( Sylar rises to meet those questing fingers, whilst still remaining on his knees; so similar, yet not, to a fateful encounter with a chair and duct tape. The image of a dog pushing against its master's hand springs to his mind, but he doesn't care. Mohinder wanted control, he'd gladly give it to him... for now.
He doesn't answer him, not at first, choosing instead to kiss that expanse on display for him, just at the edge of what he can reach. Sylar pauses, pressing his rough stubbled cheek to that too-smooth skin, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes. )
You. Piece of shit.
( Mirroring Mohinder's own sweet endearments, this one is a whispered praise of lust. He brings his hands up to Mohinder's knees, inching higher. )
I never laughed at you. Not until you pointed a gun in my face and spouted nonsense. I wanted something... so much more for us...
( His hands reach the clasp of his belt which he'll snap off. Sylar leans away, enough to remove the belt, pulling it taut through the loops like the snap-crack of a fine whip. )
no subject
He doesn't answer him, not at first, choosing instead to kiss that expanse on display for him, just at the edge of what he can reach. Sylar pauses, pressing his rough stubbled cheek to that too-smooth skin, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes. )
You. Piece of shit.
( Mirroring Mohinder's own sweet endearments, this one is a whispered praise of lust. He brings his hands up to Mohinder's knees, inching higher. )
I never laughed at you. Not until you pointed a gun in my face and spouted nonsense. I wanted something... so much more for us...
( His hands reach the clasp of his belt which he'll snap off. Sylar leans away, enough to remove the belt, pulling it taut through the loops like the snap-crack of a fine whip. )