Title: Favorite Part
Characters: Sylar, Peter Petrelli
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Words: 250
Setting: The Wall
Summary: Sylar asks which part of his body Peter prefers.
"Which part do I like the most?"
"For sex," Sylar clarified. He thought it was obvious he was asking if Peter preferred to top or bottom, now that they'd done both. Whether his ass or dick pleased Peter more would settle it.
Peter tilted his head, thinking about that a moment. "Your mouth."
"Oh." Sylar kept his expression carefully neutral. He didn't know why it hadn't occurred to him that perhaps Peter was an intense fan of getting blow jobs. It was, after all, the thing Peter had mentioned when Sylar had asked him what he fantasized about.
Peter leaned forward, looking at the specified part intently. "I like kissing it," he said softly. "I like the way it looks, tastes, feels against mine." Sylar blinked. Kissing was not sex. But Peter wasn't done speaking. He went on, "I like watching it. It says so much about how you're feeling and what you're trying to express. How much you want me – or don't." Sylar opened his mouth to object, but Peter raised a hand to postpone his objection. Peter's voice was husky as he continued, "I love what you do to me with it – everywhere you use it on my body." Sylar shut his mouth. Peter had his full attention, especially with that lusting tone of voice. "And I love what you let me do to it." He smiled and scooted forward, moving in for a kiss. "That's why it's my favorite part."
Sylar made a delighted, surprised chuckle before granting the kiss, letting Peter deepen it at his own pace, then pulling the smaller man against him so Sylar could turn the tables and kiss him deeply in return.
XXX
"Which part of me do you like the most?"
Sylar had managed to wrap himself around Peter quite satisfactorily. After their previous couplings, it had been Peter doing the holding. Now that Sylar was getting to do it, he could definitely see the attraction of the role. He kissed Peter lightly on the forehead. "Your brain."
Peter snorted and shifted in his arms without any meaningful change in position. "Internal organs don't count."
"What? Why?"
"They're not … it's not the same thing," Peter said. "It's like, I could have said your heart before, because you can't live without it, but that's dumb. I never see it. Pick something … external."
Sylar sighed and grumped, "I don't know why you get to set the rules."
"Because you're going to let me," Peter said confidently. "Now tell me which part you like the most."
Sylar breathed lightly, mentally reviewing the person that was Peter Petrelli. Divorcing the physical form from personality, memory, behavior, past associations, supernatural abilities, intellect, and emotions left just a shell of flesh behind. The characteristics of it seemed … irrelevant. "I … I can't think of anything."
"Really?"
Sylar shifted uncomfortably, rearranging his arms around Peter's shoulders. "There's nothing I can pick. Your eyes … but if they were another color that wouldn't change the attraction. Your face, your body, your genitals even – if they were different, it wouldn't matter if it was still you."
Peter pulled back and met his eyes steadily for a moment. "I don't think you get the question." Sylar pursed his lips and said nothing. "You like my hair," Peter stated as a fact.
Sylar's eyes lifted to it, widening. "Yes! I do!" He reached up and sank his hand into it, threading the locks between his fingers. "I'd like this hair on anyone."
"And you like my ass."
Sylar looked at him blankly for a moment, then slid his hand down Peter's back, under the sheet that partly covered them. He cupped the swell of Peter's rear end, not gripping too hard because he thought it likely he'd handled Peter roughly enough to bruise earlier. The hand in Peter's hair dropped to his throat. "And this. I like your neck. All the air, blood, electrical impulses through your spine – all travel through this single column." His thumb stroked up and then down Peter's windpipe. "This is the conduit that allows your brain to control your body, and your body to maintain your brain." He bent and kissed Peter's Adam's apple. Peter moaned softly under his lips.
Sylar moved up to Peter's face. "I like your tongue, maybe most of all, if you'll allow it. I love the noises you make and the things you use it to say to me. I love the clever things you do with it. I love the taste of it in my mouth and the feel of it licking across my skin. So there – something other than the brain."
"Mm," Peter hummed. "Let's put our favorites together. Do it long enough and I might be ready for round two."