Mylar fic: After a long silence Part 2
Jun. 15th, 2009 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alicambsTitle: After a long silence (2/4)
Author: alicambs
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: R
Warnings: This is Mylar! Bastard Sylar taking advantage of a weary, guilt ridden Mohinder.
Spoilers: Season 3
Summary: Mohinder is the weary fly caught in Sylar's malevolent web
Disclaimer: Heroes does not belong to me no matter how much I wish it did. Mohinder is not mine, however much I might wish he was. Sylar... okay you get the drift. Not mine.
Word Count: 5,045
Date: June 09
A/N: Many thanks to Takhallus for another very speedy and useful beta.
After a long silence - Part 2
Three months later
Part 1
Mohinder is alone in the lab when Peter makes his appearance.
When not at Sylar’s wilful beck and call he spends all his time here. He sees this as his priority, when he finds a way for Sylar to acquire abilities bloodlessly Molly is safe. It is also his sanctuary from Sylar’s demands, something Sylar appears to resent. Too many times to count he has been so absorbed in his work he has failed to acknowledge Sylar when he appears before him. Once, exasperated and frustrated at his lack of progress, he had sarcastically suggested that Sylar wear a bell and found himself head first over the man’s knees receiving the worst beating of his life. It had taken him days to be able to sit without wincing, much to Sylar’s sadistic amusement. Now he has taught himself to be aware of changes in shadows near to him and he raises his head expecting Sylar only to see Peter watching him quizzically.
Mohinder blinks and smiles tentatively. “Hello, Peter.”
Peter smiles back and then glances at his work. “So you’re working for him,” he says thoughtfully.
Mohinder gives a bitter laugh. “I didn’t really get much say in it,” he answers, slowly sitting back on his stool.
Peter cocks his head to the side and waits.
Mohinder sighs. “He knows where Molly is.”
Peter nods. “We could do something about that,” he suggests.
Mohinder smiles. “That would be a weight off my mind,” he says truthfully.
“And you could leave here,” Peter adds.
Mohinder shakes his head and hold up his right arm to show the gold plated bracelet fitted snugly to his wrist. “I’ve been tagged,” he says. The bracelet is a work of art, which makes its function all the more ugly and incongruous.
Peter reaches forwards and inspects it thoughtfully. “I can’t see any clasp,” he mutters as he tries to move it.
“Sylar welded the ends together when he fitted it,” Mohinder says with a sigh. “I don’t know what it’s made of because I can assure you I’ve tried to take it off and it won’t move even with my strength.”
“How does it work?”
Mohinder shivers. “Very painfully,” he says and shivers again folding his arms round him for comfort. In the first few weeks of his confinement he’d tried to escape a number of times and been tasered and dragged back to his lab by the security guards who appeared to take loyalty to Sylar very seriously indeed. He’d paid for it, Sylar made sure of that, and to add insult to injury had presented him with the bracelet, fitted it to him and smilingly told him he’d regret it if he made any attempt to leave again.
Peter looks at the bracelet quizzically. “Painfully?” he repeats, and looks searchingly at Mohinder.
Mohinder nods his head slowly. “I thought I was going to die, and that was just crossing the threshold and taking two steps into the courtyard. I crawled back in the door and collapsed on the floor. It took me a good ten minutes to get over the pain and to get enough coordination back to stand up. I’ve never tried again.”
“But…,” Peter hesitates. “So you’ve never left here?”
“Only accompanied by Sylar,” Mohinder says and wonders what Peter was going to say. He decides to move the conversation away from himself and his relationship with Sylar. He’s happy for Peter to know he’s a prisoner here and is working for Sylar because he has too, but that’s as much as he wants Peter to be aware of. “What about the others? Have you seen Matt Parkman? I’ve not seen much of the news, but I know your brother is making it difficult for people with abilities.”
He’s obviously found something near to Peter’s heart as Peter slumps back against the counter and looks miserable. “Nathan’s a traitor and a bastard,” he says angrily. “He’s sold us all out because he can’t come to terms with having an ability himself.”
“Even you and Claire?” Mohinder asks, appalled that the man would turn on family like that.
“Claire’s got a pass, she’s the only one. Noah Bennet is working for the operation and he’s making sure she’s kept safe.”
“What is the purpose behind the operation?” Mohinder asks. “Are they trying to remove abilities?”
Peter glances at him. “They’re removing people and they’re not being heard of again,” he says bluntly. “I was captured, drugged, shackled and was being flown to some secure facility.” He stares intensely at Mohinder, traces of anger and fear flickering through his eyes. “The plane crashed, many died and some of us got away, including your friend Matt. They were prepared to kill us rather than let us escape, so we’re all on the run now.”
Mohinder gasps, aghast at the news. “They’re killing us?” he asks truly appalled. He’s always had a rather ambivalent feeling towards Nathan Petrelli’s campaign mainly because of Sylar and, if he is truthful, his own appalling behaviour following his acquisition of synthetic ability. “What all of them, not just the dangerous ones? How can this be happening without their families making a fuss? How are you keeping safe?”
Peter shakes his head. “I really don’t know. The guy who leads it is a nasty piece of work; Danko is his name. He treats everyone with abilities as dangerous and I think he’d kill us all at the drop of a hat. As to safety,” he gives a bitter laugh and shrugs his shoulders.
“But I thought it was your brother’s operation,” Mohinder says, confused.
Peter nods. “It is, but Danko’s the military organiser.”
“Military organiser!” Mohinder echoes, horrified. “Surely your Government hasn’t sanctioned a military style operation against innocent civilians?”
“They have,” Peter says. “I really wish I had my full power back and I’d take them all on, Danko in particular, but I can only use one power at a time. A few of us have grouped together, Matt and I in particular, but the odds stacked against us are huge.”
There’s silence for a few seconds as Mohinder reflects on what he’s just been told until he suddenly realises why Peter has made contact with him. “You need Sylar,” he says, trying hard not to sound hurt by the knowledge. Why would Peter come to save him anyway? “That’s why you’re here, to ask for Sylar’s help, isn’t it?”
Peter nods slowly. “Daphne, that’s Matt’s girlfriend, saw you and Sylar together. We were hoping that you could ask Sylar for us, but…” he trails off and looks down at Mohinder’s bracelet
Mohinder snorts, distinctly unamused. “Peter, I have no influence over Sylar whatsoever.”
“Oh I don’t know, Pet, when you do that thing with your tongue I’m open to any suggestion you want to make.”
Sylar’s laughing face materialises before Mohinder and he is wrapped in Sylar’s embrace before he can think to make a move. Sylar turns them to face Peter whose expression is one of stunned surprise. “Petrelli,” Sylar says pleasantly. “I don’t remember giving you permission to come here or to talk to Mohinder.”
“I wasn’t aware that I needed your permission to talk to Mohinder,” Peter says carefully.
“Mohinder is mine,” Sylar says and rests his chin on Mohinder’s shoulder possessively and stares at Peter.
Mohinder closes his eyes in embarrassment before taking a deep breath and gathering his wits. He needs to defuse this stand off. He turns his head so he can look Sylar in the eye. “Peter came to ask for your help,” he says quietly.
“I know, Pet,” Sylar says and plays with a curl. Mohinder winces at the second use of the derogatory description. Sylar yanks at the curl. “Molly can come and stay here if you’re so worried about her.”
Mohinder hears the threat and shakes his head. “Please leave her with my mother,” he begs and without thinking reaches forward and touches Sylar’s face to emphasise his plea. Sylar looks at him silent for a few seconds, an expression on his face Mohinder can’t quite decipher, and nods slowly.
Sylar turns to Peter, and Mohinder sneaks a look at Peter’s face. He has gone from surprise to shock and Mohinder can only hope that it is directed at Sylar rather than himself. Sylar gestures with his hand and Peter is thrown back towards the exit. “I don’t want you here ever again,” Sylar says calmly. “If I see you near here or making any attempt to speak to Mohinder I will kill you. Do you understand?”
Peter nods. “Danko?” he asks, as he moves to leave.
“That all depends on how persuasive Mohinder is,” Sylar says, and smiles.
Mohinder swallows and catches Peter’s eye. There is compassion in the eyes and a horrified understanding. He watches as Peter takes to the air and waits for Sylar to release him, sure that now Sylar has humiliated him in front of Peter he will drop the pretence of caring. To his surprise Sylar takes hold of his chin and starts to kiss him with a gentleness that he has never shown in any of their previous encounters. Hesitantly, Mohinder clasps his hands around Sylar’s shoulder and begins to respond. Sylar makes a noise deep in his throat and pulls Mohinder closer. The kissing becomes a little more enthusiastic and energetic, but never demanding, which is the norm for Sylar.
When Sylar finally pulls away, a look of regret in his eyes, Mohinder realises that this is the first time he’s voluntarily responded to Sylar, and wonders quite what that means.
Sylar licks his lips and shakes his head. “I could get lost in you,” he murmurs and brushes Mohinder’s hair.
Mohinder gives him a shaky smile, but says nothing. He’s feeling a little confused and conflicted at present.
“I don’t want you having any contact with Peter Petrelli or any of your old colleagues,” Sylar says.
Mohinder opens his mouth to protest, but Sylar covers his mouth with his hand and shakes his head. “It’s not negotiable, Mohinder. It’s as much for your own safety as it is because I don’t wish to share you.”
Mohinder ponders the statement for few seconds and frowns. “Why? Do you already know something about Danko and his operation then?”
Sylar nods.
“Will you tell me about it?” Mohiner asks, wanting to take advantage of this unusually mellow Sylar.
Sylar contemplates him silently for a few seconds. “Over dinner tonight,” he finally agrees.” He pauses and then grins. “Perhaps you can then do the persuading Petrelli expects.”
Mohinder is astonished to see that the smile is flirtatious.
Sylar looks at him almost fondly and gestures him forward giving his ass a gentle swipe.
“We have a visitor arriving to see me and I want you in attendance, “he says. He moves away from Mohinder and glances at his work station. “Have you gotten any further?”
Mohinder shakes his head slowly trying to get his mind back into work mode. “Not with the modelling from the MRI scans, the 3D images are as clear as you would get looking at a real brain. I’m wondering if it’s something else entirely.”
Sylar looks curious.
“When I injected myself I was working on the adrenal glands. Transposing it to your situation I thought that may be what is missing from the experience is the visceral feeling you get from the kill and wondered whether an injection of adrenalin might be the missing factor,” Mohinder offers.
Sylar think it over for a few seconds and nodes slowly. “You could be on to something there. We’ll try tomorrow.” He glances at his watch. “We need to get going.” He strides towards the door and beckons.
Mohinder shrugs off his lab coat and follows.
~~~
Mohinder has learnt to be wary of the evenings for it is then that Sylar is his most spiteful. In fact he looks forwards to the nights when Sylar goes out and he is locked in his windowless room because there he can at least meditate and achieve some level of peace. On that nights Sylar is present, and they are all too often for Mohinder’s peace of mind, he becomes Sylar’s plaything. Sylar is seldom physically cruel, although he has developed an obsessive and gleeful pleasure in ‘disciplining’ Mohinder for any perceived insults or supposed lack of respect. His cruelty is more psychological. He enjoys undermining Mohinder’s self-esteem and reminding him of his stupidity in injecting the formula. He plays on Mohinder’s insecurities and digs away at the foundation of his beliefs and knowledge.
Mohinder has withstood all of it by detaching himself. He has slowly come to terms with the knowledge that he is as capable of cruelty, greed and selfishness as Sylar. He has faced his past and he longs for a future where he is free.
Mohinder enters Sylar’s rooms and waits for the order to strip. This is the first step of his nightly humiliation. He knows that Sylar wants him to do it automatically, wants him to show his obedience, but this is his silent rebellion and despite knowing that Sylar will go easier on him if he complies he will not capitulate.
Sylar strides towards the dining table and checks the food throwing Mohinder a contemplative glance before beckoning him forward. “I’m told you’ve been too busy to eat today, Mohinder so I thought I would arrange a treat for you.”
Mohinder blinks and stays by the door for a few second before slowly joining Sylar at the table. He sits and waits for the food to be given to him as usual, taking away choice has been another of Sylar’s methods of control, but Sylar waves him to help himself. He slowly takes in the rich, piquant odour and can’t help but gasp as he encounters the spices and aromas of him homeland. With trembling enthusiasm he helps himself to the main dish and the bread bun accompanying it and lifts his fork to his mouth. It is a potpourri of spiced vegetables and evokes memories of his home so much he finds himself shaky with emotion.
“I believe these are called pan puree,” Sylar says slowly, offering a flour cake to him.
“Panipuri,” Mohinder corrects and takes one in delight. The cakes, filled with boiled lentils, spices, tamarind chutney and spicy water have always been a favourite. He closes his eyes humming in delight as the flavour washes over his taste buds. Sylar makes a choked noise and Mohinder opens his eyes to find Sylar eyes fixed on his mouth. He freezes, recognising the lustful look all too easily. Sylar blinks and looks away and Mohinder slowly relaxes sufficiently to enjoy another panipuri. The meal finishes with pistachio kulfi and Mohinder sinks back in his chair happy, but watchful enough to wonder quite why Sylar has decided to do this.
“We’ll have coffee in the living room,” Sylar announces.
Mohinder walks through, takes a deep breath and elects to sit as far away from Sylar as possible. He has no idea how long this mellow, considerate Sylar will last. He is certain that it is another psychological trick so he will keep his guard up yet grasp every opportunity offered to him. “You were going to tell me about Danko,” he reminds Sylar.
Sylar nods, takes a sip of his coffee. “Emile Danko, also known as ‘the Hunter’, is a former senior agent of the Department of Homeland Security. He’s the leader of a team of soldiers hunting down evolved humans like us. Nathan Petrelli has convinced the President that we are a danger to national security and has the President’s permission to round us up and lock us up.”
“But not kill us? “ Mohinder asks.
Sylar shrugs. “From what I’ve read about Danko he’d like to shoot every one of us. Bennet is working with him and between the two of them they’ve appear to have a very good idea of where we all are.” He looks sharply at Mohinder. “They know about you, but they don’t know where you are. Nathan Petrelli wants to use your knowledge to make a serum to remove powers. Danko has orders to apprehend you on sight and to ensure your safe disposal at their HQ.”
“How do you know all this?” Mohinder asks horrified and fascinated.
Sylar smiles. “I have my methods.”
“Do they know about you?”
Sylar nods. “Danko knows of me, of Sylar. He has men after me, but I’ve always beaten them. I left him a present recently, I’m sure he’ll be keen to meet me after that.”
“A present?” Mohinder asks with deep suspicion. “Would that present be a person or an object?”
Sylar smiles, but doesn’t offer an answer.
“Why do you want to meet him?” Mohinder asks when he realises that Sylar isn’t going to reply.
Sylar grins. “He has access to people with powers, Mohinder. I collect powers, it’s really a match made in heaven, and if you can get me a way of doing it without having to kill every time we’ll both be happy.”
Mohinder shakes his head angered by the assumption that he’ll be happy for Sylar to acquire more powers whatever the method. “You don’t need any more powers,” he snaps. “You’re a menace with the ones you have already.”
Sylar’s face darkens and Mohinder takes a deep breath realising the food and clothes have made him too comfortable and open and he’s forgotten his own rules. He hasn’t back chatted Sylar for weeks now. He tenses and waits for the pain and punishment to begin.
“I thought I’d taught you respect some months ago,” Sylar says after a long silence.
Mohinder bites his lip and wishes that Sylar would just get on with it.
The silence carries on for longer and Mohinder fights not to run.
“Come here,” Sylar demands, and enforces the command with a twitch of compulsion.
Mohinder takes a deep breath, stands and makes his way over to the sofa Sylar is sat on. Sylar pats the seat next to him and Mohinder sits down gingerly.
“I haven’t broken you, have I?” Sylar muses.
Mohinder makes no reply. He is very aware of Sylar ability to sense lies. He tries not to flinch as his hair is stroked, Sylar has a fascination for his curls probably because he likes pulling at them.
“I’m glad,” Sylar says and it takes Mohinder a few seconds to take the sentence in.
“You’re glad!” Mohinder demands, his fear morphing into fury. “You spend months hurting me, mocking me, abusing me… the list is endless and you now say you’re fucking glad you didn’t turn me into a spineless, cringing, obedient automaton.” He pokes a finger at Sylar and jabs at him, causing the man to wince. “You are an evil, manipulative bastard, an evolved human who could be the greatest among us, but you chose to squander your amazing power of intuitive ability on killing other special people for kicks. You make me sick.” The adrenaline powering his fury fades leave him shaking and near to tears of anger and frustration.
“I don’t think that’s entirely true, Pet” Sylar says.
“Don’t call me that” Mohinder snarls and aims a punch at Sylar.
Sylar stops Mohinder’s arm mid way and gather him into his arms, using his telekinesis to keep Mohinder still. “You think I could be the greatest of all the evolved humans then?” Sylar says smugness and a quiet amusement in his voice.
Mohinder snarls again, word failing him.
“Yet you say I’m a menace.” Sylar laughs and drops a kiss on Mohinder’s head. “In my hurry to make you pay for disappointing me, I managed to forget that the very thing I’ve always admired about you is your courage and your outspoken, uncompromising manner.”
He releases Mohinder and sits him next to him, pulling him into a hug. Mohinder is too emotionally tired, confused and bewildered by the suddenness of Sylar’s change of manner to organise his thoughts, never mind extricate himself from Sylar’s embrace.
Sylar continues. “When you turned yourself into a monster I thought you’d gotten your comeuppance. I thought you deserved to suffer for what you did to me and I was angry that you’d done it all for that simpering Maya.”
“She’s not simpering,” Mohinder says quietly.
Sylar ignores him. “Then you started working for Arthur Petrelli! As monsters go he was the granddaddy of them all, yet there you were rebuffing me, and working for him.”
Mohinder sighs. “I didn’t have too much choice by then,” he says honestly. “But if you want me to repeat words that you have already forced me to say on numerous occasions then I will. I was a foolish, selfish, amoral, spineless coward and I regret it deeply.” He sits up straighter. “But answer me this, Sylar, do I really deserve to be imprisoned, beaten, abused and raped by you because of it? Did what I did to myself and others really have any consequence for you?”
“I haven’t raped you,” Sylar says, sounding shocked. “I’ve always ensured that you got pleasure as well and I know you enjoy it however much you tried to hide it from me.”
Mohinder sighs again, this time with angry frustration. Sex with Sylar has been almost the most difficult thing for him to cope with for a multitude of different reasons. One is to do with Sylar being male. His culture isn’t very open about homosexuality and he had never even considered that he might be capable of being attracted to a man. Another is the fact that Sylar has chosen sex to be the one activity in which he has never sought to humiliate, hurt or punish. It has been the very pleasure that Sylar has wrung out of him that Mohinder has found the hardest to bear as Sylar has very cleverly used sex as a reward for good behaviour and a haven from the humiliations preceding it. Mohinder looks levelly at Sylar. “That may well be true, but did you ever ask for my consent?” He ploughs on not waiting for Sylar’s response. “No you didn’t. You assumed possession over my body and enforced my participation. That’s rape, Sylar.”
Sylar looks puzzled and somewhat annoyed. “You enjoy it and I will ensure that you continue to do so,” Sylar says, as if that is the end of the matter. He relaxes his embrace and sits back.
Mohinder wonders briefly if the man’s moral compass is so skewed that he just does not understand, or chooses not to understand, the implications of his statement.
“I will accept that perhaps my punishment has been a little harsh.” Sylar continues
“A little harsh!” Mohinder repeats, interrupting him, his voice rising in anger. “A little harsh! It was barbaric, immoral and totally unlawful, Sylar and you know it.”
Sylar looks at him in annoyance. “You are mine, Mohinder,” he says forcefully and raises his finger to his mouth, muting Mohinder when he angrily tries to respond. “Mine and I will decide what is right for you.”
Mohinder shakes his head back and forth, tears of frustration in his eyes. The small glimmer of hope that he can escape Sylar and return home is fading in front of him. He takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes determined that he will not break down.
Sylar watches him intently and reaches out to wipe at a tear. “What do you want to do?” he asks.
“Go home,” Mohinder says simply.
Sylar shakes his head. “There’s too much surveillance at the airports, even I couldn’t slip us both under the radar and get out. Perhaps when this is over I’ll take you.”
Mohinder feels like snapping out that he wants to go alone, unaccompanied, but knows it will get him nowhere. “If you won’t let me leave then I want to help to free Matt, Peter, all of us, from this Danko.” He sits up. “Perhaps you could use me as bait to infiltrate their HQ if Petrelli wants my knowledge so much?”
“No, “Sylar says sharply.
“You’ve got a tracker on this,” Mohinder says waving the bracelet at Sylar. “You could follow me.”
“I know where their HQ is,” Sylar says irritably. “They’ve got tight security and I can’t get past it that’s why I’m wooing Danko with a gift of a dangerous special. I want him to want me on their side.”
“Then offer me to him as another gift.”
Sylar sits and stares at Mohinder for a few minutes then shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You didn’t used to be so concerned for my safety,” Mohinder retorts.
Sylar’s eye flash and Mohinder tenses. After a few seconds a rueful smile crosses Sylar’s lips. “True, but that’s when I’m the one doing the damage,” he says.
Mohinder shakes his head, trying hard to fight a smile in return. It’s really not funny, yet it is. “You could offer my services, say you’ll make me work on a serum to remove powers that kind of thing. Perhaps your engineers could add something to my bracelet, that allows a download of their security intel.”
Sylar contemplates this in silence for a few seconds and then asks. “Could you make such a serum?”
Mohinder considers what he knows. “Did my lab get cleaned out?” he asks.
Sylar shrugs. “Primatach’s destroyed, but I didn’t touch your lab.”
Mohinder nods. “I made a mess of it myself,” he says mournfully “And my apartment?”
“Danko’s already sniffed round that for both you and Parkman,” Sylar answers. “Why?”
“I wonder if there any samples of the mutated strain of the Shanti virus left,” Mohinder says. “It’s the one you were injected with. It’s harmless and blocks powers. It needs my antibodies and blood from someone like you or Claire for a cure.”
Sylar looks a little unsettled and Mohinder remembers that Sylar regained his original power but lost all of his acquired powers bar the telekinesis despite the cure. He’s secretly very glad, Sylar with enhanced hearing would be even more difficult to cope with. “What about the Haitian? He knocks out powers by his presence,” Sylar asks
Mohinder shrugs. “We don’t know where he is and I’m not sure how I would go about replicating his powers.” He sighs. “To be honest Sylar I don’t really know what would do it and personally I don’t think its right to remove powers from people who aren’t doing anything wrong with them.”
Sylar grins. “I don’t suppose that would include me, would it, Mohinder?”
Mohinder considers his silence will be answer enough.
“And perhaps not even yourself?” Sylar muses. He laughs and stands up pulling Mohinder with him. “I’ll think about it, Mohinder. If we can plan it out a bit more thoroughly it might be worth considering.” He draws Mohinder towards him and cups his head kissing him deeply.
By the end of the kiss Mohinder is flushed, slightly breathless and irritated at himself and Sylar. This is the first proper conversation he’s had with Sylar for weeks, months even. The first conversation where he hasn’t had to appear obedient and servile, where caution and fear hasn’t made him temper his responses and he wants it to continue.
Sylar appears to know what he is thinking. “We will talk further,” he promises as he guides Mohinder towards the bedroom. “But later, I’ve wanted to take you to bed since the meal.” He leans towards Mohinder ear and nibbles at it before whispering. “I want to see you licking and humming around my penis like you did that cake.” He nibbles Mohinder’s ear again before licking a path down towards his neck and back up to the other ear.
Mohinder takes a deep breath remembering Sylar’s expression as he enjoyed the panipiri and tries to control his breathing. He is about to try and distract Sylar, and himself if he is honest, by asking ask how he managed to find such an authentic meal in American when his mouth is filled with Sylar’s tongue and his knees back up against the side of the huge bed that dominates the room. His fall is controlled by Sylar who straddles him, unbuttons his shirt with his all too handy telekinesis and pushes his t-shirt up before he has stopped bouncing. The first bite on his nipple has Mohinder crying out and arching into Sylar, grabbing onto the man’s shoulders for support. Sylar ups the ante and proceeds to bite and kiss at his nipples, throat and lips while running his finger up and down the seam of Mohinder’s jeans. Mohinder is shivering with arousal from the teasing, it’s as if still having his clothes on has somehow increased the excitement and sexiness a hundredfold and without thinking of the possible consequences he grips at Sylar’s shoulder and turns him over straddling him in turn. The expression on Sylar’s face is one of shock and surprise and Mohinder finds himself both amused and exultant in at last being able to turn the tables on the man. He holds Sylar still and has his pants undone in seconds releasing the straining erection. He runs a finger along the side and dips down to lick the same pathway before taking it in his mouth and sucking. Sylar’s moans fills the room as he clutches at Mohinder’s head with one hand and his ass with the other encouraging Mohinder as he licks and sucks and teases the man to completion.
Mohinder sits back on his heels, the sound of his name yelled at full volume still ringing in his ears, and contemplates Sylar. Sylar stirs and brings his hand up to Mohinder’s neck and pulls him down for a long messy kiss reversing their positions as he does so. He stares down into Mohinder’s face and gives a long, slow, enigmatic smile as he fondles Mohinder’s painfully constrained erection. He then leans forward and slowly proceeds to bite and lick his way down Mohinder’s torso. It is some minutes and a mind-blowing orgasm later that Mohinder finally recognises the expression in the smile as triumphant.
Part 3
Author: alicambs
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: R
Warnings: This is Mylar! Bastard Sylar taking advantage of a weary, guilt ridden Mohinder.
Spoilers: Season 3
Summary: Mohinder is the weary fly caught in Sylar's malevolent web
Disclaimer: Heroes does not belong to me no matter how much I wish it did. Mohinder is not mine, however much I might wish he was. Sylar... okay you get the drift. Not mine.
Word Count: 5,045
Date: June 09
A/N: Many thanks to Takhallus for another very speedy and useful beta.
Three months later
Part 1
Mohinder is alone in the lab when Peter makes his appearance.
When not at Sylar’s wilful beck and call he spends all his time here. He sees this as his priority, when he finds a way for Sylar to acquire abilities bloodlessly Molly is safe. It is also his sanctuary from Sylar’s demands, something Sylar appears to resent. Too many times to count he has been so absorbed in his work he has failed to acknowledge Sylar when he appears before him. Once, exasperated and frustrated at his lack of progress, he had sarcastically suggested that Sylar wear a bell and found himself head first over the man’s knees receiving the worst beating of his life. It had taken him days to be able to sit without wincing, much to Sylar’s sadistic amusement. Now he has taught himself to be aware of changes in shadows near to him and he raises his head expecting Sylar only to see Peter watching him quizzically.
Mohinder blinks and smiles tentatively. “Hello, Peter.”
Peter smiles back and then glances at his work. “So you’re working for him,” he says thoughtfully.
Mohinder gives a bitter laugh. “I didn’t really get much say in it,” he answers, slowly sitting back on his stool.
Peter cocks his head to the side and waits.
Mohinder sighs. “He knows where Molly is.”
Peter nods. “We could do something about that,” he suggests.
Mohinder smiles. “That would be a weight off my mind,” he says truthfully.
“And you could leave here,” Peter adds.
Mohinder shakes his head and hold up his right arm to show the gold plated bracelet fitted snugly to his wrist. “I’ve been tagged,” he says. The bracelet is a work of art, which makes its function all the more ugly and incongruous.
Peter reaches forwards and inspects it thoughtfully. “I can’t see any clasp,” he mutters as he tries to move it.
“Sylar welded the ends together when he fitted it,” Mohinder says with a sigh. “I don’t know what it’s made of because I can assure you I’ve tried to take it off and it won’t move even with my strength.”
“How does it work?”
Mohinder shivers. “Very painfully,” he says and shivers again folding his arms round him for comfort. In the first few weeks of his confinement he’d tried to escape a number of times and been tasered and dragged back to his lab by the security guards who appeared to take loyalty to Sylar very seriously indeed. He’d paid for it, Sylar made sure of that, and to add insult to injury had presented him with the bracelet, fitted it to him and smilingly told him he’d regret it if he made any attempt to leave again.
Peter looks at the bracelet quizzically. “Painfully?” he repeats, and looks searchingly at Mohinder.
Mohinder nods his head slowly. “I thought I was going to die, and that was just crossing the threshold and taking two steps into the courtyard. I crawled back in the door and collapsed on the floor. It took me a good ten minutes to get over the pain and to get enough coordination back to stand up. I’ve never tried again.”
“But…,” Peter hesitates. “So you’ve never left here?”
“Only accompanied by Sylar,” Mohinder says and wonders what Peter was going to say. He decides to move the conversation away from himself and his relationship with Sylar. He’s happy for Peter to know he’s a prisoner here and is working for Sylar because he has too, but that’s as much as he wants Peter to be aware of. “What about the others? Have you seen Matt Parkman? I’ve not seen much of the news, but I know your brother is making it difficult for people with abilities.”
He’s obviously found something near to Peter’s heart as Peter slumps back against the counter and looks miserable. “Nathan’s a traitor and a bastard,” he says angrily. “He’s sold us all out because he can’t come to terms with having an ability himself.”
“Even you and Claire?” Mohinder asks, appalled that the man would turn on family like that.
“Claire’s got a pass, she’s the only one. Noah Bennet is working for the operation and he’s making sure she’s kept safe.”
“What is the purpose behind the operation?” Mohinder asks. “Are they trying to remove abilities?”
Peter glances at him. “They’re removing people and they’re not being heard of again,” he says bluntly. “I was captured, drugged, shackled and was being flown to some secure facility.” He stares intensely at Mohinder, traces of anger and fear flickering through his eyes. “The plane crashed, many died and some of us got away, including your friend Matt. They were prepared to kill us rather than let us escape, so we’re all on the run now.”
Mohinder gasps, aghast at the news. “They’re killing us?” he asks truly appalled. He’s always had a rather ambivalent feeling towards Nathan Petrelli’s campaign mainly because of Sylar and, if he is truthful, his own appalling behaviour following his acquisition of synthetic ability. “What all of them, not just the dangerous ones? How can this be happening without their families making a fuss? How are you keeping safe?”
Peter shakes his head. “I really don’t know. The guy who leads it is a nasty piece of work; Danko is his name. He treats everyone with abilities as dangerous and I think he’d kill us all at the drop of a hat. As to safety,” he gives a bitter laugh and shrugs his shoulders.
“But I thought it was your brother’s operation,” Mohinder says, confused.
Peter nods. “It is, but Danko’s the military organiser.”
“Military organiser!” Mohinder echoes, horrified. “Surely your Government hasn’t sanctioned a military style operation against innocent civilians?”
“They have,” Peter says. “I really wish I had my full power back and I’d take them all on, Danko in particular, but I can only use one power at a time. A few of us have grouped together, Matt and I in particular, but the odds stacked against us are huge.”
There’s silence for a few seconds as Mohinder reflects on what he’s just been told until he suddenly realises why Peter has made contact with him. “You need Sylar,” he says, trying hard not to sound hurt by the knowledge. Why would Peter come to save him anyway? “That’s why you’re here, to ask for Sylar’s help, isn’t it?”
Peter nods slowly. “Daphne, that’s Matt’s girlfriend, saw you and Sylar together. We were hoping that you could ask Sylar for us, but…” he trails off and looks down at Mohinder’s bracelet
Mohinder snorts, distinctly unamused. “Peter, I have no influence over Sylar whatsoever.”
“Oh I don’t know, Pet, when you do that thing with your tongue I’m open to any suggestion you want to make.”
Sylar’s laughing face materialises before Mohinder and he is wrapped in Sylar’s embrace before he can think to make a move. Sylar turns them to face Peter whose expression is one of stunned surprise. “Petrelli,” Sylar says pleasantly. “I don’t remember giving you permission to come here or to talk to Mohinder.”
“I wasn’t aware that I needed your permission to talk to Mohinder,” Peter says carefully.
“Mohinder is mine,” Sylar says and rests his chin on Mohinder’s shoulder possessively and stares at Peter.
Mohinder closes his eyes in embarrassment before taking a deep breath and gathering his wits. He needs to defuse this stand off. He turns his head so he can look Sylar in the eye. “Peter came to ask for your help,” he says quietly.
“I know, Pet,” Sylar says and plays with a curl. Mohinder winces at the second use of the derogatory description. Sylar yanks at the curl. “Molly can come and stay here if you’re so worried about her.”
Mohinder hears the threat and shakes his head. “Please leave her with my mother,” he begs and without thinking reaches forward and touches Sylar’s face to emphasise his plea. Sylar looks at him silent for a few seconds, an expression on his face Mohinder can’t quite decipher, and nods slowly.
Sylar turns to Peter, and Mohinder sneaks a look at Peter’s face. He has gone from surprise to shock and Mohinder can only hope that it is directed at Sylar rather than himself. Sylar gestures with his hand and Peter is thrown back towards the exit. “I don’t want you here ever again,” Sylar says calmly. “If I see you near here or making any attempt to speak to Mohinder I will kill you. Do you understand?”
Peter nods. “Danko?” he asks, as he moves to leave.
“That all depends on how persuasive Mohinder is,” Sylar says, and smiles.
Mohinder swallows and catches Peter’s eye. There is compassion in the eyes and a horrified understanding. He watches as Peter takes to the air and waits for Sylar to release him, sure that now Sylar has humiliated him in front of Peter he will drop the pretence of caring. To his surprise Sylar takes hold of his chin and starts to kiss him with a gentleness that he has never shown in any of their previous encounters. Hesitantly, Mohinder clasps his hands around Sylar’s shoulder and begins to respond. Sylar makes a noise deep in his throat and pulls Mohinder closer. The kissing becomes a little more enthusiastic and energetic, but never demanding, which is the norm for Sylar.
When Sylar finally pulls away, a look of regret in his eyes, Mohinder realises that this is the first time he’s voluntarily responded to Sylar, and wonders quite what that means.
Sylar licks his lips and shakes his head. “I could get lost in you,” he murmurs and brushes Mohinder’s hair.
Mohinder gives him a shaky smile, but says nothing. He’s feeling a little confused and conflicted at present.
“I don’t want you having any contact with Peter Petrelli or any of your old colleagues,” Sylar says.
Mohinder opens his mouth to protest, but Sylar covers his mouth with his hand and shakes his head. “It’s not negotiable, Mohinder. It’s as much for your own safety as it is because I don’t wish to share you.”
Mohinder ponders the statement for few seconds and frowns. “Why? Do you already know something about Danko and his operation then?”
Sylar nods.
“Will you tell me about it?” Mohiner asks, wanting to take advantage of this unusually mellow Sylar.
Sylar contemplates him silently for a few seconds. “Over dinner tonight,” he finally agrees.” He pauses and then grins. “Perhaps you can then do the persuading Petrelli expects.”
Mohinder is astonished to see that the smile is flirtatious.
Sylar looks at him almost fondly and gestures him forward giving his ass a gentle swipe.
“We have a visitor arriving to see me and I want you in attendance, “he says. He moves away from Mohinder and glances at his work station. “Have you gotten any further?”
Mohinder shakes his head slowly trying to get his mind back into work mode. “Not with the modelling from the MRI scans, the 3D images are as clear as you would get looking at a real brain. I’m wondering if it’s something else entirely.”
Sylar looks curious.
“When I injected myself I was working on the adrenal glands. Transposing it to your situation I thought that may be what is missing from the experience is the visceral feeling you get from the kill and wondered whether an injection of adrenalin might be the missing factor,” Mohinder offers.
Sylar think it over for a few seconds and nodes slowly. “You could be on to something there. We’ll try tomorrow.” He glances at his watch. “We need to get going.” He strides towards the door and beckons.
Mohinder shrugs off his lab coat and follows.
Mohinder has learnt to be wary of the evenings for it is then that Sylar is his most spiteful. In fact he looks forwards to the nights when Sylar goes out and he is locked in his windowless room because there he can at least meditate and achieve some level of peace. On that nights Sylar is present, and they are all too often for Mohinder’s peace of mind, he becomes Sylar’s plaything. Sylar is seldom physically cruel, although he has developed an obsessive and gleeful pleasure in ‘disciplining’ Mohinder for any perceived insults or supposed lack of respect. His cruelty is more psychological. He enjoys undermining Mohinder’s self-esteem and reminding him of his stupidity in injecting the formula. He plays on Mohinder’s insecurities and digs away at the foundation of his beliefs and knowledge.
Mohinder has withstood all of it by detaching himself. He has slowly come to terms with the knowledge that he is as capable of cruelty, greed and selfishness as Sylar. He has faced his past and he longs for a future where he is free.
Mohinder enters Sylar’s rooms and waits for the order to strip. This is the first step of his nightly humiliation. He knows that Sylar wants him to do it automatically, wants him to show his obedience, but this is his silent rebellion and despite knowing that Sylar will go easier on him if he complies he will not capitulate.
Sylar strides towards the dining table and checks the food throwing Mohinder a contemplative glance before beckoning him forward. “I’m told you’ve been too busy to eat today, Mohinder so I thought I would arrange a treat for you.”
Mohinder blinks and stays by the door for a few second before slowly joining Sylar at the table. He sits and waits for the food to be given to him as usual, taking away choice has been another of Sylar’s methods of control, but Sylar waves him to help himself. He slowly takes in the rich, piquant odour and can’t help but gasp as he encounters the spices and aromas of him homeland. With trembling enthusiasm he helps himself to the main dish and the bread bun accompanying it and lifts his fork to his mouth. It is a potpourri of spiced vegetables and evokes memories of his home so much he finds himself shaky with emotion.
“I believe these are called pan puree,” Sylar says slowly, offering a flour cake to him.
“Panipuri,” Mohinder corrects and takes one in delight. The cakes, filled with boiled lentils, spices, tamarind chutney and spicy water have always been a favourite. He closes his eyes humming in delight as the flavour washes over his taste buds. Sylar makes a choked noise and Mohinder opens his eyes to find Sylar eyes fixed on his mouth. He freezes, recognising the lustful look all too easily. Sylar blinks and looks away and Mohinder slowly relaxes sufficiently to enjoy another panipuri. The meal finishes with pistachio kulfi and Mohinder sinks back in his chair happy, but watchful enough to wonder quite why Sylar has decided to do this.
“We’ll have coffee in the living room,” Sylar announces.
Mohinder walks through, takes a deep breath and elects to sit as far away from Sylar as possible. He has no idea how long this mellow, considerate Sylar will last. He is certain that it is another psychological trick so he will keep his guard up yet grasp every opportunity offered to him. “You were going to tell me about Danko,” he reminds Sylar.
Sylar nods, takes a sip of his coffee. “Emile Danko, also known as ‘the Hunter’, is a former senior agent of the Department of Homeland Security. He’s the leader of a team of soldiers hunting down evolved humans like us. Nathan Petrelli has convinced the President that we are a danger to national security and has the President’s permission to round us up and lock us up.”
“But not kill us? “ Mohinder asks.
Sylar shrugs. “From what I’ve read about Danko he’d like to shoot every one of us. Bennet is working with him and between the two of them they’ve appear to have a very good idea of where we all are.” He looks sharply at Mohinder. “They know about you, but they don’t know where you are. Nathan Petrelli wants to use your knowledge to make a serum to remove powers. Danko has orders to apprehend you on sight and to ensure your safe disposal at their HQ.”
“How do you know all this?” Mohinder asks horrified and fascinated.
Sylar smiles. “I have my methods.”
“Do they know about you?”
Sylar nods. “Danko knows of me, of Sylar. He has men after me, but I’ve always beaten them. I left him a present recently, I’m sure he’ll be keen to meet me after that.”
“A present?” Mohinder asks with deep suspicion. “Would that present be a person or an object?”
Sylar smiles, but doesn’t offer an answer.
“Why do you want to meet him?” Mohinder asks when he realises that Sylar isn’t going to reply.
Sylar grins. “He has access to people with powers, Mohinder. I collect powers, it’s really a match made in heaven, and if you can get me a way of doing it without having to kill every time we’ll both be happy.”
Mohinder shakes his head angered by the assumption that he’ll be happy for Sylar to acquire more powers whatever the method. “You don’t need any more powers,” he snaps. “You’re a menace with the ones you have already.”
Sylar’s face darkens and Mohinder takes a deep breath realising the food and clothes have made him too comfortable and open and he’s forgotten his own rules. He hasn’t back chatted Sylar for weeks now. He tenses and waits for the pain and punishment to begin.
“I thought I’d taught you respect some months ago,” Sylar says after a long silence.
Mohinder bites his lip and wishes that Sylar would just get on with it.
The silence carries on for longer and Mohinder fights not to run.
“Come here,” Sylar demands, and enforces the command with a twitch of compulsion.
Mohinder takes a deep breath, stands and makes his way over to the sofa Sylar is sat on. Sylar pats the seat next to him and Mohinder sits down gingerly.
“I haven’t broken you, have I?” Sylar muses.
Mohinder makes no reply. He is very aware of Sylar ability to sense lies. He tries not to flinch as his hair is stroked, Sylar has a fascination for his curls probably because he likes pulling at them.
“I’m glad,” Sylar says and it takes Mohinder a few seconds to take the sentence in.
“You’re glad!” Mohinder demands, his fear morphing into fury. “You spend months hurting me, mocking me, abusing me… the list is endless and you now say you’re fucking glad you didn’t turn me into a spineless, cringing, obedient automaton.” He pokes a finger at Sylar and jabs at him, causing the man to wince. “You are an evil, manipulative bastard, an evolved human who could be the greatest among us, but you chose to squander your amazing power of intuitive ability on killing other special people for kicks. You make me sick.” The adrenaline powering his fury fades leave him shaking and near to tears of anger and frustration.
“I don’t think that’s entirely true, Pet” Sylar says.
“Don’t call me that” Mohinder snarls and aims a punch at Sylar.
Sylar stops Mohinder’s arm mid way and gather him into his arms, using his telekinesis to keep Mohinder still. “You think I could be the greatest of all the evolved humans then?” Sylar says smugness and a quiet amusement in his voice.
Mohinder snarls again, word failing him.
“Yet you say I’m a menace.” Sylar laughs and drops a kiss on Mohinder’s head. “In my hurry to make you pay for disappointing me, I managed to forget that the very thing I’ve always admired about you is your courage and your outspoken, uncompromising manner.”
He releases Mohinder and sits him next to him, pulling him into a hug. Mohinder is too emotionally tired, confused and bewildered by the suddenness of Sylar’s change of manner to organise his thoughts, never mind extricate himself from Sylar’s embrace.
Sylar continues. “When you turned yourself into a monster I thought you’d gotten your comeuppance. I thought you deserved to suffer for what you did to me and I was angry that you’d done it all for that simpering Maya.”
“She’s not simpering,” Mohinder says quietly.
Sylar ignores him. “Then you started working for Arthur Petrelli! As monsters go he was the granddaddy of them all, yet there you were rebuffing me, and working for him.”
Mohinder sighs. “I didn’t have too much choice by then,” he says honestly. “But if you want me to repeat words that you have already forced me to say on numerous occasions then I will. I was a foolish, selfish, amoral, spineless coward and I regret it deeply.” He sits up straighter. “But answer me this, Sylar, do I really deserve to be imprisoned, beaten, abused and raped by you because of it? Did what I did to myself and others really have any consequence for you?”
“I haven’t raped you,” Sylar says, sounding shocked. “I’ve always ensured that you got pleasure as well and I know you enjoy it however much you tried to hide it from me.”
Mohinder sighs again, this time with angry frustration. Sex with Sylar has been almost the most difficult thing for him to cope with for a multitude of different reasons. One is to do with Sylar being male. His culture isn’t very open about homosexuality and he had never even considered that he might be capable of being attracted to a man. Another is the fact that Sylar has chosen sex to be the one activity in which he has never sought to humiliate, hurt or punish. It has been the very pleasure that Sylar has wrung out of him that Mohinder has found the hardest to bear as Sylar has very cleverly used sex as a reward for good behaviour and a haven from the humiliations preceding it. Mohinder looks levelly at Sylar. “That may well be true, but did you ever ask for my consent?” He ploughs on not waiting for Sylar’s response. “No you didn’t. You assumed possession over my body and enforced my participation. That’s rape, Sylar.”
Sylar looks puzzled and somewhat annoyed. “You enjoy it and I will ensure that you continue to do so,” Sylar says, as if that is the end of the matter. He relaxes his embrace and sits back.
Mohinder wonders briefly if the man’s moral compass is so skewed that he just does not understand, or chooses not to understand, the implications of his statement.
“I will accept that perhaps my punishment has been a little harsh.” Sylar continues
“A little harsh!” Mohinder repeats, interrupting him, his voice rising in anger. “A little harsh! It was barbaric, immoral and totally unlawful, Sylar and you know it.”
Sylar looks at him in annoyance. “You are mine, Mohinder,” he says forcefully and raises his finger to his mouth, muting Mohinder when he angrily tries to respond. “Mine and I will decide what is right for you.”
Mohinder shakes his head back and forth, tears of frustration in his eyes. The small glimmer of hope that he can escape Sylar and return home is fading in front of him. He takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes determined that he will not break down.
Sylar watches him intently and reaches out to wipe at a tear. “What do you want to do?” he asks.
“Go home,” Mohinder says simply.
Sylar shakes his head. “There’s too much surveillance at the airports, even I couldn’t slip us both under the radar and get out. Perhaps when this is over I’ll take you.”
Mohinder feels like snapping out that he wants to go alone, unaccompanied, but knows it will get him nowhere. “If you won’t let me leave then I want to help to free Matt, Peter, all of us, from this Danko.” He sits up. “Perhaps you could use me as bait to infiltrate their HQ if Petrelli wants my knowledge so much?”
“No, “Sylar says sharply.
“You’ve got a tracker on this,” Mohinder says waving the bracelet at Sylar. “You could follow me.”
“I know where their HQ is,” Sylar says irritably. “They’ve got tight security and I can’t get past it that’s why I’m wooing Danko with a gift of a dangerous special. I want him to want me on their side.”
“Then offer me to him as another gift.”
Sylar sits and stares at Mohinder for a few minutes then shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You didn’t used to be so concerned for my safety,” Mohinder retorts.
Sylar’s eye flash and Mohinder tenses. After a few seconds a rueful smile crosses Sylar’s lips. “True, but that’s when I’m the one doing the damage,” he says.
Mohinder shakes his head, trying hard to fight a smile in return. It’s really not funny, yet it is. “You could offer my services, say you’ll make me work on a serum to remove powers that kind of thing. Perhaps your engineers could add something to my bracelet, that allows a download of their security intel.”
Sylar contemplates this in silence for a few seconds and then asks. “Could you make such a serum?”
Mohinder considers what he knows. “Did my lab get cleaned out?” he asks.
Sylar shrugs. “Primatach’s destroyed, but I didn’t touch your lab.”
Mohinder nods. “I made a mess of it myself,” he says mournfully “And my apartment?”
“Danko’s already sniffed round that for both you and Parkman,” Sylar answers. “Why?”
“I wonder if there any samples of the mutated strain of the Shanti virus left,” Mohinder says. “It’s the one you were injected with. It’s harmless and blocks powers. It needs my antibodies and blood from someone like you or Claire for a cure.”
Sylar looks a little unsettled and Mohinder remembers that Sylar regained his original power but lost all of his acquired powers bar the telekinesis despite the cure. He’s secretly very glad, Sylar with enhanced hearing would be even more difficult to cope with. “What about the Haitian? He knocks out powers by his presence,” Sylar asks
Mohinder shrugs. “We don’t know where he is and I’m not sure how I would go about replicating his powers.” He sighs. “To be honest Sylar I don’t really know what would do it and personally I don’t think its right to remove powers from people who aren’t doing anything wrong with them.”
Sylar grins. “I don’t suppose that would include me, would it, Mohinder?”
Mohinder considers his silence will be answer enough.
“And perhaps not even yourself?” Sylar muses. He laughs and stands up pulling Mohinder with him. “I’ll think about it, Mohinder. If we can plan it out a bit more thoroughly it might be worth considering.” He draws Mohinder towards him and cups his head kissing him deeply.
By the end of the kiss Mohinder is flushed, slightly breathless and irritated at himself and Sylar. This is the first proper conversation he’s had with Sylar for weeks, months even. The first conversation where he hasn’t had to appear obedient and servile, where caution and fear hasn’t made him temper his responses and he wants it to continue.
Sylar appears to know what he is thinking. “We will talk further,” he promises as he guides Mohinder towards the bedroom. “But later, I’ve wanted to take you to bed since the meal.” He leans towards Mohinder ear and nibbles at it before whispering. “I want to see you licking and humming around my penis like you did that cake.” He nibbles Mohinder’s ear again before licking a path down towards his neck and back up to the other ear.
Mohinder takes a deep breath remembering Sylar’s expression as he enjoyed the panipiri and tries to control his breathing. He is about to try and distract Sylar, and himself if he is honest, by asking ask how he managed to find such an authentic meal in American when his mouth is filled with Sylar’s tongue and his knees back up against the side of the huge bed that dominates the room. His fall is controlled by Sylar who straddles him, unbuttons his shirt with his all too handy telekinesis and pushes his t-shirt up before he has stopped bouncing. The first bite on his nipple has Mohinder crying out and arching into Sylar, grabbing onto the man’s shoulders for support. Sylar ups the ante and proceeds to bite and kiss at his nipples, throat and lips while running his finger up and down the seam of Mohinder’s jeans. Mohinder is shivering with arousal from the teasing, it’s as if still having his clothes on has somehow increased the excitement and sexiness a hundredfold and without thinking of the possible consequences he grips at Sylar’s shoulder and turns him over straddling him in turn. The expression on Sylar’s face is one of shock and surprise and Mohinder finds himself both amused and exultant in at last being able to turn the tables on the man. He holds Sylar still and has his pants undone in seconds releasing the straining erection. He runs a finger along the side and dips down to lick the same pathway before taking it in his mouth and sucking. Sylar’s moans fills the room as he clutches at Mohinder’s head with one hand and his ass with the other encouraging Mohinder as he licks and sucks and teases the man to completion.
Mohinder sits back on his heels, the sound of his name yelled at full volume still ringing in his ears, and contemplates Sylar. Sylar stirs and brings his hand up to Mohinder’s neck and pulls him down for a long messy kiss reversing their positions as he does so. He stares down into Mohinder’s face and gives a long, slow, enigmatic smile as he fondles Mohinder’s painfully constrained erection. He then leans forward and slowly proceeds to bite and lick his way down Mohinder’s torso. It is some minutes and a mind-blowing orgasm later that Mohinder finally recognises the expression in the smile as triumphant.
Part 3
