Halloween Games
Elle always loved Halloween. As a child, her father never allowed her to dress up or go trick-or-treating, but she loved to sneak into his office and watch The Great Pumpkin. Once Elle was an adult, of course, she started celebrating Halloween with a passion. Her costumes became legendary at Primatech--one year she was a cat (complete with false whiskers stuck on with spirit gum), another year she splurged on a kimono and white make-up and dressed as a geisha. The year after her father died, after she found Sylar again, after they ran off together, Primatech be damned, Elle wanted to have a special Halloween.
She scoured the costume shops high and low for an outfit in the correct colors. She straightened her hair, pulled it back into a ponytail and dug white bobby socks out of the bottom of her drawer. When Sylar came home that evening, Elle was waiting. Dressed as Claire Bennet.
Looking back, Elle thought she had never seen anyone get so angry, so quickly. She jumped as Sylar grabbed her arm and shoved her up against the wall. His face was contorted in anger as he shook her hard. "Take off the goddamn costume," he hissed. He turned his back on her and Elle could see from the tense line of his shoulders that he wasn't pleased.
"I thought you would like it," she said softly. When he didn't respond, Elle just sighed. "Is this because you thought Claire was your niece? Because she's not, so it's not... you know... weird to imagine that I'm her. If you want." Suddenly an idea struck her. "Do you want to watch me take it off?" she asked, allowing a teasing note to enter her voice. Sylar didn't speak, but his shoulders dropped a little and he turned to look at her. Elle took this as encouragement.
Looping her fingers into the waistband of her skirt, Elle slid it down slowly. She didn't bother wearing those tiny cheerleading shorts (what fun would that be?) and Sylar's gaze grew hungrier with each inch she exposed. Elle liked that kind of hunger, especially since it meant he wanted to fuck her brains out, not tear open her skull. Elle wriggled her hips and the skirt dropped to the floor.
"Should I continue?" Elle asked, sliding one hand up her shirt, "Or do you want to take over from here?" Sylar just stared at her, silently, so Elle shimmied out of her shirt and tossed it at Sylar's head. Now he was grinning--the sight of Elle in nothing but bobby socks and tennis shoes distracted him from the Claire Costume. Grabbing her around the waist, Sylar kissed her, running his hands over her body.
Elle's tiny fingers made quick work of his belt; the electric blonde pushed his pants to the floor and let him push her against the wall again. The difference was he wasn't angry this time--just determined. Elle hopped up, wrapping her long legs around Sylar's waist, letting him slip into her and thrust up again and again and again until she clenched around him and cried out his name.
They collapsed on the couch, worn out, but happy. "Maybe next year you could dress up as Peter," Elle suggested, burying her head in Sylar's neck. Narrowing his eyes, Sylar shocked Elle with her own blue sparks.
"Maybe you could dress up as Tracy," he teased, rolling Elle onto her back and kissing her deeply. Maybe they would. Or maybe they'd just be themselves.