![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Character: Sylar/Peter
Genre: Slash
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sylar
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1450
Rating: R
Prompt: Meme #6 - It was the best meal you ever had. -![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
a_muse_meme
Notes: Post series Petlar. For my Petersempath_peter, vampire_peter and did_not_take.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Peter turned and leaned against the bricks while we tried to remember how to breathe. I was caught up in all the emotions that were flowing between us in a Gordian knot. He was happy, and so was I. The guilt that he’d been drowning in when I arrived was gone, and it’d been replaced by a smug arrogance that might’ve been a reflection of what I was feeling. When we’re close together, bodies and souls touching, that happened a lot, sometimes it was hard to tell who was feeling what. This was something I only experienced with Peter, so I had no idea if it was normal or not. It was normal for us, and that’s all that mattered.
Even though it was late at night and cold flies were droning around the corpse, and the blood had congealed into sticky dark puddles. Pushing off the wall, I carefully avoided stepping in any of them as I motioned for Peter to come closer.
“Let me teach you an old trick of mine for clean up.” He blinked a few times and ambled over to hunker down on his heels next to me. “Use your freezing power on him and the blood puddles.” I put my hand on his arm the same way he did to copy a power from me before he took mine. I could learn without touching, but any excuse I had to touch him, especially now, was good enough for me.
“Freeze him solid,” Peter said with a smile. I felt the power surge through him, and he smiled wider. “I’ve got much better control. It’s never been this easy with a new power before. Usually it was overkill and instinct for me.”
“Not a problem that I’ve ever had,” I tell him with a smug grin of my own. That was always one of my advantages over Peter. I knew what I had, and I knew how to use it. No one ever had to worry about me blowing up New York.
I could feel the cold building up inside of him, and his breath stopped leaving puffs in the cold air the way that mine did. His body temperature was plummeting, lips turning blue when he reached for the corpse and curled his fingers around its ankle. The dead flesh crystallized quickly as the cold raced through the stilled veins until the moisture in the air around it frosted over the pallid skin.
The cold was leaching the warmth from me as well while I tried to learn the power from Peter. It was only fair that he share it with me. I shared with him, but something inside of him had shifted. The lack of guilt about what he’d done changed everything. There was no empathy about that first kill for us to connect with.
“Fuck,” I yelped, pulling away from him, and leaving two of my fingers behind when they snapped off. I watched, wide eyed, as they fell to the cement and shattered.
“Sylar!” Peter grabbed my arms, and for a moment I could feel more of the cold flow through me before he pulled it back. “Fuck! Jesus! I’m sorry.”
“It’ll be OK, Peter,” I said from between chattering teeth. I moved away from him, and nodded toward the puddles of blood. “Freeze those too. Then shatter him.”
“But your hand,” he tried to argue with me, and then turned with a solemn nod to do what I told him.
I was shivering and then the pain started as my fingers regenerated. I had to bite on my tongue not to cry out again although at this point I was beginning to think no one lived close enough to hear a bomb explode. Forcing bullets out of my body was nothing. I barely felt that anymore. I was accustomed to that pain. When I’d come back from the fire at the Company, I’d been unconscious through most of that until the very end and didn’t feel much of the reconstruction of my body. But this was a sharp localized pain while I was fully conscious, and it made my eyes tear up.
I flexed my new fingers to make sure they worked although I had no need to do it. Then there was something else, a need and desire that made my mouth water. Peter’s eyes locked with mine, and it was Lydia’s power that kicked in. He got to his feet, standing in the middle of the shards of his victim and what was left of my frozen digits and gave me a wolfish grin.
“What’s the matter, Sylar?” He tilted his head, and then washed the frozen bits and pieces down into the sewer with the secondary aspect of his new power. “You don’t look so good.”
“Not like this, Peter.” I’d seen that look before, that aching need to possess something that wasn’t yours. I’d seen it in the mirror, and now I was looking at it in Peter’s eyes. The hunger had him in thrall, and he wanted regeneration from me now. “I’ll share it with you. Hell, we’ll take it from Claire.”
“Why would I waste my time doing that when you’ve got it right now, Sylar?” I slammed me into the wall, very near where the corpse had been and tightened his telekinesis around my heart. “I’ll kill you for now, take what you want me to have, and then we’ll go home. I mean it’s not as if I’m not already covered in blood, right?”
“I won’t let you open my skull, Peter.” I brought up my hand, focusing my power to stop him.
“Go ahead then!” He snarled as blood started to run from his nose as I concentrated on his brain. “Kill me! Then you’ll be alone. You’ll be right back where you started.”
He was right. Of course he was. He could see the possibilities. He knew that I was afraid of an eternity alone, and we both knew that the only way for him to be with me was for him to have regen. I couldn’t kill him. I loved him, and somewhere beyond the hunger he still loved me.
“Come on,” he purred. My chest hurt, and I could taste blood frothing on my lips as he kept up the pressure. “Do it because you love me, Sylar. No one will be able to stop either of us if you do.”
“Do it.” Closing my eyes, I stopped fighting him. I gasped for breath as he stalked toward me. Peter brushed his fingers along my cheek, nails scraping at the ever present stubble before he stole a rough kiss from me. I could taste his blood and mine on his lips and tongue. He broke the kiss, and pressed his forehead against mine.
My father tried to do this to me, and I wouldn’t allow it. I played possum with Samson, letting him think he could have my fucking precious. But I wasn’t pretending with Peter. Blood mingled with the tears running down my face as he sawed through my skin and bone with telekinesis. It burned, and he had to finally rip the top of my skull off to keep me from healing too fast. I’d had to do the same thing with Claire, and if I hadn’t gotten to her, I’d have done it to him all to keep from dying and going to Hell. He let me down gently until my legs were splayed in front of me on the cold cement. I could smell him as he hovered over me; taste my blood and the salt of my tears when I took a breath.
“I’ll try to be fast,” he mumbled as he leaned closer and the world went black.
***
Peter stood next to me on top of the Statue of Liberty. The sky was black as velvet, stars glittering on the water lapping at the Lady’s toes. It was late, and we had a few hours before dawn came. My arm was looped around his shoulders, and he leaned against me to share the warmth. One of his hands dipped beneath the edge of my waistband and I snorted.
“Your fingers are cold,” I told him, wishing that didn’t trigger a flash of fear.
“We should probably do something about that then, huh?” He turned me around, so we were facing, hovering a few inches until we were closer to the same height. “Once more around the city, and then we’ll go home and get warm.” He gave me a biting kiss, all teeth and tongues and took off into the sky, his dark coat flapping like wings.
I licked my lips, shivered and tugged my own coat closer around my throat before taking off into the night to catch up to my little monster.
THE END
_______
As always comments are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.
Genre: Slash
Author:
sylar Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 1450
Rating: R
Prompt: Meme #6 - It was the best meal you ever had. -
a_muse_memeNotes: Post series Petlar. For my Peters
empath_peter, vampire_peter and did_not_take. Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Peter turned and leaned against the bricks while we tried to remember how to breathe. I was caught up in all the emotions that were flowing between us in a Gordian knot. He was happy, and so was I. The guilt that he’d been drowning in when I arrived was gone, and it’d been replaced by a smug arrogance that might’ve been a reflection of what I was feeling. When we’re close together, bodies and souls touching, that happened a lot, sometimes it was hard to tell who was feeling what. This was something I only experienced with Peter, so I had no idea if it was normal or not. It was normal for us, and that’s all that mattered.
Even though it was late at night and cold flies were droning around the corpse, and the blood had congealed into sticky dark puddles. Pushing off the wall, I carefully avoided stepping in any of them as I motioned for Peter to come closer.
“Let me teach you an old trick of mine for clean up.” He blinked a few times and ambled over to hunker down on his heels next to me. “Use your freezing power on him and the blood puddles.” I put my hand on his arm the same way he did to copy a power from me before he took mine. I could learn without touching, but any excuse I had to touch him, especially now, was good enough for me.
“Freeze him solid,” Peter said with a smile. I felt the power surge through him, and he smiled wider. “I’ve got much better control. It’s never been this easy with a new power before. Usually it was overkill and instinct for me.”
“Not a problem that I’ve ever had,” I tell him with a smug grin of my own. That was always one of my advantages over Peter. I knew what I had, and I knew how to use it. No one ever had to worry about me blowing up New York.
I could feel the cold building up inside of him, and his breath stopped leaving puffs in the cold air the way that mine did. His body temperature was plummeting, lips turning blue when he reached for the corpse and curled his fingers around its ankle. The dead flesh crystallized quickly as the cold raced through the stilled veins until the moisture in the air around it frosted over the pallid skin.
The cold was leaching the warmth from me as well while I tried to learn the power from Peter. It was only fair that he share it with me. I shared with him, but something inside of him had shifted. The lack of guilt about what he’d done changed everything. There was no empathy about that first kill for us to connect with.
“Fuck,” I yelped, pulling away from him, and leaving two of my fingers behind when they snapped off. I watched, wide eyed, as they fell to the cement and shattered.
“Sylar!” Peter grabbed my arms, and for a moment I could feel more of the cold flow through me before he pulled it back. “Fuck! Jesus! I’m sorry.”
“It’ll be OK, Peter,” I said from between chattering teeth. I moved away from him, and nodded toward the puddles of blood. “Freeze those too. Then shatter him.”
“But your hand,” he tried to argue with me, and then turned with a solemn nod to do what I told him.
I was shivering and then the pain started as my fingers regenerated. I had to bite on my tongue not to cry out again although at this point I was beginning to think no one lived close enough to hear a bomb explode. Forcing bullets out of my body was nothing. I barely felt that anymore. I was accustomed to that pain. When I’d come back from the fire at the Company, I’d been unconscious through most of that until the very end and didn’t feel much of the reconstruction of my body. But this was a sharp localized pain while I was fully conscious, and it made my eyes tear up.
I flexed my new fingers to make sure they worked although I had no need to do it. Then there was something else, a need and desire that made my mouth water. Peter’s eyes locked with mine, and it was Lydia’s power that kicked in. He got to his feet, standing in the middle of the shards of his victim and what was left of my frozen digits and gave me a wolfish grin.
“What’s the matter, Sylar?” He tilted his head, and then washed the frozen bits and pieces down into the sewer with the secondary aspect of his new power. “You don’t look so good.”
“Not like this, Peter.” I’d seen that look before, that aching need to possess something that wasn’t yours. I’d seen it in the mirror, and now I was looking at it in Peter’s eyes. The hunger had him in thrall, and he wanted regeneration from me now. “I’ll share it with you. Hell, we’ll take it from Claire.”
“Why would I waste my time doing that when you’ve got it right now, Sylar?” I slammed me into the wall, very near where the corpse had been and tightened his telekinesis around my heart. “I’ll kill you for now, take what you want me to have, and then we’ll go home. I mean it’s not as if I’m not already covered in blood, right?”
“I won’t let you open my skull, Peter.” I brought up my hand, focusing my power to stop him.
“Go ahead then!” He snarled as blood started to run from his nose as I concentrated on his brain. “Kill me! Then you’ll be alone. You’ll be right back where you started.”
He was right. Of course he was. He could see the possibilities. He knew that I was afraid of an eternity alone, and we both knew that the only way for him to be with me was for him to have regen. I couldn’t kill him. I loved him, and somewhere beyond the hunger he still loved me.
“Come on,” he purred. My chest hurt, and I could taste blood frothing on my lips as he kept up the pressure. “Do it because you love me, Sylar. No one will be able to stop either of us if you do.”
“Do it.” Closing my eyes, I stopped fighting him. I gasped for breath as he stalked toward me. Peter brushed his fingers along my cheek, nails scraping at the ever present stubble before he stole a rough kiss from me. I could taste his blood and mine on his lips and tongue. He broke the kiss, and pressed his forehead against mine.
My father tried to do this to me, and I wouldn’t allow it. I played possum with Samson, letting him think he could have my fucking precious. But I wasn’t pretending with Peter. Blood mingled with the tears running down my face as he sawed through my skin and bone with telekinesis. It burned, and he had to finally rip the top of my skull off to keep me from healing too fast. I’d had to do the same thing with Claire, and if I hadn’t gotten to her, I’d have done it to him all to keep from dying and going to Hell. He let me down gently until my legs were splayed in front of me on the cold cement. I could smell him as he hovered over me; taste my blood and the salt of my tears when I took a breath.
“I’ll try to be fast,” he mumbled as he leaned closer and the world went black.
***
Peter stood next to me on top of the Statue of Liberty. The sky was black as velvet, stars glittering on the water lapping at the Lady’s toes. It was late, and we had a few hours before dawn came. My arm was looped around his shoulders, and he leaned against me to share the warmth. One of his hands dipped beneath the edge of my waistband and I snorted.
“Your fingers are cold,” I told him, wishing that didn’t trigger a flash of fear.
“We should probably do something about that then, huh?” He turned me around, so we were facing, hovering a few inches until we were closer to the same height. “Once more around the city, and then we’ll go home and get warm.” He gave me a biting kiss, all teeth and tongues and took off into the sky, his dark coat flapping like wings.
I licked my lips, shivered and tugged my own coat closer around my throat before taking off into the night to catch up to my little monster.
THE END
_______
As always comments are greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.
