Surrender of Sorts - Heroes - Mohinder/Sylar
Title: Surrender of Sorts
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Word Count: 507
Rating: R
A/N: Written for my last prompt for a_to_z_prompts.
Summary: Sylar finds it difficult to interpret Mohinder's behaviour. Perhaps that isn't a problem.
Sylar's hand rests above Mohinder's heart, counting the beats. Bare skin rests beneath his palm; it feels warm to the touch. He can hear the rushed sound in his highly-attuned ears and he can feel the vibrations thudding through his fingertips. It sounds like a call to war.
"What are you doing?" Mohinder asks. He doesn't sound hostile - not yet.
Sylar imagines that it would take barely a second for Mohinder to reach full fury. His moods are fast but unpredictable, like a flash flood. Being around Mohinder is like being around a force of nature, in a way that is both enthralling and frightening at once. It is a rush in a way that it is whenever Sylar realises that the FBI are after him; it feels as if he is in a movie or a crime novel, larger than life and springing off the page. This is the life that he had always imagined while he was in high school. A nemesis and a threat and a purpose.
"Sylar?"
He loves the sound of his name from Mohinder's lips, whether ripped by pain or anger or worry.
"Nothing," he answers, looking up at Mohinder's face. Beneath his fingertips, the heartbeat whispers, but Mohinder's expression is far from easy to read. Mohinder may be the best actor in the world, and Sylar has always struggled with the intricacies of human emotion. It is a weakness, and one that he sees no method of curing himself of until he finds a power that will make it simpler for him. Something to decode foreign emotions would be the most helpful thing he could get his hands on. "I'm not doing anything."
"Perhaps that's the problem," Mohinder suggests, with a hand at the back of his neck to draw him in.
The physical turn to their relationship is another one that Sylar hasn't been able to understand but has been fast to indulge in. When they kiss, it is the only type of pain that Sylar will accept; punishment by Mohinder's sharp teeth, fast nips to his bottom lip, fingers pulling at his hair. Once, he had liked to believe that he had evolved beyond the petty human need for contact and copulation. Mohinder has forced him to rethink his ideas on the matter - there is a connection there that needs completed. Later, when Mohinder pushes inside of him, pressing him down hard against the squeaking mattress, he can feel a surrender of control even as power surges through his veins and he battles with an instinct to fight back.
Sylar's nails dig into the skin on Mohinder's shoulders and he listens to the ragged sound of Mohinder's breathing. Struggling for air, he sounds the way that Sylar's victims sometimes do before the end comes. He closes his eyes and pictures blood streaming from Mohinder's forehead, running down in open streams as Sylar takes everything he needs. Inside of him, Mohinder sends sparks flying and prompts sharp gasps.
If this is surrender, it is a sweet, temporary one.
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Word Count: 507
Rating: R
A/N: Written for my last prompt for a_to_z_prompts.
Summary: Sylar finds it difficult to interpret Mohinder's behaviour. Perhaps that isn't a problem.
Sylar's hand rests above Mohinder's heart, counting the beats. Bare skin rests beneath his palm; it feels warm to the touch. He can hear the rushed sound in his highly-attuned ears and he can feel the vibrations thudding through his fingertips. It sounds like a call to war.
"What are you doing?" Mohinder asks. He doesn't sound hostile - not yet.
Sylar imagines that it would take barely a second for Mohinder to reach full fury. His moods are fast but unpredictable, like a flash flood. Being around Mohinder is like being around a force of nature, in a way that is both enthralling and frightening at once. It is a rush in a way that it is whenever Sylar realises that the FBI are after him; it feels as if he is in a movie or a crime novel, larger than life and springing off the page. This is the life that he had always imagined while he was in high school. A nemesis and a threat and a purpose.
"Sylar?"
He loves the sound of his name from Mohinder's lips, whether ripped by pain or anger or worry.
"Nothing," he answers, looking up at Mohinder's face. Beneath his fingertips, the heartbeat whispers, but Mohinder's expression is far from easy to read. Mohinder may be the best actor in the world, and Sylar has always struggled with the intricacies of human emotion. It is a weakness, and one that he sees no method of curing himself of until he finds a power that will make it simpler for him. Something to decode foreign emotions would be the most helpful thing he could get his hands on. "I'm not doing anything."
"Perhaps that's the problem," Mohinder suggests, with a hand at the back of his neck to draw him in.
The physical turn to their relationship is another one that Sylar hasn't been able to understand but has been fast to indulge in. When they kiss, it is the only type of pain that Sylar will accept; punishment by Mohinder's sharp teeth, fast nips to his bottom lip, fingers pulling at his hair. Once, he had liked to believe that he had evolved beyond the petty human need for contact and copulation. Mohinder has forced him to rethink his ideas on the matter - there is a connection there that needs completed. Later, when Mohinder pushes inside of him, pressing him down hard against the squeaking mattress, he can feel a surrender of control even as power surges through his veins and he battles with an instinct to fight back.
Sylar's nails dig into the skin on Mohinder's shoulders and he listens to the ragged sound of Mohinder's breathing. Struggling for air, he sounds the way that Sylar's victims sometimes do before the end comes. He closes his eyes and pictures blood streaming from Mohinder's forehead, running down in open streams as Sylar takes everything he needs. Inside of him, Mohinder sends sparks flying and prompts sharp gasps.
If this is surrender, it is a sweet, temporary one.