heroslayer | for muses_sex_etc: mirror (Reply)

He forces her back onto the table, hips hitching upwards so that he can press into her once she's settled. She moans and hooks a leg low around his hips, heel of her palm pressing against his shoulder as she forces him closer, and he leans against her, their bodies pressed flush together. She turns her head, mouth working at his collar bone, and slides her fingers up into his hair. For a moment they hold there, their breath coming short and soft already, and then he's pulling away.

A soft, displeased noise falls from her lips, humming against his skin, and she twists her fingers in his hair, pleadingly. He huffs out a sigh of a laugh, turning his head into her hair to murmur something dark and wordless, then he's jerking forward, hips grinding against hers without mercy. She whimpers in spite of the fact that she arches up to meet him, body working on it's own, and drags his head down to her shoulder with a tug of her fingers.

Teasingly, he nips at her shoulder, then settles his chin against her as they fall into a rhythm. Her hand drifts back down to his back, resting comfortably for a moment, and then she shifts against him, swatting at her hair to push it over the shoulder he's not leaning against. He shoots her a sideways glance out of the corner of his eyes, wondering hazily why she bothered -- in the heat of the moment, the fall of her hair is hardly important -- and then it hits him.

Why she moved her hair. Why she picked this room in the first place, when it's not the Good Senator Petrelli's usual. Why she seemed so insistent on getting him to the table the second they were in the door. It all suddenly makes sense and all because the wall at the far side of the room is paneled in mirrors.

He watches her in the glass as she resettles against him, the muscles in her shoulders quivering with the rise and fall of her breath. Sweat gathers in the small of her back, and he slips his hands down to trace shaking fingers through it, fascinated somehow. And when she breaks around him, he holds on for a few more seconds, unmoving and teeth gritted, just so he can watch as she bucks up off the table violently, her shoulder blades nearly touching as she forced herself into him as she climaxes.

With a cry, he follows her down, his eyes sliding closed, and minutes later when they settle and he pulls away to just hold her, she raises her eyes to him hazily, a smirk on her lips. "Enjoy the show?"

If he wasn't sure before, he is now -- he likes this room.

Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 464
Note: Elle is