So yeah, my very first piece of fanfiction uploaded here. I did write it a while ago and posted it to fanfiction.net but, hey, I figured it would be a nice and amusing thing to put up here first of all...
Pairings: Sylar/Peter, mentions previous Sylar/Mohinder and Peter/Claude
Warnings: Slash, mentions of sex, my weird sense of humour...
Summary: Peter and Sylar discuss previous relationships
"You know something Peter," said Sylar, after another wonderful evening of power-aided, mind-blowing, electricity-included sex had come to a warm and fuzzy conclusion. "I don't think I've ever loved anyone as much as I love you."
"Why is that?" asked Peter.
"I don't know," came the quiet reply. "I think, I just think it's because you make me feel special."
Peter leant across to kiss his lover tenderly. "Of course you're special."
Sylar laughed softly and squirmed amongst the sheets, evidently more than pleased at being called special. This earned him another kiss from Peter, more forceful this time. It lasted a while. Once the kiss had ended, Sylar pushed himself up onto his elbows in order to get a good look at Peter. The young Petrelli was grinning from ear to ear.
"You want something, I can tell. Go on, what do you want from me?"
Peter looked away. "You said you'd never loved anyone as much as me..."
"Yes," said Sylar, matter-of-factly. "And it's true."
"But have you ever loved anyone else?"
There was a long pause as Sylar worked through the question in his head.
"How do you mean?"
Peter kept his serious face, though he was secretly nursing the desire to hit Sylar's adorable guilty face with a pillow. He made a mental note that he should make Sylar feel guilty more often. I mean, seriously, who can resist an expression like that?
"I mean," said Peter. "Like when we first met properly, in Mohinder's house..." Sylar's guilty expression grew guiltier... "and he was pinned to the ceiling. Some kink."
Sylar suddenly descended into a coughing fit, and Peter just had to shift forwards and cuddle the oh-so-adorable serial killer very tightly until the coughs had subsided.
"You have a sick mind," Sylar growled when he'd finished choking.
"Don't tell me you don't enjoy it though," Peter laughed. "Come on, spill."
"It was nothing," said Sylar. "We just kind of went on a roadtrip."
Peter raised an eyebrow.
"We had seperate motel rooms..." The excuse faded away. It wasn't as if he'd spent much time in that motel room and it didn't take all night to go power-hunting. He'd thought several times since that night about how it had been a waste paying for that second key. Besides, skanky hotels felt a whole lot nicer when you had someone to share them with. Especially when that someone had a particulatly dirty mind...
Sylar realised far to late that Peter had probably just read his mind and now knew everything about that particular incident. In response to this, he fixed Peter with a glare and firmly hoped that he might run into that telepathic cop one day so he could pull this stunt on Peter.
"Naughty big bad wolf," said Peter, cuddling Sylar again. "No killing Matt Parkman. We like Matt Parkman." A pause. "And you are kinky, I have a feeling that tuning forks and being strapped to a chair was a bit more than just conventional torture. Did you really let him top you?"
Sylar growled something incomprehensible which may or may not have translated to "fuck off."
"Would rather fuck you, actually," Peter responded, ruffling Sylar's hair for good measure. The serial killer did not relax. Peter sighed. "I'm not angry about you and Mohinder. I've had other boyfriends too."
"Were they better than me?"
"None of them," said Peter firmly. "You're the most special."
A short while later, feeling even more warm and fuzzy than before, it was decided that they really did need to get some proper sleep.
Peter was just drifting off when he heard a warm silky voice in his ear ask playfully: "Who's Claude?"