complexharmony | Overflow. Open Post. Captcha. Etc

[Getting out of the car, Mohinder is struck by the beauty of the scene. The moon bathes them in a gentle glow, giving him plenty of light to see by. Mohinder takes a moment to pack his blood vial into the cooler.]

I'm sure you can. But thankfully there are no ceilings to plaster me to, here.

[He takes the syringe out of the kit, holding it carefully for a moment and just staring. The voice in the back of his head telling him this is a terrible idea has been silenced for the moment- instead all he can hear are the whispers of promise. He pops the cover off the needle. When he speaks, his voice is breathy and quiet.]

Besides, this is a life-changing moment. It's enough.

[He makes a fist and injects himself with the full contents. Aside from him tossing the syringe to the ground and flexing his arm, nothing seems to happen for a long moment. Then-

He can feel it, something cascading inside his system. It overwhelms his senses and he immediately starts to seize. He has an appointment with the ground, unless Sylar has something to say about that.]

( Sylar does indeed have something to say about that. He has lots to vocalize, actually, but they're all a mix of exclamations, curses, and thinly-veiled concerns. When Mohinder meets the ground - gently, aided by telekinesis, and turned onto his side - one of the pillows from the car will meet him.

Sylar kneels beside Mohinder, feeling the most powerless he's ever felt since the Shanti virus had ravaged his system. Nothing at his disposal could help him in this moment, short of using his blood like a vampire to revive him. But that was worse case scenario and one he didn't like to think about. He does the only thing he can: hold one of Mohinder's hands in both of his own and look on, genuinely concerned for the outcome.

Once the seizing stops, and he appears at rest, Sylar remains quiet. What if Mohinder gave himself super-hearing? The sound of a tuning fork still makes Sylar wince after their eventful night together, and the last thing Sylar wanted to do was deafen him. He continues the comforting gestures, using his other hand to lightly brush away dark curls from his flushed forehead. )

[Mohinder stops seizing after about a minute, but remains unconscious for another few after that. When he comes to, he blinks up at Sylar, bleary-eyed. Sweat drips off his brow. And he can feel Sylar holding his hand. The physical comfort, not common in his adult years, is welcome. He squeezes it back.

And he feels the snap of bones under his fingertips. It doesn't feel right. He lets go.]

Wha-? Sylar? What's--

[It's possible he's been artificially unconscious too many times today.]

( Sylar barely has time to appreciate the fact Mohinder reflexively clung to him before he's crying out. It's more in surprise than pain, and soon he's pressing his lips together quickly and groaning beneath them, grimacing. He knows you're not supposed to startle a person coming out of a seizure, but also, Jesus pole-dancing Christ. There's no warning for what to do when the person you're helping breaks several bones; or at least, none in the books he read.

He wrests his hand from Mohinder's, holding it steady above his supine friend. For what feels like too long, he breathes sharply between clenched teeth, then a sigh of relief when the healing finally kicks. There's some hesitation where he very clearly wants to hold Mohinder's hand again, but instead, settles for resting it idly on his side. )

You're damn lucky I can heal now. ( His irritation is more for the sudden pain than the man who inflicted it. That fades quickly into concern. ) How're you feeling, Mohinder?

Edited 2020-12-06 03:10 (UTC)

[Information starts coming to Mohinder in chunks, such as 'Sylar is supposed to be here' and 'That hand is broken.' It's also noticeable how it heals, too. As he sits up, he watches the hand pop back into its intended form. He's beginning to piece together the situation, but the question scatters his thoughts.]

How am I feeling? [He looks down at himself and smiles, wide and unrestrained.] Fantastic, actually. Did I just break your hand?

[He reaches for it immediately, without a thought. Holding it gently, he runs his fingers over the skin with a feather touch. He wants to make sure the hand is working properly again. (He did always have a thing for Sylar's hands.)]

( Sylar is completely stunned into silence, his brain working (overtime, in fact, trying to figure things out) but no words form in his throat. That smile of unburdened joy was like an arrow right to his heart; the last time he'd witnessed that was when 'Zane' showed off his powers. Suddenly they hadn't been scientist and (unknown) serial killer. They were like children delighting in the destruction of whatever 'Zane' could get his hands on.

Ever since his identity had been revealed, Mohinder didn't look at him with smiles any more. Only hate, fear, disgust, flinching away from his touch. It'd been too late to talk about feelings or wants and so he'd burned that away, turned into to rage and violence. He'd bloodied Mohinder's lips like a parody of 'ravis me red' and pined him to the ceiling when, in all actuality, he'd wanted to pin him to the cheap apartment mattress and hear that voice speak only through begging.

And now Mohinder was touching his hand. No fear, no flinching, only the passion for puzzles burning in his eyes. Sylar permits the exploratory touch, of course he does. He can't prevent the way his breath hitches, soft thoughtful noises escaping from parted lips. )

Uh-hm. Yes. You did but it's... fine...

( Clearly distracted, downright mystified, with words proving difficult. He shifts his hand within that grasp, interweaving their fingers, ever the bratty difficult 'patient', but now wanting more of that touch, however he's able. His thoughts become more focused, something that scientific glee returning. )

Ah, so. Super strength, huh? Gonna hulk out on me?

[Mohinder takes the intertwining as a perfectly acceptable change. He even squeezes Sylar's hand- but since he is now both awake and aware of what he's doing, it's the actual soft squeeze he'd originally intended.]

I hope not. I happen to like this shirt. [He chuckles at his own joke.] Besides, I'm not sure that's all. I feel so much lighter. More energetic. Perhaps it's more about muscle control, or some form of heightened system to signal messages to the muscles from the brain, or something to use the glycogen more effectively-

[He's leaning towards Sylar as he speaks, a consequence of holding his hand this way. He follows the natural movement and leans his head against Sylar's, speaking with quiet excitement into his ear.]

We are going to have to test everything. This is beyond my wildest dreams. And to think I would have thrown it away, if you hadn't come along.

( Sylar tenses, holding his breath with that little hand squeeze, a natural reaction given what just transpired. He doesn't realize he's still holding the shaky exhalation escapes his lips. Mohinder's voice right in his ear and suddenly past and present are colliding in his mind. "It's going to hurt" becomes "We're going to test everything" and that should be terrifying, but it's exhilarating, a thrill of an entirely different sort.

He'd heard the rest of what Mohinder had said, paying half-attention at least. While he recalls the words, he scrambles to recollect the shambles of his sanity. Count to twelve. Every(tick). Second(tock). Counts(tick). The inclination to kiss Mohinder right now is overwhelming. But there's still something in the back of his mind, not just his need to solve the puzzle, but an uncertain hesitation that is, normally, quite silent.

Sylar reaches up, cupping Mohinder's cheek with his other hand, and while his intent might've been to look into his eyes more closely, his thumb's still stroking those fine cheekbones, rough with stubble. He wants to kiss every spot his fingers touch. )

Mohinder. ( The word's a desperate grasp for salvation and damnation in equal measures. He clears his throat, licks at his lips, and when he speaks again his voice is steadier, more in control. ) Mohinder. You're... Are you certain you're not high? This excitement. Euphoria. You are not in any position to test anything right now.

[Mohinder watches Sylar with an observer's gaze- clearly the man is unsure, perhaps even a little uncomfortable with this new development. But he's also excited, and Mohinder presumes this is the emotion that will win out.

The hand on his face has probably the opposite effect that Sylar wants. Mohinder leans into it, looking directly at Sylar with clear appreciation. It takes him a moment before Sylar's words really sink in.]

Hmm, you might be right. After all, we don't have many supplies right now, so we should wait until the adrenaline and any other chemicals produced by the change have settled to normal levels.

[He reaches up his fingers tracing over the shell of Sylar's left ear and down the curve of his neck. More exploratory touches, perhaps, except for the way his smile turns into something slightly more wicked as he continues.]

But if we're waiting, whatever are we going to fill our time with? Hmm?

[He tugs (rather gently, considering his new ability) on Sylar's shirt collar, bringing him close enough for a kiss. A million moments Mohinder had buried come to the forefront as their lips meet. So many times he'd wanted to do this, and now he's finally free to do so.]

Edited 2020-12-07 19:44 (UTC)

( His heart's practically in his throat. Seeing Mohinder of all people looking at him so openly, unguarded, he can't get past it. But... Yes, waiting, that's a good plan, a very... good... plan indeed, and Sylar's nodding with agreement to that idea. The conviction to actually stick to it lasts only until Mohinder touches him again. His pulse is rapid, his eyes half-lidded, and he's as pliable as putty to that tugging.

The first touch of those lips shatter what little remained of his resolve. He moans deeply like a man dehydrated facing a mountain spring. He kisses deeply, his tongue eagerly meeting Mohinder's. He brings his other hand up to join the first, cupping around his neck and burying his long fingers into those bouncy dark curls. It helps ground him to the reality that this wasn't a dream, this was really happening...

He should hold back, a tiny voice in his mind tells him, but he can't. What felt like years of pining crash fourth, made worse by a recent forced trip south of the border, and this is something he's desperately wanted to do ever since his return. But the timing had been wrong, dreadfully so, and he'd thought Mohinder had moved on. That damned cop's scent had been everywhere like a bad hangover.

Sylar breaks the kiss to catch his breath, pressing his forehead against Mohinder's. )

Jesus...

[Their timing had always been terrible. If only Mohinder had met Sylar before Chandra had, if only he'd waited a few extra moments before calling 911. But they finally seemed to have connected, and it only took a major scientific breakthrough to do it.

And maybe Sylar was right and Mohinder was just high, but he was still joyfully passing the point of no return. He'd have to acknowledge his desires after this.

Mohinder groans with satisfaction as Sylar sinks his fingers into his hair. All of this, every moment, feels so right. When Sylar finally breaks the kiss, Mohinder lets him have the time to breathe. For once, Mohinder doesn't feel the exertion. But it does give him the time to study how the moonlight graces Sylar's face, and how vulnerable the man looks right now.]

I'm starting to think that I've taken the wrong approach with you, all this time.

[He rubs small whorls into Sylar's neck and shoulders, almost careless in the way he continues to seek touch.]

( Confessions, apologies, promises, all collide in his mind in a messy jumble. Which one to start with first? It almost feels like there's too much time and not enough of it all at once. A feeling compounded by Mohinder's touch; it's embarrassing how even that minimal gesture makes him shiver. For all the words that push at the boundaries of his mind, all that rushes out first is a small chuckle. )

I've been flirting with you since Montana. But thanks for finally noticing.

( Even now he could recall vividly hesitating outside Mohinder's motel room that fateful night, and for a fleeting second had thought: what if I stayed with Mohinder, dealt with this tension between us, and let Dale live?

But in the end, that urge to kill had been greater. It'd held a certainty that time with Mohinder had lacked. He could see how the other man's mind worked, and thought he knew him as efficiently as a timepiece. That desire to make Chandra proud in all ways, including sexuality, practically seeped from Mohinder's pores; even Zane (the original Zane) could've noticed. Despite the fleeting touches, or unnecessary brush of fingertips when handing over tea, or a lingering glance or two, or a shoulder massage that went on a beat too long, Sylar knew they could not (or should not) be together. He'd had a plan, a mission, and that didn't involve a soft-spoken scientist who did very distracting things with a pen by his lips when studying at his laptop.

No. Their game was destined for a violent end, ones that didn't involve soft 'I love you's' on satin sheets. Better, he'd decided, to not allow feelings to get too involved at all. And yet...

One of his hands drifts lower, lightly, circling Mohinder's neck. It continues on, pressing into that hitch of bone beneath his throat. He permits a singular confession to spill forth, tempered by a thoughtful, rough purr. )

It's always been you, Mohinder. What I went through to get back to you... ( One finger continues its downward journey. It presses into Mohinder's shirt, and as if by a scalpel, his telekinesis cuts cleanly through the fabric with surgical precision. It was a skill he'd mastered several murders ago. His voice takes on a possessive edge. ) ...And I come back to being replaced by a cop.

[Mohinder doesn't have anything so complex swirling within him at the moment. No, he is merely thrilled at Sylar's use of power and the revelation that he hadn't been reading into things all this time. It's a sort of clarity that he hasn't felt for ages.

It means that last sentence catches him by surprise, and he lets out a light chuckle.]

You were jealous of Matt?

[Mohinder hums a bit, pulling back far enough to see Sylar's entire face. He reaches up to cup his chin, running his thumb over Sylar's cheek.]

There wasn't anything there, you know. Not that you should be rewarded when you were the one who betrayed me first, but-

[He breaks contact to shrug off his broken shirt, then reaches back up, giving Sylar a short kiss.]

Maybe we've gotten each other back enough times, now.

( His expression matches his voice, flaring even brighter when Mohinder mentions the cop's damned name. First name basis, of course, had they shared the same bed, too? Or couch? He'd bet at least the couch, several times a week, that's what Sylar would've-

...Oh. That touch against his cheek. His expression softens; the scent of Mohinder and his touch is too overwhelming. Why is he so immediately entranced? Was this part of his new ability too, or was it natural? Perhaps one enhancing the other? (The word 'pheromones' floats to his conscious, then drifts away just as quickly, like smoke in a shady bar.) No matter what it was, it was definitely dangerous.

As dangerous as that beautifully bared chest in the moonlight, practically glowing. His hand returns there, splayed above his belly button. That beautifully tanned skin is strangely devoid of hair, Sylar notes, a part of the mutation, maybe...? He traces downwards, following with one finger that seductive little trail from belly button to waistband of Mohinder's slacks. Only there does he pause, his finger teasing at the edge of flesh he could reach. )

Betrayed you first? Why, Mohinder, that sounds like an accusation...

( He's practically cooing as he leans back on his haunches, bringing his hands back to himself. He brings both hands to the edge of his shirt, intending to pull it off himself... Unless Mohinder wanted to assist? )

['Assist' may not be the correct term for it, as Mohinder takes over the whole operation immediately. The only reason he doesn't tear the shirt is because Mohinder becomes interested in feeling the skin underneath. While his left hand tugs the shirt up, the right rests on Sylar's chest, feeling the man's heart beat under him.]

Accusation? No, that is just fact.

[He says it like a sweet nothing into Sylar's ear. As he does, he tosses the shirt towards the car. Then he swings his legs under him and bounces up into a standing position. He doesn't give Sylar any of his personal space back, though- instead he keeps the man on his haunches by running fingers through his hair.]

It broke my heart when I found out you weren't Zane, you know. That you were using me. I'd fallen in love, and you- well, you were just laughing at me, behind your mask.

[His fingers curl under Sylar's chin, bringing it up so Sylar's looking him in the eye. Mohinder's eyes are half-lidded, expression inviting, even as he asks something so much heavier.]

Are you saying that's not how it was?

( 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. )

[He watches Sylar work at his belt, practically smirking with satisfaction. Of course, the position they're in is part of the reason. Sylar on his knees looking up at him with adoration- that's just such a delicious picture. But the words, too, are exactly what he wants to hear.

He reaches down himself to undo the buttons to his trousers, pushing them down along with his underwear in one smooth movement. Muscles that are probably newly sculpted reveal themselves, and he stands like a statue one might make of a god. Of course, in this case, he still has his socks on, and most statues aren't carved to include intense, needy erections, but the case could be made.]

So much more, you say. [His voice is getting increasingly breathy, as the anticipation builds.] Why don't you show me? Give me a taste of what you've wanted...what we've both wanted...all this time.

[He was probably damning himself here, some small voice in his head finally managed to say. But nothing and no one was going to stop it, least of all him. Hormones, pheromones, or just his own emotions- they were all pointed directly at this moment. He's going to take what he wants, and that's the end of it.]

( Sylar had stayed leaning back with hands moving away as Mohinder took over. He'd remained there, watching Mohinder's cock and had even licked his lips with all the slutty gusto he could put into that one small gesture. It was almost a parody, but his eyes, blackened with lust, remained sharp.

The predatory smirk dimpling the corner of his lips say more than words could express. Teasing, demanding, yet equally needy. He moves forward, keeping eye contact as he places his hands upon Mohinder's hips, fingers spread and gripping lightly. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if he'd prepared for this day for years and wasn't, in actuality, a bundle of nerves, eager and frayed. Dark eyes watch their matching pair as the pink of his tongue pokes out, tasting the base of that hard cock.

It doesn't stay there long, with Sylar pausing only long enough to inhale deeply of the likely altered scent. So like Mohinder, yet different, more... something that lit up his brain and made his own cock jump within its confines. Tongue and lips move, licking a trail to the sensitive head, which he'll take greedily into his warm mouth, swirling his tongue over it and moaning at the taste. There's no faking that, no playing it up; any semblance of of staying in control was already unravelling.

Eye contact again before he'll close them, taking as much of Mohinder into his mouth as he can. Even when the tip hits the back of his throat, causing the inevitable gag, he continues, holding his breath til his lips touch the base again. )

[There was a small war playing out in Mohinder's mind, even as he moaned in ecstacy and tousled Sylar's hair. One part of him wanted to grip Sylar's head and push, forcing the man to stay in place and gag as Mohinder took out every bit of aggression (sexual or otherwise) on this man who has caused him so much grief.

But the other part of him noticed the eagerness to please, the way Sylar was pushing himself. It's something familiar, welcome- and honestly unexpected. If Mohinder were more in his right mind, he might have analyzed where it was coming from, but for now it was enough to know it was here.

So while Mohinder gripped Sylar's head tightly when he hit a particularly good spot, it was quickly released. The gagging has Mohinder stroking Sylar's hair back.]

Take it easy. You're doing so well. It's so- nggh.

[Of course Sylar keeps going. Mohinder moans deeply, losing everything he'd been planning to say. He's not going to last very long here if Sylar insists on doing that.]

God, yes...

( Another moan escapes his throats, vibrating around the confines of Mohinder's cock. Everything was white-hot against his mind, burning at the edges. Mohinder's moans, how his words cut off, that grip in his hair...

Could he stay here for hours on his knees, saying 'I love you' over and over with his tongue? The answer was obviously 'yes'. If only there were not already other plans in place...

Finally, slowly, he pulls back, lingering until the very last second until he releases the tip from his mouth with an audible pop. He licks his lips lasciviously. )

How can I take it easy when... you taste... so fucking... good?

( Sylar punctuates each pause with a breathy kiss to a different spot on Mohinder's cock. One hand strays to his own jeans, unzipping and freeing his own straining erection. Unless stopped, he'll lean in again, and continue to praise Mohinder with his talented tongue. )

[Losing Sylar's mouth on him is worth it, if only to look down at those dark eyes, full of lust, and those lips, red with the effort of pleasuring him. And then- then he speaks, that deep rumble even a little more gravelly than usual.

It is an attack on his senses that Mohinder wasn't expecting, and it sends a full-body shiver throughout him, as well as provoking a small, expectant whine.]

I suppose that's...fair...

[And now Sylar is freeing himself and getting back to it. Mohinder doesn't have the willpower to shift positions at the moment, but he eyes the scene with naked lascivious desire.]

And you- I'll have to try a taste myself. [He lets out a groan and looks straight up, stretching his neck out as he sighs and stares at the moon.] I'm too close. You're too good at this. I-

[His grip on Sylar's hair tightens once again as words fail Mohinder yet again. And all the tension comes crashing down, as his orgasm hits him hard. He'd be weak-kneed, if he hadn't just developed super powers. As it is, he's barely cognizant enough to release that grip after the first wave of bliss. For once, he doesn't want to hurt the man in front of him.]

( Sylar squeezes and rubs his aching erection, wanting to come with Mohinder, but the scientist actually surprised him with his quickness (which he will absolutely accept the blame/compliment for!) He doesn't even mind the grip on his hair, nudging at those needy fingers with his head.

He works his throat around the other man's spasms, swallowing eagerly. Dark lashes will flutter and equally dark eyes glance up, briefly, to try and catch Mohinder's eyes as he drinks down everything he has to offer. It tastes strangely sweet, almost, tinged with whatever the fuck he injected into himself.

Really though... he'd been wanting this for so long, his desire could be clouding what was actually there.

When the crashing waves begin to ebb away, Sylar moves his mouth away, licking and moaning lewdly until he's leaning back on his haunches, with one hand still on Mohinder's hip. His other works himself, stroking the full hardness in his grip. )

Have you given a blowjob before, Mohinder?

( The question's as much curiosity as it is teasing. The pink of his tongue flashes at the corner of his lips, his hand grips Mohinder's hip more tightly. Those are the only warnings Mohinder would receive before he'd find himself on his knees once again, this time brought down by telekinetic force. The 'grip' fades as quick as it arrived and he watches him through eyes darkened with lust. )

[Mohinder is a bit too busy basking in this bliss to answer that question, thank you- but of course Sylar using that moment to turn the tables. It is interesting, how instead of fear Mohinder feels exhilaration at being moved forcibly with the telekinesis. Even he's a little surprised by it. But he is one of them now. Maybe that really was all he wanted, to be on the same level.

He lands gracefully, almost as if he'd intended to sink to the ground himself. The only indication it was a surprise is a delighted giggle as he stares directly into Sylar's eyes.]

I have- well, once. But you of all people know how quickly I pick up on things, hmm?

[He leans forward for a soft, plying kiss, one hand coming up to rest gently on the other man's neck as support. Or maybe he just couldn't go any longer without touching Sylar. He murmurs against Sylar's lips.]

Let me give it a try, would you?

( It's as daunting as it is exhilarating, having Mohinder moving with his power, instead of against it. Something to remember for later, when they inevitably argue again. Would Mohinder be so willing then?

Thoughts that dissipate when their lips meet, with Sylar all too happily giving in to that request. He grins, almost laughing, hormone-drunk, and the kiss is more soft and playful than it is passionate. )

How could I refuse such a request? It's not as if I could ever deny you anything...

( That last is a whispered oath between breaths, hardly aware he's saying it. Once its out, it's there, and he doesn't shy away from the truth.

But other pressing matters need attending to, and it's his turn to move swiftly to his feet. His knees and muscles ache after being on his haunches for so long. Thankfully, there's a tuft or dark curls to bury his hand into and keep himself steady.

Sylar shoves down his pants and underwear with his hand, using some psychic persuasion too, and tugs, gently but with some insistence, on Mohinder's hair urging him forward. )

I'm happy to be your new science project, Mohinder...

[Mohinder raises an eyebrow at the admission, and don't worry- he will be remembering that for later. It seems inane to think that perhaps, through all this, they both just needed to get laid. But so much effort had been put into denying this connection, and Mohinder can finally see that now.

He serves as a steady point to lean on, as Sylar stands, and he helps the other man with his pants. It's more of an excuse to run his hands over Sylar's bare thighs. He follows the tug on his hair, just like he did with the telekinesis. He takes Sylar's erection in hand, stroking it experimentally as he licks at the tip. And he smiles.]

Observation number one- you taste amazing. Now to move on to finding stimulus points...

[Mohinder almost brings up that his own hormones- perhaps even pheromones- are certainly altered and perhaps that's having an effect on the both of them. But...well, they'll get to that later. Sylar's sure to have noticed it already. For now, Mohinder is learning. And he loves learning.

He leans back in and takes Sylar in his mouth, slowly moving down until it starts to become difficult. His tongue then swirls around the underside of Sylar's cock, and he pulls out to lick the whole thing in long swipes, then taking it back in hand again and stroking with slightly tighter force as he licks around the tip. Into his mouth it goes again, slightly deeper now, and the whole time he's listening for any cues Sylar may give him. Mohinder is a very attentive partner, as it turns out, for anyone who managed to handle his abrasive personality.]

Overflow. Open Post. Captcha. Etc

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lmao redid my icon keywords and now some don't exactly match

pfft I just scrolled up and finally noticed XD ah, the hazards of icon updates.

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<-one of my most important icons

it IS

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