Anointed
Title: Anointed
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing/Characters: Luke/Sylar
Rating: Hard R - NC-17 for sexual content
Warnings: Sexual contact with a 17 year-old. Irreverence towards sacred ground.
Word Count: 1,343
Spoilers: Through 3x16 “Building 26”
Disclaimer Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
Author’s Notes: Written for Fic Challenge #4 on lukexsylar, for the picture prompt “Sinks.” When I saw the picture, I thought it looked like something you might see in a monastery, so that’s how I wrote it.
Summary: In an unusual place, Luke makes a choice, and is marked for it.
“Oh God…” Luke groaned, and slowly dropped his head to the cool rim of the sink, leaving his hands in the running water.
“I warned you.”
Luke only whimpered slightly and let the lukewarm water, as cold as it was going to get, soothe his burned hands.
“I didn’t know-,” he had to pause for a pained breath, “that it was foil!”
“Crazy homeless guy? Half of them think they’ve been abducted by aliens. Foil hats are normal. Didn’t you have any of those in Jersey?”
Sylar’s voice was mocking, and Luke bit his lip in disappointment. He’d wanted to impress Sylar a bit and had just ended up screwing things up again.
“Next time I tell you to stop drawing attention to yourself, listen.”
Luke was grateful for the feel of the cool porcelain of the ancient and filthy sink against his fevered brow. He’d only been trying to have a little fun, and trying to burn the hat off the bum outside the gas station where they’d stopped had seemed hilarious at the time. He should have known something was up when Sylar only warned him off once, and then started smiling. It was the same smile his dad used to give him right before he blundered into telling a lie that was going to earn him a beating.
“Sorry,” Luke mumbled to the floor. He couldn’t quite focus his eyes, and he considered that a blessing.
When his power had hit the bum’s stupid foil-lined hat, the resulting spark-filled feedback had made him feel like his blood had started to boil. The next time he’d regained consciousness, he’d been in the truck, leaning against the window, feeling like his face and hands were on fire, and throbbing in pain. The next period of wakefulness after that, Sylar had hauled him into some abandoned building, where, miraculously, the water was still on. He was just glad he couldn’t see the room in detail; if he did he thought he might throw up.
Sylar was silent for the next several minutes, and Luke heard more water running from the smaller sink. A few seconds later, cool water began to trickle down his head and neck, further easing the pounding pain in his head. Sylar’s hand, wet and dripping, settled onto the back of his head, trailing damp fingers down his neck.
“How do you feel?” Sylar’s voice sounded almost soothing now, and had lost the sarcastic edge.
“Like shit,” Luke snapped.
“Like a fool,” Sylar corrected.
Luke looked up to catch Sylar’s eyes in the small mirror above the sink. He was standing right behind him, watching him intently; wet hand still stroking down Luke’s neck.
“I’m not-,” Luke protested.
“What did I tell you?” Sylar interrupted. “I told you to stay low, keep off the grid, stop drawing attention to yourself. I left you behind once, and don’t think I wasn’t tempted to do it again back there.”
Luke glared at Sylar through the mirror, hands finally starting to go numb as the water temperature finally went cold.
“But you didn’t,” Luke pointed out. For all of Sylar’s threats, he hadn’t left him behind again, and if there had been a reason to do it, it would have been this incident.
“I know.” Sylar reached over to wet his hands again, and then placed one on Luke’s forehead, pulling Luke back against his chest. The other hand drifted to press flat on Luke’s stomach, and he was held helpless against Sylar’s body, numb hands falling out of the water to flop at his sides. Luke didn’t try to get free. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“Are you going to listen to me from now on?”
Luke could actually feel Sylar’s words as he was speaking them, and that made them a lot more immediate, real. He tried to nod, but was restrained by Sylar’s hand. Catching Sylar’s gaze in the mirror, he said, “Yeah.”
“Will you do as I say?” Sylar asked, his hand starting to rub in small circles on Luke’s stomach.
Luke found he couldn’t look away from Sylar’s eyes. He couldn’t say no; he didn’t want to say yes. He wanted freedom, to do what he wanted, but not alone. Not without him. He’d just wanted to spice things up a little, make the trip more fun…
Sylar’s wet hand tugged up Luke’s shirt so he could trail cool fingers on the naked skin of his abdomen. He was silent for long moments, and Luke could feel his numb hands begin to tingle with returning life. They still hurt, but he felt like he could use his power again without wanting to scream.
“Will you do as I say?” Sylar asked again. If Luke wanted to, he could press his hands against his captor and give him burns he’d be long minutes in recovering, long enough to run to the car and make his escape. Wouldn’t be for long, but he could do it, if he wanted to. He could be free, if he chose, do things his own away. Burn the hats, or heads, of anyone that got in his way. If he wanted to. All alone.
Sylar took his hand away from Luke’s head to wet it again in the small sink, and let his other hand slip casually under the waistband of Luke’s jeans to palm gently over his cock. He was, Luke realized with a start, already half-hard. Sylar was the same; pressed so close together, Luke couldn’t miss it. A few rubs had him hard and thrusting against Sylar’s hand.
Water from Sylar’s free hand dripped onto Luke’s head as the hand on his cock began to rub in faster rhythm.
“Do you know what this place is, Luke?” Sylar asked casually. Luke felt paralyzed looking into Sylar’s eyes in the mirror, and mouthed, “no.”
“It used to be a monastery.”
Luke’s hips began to move in rebellious counterpoint to Sylar’s hand, despite a lingering feeling of wrongness he felt from now knowing what this place had been.
“The men that lived here would spend their lives studying to be accepted by God. To be anointed into His service, to serve Him faithfully all their days. All of their past sins and indiscretions would be washed away.”
The water was falling over Luke’s burned and tender face, into his eyes, but he would not look away. Couldn’t pull himself away either. It felt too good to stop. He wanted to give in.
“Will you do what I say, Luke?” Sylar asked, the hand on Luke’s cock suddenly squeezing and stilling. Panting and keening his disappointment, Luke arced his back, pressing himself hard against Sylar, eyes closed as he tried as push himself through to ecstasy.
“Look at me,” Sylar demanded, and Luke’s eyes snapped open. In the mirror, Sylar’s eyes were dangerously dark and obsessive. And focused on him. Luke could have his choice of “fun,” or this. Freedom and loneliness, or Sylar. Will you do what I say?
“Yes.”
At Luke’s answer, Sylar dragged his wet fingers across Luke’s forehead, smiling triumphantly. There was the faintest pain, as if something was cutting into him, but when Sylar’s fingers tapped against his temple, Luke could see his forehead was unmarked. Shuddering, Luke gasped as a final squeeze left him writhing in Sylar’s arms, knees gone too weak to hold him up as his cock pulsed out all his strength into Sylar’s touch.
Sagging in Sylar’s grasp, Luke turned his face up to feel drops of water falling on him from Sylar’s hand. Luke stared upward, nervous and excited as Sylar loomed over him, meeting his eyes.
“Mine, now.”
Luke reached out blindly to clutch the edge of the sink with his painful hands, steadying himself, as the overwhelming rush of what he’d done hit him.
His, now.
The water covered all of Luke’s face now, trickling down his throat, drowning him…
His, now.
Luke breathed as he stared up at Sylar, pain forgotten, and smiled. He’d been accepted, anointed. Now he would serve.
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing/Characters: Luke/Sylar
Rating: Hard R - NC-17 for sexual content
Warnings: Sexual contact with a 17 year-old. Irreverence towards sacred ground.
Word Count: 1,343
Spoilers: Through 3x16 “Building 26”
Disclaimer Heroes belongs to Tim Kring, NBC et al.
Author’s Notes: Written for Fic Challenge #4 on lukexsylar, for the picture prompt “Sinks.” When I saw the picture, I thought it looked like something you might see in a monastery, so that’s how I wrote it.
Summary: In an unusual place, Luke makes a choice, and is marked for it.
“Oh God…” Luke groaned, and slowly dropped his head to the cool rim of the sink, leaving his hands in the running water.
“I warned you.”
Luke only whimpered slightly and let the lukewarm water, as cold as it was going to get, soothe his burned hands.
“I didn’t know-,” he had to pause for a pained breath, “that it was foil!”
“Crazy homeless guy? Half of them think they’ve been abducted by aliens. Foil hats are normal. Didn’t you have any of those in Jersey?”
Sylar’s voice was mocking, and Luke bit his lip in disappointment. He’d wanted to impress Sylar a bit and had just ended up screwing things up again.
“Next time I tell you to stop drawing attention to yourself, listen.”
Luke was grateful for the feel of the cool porcelain of the ancient and filthy sink against his fevered brow. He’d only been trying to have a little fun, and trying to burn the hat off the bum outside the gas station where they’d stopped had seemed hilarious at the time. He should have known something was up when Sylar only warned him off once, and then started smiling. It was the same smile his dad used to give him right before he blundered into telling a lie that was going to earn him a beating.
“Sorry,” Luke mumbled to the floor. He couldn’t quite focus his eyes, and he considered that a blessing.
When his power had hit the bum’s stupid foil-lined hat, the resulting spark-filled feedback had made him feel like his blood had started to boil. The next time he’d regained consciousness, he’d been in the truck, leaning against the window, feeling like his face and hands were on fire, and throbbing in pain. The next period of wakefulness after that, Sylar had hauled him into some abandoned building, where, miraculously, the water was still on. He was just glad he couldn’t see the room in detail; if he did he thought he might throw up.
Sylar was silent for the next several minutes, and Luke heard more water running from the smaller sink. A few seconds later, cool water began to trickle down his head and neck, further easing the pounding pain in his head. Sylar’s hand, wet and dripping, settled onto the back of his head, trailing damp fingers down his neck.
“How do you feel?” Sylar’s voice sounded almost soothing now, and had lost the sarcastic edge.
“Like shit,” Luke snapped.
“Like a fool,” Sylar corrected.
Luke looked up to catch Sylar’s eyes in the small mirror above the sink. He was standing right behind him, watching him intently; wet hand still stroking down Luke’s neck.
“I’m not-,” Luke protested.
“What did I tell you?” Sylar interrupted. “I told you to stay low, keep off the grid, stop drawing attention to yourself. I left you behind once, and don’t think I wasn’t tempted to do it again back there.”
Luke glared at Sylar through the mirror, hands finally starting to go numb as the water temperature finally went cold.
“But you didn’t,” Luke pointed out. For all of Sylar’s threats, he hadn’t left him behind again, and if there had been a reason to do it, it would have been this incident.
“I know.” Sylar reached over to wet his hands again, and then placed one on Luke’s forehead, pulling Luke back against his chest. The other hand drifted to press flat on Luke’s stomach, and he was held helpless against Sylar’s body, numb hands falling out of the water to flop at his sides. Luke didn’t try to get free. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“Are you going to listen to me from now on?”
Luke could actually feel Sylar’s words as he was speaking them, and that made them a lot more immediate, real. He tried to nod, but was restrained by Sylar’s hand. Catching Sylar’s gaze in the mirror, he said, “Yeah.”
“Will you do as I say?” Sylar asked, his hand starting to rub in small circles on Luke’s stomach.
Luke found he couldn’t look away from Sylar’s eyes. He couldn’t say no; he didn’t want to say yes. He wanted freedom, to do what he wanted, but not alone. Not without him. He’d just wanted to spice things up a little, make the trip more fun…
Sylar’s wet hand tugged up Luke’s shirt so he could trail cool fingers on the naked skin of his abdomen. He was silent for long moments, and Luke could feel his numb hands begin to tingle with returning life. They still hurt, but he felt like he could use his power again without wanting to scream.
“Will you do as I say?” Sylar asked again. If Luke wanted to, he could press his hands against his captor and give him burns he’d be long minutes in recovering, long enough to run to the car and make his escape. Wouldn’t be for long, but he could do it, if he wanted to. He could be free, if he chose, do things his own away. Burn the hats, or heads, of anyone that got in his way. If he wanted to. All alone.
Sylar took his hand away from Luke’s head to wet it again in the small sink, and let his other hand slip casually under the waistband of Luke’s jeans to palm gently over his cock. He was, Luke realized with a start, already half-hard. Sylar was the same; pressed so close together, Luke couldn’t miss it. A few rubs had him hard and thrusting against Sylar’s hand.
Water from Sylar’s free hand dripped onto Luke’s head as the hand on his cock began to rub in faster rhythm.
“Do you know what this place is, Luke?” Sylar asked casually. Luke felt paralyzed looking into Sylar’s eyes in the mirror, and mouthed, “no.”
“It used to be a monastery.”
Luke’s hips began to move in rebellious counterpoint to Sylar’s hand, despite a lingering feeling of wrongness he felt from now knowing what this place had been.
“The men that lived here would spend their lives studying to be accepted by God. To be anointed into His service, to serve Him faithfully all their days. All of their past sins and indiscretions would be washed away.”
The water was falling over Luke’s burned and tender face, into his eyes, but he would not look away. Couldn’t pull himself away either. It felt too good to stop. He wanted to give in.
“Will you do what I say, Luke?” Sylar asked, the hand on Luke’s cock suddenly squeezing and stilling. Panting and keening his disappointment, Luke arced his back, pressing himself hard against Sylar, eyes closed as he tried as push himself through to ecstasy.
“Look at me,” Sylar demanded, and Luke’s eyes snapped open. In the mirror, Sylar’s eyes were dangerously dark and obsessive. And focused on him. Luke could have his choice of “fun,” or this. Freedom and loneliness, or Sylar. Will you do what I say?
“Yes.”
At Luke’s answer, Sylar dragged his wet fingers across Luke’s forehead, smiling triumphantly. There was the faintest pain, as if something was cutting into him, but when Sylar’s fingers tapped against his temple, Luke could see his forehead was unmarked. Shuddering, Luke gasped as a final squeeze left him writhing in Sylar’s arms, knees gone too weak to hold him up as his cock pulsed out all his strength into Sylar’s touch.
Sagging in Sylar’s grasp, Luke turned his face up to feel drops of water falling on him from Sylar’s hand. Luke stared upward, nervous and excited as Sylar loomed over him, meeting his eyes.
“Mine, now.”
Luke reached out blindly to clutch the edge of the sink with his painful hands, steadying himself, as the overwhelming rush of what he’d done hit him.
His, now.
The water covered all of Luke’s face now, trickling down his throat, drowning him…
His, now.
Luke breathed as he stared up at Sylar, pain forgotten, and smiled. He’d been accepted, anointed. Now he would serve.