Unsatisfied Mind (fic)
Title: Unsatisfied Mind
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: PG- 13
Word Count: 352
Characters/Pairings: Maya/Sylar
Disclaimer: Don’t own.
Spoilers/Time Line: Vol.2 "The Line"
Summery: I put this hook inside So you won't soon forget
Author’s Notes: This was inspired by this pic spam over at sylar_maya
PROMPT TABLES Un_love_you prompt # 2 "I was wrong about you."
100heroesfics #11 "Red"
The red cotton string on her top was a little more than distracting. Sylar told himself it was the unkemptness of her. The wrinkles and sweat stains and caked dirty. He told himself it was the only reason for his staring.
Not because of the wetness of her skin which amplified the essences of her. He took in a deep, drowning breath tasting her through her nose. He'd never forget it. It was her, sweet yet savory, butyraceous scent. Thick on his tongue, making his mouth water.
His eyes linger. They scathe. They fucking hurt without his glasses. He rubs them letting out a weary sigh.
Maya turns her head smiling at him. He feels his skin ripple with goose flesh and begins pulling at the hair own his on head in an effort to keep from touching her.
He stares ...
She is hot, almost unbearably so. The sweat slicks over her brown skin, making it glow warmly. He tries to stay focused -keep your eyes on the road- but her allure is undeniable. He can't keep still, hands and fingers always moving, twitching with brimming energy.
He wants ...
She talks of the killings, the deaths she caused and he looks away from her to hide his envy. She wouldn't understand. Ignoring the pain in her voice he goes on telling her about his own experiences with his own abilities. He reminisces with a sour taste in his mouth.
He wants ...
He senses it, the abysm inside of her, one that he could fill... if he wanted to.
If she'd let him.
Teacher.
Teach-her.
I could do that Maya ... I could teach you ...
Wonderful ..." He says and lets his fingers brush down against the strands of her hair ... He wants to grab it - so close. Feeling it in the air, on her skin ... the charge.
The blood that rushes and roars and screaming inside of him ... for what she had. He wanted her ...
It ... -he thinks- I want it ... not her. His eyes drift downward, scouring from the crest of her head to places that had nothing to do with her ability.