Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5500.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Heroes_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Luke_Campbell/Sylar
  Character:
      Luke_Campbell, Sylar
  Additional Tags:
      Fluff, Porn, Safer_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-02-27 Words: 4964
****** Heaven Can Wait ******
by perdiccas
Summary
     He's only being a stickler because he feels like pissing Luke off.
     Well, that, and he likes to watch as Luke bends over, young, tight,
     pale ass flexing as he stoops.
Notes
     Mentions of past Mohinder/Sylar. Luke is 17.
     Runner Up Best PWP at the Heroes Slash Awards Summer 2009
Fresh from the shower, Sylar sits on the bed with a towel around his waist. He
flicks the TV channels idly until he finds a news report. He clucks his tongue
at the sight of the carnage they'd left behind; he had expected Special Ops to
have a better clean up team than that. It's a good thing he had Luke drop the
dime to the local news hotline or the mysterious black van and its macabre
contents might never have been headline news. Neither he nor Luke are mentioned
by name, of course, it's an "unknown assailant," considered "armed and
dangerous," and Sylar almost likes that more than when there're shadowy
pictures of himself splashed across the newspapers.
Luke seems like he's out the bathroom split seconds after he went in, but he's
damp all over so he must have at least stepped under the shower spray. He dumps
his clothes in a crumpled pile, whining when, as he tries to settle beside
Sylar, Sylar shoves him off the bed.
"I'm not your mother, Luke. I won't clean up after you."
He ignores Luke's grumbles and watches as he moodily folds his clothes. Sylar
couldn't care less about neatness, other than if Luke looks too dishevelled the
next day, they'll attract unwanted attention. He's only being a stickler
because he feels like pissing Luke off. Well, that, and he likes to watch as
Luke bends over, young, tight, pale ass flexing as he stoops.
"Perv," Luke mutters. He doesn't need to turn around to know he's being
watched.
Sylar holds his tongue, and holds his cock. Stroking himself teasingly to
punish Luke for being a smartass. As soon as Luke spins back to him, ears all
but pricking up at the sound of skin on skin, Sylar stops, holding himself
loosely round his base.
"Do you want it?" Sylar asks, though the answer's obvious. Luke's been sporting
wood since he woke, confused and grateful in the car. He nods.
"So, stop being a brat and come get it."
Sylar lifts a challenging eyebrow but either Luke is too horny to take the bait
or he's still making good on having his life saved, because he scuttles over
without talking back for once. He wrenches Sylar's knees apart, rough to prove
a point, Sylar supposes, but it only makes Sylar laugh. When Luke glares at him
for chuckling, taking Sylar straight to the back of his throat, instead of
groaning, impressed, as he's sure Luke wants him to, all Sylar can think is
that he's trained his little cocksucker well.
Luke bobs his head quickly, lips damp and clamped tight around Sylar's girth,
tongue swishing busily from side to side as he slurps up and down. Luke hardly
gags at all, and Sylar's begrudgingly impressed at how well Luke's picked this
up. Then again, Sylar thinks charitably, he does give Luke lots of chance to
practice. By now, Luke knows him well enough to get Sylar off in almost no time
at all. And since he seems on some petty vendetta to prove his worth, Luke
pulls out all the stops, rolling Sylar's balls and tugging at his hips, urging
Sylar to rise up off the sheets and fuck his mouth.
Luke groans, deep in his throat, swallowing around the head of Sylar's cock.
His plump lips are flushed, bright red and swollen and when Sylar looks down,
there's spit and pre-come dribbling messily from the corner of his mouth. But
it's Luke's lust-blown eyes, staring steadily up at Sylar as he sucks his dick
and the way he times his groans to match the speed at which Sylar bucks his
hips, as if having his throat rubbed raw is getting Luke off too, that has
Sylar spilling in his mouth. Luke swallows like Sylar's taught him and there's
only the faintest flicker of a grimace as he does so.
Luke crawls smugly up Sylar's body, hovering over him and waiting, but Sylar
simply cocks his head to the side and stares straight back. It's a futile
battle of wills that Luke never has a chance of winning. If Sylar lets loose
some praise or affectionate remark, it'll be of his own violation not because
Luke blew him. Sylar lets Luke kiss him only until he can no longer taste
himself on Luke's tongue. But Luke isn't put off when Sylar turns his head
away, moving instead to mouth down Sylar's neck and nibble at his collarbone.
Luke's still hard and it's about now that Luke will usually try to rub up
against him or take Sylar's hand in his own, begging for a handjob. Instead,
he's moving lower again, tugging only once or twice at his own cock before
nestling his nose in Sylar's pelvic crease.
"Luke?" Sylar says, and despite Luke's grin, Luke hasn't scored a point.
Intrigued isn't the same as impressed. Curious isn't the same as caring what
Luke's up to.
"Like sucking you," Luke mumbles, mouth already latching to Sylar's balls. And
really, that's a sentiment that Sylar can't argue with. He grunts far from
eloquently and lets Luke have this. It doesn't feel like conceding when Sylar's
the one getting the better end of the deal.
Sylar can't get hard again so soon, but it still feels good as Luke's fingers
rub over his perineum, again and again. He presses in just hard enough to make
Sylar roll his hips, grinding himself down to make Luke's touch firmer: more
friction, less tickle. With one of Sylar's testicles in his mouth, Luke groans
appreciatively at the way Sylar writhes. His fingers stroke confidently up to
the base of Sylar's balls and back down again to sneak into the furrow between
Sylar's ass cheeks, skimming lightly over his asshole as he goes.
Sylar's sac falls from his mouth with a lewd pop and Luke nuzzles against
Sylar's now flaccid dick. He licks a slow, sloppy stripe along the wrinkled
skin between Sylar's balls and uses his lips to leave gentle, sucking kisses as
he mouths back down the spit-slick trail he's left behind. When he hums, Sylar
moaning at the pleasant rumble that echoes through him, Luke jabs one dry
finger at Sylar's asshole, hard and fast and rough.
"Ow! You little shit!" he yelps. It's unexpected and it hurts.
Luke snaps backwards, narrowly eluding Sylar's hand as he tries to snatch Luke
by the hair and yank him up to slap him. Sylar hisses, sliding up the bed,
further away from Luke and the reckless things that he might try. The scrape
from Luke's nail has already healed, and although the burn of dry friction has
faded, the memory of the pain is strong.
"Please," Luke begs when he should be pleading for forgiveness. He lurches
forward, hands out to caress Sylar's thighs, head ducking down to bury in
Sylar's crotch once more.
"Please," he says again, sliding his hands under Sylar's ass, cupping both
cheeks in his palms and kneading the firm flesh there.
It feels good, but Sylar's pissed off, now, so he kicks him, growling as Luke
sprawls painfully across the floor. It's more reflex than true punishment.
Sylar thinks that Luke should thank his lucky stars that he's in a mellow mood
tonight.
He watches as Luke drags himself up, wincing a little on unsteady feet. To his
credit, Luke hasn't cried out and Sylar rolls his eyes to see that Luke's still
achingly hard. He can't tell if Luke's horny from the blowjob and his attempt
on Sylar's ass or if Sylar's haphazard abuse is bringing out the masochist in
him. Sylar wouldn't be surprised if Luke likes the rough treatment more than he
lets on. After all, he never says stop and he always crawls back for more.
Luke gingerly touches his ribs, where the ball of Sylar's foot has struck him.
He frowns at Sylar and the growing bruise but doesn't complain. They both know
that if Sylar really wanted to hurt him, he'd be in far more pain.
"What the hell was that?" Sylar demands.
Luke stammers, "Nothing. I just, y'know…"
"Yeah, well, next time you want to just y'know you'd better grab some lube
first."
"Wait… does that mean I can…?" Luke's looking more flustered by the second and
it only makes Sylar grin more wickedly.
"Finger me? Sure, yeah, I like that," Sylar says, a bit more eagerly than he
intends.
"And if I want to fuck you?" Luke's voice is bold but he cringes away as he
says the words, as if he expects to be hurled violently against the wall. Not
an unreasonable assumption, Sylar thinks. But as tight as the kid's ass is,
Sylar's been yearning for something more himself; not that he won't make Luke
work for it first.
"Is that what you were going to do? Try and shove your cock in me with no prep
and no warning?"
Luke gives him a lazy, one shouldered shrug.
"I would've sliced your dick off."
Luke rolls his eyes like he doesn't quite believe the threat. Sylar thinks he
won't be laughing if he pulls this stunt again; groin wounds make such a mess.
"And, now that you've had warning?" Luke ventures with a cocky smirk and a
wheedling voice.
Sylar flicks an appraising gaze up and down Luke's naked body. He isn't much to
look at, not Sylar's type at all---in so much as Sylar has a type. The only
other man that Sylar's been with is Mohinder, and Luke and Mohinder are as
different as night and day. Luke is pale where Mohinder was dark, and soft
around the edges where Mohinder seemed made of sharp curves and firm planes.
But not every difference is in Mohinder's favour: Luke's pliant where Mohinder
was demanding, malleable where Mohinder liked to take control. Most of all,
Sylar understands Luke where he could never quite see how Mohinder ticked.
Sylar knows Luke well enough to see that if he lets Luke have this, his
devotion will be tenfold. Frankly, Sylar could use the extra peace and quiet.
And it's no hardship to give into something that Sylar's been aching for since
this first began.
"Do you have a condom, Luke?" he asks.
Luke frowns. They don't have condoms on hand because Sylar never uses them.
Luke hasn't once complained and Sylar isn't going to look out for him if he's
not going to think about his own safety. Luke never thinks about the
consequences of his actions. If he did, they wouldn't be here.
"Wait!" Luke says, voice cracking in his excitement. He stumbles to his neatly
folded cords, rumpling them again as he pats the pockets for his wallet. From
the depths within, Luke extracts a dog-eared, ancient condom and flips it
triumphantly at Sylar's chest.
The foil is well thumbed and Sylar thinks that Luke must have taken it out
wistfully many times before only to tuck it back away again, rejected. Luke's
shifting nervously from foot to foot, his usual bravado slipping as he waits to
see if he'll strike out again.
"How old is this?" Sylar laughs.
Luke blushes but rallies, not letting Sylar's teasing distract him from his
goal. "I bought it in tenth grade?"
Two years ago but according to the printed expiration, miraculously still in
date. Sylar looks from the condom to Luke to Luke's cock and to the condom
again. It's been too long since he's had someone inside him and Sylar's never
been one to let an opportunity pass him by. In the end, as it always is, it's
his own desires not any thought for Luke's that makes up Sylar's mind.
"Go find some lube then," he says. Luke stares at him, slack-jawed and
unmoving.
"Are… are you serious?"
"Now, Luke," he snaps, laughing at Luke's bewildered expression and the way he
bolts to the bathroom, engorged cock swaying heavily between his legs.
Sylar hears Luke swear and the shatter and clatter of something unidentifiable
that Luke's knocked over in his haste. He's back in double-quick time, panting
as he offers his hands forward, showing Sylar a mismatched medley of travel-
size bottles.
"I wasn't sure…" he says, pushing them eagerly under Sylar's nose.
Sylar gives a condescending smile. Luke doesn't seem sure how any of this
works, and although Sylar sees through Luke's overconfidence for what it is---
a shield to protect himself from a world that seeks to grind him down---he's
surprised that at this, Luke forges ahead without his usual world-weary air.
But then, Sylar's not sure if Luke was into other men before Sylar, or if maybe
he was like Gabriel, too withdrawn from the world to be into anyone at all.
Sylar's never asked, partly because he doesn't care who Luke used to be and
partly because he's never been in the mood to expose himself to Luke's no doubt
righteous indignation at the suggestion that he might have ever been as
simpering as Gabriel.
Sylar picks through the bottles, tossing aside shower gel and scoffing at
shampoo. He plucks unscented lotion from the pile and jerks his chin at Luke,
motioning for him to put the rest back where he found them. When Luke gets
back, Sylar's hitched himself up with a pillow under his hips as he sits up
against the headboard.
Luke's breathing heavily at the mere sight of him with his legs spread and his
spent cock hardening, Sylar's refractory period diminished under Luke's
relentless, teenaged persistence. But, when Luke goes to take the lotion, Sylar
holds it out of reach.
"Wait," he says and he might as well have said stay or heel because, like a
well-trained dog, Luke's hand pauses in the air, arm quivering as he waits for
Sylar's next command.
Sylar teases his fingers up Luke's too-hard shaft, wetting his fingertips with
the pre-come sliding down Luke's length. Luke feels impossibly hot and the
thick vein at his underside is pulsing fast. Sylar's not sure he's ever been as
aroused as Luke looks right now. His flesh is taut, dick curving up towards his
belly, straining towards his navel, with a tight sac, hanging heavy, so close
up against his body. Even the whisper-soft caress of Sylar's fingers is enough
to make Luke's cock jump and his thighs tremble, Luke swaying where he stands.
Luke is far too turned on, too close to losing it before they've even begun, so
Sylar wraps his hand around Luke's cock and squeezes lightly.
"No," Luke whines. "Please, Sylar, I can't."
"Can't what, Luke?" Sylar presses because it makes his own dick throb when he
forces Luke to admit his inadequacies, to own up to his inexperience when
usually Luke is so goddamned smug.
"You know! Please," Luke whimpers, face flushed with arousal and shame as Sylar
slides his hand up torturously, making more wetness leak from Luke's already
glistening tip.
"Say it," Sylar orders. He swipes his thumb cruelly under the ridge of Luke's
cock, finding that spot that makes Luke shudder and working rapid circles
against his skin.
"I'm gonna come," he pants in desperation. "I can't… can't last."
"I know," Sylar says mildly. He pumps Luke quicker and although Luke keens, in
pleasure and in protest, he doesn't fight against Sylar's touch. So Sylar keeps
going, until Luke is thrusting into his fist and white streaks of semen are
dribbling down his knuckles.
Sylar wipes his soiled hand on Luke's hip and inner thighs, smiling to himself
at the wet sheen Luke's come leaves on his coppery-blonde body hair, so light
that it's almost as if it isn't there. When Luke stops trembling and he opens
his eyes, he scowls at Sylar, biting his lip, seemingly caught between sobbing
and spitting in Sylar's face.
"Relax," Sylar says because Luke really does look upset that Sylar could let
things go so far. He knows that look of betrayal, having seen it only once
before, and an unfamiliar twinge of guilt tugs at Sylar's chest.
"You're seventeen, Luke; you can get it up again." Sylar tries to laugh it off
but Luke still doesn't seem at ease. Instead of lashing out, or punishing Luke
for being petulant, Sylar finds that he's tugging Luke down over him, one hand
buried in Luke's thick, unruly hair and kissing him softly.
"It'll be better with the edge off," Sylar promises, words whispered against
Luke's lips. "It'll be more fun this way."
He's not sure if it's his words, because it seems like Luke isn't really
listening, or the kisses that Luke's still too lazily post-coital to properly
return, but he seems to settle down again, caressing Sylar's chest. Maybe all
he needed was Sylar's reassuring touch because when Sylar nudges him back to
study his face, gently stroking his cheek, Luke shudders almost as meaningfully
as when he'd come. Tenderness isn't the norm between them---they're too much
alike to do anything but squabble for dominance---but sometimes, rarely, Sylar
sees more of himself in Luke than he'd like and he can't help but give the
begrudging show of affection that Gabriel pined for as much as Luke needs it
now.
Sylar presses the bottle into Luke's hand and spreads his legs a little wider.
"Go on."
Luke scurries down the bed, his skin a sex-flushed pink from shoulders to
groin, cock still plump and his hands shaking so slightly that Sylar wouldn't
notice it if he hadn't been looking. He watches Luke carefully coat two
fingers, slopping on far more of the cream than they really need. He takes a
deep breath and swallows loudly before pushing Sylar's thighs even wider and
pulling apart his ass cheeks. It takes all of Sylar's self-control not to laugh
at the melodrama of it all. There's nothing down there that Luke hasn't seen
before but he's thrumming with an anticipation that's contagious, and Sylar's
starting to feel a little ludicrously giddy too.
With slick fingertips, Luke traces around the ring of puckered skin but he's
too eager to really tease and presses two fingers in as soon as Sylar nods his
permission. Sylar lifts his cock and balls in his hand and curls his body to
forward to watch as best he can as Luke's fingers push into him, exploring with
little grace but lots of awestruck wonder.
"Oh god," Luke moans, delving deeper, and Sylar hums happily in reply because
fuck if this doesn't feel good, better even than it should when his eidetic
memory reminds him exactly how good Montana had been too.
Luke's had this done to him enough to need no real direction. He wriggles his
fingers until Sylar groans and then separates them carefully, stretching Sylar
out so much more gently than Sylar would have expected. But Sylar's been rough
enough with Luke for the both of them, and he thinks that this might be Luke's
way of letting him know that a little compassion wouldn't be amiss next time
he's fucking Luke into the mattress.
Luke's never been good at listening to Sylar, so Sylar shifts wordlessly to the
left, then down a bit until Luke's fingers are brushing near his prostate. He
hisses out a breath when Luke's probing fingers accidentally hit the mark.
"There?" Luke asks, breathless, as he strokes that spot again.
"Yes," Sylar moans, breathless, too, himself. He lets his head fall back to the
pillows and drops his sac to fondle just his cock.
"Don't stop," he has to order when Luke stills, transfixed as Sylar strokes
himself.
"Okay," he babbles. "Yeah, okay."
Luke twists his fingers round, circling inside Sylar, once, twice and then
landing over his prostate again, tapping lightly, pressing, ghosting over it
and teasing to test Sylar's reactions. All the while his eyes dart from Sylar's
face, to Sylar's stretched hole, to Sylar's hand where he's lazily jerking off.
"You've gotta let me see that again sometime," Luke says in a quick, breathless
rush, nodding towards Sylar's cock. "Fucking hot," he mutters.
Sylar smiles, not too far gone yet to tease, and brings his free hand up to
grope his chest, tweaking his nipples and groaning when Luke's jaw falls open
at the sight.
"Concentrate, Luke," he warns.
"Yeah. Yeah, sorry."
Then, Luke's winding tight, quick spirals inside him, driving Sylar towards the
brink as expertly as Sylar does to him.
"Yeah," Luke moans in reply to Sylar's gasping breaths. "I like it when you do
it like this too."
When Luke clambers up Sylar's body, kissing him possessively as his fingers
thrust faster and harder into Sylar's ass, Sylar thinks that he could easily
get off from this alone. Mohinder loved to do this, to play with "Zane's" ass
until he came, just to watch him come, Sylar's hot spunk, splattering between
their bodies as Mohinder grinned down at him. Luke's fingers feel as good or
maybe better; there's no pretence between them and when Luke comes he calls out
Sylar's real name.
But Luke won't settle for fingering him when Sylar's promised him a hard,
honest fuck. So, Sylar rolls his hips back, lifting himself off Luke's fingers
and kissing away his frown of confusion.
"Another?" Luke asks, holding up three fingers.
Maybe it's cruel when Sylar raises an eyebrow and looks pointedly at Luke's
cock. Even fully hard again, as Sylar knew he'd be, Luke's smaller than Sylar.
But smaller is by no means small and it's unfair of Sylar to make him insecure
but Luke's so damned cocksure about everything that it's habit by now for Sylar
to knock him down a peg or two whenever the opportunity arises. Luke's blissed
out smile starts to falter and Sylar catches that pouting bottom lip between
his teeth, tugging playfully as he presses the condom to Luke's palm.
"Don't rip it," Sylar cautions. "We haven't got another one."
He watches fascinated as Luke carefully wipes off each of his slippery fingers
on the corner of the bed sheet and then, with almost comical precision,
carefully tears the foil. He examines the latex disc for a moment before
putting it to the head of his cock. Sylar lets him struggle for a moment before
helping out.
"Flip it over," he says, smirking as Luke blushes.
"Oh. Okay, yeah. Got it!" he says as he rolls the condom fully down. He strokes
himself, feeling his cock through the unfamiliar layer of latex, getting used
to how it feels when the sensations on his dick are slightly dulled.
"Hm," Luke grumbles and Sylar thinks that Luke had better not push his luck;
he's the only one who's ever going to bareback in this relationship. Then, Luke
seems to remember that the condom is a means to an end and he's walking forward
on his knees, pressing the blunt head of his dick to the crease of Sylar's ass.
"Hey! Not yet!"
"What?"
Luke's dazed enough already that Sylar sits and grabs the lotion himself,
dumping most of what's left directly to Luke's cock, not caring when Luke yelps
at the cold. He slicks it along Luke's length, shaking his head at the way Luke
groans at the slide of his fist. He's being rough in his impatience but he
suspects that only turns Luke on more.
Sylar dabs the last of the lotion on his fingers and pushes it inside his ass.
For a moment, Sylar thinks that Luke might come from watching him alone, not a
finger laid upon him, filling up the condom at the eroticism of the sight.
Then, Luke exhales a "fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," and squeezes his eyes shut,
pinching the base of his dick until his breathing slows and he dares look up at
Sylar again.
"Go on, then," Sylar taunts, splayed out now, waiting.
He's making bets with himself on how long he thinks Luke will last, five
minutes? Longer? Ten thrusts, one thrust, or not even that? How ever long he
lasts, he won't match Sylar for stamina. Sylar may not have lasted all that
long himself, but Mohinder had been kind, doing his best not to topple "Zane"
into orgasm too embarrassingly quickly. Sylar's quite certain that he won't
extend Luke the same courtesy.
Luke knows enough to guide himself to Sylar's entrance, and has enough
restraint to start off slow, although it's more a stop-start pattern of
frenzied push and tortured pause in alternating bursts than the measured slide
he'll one day learn to master. Then he's all the way inside and damn his
angle's good, because the head of his cock is sitting neatly on Sylar's
prostate, a pleasant pressure that makes Sylar itch to rock his hips. Luke's
peppering frantic kisses to his neck and shoulders, craning up to capture
Sylar's lips in an urgent, demanding kiss.
"SylarSylarSylar," he moans without a pause. "I-- Oh fuck, Sylar, I--"
And Sylar kisses him, again, to shut him up. Luke may love him but Sylar
doesn't want to hear it like this, midway through his first fuck with not
enough blood in his brain to form a coherent sentence. Soon, Luke will say
those words when it really means something, when there's nothing to prompt Luke
to say it but being overcome by his devotion to him. Then, Sylar will accept
it.
"Get it together, Luke," he says, as much a discouragement against saying too
much as it is an acknowledgement that Sylar can feel the desperate, little
twitches of Luke's hips that reveal his control is shot to hell.
Not that Sylar can really blame him because he's feeling pretty euphoric
himself. It feels good, so good to have a cock inside his ass. He's missed this
feeling of being stretched out and filled up, the sensations at once both
exhilarating and almost excruciatingly pleasurable. It's only a spiteful sense
of pride that's stopping him from grabbing Luke's waist and forcing him to ram
home, again and again. Well, that and the feeling that Luke wouldn't make it
past one good, hard slam before he'd pop.
"Thrust," Sylar growls at him, trying to keep the neediness from his voice.
But, as usual, Luke smiles that infuriatingly smug smile that says he knows
Sylar far better than Sylar would ever let either of them admit. He rolls his
hips, testing the waters before giving a series of short, short jerks, tapping
Sylar's prostate with the kind of accuracy he really shouldn't have mastered
yet.
And Sylar must have grunted or groaned or even called out Luke's name in
pleasure because, hovering above, biceps quaking as he holds himself up, sweat
beading on his forehead, Luke is chuckling like he's the one in charge. All
Sylar has to do is clench his ass in retaliation and Luke's arms give out. He
collapses down to Sylar's chest, hard and sudden and knocking the breath from
him, and Sylar thinks that he must let Luke eat far too much junk food because,
sprawled on him like this, Luke seems to weigh a lot.
Their skin is slick with sweat and clammy, hot where they're pressed together
and sticking as they try to inch apart to breathe. They're squirming to regain
some sense of balance and momentum but every shift of their bodies is another
half-thrust of cock in ass and it frays further the tattered edges of their
restraint. Sylar will be damned if he'd admit it but he feels as near far gone
as he knows Luke is, and neither of them have even touched his dick.
"Come on, Luke," he grunts. "No one likes a bad lay."
"If I'm so bad," he snaps back. "Then why are you dripping all over yourself?"
It might be true, but Sylar bites Luke's mouth anyway, tearing his lip because
the taste of blood is the only thing that's ever shut Luke up. And then,
they're fucking like they fight: rough, messy and with no mercy. Luke's hand
has forced its way between them and he's fisting Sylar's cock so violently that
Sylar can feel bruises form that heal again along his length. He'd cry foul but
Sylar knows that Luke knows just how erotic it feels when his body knits itself
back together. The little bastard never could play fair.
When they come, just moments apart because a moment or two is long enough for
Sylar to be sure Luke knows that he has lasted longer, they're groaning and
grunting and moaning, far past the point where they could say each other's
names, or anything else at all.
Luke flops onto his back, spent, chuckling unrepentantly when Sylar growls, the
movement yanking Luke's cock too roughly from his ass. Then, Luke's hissing in
pain, and shock, as Sylar's hand slaps roughly around his softening dick,
stopping the condom from slipping the rest of the way off.
"Deal with that," Sylar orders. His voice is breathless but he still manages
menacing and though Luke grumbles, he does as he's told. He ties the condom off
and drops it on the bed between them.
"That's disgusting," Sylar says, refusing to look and see how stained the
sheets are getting. "If you don't get rid of that, that spot's exactly where
you're sleeping."
"Fine, I'll sleep there then."
"Yeah, that's not happening. Throw it in the trash and while you're up, get a
washcloth."
Sylar lets Luke's bitching wash over him, closing him eyes until the damp slap
of a cloth on his belly rouses him again. He's set to put Luke in his place but
he's kissed soundly as soon as his eyes slide open. Tenderness isn't the norm
between them, but you can't fight someone who won't fight back. Sylar buries
his hand in Luke's hair and kisses Luke as fiercely as he's being kissed.
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