a/n: So... this has been roughly edited. I just want to get it out... I'm not 100% sure if low ratings have made me care less about "publish worthy editing," but it probably has (I do this for fun, not a profit). Or the fact that I might actually seriously re-edit and put this out as an ebook later for coffee $$)...
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When Emma awoke, Greg was whistling as he brushed his teeth. He popped his cherub looking face out and smiled at his favorite girl. "Boy, you had a lot to drink last night."
Emma ached, and since the bed was so soft and comforting, she dropped her head back into the pillow. Greg yanked the curtains back with a feisty, "Rise and shine, darling!" The light streamed brightly over her face. She squinted as her body slowly woke up. There was a dull throb high between her legs.
The wild dream of Sylar with his mouth pressed closed to her lower lips... nibbling... smiling as he licked her like a cat who got the cream came flooding back.
"Oh my god," she whispered, mortified.
Greg peeked out from the bathroom. "Something wrong?" Foamed covered his lips as he kept on brushing and watching Emma silently berate herself. The sight was amusing. It was like she'd forgotten he was there. When she finally looked up, there was faint desperation in her eyes.
"Did you bring me back?"
He quickly pretended he had to spit and went back into the bathroom. "Of course," he turned on the faucet and shouted over the running water, "why?"
Emma tucked her feet up and rested her chin against her knees. "Nothing. I just remember talking to Sylar in this room and then everything after that became a blank."
"Oh," his voice echoed against the tiled walls of the bathroom and came back sounding hollow to Emma's ears, "we brought you back together."
"Oh. Thank you."
She tugged softly on her toes. Was she being paranoid or did it seem like her jeans were pulled up too tight? Maybe it was that erotic dream she had... it made her want to press her thighs together. In her curled up position, she could push her lower body down. The pressure felt good against her lower lips, but it was a bare mimicry of the vague sensations of dream-Sylar had induced upon her.
Then the memory of her asking Sylar about girls being too small hit her like a hammer. "Oh my god," she moaned, burying her head in her hands. It was the last thing she could remember but why had she asked that? "That's so embarrassing."
Greg walked back out of the bathroom. He was wiping his face on a towel as he casually approached Emma. "What's embarrassing?"
"Nothing," she mumbled.
"You didn't do anything stupid at the party, trust me."
She nodded but still wouldn't show her face.
***
As the shuttle sped down the highway, Emma fidgeted nervously in her seat. Sylar was doing it again - the intense staring. His eyes, a hazy sea of ocean green, never faltered. Every time she turned around, he was facing her with a humorless expression that made her feel she had fucked up again. She'd seen that expression before on other people. Professors, employers — her aunt whenever they brought up the topic of her mother. While those looks were rarely directed at her, Emma never felt comfortable in its presence.
She turned her head to look out at the speeding scenery of valleys and cars. Hadn't their time in the van together been therapeutic? Even though he invaded her personal space, she found his drunk, evanescent apology to be sincere.
But drinking that last shot had definitely been a bad idea. Her memory of last night was practically nonexistent, but it was her dreams that put her on an emotional and physical roller coaster she was unprepared to face. It had been too real.
It'd caused her to avoid Sylar all morning because she couldn't look at him without feeling a need between her legs. Just thinking of him made her rock in her seat. She squirmed, feeling the hard cushion underneath her butt barely give way. The dream was the bane of her existence; it'd unlocked a fantasy that had been growing stronger ever since she started working here.
Emma dared to peek over her shoulder. There he was again, staring like a hawk eyeing its prey. She whirled back around and leaned her head against the window. Yellows and greens blurred by, making her go cross eyed. She shut her eyes and spent her energy trying to remember the night before instead. All that came to mind was her absolutely humiliating dream that starred the one and only Sylar Durdan.
Not only did the vividness of her dream make it difficult for her to acknowledge Sylar, it ruined his apology. She couldn't stop thinking about him. His weight pushing her down into the bed... his breath brushing her ear... how he knew what she wanted without her even needing to say a word... he was ruining sex for her and she hadn't even had it yet!
It had to be because of the editing, Emma reasoned. She'd seen him go down on so many others girls. It was only logic that her brain chose the most reliable reference point. But as that thought settled and she waded through the confusion, another feeling bloomed inside of her. Desire. Seeing Sylar kiss his way down her body made Emma squirm. Like there was a knotted button inside of her that need to be coaxed into release.
God, dream weren't supposed to be that powerful. It was unlike than anything she'd done with Adam. The man she loved so much and fantasized about for years didn't even come close to making her body feel this way. No. He just made her anxious. Adam made her worried.
Adam still had yet to return or pick up her calls.
Why? Why?
Emma slowly banged her head against the window. Each thud grew harder and harder as she hit a mental road block. Why? Why?
Something blunted her blow.
She tilted her head back. Standing above her and looking directly down was a green eyed man with an the unhappy gaze.
"Stop hurting yourself."
The instinct to flinch was strong, but she suppressed it and was treated to a low burning sensation that heated her entire body. She felt as if she were caught inside a furnace. With a shy smile that she hoped didn't give away her thoughts, she muttered, "I wasn't."
Sylar nodded. Then he sat down directly behind her. Emma's heart beat rapidly to a point where she didn't trust herself breathe. It would be so loud. So she leaned her head against the window and pretended that she couldn't feel Sylar's incessant gaze right behind her. Why did was he here?
He'd looked so angry, but even through the sharp anger, Emma could detect sadness. And that startled her. He'd shown displeasure, frustration and even gentleness. Until now, she thought she experienced every emotion Sylar had to offer. Until now, she knew mutely nodding and walking away was an answer. Until now.
***
Sylar stared at the girl laying in front of him. Lavender eye lids rested shut as she breathed in deeply. The bed was swallowing her up. She looked so comfortable and innocent. Some of her hair was matted to her face with sweat, and he brushed it aside, fixing the strands to the portions of hair that spanned out around her head. A part of him was glad that Emma had blacked out after her intense orgasm.
Up until now, he didn't know what his next step was going to be. The loveless look in her eyes bothered him. He'd seen it on many other girls before, girls that just wanted to take pleasure in the moment, but with Emma, it was different. The unreciprocated emotion made his chest feel hollow. Breathing was unbearable.
Sylar stood up and back away from her small body. She was so tiny. Her hips jutted out from underneath her skin. When she inhaled ever so lightly, shadows appeared, exposing her ribs. He recalled the feeling of her thighs in his hands. She had been soft and bony. This was a body of a girl who didn't know how to take care of herself.
And it was in moments where he wanted to shake her. Ask what kind of spell she put on him and if she could take it away. He wanted his other mind back — the kind that didn't ask questions other than ensuring it was consensual sex. He wanted his selfishness and youthful one track mind. He wanted to be the other cliche. Not this one... not the one who wanted to crawl into bed with her. Who wanted to pull her against his body and cradle her, knowing that he would protect her from everything harmful in the world.
Except everything also meant him.
Sylar paled as he realized what he'd done. Who he had become. He'd gotten so used to hearing yes that hearing no from this girl had driven him up the wall. Stepping back was difficult, but he forced himself to do so. The dark apex between her thighs shone with a white liquid, and the wet spot underneath her still carried the musk he wanted to inhale over and over again.
