Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tim Kring – boo hoo.
Author's Notes: Written in response to Porn Battle VIII's prompt 'masturbation'. Takes place during Season Two.
Filling the Void
Spending so long locked away at Primatech, Elle had developed a lot of fantasies. Because there was only so much fun the freaks on level five could be. Even Adam became boring once he passed out. Besides which, how many guys were there that could slide a fingertip over her clit, so soft and slow and almost tickling, before letting out a tiny spark to shoot unique pleasure-pain through her nervous system?
Her fantasies were numerous, held numerous figures – both real and fictional – but her favourite thing to do was to think of Gabriel Gray. She didn't consciously like to think of him as 'Sylar', and the personality that name evoked, because that brought up guilty feelings that really weren't good for this kind of activity. She thought of the sweet, awkward man she'd met a year before, and how things would be if they weren't like they were.
They might both be agents, she told herself, settling back in her warm bed. The fluorescent lights had been turned out, and only the red LED on the security camera blinked in the dark – but Elle never minded knowing some bored security guard might be watching. They – she and her fantasy Gabriel – might pretend to be buddies or colleagues during the day. Or they might pretend to hate each other, tease each other all the time. He might rough house her a little too much, and push her around until she has to spark to get him off her back. But then, every night when they returned to the Company, they might share her slim bed. No need to make it any wider. She could sleep just fine with his long, naked body pressed to hers, maybe sprawled just a little over the top of him. A leg over his, and arm across his chest and fingers running through the dusting of black hair there. She strokes herself through thin cotton panties, tracing the outline of her folds while wishing her fingers were larger, blunter, rougher. Wishing they were his.
Thoughts of a 'happily ever after' ending like that never last long, because they make her kind of sad. Instead she remembers the way they were. She remembers their first kiss, and the way he tentatively ran his tongue along hers. He was so uncertain, like he'd never been kissed before – and maybe he hadn't. But he felt so good it didn't matter. All hard muscle under the buttoned up shirt, and when had he had the time to bulk up that nicely, anyway?
Maybe her imagination was embellishing, but she didn't care. Her mind ran through the possibilities of other places that tongue might run a tentative lick, and this was the thought that always brought her hand under her panties. She needed to touch herself, to feel how wet thinking about him made her. He would be so pleased. She remembered his flush of pleasure when she had murmured his name against his lips. Small things like pleasure and affection made him happy then.
But ultimately it was thoughts of Sylar, not Gabriel, which got her off. It was imagining him captured, strapped to the table and at her disposal like the rest of Level Five. Meagre restraints would never hold him down. He'd break free within a day, maybe the moment he saw her, and hold her hostage. And then he wouldn't able to resist the temptation of her – because there must still be something of Gabriel within him, despite the monster they had all created.
Would he use his power to hold her down, or would he need to do it with his own body?
Fingers hot and slick and crackling with static, Elle pressed up against her own touch. The fingers that, while skilled and deft, were too gentle to be completely satisfying. She came, and she whined out his name, and she licked her fingers clean afterwards. But still it all felt hollow. There was a hole – no pun intended – that only Gabriel-Sylar-Gray would be able to fill.
