Figure 8 Ch. 08

a/n: So... this has been roughly edited. I just want to get it out... I'm not 100% sure if low ratings have made me care less about "publish worthy editing," but it probably has (I do this for fun, not a profit). Or the fact that I might actually seriously re-edit and put this out as an ebook later for coffee $$)...

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When Emma awoke, Greg was whistling as he brushed his teeth. He popped his cherub looking face out and smiled at his favorite girl. "Boy, you had a lot to drink last night."

Emma ached, and since the bed was so soft and comforting, she dropped her head back into the pillow. Greg yanked the curtains back with a feisty, "Rise and shine, darling!" The light streamed brightly over her face. She squinted as her body slowly woke up. There was a dull throb high between her legs.

The wild dream of Sylar with his mouth pressed closed to her lower lips... nibbling... smiling as he licked her like a cat who got the cream came flooding back.

"Oh my god," she whispered, mortified.

Greg peeked out from the bathroom. "Something wrong?" Foamed covered his lips as he kept on brushing and watching Emma silently berate herself. The sight was amusing. It was like she'd forgotten he was there. When she finally looked up, there was faint desperation in her eyes.

"Did you bring me back?"

He quickly pretended he had to spit and went back into the bathroom. "Of course," he turned on the faucet and shouted over the running water, "why?"

Emma tucked her feet up and rested her chin against her knees. "Nothing. I just remember talking to Sylar in this room and then everything after that became a blank."

"Oh," his voice echoed against the tiled walls of the bathroom and came back sounding hollow to Emma's ears, "we brought you back together."

"Oh. Thank you."

She tugged softly on her toes. Was she being paranoid or did it seem like her jeans were pulled up too tight? Maybe it was that erotic dream she had... it made her want to press her thighs together. In her curled up position, she could push her lower body down. The pressure felt good against her lower lips, but it was a bare mimicry of the vague sensations of dream-Sylar had induced upon her.

Then the memory of her asking Sylar about girls being too small hit her like a hammer. "Oh my god," she moaned, burying her head in her hands. It was the last thing she could remember but why had she asked that? "That's so embarrassing."

Greg walked back out of the bathroom. He was wiping his face on a towel as he casually approached Emma. "What's embarrassing?"

"Nothing," she mumbled.

"You didn't do anything stupid at the party, trust me."

She nodded but still wouldn't show her face.

***

As the shuttle sped down the highway, Emma fidgeted nervously in her seat. Sylar was doing it again - the intense staring. His eyes, a hazy sea of ocean green, never faltered. Every time she turned around, he was facing her with a humorless expression that made her feel she had fucked up again. She'd seen that expression before on other people. Professors, employers — her aunt whenever they brought up the topic of her mother. While those looks were rarely directed at her, Emma never felt comfortable in its presence.

She turned her head to look out at the speeding scenery of valleys and cars. Hadn't their time in the van together been therapeutic? Even though he invaded her personal space, she found his drunk, evanescent apology to be sincere.

But drinking that last shot had definitely been a bad idea. Her memory of last night was practically nonexistent, but it was her dreams that put her on an emotional and physical roller coaster she was unprepared to face. It had been too real.

It'd caused her to avoid Sylar all morning because she couldn't look at him without feeling a need between her legs. Just thinking of him made her rock in her seat. She squirmed, feeling the hard cushion underneath her butt barely give way. The dream was the bane of her existence; it'd unlocked a fantasy that had been growing stronger ever since she started working here.

Emma dared to peek over her shoulder. There he was again, staring like a hawk eyeing its prey. She whirled back around and leaned her head against the window. Yellows and greens blurred by, making her go cross eyed. She shut her eyes and spent her energy trying to remember the night before instead. All that came to mind was her absolutely humiliating dream that starred the one and only Sylar Durdan.

Not only did the vividness of her dream make it difficult for her to acknowledge Sylar, it ruined his apology. She couldn't stop thinking about him. His weight pushing her down into the bed... his breath brushing her ear... how he knew what she wanted without her even needing to say a word... he was ruining sex for her and she hadn't even had it yet!

It had to be because of the editing, Emma reasoned. She'd seen him go down on so many others girls. It was only logic that her brain chose the most reliable reference point. But as that thought settled and she waded through the confusion, another feeling bloomed inside of her. Desire. Seeing Sylar kiss his way down her body made Emma squirm. Like there was a knotted button inside of her that need to be coaxed into release.

God, dream weren't supposed to be that powerful. It was unlike than anything she'd done with Adam. The man she loved so much and fantasized about for years didn't even come close to making her body feel this way. No. He just made her anxious. Adam made her worried.

Adam still had yet to return or pick up her calls.

Why? Why?

Emma slowly banged her head against the window. Each thud grew harder and harder as she hit a mental road block. Why? Why?

Something blunted her blow.

She tilted her head back. Standing above her and looking directly down was a green eyed man with an the unhappy gaze.

"Stop hurting yourself."

The instinct to flinch was strong, but she suppressed it and was treated to a low burning sensation that heated her entire body. She felt as if she were caught inside a furnace. With a shy smile that she hoped didn't give away her thoughts, she muttered, "I wasn't."

Sylar nodded. Then he sat down directly behind her. Emma's heart beat rapidly to a point where she didn't trust herself breathe. It would be so loud. So she leaned her head against the window and pretended that she couldn't feel Sylar's incessant gaze right behind her. Why did was he here?

He'd looked so angry, but even through the sharp anger, Emma could detect sadness. And that startled her. He'd shown displeasure, frustration and even gentleness. Until now, she thought she experienced every emotion Sylar had to offer. Until now, she knew mutely nodding and walking away was an answer. Until now.

***

Sylar stared at the girl laying in front of him. Lavender eye lids rested shut as she breathed in deeply. The bed was swallowing her up. She looked so comfortable and innocent. Some of her hair was matted to her face with sweat, and he brushed it aside, fixing the strands to the portions of hair that spanned out around her head. A part of him was glad that Emma had blacked out after her intense orgasm.

Up until now, he didn't know what his next step was going to be. The loveless look in her eyes bothered him. He'd seen it on many other girls before, girls that just wanted to take pleasure in the moment, but with Emma, it was different. The unreciprocated emotion made his chest feel hollow. Breathing was unbearable.

Sylar stood up and back away from her small body. She was so tiny. Her hips jutted out from underneath her skin. When she inhaled ever so lightly, shadows appeared, exposing her ribs. He recalled the feeling of her thighs in his hands. She had been soft and bony. This was a body of a girl who didn't know how to take care of herself.
And it was in moments where he wanted to shake her. Ask what kind of spell she put on him and if she could take it away. He wanted his other mind back — the kind that didn't ask questions other than ensuring it was consensual sex. He wanted his selfishness and youthful one track mind. He wanted to be the other cliche. Not this one... not the one who wanted to crawl into bed with her. Who wanted to pull her against his body and cradle her, knowing that he would protect her from everything harmful in the world.

Except everything also meant him.

Sylar paled as he realized what he'd done. Who he had become. He'd gotten so used to hearing yes that hearing no from this girl had driven him up the wall. Stepping back was difficult, but he forced himself to do so. The dark apex between her thighs shone with a white liquid, and the wet spot underneath her still carried the musk he wanted to inhale over and over again.

Other girls had brought him to an insatiable brink before. But they were porn stars. Sylar couldn't recall the last girl he slept with in the past three years who wasn't in the business. An uneasy feeling buckled his knees. The room swirled a bit and he had to leaned against the bed to steady himself.

Then he was face to face with Emma's sweet lips again. Any other girl would've gladly woken up to his face between their legs. But not her, he had to remind himself. Not her. Sylar held his breath to avoid smelling her addictive scent again and reached forward to pull her panties back up. His finger brushed through her curls. They were a slightly darker shade than the hair on her head. A soft moan escaped from her throat as she wiggled with his finger dangerously close to her clit.

As soon as she stopped moving, he pulled her jeans back up in a fast, quick motion. This caused his hands to slip and push her sweater up a little higher. Curiosity got the better of him again as he stared at the fresh canvas that was her skin. Didn't she have a tattoo?

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He rolled her sweater a little higher until the faded inky words looked back at him.

Any feelings of desire was immediately wretched out of his chest.

He pulled her sweater down and jumped away from her, heading straight for the door. Once outside, the brightly lit and gaudily decorated hallway blinded him. He only had a few seconds as a warning before he saw Greg's hand coming towards his face.

Sylar's head cracked sideways. His cheek burned as he got pushed against the wall.

"The fuck—"

Greg hissed as he reinforced his anger with another shake, "You bastard. What did you do to her?"

"Nothing," Sylar replied. He pressed the side of his face against the wall to avoid being slapped again. "She's sleeping like a princess. Go in and look for yourself."

Greg pushed him up a little higher as a warning.

"Next time, just let me get her."

"Yeah, yeah."

He jerked out of Greg's hold.

"I'm serious, Sylar," Greg slurred, evidently drunk now, "Emma's not a game for you to play with."

Sylar fumed. "I thought we were done with this conversation."

"Yeah, I thought we were too."

"Look," Sylar started, feeling the alcohol speak more for him than he wanted to. The tattoo wouldn't leave his mind. "I brought her back like any gentleman would have done, so I'd appreciate it if you stopped making me sound like a rapist. Especially in front of her. But if you're saying I should keep my distance from her forever... fine. I'll do it."

His friend softened at the sudden confession. Greg lowered his head and the sad words sobered him up. Obviously the alcohol had gotten the better of him as well.

"I just need you to be careful. Emma can't survive you, you know that?"

Sylar snorted and dusted himself off. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"She has Adam, and he's good for her."

"Have you met her boyfriend? Because I did — while he was dancing with another girl at a club."

Greg shook his head.

"That's a lot you don't know about their relationship, Sylar."

Words slipped from Sylar's clenched jaw. His tone was so venomous that even he cringed as he spoke, but his lips would not stop moving. "I don't need to know anything about him or their relationship to know that she'd be happier without him."

"Without him or with you?"

Sylar stilled, and jealousy reeled within him.

"Fuck you, Greg."

It took a lot of willpower, but he turned and walked back to his room before Greg said another word. Next thing from that asshole's mouth would make him punch a hole through the wall.

***

Sylar watched Emma and wondered if she had been awake for the portion of his argument with Greg. It would explain why she avoided him all morning.

He had tried to greet her during breakfast but each time he asked a question, Emma would brush it off and run away like he'd forced her again. Keep away from her, he heard. Even in his head, Greg's normally amicable voice was low and unfriendly. But Sylar couldn't keep away from her. He didn't want to keep away from her. Nothing could change his mind - not that stupid boyfriend of hers, not Greg's warnings - nothing but... Emma herself.

She hadn't though, had she? Maybe not verbally, but she had in other ways. Sylar rubbed his face, feeling the stubble prickle his palm. The tattoo under her breast had said, in so few words, exactly why she would never be his.

Sylar watched her youthful face relax to the calming sights that zipped past them. He loved how she embraced silence. His mind on the other hand was going at a hundred miles per minute.
What if her tattoo was a mistake? A drunk decision or moment of weakness? Sylar snorted inwardly at his pathetic wishful thinking. Emma did not seem like the reckless type.

He looked at the time on his phone. He had wanted to wait until they'd gotten off the shuttle to confront her, to get a clear vision of who he was to her, but seeing her thump her head against the window repeatedly was the last straw.

No girl in love would have done that.

So even as Greg glared at him, Sylar went to her. Very quietly, and thankful that nobody sat near them, Sylar leaned in and asked, "Why are you avoiding me?"

Emma's wide eye response was almost all he needed to know. She looked very afraid, like a deer caught in headlights or a child caught lying. Her body's first instinct was to seize up and get away. Sylar cursed as he wondered exactly why he'd chosen to ask that question first. Only his next one wasn't much better.

"Are you still afraid of me?"

But then she tilted her head curiously and replied in that melodic voice of hers, "You've asked me that."

"I know."

Sylar's gaze never wavered. Emma bit her lip.

"...No. And I'm not lying this time," she added hastily, wringing her own hands for support.

"But I obviously make you feel uncomfortable — and I don't think it's because of my profession."

She gawked for a long while before snapping her mouth shut.

Was he really doing this now? Everything inside of her didn't want to relive the weeks of fear he had instilled in her. Yes, he'd apologized and tried to make things right, but her immediate reaction wasn't something she could turn off right away. She couldn't help being hyper aware of the blood rushing to every corner of her body whenever he was near.

"I think I'm just... intimidated."

"That's a form of fear."

"N-n-no, not scared of you. Just..."

Sylar waited patiently as her eyes flickered left and right.

For Emma, this was too much and too soon. Normal people didn't just confront as they pleased. Most of people were reliably passive aggressive, using roundabout ways to get the answers they needed. That was the kind of confrontation Emma was used to, and the kind she knew how to avoid.

But Sylar was far from normal.

Plus this trip - that dream in particular - had turned her world upside down. Just as she was trying to figure out the overwhelming sensations that came whenever Sylar was near, he stunned her with a question that made her uncertain of everything. There was a deadly combination that now served to increase her lust whenever Sylar was near. Desire was interwove tightly with fear and intimidation.

Emma felt her cheeks heat up. She couldn't very well admit her lust to him. These were feelings that not even Adam stirred in her. Besides, what did a girl do with lust? No matter how uncomfortable Sylar made her, it didn't override the feelings she had for Adam.

Sylar gently urged her to continue.

"Just...?"

Emma stared at the black cushioned seat in front of her before exhaling.

"I-I don't know where I stand with you."

"What do you mean?"

The tables turned on him when she said quietly, "I feel like everything I do makes you angry."

Her expression was so earnest that he wanted to hold her and apologize again for everything he'd ever done to her. Only he was suddenly wary of the hell that'd opened up in his stomach.

"Why the fuck would you think that?"

"N-never mind," Emma said quickly, her confidence shattered by Sylar's abrasive tone. Maybe it was fear she felt. This was nothing like what she felt for Adam. "I'm just being stupid."

Sylar knew at this moment he should've taken time to reassure her, but the irrational part of him was bubbling again. She always managed to irritate him — always made him out to be the bad guy.

For all the years he'd been in the sex industry, women flocked to him because he was known to treat his co-stars fairly. He was supposed to be the good guy! But this girl tested his patience like no other person he'd ever known. Around her, Sylar felt his prided self-control drop by the second.

Especially when Emma chewed her lip.

The ethereal sounds she made last night echoed in his mind. He imagined kissing her just to prove how misguided she was. Have her sigh into admission that he didn't hate her. Tease her until she sang for him. He wanted to do it slowly with a mixture of restrained lust. Savor her to show Emma exactly he from wanted her.

Slow.

Deep.

...for a long time.

Sylar moved to get away from her but fell apart at the last minute. He grabbed her hand, ignoring her frozen state, and started to rubbed the inside of her wrist.

Warmth seeped through their bodies.

"I don't hate you, Emma," he stated as firmly as possible. "I don't know how many times I have to apologize, but I - we, Nick, Greg and I - want you to be comfortable here."

His green eyes bore into hers until she was unable to take the intensity any longer. She let her head drop into a slightly, startled nod.

"Do you believe me?"

Her hand laid in his, unmoving like an anchor. Sylar didn't want to let go. She was his anchor.

"We're here!"

The shuttle itself agreed as it made a loud noise at the drop off point.

The crew around them began get up. Emma snatched her hands away and pretended to be distracted by the sunlight. Sylar turned slowly and faced forward. The two of them presented an unmoving picture that their coworkers found odd. Everyone had seen them together already.

"Excited to see Adam, sweetheart?"

Greg chirped so happily that Sylar wanted to knock his teeth out. Instead he watched Emma carefully as she greeted Greg with a half hearted smile.

No girl in love smiles like that, he thought.

"Yeah," she replied weakly and started to get up. Her feminine scent washed over him as she scooted past him.

Greg helped her get her bags and chattered away about her boyfriend. Emma responded curtly.

"I think he's busy," she responded after Greg asked her why he wasn't there to pick her up.

Truthfully, Emma had no idea where Adam was. It worried her on a new level she wasn't experienced with yet. Sure, in the past, Adam always came and went as he pleased. Logic told her this was just classic Adam all over again. As his friend, this was a part of his personality she had gotten used to and come to accept. But as his girlfriend... it bothered her. This was a part of his personality that she wanted him to change.