Sylar

"Thank God for small miracles," he breathes in return, a moan on the end of the statement. He'd explain that yes, it itched as Mohinder suggested it was going to, and threaten to get him back one of these days, but he's too distracted to keep the thought in his head for too long, let pin it down with words, so he lets it go. He nips at Mohinder's lower lip instead, hips bucking more viciously against his, hoping to mark him or bruise him or both. That, he figures will get his point across, as well as being far more satisfying.