Sylar scooped out a spoonful and tried it, managing to get more ice cream than syrup and whipped topping. "Mm." He fished out a second spoonful and offered it to Peter, who licked the spoon suggestively enough that Sylar let Peter suck it until it was shiny again. Sylar grinned.

Peter jerked his head to one side and said, "Come on. We're getting in the shower."

"What about the ice cream?"

Peter laughed. "We're taking it with us, dork. And because I don't like to have to interrupt things, go get the lube."

"I sort of got the impression you didn't need lube," Sylar said, going to get it anyway.

Sylar heard the reply perfectly well with enhanced hearing, though Peter mumbled it: "Might need it for what I've got in mind."

He came back to see Peter was nude again. After a beat, Sylar phased out of his clothes, then kicked the resulting pile away from the shower so they wouldn't get wet. He stepped inside. Peter swirled the strawberry around in the whipped cream and turned to Sylar, putting one hand on his chest. He pushed him slowly against the far wall of the shower. The door closed behind him. He pressed himself against the taller man and offered him the fruit. Sylar took a small bite out of it, took it and offered it in return. Peter ate half of what remained, then fed the last to Sylar.

They kissed, hands exploring one another's shoulders and neck and face; the back of the head; if their hair was long enough to work their fingers into it and get a grip; the delicate curves of ears. They parted and just looked at each other for a long moment. Peter gave Sylar a peck on the point of his chin, then fetched the bowl. He scooped a fingerful of whipped cream and chocolate out and fed it to his lover.

Sylar got some out on his own and dabbed it on Peter's nose, evading his mouth purposefully. He smiled at the picture he'd made. Peter crossed his eyes looking at it and Sylar began chortling. He dabbed the rest on Peter's cheeks, swirling them into rough circles. Peter rolled his eyes. "Do I look like a clown yet?"

Sylar nodded, grinning ear to ear. "Come here," he said, drawing Peter to him. He licked it off in careful, short sweeps of his tongue. He kissed his mouth briefly, a teasing touch. Peter raised a brow. He'd show him teasing.

He reached deeper into the bowl and came away with a glob of ice cream. Smiling devilishly, he put it on Sylar's left nipple.

"Oh! Ohhh," Sylar said in appreciation of the odd sensation. Peter smeared it in a tight circle as it melted and ran down his chest. "Oh, nice. No wonder you wanted to be in the shower."

Peter smiled. "Oh, we haven't even begun to get messy." With that, he swept away the last of the ice cream and tweaked the nub. "How's that feel?"

"Little numb. Kind of nice."

"Yeah?" Peter leaned in and pressed his mouth to the nipple, sucking it gently.

"Oh! Ahhh!" Sylar groaned at the warm, wet suction and the delightful juxtaposition of temperatures. He arched his back under Peter's ministrations.

"Ha," Peter said as he leaned away. He pulled out another glob for the other side. When he was done with the cold treatment, he got another, larger, messy handful of dessert and said, "Here. Hold the bowl." Sylar obliged and Peter bent his mouth to his chest. His hand went lower, leaving a trail of melted dairy product until he reached Sylar's half-hard cock. He wrapped it immediately in his hand, squashing the ice cream around it.

"Ow! Sort of. Oh!" Sylar shifted, but Peter didn't let him get away. "Oh wow. That's weird. Really weird." Peter stroked him gently, smearing him thoroughly. Sylar looked down and said, "You're right. That's messy. Looks like I've already come - ten times maybe."

Peter raised himself from Sylar's chest to kiss him, still stroking. He put their groins together, smearing himself as well. They rubbed together, each using a hand. It was a mess - a sticky, sweet, delicious mess.

On impulse, Sylar dropped to his knees. He looked at Peter's groin for a moment, then slid one hand up the back of his thigh to cup a buttock, while the other dipped briefly in the bowl - coming away with nearly all whipped cream this time - and smeared it on Peter's organ. He leaned forward and licked. Peter, in an act of gratuitous slovenliness, wiped his dirty hand through Sylar's hair, grinning.

Peter leaned back, moving his hips a little even though all Sylar was doing was licking him. He got the idea though and wrapped his forefinger and thumb around the shaft, letting Peter fuck into it as he slurped off the dessert. When he was mostly clean - as clean as he was likely to get, anyway - he sucked at the head, keeping his lips curled over his teeth. He felt woefully inadequate next to Peter's expertise on the subject, but Peter didn't seem put off. He was rock hard.

"Stand up and turn around," Peter directed, bending to pick up the bowl Sylar had set aside when he'd knelt to go to church.

Sylar obeyed. Peter dug out a handful of ice cream - they were more than half way through it by now - and spread it irregularly across Sylar's back. He turned and set the bowl on the seat and then was back to Sylar, licking it off. He spooned his body to the other man's, slipping his penis between his legs. He tapped the outer side of Sylar's thigh and said, "Put your legs together around me." Only really the tip was able to get friction (sticky, sloppy friction), but it was enough. Peter's mouth worked relentlessly across Sylar's back, making him arch and move.

Peter wrapped an arm around him to caress his chest, digging in his fingernails when Sylar moved against him. After the first time of that, Sylar moved against him a lot more actively. Peter gave him welts and bit his back. He bucked his hips into him a few more times, then pulled out and dropped down slowly, licking and chewing down his spine, following the melted trails he couldn't get to before. Several of them ran into the cleft of Sylar's ass.

Peter tongued along that seam, spreading him slightly for better access. When his tongue hit the delicate skin of the anus, Sylar suddenly stood straight up. Peter froze, looking up, wondering if he'd trespassed somehow. After a beat, Sylar bent again, then shifted his legs part. He reached back and spread his cheeks on his own. Peter grinned and laughed silently. When he could trust his voice, he said, "Liked that, huh?"

"Yep. Do that more!" Sylar sounded eager.

Peter scooped out ice cream and put it in his mouth, then leaned in, putting one hand on Sylar's leg for stability and running the other between his legs, caressing his balls. Sylar made a small sound of pleasure and panted. Peter put his mouth to him, letting the sweet, half-melted slush run out as it would. He licked him thoroughly. When Sylar's squirming seemed to becoming too much, he leaned away, stroking him slowly.

"You ready?" Peter asked.

"Yes!"

Peter grinned. He threw back his head and looked at the ceiling. In a quiet voice he asked, "Can I top you?"

"Yes!" It was equally enthusiastic.

Peter tilted his head forward. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Why wouldn't you?"

Peter shrugged. "Just… thought… all that dominance stuff… master…"

Sylar snorted. "Fine. You despicable sex slave. I bought you. I want my damn money's worth. Now fuck my ass like nobody's business or it will be the lash for you!"

Peter almost choked. "Alri-… yes, master." He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the lube, spreading it on himself and his fingers. "How ready are you?"

Sylar made an inarticulate noise and rubbed his rear end back into Peter. Peter put himself to him and pushed, but there was no access. Sylar grunted. Peter pulled back and pressed his finger against the opening. He leaned in close against Sylar's back, working the pad of his finger against him. "Do you want this rough?"

"I want you to fuck me," Sylar said.

Peter worked the finger inside. Sylar twitched and shifted in a way that made Peter freeze for a moment and mentally scroll back through his impressions of Sylar's life. It took him a moment, because what he was looking for wasn't there. Sylar looked back. "What? Aren't you supposed to keep moving?"

"Yes," Peter said, and did, but slowly. "You've never done this before." It wasn't a question.

"Fuck you, Petrelli."

"Easy," Peter said, but in opposition to his words, he jammed a second finger into him roughly. Sylar made a forced noise between his teeth and shoved his hips back against Peter's hand like he had something to prove. Peter pistoned his hand into him enough to make Sylar pant and said, "Yeah, that's it. You feel which muscles you need to use?"

"Fuck…" Sylar worked himself back and forth in counterpoint to Peter's fingers, making a concentrated and deliberate effort to prevent Peter from moving in anything similar to a slow, steady pattern.

"Shit on me," Sylar muttered in disbelief at the sensation.

"No, I've never enjoyed that."

"What?" Sylar snapped, having no idea what Peter was talking about.

"Never mind," Peter said, moving himself into position and pulling his fingers out. There wasn't as much resistance as he expected. Sylar had caught onto it much faster than most. He was still tight, deliciously tight. He took Sylar's hips and tugged him back into himself, encouraging Sylar to make the motions while Peter stood relatively still. It gave him control over everything Peter thought he might need control over for a first time - depth, speed and angle being the most important.

It was clear when Sylar found the position he wanted, bent forward, one hand on the shower wall and the other stroking himself. He seemed to want it fast too, but he couldn't get the rhythm down. "Fuck me, Peter. I'm close. God, I'm close." He was tugging at himself hard and fast. Peter took a firmer hold of his hips and tried to match that pattern, pumping into him determinedly. Sylar had been right - he was close. He came almost immediately, spurting on the wall in front of him.

Peter didn't stop. He pummeled his ass until he was well and thoroughly reamed out, until even through regeneration, at the moment at least, Sylar's asshole was sore and hurting from such unfamiliar use. He came inside of him after a hammering the like of which he hadn't given to anyone in a very long time.

He pulled out slowly, enjoying the almost-yell Sylar made at feeling Peter's length drag out of his body, through his over-stimulated butthole. Sylar's fingers trembled on the wall, half-curled against it. His body shook. Peter stepped up close to him, resting a hand on Sylar's shoulder blade. "Master?" he asked in a soft voice. "Did your slave fuck you properly?"

"Oh God yes," he panted, head hanging.

Peter waited a few more moments, until the worst of Sylar's shaking had subsided, before pushing the showerhead towards the wall and turning it on. He turned it back gradually, then dumped what little was left of the ice cream down the drain. He got down the body wash. "This is why we do this stuff in the shower," Peter said.

Sylar had turned around now so that his back was to the wall. He still looked plowed, mouth slack, breathing hard, head against the wall. All he managed to say was, "Oh God yes."