Punished By Your Sins - Heroes - Mohinder/Sylar
Title: Punished By Your Sins
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Word Count: 765
Rating: R
Warnings: D/s, dub-con
A/N: Written for the kink meme.
Summary: If you close your eyes perhaps you can convince yourself that this isn't happening.
If you close your eyes perhaps you can convince yourself that this isn't happening.
You aren't here. You aren't helpless. You aren't hard.
You listen for any hint of sound as you kneel on the floor, facing the wall. He put you in the corner -
That's what happen when pets misbehave, he had whispered into your ear, his fingers stroking over the back of the black leather collar that encircles your neck. They have to think about their crimes.
You're not sure how long you've been here, holding yourself in this position. Your knees ache and your legs feel so stiff; you'd do anything to slouch a little, to relax, but every time you try he knows - and his power nudges you back into the same position, legs straight, hands behind your back, head bowed.
He's in the room with you, that much you're certain of. Silent, everything is silent. You think of him sitting there, watching you, his eyes taking in every inch of bare skin that you rightfully gave to him. A gift: your body, your free will, all on the assumption that it will stop the hunger that Angela claims rules his actions.
You can't accept that. You won't - but he hasn't killed in over a year.
You shift your weight from one knee to the other, wincing. God, this has to be over soon. It has to be.
You think it would be easier if he hit you. Remembering the time he'd made you bend over for him, taking a belt to the soft skin of your ass, makes you bite your tongue hard to prevent yourself from making a noise. You shouldn't like this. You shouldn't want this.
"Mohinder?" Sylar purrs, appearing behind you from nowhere in moments. His hands rest on your hips, pulling you in close. It takes all of your restraint not to sigh and rest against him, close your eyes and allow yourself some comfort. You'll do this - a sacrifice to keep the world safe - but you won't enjoy it. You won't let yourself, not even as his mouth presses against your shoulder, gentler than a killer has any right to be. "Mohinder."
"Yes?" You suppose the only dignity you have left is that he hasn't insisted that you call him 'master'.
"It's been twenty minutes," Sylar says. "Have you thought about what you've done?"
I did nothing wrong, you arrogant asshole, you want to snarl at him. Your hands tighten, still resting behind your back, pressed between your bodies.
"I'm sorry," you say. The words still taste like chalk in your mouth.
Sylar murmurs in approval, a hand moving around to stroke down the front of your chest. "For what?"
You grit your teeth. You can do this. You will do this. "I'm sorry for trying to contact the others, Sylar. I shouldn't have done that."
"Mmhmm?"
"I won't do it again."
"If you want to talk to them, Mohinder, you can," Sylar says. His hand rises to your jaw and his cold fingers coax you to turn your head to look at him. He kisses you - softly, so softly you could scream as you allow him what he wants. It barely lasts a second. "You only have to ask me first."
"Thank you."
"No problem." He smiles - bright and wholesome - like he's actually doing you a favour.
He's mad, he's always been mad, you think as his hand wraps around your cock, stroking it once. You don't look away from his face, not even when you see that smug expression in his eyes: he knows this excites you more than any torture could make you admit. He strokes you again, his thumb pausing at the tip of your dick as he watches your face, the intensity burning.
"My knees hurt," you tell him with a tremble in your voice. His hand drops away.
"That's kind of the point," he tells you, resting his chin against your shoulder as he looks down to the erection that still longs for attention. You can feel his matching hard dick pressed against your ass and wonder how much he has had to work at restraining himself for the duration of your punishment. "Let's get up; go to bed. You can start making it up to me there."
You repress a shudder - and tell yourself you're not turned on, you don't want this, you don't want him and all the pain that comes with him - as you finally get to move out of your kneeling position: following him to his bedroom, following him wherever he wants you to go.
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Word Count: 765
Rating: R
Warnings: D/s, dub-con
A/N: Written for the kink meme.
Summary: If you close your eyes perhaps you can convince yourself that this isn't happening.
If you close your eyes perhaps you can convince yourself that this isn't happening.
You aren't here. You aren't helpless. You aren't hard.
You listen for any hint of sound as you kneel on the floor, facing the wall. He put you in the corner -
That's what happen when pets misbehave, he had whispered into your ear, his fingers stroking over the back of the black leather collar that encircles your neck. They have to think about their crimes.
You're not sure how long you've been here, holding yourself in this position. Your knees ache and your legs feel so stiff; you'd do anything to slouch a little, to relax, but every time you try he knows - and his power nudges you back into the same position, legs straight, hands behind your back, head bowed.
He's in the room with you, that much you're certain of. Silent, everything is silent. You think of him sitting there, watching you, his eyes taking in every inch of bare skin that you rightfully gave to him. A gift: your body, your free will, all on the assumption that it will stop the hunger that Angela claims rules his actions.
You can't accept that. You won't - but he hasn't killed in over a year.
You shift your weight from one knee to the other, wincing. God, this has to be over soon. It has to be.
You think it would be easier if he hit you. Remembering the time he'd made you bend over for him, taking a belt to the soft skin of your ass, makes you bite your tongue hard to prevent yourself from making a noise. You shouldn't like this. You shouldn't want this.
"Mohinder?" Sylar purrs, appearing behind you from nowhere in moments. His hands rest on your hips, pulling you in close. It takes all of your restraint not to sigh and rest against him, close your eyes and allow yourself some comfort. You'll do this - a sacrifice to keep the world safe - but you won't enjoy it. You won't let yourself, not even as his mouth presses against your shoulder, gentler than a killer has any right to be. "Mohinder."
"Yes?" You suppose the only dignity you have left is that he hasn't insisted that you call him 'master'.
"It's been twenty minutes," Sylar says. "Have you thought about what you've done?"
I did nothing wrong, you arrogant asshole, you want to snarl at him. Your hands tighten, still resting behind your back, pressed between your bodies.
"I'm sorry," you say. The words still taste like chalk in your mouth.
Sylar murmurs in approval, a hand moving around to stroke down the front of your chest. "For what?"
You grit your teeth. You can do this. You will do this. "I'm sorry for trying to contact the others, Sylar. I shouldn't have done that."
"Mmhmm?"
"I won't do it again."
"If you want to talk to them, Mohinder, you can," Sylar says. His hand rises to your jaw and his cold fingers coax you to turn your head to look at him. He kisses you - softly, so softly you could scream as you allow him what he wants. It barely lasts a second. "You only have to ask me first."
"Thank you."
"No problem." He smiles - bright and wholesome - like he's actually doing you a favour.
He's mad, he's always been mad, you think as his hand wraps around your cock, stroking it once. You don't look away from his face, not even when you see that smug expression in his eyes: he knows this excites you more than any torture could make you admit. He strokes you again, his thumb pausing at the tip of your dick as he watches your face, the intensity burning.
"My knees hurt," you tell him with a tremble in your voice. His hand drops away.
"That's kind of the point," he tells you, resting his chin against your shoulder as he looks down to the erection that still longs for attention. You can feel his matching hard dick pressed against your ass and wonder how much he has had to work at restraining himself for the duration of your punishment. "Let's get up; go to bed. You can start making it up to me there."
You repress a shudder - and tell yourself you're not turned on, you don't want this, you don't want him and all the pain that comes with him - as you finally get to move out of your kneeling position: following him to his bedroom, following him wherever he wants you to go.