3 comments/ 13338 views/ 18 favorites Figure 8 Ch. 01 By: impeterpan Authors Note: Writing this on a whim on a fantasy that came into my head while discovering the personal lives of some porn stars via Twitter... * "What do you mean he can't get it up?" Nick lowered his voice as he noticed curious eyes. For the third time that day, he grabbed the reluctant PA who teetered beside him with a yelp, dragging her behind the fake set. Then he went on hissing, "He's Sylar Durden for Christ's sake, it's always up! That's his thing." He paused to take in the sight of this tiny college grad. She was most definitely Sylar's type. Her boobs were practically globes in their own right, and with her natural blonde hair and light blue eyes, Nick could feel himself getting hard... if he weren't so pissed that the rumors about Sylar were all coming true. He took a second look at the wide-eyed PA, "Maybe you're just not hot enough," he let her go and crossed his arms. "He's been with them all, it must be desensitization. Yeah... that's sounds about right." "Hey boss!" "Yeah?" Nick called back. He looked at the poor PA, who looked so sorry that she had taken this job. What did she expect, he thought, as he waved her away, what did anyone expect from anyone when coming onto a porn set? "Sylar's ready to go." Nick clapped and hooted as he practically skipped from behind the set, nearly colliding into Sylar Dudern. "My man!" he smiled brightly before quickly backing off at the sight of Sylar's intimidating erection. It looked angrier than usual. As did Sylar's face. He looked pained, as if he wanted to get it over with, as if nothing was worse than to get into a bed with that extremely enticing female - Morgana May - who had taken decades to book, and only did so after Sylar won some Critics Choice Awards. Nick scoffed as he got behind the camera and watched Morgana preen herself infront of the mirror. Some people took their job too seriously. "Sound speeding... and action!" If Nick didn't love women more than a fourteen year old boy finding Playboy for the first time, Sylar would've broken a sweat. At least now, boning Morgana wasn't going to be a chore, and his reputation would still be in tact. For the first time he was glad that the porn stereotypes didn't require much talking from his end. He simply needed to slide in and out while Morgana did what she did best. Fake every fucking thing. "Oh my god, oh my god," she panted as her legs came crashing around his butt, pulling him closer. "Harder, harder, please." Sylar closed his eyes, trying to tune out her screeching. Funny how three months ago, he wouldn't have thought it irritating. Three months ago, he really would've believed that the women underneath him wanted it. Three months ago he was also famous for being real on set - no Viagra, no fluffer - all one hundred percent male ego that every women (and a fair amount of men) begged to stroke. Three months ago, the only sex he knew about was this kind... and he used to be so fine with that. While Nick was yelling at the PA behind set, Sylar had slipped into the back room and grabbed his bag. He fished for a small box of Viagra he had bought online. An "insurance," he told himself when he failed to perform for Nick last week. No matter what he thought about, how amazing the woman underneath him felt, his dick failed on him. It wasn't just embarrassing. He had to lie and say he was sick, which then made Nick also force him revisit the doctor just to double check that he was clean. Now all he wanted was to get off and out of there. Morgana's wetness was helping. Thank god it was helping, he thought as he moved faster, not giving a shit to what she was moaning on about. He slapped his hand over her face, thanking whatever sexist cunt who spurred porn towards degrading women to allow him this saving grace. "Shut the fuck up," he growled, "and just take it." He thrust his hips faster, not sure if it was because he wanted to cum or if he wanted it over with. Either way, his behaviour seemed to turn Morgana on even more. She started thrashing and moaning, biting into his hand. She was getting close, he could feel it. He paused for a moment to readjust his weight so he could just pound her into oblivion, when she suddenly wrapped her legs around him and flipped him over. "Nuh-uh," she moaned, cupping her breast and grinding on him slowly, "I'm taking my time with you, boy." Sylar closed his eyes so no one could see him roll them. That earned a well deserve slap on the chest and Morgana pinched his nipples, "Look at me, boy. Look at me while I..." he phased her out but went with the flow as he saw how happy Nick was with whatever the fuck was happening. "So fucking big. And hot. And hard. So. Deep." She just couldn't shut up. How she was the most popular porn star of the year was beyond him, although he couldn't deny that her body knew what it was doing. Every now and then her pussy contracted around him like a suction around his cock but it was all too calculated. Sylar grunted and propped himself up. Morgana nearly shoved him back down, but he grabbed her breasts and twisted her nipples hard, knowing she was submit to the sudden pleasure. She grabbed his head, thrusting his mouth to her chest and started to ride him even harder than before. Sylar used this opportunity to read the time on the wall. They had been at it for twenty minutes already. Should be enough, especially with the masturbation scene Morgana had promised Nick. Without warning, he flipped her around and started drilling her as hard as he could. Morgana seemed to take towards it. Her hands grabbed her breasts as she chanted, "Oh, oh, oh..." continuously. She reached for his hands, looking to intertwine them but Sylar shoved them away and held onto her hips instead. She was so wet she was nearly sliding off his dick, and he would be damned if he had to finish off with a handjob. The familiar rush starting building up and up against a blockade that felt like a dam blocked for years. He bent down, closing his eyes to imagine that the body underneath wasn't that moaning slut, but just a warm body ready to suck him in. It took a lot of imagination but as Morgana wrapped her arms around him and spread her legs, he finally felt himself fall in the extra inch he needed. Grinding as hard as he could, he once again covered her mouth before pushing himself up and into her wet cunt. That extra friction was all he needed as he pulled himself out and felt his cum squeeze out more like a pissing relief than a mind blowing orgasm. Fucking hell. He opened his eyes to see Morgana smiling at his still hard cock, his cum dribbled over her face like he had spat randomly into the air. She slid herself down between his kneeling legs, and rested on her elbows so that his cock could slide in between her lips. Fuck, he thought as his hips jerked and he felt himself growing hard all over again. The fucking thing about Viagra was that even rubbing against sandpaper was going to get him hard. The orgasm earlier had been so... anti-climatic that he didn't want to experience another series of them. Still in character, he shoved Morgana's head back, making her look him in the eyes. Thank god Nick was all about scripting to reality. They had shot Morgana earlier as a MILF who played hard to get, so his next words weren't too out of line. "Too bad baby," he rasped as he pulled away and slid out of bed, "you need to be taught a lesson in being a tease." Morgana sat up, her collar bone still glistening from his cum. "What does that mean!" "It means..." Sylar laughed as he pulled his pants back on and strolled to the bedside. As tenderly as he could manage, he brushed back some of her hair and whispered in her ear, "Get yourself off." "CUT!" Sylar didn't miss a beat. He rushed off set, brushing past an excited Nick to the changing room, the one thing on his mind was his fucking dick. It was impossibly hard again, making an obvious silhouette against the front of his jeans. Now he knew why his friends had warned him against this shit. Then again, he never thought he'd see the day he had to take Viagra... of all things. He always thought it'd be chlamydia that got him first. As soon as he got changed and adjusted himself to hide his boner as much as possible, he muttered to the PA, "Tell Nick I have a meeting and this shoot ran over time. Tell him to call me when he needs me again, okay?" He waited for the stunned PA to respond. Great, he thought, another newbie. Why couldn't Nick stop being so cheap. "Did you hear me?" he barked, not sure where the misplaced emotions had come from. This scene was just too familiar... "Yes...Yes, Tyler, I mean Sylar." The poor girl was shaking badly. Sylar felt guilty for taking his anger out on her. He patted her shoulder. "You did a good job for your first day." When she looked relieved, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She was so shocked, her hand jerked up and brushed against his dick. Sylar jolted, clenching his thighs as he nodded a quick goodbye and walked out the door. He'd just wait for the feelings to pass, he thought as he rode a taxi home. Sit and watch a movie with an ice pack of his dick. He thought about masturbating, about thinking of her until he came again - but there was nothing worse than having a fantastic orgasm and having nothing but cold air to fall into afterwards. "Fuck!" The taxi rode over a huge pot hole, causing the bag in his lap to rub against the front of his jeans. "Sorry," he muttered half heartedly to the driver. And when he got home, he realized that opening the door to a dark and empty bachelor pad gave off a feeling worse than not having sex. Damn her for making sex so intimate. Damn her for making him emotional. And logical about it all. THREE MONTHS EARLIER... Emma took a deep breath as she rang the doorbell to the warehouse. The looks she got while wandering through downtown San Francisco told her that people knew where she was going and by the judging looks on their faces, they didn't approve. Her looks probably didn't help either, as once a lady ran out of the store to tell her that she was "too pretty to be doing that kind of stuff." "Oh, you got it wrong," Emma stammered, thoroughly embarrassed, "I'm not... I won't be doing... anything involved with touching people." Emma sighed at her word choice, wishing she was bold enough to just say it out loud, but she couldn't even admit to her best friend, let alone a stranger. "Honey, I'm looking for a part-time assistant. I'll pay you fifteen dollars an hour just so you don't get tangled up in that business." Emma blushed. The gig she would be doing offered double that. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I need to show up for the first day of work at least." The lady frowned. "Well here's my card. My name's Daisy and once you realize you want out, I'll have the job waiting for you. You're too young to just let your life go downward like that." "Th-thank you." Emma tucked the card into a her satchel and smiled as brightly as she could. She didn't want to explain to the woman - Daisy - what her job was. It was be too complicated to explain, the pay was too good and technically, she thought as she heard the buzzer let her in, it was in line of work she had hoped to be in. Albiet a bit... scandalous. "Hello, hello, I'm Greg, the director's assistant," a middle aged man quickly greeted her as the elevator opened up. He was very fit, she thought, for his age, which looked around forty, considering his receding hair line. "Are you Emma?" "Yeah, I'm here for the assistant - " Greg wasted no time. He rushed through the loft, through sets and props, motioning her to catch up as he weaved through everything and everyone. "Editor, yes. Change of plan though The last editor left because of his wife - you don't have family or a boyfriend do you?" Emma shook her head. "Good. That's a new "qualification" Nick wants with the production crew but since it's considered sexist, ageist or whatever, we can't actually post that on the job listings. It's all a bit messy, relationships... So where was I?" "There's no editor?" Emma wasn't even sure what she was getting into anymore. "Nick'll edit, but you're probably going to end up being his assistant. Good thing you're paid hourly and for overtime, right?" Greg tapped his clipboard. "Has anyone seen Sylar?" he yelled, in no direction in particular and to no one in particular. There was a resounding and almost overly excited yes that got Greg squealing as he made a mark on the paper. I guess Sylar is the talent, Emma thought as she looked around, wondering what he looked like. She had seen her fair glimpses, screenshots mainly, of porn stars. They weren't exactly her type, and even when she tried to watch them - strictly out of curiosity - everything from the grunting man to the shamelessly loud woman just felt annoying. "What's your favorite Sylar film darling?" "Huh?" They walked behind a rack of sex toys and Emma's eyes widened at the variety of them. She didn't know... it wasn't just the colors, but the shape, sizes and bits and pieces she wasn't even sure what they were for or where they went. Fingers snapped in front of her eyes. "Oh dear, did HR not explain to you what we're about. This isn't Hollywood, honey." Greg peered at her with these musical "You're-not-in-Kansas" eyes. "No, no. I know what I'm in for. I know what I signed up for," she found herself insisting, trying to reassure him. "I'm just not...experienced in the... onscreen stuff." She held her breath as Greg crossed his arms, studying her as if she were the on screen talent. His hawk-like circling got her nervous. Was she going to be fired just because she was a virgin? No! How would he know anyway? And he certainly couldn't fire her for thinking she was a prude. Not that she would sue them for being sexist either. Imagine what kind of reaction the newspapers would have with that. Assistant in the porn industry scared of sex. They'd probably make a porno out of that too. Emma shuddered. She couldn't have that. She gripped her hands resolutely, thinking about the personal benefits to this job. Her reluctance to even approach a guy at a bar, even if she thought he was the hottest thing to walk to planet, always turned into regret. So Emma wanted to learn, without suffering the bad consequences or feeling regret from a rash decision, how to be confident with her sexuality. Of course everything was scripted anyway. She had skimmed through some of the company's videos. And the main reason she applied was because they were known for their "erotic sensual films" rather than wham-bam-thank-you-mam scenes. Not to say that their job description didn't imply that there would be days like that... "We occasionally produce controversial content that appeals to a niche audience" was the exact phrasing. She broke out of her daydream when Greg made a tsk sound, and she started rambling for her dear life. "I'm really good at editing, especially sound. And I'm experience with unorganized production. I promise not even one moan is going to be out of sync when the editor gets the dailies." Of course, numero uno reason she needed this job. The money was too good. In fact, it was ridiculous for at twenty eight dollars an hour plus overtime, she would be able to save up for LA without having to worry about student loans too much. Emma wrung her hands nervously against her sweater as Greg's gaze grew intensely condescending. Then it snapped, He laughed deep and pulled the little girl in for a hug. "Oh honey, don't be such a scared little bird. You're hired already, and Nick's not going to make you do anything you don't want to do... even if we're missing our female lead." He winked, and Emma worked the courage to smile back. "Don't worry. You've got me on your side, and if anyone bothers you, let me know. I'll gladly stick my dick up their ass," Greg reassured her, tucking her under his wing with a strong surge of protective for this timid assistant. "Come on, let's find Nick." He kept his arm around Emma throughout the loft and gladly kept the conversation going, even if it was on his own terms. Emma found herself warming up to him. He really was like a Momma bird, she thought, as he showed her the kitchen, bathroom and where she could store her stuff. He told her who to avoid, although Nick rarely re-hired anyone who made the cast or crew uncomfortable. "We're surprisingly normal, honey," Greg cooed, "except the talent. They always want some, but as long as you say no, they'll respect your wishes. " Emma nodded, hoping she would never have to be in a position to say no. She was never very good at saying the word. Most of the time she would bide her time until there was a chance to slip away and disappear. It saved everyone the trouble. "So where did you go to school, Emma?" "Oh, USC," she replied. "Oo LA. Love LA. I dated a makeup artist from the Valley once. Beautiful complexion, but terrible hair and choices in color. He would dyed his locks this ugly blonde and get these disgusting orange color. Then I had to break it up when it became obvious he was trying to worm his way into fucking some celebrities who are still in the closet, if you know what I mean." She didn't, but still agreed. "Hah, yeah." "So what brings you up to San Francisco? You should've stayed down there to fulfill your dream." "Free rent," she shrugged. "My aunt owns a house and she rents her rooms out to college girls. I get to live for free as long as I help manage it." "Ah, I used to remember free rent." He winked his pretty eye, and smirked. Emma was sure his method of free rent was very different idea from hers. Suddenly they jerked to a stop as Greg started cooing. Emma didn't know why, but something instinctively told her eyes to keep her eyes the ground. There was a rush of a masculine scent that reminded her of those surfer stores in the malls, the ones with absolutely stunning models with perfect bodies. Emma gulped, hoping to go unnoticed. "Greg, Greggy, Greg - what are you sneaking past me?" The voice was deep, rich and sent vibrations through Emma - or it was Greg's chuckle and how he kept her closer. The voice went on, "Passing by my room without introducing me to the new talent?" Emma's head shot up so fast to reject the claim that she locked eyes with the most intense green eyes she had ever seen. They were light, almost grey, surrounded by a lining of long black lashes. And the rest of his face was history - even his facial hair, which she hated on guys, was sexy. "I thought we were doing horny babysitter today, not whimpering virgin." He studied the girl who was practically hiding behind Greg like a little mouse with interest. It had been a long time since Nick had been able to book a girl like this one. A real shy one that was pretty in a petite, homey way. Very different from the girls that usually came by. He wondered how long it would take to make her moan on all fours - would going slow or fast make her go mad? Emma tried not to watch the man study her, but it was hard to focus on anything else. Damn him for not wearing a shirt, she thought. His body was so surprisingly lanky, not like the bulky men she had seen online. His arms didn't burst with muscles, but they were well defined, all of him was especially the impossibly perfect abs that she had only ever seen on Brad Pitt in Fight Club. And it was inevitably, considering her circumstances, that her eyes would go lower... "Eyes up here, baby." She blushed immediately, ready to say something when Greg interrupted with a flirtatious sigh. "Oh Sylar, you know it's hard enough with you prancing around like that without a shirt. But why do you have to wear such flimsy pants too?" Emma wanted to hug him there and then for saving her the embarrassment but Greg was too busy reaching for the pants. Figure 8 Ch. 01 Sylar playfully slapped his hand away, but flirted back. His words to Greg but his eyes trained on Emma. This one was not discrete, he grinned, watching her wide brown eyes flicker back and forth. He wasn't sure if it was the sunlight coming through the floor to ceiling windows, but around her head was a soft glow, like a halo, and the rest of her hair looked so soft and welcoming. Dammit, he thought as she started chewing on her lip, she looked so tiny and precious, it'd take the entire city to stop him from pounding in her tonight. "Well, I can't say I'm not pleased by the change of theme today. Especially if it means getting into bed with this one," his bright green eyes raked up and down her body shamelessly as he reached out to touch the ends of her hair. His hand recoiled as Greg slapped his hand sharply. "What the fuck, man." "No-no, Sylar," Greg chided as he tucked Emma closer to him. "This one isn't for you. She's Nick's." Sylar growled, "What?" "Emma Ramsay this is Sylar Durden. Sylar, this is Emma." Emma almost died hearing his stage name. Everything about this man was becoming the literal reincarnation of her ultimate fantasy - save for the psychotic part. She managed a squeaking, "Nice to meet you" and held out her hand for a shake but all Sylar did was stare at her as if horns were growing out of her eyes. She was already whimpering, Sylar groaned inwardly, not caring that Greg would be able to tell he was turned on. He watched Emma's eyes widen like saucers ready to brim with water and knew that she had no idea what was really going through his mind. Making her suck his finger was one of them - he knew she would be so delicate. Fuck! She would be wasted on Nick! Usually Sylar didn't care, but there was something about this shy girl. Maybe it was because she just didn't fit in. She looked like the type that didn't know how to say no. He knew girls like her. They gave into the peer pressure, empty promises and hopes, and all that came out of it was a hopeless damaged soul afraid of sex. And sex was too good to be afraid of. The staring contest was broken by a rather shrill male yell. "Greg! I need you here!" Greg jumped up, releasing Emma, making her feel very vulnerable. "Oh shit honey, that's Nick. Come' on, we need to introduce you to the boss." He grabbed her hand and they started running. Emma couldn't help but look back at Sylar, who was raking his fingers through his perfect brown hair. In one quick crash course, she met Nick and was gladly reassured that her job was limited to technical work only. Nick had laughed loudly and uncontrollably when Emma mumbled that she preferred not to do anything physical but would if she absolutely had to and it would save a life. The crew moved professionally undisturbed by their director's cackling. "We're not sex traffickers, Emma." Nick chuckled as Emma smiled obediently. Greg had warned her of Nick's poor sense of humor. "We're paying good money for other people to do that job." He pointed to a fluffer that had her hands underneath a woman's shirt. The woman was moaning, pinching herself where the fluffer wasn't touching and rolling her hips as if she was trying to fit the other woman underneath her. "Does that mean Sylar has an... assistant too?" Emma blurted. She tried to hide her blush. Thankfully Nick didn't seem to notice anyway. "No, Sylar's a god," Nick said with a ring of awe to his voice. He guided her to the seat next to the director's chair, and Emma stifled a scoff at the sight of his name printed on the back. Someone took his job a little too seriously. "That's the amazing thing about Sylar. He's not just popular with the female porn stars cause of his big talent, he's also really good at getting his boy grow infront of the camera." People started shuffling around, moving wires and lights until the set was perfect. There was a fake staircase that lead up to nowhere, but downstairs to a deceivingly small living room with one sofa. A few feet away was an open kitchen with marble counters, surrounded by cabinets. Emma watched as the actress had gone to the top, ready for her cue to make her way down. Then Sylar appeared on set. He was wearing pajamas that did nothing to hide his erection. Hell, I can see it all the way over here, Emma swallowed, and it didn't help when he stood sideways with his hands on his hips. "Nick, we're ready," Sylar said looked straight over at Emma, grinning. Greg had explained to him her job, and although he had to admit his disappointment when he heard she wouldn't be performing - at all, and probably never - he did love the way she squirmed whenever he looked at her. Most women he knew ran right into his lap. This little mouse looked like she wanted to hide. He smirked as she ducked her head down, those huge headphones over her ears like she was a child watching daddy at work. But as soon as Nick yelled, "Action!" Sylar was all business. The girl at the top of the stairs starting walking down, and he quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her against him so fast that the glazed shock on the talent's face told him she was ready too. Fuck the lines, he thought as he thrust his hips once against her smooth legs, loving the pressure. He pushed her against the wall, grinding himself as hard as his body would allow. He kissed the mouth underneath him, sucking on her wet tongue as he felt a cool hand slip beneath the band of his pants to pull out his cock. Oh fuck. His thoughts disappeared completely when he felt a warm mouth vibrate hungrily over his growing dick. Fucking fuck, yes, this was the life. When Emma got home, all she saw when she closed her eyes was flesh against flesh. Sylar's penis had looked so thick as it entered the woman, sawing in and out until she seemed to go mad. At first Emma squirmed, a familiar yet different sensation rushed deep inside her, warming her body from inside out. Only rubbing her thighs seemed to give some sort of relief, and the way Sylar kept flexing his muscles, pushing himself against her without penetrating, driving the woman mad, made Emma even hotter. But then the woman had to start talking, saying incoherent things, screaming and yelling with a shrill that made Emma feel like she was being murdered instead of having sex. Anything felt was quickly replaced with irritation. And now Nick had sent her back with hours and hours of footage that wasn't just from today. Porn, she thought bluntly, I carried porn half way across the city and now I'm going to watch it as if I'm editing the next Titanic. I'm going to have to watch three different cameras and unintelligible women scream over and over again. She made herself a cup of tea, toasted some bread with butter and got out her headphones so that none of the college girls would hear her work. Before she started, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was sure by the end of all this, she would never want to have sex again. It was half true. By the end of tape one, Emma didn't even feel the slightest curiosity or heat between her legs when naked bodies came on screen. She looked at them as if they were cartoons. There were so many different women coming on and off, she wasn't even sure what was going on anymore. What did she discover though was what turned Sylar Durden, the sex god that had women worshiping his body, on. He was so fucking good, Emma realized that the women having sex were getting orgasms of pure bliss and desire. Hell, she sometimes she had the script in front of her, which never, ever said, "Sylar, please. I'm yours. Oh my god, only you. Only you can do - " Emma pulled open a bag of Ritz crackers, as Sylar buried his dick into one woman after another. Funnily enough, it wasn't that she didn't want to have sex at all. She just now had certain expectations of what her first time should feel like, what a guy had to make her want to say - and those expectations were higher than man's first steps on the moon. By the end of five tapes and a week later, Emma knew more about Sylar Durden's sexual appetite than she'd like to admit. She knew that he liked being hard as possible before being touched - his eyes fluttered a certain way when that happened. She knew that he preferred to spend more time inside a woman's vagina than in her mouth, and he liked being on top so that he could grind against their clit when they fucked. Clit. That was one word and anatomy she learned while watching all over this. It seemed to be the magic button in all the women. After a heated shower scene where Sylar fingered a MILF into a thigh-clenching orgasm, Emma wondered if she could feel the same. While she washed herself, her hand trailed down her stomach and in between her legs. Originally she was just cleaning herself, but somehow her hand rubbed a little harder and she felt herself jolt at the contact. She did it again, and went to put her finger inside like she had seen all the other girls do, like she had seen Sylar do, but it was so tight, it hurt and burned to push any further. Finding no pleasure in the rest of the activity, Emma rinsed herself off and went to bed. The next time Emma saw Sylar, she was getting in the elevator to the loft when she heard his voice cry out her to wait. Her hand struck out, stopping the door as it rebounded open to one devilishly handsome Sylar Durden. "Hi," he smiled widely as he stepped inside. Despite the spacious room in the elevator offered, he stood right next to her. Emma immediately looked at the ground as she realized that she couldn't un-see the fucking man naked. Even if he wore a fucking Pikachu suit, she realized, all she would be able to picture was his cock. She knew all the different sizes it could get to, even what it looked like when it was flaccid, but even then all she could imagine was the thickness and hardness of it. Oh my god, she trembled, Emma Ramsay, grow up! Every boy has a penis. Dogs have penises. Dogs. She hoped he wasn't watching her. Sylar wondered what was going on inside Emma's brain. He expected a cheery smile - everyone loved him - but all he got was a side shuffle towards the other end of the elevator. Shouldn't she be used to him by now? He tried to get her attention, but the harder he tried, the more she stepped away. Such demureness wasn't going to go unnoticed in the porn business. Sylar racked his brain as to why this girl, dressed in an oversized sweater and skinny jeans, was still here. But god, last weekend - starting Wednesday - had been a huge blur. The talent he'd fucked into wailing, multiple orgasms had invited him to a party and there was definitely a lot of snorting, drinking and perhaps some sex... Sylar smiled as he remembered being delightfully cushioned by warm bodies. Although he secretly hoped he didn't fuck anyone he didn't know with diseases and all that... After all, the whole point of being able to fuck for a living was the guarantee that his co-workers would be disease free too. He made a mental note to make a doctor's appointment when he noticed that Emma was staring at him now. "What does a porn star do on his off days?" Emma couldn't help but watch the emotions on Sylar's face go from bliss to confusion and then satisfaction. She put together that he was remembering something, but what? And when she asked the question, she startled them both. Thankfully the elevator had reached their destination. And when the doors opened, Sylar found himself speaking in character, as if he were talking to a fan, "The same thing we do for work, darling." He knew he was smooth, and the answer was undeniably erotic that most women would've wet themselves right there. But instead, he heard was a disappointed, "Oh." He was about to ask her what she meant by that, but she was already off, bouncing through the loft and grabbing a hold of Greg. This time Sylar found himself watching Emma, studying her while he waited around on set until Greg caught him and smacked him on the head. Damn him to hell if he tainted her, Greg warned, "Don't think about trying to loop her into the business. She's not here for keeps." I'd like to keep her Sylar thought, picturing her legs around him. He was sure she was tight. She was so small... his ego and pride puffed up at the thought of totally encompassing her, crushing her to his chest. He watched as Emma tucked some loose hair behind her ear. No matter how many times she pulled her hair up, it kept slipping out. "She really is pretty," Sylar noted the way her hair fell naturally, not in perfect curls but in a messy out-of-bed way, "a bit unconventional, but the camera would love her nonetheless." Greg rolled his eyes and poked Sylar with his pen, shaking a finger in Sylar's face. "You can't have her. She's not from this world and she's not going to join it." "Give me more credit," Sylar laughed, "she's not my type anyway." "Good." That conversation did nothing to stop him from wanting Emma more. She was like a piece of sunlight waltzing about the room in her clumsiness and naivety. And yet nobody laughed at her because of it, instead Sylar noticed the crew welcoming her simple mindset as if it were a breath of fresh air. "Not everything has to revolve around sex," he heard her say when one of the sound team asked her how she got through her days watching hours of fucking, "And honestly eventually everything looks the same to me." Wait. Had she spent her "off" days watching him? Over and over? Syncing up sound for picture... All the thoughts, the potential images of Emma masturbating to him, hit Sylar harder than he could comprehend it. Someone whistled as they passed. "That was hella fast, Sylar. Whatever got you turned on, you should bottle it and sell it." He didn't have to look down to feel his cock growing up against his leg, but even he was surprised by how fast it grew. Fuck. Girls and guys watch my videos all the time, he thought, it shouldn't make a difference that she does. He looked over at Emma, sitting next to Nick, going over the script with intense focus as if they were about to shoot the next Oscar winning film. Her face was quite small, and her features quite petite... her almond eyes raised to look at him, but he didn't turn away after getting caught for staring. Hell, he wasn't ashamed, it was a new sensation for him. A mental turn-on that didn't even require being touched, although he eventually gave him and shoved his hand down his pants to give his cock a feel relieving squeezes. He was... he was... touching himself while looking at her! Emma burned as she quickly untucked all her hair to cover her face. She felt this weird pressure in the air around her and looked up to see Sylar watching her, his fingers now lightly brushing over that area as if it was the most normal thing to do. All the images of him fucking other girls rushed into her head - did he really run out of things to think about? Don't flatter yourself. As if he was thinking about you, he's fucked fantasy girls all over the world, and he's just getting ready for the job. You probably just caught him at the right time and jumped into your own wet dreams. Where did that come from? Emma stiffened at her own thoughts, she never had wet dreams, let alone wet dreams of Sylar! Sylar watched in amusement as Emma started to frantically shake her head. No one was talking to her but this girl seemed to be having a war of a conversation on her own. Did she always look this cute when she got bashful? He wondered what got her so riled up and red. "Sylar, we're ready for you!" Greg cried in a cat-call voice, popping in front of him. "Oo, what's got this big boy so excited? Keep it up for that lucky ho." Sylar didn't even remember the script when he saw Ashlynn sitting on the bed. He just knew there was a huge pent up energy in his pants and a fucking hot girl was there to release it. He moved when he heard Nick yell "Action," pushing his hand through Ashlynn's hair and gently squeezing her neck. "Oh that feels good," she whimpered but pushed gently against his chest, "but we can't do this baby. You said we'd wait for marriage." Suddenly, he couldn't remember the damn words. He closed his eyes, hoping to pass off the look on his face as intense lust. Well, that was half true. He thrust his hips gently as he tried to think, groaning as Ashlynn's legs fell open, letting his cock lodge right at her heat. He opened his eyes, darting his gaze around the room. What a mistake. He saw Emma with her finger in her mouth, chewing her nails while her tongue occasionally flickered out. What a pointy tip, like an iceberg. How did someone so oblivious and innocent become so hot. Oh, shit that was it. Innocence. Sylar turned his head and nuzzled Ashlynn's neck. "I'll marry you, promise, but can't we get started on our honeymoon now? I'm so hard right now I can't - " he stopped when he heard a soft giggle. Looking up, there was Emma trying hard to not laugh. He felt a rush of anger at the disruption, but then... maybe it was the light or the oversized headphones or the way Nick and Greg looked at her in near adoration despite her screwing up the sound... but she looked beautiful with her crescent eyes and her hand over her mouth. I'm sorry, she mouthed to the sound guy, whose annoyance quickly disappeared as well. It was true, Sylar thought, the script was cheesy. So fuck the script. He was too horny to play along anymore. Ashlynn's hands were stroking him so well, the lubrication from her pussy was more than enough. And the camera was still rolling... He gripped the back of Ashlynn's neck, baring it so he could make his mark down her jaw, straight for her mouth. Her legs parted wider than the command open sesame and he pushed his tongue the corners of her mouth, sucking on hers until she couldn't breathe. It was all going so fucking good. Ashlynn's pussy was alway tight, wet, and when she got on all fours, Sylar didn't wait to push into her. "Oh my god," he moaned, grabbing her ass and kneading it, making her feel him inside and out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He knew that girls liked him vocal, and he didn't mind being vocal as well. His eyes were closed for a while, revealing in the sensation of the hot, ribbed enclosure around his cock, when he suddenly wanted to feel her weighty breasts in his hands. Hard nipples against his palms, between his fingers. Right when he opened his eyes, he saw the rest of the crew enraptured with his performance. Those who weren't holding anything were rubbing themselves through their clothes - except Emma. Her eyes were focused on the screen and her knuckles white around the pen. And Sylar found himself pounding harder as he watched her, as she continued to watch him not noticing that he was looking at her. Did anyone else notice, he thought briefly, but the feelings surrounding his dick were too intense. Ashlynn was convulsing, moaning and gripping at the sheets as he spurred on, knowing he could get her to have multiple orgasms. It wasn't for her as much as it was for him. The feeling of her muscles rippling over his cock - non stop, never stopping - he was about to explode but held it in just to feel her pussy squeeze him tighter and tighter. When he pulled out to come, Ashlynn moved her head forward to drink it all, but he pushed her head back. "No, use your hands." He groaned as he felt five petite fingers close around him, and before he knew it, he was imagining a hand, so small that white knuckles could form holding a pen, jerking him off into oblivion. "Fucking hell Sylar," Nick yelped, giving no concern to his friend's naked appearance, or to the PA that was wiping him down with a wet towel. "How the hell are you going to top that performance? Fuck that should've been for a movie for the Porn-Oscars. Not some jerk-off scene for PornXXX.com." Figure 8 Ch. 01 "Oh honey, I nearly came watching you!" Greg squealed, not ashamed to take this chance and hug Sylar. Sylar laughed, bending down to pull on a pair of gym pants for a shred of decency. He noticed that he was still semi-hard, and thought about inviting himself to Ashlynn's place to finish the job when he found Emma squatting on the ground, calmly packing her bag as if nothing happened. There was noway in hell she wasn't affected by that. Sylar grinned as he approached her, feeling more satisfied than he had in a long while. And for him, this satisfaction meant ready to go another round, wanting to go again until he passed out. It was a feeling he rarely got now that he was booking steady gigs, but every once in a while it would happen, especially if the girl managed to seduce him, if she acted more than just a wet hole for masturbating viewers. Only this time, Sylar could pinpoint the exact reason he was feeling so great. He stood over an unaware Emma, letting his shadow fall over her. He waited for her to acknowledge him. She didn't. She kept packing until she was completely sure she had everything, got up, turned around without every looking at him and made a beeline towards Nick and Greg. Did she go home and touch herself to the tapes? He imagined that was one reason she acted so prim and proper at work. He laughed, she was literally treating this job as proper work. It was so... endearing. He watched as she cheerily gave Greg a kiss on the cheek goodbye as well as a few of the other crew members. Sylar tried to think about what happened last week... complete blur. Did she say bye to him? When had she gotten so familiar with everyone else - and why everyone but him? She should be nice to the talent, he grumbled, watching her head towards the door. Ego bruised, he threw on a white t-shirt and grabbed his bag, quickly following her out without a goodbye to anyone else. Not that anyone noticed a clothed Sylar. They were all surrounding Ashlynn, either asking for her number or asking how amazing it was to be the best fuck ever for fucking Sylar Durden. "Wait up," he called, and watched the slim hand stop the door as it had last time. He made sure to have his best boy scout grin when the doors opened, ready for a sullen face or some sign of rejection. Instead, he was sure it was a blush rising in her cheeks, and those white knuckles gripping on her bag as he stepped in. He remembered her question about what he did on his off days. Did she want to get to know him? he wondered. He knew he was attractive beyond porn standards - there was no way in hell she was unaffected by any part of him. Dear Emma looked so vulnerable standing there, her eyes downcast to the floor. Was going home for a more private reason? It looks like we both enjoy work so much we do it on our off days as well, he thought, smiling. As the doors closed, he felt the lurch not only in the elevator but deep inside as well. He decided there and then that was ready to spend his off days with her. Every twenty four hours of them. Figure 8 Ch. 02 Note from author: Emma and Sylar's relationship has plagued me for the last week with constant growth where I saw them as characters, not just pawns in a theoretically nice plot-line. If I manage to finish this story, I will most likely go back and edit to make the story run flawlessly. But right now, I need to get their story out before it bores me and I just stop writing. I'm apologizing for any little inconsistencies or overused metaphors in advance (mostly weird details like dates, moles, clothing or even unannounced friendships). I wish I could thoroughly plan out and write this story as a whole, edit and then submit, but I'm not that kind of writer. Thanks for understanding! --- Emma wasn't sure why she was so nervous. No. She knew exactly why. She always got speechless around hot, jaw-dropping men. Especially when they could hover effortlessly to her five foot two frame. Sylar was no exception to the rule - even if she wasn't a fan of his long locks or unshaved facial hair. He was the first real man that actually looked like he had dropped out of a catalog. It had to be the confidence, Emma breathed, but she didn't dare study him when he was so close. She never looked at him once, not even a smile in his direction. Was it because he spent most of the time naked in front of her? But she didn't act this shy in front of the other porn stars, at least the women. He wasn't even sure why he had followed her out, he had just wanted to talk to her but now it was just awkward. So he spent the short time in the elevator studying Emma Ramsay, approving everything about her. Everything about her was delicate. He would have no shame admitting that he'd like her underneath him. Girls like her were so hard to come by, especially one that looked like he could surround completely in a hug. It wasn't even a matter of weight. The girls he worked with were goddess - tall, leggy and extremely well gifted in the chest - and it was too scripted. Emma looked like she had wandered through a thrift shop for men. Maybe was she wearing a boyfriend's sweater? Sylar frowned, the thought of her having a boyfriend, of her unavailable, made him annoyed. How was he going to get to know her if she was being reserved? No wonder she never tried speaking to him. He was about to ask about her weekend plans, to figure out if she was taken, when Emma shot out the doors as soon as they opened. She made a beeline for the exit. She didn't know why Sylar was staring at her like that. She could feel the weight of his gaze even without looking at him. And in her head, all she could picture was him naked. She couldn't even look at his feet because that meant envisioning his legs, and then his penis... all nine inches of engorged flesh. No. Stop. Shaking the image from her mind, Emma kept walking as fast as her short legs would take her. All of a sudden she felt herself thrown back, the back of her head slammed straight into a hard surface. A car sped past her with a series of loud honks. Emma squealed as she felt an arm wrapping around her, pulling her up and back until she was well off the street. Emma panicked, trying to wiggle free of the tight grip, but the person was digging into her hard, as if letting go weren't an option. "Fucking hell, Emma. You nearly died." She grew rigid as she recognized the voice to be none of than Sylar's. He was breathing heavily over her head, and as she used both hands to try and pry his iron-clad arm away, she couldn't help but secretly enjoy the warmth of his body. He smelled so masculine, musky and an underlying scent that she could vague recognize whenever... "Oh let me go. You didn't even shower yet, let me go!" Emma squirmed as if Sylar was burning her. He tightened his hold at first, enjoying the way she rubbed against him. Sylar bent his knees a little, lowering himself so that her ass rubbed the right spot. "Let me go!" She jerked out of his grasp, falling into the street again. Another car had been coming so fast that he almost didn't make it. "Fuck," he cursed, yanking the filmsy girl back on the pavement. All immoral thoughts drifted from his mind as he looked Emma over to make sure she was okay. "You should watch where you're going." Emma flinched at his harsh tone and averted her gaze. His eyes were knitted in anger. She wriggled her arm. "I'm sorry." Why the fuck was she apologizing? Sylar stared right into her eyes, her doe-like eyes that slowly filled with trepidation until he realized he was still holding on.He let go, and Emma jumped out of his reach. Her actions only made him want to grab her right back and prove that there was nothing to be afraid of. Instead he left his hand go through his hair, stamping down the desire to hold her again. That and he was used to women walking away when they didn't really mean it. Most of them expected to be grabbed - he noticed Emma speeding down the dark street and swore aloud. Was she born an idiot? The pounding of his steps came closer and closer. Emma tried to walk away from him as fast as possible, but his legs were much longer. Why was he following her? He even snorted when her pace became a quick jog. Didn't he have somewhere to be? "You should get a cab from here," he said as they stopped at a red light. While walking, he had noticed two dark figures watching her, following her. Not missing a beat, Sylar moved as close to her as possible, until he felt the heat of her body through his filmsy shirt. "Or ask Greg to call you one from the studio." "It's okay." Emma didn't want to admit that it was too expensive. "The bus on the main street takes me straight home." "The main street is ten blocks from here." "I'm a fast walker." Sylar nearly missed her darting across the crosswalk. He had to jog to catch up with her and when they reached the sidewalk again, he tried to grab her arm. From the corner of her eyes, Emma saw something reach for her and sped up. "Fucking hell," Sylar hissed as he grabbed air. He walked beside her, keeping an eye out for strangers. "Emma, did you walk home last week?" "Yeah, it's fine." "Says the girl who nearly got run over." Emma rolled her eyes. I wouldn't have gotten run over if I wasn't trying to get away from you, she thought. Why was he following her anyway? She was pretty sure she heard the girl invite him over to her place to finish up whatever business they had. And she was pretty sure he agreed to it too. So why was he here? "Look," he sighed, walking beside her without breaking a sweat, "if you're not going to get a cab then I'm going to at least see that you get home safe." Home? Like all the way, including the bus ride home? She halted in her steps, turning around to face him. For the first time she wasn't afraid to get in his face. He was heads taller than her, but damn him if he was going to know where she lived. She didn't need anybody in her neighborhood recognizing her with him of all people. "Stop. I told you I can get home fine." It was Sylar's turn to roll his eyes. "Baby, what you're saying and what that man," he pointed to a silhouette in the alleyway that quickly moved out of sight, "is thinking are complete opposites." "I'm not your responsibility!" Emma pouted. This bastard was making her life unnecessarily harder. After all, she wasn't stupid. She had an idea of how unsafe the area was, but the key was to walk as if she belonged. Now Sylar was drawing more attention to them than if she had walked by herself. "I'll be fine. Just leave me alone, okay?" Just as Sylar was about to respond, his phone rang. Emma watched as he picked up the call, muttering yes and nods. Something sparked across his face and he closed his eyes in pleasure. "Mm," he said, "that sounds nice. Okay. I'll be on my way back." Typical, she huffed as Sylar hung up. He held his phone in his hands, flipping it back and forth as he spoke. "Alright, fine. I'll leave you alone since you want that so bad." All that determination gone at the promise of sex! He was leaving her to die for a booty call. Emma held her hands into small little fists as she spat out a harsh, "Thanks a lot," and starting stomping her way home. She barely made two steps before he grabbed her arm again. Emma fell backwards, colliding into his shoulder. Sylar steadied her without a second thought. He threw one arm over her shoulder and dug deep into his pockets with the other. "Do you have a pen," he mumbled, his breath in her hair. She smelled so good he didn't bother hiding as he smelled her again. Emma dug into her bag for one and handed it to him. "Thanks." Emma scowled as he put the pen in his mouth and started absentmindedly chewing. Herpes! Her pen could have herpes now... she made a mental note to throw it away. Then Sylar groaned, and gave up digging. Without warning, he took her hand. It was in a fist again. Sylar shook out her wrist until her hand loosened up. Then he spread her palm open, took the pen out of his mouth and started writing. Emma twisted as the nib tickled her. While she was completely unaware of how she was slowly backing up against an extremely turned-on porn star, Sylar had to fight the sounds from escaping his throat. He couldn't wait to get back to the studio. As if Ashlynn calling him to whisper every dirty thing she wanted to do wasn't enough, now he had to suffer through a growing erection with no immediate relief. "There," he finished with a strain. Emma stared at the scribbles on her hand. She knew it was a phone number but "What am I supposed to do with this." She thrust her palm in his face. She didn't want it. "Call me when you get home. So I know you're safe, okay?" Without thinking, he brushed the hair from her face and kissed her on the forehead before racing in the other direction. Emma stared at the number on her hand and the disappearing figure who was hurrying on his way to his next orgasm. "Good," she huffed and started trekking her way home. But with each step she eventually found herself growing extremely bitter until she was stomping her way all the way to main street. Was this how all guys operated? Chivalrous because they had nothing else to do? Oo and he had to kiss her on the forehead to pretend like he cared. He was probably hoping to follow her home to fuck her, and then leave like nothing happened. She wondered if there was an on going bet at the studio - wondered if the whole crew was in on it. "Let's all see who can fuck the virgin," she taunted underneath her breath. Of course he would run when another hot girl called. All men did. Emma felt her ego drop into a bottomless abyss. She couldn't keep Adam's attention after he openly admitted that he wanted to kiss her. The numbers in her palm taunted her the same way Adam's texts did. If she did text Sylar, and he actually texted back, she would be sucked into a loop. She wasn't even sure she was over Adam... he had a knack of contacting her right when she wanted to give him up. So no, she thought with determination, I'm not going to text him. She spat in her hand and rubbed until the numbers were unreadable. Sitting on the sofa, Sylar worked his way underneath Ashlynn's shirt. Her nipples were hard beneath his fingers, and he loved how her breasts filled his aching hands. He flicked her nipples back and forth with his thumb. With the rest of his hand, he pushed aside her shirt until her tits were completely bare to his eyes. Ashlynn moaned as she felt Sylar's mouth on her. He was always a much better fuck when the cameras weren't on, so much more. She gasped as he bit down. Attentive. "Mm," she grabbed his hair and pulled him up for a long hard kiss. His tongue swept in her mouth, stroking her tongue against his until she was gasping for breath. Everything about him was so fucking hard and hot. One of her favorite things was to rake her nails, against his chest or down his back, watching how his skin raised with red marks that lasted all throughout the night. Ashlynn kissed her way down his body until she reached the band of his pants. She could already feel him growing bigger. "Fuck," he hissed as she let his cock free. Her mouth immediately went over it, deep throating without abandon. His hips jerks up into her hollow mouth once, twice and then he grabbed her head to lift her off. As much as he loved foreplay, they had the entire workday of it. "I already came twice today," he muttered, readjusting her body. He rubbed the tip of his cock against her pussy, letting her juices drip and lubricate his way in. Every now and then he slapped his cock against her clip, causing her to whimper. "So I'm just gonna fuck you now." Without warning, he flipped her onto her back, shoved a cushion underneath her hips and pushed himself in. He slipped right in, no hesitation or barrier, and began thrusting. Ashlynn rotated hips as he slid in and out, making sure to get deeper with each push. Sylar arched his back, feeling the tip of his cock being squeezed tightly. Legs wrapped around him, pulling him further in. Deeper. He couldn't wait. She was flexing her muscles, contracting around his cock until he was sure he was going to explode. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, thrusting his hips faster. Ashlynn screamed underneath him. "Yes! Yes. Oh my god, harder Sylar. Fuck, yes. Fuck me with your hard cock. Oh my god, it's so deep." She pulled his head down and shoved her tongue in his mouth before sucking on his for all its worth. "Make me come. Right now. Now!" His palm mashed her breasts for support as he threw all his weight into fucking her. Her cries were loud enough to bring the house down, and when he felt her convulsing around him, he merely fucked her harder. Ashlynn's went wild, her legs failing to keep tight around him. But it didn't matter. His hands went to cup her ass, pulling her tight against his groin as he grinded against her clit, throwing her into another orgasm. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuckk!!" Unable to hold it in any longer, Sylar pulled out and began pumping thick ropes of cum over her stomach. He loved the way it landed on her. Like it was a part of her. Resting on her like diamonds and pearls. As he finished, he gave his dick a good squeeze and dropped on top of a laughing Ashlynn, reveling in the way her hands drifted over his body. As soon as he caught his breath, he rolled over and reached for his pants. He searched his pockets for his phone, pulling out a pen and some receipts. He tossed those on the carpeted floor. Flipping his pants upside down, he shook them until his phone fell out onto the floor. There were over forty notifications and about twenty unread messages. Sylar rolled his eyes. He moved to get out of bed when he left Ashlynn slap him lightly on the hip. "Just stay the night," she mumbled into her pillow. "It's my super horny time of the month. I'm going to want you in the morning." He smirked as he crawled back into bed, shifting underneath the covers. When he was comfortable, he reached for Ashlynn's hand and pushed it towards his soft cock. "Slow strokes, I don't need to get hard, baby." Ashlynn smiled, her eyes still closed as she hummed and squeezed. He closed his eyes, feeling a heaviness over his eyes. While he wasn't ready for the rest of the night, he was very much looking forward to the morning. Sylar jolted awake. His eyes popped open as if lightning had struck his chest. His heart was beating rapidly with fear running through his mind. He had forgotten something. Last night. Something important. Drastically important. Carefully not to wake Ashlynn, he reached over the side of his bed to look at his phone. Forty notifications and twenty unread messages. He typed in his passcode, scrolling through a load of trivial things. Texts from Janice, Lexi and other girls he had worked with. Girls that texted him every weekend along with all the other stars they had worked with, looking for a fun night. While Sylar had been in several film orgies - they were always so fucking arousing - he was less keen to partake in an unplanned one. He finished reading his messages and started checking his email. There was one from Nick about work. Work. Emma. He looked back at his message, scrolling through the names. Not a single one from her. Did she get home okay? He shifted until he was sitting up, the blanket barely covering his lower body. Damn, why didn't he take her number? Now he would never know... unless... Greg Buchanan woke up to the worst alarm ever. He had a special ring tone made for Sylar, a stupid hope for the day they were both drunk and on their phone, ready for a fuck. But this morning was not the morning he wanted to hear a man screaming his way to an orgasm. It only sounded like a banshee crying. With fumbling fingers, he managed to answer the call. "What the fuck, Sylar." "Morning to you, Greg." Greg tried not to look at the time. "What do you want?" "I was wondering, do you have Emma's number? Emma Ramsay." If Greg hadn't been awake then, he was certainly awake now. He swung his legs over the bed, sitting up and alert as he said very slowly, "Sylar, I told you to leave her alone." "It's not that. I just wanted to know if she got home okay." "What?" He heard Sylar sigh. "I left the studio with her after work. Did you know she walks through the ghetto to her bus stop? Anyway, I told her to give me a text when she got home. She didn't." "I'm sure she's fine. Emma's not the type - wait, I thought you left the studio with Ashlynn." There was a long pause on the other end. "I left with Emma first then Ashlynn called me over, so I went back." "Typical." "Listen, I just want Emma's number. To see if she's okay." "And I'm not giving it to you. Emma made me promise not to give her number out to anyone, especially after Buddy - " "What did Buddy do to her?" Fuck, Greg thought, mentally slapping himself, why couldn't he just shut up. He cringed as Sylar started to threaten him. "Calm your fucking tits, boy. He was here for a shoot with Kendall and tried to chat her up. When she refused to give her number, he tried to steal it off the call sheet. Nothing happened." He waited for Sylar to respond. There was heavy breathing before anything further was said. "I won't do anything to hurt her." "Not the point, babe. A promise is a promise. You're going to have to ask her for her number yourself." And with that Greg hung up, because he was dangerously close to giving Emma's number up. Maybe it was paranoia or just plain fatherly instinct, but Sylar was right to worry. Stupid mouse, he thought as he picked up his phone, why would you go into a world of cats all alone? Emma stared at the text message that had just appeared on her phone. Here she was, watching porn like any teenage boy, in the middle of a rare sunny Saturday, and then came this particular message that made her stop and think about life outside of her four walls. Ever since she was young she preferred being alone. Talking took a lot of effort, like a game except all she could focus on was how to keep the other person interested. People always kept talking to her, asking her questions, her opinions, when she never really had any. It probably explained why she loved editing so much. It wasn't about putting pictures together or the thrill of making a movie, it was about being in a dark room and getting lost in a whole nother world where nothing went wrong. Until the real world came knocking via text message. I'm in town for two months. Let's meet up. Adam Bates. Her hand was shaking as she thought about how to reply his text. She tried typing a few things. Sure! When are you... but the exclamation mark sounded too eager, and maybe she should wait a few days before texting him back. He would flake the first few times before eventually showing up on his terms. Figure 8 Ch. 02 Okay, she decided resolutely, just going to pretend like I didn't see it. Only when she was ready to put the phone down, another message popped up. I can see you typing you know. She smiled. What are you up to today? just some work for work she replied. How could she tell him she was working in the porn industry... He would be furious. Emma could already see the look on his face. She could hear the lecture in her head, and her voice admitting that he was ultimately right. He was always right. Just looking out for you, he would say, I just want to make sure you're happy. That and, "You're like my little sister," the worst words a girl could ever hear from a man's lips. Words that were said even before she could admit her feelings for him. So Emma did what she did best. She kept her mouth shut and smiled through their relationship, sometimes crying when she was at home, sometimes laughing, knowing she could never be as happy or as comfortable with anyone else as she was with Adam. She was about to ask him what he was doing, but paused. That would then eventually lead to her inviting him over, him saying yes and then her unable to do anything for the rest of the day. He was worth it though. When he followed through, her favorite part was always seeing the boyish smile crack over his face. When he actually followed through... which was never. Emma threw her phone on the table and reached for her headphones. The walls of the house were so thin, even the ceilings and floors. Her old fashioned aunt had the girls sign a contract stating that they wouldn't bring guys over. What Emma discovered last Friday night at 2am was that half of them were lesbians. Loud ones at that. After the first day, Nick had asked her if she watched porn, what she liked about it and all these other questions that made her squirm in embarrassment. Emma had lied through her teeth. "Sasha Grey," she replied when he asked for her favorite porn star. Truth was, she only knew of Sasha Grey because she was in the news for reading to children. She hit play and a soundless video of Sylar and Ashlynn making out. Their tongues were out, dancing sloppily against each other. One hand underneath her jaw, Emma studied the intensity of their kiss, thinking back to her first and only kiss. With Adam. It had been nothing like that. She was drunk, but she definitely remembered most of it. Their mouths were definitely closed, and neither of them used their tongue that liberally. So much saliva everywhere, she cringed as strings of drool dripped on Ashlynn's breast. Sylar obviously didn't seem to mind. He swooped down and sucked hard until Emma swore blood was leaving her breast. But Ashlynn seemed to like it. She cradled Sylar's head closer... and that's when Emma felt it. The way Sylar's tongue darted over the nipple, more saliva dripping out of his mouth like he had been salivating for this exact meal his entire life. A tingling in her breast that begged to be soothed with some kind of pressure shot through her. To be held up. Touched. It was almost itchy, she thought as she quickly scratched her own boobs with a quick grab. The pleasure was indescribable. She let out a sigh and watched as Sylar went to work on Ashlynn's other breast. Emma tried to mimic his movement, imagine that it was Sylar making her feel this way, but he attacked Ashlynn with such ferocity that two minutes in, Emma's own touches did not abate the feeling in her chest. While Ashlynn kept encouraging Sylar, and according to the recordings, she was moaning for him to continue. However for Emma, her arousal remained stuck in one spot. As soon as she tried to move fast and hard the way Sylar was, she felt her desire blow out faster than a candle. Another attempt at masturbation failed just like that. Now the couple on screen did nothing for her. Ashlynn's moans became more obnoxious as the videos went on, and Sylar's silence, save for the slaps his body made, made him disappear. It was just a dick and a womanly figure. Two hours later, Emma felt her eyes glaze over, not from arousal, but exhaustion. "Fuck, I'm just destined to be alone for the rest of my life." Emma hissed and yanked the headphones out of her ears. She just wanted to sleep. Slipping into her pajamas, an oversized shirt and boy shorts, she was nearly down with getting ready for bed when her doorbell went off. Who is it? She picked up her phone to see if anyone had called, but nothing showed. The bell rang again, almost incessantly to a point where she knew the tenants would get annoyed. Emma threw a jacket over herself, yelling, "Wait!" as she hurried to the door and threw it open. A rush of cold wind passed through her legs, making her shiver. That and the sight of Adam breaking into a smile as he pushed himself off from leaning against the door. He had gotten so much more attractive since graduation. His lean face held a set of dimples that made her want to pinch his cheeks, except he now had facial hair in the way. He cleaned up pretty well when he wanted to, Emma though. His hair was now styled up instead of the cow's lick mess he used to wear, and while he wore a proper shirt, she could tell that he had bulked up. He definitely wasn't the scrawny drummer she used to know. "Emma Ramsay, you haven't changed one bit. Are you still wearing my clothes?" Emma blushed as she looked down at herself. His band's shirt. His boxers. Both which he had left over over the course of staying at her place. The jacket was the only he had ever given her, and the only thing that reminded her why she loved him so much. "It's comfortable," she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Could he see that she wasn't wearing a bra? She flattened her boobs and hunched over. Adam gave a sideways grin and pinched her cheek as he let himself in, closing the door behind him. He acted as if no time had passed. As if they were still in college on a Saturday night with nothing to do, and he was here for a movie night. Emma hated and loved those movie nights with a passion. "How have you been, Emma?" "Good, what are you looking for?" Adam moved throughout the house, opening doors and looked into the rooms until he came across hers. "Bingo," he said to himself and walked in. Shit, Emma panicked as she ran after him. Did she leave the computer on? She cringed at the thought of Adam finding porn, unashamedly full screened, and wondered how she would be able to explain it. Luckily for her, he went straight for her closet, not looking once at her computer. Adam sifted through her dresses before settling on a white graphic tank that she never dared to wear. It was a black and white print of Kate Moss crying rainbow tears. A rash online purchase that she kept forgetting to return until it was too late. And now Adam was holding it against her body. "What are you doing?!" She snatched the tank from his hands and threw it into the closet, not caring that it was now on the floor. "Come on, we're going out. Celebrating!" Emma dropped onto her bed. "Celebrating what?" He looked so carefree. It didn't matter what he was celebrating, Emma knew she would be happy for him regardless. "World tour, baby." "No. Really?" Adam's head just kept nodding like one of those bobble toys. Emma couldn't stop the smile on her face. She jumped up and hugged him tightly. His arms instinctively went around her, pressing her face against his chest as he stroked his fingers through her hair. When she pulled back, he kept his arms locked around her to make sure that she couldn't completely step away. "Oh Adam. I'm so happy for you. Congrats." She craned her neck back to look at him smiling back at her. Her bones went rigid as this position became very familiar. It was deja vu. Her first kiss, her best kiss, all over again. He was the perfect height. Just the slightest tilt of her head and his lips were in the frontline of her vision. In her opinion, he had the most beautiful lips that made kisses soft, like they were supposed to be. But he made it clear they were just friends. She wriggled out of his grasp and went back to the closet, pulling the tank he had chosen from the floor. "Alright, where do you want to go? First round on me." Sylar didn't normally frequent clubs. In his opinion, the music was loud and the girls always felt too immature. There was nothing hot or sexy about a girl that needed alcohol to replace her confidence. Plus, he liked sex with the conscious and the willing. Not the ones who'd leave the morning in a sneaky walk of shame... or worse, the ones who refused to leave and then cried rape when rejected. If it hadn't been for Greg's birthday, and Greg loved doing surprisingly cliche things, he wouldn't be here. The place was overly stuffy too. So many bodies moving against each other and yet so many clothes in the way. Sylar bit his lip and threw back a shot of patron, hoping the alcohol would ease his harsh judgments. If he had to give clubs one credit, the girls that went were always top notch. He just hated their clothes. What guy decided to let girls think that tight fitting dresses were the way to go? Personally, Sylar hated the tight dresses, even if he appreciated what they showed off, they were just so damn different to get off. It was like trying to yank ancient tape from a slippery surface. Even lingerie, Sylar reasoned, was loose fitting. "Babe, lighten up." Sylar looked up to see Greg handing him what he supposed was a cranberry vodka. More like vodka with a splash of cranberry. "Thanks," he grinned, tossing out the straw and threw his head back for a large gulp. "You spoil me." "The world spoils you Sylar. So why you being such a kill joy?" "I'm just relaxing, taking it easy. Enjoying your birthday." Greg was definitely feeling the alcohol. His hands were all over Sylar. While Sylar didn't want to encourage him, he allowed Greg the liberty. It was his birthday after all. "I know you prefer them tight on the inside rather than the outside," Greg purred, "but they're just showing what their mother gave them! It makes me sad that you're not having fun." "I'm fine, Greg. Trust me. It's more important that you have fun." "No, no. Look out on the dance floor and tell me which girl you want tonight. I'll have security invite her to our VIP table," he slurred. Sylar obliged him, scanning his eyes over the dark room. He only had bodies to judge by. He figured he'd chose the one in the most scandalous outfit. By the time he was done with his vodka, he might be up for taking a girl against the wall. With all the people around them. Yeah, he thought, that'd be - was that Emma? He watched a girl that definitely looked like Emma. She had unique honey-brown colored hair that was up in a bun above her neck. And like Emma, those big eyes darted back and forth at the scene in the club with fearful observation. He noticed her holding hands with a tall, skinny boy with plugs in his ears. So this the kind of guy she went for. That kind of guy, Sylar smirked, was the kind Nick would usually get when someone ordered a female friendly film. A pretty boy. Somehow it didn't surprise him. When the girl looked over her shoulder and bit her lip, he knew. It was definitely Emma. Her makeup had that vintage allure - simple black eyeliner and bright red lips - it suited her so well, making her standout from the caked faces of all the other girls. He nursed his drink, giving Emma all his attention without her even knowing. It all made sense she was here. "Oh, it's Emma!" Greg cheered, slapping Sylar on the back. "You know I texted her after you called me to make sure she was safe." "Yeah, she looks fine to me." "And I asked her why she didn't text you back. She said she didn't feel like it, whatever that means." Greg sipped his drink again, his cheeks turning redder by the minute. He was still, however, coherent enough to see that his words had affected his good friend. "I get it. She hates me." Sylar tightened his grip around his drink. He had never done anything to her, at least not in person. He would not lie that he had imagined what it would be like to get her naked, but that wasn't unusual. It didn't mean anything. Greg leaned in, his arm resting on Sylar's shoulder, as he slurred the rest of his words. "She doesn't hate you, honey. She's just not interested. You're a big boy, you can handle that." Greg pecked him on the cheek and pinched it lightly. "Now I'm going to say hi to her. Want to come?" "Probably shouldn't. Don't want to scare her off." "Suit yourself." Sylar watched as Greg danced his way through the crowd and tapped Emma on the shoulder. The way her face lit up was like watching fireflies slowly appear in the night sky, a look he never got from her - or from anyone else for that matter. It just wasn't the type of expression the girls he knew had. Emma continued to smile brightly, unaware of emotions on her own face. She was wearing a long tank that functioned as dress and what he thought was a clutch was actually a small side purse. Compared to the other girls in tight skirts and dresses, Emma was technically wearing next to nothing, but the oversized and loose nature of the dress made her look like she was swarming in clothing. The one thing Sylar noted was that the silly girl wore wearing a very normal, unappealing bra hid her breasts. He guessed she was wearing underwear as well. The boy she was with was also an absolute idiot. Emma was even worse. The two couldn't seem to tear themselves apart, but they barely interactive with each other either. She would stand next to him as he flirted with other girls, and whenever a man approached Emma, she simply shook her head and walked to stand behind him. There seemed to be only two things on her mind. Her drink and the idiot boy. She was a wallflower in a room of weeds. Would they be going home together later? Sylar cursed as he thought of them in bed together. They had no chemistry in a club, they would definitely have no chemistry in bed. The guy probably couldn't even satisfy her. The heat of the vodka coursed through him, giving him the final push to get up and talk to her. Not that he needed the extra confidence from the alcohol. She simply owed him a conversation for making him worry about her. He finished the rest of his drink and slammed it on the table. Yeah, she owed him a conversation. And by the looks of it, she needed one too. He got his chance to approach her while she was at the bar. Her back was turned to him at first, and he took the time to notice that she had spent time to braid her hair into an intricate pattern that no one in the club would be able to notice unless they were as close as he was. It dawned on him that she probably she didn't she'd be going to a club. She was just going wherever that Ken doll was taking her. He whispering in her ear even before he what he was saying. "You never called me, little mouse." It paid off to see her stiffen. Her reaction caused her friend stop talking to whoever he was engaged with, and look at her in worry. He hadn't even noticed him yet, Sylar noted, and leaned back to pretend that he was ordering a drink. Except the bartender had jumped on him immediately, and he found himself ordering a strong gin and tonic. As he waited for his drink, he strained to hear what was going on between Emma and her friend. "Are you okay?" Emma was nodding furiously. "Yeah, yeah. Someone just brushed up against me. By accident though." Sylar had to apologize for his crumpled bill when he saw the boy pull Emma until her head touched his chest. He supposed she was on a date. Sylar took his drink and turned around to openly watch her. Emma would be too shy confront him. Did she even know it was him? He got the feeling that with her innocent allure, perverts hit on her all the time. "I need to go to the bathroom. Stay here okay?" The boy yelled into her ear until Emma nodded with a solid response. Sylar didn't understand his feelings when the boy hovered for a moment before kissing her forehead, leaving a silly smile on her face. She definitely did not have that expression on her face when he kissed her. When he kissed her, she looked... offended. Well, he was her pervert tonight. He approached her from behind again, but before he could surprise her, she surprised him by turning around and walking straight into his chest. His drink emptied entirely over her shirt. "Fuck." Sylar dropped his glass on a nearby table and opened his mouth to apologize when he froze, seing what the liquid did to her. So the little mouse was hiding a pair underneath those clothes. Now he was glad she wore a bra, they created an enticing swell to her breasts. They helped drape her white dress, which now showed off her flat stomach thanks to his fortunate mishap, scandalously over her body. Someone bumbled behind her, pushing her right into his arms. Sylar caught her immediately and dragged her close by the hips. He looked down to see the hem of her top rest right where his fingers rested. And this was why he loved loose clothing. He could make her a slut - his slut for his eyes only as she'd come without any stranger eyeing her pussy. He'd be able to bring her on the dance floor and finger her without bunching the dress past her waist. Emma tried to push herself off but her hands collided against a chest made of all muscle and stopped. He was much ... more than Adam in so many ways. Taller, warmer, stronger, she felt his hands come down to her waist, pushing her closer to him, and it felt so comfortably right. Like the bones of her hips were made to lock in place with his. She gazed up to a pair of soft emerald eyes and felt his grip tighten on his waist. "Hello Emma." She didn't know what to say, so she looked away. "Do you want to dance?" "I-I.. shouldn't. Adam's going to look for me." At first his expression was hard to read. He looked pissed, then disappointed. Or the other way around. "Is he your boyfriend?" She froze, "No," but the sadness in her voice wasn't lost on him. "We're just good friends." "It's a universal truth that a man and woman can't maintain a platonic friendship." Crinkles appeared on Emma's forehead. "That's not true, and I hate that line. I'm living proof that a guy and a girl can be friends without any romantic intentions." "Then he won't mind if I take you for a dance." He was pulling her to the dance floor before she could disagree. "It's just a dance. I'll bring you back like Cinderella." The place was so crowded, with people grinding and grabbing each other about, that Emma was suddenly afraid someone would try to snatch her away. Hands did come out to touch her, and she maneuvered her way through to get as least groped as possible. If she had paid any attention, she would've noticed that Sylar was dragging her as far away from Adam as possible. They were in the center-back of the dance floor, under the darkness of the balcony as Sylar slid behind her. He placed his hands on her hips to guide her right between his legs. The sensation of her against him pumped through his veins as he moved to the beat of the music. She swayed her hips slightly and hesitantly. "Just feel the bass," he whispered in her ear, sliding his hands until he felt her hip bones. He had not suspected her to be this thin - then again, her baggy outfits did a good job of hiding her. It seemed to be going well for a minute. She was definitely no exotic lap dancer, but there was something adorable at her attempts. She was simply swaying her ass softly against him. He was used to simply standing there while girls ground into him. This was different. Not unpleasant, he correctly quietly to himself, just different. When Emma started to slow down, Sylar rolled his hips up, changing the movement to go back and forth instead of side to side. That's when he felt Emma pull away. He immediately pulled her back before he lost complete contact. Figure 8 Ch. 02 Bending down to whisper in her ear, he asked, "What's wrong?" "I..." Emma tried to step back but his arms were locked around her, and the best she could do was lean back. It wasn't lost on her that the more distance she put between her face and his, the less distance there was between their hips. "Emma?" he tried to resume the swaying to make her comfortable again. Sylar tightened his hold with one arm and freed the other so that he could brush the hair out of her face. She looked back up at him, so afraid. He wasn't going to hurt her. He just wanted to kiss her. As he bent down to capture her lips, she turned her cheek. Her words slipped into his ear. "I should get back to Adam." Undeterred by her reaction, Sylar bent down and pressed his lips against her hair. She felt the vibrations course through her as his hands slipped through her armholes and pressed hotly into her skin. He wanted to blame the alcohol for the lovely way she felt against him, but the truth was that there was nothing to blame. Emma felt so good, and that was with clothes on. "No, dance with me a little longer." Her lips parted slightly when he pulled back to look at her. She had seen his face so many times in those videos, she supposed people could describe his features are smoldering, but in this moment, his eyes were dilated and staring back at her with what looked more like wonder than intensity. For Sylar, Emma was a complicated paradox. She was oblivious to the small hot pants of air she was emitting, it made him itch to stick his finger past her lips to feel her tongue and mouth close around it. Simultaneously, he wanted to keep his hands running all over her, to keep her mouth open as evidence that he affected her. He didn't want to just fulfill her desires and be done with him, he realized as he made sure that his hands were constantly moving to remind her who she was with. He wanted her to be in a perpetual state desire for him. Somehow he still managed to hear her voice through the ear-bursting bass. "I don't really like dancing." Emma stopped moving completely but she didn't move out of his hold. She spoke timidly and Sylar had to strain to hear her right. "I don't really know how to dance... you'd have more fun with someone else." He simply responded by holding her closer. "Come'on, little mouse. You need to lighten up." But then Emma felt the coldness of her shirt still wet against her chest. Shaking her head to clear it, Emma pulled away and slipped into the crowd before Sylar could grab her back. As she shuffled through the heat and warm bodies, she thought about how stupid it was to let Sylar dance with her like that. There had to be strict line between professional and personal. Of course the porn industry blurred those boundaries, but Emma wasn't going to be victim of that cycle. She had merely taken the job for the experience and the pay, those would hold her off until she got a real job. And now the last thing she needed to do was to make friends with the porn star. It didn't matter how good looking Sylar was, or how he flirted with her. She knew it was for the better if he just left her alone. Emma finally got back to the bar, and felt her heart drop when she saw Adam with an arm around a blonde. The blonde flirting with him wasn't especially outstanding, she had seen him with prettier girls, but she did have this magnificent smile that made you feel like she really liked you. She smiled a lot. Feeling a stab of angst fill her, she purposely walked past Adam, pretending not to see him. He saw her. "Emma! Where were you?" Adam caught her before she disappeared again. He brought her closer, pulling her arm out of her own hold, and immediately noticed that her dress had become see-through. "Bathroom," she forced a laugh and gestured at her clothes, "obviously." Adam started unbutton his plaid shirt. "Here, take my shirt," he didn't notice the blonde staring at him, or the fact that Emma was swallowing her spit nervously. Could be the alcohol, but when did Adam fill out? He'd bulked up a little since graduation, wasn't that skinny, scrawny boy who played the drums. His body stretched the shirt, and his sleeves wrapped around his arms like a well-fitted band. She did notice how the bottom of his shirt was a bit short, and his pants were worn in the fashion of teenagers. Somehow showing off the band of his boxers suited Adam. He was no longer a simple emotional hard-on. "Earth to Emma." She didn't take it at first, so Adam wrapped it around her shoulders. He noticed she was staring at the blonde girl - Jessica? - with a lost glaze. As he was about to ask Emma if she wanted to go back home, another man appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Emma by the elbow. "Emma," the man said, his voice deep and rich. The look in his eyes said that he was intent on getting her attention. Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She thought Sylar would've gone to another girl by now. She hadn't notice if any were oogling him, but she wouldn't have been surprised if a girl had pounced onto him when there was a chance. She had been counting on that in fact, and now that he was here it meant that either no one approached him, or he was really insistant on being with her. "Excuse me but you need let go of her." Adam's face carried an expression of pure unpleasantness, but when Sylar retorted darkly, "Why, are you her boyfriend?" the edges wore off and Adam caved a little. "No, but I am her best friend." "Bullshit, she never mentioned you at work." As Emma opened her mouth to protest, Sylar moved his hand over her ass and gave it a tight squeeze. That left her gasping and the words she was about vanished from her lips. Sylar conveniently spoke over her. His hand never left her backside. Instead, he trailed his fingers over the curves, causing jolting sensations in Emma that she didn't know what to do with. For some reason, Sylar observed as he tested how far he could go, she didn't want Adam knowing all the sensual things that were happening to her. "I'm just saying," Sylar smiled wickedly as he felt Emma tremble when he slipped a finger underneath her dress. He was glad the dress draped over his hand like a tablecloth. He slowly moved behind her to shield his movements from other people. Sylar was playing with the band of her underwear. She didn't know what was making her face turn red more. The alcohol. His fingers dancing along the creases of her ass to her pussy and back again. Or how she listened to each word from his lips, praying that he didn't mention the kind of work they did, "that Emma and I are very close. I'd say she's even seen me naked." Emma choked on her own spit. "Metaphorically of course." That did not soothe either Adam or Emma. Instead Adam shivered visibly and grabbed Emma's free hand, he frowned when he pulled at her and she didn't move. "Come' on, let's go home." Emma desperately wanted to be free, but Sylar had her panties twisted around his fingers. When she took a step forward, the cloth pulled taunt against her clit, causing her breath to skip. She wanted to rub her thighs together, but when she did, she felt Sylar's hand right there. How could she explain that to Adam? On cue, the blonde girl, who everyone had forgotten was even there, whined, "But you just got here." She placed her hand on Adam's arm, blinking her eyes. "Besides, they look good together. You should let them be." "That is the most intelligent thing I've heard all night," Sylar said, grinning as he sent a wink in the blonde's direction. "Don't worry, I'll deliver her safely home." "Emma?" She wished Adam wasn't looking at her. She didn't know what to think. What she did know was that something was building up inside of her. A feeling similar to the one that she felt in her breasts the other week, except this one was making her pussy throb and her breasts ache. Worst of all, she felt like she needed Sylar to soothe it. Probably because he's the cause of it, she reasoned. "Mm..." her voice came out half a moan, and half a secondary thought. On the other hand, Sylar was enjoying this. The bits and pieces of Emma felt so good, even the hair over her opening was different. Girls he knew always shaved themselves like a newborn, but Emma had curls that allowed him to twirl and pull. His finger drifted over her pussy, but he didn't dare to push in in fear since it kind of required him to bend down. He settled for massaging her lips, focusing on getting her wet. God, she was getting so fucking wet. He knew if he bent her over right now, he'd be able to slide in without a problem. Maybe it was worth the risk, he thought as he repositioned his legs. Then he took his middle finger and rubbed until enough lubrication appear. If his dick couldn't be here, then the finger would have to do. Without warning, he thrust the finger in and Emma bucked out with a cry. "Ow!" She had hopped off his hand so fast he almost though a train was coming at them. Her legs wobbled but not enough that she couldn't jump straight towards Adam when Sylar reached for her. Adam reflexively pulled her close, sending death glares at Sylar. "You okay?" "Yeah, someone just stepped on my feet." Emma tried not to think about the need between her legs, a need stronger than the imagination, a need she used to read about in romance novels, "Um, Adam you can stay. I think I'm just going to take a taxi home." She stood on her tiptoes and gave Adam a kiss on the cheek. Sylar stood, waiting for his, but none came. He heard a whimper, "See you at work next week," and then she quickly disappeared, leaving Sylar with nothing but her scent coated over his hand. A scent he continued to breathe in as he rushed to the bathroom to stroke his hard cock. He closed his eyes and thought of Emma. Her small but soft body over his. Her pert breasts feeding him. Her wet pussy - god - he licked his hand, but there was no taste. In the back of his mind as he felt his cum shooting out onto the stall walls, he made a note to get her in a position that allowed him to taste her as she came. Figure 8 Ch. 03 "It's still too early. Go back to sleep." She felt him mumbling into her hair. One of the best feelings in the world was feeling Adam's warm arms around her. Every once in a while he'd squeeze tight, like she was going to slip away. But Emma knew better than to read her actions as anything other than friendly affection. Back in college, they would cuddle as if they were lovers, but she could count more times where Adam chose to sleep on the floor than with her. It always depended on their level of intoxication. Yet there was something about this time... that made it feel like something more. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that they hadn't seen each other in months, or maybe it was fine line between brotherly and jealous lover that Emma could never decipher. She started analyzing every look and word from the previous night. As soon as they had gotten into the cab, Adam had turned on the interrogation switch. "Who was that?" His voice was gruff with barely constrained anger. Scolding her wasn't beyond him. Adam was always on the lookout for her. At parties, at social events - anywhere that involved alcohol or hoards of people. He always made sure she got home safe, even if he was too intoxicated to drive; Emma knew she was always on his mind. "He's nobody." "Bullshit, I saw the look on your face. You never looked so scared or uncomfortable in my life." "It was just a drunk co-worker, Adam," she said timidly, keeping her eyes on her own hands. Adam raked his hand through his hair. With a sigh, he grabbed Emma and pulled her close. "I was just worried that I found you too late Emma." He eased up as Emma looked at him, wide-eyed and oblivious. "You were?" "Yes, and I know what men are thinking. The look on his face? It was complete pervert. Does he act this friendly when you're at work?" "I don't really see him around the st - office," she lied. "Well, you should quit if he's making you uncomfortable at work." That had her laughing, the rumbles running through both their bodies. "Right, and I'm going to pay for expenses, how?" "Well I'm in town for two months, I can take care of you while you look for another job." He said this with ease, like it was dinner, or a movie ticket and popcorn. The cab's swerved left caused them to slide closer together. Adam gripped his arm tightly around her, and started to stroke his thumb up and down her arm. Emma tried not to focus on the gentle caresses. "I-I can't let you do that." "Emma, remember when we graduated, I said you could always ask me for help?" He lifted her chin so that he could see her eyes as she nodded. "Well, this is me, offering help. I don't want to see you unhappy, Emma. It hurts me to see you unhappy." Emma's mind was racing as he held her gaze. She wanted to ask him how much it hurt, and in what ways. How deep could she dig before he knew exactly what he wanted from her? For a second she thought her dreams would come true, she felt the liquid courage pushing those words out of her mouth but then cab came to a stop and the driver broke the moment with a, "We're here." Like lightening, Emma pushed herself out of Adam's hold. "I got it," she said while digging through her clutch. But Adam was faster, and he handed the driver a twenty and a ten. "Keep the change." He moved to get out of the cab, but kept a hold of her hand as he pulled her out with him. Emma felt a little blossom of hope, a hope that he was drunk too. Or at least tipsy enough. He was always more handsy with alcohol flowing through him, just like how she would get braver... just a little braver. Her head was spinning as they reached her front door. Adam stood closely behind her as she looked for her keys. His heat against her back made her fumble, not knowing if she wanted to hurry up to get the door open or have him press closer. Her breath skipped as she felt his arm come down and pull her keys from her purse. He leaned in over her as he unlocked the door and gave her a little push inside. As they took off their shoes, she felt the cold rush of her apartment surround her, and her desire overcame her fear, her stupid mousy shyness. "You... you can sleep on my bed if you want. There's enough room." She didn't wait for him to respond and hurried to her room. In there she quickly slipped on a pair of sweats and threw off her dress. She heard him step in just as she pulled over a large shirt and noticed that he had not changed. Her heart dropped as she heard him ask for a pillow. He was going to sleep outside. Without giving him a second glance, she shoved the pillow into his hands as she walked to the bathroom to take off her makeup and brush her teeth. She could her him doing the same in the kitchen sink. By the time she was done, the lights in the living room were off, and there was an unmistakeable figure on the couch. She hated to admit it... but it was obvious he wasn't drunk enough to want her. Emma allowed herself to relive the college years again, the times of being his friend, as she walked back to her room. How many times had there been other girls in his dorm? She slide underneath her covers, sliding to the edge of the bed, as she slowly recalled what the weight of him was like. From the little moments they did share together, when he wasn't in the mood for prettier girls, she felt perfectly content. As she felt herself drift to sleep, she heard the door creek open and a shadow cast over her bed. The other side of the mattress dipped as two strong arms pulled her up and stretched her body out to mold against his. Without hesitation, she turned around and buried her face into Adam's chest. "Goodnight," he muttered, kissing her forehead. She felt her chest soar, and a happy exhaustion take over. She wouldn't let herself over think it until the morning. Not until the sun shone through the blinds, reminding her that this decision, like always, had been a result of alcohol in their veins. Even without sex, she managed to feel shamed. He'd get up and pretend like nothing happened. Like all the other college nights. To her, using her for warmth would have felt just the same as using her for sex. Emma squirmed to move out of his hold, not willing to risk feeling too comfortable when she heard him chuckle and breathe against her neck. "It's still too early. Go back to sleep." "I need to get to work." "I thought you said you were going to work from home today." That was before I knew you were staying over, she thought to herself. Like hell I'm going to preview pornography while you're here. She shivered at the thought of Adam catching a glimpse of Sylar in all his naked glory on the big screen. "I did, but there's some files at the office, and my boss wants to see the stuff I do personally, so..." It wasn't really a lie, she as she lifted her upper body up and looked back down at her best friend. She wanted nothing more than roll back into bed and tuck herself into his embrace. But as she was about to make her decision, his grip loosened and he rolled over to the other side of the bed, hugging the pillow instead. Sharp pain swelled in her chest and the memories of how the rest of the day would play out resurfaced. Last night would just be a slip-up moment, never mentioned, never referenced by either of them. He would never bring up, and Emma, too afraid that she would lose those nights with him, wouldn't dare to ask. Stop it, it's not rejection. This is normal. This is us, Emma chided softly. She slipped out of bed and grabbed Adam's hoodie off the floor. "I'm going to get breakfast." She pulled on his jacket as the heat of the bed left her body. "Pancakes?" "Sorry, all I have is cereal." Adam moaned, rubbing his face into the pillow. "That's the only thing I don't like about you, Emma," his eyes were still closed as he sighed. "You wake up early can't even make me pancakes." Emma let out a melodic laugh. "Okay, I'll go buy us some breakfast. Pancakes, I'm assuming?" She heard Adam mumble incoherently as she zipped his jacket up. "Gee, thanks," Emma mocked. "You're the best, Emma." She grabbed her keys and wallet off her dresser. A muffled sound came from the pillow that Emma could make out as, "You are the best." She looked back to see Adam drifting back to sleep. He looked so perfect in her bed. What she wouldn't give for their nights to be real, and not just lost souls wanting warmth. Back in college, his stays were often always unplanned. Of course Emma did her fair share of coaxing him to come over - silly ideas like movie night, study group or even getting drunk enough to interrupt him mid-conversation so he would take her home. But in the end, the decision of whether he slept in her bed would always depend on how much alcohol he drank. I guess he was pretty drunk last night. She tried not to think bitterly, tried hard to make it positive, but it was hard to find any after glow. By the time she got back to the apartment with breakfast in hand, he would be already ready for the day. And they wouldn't mention last night. They never did. She was grateful for that. It probably meant he wouldn't bring up Sylar. Sylar... her thoughts drifted to what would happen if he was in the office today. He definitely didn't seem the type to just ignore what happened. He would probably confront her. An unfamiliar pulsing that shot from between her thighs and through the inner part of her body she didn't know existed. She squeezed her thighs and took a deep breath, wavering. A car honked loudly causing Emma to jump back as a driver screamed, "Watch where you're going, you dumb shit!" Emma jumped back as the car barely missed her toes. She remembered Sylar saving her life from that on coming car. Just like that, his ghost hands were all over her once more, imprinting himself on her, unlike the light touches Adam gave. No, she couldn't think about him. Stop thinking about him! But the commands were counter productive. The more she tried to unfocused herself, the more in-focus Sylar became. Something stirred deep inside of her as she reached walked into the diner and made her order. The waitress didn't look at her once as she took down the order. "That'll be thirteen seventy five. It'll take fifteen minutes." Emma handed the waitress fifteen dollars, her mind still focused on a play by play of what Sylar had done with her - no, to her. She remembered how much it hurt. His finger pushing into her. It didn't feel like the way it looked on-screen. It didn't slip in with ease or slight intrusion - no, it felt like he had stuck a spear within her. A huge rip in her skin that immediately cause her to dry up and scream. It should've been enough to turn her off. Should've been enough to scare her. But no matter how much there was pain, she couldn't forget the parts before the pain. How he had touched her in places no one had ever touched her before... not even herself. At least not in such an exciting way that made her gasp and arch her back. And how, no matter how many nights she had slept with Adam, he had never sparked these kind of feelings inside of her. Pent-up, hard to breathe feelings that made her squirm in her seat. A coil that needed to be tightened and oiled until it burst. And then she felt a gush of shame wash over her. She would've never, not in a million years, have wanted to be touched that way. No matter how good it felt, how insane it drove her. She thought she could teeter on the edge, not get too involved, just work for the money, but in less than two weeks, she felt like she had slipped into some dark Wonderland... "Miss. Miss.. Your order is ready." The waitress was holding a plastic bag in front of Emma's blushing face. "Thanks," Emma muttered and grabbed the bag, racing out of the diner as fast as her short legs could carry her. She was thundering down the street, her flip flops slapping against the soles of her feet but she could care less how the rest of the world saw her. She needed to get home. Shower and clean her brain from those thoughts. Get to work. Except work was like a trigger. Maybe she would call in sick. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. She sighed as she fumbled for her keys to get her door open when it swung open on it's own to a sleepy eyed Adam, in nothing but his boxers. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen Adam topless before but his body, along with all the dirty thoughts from before, wasn't doing her breath any favors. There were some sounds of whistling, but when she whipped around there was no one in sight. It must be all in her head. "Get inside!" she hissed, not wanting the neighbors to talk. She shoved him inside the house, closing the door behind her. "Can you not answer my door half naked?" "Why?" Adam asked, his mouth stuffed with half a piece of toast, as he dropped to the floor. Emma watched as he opened the rest of the take out, condensation from the meal sweating all over her wooden coffee table. She raced to the kitchen as she heard Adam yell, "You walk around the neighborhood half naked anyway." She came back with some place mats and napkins. Slipping them underneath the soggy cardboard boxes, Emma rolled her eyes. "I don't need the tenants complaining to my aunt that I'm allowed to bring boys over while they aren't. And I don't need my neighbors start gossiping about the half naked man who opened my door." "Why not? I'm partially famous, you know. It'd do wonders for your social life." "I don't have a social life, Adam. I work, sleep, eat - " " - You don't eat." "I eat!" "Like a bird. You barely ate in college and you barely eat now. I swear sometimes you look like you're going to waste away and turn to dust. Especially during your period." Adam opened Emma's container of food and grunted unhappily. "What is this? Bird feed?" He opened a container of syrup and emptied it entirely over her food. "Hey!" "Calories, babe. Remember when I had to text you every day to remind you to eat?" Emma laughed, stirring her oatmeal thoughtfully. "Yeah, you were so annoying." "So don't give me a reason to worry." Although his tone was light, the smile on his face was thin and solemn, letting her know how serious he was. "I eat now. So don't worry," Spooning the oatmeal into her mouth, Emma nearly gagged on over-sweetness. "What time do you have to be at work?" "Um, like ten." "Do you think I could tag along?" He watched her still and then forcibly, but slowly, swallow. While he waited for her to respond, he wondered if she realized how transparent she was. Every wrinkle on her face told him how uncomfortable she was feeling right now, and that whatever she said wasn't going to be the truth. Or they would be little half truths. "I don't think so... They have a lot of confidential stuff, so they wouldn't want me bringing a friend around." "Oh that's fine. And what do you do exactly?" He didn't fail to notice that she didn't look one bit happy. Maybe it had something to do with the guy from the club last night. The stranger had been too familiar with her, and in ways that Adam knew Emma hated. "Assistant editor," Emma mumbled, picking at her oatmeal. She refused to look at Adam. He could read her easier than the first line of an eye exam. "That's great! Isn't that what you always wanted to do?" He didn't fail to notice her cringe. "Yeah, but not for... the internet. I want to do movies." "You have to start somewhere. At least you're learning right?" "I guess..." He could tell that she didn't want to talk about it anymore. Her hands were tense as she pressed her lips together in a tight line, and when they dropped into her lap, Adam immediately crossed over to her and grabbed them. His thumbs over hers, gently soothing her, but it was already too late. He felt the tears on his hands. As he predicted, Emma started to cry silently, and Adam soundlessly pulled her into his lap so that as least if she shook, she wouldn't be alone. "Sh, you don't have to tell me right now. Eventually... when you're ready, okay?" Adam tightened his grip around her, pulling her up against his chest. He had a feeling it had to do with that guy from last night. He would never force it out of her, he knew Emma would tell him when she was ready, but that wouldn't stop him from punching the guy if he ever saw him again. --- Sexual assault. ...Rape? The words flooded through her mind like alarms as context to what Sylar did to her slowly became clear. She tried to erase the memory of Adam warning her before she went out the door. All it did was serve a reminder that he must've been aware of what Sylar was doing to her - of what she was letting him do to her. Emma didn't know if she would've asked him to stop either. She had been curious - to a certain degree - to know what feeling would come through. It had felt like he was building up to something intense, a kind of rush that she had never felt before in her life, and then he stuck his finger into her, causing more pain that she had ever felt in her life. But as she got off the long bus ride, the more evident it became that Adam was right. She had said no, she had tried to get away, didn't she? Sylar never asked for permission. He had touched her in ways she had only wanted a lover to. Not a stranger. And he had acted as if what was happening had been as natural as breathing. He hadn't even asked if she was okay with it. She hadn't been okay with it. Emma shivered as she heard Adam's voice in her head. You're more vulnerable than you think, Emma. I'm telling you this... because I... want you to be careful if I'm not there to protect you. He was right on so many levels, but his words burned her as well. Why was he willing to do anything... anything short of loving her? "Penny for your thoughts?" " Emma stumbled back a few steps as she realized she had walked right into Sylar. The corners of her lips immediately flat lined as she kept her head down. Sylar had seen her since she got off the bus. He watched her petite figure move down the street as if she were running through Golden Gate Park, not the ghettos of downtown San Francisco. Without giving it a second thought, he caught up with her and the second he did, her scent floored him. She smelled like a man. Or maybe... No. That was definitely the scent of Irish Spring, he'd recognize the cheap body wash he used to use in high school anytime. Sylar recalled Emma's friend following her out of the club that night. Despite her protests for him to stay and have fun, her friend insisted on making sure she was home safe. The glare in her friend's eyes made a point to let Sylar know she needed to be safe from him. Damn him, Sylar thought as Emma continued to walk briskly ahead of him, he had never planned to hurt her. Sylar fought the inner urge to ask if she had fucked that guy, if her friend had finished what he started, but he clamped his mouth shut. He wasn't sure what kind of answer he expected or dreaded. "So, did you get home safe?" he asked, wanting to her that she had made it back to her house - her own house. Emma simply nodded, never looking back. She probably wasn't fucking that guy, but it wasn't really his business either. It didn't matter how tight she felt around his finger, or how innocently she reacted to her wetness. He had gotten his fix from the leftover blonde, and that's what should've mattered, but with Emma in front of him again... he couldn't remember any pleasure from last night. "Hey," he caught her by the elbow and frowned as she tensed. "Is something wrong?" Emma couldn't stop Adam's warnings repeating like a mantra in her head. Emotions warred with her mind as she felt a throb between her thighs but also a dry ache of pain that churned her stomach. Adam wasn't here to speak for her, but his voice was telling her to confront her fears. Be strong. Figure 8 Ch. 03 The streets were empty, save for the few homeless and drifting trash. Nobody was going to save her except herself. Whatever happened Emma, Adam's voice rang in her head, be strong. Don't let anyone do anything to you that you don't want. "Please stop." "What?" "Leave me alone." He froze as her words, hoarse and tormented, fluttered weakly. "Stop touching me," she shivered to pull out of his grasp. The tremors were like a shockwave running through them, and he abruptly let go, as if his touch burned her. She exhaled quickly, looking at his shoes. "And please don't mention what happened last night at work. I... I know we work in an unusual work setting, that anyone could probably sleep with anything and no one would judge... but I'm not the type of girl... who's..." Between her stuttering and obvious fear, Sylar growled, "Nobody will think you're a slut just because you were with me, Emma. Be more open minded than that." "That's not the point!" her voice grew sharp as it raised a notch, "I don't want to be accessible. I don't want to be the butt of jokes. I-I-I just want to do my job, get in, get out... so please, if anyone asks, tell them nothing happened. If you don't, I'll... claim sexual harassment." Heat coursed through Sylar as he heard the last two words. She had obviously enjoyed it- he could remember every whimper, every moan as she wiggled against him. He wanted to kiss her so badly, tug on the same lip she was tugging on now, even as the implications of her words angered him. He felt his jaw tick, and the pressure behind his eyes increase tenfold as he shifted towards her. "You - " The words had fled from her mouth before she could stop them, and she wanted the ground to swallow her whole as Sylar's expression immediately changed from friendly to fury. Emma wasn't about to get caught up in whatever Sylar had planned to do next. The flickering rage in his eyes told her not to wait and see what he was capable of either. She thanked the gods that he hadn't chased after her, she wasn't sure what she would've done. She walked into the warehouse, hoping to catch the elevator before he came. The elevator took it's time, as if it knew her exact predicament, and by the time it came down, Sylar had already made his way next to her. She avoided his gaze as she held the door open for him. He didn't speak a word, his eyes never turning her way as he walked in and stared at the walls slowly passing before them. The air surrounding him seemed toxic. Emma tried not to hide in her own little space. She had a gut feeling that it would only make him angrier after her announcement. She felt her stomach drop, anxiety twisting it's way through her body as she wondered if Sylar would announce to the entire crew what she had said. They'd definitely fire her then. Maybe she should take Adam's advice and quit... she considered it carefully, her mind more determined to make the next step, as the elevator slowed to a stop, she sighed. She had student loans to pay off, and money was too good. She couldn't afford two months of unemployment. Not yet. The doors creaked open and Sylar sped out, a dark thud in each of his steps, leaving Emma to slowly slip out of the elevator, feeling like she had been in the wrong. But he had to have known, hadn't he? She chewed her lower lip as she walked towards her corner of the studio, an area Greg had set up near these ceiling to floor windows, away from the set and visual distractions. Emma always felt secluded from the rest of the world, but she preferred it that way. Nick preferred her to work at the studio so that he could call her over anytime he wanted to see what she had been working on. As the day progressed, Emma began to feel herself become desensitized to the sounds and sights on her screen. Two girls kissing heavily with tongue and pants had once aroused her curiosity, but in the back of her mind, Emma could feel the presence of things beyond the screen - the camera, the stage crew and most of all, all the moments where the "lovers" stopped and started again. Just going through the motions... She heard Nick yelling cut angrily several times. The sound was muffled through her headphones, and as she took them off, she thought him yelling, "The fuck... Sylar... today... get your act..." There were no other voices competing against him, and the air quieted until she heard Greg chirp. "Emma sweetie, we're taking a break. Want to grab some lunch with us?" Greg poked his head behind the screen he head set up for her. He smiled as her eyes twinkled at the sight of him. Not many people in this business could smile with the depth she had. "No, I'm alright," she pointed at her bag, indicating she had brought food. "Packed myself a sandwich." She laughed as he sauntered over, showing mild interest on the work she was doing. "Oh, this one. She's positively wet isn't she," he stuck his finger on the screen, stroking the slit. "If I were straight, I'd be back here all the time." Emma giggled, brushing away the slight uncomfortable feeling. "Did you have fun last night?" Her smile dropped. "Yeah, I did." He continued to stroke the screen, as if it were a cat and not a wide-screen vagina. "Any chance you saw what happened to Sylar?" "N-no, why?" Greg brightened up, and flashed a smile at her. "No worries, babe. He's just a little off today, and I swore I last saw him with you on the dance floor last night. Sometimes he gets into fights or if he just doesn't have a good night, it'll always affects his performance." Emma's eyes widened, flashing towards the direction of the set. "You mean he can't..." "No, no, he's got it up alright. Honey, Sylar is always ready," Greg purred unconsciously. He obviously loved his job a lot. "He's just not into it as he usually is, and Nick can tell. That's all." Emma wanted to smile at the irony of how serious Nick took his job. She thought it would be easy, worlds difference of respect and quality, but when it came to Nick's productions, a porn set wasn't that much different from working on a big budget family film - save for the naked people and rather consistent audio track. "Sorry, I don't know." "Okay, well, I just want to warn you that he isn't in a good mood. He's not coming to lunch with us, and since you aren't either... just... " Greg searched for a good way to put his words without making it sound like a command. "I'll stay here," Emma offered. Greg smiled and patted her head. "Good girl." As he got up, Emma piped. "Greg, if I get my work done early today, you think I could get out early?" "I'll ask Nick." "Thank you." --- As much as Emma wanted to sit in her corner, she found it difficult to eat a sandwich while obscene body parts paused on the big screen. She made a quick circle around the studio, and breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered that Sylar didn't seem to be around. Stepping outside her little work space, she sat in front of the large windows, gazing at the city and all the little people that walked by. Some walked together, some walked alone, but most of them walked at the same pace, as if there were an invisible current guiding them to their destination. Suddenly she felt so small and alone. This wasn't what she wanted to be doing. This wasn't the situation she wanted to be caught in. It had been only a week since the club incident and all she could feel was the ripple effect of Sylar's aggression. The only people who walked out happy were the girls he fucked and Nick. Muddy lines had been drawn all over her relationships - and she wished she knew exactly what was making her upset, but it seemed to be a combination of everything that made her unhappy. This situation with Adam, which would give her moments of extreme bliss and extreme pain. This situation with Sylar, making each working day worse than the next. Her own life - completely not where she thought she'd be - on the verge of collapsing due to loans. Her appetite gone, Emma wrapped up her sandwich and tossed it in the trash can. She then brought her knees to her chest and stared out the window, pressing her face as close to the glass as possible. The coolness calmed her heated body and she closed her eyes, steadying her breath. She heard something scrape against the floor behind her and quickly turned around. Sylar stood, a towel around his waist and another he used to ruffle his hair. They locked eyes, staring at each other with unspoken discomfort and disgust, until Emma looked away. Don't come over here, don't come over here, she begged. She thought everyone had left for lunch, like they did every day, leaving her in a moment of solace in this fucked up place. She placed a sweaty palm on the glass, the condensation forming around her fingers. He wasn't supposed to be here... since that morning, he ignored her like she had never existed. She wiped away the trail of sweat on the glass, listening to the footsteps. They were coming closer... Two hands appeared around her, pressing against the glass, and a nose nicked against her neck, taking a deep breath. "Mm, you smell like Irish Spring..." Emma kept her head down, unsure of how to move. Back and right into his hard-on? To the sides, where his arms could just come down and lock her in? Did the fact that she wasn't moving mean she was going to consent? She held her breath as his smell, an old woody scent, surrounded her. "Sylar..." He had pushed in closer, trapping her between the glass window and his chest. She looked down at all the people moving back and forth to their destination. If they looked up, would they see a girl caught in the arms of a nearly naked man? His lips kissed the knots on her neck, stopping when he heard a hitch in her breath. "Are you scared, little mouse?" She nodded, daring to look up. His hand went from being flat against the glass to curling into a fist. The heat radiated against her back with a growing burn as he pressed his chest close to her back, to let her feel the parts of his body that would offer protection from harm. "Sylar..." "I better fucking leave before you call the police, shouldn't I?" Sylar pushed away, leaving Emma short of breath. She was left questioning all the lines and boundaries she had inadvertently drawn. --- "Emma!" Emma shot up in response to Nick wailing her name. She threw off her headphones and rushed to the set, unprepared for the scene in front of her. It had been days since they talked, or even looked at each other. She assumed his issues from the other day weren't about her, since his performance picked up over the week. And yet, his eyes narrowed at the sight of her, making her sweat and squirm. Sylar was standing, his knees bent slightly and pressed against the edge of the bed. A petite girl was gasping underneath him, her legs intertwining around his waist, pulling him deeper as Nick yelled at her to stop. "Could you stop being a slut for a second and wait while we set up our second camera?" Emma's eyes followed the contours of the girl's body as she moaned, "Fucking hurry up, Nick. I need to move, I need - oh my god, you fucking dick, Sylar, don't - do - fuck." "Sylar, stop twitching your dick and wait for us to reload the camera! Fuck!" he yelled as he knocked into one of the lights and casted shadows of all the crew and production equipment over the scene. To top it off, the sound had startled Sylar, causing him to move forward and push deeper into the blonde underneath him. Emma felt her cheeks flare as the familiar sounds of a woman coming echoed. "Shit!" Nick yelled at the squirming woman as Sylar held his dead gaze, as if the woman on his cock did nothing to him. "Lola! What the fuck did I say about coming?" She didn't respond, obviously still in a state of ecstasy. Emma didn't wait as Nick handed her the memory card. She ran to her desk and quickly inserted it in the USB reader, dragging the files over into a new folder. 32GB of porn. 32GB of high-definition porn, several of the thumbnails flickered over the screen, obviously still images they had taken for promotion, and Emma couldn't help but stare at the look in Sylar's eyes. She wasn't sure what the script for this was. Maybe "angry Husband catches his wife cheating?" The look at his face was so intense, like he was fucking Lola entirely for his pleasure, fucking her to bruise and make her beg. Emma turned away as a close up of his face flashed by. Would it be too presumptuous to assume she was the cause of his anger? "Emma! How much longer?" "Twenty minutes, Nick," she called back. "Fuck!" She stilled as she heard his footsteps coming in her direction. It paused for a second, and he started screaming at Lola, "Get the fuck off the bed and clean yourself up. We'll reshoot your scene tomorrow." "I have a convention to go to tomorrow." Sylar's voice rumbled through the room. His voice was tense, like he had been overworking himself. "What?" "I'm not available tomorrow. Let's just use the other camera and finish the scene." "Can't," the other camera man's voice piped, "this card is almost full too." Emma embraced herself for the worst. She remembered that hadn't emptied the card yesterday, and now her name was thrown around into the mix. Today was supposed to be a short shoot, a simple quick fuck, and there was more than enough space on the cards for that... which only meant someone kept making mistakes, and now her mistake was out in the open. She heard a thunder of feet coming in her direction, and braced herself for an onslaught of obscene words to come from Nick. Her eyes closed as a figure whipped around her blockade of computers and stood in front of her. "Isn't it your job to make sure we don't have mistakes like this?" "I'm-I'm sorry." "Look at me while you're talking!" She pried her eyes open, staring at a pair of naked feet that lead up two toned, strong legs... Nick wasn't the one yelling. It was Sylar. There was a towel wrapped around his waist, but it did nothing to hide his evident hard on. And from where she was sitting, she was almost looking at it right in the eye. "I'm sorry." "You're sorry? You know how much of my time you've wasted?" Twenty minutes exactly. Twenty minutes hardly seemed like a thing to fret over, but this argument seemed to be more than just that. Every word that Sylar lashed out was set to hurt her, humiliate her. Nobody was intervening. They were just watching, like this was another scene, where he would whip his towel off and take her. "I didn't think - " "Think what, darling? Are you even cut out to work with us? You're always hiding in this corner, acting all mousy and shy." His hands waved in the air to emphasis his mockery. "Getting shocked at the sight of anything naked. Why did you even take this job if you can't handle it?" She wasn't ready for this. "I can - " "Do you know how many fucking accommodations we had to make for you? Don't walk around naked. Don't walk around aroused. Tone down the joking because it could be filed as sexual harassment? Are you even aware of what kind of work environment you're in?" He exhaled. There. It was out. He looked down at the mousy girl on the verge of tears. She moved slowly, away from him and towards the computer. Her hand shook as she moved the mouse, and he watched her chest rise and fall from her heavy breathing. A part of him wanted to take it all back, but the pride in him wouldn't. Her thin hands removed the card, and she never looked at him as she walked straight towards Nick. Sylar felt himself panting, trying to steady his heart. He stared at her empty seat. Vacant. The world around him still spinning. He tried to collect his thoughts. Think of an explanation as to why he had unloaded all his frustrations on her. But he couldn't. He could say he was sorry, but for what? For being unable to handle rejection? "It's fine. Take the rest of the day off." He continued to stand there as Emma worked around him, acting as if he didn't exist. Any time before this, he would've unleashed another slew of words to get her attention. He watched as she packed her bag, never once looking at him even though every pore of him now begged her to. He felt the words sorry at the back of his mouth, a hard ball that only needed a little push to fall out. He only moved after Nick called him over. Once he heard action, he brutally shoved himself inside of Lola. He ignored her cries and moans, her desperate attempts to get him moving at her rhythm. Sylar thrusted in and out, refusing to let her move, using her only as a means to an end. The wetness encasing his cock was only second to what he really wanted. He wanted genuine emotion from a little mouse, not this lust starved siren that clenched around his cock. He moved faster, closing his eyes and remembering how tight her pussy had felt around his finger. He had gone from a charming prince to a hissing snake around her. A ball of barely controlled anger as he remembered her cries to leave him alone, her denial of what was between them. Her fear. Her accusatory words. "Fuck," he growled as he came, arching his back to feel the cool air sweep over his body. He held still for the camera, waited for Lola to stroke his cock and lick it clean before he heard the saving words, "Cut!" Lola purred underneath him, reaching for his arm, but Sylar shoved it aside and headed for the bathroom. He turned his head to look at the now empty space where Emma should've been, where she could always see him whenever he had just finished a scene. In his shower, he felt the water pelt down his scorching back. He rested his arms against the tile wall and closed his eyes, thinking of the time Emma had been right there, between his arms with nothing stopping them from falling except a window. How she shivered... how she seemed to be of perfect height and size in between his arms. How she whispered his name... Emma was all he could think about, since she had yelled at him, accused him of sexual assault, brought to light that what he had done, the lifestyle he was used to and how he got it... wasn't normal if he wanted her. And all he wanted right now was for her to want him back, except now more than ever, she probably hated him. Figure 8 Ch. 04 a/n: Wow, I'm finally back into the swing of things. Apologies for the first two chapters being absolute shit and any inconsistencies - I had just wanted to jump into the Sylar/Emma relationship too quickly, and didn't think carefully about the realistic process of them (with their past and emotional baggage) getting there. However, I don't want to edit the previous chapters yet because I'm just going to get stuck editing and not writing. I promise to be more careful now that I'm taking writing more seriously again. On the good side, it means this story will be longer? Hope you like how this story is going :) Always appreciate comments! --- Emma squealed as Adam quickening steps broke into a run down the hill. The thundering sounds of the street construction swept past her, it seemed like the roads in San Francisco were always broken. "Watch out," Adam slowed down to watch her, and tightened his grip on her hand as she skipped over a chunk of cement that had been cracked by a nearby tree root. "Adam," she laughed as she stumbled straight into his chest. Her nose smashed against his front pocket, and she inhaled his scent - their scent - the smell of Irish Spring and the fresh undertone masculine smell that was uniquely his. A tingle rushed from her heart and expanded to the rest of her face as his arms came around her. The tip of his chin rested on the top of her head, and she resisted the pull to kiss his Adam's apple. Instead, he pulled back and kissed her forehead, causing her to break out into a smile. Here he was... she thought as she reached up and kissed his cheek, and he was now hers... a dark spark dampened the joy when she realized that Sylar had inadvertently brought them together, but Adam tugged her down the street, washing those thoughts away again. He had seen her forlorn face when she had come back from work the day Sylar had yelled at her. "What happened," he asked, rushing to her side as soon as he saw her collapse against the door. "I screwed up at work." Emma was shaking, and she wasn't sure from what. "I screwed up and Sy - the actor yelled at me for wasting his time... and - th -then he said I... wasn't cut for the job." Adam's chest constricted as Emma started crying. She was such a hard worker, but this was an inevitable bump in the road for her. "Sh, stop," he pulled her away from the door and onto the sofa. Her arms came around him, seeking comfort, which he gladly gave. Anything to stop her from crying. "Emma. Emma, listen to me." She hiccuped and looked up into his kind eyes. But she was still unable to shake Sylar's voice from her head. Not the one that was frustrated with her, the one that frightened her sexually, but the one, that on a professional level, was furious enough to try and get her fired. The one that from then on would not only remind her of her incompetence... but also... "Emma..." Adam broke her mind of the obsessive labyrinth she had been starting to build to protect herself from Sylar. One that she got lost in whenever he simply gave her a look. She desperately wanted to apologize to him, ashamed that she had struck so low ...all out of fear. "Emma." She jolted. It was too easy to get lost in the maze she had created for herself. "I'm sorry I've been a whack job all week," she said, burying her head into his chest. She knew her tears were staining his shirt, but she rather that than have him watch her cry. Even her voice couldn't hide her insecurities. "Work's just been stressful and today was the straw that broke the camel's back." She held tighter as Adam laughed. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his calloused hand in her hair. "I know, but you have to remember: You're not perfect, Emma. You're not Super Woman, and you can't just handle work this intensely without having a small mistake here and there. Was the mistake that bad?" Her "No" was muffled into his chest. It hadn't been as bad as Sylar made it out to be, but the way his green eyes blazed as he shouted at her. She hadn't seen it coming until it was too late. He had humiliated her, for no particular reason the rest of the crew reassured her, all while telling her another story in his eyes. He was incensed, aroused, and - the worst of it all - falling apart with every word he spat at her. She felt at fault for not only the simple production mistake, but the reason he couldn't preform up to standard. Adam waited her to finish sniffling and watched as she wiped her nose with the edge of her sweater. His heart clenched when her big eyes looked up at him, teary. "It just makes me feel... so useless." She curled up, her butt nestled in his lap as her tiny body fit completely on top of him. Emma was not aware of how tempting her position had become, putting pressure in the right places. Her head dropped back down to his chest. "Stop pretending that you don't make mistakes." She wrinkled her nose, "I don't." His eyebrows went up before he saw the twinkle in her eye dim. "I mean, not ones that deserve scolding in front of the entire team," she finished lightly. She was glad that Adam was here. Having him physically present was much more satisfying than calling him on the phone or crying alone. Without thinking, she reached up and pressed her palm against his cheek. She ran her fingers over his growing stubble before, very quickly, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm so glad you're here... when I need you." Shit. Emma didn't dare look up after what she just did. Her kiss was simple but so bold. But... here he was, Adam. Her first kiss and the only boy she had wanted since then. She couldn't describe the joy she felt when he continued to be her friend, even through the fumbling and awkward attempts to get his reignite their drunken flame. No matter how childishly she handled their relationship, Adam always made sure they stay on track. Her breath caught as she felt fingers on her chin. They redirected her gaze, very gently, from the floor to his burning brown eyes. She might not be able to get lost in them, like an endless ocean or a depthless sky, but she could see very clearly what he wanted. She let her breath slip as Adam bent down and took her lips. It was soft, teasing at first, as if he were resistant. When Emma felt him slowly back away, she found new courage rush from within and grabbed the edge of his shirt, pulling him down to take his mouth for her own. All the aggression, the pent up frustration from the past week - the past few years since she had known him - came pouring out in that one kiss. She couldn't stop the whimper that escaped her throat. Desire took control. Her movements felt foreign for her first time, but her actions were familiar as her body mimicked what she had seen in all the videos she worked on. Their mouths were still connected as Emma raised her leg to straddled Adam properly. His large hands held her face, pulling her closer as he invaded her thoughts. All her thoughts... until she felt his hand slip underneath her shirt and his tongue in her mouth. "Shit," he said as Emma jerked back. "Emma, I'm sorry, I shouldn't - " "Don't." "What?" Emma felt her world crashing around her as she anticipated Adam's words of regret. She didn't want a repeat of her first kiss. The scene of Adam apologizing for taking it away, for not making it special - the implication that she was a mistake. "I don't want to hear that your dick got ahead of you, and that if this had been a normal circumstance, you wouldn't have ever done this." She felt the tears welling up in her again, for a completely different reason, as if the first cry she had for him over four years ago had not been finished. "How is that supposed to make me feel - " He silenced her with another kiss. At first she resisted, but Adam would not relent. He nipped and pressed his lips against her until she opened up her mouth to him. "You talk to fucking much when you're worried. No, let me finish first. First... fuck," he looked away and rubbed his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry I was your first kiss. Yes, I'm apologizing for my mistake four years ago. I was an asshole. I knew you liked me, and I just wanted to kiss someone so bad that night and you were there." His hands drilled into her waist when she tried to move away. "I'm not finished. I didn't like you then, Emma. Not that way necessarily, and not the way you wanted me to, but mostly... I think... because I didn't deserve you. I would've hurt you." "And now?" "You mean, this?" He paused, his eyes flickering as if he were sorting out the words before they came out in full sentences. "I don't know what I'm feeling right now, other than the fact that I want to protect you. I want to be with you." She nodded, unable to contain her happiness. Her dreams, her wishes, her fairytale ending was coming true. "So... What do you say?" He searched her eyes intently, wanting her to put a definition to this new door they had opened. Emma wouldn't look at him, her chest rising and falling, until he bent down and nipped her neck, begging for an answer. "I've loved you even before you kissed me, Adam." That was all he needed to hear. He ignored the shyness in her voice and the seconds she had hesitated, chalking it up to nerves. He hugged her like he had never hugged her before. His cheek rested against her hair as he mumbled, "I love you, too, Emma. Maybe not as strongly as you do for me, not on the same levels. Not yet. But I hope that's enough for now." He felt her nod and tightened his hold, glad to have finally straightened out this one mess in his life. Now that she was his, things felt right. He could probably get the rest of his life back on track... before he had to leave for the tour. Never had he imagined that he would see Emma this way, rather than the timid and cute bird he knew from college. She was now a fully fledged sexy being. Where did she learn to move like that? Fuck, he thought as she bounced slightly, causing him to grip her tiny waist. He closed his eyes, trying to think of anything to keep himself calm. Dead babies, clowns... "Adam?" "Yeah," he exhaled loudly as she wriggled on his lap. "You're still my first kiss." She felt him freeze as he pulled back, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Suddenly she was aware of how her crying must've made her look. All the snot and tears running down her face, the salty taste of their kissing had been all her - god, it had only been a week and he witnessed her crying almost everyday. Feeling embarrassed, Emma tried to get off his lap, but he wouldn't let her turn away as he leaned in and kissed her again. "I'm glad." After a few more minutes of making out, Adam begrudgingly pulled a subdued Emma off his lap. She went to take a shower while Adam flipped through a take-out menu for dinner. By the time she had come out, dressed again in his t-shirt and boxer, he was watching a movie. Emma came over, smelling of fresh and masculine, and he pulled her close, causing her to giggle before he made her sit down so he could rest his head in her lap. They had done this many times before, but finally... it felt right. Just as right as her hand found his, Emma smiled, recalling how perfect her relationship with Adam had turned out. She couldn't have wished for a more fitting way for them to finally discover their feelings for each other - or rather, his feelings for her. Sure it had taken four years, but now, no longer having to ask Adam to come to bed, to have him crawl in with his own volition, was worth every second she had pined for his heart. "Here it is," he exclaimed as they finally found the brunch spot he had been wanting to take her since he saw in on the Food Channel. They were deep downtown, and the first time he mentioned it, he didn't fail to see Emma balk at the location. But it was a Sunday, and he reassured her that they wouldn't see anyone from work. They put their name down as the hostess told them to expect a minimum of an hour wait. Emma gave the hostess her number so that she could explore the city with Adam. They walked along the water front, enjoying the sea view, nice breeze and warm sun that came rare to the city. Emma felt like a giddy school girl as she pointed out little things to Adam. This was her dream come true - so many times she had come back to San Francisco, seeing things here and there that she had wanted to share with him, and now she finally could... except that he seemed less interested in the sights, and more with watching her. "Stop staring at me." "Why?" Adam's arm came around her waist to hook her beside him. "I don't know." "Is it because you're used to doing all the staring?" She blushed. Adam was not shy about bringing up her old school crush on him over the years. When she complained, he countered that it was all fair in love and war. Bringing up moments of her adoring gaze was his way of reminding himself how stupid he had been to miss it all. "You're missing the rest of the city. It's a beautiful day for once and..." she laughed as he bit her hand. "But I'll be... I rather spend that time with you than looking at buildings." Emma smiled brightly and quickly kissed him on the cheek. She felt satisfied as Adam was unable to contain his happiness. He didn't return her kiss, but he kept her close to him, their hips swaying together, occasionally knocking into each other and causing them to tumble a little. Yes, she thought, they were different from the traditional couple. She already knew everything about him, and he her; the only things left to learn about each other was the present and... she sighed, remembering their kisses, he would teach her the carnal stuff. They wandered back to the cafe an hour later, just in time for their seats. And after the waitress got their order, Emma watched Adam stir sugar into his black coffee. She remembered how much he hated coffee in college - especially black. It used to be simply whipped cream filled frappuccinos and caramel macchiatos for him. She wondered how much had changed since he graduated. "Hey Adam. When did you decide... that you lo- lik- wanted me?" "Well that was subtle." She kicked him underneath the table as he laughed. "Okay, okay." He looked down at his cup and stirred. Emma watched him as she began to realize that there were gaps of his time that she didn't know about. Since graduation, he had worked hard with his band, and that meant a lot of time on the road. He had forgone a cell phone to make sure they could get from one gig to the other, and those times they traveled, Emma didn't hear from him. She just assumed he had forgotten about her, the way most people do when you no longer see them. Now she just wanted to hear that he hadn't, that she wasn't an afterthought, and this thing between them... was real. "I've always missed you, you know?" Adam's smile didn't quite reach his eyes until he looked at her. Her heart bloomed as she realized how true those words were. "When it all first started out, it was easy to keep in contact with you, like nothing had changed, but then things started building up and you and I were so busy. One missed phone call became three, and then no return calls and I stopped having a cell phone plan. When we were on tour, somehow just picking up the phone and calling you didn't seem as natural or as ... it wasn't the first thing on my mind as it used to be." They were interrupted by their food, which Adam was grateful for. For the pause to carefully hash out his words so that they didn't reveal too much about his time away. He slowly drizzled the syrup over his pancakes, methodically cutting them up so that he could give a little to Emma. "And the times I did think about calling you, I got angry. I got angry because I felt like I always had to maintain the relationship. When I stopped calling, you seemed to forget about me." "But that's just - " "I know. Just how you are. I remember that now, but fuck me if it doesn't piss me off at times," he laughed. He looked up from his food. "Hey, after I'm done with this confession, you'll tell me how much you still love me right?" Emma laughed. "I'll tell you what I like about you." "I'll take that." He sipped his coffee. "So we weren't supposed to get two months off, we were supposed to keep touring, but then Chester had to go to rehab... for alcoholism and drug addiction." "What?" "To be honest, I don't blame him. We worked so hard and alcohol was the only way out. It's just funny how after the success, he couldn't kick it. But our managers demanded that he get clean before we started the tour. So while Chester is in rehab, we get two months to do almost anything. And I was going to head home, but before I got my tickets, I don't know, somehow I saw this movie Like Crazy and thought of you. Next thing I knew, I was on a plane to San Francisco." "That depressing movie made you think of me?" Emma's face contorted in disgust as Adam laughed. "Well, not just you. Us. The whole long distance thing and how it doesn't work. I came to visit you cause I missed you, but I guess it wasn't really until the whole club incident," he looked down and missed the way Emma stiffened, "that I realized I didn't like it when another guy was interested in you. That I... I knew you better than anyone else." She reached over the table and grabbed his hand. "You do." "Good." He gave her hand a slight squeeze, and chuckled. "So wow. Uh, heavy for a first date, huh?" Emma shrugged, her eyes flirtatious. "It was a'ite.." "Now it's your turn." "Hm?" she looked at him innocently. "My turn for what?" Adam realized how much he had wanted to hear her admit it. Admit that he hadn't lost her in all this foolishness. He hadn't shared everything, just the basics and what the media has probably already told her, but he would be damned before she knew about the strings of one night stands he had before he remembered her. Guilt swarmed his insides; he couldn't admit the first of the real truth. The truth that even through missing her - he had forgotten about her, that he had only seen that movie because the girl in his bed had played it on demand. He relaxed visibly when she stroked his hand. "Okay." She meet his gaze once or twice during her confession. Starting from his voice to the little things he did to make her feel protected - wanted. Emma didn't miss the way his eyes grew stormy as she whispered how she liked his arms around her, in bed, on the street, anywhere, because they made her feel safe. How his scent and eyes reminded her that someone out there really cared about her, not just in a way that friends felt obligated to, but because he genuinely did. The conversation was so delicate and private for such an open area, but no one took notice of the couple completely enamored with each other. Although one more than the other. --- "Honey, you have the glow!" Emma's eyes bulged as Greg pinched her cheeks and pulled her face towards the light. She allowed him to squeeze and manipulate her face at will, the huge smile never leaving his face. His voice boomed throughout the studio, catching a few curious ears before he settled down. "Tell me, what have you been doing this weekend?" She had the audacity to turn away and blush, confirming all the dirty thoughts in his head. If only he knew that the further Adam and her had gone was his tongue in her mouth. It was all she felt like doing because the moment Adam reached for her breasts, she shied away. "Oh boy, a boy, am I right?" Greg clapped his hands together. He crossed his legs and waited for Emma to spill every detail about her orgasmic night when he noticed her smile fade into a lost expression. Tracing her gaze, he followed it to the other side of the room, where Sylar was walking out of the dressing room in nothing but a towel. "Oh my god," he said, drawing a connection, "did you - " Figure 8 Ch. 04 "No," Emma hissed, wrenching her gaze off of him. "Never." "Then tell me, honey, or I'm going to snoop around until I find out." Emma squirmed in her seat as she recalled the morning to her mind. Adam had showered her in kisses, despite her claims of dragon's breath. His hands roamed over her body but strayed after from anywhere that made her stiffen and choke up. When she finally opened her eyes, Adam was staring back at her with restrained lust. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply before he let her go. If he expected her to understand, she didn't. She had an idea - a fairly big and hard idea of what he wanted - but the pain and memory of Sylar's finger scared her. The last thing she wanted was to be forcefully introduced into a world made up of pain and pleasure. What if pain was the only thing she was meant to feel? Emma felt like she was ready, she wanted to see why sex was fun, addicting, the forefront of any guy's mind. Although the reality was so much different whenever things got too hot and heavy. Each time she was close, the decision to commit felt more like jumping off the edge of an abyss. She was experience the thrill of the fall. No strings attached, right? It was already obvious how enjoyable it could be. "He's a college friend," she whispered, not sure why she couldn't introduce Adam as her boyfriend just yet. "Oo, is he hot?" Emma nodded. "He's in a band. The drummer." "Fuck me darling, that's even better. Musicians are the hottest fucks ever. They always have a rhythm in their head, it's the closest you can get to fucking to a soundtrack without it being cheesy." "We didn't..." Emma's eyes darted back and forth, "fuck." Greg grinned from ear to ear. "Only in time, honey. Don't make the poor boy wait!" She could only find the decency to blush as Greg went on about blue balls and how men needed their release. She nodded empty promises to "fulfill her man's desire" before Greg was called away to help out on set. Emma got up, her legs shaking a bit from the memory of Adam plunging a finger into her while toying with her little nub. She moved to her desk to go back to work, but when the screensaver turned off, a million little clicks wired together in her mind. The anatomy of the female on screen was starting to make more sense to her. From the little hole between the clit and the ass, to the way the woman's nipples were erect like flower buds that had yet to blossom. Every touch hit a spot that caused the porn star to moan. It wasn't just about feeling good; it was about how good the feeling was when coupled with someone else. A smile crept on her lips, it couldn't stop even if she wanted it to, as she thought of Adam showering loving kisses over her to wake her up. The look in his eyes took her breath away as she realized that she was waking up to what she had been dreaming of ever since the day they met. Everything would've been perfect... perfect if she didn't have to go to work. Sylar was there. She couldn't miss him even if she tried. Her eyes always seemed to drift towards him whenever he entered the room. In the corner of her eye while she was talking to Greg. By the windows, staring out pensively as he waited to be called on set. By the door, watching the crew move about. She tried so hard not to admit that he was there, but it was impossible not to notice or feel his gaze across the room. While other may have interpreted it simply as his hatred for her causing production delays, she knew it was because he simply hated her. And Emma was used to be being ignored, unloved, pitied, forgotten... checks for all the above, but hated was one thing she had never accomplished in her life until now. Until the moment she had decided to stand up for herself and instead of winning the argument, she managed to anger one of the most powerful persons in the room. "Emma, come watch this scene!" Nick yelled in a tone that beckoned her immediate attention. Tossing her headphones off, Emma scurried across the loft to the set. It had been set up as a simplistic bedroom scene. White sheets, soft pillows and billowing drapes to give the illusion of a fancy million dollar home. The bed itself looked luxurious with it's princess drapes floating from the ceiling like spiraling confetti in motion. It was dreamy, and she tried her best to keep her eyes off the entangled bodies in the middle of it all. "Come here." Nick waved her over, holding a pair of headphones so that she could listen and watch the camera movement. Emma adjusted the large headphones over her head, but it remained a little too big, hanging closer to her jaw than her ears. "I need you to pay attention to Sylar. He's been going off script, but it's gold. We forgot to slate and we're turning one camera on him, so you need to write down the takes and remember which audio goes with what shot, okay?" "Got it." "Good girl," Nick murmured as he waited for Emma to settle down with a pad of paper and a pen. "Okay. Three. Two. One. Action!" Emma held her breath as Sylar's muscled back rose like a Greek god from a sea of white waves. She wished her mind was exaggerating, that it was all a trick of the light, but the skin on his back was flawless, not a single scar or nick to tell her that he lived a hard life like Adam had. She stifled a gasp when she realized that her headphones were directly connected to the microphone closest to him. As Sylar whispered to the woman underneath him, she felt as if he were whispering right into her ear. A tingling ran through her body as he spoke to the woman. "...everything about you is perfect. Your breast...these knots at the base of your neck... every sigh that comes from your throat is like a song just for me. You're my caged, little song bird." The woman moaned underneath him as he cupped one firmly, bringing her back up to his chest. "Feel what you do to me. How hard you make me. Just the scent of you... from your hair to your pussy drive me insane, makes me want to drive right into you until you come all over my cock... until you can't take it anymore... until you admit that you want me too." Sylar lifted a hand that had been digging right into the woman's opening. His finger tips glistened as he wiped them across her mouth, to which the woman opened up and sucked his fingers clean as he gently rocked his hips against her ass. "Do you want me?" "So... so much." "Do you want me to keep talking, to keep touching you until you can't think of anything else but my cock all the way inside of you, or do you want to me take you like this? Still coherent, still sane?" "I don't know," the woman squirmed and twisted until her front side faced Sylar. Her large breasts fell slightly to the side as she scooted up to release her legs from being pinned underneath him. Without much sense in her words, she opened up her legs and wrapped them around his waist, dragging him closer but not into her. "Do you want me to slip my finger in here? It's so wet, baby, you're going to suck me in. This is what it means to be insatiable, to want completion so bad that only my touch can satisfy you. My finger against your clit, telling you how to move, what to feel. What do you want?" "Anything you want," she finally gasped, "I want." With a low guttural sound, Sylar flipped her around so that they could face the cameras. He pressed her upper body down, lifting her center up so that her hips were raised to meet his. Then he bent down, pushing her arms up so her breasts stretched to meet his lips. He raked his teeth across her nipples, causing her to moan, before he moved towards her ear. Then he looked straight into the camera as he spoke. "I want you to want me more than air, more than your next breath. I want your next gasp to be out of pure primal lust for me because I am the only one who can ever make you feel this way. Ever. Feel how hard I am for you, how it's all for you... my little mouse." He bent down a licked a spot behind the woman's ear. "What do you want from me now?" "I- I- don't know. Anything! Please," her hips gyrated in hopes of contacting him, being with him. "Some - oh my fucking god. Shit." Sylar released the unlocked sounds from his throat as his cock held a mind of its own and slipped into the warm, wet woman. He couldn't even remember her name now, but damn it, her name was the furthest thing from his mind. All he could see was Emma's concentrated face, focusing on the screen and her writing pad as if she hadn't heard a single word. It was like every sense of his being was attuned to her. His internal clock, his subconscious could only respond to her. He had not fucked anyone over the weekend because not even the most promiscuous woman could shake the image of Emma between his arms. The only time he went out was to go jogging, hoping the cold San Francisco air would help clear his mind. Then he ironically found himself at CVS, buying a bottle of Irish Spring just so he could masturbate to the scent of her in his shower. Even him inside this willing woman underneath him was a result of seeing her this morning. The light bounce in her step as she got off the bus. She hadn't even noticed him following her, protecting her from behind by glaring at any bum that dared to give her a second glance. Then Greg had to open his loud mouth and talk about her fucking glow. "The glow" was none other than a reference for a post-orgasmic bliss, and his fists tightened as he tried hard not to think about who could have given it to her. Hoping hard that a what had given it to her instead, and the picture of Emma with her legs spread, a dildo slowly making its way into her, nearly had him spent on the spot. His hips moved faster as he saw Emma's eyes glaze over. He didn't miss the tell tale way her legs were crossed, pressed tightly as she rolled her hips in her seat, pretending to adjust her position. When the woman started talking, he slapped his hand over her mouth. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear anything else unless it was coming from Emma. A pip escaped from underneath his hand as he realized his actions were out of character. Sylar's eyes flickered towards Emma once again as he lowered down to whisper exactly what he wanted to say to her, into the other woman's ear. "Don't hold back, I won't hurt you." He pulled his hand off her mouth and massaged her breast before pushing his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers. "This is natural, this is how you should feel. Feel how you make me feel. I want you to feel you come around my cock. Feel exactly how well we fit together, with me inside of you... you surrounding me as the only thing I can feel." He lost his breath as he felt himself get sucked in deeper as the woman spread her legs wider. His stomach flipped as he closed his eyes, and pictured Emma. Her open mouth panting as he sunk into her, one inch, one ebbing flow, at a time. The fantasy felt completely real as the muscles squeezed around his cock with a rippling effect, and a pair of legs wrapped around his lower back. Two heels dug hard into his body, pulling him in and guiding his hips to rock back and forth as the woman rode out her orgasm. Nothing else mattered when he felt the cool air around his still-hard dick. He succumbed to the sensations of the woman's wet mouth, finding himself close to coming only when looked at her face. Furrowed brow, focused look, concentrating so hard on the screen in front of her as if she were preparing for an operation and didn't know which appendage to approach first. He had no doubts this was the look she would give him on their first night together... if he ever got there... if she ever let him... the things he would do to her... "Shit!" He cried out as white ropes of cream burst from his cock. They showered the woman underneath him as she tried to redirect it into her mouth. He lowered himself down, his body shaking as he pushed the woman underneath him, so they could end scene. "Fucking hell, Sylar. Cut!" Nick was excited as a randy teenage boy in a sex museum. He threw off his headphones and clambered towards the set as he slapped Sylar on the back, evidently not bothered by the semen and sweat. "That was genius, Sylar. I think you just satisfied every lonely housewife in the nation." Nick turned around and yelled at Emma. "Yep?" she replied. Sylar noticed her out-of-breath haze - was it possible? - he shook his head to dismiss it, unwilling to give himself any more hope. She had made it clear, hadn't she? Sexual harassment. He never had to force himself on a woman before, and this women - who acted more like a girl - wasn't going to make him start. No matter how much he wanted her. "When you cut this together, Emma, get rid of the dialogue where Sylar say like... what was it you said, you stud? Caged bird? Little mouse? Yeah," Nick repeated as Sylar nodded his head, "Get rid of that dialogue. Not sure if all the women are going to dig that." "Okay." Sylar kept his eyes trained on Emma, looking for any sign of recognition that those words were his pet names for her. Her face was a blank canvas as she flip through her notepad, jotting down what Nick had told her. "Yeah, yeah," he found himself saying, not really caring if he was agreeing with Nick or agreeing to some new proposition, "Let me go take a shower." He brushed by Nick, purposely not bringing a towel as he made his way slowly to the bathroom. Daring to glance in her direction, he didn't understand why he was feeling the way he did when she never looked up. She had to know who those words for. Sylar stared as long as he dared. Then, before he could draw any more attention to himself, he rushed into the bathroom. Maybe a cold shower was what he needed. The loft was starting to feel stuffy, and he wanted to wash the sticky feeling off his dick. When he came out of the shower, the first thing he noticed was Emma missing from her usual spot. The second thing he noticed was Nick standing on a box, surrounded by the crew, including Emma. Curiously, he moved his way over to see what was going on. Whether it was intentional or by pure magnetism, he found himself standing near Emma. He couldn't move away from her if he tried. This was as close as he could get without her jumping away as if he had tasered her. Emma could feel him even before she saw the water droplets forming around her. She felt the water spray over her, and it felt oddly refreshing, before she got a hold of herself. Why was he standing so close to her? He could stand anywhere - in fact, he could go home. This meeting wasn't mandatory. "Emma." Nick snapped for her attention. "Yes?" "We've got commissioned to do an outdoor scene this coming weekend. Permit and legal papers all drawn up already, and our regular PA is out, so I'm going to need you to come with. It's pretty last minute, so are you okay with that?" "I..." The look on Nick's face grew almost parental in expectation, and Emma knew she wasn't supposed to refuse, even if she wanted to. It wasn't a company outing. It was her job, and he was simply offering her the choice out of courtesy. Emma hated missing out on a weekend with Adam when he only had so much time, but the look at Nick's face said that he wasn't expecting her to reject. "Yeah, I can do it." "Good. So..." What was she going to tell Adam? Hey, I have to go on a camp trip with my co-workers. We're going to shoot porn outdoors...? She wanted so desperately to change her mind, to tell Nick no, but it was too late. As Nick dismissed the crew, Emma stood still, trying to figure out if there was a plausible excuse. She tried so hard to keep her work life separate from private life - with the exception of Greg, and this camping trip would be the one trip to spoil it all, wouldn't it? She sighed and turned to go back to her space when she bumped into a wet, solid chest. Her blood turned to ice as she immediately recognized who it was. Through the silence, she thought Sylar had left her alone... turns out he had never moved. "Sorry," she mumbled under her breath as she walked around him. Avoiding him. Sylar wasn't used to feeling unwanted. Women and men had always fawned over him, whether it was from admiration or desire. And then it came to this girl... a woman who had the spirit of baby doe, someone who would run rather than let curiosity take the better of her. The breath he was holding suffocated, but he wouldn't exhale until she was gone. The fear in her eyes when she had told him to leave her alone stayed in his mind whenever he looked at her. Now she wouldn't even look at him, especially not after that window stunt he pulled, showing just how little control he had whenever she was around. It was true. He couldn't think with her around - she was all he thought about. It was more than her demure, virgin personality that drew him in. She had such a strong heart and even stronger will. He had seen many people come and go in this industry - most who either came and left from disgust, or came and entangled themselves in a different sort of coming that blurred work and personal lives on level that rivaled soap operas. "Fuck," he muttered as he turned around, bumping straight into Nick. "Hey Sylar, I was just looking for you. And Emma, you too. Just need to ask if you guys were okay with bunking together for the weekend trip? Tamara snores, so she's getting the single, and everyone else has been put together - " "What are you talking about?" "You agreed to be backup for the outdoors shoot. Remember? I told you earlier, Buddy's test results haven't come back yet, and if they don't come in time then we're going to need you to replace him cause Kendall sure as hell isn't going to fuck someone without a clean record. So look are you two okay rooming with each other or what cause I rather not spend the extra money on the room when..." Sylar felt the blood rush to his ears. "So tell her when you get the chance, yeah?" He thought about challenging the rooming situation. One word and Nick would give him his own room, shove Tamara with Emma. Just one sentence to avoid the torture of three nights in the same room as her, her scent, her face, her body. All he had to do was speak up, but the path between his throat and mouth dried up, and all he did was nod. Either the best... or worst decision of his life. The trip was going to be torturous... especially if his current "state" had any kind of crystal ball prediction about it. "Well, better get it over with," he muttered to himself as straightened his towel and made his way over to Emma little corner. As soon as he got there, she seemed to notice and started to pack her things even faster. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, Emma kept her head down as she prepared to run away. She barely passed him when his hand came down onto her elbow. Before she could speak up, he dragged her even deeper in, away from prying eyes and ears. Sylar didn't know what he was thinking... touching her. It was unnecessary. He couldn't move from his spot as long as she stood in front of him, the minty smell teasing his nose. Then she had to bump into him, walk around him, making him crazy with the feeling of her hair against his bare chest. He only meant to steady her when she wobbled around him, but his limbs had a mind of his own. "We have to room together for the weekend shoot." "What? No, no, I thought - " The look of devastation on her face tugged at his heart. Was it so bad? "Let me go talk to Nick." Not wanting to take the risk, Sylar blocked her movements with his arm. The slightest flicker of annoyance crossed her face before his proximity settled in. Anxiety began to form from the burrowing of her brows to her little mouth gasping for breath. Figure 8 Ch. 04 "You're not even on the roster..." "I'm Buddy's backup." "B-but..." her mouth formed words but nothing came out. Now that he was so close to her again, he didn't understand why he had gotten so angry in the first place. Maybe it was the recent orgasm that cleared his head so that his pent-up sexual frustration couldn't cloud his judgement. Whenever he was around her, he couldn't control himself... she was probably right. Rooming together was only a recipe for a volatile combustion, but damn every muscle in his body fought against separating him from her even more than necessary. "I'm sorry," he blurted. A giant weight lifted off his shoulders. Sorry was just the tip of the iceberg for the things he wanted to get right with her. He was sorry for a million things - for everything. Over the weekend, the thought of another man touching her the way he had at the club boiled his insides before he realized what he had done. None of those thoughts dampened his lust for her though. He merely understood that the way he had gone about it was all wrong. "Okay." He exhaled, "What?" "I said okay," she said so quietly he had to lean in to hear her. Her eyes still wouldn't look at him, wouldn't acknowledge him. Her simple "okay" wasn't enough. It didn't mean anything to him if he couldn't see her eyes, see right through her and know that deep inside... he didn't scare her. He never meant to - not with his temporary anger or even his uncontrollable lust for her. "You don't mean it." Emma stared at her computer before moving to clean up her desk and pack to go home. "No. It's okay... you don't have to apologize." She paused, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply to get in control. "You and I jumped the gun. I made assumptions that you were... never mind." "No," he moved to stop her from walking away again, "what assumptions?" His breath caught as her eyes flickered up towards him. They were such a welcoming shade of hazel-brown. "You assumed I was like everyone else who worked here, and I assumed you were like everyone who worked here," she replied, meaning to be cryptical, but to Sylar the words made perfect sense. "You're right. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed." "It's fine," she brushed him off before he could touch her. "I'll get over it." She had to. It was the last thing she wanted to think about now that she had finally straightened things out with Adam. This job had to be temporary, with no ties, otherwise Adam would never forgive her for hiding it from him. A gut feeling told her that Adam would never look at her the same either. Emma wanted to stay strong for him, no matter how much the man before her intrigued her, offering to introduce her to a world she knew nothing about. But that wasn't her deal with herself. It was work. Get in. Get out. Not bury herself so deep that she couldn't navigate without thinking about it on a daily basis. "Wait," Sylar grabbed her again, pulling her so that she stood in front of him, and so he could effectively block her from running away again. For the first time, in a long time, he fumbled for the right words. "I - we... are going to be working together for a while," his eyes darkened at the rejection in her face, "so I don't want you to just get over it. It's really important to m... to everyone that we get along, cause I'm not going anywhere. Are you?" Her cheeks flushed. Sylar suppressed a grin as she shook her head. He knew he would be spending the night editing this conversation in his head, filling the gaps with what he wanted to hear, using his words to manipulate her meaning in order to bring some closure to the gaping hole in his chest that appeared whenever he looked at her. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. "I'm sorry I said I was going to sue you for sexual harassment." She tried not to look at him, as she continued, "I was just so scared and Ad- my friend said this was the only way... but then I read up on how insulting it was... especially for people in this industry to be automatically assumed as perverts." "Well..." Sylar grinned, his fingers running along her wrist. They enclosed quickly when she moved to tug away, and he almost moved to bring her closer but she had that look on her face again, so he let go. "And I realized I'm probably the odd one out. So I'm probably more to blame." Sylar felt an overwhelming feeling of guilt swell as he heard her take the blame for his perversions. "Oh Emma, no. I was the one who threw a fucking temper tantrum last week. I've been feeling like shit all weekend because of it." "You scared me pretty bad," she admitted. He was positive that she had cried and something tugged at his conscience at the thought of him being responsible for making this beautiful girl cry. Or worse, him not being there to comfort her. "Greg told me off afterwards, if that makes you feel better." She smiled at the thought of Greg scolding Sylar. "Yeah, it does." "Good." He flashed a grin back at her. His green eyes lightened up with a newfound relief, giving him a youthful look that Emma hadn't seen before. She couldn't stop smiling even as she recognized that he was shirtless, in fact quite naked save for the towel wrapped around his waist. In spite of it all, Emma started to trace the hem of his towel with her eyes. Whatever was hidden beneath didn't need her imagination. She knew exactly what it looked like, how it worked, but somehow the shape of it slowly appearing underneath his towel was more erotic than seeing it out in the open. Swallowing her breath, she tried her best to look inconspicuous, but Sylar had already caught her. And his body was responding despite the fuck fest he had endured earlier. God, what did she do to him? Without thinking, he bent down to kiss her lips, when he suddenly froze. It wasn't her gasp, he only registered that after - it was her hand on his bare chest, a cold soft palm. He felt hyper-aware of each finger tip on his skin. And then... there it was again. The frightened look. The one look that unarmed him, reminding him that she was nothing like any girl he ever knew. Sylar tore himself away, stalking harder than he wanted to. He prayed he didn't set them back to the beginning, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out. They would just have to pretend his attempt to kiss her had never happened. As Sylar walked back to the bathroom to change, he realized that if he wanted her, he'd have to work for her heart first, and the thought didn't scare him as much as it should've. --- The day couldn't have gone more perfect if Emma wanted it to. The situation with Sylar had been diffused, she felt like even the crew was aware of it as they cheerily waved goodbye to her. With Adam now as a stabilized part of her life, she wished felt ready to share hardship with him as they came. The way she used to. It should've been easy, they had known each other for so long, but his sudden return, the absence, and the jump from friends to lovers didn't prepare her for this. Her work life was one thing she wasn't ready to share with him. She was supposed to stay innocent, the good girl that waited for him. It really shouldn't have mattered, but she wanted to be the one thing in his life that stayed consistent. There wasn't a reason to let slip that things had changed after four years. After all, she was fundamentally the same person inside, right? Emma chewed her lip as Adam walked into the room from the shower. He smiled crookedly at her, and she felt her insides combust. Her job didn't define her. And it was only temporary. This - what she had with Adam - was forever. As they got ready for bed, Emma looked at his back, noticing scars that she had never seen before, at least not when he was in college. She wanted to go up to him, touch his back and asked where each scar came from, but before she could gather the courage, he had pulled a shirt over his head and covered his upper body. He turned around, smiling as if he had known she was staring this whole time. She squealed when he lunged for her, dragging her to bed. In a swift movement, he rolled her on top of him, kissing her face as they went until they settled between the swarm of sheets and pillows. Adam kept his arms around her, exhausted from the rest of the day, but didn't stop his kissing until he found her mouth. "Open up," he begged as he felt her hands run up the sides of his face and into his hair. The way she moved with such inexperience made him shiver. All that inexperience would be molded into what he liked - what he wanted. She would be his, just like she always had been. He drifted his hand down to her ass and grabbed it tightly, surging her body against his core. Emma yelped, jerking out of his arms. "Shit," he moved his hands back up, "I forgot you've never done this before." The moment was gone like a splash of cold water upon them. Emma rolled off to the side, her back facing him so that he couldn't see the expression on her face. With a sign, Adam curled up beside her, pulling her up towards him so that he could whisper in her ear. "It's okay, I can wait." He felt Emma nod and he tightened his grip around her waist. He was used to girls throwing themselves at him, but for Emma, he could forget his aching hard on and wait. She had waited four years, for him. Stayed pure, wanting only him for four years. It was the least he could do, he thought. No matter how much he wanted it, it would've have been the same unless she was into it too. Sleep couldn't claim Emma so easily. She stared at the blank wall in front of her, replaying the moments of the night in her mind. Kissing Adam had been beyond wonderful. His tongue darting in and out of her mouth, like an experienced lover, made her want to run her hands all over his body. It was obvious that whatever she was doing inspired him to do the same, but when his hand gripped her backside, coldness swept through her like icicles in her veins. She didn't want to think about him. Didn't want to let him poison the only relationship she ever wanted in her life, but Sylar had already burned his way through her secrets by taking her first sexual experience, which amounted to being groped in a club, against her will, and humiliatingly in front of Adam. Shivers ran down her arms as she imagined what Adam would've done if he knew. Everything about sex was... foreign to her. She had never really wanted it, not explicitly, even with Adam and his kisses that she enjoyed so much. Just the things that she had seen Sylar do... to all those girls... opened doors she didn't know existed. Doors with rooms she wasn't ready to explore until she was a hundred percent sure she was going to enjoy it. Her mind wandered to the time when she tried to get herself off, get rid of the fire between her legs, and how all that effort amounted to nothing. Yet when Sylar touched her, it burned and soothed all at the same time. Emma felt terrible comparing her experiences between Adam and Sylar, but that didn't stop her thighs clenching at the mental image of Sylar behind her, knowing where to touch her, how to touch her. It was pure association, she argued in her head. Just because he was the first, doesn't mean he's special. But that argument made her feel worse, because that was exactly what held her off from kissing other guys after Adam. Involuntarily, her hips started undulate. There was an extreme need growing inside of her, and every time she pushed back, she felt something harder prod against her. "Emma... what are you doing?" She tried to stop, but when she stopped moving, the desire overtook her lower body. Her inner thighs shook even like a manifested earthquake dwelling from within her. She closed her eyes, trying to associate the feelings with Adam, but the undesirable yet seductive lust plagued her mind with images of green eyes. Even in her mind she could hear the dozens of other women begging for release as the beholder of the emerald eyes whispered exactly what he wanted to do to them. How they were going to come for him. "Sh," Adam whispered calmly as his hard body came closer around her. She whimpered as his hands traveled up and down her, brushing against the undersides of her breasts. "God, Emma." "I-I don't, no" she shook, almost violently, when his finger traced the space underneath her navel. She didn't know how to voice what she wanted when his hands were so cruelly warm, exploring and massaging parts of her she didn't know were so soft. "Please..." "Just trust me." Emma's eyes were closed in oblivion as she bit her lip. She wanted to trust him, but what was he going to do? Her mind faded into a fantasy as she felt warm fingers playing with the band of her underwear. The cotton stretched to accommodate the large hand that swept in to stroke her curls, and she moaned as the other hand reached around to cup her breast, massaging them. Two fingers clasped around her nipple, rolling them as she bucked down into the hand that now cupped her mound and teased the top of her slit. "Please," she begged to the fantasy in her mind. "I need..." "I know, baby." Did he? She wanted to laugh, and she would've if she weren't so damn focused on the way his fingers tapped over her opening, generating a wetness she couldn't believe belonged to her. Emma felt embarrassed as her hips pushed towards him. She tried to think of what to say, but whatever Adam was doing to her was rendering her speechless and confused. What was happening to her? The finger slid down her slit and dipped inside of her, causing her to cry out in pain at the intrusion. She heard a rasp curse as the finger moved away. Then she felt three fingers at the top of her slit again, massaging it's way down until it found a little nub she was hardly aware of. Emma rocked her hips, this time reveling the sensation of a hard body behind her, and moving in time to the movement of the fingers that dictated the amount of pleasure she felt. She cried out as the fingers started to move faster. A low hum reverberated in her ear as she felt the other hand squeeze her breast. "Mm..." Words floated in her ear, but she could hardly comprehend what they meant. It was the husky tone that had her pressing harder into the hand between her legs. She wanted to clamp down, but when she did, the hand moved less freely. So instead, she opened her legs wider, which caused a growl and hard press against her ass. But it didn't stop her from grinding against the hand as it flicked her clit before pressing hard down, rubbing in circular motions until she couldn't take it anymore. A cry ripped from her throat and the pressure on her breast increased as Adam pinched her nipple with his free hand. Shock ran through her body as Emma dropped down, pushing back into the hand as if her lower body wanted to swallow it whole. Something indescribable flooded through out her, a feeling that caused her to lose her breath and scream with the quietest, "Ahhhh..." as she threw her head back. There were a million things she wanted to feel now. She wanted to revel these physical emotions, the pleasure had been so intense there was a slight need to feel it again. To want his fingers digging inside of her, bringing her to the next climax. But that soon passed as Adam lifted her shirt over her head. Her body tensed and she clamped her arms down, covering her breasts from the cool air. With the shirt gone, she felt helpless, but worst of all, completely at lost with what had just happened. The rapid beating in her ribcage must've been so loud as she felt Adam's warm hands reach between her arms to caress her breast. Without knowing, she began to whimper as a second oncoming rush of nerves filled her again. "Sh, this is natural." He showered her in kisses and rubbing her body, warming every inch of her skin to his touch. "I'm not going to enter you. You're too small. I just want to hold you." Adam held her reassuringly as she started crying and climaxing at the same time. She could feel her pussy clenching at the empty space, wanting something to grip onto. These feelings that she didn't understand were being probed with fingers. Adam gently teased her opening, letting her ride out her orgasm against him. As she sunk down from her high, Emma continued moving her hips until she was assured that there was nothing left. As her mind cleared, the only feeling left coursing through her was horror. The way her body reacted, the way she moved against his hand - images from her work had flashed through her mind, Her climax was an addicting feeling, one she didn't know if she ever wanted to feel again. She felt like those girls from work, wanting more, needing more, but worst of all, she didn't understand why. Suddenly Emma desperately wanted her shirt back. "Hey, hey," Adam's voice was flowing with worry, "did I hurt you?" He turned her head and took advantage of her vulnerability, sinking his tongue into her mouth before he tasted the tears. Then he let her slide down and bury her face into his chest. A hot chill rushed over her body. Her stomach growled, and she wished it was hunger, but she knew the clenching of anxiety well enough by now. The temperature of her body and the room clashed. Her insides burned with arousal, but her skin felt cold as it melded against Adam's. Adam had just assumed. Like Sylar had. They both assumed she wanted it - even though she couldn't deny that her release was one of the most addicting experiences ever, she wasn't sure what it meant. Why had she felt even more helpless when Adam brought her to new heights? Why had he been able to do it, when she had tried for hours on her own? She wanted to know why she felt this need for Adam to put his finger inside of her. It was the first time she had felt feelings in a place other than her chest and her stomach, a feeling that felt far removed from her heart and mind. Emma closed her eyes, trying to enjoy the feel of his hands over her body. Why did kissing feel so different from this? When she kissed Adam, her heart soared. She understood everything a kiss said between her lips and his - but what did this moment between them say? She felt like she had just been shown a sliver of light among the dark, a moment of clarity before her cage was locked up again. She had a million questions she wanted to ask Adam. A picture of all the others girls, the girls he had been with in college and girls she had never seen, flashed in her mind. Girls that had openly flirted with him, touched him with all intentions of seductions - these were girls that knew what they were doing and what they were getting into. They knew the why and how. Even after finally getting together, was she still the odd one out? Figure 8 Ch. 05 Adam wouldn't let the conversation go. His overprotective drive had kicked in; and for once, it didn't make Emma feel special. Instead, she felt like she was suffocating under his consistent questions. One stab after the other, accusing her of secrets that she felt she had righteously hid. It was for their sake, she reasoned. But all the more, she didn't want to see how Adam would react. Losing his respect and trust could be infinitely worse than losing him altogether. "You used to tell me everything," he said as Emma shied away from his accusatory gaze. "I haven't completely forgotten how to read you. So stop lying, Emma." The first part of his statement was an exaggeration. They hid a fair amount of stories from each other. Not on purpose, never. It had always been an understandable situational issue. The timing wasn't never right, bringing up the topic only meant killing the mood, and for each other they had always wanted to be happy. So eventually their secrets were outdated facts, irrelevant to how either felt about each other. And if they resurfaced, they were merely jokes. Emma felt the familiar rope of guilt twist her stomach into knots. She had a feeling that the old rules didn't apply anymore. There were just some things Adam couldn't protect her from. It wasn't like at random college party, or a weekend trip to Montreal where he could scare boys into leaving her alone. It wasn't an issue of reputation or respect either. It was a matter a fact of protecting the image of her that he wanted. The same girl as before. The girl she wanted to be. The less the worlds between Adam and Sylar collided the better. Emma sighed as she poured hot water into her mug. Tea often calmed her nerves, allowing her to think and process reality. "It's just a work trip. I promise there's nothing more." She turned her back to face him. He might be able to guess from her voice that she was lying, but as long as he couldn't read her face, she felt stronger. Adam still read her expertly, even after a year of not seeing her. In her mind, it was just a testament to how little she had changed. She watched the tea bleed, releasing a dark brown hue into her cup, before dipping the bag several times. Emma gently swirled the cup in her hands to avoid using a spoon. "A work trip with a pervert. How am I - " Emma whipped around. The hot water scalded her hand, but she barely noticed. "Don't call him that! I told you, he apologized. He was drunk, it was a mistake... It's over." "So why can't you tell me where you are staying? At least get the name of your hotel?" Adam wasn't the type to indulge spontaneous romantic gestures, but she didn't want to risk it. Not when he had repeatedly told her how special she was to him. The conversation started to weigh heavily on her conscience. They were lying to each other. Already. Or rather she was lying to him, a habit she had never picked up before. Especially when it came to him. Never in her life did she imagine their relationship having this kind of conflict. In fact, she never believed they would fight at all. She used to be the one who always took the moral high ground. It was how she lived her life.... until now. Adam would leave her, she was sure of that, or convince her to quit. But what then... depend on him for a living? He couldn't pay her financial dues that threatened to drain her life savings dry. Emma gripped her cup as Adam waited for her to answer. He watched her unwaveringly with the patience of an interrogation officer. It only made her feel worse. He held so much respect for her in that regard, believing that her moral compass was straighter than most. There was even a warped sense of pride in himself. He would never let temporary insanity or desperation cloud his moral standards. He always found a loophole in the unspoken contract, dancing between the line of technically and actuality. Adam sighed and leaned his long body back against the table. His face had aged strongly in certain areas, permanently leaving lines to predict his face as he smiled and frowned. Did she look the same to him? Ever so plain, ever so boring, the complete opposite of the girls he used to date. Those girls had been the kind boys wanted to climb to the rooftop and shout about. The kind that had other boys slapping his back in congratulations. The kind that had boys picking up their jaw from the floor... She sipped her tea, trying to figure out the right words to calm his temper. "You know I signed an NDA. I don't want to get fired." It surprised her how easily these white lies came. The more she said it, the more she believed it... but if only Adam would too. He scoffed. "Like I'm going to call the press and expose everything. You know how I feel about cameras, Emma." She tried to look at him in the eyes, but he challenged her with an intensity that made her cheeks burn. "I just don't want to get in trouble, you know - be that amateur who screws up." Emma stared at her tea. She reached up to close a cabinet door. It was barely open and the sound of wood against wood made her jump. "No, either you don't trust me. Or you're hiding something from me." "I'm not!" she said a little too desperately. "Why would you think that?" "I've know you better than anyone, Emma. I can tell when you're lying." "We haven't seen each other for a year, Adam. I'm not the same, not some open book." She felt his bitter laugh ring hollow in her ears. Just a while ago, his lips were leaving her breathless and the next he was back to walking the brotherly line of concern. One thing was for certain: Neither of them were prepared to navigate the changed current between them, the one from friendship to romance. She knew they were expecting a paradox of everything and nothing... everything from each other, and yet nothing from their own end. "All I hear is: You think I can't handle the truth. " Emma's knuckles turned white as she tried to ignore how the cup had grown hot against her skin. "That's not fair. When I ask you about your year-long disappearance 'band tour,' I don't press for answers. And I don't do that because it's not my business," "That's not the same..." Every time she brought it up, Adam would shake her questions off with the same reply, "That's because I don't remember." He grit his teeth as he turned away. "The concerts are all a blur," he muttered. "Yeah, funny how that works, right? My work hours are a blur too." She was done. She felt done. Feeling the space in the kitchen constrict, she did the next calming thing she could think of and walked out. There was too much familiar and too much new happening at the same time. Adam wanting to drain the truth from her wasn't supposed to be this hard. It was supposed to be easy. He used to be able to guess what she needed just from one look, and then he'd be right there to comfort her. Adam dropped his head against the wall when he heard the door lock. He just wanted to protect her... but how could he if he didn't even know what to protect her from? His gut instinct told him that she was hiding something. There was always a flash in her eyes before normalcy glazed over. There were days she would come home from work, flushed and unable to explain what happened. She'd simply grip onto him and whisper how happy she was now that he was here. At first his heart soared, but as it began to occur almost everyday, he knew something was scaring her. But no matter how hard he tried, she wouldn't tell him. She never wanted to talk about work. So he comforted her, supported her. He was her rock. And then... Then it stopped. With no tell tale sign as to why, her need for comfort simmered, and the layers of the Emma he once knew fell apart. Underneath it was the independent woman he had known she was capable of being but never truly saw. A woman that excited him with hints of flirtatious kisses and open arms. A woman that frightened him when she smiled because she had grown so much from the naive girl that used to follow him around. He couldn't shake the feeling that one day Emma would wake up and find him a hindrance. She would see how much better she deserved. The worst part was that he felt himself stumbling and becoming speechless whenever she questioned him about his past. That year. The year without her. He wished they could both blame amnesia, or that he had a simple answer like "School, you know" as she did, but now that he thought about it, that year was a chaotic mess. He made terrible decisions, gotten caught up in situations he would've never been in if Emma had been there for him. When she had opened the door, Adam thought there was nothing in the world that could make him happier. The wind left him as he regained his composure. She hadn't changed much, and yet the sight of her warmed his bones, like a welcoming memory revived fresh with the warmest colors. He wanted their relationship to restart from where he had left off, moving forward instead of back. Coming to see her was one of the best decisions he made. He had always found her attractive, although always more for her mind than her body. The little things she did drew him to her, her supportive and patient nature was like finding home after a long day. And he loved the way she depended on him, that he was the one to teach her how to be brave, the peel back the layers of other people in the world and be less trusting. Maybe he had done this to her, made her wary of everyone around her. The fact that she now held secrets, secrets he couldn't unlock, made Adam feel like she was balancing his heart on a sharp knife. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the wall. He'd just have to ask for her forgiveness. He'd tell her that he was sorry. It was presumptuous of him to think that she'd just fall into his arms. After all, she was right. He had been gone for a year, and as long as he couldn't admit to her what had happened over the years, she didn't have to tell him anything. He grinned, remembering the way she moved at night, shy and confused about the feelings her body was developing. The core of her hadn't changed... not by too much. Adam rattled the door knob and knocked several times. No reply. Not even an acknowledgement telling him to go away. Damn, she must be angrier than he thought. Emma never held grudges, at least not for too long. Fuck, he couldn't remember a time she was actually mad at him, even if he done some stupid teenage boy shit. Unable to sit in the house with her silent treatment, he grabbed his hoodie off the couch and the spare keys from the coffee table. Maybe she would be more forgiving if he went missing for a while. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, he reasoned. ... Emma looked at the door rattling, heard the soft knock before it turned quiet on the other end. She dropped her head in her hands, unable to face the lewd images on her computer or her protective boyfriend on the other side. How did things get so complicated to fast? She knew he thought she was mad at him. She let him think that to avoid the truth of how much she hated herself for lying to him. But he had always had the advantage of expecting her complete trust. He had... not a right, Emma surmised, just only a reasonable expectation that she could trust him the way she used to. It was just something he always had been privy to only because she allowed it. Adam noticing that she holding back wasn't surprising. Because job in the porn industry aside, she was. She was the same girl that was in love with him. She wanted to be perfect... she had been the perfect goody-two shoes for so long, and was about to think that it wouldn't pay off. Joining the porn industry was a way of kicking the bucket, but then life had to spin her around and let her get the guy, didn't it? They had each other now. Adam was here, expecting to fulfill his part of the fairytale ending, so why did she have to go screw it by getting such a shitty job? It's okay, she breathed, waiting for the tea to calm her nerves. Just a hiccup. Just a bump in the road. If they could ride through this, they could get through the rest of their lives without a hitch. She faced the video feed of Sylar whispering in a woman's ear, only realizing now how stupid it would be to try and get some work done with Adam only a room away. Honesty would kill them even before they had a chance to develop into the fairytale she always dreamed of. What she would give to have been unemployed when Adam came to visit her. Then she wouldn't have met Sylar, he wouldn't have touched her at the club, she wouldn't have to start all these lies to uphold the image Adam had of her. He would never accept that she wasn't the same girl. Was she still the same girl? "I want you to want me more than air..." Her breath hitched as Sylar's voice pounded through her ears. She had unknowingly hit her keyboard, and the audio played, mingling pants from the woman to the passionate words Sylar uttered. Emma was no judge of chemistry, but to her, it sounded like they were performing two different pieces. Everything that came from the woman's lips was driven by scripted lust, but when Sylar spoke, she felt her nerves warm to his voice. That kiss... it had been chaste and sweet, almost begging for an entrance instead of demanding one like Adam's kisses had. It was the kind of kiss fueled by a need for mutual desire. While Adam's kisses felt like he wanted to swallow her whole, Sylar's approach had been more mesmerizing, like he wanted to savour the taste of her. It was a different Sylar, a more human one if she had to categorize it. She thought there was only the crazed monster that had approached her on day one. Everything about that Sylar was so wrong. His crass behavior made her want to hide. He was so sure of himself and the effect he was supposed to have on her. In a way, it made her feel ashamed that she didn't respond to him the way every other girl had. It was Sylar who flinched at the words sexual harassment as if she had dug a nail through his temple. She hadn't really understood what those words meant, and was even satisfied when Adam told her how proud he was that she finally stood her ground. But Sylar's constant brooding made her curious. She asked Greg to hash out the unspoken rules of working in porn. Waving around a harassment lawsuit was one of them, possibly the biggest one, because it would lead to hundreds of other girls to come forth. Once again, she felt small, unprepared for the world she had stepped into. The moving image of Sylar kissing the woman underneath him haunted her. The script described the scene as passionate, but the look on his face bordered pain. His jaw was set as his lips pressed against the woman's, but his closed eyes told another story. As if two fighting emotions were battling for a place in his mind. It wasn't the same look he had given her. Oh my god, what was he thinking when he kissed me? Things were okay now, right? He had apologized. She apologized. The kiss was just a mistake. Emma smoothed the wrinkles of her shirt, but they refused to fade. Her heart thumped whenever Sylar was near, leaving her at a near breathless state of mind. It wasn't because she found him handsome - he was beyond a doubt one of the most attractive men she had ever seen - it was just the thought of sex was never far whenever Sylar came to her mind. The two came hand in hand. She felt terrible acknowledging that she objectified him as much as he had to her. Technically she could blame the results of her reaction as simply Pavlovian, nothing to do with the heart or mind, but that still didn't change how he was poisoning her life. She tried her best not to close her eyes, otherwise she would see Sylar's face in the blackness of it all. She would keep her eyes open, making sure it was always Adam in the light. She had to apologize to Adam. They would never work out if things were okay with Sylar and broken at home. She sighed and saved her work, knowing she wouldn't be able to focus on it anymore. Bringing his reluctance into the conversation was not just a stalling tactic. While Emma already had a vague idea of what he did during his year absence, she didn't want to hear how far that rabbit hole went. She didn't expect anything less from the infamous womanizer, Adam Bates, but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt. Weeks ago, she would've bared through the pain of listening to his stories, one girl after the other, but now that they were together... She was glad that Adam was trying to protect her. He was right, he knew her better than herself. "Adam?" she called out. Nothing. Emma walked out of the room and into the kitchen. The lights were off, not a single shadow cast from the moonlight moved. She looked at the front door and noticed his shoes were gone, as were the spare keys she made for him. Where did he have to go? She bit her lip as she dropped herself down on the sofa. Unless he knew the city well, she doubted he would be far, so Emma quickly ran to her room and grabbed a sweater before embracing the night cold in search for the man she wanted to apologize to. Most of the stores were closed, and of the few delis and convenience stores she passed, only one recognized her description of Adam. Emma frowned as she heard the cashier mention that he had bought a pack of cigarettes and asked about the nearest bar. A warped feeling of comfort and anxiety filled her as she made her way to Tavern Hall. It was an Irish college bar for students who lived in the area. She knew about it from her aunt's tenants who muttered it in passing, and witnessed plenty of scantily clad girls stumbling in and out. The owners were pure-blooded Irish men, and most of the older men who frequented the place had a slight Irish accent as well, as if they had never left their homeland. Their light blue eyes always twinkled when she passed by, never afraid to call out to her. In the beginning, Emma would blush at the attention, but she quickly realized that they hollered at anything with two legs and boobs. Sucking in her breath to calm the queasy feeling in her stomach, she walked into the bar, not for a single moment surprised to see a crowd of girls dancing in the middle of the floor and a group of guys watching them. Her eyes searched for Adam, his tall frame and lithe body which she could recognize anywhere. He wasn't at the bar or sitting at the table, and her breath caught as she imagined him in one of the darker corners with another girl. It wouldn't be the first time if she saw him like that, she thought, but it would be the first in their time together. She felt a pinching pain in her stomach at the thought of Adam cheating on her. Worst was the thought of it being possibly and most likely. She wanted to have so much faith in him, she did have faith in him. But then there were moments like this, where she felt like she could see a second light beyond the one she was used to, one that explained why they had never been together. But now they were... They were... and she had that to think of instead of looking back. As she weaved through the crowds, ignoring the men who tried to get her attention and the towering girls that danced around her, she tried to give Adam the benefit of the doubt. But she couldn't. Adam had never been a one-girl kind of guy, at least for the long term. His relationships had always been short, with him breaking them off because he didn't want to be held down. Part of Emma knew he did it so he could avoid the label of being a cheater. The Adam she knew would've loved this bar. The girls looked amazing, long hair, slim bodies, each one a replica of the other, each with a look on their face saying that they were ready to have fun. A look that probably was the exact opposite of her own because a Irish man with bright blue eyes swept down and nearly shouted at her, "Having fun, darling?" Figure 8 Ch. 05 Emma gave a tight smile and quickly moved out of his way. A huge part of her relieved that Adam wasn't in a place like this. If this was the change he had made since they had been apart, then she was willing to wait to hear exactly how he got there. She decided she would wait for him at home. Thankful that the bar was so close to home. As she jangled her key against the lock, trying to get the damn door to open, the knob swung from her hands. A red faced Adam looked back at her. "Where did you go?" Emma's mouth was still open in shock as she stuttered her reply, "Out... I was - you weren't - where did you go!" She suddenly felt his arms around her, pulling her into the house. He smelled of cigarettes, and she wrinkled her nose, unsure if she enjoyed the smell or not. When he pulled back, the angry look on his face was replaced with a sad smile. "I went out for some cigarettes." "I went out looking for you." Adam laughed. "We have bad timing, huh?" He let her drag him towards the couch, where he happily settled down before pulling her into his lap. He tried not to think about the homeless men wandering the street, or the lecherous men he had seen in the bar. All which had aided in his decision to cancel his drink and head home to see Emma. When he discovered the door to her room open, he got ready to crawl into bed with her. Panic drove through his veins as he realized it was empty. He searched the tiny apartment for her. He called her phone only to discover it on the kitchen table. He was almost ready to call the police when he heard the front door unlock. Now that she was back, smelling slightly of a bar, he felt himself relax and leaned back so that they could lay horizontally on the couch. "When did you get home?" "Just now," he breathed. "Where did you go?" Adam held his breath as he felt her small fingers flit over his chest. A hint of irritation flashed through him when she repeated her question. "I was going to get a drink, and then I thought better of it and stopped by the deli instead." "But the guy at the store said you asked about a nearby bar." "I was still thinking of going at the time. But then I saw these homeless bums just sleeping on the street, and I just wanted to be home with you. Even if meant sleeping on the couch." Emma inhaled his scent. It was just like her, but with a hint of cigarettes and an undertone of something that reminded her of almonds. Less than a month and she couldn't imagine her life without him by her side - then again, that's what she thought before he graduated and left her to fend senior year alone. She had managed, barely, and it wasn't something she wanted to go through again. And he was apologizing in his own way, telling her that he wanted to be with her even if she rejected him. She worked out her words to make sure they had the impact she wanted. "I'm sorry I acted like a bitch," she began, wanting to be as honest as possible, "I want to tell you, but I can't... not yet." Not until she quitted so that he didn't have anything to hold over her head. His lips pressed against the top of her head. "You not even close to being a bitch, Emma. Don't worry about it. We'll take it slow. I mean, we don't want to become that couple that just talks about work all the time right?" He felt her relax, her body becoming soft again. Supportive. That's what he was trying hard to be. Supportive rather than protective, this new route seemed to work better with Emma, especially when she had nothing to say. The confirmation of a thank you against his lips was all he needed to know that he made the right decision. As she moved against his tight grip, Adam slid his hands underneath her shirt and up her waist until his fingers came in contact with the underwire of her bra. He felt her tense, but pressed his lips against her mouth when she tried to speak. The tips of his fingers played with the edge of her silky bra, loving the warmth they had absorbed from her body. "Adam..." He shushed her as he worked his fingers down to the button of her pants. Flicking the metallic button from its hold, he wriggled her pants past her ass, touching every part of her soft skin that he could. The jeans were loose enough for her to wriggle in so he left them exposing her underwear and nothing more. "I don't - " He silenced her with another kiss and quickly rubbed his fingers over her core, leaving her breathless. Every time she tried to speak, he kissed her until she ran out of breath. Once in awhile she kissed back but most of the time she pulled away to make the most endearing cries. As his fingers teased her opening, her back arched and she sat up, rocking her hips against his fingers. The sight of her with her shirt tucked above her breasts and only her panties on, aroused him more than any sight he had ever seen in his life. Her hands tightened into a fist above his stomach, digging hard each time he pressed against her clit. "Wait..." "Sh, just come for me." Emma buckled underneath the sheer pleasure rocking from her core, her back arching and driving the rest of her body into his lap. When she came down from her high, she collapsed on top of him, shaking as if she had just run a thousand mile marathon. He moved her head so he could kiss her again but she hid her face in his chest, refusing to look up. Other girls that reacted that way were often irritating, especially when they wanted more than one night. With Emma, the shyness was a part of her, and he adored that part more than he ever understood. The reminder that she was virgin popped into his head. She was a complete virgin that had never been kissed until him, never been touched until him - he was fairly certain she didn't even explore herself. Maybe that was why she still refused to look at him. He sighed as her body untangled itself from his. "I'm going to take a shower," she said nervously, "I don't know what I touched in the bar." Adam closed his eyes and nodded. He waited in the darkness of the house, listening to the sound of water going off. Her presence gone, and the coldness settled onto his skin. He wanted a sign from her, a reassuring sign that she had enjoyed it. Deep inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was upset. Either he had done something wrong, or she was hiding another secret. He pressed the bridge of his nose. They'd figure it out. They had enough time, all the time in the world now. --- He had insisted on taking her, and not wanting to start another argument, Emma consented. All her thoughts went to hoping that nothing would strike Adam as out of the ordinary. Like a box of dildos or a condom-sponsored gym bag. Or even, god forbid, a recognizable porn star. The thought of Adam watching porn made her feel nauseous. Did he get off on it as well? She realized that she had never asked if he watched porn. He probably did. What guy didn't? Then again, he never had trouble getting girls into his bed during college. Maybe he didn't need porn... for the first time in her life she felt a slight tinge of happiness for Adam's pulling skills. Between the stops, Adam kept his hands on her, making the butterflies in her chest beat rapidly. He wouldn't stop unless she looked up at him. And when their eyes met, his eyes would always be glistening. She felt like one of the world's greatest wonders under his gaze. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek as if to soothe her worries away. "You know, I never officially asked you to be my girlfriend." "Does that mean I'm not your girlfriend?" "Technically not." He looked away, a mischievous look in his eye. "So I guess while you're gone, I'm going to throw a rager and fuck all the women in this city." Emma quickly leaned over and pinched his nipple between her thumb and index finger. "Ow, what the fuck!" Adam quickly turned to tell her he was joking but stopped when he saw her tiny fist clenched. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip, letting him know how upsetting those words were for her. "Emma, I would never do that. Shit, I'm sorry, it was a stupid joke." She didn't respond and started walking even faster. Adam groaned as he rushed to step ahead of her, planting himself in her way. "You're my girlfriend, okay? I don't cheat on my girlfriends." "No, you just dump them so they can't consider it cheating." Fuck, she knew him better than he knew himself. "I'm not going to do that to you." "Alright." The bus arrived at their stop, and Emma quickly made her out. Her movements were so fast, Adam nearly tripped over a passenger trying to keep up. She sped down the street. Images of Adam with million other girls flashed right before her eyes, none of them every lasted long. His rules and standards for girls he dated were way beyond normal, almost as if women were easy transactions. His cruel words, which she witnessed repeatedly, had them running out of the room in tears. There was nothing that could protect her from being on the receiving end of those words one day. "Stop for a second. Emma!" As her sad eyes turned to him, he realized the burden she had been harboring since they confirmed their feelings for each other. She knew him inside and out, the tricks he used to get girls into bed and the deceit he used to get rid of them. Damn. This part of their friendship was not on his side. "Listen to me. I would never do that to you, okay?" He held her gaze fiercely. "You don't have to worry about stuff like that. I promise." She swallowed. "I can tell when you're lying you know." "I'm not - " She shook her head, a hint of a smile warming his insides. "I mean, I know when you're lying to me." Her arms went around him as she pecked his cheek. The closer she was to him, the better he felt. "And you're not lying to me now, I believe you." Adam gripped her hand, unable to let go for the fear that she was just saying those words to comfort him. They didn't share another word as they continued towards the meet-up point for her company. He didn't notice the wary look on her face as they got closer. Instead, Adam released her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist. Their hips kissed and stuck to each other as he breathed in her scent. "So what are you going to do while I'm gone?" "Cry myself to sleep each night." She giggled. "I'm serious." "I supposed I can call Chester, check up on him. Explore the city. In all honesty, I'm just going to mope around," he pouted, "I wish I could come with you." He unexpectedly pressed his lips to the top of her head, causing her to stumble a bit. Adam caught her by the elbow before she tipped off the edge of the pavement. "I wish you could too." Emma raised herself on her toes, aching to touch his lips. He teased her, pretending not to know what she wanted. Then she heard her bag drop to the floor and felt Adam kick it in between his legs to make sure no one would steal it. His quick mind turned her on and in the small second she opened her mouth to kiss him again, she felt his tongue steal her breath away. It curled inside her mouth and she sucked on it slightly. Three loud claps snapped through the air as Emma turned to see Greg grinning widely. He wore a light salmon button up, khaki pants and a fedora, the whole ensemble causing Adam to raise a brow. Emma elbowed him quickly. "Sweetheart, you're putting on a show." Greg sashayed over, his eyes pursuing Adam with interest and only mild approval over his first impression. Emma swept her hands up Adam's arm, calming him as Greg greeted them cheerily, "Hello, you must be the reason our Emma glows every time she comes in to work." "Glows?" Adam grinned cheekily, catching Emma's eyes before she blushed. "You need to be more specific, Emma always glows." "Oh, what a silver tongue. That tongue must make you very happy, darling." "Greg!" "Don't be shy, I saw all this going on all the way across the street." Greg pointed back towards the shuttle where the rest of the crew was waiting. They started shouting, cheering her on, and pumping their fists like college boys. Emma's laughter was cut short when she saw Sylar appear around the shuttle. He hadn't noticed her yet, and would've simply continued on if some members hadn't pointed towards her. The crew chittered like gossiping teenagers into Sylar's ear. His body language morphed as if he were becoming stone, and his gaze flashed in her direction, once, before he stalked into the shuttle. "I should probably get going," she muttered. Adam dragged her up to give her one more kiss. The kiss telling her how much he missed her already. Emma gave in to his unspoken words, and wrapped her fingers around his neck for support. If it weren't for Greg yanking on her arm and pulling her towards the shuttle, she wasn't sure Adam would've let her go. "Don't worry honey, I'll take good care of her! No bear is gonna get his claws into her." "Bye Emma." "Bye, babe. " The words of affection slipped out of her mouth as they separated, surprising them both. Adam's face changed into pure joy upon hearing her words. Even as she boarded the shuttle and threw herself down in the very back seat, her hand never left her mouth. She was sure he could see her mortified expression all the way from across the street though. His body became smaller and smaller as the bus left, and Emma slumped down into her seat. Her mind was so confused... She didn't even realize when Sylar dropped himself into the seat next to hers, until she heard his voice. "Didn't know you had a boyfriend." How did he do this do her? The disappointed tone, the fire in his eyes, weren't the right answer as to why she felt so torn in his presence. "Yeah... we recently got together..." Any more observant passenger would've noticed the tension between the two. Emma's head was fixed to permanently look out the window while Sylar stared straight ahead. Neither of them looked happy. "He was with you at the club," his tone was accusatory, and Emma accepted it. "Yeah..." "Were you dating him when..." "No!" she said as quietly but harshly as possible. She finally looked at Sylar, not knowing what kind of expression to expect. "We weren't together that night... at the club." Sylar shook his head. "Then when we... fixed things, were you already seeing him then?" Oh... Emma her lips burning with the memory of his kiss. There was something about the way he looked at her afterwards, a melded gaze of anger and sadness that gave her a feeling that his kiss for her was unlike any kiss he had given before. And the way he was watching her now... She shrunk into her seat as the other members on the bus grew rowdy, tossing jokes and bantering comments her way. She smiled in return, never openly responding to their comments. The last thing she needed with this job was drama. "Yeah..." "You should've told me." "I-I- W-why I would I have to?" Sylar's mouth snapped close. Not wanting to be on the bad side of his day, Emma pulled out her earbuds and made a show of putting them in. For extra caution, she pumped the volume a few notches higher than she was used to. The melody of Adam's playlist drowned out all the other sounds, temporarily putting her mind at ease until Sylar shifted his legs, making a show of staying put. Whatever Sylar did wasn't her concern. It shouldn't matter how he felt when it came to her life, and on an even bigger scale, it shouldn't affect the feelings she had about Adam. Emma closed her eyes, wishing Adam was here with her now, telling her what to do, whispering calming words into her ear. He was always so good at that. But he wasn't here. Sylar was. And Sylar was a brood angry force that refused to relocate. There was enough space for him to go anywhere else - he didn't even seem happy to be near her, so she couldn't understand why he tortured the both of them by sitting so close. Tell me the truth, boy, am I losing you for good. We used to kiss all night but now there's just no use. She wasn't sure why the lyrics were hitting the nerves in her throat, making her choke up. She hasn't betrayed Adam, but she already felt like she was fighting a losing battle. It was going to be a long drive... ... Sylar watched as Emma drifted off to sleep beside him. Every fiber of his being told him to move, sit somewhere else - he knew the crew was aware of his intentions, and his lack of usual jabbing had them casting curious glances every now and then. They had goaded him, fueling him with thoughts that a relationship with Emma was possible, until this morning when the mention of her boyfriend slapped him in the face like a whipping tornado. Even the jokes and faux apologies couldn't bring a fake smile. Not even to save his face. Instead he stormed onto the bus and sat in the back row, hiding his face underneath his hood. When she plopped down in the same row as him, hope fluttered into his heart. Then it crashed around him as he discovered that she hadn't even noticed him once. Still, he couldn't move. Not if his reputation and life depended on it. Just being close to her brought a thrill in his veins, a kind of drug addictive high that he had never felt before in his life. So he sat until he felt the bus and the world sway in his favor as Emma's head rolled and landed on his shoulder. He looked down at her soft features, from her petite nose and unique lips. They were full, almost equal in size, but her upper and bottom lip spent most of their time never touching each other. It left her expression naturally naive. When she was awake, she looks pensive, when she slept, she looked innocent, and - he tried hard not to go there - when she was aroused, he bet those lips would form the most amazing shape in the world. Lips he had personally kissed and felt, for the first time as lips. Normally he was accustomed to a woman's lips having a purpose - he categorized them as a muscle group, along with the tongue, but when he kissed Emma's lips, they were soft against his, telling him they could be molded into however he wanted them. Truth was, Emma looked like the kind of girl porn stars died to fuck, but could never get. There were girls who came close. Brown hair, youthful gaze and soft skin, but they always had this extra glint in their eyes. They wanted sex like an inner succubus craving their next fix. Most were never content with simple sex, which didn't bother Sylar, not in the big picture. Being on set was the time to release his fantasies and fulfill others. That didn't mean it didn't get old. After so many scenes and jobs with girls either faking their desire or over exaggerating their orgasms, Sylar would sometimes find himself turned on by the idea of vanilla sex. True innocence. The girl in his head, the one he pictured at times in his fantasies, never knew what she wanted it until he showed her. How sex could be amazing as a slow, drawn out process without nothing between each body but a ragged breath. That was always "the dream." The dream never had a face before. He'd always try to seduce the girls he slept with into fulfilling that fantasy, but somehow his hormones would get in the way. It had always been about the release. Until now. Now the dream had a face, and the face did nothing but drive him up the wall. God, he had to stop this schizophrenic reaction whenever he was with her. If it wasn't a crippling lust, it was anger for decisions that were beyond his control. Decisions and consequences that he should accept because they weren't his to make. She had a boyfriend. She had a boyfriend. That should have been enough information for him to give up. If only he hadn't kissed her then, he thought, looking down at her pliable lips again. Then he wouldn't be thinking about it now. Figure 8 Ch. 05 Sylar brushed back her hair that had fallen over her face, causing her to wrinkle her nose. She rubbed her face, and he stilled, afraid that she would wake up and look at him with that horrified expression she had mastered so well. Relief washed over him as she moved closer, still asleep. Her face pressed into his shoulder to get more comfortable. He felt her nose against his neck, and hoped his scent would give her pleasant dreams. Then he gave into the feeling, he allowed himself pretend that he was hers. ... Emma woke with her face pressed against the glass. When she pulled back she noticed the oily stain, a direct imprint of her cheek. She quickly rubbed the residue with the edge of her sleeve before she noticed that she was completely alone. The shuttle pulled into the campsite parking lot. Her eyes darted, unknowingly looking for Sylar and finding him already flirting with the female talent Nick had hired for the weekend. She rolled her eyes. Of course. He had lost interest the moment she had a boyfriend. She knew she should be glad that he wasn't set out to bother her anymore. Emma blinked, releasing the heat behind her eyes. This weekend would be alright. Adam had nothing to worry about - she had nothing to worry about. As everyone lined up to get off the bus, Emma lingered behind to call Adam. When the line got through, she heard his voice gruffly respond and felt her heart thump the way it used to back in college. The sound of his voice soothed her, reassured her, even long after he wasn't saying anything. "Hi." "Hi babe." Emma felt nineteen again. She couldn't contain herself, her mouth hurting fighting to smiling so hard. She was speechless, the words she wanted to say and her thoughts mingling. All that came out was a garbled giggle. The excitement of hearing his voice over the phone, addressing her in a way that made her his, made her want to jump for joy. "Did you get to the campsite?" "Mmhmm." "You slept the whole way through, didn't you?" "Mmhmm." "Do you miss me?" "Mmhmm." She heard his chuckle. "Emma, are you covering your mouth right now?" "Yeah," she gasped before throwing her hand over her mouth again. The rest of her words came muffled as she jumped off the bus. Perhaps the distance was a good thing, something for them to work on and remind each other how well they knew each other. "God I miss you so much already." Emma lifted her hand to respond when she heard someone yell her name. "Come pick up your bag, we have to check into our rooms." All her excitement flooded away as she remembered all the secrets she was keeping from Adam. "Hey Adam? Can you promise me something?" "Yeah." "Call me every night? Before you sleep?" "Why, you checking up on me?" No, I want you to check up on me. "Just making sure you're alive each night," she covered her insecurity with a joke as he agreed to her wishes. He promised that he'd call more than once a day, as long as she would pick up. She asked again just for reassurance, "You'll call me right?" "I'd be there with you if I could." "I know." She paused as she noticed Sylar waiting her from the entrance of the campsite. He stood there so regally, flipping the hotel card key with his fingers. His eyes were trained on her with the precision of a hawk's gaze. "I'll talk to you later, okay? You can go back to sleep." "You know me so well. That's why you're my favorite girlfriend." The joy she felt from hearing his voice fled as she met Sylar's gaze. There was something unreadable in the way he looked at her, blank and dead as if she were nothing more than a leaf amongst the many floating in a river. How did he do that? Make her feel lower the dirt as if she were the one screwing it all up. She forced a smile back on her face as she walked towards him, standing as safely as she could. Before her feet touched his, he spun around and told her to follow him. While Adam ranted about being alone and bringing up funny incidents of their past, Emma wasn't in her right mind. She was glad her giggles and sighs were enough for Adam, who was no doubt still feeling the effects from being woken up from his nap. "Remember when..." Emma studied Sylar from behind. He was physically different from Adam in so many ways. His body had a thicker build from slight working out, and the hoodie he wore was thin, hiding just as much as it shown. Adam's body was naturally thin, his muscles a result of playing the drums and a musicians lifestyle of constantly being on the goal. Seeing other women run their hands over Sylar's back, over and over, was enough for Emma to have memorized each groove and indent. She had a feeling she'd recognize his body even if she were blind. "Hey, are you listening?" Emma had to stop walking to collect her thoughts. "Yeah, sorry, I'm just looking for the hotel room." "That doesn't sound like camping, you spoiled brat." "I'd be down to sleep in the woods anytime," Emma retorted, "It's the high maintenance actors that need their five star stay. You would know, you big shot musician." "I love it when you're sassy." She laughed as her steps slowed as Sylar halted in front of a door. "I got to go now." "Wait..." And yet it wasn't the hesitation in his voice made her stop but the view of the hotel room, in all its fancy decorations, startled her as she dreadfully took another step in. "...can you say it one more time?" "Say what?" "Like those really cutesy pet name that reminds me I'm yours." "Stop being so cheesy." Her snappy tone startled them both. But the sight of a single bed sitting in the center of the room took away any abilities to think. They had to share a bed? How could she ever - Emma felt like breaking down and crying. She had to find Nick to get this straightened out. She'd stay with the snoring princess, she'd even sleep on the floor of Greg's room. Sylar moved around the room, his face betraying none of his thoughts about the single bed. But he had to have seen it. "Emma?" "I love you," she blurted loudly, meaning it from her heart but not knowing why it was coming out now. Nothing felt worse than saying it out of guilt, out of desperation for it to make everything feel right. Despite how true those words were, she felt dirty using them. It was like cheating a game, or even movie, by skipping to the end and pretending that nothing had happened. She had practically shouted those words, not sure if she was saying it for herself or... Sylar's ears. The regret was instant. "No need to yell," Adam laughed, "but... I miss you already." She didn't notice when he hung up. Not until the loud dead tone had gone on for what possibly was ten minutes or more. As she regained her senses, she saw Sylar come out of the bathroom, his duffel bag still on his shoulders. By the eased look on his face, she guessed he hadn't seen the bed yet. And he was about to. He looked at her cautiously, her deer-in-the-headlights look was back, and walked to the room. Her mouth moved to make a suggestion, but Sylar threw his bag to the floor so harshly she closed it. "Fucking shit," he growled. He moved as faster than she had ever seen a person move, knocking his full weight into her shoulder. It felt like she had been stabbed as she fell back. "Ow!" Her knees buckled over the side of the bed and she felt the soft sheets come around her. They were silky, rubbing against her skin like cool water. "That really hurt," she muttered as she lifted herself up on her elbows. She froze at the sight before her. Sylar's eyes were burning as they looked at her. His eyes were stormy like a chaotic rainforest before the summer flood. The rise and fall of his chest was hypnotic. Tension woven throughout his upper body as he stood there, watching her. She couldn't move. He was so... beautiful, if a man could be a marble statue made to mimic skin. The way he was looking at her made her feel tingly inside. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew from watching him over and over again on the screen that he had never looked at another woman the way he was looking at her now. Emma swallowed, her body shaking with feelings she didn't understand. She closed her eyes, unbidden images of Sylar in the midst of passion came to her. He was a predator, and she was the prey, the moment could've only be broken by a crackling sound. A sound that could either determine her capture or drive his attention elsewhere. So she didn't move, afraid of the outcome and her response. The door slammed shut. Each silent second that passed, Emma heard the echoing door re-slam itself over and over. Sylar's anger lingered in the room long after he had gone. Emma fell back on the bed. The tension never left her body as she wondered why they kept coming back to this impasse. Figure 8 Ch. 06 Sylar never said a word that indicated they would be changing rooms. He simply stormed out, cursing underneath his breath, leaving her there to figure out what to do. She had nowhere to go and nobody to talk to. So she sat in the hotel room. Her mind had turned off. Whenever people would say, 'Penny for your thoughts?' Emma would find it incredibly embarrassing to admit that she wasn't thinking of anything. Honestly, for a film major, her imagination was quite shitty. Trying to picture something original, without textual or visual guidance, could actually induce a headache; Emma understood film in rhythms, like musical beats. So she sat, seeing the blank television and wooden furniture, but registered nothing. Emma could hear Adam's voice now -- Why can't you stand up for yourself? Good question, she wanted to reply. It was a valid point. She knew Adam try to dig into her subconscious, but rooming with Sylar had nothing to do with that. Hell, she was the kind of girl who rather wander the aisles of Target for hours than ask a sales clerk for help. And if she pretend being violated on the dance floor was normal, she could get by the next few nights. At least her mindless day dreams relieved her of the horror she would have to face tonight. For now. About an hour of staring at the ceiling, Emma got a text from Nick and Greg. Both messages essentially told her that the crew was setting up about a mile from the hotel. It took her thirty minutes to find them, and by the time she hurried to offer her help, they were almost done. Emma tried to assist as much as possible, but when she tried to move along a twenty pound case, the men laughed at her. Sure, she was tiny, but she could hold her own! She rolled up her sleeves and bent down. The case was swept out from underneath her before she even blinked. The longer she stood, the more useless she felt. "Emma, you're just going to end up getting hurt. Why don't you just make sure no one steals our shit?" They barely let her get a foot towards the scene. Another worker pushed her towards the van. Why did she have to be here if they thought she couldn't handle a thing? Reduced to a guard dog -- which she was sure they equated her to a yapping chihuahua -- Emma popped herself up and into the back of the van. Her legs dangled as if she were on a swing. She wished Nick had been more thorough before asking her to come. "Catch!" Someone threw two hard items in her direction. She caught it, noticing that she had gotten two lollipops and laughed before pocketing them. "Lighten up Emma, it's a good thing you don't have to ruin your back carrying this stuff." Occasionally she was a stand in so that they could adjust the lights. Sitting as a prop was such a waste of her time and sanity. There wasn't enough silence for her mind to rest, but nothing intelligent enough was being said for her to become engaged. Back in college, lying in the grass with nothing but the scent of nature, used to soothe her mind. Nobody ever existed in a field of green... until now. She tried to retreat to that place in her mind, the only place uninhabited by voices, but it wasn't there anymore. She focused on the pieces of sky and clouds that floated in between the trees. The lush green colors that once gave her peace only reminded her of one person. The images got more graphic when the crew started to throw specific instructions at her. Lie on the ground. Legs up. Legs spread. Despite the sibling bond between them, Emma felt violated as the crew spat out the list of positions as if they were calling out Twister spins. Here she was, one of the only girls working a typically male job. It seemed to have just made her into a plaything. She moved onto her back again, trembling as they got another stand-in to pose above her. It did wicked things to the mind bank that fueled her uncreative imagination. Her breath stopped as they struggled to keep a good distance between each other without messing up the lighting. "Sorry," he grinned, looking down at her. His arms were tense, crowding her in a way that made her wish the ground could just swallow her up. "We'll be done soon, Emma." She swallowed and closed her eyes. Never, in her life, had a man been on top of her like that. The women in videos -- not just the ones she worked on -- always seemed to enjoy it. The feeling of being trapped and being safe overlapped so thinly. "Okay, done." Emma squirmed with relief as the man lifted himself. She accepted his offer to help her up, and was gasped as his one arm lifted her with ease. "You're practically weightless," he laughed before turning back to the crew. Not sure whether to take the compliment, she just smiled and trekked back to the van. Her legs dangled over the edge. Being surrounded by a male crew who wouldn't even let her move a finger unless it was to pose made her feel even lighter and smaller everyday. Maybe they had a point, but she wouldn't know unless they let her try. She wanted to be useful. Damn it, she was sure she could do everything just as well as they could. One of the crew members started to scale a tree to screw in a lighting grip. He swung one leg around the branch and steadied himself before scooting up to throw a rope down to the rest. Hell, she could do that. She was sure she could. They were a bit far away, so she braved herself to yell and offer help when the men started laughing about something. They moved in sync, never instructing each other, and somewhere in between Emma lost the courage to speak. Instead she stared at the depths of the forest, as the sun glinted against the deep forest colors. The dark trees loomed ahead. Again. She was sure this wasn't her imagination, but a faded memory. The one person, someone she tried so hard not to think about, always came to mind. The longer she watched the wind rustle the leaves, the more she thought of him. He was like a forest, filled with moments of serenity that escaped the real world, but also wild at heart, a welcoming uninhibited freedom. Emma gulped as those thoughts lead inevitably to what all thoughts of Sylar led to. Sex. Outdoors. Something about that heated her to the core. The fantasy was dangerously primitive. The thought of bare skin against cool air had her staring into the distance, day dreaming about two bodies entangled passionately together. Hot air from their breaths mingling with the relieving breeze... God, she didn't know why the thought of having sex in the forest turned her on. But it did. Or was it the idea of sex with - She yelped when a large hand came down to ruffle her hair. Greg laughed, a boisterous joyful noise that reminded her of a characters in a children's play. He hopped into the back of the van and slid beside her. "Why so serious, dearie?" he said, giving his worst Joker impression ever. Emma giggled her nervousness away, hoping her eyes didn't give anything away. Did arousal have a distinctive expression like happiness? "Nothing. Why?" Greg raised his brow. "Missing your boyfriend already?" "What?" "Oh, don't lie. That far-away, fantastic Wonderland look on your face has to be because of him. What's his magic tongue doing to you now?" He leaned quickly away, avoiding her light slap as it hit empty air. They shared a laugh. Emma gazed at the woods, her mind off of her previous distraction and back to Adam. She felt guilty for not thinking of him. It should've been easier to do than breathe in air. "A lot," she answered when Greg asked if she missed him. She was aware that the regret in her heart came out as longing in her voice, but she couldn't rewire her emotions. She could only fake them. "You should've brought him with you." "Oh no, he doesn't know what I do. And if he knew, he would be pissed..." "Why? It's your job and your choice." "He's just... traditional, I guess." "Are you worried he's going to think you're a slut?" Emma hadn't considered that possibility before. In fact, she had never really thought of why Adam would be against it, other than the fact that it felt natural that he should be. She knew him well enough to start shaking at the thought of him finding out. "I don't know," she replied, only sure of one thing, "He wouldn't be happy." "I suppose that makes sense. My boyfriend would be worried too, if he weren't in the business himself." He winked, making Emma blush a deep shade of crimson red. "Don't worry, honey, him behaving that way is a good sign!" "Yeah?" "Oh you have no idea how the dynamics of a relationship should work, do you?" Emma felt even smaller. Her hands clasped over each other. "Well, it's my first relationship." "Oh honey, how adorable. Childhood sweethearts?" The delight in Greg's eyes was like a child waiting for a bedtime story as she rocked her hand from side to side. "Eh," she said. "High school?" "Tell me everything," Greg said. "I love love stories." His eagerness for a classic love story was endearing. The opportunity to trip down memory lane was a welcoming distraction. She could remember the day she met Adam. The image was as clear as present day, and brought her heart to a warm place. "Actually, we didn't meet until college, but we did go to the same high school." "Yes, and?" "In college, we lived in the same dorm. I used to stare at him all the time, it was so embarrassing. He knew too, but he was used to it. And then one day, this girl smacked him on the ass and yelled, "Hey! Aren't you fuckable!" He was so shocked. I don't think any girl's ever actually physically hit him while hitting on him. I couldn't stop laughing and that's how he noticed me." "What a meet cute!" "Is that what they are called?" "Yes, honey. For a film major, you should know." Emma blushed. She paused to pick at her knee, remembering the day she opened her door to find Adam standing there. His cool eyes watched her as she stuttered, wondering if he was looking for her roommate. He wasn't. It didn't take him long to convince her that he wasn't there to fuck around. He was persistent, genuine in his actions, and never once tried to make a move on her. It was sadly ironic how relieved Emma felt when Adam admitted he wasn't attracted to her. She was just better at pining away for unrequited love. "We became really good friends after that. I don't really know why he liked me so much." "Maybe it's because you're the first girl who didn't try to jump his bones." "Oh, believe me, I tried. I just wasn't very good." Greg shook his head playfully. "Liar. In reality you are a sneaky, sneaky flirt, Emma. Look where it's got you now. The boy you wanted since forever." Emma smiled cautiously, not wanting to invest too heavily into Greg's compliments. While Adam admitted that he had always noticed her, it was never romantic. He made that distinctively clear when one of his friends joked about their relationship. Even so, his actions had downright confused her. He would do little things for her, acts she recognized from movies, that would make her heart flutter. After a while she figured it was something he did for girls he liked. Other days, she was just happy to always be the one he turned to. It was a complex situation that took years to untangle now. But Greg was right. She liked today's results. "Mm, having seen that boy, I can tell he was trouble in college." Like reflex, muscle memory, or whatever the it was -- the image of Adam pressing a girl against the wall came back to her like a jolt of lightning. Her chest hurt. Her friends told her he was just an above average player. Of course she had scoffed to that, believing him to be different. Adam had always been especially kind to her. He never let anyone be cruel or condescending. Not even his closest friends, who usually had free reign of voicing their sexist opinions on Adam's latest flings. For the first year, Emma's emotions were in turmoil. On the other hand, some days Emma wished she was Adam's favorite one night stand. Other days, she was glad he never got sick of her. But at the end of every night, she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted from him either. Could she be loved for body and mind? The back and forth emotions tormented her when they split for the first summer. Emma imagined Adam replacing her. It wouldn't have hard. She wasn't readily available to his beck and call as she used to be. His text and emails came at random hours of the night, and sometimes took days to return. At first she passed it off as simply Adam being Adam, but then her high school friends finally convinced her that he was intentionally stringing her along. It was all in the body language, they said. His disarming smile and way he aligned his body against hers, arms wrapped casually over the shoulders, had them guaranteeing that he wouldn't miss her. Just friends. Guys didn't stay just friends with girls unless there was some sort of benefit. "Guys like that will only break your heart, Emma. Trust us, we've been there, done that - worst decision of our life." She believed them easily. They had more experience than her. Romantic, sexual and physical contact -- basically the department of life was not Emma's strongest suite. So in the beginning, she managed to avoid him. During the second semester, Adam tracked her down. At first she thought it was coincidence to see Adam, who never studied, in the library all the time - there was a computer lab, and he was always printing something. But he always stuck around for her desk shift to end, lingering far too long. She had to get her co-workers to tell him to leave. Then he would wait outside. Luckily, Emma knew the complicated building inside and out and managed to slip through different exits each time. She didn't how long Adam waited, but he was always there when her night shifts ended. She had been walking down the Religion aisle when someone dragged her into one of the reservation only rooms. The lights were off, and as she scrambled to find the switch, a large hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her. Three month and more did nothing to calm her heart. It had pounded so hard in her chest. Tears threatened to spring forth. The pain she felt from having him so close was infinitely worse than the sleepless summer nights without him. "Oh hey Adam," she choked out, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. Her eyes adjusted to darkness of the room. His nostrils flared as he mocked, "Hi Adam." His body, only inches from her, was oddly comforting. He was still lankly, his boyish figure exaggerated by his long arms that caged her, but she could feel the anger radiating off him more tangibly than before. She swallowed her thick saliva. It did nothing to soothe her dry throat. Maybe it was the shadows from the aisles, but he looked older - more mature since she last saw him. His face had a light brush of a five o' clock shadow, and his hair no longer was no longer styled with that hard gelled look. It had grown out in short locks that curled and stood up on its own when he raked his fingers through it. God, her heart beat even fast, he looked even better than before. "Are you avoiding me, Emma?" He pulled back and started pacing around the room. "Cause I've been trying to figure it out, trying to think about what I've done wrong, and fuck it all, short of possibly shooting a pigeon with a BB gun for fun; I don't know." Shooting a bird with a plastic gun had crossed a line for her. Adam had a heartless streak in him that was often equated with "just being a boy," but Emma would always call him out. Her ability to cut through his bullshit was sharper than silver tipped arrow. The words always stung and left shallow scars that cautioned him the next time she was around. Her presence didn't always stop him from doing what he wanted. It did something stranger. It made him stop wanting to do certain things. He bent down to meet her lowered gaze. "Was it the bird thing, Emma? Because I'm fucking sorry." That was just the beginning of his long history of apologies. It had and hadn't been the bird thing. She told him half truths to avoid being vulnerable again. And he pleaded with her day in and out until she broke down and invited him back into her life. A choice that made the rest of her school year a wild roller coaster of emotions. It went from ecstatic when he chose to spend time with her to complete insomnia when he mentioned another girl. He dragged her heart through day and night, literally. Things changed when she asked him to bring her to a party. She felt lost in a crowd of people, and felt even worse when she reached out to hold onto Adam as they navigated the small frat house. Her heart stiffened when he helped her to the dance floor and then disappeared, promising to get her drinks. One beer, two shot gunned beers and two shots later, Emma was so drunk that she didn't mind the hands gliding over her. Whoever had their grip on her waist spun her around and nearly had his lips over hers before she was ripped away. She had held onto her savior's hand tightly, her vision blurred as she tried to register what was going on. Adam merely dragged her throughout the campus, from inside the frat house to the cold, fall air and then in front of her dorm room. It was there, with the bright fluorescent lights making her believe she was in heaven, that she yanked Adam's head down and furiously kissed his lips. For a second, he kissed back. Then the rest was always in bits and pieces. She remembered him tucking her into bed and sitting by her side, stroking her hair as she moaned about how fast the world was spinning. "Stupid girl. Why did you drink so much?" Then him getting into bed with her. She remembered wrapping her arms around his waist, focusing on how he kissed back. Her first kiss. His lips had pressed deeply against hers and the minute she whimpered, his tongue dipped in. It didn't feel like the way he had kissed other girls, forceful as if they had no time left in the world. It hadn't been. It was like they were taking their time. She thought she was different... until Adam tore her heart with a crooked dagger when he said he didn't feel the same. That memory felt like a bad dream. It pained her to think about it. Even though the circumstances were now in her favor, the morning after always made her cringe. It would always be a reminder of a time when he didn't love her, not in the way that mattered most. "I lo-loved him for a long time," Emma stuttered. The L-word slipped too easily from her lips. She wanted to take them back. "Or at least I understood how important I was to him since he insisted on staying friends. But then when he graduated, it only took two months for us to lose touch with each other." She sighed. "You guys have been through a lot, haven't you." "You can say that..." Greg chirped, "They could make movies on your kind of romance, Emma." "No, it'd be so boring. Even porn has more plot." "Sweetheart, you know better than that. Porn does not have more plot." They burst into laughter together, and her throbbing heart steadied as she caught her breath again. A smile would always fall naturally into place as she thought of Adam. He made her happy, beyond happy; he made her feel assured of what she wanted for the rest of her life. Him. It should be that simple. Their story just touched the tip of the iceberg. Adam had seen her in her worst, the very worst, and in her best element. She shuddered and took in a deep breath as the truth hit her with full force. She did love him, in many ways she always loved him, more than her heart could allow. He had been there for her and she couldn't just erase those memories, like it had never happened. Figure 8 Ch. 06 Flashing thoughts of Sylar might come violently in her mind, but they didn't last forever. He bloomed in her mind like exotic flowers, she just didn't have the right temperature in her heart to maintain them. Her knees pressed tightly together. There wasn't room or energy in her heart to keep something just so it could die. And at the end of the day, when all of the electric feelings settled down, she was sure it Adam she dreamt of to help her sleep. Emma hated how she couldn't keep her mind faithful to him. Her heart was. She was a hundred percent sure her heart belonged to him. Could she be blamed for her explorative mind? "A porno would sell better than a love story based on my life." There must've been a look on her face because Greg reached out to reassuringly hold her hand. "Let me give you some advice that my boyfriend once told me when I was trying to figure out if I wanted to be exclusive with him. He told me: Life is like a roller coaster. Out of all the decisions you can make, just remember that the only kind of roller coaster that only goes up is an unfinished one." Startled, Emma looked at Greg. His face had changed from his usual pleased look to a concerned, fatherly gaze. "You make the best decision for you, Emma." Those words struck her. What could the best decision for her be? If Greg's advice was supposed to calm her mind, it didn't. Because all her life, people told her she was too easy. Adam often called her pushover, who based her life around making other people happy. In those moments, that didn't matter to her. Not when her friends insisted on going to parties she was uncomfortable with, not when Adam asked her to spend hours up with him in the library to study -- but she always paid for those decisions with sleepless nights, tossing and turning, wondering why she was always second best. Best decision... Emma licked her lips, wondering what that meant for her. Did she have to consider the distant future or would the immediate one, the one where Adam would leave within a month, be enough to know? Greg's eyes were so full of compassion. She was about to ask for his advice when someone cried, "So who's going to watch the van tonight, yo?" The crew looked around, no one wanting to give up their soft bed for a sleepless night in the van. Emma quickly jumped out, "I'll do it," she cried, surprising the crew and herself. It was a rash decision in the back of her mind, but Greg was right. Whatever thrill Sylar gave her was just an unfinished ride, and if she kept going, she was just going to crash and burn. Staying away from Sylar was the best decision for herself. "Sure," said one man, whose enthusiasm got him smacked in the back of the head. "We're not going to let you watch the van alone." Emma pouted, "Are you saying that because I'm a girl?" "Yes." "That's sexist. I can watch the van just as well as you guys can." Greg came forward, "Emma, I don't think - " She faced him with the most determined look on her face that had him stop and reconsider. "I... it's best if I watch the van, Greg," she said softly, "Just cause you know, Tamara snores..." Her stuttering didn't have him convinced. However the pleading look on her face as she bit her lower lip had him undone. He nodded. "I'm going to hell for letting you stay out here alone." Hell he was going to get from Sylar. That boy was protective over that girl, practically obsessed and didn't even know it. It was more than a sexual fascination, Greg could see that, but it didn't mean that Sylar's interest would still exist after sex. That was why he had to protect Emma, as much as he could. "Right, but you think any of them are actually going to watch the van," she muttered, pointing at the crew members who were more than happy to be off the hook, "so it's either me or an angry Nick tomorrow morning when over five thousand dollars of equipment goes missing." "I'm going to get you a taser." "Really?" "No, but one of the actresses has a pepper spray." "Oh damn." Greg tsked, "Like I'd give you a weapon, Emma." He helped her down, and they walked back to the rooms, with her heart feeling light in her chest. Her rooming problem with Sylar was fixed, and she didn't even have to cause a scene. The fix had been quiet, like her. That was how she preferred things, waiting for her problems to slip through the cracks. Although her avoidance scheme was arguably one of the worst ways to go about this Sylar situation. It didn't diffuse anything, just prolong the countdown to detonation. She was sure of that. She'd probably regret volunteering as soon as sun set. A crew member mentioned how the night air would trap her onto the cold floor of the van. But the decision assuaged her conscience and that was what mattered the most. Talking to Adam about this trip would be easier -- facing his anger with her being left alone at night was still better than lying about sharing a bed with... a male co-worker. --- After dinner, Sylar soaked himself underneath the shower. He hoped to turn into a prune or a raisin, to become anything but alive for the next few hours. The first thing on his mind when he saw the single bed was to demand a new room, or at least a room with twin beds. Under any other circumstance with any other girl, a single bed would've been fine. But that was just the point: Of the million coincidences laid out to torture him, this had to be it. Emma wasn't like any girl he knew, not like anyone he remembered in the last ten years of his life. She didn't respond to his jokes or come ons. Her wary nature made him think about the "outside" world; the world he had been out of touch with since he had been fourteen. A world he found chaotic and hypocritical. There would be days he'd walk into a convenience store or on the street and find people staring at him. If the gazers were men, they'd be looking at him with a competitive glare. If they were girls, they'd giggle and point. He'd flash them a disarming smile that made them blush for thinking thoughts their mothers would never approve of. But never, in a million years, would they approach him. All because of his career choice. He didn't care. He got a kick out of staring back at them, challenging them to face their dark desires, but some days, sometimes... when the work was slow, he felt like a dirty secret. His friend were all in the business; their on-screen personalities were exaggerated mimicries of their real life ones. Hints of aggression, lust and the basic primal urge to get naked and fuck always lined their conversations. Ever since Sylar was legal, he loved it. Indulging in the carefree lifestyle: Girls. Money. Sex. The order was never the same, but the pay off and various combinations that they came in was always satisfying. It was the only world he knew of. Until Emma. She had stepped into his world so carefully, as not to tread on butterflies, but somehow managed to entangle herself into the forest that was his mind. The part of his mind that rarely dreamt of normalcy was suddenly awake, scrambling for a chance to experience playing by the world's rules. If he had met her before, as a teenager -- Sylar groaned as the water got cold -- no, even as a teenager, he wouldn't have stopped his goal to work in porn. Sure she might have delayed the process, but they would've inevitable split. Except that wasn't what happening, was it? She was here now. She was here, as close to the youthful image of desire that she needed to be... to... It didn't matter now, did it? Her timing in his life had made all the difference. The water was slowly starting to freeze, signaling for him to come to an end with these roundabout thoughts. Showers were the one place Sylar didn't mix with pleasure or women. It wasn't the water that turned him off, in fact there were plenty of times ice cold water did nothing to calm his erections, but there was just something serene about water pelting his skin. It was a personal experience that stripped him away from the rest of the world. He could think without distractions and step out of the steam as a new person. It allowed him to clear his head. Think rationally. And his rational thoughts were now berating him for not demanding a room change. Exactly what was supposed to come from this? He couldn't imagine anything other than uncomfortable nights and awkward mornings. As he stepped out of the shower to dry himself, he made the concrete decision to speak with Nick. It wouldn't be too late. Hell, he'd take Tamara's snores over a torturous night next to Emma... the one woman he wanted to touch but couldn't. Fuck, he thought as the heavy condensation of the room quickly erased the fresh feeling of being clean. That was a lie. He wouldn't trade this chance to be with her, even if it meant spending sleepless nights. He thought about jumping back in for a blast of cold water when someone knocked at the door. "Who is it?" he called out, wrapping the towel around his waist. Ah fuck, it was probably Emma, too shy to come in on her own accord. His mind changed at the thought of her afraid of him again. "Just come in, I didn't lock it." He heard the door open and shut. Feet shuffled against the carpeted floor and past the bathroom towards the bed. Sylar's hand hovered over the door knob as he prepared himself. He'd offer to exchange rooms, to do whatever made her feel more comfortable. Yeah, he'd do that -- fuck! Sylar wanted to twist his own neck. In the last five minutes he had left the shower, he had gone back and forth so many times, he was at square one all over again. The easiest option would be to confront her and ask her what she wanted. He swiftly threw the door open but instead of Emma sitting on the bed, it was Greg. "Hello darling," he said cheerily and pointed towards Sylar's crotch. "Is that for me?" Sylar growled in annoyance and tightened the towel around his waist. "What's up, Greg?" "Ah, just came to get Emma's bag." Sylar paled. He turned his back, pretending to dig for clothes out of his own bag. There wasn't much to choose from, but he had to stall to calm his erection. He finally settled on a pair of boxers and slipped them on before removing his towel. When he tried around, all thoughts about lying flew out the window. Greg's expression was unamused as he picked up Emma's bag off the floor. "Is she moving rooms?" he asked as casually as he could. Greg was watching him too closely for comfort. He cleared his throat. "Just wondering where you're taking her stuff," he stuttered, "She could've asked me." Greg laughed, far too loudly for Sylar's comfort. "Yeah right." "What's that supposed to mean?" Sylar snapped. "I know Nick's your little bitch when it comes to making you happy, but you need to stop ..." Greg pointed to all of him and more directly at his crotch. "All of this." "Wait, what, Nick?" "Yeah, he put you in this room with her cause you requested it, didn't he?" "No. I would never do that." Greg snorted. "Typical Nick. Observant and crafty like a fucking snake. But that's beside the point. You should've said no the moment he put you two together." "How," Sylar jerked on his jeans with force, he hated when Greg turned on his parental control mode, "is it completely my fault? She knew about it too, she could've asked for a new room. It goes both ways." "Emma's just a -- " The ugly monster inside of him twisted and snapped, "And maybe that's the other thing. Maybe we should stop babying her and she'd grow a dick or two. God knows she could use one." Immediately after those words came out, he regretted them. He was just glad Emma wasn't there it hear it. Every time she was made to feel bad, he made himself feel ten times worse. He knew she was different -- he was reminded of that fact every waking moment he thought of her. When he wasn't sleeping, he was dreaming of her, creating stories where they walked the park together... drank coffee. Dangerous everyday things. Why did he always have to go crushing the little respect she had left even when she wasn't around? He avoided Greg's gaze as he pulled on a t-shirt. "Sorry," he exhaled, moving to sit next to his friend. The mattress dipped between the two as Greg remained silent. "I can't... fuck, I can't seem think right when it comes to her." His thoughts were all consuming. It was always all or nothing. The in-betweens that he shared only happened when they were apart. Sylar looked at the clock. It was way past eight. Where was she? Greg patted his hand. "If any girl in the world was to break your ice cold heart, Emma is the one to do it." His friend shook his head and squeezed his hand tight. "But whatever you're feeling for her has to stop. She has a boyfriend." Sylar jerked his hand away. The comment about having an ice cold heart had hurt more than the reminder of Emma's boyfriend. Memories of a girl he had tried to date years ago, one that wasn't in the industry, came back to him. A girl that knew about his life style and didn't seem to care until she discovered just how many films he had starred in. But what difference should that have made? Teeth gritting from the memory, Sylar said more sharply than he intended, "I know that." Greg slung Emma's bag over his shoulder. "Good." "Wait, where did she move to?" "She's staying out by the van tonight." Sylar's chest pounded as Greg confirmed his thoughts. "I bet my dick it's to avoid you." "Did she tell you -" "No, but she didn't have to tell me. I can see it in her eyes and don't think for a second, nobody saw what happened on the bus. We're not blind. If anything, Sylar, you just made her life harder because the crew won't let her lift a pinky." "I didn't think -- " Greg shook his head. "She's fixed it herself." There was a hint of pride in his voice. "That's the kind of girl Emma is. She offered to watch the van, and got the respect she lost back. The last thing she needs is for people to think she's sleeping around." Sylar's head spun. Just how much did everyone know? He cursed Emma's trusting nature. Of course she told Greg everything. Greg, her older brother figure in all of this mess, always watched out for her even through all the chaos Sylar had thrown her way. But deep inside, he also knew it had nothing to do with Emma. It was all his fault. He was never shy about expressing himself, and in the course of that had forgotten how many eyes watched his every move. That was the perfect way to describe what she did to him. She brought him back to the real world. The world that ignored his existence and he ignored theirs. So when it came to Emma, his mind always fell into this space, where it was just the two of them in the real world. It was a place where he could go out and people could admire him rather than turn their head in disgust. "I'm going to get a drink, you want one?" Greg lifted Emma's bag as an answer. Sylar shrugged. "Give it to her after. She's not going to go anywhere..." His hand hovered over the door as the possibility of Emma waiting behind it stalled him. Was she that afraid to face him? His throat felt dry. If she was, did she hear his harsh words? If she wasn't, did she hear them all the same? "I'd rather get this stuff to her sooner rather than later. It's going to be cold tonight." Sylar nodded. He opened the door to let Greg through and then closed it behind him. "Meet me at the bar after, maybe?" "Oh definitely." Greg winked as he walked away. Emma's bag hung lightly over his shoulders, swaying back and forth like a pendulum. Sylar rubbed his face, the roughness of his growing hair itched against his fingers. Nick had requested that he didn't shave for this shoot. He wasn't used to the feeling, it was like each hair on his face had a nerve of its own. A few girls stared at him as he walked down the hallway They were young, most likely eighteen, dressed in high cut-off shorts that exposed their trim legs. He flashed them a grin that had them squealing towards their room. From the look on their face, he guessed that they didn't recognize him. He smiled softly. It felt nice to be admired under simpler terms. --- Emma shivered as the night air began to build up around her. She had to move from sleeping in the back of the van, to the front, where the cushioned seats acted as a makeshift bed, giving her an illusion of warmth. Who knew the woods could get so cold at night? She bent down to pull out any large article of clothing from her bag and laid it over herself. The dropping temperature was relentless as she curled into a ball. She clenched every muscle in her body, hoping her own skin could warm herself, when the need to pee hit her hard. "Crap," she whispered as she closed her eyes, hoping it would pass. Kidney failure or urinary tract infection, they were probably worth the risk than freezing outside with the possibility of being eaten alive by a bear. Greg had said there were bears in this area, right? She wished she could read his sarcastic comments better. He was always so cheery; it was hard to tell. She sniffled as she tried to keep still so her blanket made of shirts wouldn't fall off. Was this really worse than spending a room with Sylar? The wind howled again, knocking against the poorly insulated truck. It definitely was. And she could only hold her pee for so long before she spent in her own pants. At least that would keep her warm, she laughed. She instantly regretted that, as her curled up body only forced more pressure onto her bladder. Ah screw it, she thought as she sat up and opened the van door. She had to go. If there were camp rules to peeing, Emma didn't know if they were important life or death rules. She did know that tomorrow morning, the crew would be here bright and early and the last thing she wanted was evidence of pee, whether sight or scent. Plus the thought of her pee anywhere near the scene made her gag, so she walked far into the bushes to find a safe spot. She was finished up after what seemed like a long enough time for the sun to have come. It was a good thing she had made a decision to go now rather than waking up in the dead of the night. Crickets chirped around her. Normally she would've found the songs eerie, but it was something she preferred over complete silence. Silence. As she crawled into the van, she realized it had gotten deadly quiet. No crickets, just the rustle of the wind against the trees. Emma tucked her knees to her chest, and piled on all her clothes on top of her. The walls of the van blocked the wind, but the overall temperature had dropped significantly lower since this afternoon. Her teeth chattered as she looked around for any signs of bears. What was she supposed to do if there were bears? Bears weren't thieves. They'd wreck the equipment without a second thought to the cost. And she wouldn't be able to handle a bear... definitely not. "Damn it." Emma curled up tighter in her ball of clothes and tried to force herself to sleep. She wished it was warmer, wished she could turn on the heater. Instead, she was left staring at the night sky and shivering until her body exhausted itself. It was one of the most uncomfortable sleeps of her entire life. --- Sylar didn't know why he was so angry. He just knew he felt it the moment he saw Nick direct Emma to stand in for whatever actress he was supposed to fuck later on. He supposed it was a build up of the entire day. Waking up without her there, wondering through his blazing hangover how she slept, and opening the window to discover the cold morning air set him off on a really bad start. He had heard Greg ask her how her night was. She amicably replied it was okay. But everything about her told him she was miserable. Her black eyes, chapped and pale lips, and the constant sneezing -- did no one really notice her sneezing? Figure 8 Ch. 06 It seemed though, that the weather was agreeing with Sylar's mood as well. Grey, cloudy and a slight chance of rain later on, the sky was doing no favors for the crew. There was a generator powering up the lights, and even though it was placed at least twenty feet away, the sound crew claimed that they could hear the engine whirling in the background. Evidently, Nick could hear it too. "Goddamnit!" Nick swore as he tossed his headphones off and pointed at the generator, "Move that fucking thing another ten feet back. Why the fuck is it so loud?" The crew scrambled to do as he said. Sylar watched as Emma wilted tiredly when the lights turned off. For the few seconds of reprieve that she had, she quickly ran to get some tissues from her bag. Her nose was running, just a little bit, but often enough that she was wiping her nose on the back of her hand every minute. "Emma, where'd you go?" She rushed back to the spot and stood again before Nick shook his head. "Emma, you mind changing into a pair of shorts? The temperature of the lights won't be right when you're completely clothed." Are you crazy? It's fucking cold, Sylar wanted to yell in her defense, but did nothing. He didn't want the entire crew to know he was here early, not when the call-time was about an hour later. Emma ran into the van and got into the front seat. From where he stood, her little ass was framed by the windshield like a perfect picture. As she bent over and dug through her bag, her backside wiggled enticingly in a manner that made Sylar swallow his spit. He watched as she surveyed the area quickly, looking to see if anyone was watching. When her shoulders relaxed, Sylar realized she was completely unaware of the fact that he was standing a few trees away. Then she began wiggling in a motion that only meant she was taking off her pants. Her back lowered clumsily, and as her shoulders shook, he was able to make out the size of her breasts. They were average size, but shaped wonderfully round in a way that would fit perfectly in his palm. Sylar held his breath as she jumped up a little in her seat. When she pulled off her hoodie, skin flashed before his eyes. He felt a sense of loss when her camisole came back down. What attracted him though was a distinct black tattoo under breast. For some reason he had imagined that she'd have flawless, smooth skin. The sight of ridges, curves and marks only made him want to pull up her shirt and see what else there was to her. Shit, he thought as Emma hopped out of the van, shivering in practically nothing. The clothes she wore fit her so tightly. The body he remembered touching in that night club had gotten slimmer, tighter as it skipped away from him. "Oh good, this is better than rolling up your sleeves," Nick commented happily on Emma's decision on skin exposure. Nick ordered her to sit on her heels, and she did so, delicately and obediently. Sylar groaned, knowing very well what act this position was supposed to be. She looked so pretty in her white top and light blue boy shorts. Her eyes were downcast, unaware of how provocative her position was. Like an offering. A true willing offering, a picture not many girls in the industry actually made. He was glad she didn't gaze up. He didn't need a mental picture to keep him up all night. "Sylar!" Sylar flinched as Greg came towards him. He turned around to greet his friend, but not soon enough to see how poorly his name had effected her. The innocence faded, and she was as stiff as a board. Greg slapped his buddy on the back. "I thought we were going to walk to the set together." He spoke so loudly one of the sound crew shushed him. "Oh shush it, you're not even filming yet." Sylar couldn't help the grin on his face. Greg had a way with sass. "Aw, my little protege is so pretty." Greg whistled and waved when Emma looked up, her pale cheeks flushed as she timidly waved back. Sylar swallowed the stagnant saliva in his mouth when Emma completely avoided looking at him. "Your protege?" he asked bitterly, wishing Greg had more tact. Considering the mini conversation they had last night, couldn't Greg get by one hour not mentioning how great his personal relationship with Emma was? Especially compared to Sylar's own progression... "My little Cinderella project," Greg nodded. "Before she quits, I'm going to make her blossom into a flower. Granted, that menswear thing she has going on has its own allure, but probably only in the bedroom. I'm going to make her handsome boyfriend get on his knees and thank me by the time I'm done with her." How did Greg manage to make Emma comfortable, as if she were doing a normal 9 to 5 desk job? Hell, Greg could probably ask Emma to strip and she would at least consider it. If Greg weren't gay, Sylar would've long asked Nick to let him go. "Okay, Martin, come stand in for Sylar." A thin, gangly youth, around his early twenties, came and stood right in front of Emma. He was shirtless, awfully pale, and probably half the size of Sylar. Why Nick chose him was a mystery as all the lighting would be off. "Aren't your eyes particularly green today," Greg surmised with a smirk. Was Greg inferring to his jealousy? Sylar rolled his eyes. It didn't take a close friend to know that. Most of the crew avoided him like a plague, speaking only to Emma when they thought he wasn't looking. He was jealous of every guy that got to speak to her, because it was evident that he was the only one she was afraid of. Sylar watched as the kid fumbled with his limbs and stood in front of Emma. His fists clenched as Nick directed the boy to grab ahold of Emma's head. Even Greg reacted with a resolute step forward when Emma instinctively moved back. It was all wrong, years of experience and being on set told Sylar and Greg that Nick was dicking around, just to see how far he could push his obedient assistant. And that was exactly what Nick was doing. Only he wasn't just pushing Emma anymore. He was highly aware of Greg and Sylar standing behind him. Those two were fiercely protective of his little Assistant Editor, but it was Sylar who he needed to be careful of. Anyone could see his little obsession with Emma was more than just sex. No matter what Sylar insisted, Nick knew better. People didn't flip angrily back and forth over sexual rejection -- they stayed angry over emotional abandonment. Nick stilled as Martin started thrusting his hips more than necessary. He frowned, he didn't call for that. For a second he felt bad for Emma. Felt regretful for the stupid, idiotic plan some actress had put in his head when they were fucking. Emma's virginity would be worth a fortune on camera, and Sylar had just the skills to charm her into doing it. Problem was, no one anticipated how well Emma Ramsay worked on everyone's conscience. Nick felt slightly bad for all the tricks he pulled. Slightly, but the guilt all washed away when she willing obeyed him. She could've said no. He always reminded her that she didn't have to do anything she wasn't uncomfortable with. Nick sighed as he watched her, wondering if she knew how unnecessarily far Martin was pushing her. Emma Ramsay was one of the best assistants he had in a long while. She worked diligently without judgment. Female actresses loved her. Even though Emma never said anything, the actresses had told him the presence of his new assistant changed everything. Apparently he hired too many men. So the fact that she was willingly on her knees, as naked as she would ever be, wasn't his fault, was it? Nick chewed the inside of his cheek as the lighting man gave a thumbs up. He turned around quickly to reveal that he knew Sylar and Greg were behind him all along, but crashed right into Sylar's broad chest. His leading man looked very unhappy. "You're early, Sylar," Nick chirped, purposely ignoring Sylar's obvious mood. Sylar's gaze was still focused on the little Assistant Editor. "That supposed to be my body double or something?" Sylar said with disgust. His voice was loud enough for Martin and Emma to hear. "Am I that scrawny, Nick? Couldn't use someone at least five pounds bigger? The light's going to be all wrong, isn't it?" Nick shrugged. "Not really, but since you're here, do you want to be your own stand-in?" Sylar narrowed his eyes. Obviously being his own stand-in wasn't something a popular porn star like him had to do anymore, suggesting it to any other equally famous porn star would've caused them to throw a fit. But Nick was giving him a chance to be close to Emma... Sylar studied his director for a long moment. Greg laughed and tried to ease the tension. "Come on and let Sylar expose himself to the cold air?" It was Sylar's way out. All he had to do was agree, and Greg was pleading for him to take the bait. But for Sylar, seeing Emma there gave him tunnel vision. He was just wanted be near her, feel her breath on his skin and lock the memory away for later on tonight. "I can do it," he said smoothly and started to strip. The chill hit his skin and immediately brought goosebumps forth. How did Emma live through last night? Sylar avoided everyone's gaze as he sauntered over to the picnic mat. He focused on the top of Emma's head. She wasn't looking at him, her head lowered in a gesture that Sylar would only interpret as submission. Unless she looked up, she would never know he was wearing briefs -- not that it mattered, his hard-on was tenting the cloth so badly. Depending on how long they stood there, she would be able to see the pre-cum dampening through his underwear. "Are you okay?" he said under his breath, knowing she could hear him. Emma nodded. "You should look up at me. That's how the scene goes." He swore she was shaking her head, but then he realized that she was trembling. Cold, he hoped, and not fear. Although he wished it were colder, anything to calm his raging erection. His dick seemed to have a mind of its own, slowly raising itself higher and higher until Sylar knew he had to adjust himself. Then her head moved up. God this was not her job. Getting him hard was not her job. And yet she was a brilliant replacement. When he saw the tip of her nose, Sylar realized that his bulge would be poking her in the face. Without thinking, he quickly pushed her head down. "Sorry," he muttered as he used his free hand to adjust himself. As soon as he realized his hand, her head shot up and Emma was glaring at him furiously with dark eyes. "What?" he hissed. The anger he thought she carried was quickly replaced with anxiety. Her big eyes watered as she shook her head. He knew he lost her when she looked to the side. Sylar decided not to say another word. It seemed like whatever he did just gave her ammunition to hate him. He didn't want that. Oh fuck, he thought as his neck began to hurt from looking down for so long. He wanted her to smile for him. To want him as much as he wanted her. But after so many years of sexual transparency with all his other fuck buddies, Sylar realized that he had forgotten how to flirt. "Kendall's here!" Sylar pretended not to notice how alarmingly fast Emma moved away from him. --- Another night in the van, Emma thought frightfully as the cold midnight air knocked violently against the window. Somewhere between sunset and completely darkness, the temperature had dropped at least fifteen degrees. The shittier part was that no one offered to trade places with her. No one even seemed to remember that she was going to stay the night, all alone, in the van again. Not even Greg. Emma had to admit that it hurt a little when Greg pranced off for happy hour at the bar. Everyone had gotten so hot and bothered by Sylar and Kendall's performance that Nick offered a round of drinks on him. Of course, he extended the invitation to her, but considering how she would have to walk back to the van all by herself, Emma politely declined. Now she wished she had at least gone for a few shots. At least she'd feel warmer with alcohol in her veins. Wrapping her raggedy towel around her shoulders, Emma curled up into the fetal position. There was too much noise in the woods tonight. And the worst part was that her phone died as soon as everyone left. She held the thin metal device in her hands, wanting to will it to life so that Adam could call her. Would he be worried? Or would he just dismiss it and go back to watching television? If he was watching television and not at a bar... Emma knew her mind was wandering but there wasn't any way to stop it. She clenched her eyes shut and for a moment experienced vertigo. Her entire world swirled, like those films where the camera spiraled to signal fainting or oblivion. How much she wished the feeling would go on and on until she fell asleep. But it didn't. It stopped as soon as something cracked in the far distance. At first it just sounded like a branch falling to the ground, but then it became a series of snaps. Louder and louder. Closer. The wind was positively howling now. Or maybe it was the blood rushing through her ears. Emma didn't know which cliché to believe. She put her head in her hands and hoped, by some stupid chance, whatever it was would think she was a pile of clothes. Rapid knocking startled her and she ducked her head further into her towel. The knocking clanged like a metal sheet shaken for a thunderous effect. To Emma it sounded like a raging animal wanted to shake her dead. Oh, she wished Adam was here, more than ever, she wished Adam was there to tell her everything was okay. She remembered Greg talking about bears. Bears who were interested in food, and since there was no food around, she could only assume she was their prey. That or the thousand dollar equipment, which would be just as bad if they got their paws on it. Banging again. Louder and more insistent with a rhythm that suggested it was a highly musical bear. "Emma, it's me." Or not a bear at all. And thieves wouldn't have known her name. Emma peaked from underneath her covers. Well it definitely wasn't a bear. The shadows and silhouettes of the voice were no where to be seen. Getting on all fours, Emma crawled to the window and peaked out. Whoever it was pulled out their cellphone and used it as a flashlight. Sylar. His eyes were small, and Emma could barely make out the bright green color of them. He swayed a bit, his cheeks flushed from drinking. Emma sat up and stared as Sylar became very still. They stared at each other, in awe and sentiment, the very same way Romeo met Juliet under the full moon. Time stood still as Sylar took in Emma's bemused state. Her lips were parted, and her warm breath fogged up the window. He was grateful for the door in between them. It was the only thing stopping him from dragging her down towards his lips. As she pushed her hair out of her face, Sylar watched apprehension fill her eyes as the rest of her asked what he was doing here. What was he doing here? A question they both asked themselves. Sylar had a faint memory of what his train of thought was. After several rounds of shots and pints, the guys were smoking outdoors. At least they were trying to. It was so fucking cold that everyone put out their cigarettes and went back inside. Everyone but Sylar, who lingered and found his thoughts wandering. Wondering if the little bird was freezing without anyone to keep her warm. And then he found himself here. He must've been drunker than he thought. As Emma's breath continued heat up the glass, Sylar stepped up and exhaled hotly to create a wet canvas. With the tip of his finger he wrote, "Are you okay?" He didn't really expect her to answer. She looked at him with such unreadable eyes -- no fear, no lust or hesitation -- just emptiness, to a point where he was about to turn away. Except the sound of the door unlocking stopped him. "Aren't you cold?" she asked, scooting back to let him in. She noticed something thick and large thrown over his shoulder, and when he got a little too close for Emma's liking, she realized it was a blanket. He didn't say a word as he climbed into the van. The blanket dropped onto the seat, and Sylar suddenly realized it was there. "Oh," he said surprised, "I think I brought this for you." "You can keep it. I have my clothes." "I'm okay," he insisted. Before she could protest further, Sylar wrapped the blanket around her. He paused when the action brought his face inches from hers. There it was again, that scent that drove him crazy -- Irish Spring -- a smell that once reminded him of college dorms now turned him on like crazy. He should pull away. He knew he should do everything in his power to sit as far from her as possible, but she felt so good. And she wasn't even in his arms. His hands had dropped down to her wrists, and his nose was slipped down from her hair towards the junction between her ear and neck. A sweet spot, a capsule that carried her scent so heavily, that he couldn't resist resting his chin on her shoulder. Just for a moment, he could pretend. She felt wonderful against him. Unmoving and still. He couldn't describe how different it was to feel her and not another woman. The fact that she didn't push him away, drag him closer or make an effort to comfort him was more than he ever wanted. If she ever asked, he could blame it on the alcohol. Emma couldn't breathe as Sylar's hands seemed to pin her wrists to the seat. The blanket in between them was made of microfiber. It was lush against her skin, and gradually warmed her body. Most of the heat arguably came from Sylar. He wasn't hugging her in a vise grip, not the way Adam did. To be honest, he wasn't really hugging or holding her at all. The way Sylar leaned against her made Emma feel as light as a cloud. How did it work like that? Unlike the many other times he had grabbed onto her, this felt pure. She didn't feel suffocated, just supportive. With Adam, she felt like a drug. He could never stop his hand from wandering over her body. Had he done this during college, she would have gladly responded, but now, with larger worries to life than romantic notions, Emma couldn't help but prefer Sylar's calm, albeit drunken, steady hold. It gave her space to think, allowed her mind to slow down and breathe. Then she felt sick. This was unfair to Adam. Adam. Emma gently pulled her hands from Sylar's grasp. Treating him as if he were a bomb about to go off, she moved slowly. Suddenly his hands flinched and his arms bound around her entire being. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into her neck. "I'm so sorry I practically raped you." Not knowing what to say, Emma decided to stay quiet. Drunk men are like sleeping snakes, her aunt once told her. Don't ever bother them. Let them be and eventually they'll slither away. Although Sylar looked anything but like a snake. He really was an impressive looking man, and on some level his sexually-deviant and assuming personality was a product of the way he grew up. Emma knew she could never be completely angry with him. In many ways he was just as innocent as she. But that didn't make him safe. Not a hundred percent. So the longer he held her, the more nervous Emma got. "Are you afraid of me?" One eye shot open as Emma quickly turned her head away. "No," she lied. He snorted and pulled away this time. "Right." Emma frowned. Why did he even ask? Then she wondered, what would've happened if he believed her? At the very moment, he looked vulnerable and weak, about to pass out from intoxication alone, but looks could be deceiving. And with Sylar, they would be always be deceiving. She was still confused as Sylar turned around and opened the door. The gust of night wind brushed over her and jolted her senses. "Where are you going?" she asked, out of compassion and sincerity. "It's blistering cold right now." Figure 8 Ch. 07 a/n: here it is. thanks for reading. this has been barely edited. it's also not as long as i was going to make it to be cause i decided to stop at a certain point so that i had enough momentum to continue writing. special thanks to all the lovely anons from the last chapter. --- Sylar stared at the woman underneath him. This one was shivering for much different reasons than the other girl he'd woken up to this morning. His pupils dilated in response to thinking of her even though Kendall, the very willing woman who was moaning and reaching for him, should have been his focus. And she was in some ways... physically and visually; but his mind was elsewhere. With some women, there were often times he knew he had better. To crudely put it, like sitting in a comfortable chair. Familiar but nothing necessarily sentimental. No. He wanted to be in someone else. Sylar twitched as he felt this sudden surge of longing fill him. That was new. That particular feeling. He let Kendall pull him down for a kiss. Her open mouth sucked his in. Their tongues attacked each other, wet muscle against wet muscle. Any other day he would've loved this. Her eagerness was wet and tight, rippling against him even when he wasn't inside of her yet. Any other day, this would have been the best scene yet. Her nails scraped his back and he arched his lower body forward, hitting her so deep that she became boneless. When she shivered, Sylar covered her mouth and looked up. Emma was chewing on his fingernails with that innocence he loved. She staring intently at the screen as if he had no effect on her at all. Her brow carried the same furrowed concentration that marred her face before she woke up. At first he thought it'd been the cold, but when he went to hold her, she whispered the name Adam. And instead of paying attention to the gut feeling in his chest, he thought about fulfilling her wish. Oh so briefly. He thought about becoming Adam just to know what it'd be like... not just to have her, but to have her want him. Want him back. "Fuck!" He screamed as his balls tightened for the money-shot Nick wanted. The thick liquid went up and exited his shaft just as he pulled out. White strings shot out, hitting Kendall's breasts and bottom lip. Kendall undulated underneath him in response, rocking out her orgasm, while scooping up his cum by the handful straight into her mouth. Any other day... he thought as he pushed himself off even before Nick yelled cut. Not that that mattered. The cameraman quickly swept in for an up close shot of Kendall moaning and finishing herself off. "Here you go." He froze, stunned because he immediately noticed two things. One, it was Emma standing in front of him. She shook her hand once more to signal that she was just there to hand him a towel. Her eyes struggled to stay focused on his face, but he never felt happier to see her. Somewhere in between this morning and now, her face had changed. Two: She was beautiful. "Thank you," he said. He intentionally grazed his fingers against hers just to get a reaction. Nothing. There was also a third thing he noticed as Emma scuttled away to assist Kendall in cleaning up. His cock. Normally it stood at full attention whenever she was near, but today it laid well-rested by his leg. Reason said it was because he just came, but another part of him wondered if it was because he still wanted to hold her. Feel her. Then again, maybe nothing had changed since this morning. He knotted the towel around his waist as he watched her. Hr hair was so silky, like a waterfall in the Amazon. He didn't realize how long her hair was until now. The ends reached the small of her back and sections her body for his imagination. Because of the way she dressed, most of body was left to guesswork. Only her silhouette gave him clues to the curves underneath those clothes. He guessed she had a tiny waist and a pert ass. He could tell that much from her jeans. At least those were form fitting. Then it came - that familiar stirring. Sylar groaned. Yes. This is what he knew and expected. Within seconds, a tent formed underneath his towel. He quickly glanced to see what Emma was doing. It'd be a while until he came back down. God, it felt so good though - he let his hand graze over his cock and imagined it was her hand. He was right. Nothing changed. She'd always been beautiful. He just didn't realize that he'd always thought so until that morning. He recalled brushing her long hair out of her face. Not because it was making her wrinkle her nose in the most adorable fashion, but because it covered her face from him. All he wanted was to be able to see every sigh, every smile, every expression. Every inch of her skin. As the sun was starting to set, a warm glow of burnt gold struck through the trees. Sylar swore it was a beacon of light that was sent to guide him to her. Even as people spoke to him, he heard nothing. He could only nod in acknowledgment because all of his sense were focused on Emma. Her little body as she ran to help the crew members take down some of the equipment. Her hands, small and perfect, dealt with the more delicate pieces. Shit. Sylar squirmed as he felt himself getting harder than he'd ever been in his life. It wasn't just the idea of sex. It was the idea of having sex with her. With Emma. With her responding to him in a way different from all the girls he knew. It'd be new with her. It'd be different. He didn't know how to explain how he knew this, but he did. Quickly leaving the scene and hoping to get back to his room where he could hit a cold shower, Sylar paused when he reached his empty room. A daring thought popped in his mind. Maybe just once, he thought. Just once, he'd let himself jerk off to the thought of her. It'd been a while since he used his imagination. As he threw his towel onto the bed and grabbed his hard cock, his eyes closed in appreciation. A moan escaped his lips, and something deep inside told him that he was on the verge of his best orgasm yet. *** "Emma!" Emma turned around to see Greg running towards her. His big smile was contagious, and she grinned in return. Zipping up the tripod bag she was holding, Emma made sure that everything was in place before letting him give her a hug. "What was that for?" she asked. Greg pouted. "I just felt so bad that you had to spend the night in the van. You're such a trouper, Emma." "It's no big deal." "Where you cold?" She thought about the blanket Sylar had brought for her. How in the morning, she slowly woke up, shivering and trying to fall back asleep when she wondered: If I'm cold, then how is Sylar feeling? After she jolted awake, she found the space beside her empty. The only evidence of Sylar was the blanket wrapped tightly around her. "No," she lied. "It wasn't too bad." "Well lucky for you, you won't have to sleep in the van tonight." "What why?" "We're wrapping early, silly." Emma looked confused. "But someone still has to watch the van." "Nick's going to have Luke drive it back tonight." She perked up. "So we're going home early?" "No, no." Greg felt terrible when her face fell with disappointment. He bumped his shoulder into hers. "Cheer up, we're leaving little earlier tomorrow morning. But tonight we're going to celebrate. Drinks on the house. You better come!" She forced a smile on her face big enough to satisfy her friend. As he walked away to become the center of attention elsewhere, Emma felt anxiety eat the insides of her stomach. Hot flashes followed by a slow cold burn coursed through her. Where was she going to sleep tonight? As she walked back to the set to clean up the smaller props, she overheard Kendall speaking loudly to one of the crew members. "Jesus, I know Sylar's a big deal, but does he always leave right after he's finished shooting?" The gorgeous bombshell flipped her hair over her shoulder. It gave her boobs a jiggle that mesmerized half the crew. "Depends on the girl, honey," Greg chirped. "Some make him want to stay and others don't." Greg's sass made Emma smile. Unfortunately for her, Kendall caught the exchange. "What are you smiling at?" "Sorry?" "Is something funny?" Emma wanted to say, "A little," but it wasn't her place. She remembered the warnings Nick gave on her face day of work. The last thing you wanted to do was piss off an actress - especially a popular one like Kendall, one who had control over who she wanted to do and how she wanted to do them. So Emma shook her head instead. Kendall wrinkled her nose, giving Emma a look over. "You look way too innocent to be working in this industry. Thankfully to get into it, you just have to be willing to spread your legs, huh?" Nick came by, his voice low and unamused as he rested his hand on Emma's shoulder. "She's our assistant editor, Kendall. I wouldn't let her in front of the camera even if she begged." Kendall snorted. "Why? She not any good?" Nick gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. "Compared to you, nobody is ever good." "Aw, don't you know how to please a lady." "I try," Nick said charmingly as he held out his arm for Kendall to take. Before he walked away, he touched Emma's arm and said, "Company happy hour at the bar tonight. You're coming right, Emma?" Did she have a choice now? Emma forced a nod. "Good. Now Kendall, I have this great idea..." They walked off arm in arm. Kendall was taller than Nick, her shoulders reached the middle of his neck and it gave off a very creepy gold digger vibe. Emma sighed just as Greg came over. "Don't like drinking?" "Not really," she admitted. "Did it a few times in college but it tasted so bad. Heard it's an acquired taste." "More like an acquired rush. But I promise you, honey, if you show up tonight, I'll teach you the world of cocktails like you've never imagined. Daiquiris, Long Islands, Sex on the Beach - these drinks are so good you'll be drunk in no time!" Emma gave a shy smile. "I don't want to get drunk." "You say that now..." The mischievous look on Greg's face made her nervous, which must've translated onto her face because he quickly patted her back reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you tonight. Make sure you get back to our room okay." Emma dropped her head. "Our room? I don't..." "I know." Greg shrugged, ignoring the terrified look on her face. "I know. That's why you slept in the van. I didn't try to rescue you because I knew you didn't want people's attention, but tonight you're not sleeping in the van. It was so fucking cold last night when I walked back to my room, and I was intoxicated! I can't imagine how it must've been for you. So you can sleep with me in my room. It's a single bed too. I won't do anything you don't want me too." Her mouth was wide open. It hadn't shut since he started rambling. "Nobody knew but me, Nick and Sylar. We wouldn't do that to you." We wouldn't do that to you. She wondered what that really meant because on one hand, they did do something. They shuffled her around without a concern for her comfort. On the other hand, they kept it between themselves and made an effort to adapt... for her comfort. "Thank you," she said, knowing that was at least the right answer. It was the best she could do in her situation, wasn't it? Emma tucked her hands into her pockets and felt her phone rest cooly in her fingers. Oh no. Adam. If he had offered to call her everyday and didn't, that'd be one thing. That would've been just plain Adam. But for her to beg him to call and then never pick up? Oh, he wouldn't just be furious. He'd worried sick by now. Possibly even call up her aunt to see if he could get a clue. "Hey Greg, could I bring my stuff to your room now so I can charge my phone?" Greg looked around. The cleanup was almost done. "Go ahead," he said, taking the card key out of his wallet. "I'm about three doors down from Sylar's room. Four-oh-six." "Thank you." Emma scrambled to the front of the van to collect her stuff. There were a few laughters and side comments from her crew mates about her bailing early, but she brushed them off. She ran as fast as her short legs could carry her, which wasn't for very long because with a bag over her shoulders, she was already out of breath before she hit the hotel. As she walked down the hallway, she caught sight of Kendall walking down the hall from a perpendicular direction. "Hello," she said timidly. Kendall gave an in-genuine smile and walked past her before knocking loudly on a door. It opened up, and a wet Sylar popped out. His eyes went right to her. Emma froze, not knowing what to do. She gripped the strap of her bag and lowered her head, hoping he hadn't seen her yet. Had he? Oh, she didn't dare lift her head. He'd definitely see her then. Scurrying behind Kendall, she thought she managed to slip by when Sylar called her name. "Hey Emma." Not wanting Kendall to start any rumors, she turned around and gave a weak smile. "Hi." "You're not staying in the van tonight?" "No, we're packing early.... Good job today." Emma winced. Why did she say that? "Thanks. You coming for drinks later?" "Um. Probably not." It did cross Emma's mind that this conversation was going incredibly well - all considering. As far as small talks went, between her and Sylar, they were practically nonexistent. The way his sharp green eyes watched her, gazing so intently that she thought she'd combust, made her too nervous to speak. But at this moment, he seemed to look at her the way a person looked at the cashier at Starbucks. Friendly, platonic interest. Kendall cleared her thought, reminding Emma exactly why Sylar was acting so "normal." Of course. He had a beauty queen in front of him. She was in the way. Emma gave a quick nod and looked for Greg's room. Meanwhile Kendall was not shy with her words or her volume. "Mm Sylar, you left so quickly, we didn't get a round two in." Why was Greg's room so close to Sylar's? Emma fumbled for the key. The conversation between Kendall and Sylar echoed shamelessly down the hall. She shuddered as Sylar's voice washed over her like a wave. "Didn't I give you a round three and four?" "Yeah, but I meant for you." "We only needed one cum shot." Kendall purred. "Well how about one without the cameras?" Emma's hands were shaking as she continuously slid the key card in and out. "Damn it," Emma muttered. The red light flashed and the door beeped loudly for the second time. Both of them stared at her. Kendall's gaze made her feel like an intruder, and Emma blushed so many shades of red that she didn't know what to do. Nervously, Emma tried the door again. She forced the key card in, but it turned red. "No," she cried, feeling embarrassed and hating Greg at the same time. It wasn't his fault... but... "You need help?" Sylar was right behind her. His masculine scent tingled her senses as she nodded mutely. Her breath was caught in her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Water droplets fell along his neck, suggesting that he'd just finished a shower. No wonder he smelled so good... "Emma?" "Oh sorry. Yeah, not my key." Sylar laughed. It was a melodic laugh that touched her from deep inside. "The card key is a bit tricky, I guess. You got to stick it in," he took the key from her hands. His fingers were soft and silky as they brushed against hers. Then he stood behind her and leaned forward to slide the key in. His chest pressed against her shoulder blades. She squeezed her arms against her side. He made her feel so small. She wanted to become smaller and slip away. "Then you got to wait until it blinks green twice." It blinked green twice. "Now you can take it out." He pulled the key came out. Deliberately slow, like he was trying to make a point. Emma gripped the door handle, pushing it down just to make sure it worked. It had. She turned around and leaned against the slightly ajar door. "Thank you." But Sylar wasn't smiling. He was looking at her again with that fiery glare in his eyes. His jaw ticked as Emma swallowed her saliva. "Um," she started, unaware that he was cursing himself right now for thinking words she didn't even know existed in people's vocabulary. "I'll see you tonight?" He shook his head and rubbed his face. "Oh yeah. Yeah. Tonight." Then he whirled around and went straight to his room. Kendall was right, but he muttered something underneath his breath. Emma caught bits and pieces of it. "...not interested... not my type... sorry," and he closed the door in Kendall's face. Emma didn't want to see her expression. She had a feeling it wasn't a nice one, so she slammed the door shut. The set up of Greg's room was pretty much like Sylar's room. Bathroom - bed... Emma found the outlet to start charging her phone. She sat on the bed and waited until it came back to life before quickly inputting her passcode. One text message. No missed calls. The message was from Adam at least. Emma quickly opened it, feeling panic swell in her as she noticed that it'd been sent last night. Why can't I call you? But there weren't any missed calls on her phone. Maybe they couldn't go through because she'd been in the middle of the woods. Emma quickly dialed Adam's number and put the phone to her ear. It rang once. Twice. Three times and counting before jumping to voicemail. "Hello, this is Adam. I'm not here at the moment but leave a message and I'll get back to you." Emma hung up without saying anything. *** At happy hour, Greg introduced Emma to his favorite drink. Adios Motherfucker. The blue concoction was sweet and Emma actually liked the way it tasted. She sipped slowly though, not wanting someone to shove another drink in her hand too soon. The bar was crowded and flooded with dim lighting. It made some of the cast members she'd seen naked as the day they were born easier on the eyes. The darkness was also a place where she could hide and watch. While everyone took a louder, boisterous way of expression their enjoyment, Emma was surprised to find herself returning smiles every now and then. A loud laugh echoed through the room. Nick was flirting with some girls that looked way too young. There was a glint in his eyes that she recognized as proprietary rather than lust. Emma frowned. Should she say something? Go up and warn the girls? But they had to have been at least twenty-one... they should be able to make decisions for themselves, right? Emma closed her eyes. She didn't want to think. Thinking brought her on a roundabout trip that somehow always led back to Adam. Why hadn't he called or answered his calls? She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he were just her friend, she wouldn't be worrying, so why now? "Having fun, Emma?" Nick said, putting an arm around his favorite assistant. She held in the initial reaction to flinch. "Yeah," she smiled, "thanks for the drinks." "Oh, no problem. You did such a good job today. Don't stay up too late watching those clips." Emma grinned awkwardly and thanked the gods when Nick moved on to another crew member. She surveyed the room and spotted an isolated seat by the bar. It was in the corner, far away from the dance floor and the juke box. A perfect place for a wallflower like her. Emma made her way over and slid up on the high chair. The bartender was smiled kindly at her. She greeted him back with a nod and watched as he wiped several glasses clean. His work behind the bar was much more interesting to watch than her coworkers. He moved fluidly and meticulously. Each drink had a lot of alcohol, Emma realized. And when someone else ordered an Adios Motherfucker, she nearly choked on her own. Figure 8 Ch. 07 "You okay?" Emma thumped her chest, nodding. The bartender chuckled. He filled a cup of water for her and slid it down the bar. "Thank you," Emma said as she caught it perfectly in her hands. "How come you're not out having fun with the rest of your crew?" She finished her sip and shrugged. "I don't know," she replied. "Maybe you need a few more drinks?" "Oh no," she quickly insisted and pointed at her own half full glass, "I saw how much you put in that blue one and nearly had a heart attack. It doesn't taste like there's so much." "Ah, the Adios Motherfucker. It's a get-drunk classic. I've been serving it a lot tonight. Did someone buy it for you?" "A friend did." "He must've wanted to get you drunk then," the bartender winked. Emma furiously shook her head. "No, he's just a friend. He probably just wanted to get away with buying me one drink only." "Possibly. But in my opinion, you've been nursing that drink too long. It's just water now. Let me make you another one." "Oh no, I'm good. Really." He cocked his head. His hands moved quickly, grabbing a few bottles off the shelf and pretty soon began pouring the liquid into a mixture. "This one is on me." The drink turned red before he pushed it over. "What's it called?" Emma asked, eying the bright drink suspiciously. "Red Death." Her face must've been comical because he laughed. "Okay, trust me, it's not that bad. Just try it." Emma leaned forward and took a small sip. The bartender swiped her blue drink and water away. A cheeky grin graced his face as he came back around. He rested his arm against the bar and waited for her response. The drink went down cool and sweet. The fruity flavors were infinitely better than the overly syrupy concoction of the previous drink. Emma felt a rush take over her head as she swooned "I love it!" a little more enthusiastically than she wanted to. She slapped her hand over her mouth. The other drink was starting to kick in. "You should," he replied, "I put real pineapple juice in there for you." Her cheeks grew warm and the heat spread throughout her entire head. "Thank you. You didn't have to, I wouldn't have noticed anyway." "Oh but I-" "Excuse me, two Tequila shots please." Emma turned to see who was ordering and nearly spat out her drink. *** "Excuse me, two Tequila shots please." Sylar tried his best not to turn and face Emma while Kendall held onto his arm. He was hoping the Tequila shots would get the woman on his arm to loosen up and find someone else. But this was her third one and she didn't seem to show any signs of slowing down. He'd seen Emma stand all alone the entire night. Her face carried a sadness to it that he was sure she didn't even realize was there. When the bartender set two shots in front of him, Sylar couldn't hold it in anymore. He whipped his head around so fast to greet Emma that it stunned the both of them. Holding in his beating heart, Sylar gave the biggest, fakest smile of his life. "Want a shot?" "Um..." He hated the way she looked at the bartender for an answer. What was this guy to her? They had never met until now - so why did she trust him so much more? Sylar had seen the red drink he'd given her - the exchange of smiles and blush that flooded her cheeks and traveled down her neck. The shirt she wore was slightly more revealing than her regular clothes. He knew she wasn't truly aware of the fact that when she stretched or leaned over, her small waist was exposed. The skin underneath her shirt seemed to go on forever. "Come on," he finally said after what felt like thirty minutes to him. "It's just a shot." "Babe, don't force her if she doesn't want it." Sylar shrugged Kendall's hands off his arm. "I just wanted to give one to her as a thank you for all the hard work." "Okay," Emma said before Kendall could reply. He was ecstatic on the inside. "One more shot please." The bartender poured another glass of clear liquid. Then he set a small dish of salt and limes down. "Come on," Sylar muttered, suddenly realizing that he was much more drunk than he'd expected. Somewhere along the way he must've forgotten to count how many drinks he'd had. That was a bad sign. Especially when Kendall didn't seem to be letting go of him anytime soon. He waited impatiently as Emma slid off her chair and came next to him. The scent of her freshly washed body hit his nose. Sylar felt her stiffen as he forced an arm around her shoulder. But he was too drunk to care. He just wanted to hold her. Feel her. It'd been so long since he last touched her. "Do you know how to take shots?" he asked. He held her small hands and helped her sprinkle some salt in the groove between her thumb and index finger. Then he placed the shot glass in her hands. "Lick the salt, down the drink and then suck on the lime to chase down the taste. Got it?" She nodded. "Hurry up," Kendall whined from the side. Her breasts bounced deliciously in her tight top. "Okay." Sylar got his shot ready. On his right side he heard Kendall's high pitched voice do a countdown, but on his left there was no sound. When he heard three, he threw back his neck and poured the shot straight down. No chaser. He heard two glasses slam down against the bar and looked back down to see how Emma faired. She was holding a lime out towards him. Without thinking, he bent down and took it directly with his teeth. The tips of her fingers slipped into the corners of his mouth. And he purposely sucked on them before taking the lime away. His chest throbbed with anticipation as he stared into her big eyes. She tasted sweet. He wanted her like nothing else existed in the world. "Damn girl," the bartender said, breaking the moment, "you took that shot like a champ." Sylar mourned as Emma broke away and jumped back into her chair. "Used to drink a bit in college. Guess I still got it," she replied with a shy smile. And in that moment, Sylar didn't know if he could love a girl more. Only he was immediately dragged away again, back onto the makeshift dance floor, by Kendall. Her manicured hands ran all over him, over his body, but his mind was only on the girl at the bar. The girl that smiled whenever he wasn't around. The girl that didn't have a proper reaction to his apology. Damn it, he thought as he watched Emma flirt bashfully with the bartender. How was this fair? How did he spend weeks on end trying to get her to smile when some bastard who knew her less than an hour could get her to laugh? In many ways, Sylar knew the answer: Let it go and leave her alone. It'd been the answer Greg told him ages ago. It was the one answer he considered over and over again, but it was so difficult to follow. Why? He felt a hand brush over his crotch and tried to shift away. Here was another question he'd been asking for days on end, a question that it seemed only Emma could answer and relieve. When Kendall's lips attached his neck, he saw Emma finish her drink and give the bartender a kiss on the cheek. She moved fluidly across the room, escaping everyone's touches except Greg's. Sylar clenched his fists when Greg got a kiss on the cheek. Then she completely disappeared out of the bar. "I need to go to the bathroom," he muttered to Kendall. He kissed the spot behind her ear as an empty promise. "I'll come look for you later." She nodded and Sylar made for the door. Outside, he saw Emma walking towards the woods. What the fuck was this girl doing? Sylar strode towards her in large, hurried steps. Without a warning, he grabbed her by the arm. "Where the fuck are you going?" Emma froze as he started to drag her back towards the hotel. "Where do you think you're going?" he repeated loudly. The more she tried to get free, the harder he held onto his arm. She was so tiny. If she jerked hard enough, she'd break off her own arm just trying to get away from him. The idea was mildly appealing to Emma. She wanted nothing more to step away from Sylar, and maybe breaking her arm was the way to do it. She closed her eyes. The alcohol was definitely making it hard for her to stand still and consider everything. Sylar's intense flirting - from the way he helped her open the door to Greg's hotel room to 'teaching' her how to take a shot - gave her mild hope. Granted it was a twisted hope that had nothing to do with him. She knew Sylar was attracted to her - he'd confessed that much to her the night before - and it was his actions that confused her. But after all that, how could he go and dance with Kendall as if she didn't existed? Is that what people did? She saw the way Kendall fondled him. The evidence was right in front of her, even now. It was big. It was terribly excited... but it was just a hormonal reaction that arguably had nothing to do with her. And when Kendall kept dancing with Sylar, Emma could imagine Adam doing the same with another girl. Touch someone else as if she didn't exist. If Sylar, someone who confessed what little heart he had to her, could do that ... then Adam definitely could. In her mind's eye, she could see Adam turning his phone off so that his guilt would come after he'd done the act. She knew him well enough to know exactly what he'd do. Terror and rejection struck through her as she felt Sylar pull her close. "Let me go!" she shouted. Her hands snapped out of his reach, and she held her palms out to keep him at bay. Her lower lip trembled, not out of fear but true desperation. Every second he was around her, her ability to think straight threatened to fall apart. "And let you go into the woods? Are you crazy?" "I wasn't going to go far! And besides, it's none of your business." Sylar's green eyes blazed. He was livid, for many reasons. Angry with himself for being unable to leave her alone. Unable to do what she really wanted. But not angry enough with himself to endanger her. As she stepped backwards, he grabbed her arm and rescued her from tripping over the stairs. Her soft body was inches away from his. He held his breath, looking right back into her big brown eyes. He wanted to kiss her. Taste her. More than anything, he wanted to hear her voice sighing for him. His lips were inches away from hers before he realized what he was doing. "Fuck," he cursed, but did not let go of her. What was it about her that made him this crazy? He wanted an explanation that made sense on a human level. None of that supernatural soulmate crap. Something to explain why he wanted to spend an exuberant amount of time with her that extended beyond hours, days, weeks and months. If someone had told months ago him that soul mates existed, he would've laughed in their face. There were far too many people in the world to be tied down to one, especially for sex. Every girl he'd ever been with was different. Tighter, looser, more flexible or higher stamina... he could categorize them all and have enough options for a days he felt like getting a top notch blowjob or fucking the tightest ass. But he'd hardly been inside her, and already just being with her felt like the time he rode a roller coaster that looped in and out of a pitch black mountain. He never knew when the ups and downs came - but that didn't matter. That was the best part. Not knowing when the roller coaster would shoot of the darkness and into the light. It blinded him with a thrill. Being around Emma was the same. "I'm sorry," he muttered, stepping back as if she burned him. "So sorry. Let's just get you back inside, okay? Just so I know you're safe indoors and not alone out here." Emma nodded and even though Sylar didn't ask to take her hand, she let him. They managed to pass by the bar without catching anybody's attention. As they walked down the halls, Sylar tried to contain the smallest amount of happiness that'd captured him since she interlocked her fingers with his. She was letting him touch her - guide her - and when they reached Greg's room, Emma handed him the key. "I'm not very good at this," she said. Sylar soundlessly took the key card from her. The beep and flash of green let them know it worked. Emma pushed the door open and walked in. The door closed in, but at the last second, Sylar stuck his toe out. He stood there, waiting for her to turn around and acknowledge him. At the moment, he deserved at least a kiss goodnight. Or a thank you. Even a grateful thank you that showed him she was no longer afraid of him. "Do you want some water?" he heard her ask. His throat was suddenly too dry to answer. So he nodded. "Come in then." He let the door close behind him. The soft thud, the click of the door locking, seemed to make the room smaller. He sat on the bed as Emma turned to give him a glass of cold water. "Thanks," he replied. "And thanks for watching out for me." "Always." He kept his eyes on her and she turned her head away. Her cute button nose was dusted in freckles. How had he never noticed that before? "So," he began, knowing that his question was masochism in the worst form, "you excited to get home to your boyfriend?" "Yeah," although Emma was shrugging, "I am." "You don't look excited." "I am." Sylar said nothing but made sure that she could read the disbelief on his face. That had her walking away, and for a second he thought she was going to give him enough evidence to break his heart all over again. Then she surprised him by sitting down on the bed. Right next to him. She looked him straight in the eyes, a look so earnest and innocent that he gagged when she asked a deeply intimate question. "Is there such thing as a girl being too small?" Sylar shifted uncomfortably, wondering if the question was personal as well. "There's no such thing as too small." "Well you work with professionals," Emma said flippantly. There was enough sass in her voice to let Sylar know that the alcohol was doing most of the talking for her. "They probably aren't like normal girls." "I had my fair share of women beyond coworkers." Red hit her cheeks even harder. "Why, did someone say you were too small?" "N-n-no." Sylar wanted to bet his dick that her boyfriend had. He wanted to hit the man for making this girl feel less than perfect even before she experienced heaven. And suddenly he had to touch her, to prove it to her that she was nothing but perfect. He wanted her first time to be with someone who loved her. "I can promise you that you're not too small," he put the water glass on the floor and slowly looked up. Emma's flushed face gazed down as he touched her legs and slid his hand up her jeans. With two fingers, he gentled pushed at her knees. Emma moved accordingly, sliding back onto the bed until she propped up by her elbows. Sylar dropped to his knees. Emma's legs hung around his shoulders as he leaned forward and lifted her shirt to reveal her smooth stomach. Her waist was small and delicate. His hands spanned the width of it. Touching her like this was not enough. Without asking, he ran his fingers along the hem of her pants and gently unbuttoned the top of her jeans. The open V widened as he unzipped her pants to reveal a pair of lavender cotton panties. He could smell her too. Her arousal. And it made him even more anxious. The way she stared at him while breathing so heavily told him that she had no idea what was going on. Sylar pressed his warm hands over her center. "Let me see you, Emma." He breathed heavily, knowing full well that he deserved a slap on the face for even attempting to ask that, let alone crawl towards her and run his finger over her hip bone. Worse, he knew the alcohol was speaking to her, relaxing her muscles and warming her body in preparation. He moved over her on all fours with the grace of a panther. His shoulders rolled forward, protruding sharply from underneath his shirt. Emma forgot to breathe. Sylar was so beautiful. Not just handsome in a rugged way - no, Adam was much more of that. Many men carried the off-beat carpenter look but didn't completely pull off. Sylar on the other hand looked unreal, like a sunset that caught your eye. "I... please," he whispered over her lips. His voice begged for permission in ways she never imagined him doing. He'd never film a scene like this. But she did nothing. She laid there with her eyes closed so tightly they couldn't have been screwed open with pain or pleasure. Her mouth was parted and emitted whimpering sounds that had Sylar harder than steel. But she did not say yes. His hands loosened their hold and slid down her legs. Any decent man would've let go right away. But he wasn't decent. He was letting go in the most reluctant way possible. As his hands hit her knees, he heard her mewl. Then, very slowly, Emma spread herself as open as her pants would allow. Sylar remained still, not knowing if she was teasing, drunk beyond belief or finally giving him the gift he'd been dreaming about since he tasted her. He swallowed and realized that a pool of saliva had collected in his mouth. God, he could smell her from here. A faint musky aroma that he knew he'd never get enough of. God, even her scent alluded him. As soon as he seemed to have the smell of her arousal committed to memory, he wanted another sniff. He wanted to be closer. Sylar ran his hand down her inner thigh, pushing her pants past her knees. Her skin felt as if it were made of a hybrid of velvet and silk. His fingers reached the curls he remembered tugging on that day in the club. Guilt tore through his stomach as he recalled violating her in the worst way possible. But he couldn't take his hands away. Not when she offered herself to him like this. "I'm going to touch you now, Emma." She looked back at him with blank eyes. He smiled reassuringly. Touch, he realized, was too vague of a word for her. No, what she needed was a play by play. Sylar fought against his instinct to prop himself over her and whisper in her ear everything he wanted to make her feel. Instead, he went lower and blew warm air over her sensitive flesh. He trailed his finger as close to her center as possible. Briefly flicking his nail over her folds, he watched as her hips twitched. Her lungs felt as if they'd dropped into her stomach as she breathed heavily. It was a strange thing to not see Sylar's head between her legs, but feel every inch of him there. "I'm going to lick you now. Right here," he demonstrated, tasting her with the very tip of his tongue. Her hips arched off the bed, almost away from Sylar's mouth. He was ready to stop when she suddenly reached down and grabbed his hair. Sylar grinned. Enough girls had done this to him that he knew what it meant. And it wasn't just that. He knew that it meant Emma wanted him. She wanted him. And he wanted nothing more than to make her feel happy. To make her heart race as she felt wave after wave hit her like the ocean slapping against the rocks. As he ran his tongue up and down her slit to get her wet, Sylar listened to her small mewls. He was aware that she didn't know what was going on, so he made sure to whisper everything he did. "This is called eating out, Emma. My tongue is going to taste you, going to drink your juices until I can't take it anymore." Her lower lips were so swollen, it made Sylar ached to know that she had no idea why. She had no idea how it felt. How he felt to be inches away from heaven. As he dipped his tongue inside of her, she gasped. Her hips moved to pull away, but he held her down and used his thumb to touched the area around her clit. Her thighs squeezed around his head. "Relax," he murmured purposefully against her so that she could feel each tremble in his voice. That somehow got her even wetter as he swallowed her essence. It was addicting, just like the smell of her. He couldn't get enough. Figure 8 Ch. 07 "Sylar." Her calling his name in such a desperate plea was his undoing. Sylar forgot all his efforts to be a teacher to her and dove for what he wanted. Her. All of her. His tongue attacked her clit with loving force. His fingers gripped her tiny hips to keep her on the bed as she bucked and cried out indiscernible sounds. "Don't hold back," he whispered, wanting to hear her moan. "You're so close." She was thrusting against his mouth. He moved one hand up to fondle her breast. The sensation drove her to ride him even harder. As she sped up, Sylar made his licks more forceful until one last lick had him sucking on her clit. With that Emma burst above him, crying out his name in abandon. It was music to his ears, a song he never wanted to stop hearing. When he felt her still, Sylar moved up and propped himself above her. He reached down to undo his pants when Emma stilled. Her big brown eyes looked back at him with such emotion that he felt all the desire leave him. He would have preferred her fear over this. Anything but this. But the look in her eyes was here to stay. He closed his eyes and tried to forget the apologetic look in her eyes. The one that said she wouldn't be having sex with him - the one that on a regular basis he could ignore - but like the rest of her silence, this look in her eyes said much more than just "No." Sylar bit his tongue until it bled to prevent himself from lashing out again. The look on her face said that she wanted her first time to be with someone she loved, but that was all wrong. What she really needed was for it to be with someone who loved her... and Sylar wasn't ready to make that kind of commitment yet. Figure 8 Ch. 08 a/n: So... this has been roughly edited. I just want to get it out... I'm not 100% sure if low ratings have made me care less about "publish worthy editing," but it probably has (I do this for fun, not a profit). Or the fact that I might actually seriously re-edit and put this out as an ebook later for coffee $$)... ----- When Emma awoke, Greg was whistling as he brushed his teeth. He popped his cherub looking face out and smiled at his favorite girl. "Boy, you had a lot to drink last night." Emma ached, and since the bed was so soft and comforting, she dropped her head back into the pillow. Greg yanked the curtains back with a feisty, "Rise and shine, darling!" The light streamed brightly over her face. She squinted as her body slowly woke up. There was a dull throb high between her legs. The wild dream of Sylar with his mouth pressed closed to her lower lips... nibbling... smiling as he licked her like a cat who got the cream came flooding back. "Oh my god," she whispered, mortified. Greg peeked out from the bathroom. "Something wrong?" Foamed covered his lips as he kept on brushing and watching Emma silently berate herself. The sight was amusing. It was like she'd forgotten he was there. When she finally looked up, there was faint desperation in her eyes. "Did you bring me back?" He quickly pretended he had to spit and went back into the bathroom. "Of course," he turned on the faucet and shouted over the running water, "why?" Emma tucked her feet up and rested her chin against her knees. "Nothing. I just remember talking to Sylar in this room and then everything after that became a blank." "Oh," his voice echoed against the tiled walls of the bathroom and came back sounding hollow to Emma's ears, "we brought you back together." "Oh. Thank you." She tugged softly on her toes. Was she being paranoid or did it seem like her jeans were pulled up too tight? Maybe it was that erotic dream she had... it made her want to press her thighs together. In her curled up position, she could push her lower body down. The pressure felt good against her lower lips, but it was a bare mimicry of the vague sensations of dream-Sylar had induced upon her. Then the memory of her asking Sylar about girls being too small hit her like a hammer. "Oh my god," she moaned, burying her head in her hands. It was the last thing she could remember but why had she asked that? "That's so embarrassing." Greg walked back out of the bathroom. He was wiping his face on a towel as he casually approached Emma. "What's embarrassing?" "Nothing," she mumbled. "You didn't do anything stupid at the party, trust me." She nodded but still wouldn't show her face. *** As the shuttle sped down the highway, Emma fidgeted nervously in her seat. Sylar was doing it again - the intense staring. His eyes, a hazy sea of ocean green, never faltered. Every time she turned around, he was facing her with a humorless expression that made her feel she had fucked up again. She'd seen that expression before on other people. Professors, employers — her aunt whenever they brought up the topic of her mother. While those looks were rarely directed at her, Emma never felt comfortable in its presence. She turned her head to look out at the speeding scenery of valleys and cars. Hadn't their time in the van together been therapeutic? Even though he invaded her personal space, she found his drunk, evanescent apology to be sincere. But drinking that last shot had definitely been a bad idea. Her memory of last night was practically nonexistent, but it was her dreams that put her on an emotional and physical roller coaster she was unprepared to face. It had been too real. It'd caused her to avoid Sylar all morning because she couldn't look at him without feeling a need between her legs. Just thinking of him made her rock in her seat. She squirmed, feeling the hard cushion underneath her butt barely give way. The dream was the bane of her existence; it'd unlocked a fantasy that had been growing stronger ever since she started working here. Emma dared to peek over her shoulder. There he was again, staring like a hawk eyeing its prey. She whirled back around and leaned her head against the window. Yellows and greens blurred by, making her go cross eyed. She shut her eyes and spent her energy trying to remember the night before instead. All that came to mind was her absolutely humiliating dream that starred the one and only Sylar Durdan. Not only did the vividness of her dream make it difficult for her to acknowledge Sylar, it ruined his apology. She couldn't stop thinking about him. His weight pushing her down into the bed... his breath brushing her ear... how he knew what she wanted without her even needing to say a word... he was ruining sex for her and she hadn't even had it yet! It had to be because of the editing, Emma reasoned. She'd seen him go down on so many others girls. It was only logic that her brain chose the most reliable reference point. But as that thought settled and she waded through the confusion, another feeling bloomed inside of her. Desire. Seeing Sylar kiss his way down her body made Emma squirm. Like there was a knotted button inside of her that need to be coaxed into release. God, dream weren't supposed to be that powerful. It was unlike than anything she'd done with Adam. The man she loved so much and fantasized about for years didn't even come close to making her body feel this way. No. He just made her anxious. Adam made her worried. Adam still had yet to return or pick up her calls. Why? Why? Emma slowly banged her head against the window. Each thud grew harder and harder as she hit a mental road block. Why? Why? Something blunted her blow. She tilted her head back. Standing above her and looking directly down was a green eyed man with an the unhappy gaze. "Stop hurting yourself." The instinct to flinch was strong, but she suppressed it and was treated to a low burning sensation that heated her entire body. She felt as if she were caught inside a furnace. With a shy smile that she hoped didn't give away her thoughts, she muttered, "I wasn't." Sylar nodded. Then he sat down directly behind her. Emma's heart beat rapidly to a point where she didn't trust herself breathe. It would be so loud. So she leaned her head against the window and pretended that she couldn't feel Sylar's incessant gaze right behind her. Why did was he here? He'd looked so angry, but even through the sharp anger, Emma could detect sadness. And that startled her. He'd shown displeasure, frustration and even gentleness. Until now, she thought she experienced every emotion Sylar had to offer. Until now, she knew mutely nodding and walking away was an answer. Until now. *** Sylar stared at the girl laying in front of him. Lavender eye lids rested shut as she breathed in deeply. The bed was swallowing her up. She looked so comfortable and innocent. Some of her hair was matted to her face with sweat, and he brushed it aside, fixing the strands to the portions of hair that spanned out around her head. A part of him was glad that Emma had blacked out after her intense orgasm. Up until now, he didn't know what his next step was going to be. The loveless look in her eyes bothered him. He'd seen it on many other girls before, girls that just wanted to take pleasure in the moment, but with Emma, it was different. The unreciprocated emotion made his chest feel hollow. Breathing was unbearable. Sylar stood up and back away from her small body. She was so tiny. Her hips jutted out from underneath her skin. When she inhaled ever so lightly, shadows appeared, exposing her ribs. He recalled the feeling of her thighs in his hands. She had been soft and bony. This was a body of a girl who didn't know how to take care of herself. And it was in moments where he wanted to shake her. Ask what kind of spell she put on him and if she could take it away. He wanted his other mind back — the kind that didn't ask questions other than ensuring it was consensual sex. He wanted his selfishness and youthful one track mind. He wanted to be the other cliche. Not this one... not the one who wanted to crawl into bed with her. Who wanted to pull her against his body and cradle her, knowing that he would protect her from everything harmful in the world. Except everything also meant him. Sylar paled as he realized what he'd done. Who he had become. He'd gotten so used to hearing yes that hearing no from this girl had driven him up the wall. Stepping back was difficult, but he forced himself to do so. The dark apex between her thighs shone with a white liquid, and the wet spot underneath her still carried the musk he wanted to inhale over and over again. Other girls had brought him to an insatiable brink before. But they were porn stars. Sylar couldn't recall the last girl he slept with in the past three years who wasn't in the business. An uneasy feeling buckled his knees. The room swirled a bit and he had to leaned against the bed to steady himself. Then he was face to face with Emma's sweet lips again. Any other girl would've gladly woken up to his face between their legs. But not her, he had to remind himself. Not her. Sylar held his breath to avoid smelling her addictive scent again and reached forward to pull her panties back up. His finger brushed through her curls. They were a slightly darker shade than the hair on her head. A soft moan escaped from her throat as she wiggled with his finger dangerously close to her clit. As soon as she stopped moving, he pulled her jeans back up in a fast, quick motion. This caused his hands to slip and push her sweater up a little higher. Curiosity got the better of him again as he stared at the fresh canvas that was her skin. Didn't she have a tattoo? "I'm sorry," he whispered. He rolled her sweater a little higher until the faded inky words looked back at him. Any feelings of desire was immediately wretched out of his chest. He pulled her sweater down and jumped away from her, heading straight for the door. Once outside, the brightly lit and gaudily decorated hallway blinded him. He only had a few seconds as a warning before he saw Greg's hand coming towards his face. Sylar's head cracked sideways. His cheek burned as he got pushed against the wall. "The fuck—" Greg hissed as he reinforced his anger with another shake, "You bastard. What did you do to her?" "Nothing," Sylar replied. He pressed the side of his face against the wall to avoid being slapped again. "She's sleeping like a princess. Go in and look for yourself." Greg pushed him up a little higher as a warning. "Next time, just let me get her." "Yeah, yeah." He jerked out of Greg's hold. "I'm serious, Sylar," Greg slurred, evidently drunk now, "Emma's not a game for you to play with." Sylar fumed. "I thought we were done with this conversation." "Yeah, I thought we were too." "Look," Sylar started, feeling the alcohol speak more for him than he wanted to. The tattoo wouldn't leave his mind. "I brought her back like any gentleman would have done, so I'd appreciate it if you stopped making me sound like a rapist. Especially in front of her. But if you're saying I should keep my distance from her forever... fine. I'll do it." His friend softened at the sudden confession. Greg lowered his head and the sad words sobered him up. Obviously the alcohol had gotten the better of him as well. "I just need you to be careful. Emma can't survive you, you know that?" Sylar snorted and dusted himself off. "What's that supposed to mean?" "She has Adam, and he's good for her." "Have you met her boyfriend? Because I did — while he was dancing with another girl at a club." Greg shook his head. "That's a lot you don't know about their relationship, Sylar." Words slipped from Sylar's clenched jaw. His tone was so venomous that even he cringed as he spoke, but his lips would not stop moving. "I don't need to know anything about him or their relationship to know that she'd be happier without him." "Without him or with you?" Sylar stilled, and jealousy reeled within him. "Fuck you, Greg." It took a lot of willpower, but he turned and walked back to his room before Greg said another word. Next thing from that asshole's mouth would make him punch a hole through the wall. *** Sylar watched Emma and wondered if she had been awake for the portion of his argument with Greg. It would explain why she avoided him all morning. He had tried to greet her during breakfast but each time he asked a question, Emma would brush it off and run away like he'd forced her again. Keep away from her, he heard. Even in his head, Greg's normally amicable voice was low and unfriendly. But Sylar couldn't keep away from her. He didn't want to keep away from her. Nothing could change his mind - not that stupid boyfriend of hers, not Greg's warnings - nothing but... Emma herself. She hadn't though, had she? Maybe not verbally, but she had in other ways. Sylar rubbed his face, feeling the stubble prickle his palm. The tattoo under her breast had said, in so few words, exactly why she would never be his. Sylar watched her youthful face relax to the calming sights that zipped past them. He loved how she embraced silence. His mind on the other hand was going at a hundred miles per minute. What if her tattoo was a mistake? A drunk decision or moment of weakness? Sylar snorted inwardly at his pathetic wishful thinking. Emma did not seem like the reckless type. He looked at the time on his phone. He had wanted to wait until they'd gotten off the shuttle to confront her, to get a clear vision of who he was to her, but seeing her thump her head against the window repeatedly was the last straw. No girl in love would have done that. So even as Greg glared at him, Sylar went to her. Very quietly, and thankful that nobody sat near them, Sylar leaned in and asked, "Why are you avoiding me?" Emma's wide eye response was almost all he needed to know. She looked very afraid, like a deer caught in headlights or a child caught lying. Her body's first instinct was to seize up and get away. Sylar cursed as he wondered exactly why he'd chosen to ask that question first. Only his next one wasn't much better. "Are you still afraid of me?" But then she tilted her head curiously and replied in that melodic voice of hers, "You've asked me that." "I know." Sylar's gaze never wavered. Emma bit her lip. "...No. And I'm not lying this time," she added hastily, wringing her own hands for support. "But I obviously make you feel uncomfortable — and I don't think it's because of my profession." She gawked for a long while before snapping her mouth shut. Was he really doing this now? Everything inside of her didn't want to relive the weeks of fear he had instilled in her. Yes, he'd apologized and tried to make things right, but her immediate reaction wasn't something she could turn off right away. She couldn't help being hyper aware of the blood rushing to every corner of her body whenever he was near. "I think I'm just... intimidated." "That's a form of fear." "N-n-no, not scared of you. Just..." Sylar waited patiently as her eyes flickered left and right. For Emma, this was too much and too soon. Normal people didn't just confront as they pleased. Most of people were reliably passive aggressive, using roundabout ways to get the answers they needed. That was the kind of confrontation Emma was used to, and the kind she knew how to avoid. But Sylar was far from normal. Plus this trip - that dream in particular - had turned her world upside down. Just as she was trying to figure out the overwhelming sensations that came whenever Sylar was near, he stunned her with a question that made her uncertain of everything. There was a deadly combination that now served to increase her lust whenever Sylar was near. Desire was interwove tightly with fear and intimidation. Emma felt her cheeks heat up. She couldn't very well admit her lust to him. These were feelings that not even Adam stirred in her. Besides, what did a girl do with lust? No matter how uncomfortable Sylar made her, it didn't override the feelings she had for Adam. Sylar gently urged her to continue. "Just...?" Emma stared at the black cushioned seat in front of her before exhaling. "I-I don't know where I stand with you." "What do you mean?" The tables turned on him when she said quietly, "I feel like everything I do makes you angry." Her expression was so earnest that he wanted to hold her and apologize again for everything he'd ever done to her. Only he was suddenly wary of the hell that'd opened up in his stomach. "Why the fuck would you think that?" "N-never mind," Emma said quickly, her confidence shattered by Sylar's abrasive tone. Maybe it was fear she felt. This was nothing like what she felt for Adam. "I'm just being stupid." Sylar knew at this moment he should've taken time to reassure her, but the irrational part of him was bubbling again. She always managed to irritate him — always made him out to be the bad guy. For all the years he'd been in the sex industry, women flocked to him because he was known to treat his co-stars fairly. He was supposed to be the good guy! But this girl tested his patience like no other person he'd ever known. Around her, Sylar felt his prided self-control drop by the second. Especially when Emma chewed her lip. The ethereal sounds she made last night echoed in his mind. He imagined kissing her just to prove how misguided she was. Have her sigh into admission that he didn't hate her. Tease her until she sang for him. He wanted to do it slowly with a mixture of restrained lust. Savor her to show Emma exactly he from wanted her. Slow. Deep. ...for a long time. Sylar moved to get away from her but fell apart at the last minute. He grabbed her hand, ignoring her frozen state, and started to rubbed the inside of her wrist. Warmth seeped through their bodies. "I don't hate you, Emma," he stated as firmly as possible. "I don't know how many times I have to apologize, but I - we, Nick, Greg and I - want you to be comfortable here." His green eyes bore into hers until she was unable to take the intensity any longer. She let her head drop into a slightly, startled nod. "Do you believe me?" Her hand laid in his, unmoving like an anchor. Sylar didn't want to let go. She was his anchor. "We're here!" The shuttle itself agreed as it made a loud noise at the drop off point. The crew around them began get up. Emma snatched her hands away and pretended to be distracted by the sunlight. Sylar turned slowly and faced forward. The two of them presented an unmoving picture that their coworkers found odd. Everyone had seen them together already. "Excited to see Adam, sweetheart?" Greg chirped so happily that Sylar wanted to knock his teeth out. Instead he watched Emma carefully as she greeted Greg with a half hearted smile. No girl in love smiles like that, he thought. "Yeah," she replied weakly and started to get up. Her feminine scent washed over him as she scooted past him. Greg helped her get her bags and chattered away about her boyfriend. Emma responded curtly. "I think he's busy," she responded after Greg asked her why he wasn't there to pick her up. Truthfully, Emma had no idea where Adam was. It worried her on a new level she wasn't experienced with yet. Sure, in the past, Adam always came and went as he pleased. Logic told her this was just classic Adam all over again. As his friend, this was a part of his personality she had gotten used to and come to accept. But as his girlfriend... it bothered her. This was a part of his personality that she wanted him to change. Figure 8 Ch. 08 And wanting him to change would be the exact reason he would want to leave her. Emma sighed loudly. What a conundrum. It was something she'd have to bring up with Adam. Pray that he didn't react poorly like he'd done once with another girl. Emma still remembered her. Chloe. She was half Korean, a quarter Black and a quarter Italian, with leggy stems and the brightest hazel colored eyes. Basically beautiful enough to be a Victoria Secret model, and smart enough to be more than just Adam's go-to friend-with-benefits. They didn't just fuck. They talked. They went gone out on dates, and occasionally brought Emma along. But one day Chloe asked Adam for more. She had done it in the worst way possible by purposely asking Adam in front of Emma, assuming Emma would back her up. Adam had been so unbelievably angry that Chloe dragged her this. The final straw was when Chloe turned and pointed a finger at Emma. Her bright brown eyes blazed and turned yellow as she seethed, "One day you'll see what kind of fuck-up he really is, and you'll regret ever being in love with him. But for now, you're obviously the daughter of your retarded whore of a mother." Emma didn't remember too much of that. Tear had blurred her vision before she could think. Everything was a muddle of grey and black and steeped in silence =. Adam grabbed her hands and cradled her to his chest. "You're nothing like that," he'd whispered into her hair, "you're nothing like her." Adam had looked past her upbringing. Where others laughed and mocked her social anxiety, he waited patiently through all her ums and ahs. He knew exactly what to say to make her smile again. In many ways, he was like her - and Emma knew there were times he needed to shut himself off from the rest of the world. So if that's what he was doing now, then she should be willing to wait through the apocalypse for him. "I'll see him soon, no worries," she replied as she jumped off the steps of the bus. A few of the crew members and Nick came along and hugged her goodbye. Greg stood firmly beside her. His eyes wandered about before he asked, "Do you need a ride home?" "Oh no, I can take a bus." "My boyfriend is coming to pick me up. We can drop you off." "No, I live in Candlestick Park, that's the complete opposite of Richmond. It's okay, I can take the bus," Emma insisted feverishly, stepping back from Greg with a caution she had never taken before. She didn't want him to know where she lived. Didn't want anybody from work knowing where she lived. Greg looked at her hesitantly before nodding. "If that's-" "Yeah, positive." Greg ruffled her hair, causing her to break out into a smile. "Text me when you get home?" Emma nodded. "See you at work next week then." "Okay." "Take care, Emma." "You too," she replied, watching her favorite co-worker cross the street and towards a shiny Mini Cooper that had very handsome man in the front seat. Then she began making her way to the bus stop. The bus returning home was about a ten minute walk away. Emma put in her headphones and started making her way down the street. Her head was down as she started texting Adam. where are you? The message registered as sent, but unread. She left another message telling him what time she'd be home. That went unread as well. Emma quickly logged onto Twitter and Facebook to see if he had posted any clues. Nothing. She walked a bit slower, checking everything on her phone for clues and possibly missed messages. Still nothing. "Watch out!" In between those words and the next second, Emma felt herself fly back into a solid chest. A teenaged biker zipped past, slapping her in the face with a gust of wind, and yelled, "Look up, lady!" He turned a corner and was out of sight. Emma turned around to thank whoever had saved her. Her throat dried up when she came face to face with Sylar again. Of course. "You said bye to everyone but me," Sylar muttered. His voice reverberated in her chest as if they were in a cave. "That was pretty rude." Her body was in flames from his touch. "I'm sorry." Sylar shrugged and let her go. "It's fine." He walked past her, bag resting over one shoulder and hands shoved deep into his pockets. The grey hoodie wrapped around his body perfectly. His legs went on for miles. Compared to the other porn stars Emma had seen, Sylar carried an air that made seem like a rock star. She loved watching him. What girl didn't? Sylar was gorgeous. His mesmerizing green eyes took attention away from the rest of his face. And his smile. When those lips broke and curved upwards, it wasn't leering or invasive like all the other men she worked with. In fact, Emma thought his smile had a childish delight to it. So when she ran up to him and tapped her finger against his hard shoulder, she wasn't prepared for the astonished look he turned on her. The hair on his chin was growing out. Emma preferred the unshaven look on him. It made him look less of pretty-boy. "Oh," she muttered. "Um. Just wanted to say thanks. And bye." Sylar looked cautiously at a few strangers who had been eyeing him as he adjusted his weekender over his shoulders. With a frown, Sylar pulled his hood up and stood to block their view of Emma. Now they were pointing shamelessly at the both of them. She looked so cute in her oversized mustard colored sweater and black tights. Her bag slung awkwardly over her shoulders, causing her to stand crookedly to the side. "Can I ask a question?" He muttered without waiting for her to respond, "Would it make you feel better if I just stopped talking to you?" She met his eyes and was stunned by the cold look in them. "What do you mean?" At the same time, the strangers behind him starting calling out his name. They shouted juvenile compliments about his videos. Other people that walked by flashed condescending looks that made Emma blush as she realized they thought she was a porn star too. Sylar rubbed his tired eyes. When his hand came down, Emma thought he looked worn out. More weary than a man should be at his age. "Hey, is she going to be in your next video?" Another voice came little more hushed but still audible. "She's really not as pretty as the others though." Emma lowered her head. She wasn't as pretty. Expected yet... Of course. Emma refused to focus on the growing rejection, even if it was by a couple of teenage brats. "Yo, what if she's his girlfriend?" "Dude Sylar, you can your girlfriend want to join our next house party? It can be like Faye Reagan and her boy—" Sylar whipped around. His silhouette squared up and with calculating steps, he moved towards his so-called admirers - three teenaged boys. "What do you guys want?" "Hey man, just some tips on how to get a girl or something. Or a discount to one of those-" "What's your name?" "Brandon." Emma leaned to the side to watch this interaction. They wore loose pants that hugged below their hips and black hoodies. The two behind Brandon snickered as Sylar took his hands from his pockets. "How old are you Brandon?" "Sixteen, why?" Sylar lifted a finger and urged him to come over. Brandon gladly hopped over but once he was within a foot, Sylar snatched him by the collar and dragged him forward. Emma gasped. She jumped back and tried to avoid the boy but stopped when she realized that Sylar was bringing him to her. "Hey man, what are you doing! You fucking pervert, get your hands off me!" Several pedestrians watched but made no move to help that boy that was being forced onto his knees. Sylar ignored his struggles and pushed him to the ground. He hissed into the boy's ear. "It's okay that you out me as a porn star in public, but it's not okay to assume every girl I'm with is one too." "Jesus, okay, okay. Let me up." "Say you're sorry for thinking she's whore." "Sylar—" Emma stopped as Sylar gave the boy a good shake. "S-so-sorry I thought you were a whore." Sylar snapped away from the boy and dusted his hands off. He glared at the boy's friends. "For future reference, you want to have sex with a girl? It's simple. Ask her permission." As the boys scurried away for their dear life, Sylar turned to a startled Emma. The intense gaze from earlier on had been replaced with a muted lost expression. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice indicating it would be the final time he mentioned this, "Nobody will ever bother you again." He left Emma standing alone under the stares of a couple strangers. Even he walked away, entirely confused over how quickly he'd given up. *** Outside the moments they interacted, Emma didn't see much of Sylar. But when he did come close it was like a caged combustion turning her insides all in one blow. It was hard to think whenever he got close. And now he was saying he'd never bother her again? Emma shook her head as she unlocked her door. She really didn't understand what was going on with her life. It just seemed to be one huge fuck up after the next. How did that happen? This was just supposed to be an easy job. Get in, get out, she repeated. Get in, get out. She pushed the door open to a dark house. The lights were off and the house carried a still silence that was only interrupted by the occasional buzz from the refrigerator. "Adam?" she called out. Slipping off her shoes, Emma noticed that there seemed to be more space. Maybe Adam had cleaned while she was gone. She smiled at mental image of Adam whistling and vacuuming as he worked. He had a lovely whistling tone. In her room, the bed was neatly tucked in. She dropped her bag by the door and looked around curiously. Her room had definitely been in a worst state than this. She walked over to her dresser, passing the closet. It was only a brief glance, but she knew Adam well enough to know his presence... and the absence of it. Like lightning, she ran out to the living room. The shoe rack was filled with her shoes. She went to the bathroom and scanned every inch, from the sink to the tub. His razor and toothbrush were missing. She rounded the corner again and pushed the door to her room wide open. It was gone. Adam's guitar. His suitcase. His shoes. Everything. Adam was gone. *** It was hard to keep up the pretense at work. Pretend that her boyfriend hadn't just run out on her. Was it because of her? Emma closed her eyes and tried to clear her head, but in the deepest moment of silence, just when she thought she was free, Adam's stupid face came to mind again. "There has to be a reason," she muttered unconvincingly even to herself. She'd turn the entire house upside down looking for a clue. A letter. Even a pathetic "I'm sorry" note would've been sufficient. She would've taken any answer that suggested he had a heart. Adam the heartless. It'd been one of his short lived nickname during college. Now she knew it was true. First hand experience. As Nick yelled, "Action," the sounds of fresh sex filled the room. Emma tried to watch the scene as passively as possible. The two girls wriggled like snakes in a nest, grinding and kissing, as if their bodies were one living being. It wasn't until one of them lost control and guided the other girl's hand between her legs that Emma felt the prickling start behind her eyes. It was like a jolt of electricity. "Shit," she muttered as she felt the tears in her eyes come. Without interrupting the scene Nick was working on, she rushed to the bathroom. Praying it would be empty, especially since it was a unisex bathroom. It was. Scampering right into a stall, trying to outrun the tears, she quickly pushed the toilet cover down. The loud clang shook her up. Gave her a small reprieve before the wall of feelings came crashing back down. As soon as she sat, tears wretched out of her like soaking wet rag. She tried everything from holding her breath to blinking furiously, but nothing could stop her body from shaking or crying. Every sob squeezed the life out of her heart and tried for more. Her chest felt as if someone had taken a stake to it and left it in. Pulling out her phone, she checked her messages again. Nothing. For severals days, nothing. No response to any of her calls, messages or emails. Emma wasn't sure if it was three or four days. Five or two. The bright and dark skies blurred seamlessly one after another until she no longer knew what she was doing. The only comfort she found was in editing videos. It was a mindless job. Watching the rich creamy bodies twist and grind upon each other did nothing but remind of her the empty bed at home. She felt Adam's name form in her throat like a lodged fish bone. The desire started as sound and had now manifested into a physical block. A mixture of emotions prevented her from saying it aloud, from releasing everything. Pride because she didn't want to admit she was another notch on the bedpost. Anger because he was her best friend and he betrayed her. Shame because she'd fallen for his typical womanizing ways... I should've known better, she thought. The door opened and she heard footsteps come in. Without thinking, Emma drew up her legs to hide. Her heart raced as she watched a pair of tall stilettos tap against the tiled floor. Water turned on, and the woman outside began to hum. It was a terrible sound, like she didn't have enough breath. Emma clutched her legs to her chest. Pressing her head against her knees, she tried to reason her way out of crying. In a twisted way, she understood Adam reverting to his old habits. She'd even expected it and was secretly glad he lived up to her low expectations. Things would've turned out for the worst if he'd truly captured her heart and left. Hatred was the most logical reaction... but as every call went straight to voicemail... when every text message was marked unread... Emma felt her heart beat wildly. What were the chances that he wasn't ignoring her, but in genuine trouble? Fear that surged through her chest... ...as well as hope. The world began to spin slightly from her holding her breath for too long. As she gasped, the sound of rushing water stopped. There were a few sharp clacks before whoever was outside made their way out. Emma thought she'd be able to relax now that the woman was gone. But she couldn't. Without the sound of rushing water, the tapping against the tiles... she felt unstable, like a lone cloud in the sky. Her head was still spinning. The bright fluorescent lights flooding and reflecting of the floor was just making everything worse. She reached for the door, a raspy call for help, and fell forward. Thankfully, slamming her head against the door jolted her awake. With weak hands, Emma unlocked the door and stumbled out. Her stomach growled and twisted itself in hunger. When was the last time she ate? "Ugh," she muttered as she wobbled to the sink. There were some fruits outside. She'd have to eat a banana to help tide her stomach over. Suddenly Emma felt her legs cramp up and fail her. "No..." Using the counter as support, she managed to slide against the wall. The door came within her hand's reach. Then with the last amount of energy she had, she closed her eyes to stifle the swirling ground. Her hand swiped at the door, which magically opened on its own. Emma felt a presence hover over her before the blackness covering her eyes also consumed her mind. "Whoa!" *** Sylar stood there with an unconscious Emma in his arms. It'd been awhile since he'd seen her. A week to be exact. A week wasn't a long time in the grand scheme of things. Usually a week slipped through his mind like a lost penny. But this time he purposely requested the time off to stay away from her. Seven days wasn't enough to purge his desire for Emma. He knew that. It was just supposed to be enough for logic to take over. But here she was now... in his arms. Incredibly light and cool. Time had not dulled his feelings for her. If anything, they strengthened ten fold now because instead of finding her plain, Sylar thought Emma was utterly flawless. Her relaxed expression gave her face a maturity that had him thinking about how she'd look in a few years. If he was lucky enough to still know her then... Gripping her close, Sylar brought her out towards the set where Greg immediately spotted them. "Emma!" Greg reached forward to tug her out of Sylar's hold. Reflexively, Sylar held still. "Calm down," he growled, "I could've dropped her." With that, Greg stepped away. Other members of the crew were coming now. Footsteps and shouts echoed throughout the set. Sylar noticed her brow crinkle. She was waking up. Anxiety tore through him as he debated whether to give her to Greg or hold still. She woke up before he could decide. "Sylar?" her voice said hoarsely. "Emma, you fainted in the bathroom!" Greg pushed at Sylar's shoulder until he slowly let her down. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I just... low blood sugar probably." "What's going on?" Nick's voice echoed through the room. His footsteps clapped loudly against the wooden floor with impatience. As Nick got closer, Sylar reluctantly released his hold. "I'll go get you a banana," he muttered, not daring to meet her eyes. He walked away and Emma strangely felt a brush of coldness overwhelm her. She shivered, and was immediately met by her concerned boss. "What happened?" "I fainted," she replied, embarrassed. "It's okay, I'm alright now." "Do you want to go home?" Emma shook her head and regretted it immediately. Even that small act made her feel woozy. "No, it's fine. I can work." "Your lips are white. I think you should go home." "But there's only a few more hours—" Nick raised his hand. "Exactly. Only a few hours. You can pick up the tapes tomorrow or I'll have Greg drop them off and you can work from home, okay?" Emma really didn't want to work from home, not where everything still reminded her of Adam. But she didn't have the strength or desire to argue. She didn't really have a choice. So she just nodded. Nick turned around to get back to work. Emma reached out for Greg, who grabbed it and took her to back to the desk to collect her things. Everyone watched silently from the sidelines. Emma hated the attention. Hated being made out to be the helpless all over again. But what could she do? She'd literally fainted and got carried out by Sylar. Oh God, she thought, letting her head drop heavily like a thousand pound weight. He'd been carrying her. Why was he here? Why was he the one to catch her? In the aftermath of Adam's disappearance, she'd forgotten all about Sylar. She hadn't expected his face to be the first thing she'd see. All those confusing feelings came back. It'd been a week since he came by the studio... seeing him looking down at her made her heart race and stomach churn like she'd taken a misstep on the stairs. Then she was settled back on her feet and he was gone. Greg in his place. Was she going crazy now? Why was his face the one she saw and not Adam's? "You sure you're okay?" Greg asked, watching her forcibly shove things into her bag. Those hard drives looked heavy. The weight would slowly build up. It looked like she'd be completely worn out by the time she walked to her bus stop. "Everything okay with the boyfriend? Haven't heard much about him since we came back from camp." "Oh, of course. He just... had to do some things before the tour. We're both busy." She stopped moving for a second. Her expression lost in space before she gave an unconvincing smile and threw her backpack over her shoulders. "See you tomorrow?" Greg paused. His eyes swept over her with concern before he nodded. "Get some rest, Emma." She was already walking away as she waved. "I'll try." Greg kept his eyes on her until she was out the doors. Even in her gaunt there was something melancholic about it. She dragged her feet a lot, he noticed — was that something she always did? Shaking his head, he decided that he would bring her the tapes tomorrow. Maybe Sylar was right. Girls in love didn't smile like that. Maybe there was something wrong with that boyfriend of hers... Figure 8 Ch. 08 "Oh god, Sylar, watch out!" Sylar stared at him like a little boy. A banana in his hand. "What are you doing here?" Greg muttered, "You're not scheduled for today." Those green eyes were light and lost. "Uhm, Alexandria said to meet her here after her shoot. We were going to get drinks." "After the shoot? You're early." Sylar gave a coy smile. "Yeah, well I wanted to watch." "Pervert." "Only as much as the next straight man." Greg rolled his eyes and made his way back to the set. He didn't get far before Sylar called out. "Hey, where's Emma?" "Nick sent her home. Why?" He turned just in time to see Sylar staring at the banana in his hand. Sylar's knuckles turned white for a second before he released the yellow fruit. Something crossed that boy's face that made Greg reconsider stopping him. That and the picture of Emma wobbling her way towards the door. As Sylar muttered something about letting Alexandria know he wouldn't make it, Greg just nodded. Instinct told him to back down. Sylar gripped onto the banana like a baton as he raced down the steps. He had a vague sense of which direction she'd gone it. Stupid girl, he thought, as he felt the banana bruise under his tight grip. He'd dated a girl who had low blood sugar all the time. She was constantly snacking on low calorie treats and popping candies in her mouth in between sets to make sure she could keep up with filming. There's nothing less attractive than seeing a girl play dead while she rides you. As he ran down the street, he caught a glimpse of Emma's bag. She was turning the corner to her bus stop. Something prevented him from shouting her name. He didn't want to embarrass her. So instead he sped up, like a marathon runner. The thunderous sound of his running barely alerted Emma. She didn't even turn around until he tapped her on the shoulder. Emma's body gave a little hop. Sylar noticed the headphones in her ears and her phone in her hand. There was sadness all over her face before it turned quizzical. "Why'd you run off so fast?" "I thought I imagined you..." Her voice was barely audible, but Sylar managed to catch it anyway. "What?" "I... you... um...." Her face flushed as she realized there was no way platonic way to explain her thoughts. Instead she blushed and took a step back. Her foot rubbed against a broken cement block, and she fell backwards. Again. "Crap," she cried out and reflexively reached for Sylar. "Got you." Sylar pulled her from her leaning stance and towards him. The fresh scent of her filled his nose. Always unlike any other. "Thanks." "No problem... oh, here. Eat this." Sylar was embarrassed for a second. The banana had turned bruised and splotchy in his hold. But then Emma's eyes lit up gratefully. With a loud grumble, her stomach announced her hunger for the first time since Adam left. "Thanks." She took the fruit and peeled it delicately, her fingernails never penetrated the skin. In three large gulps, she finished the banana and walked to the corner of the street to toss it into the trashcan. Sylar never left her side. With a full mouth, she mumbled another thank you. "No problem... but you got some... thing on the corner of your lip." Sylar chuckled as she wiped like a little child attacking their face with the palm of their hands. It made Sylar smile. Simple things. Little things. The forgotten pictures of life — that's what she reminded him of. He never thought he'd enjoy a girl eat a banana in a way that made most guys lose their hardon after the first bite. It almost didn't matter that he noticed how far down the banana she could bite. Almost. But the other half of him enjoyed the show. After all, most of the girls he spent time with, girls like Alexandria, Ashlynn and Kendall, would've made a show of eating the banana. If there was something on their lips, they would've taken their time to lick it off. He was always so endless aroused by then. But Emma had chomped the banana down in three bites. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, the way normal people did. Normal people who didn't have their lives revolved around sex. Emma looked back at him expectantly. "Do I still have—" Her stomach growled loudly again. She clutched at it with her small hands and groaned. "Do you want to go get something to eat?" Even Sylar was speechless at how those words had fallen so casually from his mouth. He rubbed the back of his neck, playing with the tag on his collar before smiling shyly back at Emma. Her eyes were wide, almost fearful. The look killed him. He dropped his facial muscles and tried to play if off. "Not like a date, but just... friends?" She looked so terrified, he felt his heart drop out of his mouth and onto the floor. Why did he even bother? Seeing her again, in all her innocence and beauty, always made him forget how much he frightened her. It was that small flash of clarity in her bright eyes, like the first flicker of light in a dark room, before they turned back to a dull fearfulness he'd come to know. But then her stomach was talking again like a howling wind. Hesitation turned to embarrassment as Emma lowered her head. In the instances where her stuttering drove him mad, he felt his heart sore at her response. "Um, okay, but can we get out of this area?" "Yeah, of course." He let her continue walking as he added, "By the way, this is my treat." They found a small Chinese cafe that had a happy hour special. It had dim lights and reminded Sylar too much of a hospital. He insisted on going further down, to the food court on Market street or somewhere that had more than a 82 score on their health report, but Emma refused. "It's cheap and I don't want to walk anymore," she replied. So he followed her in. Since there was no one else, they were immediately seated in a booth and tossed two wet laminated menus. They stuck to the table without budging an inch. Emma gingerly picked at her menu until it faced straight up so she could read. Sylar watched as she scanned the menu, unaware. Delight crossed her face as she pointed at something and said, "Oh this sounds really good..." "Just order whatever you want." "Are you going to eat?" Sylar shook his head. "I ate before I came by the studio." "Oh, I thought you were going to... then we should just go. I can eat at home." Emma started to collect her things. He grabbed her wrist and held her still. "Stop worrying about it. If I had a choice, I would've gone down a few more blocks to at least the Japanese place or the french cafe. But we're here and you're right, this place is cheap, so just enjoy it?" Sylar winced. The last bit was phrased too much like a plea. But he was scared to see her walk away. For the first time, the air between them was calm and settling, like an early morning fog rolling through the forest. He wanted to keep it this way. "Are you ready to order?" The old Chinese waiter had his pad ready as he looked down at the strange couple. Emma leaned back and rubbed her wrist. It felt like it was on fire. "Yeah," she murmured softly and looked back down at the menu. "I'll have the ham and eggs over rice." "And you, sir?" "French toast." "Okay. Anything to drink?" "I'm good with tea," Emma replied. "Me too." "Okay. So one ham and eggs over rice and one french toast. Two hot teas. Anything else?" Sylar looked at Emma, who smiled towards the waiter and shook her head. "Nope." "Okay. Thank you." The waiter picked up their menus and left them alone. Although now without the food options and menus to pour over, silence filled the space between them. Emma kept her eyes wandering around the small café. Every inch of her that moved captivated his eye. At least there was no fear on her face. No hatred or hesitation. The way she toyed with her lips, chewing on them with childish curiosity, made him wish he was right next to her. Wish he was holding her hand so that he could feel every tremble and her breath on his neck. Sylar shifted in his seat and coughed out a thank you when the tea came. He heard her voice do the same. How did he get here? Sitting across from a girl who he wanted to feel skin to skin. "How have you been?" Her voice cut through the silence, causing him to jump. Immediately, he reached for his cup of tea as an anchor. "Been better," Sylar replied honestly, unable to meet her eyes. "Tired. Lazy. Just one of those weeks." "Oh... sorry to hear that." "It's not your fault." Emma gave a faint smile as if she knew he was lying. "And you? How are you and the boyfriend?" He regretted asking that immediately, especially when her face fell. But that didn't stop the small spark of joy ignited within him. Maybe the boyfriend— "We're okay," she said, her voice small and tiny. "Nothing new." Sylar wondered what form of masochism he'd been subscribed to. He couldn't stop himself. "Can I ask how you guys met? I mean, I remember him from the club and wasn't he with another girl?" He regretted asking that as soon as her hand wiped at her eyes. They stayed wide open, as if she were trying to stop herself from crying. It was hard to tell with the way she kept her head down. The waiter came by a slid her plate over the table. The plastic clattered loudly and both were thankful for the interruption. Emma used her as an excuse to avoid more conversation. She kept her head down the entire time, to which Sylar was mildly grateful for. He wanted to process everything before he asked another question. Whatever he said next would be drastically important, and he wanted to get it right. As he watched her shovel food like she'd never eaten, his order came soon after. The plate of brown toast that looked nothing like he'd expected. It must've been deep fried, he thought gingerly, the thought of eating such greasy food made his stomach churn. "You're not eating?" Emma's plate was half cleaned. "Is this right?" "Yeah, Chinese style. You were expecting French toast, weren't you?" "It's what I ordered." "Chinese cafes never bother to translate things right. You should just try it. It's good." "You're eaten here before?" "No, but pretty much ever Chinese diner tastes the same." When he didn't move, Emma reached over and pulled his plate towards her. She picked up a new set of utensils and started slathering on a lot of butter. The yellow pool that formed made Sylar's stomach churn. He watched as she cutting the toast into small bite sized squares before drizzling syrup over it. Then she pushed it back towards him. Their eyes met and hers flew wide open. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I'm so used to doing that for Adam—" Sylar cringed. Yet something inside of him blossomed. He was starting to see glimpses of the real Emma. Beyond her shy and evasive personality, there was a sweet, kind girl. One that he wanted to take proper time to get to know, to watch develop from a wallflower to a rose. "It's fine. Hey, it looks more appetizing now." She laughed. It was a lovely sound that broke ice. They went on making small talk, each bypassing topics that would make the other uncomfortable. Sylar didn't ask about Adam, Emma didn't ask about his career. Instead they talked about college and countries, foods and sports... Sylar enjoyed old school arcades and pinball machines while Emma secretly liked to play pool. They avoided talking about alcohol and music only after Sylar mentioned that his favorite singer was Bob Dylan and Emma regretfully admitted that she hated the sound of this voice. Anger and tension was mocking expressed, but the laughs were genuine. Anyone who overheard them would've thought they were on their first date. Sylar felt a huge ache in his chest as he walked with Emma to her bus stop. They swayed side by side the entire time. He ached to hold her hand. It swung like a taunting pendulum until she shoved it into her pockets. They reached her stop, and she looked at him willingly, not a trace of hesitation or fear in her eyes. "Thanks for the meal." "You'll get home safe?" he asked, noting that the sky was beginning to darken. She was so tiny with her bookbag. He didn't want to let her go. "Maybe I should—" "I'll be okay. The bus drops me off right at home." Sylar frowned. Something stirred inside of him as he debated whether it was concern or selfishness. He just... "I had a great time tonight," he blurted. Shit, he thought. He'd just turned their casual encounter into a date. Or expressed his earnest wishes that it was. The more she stood there, unresponsive, the more he wanted feel her smile as his lips stayed on her face. A second was all he needed. "Me too." Suddenly he bent down and did what was on his mind ever since they left the cafe. Only he didn't anticipate her move and their lips brushed together. Sweetly. Innocently. Sylar groaned as he pressed forward. He used his hands to draw her close; his palms slipped underneath her backpack and caressed her. Involuntarily, he closed his eyes. Her lips were soft, almost as if he were kissing air. The wet tip of her tongue flicked against his lower lip. She tasted of soy sauce and eggs. But that combination soon washed away as she jerked back. Her eyes looked at him, stunned. "My bus is here," she squeaked. It was. The exhaust of the Muni settling to let people off jolted him awake, and he stood there watching her jump on as if she were running away. Sylar felt as if he'd been doused with cold water as he watched the doors close. Emma paid her fare without a single glance out the window. Towards him. He licked his lips, feeling the salty residue her meal. Even if she wouldn't look at him, he'd watch the bus until he could see it no more. The bus snorted as it started moving again. Emma sat by the window where she was sure Sylar wouldn't be able to see her. He'd kissed her! Consciously and kindly, unlike any kind of kiss she had in her life. There was no forceful hunger like she was used to, not the passionate kisses she was used to having from Adam. Or the ones she'd seen Sylar give on screen. It was the kind of kiss she never thought she'd get tired of, would never get tired of tasting... But why? Emma thought as she chewed on her lip. A sweet aftertaste seeped into her mouth. Her small pink tongue darted out and over her lower lip. Syrup. *** The next day, Nick called and told her to stay in. Even as she protested, he refused to let her come, citing reasons such as her health or regulations... he rambled until she finally agreed. There was no way she was going to tell him that she was scared of being in her own home. Scared of finding or never finding the reason Adam had abandoned her. It'd been a week. He'd never gone for so long without a response. Emma rolled around, tucking her hand under her head. She felt the cold side of the bed with her leg. His spot. Even when they slept together, Adam had a tendency to roll away. There were times he hogged all the blankets, leaving Emma to shiver in the cold. She would have to poke him awake, or until his body relaxed, so that she could pry the sheets from his death grip. Was it pathetic now that she rather have those cold nights? With a muffled scream into the pillow, she knew it was. She rubbed her face into her pillow again to release another pent up scream when her hand brushed against a crumpled piece of paper. Curling her hand around the paper, Emma rolled onto her side and unrolled the paper. be back in 5 mins. Fresh tears rushed to her swollen eyes. A million questions went through her head in the form of a loud scream. Emma moved face forward into the pillow again for another scream. But then the doorbell rang. Who was that? Mail didn't come until late afternoon... she hadn't ordered breakfast... a tiny spark of hope ignited in her as she thought of her best friend again. Maybe he'd come back... with a damn good explanation on how five minutes became one week. Since her sleeping tee was extra large and dropped to her mid thighs, she didn't bother with shorts. Emma sped into the living room, narrowly avoiding the sharp corners of her bookshelf and countertops. Without looking through the peephole, she flung the door open and... "Sylar?" The sound of metal clattered loudly against the cement floor. Emma gasped as he pushed his way into the house. His shoulders knocked into her painfully, but her eye caught the hard drives on the floor. So while Sylar stalked the inside of her house, looking for god knows what, Emma cursed and knelt down to make sure the drives were okay. They looked like they were, but she wouldn't know until she plugged them in. She hoped they weren't. Nick would kill her. "Sylar, what are you—" He was in front of her again. So close. The green in his eyes turned to ice, so pale they were almost blue in color. Emma held her breath. She was unable to think when he was like this again. Hadn't they made up last night? But the longer she held her breath, the more claustrophobic she felt, and oddly enough, the more she wanted to lean into Sylar for support. Sylar's hand went to her chin and tilted it up. Emma closed her eyes to stop the tears. Her hand gripped the bag as her thoughts cluttered and cleared. Sort of. She wasn't sure how calmly she could think when Sylar looked at her like he was ready to crush her open. So her mind stopped at the last thought she remembered: She'd really wanted Adam to be at the door. "What happened, Emma?" His warm hand cupped her face and his thumbs stroked her eyes. "N-n-nothing." "Then why are you crying?" He was angry because she was crying? "I'm wasn't—" "Shut up. Your eyes are red." Emma moved her head out of his grip and closed the door behind her. She walked around him, keeping her head down. Whatever he was feeling radiated off of him like a ripple effect. The air twisted as he turned around and followed her to her office space. "You shouldn't have dropped these," she muttered. Her voice was stone cold as she sat on the ground and took the hard drives out of the bag. "I'll get in big trouble if they're broken." Sylar stayed by the door. "I'll tell them it's my fault. They knew I was bringing them to you." The startup sound of her laptop echoed throughout the room. She plugged in the drives and they produced a low hum that comforted her. Machines. That was one thing she could count on. The first hard drive turned on successfully and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes flickered towards Sylar. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching her with mild interest. The corner of his lips went up slightly, making her blush. Everything about him was captivating. She'd always known that. Even got herself to admit it every now and then, but nothing really compared to the casual way he stood there, watching her. How could anyone look so compelling just standing there in jeans and a t-shirt? Sylar looked amazing in grey. As she turned her head to check if the drive was working, Sylar crossed his arms crossed. His forearms were profound, and the raised hem of his shirt forced her to look at his long legs. What was it about him that made him different? Compared to the other actors that came in, Sylar had a polished and almost innocent look to his face. "Do you want some water?" she found herself asking. "Yeah... where's the bathroom?" "Turn right, first room there." "Thanks." He left the room even though every bone in his body ached to turn around and check on her. Bringing the hard drives was a cheap move, he admitted that much, but seeing her teary-eyed had been completely unexpected. Her face was flushed, like she'd been screaming, and the hand print on her cheek made him see red. But the house was empty of Adam, or any other living person. Figure 8 Ch. 09a I haven't finished this chapter, but I thought I'd give you a segment to tide you guys over --- especially for those who are still reading and eagerly waiting. Thank you so much!! And for those who are rooting for Sylar/Emma, I think this have "more" happy times between these two are in your favor :) Otherwise this series would just seem too debbie-downer through and through. Thanks for the patience and kind messages you've all been sending me. Expect the second half of this chapter it be much longer! As always, comments super appreciated. 05/02 xx --- Sex had never been like this. Well, never was a bit of an overstatement, but Sylar really couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed having a girl stay with him for so long. During the rare minutes of the night that Sylar let Emma leave his side, he found himself wondering if any other relationship was comparable to the last twenty four hours. Twenty four hours of dragging Emma back into bed and ravaging her. Even when he couldn't get it up, he had to get her off. Be inside of her somehow - her mouth, her pussy, with his fingers, his cock, his tongue. Her soft mewls reassured him he wasn't dreaming. And sometimes he wondered if he was dreaming. A part of him was in strict disbelief that he'd finally got her, and clung to the fact that he might be dreaming. Another part of him knew it was because sex with Emma was simply that good. At least for the virgin she was, it was really good. After a few tries, he quickly discovered the trick to easing her pain and maximizing her pleasure. Emma had a surprisingly hungry sex drive with a long stamina. Her orgasms were short, but her body reveled in the aftermath, clinging to him as if he were the only rock in an angry ocean. Never had he felt an orgasm like hers. Her inner muscles didn't pulsate, instead they locked grip onto whatever part of him was in her until they got tired. And that was the trick. Emma remained decently wet until her orgasm, but after she came, and her muscles relaxed, her wetness leaked out from her hole enough for him to slid in and ride her to a second orgasm. It was a wonderful discovery for Sylar. Every half hour, he'd get her pussy worked up until she came, and when she was wet enough, he'd slip right in to make her come again. Twenty four hours and counting, he mused happily as he propped himself up against the headboard. He'd heard of sex marathons before. Big orgies or hours upon hours of sex, but even as a porn star, he found them dangerous and stupid. It wasn't a realistic life goal or one to brag about by any means, and so he strayed from any company that extended such invitations. Sylar stroked his flat stomach and kept his eyes on the door, not wanting to miss the chance to exchange smiles with Emma when she came in. The sound of her footsteps came closer, and Sylar unconsciously inhaled the musky scent that'd invaded the room. The door creaked open, and he immediately drew his attention to Emma's face. Her nose wrinkled, making him chuckle. This was all new to her. Every expression crossed her face before she knew how to hide it. Their scents were baked into the air and she had yet to figure out if she liked it. Emma lingered in the door frame, dressed in an oversized university shirt and nothing more. Her legs were smooth, like cream and satin. He wanted to touch them again, stroke his fingers against her thigh. Only this time he would watch the contrast between his hands and her legs... take in the feel and— "Do you want your water?" Sylar blinked and saw that she was no longer by the door, but beside him, sitting half way on the bed and holding out the glass of water he'd requested earlier. He reached for it with one hand and used his other arm to scoop her closer to him. Emma squealed, "Hey!" as water splashed from her cup and onto the sheets. She focused on the water spot. Concentration burrowed between her brows as she wrinkled her nose. A sharp need to have her happy and as close to him as possible flooded him. He kept his arm around her waist while she remained still. Then it came. That faraway look rested on her face - a recurring expression that visited their moments together from time to time - one that he hated because he had an inkling it had everything to do with Adam. Did she think of him when they were together? he thought as he sipped his water. Or was it only after they had sex. He wasn't sure which was better, but he wished neither option was a plausibility. So he did the only thing he could think of to stop her train of thoughts. He kissed her lightly in the corner of her mouth. A slight flick of his tongue made her lips part in surprise and he released his hold on her waist to turn her head. Sylar felt Emma give in to him. She returned his kisses with the passion, pressing her chest into his. Their tongues moving against each other like intertwined lovers. For a second, he dared to open his eyes and felt his chest swell when he saw that her eyes were shut. The translucent skin of her eyelids fluttered as she sucked on his lip before pulling away. With one leg hanging over the edge of the bed and the other bent and resting against his, Emma shifted away from Sylar and brushed her hair back. Her cheeks were tinted with a soft shade of pink. Sylar swept in for another kiss. He couldn't get enough of her. The taste, the feel... he felt his stomach coil tightly when Emma ducked her head. He shifted to nudge her with his nose, pretending that that was his purpose all along, and that her reaction didn't sting his heart somehow. Her mouth parted and he held his breath. "Are we going to have sex again?" A storm of thoughts ran through his head, but his face remained stoic as he shrugged. "I'm always ready to have sex," he replied. Emma chewed her lip. "I mean, is that all we're going to do?" "Why? Am I so disappointing you want me out already?" Her doe eyes widened. "N-n-no. You're good! Really good," she emphasized, unknowingly echoing the same sentiments that'd crossed his mind a million times that day. She stared down into her cup and replied meekly, "It's not about that. I promise." "I'm kidding, Emma." "Oh..." and the second oh crossed her face as she brightened up and turned those happy yet shy eyes towards him. "It's hard to tell sometimes," she admitted, "but maybe I'm just bad at reading people. I was only ever good at reading..." They both thought of the name but refused to say it. Refused to give life to the one thing that could destroy what they had. It was too early to give up yet. She felt Sylar peel himself away to put his cup on the floor. The loss of contact made her skin feel surprisingly bare. She eagerly welcomed his heat when he returned. One arm slide around her waist and pulled her to rest against his bare chest. His free hand rested against her thigh. A thick finger slowly moved up and towards her center before brushing back down in languid strokes. "Are you trying to get me to ask you out on a date, Emma?" Her voice squeaked through her constricted throat. "I-I-I..." "Would you like to go on a date with me?" His voice rumbled through her like an echo in a cave. "I think so," she replied and looked him straight in the eyes. His finger had reached her outer lips. She could feel it hovering over her opening like a shadow. Suddenly she was unsure of what she wanted. Her legs were already parting to let him in. Sylar swept his finger up her labia. He ended the motion with a hard press against her clit, causing her hips to jerk. She was so swollen, so sensitive down there that even the slightest amount of pressure could get her off. "Hm," Sylar said as he massaged her nub. "What would you like to do?" Emma squirmed. How did he keep so calm? She wanted him to shove his fingers inside of her and move until her inner walls sucked him in. But there was also the odd desperate need to go out with him on a normal date. Do something other than sex... "We could - " Emma gasped as he flicked his finger, "-see a movie?" "Mm, boring." "Get food. We haven't eaten yet." Sylar nipped at her neck. "That's a given. What else?" "Um..." She couldn't think as he finally touched exactly where she wanted his fingers to be. "Yes?" "I don't know," she cried out when he drew liquid from her opening, teasing her and making her second guess her desire to date. Was he trying to keep their relationship strictly sexual? Because it was working. His tongue was trailing towards her ear. He nibbled on her lobe before whispering directly into ear with a husky tone, "Tell me about your ideal date." Emma closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. But Sylar had asked the wrong question. Her voice faltered as Adam came to mind again. He had always been her ideal date — anything time spent with Adam was the ideal date. She swallowed with a whimper that Sylar mistook for innocent passion. "Emma, have you ever been on a date before?" Unable to trust herself, Emma shook her head vigorously. The movement rippled down her body, twisting her hips into a grinding motion over Sylar's stiff hand. She whined again once more like a puppy. "Do you like long—" he pushed one finger into her on the emphasis of that word, "walks on the beach?" She parted her legs to ease her tight muscles as she jerked her head no. "True, you'd want something more original than that." How the hell did he stay so calm? Emma wanted to scream for him to go faster. Although her pride, her dignity, whatever damn wall she'd built over the years, wouldn't allow her to do it. Despite the fact that she had screamed for him plenty of times before, Sylar's casual conversation made the entire situation feel curiously taboo. "I used to take girls on a ferry ride to Sausalito. How about that?" Emma simply sighed as a second finger stretched her open. "Maybe that's too touristy." At this point, Emma didn't care what they were going to do after. In fact, she was starting to realize that she never cared about the actual planning or attending of dates at all. What really mattered was who she was with and whether or not getting to know them was a good idea. "Emma..." Sylar curled his fingers with a come hither, causing her to arch back and slam down onto his digits with renewed force. She gasped and words fled from her mouth with a boldness only backed up by her need for an orgasm. "I don't care! Just make me cum, please, please, please. Make me cum so we can go eat, damn it!" Emma wriggled and ground her hips, trying to get Sylar to move when she realized that her outburst had stunned Sylar frozen. She make a mixture of sounds, ranging from desperation to embarrassment, before coming to a stop herself. Her eyes dared to meet his green ones. They were light like the sun shining through the leaves. And then in a short second, his pupils dilated at rapid speed as he crashed his lips against hers. Without warning, Sylar worked his fingers like a piston. Hard. Short. Pressurized jabs going in and out of her until the sounds of his fingers in her slick core became as heavy as the scent of their sex in the air. His thumb pressed down on her clit, and his fingers rushed into a blur. Emma squeezed her thighs together, trapping his hand until it couldn't move. She dropped her arms down, only realizing now that her cup wasn't in her hand anymore. When had — "Lie down, babe." She followed Sylar's direction and allowed herself to lie flat on her back. Sylar hovered over her. His fingers didn't move and she needed them to. He used his free hand to push her thighs apart. They obeyed, reluctantly, not understanding that he needed to get deeper before her body could reach its climax. As soon as her legs were wide apart, Sylar shifted over her. Then his fingers went hard, like they were racing to the finish line. Emma started to scream, but his other hand slapped over mouth. The act oddly enough caused her pussy to flood. Half mortified, half too aroused to care, Emma let the positive emotions take over and surrendered to Sylar's hand. She arched her back, allowing Sylar deeper access, as the steady rise towards her breaking point drew near. His fingers worked at lightning speed until they broke her. Everything happened at once. The hand over her mouth withdrew as she flung herself up to hug Sylar as close to her body as possible. Sylar shuddered and yanked her hair back when she moaned right into her ear. He devoured her lips just as her inner muscles clamped down against his fingers with a death grip. Her pussy pulsated rapidly alongside her increased heartbeat, and she rode the wave with her entire body. It felt like years had passed before she came down from that incredible high. And when it finally subsided, Emma dropped her head into the crook of Sylar's neck. An act that Sylar found more satisfying over everything that'd just happened. "How do you not have carpal tunnel syndrome?" she breathed, absent mindedly kissing his neck. Chuckling, Sylar withdrew his fingers. He groaned when a small pool of liquid followed. "Luck," he replied. Emma continued panting to catch her breath. "What do you want for lunch," he asked. Emma closed her eyes. Very slowly, but noticeably enough, the feelings were starting to subside. Her voice returned to its shy vibrato, a huge difference from the Emma who'd just asked about carpal tunnel five seconds ago. "Do you like pancakes?" "Yeah." "There's a place that does coconut pancakes with warm apples. It's really good... but —" "Do you like it?" She nodded. "Good enough, let's go." Her face brightened like a small child offered candy. Emma hopped off his lap, but not without feeling a gush of liquid spill from inside of her. She stood in front of him, slightly mortified. Sylar followed her gaze to the slick trail that ran down his thigh. With a smirk, he swiped his fingers and then licked her juice off. Emma spun around. "I-I'm going to take a shower." "Can I join you?" "No!" Sylar laughed as she ran off. Her cute ass peeked from underneath her shirt. He groaned with appreciation at the sight. A loud, embarrassing rumble sounded from his stomach. God, he was really hungry. The sound of running water reached his ears. Next time he'd join her. *** By the time, Sylar finished his shower, Emma had dressed herself in skinny jeans and a white tee. Her bedding was thrown into the washing machine, and the windows were wide open for fresh air. The scent of their time together was long replaced with the smell of a burning lavender candle. He rubbed his wet hair with a hand towel and scanned the room. "Where are my clothes?" Emma froze mid-clean up. "Shit," she replied, standing up straight and alert. "They're with the rest of the laundry." Her eyes widened with horror as she scanned Sylar up and down. "I'm so sorry!" Sylar laughed. "It's okay. It just means we just can't go out for food. We can always order take-out, I guess." He tried to ignore the tiny blossom of regret. He hadn't realized how desperately he wanted to go out in public with Emma. To be openly happy with her for everyone to see. But then she surprised him. "Actually, I have some clothes, if you want to see if you fit them." She walked over to her dresser and began pulling out several clothes. Sylar held onto the towel around his waist as he came up beside her. The smell of her soap hit him hard, but this time he reacted with a smile instead of arousal. They both smelled of Irish Spring. A flash of a pair of boxers caught his eye. He grabbed it from the small pile of clothes she'd started. Sylar snapped, teeth gnashing, "Why do you have boxers?" His breath evaporated into unrestrained jealousy as he waited for her to answer. "I'm not wearing another man's underwear." Redness flooded her cheeks as she ducked her head to reply, "I bought them by mistake online. They were on sale, and I thought they were sleeping shorts." "You sleep in these?" "Sometimes." Relief flooded into him and his emotions went back one eighty degrees. "Cute," he replied. Emma kept her head down as she pulled out a pair of boyfriend jeans and a flannel shirt. "You might not fit into these... well, if you don't fit into the pants, we still can't go out, so try these first," she was rambling with a nervousness that Sylar recognized to be tainted with fear. Damn, he realized, she might not be afraid of him during sex, but if she was outside of it, that was still a problem. Holding his breath, he reached over her shoulder and picked up the clothes she'd pulled out. "All these clothes are yours?" "Yeah... is it gross for you to wear girl's clothes?" she stared into the distance, and apologized without thinking, "I'm sorry I don't have anything else." "If it fits, I'll wear them." Without warning, he dropped his towel. Emma's eyes widened. Her eyes were drawn to the large appendage, which hung limply, but still impressively, against his thigh. She swallowed when Sylar cleared his throat. His dick twitched and frightened her. Emma's eyes snapped to his face. "Sorry!" "I don't mind." He bent down to slip on the boxers. The cool material felt strangely good. And there was something oddly intimate about wearing Emma's clothes. Sylar found himself enjoying this moment more than all the sex they'd had. The jeans fitted around his waist, but the legs fell short. When he pulled on the flannel shirt and began buttoning, Emma got on her knees. "What—" he stopped when he saw that she was rolling the bottom of his jeans up until it rested high above his ankles. His fingers moved absent mindedly as he watched her. When she was done, she stepped back and scanned his new look. Her eyes creased happily as she let out a soft giggle, a sound Sylar found dangerously endearing. He wished she wouldn't hid her smile underneath her hand. "You look like a hipster." He stepped in front of the mirror to see for himself. Flannel shirt fitted to his body, rolled up jeans... all he was missing was a beanie. Sylar ran his fingers through his hair, not sure how much he liked this new look. He knew Emma wasn't trying to change him, and that this wardrobe change wasn't her doing, but there was something unsettling about the image that reflected back at him. And it became clear. Adam. He saw Adam staring back at him through these clothes, only worse. It wasn't Adam himself, but his ghost, which lingered in between Emma's every other breath. Sylar tucked his shirt in and tried his best to make this outfit become his own. How he wished he had his hoodie and jeans back. Did this Adam know how much exactly control he had over Emma? His presence leaked into her everyday life, like a layer of grey, discoloring the real world. A color Sylar desperately wanted to erase and find out what really shone beneath. "Ready to go?" He turned to see Emma by the door with a slight smile on her face. Nerves were slowly taking over, and the woman he'd coaxed out last night was now regressing into the girl he first met. No, he thought with urgency, and rushed to her side with all intention to reassure her. Emma gasped when Sylar lifted her a few inched in the air. He kissed her until she responded back with a lost sigh. A silly smile graced her face as she asked again, "Ready to go now?" Sylar let her down but kept his fingers intertwined with hers. "I'm fucking starving." She squeezed his hand. "Let's go." ***