Title: Frenemies: Library Edition
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter, Sylar
Summary: Peter and group try to ambush Sylar at a meeting in the public library, but Sylar gets away. Peter chases him through the stacks to a remote part of the building and one thing leads to another…

Warnings: Slash, explicit sexual content, some swearing, and unbeta'd.

The next time, the group Peter was with was tipped off that Sylar was meeting a couple specials in the central library. One person with an ability in the group, Brianna, had already gone missing. One of the other members had done some research and discovered Sylar's reputation. She'd also found Hiro's website promising to help anyone in need (especially specials, but most people didn't see the subtext there).

Sylar wasn't the only skittish one in the group. As soon as Hiro's band closed in, there was chaos. Sylar, for his part, took one look at the five headed towards him and fled. He had no interest in fair fights or getting captured and there was nothing here for him anyway. Peter gave chase. When he realized Ando was with him, he turned and told him, "Go help Hiro! I'll be fine."

Ando nodded and went back, accepting it on face value that Peter could stand alone against Sylar. Peter didn't stand so much as run. Sylar led him on a merry chase through the stacks, causing a ruckus in the occupied areas until he disappeared into the sliding racks of the less-frequented areas. Peter slowed down to a cautious walk, sure his quarry was nearby. He strained his ears, but heard nothing.

His head snapped aside as he heard a sound like the faint scuff of a shoe or the shifting of weight at the end of the open lane of the sliding racks. He walked down, very slowly, leaning forward to see. He was nearly to the end when Sylar swept in behind him, tackling him to the floor. Peter hit hard and saw stars. For a moment, he was utterly helpless.

When he woke, Sylar's hands were on his neck like he was about to snap it. He was crouched over him, straddling Peter's body from behind. Peter froze. His breathing sped up. When Sylar didn't do it, Peter said breathily, "You never called."

Sylar's fingers on one hand rubbed Peter's chin gently, letting him know that killing him wasn't really on the menu - not unless Peter did something stupid. Sylar said, "You said to call if I felt like I needed to kill someone. I didn't."

"What happened to Brianna?"

"I think she recognized my name and hit the road. The rest were ignorant. Or, at least, I thought they were." He'd shifted forward so he was whispering almost in Peter's ear. He nuzzled the back of Peter's head. "Someone must have tipped you off."

"Yeah," was all Peter said. He shifted his weight a little, getting his hands flat on the floor in front of him.

"Stay there," Sylar said in a warning growl. He let go of Peter's head and scooted back, one hand circling Peter's waist to unfasten his jeans.

"Sylar-" Peter started to roll over.

Sylar slammed him back down with telekinesis. "I said stay there!" His voice was a forced whisper. He unbuttoned the jeans, jerked down the zipper and yanked them back. He admired the black thong Peter was wearing, silently rubbing a single finger across the tiny triangle of satiny material at the top of Peter's ass.

Whispering back, Peter said, "Sylar, we're in a public library."

"If I want to fuck you, I'm going to fuck you wherever I want to. I've gotten away with killing people in more public of places. What makes you think a little screwing is going to attract more attention than that?"

Peter was quiet, trying to decide whether it was sexy that the killer wanted him so bad that he'd take him so openly. He was pretty sure it was really hot. He'd been more than a little disappointed when a few weeks had passed and the guy had never even called.

Those thoughts were driven from his mind as Sylar's fingers slipped under the strap of the thong and followed it around to the front. He slid his hand over the outside of the fabric, cupping Peter, squeezing softly. Peter moaned. Sylar crooned, "Oh, yeah. Have you been wearing this all this time hoping I'd see you in it? Or do you have someone else?"

"There's no one else," Peter said, gritting his teeth slightly. He'd been alone for a really long time. After the debacle with Caitlin and Simone he'd given up on being with anyone. It was too dangerous. His life was too screwed up. It probably had to lot to do with him screwing Sylar in the first place. And a lot to do with why he was currently starting to pant against the rough, short carpet of the library, letting Sylar molest him. Wasn't he supposed to be trying to capture the guy? Like that's going to happen. What the hell did Ando think I was going to do Sylar, anyway?

Again, Sylar drove out rational thought by slipping a slick finger into his crack. It inched down awkwardly, searching for the right spot and not realizing he was at least two inches from where he needed to be. While he probed around, Peter said, "You have lube?"

"Obviously," Sylar said roughly, shoving his finger down further hard enough to make Peter wince. But he found the right spot at least. Peter grunted as the questing digit pushed into him immediately.

"Use more of it," Peter directed. It salved his ego to realize that Sylar was as desperate as he was, if he had been carrying around a tube of lubricant all this time, just in case they ran into each other again.

Sylar did, pouring it out until Peter's crack was dripping with the stuff. Peter heard Sylar's zipper drop and he moved into position.

"You're going to fuck me against the floor?" Peter asked, reaching down to pull down his underwear.

An unseen force grabbed his hand and put it back where it had started, pinning it to the floor. "Yes," Sylar hissed, lowering himself over Peter. He pulled the strap of the thong out of place and rubbed himself up and down against Peter, smearing himself in the copious lube. He bent and bit Peter on the back, then the shoulder. His member slipped down, fucking Peter's crack more than his ass itself. Sylar didn't seem to mind. He kissed the back of Peter's neck, then bit him again, harder.

Peter moaned, pushing his hips back against Sylar. He wanted more sensation than he was getting.

"Be quiet," Sylar whispered. "We wouldn't want to attract any attention, now would we? What would your friends think if they found us like this?"

They'd probably think I was being raped, Peter thought. They'd think even worse of you than they already do.

Sylar adjusted himself and suddenly he was pushing against Peter's anus. Sylar's surprised grunt and "Oh!" told Peter the man hadn't even realized he wasn't in him. Peter's mind flashed to a woman he'd treated once who'd been raped. She'd had sex several times before the rape, but it was all intercrural - between her thighs. She (and her equally inexperienced boyfriend at the time) had never known they were doing it wrong. She'd been happy to have sex with her last partner, until he pushed inside her, at which point everything went to hell. It had been a morally difficult situation, all the way around.

Sylar muffled his own groan as he suddenly sunk inside Peter. The groan turned into a whimper, followed by a whispered, prayer-like, "Oh my God…"

Peter tried to spread his legs, but Sylar's knees were on either side and his pants were around his legs anyway. It burned and hurt, but he knew that wouldn't last. It felt good and Peter wanted it. He wanted it so bad. He felt pathetic for wanting it so bad that he was taking it from a serial killer on the floor of a public place. Sylar pulled out too far and fell out, then missed getting back in, then got it right and made another stifled groan.

"Oh, Peter. Oh…" He fucked him in shallow thrusts, obviously uncomfortable about going too fast because of the slapping sound of their flesh. And so instead, he fucked Peter slowly, so slowly it was a torture and Peter lay there sprawled on the floor being stimulated constantly, steadily, but so gradually that he could feel every detail and nuance of it. The speed was probably a benefit for Sylar too, keeping him from rushing too fast. His weight began to press down against Peter as he shifted to cover him, mouthing Peter's neck and the back of his head, muttering, "Oh, this is so good," and "God, I love this," and "You're so hot," and "You're mine, Petrelli."

Peter's body was rocked against the rough floor in a steady friction. His cock was protected from carpet burn by still being trapped inside his underwear, filling the fabric completely. It hurt and ached; the pressure and continual motion was incredible. Peter's eyes felt like they were trying to roll up in the back of his head and he came, soiling his underwear as he keened quietly.

Sylar laughed. "You…? You came first?"

I didn't laugh when you did it, Peter thought crossly, but he only nodded. Sylar shoved into him a little harder, risking the noise in order to speed himself. He moved his hands to Peter's shoulders and held himself up, shoving in at a better angle, getting a tiny bit deeper. Taking the weight of most of Sylar's upper body on just his shoulders hurt, but Peter just bit his lip and kept his mouth shut. Sylar came shortly after and froze up, panting raggedly. His breathing sounded loud in the silence of the place. Distantly, they could hear the door to the level bang open and a couple of voices in carefree conversation drifted in.

Sylar rolled off immediately and adjusted his clothing. A moment later he was gone. Peter looked back, gaping. He left? He just fucking left? He didn't even say fucking good-bye! Or 'that was good' or 'thank you' or anything! Done with me like a used tissue? What the hell? Peter struggled to get his pants back on. He was greasy with lube and cum and his hair was tousled from where it had been mauled. He was so angry his hands were shaking. The next time I run into you, it is not going this way…