My angsty muse attacked me...
Title: They Were Two
Author: Megmatthews20
Rating: R for sexual reference
Pairing: Mylar
Word Count: 773
Summary: A journey of the two
Spoilers: There's this show...on NBC...with these two hot guys...great chemisty...check it out!
Warnings: Character death...mentions of smex and death and stuff
A/N: I've suddenly gotten all depressed and angsty, and this isn't my typical writing style, so I'd love to get feedback, con-crit, a smiley face...whatever you got. Much love for all the wonderful authors in this comm who constantly inspire me. :)
At first there was a shaky friendship built on nervous excitement and a shared love of a found connection. Friendly touches and easy conversations filled the space in a long car-ride, warming them both to the bone even as the cold chill of fall nipped at their rental car. One was in awe of his new friend, his amazing ability. The other was excited to have a friend at all, someone to share these discoveries with, someone to guide him toward bigger and better things.
Even in the fear and confusion and hurt of an innocent woman’s death, they remained together. One was sick with fear for his friend’s life, for what Sylar would do if he ever happened upon the melting ability. The other was torn, wanting the list that would be his continued ladder to greatness as he topped each rung, each new ability. Yet, there was a growing affection for his new companion, a yearning that burned happily in his stomach, and flushed across his cheeks at all the wrong moments.
Then there was the realization of betrayal on both ends, and anger, violence, blood and hurt. Ceiling was floor, glass was death, a simple map was a worthy weapon.
A trigger had been pulled.
A body had been wounded.
But neither man was dead.
One had called the other for help, begged his former friend to save him, to save the world. Again, he’d been turned away. He’d been forced toward Kirby plaza, toward fate and destiny.
The other had been struck by the admission, wondering, watching his back in fear that a killer might come to stand behind him. His fears were unfounded.
The killer did show up. He did bring a powerful man to his knees, and reunited families.
Then the killer disappeared, only to return again. Drawn, as ever, back to a small apartment in New York, country borders and long deserts unable to separate him from his destiny.
One man had been forced to share his blood, to heal the other, to bring him back to life. Their connection had deepened. A universal donation of life, given to one. It had been under threat of injury, but it had been given.
There had been fear upon the killer’s return. He had found his former friend staring anxiously up from his night chair, dark glasses framing his tired eyes. He could have killed him. He could have hurt him.
Instead he chose to love him. And to his surprise, he soon found that love returned in full.
Tentative at first, the kisses were angry, frought with painful reminiscences of the past. Murder was unforgivable. Lying was unforgivable. Threatening the girl was unforgivable. But their attraction was undeniable.
One was ostracized from his job, and his family. He stowed away with his lover to a snowy valley, with a small log cabin, a postcard perfect setting with a troubled love affair dwelling within.
Both grew antsy, one wishing to return to his work, his life. The other wishing to continue gathering powers, to march toward destiny, to cradle the world firmly in his palm.
But smooth kisses brushed away the fear and anxiety. From the hurt was born a connection so strong, so deep, that the past rippled away like waves on a pond into which a large pebble has been carelessly tossed.
They needed only each other. They needed only the warm moans, the silent pleadings, the delighted cries of orgasm. Goose-bumped flesh rested against goose-bumped flesh as beads of sweat rolled down their temples; arms and legs and torsos so entangled there in front of the fireplace that it was hard to tell where one body began and the other one ended.
It was bliss. It was loving kisses. It was happiness as neither had ever felt before.
And it was over all too soon when the reformed killer placed his life on the line to save his lover, his soul-mate...and lost it.
In one startling moment, in one fateful gun-shot, from which no one can heal, one life was traded to save another.
In the gloomy darkness of that snowy evening, tears were shed, long tears, primal screams, until Mohinder Suresh finally lost his voice, lost his will, lost the soul that he had just found.
Then after awhile he grew quiet. He simply lay there, clutching Sylar’s still body close to him, ignoring the blood that soaked into his shirt. He simply continued to hold on, to wish, to want, then finally to accept.
At first they were two.
They were hate, and they were love.
And then they were one.
Author: Megmatthews20
Rating: R for sexual reference
Pairing: Mylar
Word Count: 773
Summary: A journey of the two
Spoilers: There's this show...on NBC...with these two hot guys...great chemisty...check it out!
Warnings: Character death...mentions of smex and death and stuff
A/N: I've suddenly gotten all depressed and angsty, and this isn't my typical writing style, so I'd love to get feedback, con-crit, a smiley face...whatever you got. Much love for all the wonderful authors in this comm who constantly inspire me. :)
At first there was a shaky friendship built on nervous excitement and a shared love of a found connection. Friendly touches and easy conversations filled the space in a long car-ride, warming them both to the bone even as the cold chill of fall nipped at their rental car. One was in awe of his new friend, his amazing ability. The other was excited to have a friend at all, someone to share these discoveries with, someone to guide him toward bigger and better things.
Even in the fear and confusion and hurt of an innocent woman’s death, they remained together. One was sick with fear for his friend’s life, for what Sylar would do if he ever happened upon the melting ability. The other was torn, wanting the list that would be his continued ladder to greatness as he topped each rung, each new ability. Yet, there was a growing affection for his new companion, a yearning that burned happily in his stomach, and flushed across his cheeks at all the wrong moments.
Then there was the realization of betrayal on both ends, and anger, violence, blood and hurt. Ceiling was floor, glass was death, a simple map was a worthy weapon.
A trigger had been pulled.
A body had been wounded.
But neither man was dead.
One had called the other for help, begged his former friend to save him, to save the world. Again, he’d been turned away. He’d been forced toward Kirby plaza, toward fate and destiny.
The other had been struck by the admission, wondering, watching his back in fear that a killer might come to stand behind him. His fears were unfounded.
The killer did show up. He did bring a powerful man to his knees, and reunited families.
Then the killer disappeared, only to return again. Drawn, as ever, back to a small apartment in New York, country borders and long deserts unable to separate him from his destiny.
One man had been forced to share his blood, to heal the other, to bring him back to life. Their connection had deepened. A universal donation of life, given to one. It had been under threat of injury, but it had been given.
There had been fear upon the killer’s return. He had found his former friend staring anxiously up from his night chair, dark glasses framing his tired eyes. He could have killed him. He could have hurt him.
Instead he chose to love him. And to his surprise, he soon found that love returned in full.
Tentative at first, the kisses were angry, frought with painful reminiscences of the past. Murder was unforgivable. Lying was unforgivable. Threatening the girl was unforgivable. But their attraction was undeniable.
One was ostracized from his job, and his family. He stowed away with his lover to a snowy valley, with a small log cabin, a postcard perfect setting with a troubled love affair dwelling within.
Both grew antsy, one wishing to return to his work, his life. The other wishing to continue gathering powers, to march toward destiny, to cradle the world firmly in his palm.
But smooth kisses brushed away the fear and anxiety. From the hurt was born a connection so strong, so deep, that the past rippled away like waves on a pond into which a large pebble has been carelessly tossed.
They needed only each other. They needed only the warm moans, the silent pleadings, the delighted cries of orgasm. Goose-bumped flesh rested against goose-bumped flesh as beads of sweat rolled down their temples; arms and legs and torsos so entangled there in front of the fireplace that it was hard to tell where one body began and the other one ended.
It was bliss. It was loving kisses. It was happiness as neither had ever felt before.
And it was over all too soon when the reformed killer placed his life on the line to save his lover, his soul-mate...and lost it.
In one startling moment, in one fateful gun-shot, from which no one can heal, one life was traded to save another.
In the gloomy darkness of that snowy evening, tears were shed, long tears, primal screams, until Mohinder Suresh finally lost his voice, lost his will, lost the soul that he had just found.
Then after awhile he grew quiet. He simply lay there, clutching Sylar’s still body close to him, ignoring the blood that soaked into his shirt. He simply continued to hold on, to wish, to want, then finally to accept.
At first they were two.
They were hate, and they were love.
And then they were one.