Figure 8 Ch. 07

"You okay?"

Emma thumped her chest, nodding. The bartender chuckled. He filled a cup of water for her and slid it down the bar.

"Thank you," Emma said as she caught it perfectly in her hands.

"How come you're not out having fun with the rest of your crew?"

She finished her sip and shrugged. "I don't know," she replied.

"Maybe you need a few more drinks?"

"Oh no," she quickly insisted and pointed at her own half full glass, "I saw how much you put in that blue one and nearly had a heart attack. It doesn't taste like there's so much."

"Ah, the Adios Motherfucker. It's a get-drunk classic. I've been serving it a lot tonight. Did someone buy it for you?"

"A friend did."

"He must've wanted to get you drunk then," the bartender winked.

Emma furiously shook her head. "No, he's just a friend. He probably just wanted to get away with buying me one drink only."

"Possibly. But in my opinion, you've been nursing that drink too long. It's just water now. Let me make you another one."

"Oh no, I'm good. Really."

He cocked his head. His hands moved quickly, grabbing a few bottles off the shelf and pretty soon began pouring the liquid into a mixture. "This one is on me." The drink turned red before he pushed it over.

"What's it called?" Emma asked, eying the bright drink suspiciously.

"Red Death."

Her face must've been comical because he laughed.

"Okay, trust me, it's not that bad. Just try it."

Emma leaned forward and took a small sip. The bartender swiped her blue drink and water away. A cheeky grin graced his face as he came back around. He rested his arm against the bar and waited for her response.

The drink went down cool and sweet. The fruity flavors were infinitely better than the overly syrupy concoction of the previous drink. Emma felt a rush take over her head as she swooned "I love it!" a little more enthusiastically than she wanted to. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

The other drink was starting to kick in.

"You should," he replied, "I put real pineapple juice in there for you."

Her cheeks grew warm and the heat spread throughout her entire head.

"Thank you. You didn't have to, I wouldn't have noticed anyway."

"Oh but I-"

"Excuse me, two Tequila shots please."

Emma turned to see who was ordering and nearly spat out her drink.

***

"Excuse me, two Tequila shots please."

Sylar tried his best not to turn and face Emma while Kendall held onto his arm. He was hoping the Tequila shots would get the woman on his arm to loosen up and find someone else. But this was her third one and she didn't seem to show any signs of slowing down. He'd seen Emma stand all alone the entire night. Her face carried a sadness to it that he was sure she didn't even realize was there.

When the bartender set two shots in front of him, Sylar couldn't hold it in anymore. He whipped his head around so fast to greet Emma that it stunned the both of them. Holding in his beating heart, Sylar gave the biggest, fakest smile of his life.

"Want a shot?"

"Um..."

He hated the way she looked at the bartender for an answer. What was this guy to her? They had never met until now - so why did she trust him so much more?

Sylar had seen the red drink he'd given her - the exchange of smiles and blush that flooded her cheeks and traveled down her neck. The shirt she wore was slightly more revealing than her regular clothes. He knew she wasn't truly aware of the fact that when she stretched or leaned over, her small waist was exposed. The skin underneath her shirt seemed to go on forever.

"Come on," he finally said after what felt like thirty minutes to him. "It's just a shot."

"Babe, don't force her if she doesn't want it."

Sylar shrugged Kendall's hands off his arm. "I just wanted to give one to her as a thank you for all the hard work."

"Okay," Emma said before Kendall could reply.

He was ecstatic on the inside.

"One more shot please."

The bartender poured another glass of clear liquid. Then he set a small dish of salt and limes down.

"Come on," Sylar muttered, suddenly realizing that he was much more drunk than he'd expected. Somewhere along the way he must've forgotten to count how many drinks he'd had. That was a bad sign. Especially when Kendall didn't seem to be letting go of him anytime soon.

He waited impatiently as Emma slid off her chair and came next to him. The scent of her freshly washed body hit his nose. Sylar felt her stiffen as he forced an arm around her shoulder. But he was too drunk to care. He just wanted to hold her. Feel her. It'd been so long since he last touched her.

"Do you know how to take shots?" he asked. He held her small hands and helped her sprinkle some salt in the groove between her thumb and index finger. Then he placed the shot glass in her hands. "Lick the salt, down the drink and then suck on the lime to chase down the taste. Got it?"

She nodded.

"Hurry up," Kendall whined from the side. Her breasts bounced deliciously in her tight top.

"Okay."

Sylar got his shot ready. On his right side he heard Kendall's high pitched voice do a countdown, but on his left there was no sound. When he heard three, he threw back his neck and poured the shot straight down. No chaser. He heard two glasses slam down against the bar and looked back down to see how Emma faired.

She was holding a lime out towards him.

Without thinking, he bent down and took it directly with his teeth. The tips of her fingers slipped into the corners of his mouth. And he purposely sucked on them before taking the lime away. His chest throbbed with anticipation as he stared into her big eyes. She tasted sweet. He wanted her like nothing else existed in the world.

"Damn girl," the bartender said, breaking the moment, "you took that shot like a champ."

Sylar mourned as Emma broke away and jumped back into her chair.

"Used to drink a bit in college. Guess I still got it," she replied with a shy smile.

And in that moment, Sylar didn't know if he could love a girl more.

Only he was immediately dragged away again, back onto the makeshift dance floor, by Kendall.

Her manicured hands ran all over him, over his body, but his mind was only on the girl at the bar. The girl that smiled whenever he wasn't around. The girl that didn't have a proper reaction to his apology. Damn it, he thought as he watched Emma flirt bashfully with the bartender. How was this fair? How did he spend weeks on end trying to get her to smile when some bastard who knew her less than an hour could get her to laugh?

In many ways, Sylar knew the answer: Let it go and leave her alone. It'd been the answer Greg told him ages ago. It was the one answer he considered over and over again, but it was so difficult to follow.

Why?

He felt a hand brush over his crotch and tried to shift away. Here was another question he'd been asking for days on end, a question that it seemed only Emma could answer and relieve. When Kendall's lips attached his neck, he saw Emma finish her drink and give the bartender a kiss on the cheek. She moved fluidly across the room, escaping everyone's touches except Greg's. Sylar clenched his fists when Greg got a kiss on the cheek.

Then she completely disappeared out of the bar.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he muttered to Kendall. He kissed the spot behind her ear as an empty promise. "I'll come look for you later."

She nodded and Sylar made for the door.

Outside, he saw Emma walking towards the woods.

What the fuck was this girl doing?

Sylar strode towards her in large, hurried steps. Without a warning, he grabbed her by the arm.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

Emma froze as he started to drag her back towards the hotel.

"Where do you think you're going?" he repeated loudly.

The more she tried to get free, the harder he held onto his arm. She was so tiny. If she jerked hard enough, she'd break off her own arm just trying to get away from him.

The idea was mildly appealing to Emma. She wanted nothing more to step away from Sylar, and maybe breaking her arm was the way to do it. She closed her eyes.

The alcohol was definitely making it hard for her to stand still and consider everything.

Sylar's intense flirting - from the way he helped her open the door to Greg's hotel room to 'teaching' her how to take a shot - gave her mild hope. Granted it was a twisted hope that had nothing to do with him. She knew Sylar was attracted to her - he'd confessed that much to her the night before - and it was his actions that confused her.

But after all that, how could he go and dance with Kendall as if she didn't existed?

Is that what people did?

She saw the way Kendall fondled him. The evidence was right in front of her, even now. It was big. It was terribly excited... but it was just a hormonal reaction that arguably had nothing to do with her.

And when Kendall kept dancing with Sylar, Emma could imagine Adam doing the same with another girl. Touch someone else as if she didn't exist. If Sylar, someone who confessed what little heart he had to her, could do that ... then Adam definitely could.

In her mind's eye, she could see Adam turning his phone off so that his guilt would come after he'd done the act.

She knew him well enough to know exactly what he'd do. Terror and rejection struck through her as she felt Sylar pull her close.

"Let me go!" she shouted. Her hands snapped out of his reach, and she held her palms out to keep him at bay. Her lower lip trembled, not out of fear but true desperation. Every second he was around her, her ability to think straight threatened to fall apart.

"And let you go into the woods? Are you crazy?"

"I wasn't going to go far! And besides, it's none of your business."

Sylar's green eyes blazed. He was livid, for many reasons.

Angry with himself for being unable to leave her alone. Unable to do what she really wanted. But not angry enough with himself to endanger her. As she stepped backwards, he grabbed her arm and rescued her from tripping over the stairs. Her soft body was inches away from his. He held his breath, looking right back into her big brown eyes.

He wanted to kiss her. Taste her. More than anything, he wanted to hear her voice sighing for him.

His lips were inches away from hers before he realized what he was doing.

"Fuck," he cursed, but did not let go of her.

What was it about her that made him this crazy? He wanted an explanation that made sense on a human level. None of that supernatural soulmate crap. Something to explain why he wanted to spend an exuberant amount of time with her that extended beyond hours, days, weeks and months.

If someone had told months ago him that soul mates existed, he would've laughed in their face. There were far too many people in the world to be tied down to one, especially for sex. Every girl he'd ever been with was different. Tighter, looser, more flexible or higher stamina... he could categorize them all and have enough options for a days he felt like getting a top notch blowjob or fucking the tightest ass.

But he'd hardly been inside her, and already just being with her felt like the time he rode a roller coaster that looped in and out of a pitch black mountain. He never knew when the ups and downs came - but that didn't matter. That was the best part. Not knowing when the roller coaster would shoot of the darkness and into the light. It blinded him with a thrill.

Being around Emma was the same.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, stepping back as if she burned him. "So sorry. Let's just get you back inside, okay? Just so I know you're safe indoors and not alone out here."

Emma nodded and even though Sylar didn't ask to take her hand, she let him. They managed to pass by the bar without catching anybody's attention.

As they walked down the halls, Sylar tried to contain the smallest amount of happiness that'd captured him since she interlocked her fingers with his. She was letting him touch her - guide her - and when they reached Greg's room, Emma handed him the key.

"I'm not very good at this," she said.

Sylar soundlessly took the key card from her. The beep and flash of green let them know it worked.

Emma pushed the door open and walked in. The door closed in, but at the last second, Sylar stuck his toe out. He stood there, waiting for her to turn around and acknowledge him. At the moment, he deserved at least a kiss goodnight. Or a thank you. Even a grateful thank you that showed him she was no longer afraid of him.

"Do you want some water?" he heard her ask.

His throat was suddenly too dry to answer.

So he nodded.

"Come in then."

He let the door close behind him. The soft thud, the click of the door locking, seemed to make the room smaller. He sat on the bed as Emma turned to give him a glass of cold water.

"Thanks," he replied.

"And thanks for watching out for me."

"Always."

He kept his eyes on her and she turned her head away. Her cute button nose was dusted in freckles. How had he never noticed that before?

"So," he began, knowing that his question was masochism in the worst form, "you excited to get home to your boyfriend?"

"Yeah," although Emma was shrugging, "I am."

"You don't look excited."

"I am."

Sylar said nothing but made sure that she could read the disbelief on his face.

That had her walking away, and for a second he thought she was going to give him enough evidence to break his heart all over again. Then she surprised him by sitting down on the bed. Right next to him. She looked him straight in the eyes, a look so earnest and innocent that he gagged when she asked a deeply intimate question.

"Is there such thing as a girl being too small?"

Sylar shifted uncomfortably, wondering if the question was personal as well.

"There's no such thing as too small."

"Well you work with professionals," Emma said flippantly. There was enough sass in her voice to let Sylar know that the alcohol was doing most of the talking for her. "They probably aren't like normal girls."

"I had my fair share of women beyond coworkers."

Red hit her cheeks even harder.

"Why, did someone say you were too small?"

"N-n-no."

Sylar wanted to bet his dick that her boyfriend had. He wanted to hit the man for making this girl feel less than perfect even before she experienced heaven.

And suddenly he had to touch her, to prove it to her that she was nothing but perfect. He wanted her first time to be with someone who loved her.

"I can promise you that you're not too small," he put the water glass on the floor and slowly looked up. Emma's flushed face gazed down as he touched her legs and slid his hand up her jeans. With two fingers, he gentled pushed at her knees. Emma moved accordingly, sliding back onto the bed until she propped up by her elbows.

Sylar dropped to his knees. Emma's legs hung around his shoulders as he leaned forward and lifted her shirt to reveal her smooth stomach. Her waist was small and delicate. His hands spanned the width of it.

Touching her like this was not enough.

Without asking, he ran his fingers along the hem of her pants and gently unbuttoned the top of her jeans. The open V widened as he unzipped her pants to reveal a pair of lavender cotton panties. He could smell her too. Her arousal. And it made him even more anxious. The way she stared at him while breathing so heavily told him that she had no idea what was going on.

Sylar pressed his warm hands over her center.

"Let me see you, Emma."

He breathed heavily, knowing full well that he deserved a slap on the face for even attempting to ask that, let alone crawl towards her and run his finger over her hip bone. Worse, he knew the alcohol was speaking to her, relaxing her muscles and warming her body in preparation.

He moved over her on all fours with the grace of a panther. His shoulders rolled forward, protruding sharply from underneath his shirt. Emma forgot to breathe. Sylar was so beautiful. Not just handsome in a rugged way - no, Adam was much more of that. Many men carried the off-beat carpenter look but didn't completely pull off. Sylar on the other hand looked unreal, like a sunset that caught your eye.

"I... please," he whispered over her lips. His voice begged for permission in ways she never imagined him doing. He'd never film a scene like this.

But she did nothing. She laid there with her eyes closed so tightly they couldn't have been screwed open with pain or pleasure. Her mouth was parted and emitted whimpering sounds that had Sylar harder than steel. But she did not say yes.

His hands loosened their hold and slid down her legs. Any decent man would've let go right away. But he wasn't decent. He was letting go in the most reluctant way possible. As his hands hit her knees, he heard her mewl.

Then, very slowly, Emma spread herself as open as her pants would allow.

Sylar remained still, not knowing if she was teasing, drunk beyond belief or finally giving him the gift he'd been dreaming about since he tasted her. He swallowed and realized that a pool of saliva had collected in his mouth.

God, he could smell her from here. A faint musky aroma that he knew he'd never get enough of. God, even her scent alluded him. As soon as he seemed to have the smell of her arousal committed to memory, he wanted another sniff. He wanted to be closer.

Sylar ran his hand down her inner thigh, pushing her pants past her knees. Her skin felt as if it were made of a hybrid of velvet and silk. His fingers reached the curls he remembered tugging on that day in the club. Guilt tore through his stomach as he recalled violating her in the worst way possible. But he couldn't take his hands away. Not when she offered herself to him like this.

"I'm going to touch you now, Emma."

She looked back at him with blank eyes.

He smiled reassuringly. Touch, he realized, was too vague of a word for her. No, what she needed was a play by play. Sylar fought against his instinct to prop himself over her and whisper in her ear everything he wanted to make her feel. Instead, he went lower and blew warm air over her sensitive flesh. He trailed his finger as close to her center as possible. Briefly flicking his nail over her folds, he watched as her hips twitched.

Her lungs felt as if they'd dropped into her stomach as she breathed heavily. It was a strange thing to not see Sylar's head between her legs, but feel every inch of him there.

"I'm going to lick you now. Right here," he demonstrated, tasting her with the very tip of his tongue.

Her hips arched off the bed, almost away from Sylar's mouth. He was ready to stop when she suddenly reached down and grabbed his hair.

Sylar grinned. Enough girls had done this to him that he knew what it meant. And it wasn't just that. He knew that it meant Emma wanted him. She wanted him.

And he wanted nothing more than to make her feel happy. To make her heart race as she felt wave after wave hit her like the ocean slapping against the rocks. As he ran his tongue up and down her slit to get her wet, Sylar listened to her small mewls. He was aware that she didn't know what was going on, so he made sure to whisper everything he did.

"This is called eating out, Emma. My tongue is going to taste you, going to drink your juices until I can't take it anymore."

Her lower lips were so swollen, it made Sylar ached to know that she had no idea why. She had no idea how it felt. How he felt to be inches away from heaven. As he dipped his tongue inside of her, she gasped. Her hips moved to pull away, but he held her down and used his thumb to touched the area around her clit.

Her thighs squeezed around his head.

"Relax," he murmured purposefully against her so that she could feel each tremble in his voice. That somehow got her even wetter as he swallowed her essence. It was addicting, just like the smell of her. He couldn't get enough.