Title: Temptation Refused
Characters: Sylar, Peter Petrelli
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Word count: 800
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Sylar's offer is something Peter won't be able to stay away from forever.
"You said I could touch you anytime," Peter said.
Sylar looked over at him in the bed. He'd been relaxed before, mentally readying himself for sleep with the pleasant prospect of Peter being nearer to him than the couch, without Sylar even having to argue or whine (not that those tactics had worked in the past). "Yes." He wasn't relaxed now.
Peter plucked at the covers, finding the top sheet and sliding under it. "Roll on your side, facing away."
Sylar gave Peter's body a quick glance. He was as clothed as he usually was for bed – boxers and a t-shirt – so sex didn't seem in the immediate offing. Nevertheless, Sylar was tense with uncertainty about what was going to happen. He followed the direction. Peter scooted up behind him, spooning like he'd done a few days ago when Sylar had been hypothermic from too long out in the cold. "Is this okay?" Peter asked.
Sylar waited a beat, not sure exactly what Peter was asking. "Yes," he said slowly, deciding Peter must mean the intimacy and not, say, the general position. Frustrated by not understanding what was going on, he said, "Of course this is okay. How many times do I have to say it?"
"Every time I ask." Peter adjusted his position slightly, his face to Sylar's upper back, one leg over Sylar's legs. "And I'm going to ask a lot, Sylar, because I try not to take things for granted with you." He slid an arm around Sylar's waist. It was like they were lovers, but Sylar didn't feel an erection on Peter's part and they were close enough that he would have.
"I wish you would take for granted that I'm available to you," Sylar grumbled, even as he enjoyed the contact and noticed the possessive body language. He liked that especially.
"You've said that, yeah," Peter said, voice muffled. Sylar could feel the man's breath, warm against his back through the t-shirt Sylar was wearing. Peter went on, "I'll ask anyway. It's the right thing to do." Peter snuggled against him, which was an unexpected, thrilling pleasure all its own – not only being held like Peter wanted to own him, but being held firmly and cuddled against like he was … cherished. Sylar's shivered slightly. Peter held him tightly, keeping them close. "Not that this is, necessarily, the right thing for me to be doing. At all. Really."
Sylar snorted softly at Peter's apparent moral dilemma, so at odds to Peter's current conduct. He didn't have anything to say to it – obviously, Peter touching him in any way other than to inflict misery and retribution was wrong. Just as obviously, Sylar wanted Peter to continue to ignore that and caress him instead. He put his hand over Peter's and stroked it, trailing his fingertips over the back of Peter's hand. Peter relaxed after a few moments, shifting his weight like he might want to pull his hand free. But he didn't do it, just as Sylar didn't think he would. After all, Peter had tolerated this much touching after the hypothermia incident. He was confident Peter would tolerate it again as long as Sylar didn't escalate it too much. He took Peter's hand in his and turned it so he could see the palm of it. Rather dimly, admittedly, as the room's lighting was limited to the indirect light from the bathroom down the hall. But it was enough. He turned the hand back to palm down against his belly and rubbed it up and down against him, a few inches per motion.
He'd done this before also, and Peter clued in on the third motion. With a little push, Peter took over, willingly and slowly petting Sylar's front from bottom of breastbone to just below his navel. With a pleased sigh, Sylar relaxed. Peter snuggled against him again in response, then expanded his range to include Sylar's chest, then his far arm, with Peter's hand stroking over shoulder and bicep and a bit of forearm before switching to the other arm. Sylar bent at the elbow so Peter could reach the rest of that arm. Their hands and then fingers, touched briefly. Peter shifted his hips suggestively against Sylar's backside, then dropped his hand back to Sylar's belly. Peter sighed hot against his back, wiggled deliciously against him again, and hugged him firmly. Somehow, Peter still didn't have an erection, but he was definitely going to get one if he kept rubbing his groin against Sylar's ass.
"Good God," Sylar said in exasperation, "would you please just fuck me? The anticipation is going to kill me otherwise!"
Peter hugged him harder and chuckled against his back. "You're right. You're right. I can't do this." He pushed away, scooting back to the other side of the bed. The pleasant heat that had been building between them dissipated far too fast for Sylar's liking.
Sylar rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, releasing a theatrical but heartfelt groan of frustration. "You're obviously going to do it one of these days, Peter. Why not tonight?" He looked over.
Peter was glowering at him because of the question. "Because I'm not going to do it tonight." Peter's voice was tight, snappish.
Sylar rolled his eyes. "Fine." He rolled to his side again, facing away. Peter, on the other side of the bed, flounced to lie facing away. It wouldn't be much longer, Sylar knew. Peter wasn't even bothering with the pretense of 'never!', but instead it was 'not tonight'. Peter might be strong, but Sylar knew no one could stand against temptation forever. Peter had his own hunger gnawing at him. And all Sylar had to do was be there when Peter's resolve finally crumbled.