Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5485.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Heroes_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Elle_Bishop/Luke_Campbell
  Character:
      Elle_Bishop, Luke_Campbell
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Barebacking, Porn, Community:_elle_luke
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-07-04 Words: 2517
****** Heads I Win, Tails You Lose ******
by perdiccas
Summary
     The first time they make love, it's in the dark.
It’s dark when they finally stop driving, pulled over under an overhanging
tree, just off a dirt road that seems to lead deeper into no man’s land. It
doesn’t matter where they end up, as long as they aren’t followed.
Sweat trickles down Elle’s neck and between her breasts; as soon as the engine
is shut off, and the AC with it, the heat that they’ve been staving off all day
comes seeping in. It’s not so bad now, the air not as suffocating as it could
be, but it’s enough to make her arch her back and groan.
“Scoot,” she says to Luke. “You get the backseat.”
“What?!” he yelps. “No! How is that fair? I’m too tall!”
“You’re not that tall. Besides, I’ve been driving all day and I deserve to
stretch out, so move it, short stuff.”
“Nuh-uh! Here, gimme a light.”
Elle rolls her eyes and makes a bright ball of electricity on her palm. When
her eyes adjust, she sees Luke digging in his pocket; he fishes out a quarter.
“Tails!” she cries before he asks.
“Okay, you call and I’ll flip…” he teases. The tip of his tongue pokes out from
the corner of his mouth and she laughs at his frown of concentration as he
tosses the coin in the air. They both watch it flip and shimmer, sparks
bouncing off it when it gets too near to Elle.
She grabs the quarter out the air. “You lose.”
“Dude, not cool!”
“Don’t be a sore loser, kid.”
“Fine,” he growls.
He climbs awkwardly between the seats; Elle zaps him with the electricity
that’s gathered on her palm to make him hurry up.
Then, she clambers after him.
Her foot catches on the gearshift and she lands on the backseat, on him with an
unceremonious thump. Elle can feel him squirm beneath her and he lets out this
little puff of air that’s warm against her cheek. And even though he’s close,
close enough that she can feel the rise and fall of his chest against the swell
of her breasts, it’s dark enough that she can barely make out the outlines of
his features.
Her hair must be tickling him because Luke laughs softly and brushes it back
behind her ear. He leaves his hand there, gently twisted in her hair and leans
up so that their noses nestle together. His breath is hot and sweet against her
mouth and when he speaks, his lips brush hers with every word.
“What’re you doing back here?” he murmurs. “You won, remember?”
“I know.” Elle leans forward and closes the gap between them, pressing her
mouth to his and swallowing down the quiet, happy sound he makes. And against
Luke’s lips, she smiles because when the world is going to shit around them,
it’s nice to know that some things still make sense.
Elle sends gentle sparks crackling between them and in those brief bright
bursts of blue light she sees that Luke hasn’t closed his eyes. Even in the
darkness that fills the sweltering car, he’s looking to her to guide him, his
chin pushed forward and his mouth tipped open, waiting for whatever kisses
she’s willing to give.
Luke drags his fingers through her hair, mussing it until the electricity in
the dry air leaves it static and clinging to his fingers. He laughs again when
in a streak of light he sees her hair has become a wild, flighty halo around
her head. Elle slaps his hands away and twists her hair into a loose knot; the
back of her neck is slick with sweat, and though they’ve cracked the windows,
the air in the car seems hotter and thicker the more they kiss.
He rests his hands on her thighs where they straddle his hips. He tugs her
gently down and shifts on the narrow bench seat, until Elle can feel his
erection pressing between her legs. They grind together lazily, Luke’s hands
sliding up under her shirt to palm her breasts. Elle plucks at the hems of the
t-shirts Luke has layered on; she doesn’t know why he wears so many when the
weather is so hot. The cotton is damp with sweat against his skin and when she
caresses his stomach, her neat, blunt nails teasing through the fine trail of
hair below his navel, his skin feels fever hot as if microwaves are leaching
from him at every place their bodies touch.
Through the lace of her bra, Luke pinches her nipples lightly. Elle sighs and
thrusts against him, rubbing herself along the thick line of his cock, still
trapped inside his jeans. He groans and tugs at her nipples again, hissing when
she ruts against him harder. Elle’s thighs feel far too hot, bound inside
constricting denim and her panties are wet through with sweat and her arousal.
Every time Luke arches up, the sodden fabric drags exquisitely between her
legs.
And then, Luke gasps, “Elle,” and holds her still when all she wants to do is
move against him.
Bolts of blue dance on her fingers and in the eerie light, she sees Luke’s face
is flushed. He’s grinning a goofy grin that she doesn’t often see and suddenly
she hates that they have to do this squashed into a backseat that barely holds
one, let alone two, blanketed with darkness because that’s their only hope of
staying safe.
“If you wanna stop,” he says, the back of his hand wiping away the sweat
beading on his upper lip. “If you wanna stop, we should stop now.”
He laughs shyly into the silence, and twists his neck where he’s curled up
awkwardly against the car door. Elle never meant for this to go so far; just a
kiss, a touch, the feel of someone pressed against her, so that for a moment
she can pretend that kissing and touching and feeling are all that matters is
all she wanted. He’s just some lonely kid with nowhere else to go but sometimes
she thinks that she’s no better; Elle leans down and kisses him, hard.
“Good thing I don’t wanna stop,” she breathes. Elle reaches down between them
and thumbs open the button of his fly. The rumble of his zipper is loud, as she
drags it down.
She palms his cock through the thin, sweat-damp fabric of his boxers, and
reaches in through his fly to tug at his flesh.
“Oh,” he gasps, and then, “Roll over.”
They shift in the small space, so that Elle’s the one lying across the
backseat, peeling off her jeans and Luke’s kneeling between her spread thighs,
his pants and boxers shoved down around his thighs.
“This too,” she says, pulling at the t-shirts he wears when he tries to settle
back down over her. For a moment he stays completely still.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Nothing.” He covers her hand with his to block out the blue sparks she makes.
He strips in the darkness.
Elle strokes up his sides; Luke giggles as she tickles him, that brief moment
of hesitation seemingly forgotten. He pushes her own shirt up until it bunches
under her arms, pushing aside the cups of her bra to kiss her breasts. His cock
slides along the groove where her thigh meets her hip, and she reaches down to
stroke him.
“Elle…,” he whimpers, one hand wedged between her and the backrest to keep him
steady. She loosens her fist and caresses him gently, soothes him as he presses
his face against her neck.
“Don’t be nervous,” she whispers into his hair.
“No…” Luke whines. “Elle… Elle, wait. I don’t have a condom.”
Her hand stills and he makes this breathy, needy noise low in the back of his
throat, his hips rolling forward unconsciously to rub himself against her palm.
And they should stop, they really should but when each day could be your last
day, it’s hard to worry about consequences that could be nine months in the
making.
“S’okay,” she says. She cups his jaw and tilts his chin. A spark that jumps
between his full lips and hers illuminates his face; Elle thinks Luke needs
this just as much as her.
“S’okay,” she says again, her thumb stroking reassuringly over the soft swell
of his cheek. “Just pull out before… y’know.”
“Yeah,” he breathes with a shuddering sigh. “Yeah, okay. I swear.”
At first it’s clumsy. The seat is narrow and there isn’t enough room for all
their arms and legs and elbows. With every thrust, Elle’s head bounces off the
handle of the car door. When she lifts her hips to try to get a better angle,
her sweat-slick skin sticks to the leather seats and only pulls away with a
long, lewd sound.
Luke collapses on top of her, laughing. She winds her fingers in his hair and
holds him close, feeling his chest heave against hers; Elle’s laughing too much
too to care about how the underwire in her bra is digging into her skin.
And then it’s better. Luke shuffles back a little on his knees and pulls Elle
with him. He can’t thrust hard with so little space, but he can thrust deep,
and he curves one hand under her ass to hold her steady against him. She wraps
her knees around his middle, her feet twisting in the jeans he still has caught
around his thighs. Elle listens to the husky, desperate moans he makes and
wishes she could see his face.
She’s close, quicker than she thought she would be. There’s a heat inside her
that’s growing hotter than the muggy midnight air and with every twist of
Luke’s hips, she’s begging, “Nearly, nearly…”
Her toes curl, catching on the leather of his belt and her knees tighten at his
hips but just when, oh, she’s almost there Luke pulls back and pushes her away.
She feels his cock pulse and he doesn’t quite make it; there’s a hot splash of
semen against her pussy, dribbling down her inner thigh.
“Sorry,” he pants. “Sorry.” But Elle doesn’t care; she grabs his hand and drags
it through the slick mess he’s made, pressing his fingers against her clit.
They hold each other after, bodies hot and sticky and the seat beneath them wet
with what they’ve done. Luke laughs breathlessly through his afterglow, his
softening cock leaving a messy trail against Elle’s belly.
And when their breathing is finally even and they barely have the strength to
kiss, Elle flips them over. Luke pulls his pants back up and buckles his belt
again, while Elle strips off the clothes that she still wears. She thinks it’s
kind of cute that Luke’s so weirdly shy about his body, even in the dark. But
when he fishes his thin cotton jacket from the foot well, she takes it from
him, presses at his chest ‘til he lies down and she curls up with her head
resting on his shoulder. Elle wraps Luke’s jacket around them both; they’ll
stay covered as long as they stick together.
***
Elle wakes to the early morning sunlight dappling through the leaves that
overhang the car. It’s cooler now and she shivers, a gentle breeze whispering
through the windows they left open. She pulls Luke’s jacket tight around her
and breathes in the scent of sex lingering in the stale air.
Luke’s still asleep, gently snoring. He has one arm twisted awkwardly around
his head to cushion it, the hair beneath his arm a shock of dark brown against
his too-pale skin. In the light, he looks so young; smooth cheeks and narrow
chest, puppy fat still clinging to the soft edges of his waist. And she wonders
if this is why he didn’t want her to see him, if he knew that if she had, maybe
she would have found the strength to say they shouldn’t.
“Are you watching me sleep?” Luke’s voice is rough with sleep and seems to
rumble through her. “Because you know that’s kind of creepy,” he teases.
She kisses him to shut him up. His mouth tastes sour but hers does too, and
Luke doesn’t seem to mind.
He rubs his eyes when they break apart, and cracks the stiffness from his neck.
Then, he looks down and seems to notice that he’s wearing nothing but his
jeans, and reaches for his t-shirt. Elle doesn’t miss the way he flips his
right arm over quickly, holding his inner forearm protectively around his
belly.
“Hey,” she whispers softly. “Hey, let me see.”
She curls her fingers around his elbow and tugs.
“S’nothing,” Luke says, but his voice is tight and he can’t quite look at her
as she runs her thumb along the long-damaged skin he’s tried to hide.
“Did Sylar...?” she asks even though she knows he didn’t. She’s seen the barely
healed cut at his temple and this is older, deeper, scars on scars building up
layers of tough, thick skin in the crease of his elbow. Elle doesn’t want to
think how many people in Luke’s life have hurt him.
“No,” Luke whines. “My dad…” he whispers.
Elle leans down nearer and peppers kisses over that raised skin. Beneath her,
Luke squirms and whimpers, “Elle…”
She sucks at his scars, leaving a hard, biting kiss that makes him yelp. He
tries to pull away but Elle won’t let him, not until his skin is red and
purpling where it was once stark white, not until she’s covered up with kisses
the things he doesn’t want anyone to see.
And when she pulls away, he gives this little, lost sigh and runs his fingers
over the spit-damp hickey she’s left; he smiles shyly at her and Elle thinks
that maybe he understands.
She weaves her way between the front seats, reaching into the glove compartment
for the wet wipes she knows are in there. When Luke gives a catcall at the
sight of her bare ass peeking out from under the hem of his jacket, she
wriggles her hips teasingly and sends a shower of sparks over her shoulder,
grinning to herself when he squeals at the quick, sharp shocks.
They make out lazily as Elle cleans the dried semen from his stomach. When she
pulls away to wipe her own inner thighs, Luke sits to watch.
“I’m clean, you know,” he says, flushing. “I mean, I don’t have anything. I
only ever with Sylar and he can’t…”
“Yeah, I know. Me too,” she says, looking at him from under her too-long bangs.
“Relax, short stuff.”
She pulls on yesterday’s clothes, going commando today until they find a
Laundromat or shoplift something new. And if they do, maybe while they’re
there, Elle will steal a pregnancy test to put Luke’s mind at ease.
She tosses her panties at him, just to see him blush.
“Later,” she says, nodding at the tenting in his pants. “We need to keep
moving.”
And when Luke climbs into the front after her, he’s only wearing one thin t-
shirt with the sleeves rolled up high on his arms.
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