Eat You Alive (Oneshot)
Title: Eat You Alive
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: ladywilde80
Pairings: Sylar/Mohinder, mention of Mohinder/Bennet and Mohinder/Bob
Genre: Drama, Angst, an excuse for smex...
Characters: Sylar, Mohinder, Bennet, Elle, Bob, mention of others
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sylar goes after The Company, gaining some spoils along the way.
Word Count: about 4,606
Spoilers: Season Two in general
Warnings: Violence, Non-Con, Character Deaths, General nastiness.
Notes: This is the smuttiest thing I've ever written, so be kind...Hope everyone enjoys it! Constructive criticism is always loved, comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too. Title from "Eat You Alive" by Limp Bizkit
Disclaimer: If I owned Heroes, this was how the next episode would go...Maybe, for some people, it's a good thing I don't.
Dedicated to ladywilde80, thank you for all of your support and for getting me to write this. I suppose you could consider this your Christmas present, even if that's odd since you betaed it and all, but it's the only thing I'm probably going to get to. I love ya!
Also: Love out to my buddy Matt! Here's your Christmas Present as well, XD ^_^
Eat You Alive
Mohinder had gotten himself in too deep; there was no way to go back now. He’d killed Bennet for them, and now they thought that he would be willing to kill whenever they required it.
Not only that, but Mohinder had found himself being a mere toy to Bob, the man didn’t take no for an answer. He’d also been a lover to Bennet once upon a time. Obviously, the bullet to the head had changed the way Bennet looked at their comforting one night stand.
Seemingly to punish him, when Mohinder had begged for help against the slathering dog that was Bob, Bennet had refused, leaving him alone in his dark hell.
Fighting against it was useless; they just threatened to hurt those close to him. The only thing he could do was pray for a miracle, a way to escape the stonewall prison he’d built himself.
~~~~~
The cameras couldn’t be more clear, his miracle had come, and in the form of a very pissed off serial killer.
Life did have its poetry.
He was flinging bodies to and fro, a wild smirk on his face as his victims around him screamed. That had to be assumed, though, the video had no audio, but it was obvious Sylar was relishing every brutal second.
Mohinder was in Bob’s office, locked in with Elle, Noah Bennet, and his boss, who was the fidgeting something awful.
“Stop it, daddy, you’re going to be fine. I can deal with him.”
Elle attempted to sound certain, but from the look Bob shot her, he didn’t share her outlook. Bennet didn’t bother to hide his amusement, laughing coldly at her.
“He’s going to rip you apart.”
Elle glared at him, her eyes narrowing.
“What about you? You think you’re going to survive this, Bennet? He has more of a vendetta against you than anyone in this room. Besides, perhaps, Suresh…”
Mohinder didn’t retaliate; he acted as if she’d never said anything. But he’d heard all too well, and he knew it was true; Sylar was going to finally get his revenge on him for what he’d put him through. Torturing him, damaging his pride, and then almost getting him recaptured by The Company.
Mohinder sat down slowly, not saying a word as he just stared at the wall. He wasn’t sure what to do, or what to think, he was in a state of shock.
He’d just survived an encounter with the man and now he was in his life again, would Mohinder ever be rid of him?
Sylar exited one of the screens, entering another, homing in on Bob’s office. Elle prepared herself, a ball of blue lightning bright in her hand. Bob was up against the wall, close to the window as if he would be able to make a run for it if need be, which was not possible anyways.
Their security system had acted against them, locking the windows tight, the doors, everything, no way to escape. They were completely trapped, their lives dependent on Sylar’s kindness, which plainly stated they weren’t going to make it out alive.
Mohinder expected to die immediately as the door swung open, Sylar making his way into the room, confidence and pure rage exuding from his entire being.
Elle sent a huge orb at him; he just sent it flying right back, where she absorbed it.
“Your power is going to be useless against me, why don’t you try a gun? Those work so much better…”
He sneered, glancing at Mohinder, raising a hand in the air, sending Elle back into the wall, catching a bullet midair as the blast rang out. He tore his eyes away from Mohinder’s figure to look at Bennet.
He cocked his head to the side,
“Mr. Bennet. I’ve been simply aching to see you again, how’s Claire?”
Bennet still had his hand on the gun and he fired two more bullets, but they all knew it was in desperation. Sylar hurled the bullets back at him like he had with Matt Parkman. But, he aimed them right towards Bennet’s kneecaps.
The man’s scream pierced the perturbed atmosphere; even Mohinder turned his head to grimace at Bennet’s pain.
Mohinder stood up, rushing towards Bennet. It was in his nature to try and help, but Sylar rapidly put his attempt to an end. He tutted, shaking a finger, flinging Mohinder back into the couch he’d been sitting on.
Everyone was held stationary to some object, Sylar controlling every minuet detail in the entire room. He calmly sauntered over to Mohinder, sitting down on the couch beside him, looking him over. He ran a finger over his un-blemished nose.
“Ah, excellent, your face is back to its old, flawless self. I was a bit disappointed the last time I saw you, not that you weren’t still gorgeous.”
He ran a finger along Mohinder’s cheek, a shiver running down Mohinder’s spine, brought on by invisible hands where they did not belong.
“You’re gay? That would explain a lot…”
“Elle!”
Bob couldn’t believe his daughter, hadn’t he taught her better? She didn’t know how to shut her mouth and keep her snide comments to herself.
Sylar pulled his hand from Mohinder, facing her. However, his unseen ministrations did not cease. Mohinder tensed against them, his eyes shut as he tried not to moan, the telekinetic fingers handling extremely sensitive skin.
Sylar’s eyes were narrowed, anger now directed at Elle.
“I don’t appreciate your comments, you impertinent girl. I didn’t ask for them, so be quiet.”
“Oh please, you’re here, trying to kill us, and you don’t expect some kind of -“
Sylar sighed, flicking a finger to the side. Elle’s eyes widened, her voice abruptly halted. She opened her lovely lips, blood and a piece of muscle dropping to the floor as she tried to scream, but only a terrible guttural gurgling noise was emitted.
“Elle!”
A warped smirk appeared on Sylar’s face as Bob commenced screaming obscenities at him. He just glared at him,
“Do you want your tongue cut as well, Mr. Bishop?”
The man instantly shut his mouth.
“Good. You brought this on yourself, injecting me like you did. You should have known that if I ever got out, I’d kill you. All of you. And I will. But first…”
He disregarded them now, leaving Bennet curled, hiding tears, Bob striving to get to his daughter, and Elle gagging on her own blood.
“Mohinder, did you miss me?”
He leaned down, his breath ghosting over his lips, intense eyes forcing Mohinder to pay complete attention, those fingers never dying away. Mohinder was sweating in the attempt to prevent himself from moaning out loud.
He hadn’t seen him like this since he’d mewled so exquisitely for his persona of Zane in that dirty motel room, when Mohinder had been all his, and now he was back to make good on that claim.
“Oh, don’t hold it in, doctor…More than half of the people in this room have heard you before anyways.”
Mohinder’s eyes widened, staring at Sylar who wore a knowing smile on his lips.
“I know what you’ve done with them, you little slut…Do you offer yourself to just anyone, Mohinder?”
“How…”
Sylar’s hand traveled down his shirt towards where his telekinetic fingers already were.
“Don’t touch me…”
“Where? Here?”
Mohinder gasped, Sylar’s hands cupping his groin in earnest. The telekinesis was gone from his skin, working on his pants instead, pulling the zipper down. Mohinder began to squirm, finally realizing how dangerous this situation had become.
He hadn’t thought Sylar would really take it this far, but he knew he would when skin met skin and Sylar didn’t hesitate in beginning to jack Mohinder off, Sylar was more than willing to cross the line.
“Stop!”
“You want me to continue, don’t lie, it doesn’t become you.”
Sylar was truly treasuring the splendid look on Mohinder’s face; the embarrassing red bleaching Mohinder’s face suited him.
Cuts appeared on Bob’s dick; his agonizing cries penetrating the ears of everyone in close vicinity. Only Sylar knew the real location of his suffering.
He brought Mohinder closer to his climax, heralding it with the screams. Mohinder had already let lose a whine, his face contorted in titillation, visibly trying to resist it.
Without hesitation, Sylar pulled his hand away; lifting Mohinder up from where he was so he could see what Sylar was about to do. He slit Bob’s throat, the man’s eyes going buggy as blood stained the carpet.
Mohinder’s eyes widened and he froze, bile raising in his throat, his erection falling to nothing, the satisfaction he’d sought after lost to him and mortification setting in. He heard Elle’s effort at a yell, but it was muffled by the sound of her choking more on her own blood.
Sylar eased Mohinder back down to the couch, still not letting him go. He laughed a bit at Mohinder’s loss of arousal; fully knowing that was going to happen when he’d done it. He was having real fun now.
Fingers were placed on Mohinder’s lips, silencing him and serving as a reminder not to vomit.
“Shhh, don’t say anything, and don’t you dare feel sorry.”
Sylar looked down at him, his gaze reassuring.
“It wasn’t your fault he met an premature death, and you know he deserved it.”
Sylar leaned closer to him, removing his fingers and stealing a kiss from motionless lips. He pulled away, a deliberate sneer indicating the pending venomous comment.
“Besides, any more nights consisting of him fucking you blindly into that desk of his, I know you would have lost it. Killed him yourself, stopped his miserable heart with your own-“ Raising Mohinder’s hand to his lips, kissing each finger after every word. “Elegant- delicate -fingers…”
“I wouldn’t…”
“My, my, you do like to lie a lot. You’re as much of a murderer as I am, just because your victims didn’t die doesn’t mean you didn’t aim to go through with it. You would have broken eventually; I just did it for you. No blood on your hands. So…enjoy it.”
Sylar kissed Mohinder, making it deliberate and leisure, maneuvering his tongue carefully inside of Mohinder’s mouth, exploring its hot limits.
This gentle kiss didn’t last long; soon Sylar’s hands were bunched in his dark curls, pushing his mouth roughly up into his own, bruising. Mohinder tried to gasp for breath, Sylar taking this chance to gain more access to his mouth.
Sylar’s telekinetic hold faded away, Mohinder knew it wasn’t because Sylar let him go or because he lost himself in this kiss he was controlling, he’d done it with a reason. He still played right into his hands, it was the only thing he could do.
Mohinder took advantage of this conscious slip and he bit down hard on Sylar’s lips before pulling away, and shoving him off of him, using the momentary distraction of Sylar’s pain to push the killer to the floor.
He scrambled off the couch, but he didn’t get far. Sylar’s hand reached out and latched around his ankle, pulling him right down. Mohinder fell onto his hands and knees, one leg held by Sylar as the man literally dragged Mohinder back. Kicking out at Sylar with his free foot got him absolutely no where.
Sylar turned Mohinder onto his back, using his weight to keep him down. Mohinder let fly with a punch, making contact with the side of Sylar’s face, probably hurting his hand more than he hurt Sylar.
Sylar was laughing at him under his breath, licking a bit of the blood that had formed in the crevice of his mouth. He was enjoying this fight, it was the only reason he wasn’t keeping Mohinder frozen with his powers, this futile resistance was turning Sylar on.
Even when Mohinder realized this, he still made an effort now that he had a semblance of freedom available to him. Sylar carefully moved out of the way of his legs, so he was unable to kick him, Mohinder just punched him in the gut, anywhere he could land a hit.
Sylar finally got sick of letting Mohinder use the benefit of his strength; he just seized his wrists with one hand, holding them against the floor above Mohinder’s head, immobilizing the rest of him with his powers.
“Let go!”
Mohinder pressed against the power binding him, ever-knowing it was a waste of time. Now that Sylar had lost interest in watching him struggle, he had absolutely no chance.
Sylar’s mouth nuzzled into the crux of Mohinder’s neck and shoulder, breathing in his scent before pulling away.
Sylar undertook the chore of taking off Mohinder’s cloths one by one, the use of his hands and his powers succeeded in getting the job done quickly. Mohinder was still trapped between the hard ground and Sylar’s towering frame, the man getting in between his legs once he was done.
The cold air soaked into his skin, causing him to shiver, then stiffen as Sylar began to feel the sensitive skin around his groin, skimming his fingernails across it, stimulating nerve after nerve.
He felt so exposed, sickened, he wanted Sylar to stop stroking him and yet he was yearning for him.
Sylar’s lips and hot breath trailed down his chest and stomach.
“G-god…”
Mohinder didn’t believe in the Christian god, but with living here for so long, things tended to rub off on him, and it was just something that came automatically. And if there was a god, he’d surely help him now.
He heard Sylar chuckle; amused by the way he seemed to surrender so effortlessly to pleasure.
Mohinder shut his eyes tightly, knowing he was much too submissive to this sort of thing. But he wasn’t going to fight anymore, not physically. Sylar was obviously more powerful than him, he’d already killed Bob, left Bennet in his anguished misery, and poor Elle’s tongue had been sliced off.
He didn’t really think it would be wise to push the man.
After what only felt like a few seconds, Sylar promptly went down on him, his warm mouth surrounding susceptible flesh, disgrace seeping through his pores as a shudder surged through him.
He steadied his breathing, an effort not to let lose any sort of noises, but Sylar was sucking, licking, and tugging, propelling him into mindless ecstasy, making it almost impossible for Mohinder not to react.
He wished to move his arms, grasp something, anything; he just clashed against an invisible wall, feeling helpless and so used. He let out a groan, powerless to help himself.
He couldn’t see Elle’s eyes, but he could feel them on him and his face flushed, he could only guess what both she and Bennet were thinking right now. Here he was, at the murderer’s mercy as he sucked him off, on display for anyone to see.
Sylar didn’t like the response he was getting from Mohinder; he thirsted for more, to have Mohinder pleading for him. He would just have to try harder.
He took two fingers, pulling Mohinder’s mouth open, putting the digits into the open mouth, shutting it with his powers, controlling every aspect of this.
Mohinder wasn’t some virgin, he knew what this gesture was for, and he knew if he went along with it, things would be much less painful for him. So, he sucked, drenching the two fingers with as much of his makeshift lube as he possibly could.
Sylar gave him plenty of time, still not discontinuing his other activities as he did so, feeling Mohinder shiver, even his teeth chattering against his fingers, but the man never bit. He knew better than that.
After a satisfactory amount of time, he inserted the fingers gently and swiftly into the Indian’s entrance, wriggling them about in all the right ways, making Mohinder strain against his hold for an entirely different reason.
Sylar gave one last lick, taking his mouth off of Mohinder with one, small, wet pop, his eyes resting on Mohinder. He was so beautiful like this, struggling against the ravaging gratification Sylar was just beginning to dose him with.
His fingers searched for that one spot, gracing it only, and that was all it took to elicit a sweet whimper from Mohinder’s throat.
Sylar pulled his fingers away, using his powers to carry on the preparation, lips admiring his slender neck before traveling to his ear, acting as though he was going to whisper sweet nothings, but instead he spoke so all in the room could hear him.
“You are quite the whore, Mohinder. You practically sucked my fingers in, would it do the same for my cock? Shall I test it, Mohinder?”
Mohinder could only whine, plagued by his animalistic urges, Sylar had teased him with that one touch, proving to him he could have that satisfaction he craved and then he took it all away. It was all his body wanted, even if Mohinder himself knew better.
The cock of a gun was heard, a shot, but the bullet just plummeted harmlessly to the carpeting below.
“Sylar, get your hands off him…”
It had been Bennet’s gun, his voice, the first time he’d spoken for a while, and it was clear he was still recovering, his voice was shaky and unsure, but at least he was trying to help him, gun still pointed at Sylar from where he lay on the floor. He’d crawled over, a bloody trail behind him.
Mohinder’s only guess was that Sylar had purposefully liberated him when he’d done the same with Mohinder, maybe to add more pawns to his game simply for his own amusement.
Bennet knew that he couldn’t stop Sylar, definitely not with a gun, and he got the reward for his attempt at being a hero. He was lifted and thrown against Bob’s desk ruthlessly. Sylar let the man’s body crumble to the ground before slamming his back against the desk again, sitting him up so he could see what Sylar was doing.
For the first time, Sylar looked over at Bennet, a perverse smile mocking him.
“I have to give you points for trying to save him. You knew you’d fail, so I will give you a parting present.”
Sylar looked back at Mohinder, who was frightened, but hadn’t been diverted from his need for pleasure.
“You get to watch us. Would you like that, Mr. Bennet? Seeing the lover you discarded fucked one last time?”
Sylar knew all about Bennet and Mohinder, the Company had more files on the two than either probably realized. Sylar had gotten access to those files before ever coming to the headquarters.
“You’re sick…”
Sylar agreed, grinning.
“Yes.”
Sylar’s hands left Mohinder’s unmoving wrists, splaying his legs wide so he could more easily get at his entrance, pushing his hips up slightly, not hesitating to slip past the barrier and into the heat inside of Mohinder’s body.
His hands went to either side of Mohinder, the caramel legs resting on his shoulders, his thrusts slow and careful for now.
“Christ, Mohinder, even after how many people you’ve fucked, you’re still so damn tight, I love it…”
Mohinder didn’t appreciate the compliment; he just shut his eyes, a quavering breath passing through his lips as he tried to push the reality of the situation out of his mind. But, it was difficult to do when he was burning from unrelenting stares as well as Sylar’s actions.
He was familiar with being violated like this, to have hands searching him in places they didn’t belong, being marked by someone he hated. Even so, he felt the humiliation rise in him, despising how his body was pleading for it, knowing full well Sylar was winning, fulfilling his own twisted needs, and Mohinder was losing his dignity and his free will.
Sylar squeezed Mohinder determinedly, causing him to gasp to life, his teeth gritting together to hold in an excruciatingly pleased noise, especially as flesh started to rub against flesh in time with Sylar’s thrusts.
“No, s-stop…”
“You don’t want me to stop. You love me fucking you. Say it Mohinder…”
Mohinder stared at him, his eyes foggy with reluctant lust, confusion spread across his face, converting into revulsion.
“Let them hear you say it, Mohinder!”
Sylar gripped his member harder, thumb pressing into his tip, forcing Mohinder to concentrate on him, to desire more. Mohinder panted for breath, trying to latch onto his voice and keep it confined, but Sylar didn’t let up. Another order came and Mohinder gave in.
“I l-like it…”
“Not good enough. You love it, don’t you, Mohinder?”
Sylar was thrusting so roughly now, every scrap of skin sent jolts of pleasure down every limb. Sylar was making it unfeasible not to want to say something, to do something about all of the mindless gratification he was being forced through. He fell apart now, tears rolling from his eyes as he did as Sylar demanded.
“I love it, Sylar, I love it when you fuck me!”
Sylar was smirking; he could almost feel Mohinder’s shame radiating off his skin. But it still wasn’t enough; he hungered for more, so much more.
“Good, now, do not be so shy…I want to hear your wonderful voice, Mohinder, I’m sure they do too. Even Elle over there, I’m sure she’d be grateful to hear a pretty voice since she’ll never have one of her own again.”
Wasn’t what he’d said enough? Mohinder hated him, he hated this. It didn’t help that how composed Sylar appeared irritated Mohinder, how dare he keep his wits about him while he abused him like this, it made him feel even more cheapened.
Mohinder could barely believe what Sylar was doing to him, making him watch someone die, then making him say he loved Sylar raping him, and now he wanted him to show him he liked it. This was going too far and Mohinder refused.
“Don’t you want to give Bennet something nice to listen to while he dies?”
A scream erupted, echoing in the rather empty room, Mohinder knew Sylar was hurting Bennet, cutting him, doing something horrible. A thousand possibilities entered his mind, though Sylar gave him something else to think about, his mouth on Mohinder’s nipples, jerking and nipping soothingly, stimulating the receptive nerves.
“Moan for me, Mohinder…”
Sylar was creating an illusion every time Bennet’s voice sounded out, he would do something new to make Mohinder cry out, as if he was getting off on the screams.
It was just some sort of extravagant mind fuck, but it was working, Mohinder’s heart was breaking as indulgent noises were unwillingly ripped from him, combining with the awful shouts as if they were creating their own symphony.
“Louder!”
Sylar intentionally gave Mohinder back control of himself, plunging deeper inside of him to hit that one sweet spot. Mohinder’s back arched towards the sensation, inadvertently impaling itself more on Sylar.
Mohinder’s voice was unleashed, doing more than moaning for Sylar, twisting wantonly, his hands clasp the rough carpet underneath him, ignorant of the scraps already appearing all over his back.
As suddenly as it’d started, it ceased. Sylar’s hand was around the base of his member, firmly constricting it, taking away any prospect of absolution. The sudden standstill produced a broken sob from Mohinder, his eyes shooting open; glaring helplessly at Sylar as though he’d denied him of necessity.
“I want to hear you ask for it. Beg me to let you come.”
Mohinder’s eyes widened in fiery shock, his degradation going even deeper.
“No…Ah!”
Sylar grasped him harshly, Mohinder bucking his hips up towards him, as if trying to find his end on rutting alone.
“I won’t allow you to come if you refuse to do what I ask…”
He was taunting him, so sure that Mohinder would give into him, and he was absolutely right. This was torturing Mohinder and all he craved was relief.
“Let me come, Sylar, please.”
Sylar smirked triumphantly, delivering Mohinder his reward. The man trembled, eyes shutting forcefully, his back arching again as he came.
When Mohinder clenched around him, Sylar was unable to hold out any longer, climaxing inside of Mohinder’s warm body, releasing a throaty moan as he did so.
Mohinder hardly felt it, he was completely numbed, vision edged with fuzz and smoke, his hearing sharper than normal. Screams resonated, intertwining with their pinnacles of pleasure, dwindling only when Sylar pulled out of him.
Mohinder was perspiring, shivering with abhorrence and the remnants of enjoyment. Mohinder’s angry eyes were locked onto Sylar, who still had this infuriating smirk on his face.
Mohinder felt images pass through his head, his mind comparing their first time together to this. The first time it’d been gentle, soothing, almost romantic. And this one, its only purpose had been for Sylar to possessive him, to lay his permanent mark on his flesh.
Sylar got dressed quickly, not bothering to cover up Mohinder’s decency. Bennet was still alive; Mohinder could hear his irregular breaths. He was suddenly able to sit up, and when he did so, he automatically looked to where Bennet was.
The man was slumped against the desk, head hanging and his white shirt saturated with crimson, the color even dripping down his arms. Mohinder’s eyes widened and he let out a mouthful of air, not bothering to bring in another.
Sylar was in front of him, hand out, fingers beginning to grip air. Bennet gasped for breath, his head raising, arms rising to his throat, blood falling to the ground. His eyes were wide, mouth open, gaping, struggling to recover much needed oxygen.
Mohinder leaned forward, reaching out as if he could stop Sylar, a natural reaction.
“Sylar, don’t, please…”
Sylar ignored him, his eyes fixated on Bennet.
“Did you like the show? I hope you did, since it’ll be the last good thing you see. You killed me once, I’m merely returning the favor.”
Sylar continued his strangling hold on the man until his eyes rolled back, eyelids shutting and a death rattle resounded through his form, tossing his corpse half way across the room so it collided with the wall, crashing in a mangled mess.
Elle was muttering something, her face blanched white in pure anger and from pain. Mohinder took a moment to grab his boxers and messily put them on, ignoring the cum staining his stomach, not feeling as though he could do any good naked.
He stood up, almost falling over right away, his muscles like jello. Sylar was on his way over to Elle, and Mohinder quickly followed, gulping back bile from the sight of both Bob and Bennet’s lifelessness.
“Sylar, you’ve done enough, you’ve gotten your revenge, now please, leave.”
Sylar’s hand was one Elle’s head, stroking her hair tenderly before he looked over at Mohinder, his eyes narrowed.
“Not even close…Once I have my spoils, I’ll leave. Which include you, Mohinder, so sit tight and wait for me to finish like a good boy.”
He cocked his head a bit; Mohinder was thrown down in a chair right next to Bob’s desk, staring straight at Bob’s remains, blood still seeping from his throat.
He looked up in horror as Elle’s mouth gaped, a silent scream exiting her mouth, blood dribbling even more down her beautiful face, both from her lips and head.
Sylar would take her powers and Bob’s, and then he’d take Mohinder home. His ultimate prize, his only challenge, he just hoped he didn’t break Mohinder too quickly. If he did, he could just bring in little Molly to revitalize Mohinder’s spirits.
Ah, life was going to be perfect.
X-Crossed to mylar_fic and heroes_slash
Author: yaoi_anti_drug
Beta: ladywilde80
Pairings: Sylar/Mohinder, mention of Mohinder/Bennet and Mohinder/Bob
Genre: Drama, Angst, an excuse for smex...
Characters: Sylar, Mohinder, Bennet, Elle, Bob, mention of others
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sylar goes after The Company, gaining some spoils along the way.
Word Count: about 4,606
Spoilers: Season Two in general
Warnings: Violence, Non-Con, Character Deaths, General nastiness.
Notes: This is the smuttiest thing I've ever written, so be kind...Hope everyone enjoys it! Constructive criticism is always loved, comments, even if it’s to say you hate it, are always appreciated too. Title from "Eat You Alive" by Limp Bizkit
Disclaimer: If I owned Heroes, this was how the next episode would go...Maybe, for some people, it's a good thing I don't.
Dedicated to ladywilde80, thank you for all of your support and for getting me to write this. I suppose you could consider this your Christmas present, even if that's odd since you betaed it and all, but it's the only thing I'm probably going to get to. I love ya!
Also: Love out to my buddy Matt! Here's your Christmas Present as well, XD ^_^
Eat You Alive
Mohinder had gotten himself in too deep; there was no way to go back now. He’d killed Bennet for them, and now they thought that he would be willing to kill whenever they required it.
Not only that, but Mohinder had found himself being a mere toy to Bob, the man didn’t take no for an answer. He’d also been a lover to Bennet once upon a time. Obviously, the bullet to the head had changed the way Bennet looked at their comforting one night stand.
Seemingly to punish him, when Mohinder had begged for help against the slathering dog that was Bob, Bennet had refused, leaving him alone in his dark hell.
Fighting against it was useless; they just threatened to hurt those close to him. The only thing he could do was pray for a miracle, a way to escape the stonewall prison he’d built himself.
~~~~~
The cameras couldn’t be more clear, his miracle had come, and in the form of a very pissed off serial killer.
Life did have its poetry.
He was flinging bodies to and fro, a wild smirk on his face as his victims around him screamed. That had to be assumed, though, the video had no audio, but it was obvious Sylar was relishing every brutal second.
Mohinder was in Bob’s office, locked in with Elle, Noah Bennet, and his boss, who was the fidgeting something awful.
“Stop it, daddy, you’re going to be fine. I can deal with him.”
Elle attempted to sound certain, but from the look Bob shot her, he didn’t share her outlook. Bennet didn’t bother to hide his amusement, laughing coldly at her.
“He’s going to rip you apart.”
Elle glared at him, her eyes narrowing.
“What about you? You think you’re going to survive this, Bennet? He has more of a vendetta against you than anyone in this room. Besides, perhaps, Suresh…”
Mohinder didn’t retaliate; he acted as if she’d never said anything. But he’d heard all too well, and he knew it was true; Sylar was going to finally get his revenge on him for what he’d put him through. Torturing him, damaging his pride, and then almost getting him recaptured by The Company.
Mohinder sat down slowly, not saying a word as he just stared at the wall. He wasn’t sure what to do, or what to think, he was in a state of shock.
He’d just survived an encounter with the man and now he was in his life again, would Mohinder ever be rid of him?
Sylar exited one of the screens, entering another, homing in on Bob’s office. Elle prepared herself, a ball of blue lightning bright in her hand. Bob was up against the wall, close to the window as if he would be able to make a run for it if need be, which was not possible anyways.
Their security system had acted against them, locking the windows tight, the doors, everything, no way to escape. They were completely trapped, their lives dependent on Sylar’s kindness, which plainly stated they weren’t going to make it out alive.
Mohinder expected to die immediately as the door swung open, Sylar making his way into the room, confidence and pure rage exuding from his entire being.
Elle sent a huge orb at him; he just sent it flying right back, where she absorbed it.
“Your power is going to be useless against me, why don’t you try a gun? Those work so much better…”
He sneered, glancing at Mohinder, raising a hand in the air, sending Elle back into the wall, catching a bullet midair as the blast rang out. He tore his eyes away from Mohinder’s figure to look at Bennet.
He cocked his head to the side,
“Mr. Bennet. I’ve been simply aching to see you again, how’s Claire?”
Bennet still had his hand on the gun and he fired two more bullets, but they all knew it was in desperation. Sylar hurled the bullets back at him like he had with Matt Parkman. But, he aimed them right towards Bennet’s kneecaps.
The man’s scream pierced the perturbed atmosphere; even Mohinder turned his head to grimace at Bennet’s pain.
Mohinder stood up, rushing towards Bennet. It was in his nature to try and help, but Sylar rapidly put his attempt to an end. He tutted, shaking a finger, flinging Mohinder back into the couch he’d been sitting on.
Everyone was held stationary to some object, Sylar controlling every minuet detail in the entire room. He calmly sauntered over to Mohinder, sitting down on the couch beside him, looking him over. He ran a finger over his un-blemished nose.
“Ah, excellent, your face is back to its old, flawless self. I was a bit disappointed the last time I saw you, not that you weren’t still gorgeous.”
He ran a finger along Mohinder’s cheek, a shiver running down Mohinder’s spine, brought on by invisible hands where they did not belong.
“You’re gay? That would explain a lot…”
“Elle!”
Bob couldn’t believe his daughter, hadn’t he taught her better? She didn’t know how to shut her mouth and keep her snide comments to herself.
Sylar pulled his hand from Mohinder, facing her. However, his unseen ministrations did not cease. Mohinder tensed against them, his eyes shut as he tried not to moan, the telekinetic fingers handling extremely sensitive skin.
Sylar’s eyes were narrowed, anger now directed at Elle.
“I don’t appreciate your comments, you impertinent girl. I didn’t ask for them, so be quiet.”
“Oh please, you’re here, trying to kill us, and you don’t expect some kind of -“
Sylar sighed, flicking a finger to the side. Elle’s eyes widened, her voice abruptly halted. She opened her lovely lips, blood and a piece of muscle dropping to the floor as she tried to scream, but only a terrible guttural gurgling noise was emitted.
“Elle!”
A warped smirk appeared on Sylar’s face as Bob commenced screaming obscenities at him. He just glared at him,
“Do you want your tongue cut as well, Mr. Bishop?”
The man instantly shut his mouth.
“Good. You brought this on yourself, injecting me like you did. You should have known that if I ever got out, I’d kill you. All of you. And I will. But first…”
He disregarded them now, leaving Bennet curled, hiding tears, Bob striving to get to his daughter, and Elle gagging on her own blood.
“Mohinder, did you miss me?”
He leaned down, his breath ghosting over his lips, intense eyes forcing Mohinder to pay complete attention, those fingers never dying away. Mohinder was sweating in the attempt to prevent himself from moaning out loud.
He hadn’t seen him like this since he’d mewled so exquisitely for his persona of Zane in that dirty motel room, when Mohinder had been all his, and now he was back to make good on that claim.
“Oh, don’t hold it in, doctor…More than half of the people in this room have heard you before anyways.”
Mohinder’s eyes widened, staring at Sylar who wore a knowing smile on his lips.
“I know what you’ve done with them, you little slut…Do you offer yourself to just anyone, Mohinder?”
“How…”
Sylar’s hand traveled down his shirt towards where his telekinetic fingers already were.
“Don’t touch me…”
“Where? Here?”
Mohinder gasped, Sylar’s hands cupping his groin in earnest. The telekinesis was gone from his skin, working on his pants instead, pulling the zipper down. Mohinder began to squirm, finally realizing how dangerous this situation had become.
He hadn’t thought Sylar would really take it this far, but he knew he would when skin met skin and Sylar didn’t hesitate in beginning to jack Mohinder off, Sylar was more than willing to cross the line.
“Stop!”
“You want me to continue, don’t lie, it doesn’t become you.”
Sylar was truly treasuring the splendid look on Mohinder’s face; the embarrassing red bleaching Mohinder’s face suited him.
Cuts appeared on Bob’s dick; his agonizing cries penetrating the ears of everyone in close vicinity. Only Sylar knew the real location of his suffering.
He brought Mohinder closer to his climax, heralding it with the screams. Mohinder had already let lose a whine, his face contorted in titillation, visibly trying to resist it.
Without hesitation, Sylar pulled his hand away; lifting Mohinder up from where he was so he could see what Sylar was about to do. He slit Bob’s throat, the man’s eyes going buggy as blood stained the carpet.
Mohinder’s eyes widened and he froze, bile raising in his throat, his erection falling to nothing, the satisfaction he’d sought after lost to him and mortification setting in. He heard Elle’s effort at a yell, but it was muffled by the sound of her choking more on her own blood.
Sylar eased Mohinder back down to the couch, still not letting him go. He laughed a bit at Mohinder’s loss of arousal; fully knowing that was going to happen when he’d done it. He was having real fun now.
Fingers were placed on Mohinder’s lips, silencing him and serving as a reminder not to vomit.
“Shhh, don’t say anything, and don’t you dare feel sorry.”
Sylar looked down at him, his gaze reassuring.
“It wasn’t your fault he met an premature death, and you know he deserved it.”
Sylar leaned closer to him, removing his fingers and stealing a kiss from motionless lips. He pulled away, a deliberate sneer indicating the pending venomous comment.
“Besides, any more nights consisting of him fucking you blindly into that desk of his, I know you would have lost it. Killed him yourself, stopped his miserable heart with your own-“ Raising Mohinder’s hand to his lips, kissing each finger after every word. “Elegant- delicate -fingers…”
“I wouldn’t…”
“My, my, you do like to lie a lot. You’re as much of a murderer as I am, just because your victims didn’t die doesn’t mean you didn’t aim to go through with it. You would have broken eventually; I just did it for you. No blood on your hands. So…enjoy it.”
Sylar kissed Mohinder, making it deliberate and leisure, maneuvering his tongue carefully inside of Mohinder’s mouth, exploring its hot limits.
This gentle kiss didn’t last long; soon Sylar’s hands were bunched in his dark curls, pushing his mouth roughly up into his own, bruising. Mohinder tried to gasp for breath, Sylar taking this chance to gain more access to his mouth.
Sylar’s telekinetic hold faded away, Mohinder knew it wasn’t because Sylar let him go or because he lost himself in this kiss he was controlling, he’d done it with a reason. He still played right into his hands, it was the only thing he could do.
Mohinder took advantage of this conscious slip and he bit down hard on Sylar’s lips before pulling away, and shoving him off of him, using the momentary distraction of Sylar’s pain to push the killer to the floor.
He scrambled off the couch, but he didn’t get far. Sylar’s hand reached out and latched around his ankle, pulling him right down. Mohinder fell onto his hands and knees, one leg held by Sylar as the man literally dragged Mohinder back. Kicking out at Sylar with his free foot got him absolutely no where.
Sylar turned Mohinder onto his back, using his weight to keep him down. Mohinder let fly with a punch, making contact with the side of Sylar’s face, probably hurting his hand more than he hurt Sylar.
Sylar was laughing at him under his breath, licking a bit of the blood that had formed in the crevice of his mouth. He was enjoying this fight, it was the only reason he wasn’t keeping Mohinder frozen with his powers, this futile resistance was turning Sylar on.
Even when Mohinder realized this, he still made an effort now that he had a semblance of freedom available to him. Sylar carefully moved out of the way of his legs, so he was unable to kick him, Mohinder just punched him in the gut, anywhere he could land a hit.
Sylar finally got sick of letting Mohinder use the benefit of his strength; he just seized his wrists with one hand, holding them against the floor above Mohinder’s head, immobilizing the rest of him with his powers.
“Let go!”
Mohinder pressed against the power binding him, ever-knowing it was a waste of time. Now that Sylar had lost interest in watching him struggle, he had absolutely no chance.
Sylar’s mouth nuzzled into the crux of Mohinder’s neck and shoulder, breathing in his scent before pulling away.
Sylar undertook the chore of taking off Mohinder’s cloths one by one, the use of his hands and his powers succeeded in getting the job done quickly. Mohinder was still trapped between the hard ground and Sylar’s towering frame, the man getting in between his legs once he was done.
The cold air soaked into his skin, causing him to shiver, then stiffen as Sylar began to feel the sensitive skin around his groin, skimming his fingernails across it, stimulating nerve after nerve.
He felt so exposed, sickened, he wanted Sylar to stop stroking him and yet he was yearning for him.
Sylar’s lips and hot breath trailed down his chest and stomach.
“G-god…”
Mohinder didn’t believe in the Christian god, but with living here for so long, things tended to rub off on him, and it was just something that came automatically. And if there was a god, he’d surely help him now.
He heard Sylar chuckle; amused by the way he seemed to surrender so effortlessly to pleasure.
Mohinder shut his eyes tightly, knowing he was much too submissive to this sort of thing. But he wasn’t going to fight anymore, not physically. Sylar was obviously more powerful than him, he’d already killed Bob, left Bennet in his anguished misery, and poor Elle’s tongue had been sliced off.
He didn’t really think it would be wise to push the man.
After what only felt like a few seconds, Sylar promptly went down on him, his warm mouth surrounding susceptible flesh, disgrace seeping through his pores as a shudder surged through him.
He steadied his breathing, an effort not to let lose any sort of noises, but Sylar was sucking, licking, and tugging, propelling him into mindless ecstasy, making it almost impossible for Mohinder not to react.
He wished to move his arms, grasp something, anything; he just clashed against an invisible wall, feeling helpless and so used. He let out a groan, powerless to help himself.
He couldn’t see Elle’s eyes, but he could feel them on him and his face flushed, he could only guess what both she and Bennet were thinking right now. Here he was, at the murderer’s mercy as he sucked him off, on display for anyone to see.
Sylar didn’t like the response he was getting from Mohinder; he thirsted for more, to have Mohinder pleading for him. He would just have to try harder.
He took two fingers, pulling Mohinder’s mouth open, putting the digits into the open mouth, shutting it with his powers, controlling every aspect of this.
Mohinder wasn’t some virgin, he knew what this gesture was for, and he knew if he went along with it, things would be much less painful for him. So, he sucked, drenching the two fingers with as much of his makeshift lube as he possibly could.
Sylar gave him plenty of time, still not discontinuing his other activities as he did so, feeling Mohinder shiver, even his teeth chattering against his fingers, but the man never bit. He knew better than that.
After a satisfactory amount of time, he inserted the fingers gently and swiftly into the Indian’s entrance, wriggling them about in all the right ways, making Mohinder strain against his hold for an entirely different reason.
Sylar gave one last lick, taking his mouth off of Mohinder with one, small, wet pop, his eyes resting on Mohinder. He was so beautiful like this, struggling against the ravaging gratification Sylar was just beginning to dose him with.
His fingers searched for that one spot, gracing it only, and that was all it took to elicit a sweet whimper from Mohinder’s throat.
Sylar pulled his fingers away, using his powers to carry on the preparation, lips admiring his slender neck before traveling to his ear, acting as though he was going to whisper sweet nothings, but instead he spoke so all in the room could hear him.
“You are quite the whore, Mohinder. You practically sucked my fingers in, would it do the same for my cock? Shall I test it, Mohinder?”
Mohinder could only whine, plagued by his animalistic urges, Sylar had teased him with that one touch, proving to him he could have that satisfaction he craved and then he took it all away. It was all his body wanted, even if Mohinder himself knew better.
The cock of a gun was heard, a shot, but the bullet just plummeted harmlessly to the carpeting below.
“Sylar, get your hands off him…”
It had been Bennet’s gun, his voice, the first time he’d spoken for a while, and it was clear he was still recovering, his voice was shaky and unsure, but at least he was trying to help him, gun still pointed at Sylar from where he lay on the floor. He’d crawled over, a bloody trail behind him.
Mohinder’s only guess was that Sylar had purposefully liberated him when he’d done the same with Mohinder, maybe to add more pawns to his game simply for his own amusement.
Bennet knew that he couldn’t stop Sylar, definitely not with a gun, and he got the reward for his attempt at being a hero. He was lifted and thrown against Bob’s desk ruthlessly. Sylar let the man’s body crumble to the ground before slamming his back against the desk again, sitting him up so he could see what Sylar was doing.
For the first time, Sylar looked over at Bennet, a perverse smile mocking him.
“I have to give you points for trying to save him. You knew you’d fail, so I will give you a parting present.”
Sylar looked back at Mohinder, who was frightened, but hadn’t been diverted from his need for pleasure.
“You get to watch us. Would you like that, Mr. Bennet? Seeing the lover you discarded fucked one last time?”
Sylar knew all about Bennet and Mohinder, the Company had more files on the two than either probably realized. Sylar had gotten access to those files before ever coming to the headquarters.
“You’re sick…”
Sylar agreed, grinning.
“Yes.”
Sylar’s hands left Mohinder’s unmoving wrists, splaying his legs wide so he could more easily get at his entrance, pushing his hips up slightly, not hesitating to slip past the barrier and into the heat inside of Mohinder’s body.
His hands went to either side of Mohinder, the caramel legs resting on his shoulders, his thrusts slow and careful for now.
“Christ, Mohinder, even after how many people you’ve fucked, you’re still so damn tight, I love it…”
Mohinder didn’t appreciate the compliment; he just shut his eyes, a quavering breath passing through his lips as he tried to push the reality of the situation out of his mind. But, it was difficult to do when he was burning from unrelenting stares as well as Sylar’s actions.
He was familiar with being violated like this, to have hands searching him in places they didn’t belong, being marked by someone he hated. Even so, he felt the humiliation rise in him, despising how his body was pleading for it, knowing full well Sylar was winning, fulfilling his own twisted needs, and Mohinder was losing his dignity and his free will.
Sylar squeezed Mohinder determinedly, causing him to gasp to life, his teeth gritting together to hold in an excruciatingly pleased noise, especially as flesh started to rub against flesh in time with Sylar’s thrusts.
“No, s-stop…”
“You don’t want me to stop. You love me fucking you. Say it Mohinder…”
Mohinder stared at him, his eyes foggy with reluctant lust, confusion spread across his face, converting into revulsion.
“Let them hear you say it, Mohinder!”
Sylar gripped his member harder, thumb pressing into his tip, forcing Mohinder to concentrate on him, to desire more. Mohinder panted for breath, trying to latch onto his voice and keep it confined, but Sylar didn’t let up. Another order came and Mohinder gave in.
“I l-like it…”
“Not good enough. You love it, don’t you, Mohinder?”
Sylar was thrusting so roughly now, every scrap of skin sent jolts of pleasure down every limb. Sylar was making it unfeasible not to want to say something, to do something about all of the mindless gratification he was being forced through. He fell apart now, tears rolling from his eyes as he did as Sylar demanded.
“I love it, Sylar, I love it when you fuck me!”
Sylar was smirking; he could almost feel Mohinder’s shame radiating off his skin. But it still wasn’t enough; he hungered for more, so much more.
“Good, now, do not be so shy…I want to hear your wonderful voice, Mohinder, I’m sure they do too. Even Elle over there, I’m sure she’d be grateful to hear a pretty voice since she’ll never have one of her own again.”
Wasn’t what he’d said enough? Mohinder hated him, he hated this. It didn’t help that how composed Sylar appeared irritated Mohinder, how dare he keep his wits about him while he abused him like this, it made him feel even more cheapened.
Mohinder could barely believe what Sylar was doing to him, making him watch someone die, then making him say he loved Sylar raping him, and now he wanted him to show him he liked it. This was going too far and Mohinder refused.
“Don’t you want to give Bennet something nice to listen to while he dies?”
A scream erupted, echoing in the rather empty room, Mohinder knew Sylar was hurting Bennet, cutting him, doing something horrible. A thousand possibilities entered his mind, though Sylar gave him something else to think about, his mouth on Mohinder’s nipples, jerking and nipping soothingly, stimulating the receptive nerves.
“Moan for me, Mohinder…”
Sylar was creating an illusion every time Bennet’s voice sounded out, he would do something new to make Mohinder cry out, as if he was getting off on the screams.
It was just some sort of extravagant mind fuck, but it was working, Mohinder’s heart was breaking as indulgent noises were unwillingly ripped from him, combining with the awful shouts as if they were creating their own symphony.
“Louder!”
Sylar intentionally gave Mohinder back control of himself, plunging deeper inside of him to hit that one sweet spot. Mohinder’s back arched towards the sensation, inadvertently impaling itself more on Sylar.
Mohinder’s voice was unleashed, doing more than moaning for Sylar, twisting wantonly, his hands clasp the rough carpet underneath him, ignorant of the scraps already appearing all over his back.
As suddenly as it’d started, it ceased. Sylar’s hand was around the base of his member, firmly constricting it, taking away any prospect of absolution. The sudden standstill produced a broken sob from Mohinder, his eyes shooting open; glaring helplessly at Sylar as though he’d denied him of necessity.
“I want to hear you ask for it. Beg me to let you come.”
Mohinder’s eyes widened in fiery shock, his degradation going even deeper.
“No…Ah!”
Sylar grasped him harshly, Mohinder bucking his hips up towards him, as if trying to find his end on rutting alone.
“I won’t allow you to come if you refuse to do what I ask…”
He was taunting him, so sure that Mohinder would give into him, and he was absolutely right. This was torturing Mohinder and all he craved was relief.
“Let me come, Sylar, please.”
Sylar smirked triumphantly, delivering Mohinder his reward. The man trembled, eyes shutting forcefully, his back arching again as he came.
When Mohinder clenched around him, Sylar was unable to hold out any longer, climaxing inside of Mohinder’s warm body, releasing a throaty moan as he did so.
Mohinder hardly felt it, he was completely numbed, vision edged with fuzz and smoke, his hearing sharper than normal. Screams resonated, intertwining with their pinnacles of pleasure, dwindling only when Sylar pulled out of him.
Mohinder was perspiring, shivering with abhorrence and the remnants of enjoyment. Mohinder’s angry eyes were locked onto Sylar, who still had this infuriating smirk on his face.
Mohinder felt images pass through his head, his mind comparing their first time together to this. The first time it’d been gentle, soothing, almost romantic. And this one, its only purpose had been for Sylar to possessive him, to lay his permanent mark on his flesh.
Sylar got dressed quickly, not bothering to cover up Mohinder’s decency. Bennet was still alive; Mohinder could hear his irregular breaths. He was suddenly able to sit up, and when he did so, he automatically looked to where Bennet was.
The man was slumped against the desk, head hanging and his white shirt saturated with crimson, the color even dripping down his arms. Mohinder’s eyes widened and he let out a mouthful of air, not bothering to bring in another.
Sylar was in front of him, hand out, fingers beginning to grip air. Bennet gasped for breath, his head raising, arms rising to his throat, blood falling to the ground. His eyes were wide, mouth open, gaping, struggling to recover much needed oxygen.
Mohinder leaned forward, reaching out as if he could stop Sylar, a natural reaction.
“Sylar, don’t, please…”
Sylar ignored him, his eyes fixated on Bennet.
“Did you like the show? I hope you did, since it’ll be the last good thing you see. You killed me once, I’m merely returning the favor.”
Sylar continued his strangling hold on the man until his eyes rolled back, eyelids shutting and a death rattle resounded through his form, tossing his corpse half way across the room so it collided with the wall, crashing in a mangled mess.
Elle was muttering something, her face blanched white in pure anger and from pain. Mohinder took a moment to grab his boxers and messily put them on, ignoring the cum staining his stomach, not feeling as though he could do any good naked.
He stood up, almost falling over right away, his muscles like jello. Sylar was on his way over to Elle, and Mohinder quickly followed, gulping back bile from the sight of both Bob and Bennet’s lifelessness.
“Sylar, you’ve done enough, you’ve gotten your revenge, now please, leave.”
Sylar’s hand was one Elle’s head, stroking her hair tenderly before he looked over at Mohinder, his eyes narrowed.
“Not even close…Once I have my spoils, I’ll leave. Which include you, Mohinder, so sit tight and wait for me to finish like a good boy.”
He cocked his head a bit; Mohinder was thrown down in a chair right next to Bob’s desk, staring straight at Bob’s remains, blood still seeping from his throat.
He looked up in horror as Elle’s mouth gaped, a silent scream exiting her mouth, blood dribbling even more down her beautiful face, both from her lips and head.
Sylar would take her powers and Bob’s, and then he’d take Mohinder home. His ultimate prize, his only challenge, he just hoped he didn’t break Mohinder too quickly. If he did, he could just bring in little Molly to revitalize Mohinder’s spirits.
Ah, life was going to be perfect.
X-Crossed to mylar_fic and heroes_slash