Title: Safe Sex
Characters: Sylar, Peter Petrelli
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Word count: 800
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Peter provides Sylar the exact kind of aftercare he needs.
Sylar was panting by the time Peter finished inside of him. His forehead was on the bunched pillow he was gripping with both hands. His rapid breaths puffed out underneath him. He could feel the base of Peter's cock spasming in his asshole. That and the sudden ceasing of thrusts told him it was done for now. He got his breath back and blew across his chest, cooling himself. Peter's butt-fucking of him was almost good enough to make him come twice. The first time had been the blow job Peter had given him during what Sylar saw as foreplay; Peter's appetizer before he moved on to the main course of reaming out Sylar's ass.
Peter petted his back and sides with slow, delicate touches. Sylar stretched a little from the doggy-style, butt-in-the-air position he'd been in. The position was his choice – one of the few things he'd insisted on in the realm of their sexual interactions. Everything else was up to Peter, but Sylar didn't want to be seen while he was being taken. If he enjoyed it, if he hated it, if it hurt, if it was fantastic, or even if he was numb to it and bored (not that that happened) – he wanted that to be private, his own, and he didn't care if Peter complained that it was harder to come when he didn't get to see his partner's face. If it took Peter ten times as long to get off, then fine. Not that it did. Peter did a thorough job on him, but the duration was manageable. Sylar wasn't sure if Peter's single statement of his preferences rightly counted as a 'complaint', but Sylar's unequivocal response had been enough to warn the Petrelli against bringing it up again.
A minute or so later, Peter disengaged their bodies, then snagged the hand towel they kept on the nightstand for the purpose. He wiped Sylar carefully. Sylar tried not to flinch at the rough fabric against the over-used, sensitive flesh. He was apparently unsuccessful, as he heard Peter murmuring, "Easy," to him as he finished up. Peter flopped down on the bed, pulling Sylar back against him. 'Pulling' was probably inaccurate. It made it sound like Peter put Sylar where he wanted by main force. In actuality, Peter used only light pressure from his fingertips to ask or urge Sylar to go where he wanted him. But they'd done this before. There was no way Sylar would decline. This was his favorite part.
He lay with his back against Peter's chest, still damp with sweat. His lower back was against Peter's groin, now covered with the hand towel so Peter wasn't smearing lube and whatever else on his partner. Peter's arms settled around Sylar's head and shoulders, letting Sylar rest his head on a convenient bicep. After getting into the basic position, Sylar wiggled backward, getting as close as humanly possible. He made a deep, sighing croon of contentment. This was true ecstasy, far more appealing than any brief orgasm, better even than taking an ability. Peter answered with a purring noise of approval as he nuzzled at the side of Sylar's head. Peter kissed his ear and Sylar's lids fluttered.
Peter petted Sylar's chest hair. He toyed with his head hair. He kissed the side of his head, his ear, and nibbled lightly on Sylar's throat and shoulder. His hot breath puffed against Sylar's skin, and yet through all of it, Sylar still wasn't facing Peter. Certainly Peter could see his profile now and so had a good idea of his expression, but Sylar could shut his eyes and close it all out. He could live in the moment of pleasant, endearing physical sensations of being loved and secure in someone's arms, without worrying himself about the relationship or reactions of the other. He could drop his guard. He could let himself be.
This was something he hadn't had to ask of Peter. The empath had done it of his own accord, cuddling him after their first intercourse, when Sylar had been humiliatingly unable to stop himself from shivering. Sylar was so grateful Peter had not asked stupid questions. He had made no demands for explanations. He'd just held and comforted and been exactly what Sylar needed, for once in his life. He was generous with his time, too, as there was no hurry. They spent longer at this than they did in getting off to start with. Sylar knew that one of these times he'd start talking, and probably about more than just his dysfunctional response to affection. He could feel the words welling up inside himself, trying to take form. The urge was stronger each time they fucked and Peter gave him this aftercare. Soon. But not yet. He caught up Peter's arm and hugged it to his chest, pressing down with his head against Peter's bicep at the same time. For now, this was as expressive as he could manage.