Chapter 16: Figure of Speech

Across the wall, in the room adjacent, Claire was idly making paths in the forest of Sylar's chest hairs with her index finger. Here she was, lying in bed beside the sleeping beast and she was only weirded out by the fact she did not feel weirded out. The young beauty mostly found these moments when he was deep asleep and she wasn't, slightly awkward as a result, times when his fine tuned to little Claire Bennet empathy by touch was dormant along with the rest of him, not at the ready to meet her every need, let that be the soap bar, an impassioned assault of her mouth, providing a punchbag for one of her fits, or being left alone with her swirling thoughts.

Two weeks ago, Claire had left the States a virgin, a condition she had kept to because, circumstances or not, there has never been anyone she could give herself fully over to. It would've involved a certain trust, being able to be comfortable with the venture, and last, but not least, clinging to the illusion of herself as daddy's little girl in the bubble, that in reality had burst years ago. But most importantly it was because nobody had so far ignited the need in her for intimacy, beyond the experimental touches and kisses.

The immortal blond gazed down at the virtually naked, gorgeous man she could call hers. Sylar had been trying hard to please her, sway her, charm her, a little too much perhaps. Claire had stopped doubting his feelings for her very soon after their arrival in Europe and as soon as that was clear, so it was the fact that it was her responsibility to keep the hiding monster away from the full moon, perhaps for eternity.

The indestructible girl wasn't happy about it, not at first. Her physical attraction she could easily discount as too nonrational, as everything hormonal normally would be. Destiny, she could not.

It has been once prophesized that saving the cheerleader would save the world and so far, that claim did not seem to mean anything in any form, no matter in what perspective she looked at it. She had never saved the world, directly, or indirectly. Instead, she was still puzzled by the idea of this important person she was supposed to be. But didn't Sylar say he had stopped the asteroid mainly for her? Wouldn't he kick the holy hell out of anything any time that had threatened her or what was important for her? Not to mention, saving the world from the mass killer Sylar could count as well.

Studying her lover, (lover?? When did she start thinking of Sylar that way? And why did it not take much getting used to?), she had to notice how relaxed he seemed, breathing soft and his features calm, so far from his tortured look from the facility and that of the obsessed and focussed appearance of the serial killer's she was starting to forget existed. With the positive effects of the calmness residing within him when she was with him, sleeping seemed to make his face look further seductively vulnerable, accentuated by the pale glow of his skin against his long, dark eyelashes and body hair. Vulnerable, like she had learned he really was, easily thrown by past ghosts and fighting with his biggest enemy, himself. Claire wondered whether it was only that she wanted to see him vulnerable, or was it the truth. If he was the weak one, she did not have to feel afraid. Her brow furrowed when thinking about the possibilities that lay within the darkness of his mind, but her concern focussed more on what the world could bestow upon them, like it did before.

They had been through so much, relatively young and barely scratching the surface of their long, immortal lives in length, and Claire had a feeling the future was only going to get more complicated. It wouldn't matter as much now, not when they had each other. Settling against the smooth skin of his hips, her fingers were wondering automatically and had covered his entire muscled upper body by now. Smiling about her own mischievous nature that she inflicted on an unsuspecting, sleeping man, she couldn't resist the urge to run her palm under the covers and round his dormant cock to test how long did it take till she got some kind of response.

His member felt snug and warm between her fingers and she noted with pleasure that she didn't have to start from the beginning. Perhaps it was her earlier, idle ministrations, or simply her closeness, but he was already half aroused.

She paused, her hand coming to a halt at the base of his penis, caught up in what was before her eyes. Claire could only guess, but her presumption was that not every manhood looked as inviting and perfect, thick and long and with wide veins running along it and she knew it was a kind she loved. With the taunting view, it took some concentration for her to start moving her hand to grasp him and rub the sensitive flesh gently, only wanting to wake his manhood, but not the whole of him. Her gaze did not waver though and a surge of excitement went through her when she saw his cock quivering through its full length as if a wave would've passed along it.

He sighed in his sleep, hardening and strained reflexively to thrust into her touch when suddenly his eyes opened to look at her. She would never know how his gaze could be so deep even when freshly awakened.

"Enough…" He breathed out. It was intended as a command, but the way she messed with him, a moan was all he could manage.

She looked up at him only for a millisecond. "How? Some other body parts of yours seem to think otherwise," she teased.

"Not like that." This time he got himself together so that he could voice it like on order, like what he would expect from himself. He raised himself on an elbow to kiss her pink lips gently before he tasted her. It was the sweet and innocent expression of his love for her, but oh, how intense a tiny motion could be!

"That is not how you make love, little Claire," he turned to press against her and when his hot, hard length pressed insistently against her stomach she knew that her teasing job was done and they were fully in business.

She let out a small moan of appreciation at the hardness pressing into her skin and pushed herself against his erection more. Sylar shook his head with a sinning grin and used his kinetic ability to slide her body a little down under him so that the head of his cock was now pressing to her mound all of a sudden. "This is how you make love. If you want to," he teased.

"Oh, god, yes," she breathed, threading her fingers into his long hair to pull his mouth onto her again. Strong arms enfolded her into their warm protection, tender and needy at the same time. The sweet, soft, wet warmness of his lips came down on her beautiful white breasts, caressing and lightly squeezing both till her entire body responded, making her melt into liquid too. She rocked and arched and melted into him, finding how it increased the pleasure.

Sylar reached down, touching her with the assurance of an experienced couple. Two weeks in a small room spent together was a long time. A little on the rough side, he bit into her skin, while circling her clit with a couple of pressing fingers, making her hover in between pleasure and pain. She wanted it bad, he did need no empathic ability to determine that.

Her thinking became hazy, she found it hard to talk, or even formulate a conscious thought. But before she was lost in the moment, desperate to stop with the messing about and have him inside her, she had finally decided that normalcy was overrated. She could not swim against the current regarding her ability as much as she could not deny her feelings for Sylar. How could she ever imagine herself living with a regular Joe? Repeating the same boring life over and over?

Their lives stretched out before her with superb possibilities for the first time and his "I love you"s between kisses made her feel free. It had never been about forgiveness. It was about love.

The End.

PS. Planning to write a more adult version companion piece about what exactly happened in that room in between J