MAJOR IDEA CRED TO COURBEAU. Because. Otherwise this would have been a very BDSM chapter. So you're lucky I had help shaking things up. ;D
HAPPY EASTER! (Note: Read while eating chocolate.)
Sitting in class, amongst the smell of erasers, lead paint and various expensive perfumes, Claire Bennet perched on a stool with her legs crossed and her skirt tucked neatly under her.
Her white skirt and canary yellow off the shoulder top complemented her blond hair and soft eyes. Bathed in the sunlight pouring through the window, she looked completely and utterly pristine and happy. She was smiling sweetly at her notebook, staring down on her notes and diagrams and unfinished homework and idly scrawling her pencil across the margins in never ending trains of stars.
The teacher clicked a button and a picture of Nicholas Flamel popped up on the screen. Her chemistry teacher went into a quick, star-struck ramble about the determination that ended in failure, yet so many other discoveries made. He talked of the rumours of Flamel's obsession with finding the right formula. About the dream of transforming elements into gold.
Claire was not listening. Chemistry wasn't her favourite subject, and she doubted she'd ever need it with what she was going to do with her life anyway.
Her mind was in a far, far away place. It was thinking furiously, processing and drawing conclusions and making assumptions and reliving her dreams. The small smile on her face, and the blatant obliviousness to the males in her class leering at her tanned skin highlighted the fact that if Claire was anywhere, it was not in Chem.
Claire bit her lip, looking at the picture of Flamel as her teacher skittered about handing out sheets of work that she wouldn't do. He had serious eyes, like Sylar. She swallowed thickly, suddenly realizing how everything about him had invaded her mind and sucked on her brain. Eyes, skin, facial hair. The way one kid had looked at her when she had bent over at her locker. Instead of being insulted and worried about what he'd seen to make him eye her like that, she'd flipped him a saucy smile and walked away and putting enough oomph into her step that she knew her curls would bounce teasingly.
She knew what the half-starved and yet controlled expression looked like. Granted, it was from her own head, but if she thought deeply, she'd seen it before. Lots. She had just never given it much thought, or had filed it away under the 'vile' category.
Thinking about Sylar now, Claire realized she no longer found him scary.
She didn't know when she'd stopped fearing him, but something in her merely found him horrifying in one way. He was so cavalier about his ruthlessness, it made her sick. And every time she'd met him, he'd been so focused and contrite and wholly infuriating.
Not so scary anymore, just dangerous.
Claire thought back to her dream, and the feel of his lips on her body and the way he growled in her ears. She reasoned with herself that she just didn't find jerkoff high school children attractive anymore, and her brain was merely putting a person to the desires she ignored. Tapping her pencil on the page furiously, she studied the picture of Flamel. His serious eyes, focused on measuring out some unknown substance, lips drawn and pursed.
Concentrating while he worked.
Sylar's face blared across her mind with his face arranged in a mask of careful concentration as he pulled gasps and nervous spasms from her body as she silently writhed and begged for more, motionless. She agreed with herself, she did find being suspended mid-air cool and interesting.
Being touched bordered on rape, and she wouldn't be sitting in Chemistry grinning stupidly if it actually happened. She was fairly sure of that.
Claire wondered what Sylar would be like to work with since he had so much narrow minded focus on what he wanted or what was going. She always got so caught up in the beauty of the big picture, she often missed the little details. She knew from him climbing inside her brain and doing a finger-polka on her cerebrum that he was all about the details.
Not only on the details, but the mission as a whole. The pencil fell limply onto the blank note paper as her gaze fixed on something outside and unfocused as her mind ventured into the beyond.
"It's so dusty up here," Claire coughed, feeling like her lungs were burning. The attic was low, sloped on one side. It had two boxes against the far wall, a closed trap door from the floor below, one window, and enough dust on the floor to reassemble and make the skins of twelve people. She had on a pair of (expensive, and she'd totally been looking at them at Bebe two days ago...) white short shorts and a striped white and blue wife beater. Huffing in disgust and ignoring the cramps her legs were experiencing, she sat up and pulled all her hair up into a top knot. There was not enough room in this attic to stand, merely rise and straighten out your legs while hunched over.
Sylar was plastered against the window, binoculars in hand.
"It's not dusty. We've not moved enough for there to be dust everywhere."
"I'm getting dust on me. By sitting in it."
"Tragic."
He didn't lower the binoculars and he didn't move. He sat against the sloping wall, legs outstretched and the eyepieces glued to his face as he looked out the window. The people under observation didn't know they were there, or they weren't supposed to.
"What does this Melissa girl do again?"
"Plant life."
"She does plant life? What kind of a time is that?" Claire asked, joking out loud and sniggering to herself. She glanced at him, looking for him to approve her joke or at least revise his statement, but he didn't appear to have heard her. Still looking out the window, he hadn't moved a muscle. She sighed to herself and let her head fall back against the wall she leaned against with a thud.
"She grows plants. Spontaneously. She controls that element." He said flatly, still not moving. Claire tugged at the front of her shirt, hoping to coax a breeze.
"Plants are an element?"
"Claire." He said in a tone. That tone that told her to shut up or he'd do something she didn't appreciate. Right now, that made her visualize him telekinetically dragging her and her smart ensemble all through the grime on the floor, and that not only made her wrinkle her nose but also inspired a certain modicum of obedience. This whole 'two of them' operation was new. And working...so far.
She studied the ceiling, ignoring the ridiculous get up he was in.
He looked like the blatant opposite of what he normally looked like. He was decked in a stupid blue and white Hawaiian button down shirt and some khaki shorts, legs trailing down to some fairly manly sandals which were crossed smartly at the ankle. He still managed to exude the fact that he didn't like people and he'd prefer to just point and be done.
Literally.
"There we go. We've got activity."
"Oh! I wanna see!" Claire said, reaching beside her and snatching up her own binoculars and shuffling to the window. He drew up his legs with a vicious glare at her intrusion of his spot and then refixed his own magnifiers as Claire raised hers hastily and then wavered about for a second before spotting their target.
They both watched the woman standing in her driveway. She wore a simple purple dress and her brown hair was up in a high ponytail, glimmering in the Californian sun. She was talking to a man in blue jeans and a white polo shirt.
"What's she doing?" Claire asked.
"Talking." Sylar told her pointedly and she rolled her eyes to herself. He was always there to point out the obvious. They watched the target and the man talk, watching her laugh and him smile and say something else. Claire smirked, pressing her binoculars against the glass as if that would get her closer so she could hear.
"Oh, she so wants him," She declared without thinking. Suddenly, she realized what she said and glanced at Sylar, who had frowned and looked closer.
"How do you know?"
"Not like...wants to cut off his head or anything, I meant it in a completely non-threatening non-reminding humanoid way, you know -"
He looked at her, unimpressed.
"Explain. I know what you meant. Contrary to popular belief, I do study humans. I am one."
"Sometimes." Claire muttered.
"Pardon?"
"Summertime. Hot." She coughed, gluing herself to the scene outside across the street.
The annoyance rolling off him was palpable, and so Claire decided to do as he asked. She also felt the need to prove to him she wasn't just his partner because he couldn't kill her. She shifted, ignoring the jolt that hit when her leg brushed his.
"Okay. So. She totally wants him. I don't know why, he looks like one of those guys who is totally hot, but has some serious ratings on the jerk scale," Claire began, intent on her study and missing the annoyed incredulous look he delivered over the eyes of his own focals. He shook his head slightly and continued to watch.
Melissa laughed and touched the man's forearm.
"Okay okay! That right there! That was the 'innocent and light but still flirty' touch. That was her, like, touching him to let him know she's interested but letting it be casual if he's not." Claire explained. Sylar observed.
He put his hands in his pockets and smiled down at the woman.
"Oh! Okay. That's a little mixed. He's all squared at her, look at the way his hips and shoulders are facing her, and the insides of his elbows are faced towards her which suggests he's open to her, and the fact that his feet are shoulder width apart and pointed at her means he's totally zeroed in on her. But the hands in the pockets? That's a guarded movement. He might not trust her, or he's got a girlfriend, or he's really nervous."
"You can tell all this from the way some one stands." Sylar intoned flatly, brow furrowed.
"Of course. Oh! She just flipped her hair and she's fixing her earring. Girls play with their hair and jewellery when they're WAY into some guy. Flipping, tossing, combing. Looking for split ends."
"Split ends?"
"Hair stuff." She clarified offhandedly.
They watched closely and Claire giggled.
"He just adjusted his shirt. Guys fix their clothing or shift their weight or something when girls mess with their hair. He's SO into her too! This is cool. Do you watch people a lot, this is fun."
"Don't you shift your weight when you're nervous?"
"Sometimes. There's also 'Cool-shifting', which is what Mr. Mismatched-Polo is doing."
Sylar sighed, watching as together the two moved up towards the house. Guessing they would go in, he put the binoculars down and rubbed his eyes. Claire remained at the window, biting her lower lip as she grinned.
"Oh, here we go. Chest touch, playful smile. Good delivery."
He looked at her, confused.
"Annnd! Annnd! He's going for it, YES, the shrug and glide! Alright! She knows how to play!" She declared, putting her binoculars down and looked at her partner, who was looking back at her with one eyebrow raised and his lips set in the 'I an unamused' line. Her eyes sparkled and she crouched, shuffled back to her spot a couple inches away, plopping down with a grin.
"She invited him in."
"Have you considered being a sports announcer?"
"Why?"
"I'm sure some sort of major league sports affiliation would hire you after hearing that," He remarked coolly. Claire waved a hand dismissively at him and straightened out her shirt.
"Why does she grow plants?"
"I don't know," He shrugged, using one finger to draw his name in the layers of grit on the floorboards.
"Ew, don't do that. Wouldn't that be cool if you could grow plants? Totally saves on gardening. You could be an amazing botanist or something. "
Sylar stared at her.
"What?"
"Or something." He muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Yes, or something. How do you say it in proper Sylar-English? Or some'at? Sometheeng? Somethang? Else?"
"You don't know what she does for a living."
Claire sighed, ignoring the way he ignored her question. He always did when the answer 'should' be obvious to her, but it never was.
"It would make sense to be a botanist. It's what her ability is."
"And everyone follows their abilities. You're a crash-test dummy and Peter and Nathan run Petrelli Air, right?"
"That's makes you, what? You'd make an excellent professional mover with that nifty telekinesis."
"I have many abilities. Some I never use."
"Oh, yeah? Like what? Being a human stamp?"
"Alchemy. I can turn anything to gold."
"So, if I take my phone cover off, can you save me a bunch on that new Nokia monster?"
"Anything. Individual molecules, whole buildings and everything in it." He said, talking over her financial stash and save scheme.
"You cannot. Molecules. There's not enough room in a molecule to make a gold molecule." She said haughtily, turning her nose up at him.
"That made little to no sense." Sylar replied with a dark look. Claire frowned.
"I know. But, I mean. I don't believe you. You can't be THAT controlled." She told him, tossing her head and crossing her legs. The sun was setting and the golden rays in the attic made the room light up.
"I can."
"You can't."
"Shouldn't you be cheering me on? You're such a firm believer that anyone can do anything."
"It's chemically impossible."
"And it's chemically and physically impossible for you to pop your ribs back in and yet here we are."
"Prove it." Claire said heatedly.
Sylar sighed, knitting his brows together and concentrating with one finger hovering millimetres from the ground. He clenched his jaw, and Claire glanced around when he sat up and crossed his arms with a pronounced smirk. She cocked an eyebrow.
"I see nothing different. What'd you do?"
"I made the dust gold! I- oh for -." He snapped, standing up and hunching and stomping around, kicking his feet and sending clouds of it up in whirling masses. Claire gasped, holding out her hand as the room filled with glints and glimmers. She rose slightly, watching it dust her skin and gleam in the sun, turning the room to gold and light.
She touched and glanced around until it settled, and she looked at him. He was kneeling with his arms crossed and watching her with an expression halfway between amusement and interest. Claire laughed, spotting the gold flecks in his hair. It stood out starkly against the dark strands, and she reached out, brushing them free and watching them float down his chest and settle on the floor. He jerked slightly away from her touch and she smiled at him, getting closer.
"Gold isn't really your colour. It stands out pretty clearly." She stage-whispered at him, gently brushing the flakes free from his hair and shoulders and anywhere they had settled. He didn't move, allowing her to brush him off, gold clinging to her skin and already gold blond hair. It looked natural on her, like it belonged there. Gold was made for her skin, and the flush in her cheeks was only accentuated by the rich light bouncing from her.
Claire's fingers heated and her stomach knotted as she gently brushed his shoulders free, feeling the swell and knot of muscle underneath the shirt. She wasn't aware she was holding her breath, pulling her chest in so her breasts didn't graze his stomach. Done cleaning, her hand dropped hesitantly, grazing down his torso before falling to her side.
She glanced up at him, and found him watching her with speculation in his dark eyes.
"And what would you call that move?" He asked quietly. Her cheeks flushed and her limbs became especially jello-like.
"Stupid," she muttered, giving her head a slight shake.
She went to turn away, and she felt his fingers snake around her wrist. Claire looked at him, watching wide eyed as he gently cupped her jaw and then pressed his lips against hers. Violent shocks screamed down her spine, causing her to shiver at his touch. Gently, she responded, tilting her head up and pressing softly. He seemed almost surprised at her move and as she inched closer to him, proceeded to move against her lips. Claire revelled in the feel of his lips on hers, caressing them wetly. Sinking her fingers into his hair, she felt it slip gently between them and she let her nails rake softly against his scalp.
Sylar shuddered slightly, grabbing her hips with both hands and pulling her closer. Being bigger than her, he curled over her frame, one hand wrapped firmly against the curve of her waist and the other raising again to cup the side of her face. He kissed her deeply then, the pressure on her mouth increasing and his tongue flicking gently across her lips. Obediently, she opened her mouth and his tongue slipped through. Her hands bunched helplessly on his shoulders as she clung to him, her softer body melding against his leaner one as he delved into her mouth and moved the hand on her waist to her back.
She didn't notice him gently bunch the shirt up, exposing the tanned gold skin on her back. His fingers touched her and she jumped, squeaking into his mouth as she shivered and squirmed while he traced circles and her nerves went haywire. Blood rushed between her ears as he released her mouth, giving her a quick chaste peck and moving his head back. She tried to follow his mouth but he pulled away slightly, trying to look her in the eyes.
Bunching her hands in his dark hair, she gently pulled his head back and without thinking leaned forwards and pressed her lips to the fluttering skin just underneath his jawline.
"Claire, I -," He said thickly, but she acted fast.
Using the tip of her tongue, she brazenly traced the underside of his jawbone, all the way up to his ear. He had bowed his head for her to continue, and she smiled and let a breathy laugh into his ear. He visibly shivered, moving his head against hers and his mouth falling open. Claire ran her tongue up the shell of his ear and back down to the lobe, which she sucked between her lips and gave a soft tug. His fingers were gripping her waist tightly, and his breathing was shallow and quick. He turned his head, about to say something when she silenced him again by nipping at his lower lip and running her tongue along the edge.
Her fingers quested down his torso, running over the bold panes of muscle that bunched and flexed under her fingers as they skimmed. He bent his head and breathed into her ear, and that side of her body lit up as all her nerves seemed to bunch together deliciously and she curled onto that side slightly.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, watching with hooded eyes as one of his hands softly cupped her breast. Claire gasped, arching into his palm and kissing him with an open-mouth. He growled slightly at her, pushing her onto her back gently. Gold erupted in plumes around them as they landed, Claire arching as his fingers plied and played, teasing her nipple through the shirt. Her fingers yanked up his own shirt at the hem, immediately exploring his lower stomach along his belt. She found a trail of wiry dark hair that led up to his shallow bellybutton. Lips locked, Claire let out a strangled moan as he pinched and pulled slightly, and she gathered more shirt and brought it up. Automatically, he let her go to sit up on his haunches and pull the shirt free.
Claire watched his skin in the sunlight, and the puckered nipples. The muscles rippled and clenched as he pulled his shirt up, his stomach flexing and ribs moving. He tossed it free and looked at her looking at him. Claire smiled self consciously and then reached down and slid her own shirt up and free of her body, tossing it over on top of her binoculars. She sat up again, climbing to her knees and touching his chest shakily. She watched him reach out, and pull both her bra straps down over her shoulders. Wordlessly, she reached behind her back and deftly undid the clasp.
Her face flushed as the bra fell away and her breasts were exposed in the sunlight. He took them in, reaching out and brushing his knuckles over the nipples before encompassing them in both hands. He leaned down and Claire tilted her head aside as he attacked her neck. She gasped at the ceiling as his fingers moved and squeezed and his lips on her neck left scorching marks on her skin. She pulled him against her, feeling their skin touch each others. She revelled in the rough velvet that ran under her fingers as she traced his back. His hands danced down her abdomen and he pulled back and gave her a mischievous grin as he touched her navel barbell with one finger. She watched it turn gold, feeling a wave of heat in its place before the metal changed. She gave him a mock dirty look and he grinned innocently at her, leaning down and sucking her nipple between his lips. Claire moaned, biting her lip and holding his head against her. He was unfairly skilled with his tongue, and it swirled and flicked and traced and did all sorts of things she couldn't put into words.
Gently, she guided his face back to hers and she kissed him sweetly, forcing him upright again.
Using her nails, she ran waves and spirals, scratching lightly all down his chest, pausing to flick her tongue over his nipple. His breathing was coming out harsher now, laboured and heavy. Her fingers stopped at his belt and she nimbly undid it, pulling the belt loose and unsnapping the button. His body twitched and jerked surreptitiously and his hands gently grasped her upper arms as she drew his fly down and the pants fell open, barely clinging to his narrow hips. She looked up at him, and she found his face clouded with lust. Her own response was soaking through her underwear and every heartbeat caused an uncomfortable throb of need. She was slick, and she could feel it without fingers.
"You have to know that what you're doing is -," He said huskily.
"You have to stop trying to avoid things. I doubt you give out this many chances." She replied, catching him by surprise and sliding her hand down the band of his boxers. The temperature increased, and she felt the coarseness of the trace of dark hair. Her fingers wrapped around him, hot silk wrapped oversteel. The pads of her fingers touched the head, and Sylar jerked his hips and hissed into her hair. She held still for a moment, and then tightened her grip and gave him a heady stroke.
Something relatively violent was muttered onto the top of her head, and his hands were wildly touching different parts of her. Her breasts heaved against his chest, and Claire let go of him so she could pull his pants down. He sat back, leaning to free his legs and kick the pants away. She straddled his lap, and he leaned back on his elbows, brown eyes watching her as she carefully reached down and touched him again. The reaction was not as rough, but she watched the knit in his brow gather as he watched her hand pass over him and he gently flexed his hips up. His breath seemed to whoosh on the exhale, and the apex of Claire's thighs ached horribly. A flush was riding over her skin, lighting it and giving her blood a sense of urgency.
A bead of fluid appeared on the tip, and she spread it around with her finger.
"Oh, Claire," He hissed, sitting up and stilling her hands as he undid her shorts and pulled both her shorts and underwear down her thighs. She quickly worked and shifted to get the off, throwing them over to her shirt. She turned back to him, still straddling his lap. Nothing was between them but heat that blazed through the couple inches separating them. Sylar sat up again, kissing her breasts and looking up at her.
His fingers brushed the inside of her thighs, eyes looking at her curiously.
"Please. Please touch me." She rushed out, giving in to the waves in her head and the urges all her muscles seemed to be having. His fingers pushed into her folds, finding them slick and wet. She rested her forehead against his as he felt his way down, pressing and circling her clit and making her sigh and her legs shake. They continued down, finding her opening. He gently pushed the tip of one finger in and pulled it out.
Claire moaned, pressing down and moving her hips.
He slid one finger in, and she sighed. He pulled it out and dipped the second one in.
"Two?" He asked, sounding slightly unsure. She knew he didn't know anything about her past, or what to expect.
"Can we skip the fingers?" She gasped as he pushed one into her and made a come hither motion. The muscles inside her clenched and twisted and Claire shook.
"Claire -,"
"Please." She added, shutting him up. She sat down on him, feeling the length of him pressing against her. Sylar hissed, his chest expanding and contacting savagely. She looked at him, moving her hips and spreading herself on him. He clamped his jaw shut and a muscle twitched. Taking that as consent, Claire raised herself up and guided him. A quick glance up found him watching with passion bitten lips parted. She sunk down on to him, whimpering as the feeling of him pushing into her overwhelmed her. She sank all the way down, hearing Sylar swear and feeling his hips flex. She knew he watched himself disappear into her and the look on her face.
She gasped at the ceiling and began to move, biting her lip as the delicious friction built. His hand slid between her lips and pressed up on her clit. Claire sat back, hands grabbing at his tensed thighs as she moved up and down, and his hand caused tremors and spasms. She opened her eyes and found his closed, along with his mouth. He was chewing on the inside of his lip.
She moved roughly, riding him as quickly as she could as the friction built and caused lovely colours to erupt behind her eyes. She looked at the ceiling, riding him faster as she tried to coax herself over the edge. The room was bathed in sunlight, and the gold was smeared all over their bodies, shining on their skin. The whole world was golden, and the need to climax was becoming ever urgent.
"I can't go fast enough." She gasped out, fingers digging into his thighs. In one swift movement, he had gently rolled her onto her back and moved faster, his hips slamming up against hers. He was using his arms to support him, so she slipped her hand between them and began mimicking whatever he'd been doing to her.
It built, causing her to squirm and breathlessly gasp for more.
He seemed to be breathing with every thrust, and Claire's body suddenly began the scrumptious coil. All her muscles tightened and the friction built to a high peak. Claire practically sobbed she was going to come and then spasmed roughly, her body jerking against his rhythm. Sylar froze, groaned and then exploded into a series of jerks and shudders.
Her muscles relaxed as he pulled out with a grunt.
He lay beside her, gasping for air as she fought the overwhelming wave of content that slid through her body like melting butter.
She looked at him, and he was covered in gold again, it was sticking to his skin and was flecked through his hair and eyebrows. He looked at her and then looked at the ceiling as she grinned easily at him. They watched the gold they kicked up swirl in the sunlight, glinting and glimmering as it fell and settled over them like expensive snow.
A book slammed down in front of her, and Claire jumped visibly. Her teacher towered over her desk, scowling at her.
"Are we back on earth, Ms. Bennet?" He snapped.
Heart racing at a million miles a minute, she struggled to flash him a quick smile.
"Never left."
Hey. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOU WHO REVIEWED. I owe you guys so much and you keep me going. Even when I know, after hours of Law, that writing is the last thing on the planet I wanna do, I do it for you guys. Feel loved. AND; seeming as last chapter was (yes, in my opinion) verrrry yummy, but kind of rough, I decided to give little bit of a softer, romantic spin to things. In case there's any hold-me-softly die hards out there who didn't run screaming from the first two chapters. Your salvation (salivation) is here! Also, I was going to post after the Easter holidays, but I figure most of you are going to wind up at some family dinner (like myself) and therefore you'd need something to make you feel better. ;3
As for the gold, I realize gold is a heavy metal and probably wouldn't float in the air. But, let's just bend some rules and stuff for now, just for my sake.
AND! I realize Sylar is out of character. But these are Claire's awake fantasies! And her conscious has a different perception of him than her subconscious. And I know she seems a little out of it too, but I think every girl has a side to her that's like the one above.
You like it anyways.
Read, read and review!
loveyoulady'kayhtankyoubyebye. ( hart )