
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5496.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Heroes_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Luke_Campbell/Sylar
  Character:
      Luke_Campbell, Sylar, Mary_Campbell
  Additional Tags:
      PWP, Dirty_Talk, Phone_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-07-15 Words: 2132
****** Sit Tight ******
by perdiccas
Summary
     Sylar calls Luke and talks dirty to him. Luke's mom is in the room
     and Luke can't let on what's happening on the other end of the line.
Notes
     Luke is 17.
The phone rings shrilly. Once, twice, three times…
“Luke!”
“What?”
“Answer the phone!”
“I’m watching TV and you’re right there!” He’s comfortable and there’s a Buffy
marathon playing. Between Eliza Dushku’s legs and David Boreanaz’s arms, the
only time Luke wants ever to move again is to go beat off in the bathroom. He
traces his fingers over the rough-edged hole in the armrest where Agent Simmons
had been pinned down with a screwdriver.
The phone stops ringing. In its absence, his mom glares at him and he glares
back.
It starts to ring again.
“Mooom!” he whines, gesturing at the TV, at the ass-kicking and the vampire
slaying; at the girls in tight skirts doing roundhouse kicks and the guys in
leather pants.
“I’m working, Luke. Now answer the damn phone.”
“Fine!”
He stomps over to the phone, collapsing on a nearer chair. “What?” he snaps
into the receiver.
“Now, now, Luke,” a deep, gravely voice chides. “Your telephone manners are
terrible.”
“Oh,” Luke gasps. “Oh! Sy--”
“Uh uh uh, Luke. No saying my name. We don’t want Mommy to worry do we?”
“No,” Luke breathes. He bites the inside of his cheek to stifle the whoop of
joy that’s threatening to escape. From the corner of his eye, he glances warily
at his mom where she sits at the dining room table, struggling to do her taxes.
“I’ve missed you, Luke,” Sylar breathes.
“Oh! I… I’ve…” he stutters, not daring to believe that Sylar isn’t mocking him.
“Who is it, Luke?”
“Nothing, Mom. No one,” he babbles.
“Oh come now, Luke, you can lie better than that.” Sylar laughs softly.
“It’s just a--”
“Don’t say ‘friend’! You have no friends, remember,” Sylar hisses urgently.
“She won’t believe you.”
“Luke?” she asks again. “If you think for one second I’m letting you out this
house tonight to go make trouble…”
“No! No, Mom. It’s just a kid from school.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disbelief. His own mother doesn’t
think he could make a friend.
“For lab. We have to do a report. He got stuck with me and we have to like,
talk about volcanoes and shit.”
“Don’t swear,” she mutters but her eyes are down, frowning at months old
receipts.
“She knows you’re lying,” Sylar says. “But she doesn’t really care. She’ll
pretend that she was taken in so that she won’t blame herself when you end up
in juvie again.”
Luke swallows loudly, Sylar’s breath heavy in his ear. Quietly, Luke whispers,
“Yeah, I know.”
“I missed you, Luke,” he says again, and this time Luke isn’t so quick to
decide that Sylar’s only teasing. “I would have called sooner but your phone
line was tapped.”
“Wait… what?” Luke glances at his mom, wondering if she had known that they
were being spied on.
“Mmm hmmm,” Sylar purrs. “And Luke? Mommy’s gonna be pissed when those nine-
hundred numbers show up on the bill.”
“Oh!” Luke swallows dryly, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt as he flushed a
deep, hot red. He smiles weakly when his mother looks up and narrows her eyes.
“I, um…”
“Just missed me too?” Sylar’s laughter rumbles in his ear. “But don’t worry;
the Feds got tired of listening to you jerk off every night to the sultry
voices of Madam Marie’s Minxes. Their only interest in you was me and when I
didn’t show up they moved on to other leads.”
“Oh… good, I guess?” Luke knows he should feel relieved; the FBI had stopped
dragging him for questioning weeks ago and now his house is bug free, but all
he feels is ticked off that they’re so obsessed with Sylar that they can’t see
what a threat Luke is too.
“Oh now, Luke, don’t pout…”
“I’m not pouting!” he whines and his mom snorts. Luke glares at her and she
holds up her hands.
“Sorry, sorry!” she mouths and goes back to the forms in front of her, still
grinning to herself.
“You needn’t worry; they’ll be back for you soon.”
“What?” Luke’s heart is suddenly in his throat and the hand that holds the
phone trembles a little with the wave of panic Sylar’s far too calm
pronouncement brings. He remembers the burn of the Taser and the disorienting,
stomach churning drugs. Suddenly, he doesn’t want anyone to notice him, if
that’s what being noticed gets you. “What do you mean?”
“You’re on a list, kid. It’s a big, long list and your name is right at the top
for being a danger to the nation. What did you think? That you could mess up
Homeland Security’s best attempt to catch me and they’ll just let you walk away
with a psych evaluation and a rap on the knuckles?”
“I don’t know?” he stutters, head reeling, fist clenched around the phone.
“Luke?” his mom breaks in. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Mom. Fine, stop eavesdropping, would you?”
“Don’t tell me what to do in my own house, Luke Campbell! You’re lucky I let
you use the phone at all after all the stunts you’ve pulled! I--”
“Mooom!”
Sylar’s cackling in his ear and Luke is blushing harder, shifting uncomfortably
and waving his hand to shoo his mother away.
“Can you yell at me later? Please?” he begs.
“Behave yourself,” she orders, looking pointedly at him.
He takes a deep, wavering breath and concentrates on Sylar’s laughter to centre
himself. He could snap and kill her now, but Sylar might hang up.
“Sorry about that,” he says, as calmly as he can manage. “So what… um, what
were you saying… about, y’know?”
“Smooth, Luke. She’s going to think I’m your dealer or something.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know…” he trails off, helpless and confused.
“Relax. Look bored and pretend I’m telling you about that science project
bullshit. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” he says, deliberately staring at the wall ahead with dull, glazed eyes
when what he really wants to do is grin and tell Sylar all the brilliant lies
he’d spun and how the FBI had swallowed them, hook, line and sinker.
“They know you have an ability, Luke. Those men that attacked us in the diner?”
“Uh-huh,” he mutters.
“That’s good, Luke. They’re a special task force. They’re rounding up people
like us. Now, listen. Don’t try to leave town. Don’t get into trouble. If you
give them an excuse, any excuse to pick you up, they will. They’re itching to
do it. And these guys aren’t gonna fall for your cute little stories about how
you were just looking to bum a ride to LA. Say ‘okay’ and sound like you
couldn’t care less. If you’re quiet too long, your mom will get suspicious.”
“Okay.”
“Here’s how it works, Luke. They can’t detain you until you’re eighteen. Your
mom blamed me for Simmons’ murder, so other than getting in a car with a
dangerous stranger they can’t pin anything on you.”
“Okay?”
“Don’t sound so interested. And don’t say you’re sorry!” Sylar snarls as Luke’s
mouth tips open automatically. “When you’re eighteen they can swoop in on
grounds of national security and you’ll be gone…” Luke hears Sylar snap his
fingers in the background. “Like you never existed.”
“So, uh…”
“What should you do? There’s nothing you can do.”
“Oh.” Luke swallows, his mouth is dry. His life was going to be over before it
began and the three days he’d spent with Sylar would be the only happy memory
he’ll have to get him through a life in prison.
“Don’t sound so sad, Luke. You just sit tight.”
“And…?”
“And hope that I get there before they do.”
“And if you don’t?” he asks.
“Well, then you’re fucked.” And Luke thinks Sylar must have called just to be
cruel because he’s laughing like it doesn’t matter that in less than two
months, Luke’s world will shrink to an eight by ten cell if he’s lucky and if
he’s not he’ll become some ex-Nazi scientist’s lab rat.
“Please,” he whimpers. “What can I do? Tell me what to do.”
“You could give me a reason to come back,” Sylar’s voice is deep and dark, full
of unspoken threats and obligations that Luke doesn’t think he really
understands. But he’ll do anything; the consequences won’t matter as long as
Sylar comes back to get him.
“How? What do you need?” he asks, knowing he sounds too desperate to be talking
about science fair volcanoes.
“You can tell me the truth.” In the background, Luke can hear something
rustling, something creaking and Sylar sighs like he’s lying back.
“Okay,” Luke mutters, trying not to sound too eager. “Okay, sure, I can do
that.”
To his mother he says, “We can make papier-mâché, right?”
“Sure. I guess,” she shrugs, looking nonplussed, as Sylar says, “Nice touch.”
“Do you like me, Luke?”
“Er… sure,” Luke mumbles, not sure how much of the truth he should confess. “I
mean, of course. Yeah, I do.”
“Good,” Sylar breathes. “In every interrogation, Luke, always know the answer
to the first question you ask.”
“What… what do you mean?”
“I used to hear you, Luke, in the mornings. Motel walls are so thin and you
never bothered trying to be quiet, did you? You wanted me to hear you, I know
you did. I miss hearing you.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand,” he says quietly, hoping his mother won’t
overhear.
“Tsk, tsk, Luke. Now that is a lie.” Luke thinks he hears the rumble of a
zipper dragging down and his mouth goes dry. “No, Luke. I think you know
exactly what I mean; every morning you’d stand in those dingy showers, touching
your dick and whispering my name. Did you think I wouldn’t know? That I’d think
it was a coincidence that every motel we went to reeked of sex?”
“Oh shit,” he mutters.
“Luke!” his mom snaps, and oh holy crap he doesn’t need her glaring at him when
he’s sure that steady slick sound that he can hear is Sylar jacking off.
“Sorry!” he moans miserably, to his Mom, to Sylar, to the fake kid about a fake
report.
He draws his knees to his chest and curls up in the chair, praying she doesn’t
tell him to get his feet off of the furniture. Pitching a tent in front of his
mom is going to scar him for life, he’s sure.
“Oh god, Luke, do you know how often I’d touch myself while you touched
yourself?”
“Oh my god,” Luke whimpered. “We shouldn’t… I can’t…” he says, trying to keep
his voice from cracking not wanting to look at his goddamned mom but needing to
know she wasn’t looking.
“Yes, we can,” Sylar groans. “I can.”
The slide of skin on tight skin is getting louder, going quicker. It sounds
slicker now and all Luke can picture is a hard cock with a glistening tip and
Sylar’s broad, long fingered hands wrapped sexily around it. His own dick is
aching, trapped against his fly, between his stomach and his thighs as he hugs
his knees under his chin defensively. He sneaks one hand down, just to move
things around and ease the pressure. A pitiful, gasping sigh escapes and he has
to cover it with a fake cough.
“Oh yeah, Luke,” Sylar growls, his voice shuddering through Luke’s ear straight
to the base of his dick until his whole body is ringing with it. “That’s it,
don’t be shy. Let me hear you.”
But Luke doesn’t dare, not when his mom is looking at him so curiously and not
when can hardly breath, terrified he’ll cream himself before her disapproving
gaze.
“Talk to me, Luke,” Sylar orders, sounding as near far gone as Luke feels.
“About what?” he stutters.
“Anything,” Sylar groans, guttural and panting. “Volcanoes,” he laughs
“I don’t know anything about volcanoes,” Luke whines. He scrunches his eyes
shut and digs his nails into his palms. In his ear he hears a stream of
LukeLukeLuke, ah! Ah! Ah! Yeah! Luke! as Sylar comes. He finishes with a lazy
groan and a breathless chuckle.
“You’d better learn quick,” Sylar says. “Or you’ll blow your cover. Don’t
forget the papier-mâché. ”
“Asshole,” Luke hisses.
“Luke!”
“I’ll leave you to explain yourself to Mommy. Oh, and Luke? Be a good boy while
you wait for me.”
The phone goes dead.
“See you ‘round,” Luke whispers to the dial tone.
His mom is standing two feet away with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her
face, and there’s no way out for Luke unless he kills her then and there. But
Sylar said be good and racking up a murder is as far from good as it can get.
He’s gonna have a lot to talk about in therapy tomorrow.
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