Sylar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heroslayer) wrote2009-07-30 11:12 pm
heroslayer) wrote2009-07-30 11:12 pm
for just_fck_me: voyuerism
There were plenty of things Sylar could say had happened in his life that just weren't fair. Chandra and Elle molding the innocent watchmaker into a super-powered psychopath, for one -- he'd never wanted that life, he'd just wanted to be someone special. The Shanti Virus, or the stabbing that had preceded it also ranked high on the list. Having to sleep with Maya, so she wouldn't find her brother's body. The Petrelli mindscrew and Mohinder beating his head in at Pinehearst. The list went on and on, really.
He thought he'd found the one thing that had taken the cake, ranked at the top of the list, in being forced to wear Nathan Petrelli's skin, however. In spite of all of his crimes and his own need for an eye for an eye, that was cruel and unusual punishment. He would have chosen dying -- really dying -- over being a prisoner to someone else's thoughts, but here he was. Trapped. Unable to even rely on himself, on the one person who had never left or betrayed him, and all because he wasn't around half the time, thanks to Ma Petrelli.
He thought that had been the worst possible injustice he would ever know, but he had been wrong. So wrong. And all because despite Mohinder's ultimate rejection of him in favor of the stranger in his head, despite telling Mohinder he quit -- that Nathan won, and he'd lock himself away forever, as had been the idea -- he was still aware. He couldn't hide in the senator's shadow or slip away to nothingness as he had hoped, letting Nathan become far more than just the dominant personality. He got to watch every waking moment, and with his latest decision to give in, it was more torture now than it had ever been.
If he could have sighed, he would have, but instead he was stuck with what seemed to him to be a porn gone wrong.
Not that there was anything particularly wrong with what he could make out --
Nathan's lips were pressed to Mohinder's jaw, eyes riding at half-mast as he breathed in the scent of him. The Indian made a soft noise at the back of his throat, head tilting away just a bit so that Nathan could slide his lips down, mouth at his throat now. A moan followed, and then faintly, through shared perception, he could feel the other man's hands at Nathan's side, skin bare under his fingers, shirt long before stripped.
He shivered a bit, honoring the ghost of sensitive skin that he couldn't claim as his own, teeth catching Mohinder's skin lightly, his tongue moving to sooth where he'd nipped, and then his own hands were finding the other man's hips. They lingered there for a moment, fingers curling in denim to pull him closer, his own arousal meeting Mohinder's, drawing another muted moan from both of them. Then he was rocking back, putting space between them so that he could go for the fly of Mohinder's jeans.
Suresh whimpered, displeased with the sudden lack of contact, but he didn't protest, instead lifting his hips off the bed to help Nathan with his jeans, breath suddenly hot at his ear as he turned his head into him. Near automatically, he raised his head, catching Mohinder's mouth with his to silence him as he curled his fingers around him, carefully.
-- but he felt some kind of Peeping Tom, watching from the trees. And while he wouldn't have minded bedding the Indian himself -- he had, actually, if you counted the violent, sharp overload he'd sent Mohinder into the other night, before he'd given up claim to his own body -- he didn't want to watch.
It bordered on disgusting, feeling Mohinder's cock hard in his hand, his chest pressing up against his, begging for more where words would be a bad idea, given their proximity to his mother. It wasn't fair when Nathan stroked his fingers down the other man's length, thumbing lightly at his head before heading back up his length, setting up a pattern they'd both learned Mohinder didn't last long under. The press of his nails as they dug into Nathan's shoulder so that he could drag himself into his hand. The tension that built in the Indian's stomach that gripped so surely that he could feel from where Nathan had put his hand at his hip for support.
Moments later, as Mohinder broke under him with a shudder, whining lowly into his mouth in between the gasps as he came, Sylar couldn't help but feel sullied, somehow. He'd wanted Mohinder, yes, but not like this. Not with Nathan, with him just watching, unable to enjoy it, even when the other man reached for the waist of Nathan's pants. And when Mohinder's fingers found Nathan's arousal, freeing him so that he could return the favor, he could do nothing but force the man that had stolen everything he'd ever cared about to close his eyes.
It didn't help, but at least he could half pretend that the Indian was touching him, instead of unwittingly forcing him to watch.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 862
Note: Mohinder is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
witnessof_fate and is used with permission. Nathan is, um, mine I guess, since he's a figment of Sylar's imagination?
He thought he'd found the one thing that had taken the cake, ranked at the top of the list, in being forced to wear Nathan Petrelli's skin, however. In spite of all of his crimes and his own need for an eye for an eye, that was cruel and unusual punishment. He would have chosen dying -- really dying -- over being a prisoner to someone else's thoughts, but here he was. Trapped. Unable to even rely on himself, on the one person who had never left or betrayed him, and all because he wasn't around half the time, thanks to Ma Petrelli.
He thought that had been the worst possible injustice he would ever know, but he had been wrong. So wrong. And all because despite Mohinder's ultimate rejection of him in favor of the stranger in his head, despite telling Mohinder he quit -- that Nathan won, and he'd lock himself away forever, as had been the idea -- he was still aware. He couldn't hide in the senator's shadow or slip away to nothingness as he had hoped, letting Nathan become far more than just the dominant personality. He got to watch every waking moment, and with his latest decision to give in, it was more torture now than it had ever been.
If he could have sighed, he would have, but instead he was stuck with what seemed to him to be a porn gone wrong.
Not that there was anything particularly wrong with what he could make out --
Nathan's lips were pressed to Mohinder's jaw, eyes riding at half-mast as he breathed in the scent of him. The Indian made a soft noise at the back of his throat, head tilting away just a bit so that Nathan could slide his lips down, mouth at his throat now. A moan followed, and then faintly, through shared perception, he could feel the other man's hands at Nathan's side, skin bare under his fingers, shirt long before stripped.
He shivered a bit, honoring the ghost of sensitive skin that he couldn't claim as his own, teeth catching Mohinder's skin lightly, his tongue moving to sooth where he'd nipped, and then his own hands were finding the other man's hips. They lingered there for a moment, fingers curling in denim to pull him closer, his own arousal meeting Mohinder's, drawing another muted moan from both of them. Then he was rocking back, putting space between them so that he could go for the fly of Mohinder's jeans.
Suresh whimpered, displeased with the sudden lack of contact, but he didn't protest, instead lifting his hips off the bed to help Nathan with his jeans, breath suddenly hot at his ear as he turned his head into him. Near automatically, he raised his head, catching Mohinder's mouth with his to silence him as he curled his fingers around him, carefully.
-- but he felt some kind of Peeping Tom, watching from the trees. And while he wouldn't have minded bedding the Indian himself -- he had, actually, if you counted the violent, sharp overload he'd sent Mohinder into the other night, before he'd given up claim to his own body -- he didn't want to watch.
It bordered on disgusting, feeling Mohinder's cock hard in his hand, his chest pressing up against his, begging for more where words would be a bad idea, given their proximity to his mother. It wasn't fair when Nathan stroked his fingers down the other man's length, thumbing lightly at his head before heading back up his length, setting up a pattern they'd both learned Mohinder didn't last long under. The press of his nails as they dug into Nathan's shoulder so that he could drag himself into his hand. The tension that built in the Indian's stomach that gripped so surely that he could feel from where Nathan had put his hand at his hip for support.
Moments later, as Mohinder broke under him with a shudder, whining lowly into his mouth in between the gasps as he came, Sylar couldn't help but feel sullied, somehow. He'd wanted Mohinder, yes, but not like this. Not with Nathan, with him just watching, unable to enjoy it, even when the other man reached for the waist of Nathan's pants. And when Mohinder's fingers found Nathan's arousal, freeing him so that he could return the favor, he could do nothing but force the man that had stolen everything he'd ever cared about to close his eyes.
It didn't help, but at least he could half pretend that the Indian was touching him, instead of unwittingly forcing him to watch.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 862
Note: Mohinder is
witnessof_fate and is used with permission. Nathan is, um, mine I guess, since he's a figment of Sylar's imagination?
no subject
I read it like twice, btw. It was freaking awesome and hot. I'd give a detail and possibly intelligent review, but I'm about to pass out on my keyboard.
no subject
*shoos you off to bed!* Now, sleep!