(no subject)
Title: Understand
Characters: Maya/Sylar
Rating: R
Word count: 1,012
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summery: He has her but can he do it? Does he need it?
Note:
un_love_you prompt #11 thought I needed this. It's Sylar voicing his thoughts.
Her head slams into the wall and a surprised groan gurgles from her mouth before she wavers and slumps to the ground, unconscious.
Sylar sucks in much needed air as he kneels on all fours, the filmy blackness clearing from his eyes. She was much quicker then he expected and took him unawares. He rises to his knees and wipes away the tears on his cheeks sharply before he crawls to her and turns her over.
“That wasn’t very nice. You didn’t even say hello…” He brushes a strand of hair off her lips and regards her intently for a long moment, hardly breathing. Then he’s suddenly moving, cupping the side of her head quickly and raises his finger to her forehead.
It shakes in the air and he makes a fist and shakes his hand out and prepares to try again. He stares at his trembling hand like it was a traitor and lowers it with a growl. He breathes in deep and scrubs his hand through his hair and sits down on the ground beside her, slightly slumped.
He watches her closed eyes but she appears to be deeply knocked out. He lets his gaze travel down her throat to her chest and he lets his hand lay flat against her bare skin.
“You took it off? That’s sudden, for you anyway…” He falls silent and his eyes stare transfixed at her hair line, at the trickle of blood that starts to run and his look deepens into a frown and he jerks his gaze away and cranes his head around. They were alone, no one here to interrupt him but he wasn’t sure for how long.
He was wasting time, he should do it now or…
What?
“I thought I needed this, I thought I wanted it.” He moves closer to her, straightening out her body so it rests in a more comfortable position. He settles his hand on her thigh and lets it squeeze tightly while the other lets her hair slip repeatedly through his fingers. He sighs her name out, shaking his head before a small smile appears. “Looks like this is the only way I can speak to you now…”
He falls silent but not for long, the words seeming to burst forth uncontrolled. “I could cope with it, not getting my abilities back, that’s what I told your brother. You listened to me, I told you things that…” He trails off, hesitant and he licks his lips. “You was going to be mine - no more then that, you wanted to be. I thought it would be ok if I could get you to accept your power, make you see.” He leans over her, fingers gliding down her cheek “You’re special Maya.” His thumb presses against her plump lips and he can feel her breath against his skin. “I would survive if I had you, I would be there to guide you and you would -” He stalls again, face troubled.
He straightens up, drawing his hand away from her and draws it into a fist. “But that was just a back up, just in case but that hasn’t come to pass. I can take whatever I want…” He sits and watches, gnawing at his lip before he suddenly rises and begins to prowl back and forth before her prone body.
“I tried and tried to show you but you just wanted to be normal. But now,” he sweeps his hand over her, titling his head “you’ve accepted it, you want it. And that,” he gets down on his hunches next to her, nodding, “is down to me. God knows what they would have done to you if I hadn’t got you to control your power. You being here now is down to me, you even said so at the motel.”
Maya's breathing grows more shallow as he speaks passionately but low, his gaze burning through her. At the mention of the motel his features soften and he leans down over her, hand in her hair again.
“I didn’t want you to die you know? I really didn’t.” He remembers the flare of annoyance at her sudden enraged presence and the way it had clicked for him. It was mechanical and her fault. But seeing her on the floor had suddenly made him tremble, his hand shaking around the gun and his voice urgently anxious. He will never forget the blood that had started to swell up from her chest -in the same place as the shears - and the way she had stopped breathing.
“But I made it right again this time. No blood on my hands…” He looks down at them and swallows the need to be sick. He breathes in deeply again, closing his eyes. “I risked so much for you. I died for you.” He opens his eyes and looks at her accusatorily. “I can be selfless, I wanted to let him go for you. But he had to be a pain in the ass. Again.” Distaste twists his lips and he scowls at the memory. Or what he can remember, truth be told it was all just a red haze. Just the spike of rage that he was being threatened, that she could be taken from him.
And her power. And her.
Sylar groans and rubs his hands over his eyes, tired and frustrated. “So strange, so strange…not your angel anymore am I?” He bites the inside of his cheek but can’t smile, disliking the way his chest constricts. Then with a flush of need he reaches for her, bringing her up against his chest and pushes his face against her neck, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Mine, mine, mine, mine.” He repeats over and over again, realising that she was the one person who needed to hear it but never had. “Never forget it.”
So caught up in his own possessiveness he doesn’t hear the click of heels behind him until the air is permeated with a musky tense ozone and the warnings of an incoming strike.
Characters: Maya/Sylar
Rating: R
Word count: 1,012
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Summery: He has her but can he do it? Does he need it?
Note:
un_love_you prompt #11 thought I needed this. It's Sylar voicing his thoughts.
Her head slams into the wall and a surprised groan gurgles from her mouth before she wavers and slumps to the ground, unconscious.
Sylar sucks in much needed air as he kneels on all fours, the filmy blackness clearing from his eyes. She was much quicker then he expected and took him unawares. He rises to his knees and wipes away the tears on his cheeks sharply before he crawls to her and turns her over.
“That wasn’t very nice. You didn’t even say hello…” He brushes a strand of hair off her lips and regards her intently for a long moment, hardly breathing. Then he’s suddenly moving, cupping the side of her head quickly and raises his finger to her forehead.
It shakes in the air and he makes a fist and shakes his hand out and prepares to try again. He stares at his trembling hand like it was a traitor and lowers it with a growl. He breathes in deep and scrubs his hand through his hair and sits down on the ground beside her, slightly slumped.
He watches her closed eyes but she appears to be deeply knocked out. He lets his gaze travel down her throat to her chest and he lets his hand lay flat against her bare skin.
“You took it off? That’s sudden, for you anyway…” He falls silent and his eyes stare transfixed at her hair line, at the trickle of blood that starts to run and his look deepens into a frown and he jerks his gaze away and cranes his head around. They were alone, no one here to interrupt him but he wasn’t sure for how long.
He was wasting time, he should do it now or…
What?
“I thought I needed this, I thought I wanted it.” He moves closer to her, straightening out her body so it rests in a more comfortable position. He settles his hand on her thigh and lets it squeeze tightly while the other lets her hair slip repeatedly through his fingers. He sighs her name out, shaking his head before a small smile appears. “Looks like this is the only way I can speak to you now…”
He falls silent but not for long, the words seeming to burst forth uncontrolled. “I could cope with it, not getting my abilities back, that’s what I told your brother. You listened to me, I told you things that…” He trails off, hesitant and he licks his lips. “You was going to be mine - no more then that, you wanted to be. I thought it would be ok if I could get you to accept your power, make you see.” He leans over her, fingers gliding down her cheek “You’re special Maya.” His thumb presses against her plump lips and he can feel her breath against his skin. “I would survive if I had you, I would be there to guide you and you would -” He stalls again, face troubled.
He straightens up, drawing his hand away from her and draws it into a fist. “But that was just a back up, just in case but that hasn’t come to pass. I can take whatever I want…” He sits and watches, gnawing at his lip before he suddenly rises and begins to prowl back and forth before her prone body.
“I tried and tried to show you but you just wanted to be normal. But now,” he sweeps his hand over her, titling his head “you’ve accepted it, you want it. And that,” he gets down on his hunches next to her, nodding, “is down to me. God knows what they would have done to you if I hadn’t got you to control your power. You being here now is down to me, you even said so at the motel.”
Maya's breathing grows more shallow as he speaks passionately but low, his gaze burning through her. At the mention of the motel his features soften and he leans down over her, hand in her hair again.
“I didn’t want you to die you know? I really didn’t.” He remembers the flare of annoyance at her sudden enraged presence and the way it had clicked for him. It was mechanical and her fault. But seeing her on the floor had suddenly made him tremble, his hand shaking around the gun and his voice urgently anxious. He will never forget the blood that had started to swell up from her chest -in the same place as the shears - and the way she had stopped breathing.
“But I made it right again this time. No blood on my hands…” He looks down at them and swallows the need to be sick. He breathes in deeply again, closing his eyes. “I risked so much for you. I died for you.” He opens his eyes and looks at her accusatorily. “I can be selfless, I wanted to let him go for you. But he had to be a pain in the ass. Again.” Distaste twists his lips and he scowls at the memory. Or what he can remember, truth be told it was all just a red haze. Just the spike of rage that he was being threatened, that she could be taken from him.
And her power. And her.
Sylar groans and rubs his hands over his eyes, tired and frustrated. “So strange, so strange…not your angel anymore am I?” He bites the inside of his cheek but can’t smile, disliking the way his chest constricts. Then with a flush of need he reaches for her, bringing her up against his chest and pushes his face against her neck, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Mine, mine, mine, mine.” He repeats over and over again, realising that she was the one person who needed to hear it but never had. “Never forget it.”
So caught up in his own possessiveness he doesn’t hear the click of heels behind him until the air is permeated with a musky tense ozone and the warnings of an incoming strike.