. What I want, what I don't know, is what you want. How you want things to... us to fit together."

Peter's face broke into an enormous grin. Sylar admitting he doesn't know something and putting the ball in my court? Dream, check. Me, about to throw caution to the wind and take complete advantage, with possibly, no scratch that, definitely horrendous consequences? Check, and double check. Giving a passionate kiss of his own, Peter ground his hips into Sylar's, opening his legs to make room for the answering thrust.

"Actually, this is working just fine for me." Peter, again, bracing his feet on the bed, made another slinky move, thrusting up against the hard pelvis above him, grabbing two handfuls of ass, and earning a moan from their owner. Sylar lay his head on Peter's shoulder and resumed working his erection against the other man's. Peter took advantage of the opportunity to lick the shell of his ear, dipping his tongue inside before taking the lobe between his teeth and sucking.

"The way you kiss is seriously doing my head in," he whispered. "I feel like I could come any second now. And for a first time, between men, frottage is always a good choice." Concentrating, Peter willed their pants away, gasping as their sexes touched, naked, for the first time. He thought up another helpful little element.

"Oh, Peter."

Sylar's movements sped up, strong determined stokes aided by whatever wonderful thing Peter had just done. The slender legs holding him tight, he knew. The nails digging into his back, also familiar. But he had expected something rougher, dirtier, involving pain, domination, and most likely blood. He hadn't anticipated such intense pleasure. Never would have imagined it could be brought by such simple actions. He could feel every nerve in his body singing, every cell filled with light.

His lips found Peter's again. He loved using his tongue to fuck the other man's smaller mouth. It was so soft and wet. Everything they were doing just felt so fucking good. This was so much better than Sylar had ever imagined. So much better than anything he had ever done. This was passion. This was real.

Sylar broke the kiss, gasping, losing control and suddenly terrified, praying Peter's name over and over again as his core melted and white hot pleasure surged through him.

Peter watched, entranced, as Gabriel came apart above him, chanting his name and grinding them together relentlessly. His own climax triggered by the sight and feel of the other man's hot ejaculate shooting against his stomach, their cocks pulsing together. Peter clung to the man giving him this, his ragged moans joining in with the sound of his name.