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A Sylar/Claire fic.
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Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Heroes. I'm not that awesome.
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A/N: Alrighty, this one was number 2 on my list of Sylar/Claire fics to write.
This one should be a bit longer than my other one-shots, we'll see how it goes.
I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it.
As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!
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At first, it was just an odd tingle. She thought she felt something ghosting over her neck, but when she turned, there was nothing there. Claire chalked it up to a phantom gust, and got back to her reading. Her English Literature teacher was known to spring pop-quizzes on them, and she wanted to be prepared.
This was Claire's 7th Sophomore year. She could never really stay in one place for more than four or five years, before people might start to notice that she didn't age. So, she usually stuck around long enough to get a degree in something, and then move on.
This year was particularly grueling, as there was so much reading to do, and then everything became an interpretation. There was so much inferring, and metaphorical guesswork involved in this course ... even though she couldn't feel pain, sometimes over thinking hurt her brain.
The next time it happened, she was sure that someone had touched her. It was too heavy of a feeling to be just a gust of wind. But, even though she turned around so much that she started spinning in circles, there was no one else in the room with her. Her first assumption was an invisible person, but after grabbing her heat-sensing scanner out of one of her drawers, and doing a quick scan of her room, she found that there was no one else there but herself.
Claire wasn't completely placated, but she put the equipment away and moved to sit on her bed, giving her a better view of the entire room than she had at her desk, and leaving no opportunities for someone to sneak up behind her.
A minute later, however, the sensation started up again, only this time, it became more constant. Claire's entire body went rigid all at once. She could swear that someone's hands had wrapped around her shoulders, and were currently rubbing circles in the flesh. She brought her own hand to her shoulder, feeling nothing but her own skin, and the strap of the shirt that she wore.
The sensation continued, moving between her neck and shoulders, and Claire felt every inch of the skin being depressed and caressed ... it was the oddest tactile experience of her life. Her skin grew warm in the areas that were "touched", and suddenly, the phantom hands began moving lower. Claire couldn't even be sure that it was hands that she was feeling, but it made the most sense - sort of.
The feeling moved slowly down her back, until the 'hands' were encasing her ribs, moving back and forth along them.
Claire slowly put her book down on the bed, the pages opened towards her blanket so that she wouldn't lose her place. She told herself that her quickened heart rate was because someone was obviously screwing with her, and not because she was enjoying the sensations.
She expected the 'hands' to continue their way south, and so she was surprised when they doubled back towards her neck, this time coming around to the front, fingers tracing along her collarbone and dipping into the hollow just above the dip. The depressions became feather-light, and then it felt like that ghosting breeze again, just tickling the skin.
Claire blinked rapidly, her breath catching in her throat as the soft movements began moving down her chest, following a path directly down the middle. She watched her clothing as the 'hands' moved further down, expecting to see her shirt bunch up, or lift slightly, but it never did. The touch continued right against her skin, making her feel as though she weren't even wearing any clothes. Claire was finding it more difficult to swallow, or even breath. She seemed to have a permanent lump in her throat, and every time a particularly sensitive patch of skin was touched - no, caressed - she had to force down a lump of air, allow fresh oxygen to seep into her lungs, and then the process of holding her breath would start all over again.
She couldn't believe this was happening. She didn't know what it was, or why it was happening to her ... all she knew was that it felt amazing, and she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted it to stop.
An invisible finger swirled around her belly button, massaging the skin there for a minute dipping in and pressing down.
Claire felt as though a shockwave had just been sent to the lower part of her body, and without meaning to, she sunk down lower on the bed.
Down, down, down the hands went, over her hips, tantalizingly close to the apex of her thighs, and then directly to her knees, where the hands curled around and stroked the back of her legs, causing her to bend them ever so slightly off the bed. The hands continued down, rubbing her calves, until they reached her feet. If Claire thought those mystical fingers were going to make their way back up again soon, she was mistaken.
Never before had she been so aroused by a foot massage. No inch of skin was left untouched, each toe was caressed with the finest of movements. After what seemed like an eternity, a single finger traced up the center of each foot, and then the hands began moving their way back up.
Claire struggled to breathe evenly, but the most she could manage were a few choked, panting breaths. Her body was on fire, and by all apparent logic, no one was even touching her.
Her thighs were on fire, and probably would be even without the added friction created by the phantom palms currently lavishing her skin with attention. "Who are you?" Claire asked to the empty room, trying to find some semblance of clarity.
In response to the sound of her voice - Claire assumed - the hands began moving upwards. It felt as though a real person were with her on the bed, and were running their hands up her sides, until they reached her shoulders. Claire looked all around her, but saw no one. She opened her mouth to speak again, but all that came out was a gasp, when the straps of her shirt were lifted off of her shoulders, and began sliding down her arms.
Claire blinked, her mouth opening and closing, trying to ascertain why the hell she wasn't jumping off of the bed and clutching the shirt to her trembling body. Surely this was some kind of violation ... she hadn't asked for, or invited this.
But you didn't say no, either, a little voice in the back of her mind told her.
Any other thoughts left her mind as the shirt was pulled down even more, all the way down to her hips. Her chest heaved as her breathing became even more erratic. Before she could speak another word, she felt the fingers dip under the fabric of her shorts and underwear, and then they were being pulled off of her hips. Barely a second after those clothes were removed, her shirt followed suit, all of the items resting on a pile at the foot of her bed.
She was completely exposed now, but she couldn't bring herself to cover herself with her arms. What was wrong with her? Who was doing this to her? What did they want? Was this just a prank, or something more? Her traitorous mind told her that she wanted it to be something more.
Now that her flesh was completely garment-free, the sensations nearly doubled. She didn't know how that was possible, but she felt as though every part of her body was being stroked all at once. Stroked, rubbed, caressed, manipulated, tweaked ... there wasn't one single word to describe the utter passion that she was feeling.
She was stretched completely flat against the bed now, her mind blank, just enjoying the ministrations.
Something rough dragged across the tip of one of her nipples, and Claire bucked violently in shock. If not for the surely dry feeling of the area, she would have sworn someone had licked her ... that was impossible, though. There was no one there.
Impossible, yet how are you feeling the things you are feeling? That same annoying voice was back again, plaguing her defenseless mind as her body shook with desire.
She felt her center being palmed, and then the glorious sensation of a digit being entered into her warmth. A cry escaped her lips, and then pressure only increased.
This continued for what felt like hours, until Claire was cursing to the heavens, pleading to whomever was doing this to show her their face. She begged, not sure whether she was begging them to stop, or continue.
A spark of electricity ran through her body, and then she was done. She exploded from within, her body alight with thousands of miniature orgasms, culminating in the longest, most intense feeling of release that Claire had ever experienced. She didn't come down off of her high for almost two minutes, and even then, she just lay there, spent.
She didn't hear the window of her dorm room opening, she didn't notice the gentle breeze that fluttered in or the curtains swaying to the beat of the wind. She didn't hear the footsteps on the ground, or notice the lights dimming to a soft, romantic level. She barely registered the dip in the bed as someone placed their knee on it, hovering over her.
She wasn't aware of anything until she felt the hot trickle of breath in her ear, and heard the soft, melodic whisper as he told her, "I can bring you so much pleasure, Claire. My powers don't only bring pain ... they bring a peace like you've never known. Give me a chance, and I'll show you again."
Claire blinked, and he was gone. She couldn't say for sure how long it took her to regain the strength needed to lift herself up onto her elbows, but by then, he was long gone.
She shakily moved to her door, grabbing the robe that hung on the hook and sliding it on, the tie wrapped tightly around her. She brushed a hand through her hair, willing her body to calm down and her brain to think rationally.
Sylar ... Sylar had done those things to her. She should feel repulsed, violated, disgusted ... but she didn't. She couldn't. All she could think about was how much time and energy he had just put in to giving her the most intense, wonderful orgasm of her life. That, and how she wanted nothing more than to experience it again.
She noticed a card stuck to her now closed window, and moved towards it, plucking it off the glass. There was nothing on it except for an address. Presumably, Sylar's address.
Claire stared at it for a long moment, thinking of the possible consequences of going to that address. It might all be a trick, he might be luring her to her doom ... but she couldn't bring herself to care about that. It had been over forty years since she'd seen him, and then he just popped up out of the blue, and did such wonderful things to her.
Claire wondered suddenly what it would feel like with his real hands on her body. Would he take the same amount of time? Would he love and lavish her like he'd done with his ability? Something in her wanted to find out, and it was that urge that had her pocketing the card in the clothes she planned on wearing, and heading into the bathroom for a long, cold shower. If she were going to face Sylar after that ... she needed a cool down.
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The end.
Well, what did you guys think? Like it, hate it?
It wasn't too graphic, so I think I'll leave the rating at T, but if you think it should be M, let me know, and I'll change it.
Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.
Until next time ...!