Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.
Chapter Two:
Sylar didn't miss the tormented expressions on Peter's face. His brother was so easy to read. He knew that Peter was torturing himself with thoughts of Claire. Maybe he shouldn't have given him such a hard time this morning. Peter was his brother, after all, and Sylar wanted his friendship.
Thinking back to that morning, Sylar couldn't help but smile. What a way to wake up. Claire moaning, touching herself, his name on her lips. It was beautiful. No matter how much she tried to hate him, her subconscious mind already knew that she was his.
Teasing Peter was too easy. After offering Claire some company in her shower, Peter punched him in the face. It was hilarious. With a fierce look on his pretty boy face, Peter actually said, "If you touch her inappropriately I swear to God I will kill you, even if you are my brother!"
Sylar had chuckled, highly amused by Peter's hypocritical righteous indignation. "The only reason the thought of me touching Claire bothers you so much is because you want to be the one touching her inappropriately."
"How dare you! I'd never do that!"
"But you want to. Not that I blame you. I've been fantasizing about breaking that particular taboo since the moment I learned that my favorite invincible cheerleader was also my niece." Sylar had said this to piss Peter off, but it wasn't a lie. Sylar wanted Claire, badly. He always had. The taboo of being her uncle had nothing to do with it; although, he admitted to himself, it certainly made things more interesting. Sylar continued taunting Peter.
"It's so naughty, isn't it, Peter? Wanting her like we do."
"I am nothing like you! And I do NOT want Claire in that way."
"Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, you'll manage to actually believe it."
"Enough! Let's just not talk about this anymore, you're pissing me off."
"Alright." Sylar lay back against the propped up pillows on his headrest, closing his eyes, smiling softly.
Peter unfolded a map of Nebraska to plan out their route.
A few minutes later, Sylar broke the silence with, "I bet I can seduce her before you can."
Peter growled "Shut up!"
Wanting to illicit an even bigger reaction out of him, Sylar asked, "You think she'd be up for a threesome?"
Peter threw an ashtray at his grinning brother, the impact breaking his nose. As blood fell from his nostrils, Sylar smiled, feeling victorious. Having a brother was fun.
The sound of Claire's shower drew his thoughts back to her. It was almost painful, knowing that Claire was only a few feet away, naked and wet, probably thinking of him. Sylar's groin tightened at the thought. He glanced at Peter, deciding that he shouldn't be the only one to have to suffer. With a smirk he began, "Just think, right now Claire's standing in the shower, hot water caressing her naked skin."
"I'm not listening to you, so just shut the hell up."
"I wonder if she's touching herself, her eyes closed, fingers exploring her body. She could be biting her lip right now to keep from screaming out my name as she makes herself come, imagining I'm in the shower with her, kissing her, fucking her . . ."
"That's enough Sylar!" Peter shouted, a stream of electricity shot out from his hand, sending agonizing jolts through Sylar's body. Sylar clenched his teeth to keep from screaming out loud. When the electricity subsided, Sylar felt a feral, predatory smile grace his lips. With great restraint, he refrained from retaliating with one of the many powers in his arsenal. He really did want to be a good brother.
The trio stopped at a little roadside diner for lunch. When Claire sat in a booth, Sylar slipped in next to her, smirking at Peter who was forced to sit across from them. Claire shifted awkwardly, scooting up against the wall, as far away from Sylar as was possible in the small booth.
Peter glared daggers at Sylar who lifted his eyebrow and grinned. When the waitress came to the table to take their orders, Sylar smiled and flirted with her. Claire rolled her eyes, her lips pressed together tightly. Peter observed this, but tried to ignore the signs of Claire's jealousy.
Sylar did this on purpose, of course, enjoying the look on Peter's face. It was almost too easy to get under his brother's skin. Awkward silence descended upon them once again, interrupted only by the arrival of their lunch. Claire was stubbornly avoiding eye-contact with either of them, focusing instead on the parking lot outside the window. Peter was stiff and serious, looking at his cheeseburger and fries for the most part, but he kept shooting glances over at Claire-- a mixture of concern, desire and guilt in his eyes.
Poor Peter. He's such a boy scout. As if they could help themselves from being attracted to Claire. It's not like they knew her as a child, buying her Barbie dolls for Christmas or taking her to the zoo. They'd both met her as a nearly grown woman; jailbait at 16, but a young woman, and a stranger. Neither of them knew that she was their niece. She was just a girl, a beautiful girl that was only off limits because of her age, or, in Sylar's case, because he was far too interested in exposing her brain and taking her ability to care about her beauty.
Now, well, he was a man and Claire was . . . perfect. Potentially immortal, like him. It didn't matter to him that they were technically related. In a few dozen years, no one who knew would be alive to condemn them. Eventually, Claire would accept that they were destined to be together. Unless, Peter stole her from him. Peter might be just as immortal as he and Claire. And that moral block Peter had against getting romantic with his niece couldn't last forever. Shit.
Sylar's hands curled up into fists underneath the table. He would not give her up. Claire was his, damn it. His! Suddenly, taking his time, letting Claire feel the lonely weight of eternity a bit before closing in didn't seem like such a good plan after all. Waiting could be disastrous. Determination settled over him. Claire would be his . . . and soon.
When Peter left to use the bathroom, Sylar took the opportunity to plant some seeds in Claire's mind. He scooted himself closer to Claire, so that their thighs were pressed against each other. She tensed, like a scared little rabbit, but he had her trapped. Sylar gave Claire a moment to feel his body heat, then he slowly leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"I have dreams about you too, Claire."
"I didn't . . ." Claire blurted out in protest.
"Ssshh . . . Yes, you did. And I can't stop thinking about how sexy you sounded, moaning my name. I'd like to hear that again."
"Don't be ridiculous!" she hissed.
Claire pressed her lips tightly together, then turned to look out the window, intent on ignoring him. That wouldn't do. So he asked, "Are you a virgin, Claire?" That got her to turn wide, shocked green eyes toward him, her mouth agape. "Were you saving yourself for me?"
Outrage flashed across her features. Claire was so beautiful when she was angry. She narrowed fierce eyes at him. "I am not saving myself for you!" He liked her answer. He'd been pretty sure that she was a virgin, since she hadn't had any long term relationships that he knew about, but her answer confirmed it. Sylar would be her first. Her only.
"Are you sure about that?"
"You're my uncle!"
"Hardly. By blood, apparently, but that doesn't bother me."
"Of course it doesn't," Claire muttered. She turned back toward the window, refusing to look at him.
"I can't seem to stop myself from fantasizing about you—about kissing your neck," he gently trailed a finger along the crook of her neck, making her shudder, "maybe giving you a little love bite." Claire's eyes fluttered shut. Sylar leaned closer, his lips grazing the soft skin beneath her ear. He whispered against her skin, "I want to make you come for me." He drew in a deep breath. He loved the way she smelled, like vanilla and suntan lotion and a hint of . . . oh, god. Sylar's cock responded instantly as he recognized the musky scent of feminine arousal.
"God, Claire." Sylar wasn't surprised by the husky tone of his voice. Her scent was driving him insane. "I want to push you against a wall right now and thrust my hard cock into your tight, wet heat. I want to hear you scream out my name as I make you come again and again and . . ." He suddenly pulled away and scooted back along the bench to his original position, not quite fast enough to prevent Peter from seeing it. Oops.
Claire opened her eyes and gasped when she saw Peter nearing their booth. He narrowed his eyes at Sylar, clearly suspicious. Sylar decided he should probably be more discrete from now on in his pursuit of Claire. As fun as it was messing with Peter this morning, he didn't want to provoke his brother into actively competing for her. No sense in making things more difficult for himself. Besides, having Peter make a play for her would be confusing and painful for his Claire; Sylar didn't want her to suffer unneccessarily. Far better to keep things hidden from Peter until Claire was convinced that she belonged to Sylar, and he to her, forever.