Asking For It - Repost of Valentines '09
Title: Asking For It
Recipient: moorishflower
Pairing(s): Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: Light NC-17 / Hard R?
Wordcount: 2900
Spoilers: Spoilers for the premise of the Fugitives arc, but only really specific stuff up to the end of Villains arc.
Warnings: Roughhousing, WAFF, sex
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to NBC and Tim Kring, and no copyright infringement is intended. This is just funsies.
Author's Notes: Repost of my fic for Moorishflower for the heroes_exchange Valentine's Day smut swap thing.
Sylar grabbed hold of the doorframe, not that it really made much difference. Telekinesis made it fairly simple to avoid bodily harm during an earthquake, but when one was just awoken out of a sound sleep, he went right to what he'd heard you were supposed to do during an earthquake: Stand in a doorway.
After a moment, though, he realized that it wasn't the whole structure of his apartment building shaking, and that he was in New York, not a commandeered house in California. The thunderous rattling noise was coming from someone pounding incessantly on the door, arhythmically, rattling the walls and the light fixtures while the neighbors shouted at whoever it was to shut the hell up.
Sylar rubbed his hand over his face, shaking his head and smiling. He took his hands off the doorframe, fluffing his hair up rakishly and tugging his boxers down lower on his hips exposing the ridges of hipbones, the dark trail of hair leading from his stomach to his cock. He stroked himself a few times to make sure he was partially hard, nipping at his own lips to make them redder, more plump.
Had to look like he was asking for it, right?
He opened the door, grabbed Mohinder's wrist before he could slam it against the now absent wood, and yanked him inside, against Sylar's chest. The door swung shut behind Mohinder as he staggered forward, eyes wide and moonstruck as he slid down Sylar's body when his feet didn't catch up fast enough to keep him from lurching off-balance.
"Hello lover," Sylar growled, grabbing Mohinder's waist and hitching him tighter against himself. "If you get me evicted, how will you know where to come to get your next fix?"
The daze melted away from Mohinder's face a bit, and he flashed Sylar a knife-bright smile.
"Who says it has to be you?" he said, grabbing the thin cotton of Sylar's undershirt and tearing it down the middle. Normally Sylar would've hissed as the straining cloth left welts on his skin, but instead, his expression of mischievous lust hardened into something colder. He grabbed Mohinder's shoulders and held him at arm's length. Mohinder reached inside his grasp and batted his wrists apart, shoving hard against Sylar's chest and knocking him back against a wall several feet away, launching himself after instantly. Sylar raised a hand, stopping Mohinder in mid-leap instantly, inches away from having his hands on Sylar again.
"Who else would it be?" Sylar asked in a low growl, scrutinizing Mohinder's face. Mohinder laughed, twisting in Sylar's invisible grip.
"Who else do you think?"
Sylar scowled. Mohinder's Oxford education had made him much more skilled at rhetoric than most people Sylar encountered, more able to answer Sylar's questions without giving a response definitive enough to constitute truth or a lie.
Maddening.
"Maybe I don't care," Sylar tried. Mohinder shivered, mimicking Sylar's physical reaction to being lied to while turned on.
"Ohhh, that was a lie. Try again," he purred. Sylar dropped his hold, letting Mohinder pitch forward toward the floor before stopping him again.
"The cop?" Sylar asked. Mohinder smiled.
"Hmmmm..."
"One of the Petrellis? Since we know you get off on power," Sylar sneered. Mohinder stayed silent, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"The blonde girl the cop's banging? I know she's fast, but is she 'fast'?" Sylar tried. Mohinder broke into laughter at this.
"Peter Petrelli?" Sylar tried.
"You already said him," Mohinder simpered. "So what if I was? You know what I'm here for; are you going to tell me no?"
Mohinder backed away from the wall of force Sylar had put up between them, trailing his fingertips against it while pacing back and forth.
"Maybe if you answered my question," Sylar replied. Mohinder chuckled.
"It's so sweet that you want to be my one and only," he smiled. Sylar detected no lie in the statement; Mohinder did find it sweet. This gave Sylar a measure of relief until Mohinder continued:
"But you should remember that if I fucked anyone else, it wouldn't make you any less special."
That did it. Sylar let out a carnivorous snarl and made a fist, picking Mohinder up off his feet and slamming him back first against the wall, feet dangling a good three feet off the ground.
"Mm, thank heaven for high ceilings," Mohinder wheezed as Sylar squeezed his ribcage just a bit. Thank heaven for high ceilings indeed, though at the moment, he could really go for putting Mohinder's head through a couple inches of plaster to shut him up for a bit.
"Well," Mohinder breathed. "Here we all are."
Sylar twitched his fingers and Mohinder's shirt fell away in shreds, then strode forward, rising on the balls of his feet to bite Mohinder's stomach. This earned a gasp, and Mohinder reached down, ruffling fingers into Sylar's hair once before his arms were pinned crucifixion style out to his sides.
"So it's true what they say about Catholic boys," Mohinder goaded. When this got no further reaction, he began quietly humming "Your Own Personal Jesus," breaking into manic cackles as Sylar grabbed his hips with his hands and slammed Mohinder back against the wall, yanking Mohinder's belt open and out of its loops. Without it, Mohinder's jeans slid easily off his trim hips, aided by gravity. He didn't have on a stitch underneath, and Sylar dove forward again, biting the skin just inside Mohinder's left hip bone before shifting and sucking Mohinder's cock into his mouth, pressing his head towards the wall before drawing back with a scrape of just enough teeth along the shaft and foreskin.
"Mm, filthy boy," Mohinder growled. Sylar responded by raking his fingernails down Mohinder's chest, over his stomach, curving out over his right thigh before grabbing his balls and squeezing hard. Mohinder gave a desperate groan, and Sylar could feel him trying to lift his hips against that force holding him up to fuck deeper into Sylar's mouth.
Mohinder tasted freshly showered, not terribly unlikely given that his pheromones tended to draw a crowd in this state. A shower afforded Mohinder a small quantity of time to reach someone he'd be happy enough to wrap his legs around, or vice versa. Sylar wondered what sort of day today was. He slipped two fingers into his mouth alongside Mohinder's cock, releasing his hold on Mohinder's legs. If it wasn't that sort of day, he would be kicked away and probably have a couple cracked ribs for a few minutes for his trouble, and subsequently fucked raw.
When Sylar circled Mohinder's asshole with his fingers, though, Mohinder purred, lifting his right leg and placing it over Sylar's shoulder, tugging him closer and relaxing as Sylar pushed his fingers into him. Mohinder felt tight, and Sylar couldn't help but feel relieved, tight like he hadn't been fucked in days, though that said nothing about whether he'd fucked anyone else. He tried to use his ability to feel the history of Mohinder's body, find out what he'd been up to since Mohinder wouldn't just fucking say, but all that came through that connection was the frenzy of lust, overwhelming Sylar as he sucked on Mohinder harder.
"Fuck me," Mohinder rasped. "Fuck me, please. It's been too long, it's been days, I need it."
And Mohinder did need it desperately, that was the absolute truth. Sylar withdrew his mouth, twisting his fingers inside Mohinder.
"What about what I need, Mohinder?" he replied, looking up and stroking Mohinder's hip with his free hand.
"You may not need this in quite the same way I need it, but you most definitely need it," Mohinder answered, swiveling his hips as best he could, trying to get more friction, more penetration. Sylar held him steady, withdrawing his fingers, and stepped away.
"I need answers," he replied. "Every few days you slip into my shop for a long lunch. I don't see you for a week and a half. I thought you'd gotten caught by the feds. So beating down my door and answering all my questions with other questions isn't going to get you what you want."
"Sylar…" Mohinder growled, twisting against the wall. "Do we have to talk about this now?"
"Yes," Sylar replied, pulling a chair from his kitchen and sitting in it. "Because suddenly I'm feeling conversational."
"I didn't come here for your conversation!" Mohinder snapped.
"Start answering my questions or you won't come at all. Where were you this past week and a half?"
"I was in India," Mohinder ground out. Truth.
"Why?"
"Thought I'd drop in on my old girlfriend." Lies.
"The truth, Mohinder," he snapped.
"I needed to speak to my mother, since I had no idea when I might be able to travel again. Are you happy yet? You're killing the mood," Mohinder snarled.
"I'll leave you up there all night," Sylar answered. "Maybe I'll just sit here and have a great time without any help from you."
"You wouldn't," Mohinder answered with narrowed eyes. Sylar ran the tip of his tongue over the edge of his teeth and slouched in the chair, canting his hips up and sliding his hand into his boxers. "You have to let me down eventually!"
"Not necessarily. There's duct tape, I've got a staple gun," Sylar replied, fondling himself under his boxers. "You look good up there. You flew out of the country? Were you trying to get caught?"
"No," Mohinder said, chest heaving as he kept his eyes riveted to Sylar's hand. He was likely too distracted to formulate lies, but Sylar listened with his ability anyway.
"I could see you liking that idea. I'm sure that Petrelli would make you a special reward for his little special ops team. Kill twenty specials, and you get to fuck Suresh. Is that what you had in mind?"
"No!" Mohinder snapped fiercely. Emphatic truth, that one. Sylar stopped playing with himself and gripped both arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles went white.
"You've got a funny way of showing it," he said, launching himself to his feet and pacing. "Who else is fucking you?"
"No one," Mohinder answered. "And I'm not fucking anyone else."
Sylar stood still, stopping in mid-step.
Truth.
"Just me?" Sylar asked.
"Yes. No one else," Mohinder snapped. "Hence the statement 'I'm not fucking anyone else.'"
"Why?" Sylar asked, tilting his head.
"It's complicated," Mohinder answered, thunking his head back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. Well… Mohinder thought that was the truth, but Mohinder thought that everything simple was complicated and vice versa. Sylar gently lowered Mohinder to the floor, setting him on his feet but still supporting him, stepping forward and holding Mohinder up with his hands.
"Why did you risk going to India?" Sylar asked again. Mohinder shut his eyes.
"If things go badly, I needed to tell my mother the whole truth, about everything, before I lost any chance to do so. And congratulations, you have very nearly successfully killed my arousal entirely."
Sylar smiled.
"Liar," he answered, nuzzling Mohinder's jaw and tugging him into the bedroom. He flung Mohinder onto the bed, but Mohinder grabbed his arm on the way down and pulled him with, yanking Sylar on top of him.
And Sylar laughed, delighted and relieved, because he was starting to believe that he would never have this again, that someone else had the privilege of Mohinder's skin, that someone or several someones were hurting him in a way he wouldn't like. Mohinder smiled at him again, a different one from before. Sylar liked this smile.
Mohinder slid his hands into Sylar's boxers, pushing them down as far as his arms would reach, Sylar taking over and pulling them off the rest of the way and tossing them aside. Skin on skin now with nothing between them, Sylar's lust was tempered with comfort: the slight give of skin over Mohinder's stomach, pressing against his own, the way each of them felt hotter to the other, in spite of the fact that this was a physical impossibility- they couldn't both be warmer- which was already shifting to an equilibrium between them.
Sylar loved that.
He shifted against Mohinder, just making himself comfortable, running his palms over Mohinder's chest, collarbones, neck.
"Fuck me," Mohinder begged softly. "Please fuck me."
Sylar tilted his head.
"Kiss me," he countered, and Mohinder reached up, grabbing Sylar's head. "Softly," Sylar insisted, and Mohinder's grip loosened, and he tugged Sylar down gently for a kiss equally passionate and sweet. He stroked Mohinder's hair away from his temples and drew back, physically leaning over and getting lube out of the drawer in his bedside table.
"Were you really worried about me?" Mohinder asked skeptically. Sylar shut the drawer with more force than necessary and didn't respond, focusing instead on slicking up his fingers.
"Leg up," he said instead, touching Mohinder's left knee. Mohinder needed what Sylar was offering far too much to argue about getting his own answers. Instead, he just relaxed and let Sylar push fingers inside him, opening him up, clinically slicking up Mohinder's insides like tuning any other piece of machinery. Mohinder was not offended, just another one of Sylar's odd paradoxes- ask for a soft kiss one moment, prepare for sex so dispassionately as to almost seem indifferent the next.
His focus was broken when Mohinder slicked up his own hand and wrapped it around Sylar's cock. He shut his eyes and took a breath, composing himself as he removed his fingers from Mohinder's ass and leaned forward, planting his hands on the mattress.
"I'm ready," Mohinder murmured to him. "Please?"
"Put your leg on my shoulder," Sylar panted out. Mohinder obeyed, putting one leg up as Sylar lined up and pushed in partway.
"Move," Mohinder demanded. Sylar shook his head.
"Get used to it first," he insisted. Mohinder scowled, wrapped his free leg around and yanked Sylar's hips forward, pulling him in. "God damn it, Mohinder!"
"You can go as slow and as sweet as you want but I need to feel you inside me, all the way, or I swear I'm going to fall apart," Mohinder said, just loud enough for Sylar to hear. "Come on."
"Slowly," Sylar said, as much to himself as to Mohinder, penetrating him as gradually as he could until their hips were flush together. Sylar's lips fluttered over Mohinder's eyelids, and he began to roll his hips, Mohinder rising to meet him. Sylar dragged the head of his cock over the front wall of Mohinder's ass on his backstrokes, using the ridge to scrape against his prostate. Mohinder tried to thrust up to speed him, but Sylar just used his full weight to pin Mohinder to the mattress.
Mohinder let out a plaintive whine.
"Not fifteen minutes ago you were ready to play rough and fuck me so hard I can't walk, why the hell are the velvet gloves on now?" he moaned in frustration.
"Be patient," Sylar whispered. "Just be patient."
"Why?" Mohinder demanded, grabbing Sylar's shoulders but not pushing him away.
"Because I want to," Sylar answered, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on Mohinder's sulking mouth. To his surprise, he did not get bitten. Usually if Sylar refused to play roughly enough for his tastes, Mohinder would lash out and try to goad him into anger. Usually it would work, but today, Sylar just refused to be pushed, instead moving slowly in and out of Mohinder.
"Let me move," Mohinder said.
"Are you going to try to maul me?" Sylar asked.
"No," Mohinder said, apparently the truth. Sylar stopped pinning him and Mohinder found a rhythm of his own to compliment Sylar's. The wrapped their arms around one another and kissed. Sylar increased his pace gradually, not a jarring shift in pace, but before either realized it, their skin was slapping against each other's. Mohinder rolled Sylar underneath him, riding him through to the end and taking hold of his own cock, sliding his foreskin back and forth until he came on Sylar's stomach and chest in pearly white streaks, shuddering and quaking over him. Sylar continued thrusting for a few more strokes until he came inside the man on top of him.
For a few moments, they just stayed like that, Mohinder curled over Sylar's chest, both breathing the smell of their mingled sweat and Mohinder's come. The afterglow only lasted so long, and Mohinder climbed off and stepped into the bathroom. Sylar lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of Mohinder cleaning up. He came back out and handed Sylar two clean washcloths, one dampened and one dry, and sat on the edge of the bed. Sylar rolled his eyes, grabbed Mohinder around the waist and yanking him back down to the bed.
"Oh now you get pushy," Mohinder grumbled as he was tugged into a spooning position.
"Cope," Sylar answered.
There was a lengthy silence as Sylar cut the lights without moving.
"It's not safe for you to keep on like you have been," Sylar said.
"I know," Mohinder answered with a sigh.
Another lengthy silence.
"You'd be safer with me," Sylar added. "Stay here."
Mohinder said nothing, and Sylar eventually thought he'd fallen asleep, maybe never heard the question, but after yet another long pause, just as Sylar was about to fall asleep himself, he heard a soft voice reply:
"All right."
-END-
Assignment:
Rating requested (R or NC17): Either or, depends on the prompt. :D
Pairings (or more!) Requested (het, slash and femslash): OH MAN GET READY FOR THE TIDAL WAVE. Mohinder/Sylar, Matt/Mohinder, Matt/Nathan, Claire/Elle, Nathan/Hiro, Adam/Hiro, Mohinder/Elle.
Prompts requested (please list at least 3):
1. Fugitives scenario! Mohinder still has his powers (but minus the scales) and struggles to hide them as the world becomes increasingly paranoid due to Nathan throwing his hissy fit. But nothing can cure instincts, and Mohinder's formula-made buggy ones are going haywire. Sylar is the only one who understands/is willing to help. Do what you want: sex beam, pheromones, fuck or die, just have fun! :D
2. Character A is surprisingly kinky in bed. They hint at the mischief they got up to at university/boarding school/band camp and introduce Character B to the wonders of non-vanilla sex. Again, have fun. Toys. Rimming. Fisting. Delayed orgasm. GO FOR THE GOLD.
3. Claire and Elle on the plane to Pinehearst. MILE HIGH CLUB. Claire doesn't feel any pain, but it isn't pain that Elle's electricity makes her feel.
4. Gravity defiance (aka "Moorish has weird kinks" :\). Powered!Mohinder and Sylar on the ceiling/stuck to a wall or via telekinesis, Nathan and Hiro in midair, Matt reminiscing fondly over that ride to Philly (Nathan might not be a cargo jet but Matt still wants to ride him like one XD).
5. Powered sex. Along the same lines as the one above, but slightly more inclusive. XD Matt sending Nathan or Mohinder naughty images while they're trying to work, Sylar using telekinesis/melting/freezing/anything else you want him to use in bed, Claire or Adam having a thing for pain or blood, etc.
What don’t you want your fic to include?: No noncon plzthx, other than that I'm good. :D
Recipient: moorishflower
Pairing(s): Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: Light NC-17 / Hard R?
Wordcount: 2900
Spoilers: Spoilers for the premise of the Fugitives arc, but only really specific stuff up to the end of Villains arc.
Warnings: Roughhousing, WAFF, sex
Disclaimer: Heroes belongs to NBC and Tim Kring, and no copyright infringement is intended. This is just funsies.
Author's Notes: Repost of my fic for Moorishflower for the heroes_exchange Valentine's Day smut swap thing.
Sylar grabbed hold of the doorframe, not that it really made much difference. Telekinesis made it fairly simple to avoid bodily harm during an earthquake, but when one was just awoken out of a sound sleep, he went right to what he'd heard you were supposed to do during an earthquake: Stand in a doorway.
After a moment, though, he realized that it wasn't the whole structure of his apartment building shaking, and that he was in New York, not a commandeered house in California. The thunderous rattling noise was coming from someone pounding incessantly on the door, arhythmically, rattling the walls and the light fixtures while the neighbors shouted at whoever it was to shut the hell up.
Sylar rubbed his hand over his face, shaking his head and smiling. He took his hands off the doorframe, fluffing his hair up rakishly and tugging his boxers down lower on his hips exposing the ridges of hipbones, the dark trail of hair leading from his stomach to his cock. He stroked himself a few times to make sure he was partially hard, nipping at his own lips to make them redder, more plump.
Had to look like he was asking for it, right?
He opened the door, grabbed Mohinder's wrist before he could slam it against the now absent wood, and yanked him inside, against Sylar's chest. The door swung shut behind Mohinder as he staggered forward, eyes wide and moonstruck as he slid down Sylar's body when his feet didn't catch up fast enough to keep him from lurching off-balance.
"Hello lover," Sylar growled, grabbing Mohinder's waist and hitching him tighter against himself. "If you get me evicted, how will you know where to come to get your next fix?"
The daze melted away from Mohinder's face a bit, and he flashed Sylar a knife-bright smile.
"Who says it has to be you?" he said, grabbing the thin cotton of Sylar's undershirt and tearing it down the middle. Normally Sylar would've hissed as the straining cloth left welts on his skin, but instead, his expression of mischievous lust hardened into something colder. He grabbed Mohinder's shoulders and held him at arm's length. Mohinder reached inside his grasp and batted his wrists apart, shoving hard against Sylar's chest and knocking him back against a wall several feet away, launching himself after instantly. Sylar raised a hand, stopping Mohinder in mid-leap instantly, inches away from having his hands on Sylar again.
"Who else would it be?" Sylar asked in a low growl, scrutinizing Mohinder's face. Mohinder laughed, twisting in Sylar's invisible grip.
"Who else do you think?"
Sylar scowled. Mohinder's Oxford education had made him much more skilled at rhetoric than most people Sylar encountered, more able to answer Sylar's questions without giving a response definitive enough to constitute truth or a lie.
Maddening.
"Maybe I don't care," Sylar tried. Mohinder shivered, mimicking Sylar's physical reaction to being lied to while turned on.
"Ohhh, that was a lie. Try again," he purred. Sylar dropped his hold, letting Mohinder pitch forward toward the floor before stopping him again.
"The cop?" Sylar asked. Mohinder smiled.
"Hmmmm..."
"One of the Petrellis? Since we know you get off on power," Sylar sneered. Mohinder stayed silent, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"The blonde girl the cop's banging? I know she's fast, but is she 'fast'?" Sylar tried. Mohinder broke into laughter at this.
"Peter Petrelli?" Sylar tried.
"You already said him," Mohinder simpered. "So what if I was? You know what I'm here for; are you going to tell me no?"
Mohinder backed away from the wall of force Sylar had put up between them, trailing his fingertips against it while pacing back and forth.
"Maybe if you answered my question," Sylar replied. Mohinder chuckled.
"It's so sweet that you want to be my one and only," he smiled. Sylar detected no lie in the statement; Mohinder did find it sweet. This gave Sylar a measure of relief until Mohinder continued:
"But you should remember that if I fucked anyone else, it wouldn't make you any less special."
That did it. Sylar let out a carnivorous snarl and made a fist, picking Mohinder up off his feet and slamming him back first against the wall, feet dangling a good three feet off the ground.
"Mm, thank heaven for high ceilings," Mohinder wheezed as Sylar squeezed his ribcage just a bit. Thank heaven for high ceilings indeed, though at the moment, he could really go for putting Mohinder's head through a couple inches of plaster to shut him up for a bit.
"Well," Mohinder breathed. "Here we all are."
Sylar twitched his fingers and Mohinder's shirt fell away in shreds, then strode forward, rising on the balls of his feet to bite Mohinder's stomach. This earned a gasp, and Mohinder reached down, ruffling fingers into Sylar's hair once before his arms were pinned crucifixion style out to his sides.
"So it's true what they say about Catholic boys," Mohinder goaded. When this got no further reaction, he began quietly humming "Your Own Personal Jesus," breaking into manic cackles as Sylar grabbed his hips with his hands and slammed Mohinder back against the wall, yanking Mohinder's belt open and out of its loops. Without it, Mohinder's jeans slid easily off his trim hips, aided by gravity. He didn't have on a stitch underneath, and Sylar dove forward again, biting the skin just inside Mohinder's left hip bone before shifting and sucking Mohinder's cock into his mouth, pressing his head towards the wall before drawing back with a scrape of just enough teeth along the shaft and foreskin.
"Mm, filthy boy," Mohinder growled. Sylar responded by raking his fingernails down Mohinder's chest, over his stomach, curving out over his right thigh before grabbing his balls and squeezing hard. Mohinder gave a desperate groan, and Sylar could feel him trying to lift his hips against that force holding him up to fuck deeper into Sylar's mouth.
Mohinder tasted freshly showered, not terribly unlikely given that his pheromones tended to draw a crowd in this state. A shower afforded Mohinder a small quantity of time to reach someone he'd be happy enough to wrap his legs around, or vice versa. Sylar wondered what sort of day today was. He slipped two fingers into his mouth alongside Mohinder's cock, releasing his hold on Mohinder's legs. If it wasn't that sort of day, he would be kicked away and probably have a couple cracked ribs for a few minutes for his trouble, and subsequently fucked raw.
When Sylar circled Mohinder's asshole with his fingers, though, Mohinder purred, lifting his right leg and placing it over Sylar's shoulder, tugging him closer and relaxing as Sylar pushed his fingers into him. Mohinder felt tight, and Sylar couldn't help but feel relieved, tight like he hadn't been fucked in days, though that said nothing about whether he'd fucked anyone else. He tried to use his ability to feel the history of Mohinder's body, find out what he'd been up to since Mohinder wouldn't just fucking say, but all that came through that connection was the frenzy of lust, overwhelming Sylar as he sucked on Mohinder harder.
"Fuck me," Mohinder rasped. "Fuck me, please. It's been too long, it's been days, I need it."
And Mohinder did need it desperately, that was the absolute truth. Sylar withdrew his mouth, twisting his fingers inside Mohinder.
"What about what I need, Mohinder?" he replied, looking up and stroking Mohinder's hip with his free hand.
"You may not need this in quite the same way I need it, but you most definitely need it," Mohinder answered, swiveling his hips as best he could, trying to get more friction, more penetration. Sylar held him steady, withdrawing his fingers, and stepped away.
"I need answers," he replied. "Every few days you slip into my shop for a long lunch. I don't see you for a week and a half. I thought you'd gotten caught by the feds. So beating down my door and answering all my questions with other questions isn't going to get you what you want."
"Sylar…" Mohinder growled, twisting against the wall. "Do we have to talk about this now?"
"Yes," Sylar replied, pulling a chair from his kitchen and sitting in it. "Because suddenly I'm feeling conversational."
"I didn't come here for your conversation!" Mohinder snapped.
"Start answering my questions or you won't come at all. Where were you this past week and a half?"
"I was in India," Mohinder ground out. Truth.
"Why?"
"Thought I'd drop in on my old girlfriend." Lies.
"The truth, Mohinder," he snapped.
"I needed to speak to my mother, since I had no idea when I might be able to travel again. Are you happy yet? You're killing the mood," Mohinder snarled.
"I'll leave you up there all night," Sylar answered. "Maybe I'll just sit here and have a great time without any help from you."
"You wouldn't," Mohinder answered with narrowed eyes. Sylar ran the tip of his tongue over the edge of his teeth and slouched in the chair, canting his hips up and sliding his hand into his boxers. "You have to let me down eventually!"
"Not necessarily. There's duct tape, I've got a staple gun," Sylar replied, fondling himself under his boxers. "You look good up there. You flew out of the country? Were you trying to get caught?"
"No," Mohinder said, chest heaving as he kept his eyes riveted to Sylar's hand. He was likely too distracted to formulate lies, but Sylar listened with his ability anyway.
"I could see you liking that idea. I'm sure that Petrelli would make you a special reward for his little special ops team. Kill twenty specials, and you get to fuck Suresh. Is that what you had in mind?"
"No!" Mohinder snapped fiercely. Emphatic truth, that one. Sylar stopped playing with himself and gripped both arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles went white.
"You've got a funny way of showing it," he said, launching himself to his feet and pacing. "Who else is fucking you?"
"No one," Mohinder answered. "And I'm not fucking anyone else."
Sylar stood still, stopping in mid-step.
Truth.
"Just me?" Sylar asked.
"Yes. No one else," Mohinder snapped. "Hence the statement 'I'm not fucking anyone else.'"
"Why?" Sylar asked, tilting his head.
"It's complicated," Mohinder answered, thunking his head back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. Well… Mohinder thought that was the truth, but Mohinder thought that everything simple was complicated and vice versa. Sylar gently lowered Mohinder to the floor, setting him on his feet but still supporting him, stepping forward and holding Mohinder up with his hands.
"Why did you risk going to India?" Sylar asked again. Mohinder shut his eyes.
"If things go badly, I needed to tell my mother the whole truth, about everything, before I lost any chance to do so. And congratulations, you have very nearly successfully killed my arousal entirely."
Sylar smiled.
"Liar," he answered, nuzzling Mohinder's jaw and tugging him into the bedroom. He flung Mohinder onto the bed, but Mohinder grabbed his arm on the way down and pulled him with, yanking Sylar on top of him.
And Sylar laughed, delighted and relieved, because he was starting to believe that he would never have this again, that someone else had the privilege of Mohinder's skin, that someone or several someones were hurting him in a way he wouldn't like. Mohinder smiled at him again, a different one from before. Sylar liked this smile.
Mohinder slid his hands into Sylar's boxers, pushing them down as far as his arms would reach, Sylar taking over and pulling them off the rest of the way and tossing them aside. Skin on skin now with nothing between them, Sylar's lust was tempered with comfort: the slight give of skin over Mohinder's stomach, pressing against his own, the way each of them felt hotter to the other, in spite of the fact that this was a physical impossibility- they couldn't both be warmer- which was already shifting to an equilibrium between them.
Sylar loved that.
He shifted against Mohinder, just making himself comfortable, running his palms over Mohinder's chest, collarbones, neck.
"Fuck me," Mohinder begged softly. "Please fuck me."
Sylar tilted his head.
"Kiss me," he countered, and Mohinder reached up, grabbing Sylar's head. "Softly," Sylar insisted, and Mohinder's grip loosened, and he tugged Sylar down gently for a kiss equally passionate and sweet. He stroked Mohinder's hair away from his temples and drew back, physically leaning over and getting lube out of the drawer in his bedside table.
"Were you really worried about me?" Mohinder asked skeptically. Sylar shut the drawer with more force than necessary and didn't respond, focusing instead on slicking up his fingers.
"Leg up," he said instead, touching Mohinder's left knee. Mohinder needed what Sylar was offering far too much to argue about getting his own answers. Instead, he just relaxed and let Sylar push fingers inside him, opening him up, clinically slicking up Mohinder's insides like tuning any other piece of machinery. Mohinder was not offended, just another one of Sylar's odd paradoxes- ask for a soft kiss one moment, prepare for sex so dispassionately as to almost seem indifferent the next.
His focus was broken when Mohinder slicked up his own hand and wrapped it around Sylar's cock. He shut his eyes and took a breath, composing himself as he removed his fingers from Mohinder's ass and leaned forward, planting his hands on the mattress.
"I'm ready," Mohinder murmured to him. "Please?"
"Put your leg on my shoulder," Sylar panted out. Mohinder obeyed, putting one leg up as Sylar lined up and pushed in partway.
"Move," Mohinder demanded. Sylar shook his head.
"Get used to it first," he insisted. Mohinder scowled, wrapped his free leg around and yanked Sylar's hips forward, pulling him in. "God damn it, Mohinder!"
"You can go as slow and as sweet as you want but I need to feel you inside me, all the way, or I swear I'm going to fall apart," Mohinder said, just loud enough for Sylar to hear. "Come on."
"Slowly," Sylar said, as much to himself as to Mohinder, penetrating him as gradually as he could until their hips were flush together. Sylar's lips fluttered over Mohinder's eyelids, and he began to roll his hips, Mohinder rising to meet him. Sylar dragged the head of his cock over the front wall of Mohinder's ass on his backstrokes, using the ridge to scrape against his prostate. Mohinder tried to thrust up to speed him, but Sylar just used his full weight to pin Mohinder to the mattress.
Mohinder let out a plaintive whine.
"Not fifteen minutes ago you were ready to play rough and fuck me so hard I can't walk, why the hell are the velvet gloves on now?" he moaned in frustration.
"Be patient," Sylar whispered. "Just be patient."
"Why?" Mohinder demanded, grabbing Sylar's shoulders but not pushing him away.
"Because I want to," Sylar answered, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on Mohinder's sulking mouth. To his surprise, he did not get bitten. Usually if Sylar refused to play roughly enough for his tastes, Mohinder would lash out and try to goad him into anger. Usually it would work, but today, Sylar just refused to be pushed, instead moving slowly in and out of Mohinder.
"Let me move," Mohinder said.
"Are you going to try to maul me?" Sylar asked.
"No," Mohinder said, apparently the truth. Sylar stopped pinning him and Mohinder found a rhythm of his own to compliment Sylar's. The wrapped their arms around one another and kissed. Sylar increased his pace gradually, not a jarring shift in pace, but before either realized it, their skin was slapping against each other's. Mohinder rolled Sylar underneath him, riding him through to the end and taking hold of his own cock, sliding his foreskin back and forth until he came on Sylar's stomach and chest in pearly white streaks, shuddering and quaking over him. Sylar continued thrusting for a few more strokes until he came inside the man on top of him.
For a few moments, they just stayed like that, Mohinder curled over Sylar's chest, both breathing the smell of their mingled sweat and Mohinder's come. The afterglow only lasted so long, and Mohinder climbed off and stepped into the bathroom. Sylar lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of Mohinder cleaning up. He came back out and handed Sylar two clean washcloths, one dampened and one dry, and sat on the edge of the bed. Sylar rolled his eyes, grabbed Mohinder around the waist and yanking him back down to the bed.
"Oh now you get pushy," Mohinder grumbled as he was tugged into a spooning position.
"Cope," Sylar answered.
There was a lengthy silence as Sylar cut the lights without moving.
"It's not safe for you to keep on like you have been," Sylar said.
"I know," Mohinder answered with a sigh.
Another lengthy silence.
"You'd be safer with me," Sylar added. "Stay here."
Mohinder said nothing, and Sylar eventually thought he'd fallen asleep, maybe never heard the question, but after yet another long pause, just as Sylar was about to fall asleep himself, he heard a soft voice reply:
"All right."
-END-
Assignment:
Rating requested (R or NC17): Either or, depends on the prompt. :D
Pairings (or more!) Requested (het, slash and femslash): OH MAN GET READY FOR THE TIDAL WAVE. Mohinder/Sylar, Matt/Mohinder, Matt/Nathan, Claire/Elle, Nathan/Hiro, Adam/Hiro, Mohinder/Elle.
Prompts requested (please list at least 3):
1. Fugitives scenario! Mohinder still has his powers (but minus the scales) and struggles to hide them as the world becomes increasingly paranoid due to Nathan throwing his hissy fit. But nothing can cure instincts, and Mohinder's formula-made buggy ones are going haywire. Sylar is the only one who understands/is willing to help. Do what you want: sex beam, pheromones, fuck or die, just have fun! :D
2. Character A is surprisingly kinky in bed. They hint at the mischief they got up to at university/boarding school/band camp and introduce Character B to the wonders of non-vanilla sex. Again, have fun. Toys. Rimming. Fisting. Delayed orgasm. GO FOR THE GOLD.
3. Claire and Elle on the plane to Pinehearst. MILE HIGH CLUB. Claire doesn't feel any pain, but it isn't pain that Elle's electricity makes her feel.
4. Gravity defiance (aka "Moorish has weird kinks" :\). Powered!Mohinder and Sylar on the ceiling/stuck to a wall or via telekinesis, Nathan and Hiro in midair, Matt reminiscing fondly over that ride to Philly (Nathan might not be a cargo jet but Matt still wants to ride him like one XD).
5. Powered sex. Along the same lines as the one above, but slightly more inclusive. XD Matt sending Nathan or Mohinder naughty images while they're trying to work, Sylar using telekinesis/melting/freezing/anything else you want him to use in bed, Claire or Adam having a thing for pain or blood, etc.
What don’t you want your fic to include?: No noncon plzthx, other than that I'm good. :D