Love, Hate, Love - Sylar/Elle - Not Work Safe

[thewatchmaker]

Characters: Sylar and Elle
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 929
Prompt: 4/100 #23 Lovers 100heroesfics and
"Oh please let it rain today. This city's so filthy. Like my mind in ways.
Oh it was the time. Like a clean new taste.
Smiling eyes before me and tears from my face.... Wash by Pearl Jam for scifi_muses
Notes: For my Elle - shesellectric Smut, smex, not safe for work.



Tired and smelling of sweat, I trudge into my stolen apartment, surrounded by my stolen life. I hate the designer magazine look of it. Think I’ve spent too much time on the run camping out in shitty motels to be comfortable in a place like this. It’s not mine. None of it is mine.

Dropping keys to a car, that isn’t mine either, on the coffee table I seriously consider getting drunk. But the thought of what form I might take while inebriated terrifies me. I’m cracking up, and I know it. Sane people don’t turn into their dead mothers for absolution.

I scrub at my face, then slow my fingers movement to make sure that it is my face I’m feeling. The brush of my incoming beard is a relief. The only time that happens is when I’m me. Then I hear the sound of my shower. His shower. My heart skips a beat. Am I going to have a conversation with Agent Taub now too?

“My dance card is full,” I whisper, thinking of all the dead who could come back to haunt me. Steam is seeping from the cracked open door as I creep into the master bedroom. I don’t want to look at the bed where I keep waking up as someone else.

With the flat of my hand I push the door open slowly, and I see the shadow of a female form under the water. Her head is tilted back as she rinses her long pale hair. A pair of black high heels and a short skirt to match are in a pile on the floor. There is a lacy bra hooked over the towel rack. I gather up the blouse, bringing it to my nose to breathe in her fragrance.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I tell the shadow behind the glass. “I’m being watched.”

“And you shouldn’t be out there.” A long fingered hand, hints of soap bubbles clinging to the wet skin, reaches out and grabs the front of my shirt, drawing me into the steaming water. “You need a bath.”

“Elle.” I’m glad for the pounding water. It hides the tears. “They think you’re dead.”

“Sylar,” she says, unbuckling my belt and letting it drop to the floor of the shower. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Missed you.” My lips find hers, soft, sweet and hungry against mine. Our tongues dance as she peels off my clothes. I bend over, so she can pull my sodden shirt over my head, and she bites the end of my nose with a giggle. Her fingers wrap around me, stroking me, not that I need her to. I’m so hard it hurts.

“I know. Oh, Gabriel, what have they done to you?” Elle gives me butterfly kisses, her lips and lashes flickering over my cheeks, lips and eyelids. Her hands continue to explore my body.

“I’m lost, Elle. Are you here? Are you really here?” I can’t believe it. I know the clothes on the floor should make her real, but I’m so crazy now I can’t be sure. “I keep turning into people, Elle. People I’ve killed.”

“But you didn’t really kill me. You just made sure they wouldn’t look for me.” Her hands reach up to draw my face down again to tug my lip between her teeth. “You shared your blood with me. I healed, just like Nathan Petrelli did from Claire’s. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt. I’m going to have to make you pay for that.”

“But not in here,” I say with a chuckle. “You can’t use your powers under water.” I press my power on her, lifting her from her feet and hold her against the shower wall. She is so beautiful, just like I remember. I want her. I always have. Grabbing her hips, I tease between her legs with the tip of my cock.

“Gabriel, are you going to talk all day or fuck me?” Elle challenges me. Being around her makes me want to do things, bad things, stupid things, but at least they are things I want to do. Not the things other people want.

“Don’t call me that.” I thrust into her. She wraps her legs around my waist while I drive into her. “I’m Sylar. Gabriel is dead. You should know. You killed him.”

“I didn’t kill Gabriel,” she gasps as I bite down on her nipple hard enough to draw blood. I don’t let her touch me, instead I pin her hands over her head with my mind. She is helpless, and she loves it. “I just made him something better.”

“Shut up, Elle.” I feel her breath hot on my shoulder as I press deeper inside of her. She created me. Fucking her is like coming home. As I feel her come, I join her, crying out in pleasure and pain.

Carrying her to the bed, I barely remember to shut off the water with a flick of my fingers. She’s kissing me again, as I drop her onto the unmade bed. I crawl up her body, planting gentle kisses up her stomach to her throat. I slide my fingers inside of her, teasing her clit with my thumb until she is almost purring.

“I want you.”

“Who do you want, Elle. Say my name.” I lick her bruised nipples until she whimpers.

“Sylar. I want Sylar.” She tangles her fingers in my wet hair and tugs.

“Then that’s who you get.” It’s a good thing Agent Taub is dead. Otherwise he’d need a new bed.