Smile Like You Need It
Title: Smile Like You Need It
Author: puckkit
Rating: PG-13 (one swear word)
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: For the mylar_fic ficathon where I was writing with the prompt Pavlov's Bell and for aheartfulofyou. Short, but I'm planning a longer one because this is an amazing prompt. RL has just been screwing me over recently. Is suggested that you know a little about Classical Conditioning before reading.
Sylar tries a lot of methods before he comes across the one that works.
Mohinder is an animal to him, and an animal is an object, so although his task seems a touch more difficult when dealing with a human (who is a complicated object but a very simple animal) he still manages without breaking too much of a sweat.
It takes a little time. Not a lot of time, but just enough that Sylar doesn’t cross the line that separates boredom from fascination.
Mohinder resists in the ways that Sylar knew he would. He fights and bites and claws like a puppy who knows that something bad is going to happen.
Still, he comes around eventually. Sylar will have it no other way. He feeds Mohinder affection with a careful but strong hand.
Lets the other man degrade himself a little at a time until he begs like it’s his job- like it’s his life.
Which it is.
Sylar won’t stand for disobedience and Mohinder learns his lesson right on time. Everything follows his plan, and he considers his genius on a daily basis, basks in that look that speak levels about his ability to conquer and make the conquered enjoy it.
There is no trick to it. It’s easy to play off someone who’s so obvious, who loves with bright eyes and tentative smiles, who just wants to make Sylar happy.
Sylar doesn’t love him back, doesn't feel that urge to return pleasure. But he likes to fuck him. So, for now, they’re doing all right.
He doesn’t even give the illusion that Mohinder has any power, knows that if Mohinder sees the door he will be off and running. He makes sure Mohinder doesn’t even know that there’s a door. There can be no escape from this. He won’t allow it.
He gives emotion out in prescribed doses, knows exactly the correct time and place to go about it, isn't too stingy or too generous. Waits until Mohinder doesn't even need the touches, the caresses, is too strung up on Sylar as a drug to need anything more than that little curving of his lips.
It’s so painfully perfect, like cutting through flesh and watching the line bleed. Sometimes he watches Mohinder bleed silently, no expression crossing that face. It’s a high, but he knows that he’s not the one addicted.
That wouldn’t fit with Pavlov’s famed experiments, the ones he’s taken and perfected.
Mohinder is the dog. Therefore, if his need to please is the salvation and Sylar giving physical affection is the meat (or even just the scent of the meat) then Sylar’s smile has become the bell.
It’s all very simple.
So when Sylar comes home to find Mohinder so tied up in his thoughts, in his feelings and his confusion and his hatred of himself, he feels his face light up in victory.
Mohinder is so pretty when he’s on his knees, crawling across the floor to reach him.
Sylar has a lot to smile about.
Author: puckkit
Rating: PG-13 (one swear word)
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: For the mylar_fic ficathon where I was writing with the prompt Pavlov's Bell and for aheartfulofyou. Short, but I'm planning a longer one because this is an amazing prompt. RL has just been screwing me over recently. Is suggested that you know a little about Classical Conditioning before reading.
Sylar tries a lot of methods before he comes across the one that works.
Mohinder is an animal to him, and an animal is an object, so although his task seems a touch more difficult when dealing with a human (who is a complicated object but a very simple animal) he still manages without breaking too much of a sweat.
It takes a little time. Not a lot of time, but just enough that Sylar doesn’t cross the line that separates boredom from fascination.
Mohinder resists in the ways that Sylar knew he would. He fights and bites and claws like a puppy who knows that something bad is going to happen.
Still, he comes around eventually. Sylar will have it no other way. He feeds Mohinder affection with a careful but strong hand.
Lets the other man degrade himself a little at a time until he begs like it’s his job- like it’s his life.
Which it is.
Sylar won’t stand for disobedience and Mohinder learns his lesson right on time. Everything follows his plan, and he considers his genius on a daily basis, basks in that look that speak levels about his ability to conquer and make the conquered enjoy it.
There is no trick to it. It’s easy to play off someone who’s so obvious, who loves with bright eyes and tentative smiles, who just wants to make Sylar happy.
Sylar doesn’t love him back, doesn't feel that urge to return pleasure. But he likes to fuck him. So, for now, they’re doing all right.
He doesn’t even give the illusion that Mohinder has any power, knows that if Mohinder sees the door he will be off and running. He makes sure Mohinder doesn’t even know that there’s a door. There can be no escape from this. He won’t allow it.
He gives emotion out in prescribed doses, knows exactly the correct time and place to go about it, isn't too stingy or too generous. Waits until Mohinder doesn't even need the touches, the caresses, is too strung up on Sylar as a drug to need anything more than that little curving of his lips.
It’s so painfully perfect, like cutting through flesh and watching the line bleed. Sometimes he watches Mohinder bleed silently, no expression crossing that face. It’s a high, but he knows that he’s not the one addicted.
That wouldn’t fit with Pavlov’s famed experiments, the ones he’s taken and perfected.
Mohinder is the dog. Therefore, if his need to please is the salvation and Sylar giving physical affection is the meat (or even just the scent of the meat) then Sylar’s smile has become the bell.
It’s all very simple.
So when Sylar comes home to find Mohinder so tied up in his thoughts, in his feelings and his confusion and his hatred of himself, he feels his face light up in victory.
Mohinder is so pretty when he’s on his knees, crawling across the floor to reach him.
Sylar has a lot to smile about.