trust in the Cato. the Cato is good...
Catoasapun turned my ICK into WIN! And those words only share one letter! Lol.
Title: For Want Of Family
Author: Tinkering
Beta: Catoasapun
Summary: Sylar is holding on to something Mohinder loves very much. He'll do anything to get it back.
Rating: NC-17!!!
Warnings: *sighs* i have to warn you because it's only right. You wouldn't want to stumble onto a rape fic if you mind reading that stuff...but I don't want this warning to make anyone biased...MPREG. [Read it anyway! Would I steer you wrong!?] Dark, blackmail, dub-con, blah blah blah.
"I’m surprised Mohinder. If that incentive isn’t enough to get you over here, I don’t know what is…"
Mohinder looks at Sylar from across the room, fear, disgust, anger holding him in place at his bedroom door. "I don’t-"
"You don’t what?" Sylar’s dark eyes are amused, alert; gaze piercing Mohinder like a predator as the man sits up, naked on his bed. He is attentive, all of him Mohinder notes, feeling a sort of repulsed fascination at the man’s erect arousal.
"I don’t want you! I don’t understand why you’re doing this…" Mohinder is ashamed to hear his own voice cracking and shuts his eyes as Sylar laughs darkly and stretches languidly, flesh rubbing seductively against his sheets…sheets he and Matt slept in.
When he opens his eyes, Sylar is still there, amused and waiting. "This has nothing to do with want. If you wish to delude yourself into thinking you have no sort of interest, that’s fine as well. This is business Mohinder. And I am making you an offer…" That low laugh again: it grates horribly on Mohinder’s ears because it’s the laugh that says ‘I have power and you don’t,’ "that you cannot refuse."
He wants to say that, yes he can; that he will turn and walk out this door because he knows Sylar won’t stop him. He knows Sylar won’t try to; instead he’ll watch to see how far out the door Mohinder walks, to see if he can turn his back on his family.
Mohinder’s feet feel like lead as he takes his first step into the room, each footstep more awkward and weighty than the one before. After the third, he’s past the door, but he can’t move another inch. Sylar slams the door shut behind him telekinetically and then rearranges himself on the bed.
By the time he’s done, he’s a lewd parody of a receptive lover on the bed, back raised with both the thick pillows from their bed and legs bent against his chest, knees held, opening exposed.
"I’ve been waiting rather a long time Mohinder, and I’m afraid as time has passed… well, I haven’t had to be that flexible. Well, you know the last time…" His words wash over Mohinder, heard but not understood as he slowly unbuttons his shirt.
Oh, of course he would bring that up…
"…that you would comply. But this isn’t all a hardship for you. This is your chance to hurt me, isn’t it? Take me as roughly as you wish. The lube’s on the bedside table with the condoms, but only if you want to use it…why so hesitant?"
Why so hesitant?
A choked laugh-sob lodges itself in his throat and Mohinder fumbles with his buttons. A gentle force bats his fingers away and, with no movement on his part at all, his last three buttons pop free.
Sylar releases a soft sigh and releases his knees, letting his body rock forward until he is sitting up, feet flat on the floor. "Come here Mohinder."
And, of course, Mohinder and Sylar both know that Mohinder is going to obey. Just like they both knew he couldn’t leave, they both know he can’t not obey. It is as Sylar said.
It is an offer he can’t refuse.
He shuffles forward until he is at the foot of the bed and watches, detached almost, as Sylar’s hands, greedy, pale, eager, grab his belt buckle and tug him forward until he is pressed close. Close enough for Sylar to stroke and pat experimentally at him, frown to find he is soft, and then start to free him of the last of his clothes.
"I didn’t expect you to come to me hard and dripping Mohinder, or you wouldn’t have shacked up with that fat, bumbling cop…but do you have to make this difficult?" Sylar comments offhandedly as Mohinder’s pants and underwear drop to the floor with a soft clink.
The distance he had been putting between himself and the situation, this almost rape, vanishes with Sylar’s words and Mohinder’s eyes flash angrily as he steps back, stumbles out of his clothes, and pushes himself away from Sylar.
"You, you are a vulgar, disgusting piece of slime, Sylar. Matt is…Matt is more human than you will ever be and infinitely more of a man than you are!" And this time his voice does break, fear for Matt, for Molly, breaking him, and Mohinder sobs out the words.
Sylar blinks, unaffected, from the bed and gestures him forward with a mockingly crooked forefinger. "If you leave, you never get them back…when I get what I want, then I leave…and they come back." Sylar’s voice lowers seductively and he looks at Mohinder from under dark lashes, "come back."
Like a marionette on his strings, Mohinder is coaxed clumsily forward, back into Sylar’s grasp. "Come on Mohinder. I just need this little favour."
Cool fingers trace down his limp cock and Mohinder shudders with loathing as pink fingers grasp him. Sylar scoots forward on the bed and looks up at Mohinder with an honestly curious expression. "Don’t you want to fuck me?"
No! Never! Never like...
"I don’t really feel like fucking…when you tell me my daughter and my…my lover are dying somewhere," Mohinder rasps out. Sylar kneads and caresses his balls and Mohinder makes a self-recriminating noise in his throat as his cock twitches to life.
"They aren’t dying. I just said that it’s best I get back to them as soon as possible." Sylar eyes him up and down, the sides of his lips curling up and suddenly Mohinder hates him. He hates him like he’s never hated him before, including the moment he had realized ‘Zane’ was actually Sylar, the man who had killed his father.
Then his smirk does become a smile…before he lifts Mohinder’s half hard cock to his lips and kisses it softly.
Mohinder wants nothing more than to viciously hurt Sylar, a feeling multiplied and intensified when the man takes him into his mouth and immediately the heat has him hardening to full arousal. Mohinder clenches his fists and his jaw as Sylar suckles him softly, self-repulsion growing along with his erection.
He wants to be soft again. He wants to be able to shove the fact that Sylar can’t turn him on in his face, to prove he has no attraction, but his mouth is so warm, his hands and tongue so skilled. Mohinder’s next angry, in-drawn breath hitches in his throat as Sylar withdraws his mouth to examine him as he pushes back on his foreskin, before flicking his tongue against the clean, exposed flesh of his dick.
"S-stop! Stop!" Mohinder grabs a fistful of Sylar’s dark crop, making the man roll his eyes up questioning, lips still spread around his cock. "I…don’t want you to-"
"Make you want this?" Sylar is on his bed, crouching before him, one hand on Mohinder’s hip, the other on his cock. "You can’t mean make you hard, since you’re already up, which was surprisingly easy to do. Or do you mean you’re afraid you were going to come? And you claim you don’t like this."
His dancing eyes, his fucking smug upturned lips…Mohinder’s other hand flashes out before he realizes and he boxes Sylar’s mouth with a closed fist. He doesn’t move much, as he’s held in place by Mohinder’s other fist, but the momentary shock on his face is gratifying.
"I hate you." Mohinder hisses darkly as he finally accepts that he has to do this. And if he has to, he will make sure Sylar never forgets it, that he feels it for weeks.
He glares as Sylar looks up, licking his busted lip gingerly and Mohinder feels a rush of satisfaction at the welling blood. "I can honestly say that I’ve never hated you this much before, Sylar."
"And what does that say abo-UH!" Sylar hisses as Mohinder jerks his hips and Sylar’s head forward together, lodging his cock so far into Sylar’s throat that he chokes. The slight scrape of teeth against sensitive skin is made bearable by Sylar’s silence. Mohinder just wants him to shut up, doesn’t want to have to hear…
"I h-hate you." Mohinder rasps out, shutting his eyes to the sight. He doesn’t want to watch himself pull and push Sylar’s willing mouth along his length, doesn’t want to see that Sylar’s getting off on this, palming himself gently along with Mohinder’s rough treatment. Certainly doesn’t want to remember where he is and why he’s doing this…he can’t, they can’t live here anymore. Not sleeping in this bedroom.
"You’re worse - than a parasite! You’re…a fucking virus!" Mohinder pants out, hips rocking forward a little harder.
God, god, god, Sylar is tonguing eagerly at his slit, and that is something he never got Matt to do…No!
"You destroy - everything! Plague…a fucking…" Oh God, ohh…
A force stronger than the fist he’s keeping in Sylar’s hair pushes him away. Mohinder opens his eyes as he stumbles back against his will, hanging onto air, and Sylar is frowning, mouth swollen obscenely as he rubs at his hair.
"Ow."
Mohinder releases his clenched hand and watches with grim satisfaction as dark hairs float to the floor. Sylar continues in the same flat taunting tone. "Are you so rough with Matt? Or is it only for me? Matt’s more vanilla and, poor you, I can tell by your frustration you don’t get to act out like that often enough."
"Roll over." Mohinder spits back vilely. "Isn’t that what you came here for? To get fucked like the little bitch you are?"
Sylar’s mouth spreads slowly in a leer of satisfaction. "Just had to make sure you didn’t come in the wrong orifice."
Mohinder watches as Sylar, all long limbs and pale skin, shifts, rolls over onto his hands and knees and sticks his ass in the air, before looking over his shoulder at Mohinder. "I’m afraid I only want to get fucked this time. You can tongue me again when you get bored of playing house with that giant oaf."
"Fuck you." Mohinder has some feeling, he isn’t inhumane, so he reaches for the lube and slicks up two fingers angrily. "Fuck you and what you think you know. I’ll never…"
Sylar arches his back deeply in preparation, and only lets out a hoarse grunt as Mohinder pushes those two fingers in without much care and starts to stretch them roughly. "I’ll never want you again!"
"So - this! Ah…Is the…last time - then?" Sylar lets out weak groans to every harsh crush of his fingers, that break his spiel into detached words. Mohinder twists his fingers harshly and is rewarded as Sylar yelps, back stiffening.
"I don’t want you now! I’m doing this for my family!" Mohinder cares less now about how humane he is and more about hurting Sylar, and practically stabs his fingers into him. He pulls out his fingers and hesitates over where to wipe them. He will have to burn these sheets anyway, Mohinder thinks as he wipes his fingers down next to Sylar.
"I admire your love for your family then…" Sylar pants, looking behind to watch him. "Because as much as I loved my mother, I don’t think I could have gotten hard for someone I supposedly detested to save her."
Mohinder directs his anger violently onto Sylar, puts a hand on his back, lines up his cock and shoves himself in brutally. Sylar cries out, pained, and Mohinder feels a rush of victory, followed by a rush of guilty pleasure at the exquisite clasp of his body. God, he hasn’t felt anyone so tight since…oh, God!
"Mo-hinder!" Sylar’s head bends, neck stretching so he can rest his forehead on the bed. His upper body collapses so his ass is higher in the air again and soon Mohinder is thrusting smoothly down into him, pace almost eager.
He tells himself he just wants it to be done, he just wants to come so this shameful erection can go away. He just wants this to be over. Mohinder shuts his eyes and pants as his wild, ragged thrusting takes him closer to the edge.
"Deeper! Mohinder!" Sylar is pushing back against him and soon their pelvis’ are slapping together, the crude sound of flesh on flesh seeming to swallow all sound in the room. "Please! Just…almost!" Sylar’s voice is pained, desperate and Mohinder suddenly thinks of something.
What does Sylar want? Logical thought, this burning question, fades as Mohinder can feel heat building from his trembling legs up to his groin, his whole torso flushed with want, tightening in anticipation of the release to come. He raises his head and reaches forward to grip onto Sylar’s hips, rolling his own, flexing his body just a bit more.
"YES!" Sylar’s cry is high-pitched, glorious…familiar. Mohinder can’t help it: the urge to keep aiming for that spot is almost ingrained.
"There! Right! There!" Sylar is keening lowly as he begins to pant out words.
"You promised…you - promised! I want my family back! I want, oh God - Zaane-AH GOD!" Colours are rushing before his eyes and his orgasm is so powerful, so intense he’s sure he’s passed out for a moment. It feels unnatural, colours still rushing so he shuts his eyes for a moment before opening them again.
Blue. Dark blue.
Why is Sylar…?
Mohinder collapses down over Sylar’s back, spent. The man under him is still tense, trembling, but as Mohinder slumps off to the side, falling onto the bed and sliding out of him, Sylar wriggles out from under his body. Mohinder’s sight is blurring as he tries to steady his breathing, gather air into his lungs. Sylar flops onto his stomach next to him and Mohinder catches him with his hand still wrapped around his cock. He’s still hard and he still hasn’t come yet but he has an all-consuming grin on his face.
"I remember the days…when you would have rolled over now, crawled down my body and sucked me off in the lewdest, most depraved way…"
Mohinder wants to say something but Sylar’s voice is fading away; he wonders why he suddenly feels so exhausted.
"Yet, those days are long gone and you still want to call me Zane…Zane is someone you’ll never stop loving…so I’ll give you a Zane to love."
"No…" Mohinder doesn’t finish his thought before Sylar kisses him softly, dark eyes dancing and then he’s pulling away, the room blurring, and Mohinder closes his eyes, feeling consciousness slip away.
When he wakes up, he’s on the couch with a blanket over his body. He can hear noises in the kitchenette and at first he wonders if it’s Sylar, until he hears Matt’s voice.
"Ma-att!" He croaks loudly, hopes he hears, because he needs to work up the energy to do that again. His hope is rewarded as Matt hurries to his side and all at once Mohinder is relieved and horrified and all he can do is cry.
"It’s okay! It’s okay…Mohinder…" Matt’s voice is low and calming and Mohinder tries to hold back tearless sobs as he relives what seems like moments ago in his head.
Sylar…he had…with…in their bed!
"I’m sor-sorry! I’m so, so…so sorry!" Matt has to have found him, has to have realized what Sylar made him do!
"It’s okay Mohinder…it’s okay. I don’t think he got much."
What?
"The mechanism he had on the locks where he had us was timed. I guess he was expecting to be back by then. I…I might have caught him if I hadn’t stopped to drop Molly off with Peter…but I knew he’d be here. I didn’t want her to…I’m so sorry I left you here with him, Mohinder."
What was Matt talking about? Didn’t he see?
"But it’s okay! I think he knocked you out just before I got here. He was over by your laptop, and I saw the list you were making. It’s only a few people Mohinder. Just a few names. I know that won’t make you feel better if…but…" Matt’s hand brushes lovingly through his hair and Mohinder is looking at him, wide-eyed, lost. "I know you did what you did to save me and Molly. He probably told you he’d kill us if you didn’t make him another list. You saved us Mohinder. You saved us. Don’t feel guilty."
"Matt…" Mohinder doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’s about to ask Matt what he’s talking about when he’s silenced by a soft, probing kiss meant to distract.
It does. And he’s soon kissing Matt back hungrily, desperate to inspire the fire…the fire he’d felt when he was buried so deep into Sylar he could feel himself burning from the inside out.
He never does feel it and he never tells Matt the real story. He doesn’t understand why Sylar would cover for him, for them, hide what they did. But he doesn’t have it in him to disillusion Matt, to break up their family. After a few months, he buries it himself and after almost a year, he’s told himself he’s forgotten.
Mohinder’s fantasy is rudely broken, shattered, when a professionally-made postcard from Italy shows up.
When Matt reads it and asks him incredulously what the hell it means before handing it over, he finally understands Sylar’s game.
'Mohinder,
Italy is beautiful. Wish you were here. You’ll be happy to know I haven’t killed anyone in over a year. Sounds like I’m on one of those ‘wagons,’ doesn’t it? But it would have been sort of difficult to follow my usual routine, the condition I was in.
There are some really interesting powers out there in the world, Mohinder. And wouldn’t you know, just a week before meeting with you, that whole unpleasant fiasco, sorry about having to kidnap your family, I met this interesting woman who had the ability to manipulate her gender and absorb powers through DNA. She was a hermaphrodite and she collected powers, just like perhaps myself or Peter, just in a more entertaining way. She would fuck men and women and absorb their genetic data. Unfortunately, for her, I found out about her power before she found out about mine. Oh well.
I would say I will be sure to use it well, but then again I already have. I think I shall become that kind of parent, living vicariously through my child. He will be the height of evolution, Mohinder…and you helped me make him. He is a collage of all the powers I have and the immunity of your blood.
So, thank you.
I’ve given you a Zane to love.'
The baby on the front is beautiful, black wisps across a pale cranium as he looked, in that glassy baby way, at the lens of whatever camera had taken his picture. He looks the colour of warm toffee and Mohinder collapses in front of his distressed partner as the implication hits home.
He is his.
Zane Gray, the name scrawled in Sylar’s handwriting in the corner of the photo, is his.
He won’t have his family. When Mohinder explains this to Matt, he will leave as the reality of what Mohinder did sinks in. He’ll lose Matt and Molly and he won’t have his family.
Either of them.
*looks shifty*...wrote for Perdi's birthday. Very, very late. Me sorry. *distracts with Top!Mohinder*