Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in heroes_fiction, @ 2008-08-12 07:27:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | peter/sylar, rated: adult, slash |
Fic: Just A Jump To The Left. 1/1
Sorry for the delay, I have no idea where my head has been. I have five other Heroes stories written, so it is not a problem of writing them. I've just got other stories taking up my brain, I guess.
Without further wanking on.
Title: Just A Jump To The Left.
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Characters: Sylar, Peter.
Words: 1535
Prompt: Future
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Future Sylar/Peter
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Character Deaths
Summary: Sylar wins, then goes to collect his prize.
Author's Note: Spoilers for '5 Years Gone'
______________________________________
November - 2011.
He lay thrown against the brick wall, sprawled like a carelessly tossed doll. Blood still dripped from the gaping wound in his head, so fresh was the kill. The entire hall stank of soot and copper.
Wrinkling his nose, Sylar licked the last of the blood from his lips. Even after all these years, it still tasted vile to him. However, it was a necessary evil. A smirk came to his lips over that thought.
He reached out, his fingers running over Peter's cheek to caress the soft flesh. The dead man's stubble scratched at the back of his hand. It had been such a pity to kill him, the man was so beautiful, even in death. Not that that would last for much longer. Indestructible, deadly, graceful, he was the perfect nemesis. So damned beautiful.
No wonder Nathan had been near obsessed with finding him.
Thinking of obsession caused his jaw to clench. There were other things to deal with before he could indulge his fantasies. Peter would be waking soon, then the real fun could begin.
Standing up, Sylar wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He gave Peter's body one last look over before he turned to the room at the end of the hall. The ashy remains of Parkman and his men were all that stood between him and the door.
Snarling, he pushed at the air with his hand. The door and everything next to it went slamming in to the room beyond. A scream was cut off as whoever was on the other side of the door was crushed.
Sylar tugged his sleeves down in a semblance of order. Strolling down the hall, he used two fingers to sweep aside the ash. It cleared the way, leaving only charred stones and brick.
He stopped at the doorway. Inside, he found the bodies to two men and little else. The door was surrounded by blood, gore, and bits of familiar hair. "Poor Mohinder." Sylar took a moment to enjoy the beauty of his death.
Sighing, he realized he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. The second body was the Haitian, finally put out of his misery. It was the first that interested him.
Kneeling next to it, Sylar raised his finger. He made quick work of the long hair and pale skin. The top of Hiro's head popped off with a satisfying smack. Reaching down, he stuck his fingers in the cranial cavity.
He grimaced, almost taking his hand out of it. Sylar hated it when they had been dead for a while. That always made the juices congeal. Flaring along his fingers caused the brain to heat up. Not too much, just enough to melt the liquids.
Taking a deep breath, he centered himself. Closing his eyes, he shoved the mass inside his mouth. It tasted horrible, like butter fat and whey, bland and salty. His gag reflex kicked in during the second swallow and he had to stretch his neck to make himself swallow.
Nausea rolled in his gut, causing him to moan. Two more swallows, and he had it all down. Wiping his mouth, he spit several times to clear the disgusting flavor. Nothing short of whiskey would accomplish it, though.
He shivered, feeling his body absorbing the brain and everything inside. He started to breathe heavily as his vision dimmed. Too much exertion and the addition of new powers were taxing his system. Still, a giddy euphoria accompanied it.
He had won.
He had defeated them all.
There was nothing stopping him now. Closing his eyes, Sylar sat back on his haunches. His hand lingered by his heels as he took the time to savor his victory. This grand feeling would never come again, but there were still challenges to be faced.
Sylar's eyes opened. Movement in the hall drew his attention.
Those challenges would have to wait.
Grin firmly in place, he rose from the floor. The man had reached the doorway, standing there behind him. Focusing his thoughts, Sylar raised his hand to wave of his shoulder.
Then he was gone.
Closing his eyes, Peter could sense the change in the timeline. Whenever Sylar had gone, things were already changing. A tingling in his hands drew his attention. A golden glow passed over them and the rest of the world as it altered to reflect those changes.
As he watched, they started to disappear. A shooting pain started at the base of his skull. Throwing back his head, he screamed. Then, he was no more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
February - 2006.
Holding his tray to his chest, Peter stepped away from the cashier. There was a salad, two packages of cookies, and a fried chicken sandwich on it. The cookies he could have lived without, but they were on clearance. So, he had decided it was in his budget.
He would probably run short on money by the end of the month again, which meant he would have to survive on ramen and powdered orange juice. With a cap on how many hours a week he could work, there wasn't a chance of earning extra. If he didn't believe Nursing was worth the effort, he would have quit a long time ago.
Still, he was here, three months from graduation. He could learn to deal with it. Peter knew he should have learned long ago, but it seemed impossible. So, he told himself it was something he would continue to work on and that seemed fine.
In his musing, he had wandered to the far side of the cafeteria. There was hardly anyone about, but that wasn't his fault. The others refused to associate with him because of his family, not his personality. In his view, that made them the bad people.
They had to be. Only a real jerk would base their opinion upon generalizations. Not that he generalized. Often.
Dropping his tray on an empty table, Peter fell in to his open chair. After he landed, his hair fell in his face. Instead of automatically removing it, he left it there. He felt better with half his face obscured, since it was that much less of the world he had to see.
Peter was about to reach in to his messenger bag for his ipod when a shadow fell over his table. Looking up, he was prepared to trade snipes with another intern when froze. The man standing there watching him was definitely not an intern.
Swallowing, he took a shuddering breath. "May I help you." He was watching Peter with entirely too much focus.
The man seemed to smirk without moving his lips. Setting a small tub on the table, he pulled out a chair. He sat down and pulled open what was now obviously pudding. After sticking a spoon in to the sweet concoction, he pulled it out and placed it to his lips.
Peter found himself mesmerized by the stranger's actions. There was something almost magnetic about him. Well, not him, but the pudding. It had been six weeks since he last had the money for the dish.
To keep himself from moaning when the stranger sucked the dab from his spoon, Peter cleared his throat. He refocused his attention the man across from him. "My name's Peter."
The man dipped his spoon in the pudding, swirling it about by way of answering. He slowly made waves in the vanilla cream. Watching as Peter bit his lip, he stabbed the dessert. Pulling out the now full spoon, he raised it. He held it out for Peter. "Want a taste?"
Looking up from the offered spoon, Peter took in the man's dark features. The sloping brow, the prominent nose, dark hair shadowing his cheeks. Leaning across the table, he reached up to take the spoon.
The stranger pulled back. "Un uh." He waited until Peter gave him an assessing look before smiling. "Let me."
Feeling a little heady from the attention and teasing, Peter crushed the normally reserved part of his mind. Leaning forward again, he opened his mouth.
"That's it." He gently placed it upon Peter's tongue. As the other man closed his mouth, he slowly pulled it free of his lips.
Peter couldn't hold back the moan. It was something so beautifully sweet tasting he didn't want to. When he opened them again, he found the stranger watching him with an expression of triumph. Wiping the corner of his mouth with his fingers, he grinned. "Should I be worried for my safety?"
Filling the spoon again, he held it out by way of greetings. "Call me Sylar."
"That wasn't an answer, Sylar." Peter accepted the spoon full of pudding, swallowing slowly. It wasn't quite as good the second time around, but it by far better than most things he had in a long time.
"Good?" When Peter nodded, Sylar took a small bit for himself. He put more physical action in to enjoying it than strictly necessary. Moaning, he licked the back of his spoon, watching Peter the whole time. "There's plenty more where that came from."
Peter shivered. Now he knew Sylar wasn't talking about pudding. He could handle that.
Hearing Peter's thoughts, Sylar licked his lips in anticipation.
THE END........................