There was way too much going on at the moment for Sylar to deal with it all. He decided to address it in pieces, handling the most important issues first and leaving the rest for later. Sylar let Peter kiss him and ran his hand into his hair more firmly, getting a better grip. Peter made a discontent noise at that and his eyes darted back and forth between Sylar's, trying to divine his meaning and not liking what he was figuring out. Sylar pried him off. Anger and fear battled on Peter's face, his nostrils flaring, breathing hard. He made a sound like a frustrated sob.

"Calm down, Peter." Sylar just held him there and watched. His own emotions were still mixed.

Peter said, his voice low with need, "Please fuck me. Please fuck me, Sylar. Take me, please. I need to know you want me. Please." He wasn't calming down. To the contrary, Sylar's admonishment seemed to make Peter nervous and apprehensive.

Sylar's lips pressed together, but he didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say.

Peter blinked and reached out, caressing him uncertainly, rapidly and almost clumsily, his hands still shaking. "I'm sorry I fuck things up. I always fuck things up. I'm so sorry. Please. Please fuck me. Please." He literally had tears in his eyes.

Sylar let him go and Peter was on him in an instant, one hand slipping into his shorts and the other clasping behind him. He clung to him desperately, hungrily kissing his chest and working up his neck. Sylar spoke, his words serious despite his voice becoming thick with the arousal Peter was inflicting on him, "We're still going to talk about this afterwards - just so you know."

"Yes. Fine. But you have to fuck me first." Peter kissed sloppily up Sylar's jaw, to his ear, pressing against him, breathing hard, humping his leg even though it didn't seem like Peter had an erection. He was all over him. It was just too much. Sylar could only imagine this was the sort of behavior that had bred Nathan's stoic disinterest in Peter's approach to him. Sylar had no interest in going down that road. He also needed to get in control of the situation before Peter's eager hands and questing mouth turned him on so much that his own body took control out of his hands. It had happened before, after all.

"No," Sylar said firmly. "You have to fuck me, Peter."

"What?" Peter stopped cold, like Sylar had suggested something unspeakably obscene.

Ha. That worked. Sylar was a little surprised. "I'm not going to punish you with my dick. If you want sex from me to make you feel better, fine. But you're going to fuck me for it, not the other way around."

Peter pulled back from him like he'd been rejected. He wavered, blinking and uncertain.

"I love you," Sylar said softly, leaning in for a kiss. "Do you want me? It would be the third time you'd topped me." He nuzzled Peter's face not-so-differently from how Peter had done to him. It had always made Sylar feel really good, in control and dominant. Peter had done the same thing to Nathan. Sylar thought about exactly what Peter had done. He bent his knees a little, putting himself lower, changing the angle and nipping at the dark haired man's chin and lower lip. If Peter recognized it, he showed no sign of it. Very likely, it occurred to Sylar, no one had ever turned the tables on him like this.

"Okay," Peter said, obviously still reeling. "Um."

"Bedroom?"

"Yes. Yes. Bedroom." Sylar grinned at how off-balance Peter sounded, perhaps as swept away as Sylar himself had frequently felt with Peter.

Peter led the way and Sylar was pleased at the opportunity to smile behind his back. It wasn't often he got to throw Peter so thoroughly. Peter shucked his shorts at the side of the bed and then climbed on. As Sylar had gathered, Peter might have been all over him, but he wasn't actually aroused. He had been trying to defuse the situation with sex and maybe it truly made him more comfortable to exert power over others that way. Sylar didn't want to be led around by his dick, though.

Peter lay back against the pillow and started stroking himself, looking at Sylar. His breathing was slowing from the hyper-tension of the scene on the balcony. Sylar undressed and stroked himself in turn. After a few moments, he climbed on the bed too, crawling between Peter's legs. He moved forward and tilted his head towards Peter's member as it slowly shifted under his hand. Peter tilted it closer to him, allowing Sylar to more easily do what he was obviously intending. He licked his lips and kissed the head, then ran his tongue across it.

"Mm," Peter said, reaching down with his right hand to stroke Sylar's cheek with his knuckles, curling away his wrapped index finger. Sylar noticed the finger was cool, as if Peter had been, at least, using his cryokinesis to keep it chilled. He was pleased to note that. Peter said, "After this we have to shave."

"After we shave, we have to argue," Sylar rejoined.

"We don't have to argue. I'll act right from now on."

Sylar smiled. "You're not getting off that easy, Peter. You were being a brat."

"Oh? You going to make it hard for me to get off?" Peter teased.

Sylar slipped his mouth over the glans of Peter's cock, tasting the precum and the unique flavor of a man's skin. Peter still smelled like coconut from the shower they'd taken that morning. All of the personal care products in the bungalow were the same scent. Sylar figured by the end of this, he was going to be conditioned to absolutely adore coconut. For now though, he tried to curl his lips over his teeth, but it left him unable to do much of anything except tongue him. He wasn't real sure how to do this part.

Peter tilted himself down a little more and said, "Don't worry about your teeth. Suck harder, get your lips into it. Wrap them around me, so your lips are all the way around me." Sylar endeavored to follow the directions. "Hold me there in the middle. Tense them. Tense your lips, Sylar. There. Now up and down, keeping your lips tight. See how that keeps your teeth out of the way? If I wasn't holding steady, you'd want to put your hand on me to make sure I didn't shift and scrape myself on you though. That's more of an issue when your lips get tired."

Sylar pulled off for a moment, actually rather interested in the advice. "What do I do then?"

"Then you do what you just did. Pull off, stroke me, take a break. Or take me deep, but that's a lesson for another time."

Sylar nodded and went back to it. Peter was hardening quickly. One thing Sylar had to admit, this was defusing the hell out of his anger. He sucked him hard, trying varying pressures, and Peter gave him sounds of encouragement or quiet, letting him know what was working and when to move on to something else.

Peter nudged him off after a while, which Sylar was sort of grateful for. His mouth was getting tired and he hadn't even been at it very long. Peter summoned the lube with telekinesis and gestured at Sylar. "If I have to fuck you, then I'm at least going to make you do most of the work. Come get on top of me." Peter, too, had calmed down, at least on the surface.

"Ah, facing you?"

"Yep. Straight people call it cowgirl." He lubed himself up with his left hand. Sylar straddled him, knee-walking forward until he was where he thought he needed to be. Peter took his elbow and urged him forward a bit more. He sent his left between Sylar's legs, smearing him from the start of his ass all the way to his balls, using a ridiculous amount of lube. Sylar didn't complain. He liked the touch. Even more he liked the exploring, probing fingertips.

"Not used to having to use my left," Peter murmured. His right hand stayed on Sylar's hip while one finger of his left began to slide in and out. Sylar leaned forward blindly, his body knowing what it needed to do. The movement put himself further forward and Peter made a happy, crooning noise. He added a second finger for only a few strokes, then pulled out and played with Sylar's butt crack from one end to the other, fondling his balls and caressing them. His fingers inevitably found his opening again and dipped within, one first, then a few quick beats later to make sure he was still open, he added the second, moving more slowly.

"Oh, Peter. Oh… That's good."

Peter shifted upwards to capture a kiss from him. The angle was awkward, but the feel of his lips made it worth it. Peter ran his right hand up to thumb across Sylar's left nipple. He rotated his left, curling his fingers inside of Sylar and stroking the tender, sensitive parts he was seeking. Sylar moaned wantonly. The pressure in his ass was fantastic. He had no idea how many fingers Peter was probing him with by now, but it felt almost unendurably good. And whatever he was touching inside of him…! Sylar's mouth fell open in a pant. Hadn't they been arguing earlier? Fuck it, he thought, shoving himself back on Peter's hand.

He was giving every signal he was ready, so Peter guided him back onto himself, raising his cock so that Sylar was settling over it and on top of it. He moved down, feeling it pressing against his opening, expanding the ring of his anus, silding into him with exquisite slowness. Peter let him settle back a little and then stopped him so that Peter could move against him in tiny pushes, watching his face and body carefully. Sylar was grateful he had such a good partner, so considerate that even after they'd been fighting Peter was assiduous in caring for him.

Sylar was biting his lip, loving the hell out of the tension and anticipation. "God, Peter. You are… the best. I can't imagine a better lover. Thank you. Oh!" Peter gave him a harder prod than his earlier oh-so-gradual motions. He started sliding in and out more, making inch or two pushes rather than half inch. "Oh God," Sylar whined, curling forward.

Peter held him for a moment and then pushed him back up. "Does it hurt?"

"No. Just a little. Burns. Not much though. Oh God it's good. You're in me. It's good!"

Peter shifted him down a little further, starting to exaggerate his motions with his hips. At the same time, he reached down between them with his left and wrapped it firmly around Sylar's cock. Sylar gasped, throwing his head back. His hands gripped Peter's biceps and he pushed himself down the rest of the way as Peter pumped him.

Peter groaned, shoving his hips up to meet him, plunging all the way in. Sylar whimpered, teetering on the edge of just losing it right then. Peter squeezed him hard on the head of his cock and he shuddered, clenching. Peter chuckled.

"Ah! That hurts, Peter."

"I know. Stopped you though. I'd rather you stayed with me for a little longer, okay?"

"O-kay," Sylar sounded almost submissive. At the moment, he was, and he didn't care about his tone. Peter was making love to him. All the tension and drama poured away with the sensation of Peter shoving inside him time after time, jogging against him, rubbing up against sensitive parts inside he hadn't really thought about having. Peter had been right, he thought. They'd just needed to fuck. A distant part of his brain hoped he remembered why the hell they'd been fighting later, because at the moment it was hopeless. "Oh Peter… Oh Peter… Oh Peter…."

Peter smiled at him, jerking him off slowly and gradually making his own motions less and less pronounced. As he'd expected and hoped, Sylar took over, raising and lowering himself, fucking himself on Peter's shaft, picking his pace, angle and depth. Sylar wasn't going to last long, but that was part of his charm. Nathan had gotten to where he took forever. The sex was stale, the relationship damaged beyond repair and Peter couldn't get it up at all, not with all his control and training. It was amazing how that had slipped away once he was with someone else of his own free will.

"I love you, Sylar."

Sylar said something inarticulate that included another appeal to God, to Peter and something about being fucked. Peter grinned and shifted his grip, getting more of the loose skin around Sylar's member, sliding it up over his tip and enveloping him in it, then holding it there while he shook his hand up and down in quick, tense motions, stimulating just the head in that artificial sleeve. Sylar whined and bucked, coming right up off Peter's penis. He reached back, fumbled quickly and reinserted him without Peter's help. The moment he was back on, Peter resumed.

Sylar began groaning so loud it was nearly a yell. Having essentially had his reset button hit earlier, it took him a bit longer to ride the peak this time than he would have. Peter was watching him and the moment Sylar's muscles started to lock up and prevent him from continuing, Peter began thrusting into him in earnest, as hard as he could.

Sylar's eyes flew wide, his mouth fell open and he came, his semen surging across Peter's chest and hitting him in the chin and forehead. Peter laughed and kept stroking him, kept thrusting into him, using his right hand to push down on Sylar's hip, urging to take every thrust to the hilt, which he did. Peter's own orgasm came soon - watching Sylar come so hard was the best aphrodisiac he could imagine.

Virtually the second he was done, Peter rolled Sylar over, disengaged and climbed over him, kissing his chin, his jaw and the corners of his mouth. It was a pleading, supplicating pattern, like a puppy gave to an adult dog or a subordinate to an alpha. Sylar responded to it only muzzily at first, still lost in the afterglow. "Oh… Peter… Sure… What?" He kissed him back gently and it was what Peter needed. It was forgiveness. It was absolution. It was grace and mercy all together in one instinctive gesture. He needed that. He needed it so deeply he couldn't explain - he could only do.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered between kisses. "I'm sorry for making you mad earlier. I knew the scorpion sting would hurt and it probably wouldn't do anything else to me and if it got too bad I was going to heal. I exaggerated it, which you would have known if you'd actually been listening to me yesterday when I read it to you." He lifted for a moment and smiled, a hopeful, tentative tease. Then he leaned back in for more kisses. "I'm sorry. I wanted to know… I just wanted to know what you'd do. I'm sorry." He kept peppering him with kisses while Sylar brought his arms up around him and hugged him gently.

"You're getting cum on my face," Sylar said as he regained his senses. His voice was mild though.

"Mm!" Peter said enthusiastically, as if pleased to have this pointed out to him. He proceeded to lick up every trace, lingering kisses and sucking at Sylar's skin as the taller man stroked Peter's sides gently, his loving touch another benediction, another forgiveness to Peter.

Sylar rolled his eyes upwards and sighed, long-suffering. "Peter… that's kind of gross."

"Mm," he hummed, ignoring Sylar and finishing. He would have kept going even longer, but Sylar had dropped his hands to his sides and the moment was over.

When Peter lifted away, Sylar reached up and wiped the stray smears off Peter's forehead. No way was he touching that with his tongue. Sylar asked, sighing under the gaze of Peter's watchful, dark eyes, "Is sex with you ever anything less than mind-blowing?"

"Not if I can help it," Peter murmured.