Characters/Pairings: Lydia/Sylar, hints to Lydia/Samuel and Samuel/Lydia/Sylar
Summary:the Carnival people welcome the new addition to their family
Warnings: non-graphic sex, swearing
Spoilers: through Tabula Rasa
Word Count: 991
Notes: thanks to hiding_duh for being incredibly supportive and betaing this mess.
They say a woman needs ten seconds to decide if she wants to sleep with a new guy. Lydia only needed three.
He's standing beside Sam, round-shouldered and disheveled, looking as if he was dragged out of the bed and thrown into dirt.
Sam says something, leaning close to his face and squeezing his shoulder, and the other man nods, brushing his messy hair off his forehead.
Lydia steps on a dry twig, and it cracks under her foot. The man startles and turns around to look at her. Their eyes meet.
The men are long gone into the darkness and she's still standing there trying to catch her breath.
Gabriel. That's his name. Or is it Sylar?.. Sam told her both names, but their owner doesn't answer to either of them.
«Give him Joseph's clothes,» orders Sam. «They oughta fit him.»
Lydia takes their guest to the bay and pretends to be leaving, but hides behind a tree instead. She's listening to the water splashing and then – to the rustling of fabric. She wants to see him but the darkness is thick and oily so she strains her eyes to no avail.
«I know you're still there», - he says all of a sudden.
Her heart misses a beat.
«How did you know?».
He chuckles softly: «I can hear you breathe».
His voice seems distant and weak, but she hears a smile in it. No need for her to hide anymore.
«I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn't get lost on your way back,» Lydia says matter-of-factly. She knows she's lying and she has this strange feeling that he knows it too.
Gabriel, or Sylar, or whatever his name is, comes closer. He smells like fresh air and Lydia's shampoo.
«That's so thoughtful,» he says heartily. «Thank you. I appreciate that».
He takes Lydia by the hand, pressing his thumb against the middle of her palm: «Let's go».
And leads her through the forest and back to the Carnival.
Lydia can't take her eyes off him. She's been watching him all morning. Fleetingly and hard, up and down and sideways, with her eyes narrowing to half-hooded lids. This man is an eye candy and she wants to lick him.
Zero reaction from his side.
«He really got to you».
Sam smells like... Sam. A bit of incense meets oregano and musk. So familiar. So boring. All of a sudden she feels nauseous.
«He killed fifty people – brutally, mercilessly, - drawls Sam, following her gaze. -His mother, his girlfriend... Are you sure you want to be next?»
Lydia looks and him with dreamy eyes and smiles ambiguously. She believes in free choice, but Sam's words make her feel like a whore. And Lydia is not one.
«He's not what you expected him to be, - she says lightheartedly. -Or am I wrong?»
Something is off about him.
Well, apart from the fact that Sylar is a psycho serial killer, who declared war on people like him. Or Lydia, Sam and Edgar.
Lydia knows that – oh, Sam has spilled to her all the gory details on Sylar's crimes – but she also knows, feels that this is just not true. The man she's looking at is not Sylar.
Because this man touches everything that he's passing by during their little awareness-raising tour around the Carnival – stealthily, when he thinks she won't notice. And every time he does touch something, he gasps in surprise, and his brown eyes shine like stars.
That's what he calls himself.
«Do you think he remembers the way a man should treat a woman?»
Edgar got his point.
Every time Lydia touches Sylar, accidentally on purpose, he's looking at her in disbelief and she feels like a school teacher ogling her underage student.
«Well,» she says. «I'm here to remind him».
It turns out that he remembers.
And he knows exactly what he's doing.
Lydia remembers thinking that the moment she loses her skirt. His hands never stopped touching her in all the right places, so how the hell did he do that?.. Maybe she's the one who's lost here.
She's rubbing her cheek against his naked chest like a cat, only mildly surprised that she doesn't remember unbuttoning his shirt.
When he presses her against the wall, she almost purrs with pleasure, wrapping her legs around him. Sam was never strong enough to fuck her standing up.
She's squeezing her inner muscles around him rhythmically – fast, and slowly, and fast again. This is what Lydia learned from a girl she once knew – just for the record, that girl was a real whore, so she should've known the business.
He closes his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration and his mouth turning into a perfect, silent «o».
«Don't think that I lasted too long,» he admits honestly.
Lydia usually likes to be on top.
But not this time around.
She wants to watch his face change like the weather, but his head is tilted back and all she can see is this long line of his throat and that well-rounded chin. But for as long as he's doing what he's doing to her she's fine with it. She can bear with anything while he's moving this way and touching her like that and...
«God, you are so beautiful together,» Sam's voice behind her back makes Lydia startle. «Do you mind if I watch you?»
Having Sam watch them is the last thing on Earth Lydia wants now. But she belongs to him – just like Edgar and Teddy... Just like Sylar. And she's the one who'll have to explain this to him.
«It's alright,» she says, cupping his face and looking into the surprised dark eyes. «Shh, it's okay. We're family. We share.»
Sighing, Sylar nods once and rolls to his side, making room for Sam.
Looks like he's a family man too.