30: fan fic { heroes } : "stockholm syndrome [1/?]" [sylar/elle]
title. stockholm syndrome [1/?]
author. nv
fandom. heroes
characters. sylar/elle
genre. dark/drama/angst
rating. r
warnings. language, bondage, torture, non-con
word count. 709
spoilers. volume two, "powerless," preview for volume three
summary. sylar seeks revenge against elle.
feedback. is the reason i do this.
disclaimer. the characters and canon contained herein are the property of tim kring, as well as any associated writers, producers, networks, and parent companies. the following was written by neur0 vanity. no copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.
cross-posting. heroes_fic, heroes_sylar
chapter one
"capture"
Blood, the perfect shade of crimson, covers the shiny tile around the pool. There’s blood from the gunshot wound in her shoulder and blood from the place on her head where he hit her with a tire iron. She’s out cold, and now she’s the perfect little doll for him to play with.
Sylar straddles her unconscious body and slowly undoes the buttons of her shirt, pulling the material open to reveal perky breasts in a thin, white, cotton bra. Such a sweet girl. He slides down her hips and flicks open the button on her jeans, pulls down the zipper, tugs her pants down over her smooth thighs and ankles, tosses the jeans to the side. She wears a little white g-string, and his lips twitch into a smile. Such a naughty girl.
Turning her onto her stomach, he removes her shirt and throws it haphazardly towards her jeans. Her ass is small and ripe and so tempting as he runs a hand over it. There’s no rope around, so he unbuckles his belt and tugs it from the loops of his jeans, wraps it around her wrists pulled together behind her back, and secures it tightly, hoping that the leather will cut into her fair skin when she inevitably tries to escape.
He rolls her once more, and she falls into the pool with a splash that sprays water at his face.
It’s mere seconds before she’s conscious again and surfacing, fighting for her feet to find the bottom of the pool, fighting against her restraints. She finally stands in the shallow end, water at her waist, and glares at him.
“Elle, you’re all wet.” There’s sadistic playfulness in his voice, honey-tinged mockery, and she looks down at herself, sees that her rosy nipples are hard and visible through the thin bra that’s now opaque against her skin. She squats down in the pool so that the water rises up to her neck. It’s an attempt to hide herself from his scrutiny. As if she has any hope of that. There’s hate in her eyes, a complement to the red of embarrassment in her cheeks, and she’s got that look like she’s going to try something. “I wouldn’t fire up your spark plugs if I were you.”
If there’s anything that can be said about Sylar, it’s that he’s a quick learner.
He didn’t even have to ask Bennet to get the idea for the pool.
“Water. It’s your kryptonite, isn’t it, bitch?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Sylar,” she hisses. “You don’t want to know what my dad will do to you.”
He can’t help that he laughs. He laughs because it’s ridiculous. Even when he was without his power, good old Bob didn’t stand a chance. Now that he’s got the Shanti virus and pretty little Claire’s blood in his veins, he’s back to himself, and nobody - not that Japanese nuisance with the sword, not that New York emo brat, not God - can stop him. She blanches when she hears his laughter, and that makes him even happier. It feeds his power. “Daddy’s not coming to your rescue, princess. So I suggest you shut up and hang on for the ride.” He reaches into the water and grabs the front of her bra and tugs, pulling her up in the water and pulling the bra up over her chest, those perky breasts fully exposed to him. “Or for as long as you can.”
His lips again twitch into a smile.
She’s shivering, and even with the water from the pool on her face, he can tell she’s crying. Girl’s not as dumb as she looks. Girls never are when it comes to this.
He’s on his knees at the pool’s edge with her bra still tight in his hand, and his other hand reaches out to twist a nipple. She yelps just like he wanted, and he rewards her with soft caresses, palming her breast and running the pad of his thumb gently over her hard and sore nipple.
“You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you, Elle?”
“Please,” she pleads from between clenched teeth, her head turned away and eyes squeezed shut.
“Shh… save the begging for later. We’re just getting started.”
to be continued...
like it? watch whereismytalent.
author. nv
fandom. heroes
characters. sylar/elle
genre. dark/drama/angst
rating. r
warnings. language, bondage, torture, non-con
word count. 709
spoilers. volume two, "powerless," preview for volume three
summary. sylar seeks revenge against elle.
feedback. is the reason i do this.
disclaimer. the characters and canon contained herein are the property of tim kring, as well as any associated writers, producers, networks, and parent companies. the following was written by neur0 vanity. no copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.
cross-posting. heroes_fic, heroes_sylar
chapter one
"capture"
Blood, the perfect shade of crimson, covers the shiny tile around the pool. There’s blood from the gunshot wound in her shoulder and blood from the place on her head where he hit her with a tire iron. She’s out cold, and now she’s the perfect little doll for him to play with.
Sylar straddles her unconscious body and slowly undoes the buttons of her shirt, pulling the material open to reveal perky breasts in a thin, white, cotton bra. Such a sweet girl. He slides down her hips and flicks open the button on her jeans, pulls down the zipper, tugs her pants down over her smooth thighs and ankles, tosses the jeans to the side. She wears a little white g-string, and his lips twitch into a smile. Such a naughty girl.
Turning her onto her stomach, he removes her shirt and throws it haphazardly towards her jeans. Her ass is small and ripe and so tempting as he runs a hand over it. There’s no rope around, so he unbuckles his belt and tugs it from the loops of his jeans, wraps it around her wrists pulled together behind her back, and secures it tightly, hoping that the leather will cut into her fair skin when she inevitably tries to escape.
He rolls her once more, and she falls into the pool with a splash that sprays water at his face.
It’s mere seconds before she’s conscious again and surfacing, fighting for her feet to find the bottom of the pool, fighting against her restraints. She finally stands in the shallow end, water at her waist, and glares at him.
“Elle, you’re all wet.” There’s sadistic playfulness in his voice, honey-tinged mockery, and she looks down at herself, sees that her rosy nipples are hard and visible through the thin bra that’s now opaque against her skin. She squats down in the pool so that the water rises up to her neck. It’s an attempt to hide herself from his scrutiny. As if she has any hope of that. There’s hate in her eyes, a complement to the red of embarrassment in her cheeks, and she’s got that look like she’s going to try something. “I wouldn’t fire up your spark plugs if I were you.”
If there’s anything that can be said about Sylar, it’s that he’s a quick learner.
He didn’t even have to ask Bennet to get the idea for the pool.
“Water. It’s your kryptonite, isn’t it, bitch?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Sylar,” she hisses. “You don’t want to know what my dad will do to you.”
He can’t help that he laughs. He laughs because it’s ridiculous. Even when he was without his power, good old Bob didn’t stand a chance. Now that he’s got the Shanti virus and pretty little Claire’s blood in his veins, he’s back to himself, and nobody - not that Japanese nuisance with the sword, not that New York emo brat, not God - can stop him. She blanches when she hears his laughter, and that makes him even happier. It feeds his power. “Daddy’s not coming to your rescue, princess. So I suggest you shut up and hang on for the ride.” He reaches into the water and grabs the front of her bra and tugs, pulling her up in the water and pulling the bra up over her chest, those perky breasts fully exposed to him. “Or for as long as you can.”
His lips again twitch into a smile.
She’s shivering, and even with the water from the pool on her face, he can tell she’s crying. Girl’s not as dumb as she looks. Girls never are when it comes to this.
He’s on his knees at the pool’s edge with her bra still tight in his hand, and his other hand reaches out to twist a nipple. She yelps just like he wanted, and he rewards her with soft caresses, palming her breast and running the pad of his thumb gently over her hard and sore nipple.
“You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you, Elle?”
“Please,” she pleads from between clenched teeth, her head turned away and eyes squeezed shut.
“Shh… save the begging for later. We’re just getting started.”
to be continued...
like it? watch whereismytalent.