Title: Frenemies: Smackdown
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter, Sylar
Summary: Peter is really angry about Sylar's recent conduct. He feels disrespected and used. Sylar has some serious sucking up to do if he wants in Peter's pants again.

Warnings: Slash, explicit sexual content, some swearing, a fair bit of generic violence, mentions of blood, unbeta'd.

Notes: I plan one more chapter before Lornrocks' chapter would fit. Sorry this ended up so long.

Peter was pissed over the library incident - seriously pissed. He told the others Sylar had gotten away and was just thankful the bastard had used an unscented lube. They caught up with him only a week later. He'd changed cities and gone back to working the stolen list. This time he assaulted the wrong person, mistaking the father for the son, but he didn't get so far as cutting open a head. Sylar could detect abilities once he got close to someone and with the man pinned to his own kitchen island, a dozen knives sunk in the wood around him, Sylar figured out he had the wrong person.

He'd just walked off and left him, like he wasn't even worth murdering. Hiro's group was there only a handful of hours after the attack. Peter expected that Sylar was still close by, still stalking his original prey. They set an ambush at the younger man's apartment, thinking Sylar would find it eventually.

He did, but what they hadn't known was that Sylar wasn't working alone this time. His meeting at the public library had been part of a continuing effort the killer had been making to find cohorts and cronies, or at least partners in crime. Peter had no idea what Sylar's associates got out of it, but the point was that when Sylar moved in, he had backup. Only one, a 6' 3" muscular brute named Lenny, came in with him.

As soon as the ambush was discovered, Sylar slung a chair across the room and into Hiro's head, disabling him. Lenny rushed Gordon (one of Hiro's allies) and they began struggling, acid secretion vs. granulation. Ando's primary weapon, his red lightning, was useless against Sylar (and most specials) because it just super-charged their abilities. Peter and Ando went to fists while the other two members of their team, Gordon and Ian, engaged Sylar's ally, Lenny.

Two against one should have been good odds, but Peter's currently held ability of granulation was useless in a fight unless he wanted to actually kill Sylar… which he didn't. (He wasn't that pissed.) Still, the two men managed to mess Sylar up and keep him reeling, knocking him to the floor. Peter grabbed the modified epi-pen they had for neutralizing Sylar as Ando pinned him. Sylar's entire body was suddenly wreathed in blue, cryogenic fire. Ando fell backwards, shivering and gasping, his body plunged suddenly into hypothermic shock.

Peter jumped in, but Sylar rolled and grabbed his arm, preventing him from connecting with the syringe. They fought for a moment as Sylar gave Peter his most infuriating grin. He knew he was going to win now. Peter's arm began to freeze painfully and he put his free hand to Sylar's face. For a moment, the cold stopped advancing and Sylar's smug expression faltered. It wasn't that he feared what Peter might do to him. It was that Peter's touch was gentle.

There was a tingle as Peter took regeneration. Sylar's face contorted as he realized Peter had exploited the gesture not to calm him, but just to use him. The fight got worse after that and once Sylar figured out exactly which ability Peter had availed himself of, he started slashing him with telekinesis and letting Peter know just how much he'd been holding back all through the fight.

He could have murdered Hiro more easily than hitting him with a chair; he could have bashed Ando's head in instead of putting him into a momentary shock that would fade as soon as he warmed up. Now Peter's blood painted the apartment and Sylar retreated, snarling after his obsession with hurting Peter got him shot for a second time. He threw his attackers into the wall and fled, losing his accomplice in the process.

As Peter's body stitched itself back together, he reflected that at least no one would suspect that he and Sylar had been fucking lately.

In fact, Peter wasn't sure they'd ever fuck again. He was still mad - now not just about the library incident, but about how sadistic Sylar had gotten when he realized he could hurt Peter without damaging him permanently. Just thinking about it gave him phantom pains along his skin where he'd been cut.

They relocated the man Sylar had been after and turned Leonard Cushing back over to the Company. He was one of their agents with a history of going AWOL. Peter didn't know what they did with him, but he wasn't getting loose again any time soon. Life went on. Peter went back to work at the hospital.

He was walking back from the subway at 1:30 am after an excruciating shift that had run late. He should have been sore, but the regeneration was good for alleviating minor aches and pains as much as major ones. He was still tired and upset. He didn't think he'd done a good job. He'd made a couple bad calls because he'd been distracted. He didn't have his head together lately and he knew who he blamed for that: Sylar.

He was definitely in a mood as he stomped down the sidewalk. He saw the subject of his ire at a great distance, as Sylar was making no effort to conceal himself. He just stood at the entrance to Peter's apartment, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, looking quite relaxed. Peter stopped, more than half a block away. Yep, that's definitely him.

He could call for help. Hiro could get there immediately. He could run away. Sylar might not follow. Or…

He stalked forward, feeling his heart start beating faster, his breathing speeding up. He was angry and his body knew it. He walked right up to Sylar, tossed his bag down and slugged him just as Sylar started to straighten. Of all things, he seemed surprised by the blow, so Peter gave him three or four more to make him more familiar with the idea.

"Ow! Jesus Peter! Stop it!"

Peter hit him twice more, finally succeeding in knocking Sylar down against the door of the apartment building. He grabbed Sylar's collar and leaned down, snarling, "You think you can just fuck me and leave without so much as a good-bye, huh? Then beat the crap out of me? I would have let you go if you hadn't kept coming back to cut me up!"

Sylar gave him a confused look. "What the hell, Peter? You could take it. I just wanted to-"

"Who gives a shit? Fuck you and what you want, anyway. You arrogant bastard." He let him go, picked up his bag and kicked Sylar out of the way of the door for good measure. He stomped up the stairs, still angry, repeating to himself everything he'd just said, fuming.

He unlocked his apartment and tossed his bag down. He went in the kitchen and clattered around, thinking he'd heat up a can of soup for a late dinner. Maybe he was making too much noise, but he didn't hear his door unlock itself and swing open. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked over and saw Sylar standing in the door to his kitchen watching him.

"What the hell, Sylar? Don't you fucking knock? Get the fuck out of here!" His mood hadn't improved much and now he was enraged at the invasion of privacy. "If you haven't noticed, I don't want to see you anymore." I was an idiot for even thinking the bastard might feel anything for me.

Behind Sylar, the front door swung shut by itself - an eloquent expression of his feelings on Peter telling him to leave. He smirked, just in case Peter didn't get the message. "I don't think what you want has anything to do with it."

Peter's voice dropped suddenly and he got right in Sylar's face. "What the fuck is this? You think because you want to fuck me you can do it wherever and whenever you want?"

Sylar blinked, looking caught between smug and uncertain. "Something like that, yeah."

"It's not going to go that way," Peter hissed, and stabbed Sylar with the epi-pen of neutralizing compound that he'd carried ever since the ambush less than a week before. Sylar jerked back, but he was too late.

"What the…?"

Peter brandished the pen in front of him. "No more powers. Let's see how you like it now." While Sylar stood there dumbly, Peter hit him across the face again and this time the pain and shock knocked Sylar down immediately. Sylar wiped the corner of his mouth where Peter's blow had caused his teeth to cut the inside of his cheek.

Peter took a threatening step forward as if to hit him again and Sylar scrambled up, retreating into the living room. Peter followed him, glowering, then looked at the front door. He walked away from it, circling the room. Sylar kept his distance and let Peter herd him to where his back was to the door. Peter stopped then.

Sylar glanced back at it. He sniffed and reached up and rubbed his nose, then his cheek where he'd been hit and it still wasn't healing. "You want me to leave?" he asked in a clipped tone.

"What do you think?" Peter asked. "Does what I want even matter to you?"

Sylar blinked and looked at the door again. "You're going to take my powers and… that's it? You're just going to make me leave?"

Peter took a deep breath. He walked over and sat down on the couch, crossing his legs and leaning back. He draped his arm across the back and settled in. "I'm not going to make you do anything, Sylar."

Sylar moved away from the door hesitantly. Peter's brows climbed slightly and it finally occurred to him to wonder why Sylar had been waiting for him. "Did you come here to have sex me?" he asked.

"Yes." Sylar sat down on the other end of the couch, near the edge, poised in case he needed to bolt.

"And what?" Peter asked. "Were you just going to rape me? Have at it like in the library?"

"I didn't think that was rape in the library," Sylar said, managing to sound offended and questioning at the same time.

"No, it wasn't," Peter admitted. "But what were you about to do here?"

"Well I… I mean… I… I wasn't…" He shrugged, looking away. "I thought you'd like it."

Peter was silent for a long moment, thinking about how much he wanted the physical contact, how much he wouldn't have minded the sex if he just wasn't so wound up otherwise. He thought about how everyone else in his life had hosed him over and fate itself seemed out to get him most of the time. He'd been given these wonderful abilities and then robbed of them. Now he had this crappy consolation prize and the guy with all the abilities, Sylar, still wasn't satisfied with what he had. Greedy bastard!

Peter bit out, "You're not going to get to fuck me tonight, so just forget about that." He was quiet a bit more. Sylar nodded, head hanging. Peter swallowed. "If you want to have sex though, I'm okay with fucking you."

Sylar twitched and drew in a little, his eyes darting back and forth. Finally they rested on Peter's face. "What?"

"You heard me. You've got some serious sucking up to do and some really serious learning on how to manage relationships. You don't wait outside my door. People could have seen you! Do you have any idea what kind of shit will come down on me if people find out we're doing this? No one will ever trust me again."

Sylar's mouth made an "oh" shape.

"And don't cut me up so much next time. Don't run the hell off after we have sex. At least make sure I'm okay and everything. Like you did the first time. You were nice then. At the library you were an insensitive ass. I hadn't even so much as stood up before you took off!"

"Um… kay. There… you'll… um… you want to fuck me?"

Peter shrugged and looked away. So that's all he took away from that? Did he hear me at all? Is this even worthwhile? "It's not a punishment. Yeah, I'd like to. If you'll let me." He exhaled sharply. "It's probably a bad idea. Never mind."

"No… no. I'd… that's okay." After a beat he added, "When will my powers come back?"

"Couple hours. Maybe less." Peter looked back at him. "Have you ever had anal sex? As the receiver, I mean."

"No."

Peter shook his head. "I'm in a really bad mood. It's a bad idea. Never mind."

"Peter… I'd like to."

Peter looked at him through narrowed eyes, wondering if he could keep himself from hurting the other man. He thought so, but... "Your first time shouldn't be like that."

"My whole life has been like that. So's yours. It's not like destiny hasn't fucked you in the ass a few times. I doubt it hung around to see if you were okay either."

Peter stared at him for a moment, then laughed out loud at the ridiculous image that presented to his mind.

Sylar smiled and gestured broadly, "Come on, Pete. I'm here. I'm offering. You want it. And who says we'll ever have the chance again? You shouldn't care. You don't need to."

No, I shouldn't, Peter told himself. Sylar was a serial killer, who had gone to that apartment with the intention of committing murder and stealing someone's ability, after assaulting and traumatizing the intended victim's family. And here he was in Peter's living room, stripped of powers, practically helpless by Sylar's standards, offering himself. And Peter wanted it. His fists clenched in tension. He looked away. I ought to take him in.

Sylar slid down the couch to him and touched Peter on the knee, then raised his hand to the middle of Peter's chest. Peter shifted a little uncomfortably. His cock twitched with a life of its own, like it detecting the scent of possible sex in the air. I could always take him in later… after… He shifted again, uneasy.

Sylar pressed his body against Peter's, rolling himself over so his leg curled over Peter's. His hand crept up to Peter's neck and caressed lightly. He leaned in slowly, jerking back as if afraid Peter would hurt him when Peter shifted again. When nothing untoward happened, he leaned in again and kissed Peter's cheek. All Peter could do was shut his eyes and clench and unclench his fists while Sylar gave him small kisses and careful touches and pressed the warmth of his body against him.

He didn't stop it. If something bad happened to Sylar, it didn't really matter. No one innocent or uninvolved was getting drug into this. He could screw Sylar without feeling guilty, without letting his heart get too attached, because Sylar was so easy to hate. He swallowed, wondering what had happened to him that he was deliberately courting a relationship with someone like this killer, the bogey-man of the super-powered world.

He let Sylar go on kissing his cheek, his jaw, his chin and his neck, nibbling his ear, stroking his chest and finally rubbing his groin, tracing out the hardening form of Peter's erection. Peter swallowed and panted lightly, biting his lip. Sylar's clever fingers unfastened his jeans and pushed them down. He grinned suddenly at the brilliant red of Peter's thong.

"Oh, that's beautiful, Peter. I came here to apologize, you know. Or at least, you should know. It wasn't just to have sex with you. I knew I did too much - I got carried away." He leaned in and kissed the corner of Peter's mouth, then licked it with a single quick dart of his tongue. "I'm… I'm s…"

Peter gave him a moment, but Sylar never said it. He went back to kissing him and fondling Peter's crotch. Peter shrugged him off and stood up, fastening his pants again. Sylar was silent. "Come on in the bedroom," Peter said. Sylar followed.

Peter pointed at the bed. "Undress." He rummaged in his nightstand for lube and tossed it on the bed. Then he disrobed and climbed on the bed over Sylar, kissing his mouth. After a few moments, he lowered himself and Sylar put his arms around him, stroking his back. A few moments after that, they rolled over side by side and continued pleasing one another. Peter rescued the lube from under his shoulder and dispensed some. He lathered Sylar's cock with it, making the other man groan. Sylar came forward and kissed Peter's neck, biting him hard.

"Ow!"

"You'll heal," Sylar growled.

Peter laughed. Sylar's quiet, submissive mood had apparently passed now that they were in bed and he was sure to get what he wanted. He was still, after all, an arrogant prick. Peter gave himself more lube and reached down further, hooking his hand up under Sylar's balls. Sylar raised his leg cooperatively, but his face became less certain. Peter watched his expression carefully as he applied the lube thoroughly. It was wonderful to see the play of emotions and sensations, the slow building of trust between them. He still had no idea why he was doing this though. I am so fucked up.

Somehow he just really couldn't hold onto that thought as he slid a finger in and Sylar's mouth opened slightly. Peter covered it with his own, sliding his tongue into his mouth, finding it as surprisingly receptive as his ass. Peter probed him with another finger and then a third, feeling him open more accommodatingly than he'd expected. Sylar as a bottom was hard to imagine, but he was sure that in a few moments, he'd have no trouble remembering the image.

He rolled onto his back and stroked himself with the hand that was wet with lube. "Climb on me, baby."

"You're going to call me baby?" Sylar straddled him anyway.

"Yeah, baby, I am. Slide down a little here." He guided Sylar down. He watched his face again, fascinated by the show. Sylar blinked and his mouth fell open. He might have been open for fingers, and he was certainly still open enough, but obviously the sensation was different.

"Oh… oh! Oh!" He tightened and tensed.

"Relax, relax. Up and down, little at a time."

"Fuck that," Sylar growled and forced himself down on Peter so much it hurt Peter.

It hurt Sylar too. He clenched his teeth and said, "No wonder people don't like to do this!" he hissed, but held his position. "Now fuck me." His voice shook a little.

Peter swallowed, regeneration having taken care of his own issues, but not his partner's. He moved up and down in tiny fractions.

"I said fuck me!"

Peter laughed a little. "Bossy bottom, much?" He brought a hand up from Sylar's hips to his cock, making him twitch. "Easy, tiger." He didn't bother to ask if it still hurt. He could see from Sylar's face that it did. He wasn't about to pull out though. If Sylar wanted him out, he could lift up. Peter stroked him in steady pulls, rubbing his thumb across the top with each motion, giving Sylar something to feel other than his distressed sphincter. He kept the other hand at Sylar's hip, moving him just a little.

Sylar blinked and began to breathe harder. After a while, his hips hitched almost involuntarily into Peter's hand. Peter could feel that he'd loosened a little and at that motion, apparently Sylar realized it too. He started shifting up and down a little at a time, then more, then faster.

"Oh my God that feels… good…"

"Yeah," Peter said sarcastically, "It's no wonder people don't like to do this."

"Shut up," Sylar said sharply, but his actions contrasted with his words as he leaned forward to touch Peter's chest and pet him. He leaned into the hand that was gripping him. Peter took over the movements of his hips, pushing into his tight ass. He was as loose as he'd been to start with, before he'd tensed up, gotten stage fright, become pissy at being called a baby, or whatever.

"Come on, baby. Come for me," Peter crooned. Sylar smiled a little at the appellation this time. He rolled his eyes a little and sagged forward a little more, relaxing and melting. Peter worked him harder and faster, watching as a light sheen of sweat broke out over the other man, followed by a flush across his pale skin. Sylar put his hands on Peter's shoulders and hung his head slightly, watching as Peter's hand worked up and down him, feeling it as Peter's dick pushed in and out of him. He drew in shuddering breaths as his hips began to tremble just a little.

"Oh Peter… Oh… Nnng!" And with that he came, spurting over Peter's hand and onto Sylar's chest, there to drip down onto Peter's stomach. As Peter kept pumping into him, Sylar looked confused for a moment. "You…?"

"Lean back on me. All the way. It's okay."

Sylar looked dazed, but he did as directed. He moved back, taking Peter all the way inside. Peter thrust into him harder and Sylar tried to match his pace. Mostly he managed it.

"All the way back," Peter instructed. "Brace yourself on my thighs." Sylar did. Peter was in so deep it was heavenly. He gripped Sylar's knees as the other man bounced up and down on him. He came moments later, buried within him.

Peter sighed and fell back, feeling the endorphins wash through him. "Oh… baby, that was so good."

Sylar waited until Peter urged him off, as if he wasn't sure at what point dismounting was polite or acceptable. They cleaned up. Sylar pulled his clothes on. Peter came out and watched that. "You're leaving?" he asked in a tone that added 'already' to his question.

Sylar shrugged. "Thank you? I'm supposed to say that? Are you okay? You look okay."

Peter tilted his head, trying to decide if Sylar was being insulting or just dense.

Sylar fastened his pants and walked closer, holding his shirt. "I'll be back, okay? Some other time? Can I? Can I come here?"

Dense then. No social skills. Hardly surprising, for a serial killer. Peter found himself saying, "It's okay. Yeah, you can come back." Why the hell am I telling him that? Why am I even involved with this guy? God… I really enjoyed fucking him. Peter stood there with mixed emotions, not sure of what he wanted to do. Not sure at all.

"Still think I'm an arrogant bastard?" Sylar asked, smiling arrogantly enough to make Peter snort. He pulled on his shirt.

"Yes. You are. I don't know why I put up with you."

Sylar swayed on his feet for a moment, as if undecided as well. Finally he stepped over to Peter and bent for a kiss, saying, "I'm glad you do. Thank you." They kissed and he left.

Peter sighed, wondering how long he was going to be able to keep up this charade. At least he was in a better mood. He smiled to himself and flopped down on the bed, still naked. It smelled like sex and was damp in a few spots. He pulled the sheet out and wrapped himself in it. He was going to have to wash it anyway, but for the moment, he held it around himself and didn't feel so alone.