Disguised Guilt
Title: Disguised Guilt
Characters/Paring: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: R (non-graphic sexual situations)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Dub-con (see prompt)
Word Count: 211
Summary: Mohinder would never have slept with him if he'd known who was under the costume.
comment_fic ficlet. Originally here.
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There were numerous empty guest bedrooms in the Petrelli mansion. Stumbling through the dark hallways, not caring enough to find a light-switch, the two men had fallen upon one and merged together in a glorious harmony of skin, heat and passion. It was like nothing either man had ever experienced before; nor would again, it would seem.
Sylar gazed down at the unconscious, debauched, sprawl of a beautiful man he had shared this moment with and fought to contain a sigh. He could barely make out the lines of his face in muted light of false dawn, but it was more than he had expected; more than he deserved, he supposed. He drank it in greedily, before pulling his clothes back on and slipping out the door.
He supposed he should feel guilty, Mohinder would never have slept with him if he'd known who was under the costume, if he'd let his true voice be heard; but Sylar had far worse deeds to feel guilty about, and he didn't, not any longer.
Still, he left before Mohinder could learn the truth. He might not feel any guilt, but after what had transpired between them he couldn't bring himself to inflict additional pain.
He tried not to think of the reasons why.
Characters/Paring: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: R (non-graphic sexual situations)
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Dub-con (see prompt)
Word Count: 211
Summary: Mohinder would never have slept with him if he'd known who was under the costume.
comment_fic ficlet. Originally here.
-----
There were numerous empty guest bedrooms in the Petrelli mansion. Stumbling through the dark hallways, not caring enough to find a light-switch, the two men had fallen upon one and merged together in a glorious harmony of skin, heat and passion. It was like nothing either man had ever experienced before; nor would again, it would seem.
Sylar gazed down at the unconscious, debauched, sprawl of a beautiful man he had shared this moment with and fought to contain a sigh. He could barely make out the lines of his face in muted light of false dawn, but it was more than he had expected; more than he deserved, he supposed. He drank it in greedily, before pulling his clothes back on and slipping out the door.
He supposed he should feel guilty, Mohinder would never have slept with him if he'd known who was under the costume, if he'd let his true voice be heard; but Sylar had far worse deeds to feel guilty about, and he didn't, not any longer.
Still, he left before Mohinder could learn the truth. He might not feel any guilt, but after what had transpired between them he couldn't bring himself to inflict additional pain.
He tried not to think of the reasons why.