Title: Fluff and Kindness
Characters: Sylar, Peter
Words: 700
Rating: R
Warnings: None.
Setting: The Wall
Summary: After sex snuggling and a commitment.
He didn't know what to do with such kindness. At least, not so much of it. It was the repeated aspect of it that was fucking him up. Four times, in fact. The first time, Peter had done his thing; Sylar had done his. They'd both been wary and careful, which wasn't very sexy, but the job was done anyway. The second time had been rougher, but afterward Peter was just as intimate as the first – cuddling, kissing, touching, and holding. If he was bothered by the false start or misunderstanding, he didn't say. The third time was smooth enough that Sylar laughed at how easy the whole thing was. They fit together so well. It was such a comfort to tumble into Peter's arms when they were done, that it almost made him cry with relief. And frustration, maybe, because he was so afraid it wasn't supposed to be like this. Then the fourth time was the same way – easy, delicious. It left him tired and fulfilled while still twitchy with paranoia.
He huddled in Peter's embrace, sheets pulled over their sweaty bodies. Peter was slowly petting his back, drowsing with his cheek on the top of Sylar's head. It was the pose of a parent with a distraught child, or maybe of a lover being protective of their mate. Sylar found he no longer cared about the inadequacy implied by the first interpretation, because he was getting what he desperately wanted no matter how much someone else might scorn him for the desire. Peter didn't scorn him and his opinion was rapidly becoming the only one that mattered to Sylar.
"Does this … end … sometime?" he asked in a very small voice. He wouldn't have been surprised if Peter was too asleep to hear him, or if he'd said it too quietly to be heard even if the man was awake. But Peter heard.
"This?" Peter said thickly, shifting slightly as he roused, limbs flexing comfortably around Sylar's form. "What 'this'? Me holding you?"
"No." Sylar burrowed his head under Peter's chin because he could, because such freedoms were allowed between them now. He kissed the man's collarbone with a light, grateful peck. The air between them was rich with scents of both of them – both from the exertion and the sex. They were fascinating to his nose. "Us. You … treating me like this. After. Being … this way with me."
Peter turned his face to kiss the top of Sylar's head. After a quiet pause, Peter said, "I want to be this way with you forever."
Butterflies churned in Sylar's gut. No one had ever given him any kind of commitment like that. Nothing in his life had prepared him for it – out of the blue, unconditional, almost a blurt but he knew that pause had been Peter thinking about his words and whether they were true. Sylar didn't need lie detection to know that statement wouldn't have triggered as deception. Sylar pulled his head up and looked Peter in the face from too close to see him clearly. "You can't want that. It's- How? I don't- Something will happen!"
"Easy, easy," Peter crooned. "Hey," he said softly. "We'll deal with it, okay?"
"How?"
Peter's brows rose slightly. "By talking with each other, being understanding, and patient."
Sylar's heart was hammering in his chest, blood racing. He hugged Peter again, putting his face against the other man's chest. Peter's heartbeat was slower. This was not a terrifying subject for him. Sylar took a deep breath and let it out, trying to follow Peter's example. Peter was petting his back again. Relaxation slowly spread through Sylar's frame. He weighed Peter's track record with lovers (poor) versus his loyalty to those he loved (high) and his tolerance for the drama, trauma, and difficulty that seemed to plague Sylar's life (also high). Somehow, Peter's problems maintaining a relationship before seemed exactly what Sylar deserved, and bizarrely turned into a plus. "You're very strange," Sylar said against Peter's skin.
"As long as we're strange together," Peter told him. "Strange is just another word for special."