(no subject)
TITLE : Twisted Gifts
LETTER: O for Old Fashioned
SUMMARY: Sylar seeks to gain the approval of the object of his affection
RATING: NC-17 for language and talk of sexual situations
WORD COUNT: 995
WARNINGS/SPOILERS: This is season 3 AU without knowledge of season 4. Mohinder is more than, per season 3.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Heroes, Mohinder, Sylar, ZQ or Sendhil. It's all for fun and no profit. Please do not sue.
A/N: Originally written for a-to-z-prompts
Gabriel had been raised in a rather old fashioned home and it was something that was ingrained into Sylar. The fear of religion and God hadn't taken hold, but some of the most quaint costums had. Such as courting.
It was something that was overlooked by most. They thought buying a drink, maybe lying sweetly and pretending they were only out for one thing, was enough. It wasn't enough for Sylar. If that was all he wanted, he knew he could play on the pheremones that seemed to be controlling the good doctor these days. It's not as if they hadn't been used against him in the past, but Sylar was realizing he wanted more than that. He had a desire for more than just rough and raw sex with one of them shoved up against a wall or bent over a table. The desire for more had grown within him and he wanted one thing more than anything else.
To ensure that Mohinder Suresh was his and that he wasn't sharing that magnificent body and delicious power with anyone else.
He started in the most traditional of ways. Flowers sent to the loft that had once belonged to the prophetic artist that Sylar had delighted in killing. Sylar had watched when they were delivered, then saw them sailing out the window a few moments later. Anger bubbled up within, all of his will power used not to storm in there and take and force. Instead he focused on the enjoyable parts, like the car windshield that was now spidered with red roses jutting out of it.
Sylar only knew one thing when it came to wooing Doctor Suresh. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him. If he did, then it would all be lost and he wouldn't have another chance.
Chocolates were sent, and he found them in the trash. Scientific equipment was sent and moments after delivering he could hear it being smashed. He tried plants, candy, and even jewelry. All of it was smashed and thrown out, though he followed when Suresh took the Rolex to the nearest Salvation Army and donated it without a backwards glance. Every attemptt was summarily dismissed. Which was when Sylar realized he was going about it all wrong. Wooing Suresh wasn't about pretty things to make him feel cherished and wanted. It was about making him see that the best thing for him, and those he cared about, was giving Sylar just what he wanted.
The camera was the best that money could buy, and he was even kind enough to leave the sales clerk alive when he chose not to pay. It wasn't hard to track down where she was, to find her with that big hulking mess that was Parkman in her wake. He had them printed out in eight by ten size, sliding the envelope under the door. This time Sylar didn't wait on the street, but leaned against the wall outside the door. In his head he counted down the seconds. It took less than one minute before the door was jerked open and Suresh was storming out.
"What the fuck is it you want,' Mohinder snarled, strong, scaled hands grabbing Sylar by the collar and slamming him bodily into the wall. His sneakers dangled above the concrete and that very show of strength reminded Sylar why pheremones and sex weren't enough. He needed to own this exquisite creature as much as possess him.
"You." It was a simple and straight forward answer. "Did the gifts not make that clear?"
"And when gifts didn't work, you decided to resort to threats,' he demanded, voice rough and growling and sensual. The lust rushed over Sylar and he fought the heady scent that led to desire.
Curling his hand up, Sylar just lightly touched the scales at the corner of Mohinder's eye, laughing as the geneticist shied away from his fingers. "They're almost pretty,' he marveled, never really having a chance to examine them up close. More often than not Mohinder was dressed and gone before Sylar's legs had stopped shaking.
"If you touch my daughter, I swear I will see you dead." It was a threat that would carry more weight if Sylar thought he could die.
"It wasn't a threat,' he said, kicking his feet lazily and sounding just as calm. "Those pictures are gifts."
Mohinder's head snapped to look where he'd let the telephoto pictures fall to the ground. "How do you count those as a gift?"
"It's not the photos. I'm offering you her freedom. I won't ever go after her again, won't even look at her, if you... give me a chance?" Sylar kicked a bit harder, aiming for Mohinder's shin. "You can put me down at any time."
Too stunned to speak, Suresh slowly lowered his enemy to the ground, staring into whiskey brown eyes with disbelief. "Give you a chance at what,' he asked, the harsh demand gone from his tones.
"You and me. More than just you getting off by hurting me as much as you can." He shifted, almost uncomfortably, and it had nothing to do with the way he'd been held. "Well?"
"Wait." Mohinder just stared, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You want us to... to date?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
Growling, Mohinder shoved Sylar in the chest. "What kind of games is this?"
"It's not a game." Hands curled into tight fists, he fought the urge to hit Suresh back. "I'm asking you to give me a chance to be more than a fuck buddy."
Suresh stared at him for a long time before turning and storming back into the loft. Sylar stood there, staring at the open door.
"Get your ass in here,' Mohinder called, voice full of irritation and emotion.
Smiling, Sylar did just as he was told, slamming the door and locking it in his wake.
LETTER: O for Old Fashioned
SUMMARY: Sylar seeks to gain the approval of the object of his affection
RATING: NC-17 for language and talk of sexual situations
WORD COUNT: 995
WARNINGS/SPOILERS: This is season 3 AU without knowledge of season 4. Mohinder is more than, per season 3.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Heroes, Mohinder, Sylar, ZQ or Sendhil. It's all for fun and no profit. Please do not sue.
A/N: Originally written for a-to-z-prompts
Gabriel had been raised in a rather old fashioned home and it was something that was ingrained into Sylar. The fear of religion and God hadn't taken hold, but some of the most quaint costums had. Such as courting.
It was something that was overlooked by most. They thought buying a drink, maybe lying sweetly and pretending they were only out for one thing, was enough. It wasn't enough for Sylar. If that was all he wanted, he knew he could play on the pheremones that seemed to be controlling the good doctor these days. It's not as if they hadn't been used against him in the past, but Sylar was realizing he wanted more than that. He had a desire for more than just rough and raw sex with one of them shoved up against a wall or bent over a table. The desire for more had grown within him and he wanted one thing more than anything else.
To ensure that Mohinder Suresh was his and that he wasn't sharing that magnificent body and delicious power with anyone else.
He started in the most traditional of ways. Flowers sent to the loft that had once belonged to the prophetic artist that Sylar had delighted in killing. Sylar had watched when they were delivered, then saw them sailing out the window a few moments later. Anger bubbled up within, all of his will power used not to storm in there and take and force. Instead he focused on the enjoyable parts, like the car windshield that was now spidered with red roses jutting out of it.
Sylar only knew one thing when it came to wooing Doctor Suresh. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him. If he did, then it would all be lost and he wouldn't have another chance.
Chocolates were sent, and he found them in the trash. Scientific equipment was sent and moments after delivering he could hear it being smashed. He tried plants, candy, and even jewelry. All of it was smashed and thrown out, though he followed when Suresh took the Rolex to the nearest Salvation Army and donated it without a backwards glance. Every attemptt was summarily dismissed. Which was when Sylar realized he was going about it all wrong. Wooing Suresh wasn't about pretty things to make him feel cherished and wanted. It was about making him see that the best thing for him, and those he cared about, was giving Sylar just what he wanted.
The camera was the best that money could buy, and he was even kind enough to leave the sales clerk alive when he chose not to pay. It wasn't hard to track down where she was, to find her with that big hulking mess that was Parkman in her wake. He had them printed out in eight by ten size, sliding the envelope under the door. This time Sylar didn't wait on the street, but leaned against the wall outside the door. In his head he counted down the seconds. It took less than one minute before the door was jerked open and Suresh was storming out.
"What the fuck is it you want,' Mohinder snarled, strong, scaled hands grabbing Sylar by the collar and slamming him bodily into the wall. His sneakers dangled above the concrete and that very show of strength reminded Sylar why pheremones and sex weren't enough. He needed to own this exquisite creature as much as possess him.
"You." It was a simple and straight forward answer. "Did the gifts not make that clear?"
"And when gifts didn't work, you decided to resort to threats,' he demanded, voice rough and growling and sensual. The lust rushed over Sylar and he fought the heady scent that led to desire.
Curling his hand up, Sylar just lightly touched the scales at the corner of Mohinder's eye, laughing as the geneticist shied away from his fingers. "They're almost pretty,' he marveled, never really having a chance to examine them up close. More often than not Mohinder was dressed and gone before Sylar's legs had stopped shaking.
"If you touch my daughter, I swear I will see you dead." It was a threat that would carry more weight if Sylar thought he could die.
"It wasn't a threat,' he said, kicking his feet lazily and sounding just as calm. "Those pictures are gifts."
Mohinder's head snapped to look where he'd let the telephoto pictures fall to the ground. "How do you count those as a gift?"
"It's not the photos. I'm offering you her freedom. I won't ever go after her again, won't even look at her, if you... give me a chance?" Sylar kicked a bit harder, aiming for Mohinder's shin. "You can put me down at any time."
Too stunned to speak, Suresh slowly lowered his enemy to the ground, staring into whiskey brown eyes with disbelief. "Give you a chance at what,' he asked, the harsh demand gone from his tones.
"You and me. More than just you getting off by hurting me as much as you can." He shifted, almost uncomfortably, and it had nothing to do with the way he'd been held. "Well?"
"Wait." Mohinder just stared, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You want us to... to date?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
Growling, Mohinder shoved Sylar in the chest. "What kind of games is this?"
"It's not a game." Hands curled into tight fists, he fought the urge to hit Suresh back. "I'm asking you to give me a chance to be more than a fuck buddy."
Suresh stared at him for a long time before turning and storming back into the loft. Sylar stood there, staring at the open door.
"Get your ass in here,' Mohinder called, voice full of irritation and emotion.
Smiling, Sylar did just as he was told, slamming the door and locking it in his wake.