Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in t_31_bang, @ 2008-12-12 04:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | entry, heroes, rated: explicit |
Fic: Owning You 1/1 Heroes
My Round 7 Entry.
Title: Little Shop Of Horrors.
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Characters: Peter, Gabriel, Nathan, Angela, Chandra.
Words: 2452
Fandom: Heroes
Prompt: Peter meets a predator in a watch shop.
Pairing: slight Peter/Sylar
Rating: Adult
Series: Prequel to "Coming Home To Roses."
Warnings: Language
Summary: When Peter met Sylar.
Author's Note: Was written in parts for an advent calendar.
______________________________________
March 29th, 2006 - Wednesday.
The outside of the shop looked like just any ordinary curiosity from the forties. There was even an honest-to-god neon sign hanging over the front door. Whatever Peter had been expecting when he stepped out of the cab, this wasn't it.
High end watch shops usually catered to such a posh crowd that they could afford to, well, they could afford to look like something more impressive. Not that this shop wouldn't stand out. Raising his eyebrows, Peter knew how much it would have stuck out in the places his family shopped.
After closing the cab door, Peter glanced at the two front windows. He was surprised not to find a pawn brokers sign. It was just as advertised, right down to the clocks in the front window.
Hopefully, it would have something that would impress Nathan.
"Here's hoping." Blowing in to his hands, he mentally cursed the fact that he had left his gloves at home. The world had looked so warm outside his window. Then again, he lived on the fourth floor, what the hell did he know?
Peter could kick himself. He realized he was still standing there like an idiot instead of going in. His ears burning, he chuckled to himself and reached out to pull the door open. It took him a second to place the sound of sleigh bells.
He felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his head from staring at them.
Inside, the shop was even more out of the past. From the solid wood floors, to the glass display cases. He hadn't seen that kinda glass on a door since his grandfather's study. He was pretty sure they didn't make it any more.
One thing that hit him as the door closed behind him, was the sound of ticking. It was every where and no where at the same time. For the amount of clocks visible, there was a surprising lack of mechanical noise. It was almost a completely in the background.
Peter supposed that if he had to work in this place, it was either that or madness. Quiet it was then.
Adjusting his jacket and Linus stocking cap, he glanced about the shop. So far, nothing really caught his attention. He could tell some of the watches were really old. The mantle clock on the shelf above the display case was mid-nineteenth century, definitely.
These were all pretty mundane for someone who ran an impressive watch shop. For here, it might probably be standard. One thing it had going for it, though, the shop felt comfortable.
'Gray's Clockworks', the sign had said. Probably been in the same family for over fifty years.
"Can I help you?"
Peter spun so fast he wobbled. When his eyes landed upon the source, he nearly screamed. The only thing that prevented him from releasing an unmanly squeak was the fact that all the breath had left his body.
Poking above the nearest display case, a creature straight out of a horror movie observed him. Then the man stood the rest of the way up and removed his eyeglasses. Cocking his head to the side, he stared at Peter with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't scare you, did I?"
"As a matter of fact, no." Trying to appear calm, Peter dragged a hand over his hair, pulling off his stocking cap. Realizing what he had been wearing, he quickly balled it up and stuffed in it in the pocket of his jacket. "You wear those monster show glasses all the time?"
The shop owner grinned. "Only when I'm fixing something." Setting said glasses aside, he reached in to the breast pocket of his sweater and pulled out a black rimmed pair. As he slipped them on, he licked his lips. "Is that better? I know it is for me."
Peter nodded. So long as the other guy didn't try to dissect him, or start talking about his mother, things would be cool. He gave a nervous chuckle as he forced himself to look away. "I need a watch."
"There are many here." His voice was soft spoken, with a low pitch. If he had been anywhere else, no one would have heard him.
That did nothing to settle Peter's nerves. This was fast getting out of hand and it was all his fault. Looking about the shop, he continued his scan for the perfect one. "I'm looking for something unique, something old. It's for my brother. His birthday is Friday, and I've been putting off getting him something. I just can't seem to settle on anything, you know?"
"I understand." The voice came from behind Peter.
It took all his will power not to jump. As it was, Peter's spine went rigid. "You got anything like that?"
"There is much I have that matches your desires." The watch maker's voice dropped lower as he circled round Peter. Coming to stand a foot away, he held out a hand to gesture further in the shop. "My most valuable pieces are deeper within."
Peter hesitated. He didn't know why. Looking up, he found the man staring at him over the rim of his glasses, observing him. Those warm, brown eyes unsettled him.
Swallowing, Peter caught himself mid action. What the hell was he doing? He was acting like this man had just offered him an apple and cackled like an old crone. Rolling his eyes, he felt his cheeks begin to heat up.
Now that he thought about it, Peter began to realize just how silly he had been behaving from the moment he stepped through the front door. More at ease, he straightened his posture and met the man's eyes directly. "My brother likes simple, but boldly drawn details."
The man frowned. "I think I have just the piece." When it seemed Peter wouldn't take the lead, the man turned and started off towards the back of the store.
Watching him go, Peter realized the back was actually a workshop. Also, that despite baggy sweaters and over sized clothes, the watch maker had a nice ass. Skin flaming for another reason, he cleared his throat and made to follow.
His footsteps quickly brought him to the sales counter, as made obvious by the cash register sitting in the corner.
The man was on the other side, fishing through an engraved wooden cabinet. The front panels slid to the side instead of opening up like doors. After picking through a stack of ten boxes, the man grabbed a silver embossed one. "Here we are."
Leaving the cabinet open, he turned to face Peter. He opened up the box, the hinge giving a tiny whine as it worked. "Mid-thirties. Ivory face with ebony inlaid numbers. The hands are carved silver to match the hand beaten casing. I assure you, the mechanics inside are solid gold, finely crafted and well treated."
Reaching up, Peter slid his fingers around the time piece. It was visually stunning, much better than any he had seen yet. Still, there was something off about it that made him think Nathan wouldn't quite approve. Releasing it, he shook his head. "It's beautiful, but not exactly it."
When he looked up, he found the man staring at him again. He had been expecting to see something like disapproval or annoyance.
The watch maker seemed almost entranced. His head was tilted, like he was listening to something. He blinked, then the expression was gone. Closing the box, he nodded. "Of course. Too simple." Turning back to the cabinet, he slid the box quickly back inside with the others. He paused. "Tell me, does your brother like puzzles?"
"No, he hates them." He had burned the last one Peter had tried to get him to do with him, in fact. The memory of all those pieces roasting in the fireplace made Peter chuckle. "He doesn't even read mystery novels, always skipped to the end."
"I thought so." Closing the cabinet, the man knelt down and scooted over to the next cabinet. Reaching in to his pocket, he pulled out a set of steel keys. After he found the right one, he stuck it in the lock. "This time, I promise it will be what your brother likes."
Peter was beginning to have his doubts, but he wasn't going to say that. The man just didn't have the stock. No one did, obviously. He was just going to have to accept that.
"Found it!" Pulling out a wooden box, the man had to tug on it three times to pry it out of the stack of them. As soon as the box was out, those on top dropped down with a crack. Standing, the man spun and held up the box for Peter to see. "You'll never doubt me again after this."
"Promise?" He had meant to be teasing, but the intense expression on the watch maker's face made Peter's heart speed up. "Let's see what you've got."
"Patience is a virtue few seem to be able to afford." Stroking the box, the man ran his thumb over the outer catch. He hissed when it released. "I assure you, some things are well worth the wait. Anticipation leading to greater rewards make them all that much sweeter when we achieve them."
Some how, Peter didn't think the man was speaking about the watches any more. He couldn't bring himself to look up at him, though. His face grew too hot to hide his thoughts. "Come on, already."
His laugh was breathy and deep, sending a shiver down Peter's spine. He knew the effect he was having on Peter and was clearly enjoying. "Ready?"
Swallowing, Peter's tongue felt too thick to speak, so he nodded instead.
The wooden box opened. Inside was a stunningly embossed pocket watch. The outer cover was covered in a sprawling natural scene of trees and a pond done in gold leaf over a silver case.
Peter reached up, almost hesitant. Catching the man's nod out of the corner of his eye, Peter cupped the watch between his hands. He gently squeezed the button on the case. The case popped open to expose an enamel painting inside of the same scene on the outside.
He let his eyes rove over the face. Through a thick, polished glass, he saw a white face with silver scrawling. The numbers were made of tiny tiles with black etching. Three smaller dials told the day, month, and phase of the moon, all in silver.
While he watched it, something clicked inside Peter's head. He instinctively knew this was the piece. "How much?"
"Two thousand, cash. An extra fifty if you wish it wrapped and delivered." His breath washed over Peter's cheeks. "I guarantee satisfactory service and a ten year limited warranty."
Entranced with the watch, Peter could only nod. "It's exquisite."
"Yes, you are." The words were whispered so low, that the watch maker barely even heard himself. Realizing he had said it aloud, though, he cleared his throat. "Shall I wrap it up for you?"
"Yeah." Peter nodded. It took a monumental effort, but he forced himself to release it. His fingers still tingled from just holding it. The craftsmanship on it was beyond divine. Still in a daze, he reached for his wallet. "How much was that?"
"Two thousand dollars, cash American. Another fifty if you want it delivered." The man seemed pleased with Peter's reaction. He was almost vibrating with pleasure as he closed the box. "Will that be all?"
"Yeah and yes." Nodding dumbly again, Peter sucked in a quick breath. After pulling out the wad of hundreds, he quickly counted them. He had to start over three times before he got the amount correct. "I've got the card for the address."
A warm hand wrapped around his holding the money. Looking up, Peter found those dark eyes watching him with more than a friendly intent. The expression on his face sent a cold chill through Peter.
His brow lowered, a smile slowly spread over the watch maker's face. "We'll have plenty of time look for it later."
Peter trembled. The only sound was his pulse pumping blood through his ears. "What's your name."
"Call me Sylar."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March 31st, 2006 - Friday.
As he watched the inner door of the mansion open, Gabriel bounced on the balls of his feet. Smiling, he held up the silver wrapped box and a clipboard for the woman to see.
Her hair properly coifed, she had the air of power about her. Her expression made it clear she thought answering the door was beneath her. Still, she unlocked and opened the outer door. "Yes?"
"I have a package for Nathan Petrelli from one Peter Petrelli." Gabriel hefted the box again. "Can you get him so he can sign for it?"
"Nathan is busy. I am his mother, give it to me." She held out her hands for the pen and clipboard.
"I am sorry, ma'am, but this is a security issue. I am not allowed to give this to just anyone." Inside, Gabriel felt a twinge of victory as her lips thinned. He wanted to say something else, but settled on smiling. "If he is unavailable, I can come back."
"Ma, what is it? Has Peter gotten in some trouble again?" Appearing around the door, a taller man in an expensive suit put his hand on the woman's shoulder. He glanced to Gabriel and his expression changed from annoyed to bored. "Can we help you?"
"Package for you, sir." Gabriel stepped forward, clipboard and package ready. "From your brother."
Nathan took the clipboard and quickly scrawled his name with the attached pen. That done, he thrust it back to the Gabriel, and snatched the package. With it in hand, he pulled his mother back and slammed the outer door.
Gabriel wasn't surprised. He knew by now what kind of people he was dealing with. Putting the clipboard under his arm, he turned up his collar to the sleet and rain. Peter was much better off with him.
Whistling to himself, he strolled out through the iron gate and on to the sidewalk. Despite the nasty weather, he was having a pleasant day. He had a warm home, a good job, his healthy, and that dark lovely currently locked in his bedroom.
Things couldn't get any better.
Walking the curb, he hailed a cab. As he climbed inside, he shook the moisture from his clothes. "Down town..." Peering through the plexi divider, he saw the man's name on the license. "Down town, Mr. Suresh."
"Any particular place?" Chandra glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Seeing his passenger, he began to chuckle. "Lovely weather we are having, Mister?"
"Gray, Gabriel Gray."
THE END................................
Title: Coming Home To Roses
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Characters: Peter, Angela, Sylar
Words: 2301
Sequel: Sequel to 'Little Shop of Horrors'
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Peter
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Mention of Non-con, Dominance/Submission, Sexual Acts.
Summary: 6 Months Ago, Peter went missing, no one noticed. He's back now.
Author's Note: There is no bondage or physical restraining, it is all mental or in the past.
______________________________________
'You suffered so beautifully.'
Four words that haunted his thoughts every waking moment of the day. Like the phantom caress of chapped lips against his skin, they left their mark scorched in his psyche. There wasn't a place he ever felt safe any more.
Every time Peter turned around, he expected to be back in that prison. Paper had covered the walls, but the windows were reinforced and security locked shut. He had free access to most of the apartment, but the front room was off limits.
The one time he had been bold enough to try... Peter shivered.
His mother refused to talk about it. She pretended that nothing had ever happened. That if she ignored it long enough, he'd stop waking up, crying out for her in the middle of the night. After all, it wasn't her fault, so why should she care?
No one did, and that was the God's honest truth.
Shivering again, Peter pulled the hood of his sweater up to block out the wind from the ceiling fan. He was always cold here. The apartment had been a shade of warm just this side of hell. It was nice and sunny out, but he daren't open a curtain.
They were waiting outside, but it wasn't the reason he remained hidden. Sure, the snapping of their cameras, flashing of lights irritated his eyes. That's why he wore the sunglasses even inside. Well, that and he knew it made Nathan angry.
Then again, what didn't these days? The man seemed to be stuck in brood mode. His dentist had even given him a mouth guard to keep his perfect veneers intact during the grind cycle.
His snicker quickly petered out. It wasn't really funny, really kinda sad and pathetic really. Still, the fact he could still smile had to mean something. There were days he wasn't even sure he felt human any more.
Not like that mattered. There were so many unfeeling monsters out there in the world, what was one more?
He would have liked to enjoy being free, after six months of being locked away. There should have been a moment or two of relief at the very least, logic dictated. Yet, nothing had come to him. Shock and denial, the shrinks had called it.
Peter had another word for it. Reality.
That something like being held for six months by a deranged lunatic for his sexual gratification and no one notice it could happen, pretty much put the whole world in a new perspective.
Looking at his gloved hand, Peter wondered how much the leather had cost. Probably more than his captor had seen in a year. Nothing but the best for covering up their dirty little secret. Had to hide the fact that they never even bothered looking for him.
Before, he had been the one who spurned their offers of opportunity, at least as they saw it. Peter knew he had been tossing off the chains of his family's legacy before they could tie him down. And for it, they had punished him.
When he disappeared, it had been just another of his silly tangents, he would show up some day. A week had turned in to six months and before the knew it, scandal and disgrace had struck the Petrelli family yet again.
The press seemed to love the fact that not even a missing person's report had been filed. Peter secretly kept every article he could get his gloved fingers on. He thrived on the smearing of their good name, not that the fine people of New York needed much help to see the shit stains on the wall.
If that exterminator hadn't gotten a little carried away, then he probably never would have been discovered. Sitting there on the couch, his knees drawn up to his chest, Peter wasn't sure he was grateful to the man. But, he had been doing his job. It wasn't his fault the delusion Peter had been under about his family was so easily wiped away.
The clacking of expensive heels on marble floor signaled the arrival of the head of their disgusting little family. Her face carefully done, hair artfully arranged in a severe bun, Angela came around the couch. She stopped several feet away, her hands clutched, and stared at him.
Peter ignored her. She wasn't important. Staring off in to nothing, now that was worth his time.
Sighing, Angela glanced about the front living room. Her nose twitched with the distaste at the stale air. "You will be going out today."
"Fine." He still had an apartment. He could go there so he could sit and stare at nothing. At least he wouldn't be bothered by her. The heat could even be turned up to a decent temperature.
The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to Peter. Pushing off from the couch, he slowly stretched out the kinks from his muscles. He was a little taller than his mother, but he still felt short.
He had been taller than Peter. It didn't matter by how much, he just seemed to always be bigger. The fact Peter's eyes had always been down cast only added to that image.
After six months, it had become second nature. Funny, Peter never felt the need to continue that around his family. He wondered why.
Oh well.
Shaking the sleeves of his sweater down to cover his entire arms, Peter adjusted the hood so he could see where he was going. Pulling up the headphones from around his neck, he put them on his ears. He saw Angela open her mouth to speak, and turned on the mp3 player to drown her out.
She narrowed her eyes, not quite glaring at him. Mouth thinning out in to a severe line, she took a step towards him. There was something she wanted him to do.
That didn't matter. None of her bullshit did.
Shivering, he glared up at the ceiling fan. It was always too cold in this fucking mansion. Turning, he headed for the front door. He knew she would be trying to stop him, but he was faster.
The door was thrown open before she could reach it. Stomping his way down the steps, Peter ignored the sudden surge of media towards him. The guards on the front gates would keep them back until a cab could be called. Raising his hand, he whistled at the passing yellow cars.
One broke off from the pack and came towards the curb.
The press tried to block his path, but then the guards decided to get rough.
Peter caught sight of several people going down, their expensive equipment shattering when it hit, and he smiled. Some times, life was indeed good. See, he wasn't in shock!
The cab was filthy and smelled like a back alley, but it was his ticket to freedom as he climbed in. After yelling the instructions, Peter slipped a fifty between the plexi divider for the driver. Then he slammed the door and turned up the music until it made his ears vibrate.
Ah, the joys of having a tech on his family's payroll who could override the safeties on electronics.
He caught the cabbie eyeing him in the rear-view mirror, checking him out. Peter gave him a toothy grin, but kept it at that.
As the cab pulled away from the curb, the light above them started to grow dim. It took Peter a full minute to remember that there was supposed to be an eclipse today. Rolling his eyes, he decided to get in some practice before the apartment.
The cabbie's mouth was moving and he was glancing back in the mirror, but Peter didn't hear him.
Peter was surprised, the man should have been able to hear the lead singer of whatever band he was listening to. All he knew was that it had an awesome baseline and it was loud. After all, that is all that mattered in a good song any more.
After much stop and go, the cab eventually parked next to a curb in a decidedly less appealing block. Turning, the cabbie stared at Peter over his shoulder. He said something else, but again, Peter didn't hear.
He was home.
Smiling, Peter shrugged and reached for the door handle. The moment the door flew open, the fake smile slipped from his face. Climbing out, he found that there were reporters here too, though mainly of the paparazzi variety. There were two video cameras with station numbers on them, but the talking heads were no where to be seen.
Probably free lancing.
Just to be pissy, and stick it to his family one more time, he flipped them off. It made him feel better, so he did it a couple more times before he was in his building. Thankfully, his brother had talked the owners in to adding some security.
Ah, the joys of being related to the mob.
Walking on the elevator brought a sense of completion. His journey was almost over, then he could rest. Or at least stare off in peace.
The ding of the lift brought him back to himself, just in time for the doors to open.
Stepping off, he turned right and headed for his apartment. Even from that distance, he could make out a legal summons tacked to it. Yet another threat from his brother for not cooperating. Not that they would ever make good on it, the D.A. wanted to get reelected in six weeks.
Sighing, he ignored it and put the key in each lock. There were five of them, enough that used to make him feel safe. That was a thing of the past, much like his sense of civic duty and his belief in the good in humanity. Three things he could live without.
Pushing in the front door, he was hit with a wave of heat. The apartment had been made ready. He sighed with pleasure and closed the door behind him. Before it occurred to him to question how, a stillness drew his attention.
"Hello, Peter." The voice was low, a seductive purr with a hint of anger.
Peter's eyes dropped to the floor automatically. Spinning slowly, he found a familiar pair of black boots not five feet away. A shiver ran down his spine. "I didn't run."
"I know." Taking a single step forward, the boots made no noise. "You have no idea how disappointed I was to come home and find the place crawling with police. It took me almost a week to find out what happened." Raising a pale hand, he snapped his fingers.
Peter was at the man's side in two quick strides. Falling to his knees, he pressed his forehead to the man's buckle. Warmth, firm flesh pressed against his cheek through black material.
He exhaled in relief, relaxing tense muscles when a comforting hand stroke through his short hair. A part of his mind twisted in revulsion over his reaction, but he didn't care. This felt too right. "They forced me to cut it. I know how much you liked it long."
"I forgive you, Peter." He pressed his hips forward until his erection was rubbing fully along the kneeling man's face. "I apologize for taking so long, I know you were lost without me. It will not happen again, I have taken care of the problem."
"Thank you." It wasn't his problem, but Peter knew the other enjoyed being appreciated. Turning his face, he pressed a kiss to the head of the cock. "Would you like me to provide you with relief?"
"Not yet." His voice held an angry growl, more pronounced this time. "There are other matters that need attending." His hand stilled in Peter's hair. Slowly, he reached down to curl a finger under the kneeling man's chin, forcing him to look up. "I have a surprise for you."
A thrill of excitement shot down Peter's spine. "You got her?"
His smile was brilliant and breath taking, flashing white teeth through thick lips. "Get me an atlas."
Peter hurriedly stood up and jogged to a book case across the room. Grabbing a leather bound volume off the shelf, he turned and ran back to kneel at the man's side. He held it up, presenting it to him.
Opening the book to New York City, the man closed his eyes. "Nathan Petrelli." Almost instantly, his finger fell to a dead point on the map. Opening his eyes, he smiled down upon the map and Peter. "He is in his campaign office right now."
Sighing with pleasure, Peter followed the length of finger to the point he was pointing at. Sure enough, he was pointing to the Dexler Building. Peter couldn't hold back the giddy giggle.
Sucking in a deep breath, he returned his hand to Peter's hair. He scrubbed his fingers through the locks, massaging the kneeling man's scalp. The hard line of his cock strained against the confining material of his jeans. "I am ready now, Peter."
His eyes half closing, Peter turned to press another kiss to the bulging material. He closed the atlas and set it down the floor beside them. That taken care of, he quickly set to work on the buckle and buttons preventing him from carrying out his task.
Standing above Peter, the man's eyes half closed. He reached out to grasp Peter's head, hissing when those sinfully beautiful lips enveloped him. The pleasure caused his breath to hitch and he arched in to Peter's grip. "So good, just wonderful."
Peter hummed around the cock in his mouth. Hearing the man moan made him smile. Everything would be all right now. Sylar would protect and take care of him once more.
He was finally safe.
THE END...............................
Title: Epilogue
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Characters: Mohinder, Peter, Nathan!Sylar.
Words: 786
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Peter, implied Mohinder/Sylar/Peter.
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Sexual Situations.
Summary: 5 years later, President Petrelli discusses matters with his advisors.
Author's Note: Yes, a degenerate, indeed.
______________________________________
Adjusting his glasses, Mohinder tried to keep his eyes directly upon the president. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't keep them from glancing back to the man's brother. There was something special about Peter, something that dragged the attention, kicking and screaming, to him.
Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath to compose himself. He allowed himself one last peek to where the man lounged against the desk. The black sweater clung to his every curve, stretched taut over his shoulders and flat stomach. A slight bulge swelled around his neck, but the sweater hid whatever caused it.
Mohinder's fingers itched, longing to find out what that was.
Closing his eyes, he shook himself. He had to get a hold of himself, and not in the way he wanted to at that moment. "There is a five percent chance that we may be able to reverse these changes."
"Yesterday, you said ten. What's changed." Scowling at the doctor, Nathan uncrossed his arms and rose from where he had been leaning against the desk.
"That was a hopeful estimate." Letting himself relax, Mohinder decided it was best to just get it out in the open. "The fact of the matter is, Mr. President, there is almost no chance of ever reversing these mutations. The effects are done on a molecular level."
"So, what you're saying is that we can expect these people to keep appearing and there is nothing we can do about it?" There was a hard edge to Nathan's voice, belying his soft tone.
As much as it killed him to admit, Mohinder nodded. "Abilities will keep manifesting among the general population at random. The best we can hope to do is minimize the damage done by the more aggressive ones."
"And hope they don't blow us up in the mean time." Snorting, Peter shook his head. When he noticed Nathan looking his way, he dropped his eyes and straightened his posture.
Mohinder noted this, but made no physical acknowledgment. He knew they had unresolved problems that destroyed anyone caught in the middle. This made it imperative that he steered clear of talking to Peter in the older man's presence.
Jaw tightening, Nathan turned his full attention on Peter. "Thank you, Dr. Suresh. If anything new should come up, be sure to keep me informed."
Watching the younger man pale, Mohinder sighed. There was going to be hours of screaming and yelling in the Oval Office yet again. "Very well." That left nothing else for him to do. Turning, he started for the door.
"Good bye, Mohinder."
Peter's words made Mohinder's back straighten. He kept on walking, ignoring the call.
As the doors shut behind Mohinder, Nathan turned to look at Peter. The moment their eyes met, their color shifted to a warm brown and narrowed in anger. "Why do you act this way?"
Peter shrugged. "He likes us." Pushing off from the desk, he started towards Sylar. As he drew near, he dropped to his knees.
Gritting his teeth, Sylar brought his hand up to tangle in Peter's hair. "You really do like being naughty, Peter. It's no wonder your brother was so glad to be rid of you." He snagged his fingers in the dark locks, jerking the younger man's head up to look at him. "I don't like being teased."
Opening his mouth, Peter nodded. He began to mouth the front of Sylar's dress slacks, nipping at the outer edges of his erection.
Sylar's hand tightened as he swallowed. "This isn't over, Peter, I won't be distracted."
Peter began to growl in the back of his throat. Moaning, he nuzzled Sylar's zipper.
Pulling the younger man's head back, he made sure Peter was looking at him. The sight of Peter's dark lips and glazed expression made his jaw tighten. Still, he leaned down to hiss in Peter's face. "You are mine!"
"Always." Nodding, Peter shook his hair free of Sylar's grip. He attacked Sylar's tenting pants with renewed vigor.
Groaning, Sylar closed his eyes. The moment his zipper was lowered, a thrill of excitement went up his spine. In the next heartbeat, he gasped as the slick softness of Peter's mouth enveloped him.
~~~
Outside the door, Mohinder kept his ear pressed against the keyhole. It took a monumental effort to keep his own groans from being heard by the secretary down the hall. He knew it was disgusting and very wrong, but couldn't stop himself. No matter how many times he told himself this would be the last time, he knew it wouldn't.
Hearing the man within groan out his release set his own hand to jerking faster. Biting his tie, Mohinder came with a deep moan, shaking against the door.
THE END...........................