Bonnie and Clyde
Sylar and Claire

Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Author's Note's: PWP. aka sex. Yet another entry for the quickie challenge at matureheroes. My first Sylar/Claire fic. This could eventually be a forerunner to a longer, plot driven fic for these two. I'm really growing to love them. Anyway, on to the fic.

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"Are you sure about this?" Claire hissed as she was backed against the cold, damp cement wall. Quick glances down the alley showed it to be deserted, as it should be at this time of night.

"I've never been this sure about anything in my life," Sylar breathed against her shoulder, his voice thick and low.

She felt a gasp rise in her throat as he mentally unzipped her jeans. His hand ran down her side, slipping under the thin fabric of her panties. Sliding her pants down and letting them fall past her knees to the ground, she stepped out of them and kicked them off to the side. A soft moan escaped as two of his fingers delved into her folds. Fuck, she was tight. She'd never told him…

"You haven't done this before," he said, more a statement than a question.

She nodded in affirmation. He didn't wait for her to speak and instead began pumping his fingers into her, holding his breath for the moment when she would protest. Her head fell back against the concrete, eyes closed as she clenched around him. Much to her dismay, he pulled out, drawing a faint whimper of protest.

"Not yet," Sylar stated, his gruff voice the only sound in the eery silence of the black alley.

Pulling her shirt over her head, he threw it off in the direction of her jeans. He undid the clasp on her bra and it also joined her other discarded clothing. He paused, taking in her form, memorizing every curve of her chest in the moonlit shadows. He had waited so long for the moment when he had her all to himself.

Sylar traced the contour of her breast, noticing the slight shiver caused by his touch. A devilish smirk played on the corners of his mouth when he leaned down and took one of her nipples between his lips. She trembled at the sensation of his stubble brushing against her skin but quickly grew accustomed to the tingling sensation it left behind as he moved on to her other breast.

"God, Gabriel," Claire mumbled into his hair.

"Sylar."

With shaky hands she reached for the clasp on his jeans. Clumsily undoing them, a harder task than it would have been without the pleasurable distraction he was creating, she slowly pulled them down, boxers and all. Having been released from his constrictions, Sylar crammed his body against hers, still nibbling at her rosy nipple. He broke contact only long enough for his shirt to slip between them before he attacked her with a ferocious kiss.

Claire felt him prodding at her stomach. Despite her inexperience she could tell he had wanted this for quite some time. She hesitantly grasped his shaft, feeling her cheeks grow red as she did so.

"Fuck, Claire," he gasped, growing harder between her tiny fingers.

Some of the heat left her cheeks only to rush to another part of her anatomy. He pressed his lips against hers, fiercer this time, teeth scraping against hers as he darted his tongue into her mouth. She moved her hand along his length, only making him smash his body closer against hers. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to have her.

Lifting one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, he positioned himself at her opening and plunged deep within her. She wrinkled her face in pain, having not expected it to be so intense. Recovering from the initial shock, she instinctively jumped up and locked her ankles behind his back. Each of his thrusts grew harder than the last, taking no sympathy for her lack of endurance in this particular activity. He had grown too anxious after over a month of playing cat-and-mouse with her, first for her power and eventually out of pure lust.

She grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling her body against his, supported only by her back against the wall and his hands on her rear. She soon fell into his sporatic rhythm and thrust her hips against each of his advances, her face buried against his neck as she felt some new sensation begin to take control over her body. She was close, he could tell, but he willed her to hold out for just a few more…

It was too late. Only instead of Claire it was Sylar who lost total control. He bellowed her name into the stillness of the deserted alley, the lid of the dumpster a few mere feet from them flying open as his mind spiraled out of control, involuntarily kicking his power into overdrive. As if in a chain reaction, Claire spasmed, her body shaking against his as she came.

Their chests heaving in unison, Claire clung to him. Her heart felt as if it would beat right out of her chest. She was afraid this would happen. That she would fall for the enemy.

But it was too late now; she was already on her knees and hoping, praying, that someday she would mean more to him than a lust-driven quickie in some dank alley the night they decided to become the next Bonnie and Clyde.