Figure 8 Ch. 09a

I haven't finished this chapter, but I thought I'd give you a segment to tide you guys over --- especially for those who are still reading and eagerly waiting. Thank you so much!!

And for those who are rooting for Sylar/Emma, I think this have "more" happy times between these two are in your favor :) Otherwise this series would just seem too debbie-downer through and through.

Thanks for the patience and kind messages you've all been sending me.

Expect the second half of this chapter it be much longer!

As always, comments super appreciated.

05/02 xx

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Sex had never been like this. Well, never was a bit of an overstatement, but Sylar really couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed having a girl stay with him for so long.

During the rare minutes of the night that Sylar let Emma leave his side, he found himself wondering if any other relationship was comparable to the last twenty four hours. Twenty four hours of dragging Emma back into bed and ravaging her. Even when he couldn't get it up, he had to get her off. Be inside of her somehow - her mouth, her pussy, with his fingers, his cock, his tongue. Her soft mewls reassured him he wasn't dreaming.

And sometimes he wondered if he was dreaming. A part of him was in strict disbelief that he'd finally got her, and clung to the fact that he might be dreaming. Another part of him knew it was because sex with Emma was simply that good.

At least for the virgin she was, it was really good.

After a few tries, he quickly discovered the trick to easing her pain and maximizing her pleasure. Emma had a surprisingly hungry sex drive with a long stamina. Her orgasms were short, but her body reveled in the aftermath, clinging to him as if he were the only rock in an angry ocean. Never had he felt an orgasm like hers. Her inner muscles didn't pulsate, instead they locked grip onto whatever part of him was in her until they got tired.

And that was the trick. Emma remained decently wet until her orgasm, but after she came, and her muscles relaxed, her wetness leaked out from her hole enough for him to slid in and ride her to a second orgasm. It was a wonderful discovery for Sylar. Every half hour, he'd get her pussy worked up until she came, and when she was wet enough, he'd slip right in to make her come again.

Twenty four hours and counting, he mused happily as he propped himself up against the headboard.

He'd heard of sex marathons before. Big orgies or hours upon hours of sex, but even as a porn star, he found them dangerous and stupid. It wasn't a realistic life goal or one to brag about by any means, and so he strayed from any company that extended such invitations.

Sylar stroked his flat stomach and kept his eyes on the door, not wanting to miss the chance to exchange smiles with Emma when she came in. The sound of her footsteps came closer, and Sylar unconsciously inhaled the musky scent that'd invaded the room.

The door creaked open, and he immediately drew his attention to Emma's face. Her nose wrinkled, making him chuckle. This was all new to her. Every expression crossed her face before she knew how to hide it. Their scents were baked into the air and she had yet to figure out if she liked it.

Emma lingered in the door frame, dressed in an oversized university shirt and nothing more. Her legs were smooth, like cream and satin. He wanted to touch them again, stroke his fingers against her thigh. Only this time he would watch the contrast between his hands and her legs... take in the feel and—

"Do you want your water?"

Sylar blinked and saw that she was no longer by the door, but beside him, sitting half way on the bed and holding out the glass of water he'd requested earlier. He reached for it with one hand and used his other arm to scoop her closer to him. Emma squealed, "Hey!" as water splashed from her cup and onto the sheets.

She focused on the water spot. Concentration burrowed between her brows as she wrinkled her nose.

A sharp need to have her happy and as close to him as possible flooded him. He kept his arm around her waist while she remained still. Then it came.

That faraway look rested on her face - a recurring expression that visited their moments together from time to time - one that he hated because he had an inkling it had everything to do with Adam.

Did she think of him when they were together? he thought as he sipped his water. Or was it only after they had sex. He wasn't sure which was better, but he wished neither option was a plausibility.

So he did the only thing he could think of to stop her train of thoughts. He kissed her lightly in the corner of her mouth. A slight flick of his tongue made her lips part in surprise and he released his hold on her waist to turn her head.

Sylar felt Emma give in to him. She returned his kisses with the passion, pressing her chest into his. Their tongues moving against each other like intertwined lovers. For a second, he dared to open his eyes and felt his chest swell when he saw that her eyes were shut. The translucent skin of her eyelids fluttered as she sucked on his lip before pulling away.

With one leg hanging over the edge of the bed and the other bent and resting against his, Emma shifted away from Sylar and brushed her hair back. Her cheeks were tinted with a soft shade of pink.

Sylar swept in for another kiss. He couldn't get enough of her. The taste, the feel... he felt his stomach coil tightly when Emma ducked her head. He shifted to nudge her with his nose, pretending that that was his purpose all along, and that her reaction didn't sting his heart somehow.

Her mouth parted and he held his breath.

"Are we going to have sex again?"

A storm of thoughts ran through his head, but his face remained stoic as he shrugged. "I'm always ready to have sex," he replied.

Emma chewed her lip.

"I mean, is that all we're going to do?"

"Why? Am I so disappointing you want me out already?"

Her doe eyes widened. "N-n-no. You're good! Really good," she emphasized, unknowingly echoing the same sentiments that'd crossed his mind a million times that day. She stared down into her cup and replied meekly, "It's not about that. I promise."

"I'm kidding, Emma."

"Oh..." and the second oh crossed her face as she brightened up and turned those happy yet shy eyes towards him. "It's hard to tell sometimes," she admitted, "but maybe I'm just bad at reading people. I was only ever good at reading..."

They both thought of the name but refused to say it. Refused to give life to the one thing that could destroy what they had. It was too early to give up yet.

She felt Sylar peel himself away to put his cup on the floor. The loss of contact made her skin feel surprisingly bare. She eagerly welcomed his heat when he returned. One arm slide around her waist and pulled her to rest against his bare chest. His free hand rested against her thigh. A thick finger slowly moved up and towards her center before brushing back down in languid strokes.

"Are you trying to get me to ask you out on a date, Emma?"

Her voice squeaked through her constricted throat. "I-I-I..."

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

His voice rumbled through her like an echo in a cave.

"I think so," she replied and looked him straight in the eyes.

His finger had reached her outer lips. She could feel it hovering over her opening like a shadow. Suddenly she was unsure of what she wanted. Her legs were already parting to let him in.

Sylar swept his finger up her labia. He ended the motion with a hard press against her clit, causing her hips to jerk. She was so swollen, so sensitive down there that even the slightest amount of pressure could get her off.

"Hm," Sylar said as he massaged her nub. "What would you like to do?"

Emma squirmed. How did he keep so calm? She wanted him to shove his fingers inside of her and move until her inner walls sucked him in. But there was also the odd desperate need to go out with him on a normal date. Do something other than sex...

"We could - " Emma gasped as he flicked his finger, "-see a movie?"

"Mm, boring."

"Get food. We haven't eaten yet."

Sylar nipped at her neck. "That's a given. What else?"

"Um..."

She couldn't think as he finally touched exactly where she wanted his fingers to be.

"Yes?"

"I don't know," she cried out when he drew liquid from her opening, teasing her and making her second guess her desire to date. Was he trying to keep their relationship strictly sexual? Because it was working.

His tongue was trailing towards her ear. He nibbled on her lobe before whispering directly into ear with a husky tone, "Tell me about your ideal date."

Emma closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. But Sylar had asked the wrong question. Her voice faltered as Adam came to mind again. He had always been her ideal date — anything time spent with Adam was the ideal date. She swallowed with a whimper that Sylar mistook for innocent passion.

"Emma, have you ever been on a date before?"

Unable to trust herself, Emma shook her head vigorously. The movement rippled down her body, twisting her hips into a grinding motion over Sylar's stiff hand. She whined again once more like a puppy.

"Do you like long—" he pushed one finger into her on the emphasis of that word, "walks on the beach?"

She parted her legs to ease her tight muscles as she jerked her head no.

"True, you'd want something more original than that."

How the hell did he stay so calm? Emma wanted to scream for him to go faster. Although her pride, her dignity, whatever damn wall she'd built over the years, wouldn't allow her to do it. Despite the fact that she had screamed for him plenty of times before, Sylar's casual conversation made the entire situation feel curiously taboo.

"I used to take girls on a ferry ride to Sausalito. How about that?"

Emma simply sighed as a second finger stretched her open.

"Maybe that's too touristy."

At this point, Emma didn't care what they were going to do after. In fact, she was starting to realize that she never cared about the actual planning or attending of dates at all. What really mattered was who she was with and whether or not getting to know them was a good idea.

"Emma..."

Sylar curled his fingers with a come hither, causing her to arch back and slam down onto his digits with renewed force.

She gasped and words fled from her mouth with a boldness only backed up by her need for an orgasm. "I don't care! Just make me cum, please, please, please. Make me cum so we can go eat, damn it!"

Emma wriggled and ground her hips, trying to get Sylar to move when she realized that her outburst had stunned Sylar frozen. She make a mixture of sounds, ranging from desperation to embarrassment, before coming to a stop herself. Her eyes dared to meet his green ones.

They were light like the sun shining through the leaves. And then in a short second, his pupils dilated at rapid speed as he crashed his lips against hers. Without warning, Sylar worked his fingers like a piston. Hard. Short. Pressurized jabs going in and out of her until the sounds of his fingers in her slick core became as heavy as the scent of their sex in the air. His thumb pressed down on her clit, and his fingers rushed into a blur.

Emma squeezed her thighs together, trapping his hand until it couldn't move. She dropped her arms down, only realizing now that her cup wasn't in her hand anymore. When had —

"Lie down, babe."

She followed Sylar's direction and allowed herself to lie flat on her back. Sylar hovered over her. His fingers didn't move and she needed them to. He used his free hand to push her thighs apart. They obeyed, reluctantly, not understanding that he needed to get deeper before her body could reach its climax.

As soon as her legs were wide apart, Sylar shifted over her. Then his fingers went hard, like they were racing to the finish line. Emma started to scream, but his other hand slapped over mouth. The act oddly enough caused her pussy to flood. Half mortified, half too aroused to care, Emma let the positive emotions take over and surrendered to Sylar's hand.

She arched her back, allowing Sylar deeper access, as the steady rise towards her breaking point drew near. His fingers worked at lightning speed until they broke her.

Everything happened at once. The hand over her mouth withdrew as she flung herself up to hug Sylar as close to her body as possible. Sylar shuddered and yanked her hair back when she moaned right into her ear. He devoured her lips just as her inner muscles clamped down against his fingers with a death grip. Her pussy pulsated rapidly alongside her increased heartbeat, and she rode the wave with her entire body.

It felt like years had passed before she came down from that incredible high.

And when it finally subsided, Emma dropped her head into the crook of Sylar's neck. An act that Sylar found more satisfying over everything that'd just happened.

"How do you not have carpal tunnel syndrome?" she breathed, absent mindedly kissing his neck.

Chuckling, Sylar withdrew his fingers. He groaned when a small pool of liquid followed.

"Luck," he replied.

Emma continued panting to catch her breath.

"What do you want for lunch," he asked.

Emma closed her eyes. Very slowly, but noticeably enough, the feelings were starting to subside. Her voice returned to its shy vibrato, a huge difference from the Emma who'd just asked about carpal tunnel five seconds ago. "Do you like pancakes?"

"Yeah."

"There's a place that does coconut pancakes with warm apples. It's really good... but —"

"Do you like it?"

She nodded.

"Good enough, let's go."

Her face brightened like a small child offered candy. Emma hopped off his lap, but not without feeling a gush of liquid spill from inside of her. She stood in front of him, slightly mortified.

Sylar followed her gaze to the slick trail that ran down his thigh. With a smirk, he swiped his fingers and then licked her juice off.

Emma spun around. "I-I'm going to take a shower."

"Can I join you?"

"No!"

Sylar laughed as she ran off. Her cute ass peeked from underneath her shirt. He groaned with appreciation at the sight. A loud, embarrassing rumble sounded from his stomach. God, he was really hungry.

The sound of running water reached his ears.

Next time he'd join her.

***

By the time, Sylar finished his shower, Emma had dressed herself in skinny jeans and a white tee. Her bedding was thrown into the washing machine, and the windows were wide open for fresh air. The scent of their time together was long replaced with the smell of a burning lavender candle.

He rubbed his wet hair with a hand towel and scanned the room. "Where are my clothes?"

Emma froze mid-clean up.

"Shit," she replied, standing up straight and alert. "They're with the rest of the laundry."

Her eyes widened with horror as she scanned Sylar up and down.

"I'm so sorry!"

Sylar laughed. "It's okay. It just means we just can't go out for food. We can always order take-out, I guess." He tried to ignore the tiny blossom of regret. He hadn't realized how desperately he wanted to go out in public with Emma. To be openly happy with her for everyone to see.

But then she surprised him.

"Actually, I have some clothes, if you want to see if you fit them."

She walked over to her dresser and began pulling out several clothes. Sylar held onto the towel around his waist as he came up beside her. The smell of her soap hit him hard, but this time he reacted with a smile instead of arousal. They both smelled of Irish Spring.

A flash of a pair of boxers caught his eye.

He grabbed it from the small pile of clothes she'd started.

Sylar snapped, teeth gnashing, "Why do you have boxers?" His breath evaporated into unrestrained jealousy as he waited for her to answer. "I'm not wearing another man's underwear."

Redness flooded her cheeks as she ducked her head to reply, "I bought them by mistake online. They were on sale, and I thought they were sleeping shorts."

"You sleep in these?"

"Sometimes."

Relief flooded into him and his emotions went back one eighty degrees.

"Cute," he replied.

Emma kept her head down as she pulled out a pair of boyfriend jeans and a flannel shirt.

"You might not fit into these... well, if you don't fit into the pants, we still can't go out, so try these first," she was rambling with a nervousness that Sylar recognized to be tainted with fear.

Damn, he realized, she might not be afraid of him during sex, but if she was outside of it, that was still a problem.

Holding his breath, he reached over her shoulder and picked up the clothes she'd pulled out.

"All these clothes are yours?"

"Yeah... is it gross for you to wear girl's clothes?" she stared into the distance, and apologized without thinking, "I'm sorry I don't have anything else."

"If it fits, I'll wear them."

Without warning, he dropped his towel. Emma's eyes widened. Her eyes were drawn to the large appendage, which hung limply, but still impressively, against his thigh. She swallowed when Sylar cleared his throat. His dick twitched and frightened her. Emma's eyes snapped to his face. "Sorry!"

"I don't mind."

He bent down to slip on the boxers. The cool material felt strangely good. And there was something oddly intimate about wearing Emma's clothes. Sylar found himself enjoying this moment more than all the sex they'd had.

The jeans fitted around his waist, but the legs fell short. When he pulled on the flannel shirt and began buttoning, Emma got on her knees. "What—" he stopped when he saw that she was rolling the bottom of his jeans up until it rested high above his ankles. His fingers moved absent mindedly as he watched her.

When she was done, she stepped back and scanned his new look. Her eyes creased happily as she let out a soft giggle, a sound Sylar found dangerously endearing. He wished she wouldn't hid her smile underneath her hand.

"You look like a hipster."

He stepped in front of the mirror to see for himself. Flannel shirt fitted to his body, rolled up jeans... all he was missing was a beanie. Sylar ran his fingers through his hair, not sure how much he liked this new look. He knew Emma wasn't trying to change him, and that this wardrobe change wasn't her doing, but there was something unsettling about the image that reflected back at him.

And it became clear.

Adam.

He saw Adam staring back at him through these clothes, only worse. It wasn't Adam himself, but his ghost, which lingered in between Emma's every other breath. Sylar tucked his shirt in and tried his best to make this outfit become his own.

How he wished he had his hoodie and jeans back.

Did this Adam know how much exactly control he had over Emma? His presence leaked into her everyday life, like a layer of grey, discoloring the real world. A color Sylar desperately wanted to erase and find out what really shone beneath.

"Ready to go?"

He turned to see Emma by the door with a slight smile on her face. Nerves were slowly taking over, and the woman he'd coaxed out last night was now regressing into the girl he first met. No, he thought with urgency, and rushed to her side with all intention to reassure her.

Emma gasped when Sylar lifted her a few inched in the air. He kissed her until she responded back with a lost sigh. A silly smile graced her face as she asked again, "Ready to go now?"

Sylar let her down but kept his fingers intertwined with hers.

"I'm fucking starving."

She squeezed his hand.

"Let's go."

***