(no subject)
TITLE: Kinky Little Games we Play 7
AUTHOR: dragynflies
RATING: NC 17
WORD COUNT: 7,460
PAIRING: Sylar/Elle, Elle/Mohinder, Elle/Claire, Sylar/Claire
DISCLAIMER: Heroes cast is not mine
SUMMARY: Another chapter in my Sylar and Elle are Kinky ‘verse. This one is a little different - it picks up where the previous chapter left off (Click here for Chapter 6) and also is written as a sequel/follow up to Pavlov’s Bitch by okibeyemoun. I highly recommend it, but if you don’t want to read it all you need to know for this fic to make sense is that Adam had kidnapped Claire and kept her as his slave in a very non-con kind of way. The end of that fic features Sylar coming in and rescuing her, and this fic deals with the aftermath and ended up being a kind of BDSM relationship character study. *deep breath* Okay, I hope I haven’t totally scared you away. I promise there is still kinky fun times in this fic!
Beta’d by the fabulous zaftig_darling and superkappa
Written for my kink bingo card locks/chains.
When Sylar is gone, Mohinder immediately lets Elle out of the cage. He can’t stand how heartbroken she looks, curled up on the bottom of the cage staring at the door. Mohinder isn’t sure what exactly he expects from Elle, but what he doesn’t expect is for her to pop out of the cage and stand up, staring at him with amused eyes.
“He told you to be good,” Mohinder says without thinking - as soon as the words come out of his mouth he realizes how stupid they sound.
“I’m always good,” Elle says, but Mohinder isn’t exactly sure he believes her. “I’m tired.” She rubs a palm across her bruised nipples - it’s easy to see exactly where the nipple clamps had bit into her skin and bruised her. Still, for someone who says she’s tired, she looks awfully pleased with herself.
“Of course,” Mohinder says, “You can sleep…you had a long day. Where do you…?” He glances back at the cage as Elle rolls her eyes.
“I sleep in the bed, Mohinder. What kind of weirdo do you think I am?” As Elle walks right past him, naked, collared, and cuffed - and without a hint of shame - Mohinder begins to wonder just what he’s gotten himself into.
Despite herself, Elle passes out almost immediately after lying down. She’s folded herself around a pillow that Mohinder assumes to be Sylar’s, and has pulled the red comforter around her shoulders. Wrapped up like she is, she looks more like a spoiled teenager than Sylar’s incredibly hot wife. Mohinder leaves her to sleep and steps out of the room to explore the house.
The house has changed since the last time he was here. The living room was clearly designed with Elle in mind - there are chains on the walls and floor, and about fifteen different ways to secure her to any number of apparatuses. There’s a chest behind the couch and Mohinder opens it to find an array of items - from things he’s never in his life imagined to things he’s imagined quite often. He quells the sudden desire to make a list of desires and wake Elle up, and instead closes the chest and wanders into the bathroom.
The bathroom is less of a shock. It looks like every other normal bathroom he’s ever seen - shower with a shower curtain, toilet, sink, and a shelf above the sink that looks like a cosmetics counter exploded onto it. It all looks so normal that it leaves him stunned for a moment - he has to remind himself that Elle lives here.
He wanders quietly from the bathroom, through the living room and into the kitchen. There’s nothing terribly exiting in here, either, he notes as he opens cupboards and looks on shelves. Sylar the (somewhat reformed) serial killer apparently enjoys cereal (Raisin Bran; Mohinder’s willing to bet the Lucky Charms are all Elle’s) and there’s normal food in the refrigerator too - a half eaten lasagna and a salad are shoved in on the top shelf next to a gallon of milk.
Mohinder peers back into the bedroom and glances at Elle. She’s only been asleep a half hour and she’s already kicked the covers away and is now sprawled naked across the bed with her foot hanging off the side. Mohinder’s cock rises to rock hard proportions the second he sees her, but he swallows and tries to ignore the offending body part. Elle has got to be exhausted, he reminds himself, he’d seen what she’d been subjected to prior to his arrival and she clearly requires rest.
Still, it doesn’t stop him from planning. Elle’s all his for the week, and all he can think about is her gorgeous, naked body and the eager way she’d responded to his commands. Sylar has her trained so perfectly…Mohinder swallows as he thinks about everything he’s going to get to do this weekend, like a complete fantasy come true.
Mohinder sits down on the couch back in the living room, the remote to the TV clenched in his hands. He wonders if Elle is asleep for the night or if she’ll wake up before, and what exactly he’s supposed to do with her then.
He ends up falling asleep on the couch, the TV humming in the background.
******************************
When he wakes up, Elle is sitting cross-legged in the chair to his left, eating a bowl full of Lucky Charms and wearing an oversized black T-shirt and baggy pajama pants that are cinched at the waist. He can see the silver of her collar half tucked underneath the shirt, and her hair is still damp from her shower.
“Morning,” she greets him between bites of cereal. “Some babysitter you are. Gabriel usually makes me breakfast.”
Mohinder sits up and rubs his eyes. Elle gives him a once over and returns to her cereal. Her eye roll is subtle, but not invisible, and Mohinder watches his upper hand fall away.
“Since when are you allowed to wear clothes?” he asks her and Elle swallows her mouthful of cereal, then makes an exaggerated perusal of the living room.
“I don’t see Gabriel anywhere, do you?” she asks primly, raising the bowl of milk to her lips to finish her breakfast.
“He left me in charge.”
“Ah,” Elle says, lowering the bowl and gazing at Mohinder with amused eyes, “He didn’t. He left you here. He said nothing about leaving you in charge.” Elle sets the bowl on the coffee table (like every other coffee table Mohinder’s ever seen, except for the leather cuffs that are attached to the legs) and shifts in the seat, bending her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her knees as she stares him down.
“I believe my position was implied.” It doesn’t take Elle’s amused smile to tell Mohinder he’s rapidly losing ground.
She doesn’t answer him, just settles back comfortably and looks at him, her blue eyes sparkling. It’s clear she’s at home here - comfortable where Mohinder is not, and the toys and furniture do not command her attention the way they do Mohinder.
It’s also clear to Mohinder he’s underestimated the relationship between Elle and Sylar. There’s clearly more to it than he originally thought - and Elle is clearly more than Sylar’s little sex slave.
It’s time to at least make an attempt at regaining the control he thought he’d been given.
“Go take care of your dishes, get out of those clothes, and go sit down on the bed,” he orders as firmly as he’s able. Elle’s eyes widen slightly but he is nearly giddy to see her stand up and walk towards the kitchen. He can hear the clink of her placing the bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, then the soft padding of her feet as she walks towards the bedroom.
When he walks into the bathroom minutes later, Elle is sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, and playing with the cuff around her left wrist.
“That’s better,” Mohinder says and Elle looks up at him through blonde bangs. He folds his fingers against his palms so that Elle can’t see quite how nervous he is. “While Sylar didn’t explicitly leave me in charge, I don’t believe that’s something that needed to be spelled out.”
Elle crosses her arms and looks at him steadily. It’s clear she’s thinking and making a decision.
“Get on your hands and knees, Elle,” Mohinder orders. Elle freezes for thirty seconds, making eye contact that makes the air between them sizzle. Mohinder wonders if he’s going to get electrocuted and internally braces himself. What surprises him more is when Elle shifts on the bed, crawling onto her hands and knees before glancing back at him.
“You’re listening much better,” Mohinder says, cupping his hand over her ass. Her actions are making him feel like he’s gained some control back, and he’s moving with more confidence now.
Elle sighs happily and settles down on the bed while Mohinder trails his hand across her skin and between her legs. His fingers slide through her soft folds, and Elle whimpers, bucking her hips back towards him. All her sass is gone now as Mohinder strokes her slowly and Elle slides her legs apart a little more to give him easier access.
Mohinder spends a few more minutes teasing her, brushing his fingers over her clit but never really touching her the way she likes, never making her come. Elle had hoped her obedience would get her something good -- Sylar had always made it worth her while, so she’s mildly disappointed when Mohinder thrusts his cock into her before she’s even come once. Still, she knows the doctor isn’t bad in bed and so she arches her back and presses into him, fucking him back.
He comes before she does and pulls out of her. Elle whines, clearly annoyed, but Mohinder just pats her on the hip and grins.
“Maybe that will help you remember who’s in charge,” he tells her as he leaves the room, finally feeling like he’s gotten the upper hand.
Elle waits until she hears the shower kick on to climb out of bed and grab her vibrator. She manages three orgasms before it turns off, and she cleans and puts the toy away before Mohinder’s even back in the bedroom.
Clearly, he’s got a lot to learn about her before he tries to put himself in charge.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It’s been five days since Sylar left, and Elle is unsurprised to realize how much she misses him. Mohinder isn’t nearly as much fun - and doesn’t hold nearly the same ability to control her that Sylar does, and she misses the security that Sylar provides her.
She’s lounging on the couch, wearing one of Sylar’s black t shirts while Mohinder makes her lunch when she hears the door open. She flies off the couch and into the kitchen to greet him, ready to jump into his arms and kiss him like she’s seen girls in movies do.
The little blonde girl cradled in his arms makes her skid to a halt and she stares at him with wide blue eyes.
“Elle,” he says, and he sounds happy to see her, but Elle knows when she’s been replaced.
Elle doesn’t say anything, just glances at Mohinder who’s still standing at the kitchen sink and practically runs into the bedroom she shares with Sylar.
“Here.” Mohinder finds his arms suddenly full of sleeping Claire, and Sylar heads to the bedroom after Elle. Mohinder carries Claire into the living room and sets her down, realizing only then that she is wearing Sylar’s clothing and not much else.
“Elle,” Mohinder can hear Sylar’s voice through the door, and he can’t help but listen, “Elle, you’re not listening, and you’re going to get punished if you don’t start. You need to calm down.”
“I didn’t know you were going on a cheerleader-finding mission!” Elle snaps.
“I wasn’t!” Sylar insists, “Elle, I went after the man that Mohinder told me about it.” He sounds thrilled about his new abilities, whatever they are, even through his explanation, “I took care of him, like I said I would. Finding Claire was unexpected - I trailed the man’s partner back to his apartment and found her there.”
“So give her back to her father,” Elle says, and though Mohinder can’t see her, he can practically hear her pouting.
“I have no plans to keep her.” Sylar is speaking calmly and reasonably, trying to soothe Elle. Mohinder never imagined the serial killer to be so…domestic. Loving, even. “Elle, you weren’t there when I found her. I don’t know how long that man had her.”
Elle mumbles something that Mohinder can’t make out, but he hears Sylar speak again.
“She's broken, Elle. He tied her up and he left her…she was covered in blood when I found her. How would you like it if I had treated you like that, and no one ever showed you how wonderful what we have could be? We can help fix her."
Elle says something that sounds finally like assent, and Sylar returns to the living room alone. He glances from Mohinder to the blonde girl, finally awake and staring at him with wide eyes.
“You’re awake,” Sylar says. Claire opens her mouth to respond, but snaps her jaw shut at the last minute, nodding instead. “Are you hurt?”
Claire’s brow furrows and her lips quirk into something resembling a smirk.
“Right,” Sylar says, “You know what I meant. Do you want me to take you home?”
Claire looks from Sylar to Mohinder, and then slowly shakes her head.
“Fine,” Sylar says. He’s not nearly as surprised as Mohinder appears to be. “Dr. Suresh. That’ll be all for tonight,” he says, effectively dismissing the other man, and then turns his attention to Claire.
Mohinder hesitates, clearly uncertain and Sylar rolls his eyes. “I asked her if she wanted to go home. You’re welcome to play good cop and check up on us, I don’t care. There’s already an extra person in my home, and I’d like to spend some time with Elle at some point. I know you don’t think I’m capable of feelings, but I missed my wife.”
Once Mohinder finally leaves Sylar tucks Claire, still silent and wide eyed, into her makeshift bed on the couch. She’s not sure what to make of her new situation, not sure what to make of this Sylar who seems to want to take care of her. And Elle…she’d thought Elle was dead, thought Elle had been dead for years, but here she was. But she looked so happy to be with Sylar, so proud of her collar and unashamed of her nakedness in a way Claire had never achieved.
She can’t sleep on the couch. It’s all wrong, with her body stretched out to its full length and the soft warm blanket curled around her shoulders. How did she used to sleep like this? Her foot itches against her ankle, where she’s used to feeling the manacles, and she squirms again on the comfortable couch.
Finally she gives up and pads quietly into the bedroom Sylar had entered earlier that night. There is an empty cage in the corner of the room, and she glances around for Elle. Certainly Elle is well behaved enough to follow the rules…Claire is stunned when she finds Elle, tucked into bed with Sylar, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Claire is struck again by how content Elle looks. It’s not fair.
Claire glances again at Elle’s cage and sighs. It even looks comfortable in there, the pad at the bottom of the cage is nothing like her gym mat, it’s soft and pillowed, like the couch. Quietly, Claire pulls the pad out of the cage and climbs inside. The metal of the cage bites against her skin, and finally, Claire falls asleep.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Claire wakes up with a start when she hears Elle’s voice calling her name. She scrambles up to her knees, cracking her head on the top of the cage and jamming her foot into the corner as she moves.
“Claire, stop it,” Elle says, reaching for the other girl. Claire looks at her blankly, like she doesn’t know where she is, and then blinks. “Claire, come here.”
Claire crawls out of the cage and sits back on her heels, looking up at Elle. Elle’s wearing a tank top and yoga pants and looks decidedly unhappy with…something. Whether it’s Claire or not, Claire isn’t certain, but she doesn’t want to upset Elle any further.
“Do you want something to eat?” Elle asks, and her coddling voice is starting to grow tense.
Claire doesn’t move, and Elle rolls her eyes. “Cheerleader, I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours, but Gabriel told me what happened. Or what he saw. It’s different here, okay? So stand up and I’ll show you around or something, but stop staring at me like I’m going to do a trick. I only do those for Gabriel.”
Claire staggers to her feet, the muscles in her legs healed but still a little stiff after so many months of disuse. Elle reaches a hand out to steady her, and Claire clings to her arm as her body stretches. Elle watches as the girl regains her balance and takes a few unsure steps.
“Okay then,” Elle says briskly, “So this is the bedroom. You’re…not required to sleep in my cage.” Claire isn’t sure if she’s imagining things, but she’s pretty sure Elle sounds almost possessive. “You can sleep on the couch. Come with me.”
The house isn’t huge, but it’s still bigger than the apartment Claire is used to. After the impromptu tour, Elle brings Claire to the kitchen. There’s a plate with a waffle and sausage on it, with a fork and a cup of juice next to it.
“Eat some breakfast,” Elle says, then scampers eagerly over to Sylar, who’s standing near the sink, rinsing out a bowl. Claire stands in the doorway, stunned, as Elle presses herself against Sylar, demanding a kiss.
Sylar wraps his hand around Elle’s slim wrist and starts walking with her towards the bedroom.
“That’s for you,” Sylar says as he passes Claire, nodding towards the food on the table. “Make yourself comfortable in the living room when you’re done.”
When he steps onto the living room carpet, he drops Elle’s wrist and puts his big hand on her back, giving her a gentle push. Elle drops to the floor and scrambles on her hands and knees towards the bedroom.
Claire stands in the doorway, watching Sylar and Elle disappear into the bedroom. She hears Elle’s breathy giggle and then the sharp smack of Sylar’s palm meeting Elle’s skin. Her stomach drops out at the sound of Elle’s whimper, and she stares at the closed door.
He’s hurting Elle, like Adam used to hurt her. Except Elle doesn’t heal, and so she’ll be in pain for days from whatever it is he’s doing to her. But Sylar told her to eat breakfast…her stomach growls as she glances towards the food on the table.
Claire slaps her hands over her ears when she hears Elle cry out again, and she clenches her eyes shut. She pads into the living room and sits down on the floor in front of the couch, her arms around her knees. Elle’s groans mute, and Claire knows he’s gagged her, just like Adam did, and she crawls across the floor to peer through the crack in the door.
Elle is stretched across the bed on her stomach, the sliver cuffs around her wrists hooked to rings in the headboard. Her knees are tucked under so her ass is in the air and Sylar’s pounding into her, occasionally smacking her across the ass but otherwise he’s just digging his fingers into Elle’s fragile hipbones. A red ball gag is strapped in her mouth and Claire can see the shiny metal nipple clamps on Elle’s nipples.
Claire watches silently, upset for Elle but unable to work up the courage to go save her, as Sylar continues to fuck her. Elle’s moans are almost continuous now and Claire can see the way her teeth bite into the gag. Sylar’s face contorts as he comes, and Elle cries out his name around the gag filling her mouth.
Panting, Sylar leans forward and unbuckles the gag from Elle’s face before unhooking her wrists and pulling out of her, helping to turn her over onto her back. She moves willingly underneath him, grinning up at him as he pulls off the nipple clamps one at a time, wrapping his mouth around each abused nipple until Elle’s face relaxes.
“I missed you,” Elle practically purrs, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her. Claire’s face twists in confusion as Sylar kisses Elle gently before rolling over onto his back and letting Elle curl into his side. “Don’t go away for that long again.”
“I’m sorry,” Sylar says, and Claire watches as Elle nuzzles her face into the curve of his neck. “I should check on Claire…”
“Whatever,” Elle sasses, rolling away from him. “Go check on your new pet.”
“Elle, that isn’t…” Sylar sighs heavily, “Pouting isn’t going to get you anywhere but your cage, so think about what you’re doing.”
He gets up and leaves Elle in the bed, still pouting. He tugs on a pair of black pants but Elle remains stubbornly naked, staying in the bed. Claire sees him coming and scrambles backwards in a mockery of a crab walk, bumping into the TV stand.
“Claire?” Sylar takes in her wide eyes and realizes she’s been watching them. His first thought is that he never should have brought her back with him, but where else was he supposed to put her? Taking her back to her family in the state she’s in would have only led to Bennet hunting him down and trying to kill him, and he just doesn’t have the time or the patience to deal with that right now.
Claire looks behind him into the bedroom. Elle is stretching out on the bed, fiddling with her silver wrist cuffs and Claire’s hands go automatically to her ankles, feeling for the manacles she knows aren’t there anymore.
Sylar isn’t in the mood to babysit this girl who is so unlike the spirited girl he’s familiar with. This Claire is too jumpy and fearful and frankly, is going to put a cramp in his lifestyle until she’s normal again.
“Come on,” he finally says, “I’ll heat up your breakfast and maybe you’ll actually eat this time.”
With Sylar directing her, Claire sits down on a chair for the first time in months. She reaches for the now-cold waffle, but Sylar picks up her plate and puts it in the microwave. When he puts the warmed up waffle in front of Claire, she glances from him to the fork that’s sitting next to the plate.
“You can use that,” he says, but his patience is wearing thin. He’s done plenty of evil things in his life, both things he regrets and things he does not, but he’s never done anything like what’s been done to Claire.
Claire fumbles with the fork like she’s forgotten how to use it and Sylar wonders for a moment if she’s so broken that he’ll never be able to fix her.
It takes her a few minutes to remember how to use the utensil, but pretty soon she’s scarfing down the waffle like it’s the first thing she’s eaten in weeks, and at this point, it wouldn’t shock Sylar. When the plate is empty, she drops the fork and stares up at him, waiting.
He is overwhelmed with the need to be away from her frightened eyes and animalistic behavior. It’s been a long time since he willingly hurt an innocent person and watching Claire scramble away from him on her hands and knees is starting to make him uncomfortable. She is trained just like Elle, but at the same time is nothing like her. There is nothing willing in Claire’s gaze, no contentment at knowing boundaries and no feeling of safety from his presence.
“Go lay down,” he finally orders, hoping that Elle is still awake and receptive to Claire’s presence. “Go talk to Elle.”
Claire crawls to the bedroom and Sylar doesn’t try to correct her. He hears Elle greet her as she enters the bedroom, and decides to let Elle deal with Claire for the time being. As he sits down in the kitchen chair, he thinks about the plans he had made for his arrival, before he’d found Claire. They’d revolved entirely around Elle, and his cock aches at the loss - their frantic coupling earlier had really just made him aware of how much he really needs her.
“Come up here,” he hears Elle say, and he decides to go check on the girls. Claire is sitting at the edge of the bed fiddling with the hem of the too-big shirt Sylar had dressed her in, and Elle is leaning against the headboard, the blankets pooled around her waist. “Claire, there’s no code of silence at the door. You can talk.”
Sylar watches Claire’s throat as she swallows, then licks her lips. “Elle,” she finally says, and Elle tries to give her an encouraging smile.
“Right, that’s me. Good job,” she says, and reaches forward to pat Claire’s shoulder. “You know you’re Claire, I figured that much. So you’re not mindwiped or anything.”
Claire shakes her head. “A…Adam,” she finally says, and Elle’s eyes widen.
“You were with Adam?” she questions, and Claire nods. Sylar watches Elle’s face go a little pale.
“He’s not a good guy,” she says slowly, “I remember…from the Company…Gabriel must not have known who he was.”
Claire nods, agreeing with Elle, “He killed him. I heard the screaming.”
“Gabriel killed Adam?” Elle asks for clarification, “How?” Claire points to the back of her neck before miming cutting off her head, and Elle relaxes. “So he’s really dead then.” She shifts on the bed and looks at Claire steadily. “Whatever Adam did to you, it’s not going to happen to you anymore,” Elle says, her voice certain. Claire can’t help the way her eyes dart around the room, taking in the chains attached to the bed, the half open cabinet holding some of Elle’s toys, or the forgotten nipple clamps that are still lying on the carpet next to the bed. Elle follows her gaze around the room and sighs, “It’s not like that here.”
“I saw you earlier,” Claire says, her lips stretching around the unfamiliar words.
“Saw us what? Fucking?” Elle asks bluntly, “Yeah. We do that sometimes. Lots of couples do.”
“He tied you up. I heard him hit you.”
Elle nods; there’s no denying the truth. She remembers Bennet telling her once that Claire was the antithesis of everything Elle was, that he kept Claire away from the Company so she wouldn’t turn out like Elle. Watching Claire now, Elle has the sinking suspicion that this time, she is the lucky one.
Claire is staring at her, waiting for a response beyond the nodding. She’s figured out already that Sylar is different than Adam, that this is a new game that she has to figure out in order to survive. She just doesn’t exactly understand Elle’s role in it.
“If you’re looking for a play by play, it’s not going to happen,” Elle finally says. “Everything that happens here happens because we like it. Because I like it,” she adds, hoping she’s made her point.
Claire thinks about the positions Adam contorted her into, the blood that covered her skin even after the wounds had healed. The silver chamber pot that she’d begged for, and the tiny metal cage she’d been confined in…things she never would have chosen for herself, not ever, not in a million years if she’d had the option. It appears Elle had the option, and still chose it.
Elle notices the way Claire’s eyelids are drooping; it’s barely noon, but she is clearly overwhelmed and exhausted. “Do you want to lay down with me?” she offers carefully, “Can you try to sleep in the bed?”
Claire nods and Elle motions with her hand that Claire should climb up in the bed. She hesitates before climbing underneath the comforter, and lays her head down on the pillow.
“Okay,” Elle says, “Do you want me to stay or…” she’s trying so hard to take care of Claire, but she’s obviously no good at it.
“Please,” Claire says, and Elle sighs and lies down next to the girl, tugging the blanket over them both. In bed, she faces Claire, who is still watching her.
“No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” Elle tries to soothe her. She opens up her arms and Claire snuggles closer. Elle wraps her arms around Claire’s back, and lets Claire bury her face in Elle’s neck. She rubs Claire’s back slowly, imitating what she likes Sylar to do to her when she’s sleepy, and finally, Claire’s breath evens out and slows as the girl falls asleep.
When Claire is finally asleep, Elle squirms away from her, carefully pulling her arms away from Claire so that she can go into the living room to find Sylar. He’s stretched out on the couch, and Elle doesn’t even hesitate as she climbs onto him, pressing her body against his as she kisses him.
“She’s sleeping,” Elle says between kisses, “Play with me.” She pulls back to grin brightly at him, “Mohinder was boring.”
“He didn’t take good care of you?” Sylar asks wryly, cupping her hips with his palms, grinding up against her, “He couldn’t keep up with you, could he?”
Elle giggles, “He tried.”
Sylar kisses her again, and Elle squirms against him, pleading. “Table,” he demands and Elle practically leaps off of him to stretch herself across the coffee table. Sylar takes his time standing up and buckling her cuffs, mocking her. “Someone’s eager,” he intones, “Maybe you need to wait.”
Elle spreads her legs, and looks up at him. “I took care of Claire like you asked,” she reminds him, “Maybe I can get what I asked for?”
Sylar just laughs as he buckles her ankles down. Now she’s strapped across the coffee table, her arms and legs buckled to the legs of the table and her head nearly off the edge of the table. Elle has a sinking suspicion she’s going to get nothing she’s asked for, and that knowledge just makes her wetter.
She cranes her neck to watch him as he moves behind the couch, digging through the chest he keeps there. She can hear him moving things around, but can’t see what he’s picking out and she tries to press her thighs together to ease the ache. Mohinder had tried, she’d give him that much, but he wasn’t Sylar. He could have been Casanova in bed and it wouldn’t have been good enough for her.
He returns, keeping his hands behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he orders and Elle pouts but complies. He slips the blindfold over her eyes and Elle pouts. When she opens her mouth to complain; to remind him she hasn’t seen him for a week and she wants to see him, he presses the ball gag against her lips, “If you want to be wearing this, keep talking.” Elle’s jaw snaps shut and she shakes her head. “Good girl. Wait here.”
Elle squirms impatiently as she hears him walk away. She hopes he’s not planning to leave her here, stretched out across the coffee table and dying for an orgasm. Claire is only going to be asleep for so long, and the single orgasm she’d gotten earlier had not been near enough to satisfy her.
He returns relatively soon, and Elle breathes a sigh of relief.
“I picked up some new talents while I was away,” he intones, and Elle feels his fingers trailing down her belly. At first his fingertips feel so hot against her skin, and then they turn icy. Elle shivers and lets out a breathy gasp, and he pinches one nipple between ice cold fingers. She shudders and he reaches for the other one. This time his grip is burning, and Elle twists, trying to squirm away from the sensation.
“Do you like that?” he asks, and Elle nods eagerly. “Do you want my fingers somewhere else?”
“Please,” Elle begs, her voice hitching.
“Please what?”
“Please sir,” Elle says, “Please.”
“There’s my good girl,” Sylar says, his fingers trailing from her breast to her pussy, tracing circles around her clit, “Mohinder didn’t leave you with too many bad habits, did he?”
“No sir,” Elle promises, “I’ll be good, I promise.”
He pushes two fingers into her without any preamble, enjoying the way she shrieks as her muscles clamp around his icy digits. She comes without permission, but he hardly cares as he pumps his fingers into her harder.
As she comes again around his fingers, he snaps the silver clamps over her hard nipples. Her whole body shakes with arousal and he pulls his fingers out of her body. He wipes his hand across her lips and Elle’s tongue snakes out to wrap around him, pulling his finger into her mouth. He hadn’t planned to fuck her on their coffee table, but he can’t help himself. Kicking his pants off, he thrusts into her and Elle arches her head up blindly, searching for his lips. She kisses him roughly, and he responds by burying his cock deep inside of her.
It doesn’t take long before he comes, hard. As he pulls out of her, he replaces his cock with a thick vibrator. She’s panting now, so happy he’s home. She loves how he knows just what to do to her to make her incoherent, knows exactly how far to push her every time.
She’s just teetering on the edge of another orgasm when she hears Claire’s pained gasp. She groans, rolling her eyes behind the blindfold and clenching her fists, trying to get her orgasm back.
She hears Sylar stand up and take a step, and the unmistakable noise of Claire backing into the wall with a dull thud.
“Come here, Claire,” Sylar finally orders, and Claire responds automatically, stepping forward towards him even as her brain screams for her to run. “Sit down.” Claire sits down on the couch, just a few feet from Elle, watching Sylar with frightened eyes.
Elle hates the distraction; Claire is ruining her orgasms and she’s hardly in the mood for the this is my husband and I love this talk that she knows Claire needs to hear.
“Does she look like she’s hurt?” Sylar asks Claire quietly.
“N…no,” Claire stammers.
“Was she tied up earlier? Was there anything preventing her from leaving?”
“No…but…” Claire hesitates. Elle can imagine her arguments; Sylar is stronger than Elle is, Sylar has more abilities than Elle does, even Elle’s electricity is no match for Sylar’s abilities. She doesn’t know how to explain their relationship, can’t explain in words the way he makes her feel safe and loved. Her concentration is shot anyway, and so she does her best to tune them out as she finally orgasms.
Sylar gently pulls the blindfold from Elle’s face before twisting his wrist and unlocking her wrists from their restraints. The vibrator slips out from between her legs and Elle turns her head to look at Sylar and Claire sitting on the couch.
“Get up,” he orders and Elle sits up, rubbing her eyes.
“I wasn’t done,” she pouts, and Sylar reaches for her, letting her settle in his lap. She lays her head against his chest and sighs.
“Lay down,” Sylar says to Claire, pointing to the table that Elle has just vacated. Elle’s forehead wrinkles in confusion, but Claire only hesitates a second before taking Elle’s place. She looks at Sylar fearfully, already bracing herself for pain.
Sylar gently lifts Elle off his lap, setting her on the couch before getting up to attend to Claire. She’s not wearing Elle’s cuffs, so Sylar has to wrap the restraints differently around her wrists but pretty soon Claire is restrained on the table. When he touches her she jumps, the muscles in her stomach clenching.
“Just hold still,” Sylar says, and he places his hand on her stomach, keeping his touch light. Elle sits back on the couch and watches as Sylar slowly moves his hand between Claire’s legs. He circles her clit like Elle likes, and Claire sighs and relaxes, her legs spreading just a little.
“There you go,” Elle says, encouraging. Claire turns her head and looks at Elle. “He knows what he’s doing,” Elle assures her. Claire tugs at her bonds a little, and Sylar allows them to open without slowing his fingers. When Claire realizes her arms are free, she shifts a little, but doesn’t move away from Sylar.
He waits until she’s stopped squirming, and then carefully pushes a finger inside of her. He doesn’t press as deeply as he could, somehow mindfully aware of the pain that he will cause her. Instead he focuses on her clit, finally touching it with his damp fingers. Claire inhales sharply, and he continues, encouraged, until she pants out his name and orgasms gently around his hand.
“There you go,” Elle says, “See?”
Sylar moves his hand away and Claire sits up, looking dazed. Sylar reaches over and tugs on the chain that runs between Elle’s breasts, connecting her nipple clamps and Elle whimpers. Except this time Claire sees the way her lips turn up at the corners - not quite a smile, but she can see that Elle looks pleased.
“Go take care of her,” Sylar says, and Elle slides off the couch, crawling to the edge of the coffee table and glancing up at Claire. She licks her lips and tips her head at Claire, who slides down to the edge of the table and spreads her legs again. Sylar slides on his pants as Elle tentatively licks at her, does her best to flick her tongue over Claire’s sensitive clit and make her feel good. Claire comes more quickly this time, she’s a little more relaxed and Elle turns out to be pretty good at what she’s doing.
Elle sits back on her knees when she’s done, glancing over at Sylar for directions. He points her towards her spanking bench and she crawls onto the padded bench eagerly, looking over her shoulder at him.
“It’s not always about hurting someone to hurt someone,” Sylar tells Claire, walking towards Elle. This time he buckles her cuffs to the bench by hand, taking his time while Claire watches nervously from her seated position on the coffee table. He rubs a gentle hand across Elle’s back before pushing her down, pressing her clamped nipples into the bench. She gasps but he doesn’t let up, instead slapping her across the ass. Claire clenches her jaw, looking at Elle’s face as Elle closes her eyes. Sylar smacks her again, harder this time, and Claire stares at the twin red handprints decorating Elle’s ass. Elle’s breath catches as he smacks her again, but this time she moans out his name, her legs sliding apart just a little. Sylar swipes his hand between her legs, collecting her wetness on his fingers.
Claire knows it doesn’t mean anything. Things Adam did to her had left her wet, it didn’t mean she’d welcomed it.
He smacks Elle again, and this time she presses her chest into the bench without any prompting from Sylar. Claire can see the way her hips rock, trying to press her pelvis into the edge of the spanking bench. Claire is so busy staring at her ass that it takes her almost a minute and four more slaps to realize that Elle is looking at her.
Sylar points to the chest behind the couch and opens his hand for the toy that comes flying through the air. Claire had always viewed him as evil; it was hard not to, especially given his history. He had done horrible things to people; horrible things to her. But he’d never done anything close to what Adam had done to her, and it was clear that he was doing nothing evil to Elle.
He carefully buckles the straps of the butterfly vibe around Elle’s shaking legs. She moans eagerly when she feels the plastic nestle against her clit, and as he resumes spanking her, Claire hears the tiny bullet vibe click on. Elle’s hips seem to be moving of their own accord as she writhes on the spanking bench, squirming as Sylar spanks her with sure, confident hands.
Claire feels her own arousal grow as she watches. It is obvious how different Sylar is from Adam, obvious how much Elle is enjoying herself. Claire knows it doesn’t make everything better…she knows she isn’t going to heal overnight.
Elle comes weakly; her body teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Still, she looks sated and happy as Sylar turns off the vibrator and unhooks her chains and nipple clamps. She rolls over to lie on her side, peering at Claire as she catches her breath.
That night, Claire falls asleep in Elle’s arms…her first night in a bed in months. She wakes up before Elle and Sylar and spends a few minutes stretching, enjoying the feeling of moving her own body the way she wants to before Elle wakes up.
“Mohinder’ll be back this afternoon,” Elle tells her softly. “I think Gabriel called him last night about you. “
Claire hadn’t known. “Called him why?” she asks.
“To take you back to your family,” Elle says reasonably. “You can’t stay here.”
Claire’s chest tightens. She’d imagined she’d go back eventually, but she’d also expected to stay with Sylar and Elle a little longer. It’s only been three days, and she knows she still doesn’t do things right. She can’t relearn how to be Claire in only three days…she hasn’t relearned how to be Claire yet.
“I don’t want to go,” she says, resisting the urge to cling to the other girl. In the back of her mind, Claire knows her dependency isn’t normal - knows she attached herself to Elle and Sylar too quickly, knows that it isn’t healthy for her to stay here.
Elle shrugs, “If you stay here you won’t get better.”
“You told me you were here by choice,” Claire says, her whisper breaking into a louder tone. “If you’re not…If all this was an act to…Elle…”
Elle shushes her quickly, “I’m here by choice. You didn’t have that choice. It’s not right for us to take that from you. Go home with Mohinder, Claire. It’s not like we’re going anywhere,” she adds reasonably. “You can come back to visit.”
Claire isn’t sure she’s entirely happy with that offer - it feels oddly like she’s being kicked out of the first place she’s felt safe in months. Still, she tries to tell herself she understands. As she showers and dresses that morning in Elle’s clothing, she tries to ignore how strange it feels to be standing and dressing and eating the breakfast Sylar cooked at a table with a fork.
Elle watches her knowingly as Claire pushes the food around her plate. “It gets easier,” she says softly, “To remember who you’re supposed to be. Or how you’re supposed to act, whatever.” She’s naked now; Claire suspects the clothing from the first day was more for Claire’s benefit than Elle’s. Still, Elle looks more comfortable like this, curled up in Sylar’s lap with just her collar around her neck and cuffs around her wrists and ankles.
When Mohinder arrives, Claire hesitates until Elle gives her a little shove. Sylar is mostly silent at the exchange; Claire suspects he is ready to have his house and Elle to himself again. Claire feels a little like a pet as she follows Mohinder to the waiting car, like she’s been traded from Sylar to Mohinder, and she wonders how she’s going to remember to act normal with her family. She still isn’t sure how much she wants to tell them about her disappearance. She wonders what they know, or what they think happened to her.
Elle watches the car pull away from the window. She feels a twinge of sadness as she sees the vehicle disappear down the road, but she knows everything will be fine…and she has a feeling she hasn’t seen the last of Claire.
AUTHOR: dragynflies
RATING: NC 17
WORD COUNT: 7,460
PAIRING: Sylar/Elle, Elle/Mohinder, Elle/Claire, Sylar/Claire
DISCLAIMER: Heroes cast is not mine
SUMMARY: Another chapter in my Sylar and Elle are Kinky ‘verse. This one is a little different - it picks up where the previous chapter left off (Click here for Chapter 6) and also is written as a sequel/follow up to Pavlov’s Bitch by okibeyemoun. I highly recommend it, but if you don’t want to read it all you need to know for this fic to make sense is that Adam had kidnapped Claire and kept her as his slave in a very non-con kind of way. The end of that fic features Sylar coming in and rescuing her, and this fic deals with the aftermath and ended up being a kind of BDSM relationship character study. *deep breath* Okay, I hope I haven’t totally scared you away. I promise there is still kinky fun times in this fic!
Beta’d by the fabulous zaftig_darling and superkappa
Written for my kink bingo card locks/chains.
When Sylar is gone, Mohinder immediately lets Elle out of the cage. He can’t stand how heartbroken she looks, curled up on the bottom of the cage staring at the door. Mohinder isn’t sure what exactly he expects from Elle, but what he doesn’t expect is for her to pop out of the cage and stand up, staring at him with amused eyes.
“He told you to be good,” Mohinder says without thinking - as soon as the words come out of his mouth he realizes how stupid they sound.
“I’m always good,” Elle says, but Mohinder isn’t exactly sure he believes her. “I’m tired.” She rubs a palm across her bruised nipples - it’s easy to see exactly where the nipple clamps had bit into her skin and bruised her. Still, for someone who says she’s tired, she looks awfully pleased with herself.
“Of course,” Mohinder says, “You can sleep…you had a long day. Where do you…?” He glances back at the cage as Elle rolls her eyes.
“I sleep in the bed, Mohinder. What kind of weirdo do you think I am?” As Elle walks right past him, naked, collared, and cuffed - and without a hint of shame - Mohinder begins to wonder just what he’s gotten himself into.
Despite herself, Elle passes out almost immediately after lying down. She’s folded herself around a pillow that Mohinder assumes to be Sylar’s, and has pulled the red comforter around her shoulders. Wrapped up like she is, she looks more like a spoiled teenager than Sylar’s incredibly hot wife. Mohinder leaves her to sleep and steps out of the room to explore the house.
The house has changed since the last time he was here. The living room was clearly designed with Elle in mind - there are chains on the walls and floor, and about fifteen different ways to secure her to any number of apparatuses. There’s a chest behind the couch and Mohinder opens it to find an array of items - from things he’s never in his life imagined to things he’s imagined quite often. He quells the sudden desire to make a list of desires and wake Elle up, and instead closes the chest and wanders into the bathroom.
The bathroom is less of a shock. It looks like every other normal bathroom he’s ever seen - shower with a shower curtain, toilet, sink, and a shelf above the sink that looks like a cosmetics counter exploded onto it. It all looks so normal that it leaves him stunned for a moment - he has to remind himself that Elle lives here.
He wanders quietly from the bathroom, through the living room and into the kitchen. There’s nothing terribly exiting in here, either, he notes as he opens cupboards and looks on shelves. Sylar the (somewhat reformed) serial killer apparently enjoys cereal (Raisin Bran; Mohinder’s willing to bet the Lucky Charms are all Elle’s) and there’s normal food in the refrigerator too - a half eaten lasagna and a salad are shoved in on the top shelf next to a gallon of milk.
Mohinder peers back into the bedroom and glances at Elle. She’s only been asleep a half hour and she’s already kicked the covers away and is now sprawled naked across the bed with her foot hanging off the side. Mohinder’s cock rises to rock hard proportions the second he sees her, but he swallows and tries to ignore the offending body part. Elle has got to be exhausted, he reminds himself, he’d seen what she’d been subjected to prior to his arrival and she clearly requires rest.
Still, it doesn’t stop him from planning. Elle’s all his for the week, and all he can think about is her gorgeous, naked body and the eager way she’d responded to his commands. Sylar has her trained so perfectly…Mohinder swallows as he thinks about everything he’s going to get to do this weekend, like a complete fantasy come true.
Mohinder sits down on the couch back in the living room, the remote to the TV clenched in his hands. He wonders if Elle is asleep for the night or if she’ll wake up before, and what exactly he’s supposed to do with her then.
He ends up falling asleep on the couch, the TV humming in the background.
******************************
When he wakes up, Elle is sitting cross-legged in the chair to his left, eating a bowl full of Lucky Charms and wearing an oversized black T-shirt and baggy pajama pants that are cinched at the waist. He can see the silver of her collar half tucked underneath the shirt, and her hair is still damp from her shower.
“Morning,” she greets him between bites of cereal. “Some babysitter you are. Gabriel usually makes me breakfast.”
Mohinder sits up and rubs his eyes. Elle gives him a once over and returns to her cereal. Her eye roll is subtle, but not invisible, and Mohinder watches his upper hand fall away.
“Since when are you allowed to wear clothes?” he asks her and Elle swallows her mouthful of cereal, then makes an exaggerated perusal of the living room.
“I don’t see Gabriel anywhere, do you?” she asks primly, raising the bowl of milk to her lips to finish her breakfast.
“He left me in charge.”
“Ah,” Elle says, lowering the bowl and gazing at Mohinder with amused eyes, “He didn’t. He left you here. He said nothing about leaving you in charge.” Elle sets the bowl on the coffee table (like every other coffee table Mohinder’s ever seen, except for the leather cuffs that are attached to the legs) and shifts in the seat, bending her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her knees as she stares him down.
“I believe my position was implied.” It doesn’t take Elle’s amused smile to tell Mohinder he’s rapidly losing ground.
She doesn’t answer him, just settles back comfortably and looks at him, her blue eyes sparkling. It’s clear she’s at home here - comfortable where Mohinder is not, and the toys and furniture do not command her attention the way they do Mohinder.
It’s also clear to Mohinder he’s underestimated the relationship between Elle and Sylar. There’s clearly more to it than he originally thought - and Elle is clearly more than Sylar’s little sex slave.
It’s time to at least make an attempt at regaining the control he thought he’d been given.
“Go take care of your dishes, get out of those clothes, and go sit down on the bed,” he orders as firmly as he’s able. Elle’s eyes widen slightly but he is nearly giddy to see her stand up and walk towards the kitchen. He can hear the clink of her placing the bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, then the soft padding of her feet as she walks towards the bedroom.
When he walks into the bathroom minutes later, Elle is sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, and playing with the cuff around her left wrist.
“That’s better,” Mohinder says and Elle looks up at him through blonde bangs. He folds his fingers against his palms so that Elle can’t see quite how nervous he is. “While Sylar didn’t explicitly leave me in charge, I don’t believe that’s something that needed to be spelled out.”
Elle crosses her arms and looks at him steadily. It’s clear she’s thinking and making a decision.
“Get on your hands and knees, Elle,” Mohinder orders. Elle freezes for thirty seconds, making eye contact that makes the air between them sizzle. Mohinder wonders if he’s going to get electrocuted and internally braces himself. What surprises him more is when Elle shifts on the bed, crawling onto her hands and knees before glancing back at him.
“You’re listening much better,” Mohinder says, cupping his hand over her ass. Her actions are making him feel like he’s gained some control back, and he’s moving with more confidence now.
Elle sighs happily and settles down on the bed while Mohinder trails his hand across her skin and between her legs. His fingers slide through her soft folds, and Elle whimpers, bucking her hips back towards him. All her sass is gone now as Mohinder strokes her slowly and Elle slides her legs apart a little more to give him easier access.
Mohinder spends a few more minutes teasing her, brushing his fingers over her clit but never really touching her the way she likes, never making her come. Elle had hoped her obedience would get her something good -- Sylar had always made it worth her while, so she’s mildly disappointed when Mohinder thrusts his cock into her before she’s even come once. Still, she knows the doctor isn’t bad in bed and so she arches her back and presses into him, fucking him back.
He comes before she does and pulls out of her. Elle whines, clearly annoyed, but Mohinder just pats her on the hip and grins.
“Maybe that will help you remember who’s in charge,” he tells her as he leaves the room, finally feeling like he’s gotten the upper hand.
Elle waits until she hears the shower kick on to climb out of bed and grab her vibrator. She manages three orgasms before it turns off, and she cleans and puts the toy away before Mohinder’s even back in the bedroom.
Clearly, he’s got a lot to learn about her before he tries to put himself in charge.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It’s been five days since Sylar left, and Elle is unsurprised to realize how much she misses him. Mohinder isn’t nearly as much fun - and doesn’t hold nearly the same ability to control her that Sylar does, and she misses the security that Sylar provides her.
She’s lounging on the couch, wearing one of Sylar’s black t shirts while Mohinder makes her lunch when she hears the door open. She flies off the couch and into the kitchen to greet him, ready to jump into his arms and kiss him like she’s seen girls in movies do.
The little blonde girl cradled in his arms makes her skid to a halt and she stares at him with wide blue eyes.
“Elle,” he says, and he sounds happy to see her, but Elle knows when she’s been replaced.
Elle doesn’t say anything, just glances at Mohinder who’s still standing at the kitchen sink and practically runs into the bedroom she shares with Sylar.
“Here.” Mohinder finds his arms suddenly full of sleeping Claire, and Sylar heads to the bedroom after Elle. Mohinder carries Claire into the living room and sets her down, realizing only then that she is wearing Sylar’s clothing and not much else.
“Elle,” Mohinder can hear Sylar’s voice through the door, and he can’t help but listen, “Elle, you’re not listening, and you’re going to get punished if you don’t start. You need to calm down.”
“I didn’t know you were going on a cheerleader-finding mission!” Elle snaps.
“I wasn’t!” Sylar insists, “Elle, I went after the man that Mohinder told me about it.” He sounds thrilled about his new abilities, whatever they are, even through his explanation, “I took care of him, like I said I would. Finding Claire was unexpected - I trailed the man’s partner back to his apartment and found her there.”
“So give her back to her father,” Elle says, and though Mohinder can’t see her, he can practically hear her pouting.
“I have no plans to keep her.” Sylar is speaking calmly and reasonably, trying to soothe Elle. Mohinder never imagined the serial killer to be so…domestic. Loving, even. “Elle, you weren’t there when I found her. I don’t know how long that man had her.”
Elle mumbles something that Mohinder can’t make out, but he hears Sylar speak again.
“She's broken, Elle. He tied her up and he left her…she was covered in blood when I found her. How would you like it if I had treated you like that, and no one ever showed you how wonderful what we have could be? We can help fix her."
Elle says something that sounds finally like assent, and Sylar returns to the living room alone. He glances from Mohinder to the blonde girl, finally awake and staring at him with wide eyes.
“You’re awake,” Sylar says. Claire opens her mouth to respond, but snaps her jaw shut at the last minute, nodding instead. “Are you hurt?”
Claire’s brow furrows and her lips quirk into something resembling a smirk.
“Right,” Sylar says, “You know what I meant. Do you want me to take you home?”
Claire looks from Sylar to Mohinder, and then slowly shakes her head.
“Fine,” Sylar says. He’s not nearly as surprised as Mohinder appears to be. “Dr. Suresh. That’ll be all for tonight,” he says, effectively dismissing the other man, and then turns his attention to Claire.
Mohinder hesitates, clearly uncertain and Sylar rolls his eyes. “I asked her if she wanted to go home. You’re welcome to play good cop and check up on us, I don’t care. There’s already an extra person in my home, and I’d like to spend some time with Elle at some point. I know you don’t think I’m capable of feelings, but I missed my wife.”
Once Mohinder finally leaves Sylar tucks Claire, still silent and wide eyed, into her makeshift bed on the couch. She’s not sure what to make of her new situation, not sure what to make of this Sylar who seems to want to take care of her. And Elle…she’d thought Elle was dead, thought Elle had been dead for years, but here she was. But she looked so happy to be with Sylar, so proud of her collar and unashamed of her nakedness in a way Claire had never achieved.
She can’t sleep on the couch. It’s all wrong, with her body stretched out to its full length and the soft warm blanket curled around her shoulders. How did she used to sleep like this? Her foot itches against her ankle, where she’s used to feeling the manacles, and she squirms again on the comfortable couch.
Finally she gives up and pads quietly into the bedroom Sylar had entered earlier that night. There is an empty cage in the corner of the room, and she glances around for Elle. Certainly Elle is well behaved enough to follow the rules…Claire is stunned when she finds Elle, tucked into bed with Sylar, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Claire is struck again by how content Elle looks. It’s not fair.
Claire glances again at Elle’s cage and sighs. It even looks comfortable in there, the pad at the bottom of the cage is nothing like her gym mat, it’s soft and pillowed, like the couch. Quietly, Claire pulls the pad out of the cage and climbs inside. The metal of the cage bites against her skin, and finally, Claire falls asleep.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Claire wakes up with a start when she hears Elle’s voice calling her name. She scrambles up to her knees, cracking her head on the top of the cage and jamming her foot into the corner as she moves.
“Claire, stop it,” Elle says, reaching for the other girl. Claire looks at her blankly, like she doesn’t know where she is, and then blinks. “Claire, come here.”
Claire crawls out of the cage and sits back on her heels, looking up at Elle. Elle’s wearing a tank top and yoga pants and looks decidedly unhappy with…something. Whether it’s Claire or not, Claire isn’t certain, but she doesn’t want to upset Elle any further.
“Do you want something to eat?” Elle asks, and her coddling voice is starting to grow tense.
Claire doesn’t move, and Elle rolls her eyes. “Cheerleader, I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours, but Gabriel told me what happened. Or what he saw. It’s different here, okay? So stand up and I’ll show you around or something, but stop staring at me like I’m going to do a trick. I only do those for Gabriel.”
Claire staggers to her feet, the muscles in her legs healed but still a little stiff after so many months of disuse. Elle reaches a hand out to steady her, and Claire clings to her arm as her body stretches. Elle watches as the girl regains her balance and takes a few unsure steps.
“Okay then,” Elle says briskly, “So this is the bedroom. You’re…not required to sleep in my cage.” Claire isn’t sure if she’s imagining things, but she’s pretty sure Elle sounds almost possessive. “You can sleep on the couch. Come with me.”
The house isn’t huge, but it’s still bigger than the apartment Claire is used to. After the impromptu tour, Elle brings Claire to the kitchen. There’s a plate with a waffle and sausage on it, with a fork and a cup of juice next to it.
“Eat some breakfast,” Elle says, then scampers eagerly over to Sylar, who’s standing near the sink, rinsing out a bowl. Claire stands in the doorway, stunned, as Elle presses herself against Sylar, demanding a kiss.
Sylar wraps his hand around Elle’s slim wrist and starts walking with her towards the bedroom.
“That’s for you,” Sylar says as he passes Claire, nodding towards the food on the table. “Make yourself comfortable in the living room when you’re done.”
When he steps onto the living room carpet, he drops Elle’s wrist and puts his big hand on her back, giving her a gentle push. Elle drops to the floor and scrambles on her hands and knees towards the bedroom.
Claire stands in the doorway, watching Sylar and Elle disappear into the bedroom. She hears Elle’s breathy giggle and then the sharp smack of Sylar’s palm meeting Elle’s skin. Her stomach drops out at the sound of Elle’s whimper, and she stares at the closed door.
He’s hurting Elle, like Adam used to hurt her. Except Elle doesn’t heal, and so she’ll be in pain for days from whatever it is he’s doing to her. But Sylar told her to eat breakfast…her stomach growls as she glances towards the food on the table.
Claire slaps her hands over her ears when she hears Elle cry out again, and she clenches her eyes shut. She pads into the living room and sits down on the floor in front of the couch, her arms around her knees. Elle’s groans mute, and Claire knows he’s gagged her, just like Adam did, and she crawls across the floor to peer through the crack in the door.
Elle is stretched across the bed on her stomach, the sliver cuffs around her wrists hooked to rings in the headboard. Her knees are tucked under so her ass is in the air and Sylar’s pounding into her, occasionally smacking her across the ass but otherwise he’s just digging his fingers into Elle’s fragile hipbones. A red ball gag is strapped in her mouth and Claire can see the shiny metal nipple clamps on Elle’s nipples.
Claire watches silently, upset for Elle but unable to work up the courage to go save her, as Sylar continues to fuck her. Elle’s moans are almost continuous now and Claire can see the way her teeth bite into the gag. Sylar’s face contorts as he comes, and Elle cries out his name around the gag filling her mouth.
Panting, Sylar leans forward and unbuckles the gag from Elle’s face before unhooking her wrists and pulling out of her, helping to turn her over onto her back. She moves willingly underneath him, grinning up at him as he pulls off the nipple clamps one at a time, wrapping his mouth around each abused nipple until Elle’s face relaxes.
“I missed you,” Elle practically purrs, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her. Claire’s face twists in confusion as Sylar kisses Elle gently before rolling over onto his back and letting Elle curl into his side. “Don’t go away for that long again.”
“I’m sorry,” Sylar says, and Claire watches as Elle nuzzles her face into the curve of his neck. “I should check on Claire…”
“Whatever,” Elle sasses, rolling away from him. “Go check on your new pet.”
“Elle, that isn’t…” Sylar sighs heavily, “Pouting isn’t going to get you anywhere but your cage, so think about what you’re doing.”
He gets up and leaves Elle in the bed, still pouting. He tugs on a pair of black pants but Elle remains stubbornly naked, staying in the bed. Claire sees him coming and scrambles backwards in a mockery of a crab walk, bumping into the TV stand.
“Claire?” Sylar takes in her wide eyes and realizes she’s been watching them. His first thought is that he never should have brought her back with him, but where else was he supposed to put her? Taking her back to her family in the state she’s in would have only led to Bennet hunting him down and trying to kill him, and he just doesn’t have the time or the patience to deal with that right now.
Claire looks behind him into the bedroom. Elle is stretching out on the bed, fiddling with her silver wrist cuffs and Claire’s hands go automatically to her ankles, feeling for the manacles she knows aren’t there anymore.
Sylar isn’t in the mood to babysit this girl who is so unlike the spirited girl he’s familiar with. This Claire is too jumpy and fearful and frankly, is going to put a cramp in his lifestyle until she’s normal again.
“Come on,” he finally says, “I’ll heat up your breakfast and maybe you’ll actually eat this time.”
With Sylar directing her, Claire sits down on a chair for the first time in months. She reaches for the now-cold waffle, but Sylar picks up her plate and puts it in the microwave. When he puts the warmed up waffle in front of Claire, she glances from him to the fork that’s sitting next to the plate.
“You can use that,” he says, but his patience is wearing thin. He’s done plenty of evil things in his life, both things he regrets and things he does not, but he’s never done anything like what’s been done to Claire.
Claire fumbles with the fork like she’s forgotten how to use it and Sylar wonders for a moment if she’s so broken that he’ll never be able to fix her.
It takes her a few minutes to remember how to use the utensil, but pretty soon she’s scarfing down the waffle like it’s the first thing she’s eaten in weeks, and at this point, it wouldn’t shock Sylar. When the plate is empty, she drops the fork and stares up at him, waiting.
He is overwhelmed with the need to be away from her frightened eyes and animalistic behavior. It’s been a long time since he willingly hurt an innocent person and watching Claire scramble away from him on her hands and knees is starting to make him uncomfortable. She is trained just like Elle, but at the same time is nothing like her. There is nothing willing in Claire’s gaze, no contentment at knowing boundaries and no feeling of safety from his presence.
“Go lay down,” he finally orders, hoping that Elle is still awake and receptive to Claire’s presence. “Go talk to Elle.”
Claire crawls to the bedroom and Sylar doesn’t try to correct her. He hears Elle greet her as she enters the bedroom, and decides to let Elle deal with Claire for the time being. As he sits down in the kitchen chair, he thinks about the plans he had made for his arrival, before he’d found Claire. They’d revolved entirely around Elle, and his cock aches at the loss - their frantic coupling earlier had really just made him aware of how much he really needs her.
“Come up here,” he hears Elle say, and he decides to go check on the girls. Claire is sitting at the edge of the bed fiddling with the hem of the too-big shirt Sylar had dressed her in, and Elle is leaning against the headboard, the blankets pooled around her waist. “Claire, there’s no code of silence at the door. You can talk.”
Sylar watches Claire’s throat as she swallows, then licks her lips. “Elle,” she finally says, and Elle tries to give her an encouraging smile.
“Right, that’s me. Good job,” she says, and reaches forward to pat Claire’s shoulder. “You know you’re Claire, I figured that much. So you’re not mindwiped or anything.”
Claire shakes her head. “A…Adam,” she finally says, and Elle’s eyes widen.
“You were with Adam?” she questions, and Claire nods. Sylar watches Elle’s face go a little pale.
“He’s not a good guy,” she says slowly, “I remember…from the Company…Gabriel must not have known who he was.”
Claire nods, agreeing with Elle, “He killed him. I heard the screaming.”
“Gabriel killed Adam?” Elle asks for clarification, “How?” Claire points to the back of her neck before miming cutting off her head, and Elle relaxes. “So he’s really dead then.” She shifts on the bed and looks at Claire steadily. “Whatever Adam did to you, it’s not going to happen to you anymore,” Elle says, her voice certain. Claire can’t help the way her eyes dart around the room, taking in the chains attached to the bed, the half open cabinet holding some of Elle’s toys, or the forgotten nipple clamps that are still lying on the carpet next to the bed. Elle follows her gaze around the room and sighs, “It’s not like that here.”
“I saw you earlier,” Claire says, her lips stretching around the unfamiliar words.
“Saw us what? Fucking?” Elle asks bluntly, “Yeah. We do that sometimes. Lots of couples do.”
“He tied you up. I heard him hit you.”
Elle nods; there’s no denying the truth. She remembers Bennet telling her once that Claire was the antithesis of everything Elle was, that he kept Claire away from the Company so she wouldn’t turn out like Elle. Watching Claire now, Elle has the sinking suspicion that this time, she is the lucky one.
Claire is staring at her, waiting for a response beyond the nodding. She’s figured out already that Sylar is different than Adam, that this is a new game that she has to figure out in order to survive. She just doesn’t exactly understand Elle’s role in it.
“If you’re looking for a play by play, it’s not going to happen,” Elle finally says. “Everything that happens here happens because we like it. Because I like it,” she adds, hoping she’s made her point.
Claire thinks about the positions Adam contorted her into, the blood that covered her skin even after the wounds had healed. The silver chamber pot that she’d begged for, and the tiny metal cage she’d been confined in…things she never would have chosen for herself, not ever, not in a million years if she’d had the option. It appears Elle had the option, and still chose it.
Elle notices the way Claire’s eyelids are drooping; it’s barely noon, but she is clearly overwhelmed and exhausted. “Do you want to lay down with me?” she offers carefully, “Can you try to sleep in the bed?”
Claire nods and Elle motions with her hand that Claire should climb up in the bed. She hesitates before climbing underneath the comforter, and lays her head down on the pillow.
“Okay,” Elle says, “Do you want me to stay or…” she’s trying so hard to take care of Claire, but she’s obviously no good at it.
“Please,” Claire says, and Elle sighs and lies down next to the girl, tugging the blanket over them both. In bed, she faces Claire, who is still watching her.
“No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” Elle tries to soothe her. She opens up her arms and Claire snuggles closer. Elle wraps her arms around Claire’s back, and lets Claire bury her face in Elle’s neck. She rubs Claire’s back slowly, imitating what she likes Sylar to do to her when she’s sleepy, and finally, Claire’s breath evens out and slows as the girl falls asleep.
When Claire is finally asleep, Elle squirms away from her, carefully pulling her arms away from Claire so that she can go into the living room to find Sylar. He’s stretched out on the couch, and Elle doesn’t even hesitate as she climbs onto him, pressing her body against his as she kisses him.
“She’s sleeping,” Elle says between kisses, “Play with me.” She pulls back to grin brightly at him, “Mohinder was boring.”
“He didn’t take good care of you?” Sylar asks wryly, cupping her hips with his palms, grinding up against her, “He couldn’t keep up with you, could he?”
Elle giggles, “He tried.”
Sylar kisses her again, and Elle squirms against him, pleading. “Table,” he demands and Elle practically leaps off of him to stretch herself across the coffee table. Sylar takes his time standing up and buckling her cuffs, mocking her. “Someone’s eager,” he intones, “Maybe you need to wait.”
Elle spreads her legs, and looks up at him. “I took care of Claire like you asked,” she reminds him, “Maybe I can get what I asked for?”
Sylar just laughs as he buckles her ankles down. Now she’s strapped across the coffee table, her arms and legs buckled to the legs of the table and her head nearly off the edge of the table. Elle has a sinking suspicion she’s going to get nothing she’s asked for, and that knowledge just makes her wetter.
She cranes her neck to watch him as he moves behind the couch, digging through the chest he keeps there. She can hear him moving things around, but can’t see what he’s picking out and she tries to press her thighs together to ease the ache. Mohinder had tried, she’d give him that much, but he wasn’t Sylar. He could have been Casanova in bed and it wouldn’t have been good enough for her.
He returns, keeping his hands behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he orders and Elle pouts but complies. He slips the blindfold over her eyes and Elle pouts. When she opens her mouth to complain; to remind him she hasn’t seen him for a week and she wants to see him, he presses the ball gag against her lips, “If you want to be wearing this, keep talking.” Elle’s jaw snaps shut and she shakes her head. “Good girl. Wait here.”
Elle squirms impatiently as she hears him walk away. She hopes he’s not planning to leave her here, stretched out across the coffee table and dying for an orgasm. Claire is only going to be asleep for so long, and the single orgasm she’d gotten earlier had not been near enough to satisfy her.
He returns relatively soon, and Elle breathes a sigh of relief.
“I picked up some new talents while I was away,” he intones, and Elle feels his fingers trailing down her belly. At first his fingertips feel so hot against her skin, and then they turn icy. Elle shivers and lets out a breathy gasp, and he pinches one nipple between ice cold fingers. She shudders and he reaches for the other one. This time his grip is burning, and Elle twists, trying to squirm away from the sensation.
“Do you like that?” he asks, and Elle nods eagerly. “Do you want my fingers somewhere else?”
“Please,” Elle begs, her voice hitching.
“Please what?”
“Please sir,” Elle says, “Please.”
“There’s my good girl,” Sylar says, his fingers trailing from her breast to her pussy, tracing circles around her clit, “Mohinder didn’t leave you with too many bad habits, did he?”
“No sir,” Elle promises, “I’ll be good, I promise.”
He pushes two fingers into her without any preamble, enjoying the way she shrieks as her muscles clamp around his icy digits. She comes without permission, but he hardly cares as he pumps his fingers into her harder.
As she comes again around his fingers, he snaps the silver clamps over her hard nipples. Her whole body shakes with arousal and he pulls his fingers out of her body. He wipes his hand across her lips and Elle’s tongue snakes out to wrap around him, pulling his finger into her mouth. He hadn’t planned to fuck her on their coffee table, but he can’t help himself. Kicking his pants off, he thrusts into her and Elle arches her head up blindly, searching for his lips. She kisses him roughly, and he responds by burying his cock deep inside of her.
It doesn’t take long before he comes, hard. As he pulls out of her, he replaces his cock with a thick vibrator. She’s panting now, so happy he’s home. She loves how he knows just what to do to her to make her incoherent, knows exactly how far to push her every time.
She’s just teetering on the edge of another orgasm when she hears Claire’s pained gasp. She groans, rolling her eyes behind the blindfold and clenching her fists, trying to get her orgasm back.
She hears Sylar stand up and take a step, and the unmistakable noise of Claire backing into the wall with a dull thud.
“Come here, Claire,” Sylar finally orders, and Claire responds automatically, stepping forward towards him even as her brain screams for her to run. “Sit down.” Claire sits down on the couch, just a few feet from Elle, watching Sylar with frightened eyes.
Elle hates the distraction; Claire is ruining her orgasms and she’s hardly in the mood for the this is my husband and I love this talk that she knows Claire needs to hear.
“Does she look like she’s hurt?” Sylar asks Claire quietly.
“N…no,” Claire stammers.
“Was she tied up earlier? Was there anything preventing her from leaving?”
“No…but…” Claire hesitates. Elle can imagine her arguments; Sylar is stronger than Elle is, Sylar has more abilities than Elle does, even Elle’s electricity is no match for Sylar’s abilities. She doesn’t know how to explain their relationship, can’t explain in words the way he makes her feel safe and loved. Her concentration is shot anyway, and so she does her best to tune them out as she finally orgasms.
Sylar gently pulls the blindfold from Elle’s face before twisting his wrist and unlocking her wrists from their restraints. The vibrator slips out from between her legs and Elle turns her head to look at Sylar and Claire sitting on the couch.
“Get up,” he orders and Elle sits up, rubbing her eyes.
“I wasn’t done,” she pouts, and Sylar reaches for her, letting her settle in his lap. She lays her head against his chest and sighs.
“Lay down,” Sylar says to Claire, pointing to the table that Elle has just vacated. Elle’s forehead wrinkles in confusion, but Claire only hesitates a second before taking Elle’s place. She looks at Sylar fearfully, already bracing herself for pain.
Sylar gently lifts Elle off his lap, setting her on the couch before getting up to attend to Claire. She’s not wearing Elle’s cuffs, so Sylar has to wrap the restraints differently around her wrists but pretty soon Claire is restrained on the table. When he touches her she jumps, the muscles in her stomach clenching.
“Just hold still,” Sylar says, and he places his hand on her stomach, keeping his touch light. Elle sits back on the couch and watches as Sylar slowly moves his hand between Claire’s legs. He circles her clit like Elle likes, and Claire sighs and relaxes, her legs spreading just a little.
“There you go,” Elle says, encouraging. Claire turns her head and looks at Elle. “He knows what he’s doing,” Elle assures her. Claire tugs at her bonds a little, and Sylar allows them to open without slowing his fingers. When Claire realizes her arms are free, she shifts a little, but doesn’t move away from Sylar.
He waits until she’s stopped squirming, and then carefully pushes a finger inside of her. He doesn’t press as deeply as he could, somehow mindfully aware of the pain that he will cause her. Instead he focuses on her clit, finally touching it with his damp fingers. Claire inhales sharply, and he continues, encouraged, until she pants out his name and orgasms gently around his hand.
“There you go,” Elle says, “See?”
Sylar moves his hand away and Claire sits up, looking dazed. Sylar reaches over and tugs on the chain that runs between Elle’s breasts, connecting her nipple clamps and Elle whimpers. Except this time Claire sees the way her lips turn up at the corners - not quite a smile, but she can see that Elle looks pleased.
“Go take care of her,” Sylar says, and Elle slides off the couch, crawling to the edge of the coffee table and glancing up at Claire. She licks her lips and tips her head at Claire, who slides down to the edge of the table and spreads her legs again. Sylar slides on his pants as Elle tentatively licks at her, does her best to flick her tongue over Claire’s sensitive clit and make her feel good. Claire comes more quickly this time, she’s a little more relaxed and Elle turns out to be pretty good at what she’s doing.
Elle sits back on her knees when she’s done, glancing over at Sylar for directions. He points her towards her spanking bench and she crawls onto the padded bench eagerly, looking over her shoulder at him.
“It’s not always about hurting someone to hurt someone,” Sylar tells Claire, walking towards Elle. This time he buckles her cuffs to the bench by hand, taking his time while Claire watches nervously from her seated position on the coffee table. He rubs a gentle hand across Elle’s back before pushing her down, pressing her clamped nipples into the bench. She gasps but he doesn’t let up, instead slapping her across the ass. Claire clenches her jaw, looking at Elle’s face as Elle closes her eyes. Sylar smacks her again, harder this time, and Claire stares at the twin red handprints decorating Elle’s ass. Elle’s breath catches as he smacks her again, but this time she moans out his name, her legs sliding apart just a little. Sylar swipes his hand between her legs, collecting her wetness on his fingers.
Claire knows it doesn’t mean anything. Things Adam did to her had left her wet, it didn’t mean she’d welcomed it.
He smacks Elle again, and this time she presses her chest into the bench without any prompting from Sylar. Claire can see the way her hips rock, trying to press her pelvis into the edge of the spanking bench. Claire is so busy staring at her ass that it takes her almost a minute and four more slaps to realize that Elle is looking at her.
Sylar points to the chest behind the couch and opens his hand for the toy that comes flying through the air. Claire had always viewed him as evil; it was hard not to, especially given his history. He had done horrible things to people; horrible things to her. But he’d never done anything close to what Adam had done to her, and it was clear that he was doing nothing evil to Elle.
He carefully buckles the straps of the butterfly vibe around Elle’s shaking legs. She moans eagerly when she feels the plastic nestle against her clit, and as he resumes spanking her, Claire hears the tiny bullet vibe click on. Elle’s hips seem to be moving of their own accord as she writhes on the spanking bench, squirming as Sylar spanks her with sure, confident hands.
Claire feels her own arousal grow as she watches. It is obvious how different Sylar is from Adam, obvious how much Elle is enjoying herself. Claire knows it doesn’t make everything better…she knows she isn’t going to heal overnight.
Elle comes weakly; her body teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Still, she looks sated and happy as Sylar turns off the vibrator and unhooks her chains and nipple clamps. She rolls over to lie on her side, peering at Claire as she catches her breath.
That night, Claire falls asleep in Elle’s arms…her first night in a bed in months. She wakes up before Elle and Sylar and spends a few minutes stretching, enjoying the feeling of moving her own body the way she wants to before Elle wakes up.
“Mohinder’ll be back this afternoon,” Elle tells her softly. “I think Gabriel called him last night about you. “
Claire hadn’t known. “Called him why?” she asks.
“To take you back to your family,” Elle says reasonably. “You can’t stay here.”
Claire’s chest tightens. She’d imagined she’d go back eventually, but she’d also expected to stay with Sylar and Elle a little longer. It’s only been three days, and she knows she still doesn’t do things right. She can’t relearn how to be Claire in only three days…she hasn’t relearned how to be Claire yet.
“I don’t want to go,” she says, resisting the urge to cling to the other girl. In the back of her mind, Claire knows her dependency isn’t normal - knows she attached herself to Elle and Sylar too quickly, knows that it isn’t healthy for her to stay here.
Elle shrugs, “If you stay here you won’t get better.”
“You told me you were here by choice,” Claire says, her whisper breaking into a louder tone. “If you’re not…If all this was an act to…Elle…”
Elle shushes her quickly, “I’m here by choice. You didn’t have that choice. It’s not right for us to take that from you. Go home with Mohinder, Claire. It’s not like we’re going anywhere,” she adds reasonably. “You can come back to visit.”
Claire isn’t sure she’s entirely happy with that offer - it feels oddly like she’s being kicked out of the first place she’s felt safe in months. Still, she tries to tell herself she understands. As she showers and dresses that morning in Elle’s clothing, she tries to ignore how strange it feels to be standing and dressing and eating the breakfast Sylar cooked at a table with a fork.
Elle watches her knowingly as Claire pushes the food around her plate. “It gets easier,” she says softly, “To remember who you’re supposed to be. Or how you’re supposed to act, whatever.” She’s naked now; Claire suspects the clothing from the first day was more for Claire’s benefit than Elle’s. Still, Elle looks more comfortable like this, curled up in Sylar’s lap with just her collar around her neck and cuffs around her wrists and ankles.
When Mohinder arrives, Claire hesitates until Elle gives her a little shove. Sylar is mostly silent at the exchange; Claire suspects he is ready to have his house and Elle to himself again. Claire feels a little like a pet as she follows Mohinder to the waiting car, like she’s been traded from Sylar to Mohinder, and she wonders how she’s going to remember to act normal with her family. She still isn’t sure how much she wants to tell them about her disappearance. She wonders what they know, or what they think happened to her.
Elle watches the car pull away from the window. She feels a twinge of sadness as she sees the vehicle disappear down the road, but she knows everything will be fine…and she has a feeling she hasn’t seen the last of Claire.