Passion's Power

Peter stepped away from the bed, before he telekinetically lifted Sylar into the air and threw his form down upon it.

“You look so ridiculous in that company uniform my mother dressed you in,” Peter hissed with resentment, “So why don’t you take it off for me?”

Before Sylar could even attempt to retaliate in such a situation, the situation only got worse when Peter took a seat on the bed next to Sylar. Peter brushed a set of fingers down Sylar’s face, causing Sylar to writhe and moan all at once and the sensation Peter’s mere touch was causing him to feel.

Peter visibly licked his lips, the sheer sight of Sylar in such a vulnerable state making him beam with an unmasked sense of inner delight.

He then leaned downwards over Sylar’s body, a scathing expression on his face. Sylar almost couldn’t believe it. Peter had always... always seemed so innocent, so innocuous, even when Sylar had faced him that dismal night at Kirby Plaza. But now... it was like Peter wasn’t even Peter anymore. It was like he was... someone else, or something else.

An angel that had fallen; fallen into a deep, dark abyss that he couldn’t escape from. It didn’t take any visible lacerations to see how scarred Peter truly was. How much that nightmarish trip to the future had left him with a lingering taste of unadulterated hell.

Before Sylar had anymore time to ponder the issue, however, another cry of protracted pain escaped his mouth with Peter’s pointed finger seemed to cut a straight line down his chest with a scalpel – from top, to bottom. After this task was accomplished, Peter ripped Sylar’s sliced shirt open and dipped his head; licking a long trail up Sylar’s torso so that he could taste the freshly-drawn blood.

Sylar grasped his hand into Peter’s dark hair, jerking the other man’s head upwards.

“St-stop this, Peter,” Sylar implored against his will, almost losing the mentality to fight back at this point. This new power... what Peter was doing to Sylar, causing him to feel, was too much. “What you’re doing now is wrong and you know it. Just stop this now so I can help you get everything under control!”

Peter merely smirked. “Oh I’d say I have everything under control right now. With that said, tell me. How many people have you slept with in your life?”

Sylar said nothing, but Peter was able to read his mind and uncover his most personal thoughts nevertheless.

“That’s it?” Peter said, trying to suppress his maniacal laughter, “That’s pathetic. And no men, either. No wonder you’re so frightened of me right now. I can feel your very fear now, and that fear only makes me stronger...” he enlightened, referring to the ability that he had unintentionally gained from the murderous man known as Knox, “But still, you desire me, and always have. It wasn’t until you found out that we were ‘related’ that you tried to push those filthy little thoughts of yours into the far corners of your mind, hoping that ‘mommy’ wouldn’t look down on you. They never were entirely eradicated though, were they?”

Sylar, at this point, attempted to backhand Peter right across his face. A once an angelic face that had transformed into one that was almost devilish. However, no physical contact was to be felt. Instead, Sylar’s fisted hand seemed to... phase right through Peter’s head.

“Bad idea,” Peter said sweetly, before then completing a successful backhand to Sylar’s face.

In reaction to Peter’s swift attack, Sylar’s lower lip was effectively split open in the process.

Peter ran his right-thumb over Sylar’s lip, gathering the lingering crimson found there as the small wound began to heal itself under Peter’s touch. The fact that Sylar now bore this stolen ability only fed Peter’s rage all the more. Claire was probably so fucked-up in the future because of Sylar.

“You...” Sylar began, trying to gather his words, his thoughts, his senses, hell, gather anything together at this point. It was becoming harder and harder to do so with every second that obtained to pass. “You... didn’t pick that file on Erin at random you... you knew exactly what you were doing. You... had all of this premeditated before I even found you.”

Peter leaned down further over Sylar, straddling him in the process.

“No shit.”

“You’ve fucking lost it, Peter!” Sylar repeated once again, witnessing the completed transformation of what he had hoped to be a terrible fiction become fact right before his eyes.

“No...” Peter said, the sheer tone of his voice already giving Sylar a sneak-preview of what he was planning to do all to soon, “For the first time, I’ve fucking found it. I’m the most powerful person in the world, and I’ve always been and will always be my mother’s favourite. ...When I am through with you, you won’t ever want to come near either of us ever again!”

And then, in what seemed like an instance, Sylar’s clothes tore themselves from his body. Peter’s seemed to do the same shortly afterwards, though with more ease. Every button was precisely undone to prevent tearing or rips, and when Peter extended his arms out to either side of himself, his long jacket along with the shirt underneath went flying back to land on the floor behind him.

Sylar was going to attempt to telekinetically fling Peter off of him before this insanity could progress any further, but Peter had seen it coming before it even had. Instead, Peter delivered a series of electrical shocks throughout Sylar’s body. Temporarily, Sylar shook uncontrollably, feeling as if every nerve in his body was burning with white-hot fire.

“You wouldn’t...” Sylar struggled to speak, “You wouldn’t really... do something like this to your own brother?! You’re sick.”

“And so are you,” Peter said, though he didn’t beg to differ, “You said I was ‘just like you’ now. Your words, not mine.”

When Sylar’s body finally calmed itself, Peter once again took control of it with Passion’s power.

This time, to the full degree.

“Do you really think you’re strong enough to resist it?” whispered Peter, “To resist me?”

And apparently, Sylar wasn’t. Almost instantaneously, Sylar grasped onto Peter’s upper body and pulled him down, lightly grinding himself up into the other man.

Sylar wanted to stop himself, but fuck, he couldn’t, for Peter had been right. Sylar had desired Peter Petrelli, and now he desired him more than ever. Sylar’s entire body was screaming in unfathomable pleasure, yet it was a tortuous agony all the same. What puzzled Sylar, on the other hand, was the way that Peter seemed to want this just as badly as he himself now did. Was it because this seductive power worked both ways, or was it... possibly because Peter actually desired Sylar as well?

Reality seemed to melt away altogether when Sylar felt Peter’s mouth on his neck, hot and eager. Peter briefly bit down into the warm skin, hard enough to draw more blood still.

Turn over,Gabriel

Sylar once again heard Peter’s voice in his head, but this time, there was something different about it. It was like... like an order he couldn’t refuse, an order his body wouldn’t refuse, and before Sylar knew it, he was lying flat on his stomach.

Why am I doing this?

Because I told you to. Or maybe because you want to. I’m not sure.

“But anyway, that’s good,” Peter said, running one hand down the flat of Sylar’s exposed back. Then, he encircled his arm around Sylar’s waist and brought his own brother to his hands and knees.

“Sshh, I know you’re scared...” whispered Peter in a voice that bore a false sense of affectionate comfort. Sylar’s entire body was quivering, and Peter knew it was because of the fact that in Sylar’s fantasies, their roles had always been reversed. “Now brace yourself, this may hurt a little...”

“Fuck I don’t fucking care just do it!” Sylar pleaded, his words having been spoken so fast that they all ran together, “Do anything but nothing!”

Sylar soon heard the sound of Peter’s fly coming undone, Sylar’s pride along with it.

Everything about this whole thing was just as fucked as Sylar knew he was about to be.

Peter quickly discarded his pants, throwing them carelessly to the side before he placed his hands on either of Sylar’s hips. Eagerly, he pressed the tip of his formed hardness against Sylar’s entrance, and without another word, forced himself inside of Sylar’s body with one, harsh thrust. No preparation, no lubricant.

No nothing.

Nothing but the anger.

While Peter moaned in ultimate pleasure, Sylar cried out in ultimate pain. He had never been taken before, and Sylar felt as if his very insides were being ripped apart. He figured they more than likely were. The sheer pain that Peter’s sudden invasion caused Sylar’s body to present itself with made Sylar push himself forwards, only to have Peter encircle an arm around his waist and pull him back. Then, Peter pulled himself out of Sylar to a small degree, before pounding right back in again. Again and again.

One of Sylar’s hands fisted tightly into the covers below, while his other hand swiftly grasped onto one of the metal bed bars before him. Having lost full control over his abilities, Sylar involuntarily began to turn the entire bedframe into solid gold, while a holy crucifix that had been hung above the bed slammed off to the side to crash into a bookcase.

It didn’t belong there, anyway.

Sylar moaned, beginning to go along with the steady rhythm Peter had established. He couldn’t help himself. The sheer feeling of having Peter inside of him was too much to bear. Now, all Sylar could bring himself to think of was taking in the pain-filled pleasure Peter had to offer him, forgetting all about how sinfully wrong and self-degrading this was.

“Peter, oh God...” Sylar emanated out of blissful torture.

God turned his back on all this a long time ago... Peter thought to himself. Part of Peter... somewhere within him laid a small amount of remorse for what he was doing to the man he kept telling himself he bore so much hatred for. It wasn’t really the fact that he now shared a blood-link with Sylar that disturbed Peter so... Hell, he’d had his moments with Nathan in the past... But no, it was more so because of the fact that he almost felt – or did feel – like he was forcing Sylar into this. Sylar’s pants and moans and very thoughts were the only things leading the empath to believe that this intercourse was even vaguely consensual.

Suddenly, Peter found himself wanting to be able to see Sylar’s face. Earlier, he had decided against it. Decided he wanted to see as little of Sylar as possible during this, decided that he hadn’t wanted to be tempted to show him any compassion. Any real emotion.

But now...

Fuck it.

Peter suddenly pulled himself out of Sylar, and with his enhanced strength, easily flipped his brother over.

“Don’t torture me like this,” Sylar begged, glossy eyes facing the man above him with sheer desperation, “More, please more.”

Peter looked down, and could visibly see the blood that was already staining the inner portions of Sylar’s thighs. Peter only managed to sicken himself all the more when his realized just how much the sheer sight of that blood was causing his desires to peak. And again... part of Peter felt guilty for this. His entire goal had been to make Sylar disdain him more than ever, but in the end, all this was really accomplishing was a disdain Peter felt against himself.

Maybe this was the cold, harsh truth in the end. Peter was only using his hatred for Sylar to help overlap the hatred he felt for his own self...

Peter’s moment of self-reevaluation was all the time Sylar needed to telekinetically pull Peter’s from down atop his. Instantly, Sylar gripped a hand into the back of Peter’s dampened hair from behind; forcing their faces together. Peter soon felt Sylar’s mouth on his, and the way Sylar was kissing him all too hungrily. Peter almost hesitated to respond, but in the end, his own desires won him over and he felt himself kissing Sylar back with an equal amount of avid enthusiasm. This continued for a while, the two of them biting into one another’s lips as tongues tangled and dark desires rose into an absolute lust by which there was no turning back from. Not now, not ever.

Between fervent kisses and rough caresses, Peter resituated himself between Sylar’s parted thighs. Unable to stop himself, Peter took a lengthy leg over his shoulder and prepared to take Sylar once again.

“Do it Peter,” Sylar entreated, as if he were begging for Peter to have mercy on him, “I can’t stand it anymore.”

Peter nodded, quickly taking his cock into hand so he could realign himself with Sylar’s opening. Another quick push, and he was once again sheathed by the tight heat that Sylar’s body provided him with. Peter began thrusting almost immediately, a thin layer of glistening sweat coating his entire form. He pushed Sylar’s leg down, and began thrusting into the man beneath him both hard and fast, loosing all restraint as a sense of ultimate pleasure washed over him.

“Peter,” Sylar once again moaned, crying out his brother’s name, “Oh fuck, Peter...”

I never knew it could be this good...

And neither did Peter. He actually thought he would hate this whole experience, when in truth, he was loving every second of it. Sure, he’d had his share of women, and his ‘fun times’ with Nathan back when they had both been younger, but now... Peter wasn’t sure he had ever felt this much pleasure with someone, nor this much desire. What was happening? Was it his new power? Being with Sylar like this? Both? Peter also couldn’t deny the fact that he was getting-off even more from the sense of ultimate control he currently felt, and that compelled with the sheer knowledge that someone wanted him this badly was putting his mind and body into sexual overload.

In the midst of his own bliss, Sylar suddenly felt the need for something else. The need for... blood. The sight of it, the feel of it, the taste of it... Almost without thinking, he unleashed a deep, telekinetic slash across Peter’s chest, causing Peter’s blood to freely flow for a brief moment. In place of the pain Sylar’s inflictions would have normally caused him, Peter instead felt gratification in its place. Doing just as Sylar had done to him, Peter pointed his index finger and slashed Sylar across the chest in the same manner.

Again, Sylar gasped, feeling as still more delicious pleasure overtook him. When Peter further leaned over him, Sylar dug his nails into the skin of Peter’s back – scratching long trails down the smooth flesh. Peter once again forced his mouth to Sylar’s, the two biting into one another’s lips and tongues until they could taste nothing but the sweet, metallic taste of blood in one another’s mouths.

Peter bucked his hips, thrusting in and out of Sylar over and over again. Nearing the edge, Peter ultimately scooped Sylar up into his arms, and pulled his back off of the bed mattress. Now, Sylar was in Peter’s lap, with a lithe pair of arms encircled around his waist. Sylar didn’t need any verbal encouragement from Peter to begin moving. He wanted to come, now, and Peter knew it. When Sylar began rocking himself up and down in Peter’s lap, Peter had to make sure to keep a tight hold on Sylar’s waist so he wouldn’t fall backwards. They were both moving so fast, embracing one another’s sweat-slickened bodies in between heated kisses and harsh pants; all mixed together with blissful moans and affectionate caresses.

Sylar ultimately wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck, clutching onto him tightly as his head tilted back. At this moment, Peter finally gave in, releasing his control over Sylar’s body so Sylar would be able to find the release in this that he so desperately craved. Peter knew he didn’t have to do it. That he could have held Sylar back as long as he wanted to, to the very point where Sylar would have been driven mad with mindless lust. But he didn’t. In the end... Peter’s compassion had once again won him out; defeating the darkness that still lay within.

In the end, Peter knew even the heroes bore the darkest of evils inside, while the villains bore even the brightest of goodness within them. Somewhere...

Peter just didn’t know where he fit into the big picture of things anymore. Not anymore.

He wasn’t sure he knew who he was.

Peter kissed and licked his way all along Sylar’s neck, up to his jaw-line, and then back to his parted lips. With one final slam of the hips, Peter’s name escaped Sylar’s mouth in a jolting cry just as Peter felt the sudden eruption between their bodies. Nevertheless, Peter kept going, determined to reach his final peak of pleasure as well. Sylar was evidently starting to experience pain once again now that he was coming down from his blissful high, but knowing Peter couldn’t be far behind, he continued to go along with his younger brother’s increasing movements within him.

Peter wrapped his arms around Sylar’s waist all the more tightly, rocking the other man up and down on his cock as he gave Sylar all that he had to give. That last, final bit of restraint. Within seconds, Sylar felt as Peter’s release coated his insides, causing Sylar to admit yet another unrestrained moan; another product of a feeling he had never before experienced.

And then, it was all over.

Their movements slowed down to a steaming halt; Peter and Sylar’s tight grips around one another’s forms loosening. Finally, they stopped altogether. For a moment, Sylar remained as he was, with Peter still inside of him. Trying to catch his breath, he buried his face in the crook of Peter’s neck, refusing to utter a single word.

This was it, Peter figured. Now came the shame.

For the both of them.

Gingerly, Peter laid Sylar back down upon the soft surface of the bed, and with a surprising amount of unexpected gentleness, pulled himself from Sylar’s body. Afterwards, he allowed himself to lie down on the bed next to Sylar, sounding completely winded.

Peter figured it was only a matter of time now. Once Sylar regained his breath, and gathered his returning thoughts of coherency, he would lash out at Peter with wrathful rage and attempt to slice his skull open all over again. Peter knew having the advantage whereas powers were concerned that he could very well do the same to Sylar, but... he didn’t want to. For some reason, the sexual engagements that had just taken place had somehow managed to feed his hunger for the time being, and because of this, he was feeling more like the compassionate empath he had always been seen as. Well, up until more recently, at least... Now, Peter felt as if there was a darkness inside of himself – a horrible one that had still yet to fully reveal itself – just waiting to escape. Then, his path to darkness would ultimately begin, and he would become that... horrible person he had seemingly become in the future... The one everybody but Sylar—no—Gabriel, disdained. What he still didn’t understand was how gaining Sylar’s horrible ability of intuitive aptitude was supposed to save himself from becoming what he was apparently destined to become in that nightmarish future he had been forced to experience.

Everything was just so... so fucked up.

And Peter knew he was no exception to the ‘everything’.

On his stomach, Peter turned his head to the right. Sylar was lying on his side, facing in the other direction. Biting his lower lip, Peter extended an arm, touching his hand to Sylar’s bicep. Sylar instantly shook Peter’s touch off the moment he felt it, seemingly more disgusted with himself than he was with Peter.

However, Sylar did eventually turn over to face his assailant, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You failed, Peter.”

Huh?

“You failed,” Sylar repeated, his voice subtle but harsh, “You said the goal of this whole ‘game’ of yours was to make me hate you. Well, I don’t hate you. I pity you, and being pitied is worse than being despised.”

And what is worse, I think you pity yourself.

“Look whose talking,” Peter whispered, turning onto to his left side so he could face Sylar fully, “I mean, thinking.”

With the same, emotionless expression dominating his facial features, Sylar stared deeply into Peter’s brown eyes.

“And what am I thinking now?”

You’re searching for any sign of my soul... Any sign of hope that you aren’t looking into a mirror that reveals what you don’t wish to see in your own reflection...

But Peter chose to say nothing, running his hand up along Sylar’s sweaty arm until it reached Sylar’s face. Then, Peter moved closer to the other man, until their faces were only an inch apart. To Peter’s surprise, Sylar made the first move, and chose to force a passionate kiss to Peter’s mouth. Peter relaxed into the kiss, allowing Sylar to take control of it.

And then, Sylar snapped Peter’s neck.

Sylar sat up on the bed, leaning against what was now the golden bedframe behind him. He observed as Peter forced his neck back into proper place, before Peter then shot Sylar a look of annoyance.

“Well I guess I deserved that...”

“You guess?”

Peter stared at Sylar, automatically knowing what he needed to do.

“I’m... going to fix this...”

“And how is that?”

Peter stood from the bed, and began searching for his ebony pants amongst the tattered remnants of clothing on the floor.

“I... I’m going to go back in time, and make it so that this never happened...”

Sylar’s mouth opened, as if he were going to say something that he had yet to even think of.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Peter replied in a shallow voice as he pulled his ebony slacks up, “And if you truly are disgusted with yourself, you shouldn’t have any problem with it.”

“You don’t need to go back in time,” Sylar urged, though there was a hidden presence contained within his tone of voice.

“Why is that?”

“Because it will only happen all over again.”

“We’ll just have to see about that, Sy—Gabriel...”

Sylar’s expressions softened at the sound of ‘Gabriel’, and he, for some inexplicable reason, found himself wanting to stop Peter from initiating his plan to go back in time in order to erase the past and alter the future.

With his back turned to the bed, Peter contemplated on how he was going to revise time. Obviously... someone had released him from his artificially-induced coma, more than likely being one of the individuals that had paid Sylar a visit shortly afterwards. So, all he had to do was go back in time to several hours earlier, wait in his Level 5 cell, and make sure the door was never opened. Then, the present was sure to change.

Peter was so deep in thought, that he didn’t even come back to until he felt a pair of muscular arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“Peter,” Sylar whispered into his ear, “Don’t do it.”

“Why?”

Because I like being with you. Because I like having someone to be with. We’re the same, Peter. We can help each other, and even though you are my brother, I don’t care.

After reading Sylar’s thoughts, Peter then had one of his own.

Nathan said practically the same thing to me once, a long time ago...

And look how that had turned out.

Peter turned to face Sylar, and as Sylar leaned down to kiss Peter, Peter teleported away.

Back in time.


***


Invisible, Peter stood in the same cell on Level 5 that he had earlier been in.

Watching himself.

It was... strange. Peter, well, present Peter had never traveled into the past before. Not to his knowledge, at least. He wondered about the future, and if he would ever be forced to travel back in time to face a younger version of his self the way his future self had.

As Peter just... waited, he once again started to wonder how he would obtain that diagonal scar across his face. One, the Haitian would be around, and he would get slashed across the face, or two, Peter would... somehow lose his ability to heal, and get slashed across the face. But regarding that last theory, how would such a thing be possible?

Just then, the empath heard the sounds of footsteps out in the hallway, before a woman stopped in front of his door – seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Peter’s brows furrowed. It was that same woman he had seen in the future, the one he had acquired his power of superspeed from. The same woman who had been at Sylar’s house and aided in that terrible scene that had led to Sylar’s radioactive self-destruction following the death of his innocent son.

“Hey, I think it’s this one!” the woman shouted, attempting to unlock the door. However, the door wouldn’t budge. Not with Peter using his ability of telekinesis to keep it from doing so.

The blonde-haired woman attempted to open the door again, until a loud ‘No it’s not, Sylar’s down here!’ was to be heard. The woman huffed, before speeding off down the hall.

So that was it.

Peter had prevented the woman from entering his cell while he had been comatose, so now, everything in the future he had just come from was sure to change.

With one hand on the wall, Peter turned his head to take a final look at his past self, before he teleported back to the future.

Right back to where he had previously been.

When Peter reappeared in Virginia Gray’s bedroom, Sylar was still there, appearing somewhat shocked. Peter had only been gone for a mere matter a seconds.

“It’s done now,” Peter muttered, looking up at Sylar.

“What do you mean ‘it’s done’?” Sylar inquired, though truth be told he very well knew what Peter’s statement had indicated.

“I meant exactly what I said,” spoke Peter, who briefly adverted the gaze of his eyes to the side. “In less than one minute from now, everything should begin changing. What happened between us will never have happened. We’ll be in different places, and remember and entirely different past...”

Sylar roughly gripped onto either of Peter’s bare shoulders, almost digging his nails into the flesh.

“I didn’t.. want this..”

“I know...” Peter remarked in a shallow voice, before he once more looked up into his brother’s eyes. “But I did.”

And then, the room began to spin; filling with a collection of luminous light and colours that couldn’t even be accurately described by the human eye.

Peter and Sylar both knew the present was, indeed, changing.

Wanting to make the most of the time he still had with Peter, however little it was, Sylar wrapped his arms around Peter’s smaller frame and captured Peter’s lips with his own. Peter responded, doing the same. With mouths opened, the two continued to kiss one another, deeply, and with obvious passion.

As they did so, memories began to fade, new ones taking their place, and then...

It was all gone.

Peter opened his eyes. He was standing next to Sylar, the both of them facing none other than Arthur Petrelli. What was going on? Oh yes, that’s right... Peter had come to Pinehearst Industries, discovered his father was alive, had all of his powers stolen from him by his father, before none other than Sylar had inexplicably showed up to rescue Peter.

“Did he take your powers?” Peter inquired to Sylar, who shook his head with a ‘no’.

“Then what are you waiting for? Kick his ass so we can get the hell out of here,” Peter urged.

And again, Sylar shook his head.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sylar affirmed, looking from Arthur, back to Peter. “You are.”

And with that said, Sylar held up a set of fingers, and telekinetically flung Peter right through the glass of a seventh story window.

As Peter fell, only one thought raced through his mind.

Why am I falling so slow?

And that was when it hit Peter, just as his back hit the pavement.

Sylar hadn’t just killed Peter, he had just saved his life.

But why?