A Ring Around 3/?
Title: A Ring Around 3/?
Author: puckkit
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character: Mohinder/Sylar
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the show Heroes, therefore all of this is false and made up from my charmingly eccentric imagination.
Author's Notes: Usual warnings- spoilers for first season, AU. Much thanks, as always, to mneiai because she's been totally awesome with listening to my complaining and helping me out. Also- the book mentioned is real, but I haven't read it. Cut-text lyrics from Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking by Snow Patrol.
First Part
Second Part
He woke up gasping for breath, the hint of a previous important memory like a fleeting touch on the back of his mind. Mohinder sat impassively beside him, listlessly glancing through a book entitled: Whoever Fights Monsters.
“Doing some background research on me, Mohinder?” He tried to say, but his voice came out reedy and thin. Blank, completely unsurprised, Mohinder looked up and gestured with his eyes towards the side table where a glass of water sat.
“Who said it was on you?” Mohinder replied, marking the page and setting the book aside.
Sylar raised an eyebrow but rather than asking questions he knew wouldn’t be answered, he took small sips of the lukewarm water instead. There were better questions he could ask, anyway.
Work his way up to the finale.
There was something there, he could sense it even though he could sense little else, he would just have to dig a little to get to it.
“What? No questions on how I’m feeling?”
Mohinder tilted his head with an odd little smile. “I know how you’re feeling. You’re a little fuzzy, as though your mind is in soft focus. Your thoughts are like lamplights in the fog, blurring into nothing when you try and grasp for them. I would say it’s harmless but... it hasn’t been for others.”
He glanced briefly towards his book, but resumed talking as his eyes returned to Sylar with a muted intensity.
“The hardest part for you, I’d imagine, is the lack of feeling. That tiniest noise being mute, the slightest hint of movement going undetected, that well of power inside having dried up... as if it had never been.”
He let his hand wander in front of his face, examined it, and fluttered his fingers in midair. “That constant chill of cyrokinesis isn’t absent though, is it? It’s just flooded your body. Or is it the chill of death that you feel?”
Sylar swallowed, tried to regain his sharpness although everything Mohinder was saying fit, fit too well. It was as though someone had explained it all to Mohinder already, as though he were inside of Sylar, doing the damage himself with careless fingers and eyes that sparked like pieces of flint.
Mohinder was still staring at him, through him. It was... unsettling.
He grasped at the fog but could comprehend only pieces of moisture in his hand, scant offerings against a mind that had sluiced through him like a flood.
“Why are we here like this, Mohinder?” He was tired of being the one lying submissive on his back. It was a look better suited for Mohinder. He just had to remind the other man of that fact.
“Are you waiting until I die? Perhaps you want to kill me yourself. Nice as that thought is, you with blood on your skin, you can’t. You don’t have it in you. I know you don’t. You couldn’t kill anyone, let alone me.”
Something flickered past Mohinder’s eyes, but it was too quick to catch. Sylar lit up gradually, feeding the slow burn that finally, finally felt like something familiar.
Like control. Like dominance.
“Or maybe you do.”
Mohinder said nothing, stared straight ahead before turning away.
“Don’t turn your back on me!” Sylar spat. He grew angrier when he found his voice lacking its usual strength and command. Mohinder paused but didn’t turn around. His stance was heavy with tension and something fierce, something secretive.
“Why am I here, Mohinder? No, don’t answer. Let me guess.” He dragged the words out as best he could, ignoring the rasp that laced each note.
“You take pleasure in having people at your mercy. That must be why I’m here. Does it turn you on?” He grinned maliciously, finding himself rather liking the idea- Mohinder at his fingertips, lust in his eyes, wanting and needing and so fucking beautiful. Mohinder lying on the floor below him, fierce, biting at the air as he pinned him, held that writhing body beneath his own.
“It would, wouldn’t it.” He felt that fire blaze within him, that passion. “You like control, order, and what better than exerting those things on someone else. Someone like me. You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you.”
Mohinder tensed up further as Sylar was startled into a weak laugh fraught with heat.
“Not just me, then. You think you’re higher up than the rest of us. Who had to suffer for you to come to that realization?” He taunted, forceful as his voice would allow. “Did something not go according to plan? Someone... get in the way? You look a little unstable. I guess we’re not so-”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.” Mohinder’s eyes flashed as he turned swiftly, teeth bared in a look of disgust. “We are nothing alike. I am nothing like you.”
Sylar’s eyes went wide before his smirk grew. “Well then. Don’t keep it a secret. What happened, Mohinder? What was so terrible?”
But he gave no response, anger and guilt warring on his face as he turned away and headed into the kitchen. Sylar let him go, accepting that, like any wild creature, Mohinder would have to be coaxed out of hiding. Played like an exotic instrument, with the most careful of strokes and precise fingerings.
And Sylar was nothing if not an expert musician.
He licked his lips at the thought and settled in for a long wait.
Author: puckkit
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character: Mohinder/Sylar
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the show Heroes, therefore all of this is false and made up from my charmingly eccentric imagination.
Author's Notes: Usual warnings- spoilers for first season, AU. Much thanks, as always, to mneiai because she's been totally awesome with listening to my complaining and helping me out. Also- the book mentioned is real, but I haven't read it. Cut-text lyrics from Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking by Snow Patrol.
First Part
Second Part
He woke up gasping for breath, the hint of a previous important memory like a fleeting touch on the back of his mind. Mohinder sat impassively beside him, listlessly glancing through a book entitled: Whoever Fights Monsters.
“Doing some background research on me, Mohinder?” He tried to say, but his voice came out reedy and thin. Blank, completely unsurprised, Mohinder looked up and gestured with his eyes towards the side table where a glass of water sat.
“Who said it was on you?” Mohinder replied, marking the page and setting the book aside.
Sylar raised an eyebrow but rather than asking questions he knew wouldn’t be answered, he took small sips of the lukewarm water instead. There were better questions he could ask, anyway.
Work his way up to the finale.
There was something there, he could sense it even though he could sense little else, he would just have to dig a little to get to it.
“What? No questions on how I’m feeling?”
Mohinder tilted his head with an odd little smile. “I know how you’re feeling. You’re a little fuzzy, as though your mind is in soft focus. Your thoughts are like lamplights in the fog, blurring into nothing when you try and grasp for them. I would say it’s harmless but... it hasn’t been for others.”
He glanced briefly towards his book, but resumed talking as his eyes returned to Sylar with a muted intensity.
“The hardest part for you, I’d imagine, is the lack of feeling. That tiniest noise being mute, the slightest hint of movement going undetected, that well of power inside having dried up... as if it had never been.”
He let his hand wander in front of his face, examined it, and fluttered his fingers in midair. “That constant chill of cyrokinesis isn’t absent though, is it? It’s just flooded your body. Or is it the chill of death that you feel?”
Sylar swallowed, tried to regain his sharpness although everything Mohinder was saying fit, fit too well. It was as though someone had explained it all to Mohinder already, as though he were inside of Sylar, doing the damage himself with careless fingers and eyes that sparked like pieces of flint.
Mohinder was still staring at him, through him. It was... unsettling.
He grasped at the fog but could comprehend only pieces of moisture in his hand, scant offerings against a mind that had sluiced through him like a flood.
“Why are we here like this, Mohinder?” He was tired of being the one lying submissive on his back. It was a look better suited for Mohinder. He just had to remind the other man of that fact.
“Are you waiting until I die? Perhaps you want to kill me yourself. Nice as that thought is, you with blood on your skin, you can’t. You don’t have it in you. I know you don’t. You couldn’t kill anyone, let alone me.”
Something flickered past Mohinder’s eyes, but it was too quick to catch. Sylar lit up gradually, feeding the slow burn that finally, finally felt like something familiar.
Like control. Like dominance.
“Or maybe you do.”
Mohinder said nothing, stared straight ahead before turning away.
“Don’t turn your back on me!” Sylar spat. He grew angrier when he found his voice lacking its usual strength and command. Mohinder paused but didn’t turn around. His stance was heavy with tension and something fierce, something secretive.
“Why am I here, Mohinder? No, don’t answer. Let me guess.” He dragged the words out as best he could, ignoring the rasp that laced each note.
“You take pleasure in having people at your mercy. That must be why I’m here. Does it turn you on?” He grinned maliciously, finding himself rather liking the idea- Mohinder at his fingertips, lust in his eyes, wanting and needing and so fucking beautiful. Mohinder lying on the floor below him, fierce, biting at the air as he pinned him, held that writhing body beneath his own.
“It would, wouldn’t it.” He felt that fire blaze within him, that passion. “You like control, order, and what better than exerting those things on someone else. Someone like me. You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you.”
Mohinder tensed up further as Sylar was startled into a weak laugh fraught with heat.
“Not just me, then. You think you’re higher up than the rest of us. Who had to suffer for you to come to that realization?” He taunted, forceful as his voice would allow. “Did something not go according to plan? Someone... get in the way? You look a little unstable. I guess we’re not so-”
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.” Mohinder’s eyes flashed as he turned swiftly, teeth bared in a look of disgust. “We are nothing alike. I am nothing like you.”
Sylar’s eyes went wide before his smirk grew. “Well then. Don’t keep it a secret. What happened, Mohinder? What was so terrible?”
But he gave no response, anger and guilt warring on his face as he turned away and headed into the kitchen. Sylar let him go, accepting that, like any wild creature, Mohinder would have to be coaxed out of hiding. Played like an exotic instrument, with the most careful of strokes and precise fingerings.
And Sylar was nothing if not an expert musician.
He licked his lips at the thought and settled in for a long wait.