Five Years (Mylar)
Jul. 13th, 2007 02:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aunt_zeldaTitle: Five Years
Rating: R for some parts, PG for others ... there's non-con (but with Mylar, you never can tell, so I dunno, there should be a new term! Mylar-con!)
Genre: Angst and smut.
Warnings: If you haven’t watched all of Season 1 of Heroes, you shouldn’t be here, you should be at nbc.com catching up!
Disclaimer: Uh … obviously I don’t own Heroes, because if I did, I’d have Mylar making out on screen instead of in slash fics or my twisted mind …
Summary: A hodgepodge of chronological Mylar moments in an AU after HtSaEM.
My Thoughts: This began as one thing and ended up as several fics strung together. Some are named after actual episodes, other are not. Nathan is president, btw. I guess Linderman's scheme worked out, but it worked out FAST, ok? Also, I think I went farther than I ever have with one of the smut scenes. I don't know if I should be alarmed or proud, and I'm not sure if it'll be critically acclaimed or sound clunky and wrong ... but I rather like this fic, so hopefully I got the smut right.
He Tried To Stop An Exploding Man: Three Days After Election Day
Mohinder stares down at the sleeping man. The hatred can't be held back anymore. Getting into this room had been difficult: saying he was a 'friend' convincingly had required painful memories of 'Zane.'
The man shifts slightly, a soft moan escapes his lips.
Mohinder's fists clench. Suddenly, on impulse, he darts forward and lightly curls a hand around the sleeper's throat.
I could kill you right now. You're powerless ... you can hardly move with the stitches ... I should kill you ...
The sleeper moans again, more loudly this time.
Mohinder jumps back. He can't do it: Sylar looks so ... cute when he's asleep.
If only his features were twisted into that menacing leer ...
Mohinder stomps out of the hospital room, silently berating himself.
He can't kill Sylar; and he won't tell the others that he's alive.
What He Wants: A Month Or Two Later
Sylar takes what he wants, plain and simple. He's above and beyond the law, moral codes, and a conscious (most of the time.)
He doesn't understand how someone could be around Mohinder for a long period of time and not force their way with him, particularly if said geneticist harbors feelings of longing towards the someone.
So Sylar takes what he wants, mostly in the dark alleys Mohinder always walks past late at night - as if begging for someone to mug him or jump his bones.
The later of which Sylar is eager to oblige, because he takes what he wants.
And he wants Mohinder.
Badly.
Run!: Soon Afterwards
He runs. It's foolish and pointless and weak, but he runs.
Sylar is a predator. He'll pursue: it's natural to chase prey.
He wonders, idly, if this is exciting Sylar. Perhaps just giving up would let the killer's interest ebb away. But Mohinder doesn't dare risk it.
Sylar catches him by a flickering street-light, drags him into an alley. Mohinder uselessly resists.
"That was new," he hisses, pinning Mohinder to the wall. "I didn't think running away was your thing," he sighs, bending down slightly to press the side of his head to Mohinder's pounding chest. "Not that I'm complaining ..." he adds.
"Glad to amuse." Mohinder spits out, trying desperately not to be aroused by Sylar's touch.
Sylar laughs. God, what a laugh ...
"Are you afraid?" Sylar has straightened up, towering over Mohinder, eyes piercing.
Mohinder stares up at him. "Afraid?" he asks idly.
Sylar leans forward, hand clasping the side of Mohinder's neck - first gentle, then hard: brutal. "I could kill you," Sylar is breathing into Mohinder's ear. "Right here, right now. I could make it so that no one would ever find you body ... or so they'd find little bits here and there ... how would you like to be scattered all over NYC, Mohinder?" he asks, lightly biting the other man's ear.
Mohinder's toes curl up; his fists clench. "If you're going to kill me, just do it already. Quit threatening if nothing's going to happen." he sounds pretty sure of himself, downright heroic, in fact.
Sylar laughs again. "Oh, Mohinder," both his hands twist roughly through Mohinder's hair. "Always have to be self-righteous, the hero." he nips Mohinder's lips. "What kind of hero secretly lusts after a guy who kills people?" Sylar's tongue rolls around in Mohinder's mouth, seeking obscenity.
Mohinder doesn't reply. He hopes his feeble attempts for dominance convey his twisted, contradictory feelings.
But, then again, it doesn't really matter, does it?
Words: A Week Later
Mohinder flings words around in their dark-alley encounters: murderer, parasite, bastard, lunatic, sociopath. Sylar only flinches when 'Monster!' is yelled.
That's what spurs on his momentary fit of madness. He doesn't realize how hurt Mohinder is until the man's head smashes into the wall with a horrific sound.
Words can't describe his terror. No, no, NO! Sylar drags Mohinder to the sidewalk, hearing breath and a steady heart-beat: good.
Don't die.
You can't, no ...
I'm so sorry!
Some of the words escape his lips: feverish tangles of apologies and prayers.
"911, please report your accident."
Words ... just words ...
The Hospital: Forty-Three Minutes Later
Matt tries desperately to relax his taunt nerves. The damn coffee he got from across the street didn't help.
The door bursts open. A man with large dark sunglasses rushes in, followed by a dark-skinned bald man with a distinct necklace. They head for Matt.
"What happened, Parkman?" the man in the glasses demands.
Matt looks up at the leader of the free world. "Sir, you shouldn't be here, someone might -"
"Answer me." Nathan snaps.
Matt sighs. It was worth a shot. "No one's quite sure ... maybe a mugging, maybe an attempted rape. There are signs of both, but he's still in ER and that's all I could get."
Nathan is pacing back and forth, shoes making clicking noises on the floor. "Why the hell was he out there alone, without a weapon or a bodyguard for Christ's sake?" he asks the air.
Matt shrugs. "Maybe ... I didn't want to say this before but, what about Nakamura and your brother?"
Nathan freezes. "Are you suggesting my brother would ... attack an innocent scientist, Parkman?"
Matt shrugs. "Suresh is with us, you never know how far they'd go to -"
Nathan's glare silences him. "I know my brother, Parkman. He may be very ... upset and disturbed, but he wouldn't do that."
Matt sighed. He didn't dare mention that Suresh had been muttering 'Sylar' over and over again as they'd rushed him into ER. No reason to cause unnecessary worry: Suresh was probably delirious with meds by that time anyway.
But maybe not ...
(Soon after this, Peter and Sylar meet yet again and one explodes. Nathan manipulates the scrambled information and everyone thinks Sylar exploded and is dead. Peter actually exploded - duh - and is currently sulking in
Five Years ... Gone?: Five Years Later
He can't stand it anymore. He has to be with Mohinder as himself, not the cold, arrogant Nathan.
Nathan, Peter, their freakish mother, Claire Bennet: he can't stand the Petrellis. It's annoyingly ironic that of all the bodies in the world, he has to be stuck in one of theirs.
He waits, knowing Mohinder will round the corner any minute now. Anticipation wells up inside of him, roiling around like thunder clouds.
There he is, so different from the Mohinder who was on the road trip, all those years ago ... no flamboyant colors, no rainbow scarf: they've been replaced by suits, thick glasses, a scruffy beard.
"Hello, Mohinder," he calls out softly, just as Mohinder passes the hallway in which he is hidden.
Mohinder freezes, and it has nothing to do with abilities.
Sylar allows himself a laugh. He wants to keep on laughing, hysterically, like a psycho, perhaps for hours, but he keeps it short and direct. He begins to stalk over to Mohinder. "Miss me?" he asks, halting, two feet from the other man.
Mohinder's heart is pounding in terror, yet he manages to keep his voice calm. "You're not ... everyone said -" broken sentence, but calm.
Sylar cuts him off: Mohinder talks too much. "Everyone was wrong. Peter Petrelli exploded, not me. Peter was the weak one, the empath. He never had control, I harnessed powers almost instantly, and you honestly believed I was the exploding man?" he circles around Mohinder predatorily. Cat and mouse has never been so much fun.
The talk is just using up time, making this last as long as possible. Sylar wants to savor this: it's been five fucking years.
Mohinder knows he's helpless, and that makes this even better. Feeble hope is nice sometimes, but the realization that you're alone, no one can help you, is just delicious.
Sylar sighs. "Try to call for help," he grins. "I dare you."
Mohinder's fists clench. "I'm the only one who comes through here. Even the security guards don't bother. There aren't any cameras: they're renovating and rewiring this week, but today is a National Holiday, so no one's working on it." his voice is apathetic, churning out hard facts.
Scientists, Sylar almost rolls his eyes. He allows himself another grin, wider, feral, taking immense pleasure in watching Mohinder fight the urge to flinch. "National Holiday, huh?" Sylar is inches from Mohinder, watching with aroused amusement as the other man struggles against instincts to shrink back. Height has been his from the beginning, it comes in handy in situations like this. Sylar slowly reaches out with his left hand and clasps Mohinder's shoulder, but not hard. Not yet ...
Mohinder summons up the ability to speak again. "What do you plan on ... doing with me?" he asks, the two possibilities flashing in his eyes.
Sylar drinks them in: memories of those nights in the alleys ... 'You might actually do some good before you die' ... Chandra Suresh being smashed into a taxi window ... moaning in seedy motels ... the Walkers ...
"Doing with you?" Sylar repeats, as though he didn't hear, his other hand rising up slowly. Mohinder watches it apprehensively, steeling himself for a death like Zane, Dale, Charlie Andrews, Isaac Mendez, Ted, Susan Battern ...
But Sylar only grabs a hold of Mohinder's other shoulder. His touch is still relatively light. "Doing with you?" he asks, raising his eyebrows, smirking. "I've been waiting, watching, pretending, for five years, Mohinder. I've got some lovely scenarios planned out ..." he looses control for a brief instant and rushes down, catching Mohinder's lips in a desperate, passionate kiss.
Sylar regains his composure after a few minutes and pulls back, hands still clutching Mohinder's shoulders. "Where to start ... where to start ...?" he mutters to himself - out loud so that fear will flash behind Mohinder's eyes. Sylar loves it when that happens.
A self-righteous scowl fixes onto Mohinder's face. "I hate being toyed with," he snaps. "Just get on with it."
Sylar shakes his head. "Oh Mohinder," he says condescendingly, physically slamming the smaller man into a wall. "You loved every minute we shared in those dark alleys, and you'll love every minute of this," telekinesis gracefully unbuttons Mohinder's shirt and pins his arms up above his head. Sylar nearly suffocates the other man with a kiss and begins to work his way down. "Trust me," he whispers.
Something Unexpected: Two Weeks Later
As Mohinder approaches the usual place, he concentrates very hard on keeping his heart rate normal. Or, at least, normal for someone who's about to be sexually assaulted by their father's murderer and looking forward to it.
Sylar gives that knowing grin as the geneticist rounds the corner: Mohinder could easily take another route, one crawling with security guards, but instead he takes the long way around, through disused corridors full of obsolete surveillance equipment, to this specific spot, where Sylar lies in wait.
The grin vanishes when Mohinder rushes at him, turns him around, and shoves him against a nearby wall. Fingers desperately work at Sylar's belt and unzip his fly in a matter of seconds.
Once the initial shock has washed over him, Sylar begins to smirk. This is new ... he thinks idly to himself, holding back laughter as Mohinder's arms - so weak, he could snap them with horrific ease - wrap around his waist; hands descending rapidly. Your fingers have never done that before ... Sylar shudders and suppresses a moan, A moan ... he almost got me to moan! his eyes widen with shock.
"This is just the beginning," Mohinder whispers, surprised that Sylar reacted like that. "It's only going to get better."
"You're kidding," Sylar hisses, just to egg him on, eager for more results. "You haven't got a dominant bone in your - ah!" he gasps abruptly, forgetting his train of thought.
"You were saying ...?" Mohinder's voice is smug.
Sylar gives in and moans.
Mohinder continues for a little while longer, finding it strange that he is the once in control now, he is the one receiving primal confessions of desire.
He gets Sylar all worked up - admittedly, a poor choice of words - and withdraws his hands, clamping them onto the taller man's shoulders. "Do you want it all?" he asks breathlessly. "Want me to go all the way?"
Sylar nods: he knows this game.
Mohinder smiles, rising on his toes to whisper into Sylar's ear. "Say it," he demands. "Say it out loud."
Sylar sighs a long, low sigh. "I want you to fuck me, Mohinder. I really want you to fuck me."
Mohinder gives a short laugh and unzips his own pants. "Just remember," he says, hands clutching Sylar's shoulders even more tightly. "You asked for it."
Later, much later, Sylar can't stand it any longer. Employing a bit of telekinesis, he whirls around, sandwiching Mohinder between his back and the wall.
Mohinder shrugs it off as a twisted desire to have someone else trapped against a flat surface and continues.
Sylar digs his fingernails into the wall, arching up occasionally. If only I'd known you could do this back then, Mohinder ... he thinks to himself. Well, I guess we'll just have to make up for lost time ...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-07-13 07:20 pm (UTC)I love it when Mohinder finds a way to get some control over Sylar.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-14 02:13 am (UTC)I love it when Mohinder finds a way to get some control over Sylar.
You're not disturbed that I'm disturbing? Good ... I think ...
no subject
Date: 2007-07-14 07:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-14 02:16 am (UTC)that is hotter than I think it has a right to be.
I liked that more than I should have ... enhanced hearing is hot to a twisted killer!
no subject
Date: 2007-07-13 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-14 02:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-13 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-14 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-14 04:44 am (UTC)I love the part in the alley when Sylar's like "oops I hurt him oh noes" *dials 911* I can totally see him losing control like that and accidentally hurting poor Mohinder :(
no subject
Date: 2007-07-14 07:03 am (UTC)I discovered that when he forced his way in ... (thanks!)
I love the part in the alley when Sylar's like "oops I hurt him oh noes" *dials 911* I can totally see him losing control like that and accidentally hurting poor Mohinder :(
Yeah, that part came too easily ... but Panicked!Sylar is fun.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-16 08:16 pm (UTC)and that last scene..... HOT!....... go Mohinder!!!!!
<333333333
no subject
Date: 2007-07-17 02:17 am (UTC)and that last scene..... HOT!....... go Mohinder!!!!!
<333333333
I've never gone that far before ... glad it got a good response ...
Thanks! (I got hearts!)
no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 02:20 pm (UTC)Yeah ... this is one of my favorite fics ...