Title: Rescue Me, Dream Interlude 3, part 2/2

Length: 3500 words

Summary: This is the conclusion to the boy's vacation together. They're in Coyote Sands, dreaming together.

Beta by adahleida


When Sylar woke up, he felt like he had been run over by a truck. He tried raising off the bed but his arms were shaky, and he ended up falling back to his stomach after gaining only a couple of inches.

Jesus. I must have passed out right on top of him. How romantic.

He managed to roll over onto his back, brushing and spitting long strands of hair out of his mouth. His ponytail had come undone. Sylar couldn't believe Peter never mentioned it.

Looking up at the sky, he saw that his irksome partner had been playing, and playing brilliantly. It was now nighttime and there were many more stars twinkling overhead than was normal. The Milky Way flowed in line with the river like a celestial mirror, passing over the waterfall and curving off the edge of the horizon.

There was a second moon as well, so close to the earth that it took up a third of the sky. Both were full and glowing yellow. The smile that stretched across Sylar's face as he took in the amazing display was rare for the killer: completely, almost innocently honest in its pleasure. He loved it when Peter impressed him.

Thanks to all the moon and starlight, Sylar easily located Peter in the pool leaning back against the bank. Sylar sat down next to him on what seemed to be a rock ledge, and was surprised to feel jets of water massaging his legs and back. This was... nice. He raised his eyebrows at the man who kept on surprising him.

"You said we were on vacation," the younger man said from his relaxed position.

"So this is really what a hot tub feels like?" Sylar asked after a moment.

"Yep. Well, a really expensive one. I gotta tell you, I am loving this new ability," Peter went on. "I mean, just think of the psychological applications, not to mention the fun ones."

"You mean like torturing somebody?" Sylar asked.

"Seriously, that's really the first thing you thought of?" Peter was more disappointed than surprised.

"No dumb ass. The 'fun applications'," here Sylar added air quotes, "were the first thing I thought of."

"Oh, right. Well that's even more stereotypical."

"Must I remind you that though I may be the most powerful man on earth, I am still just a man."

"And so humble. Still though, you've got to admit you're not your typical guy, Sylar. If you were and sex was always the first thing you thought about then you wouldn't have been so inex..." Peter came to a screeching halt, horrified by what he had been about to let fly out of his mouth.

Sylar's head swiveled towards Peter as if on a turntable.

"I mean," Peter backtracked, trying to salvage their playful mood, "it's normal to think about sex more often once you're..."

Oh my god,stop talking, Peter thought to himself as the ferocity of Sylar's gaze turned up a notch. Just turn around and shut up.Just look away and shut the fuck up.

"Peter, I believe there are some topics of, shall we say out loud conversation, considered impolite in masculine company?"

"You're right. Sorry. Old habits, ya know? Besides being a nurse, I used to be a psych major."

"You wanted to be a shrink?"

"Psychologist. And let me guess, you have a problem with therapists?"

"On the contrary, I think I could make a psychiatrist's career, with me as a case study. I'm just surprised someone with as many issues as you have thought you could help someone else with theirs."

Peter supposed he deserved that.


"Penny for your thoughts," Peter said after awhile.

"I was thinking about the first time I killed you," Sylar said, leaning his head back.

"You're so romantic," Peter said, moving to swim around the pool in front of Sylar.

"Actually, I think this could be romantic. I was thinking about after we fell from the school roof. When I came to that's when I really noticed you. How pretty you are," Sylar teased and Peter splashed him with water. "Very pretty. Long black hair, white skin, drenched in dark red blood. Like a fairy tale prince. I wanted to..."

"What did you want to do?" Peter sounded like he was just waiting to become horrified.

"Well not fuck your dead corpse. Jesus, Peter. No really," he said at Peter's suspicious look.

"I, I wanted for you to be alive again. You looked like a broken doll, laying there and just a minute before you had been standing up to me. Part of me knew you possessed an ability but... I was more focused on how much courage it took for you step in front of me like that. And I was... sorry. Believe it not, back then I might not have killed someone so... so alive. I would have let you live, wanted to at least. And that was the first time in a long time that I had felt that. Regret.

"And then we start sharing dreams. Lots of dreams." Sylar smiled at Peter, then looked off to the side for a moment before saying, "I think that must mean something."

"I think it means something too," Peter agreed quietly. "It's like we were destined to be in each other's lives. One way or another. That's what I was thinking about, how we shoulda grown up together." Peter moved to float on his back.

"We might've grown closer than I did with Nathan," Peter went on, "what with so much less of an age difference. Maybe I woulda had a crush on you instead of..."

Peter trailed off with widened eyes and then quickly added, hoping Sylar wouldn't be suspicious of the pause, "all the idiots that I did."

Jesus,what the hell is wrong with me tonight? Peter asked himself, wishing he could smack his own head.

"You think you would have had a crush on me?" Sylar asked, only partly listening. He was busy admiring the way the moonlight made the water on Peter's naked body glisten. "Peter, I wore glasses."

"So?" Peter turned over and swam closer.

"So I was a geek. A big awkward geek with glasses. Trust me, you would not have had a crush on me. More likely, it would have been the other way around, and then I would have been completely mortified and hung myself anyway."

"Wow, and I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one."

"You are, now shut up and come here. I want you to fuck me." Sylar reached to pull Peter over to him.

"Really?"

"What you thought I never would?"

"I just..."

"You don't want to?"

Peter put his hand over Sylar's mouth and straddled him. "I didn't say that. Any of that. I was just surprised. And now I'm not anymore, and may I say, already up for your idea." Peter kissed him and reached under the water to stoke Sylar's cock. It too was already up.

He was going to fuck Sylar. Oh yes, Peter was definitely getting excited by the idea. He wanted to... oh, he wanted to fuck him so hard. He wanted to make him come with his dick for a change.

"Here, sit up on the bank." Peter impatiently adjusted them until Sylar was sitting on the edge of the pool with his knees bent and feet on the ground. Peter stood between his legs, on the ledge they had been sitting on.

"Can't we go back to the bed?" Sylar asked.

"No, I want to fuck you right here." Peter ran his hands all over Sylar's body, his long legs, flat belly, muscular chest... everything was strong and lean and covered in soft dark hair. Peter thought he was gorgeous. He leaned forward to take Sylar's erection in his mouth, sucking and licking at it like a popsicle.

"Ooooh," Sylar fell back farther on his arms. He groaned louder as Peter's slick fingers began preparing him at a quick pace. He didn't protest the rough treatment. Peter was in a hurry to fuck him. It was still unbelievable and Sylar was not going to complain.

"Do you think you're ready? Please say that you're ready." Peter's husky voice betrayed his eagerness. He smoothed some lube onto his own erection and moved into position, stumbling a little in his haste.

"Wait, let me turn over," Sylar said.

No." Peter stopped him and pushed him back down. "I want to see you. Gabriel, please. Let me see your gorgeous face while I fuck you. Let me see what I do to you." He rubbed the head of his cock against Gabriel's slick crack, teasing the entrance, teasing himself.

Peter slowly pressed into the softened opening, groaning as he was tightly encased. He gripped Gabriel's leg harder, trying to stay in control of himself.

Sylar moaned and dug his fingers into the dirt as Peter filled him up. It was still overwhelming and terrifying. For a second he feared that Peter would never fit, it seemed impossible, everything was too tight, too much, but then something inside him gave way just a bit and suddenly it was like his entire body was being filled as well. His entire soul.

But it didn't matter anyway, if Peter was too much, if it hurt more in this dream than it had in reality, because it was Peter. Peter, Sylar was letting inside his body. Peter... could do whatever he wanted. As long as kept touching him... kept looking at him.

He felt Peter take one of his clenched fists and kiss it, before intertwining their fingers and laying their joined hands back down on the ground.

"Relax, baby. Let me take you there." Peter leaned over to lick along Gabriel's stomach and up to his nipples. He worried at one with his teeth until Gabriel was moving with him and had raised his other hand to clench in Peter's hair. Peter raised his head to look at his lover. His skin was as flushed as Peter had ever seen it, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. He was so sexy like this. So his.

"Open your eyes. Babe... please don't hide from me," Peter whispered, nuzzling his head into Gabriel's hand.

Sylar opened his eyes and slowly fixed on Peter. The younger man had that look, like he was trying to see into his soul. It made him feel brave that he could return that dark gaze and he wondered what Peter saw in his own eyes.

Peter was moving in and out of him steadily now. On every downstroke he gave an extra nudge that was progressively turning Sylar's insides into something hot and liquid-y. He smoothed Peter's sweaty hair back from his face. He was so beautiful.

"How does it feel?" Peter asked softly, still looking deeply into the other man's eyes. "Do you like it?"

"God... yes, Peter. It's good... so good I can barely stand it," Sylar whispered back.

Peter's smile lit up his face. "Come here and kiss me. I can't reach you."

After a brief wet kiss, Sylar pulled back and moaned in frustration, "Peter, I want..."

"Tell me. Gabriel. Tell me what you want."

"I want... oh, I want... I want you to fuck me harder," he finally moaned, sounding more like his usual gruff self instead of the softer, almost shy man he was when Peter was inside him.

Peter groaned, his body hastening to respond to the request without his conscious control.

"Yes, oh god, yes. Peter, fuck. Fuck me." Gabriel couldn't seem to shut up now that he had gotten started. He had lain back down and his hips were slithering around like a belly dancer's. It was making it very hard for Peter to stay focused. He let go of Gabriel's hand and started stroking his erection.

"Come on Gabriel. Come for me," Peter urged.

Peter was going to blow any minute. Gabriel's wanton display was doing him in. The constant stream of praise and passion was shredding his composure. Peter's thrusts became even harder, sloppy, in his excitement. His hips were churning the water and splashing it up onto the bank and onto them. The sound competed with the increasingly loud moans coming from both men. A few more strokes and Gabriel was clenching around him, crying out as he pumped come over Peter's fist and Peter was joining him, finally letting go inside of him.


"Did you always know you liked guys?" Sylar asked quietly, admiring the starry display overhead. They were sitting in the lake/pool/jacuzzi again. They had just "showered" together under the waterfall, having both been covered in mud and come. That had been... different. Nice. Something to be repeated in real life, Sylar had decided.

"No way. I was going steady with girls by the fifth grade," Peter said. "I matured early," he added at Sylar's look. "But around fourteen - fifteen I started noticing the guys on the soccer team too. And the track team. And the baseball team." Peter added with a faraway grin.

"You were a jock."

"I would never call myself a jock. I like playing sports, and I always lettered, but I was never really that great at any one thing. I never dreamed of playing anything pro. I just like being on a team." Peter shrugged.

"Going back to you and guys..."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be the only one sharing tonight?"

"Because you're smarter than you look?" Sylar closed his eyes in the face of the expected slash of water. Honestly, Peter was like a puppet sometimes.

"Do you want me to tell this story or not?" Peter asked.

"Yes, I do. Please?"

"Okay, so I had a steady girlfriend for most of high school. And our junior year she talked me into doing show choir. Don't," Peter gave a warning shake of his head, "don't say anything. That's where I met my first out of the closet gay guys. And they made it pretty clear they thought I was playing on the wrong team. But it wasn't until I got to college that I started, you know 'experimenting'. Man, New York in the nineties. It was so much fun back then. The Limelight was still open, CBGB's..."

Peter went on to give Sylar an abbreviated version of his wild days, leaving out some of the more slutty details, but leaving in the drugs, the club scene, and his "semester break" from NYU. To be young, rich, pretty, naive, and pissed off at a dad who personified the establishment had been a dangerous combination.

Peter grew progressively serious as he spoke. The details of those days coming back to him like they hadn't in years. He had tried so hard to put that life behind him, to pretend that it had never happened at all. Sometimes, he forgot that it had.

Suddenly, the scenery around them rippled and the two men found themselves standing, dry and fully dressed, in what appeared to be a hospital. The emergency room, judging by the amount of sheer chaos. Several areas on either side of where Sylar and Peter stood together were separated by curtains, and people in scrubs and white coats were hurrying by them as though they didn't exist.

In one of the partitioned areas, Peter - another, younger Peter, was laying on a bed, being worked on by a couple of nurses.

"Mr. Petrelli, can you hear me?" the nurse leaning over the bed was saying. "If you don't respond we will need to put a tube down your throat. Do you understand? Please, young man can you hear me?" She slapped him lightly on the cheek when he didn't respond.

"Do you know what he took?" The other nurse asked a young man wearing a fishnet shirt and leather pants who looked like he had been crying.

"Peter, what is going on here?" Sylar asked in a hushed voice.

"Stand clear, he's crashing!" The nurse nearest the bed hit a button on the wall. Soon, another nurse wheeling a large cart and a doctor were rushing by them and over to the other Peter.

"They were..." Peter had to clear his throat before continuing. "They were trying to give me something to make me vomit, but my heart stopped. I... I died. Uh, that was the first time I died."

"Did you drink too much?"

Peter smiled bitterly. "When didn't I? I'm OD'ing, Sylar. Ecstasy. Alcohol. Coke. Basically whatever was in front of me."

They watched as Peter was resuscitated. It seemed to take too long for Sylar. Even though he knew the outcome, it was still an uncomfortable scene to watch. Peter's shirt had been cut open and the doctor was using paddles to administer apparently increasing amounts of voltage. Every time the doctor yelled "Clear!" it grated on Sylar's nerves.

He was about to suggest that they leave when Peter spoke up again.

"This was it," he said in a hushed voice.

"What it," Sylar whispered when he didn't elaborate.

"This was the moment that changed my life. I can't believe I forgot this. It literally changed my life, in a way realizing my ability didn't."

"You mean you had... a near death experience?" Sylar sounded intrigued.

Peter looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. His family had not been keen on the idea, to say the least. Never mind how he had gotten in this position. God, the therapy he'd had to go through to get them to leave him alone again. He'd been so glad that he had decided to change majors by then.

"I don't know what happened, exactly. I didn't see any dead relatives or anything like that, that I remember. But... something happened. Something that changed me. Made me want to change my life. Made me want to stop partying all the time and go back to school. Made me want to really do something about the world, make a real difference in people's lives, get my hands dirty."

They watched as the nurses started feeding a tube down Peter's throat.

"So you switched from psychology to nursing, to get your hands dirty?"

"So to speak," Peter smirked. "But this is why I went into hospice care especially. Why I wanted to work with the dying. Because I had died, and I knew... that there wasn't anything to be scared of. That there really was something more, something else, watching us, guiding us. How could I have forgotten this?"

"In all fairness, you have been a little busy the last few years."

"Yeah, most people only get the one 'near death experience'. For me, it's become a way of life."

"Don't remind me."

Peter didn't bother to point out the irony that he had been the cause of many of those deaths.

(Haven't I killed you already?)

(It didn't take.)

"What's so funny?" Sylar asked as Peter quietly chuckled to himself.

"Nothing, just... you and me," Peter said, rubbing Sylar's arm and leaning up.

As they kissed, the scenery rippled again, settling on the desert at daybreak. Coyote Sands looked just as it should. Like decay and new life both.

It was still night behind them, the sky a dark blue scattered with fading stars. But on the horizon ahead, light from the still mostly hidden sun had already reached the clouds in the sky, causing the most dramatic effect. Each cloud was neatly divided in half, white on one side and black on the other. In an ever-expanding circle the sun was literally banishing the darkness in its wake.

Peter turned to watch the night die behind them, thinking about how far they'd come in such a short time. Not only was another day dawning, but another new life as well.

Sylar reached over and took Peter's hand, pulling it up to kiss his wrist.

"You ready to go back and be a hero, leader of our own private army?" he asked.

"If you are," Peter said in return, kissing the back of the hand holding his and sighing. "By the way, what is with the hair?"

"It's just something I felt like trying. Why, you don't like it?" Sylar ran his free hand though the loose flowing strands that fell a few inches above his shoulder.

"Please, tell me that you're joking."

"Too Guido?"

Peter glanced from the gold necklace that Sylar would presumably be wearing someday in the future to the dark chest hair peaking out of the top of the open collared shirt, and knowing that a black wife beater lay underneath made him smile up at his companion.

"Maybe just a tad," Peter concluded.