A/N: Alright, this is(and how many times will I say this? Probably a good deal more) partly queenoftheoutlands fault. Partly my dirty brain, partly Sylar messing up my previously semi-dirty brain. My brain was born in the gutter, he just made the walls ever-so slippery so I can't get out. But, yeah, I'll explain things better in the second A/N.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes, Wicked, Wizard of Oz, Rocky Road or Banana Chocolate Chunk. I do own this penny, however. That counts for something, right? No? Darn.
Warnings: Slash, smut, fetishes, weird green people, crack and cliches.
Season: Nine hundred...and three.
Spoilers: Only that made of cheese and fetishes.
Pairings: Peter/Sylar AKA Pylar AKA Petlar AKA whatever-the-heck-you're-supposed-to-call-it-cause-I-have-no-clue.

The stone was cold, harsh, unforgiving and rough. Not to mention probably littered with disease. How many hobo's had wandered back here to get high or release their full bladders or even get a bit sick from the week old burrito they found in the trash? That was a sick thought, one he probably could have done without. He was in pain, blinding white pain that he couldn't help but believe that this is what he forced upon another so many times. It was sick, it was wrong, it was dirty, it was unfathomable, it was...exhilarating.

With untold pain came unimaginable pleasure, it was masochistic and sickening but it felt so right. Euphoria had swept through his sense, clouded his vision, made everything just perfect. And the most beautiful face loomed above him, a face scrunched tight as groans and grunts and moans escaped from chapped, kiss-swollen lips. And it was perfect, it was beautiful, and a cop could come find them at any moment now and he wouldn't care.

In fact, he might even invite the cop to join them and kill him afterwards.

Earlier
(Because it's cliched and I want to)

Peter Petrelli stood in awe and shock, arms folded in a slight show of annoyance as the bouncy (and, for some reason, green) girl traipsed away with a Wicked playbill in hand. Deep down, he knew he shouldn't feel offended or upset because everything the brutally honest young woman had said was...well, brutally honest. Beside him, the man he loved chuckled.

"You know, I think I like her." Sylar murmured, draping a arm over Peter's shoulders and guiding him down the busy New York sidewalk. Peter stopped moving, inevitably causing Sylar to stop and raise an eyebrow at him, and glared at the man next to him.

"You didn't like her when she said you were similar to a green, female witch from Wizard of Oz and Wicked." Peter retorted, delighting for a few moments in Sylar's expression.

"What is Wicked, anyhow?"

"A prequel to Wizard of Oz, tells the story of the Wicked Witch and the Good Witch."

"Why do you know this?"

"Long story, but it's a good musical."

"Yeah, well, I liked her because she thought I was the dominant one. Which I am." Sylar's smirk returned and, realizing that it was unlikely Peter would be moving anytime soon, he leaned against the wall of a hole-in-the-wall ice cream shop. "Unless, of course, you'd like to prove otherwise."

Peter's glare intensified, if that was possible. He let out a snort, shaking his head. "I'm not falling for your seductive ways, Sylar. For all I know, you payed that girl to come say that."

Sylar grinned, "So I'm seductive, am I?"

"Stop twisting my words around."

"I could twist something else."

"Sylar!"

"Peter."

Peter sighed, leaning against the building himself and gazing curiously at the frozen treats inside. "Are you going to let this go anytime soon?"

"Mm," Sylar hummed, grasping Peter's shoulders and murmuring in his ear. "Tell you what, there's a alley a few blocks away, you show me how 'dominant' you are and I'll get you some ice cream."

Peter froze, craning his neck to look Sylar in the eyes. "Rocky Road?"

"And Banana Chocolate Chunk." Sylar confirmed with a wicked grin, letting out a grunt of surprise as Peter grasped the sleeve of his jacket and dragged him to the alley.

Present

"Peter," Sylar moaned, reaching out from his place on the ground for anything solid, warm, sticky with sweat and pleasure. Above him, Peter moaned in reply, gasping for breath as his hand found way to Sylar's manhood. Letting out a noise between a gasp and a groan, he bucked into the warm, soft flesh of his lover's hand.

It wasn't long before either of them were satisfied.

Peter came first, with a cry of 'Gabriel!' Oddly enough, it was only when they had sex did Sylar allow the forbidden name to pass anyone's lips, specifically Peter's. Sylar and let out a scream as he felt Peter's seed pour into him, the pleasure that could come from simply feeling Peter's own pleasure was shocking. Was this how Peter felt?

Peter kept up the pumping of his hand until Sylar came as well, white streams laying over both stomach and hand alike. Peter smiled down at Sylar, running a clean finger down his cheek.

"So, when do I get my ice cream?"

Sylar chuckled, pushing himself up onto his elbows so he could kiss the plump, tantalizing lips that moved above him. "A fetish for ice cream, I have the weirdest boyfriend."

"At least I'm not obsessed with dark alleys."

"Touche, ice cream-boy."

A/N: So, the point of that? None, really. I'm just starting a...er, smut series involving our two (or more) favorite character's and their fetishes. Yeah. I have a few ideas, but I will be taking requests. What do you think would be funny to see in a smutty, fetish story? It could range from Sylar's obsession with threesomes to Peter's love for pineapple and dolls. I really don't care. Even if I don't use it for the main story, I'll incorporate it somehow. So leave a suggestion in your review, or PM me. Also, others will have more smut than that. I was just being lazy.

I remain your obedient Authoress,

Lushy