Drink Up Sweet Decadence Part 8
Title: Drink Up Sweet Decadence Part 8
Author: ilovetbag24
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: Sylar/Mohinder and Heather
Summary: the night after...
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Heather was wrapped up between the bodies of Sylar and Mohinder. The sun was beginning to set, the sunlight casting glares against the building windows. In 30 minutes, Mohinder would rise and open the curtains. He hated the stuffy feeling of being boarded up and locked away, like some sort of prisoner.
Both men drifted off to sleep after Mohinder’s slip of self control. Sylar dwelled on it before falling into unconsciousness: Heather’s eyes, pleading, begging to be saved. He hated that she had to find out like that. He wondered if she even had a chance to comprehend. Vampires were supposed to be subjects in fantasy/horror films and literature. They weren’t real. Sylar smirked to himself. Up until a year ago, he thought the exact same thing.
Once Heather’s eyes started to glaze over, Sylar gripped his lover’s hair in his hands and pulled with all his might. Mohinder hissed once his teeth were retracted from Heather’s flesh, obviously still thirsty. Sylar whirled him around in the bed and pulled his face to his neck. Mohinder instantly began to drink. He had quenched half his thirst on Heather, he would finish with Sylar. Mohinder would get his fill without having to kill either of them.
The sun had finally dipped in the west when Heather began to stir. She groaned sleepily as her eyes fluttered open. She was in the men’s apartment again. She had come for a visit after class. Then she began to piece the puzzle together: Sylar giving Mohinder head, Sylar going down on her while Mohinder held her writhing body in his lap, Mohinder pushing himself inside of her, Sylar pushing into Mohinder…Mohinder sinking his fangs into her…
Fangs?!?! Heather’s eyes snapped open as she remembered everything. Mohinder bit into her hard. His sharp teeth had punctured her neck, his face wild with need and…hunger?
As quietly as she could, she gently moved the men’s arms from around her body. She pulled her legs out from under their entwined legs. She slowly stood in the middle of the bed and walked easily to the edge. Lowering herself down, she pulled her legs out from under her and placed them softly on the floor. She grabbed her clothes and ran to the bathroom.
Flicking on the light, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smeared, and two tiny trails of dried blood were on her neck. Her eyes wide, she leaned closer toward the mirror and inspected closely. Two perfectly small puncture wounds, the exact same distance apart as Mohinder’s fangs, were on her neck. Licking her fingers, she rubbed at her neck, wiping away the dried blood.
What the hell was Mohinder? He couldn’t be…those things don’t exist in real life.
She quickly dressed and opened the door slowly. Peering out, she caught sight of Sylar and Mohinder still in bed, unmoving from their original spots. Sighing deeply, she crept out of the bathroom and into the middle room. She walked to the front door and bent down to retrieve her book bag. What the hell did I get involved with? Heather thought to herself as she turned for the door…and ran right into Mohinder.
Heather screamed, jumping back two steps. Her blood pumped wildly as she searched for another way out. Sylar walked to the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame. His eyes held defeat, like he knew they were caught and there was no way they could talk their way out of it.
Heather slowly turned back to Mohinder. His face was filled with worry, apprehension, and regret.
“Heather, please,” he reasoned, taking a step towards her. She kept her distance. “Don’t come any closer,” she warned, walking backwards. Her gaze kept flying from Mohinder to Sylar, then back at Mohinder.
“I know this seems unusual,” Mohinder said, his hands up in surrender, “but please, let us explain.” Sylar had moved from the doorway, walking towards her.
Heather’s heart was beating out of her chest, knowing that these men had her trapped. Thoughts of being raped, beaten, tortured, and killed were flashing through her head. Her family would be devastated. Her poor mother wouldn’t be able to survive this…
“Wha…what the hell are you?” she asked Mohinder, the wall behind her stopping her escape. He took one step into her personal space and she flinched. He held up his hands and backed off. “I…don’t…can’t…don’t know how to explain this,” he started, “I’m…I have a sickness. I have an unusual thirst. I am a vampire.”
Heather’s eyes went wide in shock and disgust. “Is this some sort of fucking joke? What are you two, some sadistic, cannibalistic bastards? Vampires don’t exist!!!”
Sylar reached out to touch her shoulder softly and she yelped. “Don’t fucking touch me!!!” she screamed, “both of you stay where you are!! I want to leave!! Please let me go!!”
“I know what you’re going through,” Sylar spoke up, “you don’t understand what’s going on around you, you can’t comprehend how something so unimaginable is happening. It was a shock to me as well when it first happened.”
Heather tried desperately to control her breathing, to keep her wits about her. She kept a certain amount of distance between them, her eyes flying everywhere, looking for escape or a weapon of some kind.
Suddenly, as if a switch flipped, she darted between them toward the door. Sylar immediately jumped out and wrapped his arms around her. Heather screamed and struggled, trying desperately to squirm out of his grasp.
“Please, Heather, just let us explain! We’re not gonna hurt you!” he said, holding her close, his arms crushing her body to his.
“LET ME GO! PLEASE! DON’T HURT ME! SOMEBODY HELP!!”
“Sylar…”
Both of them stopped at the firm voice of Mohinder. He looked at both of them, sadness and defeat apparent in his face.
“Let her go,” he said softly.
“But Mohinder, you’re not a monster. You’re a good person. You just have a sickness. We can talk to her, try to reason with her.”
Mohinder gazed at Heather’s face. She was still struggling, her eyes overflowing with tears of horror and helplessness.
“We tried,” Mohinder said, “we can’t make her understand.”
Sighing deeply in defeat, Sylar let Heather go. Her feet fell to the floor and she turned to run before Mohinder’s hand stopped her.
She cowered, quivering under his gaze. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he apologized, “I never meant to hurt you.”
He released Heather and both men watched her stumble for her bag before flinging the door open and running down the hall.
Sylar turned toward his lover as Mohinder slid slowly to the floor. “What if she says something?” Sylar asked, “what if she leads a mob here with fire and pitchforks?”
“No one would believe her, and she knows it,” Mohinder said sadly. He ran his hands through his messy curls as Sylar knelt by him and hugged him close.
Author: ilovetbag24
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: Sylar/Mohinder and Heather
Summary: the night after...
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Heather was wrapped up between the bodies of Sylar and Mohinder. The sun was beginning to set, the sunlight casting glares against the building windows. In 30 minutes, Mohinder would rise and open the curtains. He hated the stuffy feeling of being boarded up and locked away, like some sort of prisoner.
Both men drifted off to sleep after Mohinder’s slip of self control. Sylar dwelled on it before falling into unconsciousness: Heather’s eyes, pleading, begging to be saved. He hated that she had to find out like that. He wondered if she even had a chance to comprehend. Vampires were supposed to be subjects in fantasy/horror films and literature. They weren’t real. Sylar smirked to himself. Up until a year ago, he thought the exact same thing.
Once Heather’s eyes started to glaze over, Sylar gripped his lover’s hair in his hands and pulled with all his might. Mohinder hissed once his teeth were retracted from Heather’s flesh, obviously still thirsty. Sylar whirled him around in the bed and pulled his face to his neck. Mohinder instantly began to drink. He had quenched half his thirst on Heather, he would finish with Sylar. Mohinder would get his fill without having to kill either of them.
The sun had finally dipped in the west when Heather began to stir. She groaned sleepily as her eyes fluttered open. She was in the men’s apartment again. She had come for a visit after class. Then she began to piece the puzzle together: Sylar giving Mohinder head, Sylar going down on her while Mohinder held her writhing body in his lap, Mohinder pushing himself inside of her, Sylar pushing into Mohinder…Mohinder sinking his fangs into her…
Fangs?!?! Heather’s eyes snapped open as she remembered everything. Mohinder bit into her hard. His sharp teeth had punctured her neck, his face wild with need and…hunger?
As quietly as she could, she gently moved the men’s arms from around her body. She pulled her legs out from under their entwined legs. She slowly stood in the middle of the bed and walked easily to the edge. Lowering herself down, she pulled her legs out from under her and placed them softly on the floor. She grabbed her clothes and ran to the bathroom.
Flicking on the light, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smeared, and two tiny trails of dried blood were on her neck. Her eyes wide, she leaned closer toward the mirror and inspected closely. Two perfectly small puncture wounds, the exact same distance apart as Mohinder’s fangs, were on her neck. Licking her fingers, she rubbed at her neck, wiping away the dried blood.
What the hell was Mohinder? He couldn’t be…those things don’t exist in real life.
She quickly dressed and opened the door slowly. Peering out, she caught sight of Sylar and Mohinder still in bed, unmoving from their original spots. Sighing deeply, she crept out of the bathroom and into the middle room. She walked to the front door and bent down to retrieve her book bag. What the hell did I get involved with? Heather thought to herself as she turned for the door…and ran right into Mohinder.
Heather screamed, jumping back two steps. Her blood pumped wildly as she searched for another way out. Sylar walked to the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame. His eyes held defeat, like he knew they were caught and there was no way they could talk their way out of it.
Heather slowly turned back to Mohinder. His face was filled with worry, apprehension, and regret.
“Heather, please,” he reasoned, taking a step towards her. She kept her distance. “Don’t come any closer,” she warned, walking backwards. Her gaze kept flying from Mohinder to Sylar, then back at Mohinder.
“I know this seems unusual,” Mohinder said, his hands up in surrender, “but please, let us explain.” Sylar had moved from the doorway, walking towards her.
Heather’s heart was beating out of her chest, knowing that these men had her trapped. Thoughts of being raped, beaten, tortured, and killed were flashing through her head. Her family would be devastated. Her poor mother wouldn’t be able to survive this…
“Wha…what the hell are you?” she asked Mohinder, the wall behind her stopping her escape. He took one step into her personal space and she flinched. He held up his hands and backed off. “I…don’t…can’t…don’t know how to explain this,” he started, “I’m…I have a sickness. I have an unusual thirst. I am a vampire.”
Heather’s eyes went wide in shock and disgust. “Is this some sort of fucking joke? What are you two, some sadistic, cannibalistic bastards? Vampires don’t exist!!!”
Sylar reached out to touch her shoulder softly and she yelped. “Don’t fucking touch me!!!” she screamed, “both of you stay where you are!! I want to leave!! Please let me go!!”
“I know what you’re going through,” Sylar spoke up, “you don’t understand what’s going on around you, you can’t comprehend how something so unimaginable is happening. It was a shock to me as well when it first happened.”
Heather tried desperately to control her breathing, to keep her wits about her. She kept a certain amount of distance between them, her eyes flying everywhere, looking for escape or a weapon of some kind.
Suddenly, as if a switch flipped, she darted between them toward the door. Sylar immediately jumped out and wrapped his arms around her. Heather screamed and struggled, trying desperately to squirm out of his grasp.
“Please, Heather, just let us explain! We’re not gonna hurt you!” he said, holding her close, his arms crushing her body to his.
“LET ME GO! PLEASE! DON’T HURT ME! SOMEBODY HELP!!”
“Sylar…”
Both of them stopped at the firm voice of Mohinder. He looked at both of them, sadness and defeat apparent in his face.
“Let her go,” he said softly.
“But Mohinder, you’re not a monster. You’re a good person. You just have a sickness. We can talk to her, try to reason with her.”
Mohinder gazed at Heather’s face. She was still struggling, her eyes overflowing with tears of horror and helplessness.
“We tried,” Mohinder said, “we can’t make her understand.”
Sighing deeply in defeat, Sylar let Heather go. Her feet fell to the floor and she turned to run before Mohinder’s hand stopped her.
She cowered, quivering under his gaze. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he apologized, “I never meant to hurt you.”
He released Heather and both men watched her stumble for her bag before flinging the door open and running down the hall.
Sylar turned toward his lover as Mohinder slid slowly to the floor. “What if she says something?” Sylar asked, “what if she leads a mob here with fire and pitchforks?”
“No one would believe her, and she knows it,” Mohinder said sadly. He ran his hands through his messy curls as Sylar knelt by him and hugged him close.