Figure 8 Ch. 03

The streets were empty, save for the few homeless and drifting trash. Nobody was going to save her except herself. Whatever happened Emma, Adam's voice rang in her head, be strong. Don't let anyone do anything to you that you don't want.

"Please stop."

"What?"

"Leave me alone."

He froze as her words, hoarse and tormented, fluttered weakly. "Stop touching me," she shivered to pull out of his grasp. The tremors were like a shockwave running through them, and he abruptly let go, as if his touch burned her. She exhaled quickly, looking at his shoes. "And please don't mention what happened last night at work. I... I know we work in an unusual work setting, that anyone could probably sleep with anything and no one would judge... but I'm not the type of girl... who's..."

Between her stuttering and obvious fear, Sylar growled, "Nobody will think you're a slut just because you were with me, Emma. Be more open minded than that."

"That's not the point!" her voice grew sharp as it raised a notch, "I don't want to be accessible. I don't want to be the butt of jokes. I-I-I just want to do my job, get in, get out... so please, if anyone asks, tell them nothing happened. If you don't, I'll... claim sexual harassment."

Heat coursed through Sylar as he heard the last two words. She had obviously enjoyed it- he could remember every whimper, every moan as she wiggled against him. He wanted to kiss her so badly, tug on the same lip she was tugging on now, even as the implications of her words angered him. He felt his jaw tick, and the pressure behind his eyes increase tenfold as he shifted towards her.

"You - "

The words had fled from her mouth before she could stop them, and she wanted the ground to swallow her whole as Sylar's expression immediately changed from friendly to fury. Emma wasn't about to get caught up in whatever Sylar had planned to do next. The flickering rage in his eyes told her not to wait and see what he was capable of either. She thanked the gods that he hadn't chased after her, she wasn't sure what she would've done.

She walked into the warehouse, hoping to catch the elevator before he came. The elevator took it's time, as if it knew her exact predicament, and by the time it came down, Sylar had already made his way next to her. She avoided his gaze as she held the door open for him. He didn't speak a word, his eyes never turning her way as he walked in and stared at the walls slowly passing before them.

The air surrounding him seemed toxic. Emma tried not to hide in her own little space. She had a gut feeling that it would only make him angrier after her announcement. She felt her stomach drop, anxiety twisting it's way through her body as she wondered if Sylar would announce to the entire crew what she had said. They'd definitely fire her then. Maybe she should take Adam's advice and quit... she considered it carefully, her mind more determined to make the next step, as the elevator slowed to a stop, she sighed. She had student loans to pay off, and money was too good. She couldn't afford two months of unemployment. Not yet.

The doors creaked open and Sylar sped out, a dark thud in each of his steps, leaving Emma to slowly slip out of the elevator, feeling like she had been in the wrong. But he had to have known, hadn't he? She chewed her lower lip as she walked towards her corner of the studio, an area Greg had set up near these ceiling to floor windows, away from the set and visual distractions.

Emma always felt secluded from the rest of the world, but she preferred it that way. Nick preferred her to work at the studio so that he could call her over anytime he wanted to see what she had been working on. As the day progressed, Emma began to feel herself become desensitized to the sounds and sights on her screen. Two girls kissing heavily with tongue and pants had once aroused her curiosity, but in the back of her mind, Emma could feel the presence of things beyond the screen - the camera, the stage crew and most of all, all the moments where the "lovers" stopped and started again.

Just going through the motions...

She heard Nick yelling cut angrily several times. The sound was muffled through her headphones, and as she took them off, she thought him yelling, "The fuck... Sylar... today... get your act..." There were no other voices competing against him, and the air quieted until she heard Greg chirp.

"Emma sweetie, we're taking a break. Want to grab some lunch with us?"

Greg poked his head behind the screen he head set up for her. He smiled as her eyes twinkled at the sight of him. Not many people in this business could smile with the depth she had. "No, I'm alright," she pointed at her bag, indicating she had brought food. "Packed myself a sandwich."

She laughed as he sauntered over, showing mild interest on the work she was doing. "Oh, this one. She's positively wet isn't she," he stuck his finger on the screen, stroking the slit. "If I were straight, I'd be back here all the time."

Emma giggled, brushing away the slight uncomfortable feeling.

"Did you have fun last night?"

Her smile dropped.

"Yeah, I did."

He continued to stroke the screen, as if it were a cat and not a wide-screen vagina. "Any chance you saw what happened to Sylar?"

"N-no, why?"

Greg brightened up, and flashed a smile at her. "No worries, babe. He's just a little off today, and I swore I last saw him with you on the dance floor last night. Sometimes he gets into fights or if he just doesn't have a good night, it'll always affects his performance."

Emma's eyes widened, flashing towards the direction of the set. "You mean he can't..."

"No, no, he's got it up alright. Honey, Sylar is always ready," Greg purred unconsciously. He obviously loved his job a lot. "He's just not into it as he usually is, and Nick can tell. That's all."

Emma wanted to smile at the irony of how serious Nick took his job. She thought it would be easy, worlds difference of respect and quality, but when it came to Nick's productions, a porn set wasn't that much different from working on a big budget family film - save for the naked people and rather consistent audio track.

"Sorry, I don't know."

"Okay, well, I just want to warn you that he isn't in a good mood. He's not coming to lunch with us, and since you aren't either... just... " Greg searched for a good way to put his words without making it sound like a command.

"I'll stay here," Emma offered.

Greg smiled and patted her head. "Good girl."

As he got up, Emma piped. "Greg, if I get my work done early today, you think I could get out early?"

"I'll ask Nick."

"Thank you."

---

As much as Emma wanted to sit in her corner, she found it difficult to eat a sandwich while obscene body parts paused on the big screen. She made a quick circle around the studio, and breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered that Sylar didn't seem to be around. Stepping outside her little work space, she sat in front of the large windows, gazing at the city and all the little people that walked by. Some walked together, some walked alone, but most of them walked at the same pace, as if there were an invisible current guiding them to their destination.

Suddenly she felt so small and alone.

This wasn't what she wanted to be doing. This wasn't the situation she wanted to be caught in. It had been only a week since the club incident and all she could feel was the ripple effect of Sylar's aggression. The only people who walked out happy were the girls he fucked and Nick.

Muddy lines had been drawn all over her relationships - and she wished she knew exactly what was making her upset, but it seemed to be a combination of everything that made her unhappy. This situation with Adam, which would give her moments of extreme bliss and extreme pain. This situation with Sylar, making each working day worse than the next. Her own life - completely not where she thought she'd be - on the verge of collapsing due to loans.

Her appetite gone, Emma wrapped up her sandwich and tossed it in the trash can. She then brought her knees to her chest and stared out the window, pressing her face as close to the glass as possible. The coolness calmed her heated body and she closed her eyes, steadying her breath.

She heard something scrape against the floor behind her and quickly turned around.

Sylar stood, a towel around his waist and another he used to ruffle his hair. They locked eyes, staring at each other with unspoken discomfort and disgust, until Emma looked away.

Don't come over here, don't come over here, she begged. She thought everyone had left for lunch, like they did every day, leaving her in a moment of solace in this fucked up place. She placed a sweaty palm on the glass, the condensation forming around her fingers. He wasn't supposed to be here... since that morning, he ignored her like she had never existed. She wiped away the trail of sweat on the glass, listening to the footsteps.

They were coming closer...

Two hands appeared around her, pressing against the glass, and a nose nicked against her neck, taking a deep breath.

"Mm, you smell like Irish Spring..."

Emma kept her head down, unsure of how to move. Back and right into his hard-on? To the sides, where his arms could just come down and lock her in? Did the fact that she wasn't moving mean she was going to consent? She held her breath as his smell, an old woody scent, surrounded her.

"Sylar..."

He had pushed in closer, trapping her between the glass window and his chest. She looked down at all the people moving back and forth to their destination. If they looked up, would they see a girl caught in the arms of a nearly naked man?

His lips kissed the knots on her neck, stopping when he heard a hitch in her breath.

"Are you scared, little mouse?"

She nodded, daring to look up. His hand went from being flat against the glass to curling into a fist. The heat radiated against her back with a growing burn as he pressed his chest close to her back, to let her feel the parts of his body that would offer protection from harm.

"Sylar..."

"I better fucking leave before you call the police, shouldn't I?"

Sylar pushed away, leaving Emma short of breath. She was left questioning all the lines and boundaries she had inadvertently drawn.

---

"Emma!"

Emma shot up in response to Nick wailing her name. She threw off her headphones and rushed to the set, unprepared for the scene in front of her.

It had been days since they talked, or even looked at each other. She assumed his issues from the other day weren't about her, since his performance picked up over the week. And yet, his eyes narrowed at the sight of her, making her sweat and squirm.

Sylar was standing, his knees bent slightly and pressed against the edge of the bed. A petite girl was gasping underneath him, her legs intertwining around his waist, pulling him deeper as Nick yelled at her to stop. "Could you stop being a slut for a second and wait while we set up our second camera?"

Emma's eyes followed the contours of the girl's body as she moaned, "Fucking hurry up, Nick. I need to move, I need - oh my god, you fucking dick, Sylar, don't - do - fuck."

"Sylar, stop twitching your dick and wait for us to reload the camera! Fuck!" he yelled as he knocked into one of the lights and casted shadows of all the crew and production equipment over the scene. To top it off, the sound had startled Sylar, causing him to move forward and push deeper into the blonde underneath him. Emma felt her cheeks flare as the familiar sounds of a woman coming echoed.

"Shit!" Nick yelled at the squirming woman as Sylar held his dead gaze, as if the woman on his cock did nothing to him. "Lola! What the fuck did I say about coming?"

She didn't respond, obviously still in a state of ecstasy.

Emma didn't wait as Nick handed her the memory card. She ran to her desk and quickly inserted it in the USB reader, dragging the files over into a new folder. 32GB of porn. 32GB of high-definition porn, several of the thumbnails flickered over the screen, obviously still images they had taken for promotion, and Emma couldn't help but stare at the look in Sylar's eyes.

She wasn't sure what the script for this was. Maybe "angry Husband catches his wife cheating?" The look at his face was so intense, like he was fucking Lola entirely for his pleasure, fucking her to bruise and make her beg. Emma turned away as a close up of his face flashed by.

Would it be too presumptuous to assume she was the cause of his anger?

"Emma! How much longer?"

"Twenty minutes, Nick," she called back.

"Fuck!"

She stilled as she heard his footsteps coming in her direction. It paused for a second, and he started screaming at Lola, "Get the fuck off the bed and clean yourself up. We'll reshoot your scene tomorrow."

"I have a convention to go to tomorrow." Sylar's voice rumbled through the room. His voice was tense, like he had been overworking himself.

"What?"

"I'm not available tomorrow. Let's just use the other camera and finish the scene."

"Can't," the other camera man's voice piped, "this card is almost full too."

Emma embraced herself for the worst. She remembered that hadn't emptied the card yesterday, and now her name was thrown around into the mix.

Today was supposed to be a short shoot, a simple quick fuck, and there was more than enough space on the cards for that... which only meant someone kept making mistakes, and now her mistake was out in the open.

She heard a thunder of feet coming in her direction, and braced herself for an onslaught of obscene words to come from Nick. Her eyes closed as a figure whipped around her blockade of computers and stood in front of her.

"Isn't it your job to make sure we don't have mistakes like this?"

"I'm-I'm sorry."

"Look at me while you're talking!"

She pried her eyes open, staring at a pair of naked feet that lead up two toned, strong legs... Nick wasn't the one yelling. It was Sylar. There was a towel wrapped around his waist, but it did nothing to hide his evident hard on. And from where she was sitting, she was almost looking at it right in the eye.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You know how much of my time you've wasted?"

Twenty minutes exactly. Twenty minutes hardly seemed like a thing to fret over, but this argument seemed to be more than just that. Every word that Sylar lashed out was set to hurt her, humiliate her. Nobody was intervening. They were just watching, like this was another scene, where he would whip his towel off and take her.

"I didn't think - "

"Think what, darling? Are you even cut out to work with us? You're always hiding in this corner, acting all mousy and shy." His hands waved in the air to emphasis his mockery. "Getting shocked at the sight of anything naked. Why did you even take this job if you can't handle it?"

She wasn't ready for this. "I can - "

"Do you know how many fucking accommodations we had to make for you? Don't walk around naked. Don't walk around aroused. Tone down the joking because it could be filed as sexual harassment? Are you even aware of what kind of work environment you're in?"

He exhaled. There. It was out.

He looked down at the mousy girl on the verge of tears. She moved slowly, away from him and towards the computer. Her hand shook as she moved the mouse, and he watched her chest rise and fall from her heavy breathing. A part of him wanted to take it all back, but the pride in him wouldn't.

Her thin hands removed the card, and she never looked at him as she walked straight towards Nick.

Sylar felt himself panting, trying to steady his heart. He stared at her empty seat. Vacant. The world around him still spinning. He tried to collect his thoughts. Think of an explanation as to why he had unloaded all his frustrations on her. But he couldn't. He could say he was sorry, but for what? For being unable to handle rejection?

"It's fine. Take the rest of the day off."

He continued to stand there as Emma worked around him, acting as if he didn't exist. Any time before this, he would've unleashed another slew of words to get her attention. He watched as she packed her bag, never once looking at him even though every pore of him now begged her to. He felt the words sorry at the back of his mouth, a hard ball that only needed a little push to fall out.

He only moved after Nick called him over. Once he heard action, he brutally shoved himself inside of Lola. He ignored her cries and moans, her desperate attempts to get him moving at her rhythm. Sylar thrusted in and out, refusing to let her move, using her only as a means to an end. The wetness encasing his cock was only second to what he really wanted. He wanted genuine emotion from a little mouse, not this lust starved siren that clenched around his cock. He moved faster, closing his eyes and remembering how tight her pussy had felt around his finger.

He had gone from a charming prince to a hissing snake around her. A ball of barely controlled anger as he remembered her cries to leave him alone, her denial of what was between them. Her fear. Her accusatory words.

"Fuck," he growled as he came, arching his back to feel the cool air sweep over his body. He held still for the camera, waited for Lola to stroke his cock and lick it clean before he heard the saving words, "Cut!"

Lola purred underneath him, reaching for his arm, but Sylar shoved it aside and headed for the bathroom. He turned his head to look at the now empty space where Emma should've been, where she could always see him whenever he had just finished a scene.

In his shower, he felt the water pelt down his scorching back. He rested his arms against the tile wall and closed his eyes, thinking of the time Emma had been right there, between his arms with nothing stopping them from falling except a window.

How she shivered... how she seemed to be of perfect height and size in between his arms. How she whispered his name... Emma was all he could think about, since she had yelled at him, accused him of sexual assault, brought to light that what he had done, the lifestyle he was used to and how he got it... wasn't normal if he wanted her.

And all he wanted right now was for her to want him back, except now more than ever, she probably hated him.