LATE FEBRUARY 2521

He's been patient. For him at least. So I am unsurprised when he broaches the topic one night.

Dani is finally sleeping through the nights and Sylar has moved her crib into the living room. That should have been all the warning I needed. Still, as his arm wraps around me, turning me to face him instead of wrapping himself around my back, my stomach flutters with a strange sort of anticipatory dread.

I'm in my nightgown and his hand traces up from my thigh to my waist to the side of my breast. I can't help but shiver as he watches me and I meet his gaze. His eyes are warm tonight, not the cold calculating circles I've been seeing since he moved in.

"Don't you get bored, Claire?" His voice is inquisitive as he continues to stroke my side, his fingers trailing across and down my hand to play in my palm. "Frustrated? It's been a while for both of us."

"You're not going to get me to agree to sleep with you Sylar." I say the words bluntly, not really caring if I'm punished for them.

His eyes flash-freeze as he studies me.

His hand wraps around my wrist, crushing as he yanks it forward. I feel it bend and break beneath his heavy grip and the sharp snap of pain that always accompanies broken bones. My breath catches, but I keep myself from screaming. Still, the sensation does something to me. The lines between pleasure and pain have grown quite thin in the last 500 years.

"Don't be petulant," he demands, loosening his grip enough for my bones to mend themselves. They pop back into place and I'm left with only a dull throb where the damage was done. He smiles as my skin shifts beneath his in the mending process, lifting my hand up and dropping a soft kiss on the smooth skin of the inside of my wrist.

I shiver.

"I'm not being petulant," I say as his mouth traces from my wrist down to the crook of my arm. He inhales.

"What else would you call it?" he asks, seemingly content to be patient a while longer.

"Prudence. The last time I slept with you it didn't exactly work out so well." He arches a perfect brow.

"I thought it turned out just fine. Or did I misinterpret your multiple orgasms?"

"You know what I mean," I snap. My tone of voice seems to annoy him.

"No. I'm not sure I do." He yanks me closer, pressing my chest to his as he stares down into my eyes. "Why don't you explain?"

I take a few deep breaths as his hands begin to rove across my nightgown again, this time grasping and tugging insistently.

"You're never careful," I hiss, trying to push his hands away unsuccessfully as he chuckles.

"I'm always careful, Claire. Careful to make things good for you too…" His lips descend on my neck and I feel his stubble brush against my chest.

"That's not what I mean and you know it," I hiss. I tangle my fingers in his hair, tugging sharply to force his face up.

He moves quickly, spurred by my fingers against his scalp. His hands grab my wrists, forcing them up above my head and against the pillow as he rolls me onto my back, straddling me as the sheet slips down his back. I can feel his hot length pressed against my stomach and it makes me shudder. I'm not sure if the response is out of anticipation or disgust.

"Do I?" he asks, voice hard and menacing. "Because I'm not quite sure I see the problem here. I want you, and your body certainly wants me, however many different ways you may try to deny it." I can feel the proof of his words pooling between my thighs and I close my eyes. He continues talking anyway. "We're good together. I'm the only man who does it for you Claire. You're a masochist and I'm just the sick sadist to make you moan." His voice has gone low and sultry as he lowers himself to rest over my body. His mouth is right by my ear and he's transferred both wrists to one hand so his other can trace his trademark electric sizzle down my body. "You're my wife. I know your body inside and out… why shouldn't I take you?" His fingers find the hem of my nightgown, hitching it up. "Right here." His hand covers that throbbing center where all my blood seems to be rushing. "Right now?"

I have to remind myself why I hate him as he manipulates me, of all the reasons I have to deny him what he wants. My family. He killed them… I try to picture them in my mind, try to draw their image up… but somehow, all I can see is Sylar, Dani in his arms as they rummage through the fridge together in the early morning. There has to be a reason I'm against this, something…

"And believe me… I'll be very careful to make this something you won't ever forget…" His voice trails off as his soft kisses and sharp bites trail from my jaw to my clavicle…

Careful…

And then I remember and go stone-cold beneath him. My body stiffens beneath his touch and becomes about as pliable as an ice sculpture.

He pauses above me, one hand beneath my nightgown, doing delicious things to my body as the other traps my arms above my head.

"Protection," I say, voice hoarse. "I will not go through that again."

We lay there for a while, frozen and welded together until he withdraws. I can't tell what he's thinking. His face has gone blank above me, a part of me… a very small part… is thankful.

"I see," he says, eyes cold and empty as he lets me loose, turning quickly and swinging his feet onto the chilly floor. He's out of the room before I have time to sit up. I hear the front door slam seconds later and the locks draw themselves.

He has gone, and I am left alone. My bed is my own for the time being. The monsters have gone. I should be elated.

But somehow, the happiness I should be feeling is hard to find. The bed shouldn't feel empty without the monster. The frightened child shouldn't feel let down when the lights go on.

Still…

I rise quickly and go to Dani's crib. She's sleeping soundly and doesn't wake as I lift her and cradle her in my arms, bringing her to our room and settling her on the bed next to me, her tiny heart beating beneath my hand, steady and reassuring as I fall asleep.

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