Fic-Balance-Gemini Challenge
Title: Balance
Author: Butterflyweb
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. Nope.
Summary: Separate, they are incomplete.
A/N: Written for the Gemini Challenge, in which Sylar aquires a power that splits him into Gabriel and Sylar.
Sylar stares, fascinated.
He runs his fingertips over slick, alabaster skin, probing, exploring. The figure under his touch shudders, eyes frightened and confused like a beaten animal. Sylar grins like a hungry shark, fisting his fingers in wet, slippery locks. He licks along a sharp collarbone, smirking as the flesh under his mouth quivers.
This will be interesting.
*
Sylar is a predator.
He lurks in the shadows, moving with sinewy grace, eyes glinting like hard obsidian. Obsession rules him, the need to own. To possess. There is no give, only take, swallowing whole with parasitic hunger. His passion is madness; more than a thirst for combined bodies, it is an insatiable hunger that cannot be dampened. A driving force behind liquid eyes.
Sylar is enticement, seduction. Luring innocent, unsuspecting prey to his trap, jaws snapping closed around warm flesh. Tearing, consuming.
But a hunter is nothing without his quarry.
*
Gabriel is a victim.
He plays the part so well, bruises on his knees, on his pretty, swollen mouth. He is breakable, barely held together by loose seams, something about his quietude entrancing. There is softness there, but intensity. He ensnares the careless, locking them up behind ink-black eyes, hushed words flowing from his lips like silk.
He is dangerous in his own way, bound in leather and invisible wire, cutting off circulation in his precise, purposeful hands. Has his own enrapturing charm, sliding like satin over the skin of his unsuspecting victim. Granting him power in his own right.
Gabriel is a picture of debauchery and robbed innocence, but even the most willing submissive needs a master to take him to task.
*
Sylar pushes Gabriel down, holds him firmly in place as an inexperienced mouth slips around his cock, tonguing the foreign length. Vicious red marks mar smooth skin and Sylar runs his fingers over them, tracing the purpling bruises with an air of delicious pride.
Gabriel begs to be broken, pleads for it in a crackling tenor, and Sylar has always, always given Gabriel what he wants. He has killed for him, lived for him and he will destroy him just as completely. Just as devotedly.
He scars pale flesh lovingly, cutting broad stripes across it with his mind, giving back the gift he had so loyally obtained. He fucks that compliant mouth until Gabriel’s throat is raw and he is left gagging, kisses and bites those bleeding lips until his teeth are stained scarlet.
Sylar takes and Gabriel gives, both without restraint, but it cannot last. They will fade away, swallow one another whole unless there is balance.
*
Mohinder is an equality.
An eventuality. A chameleon in blood and manner, inexorable and fleeting in his duality. On the surface, he is smooth-skinned and mild-mannered, passionate, with a blinding smile. There is a depth to his feeling, a spark to his eyes that is almost otherworldly. A modern day Adonis, a deva in a human prison.
The fierceness of the light he holds is only equaled by the darkness he keeps sequestered.
There is violence in him, the dark side of passion, tied back by scruples and well-bred reserve. Long hands suited to latex gloves and clinical syringes curl with familiarity around the grip of a pistol, steady and purposeful. There is ferocity, and courage to the point of foolishness, and for all his intellectual reserve, Mohinder does not shudder at the sight of his own blood. He spits crimson saliva and snarls a challenge.
He is balance, and though he fights it at first, as is his nature, he eventually comes to understand.
*
Mohinder presses a soft kiss to the corner of Gabriel’s mouth, lying stretched along his length. They are warm and sleep-tangled, caught up in fresh cotton sheets and drenched in the early morning sun. Mohinder tastes of honey and spice, mouthing the sharp line of Gabriel’s collarbone and wrapping a sure hand around his silken length.
They make slow, lazy love on a down blanket. Breathless, lingering kisses. Sienna meets obsidian, full lips stretching over a blinding white smile and they are lost in each other, in whispered, dulcet tones and melodic gasps.
His thrusts are measured and deliberate, sliding into tight, scorching heat, careful fingers threading through ebony curls. Mohinder fills him completely, sharing breath between their lips, fire lighting along their veins.
They are complete in their bliss, but the possibility always lingers for more.
*
They come together with a bite and a snarl, restrained by invisible bonds. Sylar presses his teeth to that quivering throat, his hips rocking violently in time with the ticking clock. Mohinder claws at his back, fighting and writhing beneath him, lips stained scarlet with Sylar’s blood. There is profanity on his lips, a curse bubbling in his throat. He is wretched and brutal and Sylar wants to break him and be ruled by him all at the same time.
Long fingers tangle in his hair, ripping his head back, sinking white shark teeth into his clavicle, dragging a moan from his throat, jerking his hips forward. There is death between them and repulsion, admiration and all-consuming lust.
They fit like edges of jagged glass, warped and broken, but it’s not enough to keep them connected.
*
Their joining is a meld of quiet harmonies. Of scratching melodies and vicious cacophonies. A blurred mess of bodies and breaths and want take have. Gabriel shudders under a mutual assault, as Sylar presses close from behind, thrusting into him dry, wringing cries from his throat. Mohinder takes him in that sinful mouth, coaxing him into full hardness, ripping a shuddering orgasm from his huddled form.
Gabriel shows Sylar softness, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along a defined ribcage, working in tandem with Mohinder to tease him into a violent release, by virtue of soft hands and fleeting touches. Sylar shows Gabriel the pleasure of dominance, urging him to slip into Mohinder’s willing body, kissing the back of his neck as he delivers each punishing thrust.
They are flawless. A seamless tapestry, a marble statue left irrevocably intact. It is perfection and completion, destiny inside the confines of a four-poster bed.
They are joined, broken and yet undeniably whole, and at last, the scales are even.
Author: Butterflyweb
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. Nope.
Summary: Separate, they are incomplete.
A/N: Written for the Gemini Challenge, in which Sylar aquires a power that splits him into Gabriel and Sylar.
Sylar stares, fascinated.
He runs his fingertips over slick, alabaster skin, probing, exploring. The figure under his touch shudders, eyes frightened and confused like a beaten animal. Sylar grins like a hungry shark, fisting his fingers in wet, slippery locks. He licks along a sharp collarbone, smirking as the flesh under his mouth quivers.
This will be interesting.
*
Sylar is a predator.
He lurks in the shadows, moving with sinewy grace, eyes glinting like hard obsidian. Obsession rules him, the need to own. To possess. There is no give, only take, swallowing whole with parasitic hunger. His passion is madness; more than a thirst for combined bodies, it is an insatiable hunger that cannot be dampened. A driving force behind liquid eyes.
Sylar is enticement, seduction. Luring innocent, unsuspecting prey to his trap, jaws snapping closed around warm flesh. Tearing, consuming.
But a hunter is nothing without his quarry.
*
Gabriel is a victim.
He plays the part so well, bruises on his knees, on his pretty, swollen mouth. He is breakable, barely held together by loose seams, something about his quietude entrancing. There is softness there, but intensity. He ensnares the careless, locking them up behind ink-black eyes, hushed words flowing from his lips like silk.
He is dangerous in his own way, bound in leather and invisible wire, cutting off circulation in his precise, purposeful hands. Has his own enrapturing charm, sliding like satin over the skin of his unsuspecting victim. Granting him power in his own right.
Gabriel is a picture of debauchery and robbed innocence, but even the most willing submissive needs a master to take him to task.
*
Sylar pushes Gabriel down, holds him firmly in place as an inexperienced mouth slips around his cock, tonguing the foreign length. Vicious red marks mar smooth skin and Sylar runs his fingers over them, tracing the purpling bruises with an air of delicious pride.
Gabriel begs to be broken, pleads for it in a crackling tenor, and Sylar has always, always given Gabriel what he wants. He has killed for him, lived for him and he will destroy him just as completely. Just as devotedly.
He scars pale flesh lovingly, cutting broad stripes across it with his mind, giving back the gift he had so loyally obtained. He fucks that compliant mouth until Gabriel’s throat is raw and he is left gagging, kisses and bites those bleeding lips until his teeth are stained scarlet.
Sylar takes and Gabriel gives, both without restraint, but it cannot last. They will fade away, swallow one another whole unless there is balance.
*
Mohinder is an equality.
An eventuality. A chameleon in blood and manner, inexorable and fleeting in his duality. On the surface, he is smooth-skinned and mild-mannered, passionate, with a blinding smile. There is a depth to his feeling, a spark to his eyes that is almost otherworldly. A modern day Adonis, a deva in a human prison.
The fierceness of the light he holds is only equaled by the darkness he keeps sequestered.
There is violence in him, the dark side of passion, tied back by scruples and well-bred reserve. Long hands suited to latex gloves and clinical syringes curl with familiarity around the grip of a pistol, steady and purposeful. There is ferocity, and courage to the point of foolishness, and for all his intellectual reserve, Mohinder does not shudder at the sight of his own blood. He spits crimson saliva and snarls a challenge.
He is balance, and though he fights it at first, as is his nature, he eventually comes to understand.
*
Mohinder presses a soft kiss to the corner of Gabriel’s mouth, lying stretched along his length. They are warm and sleep-tangled, caught up in fresh cotton sheets and drenched in the early morning sun. Mohinder tastes of honey and spice, mouthing the sharp line of Gabriel’s collarbone and wrapping a sure hand around his silken length.
They make slow, lazy love on a down blanket. Breathless, lingering kisses. Sienna meets obsidian, full lips stretching over a blinding white smile and they are lost in each other, in whispered, dulcet tones and melodic gasps.
His thrusts are measured and deliberate, sliding into tight, scorching heat, careful fingers threading through ebony curls. Mohinder fills him completely, sharing breath between their lips, fire lighting along their veins.
They are complete in their bliss, but the possibility always lingers for more.
*
They come together with a bite and a snarl, restrained by invisible bonds. Sylar presses his teeth to that quivering throat, his hips rocking violently in time with the ticking clock. Mohinder claws at his back, fighting and writhing beneath him, lips stained scarlet with Sylar’s blood. There is profanity on his lips, a curse bubbling in his throat. He is wretched and brutal and Sylar wants to break him and be ruled by him all at the same time.
Long fingers tangle in his hair, ripping his head back, sinking white shark teeth into his clavicle, dragging a moan from his throat, jerking his hips forward. There is death between them and repulsion, admiration and all-consuming lust.
They fit like edges of jagged glass, warped and broken, but it’s not enough to keep them connected.
*
Their joining is a meld of quiet harmonies. Of scratching melodies and vicious cacophonies. A blurred mess of bodies and breaths and want take have. Gabriel shudders under a mutual assault, as Sylar presses close from behind, thrusting into him dry, wringing cries from his throat. Mohinder takes him in that sinful mouth, coaxing him into full hardness, ripping a shuddering orgasm from his huddled form.
Gabriel shows Sylar softness, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along a defined ribcage, working in tandem with Mohinder to tease him into a violent release, by virtue of soft hands and fleeting touches. Sylar shows Gabriel the pleasure of dominance, urging him to slip into Mohinder’s willing body, kissing the back of his neck as he delivers each punishing thrust.
They are flawless. A seamless tapestry, a marble statue left irrevocably intact. It is perfection and completion, destiny inside the confines of a four-poster bed.
They are joined, broken and yet undeniably whole, and at last, the scales are even.