YET ANOTHER HEROES ANONYMOUS KINK MEME
In celebration of my return to bad-tv-boyfriend Heroes, I present to you all:
Yet Another Heroes Anonymous Kink Meme
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:
1) ALL characters MUST be 16 or older and sentient (ie, no beastiality unless someone's a werewolf) to play.
2) NO "seconding" prompts! It's annoying to the prompter and the readers, and I will delete any " ( Read more... )
Yet Another Heroes Anonymous Kink Meme
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:
1) ALL characters MUST be 16 or older and sentient (ie, no beastiality unless someone's a werewolf) to play.
2) NO "seconding" prompts! It's annoying to the prompter and the readers, and I will delete any " ( Read more... )
He tried, anyway.
“I don’t have anything you want. Not now, at this point.”
“Adam Monroe, right?” his would-be killer sneered. “How many other regenerators can there be, I wonder.”
“We can…” Adam tried twisting his back against the wall, but it was a futile attempt. “We can find out just how many, if you’d like. Together.”
Keep him talking, long enough to break free, just -
Too late.
Adam awoke on a cold, steel table. He raised his arms up slowly, feeling the threads on his forehead that had stitched him back together and allowed for the healing process to begin.
Bastard. At least he’d let Adam keep his brain.
He swung his naked body out from under the sheet and down onto the floor. Thankfully, whoever had been conducting his autopsy had stepped out of the room, allowing Adam time to escape, though this was still an incredibly inconvenient position for him.
He pursed his lips in determination.
That was when it had all started, Adam’s personal vendetta against Sylar. It took him a while to track down the man, but his patience proved to pay off, like it always did. Miraculously enough, he’d found Sylar in a motel room, sleeping a deep sleep that gave Adam his only window of opportunity.
One bullet, directly in the brain. Adam smiled to himself as he let himself out of the room. That had almost been too easy.
As it turned out, Adam was right. As months, then years, passed, Adam either found himself on the receiving or delivering end of death with Sylar. Their game of tag began to generate intricacies that made killing each other more and more difficult. Though Adam would never verbally admit it, he felt a rush while chasing down Sylar after having suffered a drowning, stabbing, or other such painful means of being put out of commission.
Three years later, Adam was certain that Sylar felt the same way, too.
Yes, it was sick, it was depraved - then again, Adam knew he was not alone in this. He handcuffed Sylar’s wrists to the bedposts one night, intending to choke the other man while he’d already been pumped full of mind-numbing drugs, but immediately after he straddled Sylar to place his hands around Sylar's neck, Sylar opened his eyes with a great deal of effort, and smirked up at Adam.
“What took you so long?”
“Oh, do shut up. I’m concentrating here.” Adam clamped down on his throat, but he felt a certain… pressure building up, from directly underneath his stomach.
He pressed down harder. Ignoring Sylar’s choked gasps and the feeble attempts he made to telekinetically fling Adam off of him, Adam continued to strangle the life out of Sylar, but… he couldn’t ignore the slow, but steady way that his own cock was beginning to harden.
He released Sylar, horrified at what was happening to him. This wasn't what he’d wanted. He’d simply wanted to kill Sylar, and leave as fast as he could, because he would need the head start.
Gulping down oxygen, Sylar groaned beneath him. It sounded like he was experiencing a mixture of discomfort, disorientation, and arousal.
Momentarily flustered, Adam sat back on his haunches.
“So…” he muttered. “This is why you haven’t cut off my head, all this time.”
Sylar’s reply was muddled, but Adam got the gist of it. Sylar had understood why Adam hadn't just done that to him.
Adam rolled off the bed, glancing back and forth between the door and Sylar. He couldn’t deal with this now. He needed time to collect his thoughts; he hadn't counted on something like this happening.
He also needed to alleviate his pounding, confusing sense of arousal, or he could simply ignore it.
He ended up wanking off quickly in the shower of his hotel room, trying not to think about Sylar, but when he came, he couldn't help but to fixate on the image of Sylar, still handcuffed to his bed and waiting for Adam to return.
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“Look,” Sylar told him, going into the room and leaving a very confused Adam standing at the doorway. “I don’t like you. I never did. But you basically said it yourself: we both know why we haven’t cut each others' heads off yet.”
“I heard that ‘yet’,” Adam remarked, closing the door behind his back, then taking a few steps toward Sylar. “It’s not too late to end this, you know.”
Sylar cocked his head to one side. “Why would you say that? I’ve obviously got more power than you, I-”
Adam quickly raised his arm and sent a knife hurtling through Sylar’s right shoulder. For quite some time, Adam had made sure to arm himself, but even he hadn’t been completely certain that the contraption fastened to his arm (hidden by his sleeve), would work.
It turned out that now had been a good enough time as any to test the device.
Sylar stumbled back, but he didn’t drop to the floor. He raised one of his twitching hands, and once again, Adam felt himself flying backward - this time, though, he was pinned to the door instead of the wall.
Sylar clapped his free hand over the bullet wound as he stalked over to Adam.
“Nice try,” he said mockingly, and with his hold still on Adam, he lifted the other man upwards, until Adam’s head nearly touched the ceiling.
Adam didn’t bother struggling against the invisible hold. He was breathing rapidly, and he could feel that pressure again, that pressure he felt in his dick whenever his thoughts turned to Sylar these days. His arms were at his sides, but Sylar was wounded. Maybe Adam could…
Sylar flicked his pinky finger back and forth, and Adam began to feel an outside pressure pushing down on the apex of his legs. Like Sylar was touching him, when he actually wasn't.
Adam shuddered, but kept his gaze on Sylar.
He looked directly at Sylar the whole time… until he smacked his head back against the door and came, bursting from the intense mental that Sylar had been applying on him.
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He handcuffed Sylar to the bed two years after having done it for the very first time, but this time, he didn’t bail out at the last moment. He spread lube over his fingers and rubbed them together a little, then lowered them down as Sylar spread his legs.
Sylar rasped out his impatience as he seemingly stared up at the ceiling, blindfolded. Adam smirked, slipping his fingers inside, one by one. He found out that Sylar could take about two of his, whereas he could take four of Sylar’s long, bony digits. He worked himself in and out, first his fingers and then his cock, enjoying the view of the blinded man who was writhing uncontrollably. At this point, Adam surmised that Sylar had never really trusted anyone else as much as he trusted Adam, not in this way, and that in itself was rewarding.
It didn’t keep Adam from strangling Sylar afterward, though, and leaving him on his own bed, leaking from both his cock and ass.
They grew into a routine, finding new ways to fuck and subsequently kill each other. When Sylar produced a short, black plug, Adam could only shake his head at the thing in slight amusement. Sylar stuffed it up Adam, then, whispering in Adam’s ear about the way he was going to die, Sylar stroked Adam, roughly and quickly, and Adam cried out as he reached his peak, exploding due to pleasure and discomfort.
Two could play at that game, still. Adam tied Sylar up and drugged him again, forcing him into a murky state of half-consciousness, so that Adam could beat him, then fuck him while pressing his face down into the pillow. Sylar returned the favor by handcuffing Adam to a steel bar in his shower stall. He left Adam sated, but shaking and gasping under the pounding water that Sylar switched to 'cold', with the only tool that could break the bond: a saw. Adam frowned at how unoriginal the whole idea was, but after he dislocated his thumb and discovered that he still couldn’t get the handcuff off, he felt a little better.
He ended up with a simple mode of vengeance: setting Sylar on fire, after making him swallow Adam’s cock for hours.
Sometimes, Adam would wake up and realize what year it was: 2013, 2020, 2028, 2030… Sometimes, he’d realize that Sylar had left him dead for days, even weeks, before coming back and reviving Adam when he'd needed to. Adam responded in kind, knowing that it would only be fair - plus, Sylar deserved everything that Adam had planned for him. The only thing Adam had to worry about was the possibility of being discovered dead while he was hog-tied on the floor, or shackled to his bed, or covered in that nasty latex material, or… Whatever the case, Adam unfortunately did have to undergo some extremely awkward moments of waking up after having been found by others, but then again, so did Sylar.
Adam didn’t end things with Sylar, though. He doubted he ever would. Even after years (and people that Adam had known), passed away, there would always be Sylar. Adam knew that he had the rest of eternity to find new ways to challenge Sylar, to make him scream, to make him come, to make him die… and so far, Adam wasn’t growing bored of their games.
Which, in the end, was why he kept Sylar alive for so long, and simultaneously made sure that others would let Sylar live. One time, while he was watching from afar, he noticed that Sylar was being followed. Adam quickly took care of those people, though he would never admit that he had done so.
It wasn’t like Adam cared about Sylar, after all, and he knew that the feeling was mutual.
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That you still read my fic after feeling drained from writing (*hugs* I know what that feels like, but only when it comes to essays, LOL), really means a lot to me :)
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That was wonderful. I loved how they started off just killing each other and it evolved into something deeper. The hate!sex was so bitter and twisted, and it seemed like such a game to them both.
You drugged them! And used toys! And handcuffs! And choking!
The only thing Adam had to worry about was the possibility of being discovered dead while he was hog-tied on the floor, or shackled to his bed, or covered in that nasty latex material, or…
Hee! Now I'm imagining Peter or Claire discovering Adam in a very compromising position.
Adam knew that he had the rest of eternity to find new ways to challenge Sylar, to make him scream, to make him come, to make him die… and so far, Adam wasn’t growing bored of their games.
This line killed me; beautiful writing. (It also makes me think I know who you are)
♥ I love you, thanks so much.
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No, thank you for giving me such an inspiring prompt to work with, and I'm only glad that you enjoyed reading what I had to offer. The notion of revenge-tag has always intrigued me, and I think it would work especially well in Adam and Sylar's case.
You drugged them! And used toys! And handcuffs! And choking!
I try not to assume, but I'm guessing that those are good things :D
Hee! Now I'm imagining Peter or Claire discovering Adam in a very compromising position.
ROFL, I actually pictured normal people discovering them, but your idea is more amusing.
(It also makes me think I know who you are)
Uh oh! Could this mean that I know who you are?!... No, probably not, but I wouldn't be surprised if you're right!
<3 Right back atcha, and again, thank you muchly!
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