Sylar twisted the doorknob, trying in vain to gain entrance to the bathroom and its sole occupant.
“Peter, what is the problem? You’ve been in there for twenty minutes,” the reformed killer growled in frustration, unwilling to acknowledge the underlying worry as to why his lover hadn’t emerged from the bathroom yet.
“But Sylar, it doesn’t fit at all! I mean, its ridiculous how little this thing is! How can girls stand to wear them?” Peter griped from the other side of the door.
Barely resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall, he silently congratulated himself when he was able to speak without raising his voice or threatening bodily harm to the other man—not that the empath wouldn’t just come right back to life—as he tried to coax him out of the restroom.
“Now Peter, you agreed to wear it if I got it for you. You’re not backing out on our deal are you?”
“No!” Peter cried out hastily, knowing full well he would not only be punished for his disobedience, but he would likely not be getting any form of sexual gratification for quite a while, “It’s just embarrassing is all. Give me a minute, I promise I’ll come out.”
The smirk that appeared on Sylar’s face once he knew he’d won yet again was so similar to one he might have worn after a deeply satisfying kill that a person might think he had returned to his old ways. Deciding to use Peter’s continued procrastination as a last chance to ensure everything was as it should be, he dashed away with silent, fluid strides down the hall to the bedroom. Once he was positive he had the perfect environment for Peter’s and his evening he stole back to the bathroom, unsurprised that Peter hadn’t attempted to open the door yet.
He rapped against the wood cheerfully, uncharacteristically exclaiming in a singsong voice, “I’m waiting!”
“Don’t rush me! You’re lucky I haven’t just taken over your mind and made you call this whole thing off already!” Peter warned even as he turned the handle to unlock the door.
Thinking he would finally be able to get a first glimpse of the man’s new attire, Sylar tried to enter the room only to find Peter was hindering his entrance by telekinetically keeping the door only slightly ajar.
“Let me in, Peter. I need to see how it looks on you,” he demanded, starting to become irritated by his boyfriend’s antics.
The force wavered for an instant at the serious tone his voice took, but Sylar only managed to gain another couple inches of ingress.
Fine, two can play at that game. You better stand back Peter, because I am coming in.
Sylar sent out his thoughts, only giving the man a moment to take heed of his warning before he applied his own telekinetic power to try to throw his lover’s opposing energy. At first the door hardly budged, but the tables quickly turned when Sylar underhandedly dropped his assault. Peter was unprepared for such an action and his own power sent the door flying outward and he was left sprawled across the hardwood floor of the hallway at the other man’s feet.
“Why hello there, so nice of you to drop in,” Sylar drawled, sniggering in amusement at the petulant look his comment was rewarded.
“Well if you’re going to be like that maybe I won’t feel like having sex with you after all,” the nurse tried to sound haughty but Sylar easily called his bluff.
“That’ll be the day, when you don’t want to have sex with me,” he laughed wholeheartedly at the very prospect.
Heaving a groan at Sylar’s inflated ego Peter picked himself up off the floor—though it took some effort in his current state of dress and he was more than a little wobbly once he managed it—dusting nonexistent dirt from his arms—he knew for a fact there wasn’t any because Sylar couldn’t stand the apartment to be anything less than immaculate—before looking up to his lover. Only, Sylar wasn’t focused on his face, he was much more interested in what Peter was wearing. The shortest of the couple self-consciously tried to cover his crotch, all too aware that the ‘underwear’ he was wearing did nothing to conceal his private parts. His hands were swatted away gently, allowing Sylar to get an eyeful of what the possessive man considered his property. Just as Peter was beginning to think Sylar didn’t like what he was seeing, he was told to turn around so the man could examine the back.
“But Sylar, there is no back!” Peter protested.
Sylar simply slowly shook his head from side to side while twirling his index finger in the air to signal what he wanted of his lover. With only brief hesitation Peter complied and turned so his rear was literally exposed. He felt the first stirring of pride though when he was able to pick up on Sylar’s loss of breath at the sight with their shared ability of enhanced hearing. The watchmaker took a minute to fully appreciate the view he had of his lover’s voluptuous backside, feeling his dick pulse at the very thought of what he could do with a beautiful man such as Peter, what he would do to him, and hopefully continue doing for several hours.
He moistened his lips in anticipation, voice husky as he gave praise, “The thong really does suite you, Peter.”
Peter turned again so that they were facing each other, eyes earnest as he stepped forward into Sylar’s waiting embrace, cautious of his footing, “Do you really mean that?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” he reassured, “Now what do you say we take this into the bedroom?”
As way of answer Peter levitated a few inches above the ground so that he could more easily wrap his sinewy legs around Sylar’s waist and pressed his high-heel clad feet into the man’s backside before giving the man his most sultry stare.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Sylar deadpanned.
In the amount of time it took them to get down the hall to their shared bedroom you’d think Peter was using his friend Hiro’s ability to bend time. Too focused on the act they were about to engage in, Sylar had no qualms in kicking the door in—though it helped it hadn’t been fully closed so it didn’t actually cause any damage—and almost gave his precious cargo whiplash when he tossed him onto the queen-sized bed. He was forced to take a few moments to peel his clothes off however, which gave Peter time to take in the scene Sylar had painstakingly created for him basically. The lights weren’t on, but you would never have guessed with how well the room was lit by mere candlelight; there were probably fifty medium-sized candles decorating every available surface, save the bed. On top of that they all gave off the ever-present but not overpowering smell of an intoxicating and masculine blend of musk, patchouli, sage and mahogany cologne. His lover had really outdone himself this time; he knew that smell drove the empath crazy. He couldn’t fathom how he missed Sylar buying them though, seeing as they were practically inseparable. The same went for the bedding, he noted. Sylar had replaced their usual cotton covers with what felt like pure silk and velvet, both in black of course. They contrasted perfectly with the pure white stilettos and thong Sylar had him wearing.
When Peter had asked his partner of two years what he wanted for his birthday nearly a month ago, Sylar had refused to give him an answer, he had perhaps become even more tight-lipped about it. The following two weeks Peter would catch him surfing the ‘net when he thought Peter was occupied somewhere else in the apartment or if the nurse happened to come home a little early without calling. Further more, every time he came near him while he was on the computer Sylar shut the thing down immediately, making him very suspicious as to what he was doing online. Then, earlier that week Peter had come home late from the clinic one evening wanting nothing but blessed sleep and Sylar seemed to have instinctively known because he pulled him into the bedroom and the next hour or so was spent with the bigger man lulling him to the edge of sleep, where he was also most susceptible to telling his honest opinion. He couldn’t remember any of the conversation up until the end when the man had dropped his long-time coming bombshell.
“Peter, are you still awake?” the once upon a time killer whispered into his ear, his hands never stopping as he continued making slow, relaxing circles on his exposed back.
“Nhgg,” had been his incoherent reply as he tried desperately to succumb to that sleep.
“I just want to ask you a favor. You don’t have to do it right now—well you really don’t have to do it at all if you don’t want to—but I’d appreciate it if you would, for my birthday you know. I’ve been thinking all month about what I would like to have but I truthfully don’t need anything except you and I get that on almost a nightly basis. But I realized we hardly ever do anything out of the ordinary, and I’m not talking about spontaneity. While I was researching things online I realized there’s a whole world of possibilities we have yet to explore in the bedroom. Then, I thought next week would be the perfect opportunity for us to explore a little, it could be your gift to me. What do you think?” he’d asked, unable to mask his excitement at the prospect.
“That’s fine Sy’,” Peter mumbled between a long yawn and content stretch, “Whatever makes you happy.”
The hands upon Peter’s back stilled, their owner so overjoyed to be getting his way yet again even if his methods were a little conniving.
“Thanks Pete, you won’t regret it, you might even like it and then we could see about trying other stuff later. Just to be clear though, you said you were fine with this correct, as long as it made me happy?”
The momentary loss of movement on his bare skin had caused Peter to stir slightly and he opened one eye long enough to shoot Sylar a disgruntled look, prompting him to begin his menstruations again.
“I said I don’t care so shut up and get in bed but don’t stop what you’re doing with your hands, for the love of God don’t stop.”
If he’d known exactly what his boyfriend was planning, or if the damned man hadn’t waited until he was half asleep to ask his permission he was positive he wouldn’t have agreed. Now though, he was actually living the experience and had seen the affect his attire had on the man and the embarrassment wasn’t near as bad as he’d imagined.
He felt the bed dip slightly beneath him and looked over to find Sylar was completely naked, his eyes unabashedly dark with lust as he crawled over to Peter. Before he could even think of protesting, Peter found himself being drug the last couple feet by his lover so they sat facing each other. In one fluid motion their bodies were mashed together from the chest up, arms grappling for purchase as their lips locked in a searing kiss. They stayed that way until the need for oxygen could no longer be ignored, an audible POP sounding as their mouths broke apart and they pulled in lungful after lungful of air. Two sets of eyes, both the color of freshly poured coffee, caught and held their counterpart’s gaze, speaking of a love for one another that could not be put down on paper. Sylar brought powerful hands up to cup the other’s face between them, his thumbs tenderly caressing the pink tinted flesh.
“You’re beautiful baby. Even if you hadn’t agreed to wear this for me I’d still think you were no matter what. You know that right? This is just something I’d thought would be fun for the both of us to try. It’s not the clothes that get me like this, it’s seeing you in them,” the strapping man spoke wholeheartedly.
Peter gulped down a moan at the confession and licked his lips eagerly, “I know Sy’, that’s why I love you. You’re always looking out for my best interest, protecting me from the world, and I’ll never be able to repay you for that kindness. That’s why I did this, because you deserve so much more than I can ever give but if this will help then so be it.”
The hands moved from his face to his chest in an instant, burning an invisible trail down his body for the larger man’s mouth to follow ardently. Peter arched into the touch, his erection beginning to strain against the small fabric encasing it. Sylar gently pushed him onto his back so he could continue his silent trek down Peter’s body, skillfully avoiding contact with the aching member in favor of pursuing the line down his leg.
An immeasurable amount of time later he had mouthed his way up and down Peter while doggedly ignoring the thong-covered crotch, which was now wet with pre-come and begging for attention, which Peter vocalized quite satisfyingly in loud, short gasps and keening moans as his bucked unintentionally.
“Please, Sy’-Sylar touch me! It feels like I’m going to implode!” he shrieked uncharacteristically, near tears in his need for the other man.
Sylar took great pride in the fact that he alone could bring his lover to such a state that he was pleading, begging, for his touch, not even sensible enough to think of touching himself to alleviate the intense pressure. Leering down at the younger man, Sylar took pity upon him and placed his fingers against the white fabric of the lingerie. He made sure the contact was feather-light but by the way the man was writhing beneath him he knew it must have felt suffocating in the most pleasurable of ways.
“Is that what you wanted baby? Do you want me to touch your cock; stroke you to completion?” he drawled, making it a point to brush his thumb over where he presumed the slit of his penis was. Guessing by the sharp hiss the move elicited he had thought correctly.
Peter was beyond forming sentences though, could barely keep himself from passing out, and could only force a needy whimper past his thinned lips. His seemingly infinite eyes were more than enough to convey exactly what he wanted the other male to do to him; they were screaming ‘fuck me’ and Sylar was more than happy to oblige. With a predatory growl he swooped down upon his ‘prey’, covering him completely with his own body. He positioned himself directly between his long, pale legs, loving the fact that with his abilities he didn’t have to stop to retrieve the lube from the bedside table. When he had the water-based lubricant safely in his grasp and uncapped he poured a generous amount on one of his own hands. With his remaining hand he pulled aside the string of the thong, grinning when Peter began to squirm slightly expectantly. The slick was warmer after being spread across his balmy hands so it wasn’t as much of a shock for the man underneath him when he laid it upon his rump. It wasn’t until he had begun to push a single digit past the contracting sphincter that Peter made a noise of appreciation at the intrusion. By the time he’d successfully invaded the empath with three whole fingers Peter was pushing back on his fingers with every thrust, breathe ragged from being finger-fucked by his lover. Sylar had no intention of letting him cum yet, so he retrieved his digits from within the man, much to the distress of Peter who opened his heavy lidded eyes to see what was keeping his boyfriend.
Seeing the look Peter was giving him Sylar silently nodded to his own dick, which he was currently in the process of coating with more lube. The nurse looked slightly discomfited with his own behavior and turned his face towards the intricate wrought iron headboard, hoping Sylar hadn’t seen the blush currently staining his cheeks. He swiftly let those thoughts go though as he felt a slowly increasing pressure in his backside. Sylar was easing himself into his lover, basking in the sounds Peter made as his tight hole was stretched to fit his giant cock. The pace was easy and amiable, with Sylar in no great rush to finish things quickly, giving him time to reflect on the multiple looks he saw flash across Peter’s face as he wormed his way into his ass. At first the smaller man bit his lip nearly to the point of drawing blood in an attempt to fight the searing pain in his ass, his features contorted into of pure agony, but soon enough he was relaxing slightly to the feeling of being filled. Once Sylar was completely sheathed inside the man he stalled all movements to allow him time to adjust and become comfortable. He did not continue until Peter had nodded his consent. After that it was all smooth sailing so to speak. The look that bloomed on Peter’s face as his thrusts picked up a rhythmic speed could only be described as ecstasy. His mouth open partially, eyes closed serenely, and legs locked as tight as a spring behind Sylar’s back in an unconscious attempt to bury the engorged manhood currently inside him even deeper. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep himself from simply fucking him into the floor. Not that Peter would have minded, he was sure, but the point of their little role-play was to take things slowly, like Peter was a virgin and Sylar the one deemed worthy of deflowering him. Well, that’s what he thought it was like in his head anyway.
The next half hour or so was spent much the same way, with Sylar little by little bringing them both to the edge of climax. As they neared the point of no return, Peter began becoming much more vocal again, and Sylar knew their neighboring tenants would be cursing them for months for all the noise they were making. They had long since learned not to bother calling the police when Peter made an exceptionally loud scream because it was always a false alarm. It was a surprise the couple hadn’t been evicted yet, to be truthful.
After a powerful thrust against his prostate Peter let loose just such a scream, fortunately blunt nails scrabbling at Sylar’s back.
“S-Sylar, I’m-I’m gonna’ come,” Peter groaned into Sylar’s sweat-slicked neck.
The watchmaker held the other man firmly against his chest, “Shh, just hold on a minute longer. Can you do that? I want us to cum together.”
Peter made a noise in the back of his throat like he was drowning, his eyes expressing the fear that he wouldn’t be able to do it, “Help me Sy’, I can’t do it by myself.”
With an understanding nod Sylar slipped one hand under the white elastic band of the material and clutched the base of Peter’s sex. The very touch almost did Peter in, but Sylar’s hand clamped down on him in a vice-like grip that made it impossible for him to orgasm. Peter gave him a thankful smile, even if its rigidity gave away the pain he was feeling. Sylar just wanted to take that pain away and sped up his actions accordingly. His thrusts were hard and purposeful as he raced to reach completion. As he teetered on the brink of orgasm they grew jerky and uncontrollable and it was at this point that he released Peter from his grasp. In an instant they were both shooting their loads; Peter’s caught in the confines of the thong and Sylar’s filling the man’s clenching hole until it oozed out around his own dick and down the other man’s thighs. Peter lay absolutely spent below him, trying to regain his lost breath, as Sylar collapsed equally exhausted beside him, his dick still inside him. Several minutes passed, silent save for the sound of their labored breathing. As the post coital haze lifted they turned to one another, smiling like loons.
“That was possibly one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” Peter sighed as Sylar took him into his arms and began stroking his shaggy, dripping wet locks of hair.
“Told you, you’d enjoy it Pete. Except, if we do this particular one again we’ll have to invest in another thong, those cum stains will never come out of that one,” the man groused.
Peter chuckled at the man’s obsession with cleanliness, “Maybe we’ll try something different before we do this again. You said there’s ‘a whole world of possibilities’ right?”
Sylar felt his softened member stirring at the thought. It was already the best birthday he’d ever had and it just kept getting better. Even as his boyfriend playfully pawed at his chest, showing he was ready for round two, Sylar was forming a list of scenes he’d like to act out with Peter. Like thongs, the possibilities really were endless and the results were guaranteed to be sexy as Hell.