[ Sylar wants to hear it all, every hitch of breath and every word meant for him that Peter doesn't want to speak, and perhaps in hopes of being able to coax more of them from Peter's mouth, he tightens the grip of his fingers and strokes, slowly and firmly and determinedly. Lets Peter know that no limits exist here despite the don't that's embedded in his tone, hesitation and encouragement all the same. When he grabs onto what of Sylar his hands can find, seeking escape from his gaze and his own need against his shoulder in response to his touch, Sylar makes a noise, low in his throat, and rocks his hips forward again. He welcomes the single thrust against his hand, and the groan that escapes Peter's lips, muffled slightly into Sylar's neck has him digging his nails into the skin of Peter's hip where his hand still has a steady hold.
The difference between breaking and submitting is small. He wonders which it'll be for Peter - he can tell that he's cracking, and tearing apart is only Sylar's nature; he's pushing, slipping into those cracks and pulling until Peter's in pieces in his hands. Folded over him, the sudden rough dig of Peter's fingers, being pulled forward and against Peter and almost, almost as close as he'll get pulls a gasp of breath and a growl from Sylar, and he wants this as badly as Peter does, isn't sure how much he'd actually care or if he'd pay any mind to it if Peter didn't. His hand uncurls and slips away from Peter's cock, over the bare thigh hooked against him, and there's a pause, brief, where Sylar brushes a knuckle over the back of Peter's leg before his fingers are touching, right there.
There really is no warning before Sylar is pushing with two dry fingers, forcing them inside and opening him, too quick and too deep.
With Peter's face pressed into the crook of his neck, all he has to do is turn his head and pull back just the slightest bit to bring his mouth close to Peter's ear, and he stays there, still for a breath or two, then dips his head lower, far enough to let his teeth press into the edge of Peter's jaw. There's a shivering threat of a bite before he pulls his mouth away. ]
Say it.
[ It's breathed against Peter's cheek, harshly, and it leaves no room for Peter to deny him anything; it's a demand for Peter to swallow the last of his pride. He knows that Peter will, he's giving all of himself, and it's insane and intoxicatingly addictive and he's so ridiculously hot and tight, clenching around Sylar's fingers when he keeps pushing, roughly slides them inside up to the first knuckle. ] I want to hear it.
no subject
The difference between breaking and submitting is small. He wonders which it'll be for Peter - he can tell that he's cracking, and tearing apart is only Sylar's nature; he's pushing, slipping into those cracks and pulling until Peter's in pieces in his hands. Folded over him, the sudden rough dig of Peter's fingers, being pulled forward and against Peter and almost, almost as close as he'll get pulls a gasp of breath and a growl from Sylar, and he wants this as badly as Peter does, isn't sure how much he'd actually care or if he'd pay any mind to it if Peter didn't. His hand uncurls and slips away from Peter's cock, over the bare thigh hooked against him, and there's a pause, brief, where Sylar brushes a knuckle over the back of Peter's leg before his fingers are touching, right there.
There really is no warning before Sylar is pushing with two dry fingers, forcing them inside and opening him, too quick and too deep.
With Peter's face pressed into the crook of his neck, all he has to do is turn his head and pull back just the slightest bit to bring his mouth close to Peter's ear, and he stays there, still for a breath or two, then dips his head lower, far enough to let his teeth press into the edge of Peter's jaw. There's a shivering threat of a bite before he pulls his mouth away. ]
Say it.
[ It's breathed against Peter's cheek, harshly, and it leaves no room for Peter to deny him anything; it's a demand for Peter to swallow the last of his pride. He knows that Peter will, he's giving all of himself, and it's insane and intoxicatingly addictive and he's so ridiculously hot and tight, clenching around Sylar's fingers when he keeps pushing, roughly slides them inside up to the first knuckle. ] I want to hear it.