Rated Mature for violence, language, and sex. Contains rape
Fandom/Characters: Heroes; Sylar/Claire, Molly Walker
Note: BINGO! [Also, the fact I had to write seven pieces to get a bingo is exactly why series are discouraged!]
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Her hand curled possessively around the tip of the plush feather comforter that covered most of her stretched out, golden body. Earlier, as Sylar had stroked her hair and kissed her lips, she'd fallen into a quiet, exhausted sleep that left her dead to the world. Maybe he'd done too much; maybe he'd gone too far. She'd come and come, around his fingers and tongue and cock, until tears streamed down in face in silent begging. Then she'd come one more time with him deep inside of her. Now, four hours later, she still lay sleeping and he'd awoken to a hard dick that did nothing about going away when he tried to piss it out. Her warmth and tightness felt like a craving, every bit as intense as the hunger that had driven him to take and take and take.
He'd never been good at resisting his own temptations.
“Claire?” His finger trailed down the smooth, unbroken line of her exposed neck and he kissed the path his finger made. “Babydoll? Princess?” Still she didn't stir, her breathing coming in and out at a steady, slow rhythm. He'd worn her out. How cute. “If you don't want to fuck right now, just speak up,” he teased but, of course, she didn't answer and he reached down to strip off the sleep pants he'd tugged on in the chilly night for his trip to the bathroom.
The elastic of the pants slid over his hips and caught on his cock before he pulled it free and then he bounced freely, slapping up against his stomach in his hardness. She did this to him. She made him crazy for her. But he didn't really mind going crazy if it felt like this.
Once he'd kicked off the pants, baring himself, he bared her as well, just pulled the comforter right off to the end of the bed. In the queen size bed she laid sprawled out but still barely taking a corner, her tiny form petite and almost childish if not for the round, pink tipped breasts that broke up the smooth line of her torso. Because he could take his time, he did. First he ran a hand beneath the loose wife beater she'd worn to bed, her skin smooth, hot, and dark underneath his paler tones – even in the dim room he could make out the difference. As his fingers brushed against her right nipple and then her left, she still didn't begin to stir. The sigh she made encouraged the twitching in his cock and he sat up enough to stare down at her and let his other hand join the action.
Her pants came off just as easily as his had, her now denuded pussy gleaming smooth in the moonlight that splashed a line of illumination over her body. Like the rest of her her cunt was petite, the lips tucked in shyly until she became aroused and exposed herself. So, he worked on that next. He nudged a dream, a vision really, at her of what he'd started doing to her body: examining it, stripping it, touching it, and tasting it. At least he tasted it as he bent down and licked a wet line over her stomach. When he moved he saw it'd worked. Pussy juice had been pushed out of most intimate spot and left her just the slightest bit wet for him.
He could have done more but he didn't want to. He didn't want to ruin the sensation of her muscles twitching and straining around him to accommodate his size or the invasion that she'd feel when she woke up and discovered him above and inside her at the same time, taking what he wanted from her body.
A slow smirk crossed over his face. “Good girl.”
It seemed more perverse to leave the wife beater on so he did, pushing it up around her ribs and pinching her nipples through it. She gasped but didn't wake. He might have nudged a little suggestion to let the dream play out before she woke at the same time. No one could accuse him of a lack of planning.
Fisting his cock a couple of times, he parted her legs gently before changing her mind. Use of his telekinesis made the next part easy and he flipped her over onto her stomach, then yanked her up on her elbows and knees like a puppet. Her magnificent ass pushed out at him and he bit each tight curve one at a time. His teeth left bite marks for only seconds before they healed but he enjoyed that second. He enjoyed the piercing on her back more. After all, that showed his real ownership of her.
That's what he'd focus on now. He drew her messy, sweat-dried hair out of her face and twisted it in one hand while the other braced itself next to her left elbow. When he bent down his cock rubbed against her ass; when he lowered his head, his lips were at her ears. “You're mine.” The suggestibility serum should still be coursing through as aftershocks in her system and he added a little mental nudge for emphasis. “You belong to me. You belong with me. You're mine and you will be my wife.” With each short sentence he masturbated himself between her ass and his hand but finally he had to be inside of her. Because of her small size he adjusted himself down and spread her legs a little further before lining up with her entrance. “You're mine and you'll be the mother of my children,” he whispered to her as he slid home.
The stroke didn't come easy, without resistance or any other way. No, it squeezed him almost painfully, her body trying to reject the intrusion in her unprepared state but he could force her muscles to relax and she did. For a long moment he stared down at himself with half his length buried inside of her and the other half waiting to fill her, then he pushed in.
She parted for him like the obedient woman she was becoming and gasped as fluid gushed with the unexpected sensation. Soon, just soon, she'd wake up, but he wanted to do one more thing first.
“I can give you pleasure,” he told her, letting his mind tickle her clit as she drenched him with precome. “And I can give you pain.” Without stopping the invisible ministrations, his fingers let go of her hair and threaded through the ribbon of the piercings, yanking it hard. “Now, wake up!”
Claire let out a startled cry as he drew her harshly from sleep, bucking back into him and then away before she completely registered her situation. He tugged roughly again, the leather ribbon digging into the undersides of his knuckles bitterly, and she gasped again. “Sylar?”
“Shh,” he teased. “Be quiet and brace yourself.”
His dick slid out of her much smoother now, all dryness gone in a wave of arousal that burned deep in her stomach despite her confusion. Her mind might not recognize him as her owner yet but her body had begun too, too confused by sensation and new pains and pleasures not to. But he wanted to make the message clear; he needed to make it unmistakable. His grip on her piercing became almost painfully tight as he used it as a bridle, directing her body to still the same way her mouth had until only the tip of him remained inside. Then, without warning, without reluctance, he thrust all the way inside of her again. Claire's muscles clenched in surprise, driving the heat straight through his spine and he bit hard on her shoulder as she gasped. Still clenched tight by her hot cunt, he yanked himself back out until only the tip remained, and shoved back in. The whole motion might have taken one second and her body jumped to his rhythm as he pinched her clit.
Now the pace was set at a brutal, unforgiving riding of a half-tamed girl who still had wild eyes. He pumped in and out, yanked her body back onto him and then pushed her away, reached up under her to fondle a tit roughly every time he bottomed out in her. He masturbated himself inside of her, enjoying the heat and the response from her sensation-soaked body. He masturbated her too, using the TK to rub at her clit and fake the feeling of a finger being pushed up inside her alongside his cock. Soon they both found the edge and he grinned.
The skin of her neck was soft under his lips and unrelenting under his teeth but as he left the love mark he ordered, “Tell me what you are.”
Arousal fogged her brain but she knew the precise moment the phantom touches left her, leaving her clit swollen and exposed, the charm dangling from it at the force of his thrusts but not enough to get her off. “Sylar,” she ground out, almost biting off the word, outraged at his denial.
“No. Tell me what you are and then I'll let you come – and only then. Otherwise I'll spill inside of you and stay there, binding your hands to the headboard to make sure you can't touch yourself.”
She growled in frustration and he laid a soft kiss over the healed mark. “I'm your good girl. Now make me come!”
“You're mine. You'll always be mine.” He'd never broken his rhythm and the arousal pulsed in the base of his spine now, threatening to spill over any second as his stimulus to her clit took on a frantic note. “I will never, ever let you go.” And he came, shuddering inside of her three or four times. Just as he finished Claire's peak crashed over her and she buried her face in the bed sheets to muffle her scream as her back arched under his hold and she came. “Good girl.”
Her face flushed as red as her swollen cunt when she peeked out from her hiding place and shook her hair down around her jaw to block his view. Clever but not clever enough as he slipped out of her and turned her over with his hands. One hand held her down by her chest while the other reached for his pillow; when he shoved it under her hips she looked at him in confusion and curiosity. It might just be an old wives' tale but if this position meant she had a better chance of getting pregnant, he'd take it.
“Stay still for twenty minutes,” he ordered roughly, his voice still low from orgasm as he collapsed next to her. “I want to see how obedient you can be. No squirming, no trying to move, just stay perfectly still and relax. If you can do this, I'll give you a reward.”
Claire tried not to look too curious or hopeful about the reward but her emotions betrayed her even as she resigned herself to the task she mentally described as dumb and strange, adding commentary about how it wasn't the strangest thing he'd done in the back of her mind. After reaching over to the side table for a tissue, Sylar flipped onto his other side to face her, take in her tilted body and the tempting lift of her hips and rub her flat stomach in hopeful desire that soon they'd be starting their own family. Not that he wasn't having fun with Molly but he had to train so many bad habits out of her.
As he cleaned himself off, he pushed all the complicated thoughts and planning out of his mind and focused merely on living this moment with his princess laid out next to him, her mind cloudy with the last edges of sleep, arousal, and need. Oh, he'd break her alright. And once he did, he'd build her back up into something perfect.
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Comments welcomed in all forms. (Please do!) Feedback/concrit cherished. All typos mine (and probably hilariously inappropriate).
Additional parts: One ; Two ; Three ; X ; Four ; X ; Five.