Title: Oversharing
Pairing: Sylar/Matt
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~1,600
Warnings: Masturbation, voyeurism, a couple bad words.
Setting: Mostly canon, but also integrates into Shattered Salvation AU.
Summary: Sylar is stuck in Matt's head, which means he's there for every single private moment Matt might like to have.
Matt Parkman went in the bedroom, stripping off his clothes. It had been a long day, and he'd spent a lot of it fighting with Sylar, who was stuck in his head. The other man got under his skin in a literal way. He tossed his underwear in the general direction of the hamper and walked in the bathroom. Janice had a TV show that came on Thursday nights she liked to watch, so he'd be alone for most of the next hour.
He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at himself. He still looked like Matt Parkman. He was glad at least that it wasn't Sylar's face staring out of the glass at him.
You could stand to lose some weight, Sylar offered, as if just to remind Matt that he was still there.
Matt sighed. He'd already worn himself out today trading insults and barbs with Sylar. It had ground him down, wearing him out a lot more than it seemed to have wearied his undesired companion. As much as he wanted to argue and fight, he was tired of it. "Yeah, I know." He ran a hand across his gut speculatively, but the weight wasn't going anywhere right at the moment. He shrugged and got in the shower.
He could feel Sylar's presence in his mind most of the time, like having someone literally watching right over his shoulder. At other times, there was an odd vacancy and he wondered where Sylar went at times like those. He soaped and rinsed his armpits. "Do you sleep?" he said quietly.
Hm? Wouldn't you like to know?
"Yeah, you know, that's why I was asking," Matt rejoined sarcastically.
What do you think I do while you're asleep? Oh, and make sure you wash under that fat fold.
Matt rolled his eyes, but soaped up the washcloth and did as directed.
When he was done, Sylar added, And your ass. You don't wipe as well as you should.
"Would you cut it out?" he whispered.
Hey, until I get my body back, this one is the only one I have. You might as well have it clean. I'm surprised your ass doesn't itch the next day. You need to eat more fiber too.
Matt snorted. "How do you know what I feel? Can you feel everything I feel?"
Yes.
Matt finished cleaning his rear end, wishing he was able to take a shower in some degree of privacy. He thought of something else to try, bringing his hand around to his front. Maybe he could offend Sylar, or at least embarrass him. He soaped the washcloth and used it on his groin. Interestingly, Sylar said nothing. Matt stretched his member with one hand and ran the washcloth up and down it with the other. "You feel that?" He made it an aggressive challenge, trying to torque Sylar off.
There was no answer, but there was no sense of emptiness either. Sylar was still paying attention, but he didn't give Matt the satisfaction of knowing he was bothered by it.
Matt reached down and scrubbed around his balls and between his legs, then came back to his penis. He hesitated, then decided to hell with it. He stroked himself more gently with only his hand, hanging up the washcloth. He felt an odd tingle across his skin, the sensation that people said came from someone walking over your grave. He was stiffening faster than normal, breathing coming faster as his grip tightened around his hardness. He leaned forward against the wall of the shower, his head resting on his forearm. What the hell – I might as well, Matt thought as he continued. It wasn't like Sylar had any right to say when he did or did not pleasure himself.
He jacked himself off with the water spraying on his back, running hot down his legs and it was easy to imagine Janice was there with him, hands running up his back and down his thighs, following the course of the water, stroking him lightly, so lightly he couldn't be sure she was there or not. His breath came in shuddering gasps as he pulled himself, pinching the tip a little, giving himself a little pressure there, a little discomfort. He started jerking faster, breathing hard and trying to think of something to put him over the edge.
Mmm. That feels great.
He came, immediately ashamed and disgusted that it was Sylar's mental voice that had been there as he'd finished. And why the hell did I jack myself off with him around anyway? he asked himself, but Matt really had no answer and Sylar didn't provide one either. Matt panted and turned to face the shower, letting the water run down him.
I've got to figure out how to get rid of this guy.
Matt stirred awake when Janice rose and left to take care of Matty. He thought about going back to sleep. He was off work today, after all. He rolled over and grimaced, an uncomfortable fullness making itself known. He reached down and ran a hand over himself. It felt good. He snagged his wife's pillow, heavy with her scent, and hugged it with one arm while the other busied itself with lower regions.
Morning glory, huh? Sylar's mental voice grated on Matt's nerves. He was slightly mollified that Sylar sounded as groggy as Matt felt.
"Go back to sleep," he mumbled. It was annoying that he couldn't have a moment truly to himself.
Uhn. I think you like it when I watch.
Matt didn't dignify that with a response. He just grabbed himself more firmly and began to yank – hard and fast should do it. He could feel Sylar's creepy awareness tickling at the back of his head, like the feeling of eyes on him. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the surveillance did turn him on. He wasn't sure what it was about it – the knowledge that he'd trapped Sylar here, that he was making the man participate in a sex act, or the simple thrill of being observed. He didn't care, either. Maybe he would when he was more awake, but for right now he had a boner, and he just wanted to think this was all a dream.
What about the shower? Was that a dream too? He could hear the sarcastic smirk in Sylar's mental voice.
"Yeah. Nightmare." He jerked himself roughly. It hurt. He clenched his teeth against it.
Ow. Don't do it like that!
"Fuck you."
Listen, I can feel that. Let's… you don't have to… here. Get the loose skin. Use a lighter touch.
Matt sighed. There was no way he was going to rub one out with Sylar nagging him. He waited, but his erection wasn't going away. He shifted his grip and followed directions. He held himself more gently, stroking more with the fingertips than his whole fist.
Thank you.
Matt sighed again. The bed shifted and he opened his eyes. Sylar was lying on the other side, where Janice had been. The intruder rolled onto his side, facing Matt. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. "This doesn't mean anything," Matt growled.
"I know," Sylar said and reached down to lightly cover Matt's hand. The sensation was odd and Matt tried to hang onto the idea that he was really in bed alone and Sylar's presence was only in his head. Sylar said, "I read in a sex advice column that a man shouldn't use the same technique all the time. It said it spoils you for other sensations, gets you conditioned to only expect one type of thing."
Sylar's hand rode up and down over Matt's and after a moment Matt took his hand away, hugging the pillow to himself with both arms. Sylar stroked him slowly, delicately, with a regular, rhythmic motion. Matt shut his eyes and tried to imagine he was still in bed with his wife. Or dreaming. Or alone. Yes – alone. And the soft touch on his penis was just Matt humping into the bed as he hugged the pillow. He could almost feel that – the sheets against himself - more real than Sylar's presence, but even if he could eliminate Sylar's physical form from his mind, he couldn't get rid of the mental presence.
Matt felt air blow gently past his ear. Why is he doing this? he wondered. It felt good. It felt really good. He had the feeling again of phantom fingers over his legs and buttocks and for a moment he worried that Sylar could use telekinesis while with him, but then he realized that wasn't necessarily true. If he could feel Sylar's hand on his shaft, then any other feelings on his body were surely just as much in his mind. He buried his nose in the pillow and thought of Janice, Audrey, Daphne, any other woman he'd been attracted to. He had to admit the softer touches were nice. He came a few minutes later.
Sylar's voice intruded, "You're going to have to resign yourself to this as long as you won't give me back my body. I'm being nice, you know? I don't have to be."
Matt drug the pillow over his head, trying to block out the world and the miserable situation he'd found himself in. Sylar didn't make things worse by saying anything else. There was no snarky comment or biting wit – just silence, which Matt was thankful for.