Powerful; Heroes; Mohinder/Sylar; FRT
Title: Powerful
Fandom/original: Heroes
Characters: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: PG
Word count: 424
A/N: For the current 15_minute_fic prompt. Feedback much appreciated.
Summary: Power is beauty
People didn’t understand powers. They didn’t know why it was so easily to get drunk with power, the dizzying high that runs through your veins like chilled alcohol. They didn’t understand how it felt like to hunger for it, to feel the edges of your willpower tested and stretched just to have a taste of the glory, the total control clenched in your fists and yours alone.
Some people were afraid of powers.
Sylar embraced them like he embraced a newborn child, with enthusiasm and awe and feeling as if he were holding a bundle of hope and future in his arms.
He needed the powers. They were part of him.
Gabriel Gray wasn’t used to having things they way he wanted them. He wanted to be a watchmaker; his mother wanted him to be more. He wanted to be left alone; his classmates bullied him because he was the nerdy kid in glasses. He wanted a family that spent time together; not parents walking around the house being slaves of their own routines, blankly staring ahead.
Sylar. Sylar could do that. Have anything he wanted.
He wanted people to know that power was good.
Mohinder was an accomplished geneticist, a learned scholar who taught in university. Yet he refused to believe that these genetic abnormalities were good, that these powers were good. He wanted to find a cure, to give hope to those people to live normal lives.
Sylar had powers. Sylar could stop that.
He could fix him, refine him. Refine him to let him see that there was nothing wrong with having powers and there was raw, pure beauty in the seemingly unnatural control he had.
He could coax him with it, let him see how he could manipulate his powers to draw him, gravitate him into believing they were real, that they were meant to be his.
Mohinder was a thing of beauty. Things were easily corrupted by beauty. Power was beauty as well. Sylar would corrupt Mohinder with it soon because Sylar wanted Mohinder. Sylar didn’t like not having what he wanted.
Sylar could force him against the wall, coax his lips apart, breathe hot and cold and hear his heart beating, amplified in the silence. He would hear Mohinder gasp, feel his vocal chords thrumming against his bare skin.
He would claim him, change him, refine his thoughts to be only for him. Him and his powers because they were part of him.
And that was what he was going to have because that was what he wanted.
Fandom/original: Heroes
Characters: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: PG
Word count: 424
A/N: For the current 15_minute_fic prompt. Feedback much appreciated.
Summary: Power is beauty
People didn’t understand powers. They didn’t know why it was so easily to get drunk with power, the dizzying high that runs through your veins like chilled alcohol. They didn’t understand how it felt like to hunger for it, to feel the edges of your willpower tested and stretched just to have a taste of the glory, the total control clenched in your fists and yours alone.
Some people were afraid of powers.
Sylar embraced them like he embraced a newborn child, with enthusiasm and awe and feeling as if he were holding a bundle of hope and future in his arms.
He needed the powers. They were part of him.
Gabriel Gray wasn’t used to having things they way he wanted them. He wanted to be a watchmaker; his mother wanted him to be more. He wanted to be left alone; his classmates bullied him because he was the nerdy kid in glasses. He wanted a family that spent time together; not parents walking around the house being slaves of their own routines, blankly staring ahead.
Sylar. Sylar could do that. Have anything he wanted.
He wanted people to know that power was good.
Mohinder was an accomplished geneticist, a learned scholar who taught in university. Yet he refused to believe that these genetic abnormalities were good, that these powers were good. He wanted to find a cure, to give hope to those people to live normal lives.
Sylar had powers. Sylar could stop that.
He could fix him, refine him. Refine him to let him see that there was nothing wrong with having powers and there was raw, pure beauty in the seemingly unnatural control he had.
He could coax him with it, let him see how he could manipulate his powers to draw him, gravitate him into believing they were real, that they were meant to be his.
Mohinder was a thing of beauty. Things were easily corrupted by beauty. Power was beauty as well. Sylar would corrupt Mohinder with it soon because Sylar wanted Mohinder. Sylar didn’t like not having what he wanted.
Sylar could force him against the wall, coax his lips apart, breathe hot and cold and hear his heart beating, amplified in the silence. He would hear Mohinder gasp, feel his vocal chords thrumming against his bare skin.
He would claim him, change him, refine his thoughts to be only for him. Him and his powers because they were part of him.
And that was what he was going to have because that was what he wanted.