Self control was something Sylar had always expected of himself. To lose any semblance of it was to become less than whole; to become something bordering on repulsive and disgusting. But such a thing was hard to fight off when the object of your darkest desires was involved. And Veronica was just that. She had been at the heart of his darkest thoughts and wants for over a year.
This time when they kissed there was another element added. Their previous engagements had been heated and demanding but only ever glimpsed violent. Now he was biting her lip to the point that the faint taste of copper had been added to her natural flavor. And that wasn’t enough. He always wanted more and in his heightened state of arousal would not stop until satisfaction was to be had.
The difference in height between the two of them had never been so evident as it was now. Even as she ran her fingertips up his arms she was only able to do so comfortably because he was leaning down. His hands grabbed her hips and lifted her small form up until her feet weren’t touching the floor. To hold her would have been gentle and that was not what his dark impulses demanded.
He all but tackled her into the wall and the collision was followed by a small groan from his lips. Pain wasn’t all that he intended to cause her, far from it. She wasn’t given any time to recover before he was pressing against her, hips grinding forward, trying to create the ever needed friction he needed through the layers of clothing that separated them. Veronica, in truth, was being thrust against the wall with every moment of his hips.