Summary: A certain serial killer keeps invading Lyle's dreams at night. Sylar/Lyle slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Keeping Me Up At Night
Lyle had no idea how it happened. The man worked with his dad for about three weeks now. He'd walk in, following his dad at a distance, sometimes with a smirk on his face and sometimes just a look of contemplation. Lyle only knew a little about him, mostly from his sister's rants about how he tried to cut off her head and steal her powers. He was pretty good at being invisible though so he was able to catch some more things here and there, pretending to play video games in the other room. For example, how Sylar tried killing basically every one of his dad's "colleagues" and most were still pretty mad about it.
It was hard to see him as a serial killer when he came over, though. Sylar would always send him a smile across the room and give him goosebumps from his roots to his toes, making him blush and run to his room to take care of a little… problem. It was even worse when Sylar would hang around the house, waiting patiently for more orders. It was like the man was a magnet: no matter how much Lyle tried avoiding him, he'd somehow still end up right there. Lyle would just be messing around the house and accidently bump into his chest and be caught in those strong arms, then sent off with nothing but a smirk and a wink. Or he'd be heading up to his room to study and need to squeeze past him on the stairs, blushing as their hips would sometimes brush.
At night he would imagine that smile and those hands on him, stroking him and whispering about how he could have him anytime he wanted. He hoped to God no one ever heard him in the middle of the night panting in bed with thoughts of the former killer. In the morning, he'd have to rush to throw his cum-stained underwear under his bed and pray his mom wouldn't be doing laundry that day.
That night was no different. He dreamt he was in the living room playing his newest video game, Zombie Apocalypse 2: The Return, in what he thought was an empty house. Leaning back against the cushions, his fingers punched the buttons quickly enjoying the pinging shots ringing as he killed zombie after zombie. Ping! Ping! Ping! "You're pretty good at that," a deep voice drawled from behind him.
Lyle jumped a bit, blushing at the baritone laugh. He didn't turn around, recognizing the masculine presence, and tried to play it cool. "Thanks," Lyle said, "You wanna play, too? I can turn it to two-player." Hands circled around his shoulders as fingers lightly stroked a path down to his hands, a puff of breath tickling Lyle's ear.
"I' think I'd rather play a different game, Lyle," Sylar growled. The hand left his and slowly began rubbing his chest instead, fingers catching on the worn t-shirt's fabric. Lyle gasped as his body grew hotter, revelling in the man's moan behind him. Sylar began kissing his neck, leaving a wet trail from behind his ear down towards his shoulder. Lyle screamed as Sylar bit down hard above his collarbone, moaning as the man licked at the deep teeth marks.
His eyes shot open as he came hard. He lied in bed a few seconds just catching his breath, sweat covering his body. He groaned as he thought about hiding yet another pair of underwear and washing it in secret. Rolling out of bed with a grunt, he blearily got ready for another day of battling with teenage hormones.
He headed downstairs with pancakes on the mind when he heard arguing in the living room. His father and Claire seemed to be fighting about something with Peter in the middle trying to play negotiator. His father never quite raised his voice, but his eyes were usually enough to scare the crap out of 99% of the population, the exception being the adults in the room. Claire just stood tall. Lyle heard things here and there, not quite getting enough to figure out what they were fighting about. He was just a watcher on the sidelines, anyway.
"Just another morning in the Bennet house, huh?"
Lyle started at the man who magically appeared beside him. It didn't matter how many times he did that, it still got him every time. The man was dressed in his suit as usual, the fit outlining his physique making Lyle question how he hasn't been caught drooling yet. Lyle blushed as his imagination started full speed so quickly.
"Yup, just another normal morning."
The fighting continued. Peter was pouting now as the Bennets continued their staredown. Lyle wondered if they'd noticed the man join them.
Sylar seemed to be enjoying the show, just standing watching. Lyle wondered if the man would ever intervene but Lyle imagined him being more of an emergency bodyguard. A sexy emergency bodyguard… His face burning bright, Lyle stuttered, "I should get some breakfast, I guess."
"You sleep well?," Sylar asked, a strange tone in his voice.
Lyle lowered his head to hide his tinged cheeks and nodded.
The man nodded. "Good dreams?"
Lyle nodded again, hoping he didn't look as red as he felt. His heart raced and hoped the man wouldn't ask what he dreamt about. He could only imagine the crap he would get. But Sylar just nodded again.
They stood together silently a minute, just him watching the fight and Lyle watching the man out of the corner of his eye. Figuring that was gonna be it, Lyle turned to start for the kitchen. All of a sudden Lyle felt the famous telekinesis he'd fantasized about, keeping him in place next to the man. He twisting to look at Sylar wide eyed, confused and a bit scared. "He knows!," his mind screamed. "He's mad about the dreams and he's gonna kill me!" Lyle wasn't gonna hyperventilate and make a scene. He'd just scream in his head and hope no one ever read his dream journal. He kept looking at Sylar's face and saw… a smirk?
Lyle gulped. He stuttered out, "Y-you want some pancakes too?"
Sylar huffed a laugh and shook his head, "No, thanks, I already ate." Then, Sylar leaned down next to his ear still looking ahead and whispered, "But call me if you ever want those dreams to come true." Lyle almost came right there.