(no subject)
Unfold
Heroes | Mohinder/Sylar
NC17 | 1890 words
He had been watching him through the open doorframe, following his every movement as he paced the small bedroom, his mouth moving in a rush as he seemed to be engaged in a heated argument with the telephone in his palm. There was an annoyed huff, followed by a loud smack to the side table as he threw the phone down, aggravated.
“Having a bad day?” he asked, watching for his reaction as the man turned around quickly at his distinct voice. Mohinder stepped back instinctively, his voice stammering out, “How did you get in here?”
Stalking forward and moving into the light, he laughed “Your door was unlocked,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the door, “New York’s so unpredictable, I’d hate to see you in danger.”
He smiled, one of those half tilted smirks that didn’t look quite right as he took a laggard step forward.
The unequivocal movement caused a reaction in the other man as he retreated further into the bedroom. A collapse of limbs shortly followed as the lights cut out and the two were plunged into impenetrable darkness.
“This is starting to get old Mohinder.” He began, huffing impatiently. There was a shift of weight in the darkness, a hushed clamor of footsteps echoing from the shadows as Sylar stalked forward and diverted more attention to his hearing.
Dark orbits closed as he tuned his ears to the rapidly beating heart hammering a few feet away, picking up the faint exhales of breath as it ricochet off his eardrums. He took a few steps to the left then moved forward, stopping short when a voice split the isolation.
“Why don’t you just kill me then.” Mohinder stammered out just as a tight grip clenched his chest and he jerked still. The deliberate and slow footsteps returned as Sylar lowered his hand but kept the telekinetic hold on the professor, tilting his head playfully as he responded, “That wasn’t really my plan…” His voice drifted off as he crept up behind him, “…but I think I might make an exception… after we’ve had a little fun.”
Lips ghosted over a caramel neck as he leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “Tell me Mohinder,” he drawled, nipping lightly at the soft skin, “are you a screamer?”
He was standing close enough to feel the reverberation of trembles as it racked the professor’s body, motivating a dangerous grin to his lips as a low chuckle echoed from his throat.
There was a jagged lurch forward as Mohinder fought against the invisible hold and Sylar had to admit that he quite liked the resistance. As he walked slowly around the doctor, the wide grin he held dissolved until he was facing him straight on, a strong hand lifting to weave his fingers between soft locks.
Gripping a handful of glossy curls, he tugged back sharply, eliciting a cry from a caramel throat as he captured his lips in a kiss. Mohinder resisted but Sylar’s tongue was persistent, managing to keep his jaw open as he explored his mouth hungrily until a snap of teeth bit his lower lip and he pulled back suddenly.
“Mmm…” he said, dabbing a thumb at the pool of blood collecting from the wound, “I was wondering if you liked it rough.” A telekinetic hand pressed against Mohinder’s chest and he toppled backwards onto the mattress, quickly propping himself up just as an invisible force held him down and he jerked suddenly upwards.
Sylar sucked the digit into his mouth, leaning over as he propped a knee onto the mattress between Mohinder’s legs, “If you keep struggling,” he chimed, keeping him pinned to the bed with telekinesis, “I’m going to have to tie you down.”
Mohinder instinctively relaxed against the invisible hold, his eyes narrowing at the man standing above him, “You wouldn’t…”
“I would…” Sylar smirked, dropping his gaze down as he pulled something from his pocket. “…I found these in your utility drawer,” he said, holding a couple plastic zip ties up to his view, shaking it for emphasis as he examined them mischievously, “great for bundling up some cable cords or wires… but I’ve always found them extremely useful for so much more.”
The expression on Mohinder’s face dropped; his eyes wide as he followed the other man’s moving form. A slight twitch of Sylar’s hand flung a dark wrist into his grasp and he entwined it against the metal headboard, pulling the restraint taut. He hummed softly as he walked to the other side of the mattress, the sounds of a futile struggle being muffled by a lyrical tune as it rang in his ears.
He stopped; his fingers ready to snatch the remaining hand when an arm lashed out at him. It held little effort as it was seized by a strong hand and swiftly wrenched back, eliciting an abrupt scream from Mohinder’s lungs.
“I didn’t appreciate that, doctor.” came his reply as he loosened his grip and the scream reduced itself into a trail of pitiful whimpers. He wrapped the restraint around his limp hand, tightening it bluntly as dark skinned knuckles collided with the metal headboard.
“So this is just some sick game to you?” the geneticist spat, causing a raised eyebrow and tilted head from the man standing at his feet. “You’re just going to torture me until you’ve gotten your fill? Or until I’m dead?”
Sylar was smiling now, his dark eyes narrowing for a second as he replied, “Who said anything about torture?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his smile widening as he watched his statement sink into the doctor’s mind.
A thrash of shackled wrists followed as a heated voice quarreled; “If you think I’m just going to let you…” he was cut off when a telekinetic hand closed over his windpipe, cutting off his air supply.
The edge of the bed dipped as Sylar climbed onto the mattress, maneuvering his body above Mohinder’s as he straddled his chest and lowered his head mere centimeter’s from his face. “Oh, I know you’re not going to let me,” he began, the corner of his lip tugging slightly, “that’s why I came to the conclusion that I’m just going to have to take it.”
He loosened the telekinetic hold, allowing a limited amount of fresh oxygen to fill his lungs before shutting off the supply again, chuckling when he heard the choked gasp follow.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t protest,” he said, leaning back and examining his fingernails idly, “it’d make it things a lot easier for you.” Dropping his hand to his side, he watched the man’s throat muscles spasm as he struggled for air, the final question rolling from his lips, “So are you going to play along or am I going to have to play this game with Molly and have you watch?”
The invisible grasp on his esophagus vanished and Mohinder fervently inhaled, willing his lungs to intake as much oxygen as possible.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Mohinder.” He watched him with an emotionless gaze, waiting silently as he swallowed hard and diverted his eyes towards the window. “I’ll play along.”
A wild grin was all he saw before his head was flung back against the thin pillow, a pair of hands tugging at his collar. Sylar muffled a laugh, curving his teeth around the small white buttons on Mohinder’s shirt. Starting at his neck, he tugged at each button as the thread loosened and the shirt came undone. He drew the last button between his teeth, breaking the threads in the process as he rolled the round bauble on his tongue.
He left the dress shirt open, dipping lower as his fingers delicately traced along the edge of his waistband, hearing the heart rate of the professor jump a couple notches. Within seconds, Sylar had managed to rip the jeans off and had a hand wrapped firmly around his already hard member.
“…and here I thought you wouldn’t be a good participant.” He taunted, sliding his palm up and stopping short, anxious to hear the man’s reaction. A light shudder racked Mohinder’s chest as he bit down on his lower lip to repress a moan from escaping, splitting the skin and tasting a metallic tang explode on his taste buds.
A calloused thumb slid over the tip of his cock and he jerked suddenly, a hedonistic moan tearing from his vocal cords. Sylar ran an avaricious tongue across his lips as he maneuvered his hand up and down, smiling with each whimper and mewl the doctor openly expressed.
He tightened his grip, bringing him to the brink easily before he pulled back, looking up with dark eyes brimming with lust. Droplets of water collected at the base of Mohinder’s eyes as he shuddered beneath him, “please…”
Raw wrists fell to the mattress as the plastic restraints snapped and his blurred vision tried to focus on Sylar’s face. Mohinder blinked, shedding the tears from his eyes, trying to hold back the need for release as a low voice filled his ears, “Turn over.”
“What?” he asked incredulously, eyes wide as he lowered his weakened arms. Sylar glared, an impatient sigh reverberating from his throat as he opened his mouth, a husky demand following, “Turn over.”
Mohinder paled, hesitantly draping an arm over his torso as he slowly turned onto his stomach. There was a dead weight hitting the floor as Sylar removed his coat and shirt, trailing an ice cold fingertip along a dark skinned spine as he watched the muscles twitch beneath his touch.
He began humming again as he unbuttoned his jeans, ridding himself of his remaining clothes. Without notice, he pushed in harshly, the sudden action causing the geneticist to drive his teeth into his lip as he tried to stifle a scream.
When the friction got to be too much, a dark head of curls slumped against the pillow, allowing a pained cry to escape his lips and be muffled by the blood stained fabric. Sylar backed off for a minute, both moaning collectively until he quickened his pace again and Mohinder clutched at the sheets.
Heavy breathing and increasing moans bounced off the thin walls, echoing through stale air as Sylar clenched his jaw, hastily seizing damp curls and pulling back a lulled head. An uninhibited scream threw him over the edge and he was momentarily blinded, rampant nerves spiking as telekinesis pooled over the room like a wave, knocking over everything in sight. Leaning forward, his lips mingled against a sweat laced neck, sucking lightly on the soft skin before backing up and standing from the bed.
He left him a shuddering heap on the mattress, tossing a dirtied bed sheet over the man’s form as he curled into himself. Fingers fiddled the front of his shirt as he began to entwine the buttons properly, snatching up his coat as he walked out of the bedroom.
A small girl stood outside the adjoining room, a pair of curious blue eyes peering through the dark. He heard her light gasp, tilting his head slightly in her direction as he pulled his coat over his shoulders.
He let a smile play on his lips, acknowledging her presence with a curt nod before calmly exiting the apartment and walking down the hallway.
Heroes | Mohinder/Sylar
NC17 | 1890 words
He had been watching him through the open doorframe, following his every movement as he paced the small bedroom, his mouth moving in a rush as he seemed to be engaged in a heated argument with the telephone in his palm. There was an annoyed huff, followed by a loud smack to the side table as he threw the phone down, aggravated.
“Having a bad day?” he asked, watching for his reaction as the man turned around quickly at his distinct voice. Mohinder stepped back instinctively, his voice stammering out, “How did you get in here?”
Stalking forward and moving into the light, he laughed “Your door was unlocked,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the door, “New York’s so unpredictable, I’d hate to see you in danger.”
He smiled, one of those half tilted smirks that didn’t look quite right as he took a laggard step forward.
The unequivocal movement caused a reaction in the other man as he retreated further into the bedroom. A collapse of limbs shortly followed as the lights cut out and the two were plunged into impenetrable darkness.
“This is starting to get old Mohinder.” He began, huffing impatiently. There was a shift of weight in the darkness, a hushed clamor of footsteps echoing from the shadows as Sylar stalked forward and diverted more attention to his hearing.
Dark orbits closed as he tuned his ears to the rapidly beating heart hammering a few feet away, picking up the faint exhales of breath as it ricochet off his eardrums. He took a few steps to the left then moved forward, stopping short when a voice split the isolation.
“Why don’t you just kill me then.” Mohinder stammered out just as a tight grip clenched his chest and he jerked still. The deliberate and slow footsteps returned as Sylar lowered his hand but kept the telekinetic hold on the professor, tilting his head playfully as he responded, “That wasn’t really my plan…” His voice drifted off as he crept up behind him, “…but I think I might make an exception… after we’ve had a little fun.”
Lips ghosted over a caramel neck as he leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “Tell me Mohinder,” he drawled, nipping lightly at the soft skin, “are you a screamer?”
He was standing close enough to feel the reverberation of trembles as it racked the professor’s body, motivating a dangerous grin to his lips as a low chuckle echoed from his throat.
There was a jagged lurch forward as Mohinder fought against the invisible hold and Sylar had to admit that he quite liked the resistance. As he walked slowly around the doctor, the wide grin he held dissolved until he was facing him straight on, a strong hand lifting to weave his fingers between soft locks.
Gripping a handful of glossy curls, he tugged back sharply, eliciting a cry from a caramel throat as he captured his lips in a kiss. Mohinder resisted but Sylar’s tongue was persistent, managing to keep his jaw open as he explored his mouth hungrily until a snap of teeth bit his lower lip and he pulled back suddenly.
“Mmm…” he said, dabbing a thumb at the pool of blood collecting from the wound, “I was wondering if you liked it rough.” A telekinetic hand pressed against Mohinder’s chest and he toppled backwards onto the mattress, quickly propping himself up just as an invisible force held him down and he jerked suddenly upwards.
Sylar sucked the digit into his mouth, leaning over as he propped a knee onto the mattress between Mohinder’s legs, “If you keep struggling,” he chimed, keeping him pinned to the bed with telekinesis, “I’m going to have to tie you down.”
Mohinder instinctively relaxed against the invisible hold, his eyes narrowing at the man standing above him, “You wouldn’t…”
“I would…” Sylar smirked, dropping his gaze down as he pulled something from his pocket. “…I found these in your utility drawer,” he said, holding a couple plastic zip ties up to his view, shaking it for emphasis as he examined them mischievously, “great for bundling up some cable cords or wires… but I’ve always found them extremely useful for so much more.”
The expression on Mohinder’s face dropped; his eyes wide as he followed the other man’s moving form. A slight twitch of Sylar’s hand flung a dark wrist into his grasp and he entwined it against the metal headboard, pulling the restraint taut. He hummed softly as he walked to the other side of the mattress, the sounds of a futile struggle being muffled by a lyrical tune as it rang in his ears.
He stopped; his fingers ready to snatch the remaining hand when an arm lashed out at him. It held little effort as it was seized by a strong hand and swiftly wrenched back, eliciting an abrupt scream from Mohinder’s lungs.
“I didn’t appreciate that, doctor.” came his reply as he loosened his grip and the scream reduced itself into a trail of pitiful whimpers. He wrapped the restraint around his limp hand, tightening it bluntly as dark skinned knuckles collided with the metal headboard.
“So this is just some sick game to you?” the geneticist spat, causing a raised eyebrow and tilted head from the man standing at his feet. “You’re just going to torture me until you’ve gotten your fill? Or until I’m dead?”
Sylar was smiling now, his dark eyes narrowing for a second as he replied, “Who said anything about torture?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his smile widening as he watched his statement sink into the doctor’s mind.
A thrash of shackled wrists followed as a heated voice quarreled; “If you think I’m just going to let you…” he was cut off when a telekinetic hand closed over his windpipe, cutting off his air supply.
The edge of the bed dipped as Sylar climbed onto the mattress, maneuvering his body above Mohinder’s as he straddled his chest and lowered his head mere centimeter’s from his face. “Oh, I know you’re not going to let me,” he began, the corner of his lip tugging slightly, “that’s why I came to the conclusion that I’m just going to have to take it.”
He loosened the telekinetic hold, allowing a limited amount of fresh oxygen to fill his lungs before shutting off the supply again, chuckling when he heard the choked gasp follow.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t protest,” he said, leaning back and examining his fingernails idly, “it’d make it things a lot easier for you.” Dropping his hand to his side, he watched the man’s throat muscles spasm as he struggled for air, the final question rolling from his lips, “So are you going to play along or am I going to have to play this game with Molly and have you watch?”
The invisible grasp on his esophagus vanished and Mohinder fervently inhaled, willing his lungs to intake as much oxygen as possible.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Mohinder.” He watched him with an emotionless gaze, waiting silently as he swallowed hard and diverted his eyes towards the window. “I’ll play along.”
A wild grin was all he saw before his head was flung back against the thin pillow, a pair of hands tugging at his collar. Sylar muffled a laugh, curving his teeth around the small white buttons on Mohinder’s shirt. Starting at his neck, he tugged at each button as the thread loosened and the shirt came undone. He drew the last button between his teeth, breaking the threads in the process as he rolled the round bauble on his tongue.
He left the dress shirt open, dipping lower as his fingers delicately traced along the edge of his waistband, hearing the heart rate of the professor jump a couple notches. Within seconds, Sylar had managed to rip the jeans off and had a hand wrapped firmly around his already hard member.
“…and here I thought you wouldn’t be a good participant.” He taunted, sliding his palm up and stopping short, anxious to hear the man’s reaction. A light shudder racked Mohinder’s chest as he bit down on his lower lip to repress a moan from escaping, splitting the skin and tasting a metallic tang explode on his taste buds.
A calloused thumb slid over the tip of his cock and he jerked suddenly, a hedonistic moan tearing from his vocal cords. Sylar ran an avaricious tongue across his lips as he maneuvered his hand up and down, smiling with each whimper and mewl the doctor openly expressed.
He tightened his grip, bringing him to the brink easily before he pulled back, looking up with dark eyes brimming with lust. Droplets of water collected at the base of Mohinder’s eyes as he shuddered beneath him, “please…”
Raw wrists fell to the mattress as the plastic restraints snapped and his blurred vision tried to focus on Sylar’s face. Mohinder blinked, shedding the tears from his eyes, trying to hold back the need for release as a low voice filled his ears, “Turn over.”
“What?” he asked incredulously, eyes wide as he lowered his weakened arms. Sylar glared, an impatient sigh reverberating from his throat as he opened his mouth, a husky demand following, “Turn over.”
Mohinder paled, hesitantly draping an arm over his torso as he slowly turned onto his stomach. There was a dead weight hitting the floor as Sylar removed his coat and shirt, trailing an ice cold fingertip along a dark skinned spine as he watched the muscles twitch beneath his touch.
He began humming again as he unbuttoned his jeans, ridding himself of his remaining clothes. Without notice, he pushed in harshly, the sudden action causing the geneticist to drive his teeth into his lip as he tried to stifle a scream.
When the friction got to be too much, a dark head of curls slumped against the pillow, allowing a pained cry to escape his lips and be muffled by the blood stained fabric. Sylar backed off for a minute, both moaning collectively until he quickened his pace again and Mohinder clutched at the sheets.
Heavy breathing and increasing moans bounced off the thin walls, echoing through stale air as Sylar clenched his jaw, hastily seizing damp curls and pulling back a lulled head. An uninhibited scream threw him over the edge and he was momentarily blinded, rampant nerves spiking as telekinesis pooled over the room like a wave, knocking over everything in sight. Leaning forward, his lips mingled against a sweat laced neck, sucking lightly on the soft skin before backing up and standing from the bed.
He left him a shuddering heap on the mattress, tossing a dirtied bed sheet over the man’s form as he curled into himself. Fingers fiddled the front of his shirt as he began to entwine the buttons properly, snatching up his coat as he walked out of the bedroom.
A small girl stood outside the adjoining room, a pair of curious blue eyes peering through the dark. He heard her light gasp, tilting his head slightly in her direction as he pulled his coat over his shoulders.
He let a smile play on his lips, acknowledging her presence with a curt nod before calmly exiting the apartment and walking down the hallway.