watchmakersylar | The Beat Goes On

Tittle: The Beat Goes On
Author:

thewatchmaker
Rating: NC17 for language and things that make you go blind.
Character: Sylar/Peter
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 982
Notes: Missing scene from 'the Wall'. SPOILERS FOR THE WALL.
Verse: the wall - that I'm writing with

futureboyscout
Prompt: Nick Charles: The important thing is the rhythm. Always have rhythm in your shaking. Now a Manhattan you shake to fox-trot time, a Bronx to two-step time, a dry martini you always shake to waltz time.

scifi_muse

You were gone when I woke up this morning. I know where you are. You’re where you always are at the wall, trying to break through. You made my arms ache just hearing the pounding echoing through the empty city. I’m so used to hearing the banging and clanging that I’m on my second cup of tea and third cookie when I realize that I don’t hear the sound.

My heart thumps twice and stops. Fear that you’ve left me alone makes me drop my cup, the ceramic shattering on the kitchen floor. I don’t bother to clean it up. Fuck it. Why should I care? If you’ve left without me, or if something happened to you, I’ll be alone again. I can’t stand the thought of that. I need you here with me. Need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone, Peter.

I don’t put on shoes either. Barefoot I race toward the loading docks where you work. I count the doors 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5. The hammers are there in a haphazard pile, but you’re not. I run my hands over the bricks, looking for a chink or some hint that you’ve escaped without me, but I don’t see any changes. It’s the same dull pink that it always is. I have each brick memorized, and you still haven’t chipped a single edge.

I turn in a slow circle. My feet hurt from where I cut them running here. I’m not even wearing a shirt, because I ran out so fast. Where the fuck are you, Peter?

“Please don’t be gone.” The words are a whisper that the breeze carries away. Then I hear a sound. It’s a moan. It’s Peter, and he sounds like he’s in pain. “Peter!”

After three and a half years, I know the city like the inside of one of my clocks. I know how to follow every sound to its source. I’m breathless when I find Peter, but he’s not on the ground. He didn’t fall and break anything. He’s standing in a doorway of a porn shop, one hand on the door. His head is tilted back, and he’s breathing hard.

“Are you peeing in a door way?” I ask when I realize his pants are falling loosely around his hips. “That’s disgusting, Peter.”

“Sylar. Jesus Christ.” He groans louder, and leans his head against the door. “Can a guy get some privacy?”

“Oh shit.” That’s when I realize what he’s doing. My mouth hangs open, and I can feel my face go red. “Um…sorry….I was worried about you…I’ll be…” Somewhere else. Not thinking about this at all. Nope not thinking about you with your fingers around your cock at all, because that would be wrong. “At the wall.”

I want to go. I really do, but I can’t make my feet move. I can’t stop watching his shoulders move under his shirt. I can’t stop listening to his sighs of pleasure, and part of me cannot bear the thought of not being there when he comes.

“I am going to hell.”

Peter starts laughing as he finishes. He’s smiling as he buttons his jeans and turns to face me. “You’re not going to hell. It’s a little weird that you watched, but you’re not going to hell.”

“I should go. Should not have interrupted you.”

“Interrupting would mean you stopped me. You didn’t. I finished what I started.” He looks at me, and his smile gets even bigger. “You don’t do you?”

“Sure I do. Just not in the street, and not in the doorway of a dirty book store. Don’t they have places in there that you could have done that?” I have no idea. I’ve never been in a dirty book store.

“It’s a perfectly natural thing to do, Gabriel.” Peter takes a deep breath and leans against the blacked out window of the shop. “And yeah, I could have gone inside, but I was in the mood to do something naughty.”

“Naughtier,” I point out. I’m so disturbed that it doesn’t faze me that he called me Gabriel. “Inside would have been bad enough.”

“You’re a murderer, and you’re afraid of masturbation being a sin?” He pushes off the window and saunters over to me, and slaps me on the shoulder. “That doesn’t make any sense. I mean none. You’re pretty much crazy, but I think this is a new level of nuts for you.”

“Thanks so much.” I have a flash of a memory of Nathan explaining to Peter how to do it. Big brother, Nathan, going over the joys of porn, and where to hide it so Angela won’t find it. Then in detail of what lotion feels best when you jack off. “You were so young. I mean you were a kid, and I… I mean Nathan showed you how.”

“Lucky me.” He shook his head, looking up at me through his hair. “For once I’m not going to bitch at you for having one of Nathan’s memories. It’ll probably do you good to know how normal guys work. I know you were an only child, and I know your mom was really religious, but after you got out didn’t you just…you know…fuck?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you. Isn’t there a wall with your name on it?”

“Come on Sylar!” He stepped away; arms outstretched with a smile just as wide. “Admit it. You want to go home and try out all the things you just remembered that Nathan taught me.”

“I do not.” With my hands tucked into my pockets, I start walking back to the apartment, shoulders hunched around my ears. I don’t want to hear him laughing at me, or poking at me to do it, because I know I’m going to. I also know I’ll imagine that it’s Peter’s fingers around my cock instead of mine.

Current Mood: frustrated
Current Location: the Wall