FIC: If You Were the Last Man on Earth: Book Two (2/3)
Title: If You Were the Last Man on Earth
Book Two: Spring (2/3)
Author: seraphtrevs
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Word count: This part: 3,289
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.
As always, massive thanks to my beta marenpaisley, who is very tolerant of last-minute flailing.
Previous Parts:
Book One:
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
Chapter Four: How to Keep Your Man: And Keep Him for Good
Book Two:
Chapter One: Better Homes and Gardens and a Happy New Year
Mohinder woke up with an enormous headache. The sun was shining through the window directly onto his face. He grabbed his watch from the nightstand to check the time - it was 9:02 am, which was later than he usually let himself sleep. However, he was not ready to deal with last night just yet, so he got up and closed the curtains, then crawled back into bed and attempted to go back to sleep. At least Sylar was apparently already up and around.
But a minute later, he felt a gentle nudge against his shoulder. He tried to ignore it, but the nudge became more persistent. Sighing, he sat up. An invisible force propped a pillow up behind him while a tray floated through the door and onto his lap. On the tray was a plate of fried eggs, a few heart-shaped pieces of toast, and a pitcher filled with ice-cold water and a glass.
“Show off,” he mumbled under his breath.
When he finished eating, he set the tray on the nightstand and got out of bed. His teeth chattered as he walked to the dresser to get some clothes, but as he reached for the drawer, he felt a tug on his hand. He tried to shake it off, but the tug just got stronger. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Where do you want me to go?” He stumbled forward as the tug led him to the bathroom.
The claw-footed bathtub was filled with hot, lilac-scented water. He was gently pushed towards it. He grumbled, but actually, a hot bath did sound nice. Even though it was spring, the mornings were still way too cold for Mohinder’s taste.
He slid into the tub with a sigh. The water felt incredibly good, especially since he felt more than a little sore. He held his breath and dunked his head under the water to get his hair wet, then leaned his head back against the tub and closed his eyes.
“Careful, doctor - you don’t want to drift off and accidentally drown yourself.”
Mohinder startled violently. Sylar was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He was dressed in black jeans and a dirty tee shirt - he must have been out to the barn earlier. “Jesus, Sylar - you scared me.”
“Sorry,” Sylar said. His grin didn’t look particularly repentant.
“Where were you when I woke up?” he asked. He was curious about the range of Sylar’s powers.
“I was in the kitchen making breakfast when I heard you get up, so I sent up a tray. Did you like it?”
“It was fine,” Mohinder said.
Sylar walked over to the tub and knelt down beside it. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked. He started to trail his hand through the water, but Mohinder smacked it out.
“I have a headache.”
Sylar glanced over at the bedroom, and a moment later, a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin floated through the door. “Here you go,” he said.
Mohinder glared at him, but he did take the aspirin.
“You know, I’m a little dirty from doing my chores at the barn,” Sylar said. “Mind if I join you?”
“Would it matter if I said no?” Mohinder asked, but Sylar was already pulling off his clothes.
Sylar scooted Mohinder forward a bit so he could slip in behind him. “Mmmm. This feels nice.”
“I meant it when I said I had a headache,” Mohinder warned.
“Noted. Here, let me scrub your back.”
Sylar rubbed Mohinder down with a wash cloth, keeping his hands chastely above the waist but lingering more than was strictly necessary. “You are so tense,” Sylar said when he got to his shoulders.
“I can’t imagine why.” The sarcasm of the comment was lost when he moaned as Sylar started massaging him. Damn, he was good at this. It was impossible for his muscles to stay tense under Sylar’s hands.
Sylar continued to massage him until Mohinder felt like every bone in his body had turned to jelly. Sylar slid his arms around Mohinder’s chest and pulled him back to lean against him. He kissed the nape of Mohinder’s neck. “I really enjoyed last night,” he murmured in Mohinder’s ear.
Mohinder didn’t reply. He felt like he’d opened a door last night, and he’d stupidly walked through it without realizing that it would shut and lock behind him, and now he was even more trapped than before. By having sex with him, Mohinder got rid of Sylar, the patient suitor, but now he had to deal with Sylar, the affectionate lover.
Mohinder stood up and stepped out of the tub. He wanted to get dressed and go work in the garden, but Sylar obviously had other plans, so he might as well get it over with. He’d made his bed, and now he was going to have to lie in it. So to speak.
“Where are you going?” Sylar asked. “We don’t have to do anything - I just wanted to sit and relax with you.”
“I’m feeling waterlogged,” he said. “I’m going back to the bedroom.” He walked to the door, not bothering to dry himself off. When he reached the doorway, he looked back over his shoulder. “Well? Are you coming?” Sylar jumped out of the tub with comical speed.
They were both still soaking wet when they hit the bed. Mohinder’s skin was covered in goosebumps from the chill, but Sylar’s body was hot. Mohinder wrapped his body around Sylar as they kissed until he felt warm again. He then untangled himself and gave Sylar a rough shove, pushing him onto his back.
“Whoa,” Sylar said. “Feeling bossy this morning?”
Mohinder ignored him. He slithered down until he was level with Sylar’s cock. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him last night, but now, in the defused sunlight filtering through the curtains, he had the opportunity to study him. His cock was long, but not unusually so; the girth was also about average. He was circumcised (unsurprisingly, since he was American). The only slightly unusual thing about it was that it leaned a little to the left.
Mohinder swiped his tongue over the head, then held the base steady with his fist and took it in his mouth. He flattened his tongue and pressed it against the sensitive underside and gave it a few licks; Sylar screamed. Loudly.
Mohinder pulled back and looked up at him. He knew he was pretty good at this, but he wasn’t that good. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sylar gasped. “I’m fine - yes - oh God, do that again!”
Mohinder mentally shrugged and took Sylar’s cock in his mouth again, twisting his head as he made his way down the length and then up again; he gave the tip a brief suck, and then repeated the motion.
Sylar couldn’t stay still; he writhed under Mohinder’s touch. He buried his hands in Mohinder’s hair and thrust upward.
Mohinder reared back. “For God’s sake, Sylar, stop pulling my hair,” he said irritably. “And keep your hips still - are you trying to gag me?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean - sorry.”
Sylar kept his hands firmly by his sides as Mohinder went down again, but after a few minutes, one had crept over and began to stroke Mohinder’s cheek. “So good,” he said. “You are so beaut -”
Mohinder pulled back for a third time. “If you call me beautiful, I’m putting my clothes on and leaving,” he snapped. “Now hands down, hips still, and mouth shut, or you can finish yourself off.” Sylar opened his mouth to say something, then wisely shut it. He nodded.
“All right, then.” Mohinder pumped Sylar’s cock with his fist for a few strokes, then put his mouth over the head and sucked until Sylar started to moan again. Sylar twisted the sheets in his fists and threw his head back and forth as he got closer and closer to climax. Mohinder started to bob his head quickly; he used his free hand to fondle Sylar’s balls.
“Mohinder,” he moaned desperately. “Wait - I’m going to - ” and then he pulled out of Mohinder’s mouth. But since Mohinder still had a hold of his cock, and it was pointing at his face, the first two shots hit him - one on his cheek, and another in his hair. Mohinder let him go with a yelp, and Sylar finished all over his own stomach.
“Bloody hell, Sylar!” He took a corner of the sheet and tried to wipe it out of his hair.
“Sorry,” Sylar said, still panting. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to - in your mouth.” He winced. “Sorry,” he said again.
You’d think it was the first time he’d ever had his dick sucked, Mohinder thought, and then paused. Well. That was certainly an interesting thing to know. He wondered what sexual experiences Sylar had previous to this. Mohinder had assumed that Sylar slept with Maya, but he’d never asked her outright. He’d seemed to know what he was doing last night, but then again, that knowledge could have been purely academic.
Mohinder brought the sheet up to wipe off his cheek, but Sylar reached out and stopped him. “Wait,” he said. He sat up and pulled Mohinder close to him, then licked the come off of his face.
It should have been disgusting, but Mohinder’s cock, which had only been half interested in the proceedings, suddenly jumped to life. “Oh,” he exhaled in surprise.
Sylar smiled and leaned in to kiss him, and Mohinder found himself kissing back. It was morning, he was sober, and yet here he was, kissing Sylar as if they were nothing more than lovers, as if there weren’t a dark, bloody history between them, and a part of him didn’t care.
Sylar broke the kiss and leaned Mohinder back gently. He kissed Mohinder’s neck, briefly swirling his tongue around his earlobe, then moved down and kissed his chest, directly above his rapidly beating heart. “I know you don’t want me to say it,” he said softly. “But you are beautiful, Mohinder. I’ve waited so long for you - ”
“Don’t,” Mohinder said. “Please. Just - don’t.”
“All right,” he said. He kissed his chest again. “I won’t.”
Sylar made his way down Mohinder’s body until he reached his cock. He kissed the tip reverently, and then took the whole thing in his mouth.
He was sloppy at first, but, like before, he quickly picked up what Mohinder liked and what he didn’t. The pleasure hit Mohinder in rolling waves - he felt like he needed to hold on to something to avoid being washed away, but there was nothing but Sylar, over him and around him, so he closed his eyes and let go, and then he was coming, thick and hot in Sylar’s mouth.
Mohinder lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and trying to catch his breath. Sylar scooted up beside him and kissed Mohinder’s slack mouth. Mohinder’s mind stayed pleasantly numb in the afterglow, but after a few minutes, it began to fade and his thoughts returned to their normal state of bitterness, confusion and now guilt. “Am I allowed to talk now?” Sylar asked eventually.
“No,” Mohinder said. “I have to wash my hair.” He walked to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.
The bathtub water was still warm; Mohinder got in and vigorously scrubbed himself all over, taking extra care with his hair. He got out and toweled himself down. After he was dry, he said a little prayer to whatever god might be listening asking that Sylar be gone when he opened the door.
And he was. Mohinder sighed with relief. He went over to the dresser to get some clothes, but when he opened the top drawer, he found a small canvas. It was a painting of Sylar and himself wrapped around one another on a bed - the same bed they had just used. They were both dripping wet - soap bubbles clung to Mohinder’s hair. If they had been real, he bet that they would have smelled like lilac.
He hurled the painting across the room and then turned around and hit the wall with his fists. Wordless sounds of anger tore through his throat as he pounded the wall until his hands were sore. After the surge of anger subsided, he rested his head against the wall and took several deep breaths until he calmed down.
He got dressed and went downstairs. Sylar was nowhere to be found, which was fine by him. He worked in the garden the rest of the day, pulling weeds and killing pests. Sylar came home around nightfall; aside from a few words, they didn’t really talk. Mohinder went to bed early but had trouble falling asleep. When Sylar came in after him an hour or so later, Mohinder closed his eyes and breathed evenly, hoping Sylar would think that he had already drifted off.
Sylar wasn’t fooled, though. He sat down on the bed beside Mohinder. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said quietly.
Mohinder rolled over and opened his eyes. “What the hell did you think my reaction was going to be?”
Sylar shrugged. “I thought maybe if you saw that I was right and this is meant to be, you’d be more -”
“What? Resigned to my fate?” Mohinder rolled back over, turning his back to him.
Sylar got up and went over to his side of the bed. He got in and lay down facing Mohinder. “I thought you’d see that the future holds good things for us,” he murmured.
Mohinder said nothing.
“May I kiss you good night?” Sylar asked.
Mohinder sighed. “Fine.”
Sylar scooted closer and kissed him very chastely on the lips. It wasn’t terrible.
“Good night,” he said quietly.
Mohinder shut his eyes. “Good night.”
He fell asleep soon afterwards. He mercifully had no dreams that night.
******
After that, they started to go at it like rabbits. Mohinder wasn’t entirely sure why he kept letting it happen. He liked to tell himself that it was all part of his plot to lull Sylar into a false sense of security, but he knew that was a cop-out.
Part of it could be chalked up to boredom; aside from gardening, there wasn’t exactly a lot to do in their little town, and now that he was getting stronger, the monotony was beginning to wear on him more heavily. He itched to do something, anything - this waiting, whether for a window of opportunity to escape or for Sylar to start implementing his plans for world domination, was driving him mad.
Another part of it was that ironically, the only time he didn’t think about how fucked up it was to be having sex with Sylar was… when he was having sex with Sylar. The overwhelming physicality of sex was the only thing that could drown out his thoughts for a little (or more often, a very long) while.
And Sylar was incredibly good in bed. Having sex with someone who could anticipate what he wanted before he even knew himself was an amazing experience, to say the least. Sylar was always on top, which was fine with Mohinder, since actually penetrating Sylar himself involved a level of complicity on his part that he wasn’t prepared to deal with.
He wasn’t prepared to deal with a lot of things. The sex almost felt like the least of it. He knew he needed to buy some time - time to heal, time to think, and that meant keeping Sylar off-guard. It also meant becoming the person Sylar wanted him to be - at least on the surface. So he took his real self - the screaming part of him that wanted out - and mentally shut it in a little box and shoved it in the back corner of his mind. He did not think about the past; he did not think about the future. He thought about the now and slipped into the role he needed to play.
And really, this particular Sylar seemed about as far removed from the homicidal maniac he used to be as Mohinder was removed from whom he had been before the virus had hit. It was like they were two different people, living in a bubble that could burst any minute, but for now was floating dreamily through a plague-scarred world.
And if he was completely honest with himself, living with Sylar really was not that bad. Not that it was all easy sailing. Sylar had it in his head that they ought to be doing more things together, so one day, he came back from one of his little expeditions with a bag full of playing cards and board games. That ended badly. Neither one of them was able to concede defeat. The arguments got so bad that one day, during a game of Monopoly, Sylar accidentally set fire to the board when Mohinder refused to award him $200 for landing directly on “Go” (which was not in the rules, and Mohinder didn’t care if that was the way they played it in the Gray household, which was very obviously dysfunctional anyway). They put the board games away after that.
Mohinder also was finding it increasingly difficult to hold his tongue when Sylar started to share his vision of the community he was going to create, which as far as Mohinder could tell was a bizarre mixture of totalitarianism and utilitarianism.
“You see, Mohinder,” he said one night. “People don’t really want freedom. The struggle for freedom from so-called ‘oppression’ in the western world was horribly misguided. The high divorce rate, the misery with work, the rising debt and cynicism of the average person was a result of freedom of choice. And people are selfish - the greatest amount of happiness for the greatest amount of people can’t be left up to individuals living selfish lives. People need guidance, and I can provide it - Mohinder, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Terrific.”
“Why are you grinding your teeth like that?”
“Oh, am I? Hadn’t noticed. I’m going to bed - I’m tired.”
“You want company?”
“…sure, why not.”
It went on like this. Mohinder knew that all he had to do was keep his mouth shut and smile, but he’d never been very good at keeping his thoughts to himself, and he knew that one of these days, he was bound to snap and tell Sylar exactly what he thought of his plan to help arrange marriages for his new citizens to maximize their potential for happiness, for example. He was good at smiling, though. He knew he had a very nice smile, and it seemed to disarm Sylar, so he flashed it at him whenever he was being especially crazy or boring. Sylar tended to forget what he was going on about, and then that would lead to the bedroom. Or the kitchen. Or wherever they happened to be.
Mohinder knew that the whole situation was very fragile. They couldn’t go on like this forever. But as much as he wanted to escape, there was a part of him that was reluctant to break this peace. He started to take walks on his own, wandering through the remnants of Piedmont, and he would stare at the empty buildings - the abandoned houses and the stores that would never open again. And he’d feel a pain in his heart at the thought of wandering alone in an entire world filled with towns just like this.
But as Sylar said, there were bound to be survivors out there, somewhere. Could Mohinder find them on his own? He wasn’t sure. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t stay with Sylar forever.
Could he?
Onto Chapter Three!
A/N: We're coming up on the end of this book here, and since I'm going on vacation next week, I'll be posting the last chapter (which is 4,861 words long O_o) either tomorrow or Monday, depending on what I get done with revisions tonight. :D
Book Two: Spring (2/3)
Author: seraphtrevs
Pairing: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: NC-17
Word count: This part: 3,289
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.
As always, massive thanks to my beta marenpaisley, who is very tolerant of last-minute flailing.
Previous Parts:
Book One:
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
Chapter Four: How to Keep Your Man: And Keep Him for Good
Book Two:
Chapter One: Better Homes and Gardens and a Happy New Year
Mohinder woke up with an enormous headache. The sun was shining through the window directly onto his face. He grabbed his watch from the nightstand to check the time - it was 9:02 am, which was later than he usually let himself sleep. However, he was not ready to deal with last night just yet, so he got up and closed the curtains, then crawled back into bed and attempted to go back to sleep. At least Sylar was apparently already up and around.
But a minute later, he felt a gentle nudge against his shoulder. He tried to ignore it, but the nudge became more persistent. Sighing, he sat up. An invisible force propped a pillow up behind him while a tray floated through the door and onto his lap. On the tray was a plate of fried eggs, a few heart-shaped pieces of toast, and a pitcher filled with ice-cold water and a glass.
“Show off,” he mumbled under his breath.
When he finished eating, he set the tray on the nightstand and got out of bed. His teeth chattered as he walked to the dresser to get some clothes, but as he reached for the drawer, he felt a tug on his hand. He tried to shake it off, but the tug just got stronger. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Where do you want me to go?” He stumbled forward as the tug led him to the bathroom.
The claw-footed bathtub was filled with hot, lilac-scented water. He was gently pushed towards it. He grumbled, but actually, a hot bath did sound nice. Even though it was spring, the mornings were still way too cold for Mohinder’s taste.
He slid into the tub with a sigh. The water felt incredibly good, especially since he felt more than a little sore. He held his breath and dunked his head under the water to get his hair wet, then leaned his head back against the tub and closed his eyes.
“Careful, doctor - you don’t want to drift off and accidentally drown yourself.”
Mohinder startled violently. Sylar was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He was dressed in black jeans and a dirty tee shirt - he must have been out to the barn earlier. “Jesus, Sylar - you scared me.”
“Sorry,” Sylar said. His grin didn’t look particularly repentant.
“Where were you when I woke up?” he asked. He was curious about the range of Sylar’s powers.
“I was in the kitchen making breakfast when I heard you get up, so I sent up a tray. Did you like it?”
“It was fine,” Mohinder said.
Sylar walked over to the tub and knelt down beside it. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked. He started to trail his hand through the water, but Mohinder smacked it out.
“I have a headache.”
Sylar glanced over at the bedroom, and a moment later, a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin floated through the door. “Here you go,” he said.
Mohinder glared at him, but he did take the aspirin.
“You know, I’m a little dirty from doing my chores at the barn,” Sylar said. “Mind if I join you?”
“Would it matter if I said no?” Mohinder asked, but Sylar was already pulling off his clothes.
Sylar scooted Mohinder forward a bit so he could slip in behind him. “Mmmm. This feels nice.”
“I meant it when I said I had a headache,” Mohinder warned.
“Noted. Here, let me scrub your back.”
Sylar rubbed Mohinder down with a wash cloth, keeping his hands chastely above the waist but lingering more than was strictly necessary. “You are so tense,” Sylar said when he got to his shoulders.
“I can’t imagine why.” The sarcasm of the comment was lost when he moaned as Sylar started massaging him. Damn, he was good at this. It was impossible for his muscles to stay tense under Sylar’s hands.
Sylar continued to massage him until Mohinder felt like every bone in his body had turned to jelly. Sylar slid his arms around Mohinder’s chest and pulled him back to lean against him. He kissed the nape of Mohinder’s neck. “I really enjoyed last night,” he murmured in Mohinder’s ear.
Mohinder didn’t reply. He felt like he’d opened a door last night, and he’d stupidly walked through it without realizing that it would shut and lock behind him, and now he was even more trapped than before. By having sex with him, Mohinder got rid of Sylar, the patient suitor, but now he had to deal with Sylar, the affectionate lover.
Mohinder stood up and stepped out of the tub. He wanted to get dressed and go work in the garden, but Sylar obviously had other plans, so he might as well get it over with. He’d made his bed, and now he was going to have to lie in it. So to speak.
“Where are you going?” Sylar asked. “We don’t have to do anything - I just wanted to sit and relax with you.”
“I’m feeling waterlogged,” he said. “I’m going back to the bedroom.” He walked to the door, not bothering to dry himself off. When he reached the doorway, he looked back over his shoulder. “Well? Are you coming?” Sylar jumped out of the tub with comical speed.
They were both still soaking wet when they hit the bed. Mohinder’s skin was covered in goosebumps from the chill, but Sylar’s body was hot. Mohinder wrapped his body around Sylar as they kissed until he felt warm again. He then untangled himself and gave Sylar a rough shove, pushing him onto his back.
“Whoa,” Sylar said. “Feeling bossy this morning?”
Mohinder ignored him. He slithered down until he was level with Sylar’s cock. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him last night, but now, in the defused sunlight filtering through the curtains, he had the opportunity to study him. His cock was long, but not unusually so; the girth was also about average. He was circumcised (unsurprisingly, since he was American). The only slightly unusual thing about it was that it leaned a little to the left.
Mohinder swiped his tongue over the head, then held the base steady with his fist and took it in his mouth. He flattened his tongue and pressed it against the sensitive underside and gave it a few licks; Sylar screamed. Loudly.
Mohinder pulled back and looked up at him. He knew he was pretty good at this, but he wasn’t that good. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sylar gasped. “I’m fine - yes - oh God, do that again!”
Mohinder mentally shrugged and took Sylar’s cock in his mouth again, twisting his head as he made his way down the length and then up again; he gave the tip a brief suck, and then repeated the motion.
Sylar couldn’t stay still; he writhed under Mohinder’s touch. He buried his hands in Mohinder’s hair and thrust upward.
Mohinder reared back. “For God’s sake, Sylar, stop pulling my hair,” he said irritably. “And keep your hips still - are you trying to gag me?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean - sorry.”
Sylar kept his hands firmly by his sides as Mohinder went down again, but after a few minutes, one had crept over and began to stroke Mohinder’s cheek. “So good,” he said. “You are so beaut -”
Mohinder pulled back for a third time. “If you call me beautiful, I’m putting my clothes on and leaving,” he snapped. “Now hands down, hips still, and mouth shut, or you can finish yourself off.” Sylar opened his mouth to say something, then wisely shut it. He nodded.
“All right, then.” Mohinder pumped Sylar’s cock with his fist for a few strokes, then put his mouth over the head and sucked until Sylar started to moan again. Sylar twisted the sheets in his fists and threw his head back and forth as he got closer and closer to climax. Mohinder started to bob his head quickly; he used his free hand to fondle Sylar’s balls.
“Mohinder,” he moaned desperately. “Wait - I’m going to - ” and then he pulled out of Mohinder’s mouth. But since Mohinder still had a hold of his cock, and it was pointing at his face, the first two shots hit him - one on his cheek, and another in his hair. Mohinder let him go with a yelp, and Sylar finished all over his own stomach.
“Bloody hell, Sylar!” He took a corner of the sheet and tried to wipe it out of his hair.
“Sorry,” Sylar said, still panting. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to - in your mouth.” He winced. “Sorry,” he said again.
You’d think it was the first time he’d ever had his dick sucked, Mohinder thought, and then paused. Well. That was certainly an interesting thing to know. He wondered what sexual experiences Sylar had previous to this. Mohinder had assumed that Sylar slept with Maya, but he’d never asked her outright. He’d seemed to know what he was doing last night, but then again, that knowledge could have been purely academic.
Mohinder brought the sheet up to wipe off his cheek, but Sylar reached out and stopped him. “Wait,” he said. He sat up and pulled Mohinder close to him, then licked the come off of his face.
It should have been disgusting, but Mohinder’s cock, which had only been half interested in the proceedings, suddenly jumped to life. “Oh,” he exhaled in surprise.
Sylar smiled and leaned in to kiss him, and Mohinder found himself kissing back. It was morning, he was sober, and yet here he was, kissing Sylar as if they were nothing more than lovers, as if there weren’t a dark, bloody history between them, and a part of him didn’t care.
Sylar broke the kiss and leaned Mohinder back gently. He kissed Mohinder’s neck, briefly swirling his tongue around his earlobe, then moved down and kissed his chest, directly above his rapidly beating heart. “I know you don’t want me to say it,” he said softly. “But you are beautiful, Mohinder. I’ve waited so long for you - ”
“Don’t,” Mohinder said. “Please. Just - don’t.”
“All right,” he said. He kissed his chest again. “I won’t.”
Sylar made his way down Mohinder’s body until he reached his cock. He kissed the tip reverently, and then took the whole thing in his mouth.
He was sloppy at first, but, like before, he quickly picked up what Mohinder liked and what he didn’t. The pleasure hit Mohinder in rolling waves - he felt like he needed to hold on to something to avoid being washed away, but there was nothing but Sylar, over him and around him, so he closed his eyes and let go, and then he was coming, thick and hot in Sylar’s mouth.
Mohinder lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and trying to catch his breath. Sylar scooted up beside him and kissed Mohinder’s slack mouth. Mohinder’s mind stayed pleasantly numb in the afterglow, but after a few minutes, it began to fade and his thoughts returned to their normal state of bitterness, confusion and now guilt. “Am I allowed to talk now?” Sylar asked eventually.
“No,” Mohinder said. “I have to wash my hair.” He walked to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.
The bathtub water was still warm; Mohinder got in and vigorously scrubbed himself all over, taking extra care with his hair. He got out and toweled himself down. After he was dry, he said a little prayer to whatever god might be listening asking that Sylar be gone when he opened the door.
And he was. Mohinder sighed with relief. He went over to the dresser to get some clothes, but when he opened the top drawer, he found a small canvas. It was a painting of Sylar and himself wrapped around one another on a bed - the same bed they had just used. They were both dripping wet - soap bubbles clung to Mohinder’s hair. If they had been real, he bet that they would have smelled like lilac.
He hurled the painting across the room and then turned around and hit the wall with his fists. Wordless sounds of anger tore through his throat as he pounded the wall until his hands were sore. After the surge of anger subsided, he rested his head against the wall and took several deep breaths until he calmed down.
He got dressed and went downstairs. Sylar was nowhere to be found, which was fine by him. He worked in the garden the rest of the day, pulling weeds and killing pests. Sylar came home around nightfall; aside from a few words, they didn’t really talk. Mohinder went to bed early but had trouble falling asleep. When Sylar came in after him an hour or so later, Mohinder closed his eyes and breathed evenly, hoping Sylar would think that he had already drifted off.
Sylar wasn’t fooled, though. He sat down on the bed beside Mohinder. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said quietly.
Mohinder rolled over and opened his eyes. “What the hell did you think my reaction was going to be?”
Sylar shrugged. “I thought maybe if you saw that I was right and this is meant to be, you’d be more -”
“What? Resigned to my fate?” Mohinder rolled back over, turning his back to him.
Sylar got up and went over to his side of the bed. He got in and lay down facing Mohinder. “I thought you’d see that the future holds good things for us,” he murmured.
Mohinder said nothing.
“May I kiss you good night?” Sylar asked.
Mohinder sighed. “Fine.”
Sylar scooted closer and kissed him very chastely on the lips. It wasn’t terrible.
“Good night,” he said quietly.
Mohinder shut his eyes. “Good night.”
He fell asleep soon afterwards. He mercifully had no dreams that night.
******
After that, they started to go at it like rabbits. Mohinder wasn’t entirely sure why he kept letting it happen. He liked to tell himself that it was all part of his plot to lull Sylar into a false sense of security, but he knew that was a cop-out.
Part of it could be chalked up to boredom; aside from gardening, there wasn’t exactly a lot to do in their little town, and now that he was getting stronger, the monotony was beginning to wear on him more heavily. He itched to do something, anything - this waiting, whether for a window of opportunity to escape or for Sylar to start implementing his plans for world domination, was driving him mad.
Another part of it was that ironically, the only time he didn’t think about how fucked up it was to be having sex with Sylar was… when he was having sex with Sylar. The overwhelming physicality of sex was the only thing that could drown out his thoughts for a little (or more often, a very long) while.
And Sylar was incredibly good in bed. Having sex with someone who could anticipate what he wanted before he even knew himself was an amazing experience, to say the least. Sylar was always on top, which was fine with Mohinder, since actually penetrating Sylar himself involved a level of complicity on his part that he wasn’t prepared to deal with.
He wasn’t prepared to deal with a lot of things. The sex almost felt like the least of it. He knew he needed to buy some time - time to heal, time to think, and that meant keeping Sylar off-guard. It also meant becoming the person Sylar wanted him to be - at least on the surface. So he took his real self - the screaming part of him that wanted out - and mentally shut it in a little box and shoved it in the back corner of his mind. He did not think about the past; he did not think about the future. He thought about the now and slipped into the role he needed to play.
And really, this particular Sylar seemed about as far removed from the homicidal maniac he used to be as Mohinder was removed from whom he had been before the virus had hit. It was like they were two different people, living in a bubble that could burst any minute, but for now was floating dreamily through a plague-scarred world.
And if he was completely honest with himself, living with Sylar really was not that bad. Not that it was all easy sailing. Sylar had it in his head that they ought to be doing more things together, so one day, he came back from one of his little expeditions with a bag full of playing cards and board games. That ended badly. Neither one of them was able to concede defeat. The arguments got so bad that one day, during a game of Monopoly, Sylar accidentally set fire to the board when Mohinder refused to award him $200 for landing directly on “Go” (which was not in the rules, and Mohinder didn’t care if that was the way they played it in the Gray household, which was very obviously dysfunctional anyway). They put the board games away after that.
Mohinder also was finding it increasingly difficult to hold his tongue when Sylar started to share his vision of the community he was going to create, which as far as Mohinder could tell was a bizarre mixture of totalitarianism and utilitarianism.
“You see, Mohinder,” he said one night. “People don’t really want freedom. The struggle for freedom from so-called ‘oppression’ in the western world was horribly misguided. The high divorce rate, the misery with work, the rising debt and cynicism of the average person was a result of freedom of choice. And people are selfish - the greatest amount of happiness for the greatest amount of people can’t be left up to individuals living selfish lives. People need guidance, and I can provide it - Mohinder, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Terrific.”
“Why are you grinding your teeth like that?”
“Oh, am I? Hadn’t noticed. I’m going to bed - I’m tired.”
“You want company?”
“…sure, why not.”
It went on like this. Mohinder knew that all he had to do was keep his mouth shut and smile, but he’d never been very good at keeping his thoughts to himself, and he knew that one of these days, he was bound to snap and tell Sylar exactly what he thought of his plan to help arrange marriages for his new citizens to maximize their potential for happiness, for example. He was good at smiling, though. He knew he had a very nice smile, and it seemed to disarm Sylar, so he flashed it at him whenever he was being especially crazy or boring. Sylar tended to forget what he was going on about, and then that would lead to the bedroom. Or the kitchen. Or wherever they happened to be.
Mohinder knew that the whole situation was very fragile. They couldn’t go on like this forever. But as much as he wanted to escape, there was a part of him that was reluctant to break this peace. He started to take walks on his own, wandering through the remnants of Piedmont, and he would stare at the empty buildings - the abandoned houses and the stores that would never open again. And he’d feel a pain in his heart at the thought of wandering alone in an entire world filled with towns just like this.
But as Sylar said, there were bound to be survivors out there, somewhere. Could Mohinder find them on his own? He wasn’t sure. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t stay with Sylar forever.
Could he?
Onto Chapter Three!
A/N: We're coming up on the end of this book here, and since I'm going on vacation next week, I'll be posting the last chapter (which is 4,861 words long O_o) either tomorrow or Monday, depending on what I get done with revisions tonight. :D