FIC: If You Were the Last Man on Earth: Book One (4/4)
Title: If You Were the Last Man on Earth
Book One: Winter (4/4)
Author: seraphtrevs
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: R
Word count: This part: 2,294
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, etc.
Spoiler alert: up through the end of season 2
Summary: AU - It's been a year and a half since the Shanti virus dropped and devastated the planet. After refusing to conduct inhumane experiments in the search for a cure, Mohinder is made into an unwilling test subject by his former colleagues. When Mohinder thinks that things can't get any worse, he is unexpectedly rescued by Sylar, who has plans that include world domination, ultimate power, and domestic bliss. Mohinder isn't sure he's better off.
A/N: This is the end of Book One: Winter. The first chapter of Book Two: Spring will be posted on Wednesday!
As always, love to the tireless marenpaisley.
Previous Parts:
Chapter One: A Dubious Rescue, an Improbable Savior, and the Subtle Pleasures of Accurate Time-Keeping
Chapter Two: Clockwork Comfort and Terrifying Tenderness at the Rest and Service Station
Chapter Three: The Trouble with Cockroaches, or Domestic Bliss in Piedmont, Missouri
Mohinder woke up the next morning feeling oddly refreshed after a night of sleeping alone. And ironically, he felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. When Isaac Mendez painted the destruction of New York, it was the knowledge of that future that allowed them to prevent it. Now Mohinder knew at least a little of what was “destined.” And Sylar said there were other paintings. If he could find them, maybe he could discover a clue that would help him alter the future - help him escape, and maybe bring Sylar down. He just had to be patient and careful.
He took a shower and went downstairs to make some breakfast, only to find that Sylar had beaten him to it. The table was set for two.
“Hey you,” Sylar said. “You’re just in time - I made waffles.”
Mohinder sat down as Sylar finished cooking. He tried to read Sylar’s expression - had he decided to pretend last night never happened? Was he angry? Pleased that he’d squashed Mohinder’s rebellion? Completely oblivious? As usual, Mohinder couldn’t tell.
“Thank you,” Mohinder said when Sylar served him.
Sylar smiled. “You’re in a much better mood this morning.”
“I had an exceptionally good night of sleep,” Mohinder said. Sylar’s lips thinned, and Mohinder had to suppress a smirk. There was no misreading that expression.
They ate in silence. When Mohinder was finished, he said, “I thought I’d browse the library today.”
“Sure,” Sylar said. “There’s something I want to look for out of town. I should be back by this evening.”
Mohinder stared at him. Was he really going to leave him alone so soon after he’d attempted to escape? Was this some sort of test?
“Be good while I’m gone,” Sylar said warningly.
Aha - so it was a test. Mohinder intended to pass it with flying colors. Last night he had realized that now wasn’t the time to escape. He was too weak, for one. He also didn’t stand a chance unless he planned it in excruciating detail. And this would be an excellent opportunity to gain Sylar’s trust. He didn’t want to appear too cooperative, though, so he scowled at Sylar and stomped out of the room.
Mohinder waited until he heard the hummer leave, then made his way to the library. The first thing he did was search around for any paintings - he didn’t find any, including the one Sylar had shown him last night. He wasn’t particularly surprised. He wondered if Sylar had destroyed them all, but somehow he doubted it. He seemed so pleased with the future they depicted that it seemed to Mohinder that Sylar would want to keep them around.
He had briefly browsed the library before when Sylar had first showed it to him, but now he had a chance to look through it at his leisure. The books were organized by subject. Sylar had brought him several books on evolution when he was recovering, perhaps out of an attempt to convince Mohinder that his plan for world domination was ordained by nature - of course, one had to view the world with Sylar’s particular brand of psychosis to think that they proved anything of the kind.
Mohinder selected a few of the books on neuroscience; he didn’t have a laboratory, but old habits died hard. Maybe he’d have an epiphany about how special abilities worked that could help him deal with Sylar, although he wasn’t very optimistic.
Although...maybe he could convince Sylar to set up a lab for him. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would be looking for, but before the virus broke out, he felt that he was very close to a breakthrough concerning the mechanism through which the special abilities worked. Maybe he could discover a way to de-power him. That would be his best bet at escape. He’d have to think of a good reason to convince Sylar to not only get him the equipment he needed, but also volunteer his blood for study, but it was worth a shot. Maybe he could convince him that he wanted to start work on finding a cure again. He himself knew that it was probably hopeless, but maybe he could convince Sylar otherwise.
As he browsed through some of the how-to books, he made a terrifying discovery. There was a whole shelf devoted to relationship advice. Among the titles were: Redeeming Relationships: How to Resolve 10 Common Conflicts (Oh, yes, he could see it now - "The use of telekinesis can often bring a swift end to any argument...” ); Nineteen Reasons Why He Left You, Honey (“Reason 1: You killed his father”); How to Keep Your Man: And Keep Him for Good (“First, imprison him in a bed-and-breakfast in an abandoned town in the middle of nowhere…”); Romeo’s Playbook: A Man’s Guide for Enhancing His Relationship and Sex Life (actual quotation: “When it comes to love, arguing will get you nowhere, but a little romance and kindness will get you just about anything you want!” Well, that would help explain why Sylar was taking a kinder, gentler approach in his attempts to twist Mohinder’s actions to his will); and last, but certainly not least: The Gay Kama Sutra.
More helpfully, he found some guides on wilderness survival. He took what looked like the most promising one: The SAS Escape, Evasion & Survival Manual. He would have to keep that book hidden; Sylar probably wouldn’t appreciate Mohinder’s interest in the subject.
He returned to the house and placed the books by his favorite reading chair. Then he took some time to search the house for the paintings. He didn’t find any, which was frustrating, but he was fairly confident he could get Sylar to reveal them to him if he played his cards right.
He also explored the back yard for the first time. There was a concrete patio, an in-ground swimming pool and a hot tub, and beyond that there was a dead lawn. It looked like there used to be a large garden - there were a few stone semi-circles that appeared to be raised flower beds, and there were tacky garden statues interspersed among the barren patches of land. The garden wasn’t only dead - it was completely cleared out. He supposed that Sylar might have uprooted everything, since he liked for things to be tidy and probably saw no point in keeping a flower garden.
Mohinder brushed the snow off of one of the flower beds, and remarkably, he found a small flower growing in the soil. The bloom was small and white; it hung shyly downwards from the delicate stalk. It seemed so improbable that this little flower could bloom in this cold, dead season when everything else had been uprooted.
Mohinder went back inside and up to his reading room. He picked up the SAS Survival Manual and leafed through it. The first two chapters were devoted to escaping from a POW camp, which was interesting but not particularly useful for his situation. One part did catch his eye, though: the section on the psychological effects of being held captive. Under the heading of “Boredom and Isolation,” he read:
These are two tough enemies for any prisoner of war, and they tend to occur together…Dealing with waiting when there is nothing happening can play a very significant part in survival. Many hopes and expectations may be raised, only to be dashed to nothing…the best antidote is to talk - to yourself if necessary - and make plans for the future. Talk about the future that awaits you after your escape. Devise problems to keep your mind exercised and occupied. Active, positive thinking leaves no room for boredom or loneliness.
Well, he certainly couldn’t babble to himself about escape plans, especially since Sylar had super-hearing, but the part about keeping his mind occupied was a good point.
Sylar returned around sunset. Mohinder hid the Survival Manual under his chair and went downstairs.
“You were certainly gone for a long time,” Mohinder said as Sylar walked through the door, carrying two large bags.
“Did you miss me?” Sylar asked.
Mohinder rolled his eyes.
Sylar handed Mohinder one of the bags. “Here,” he said. “It’s a present.” He took the other bag and walked back towards the kitchen.
Mohinder opened the bag, and the smell of spices wafted over him. The bag was filled with jars and bottles.
He followed Sylar into the kitchen. “What’s all this?” he asked.
“I found an Indian food store,” Sylar said while he started to shelve the contents of his bag in the pantry. “You really need to eat more, so I thought this would help.”
Mohinder sat down at the table and pulled out a bottle of curry powder. “Oh,” he said. He shut his eyes and thought about how Molly used to crawl into bed with him, shaking and sobbing and begging Mohinder not to let the boogieman kill her.
Sylar finished putting his groceries away and came out of the pantry. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Mohinder said. “Sylar, I was thinking. I need something to do with myself. I feel like I’m losing my mind, sitting around this house with nothing to do.”
Sylar sat down across from him. “What did you have in mind?”
He took a deep breath. “I thought maybe you could get me some lab equipment.”
“Why would you need that?” Sylar asked, puzzled.
“I was just thinking that maybe I could start up my research for a cure again.”
Sylar raised an eyebrow. “And you think that you could make a breakthrough here, all by yourself, when a team of scientists working for months with the best equipment the government could offer couldn’t.”
“All right, maybe not,” Mohinder said. He wasn’t sure if he should be honest about his true intentions, but maybe it would be less suspicious if he was up front. “But maybe I could study you, and your abilities.”
Sylar became very still. “And why, doctor, would you want to do that?”
Mohinder could tell that there was something very dark lurking under that stillness. He faltered. “Well. Um. Aren’t you curious about how your abilities work?”
“Not particularly,” Sylar said. “Why are you interested?”
Mohinder wasn’t quite sure how the situation had turned on him so suddenly. One minute they’d been chatting casually, and the next, Sylar was staring at him like he’d whacked him in the face with a frying pan again. “It’s my father’s research,” he said, trying to regain control of the conversation. “I’d like to continue it.”
Sylar didn’t so much stand up as uncoil. He walked slowly over to Mohinder’s side of the table. “Just out of idle curiosity, then?” he said, looking down at Mohinder. His tone was casual, but his stance was definitely not.
Mohinder nodded, but did not meet Sylar’s gaze. “Of course.”
They were both silent for a tense few seconds. Mohinder’s heart was pounding. Had Sylar guessed his true motivations? Was he really that transparent?
Sylar moved behind Mohinder and put his hands on his shoulders; Mohinder continued to stare dully at the space in front of him. “Mohinder, I have never seen you do anything out of idle curiosity. Maybe that’s what motivates other scientists, but not you. You always have some goal in mind, so if you say you want to put my blood under a microscope, it’s because you believe it will accomplish something.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against Mohinder’s ear. “And despite all the kindness I’ve shown you, I doubt that you have my best interests at heart.” Sylar squeezed Mohinder’s shoulders, then released him.
Sylar straightened up and moved to stand in front of him. “Mohinder, look at me.” When Mohinder didn’t comply, Sylar took his chin in his hands and forced him to look up. Sylar sighed. “I understand that this is a difficult adjustment for you, but I’ve seen the future, and you’re there with me. Any attempts at getting away from me are destined to fail - literally. So I want you to put all of those ideas out of your head.”
“Or what?” Mohinder said fiercely. “You keep blathering on about us being destined to be together, so I know you aren’t going to kill me.”
Sylar sat down beside Mohinder and took his hand in his own. He sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then he said, “I once had a 1917 Heuer chronograph. It was an exquisite time piece, but I could never quite get it to work properly. I worked on it for seven years - taking it apart, and putting it back together, over and over, again and again, until finally, I got it to run perfectly.” He brought Mohinder’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “It just required patience, and a delicate touch.”
A shudder ripped through Mohinder’s body. Sylar gave his hand a pat before releasing it and standing up. “You’ll feel better once you eat. How about I make us some dinner?” Mohinder didn’t respond, but it seemed like Sylar didn’t expect him to.
When they went to bed later that night, Sylar was more cozy with Mohinder than usual. He seemed very pleased with himself, as if he was sure that between this night and the one before, he had quashed Mohinder’s rebelliousness completely. Mohinder waited for him to fall asleep, then got up and got dressed again. The moon was full and filled the night with a surprising amount of light. He went out to the backyard and sat beside the flower he had discovered. It somehow soothed him. He brushed away the snow from the flower bed, looking for other growths; there weren’t any. But there could be. Spring was right around the corner.
A/N: This is the flower that Mohinder found: fragile-looking, but surprisingly hardy.
All of the books mentioned in this chapter actually exist. Scary, I know.
I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the others - sorry about that. The scenes just happened to break in a way that made the previous chapter longer and this one shorter. However! To make up for it, here's a sneak peak at Book Two: Spring. (Heads up: This part is rated NC-17) Enjoy!
Mohinder looked morosely at the bottom of his wine glass. A small amount of dark residue clung to the bottom. He suddenly felt ill. “I’m going upstairs,” he said. He left the room before Sylar could say anything.
Mohinder stumbled his way up the stairs and weaved his way into the bedroom. He barely made it to the toilet before throwing up. After he was finished, he went to the sink and washed his mouth out. He sank down to the floor and rested his head against the wall. God, he had become such a lightweight. His head was swimming, and he felt very odd. The whole night had been very odd. This being “courted” by Sylar as if he were a blushing virgin business absolutely had to stop. It was absurd. But how? It wasn’t as if Sylar was ever going to let up, until -
A very dim lightbulb went off over Mohinder’s head. He just had to sleep with him. That would solve everything.
A part of him was aware that this probably wasn’t a decision he should be making while he was drunk, but then again, he didn’t think he’d be able to go through with it sober anyway.
As if on cue, Sylar appeared in the doorway. “Are you feeling all right?” Sylar asked.
Mohinder crawled his way up the wall until he was standing. “No,” he said, and then launched himself off the wall and into Sylar’s arms.
Sylar was evidently not expecting that, so they both almost toppled over. Mohinder tried to kiss him, but missed his mouth on the first shot and ended up licking his chin. But once Sylar understood what was going on, he moaned loudly and captured Mohinder’s mouth with his own.
He was a terrible kisser. At least at first. But after a few minutes of sloppy licking and teeth crashing, Sylar suddenly was kissing Mohinder exactly the way he loved to be kissed, gently moving his lips over Mohinder’s with an occasional dip of his tongue into his mouth. Mohinder was aware that his mouth must taste terrible, which gave him an odd sense of satisfaction.
All of a sudden, Mohinder felt himself flying backward; he hit the bed with a bounce. Thirty seconds later, Sylar was in bed with him, naked and hard. He felt a twinge of panic - maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea. He jumped when Sylar laid a hand on his waist and pulled him closer. He drew Mohinder into a long kiss, then pulled back and began to slowly unbutton Mohinder’s shirt, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. Mohinder started to feel aroused in spite of himself.
Sylar finally reached the last button and pulled him to a sitting position so he could slip the shirt off. The room lurched around him; he grabbed onto Sylar’s shoulders in an attempt to steady himself. Sylar started rubbing his hands up and down Mohinder’s body. It was very clinical at first, and Sylar had his head cocked as if he were listening for something. After a few minutes, his touch turned into a caress. He massaged the back of Mohinder’s neck briefly, and then moved his hands down his body, grazing his thumbs over his nipples along the way. He reached his waist and rubbed the sensitive areas just above his hip bones, and then he reached around to rub the small of his back before moving up again along his spine. He wrapped Mohinder in his arms and kissed him again.
Intuitive aptitude, Mohinder thought. He’s using his ability to learn what I like. He felt a surge of arousal at the thought and let out a moan before he could stop himself.
“Yes,” Sylar said against his lips. “Good, good…” He laid Mohinder on his back again and undid his fly, then coaxed him out of his trousers and underwear.
Onto Book Two!
Thanks to everyone who has read and/or commented. See you Wednesday!
Book One: Winter (4/4)
Author: seraphtrevs
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: R
Word count: This part: 2,294
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, etc.
Spoiler alert: up through the end of season 2
Summary: AU - It's been a year and a half since the Shanti virus dropped and devastated the planet. After refusing to conduct inhumane experiments in the search for a cure, Mohinder is made into an unwilling test subject by his former colleagues. When Mohinder thinks that things can't get any worse, he is unexpectedly rescued by Sylar, who has plans that include world domination, ultimate power, and domestic bliss. Mohinder isn't sure he's better off.
A/N: This is the end of Book One: Winter. The first chapter of Book Two: Spring will be posted on Wednesday!
As always, love to the tireless marenpaisley.
Previous Parts:
Chapter One: A Dubious Rescue, an Improbable Savior, and the Subtle Pleasures of Accurate Time-Keeping
Chapter Two: Clockwork Comfort and Terrifying Tenderness at the Rest and Service Station
Chapter Three: The Trouble with Cockroaches, or Domestic Bliss in Piedmont, Missouri
Mohinder woke up the next morning feeling oddly refreshed after a night of sleeping alone. And ironically, he felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. When Isaac Mendez painted the destruction of New York, it was the knowledge of that future that allowed them to prevent it. Now Mohinder knew at least a little of what was “destined.” And Sylar said there were other paintings. If he could find them, maybe he could discover a clue that would help him alter the future - help him escape, and maybe bring Sylar down. He just had to be patient and careful.
He took a shower and went downstairs to make some breakfast, only to find that Sylar had beaten him to it. The table was set for two.
“Hey you,” Sylar said. “You’re just in time - I made waffles.”
Mohinder sat down as Sylar finished cooking. He tried to read Sylar’s expression - had he decided to pretend last night never happened? Was he angry? Pleased that he’d squashed Mohinder’s rebellion? Completely oblivious? As usual, Mohinder couldn’t tell.
“Thank you,” Mohinder said when Sylar served him.
Sylar smiled. “You’re in a much better mood this morning.”
“I had an exceptionally good night of sleep,” Mohinder said. Sylar’s lips thinned, and Mohinder had to suppress a smirk. There was no misreading that expression.
They ate in silence. When Mohinder was finished, he said, “I thought I’d browse the library today.”
“Sure,” Sylar said. “There’s something I want to look for out of town. I should be back by this evening.”
Mohinder stared at him. Was he really going to leave him alone so soon after he’d attempted to escape? Was this some sort of test?
“Be good while I’m gone,” Sylar said warningly.
Aha - so it was a test. Mohinder intended to pass it with flying colors. Last night he had realized that now wasn’t the time to escape. He was too weak, for one. He also didn’t stand a chance unless he planned it in excruciating detail. And this would be an excellent opportunity to gain Sylar’s trust. He didn’t want to appear too cooperative, though, so he scowled at Sylar and stomped out of the room.
Mohinder waited until he heard the hummer leave, then made his way to the library. The first thing he did was search around for any paintings - he didn’t find any, including the one Sylar had shown him last night. He wasn’t particularly surprised. He wondered if Sylar had destroyed them all, but somehow he doubted it. He seemed so pleased with the future they depicted that it seemed to Mohinder that Sylar would want to keep them around.
He had briefly browsed the library before when Sylar had first showed it to him, but now he had a chance to look through it at his leisure. The books were organized by subject. Sylar had brought him several books on evolution when he was recovering, perhaps out of an attempt to convince Mohinder that his plan for world domination was ordained by nature - of course, one had to view the world with Sylar’s particular brand of psychosis to think that they proved anything of the kind.
Mohinder selected a few of the books on neuroscience; he didn’t have a laboratory, but old habits died hard. Maybe he’d have an epiphany about how special abilities worked that could help him deal with Sylar, although he wasn’t very optimistic.
Although...maybe he could convince Sylar to set up a lab for him. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would be looking for, but before the virus broke out, he felt that he was very close to a breakthrough concerning the mechanism through which the special abilities worked. Maybe he could discover a way to de-power him. That would be his best bet at escape. He’d have to think of a good reason to convince Sylar to not only get him the equipment he needed, but also volunteer his blood for study, but it was worth a shot. Maybe he could convince him that he wanted to start work on finding a cure again. He himself knew that it was probably hopeless, but maybe he could convince Sylar otherwise.
As he browsed through some of the how-to books, he made a terrifying discovery. There was a whole shelf devoted to relationship advice. Among the titles were: Redeeming Relationships: How to Resolve 10 Common Conflicts (Oh, yes, he could see it now - "The use of telekinesis can often bring a swift end to any argument...” ); Nineteen Reasons Why He Left You, Honey (“Reason 1: You killed his father”); How to Keep Your Man: And Keep Him for Good (“First, imprison him in a bed-and-breakfast in an abandoned town in the middle of nowhere…”); Romeo’s Playbook: A Man’s Guide for Enhancing His Relationship and Sex Life (actual quotation: “When it comes to love, arguing will get you nowhere, but a little romance and kindness will get you just about anything you want!” Well, that would help explain why Sylar was taking a kinder, gentler approach in his attempts to twist Mohinder’s actions to his will); and last, but certainly not least: The Gay Kama Sutra.
More helpfully, he found some guides on wilderness survival. He took what looked like the most promising one: The SAS Escape, Evasion & Survival Manual. He would have to keep that book hidden; Sylar probably wouldn’t appreciate Mohinder’s interest in the subject.
He returned to the house and placed the books by his favorite reading chair. Then he took some time to search the house for the paintings. He didn’t find any, which was frustrating, but he was fairly confident he could get Sylar to reveal them to him if he played his cards right.
He also explored the back yard for the first time. There was a concrete patio, an in-ground swimming pool and a hot tub, and beyond that there was a dead lawn. It looked like there used to be a large garden - there were a few stone semi-circles that appeared to be raised flower beds, and there were tacky garden statues interspersed among the barren patches of land. The garden wasn’t only dead - it was completely cleared out. He supposed that Sylar might have uprooted everything, since he liked for things to be tidy and probably saw no point in keeping a flower garden.
Mohinder brushed the snow off of one of the flower beds, and remarkably, he found a small flower growing in the soil. The bloom was small and white; it hung shyly downwards from the delicate stalk. It seemed so improbable that this little flower could bloom in this cold, dead season when everything else had been uprooted.
Mohinder went back inside and up to his reading room. He picked up the SAS Survival Manual and leafed through it. The first two chapters were devoted to escaping from a POW camp, which was interesting but not particularly useful for his situation. One part did catch his eye, though: the section on the psychological effects of being held captive. Under the heading of “Boredom and Isolation,” he read:
These are two tough enemies for any prisoner of war, and they tend to occur together…Dealing with waiting when there is nothing happening can play a very significant part in survival. Many hopes and expectations may be raised, only to be dashed to nothing…the best antidote is to talk - to yourself if necessary - and make plans for the future. Talk about the future that awaits you after your escape. Devise problems to keep your mind exercised and occupied. Active, positive thinking leaves no room for boredom or loneliness.
Well, he certainly couldn’t babble to himself about escape plans, especially since Sylar had super-hearing, but the part about keeping his mind occupied was a good point.
Sylar returned around sunset. Mohinder hid the Survival Manual under his chair and went downstairs.
“You were certainly gone for a long time,” Mohinder said as Sylar walked through the door, carrying two large bags.
“Did you miss me?” Sylar asked.
Mohinder rolled his eyes.
Sylar handed Mohinder one of the bags. “Here,” he said. “It’s a present.” He took the other bag and walked back towards the kitchen.
Mohinder opened the bag, and the smell of spices wafted over him. The bag was filled with jars and bottles.
He followed Sylar into the kitchen. “What’s all this?” he asked.
“I found an Indian food store,” Sylar said while he started to shelve the contents of his bag in the pantry. “You really need to eat more, so I thought this would help.”
Mohinder sat down at the table and pulled out a bottle of curry powder. “Oh,” he said. He shut his eyes and thought about how Molly used to crawl into bed with him, shaking and sobbing and begging Mohinder not to let the boogieman kill her.
Sylar finished putting his groceries away and came out of the pantry. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Mohinder said. “Sylar, I was thinking. I need something to do with myself. I feel like I’m losing my mind, sitting around this house with nothing to do.”
Sylar sat down across from him. “What did you have in mind?”
He took a deep breath. “I thought maybe you could get me some lab equipment.”
“Why would you need that?” Sylar asked, puzzled.
“I was just thinking that maybe I could start up my research for a cure again.”
Sylar raised an eyebrow. “And you think that you could make a breakthrough here, all by yourself, when a team of scientists working for months with the best equipment the government could offer couldn’t.”
“All right, maybe not,” Mohinder said. He wasn’t sure if he should be honest about his true intentions, but maybe it would be less suspicious if he was up front. “But maybe I could study you, and your abilities.”
Sylar became very still. “And why, doctor, would you want to do that?”
Mohinder could tell that there was something very dark lurking under that stillness. He faltered. “Well. Um. Aren’t you curious about how your abilities work?”
“Not particularly,” Sylar said. “Why are you interested?”
Mohinder wasn’t quite sure how the situation had turned on him so suddenly. One minute they’d been chatting casually, and the next, Sylar was staring at him like he’d whacked him in the face with a frying pan again. “It’s my father’s research,” he said, trying to regain control of the conversation. “I’d like to continue it.”
Sylar didn’t so much stand up as uncoil. He walked slowly over to Mohinder’s side of the table. “Just out of idle curiosity, then?” he said, looking down at Mohinder. His tone was casual, but his stance was definitely not.
Mohinder nodded, but did not meet Sylar’s gaze. “Of course.”
They were both silent for a tense few seconds. Mohinder’s heart was pounding. Had Sylar guessed his true motivations? Was he really that transparent?
Sylar moved behind Mohinder and put his hands on his shoulders; Mohinder continued to stare dully at the space in front of him. “Mohinder, I have never seen you do anything out of idle curiosity. Maybe that’s what motivates other scientists, but not you. You always have some goal in mind, so if you say you want to put my blood under a microscope, it’s because you believe it will accomplish something.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against Mohinder’s ear. “And despite all the kindness I’ve shown you, I doubt that you have my best interests at heart.” Sylar squeezed Mohinder’s shoulders, then released him.
Sylar straightened up and moved to stand in front of him. “Mohinder, look at me.” When Mohinder didn’t comply, Sylar took his chin in his hands and forced him to look up. Sylar sighed. “I understand that this is a difficult adjustment for you, but I’ve seen the future, and you’re there with me. Any attempts at getting away from me are destined to fail - literally. So I want you to put all of those ideas out of your head.”
“Or what?” Mohinder said fiercely. “You keep blathering on about us being destined to be together, so I know you aren’t going to kill me.”
Sylar sat down beside Mohinder and took his hand in his own. He sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then he said, “I once had a 1917 Heuer chronograph. It was an exquisite time piece, but I could never quite get it to work properly. I worked on it for seven years - taking it apart, and putting it back together, over and over, again and again, until finally, I got it to run perfectly.” He brought Mohinder’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “It just required patience, and a delicate touch.”
A shudder ripped through Mohinder’s body. Sylar gave his hand a pat before releasing it and standing up. “You’ll feel better once you eat. How about I make us some dinner?” Mohinder didn’t respond, but it seemed like Sylar didn’t expect him to.
When they went to bed later that night, Sylar was more cozy with Mohinder than usual. He seemed very pleased with himself, as if he was sure that between this night and the one before, he had quashed Mohinder’s rebelliousness completely. Mohinder waited for him to fall asleep, then got up and got dressed again. The moon was full and filled the night with a surprising amount of light. He went out to the backyard and sat beside the flower he had discovered. It somehow soothed him. He brushed away the snow from the flower bed, looking for other growths; there weren’t any. But there could be. Spring was right around the corner.
A/N: This is the flower that Mohinder found: fragile-looking, but surprisingly hardy.
All of the books mentioned in this chapter actually exist. Scary, I know.
I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the others - sorry about that. The scenes just happened to break in a way that made the previous chapter longer and this one shorter. However! To make up for it, here's a sneak peak at Book Two: Spring. (Heads up: This part is rated NC-17) Enjoy!
Mohinder looked morosely at the bottom of his wine glass. A small amount of dark residue clung to the bottom. He suddenly felt ill. “I’m going upstairs,” he said. He left the room before Sylar could say anything.
Mohinder stumbled his way up the stairs and weaved his way into the bedroom. He barely made it to the toilet before throwing up. After he was finished, he went to the sink and washed his mouth out. He sank down to the floor and rested his head against the wall. God, he had become such a lightweight. His head was swimming, and he felt very odd. The whole night had been very odd. This being “courted” by Sylar as if he were a blushing virgin business absolutely had to stop. It was absurd. But how? It wasn’t as if Sylar was ever going to let up, until -
A very dim lightbulb went off over Mohinder’s head. He just had to sleep with him. That would solve everything.
A part of him was aware that this probably wasn’t a decision he should be making while he was drunk, but then again, he didn’t think he’d be able to go through with it sober anyway.
As if on cue, Sylar appeared in the doorway. “Are you feeling all right?” Sylar asked.
Mohinder crawled his way up the wall until he was standing. “No,” he said, and then launched himself off the wall and into Sylar’s arms.
Sylar was evidently not expecting that, so they both almost toppled over. Mohinder tried to kiss him, but missed his mouth on the first shot and ended up licking his chin. But once Sylar understood what was going on, he moaned loudly and captured Mohinder’s mouth with his own.
He was a terrible kisser. At least at first. But after a few minutes of sloppy licking and teeth crashing, Sylar suddenly was kissing Mohinder exactly the way he loved to be kissed, gently moving his lips over Mohinder’s with an occasional dip of his tongue into his mouth. Mohinder was aware that his mouth must taste terrible, which gave him an odd sense of satisfaction.
All of a sudden, Mohinder felt himself flying backward; he hit the bed with a bounce. Thirty seconds later, Sylar was in bed with him, naked and hard. He felt a twinge of panic - maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea. He jumped when Sylar laid a hand on his waist and pulled him closer. He drew Mohinder into a long kiss, then pulled back and began to slowly unbutton Mohinder’s shirt, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. Mohinder started to feel aroused in spite of himself.
Sylar finally reached the last button and pulled him to a sitting position so he could slip the shirt off. The room lurched around him; he grabbed onto Sylar’s shoulders in an attempt to steady himself. Sylar started rubbing his hands up and down Mohinder’s body. It was very clinical at first, and Sylar had his head cocked as if he were listening for something. After a few minutes, his touch turned into a caress. He massaged the back of Mohinder’s neck briefly, and then moved his hands down his body, grazing his thumbs over his nipples along the way. He reached his waist and rubbed the sensitive areas just above his hip bones, and then he reached around to rub the small of his back before moving up again along his spine. He wrapped Mohinder in his arms and kissed him again.
Intuitive aptitude, Mohinder thought. He’s using his ability to learn what I like. He felt a surge of arousal at the thought and let out a moan before he could stop himself.
“Yes,” Sylar said against his lips. “Good, good…” He laid Mohinder on his back again and undid his fly, then coaxed him out of his trousers and underwear.
Onto Book Two!
Thanks to everyone who has read and/or commented. See you Wednesday!