Figure 8 Ch. 02

Okay, she decided resolutely, just going to pretend like I didn't see it. Only when she was ready to put the phone down, another message popped up.

I can see you typing you know.

She smiled.

What are you up to today?

just some work for work she replied. How could she tell him she was working in the porn industry... He would be furious. Emma could already see the look on his face. She could hear the lecture in her head, and her voice admitting that he was ultimately right. He was always right. Just looking out for you, he would say, I just want to make sure you're happy.

That and, "You're like my little sister," the worst words a girl could ever hear from a man's lips. Words that were said even before she could admit her feelings for him. So Emma did what she did best. She kept her mouth shut and smiled through their relationship, sometimes crying when she was at home, sometimes laughing, knowing she could never be as happy or as comfortable with anyone else as she was with Adam.

She was about to ask him what he was doing, but paused. That would then eventually lead to her inviting him over, him saying yes and then her unable to do anything for the rest of the day. He was worth it though. When he followed through, her favorite part was always seeing the boyish smile crack over his face. When he actually followed through... which was never.

Emma threw her phone on the table and reached for her headphones. The walls of the house were so thin, even the ceilings and floors. Her old fashioned aunt had the girls sign a contract stating that they wouldn't bring guys over. What Emma discovered last Friday night at 2am was that half of them were lesbians. Loud ones at that.

After the first day, Nick had asked her if she watched porn, what she liked about it and all these other questions that made her squirm in embarrassment. Emma had lied through her teeth. "Sasha Grey," she replied when he asked for her favorite porn star. Truth was, she only knew of Sasha Grey because she was in the news for reading to children.

She hit play and a soundless video of Sylar and Ashlynn making out. Their tongues were out, dancing sloppily against each other. One hand underneath her jaw, Emma studied the intensity of their kiss, thinking back to her first and only kiss. With Adam.

It had been nothing like that. She was drunk, but she definitely remembered most of it. Their mouths were definitely closed, and neither of them used their tongue that liberally. So much saliva everywhere, she cringed as strings of drool dripped on Ashlynn's breast. Sylar obviously didn't seem to mind. He swooped down and sucked hard until Emma swore blood was leaving her breast. But Ashlynn seemed to like it. She cradled Sylar's head closer... and that's when Emma felt it.

The way Sylar's tongue darted over the nipple, more saliva dripping out of his mouth like he had been salivating for this exact meal his entire life. A tingling in her breast that begged to be soothed with some kind of pressure shot through her. To be held up. Touched. It was almost itchy, she thought as she quickly scratched her own boobs with a quick grab. The pleasure was indescribable. She let out a sigh and watched as Sylar went to work on Ashlynn's other breast.

Emma tried to mimic his movement, imagine that it was Sylar making her feel this way, but he attacked Ashlynn with such ferocity that two minutes in, Emma's own touches did not abate the feeling in her chest. While Ashlynn kept encouraging Sylar, and according to the recordings, she was moaning for him to continue. However for Emma, her arousal remained stuck in one spot. As soon as she tried to move fast and hard the way Sylar was, she felt her desire blow out faster than a candle.

Another attempt at masturbation failed just like that. Now the couple on screen did nothing for her. Ashlynn's moans became more obnoxious as the videos went on, and Sylar's silence, save for the slaps his body made, made him disappear. It was just a dick and a womanly figure. Two hours later, Emma felt her eyes glaze over, not from arousal, but exhaustion.

"Fuck, I'm just destined to be alone for the rest of my life." Emma hissed and yanked the headphones out of her ears. She just wanted to sleep.

Slipping into her pajamas, an oversized shirt and boy shorts, she was nearly down with getting ready for bed when her doorbell went off. Who is it? She picked up her phone to see if anyone had called, but nothing showed. The bell rang again, almost incessantly to a point where she knew the tenants would get annoyed. Emma threw a jacket over herself, yelling, "Wait!" as she hurried to the door and threw it open.

A rush of cold wind passed through her legs, making her shiver. That and the sight of Adam breaking into a smile as he pushed himself off from leaning against the door. He had gotten so much more attractive since graduation. His lean face held a set of dimples that made her want to pinch his cheeks, except he now had facial hair in the way. He cleaned up pretty well when he wanted to, Emma though. His hair was now styled up instead of the cow's lick mess he used to wear, and while he wore a proper shirt, she could tell that he had bulked up. He definitely wasn't the scrawny drummer she used to know.

"Emma Ramsay, you haven't changed one bit. Are you still wearing my clothes?"

Emma blushed as she looked down at herself. His band's shirt. His boxers. Both which he had left over over the course of staying at her place. The jacket was the only he had ever given her, and the only thing that reminded her why she loved him so much.

"It's comfortable," she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Could he see that she wasn't wearing a bra? She flattened her boobs and hunched over. Adam gave a sideways grin and pinched her cheek as he let himself in, closing the door behind him.

He acted as if no time had passed. As if they were still in college on a Saturday night with nothing to do, and he was here for a movie night. Emma hated and loved those movie nights with a passion.

"How have you been, Emma?"

"Good, what are you looking for?"

Adam moved throughout the house, opening doors and looked into the rooms until he came across hers. "Bingo," he said to himself and walked in.

Shit, Emma panicked as she ran after him. Did she leave the computer on? She cringed at the thought of Adam finding porn, unashamedly full screened, and wondered how she would be able to explain it. Luckily for her, he went straight for her closet, not looking once at her computer.

Adam sifted through her dresses before settling on a white graphic tank that she never dared to wear. It was a black and white print of Kate Moss crying rainbow tears. A rash online purchase that she kept forgetting to return until it was too late. And now Adam was holding it against her body.

"What are you doing?!" She snatched the tank from his hands and threw it into the closet, not caring that it was now on the floor.

"Come on, we're going out. Celebrating!"

Emma dropped onto her bed. "Celebrating what?"

He looked so carefree. It didn't matter what he was celebrating, Emma knew she would be happy for him regardless.

"World tour, baby."

"No. Really?"

Adam's head just kept nodding like one of those bobble toys. Emma couldn't stop the smile on her face. She jumped up and hugged him tightly. His arms instinctively went around her, pressing her face against his chest as he stroked his fingers through her hair. When she pulled back, he kept his arms locked around her to make sure that she couldn't completely step away.

"Oh Adam. I'm so happy for you. Congrats."

She craned her neck back to look at him smiling back at her. Her bones went rigid as this position became very familiar. It was deja vu. Her first kiss, her best kiss, all over again. He was the perfect height. Just the slightest tilt of her head and his lips were in the frontline of her vision. In her opinion, he had the most beautiful lips that made kisses soft, like they were supposed to be. But he made it clear they were just friends. She wriggled out of his grasp and went back to the closet, pulling the tank he had chosen from the floor.

"Alright, where do you want to go? First round on me."

Sylar didn't normally frequent clubs. In his opinion, the music was loud and the girls always felt too immature. There was nothing hot or sexy about a girl that needed alcohol to replace her confidence. Plus, he liked sex with the conscious and the willing. Not the ones who'd leave the morning in a sneaky walk of shame... or worse, the ones who refused to leave and then cried rape when rejected.

If it hadn't been for Greg's birthday, and Greg loved doing surprisingly cliche things, he wouldn't be here. The place was overly stuffy too. So many bodies moving against each other and yet so many clothes in the way. Sylar bit his lip and threw back a shot of patron, hoping the alcohol would ease his harsh judgments. If he had to give clubs one credit, the girls that went were always top notch.

He just hated their clothes. What guy decided to let girls think that tight fitting dresses were the way to go? Personally, Sylar hated the tight dresses, even if he appreciated what they showed off, they were just so damn different to get off. It was like trying to yank ancient tape from a slippery surface. Even lingerie, Sylar reasoned, was loose fitting.

"Babe, lighten up."

Sylar looked up to see Greg handing him what he supposed was a cranberry vodka. More like vodka with a splash of cranberry. "Thanks," he grinned, tossing out the straw and threw his head back for a large gulp. "You spoil me."

"The world spoils you Sylar. So why you being such a kill joy?"

"I'm just relaxing, taking it easy. Enjoying your birthday."

Greg was definitely feeling the alcohol. His hands were all over Sylar. While Sylar didn't want to encourage him, he allowed Greg the liberty. It was his birthday after all. "I know you prefer them tight on the inside rather than the outside," Greg purred, "but they're just showing what their mother gave them! It makes me sad that you're not having fun."

"I'm fine, Greg. Trust me. It's more important that you have fun."

"No, no. Look out on the dance floor and tell me which girl you want tonight. I'll have security invite her to our VIP table," he slurred.

Sylar obliged him, scanning his eyes over the dark room. He only had bodies to judge by. He figured he'd chose the one in the most scandalous outfit. By the time he was done with his vodka, he might be up for taking a girl against the wall. With all the people around them. Yeah, he thought, that'd be -

was that Emma?

He watched a girl that definitely looked like Emma. She had unique honey-brown colored hair that was up in a bun above her neck. And like Emma, those big eyes darted back and forth at the scene in the club with fearful observation. He noticed her holding hands with a tall, skinny boy with plugs in his ears. So this the kind of guy she went for. That kind of guy, Sylar smirked, was the kind Nick would usually get when someone ordered a female friendly film. A pretty boy. Somehow it didn't surprise him.

When the girl looked over her shoulder and bit her lip, he knew. It was definitely Emma. Her makeup had that vintage allure - simple black eyeliner and bright red lips - it suited her so well, making her standout from the caked faces of all the other girls. He nursed his drink, giving Emma all his attention without her even knowing.

It all made sense she was here.

"Oh, it's Emma!" Greg cheered, slapping Sylar on the back. "You know I texted her after you called me to make sure she was safe."

"Yeah, she looks fine to me."

"And I asked her why she didn't text you back. She said she didn't feel like it, whatever that means." Greg sipped his drink again, his cheeks turning redder by the minute. He was still, however, coherent enough to see that his words had affected his good friend.

"I get it. She hates me."

Sylar tightened his grip around his drink. He had never done anything to her, at least not in person. He would not lie that he had imagined what it would be like to get her naked, but that wasn't unusual. It didn't mean anything.

Greg leaned in, his arm resting on Sylar's shoulder, as he slurred the rest of his words. "She doesn't hate you, honey. She's just not interested. You're a big boy, you can handle that." Greg pecked him on the cheek and pinched it lightly. "Now I'm going to say hi to her. Want to come?"

"Probably shouldn't. Don't want to scare her off."

"Suit yourself."

Sylar watched as Greg danced his way through the crowd and tapped Emma on the shoulder. The way her face lit up was like watching fireflies slowly appear in the night sky, a look he never got from her - or from anyone else for that matter. It just wasn't the type of expression the girls he knew had. Emma continued to smile brightly, unaware of emotions on her own face.

She was wearing a long tank that functioned as dress and what he thought was a clutch was actually a small side purse. Compared to the other girls in tight skirts and dresses, Emma was technically wearing next to nothing, but the oversized and loose nature of the dress made her look like she was swarming in clothing. The one thing Sylar noted was that the silly girl wore wearing a very normal, unappealing bra hid her breasts. He guessed she was wearing underwear as well.

The boy she was with was also an absolute idiot. Emma was even worse. The two couldn't seem to tear themselves apart, but they barely interactive with each other either. She would stand next to him as he flirted with other girls, and whenever a man approached Emma, she simply shook her head and walked to stand behind him. There seemed to be only two things on her mind. Her drink and the idiot boy. She was a wallflower in a room of weeds.

Would they be going home together later? Sylar cursed as he thought of them in bed together. They had no chemistry in a club, they would definitely have no chemistry in bed. The guy probably couldn't even satisfy her.

The heat of the vodka coursed through him, giving him the final push to get up and talk to her. Not that he needed the extra confidence from the alcohol. She simply owed him a conversation for making him worry about her. He finished the rest of his drink and slammed it on the table. Yeah, she owed him a conversation. And by the looks of it, she needed one too.

He got his chance to approach her while she was at the bar. Her back was turned to him at first, and he took the time to notice that she had spent time to braid her hair into an intricate pattern that no one in the club would be able to notice unless they were as close as he was. It dawned on him that she probably she didn't she'd be going to a club. She was just going wherever that Ken doll was taking her.

He whispering in her ear even before he what he was saying.

"You never called me, little mouse."

It paid off to see her stiffen. Her reaction caused her friend stop talking to whoever he was engaged with, and look at her in worry. He hadn't even noticed him yet, Sylar noted, and leaned back to pretend that he was ordering a drink. Except the bartender had jumped on him immediately, and he found himself ordering a strong gin and tonic.

As he waited for his drink, he strained to hear what was going on between Emma and her friend.

"Are you okay?"

Emma was nodding furiously. "Yeah, yeah. Someone just brushed up against me. By accident though."

Sylar had to apologize for his crumpled bill when he saw the boy pull Emma until her head touched his chest. He supposed she was on a date. Sylar took his drink and turned around to openly watch her. Emma would be too shy confront him. Did she even know it was him? He got the feeling that with her innocent allure, perverts hit on her all the time.

"I need to go to the bathroom. Stay here okay?" The boy yelled into her ear until Emma nodded with a solid response. Sylar didn't understand his feelings when the boy hovered for a moment before kissing her forehead, leaving a silly smile on her face. She definitely did not have that expression on her face when he kissed her. When he kissed her, she looked... offended.

Well, he was her pervert tonight.

He approached her from behind again, but before he could surprise her, she surprised him by turning around and walking straight into his chest. His drink emptied entirely over her shirt. "Fuck." Sylar dropped his glass on a nearby table and opened his mouth to apologize when he froze, seing what the liquid did to her.

So the little mouse was hiding a pair underneath those clothes. Now he was glad she wore a bra, they created an enticing swell to her breasts. They helped drape her white dress, which now showed off her flat stomach thanks to his fortunate mishap, scandalously over her body.

Someone bumbled behind her, pushing her right into his arms. Sylar caught her immediately and dragged her close by the hips. He looked down to see the hem of her top rest right where his fingers rested. And this was why he loved loose clothing. He could make her a slut - his slut for his eyes only as she'd come without any stranger eyeing her pussy. He'd be able to bring her on the dance floor and finger her without bunching the dress past her waist.

Emma tried to push herself off but her hands collided against a chest made of all muscle and stopped. He was much ... more than Adam in so many ways. Taller, warmer, stronger, she felt his hands come down to her waist, pushing her closer to him, and it felt so comfortably right. Like the bones of her hips were made to lock in place with his. She gazed up to a pair of soft emerald eyes and felt his grip tighten on his waist.

"Hello Emma."

She didn't know what to say, so she looked away.

"Do you want to dance?"

"I-I.. shouldn't. Adam's going to look for me."

At first his expression was hard to read. He looked pissed, then disappointed. Or the other way around.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

She froze, "No," but the sadness in her voice wasn't lost on him. "We're just good friends."

"It's a universal truth that a man and woman can't maintain a platonic friendship."

Crinkles appeared on Emma's forehead. "That's not true, and I hate that line. I'm living proof that a guy and a girl can be friends without any romantic intentions."

"Then he won't mind if I take you for a dance." He was pulling her to the dance floor before she could disagree. "It's just a dance. I'll bring you back like Cinderella."

The place was so crowded, with people grinding and grabbing each other about, that Emma was suddenly afraid someone would try to snatch her away. Hands did come out to touch her, and she maneuvered her way through to get as least groped as possible. If she had paid any attention, she would've noticed that Sylar was dragging her as far away from Adam as possible.

They were in the center-back of the dance floor, under the darkness of the balcony as Sylar slid behind her. He placed his hands on her hips to guide her right between his legs. The sensation of her against him pumped through his veins as he moved to the beat of the music. She swayed her hips slightly and hesitantly. "Just feel the bass," he whispered in her ear, sliding his hands until he felt her hip bones. He had not suspected her to be this thin - then again, her baggy outfits did a good job of hiding her.

It seemed to be going well for a minute. She was definitely no exotic lap dancer, but there was something adorable at her attempts. She was simply swaying her ass softly against him. He was used to simply standing there while girls ground into him. This was different. Not unpleasant, he correctly quietly to himself, just different. When Emma started to slow down, Sylar rolled his hips up, changing the movement to go back and forth instead of side to side. That's when he felt Emma pull away. He immediately pulled her back before he lost complete contact.