Figure 8 Ch. 02

Note from author:

Emma and Sylar's relationship has plagued me for the last week with constant growth where I saw them as characters, not just pawns in a theoretically nice plot-line. If I manage to finish this story, I will most likely go back and edit to make the story run flawlessly. But right now, I need to get their story out before it bores me and I just stop writing. I'm apologizing for any little inconsistencies or overused metaphors in advance (mostly weird details like dates, moles, clothing or even unannounced friendships). I wish I could thoroughly plan out and write this story as a whole, edit and then submit, but I'm not that kind of writer. Thanks for understanding!

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Emma wasn't sure why she was so nervous. No. She knew exactly why. She always got speechless around hot, jaw-dropping men. Especially when they could hover effortlessly to her five foot two frame. Sylar was no exception to the rule - even if she wasn't a fan of his long locks or unshaved facial hair. He was the first real man that actually looked like he had dropped out of a catalog. It had to be the confidence, Emma breathed, but she didn't dare study him when he was so close.

She never looked at him once, not even a smile in his direction. Was it because he spent most of the time naked in front of her? But she didn't act this shy in front of the other porn stars, at least the women. He wasn't even sure why he had followed her out, he had just wanted to talk to her but now it was just awkward. So he spent the short time in the elevator studying Emma Ramsay, approving everything about her.

Everything about her was delicate. He would have no shame admitting that he'd like her underneath him. Girls like her were so hard to come by, especially one that looked like he could surround completely in a hug. It wasn't even a matter of weight. The girls he worked with were goddess - tall, leggy and extremely well gifted in the chest - and it was too scripted.

Emma looked like she had wandered through a thrift shop for men. Maybe was she wearing a boyfriend's sweater? Sylar frowned, the thought of her having a boyfriend, of her unavailable, made him annoyed. How was he going to get to know her if she was being reserved? No wonder she never tried speaking to him.

He was about to ask about her weekend plans, to figure out if she was taken, when Emma shot out the doors as soon as they opened. She made a beeline for the exit.

She didn't know why Sylar was staring at her like that. She could feel the weight of his gaze even without looking at him. And in her head, all she could picture was him naked. She couldn't even look at his feet because that meant envisioning his legs, and then his penis... all nine inches of engorged flesh. No. Stop. Shaking the image from her mind, Emma kept walking as fast as her short legs would take her.

All of a sudden she felt herself thrown back, the back of her head slammed straight into a hard surface. A car sped past her with a series of loud honks. Emma squealed as she felt an arm wrapping around her, pulling her up and back until she was well off the street. Emma panicked, trying to wiggle free of the tight grip, but the person was digging into her hard, as if letting go weren't an option.

"Fucking hell, Emma. You nearly died."

She grew rigid as she recognized the voice to be none of than Sylar's. He was breathing heavily over her head, and as she used both hands to try and pry his iron-clad arm away, she couldn't help but secretly enjoy the warmth of his body. He smelled so masculine, musky and an underlying scent that she could vague recognize whenever...

"Oh let me go. You didn't even shower yet, let me go!"

Emma squirmed as if Sylar was burning her. He tightened his hold at first, enjoying the way she rubbed against him. Sylar bent his knees a little, lowering himself so that her ass rubbed the right spot.

"Let me go!"

She jerked out of his grasp, falling into the street again. Another car had been coming so fast that he almost didn't make it. "Fuck," he cursed, yanking the filmsy girl back on the pavement. All immoral thoughts drifted from his mind as he looked Emma over to make sure she was okay.

"You should watch where you're going."

Emma flinched at his harsh tone and averted her gaze. His eyes were knitted in anger. She wriggled her arm. "I'm sorry."

Why the fuck was she apologizing? Sylar stared right into her eyes, her doe-like eyes that slowly filled with trepidation until he realized he was still holding on.He let go, and Emma jumped out of his reach.

Her actions only made him want to grab her right back and prove that there was nothing to be afraid of. Instead he left his hand go through his hair, stamping down the desire to hold her again. That and he was used to women walking away when they didn't really mean it. Most of them expected to be grabbed - he noticed Emma speeding down the dark street and swore aloud. Was she born an idiot?

The pounding of his steps came closer and closer. Emma tried to walk away from him as fast as possible, but his legs were much longer. Why was he following her? He even snorted when her pace became a quick jog. Didn't he have somewhere to be?

"You should get a cab from here," he said as they stopped at a red light. While walking, he had noticed two dark figures watching her, following her. Not missing a beat, Sylar moved as close to her as possible, until he felt the heat of her body through his filmsy shirt. "Or ask Greg to call you one from the studio."

"It's okay." Emma didn't want to admit that it was too expensive. "The bus on the main street takes me straight home."

"The main street is ten blocks from here."

"I'm a fast walker."

Sylar nearly missed her darting across the crosswalk. He had to jog to catch up with her and when they reached the sidewalk again, he tried to grab her arm. From the corner of her eyes, Emma saw something reach for her and sped up.

"Fucking hell," Sylar hissed as he grabbed air. He walked beside her, keeping an eye out for strangers. "Emma, did you walk home last week?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"Says the girl who nearly got run over."

Emma rolled her eyes. I wouldn't have gotten run over if I wasn't trying to get away from you, she thought. Why was he following her anyway? She was pretty sure she heard the girl invite him over to her place to finish up whatever business they had. And she was pretty sure he agreed to it too. So why was he here?

"Look," he sighed, walking beside her without breaking a sweat, "if you're not going to get a cab then I'm going to at least see that you get home safe."

Home? Like all the way, including the bus ride home? She halted in her steps, turning around to face him. For the first time she wasn't afraid to get in his face. He was heads taller than her, but damn him if he was going to know where she lived. She didn't need anybody in her neighborhood recognizing her with him of all people.

"Stop. I told you I can get home fine."

It was Sylar's turn to roll his eyes. "Baby, what you're saying and what that man," he pointed to a silhouette in the alleyway that quickly moved out of sight, "is thinking are complete opposites."

"I'm not your responsibility!"

Emma pouted. This bastard was making her life unnecessarily harder. After all, she wasn't stupid. She had an idea of how unsafe the area was, but the key was to walk as if she belonged. Now Sylar was drawing more attention to them than if she had walked by herself.

"I'll be fine. Just leave me alone, okay?"

Just as Sylar was about to respond, his phone rang. Emma watched as he picked up the call, muttering yes and nods. Something sparked across his face and he closed his eyes in pleasure. "Mm," he said, "that sounds nice. Okay. I'll be on my way back."

Typical, she huffed as Sylar hung up. He held his phone in his hands, flipping it back and forth as he spoke.

"Alright, fine. I'll leave you alone since you want that so bad."

All that determination gone at the promise of sex! He was leaving her to die for a booty call. Emma held her hands into small little fists as she spat out a harsh, "Thanks a lot," and starting stomping her way home.

She barely made two steps before he grabbed her arm again. Emma fell backwards, colliding into his shoulder. Sylar steadied her without a second thought. He threw one arm over her shoulder and dug deep into his pockets with the other.

"Do you have a pen," he mumbled, his breath in her hair. She smelled so good he didn't bother hiding as he smelled her again. Emma dug into her bag for one and handed it to him. "Thanks."

Emma scowled as he put the pen in his mouth and started absentmindedly chewing. Herpes! Her pen could have herpes now... she made a mental note to throw it away. Then Sylar groaned, and gave up digging. Without warning, he took her hand. It was in a fist again.

Sylar shook out her wrist until her hand loosened up. Then he spread her palm open, took the pen out of his mouth and started writing. Emma twisted as the nib tickled her. While she was completely unaware of how she was slowly backing up against an extremely turned-on porn star, Sylar had to fight the sounds from escaping his throat. He couldn't wait to get back to the studio. As if Ashlynn calling him to whisper every dirty thing she wanted to do wasn't enough, now he had to suffer through a growing erection with no immediate relief.

"There," he finished with a strain.

Emma stared at the scribbles on her hand. She knew it was a phone number but "What am I supposed to do with this." She thrust her palm in his face. She didn't want it.

"Call me when you get home. So I know you're safe, okay?"

Without thinking, he brushed the hair from her face and kissed her on the forehead before racing in the other direction. Emma stared at the number on her hand and the disappearing figure who was hurrying on his way to his next orgasm.

"Good," she huffed and started trekking her way home. But with each step she eventually found herself growing extremely bitter until she was stomping her way all the way to main street. Was this how all guys operated? Chivalrous because they had nothing else to do?

Oo and he had to kiss her on the forehead to pretend like he cared. He was probably hoping to follow her home to fuck her, and then leave like nothing happened. She wondered if there was an on going bet at the studio - wondered if the whole crew was in on it. "Let's all see who can fuck the virgin," she taunted underneath her breath. Of course he would run when another hot girl called. All men did.

Emma felt her ego drop into a bottomless abyss. She couldn't keep Adam's attention after he openly admitted that he wanted to kiss her. The numbers in her palm taunted her the same way Adam's texts did. If she did text Sylar, and he actually texted back, she would be sucked into a loop. She wasn't even sure she was over Adam... he had a knack of contacting her right when she wanted to give him up.

So no, she thought with determination, I'm not going to text him.

She spat in her hand and rubbed until the numbers were unreadable.

Sitting on the sofa, Sylar worked his way underneath Ashlynn's shirt. Her nipples were hard beneath his fingers, and he loved how her breasts filled his aching hands. He flicked her nipples back and forth with his thumb. With the rest of his hand, he pushed aside her shirt until her tits were completely bare to his eyes. Ashlynn moaned as she felt Sylar's mouth on her. He was always a much better fuck when the cameras weren't on, so much more. She gasped as he bit down. Attentive.

"Mm," she grabbed his hair and pulled him up for a long hard kiss. His tongue swept in her mouth, stroking her tongue against his until she was gasping for breath.

Everything about him was so fucking hard and hot. One of her favorite things was to rake her nails, against his chest or down his back, watching how his skin raised with red marks that lasted all throughout the night. Ashlynn kissed her way down his body until she reached the band of his pants. She could already feel him growing bigger.

"Fuck," he hissed as she let his cock free. Her mouth immediately went over it, deep throating without abandon. His hips jerks up into her hollow mouth once, twice and then he grabbed her head to lift her off.

As much as he loved foreplay, they had the entire workday of it. "I already came twice today," he muttered, readjusting her body. He rubbed the tip of his cock against her pussy, letting her juices drip and lubricate his way in. Every now and then he slapped his cock against her clip, causing her to whimper. "So I'm just gonna fuck you now."

Without warning, he flipped her onto her back, shoved a cushion underneath her hips and pushed himself in. He slipped right in, no hesitation or barrier, and began thrusting. Ashlynn rotated hips as he slid in and out, making sure to get deeper with each push.

Sylar arched his back, feeling the tip of his cock being squeezed tightly. Legs wrapped around him, pulling him further in. Deeper. He couldn't wait. She was flexing her muscles, contracting around his cock until he was sure he was going to explode. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, thrusting his hips faster. Ashlynn screamed underneath him.

"Yes! Yes. Oh my god, harder Sylar. Fuck, yes. Fuck me with your hard cock. Oh my god, it's so deep." She pulled his head down and shoved her tongue in his mouth before sucking on his for all its worth. "Make me come. Right now. Now!"

His palm mashed her breasts for support as he threw all his weight into fucking her. Her cries were loud enough to bring the house down, and when he felt her convulsing around him, he merely fucked her harder. Ashlynn's went wild, her legs failing to keep tight around him. But it didn't matter. His hands went to cup her ass, pulling her tight against his groin as he grinded against her clit, throwing her into another orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuckk!!"

Unable to hold it in any longer, Sylar pulled out and began pumping thick ropes of cum over her stomach. He loved the way it landed on her. Like it was a part of her. Resting on her like diamonds and pearls. As he finished, he gave his dick a good squeeze and dropped on top of a laughing Ashlynn, reveling in the way her hands drifted over his body.

As soon as he caught his breath, he rolled over and reached for his pants. He searched his pockets for his phone, pulling out a pen and some receipts. He tossed those on the carpeted floor. Flipping his pants upside down, he shook them until his phone fell out onto the floor. There were over forty notifications and about twenty unread messages. Sylar rolled his eyes.

He moved to get out of bed when he left Ashlynn slap him lightly on the hip. "Just stay the night," she mumbled into her pillow. "It's my super horny time of the month. I'm going to want you in the morning."

He smirked as he crawled back into bed, shifting underneath the covers. When he was comfortable, he reached for Ashlynn's hand and pushed it towards his soft cock. "Slow strokes, I don't need to get hard, baby." Ashlynn smiled, her eyes still closed as she hummed and squeezed. He closed his eyes, feeling a heaviness over his eyes. While he wasn't ready for the rest of the night, he was very much looking forward to the morning.

Sylar jolted awake. His eyes popped open as if lightning had struck his chest. His heart was beating rapidly with fear running through his mind. He had forgotten something. Last night. Something important. Drastically important. Carefully not to wake Ashlynn, he reached over the side of his bed to look at his phone. Forty notifications and twenty unread messages.

He typed in his passcode, scrolling through a load of trivial things. Texts from Janice, Lexi and other girls he had worked with. Girls that texted him every weekend along with all the other stars they had worked with, looking for a fun night. While Sylar had been in several film orgies - they were always so fucking arousing - he was less keen to partake in an unplanned one. He finished reading his messages and started checking his email.

There was one from Nick about work. Work.

Emma.

He looked back at his message, scrolling through the names. Not a single one from her. Did she get home okay? He shifted until he was sitting up, the blanket barely covering his lower body. Damn, why didn't he take her number? Now he would never know... unless...

Greg Buchanan woke up to the worst alarm ever. He had a special ring tone made for Sylar, a stupid hope for the day they were both drunk and on their phone, ready for a fuck. But this morning was not the morning he wanted to hear a man screaming his way to an orgasm. It only sounded like a banshee crying. With fumbling fingers, he managed to answer the call.

"What the fuck, Sylar."

"Morning to you, Greg."

Greg tried not to look at the time. "What do you want?"

"I was wondering, do you have Emma's number? Emma Ramsay."

If Greg hadn't been awake then, he was certainly awake now. He swung his legs over the bed, sitting up and alert as he said very slowly, "Sylar, I told you to leave her alone."

"It's not that. I just wanted to know if she got home okay."

"What?"

He heard Sylar sigh. "I left the studio with her after work. Did you know she walks through the ghetto to her bus stop? Anyway, I told her to give me a text when she got home. She didn't."

"I'm sure she's fine. Emma's not the type - wait, I thought you left the studio with Ashlynn."

There was a long pause on the other end.

"I left with Emma first then Ashlynn called me over, so I went back."

"Typical."

"Listen, I just want Emma's number. To see if she's okay."

"And I'm not giving it to you. Emma made me promise not to give her number out to anyone, especially after Buddy - "

"What did Buddy do to her?"

Fuck, Greg thought, mentally slapping himself, why couldn't he just shut up. He cringed as Sylar started to threaten him. "Calm your fucking tits, boy. He was here for a shoot with Kendall and tried to chat her up. When she refused to give her number, he tried to steal it off the call sheet. Nothing happened."

He waited for Sylar to respond. There was heavy breathing before anything further was said.

"I won't do anything to hurt her."

"Not the point, babe. A promise is a promise. You're going to have to ask her for her number yourself." And with that Greg hung up, because he was dangerously close to giving Emma's number up. Maybe it was paranoia or just plain fatherly instinct, but Sylar was right to worry. Stupid mouse, he thought as he picked up his phone, why would you go into a world of cats all alone?

Emma stared at the text message that had just appeared on her phone. Here she was, watching porn like any teenage boy, in the middle of a rare sunny Saturday, and then came this particular message that made her stop and think about life outside of her four walls.

Ever since she was young she preferred being alone. Talking took a lot of effort, like a game except all she could focus on was how to keep the other person interested. People always kept talking to her, asking her questions, her opinions, when she never really had any. It probably explained why she loved editing so much. It wasn't about putting pictures together or the thrill of making a movie, it was about being in a dark room and getting lost in a whole nother world where nothing went wrong.

Until the real world came knocking via text message.

I'm in town for two months. Let's meet up.

Adam Bates. Her hand was shaking as she thought about how to reply his text. She tried typing a few things. Sure! When are you... but the exclamation mark sounded too eager, and maybe she should wait a few days before texting him back. He would flake the first few times before eventually showing up on his terms.