"What're you doing over there? You've been quiet for the past hour."

Mohinder shifts as much as possible in the cramped driver's seat, rubbing an eye while glancing at Sylar who is hunched over a small notebook.


"Sketching? I didn't know you liked to draw!"

Sylar shrugs.

"I only sketch things that intrigue me…hold my attention. Clocks, nature - that sort of thing."

"Lemme see!" Mohinder grins, flicking his eyes from the road to the paper being heavily guarded by Sylar's large hand. Now he understands why his lover had practically bounced when they'd purchased this small notebook at their last stop.

"Uh, no…no I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Sylar looks up to see a pouting face that could shatter the heart of the toughest man alive. But sketching is something he's always kept private; only drawing what takes his breath away and thus, revealing his biggest weaknesses.

"Because…well, because…it's not done yet."

"Oh you're lying! I saw you signing your name in the corner!"

Damn it.

"No Mohinder I really don't think I want to show you." Sylar is startled when his boyfriend flicks on the blinker and pulls to the side of this rather desolate two-lane highway they'd been traversing for the entire day. He shields his drawing, holding it close to his chest. "Why'd you stop?"

"Show me," Mohinder demands, throwing the car into park and turning in his seat.

Sylar shakes his head no.


"I…its…its not very good. I'll offend you." And he truly believes he will. Nothing could ever capture the beauty sitting before him.

"It's a drawing of me?!" Mohinder gasps. "Now you really have to show me!" He unbuckles his seatbelt and goes to grab it from Sylar's hands but his lover recoils even more, batting him away.

"All right! Okay. Just…let me fix something on it first."

Mohinder nods and watches intensely as Sylar pulls it away from his chest and runs his pencil over a few more areas. The artist erases a last remaining line and sighs deeply.

"I'm honored you would sketch me," Mohinder says encouragingly, desperate to see this mysterious drawing.

"Just…don't laugh."


Sylar reluctantly hands the notebook to his boyfriend with a grimace on his face, hoping to God he doesn't come off as a frivolous hobbyist. When the sketch reaches dark hands, Sylar loses his breath.

Mohinder's jaw drops and he goes completely still. Several moments pass, an idle car whooshing by their vehicle, before he can speak.

"You…you modest bastard! This is amazing!"

Blinking rapidly, Sylar can't fight the slight quirk of his mouth or the reddening of his cheeks.

"Its nothing really, I just…well, you were driving and the sun was coming through the window and you looked…"

He struggles for the words that he hadn't been able to express earlier; how do you tell someone that they are the epitome of stunning?

Just like that, I suppose. Now or never.

"Mohinder, you're the definition of the word beautiful and you're everything I wish I was and…I'd do anything for you. I will do anything for you, to make you happy…to make up for the things I've done. I hope you know that."

This wasn't exactly what Sylar had planned when he started drawing the God sitting next to him, but he feels a door in his heart swing open at having finally confessed it. Unfortunately, Mohinder isn't talking back. Sylar shifts again and scratches his head, wondering if the fire blazing on his cheekbones is very noticeable.

And then Mohinder is moving forwards in his seat, setting the sketch gently onto his lap and reaching out. He fists his hands in Sylar's shirt and yanks the man over to close the gap between them. Sylar lets out a surprised noise when their lips clash together and Mohinder goes about sucking his mouth until they are both gasping for air.

When they reluctantly pull apart, Sylar sees something in Mohinder that steals his breath again. His lover looks more serious than he ever has; eyes alight with passion.

"You're forgiven for the things you've done, as long as you promise to never leave me."

Choking in a breath of air, Sylar grips the back of Mohinder's neck and pushes their foreheads together. His vision blurs with tears that carry the weight of those words. Mohinder forgives him and everything he's ever dreamed about is laying itself out in front of him.

"I will never leave you."

"I think now is the proper time to say that nobody has ever made me feel special like you do, and I'd like you to stop because I'm far from it."

Sylar doesn't believe that he's the first person to show this man how amazing he is.

"Mohinder, surely you've had men and women throwing themselves at you your entire life. How did that not make you feel special?"

A dark thumb toys absent-mindedly with Sylar's chin, feeling the brash scrape of stubble and dipping into the hollow just below a plump lower lip. Mohinder shakes his head.

"That was all lust. You make me feel loved."

God yes I love you. I've never loved anyone before and it's scary.

Sylar nods his comprehension and releases Mohinder's head.

"Fair enough. But you are special and I'll keep drawing pictures of you until you realize it," he teases. They sit back into their respective seats and Mohinder buckles his seatbelt. He picks the sketch back up and stares at it a few more moments before speaking.

"As long as you draw yourself alongside me next time." He winks at Sylar and hands the notebook back. "I really do love it. You've got an amazing skill that you should share with the world."

"It's something I'd rather keep private with you. Sacred."

Mirrored smiles fleet across both sets of lips at their new understanding. Sylar wonders if they'll ever stop delving so deeply into each other; if their relationship can possibly get any more intense. Mohinder throws the car into drive pulling back onto the highway towards their destination, and he makes a silent prayer that they never will.

"This is it?"

"I believe so," Mohinder says, rolling their car to a stop at the mouth of a long dirt trail. "He said there is no road, only a path, and to leave our car."

"Right." Sylar scoffs at the familiar feeling that Peter is wasting his abilities by hiding away like this. He tucks his notebook under an arm and climbs out, starting down the path next to his boyfriend.

With each step further into the heavily wooded area he feels his apprehension grow towards seeing Petrelli again. But, for Mohinder, he tries desperately to smother those feelings with what he remembers from 'Anger'. He can control himself because Mohinder needs him to. "I wish I'd thought to grab your book before we left the Company."

"That's fine, it was just paper. As long as you used it then it served its purpose."

"It cured my boredom, if that's what you mean." Sylar is more than a little unwilling to admit that his rage was broken down by mere words in a book.

"Did you read all my notes on the pages?"

"No." Just rubbed them on my face. "I tried to, Mohinder, but your handwriting is impossible to decipher. It's beautiful, don't get me wrong, but it looks like another language altogether."

"Ah yes, the perils of knowing English, French, and Tamil. Sometimes they meld," Mohinder shrugs, scratching his head through the embarrassment of not being able to control his bilingual mind. "That's unfortunate because I had written you little messages of encouragement."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Telling you to stay calm…and that I would get you out."

"You knew you were going to from the start then?"

"I knew I wanted to. I hoped the book would help get you through the ordeal. Did you learn from it?"

"There were valid points about self control - something I tend to lack."

"Mhmm. Personally, I used it to help me through my father's-" Mohinder pauses; stops walking entirely to cut himself off from revisiting a memory they've already pushed away. Clearing his throat he sends the conversation back on track. "Think you'll use any of it?"

Sylar has stopped as well. Taking in a cleansing breath he bends down to pick up a smooth stone, grinning as he slips it into his pocket.

"I think so."

Mohinder beams and places a hand on Sylar's shoulder when they start moving again.

"Some of us keep a pebble in our pocket - just holding the pebble, breathing in and out calmly and smiling can help you tremendously," Mohinder declares, reciting what he remembers from the book's pages. "Chapter three."

"You know it by heart?" Sylar is unable to withhold the shock from his voice.

"Only certain parts. You didn't notice me picking up rocks in Montana?"

"No," the taller man chuckles while shaking his head.

Mohinder could go on; tell Sylar about all of the rather secretive things he'd done on their road trip aside from stroking a pebble in his pocket. He could tell him how he'd prayed every night that Sylar would give up the façade before things flew too much out of their control. But Mohinder decides he'd like to keep some things for discussion during sleepless nights after they start their new life together.

"I see red," Sylar grumbles, breaking Mohinder's concentration on the dirt path before them. He looks up through the mess of trees and feels his heart race as the ruby siding of Peter's cabin comes into view.

"Ah, there it is! Come on!"

Excited and ready to end this long journey he grabs Sylar's hand and starts a steady jog towards the small cabin. The path curves sharply to the right and they round the bend, coming up to a set of wooden steps. Peter Petrelli stands at the top under his porch's awning, arms folded.

"Thought I heard the determined heartbeat of Mohinder Suresh."

Peter grins, not daring to acknowledge the dark glare he's receiving from his old enemy.

Mohinder races up the steps and takes Peter into a warm hug, ignoring the scoff from behind them.

"So good to see you again."

"You too. Took you long enough to get here. I was getting worried."

"Yes well, we had to make a few unexpected stops."

Peter doesn't question, knowing fully well what that means.

They release their embrace to the sound of Sylar's heavy stomp coming up the stairs.



Mohinder shifts on his feet between them.

"Welcome to my home," Peter says, breaking the tension. The door swings open by way of an unseen force, and Sylar grits his teeth in pure jealousy.

This will be fun, he thinks. Watching Peter showcase his powers to dazzle my ability-loving boyfriend should be a blast.

"It's charming!" Mohinder exclaims when they step inside. The cabin is small but just the right size for a single person; one large room with a small walled-in section for a bathroom.

"How cute. Love the flowers on your curtains," Sylar chides sarcastically, receiving a swift bump of Mohinder's elbow into his ribs.

Rebuking the urge to throw Sylar around his cute cabin, Peter ignores him and offers the pair something to drink. Once pleasantries and general explorations of their surroundings are over, they all take a seat in the small living area; Peter on the couch and the other two sitting in side-by-side armchairs.

Sylar takes a moment to look his former enemy up and down. Peter appears to be in good shape, much to his dismay; healthy and stronger with a more muscular build than he'd remembered. His hair is cut short making the boy look older than Sylar assumes he is.

Eyes falling to Peter's plaid button-up shirt, Sylar chuckles low and deep.

"Something funny?"

"You look like a lumberjack, Peter. Living out here in the woods like this, one could easily be fooled."

Mohinder lets out a huff of breath to his left, something that Sylar takes as a warning.

"I cut my own firewood, so maybe I am a bit of a lumberjack," Peter retorts with a smirk. He'll be the better man and deflect Sylar's snide comments with friendly ones of his own. The sharp quirk of Sylar's eyebrow as the man collapses back into his seat tells Peter that his plan is working. "Now. We have some things to take care of, gentlemen."

"Right. So how does this work, exactly?" Mohinder scoots forwards in his chair a little, hands clasped and eyes wide with anticipation.

Sylar's hand snakes unnoticeably into his pocket, fingers stroking the pebble as a constant reminder that lunging at the young man across from him would be less than ideal at the moment. When he looks over, Mohinder flashes him a comforting smile that he could have gotten lost in had it not been for the glaring empath a few feet away.

"We just need to go over a couple things and then I'll go check on your house."

"House?" Mohinder asks, sounding quite pleased.

"Is that alright?"

"Yes, of course! I wasn't sure what to expect. I figured we'd be put into an apartment and shuffled around every so often."

"There's no need to move you around, I'll be efficiently covering both our tracks. The house is nothing huge but it's big enough for two people."

Sylar's eyes narrow as the disapproving tone in Peter's voice seems to scold Mohinder for his recent choices.

"Anything is fine, really. We just want to disappear."

"How exactly did you get us a house, Petrelli?" Sylar chimes in to take the brunt of Peter's anger away from his boyfriend.

"I have many, many useful abilities, as you know firsthand."

"Oh, the ones you worked so hard for?"

"I do good things for people without killing anyone. I'd say they're well deserved."

"Now, now Pete. Are we getting a bit egotistical?"

"Ha! You shouldn't talk mister 'You're the villain, I'm the hero'!"

"I'm not the one who nearly blew up New York City!"

"No but you are the one who killed-"

"Would you two knock it off?!" Mohinder is suddenly on his feet, flicking dangerous glares at both of them. "We don't have time for this, really, and Sylar…maybe you should wait outside."

A hurt look crosses Sylar's face and when he stands up to obey it is Peter who objects, much to their surprise.

"No, he should stay. I can't let you two go without helping him." The empath sighs out heavily, running his hands through his hair.

"Helping me?"


"What do you mean?" Mohinder asks, sitting back down slowly. After a few moments of hovering unsurely on his feet, Sylar sits as well.

"You're a good friend Mohinder, and I care about you." Peter's eyes shift to Sylar who clenches his jaw at those words. "I want you to be happy and if that means letting you live your life with him then I'll push aside our past and make things right."

"What did you mean before, Petrelli? I don't need your help." Sylar's impatience is grating on his nerves but Peter ignores it - for Mohinder.

"You do actually or you wouldn't be here. I help people disappear but Bennet knows you two could have done that on your own with your abilities. I thought something was up when he introduced me to that healer a few days ago. It makes sense now."

"Healer?" Mohinder asks.

"Yeah, he was a really old guy but didn't need my help at all, which I thought was weird. Noah had us meet and then he told me that you two were going to need help but-"

"Get to the point, Petrelli,"

"Fine. You're powers are gone."

Sylar shifts uncomfortably, having hoped Peter wouldn't notice. Mohinder is the one to ask what they are both thinking.

"How did you know?"

"Well for one thing he would have used them on my already. Also, I'm an empath. I can sense that stuff."

Sylar rolls his eyes and leans forward. Without abilities the only thing he has left is intimidation. Putting on his best evil glare, he growls out an amused response.

"How astute of you. What…are you going to fix me?"

"I don't want to, but for Mohinder, I will."

Sylar's anger bubbles up in his gut; Peter shouldn't get to say that beautiful name so often.

"Why do you care if I have abilities, Petrelli? Wouldn't it cut down on your competition? Wouldn't it comfort you knowing your precious friend Mohinder is safe from the big bad killer without powers? Why don't you just admit-"

"You're dying, Sylar."

"What?" Mohinder stares wide-eyed, though deep inside he'd known. He feels as if someone has just shoved his heart to the bottom of his stomach.

Voice cracking, Sylar speaks in disbelief.

"Dying? How?"

The empath finds his fear endearing, and suddenly he wants to help.

"Cancer." Peter looks over at Mohinder whose thoughts are racing wildly about arsenic, Primatech, and guilt. He decides to leave the latter for them to discuss in private. "Company drugs, I assume. I've seen it before, only now I can actually help."

Sylar searches the wall above Peter's head and then drops his eyes to his own pale, trembling hands. He'd felt so worn down lately only he hadn't shown it to Mohinder to spare him the worry.

"God, oh God…help him. Please, Peter."

"I will. If he'll let me of course."

Sylar doesn't respond - gaze glued to his lap. Surrounded by death since everything started with Chandra Suresh and now when face to face with the grim reaper, he feels like a scared child. Why hadn't he been this afraid when stabbed with a Samurai sword? Because, he thinks, now the stakes are higher. Before he only had himself to lose. But now that Mohinder is his, now that Mohinder loves him, he can't die. He can't leave Mohinder alone in this despicable world to fend for himself. Sylar's heart clenches in pure dread.

Peter senses it along with the wounded pride of an enemy, and he stands to move over to Sylar's chair.

Mohinder's eyes are glassy with tears as he watches two adversaries clashing together in a twisted fate. He shivers when Peter crouches next to the former killer, hand reaching cautiously to Sylar's chest. Everything is moving so slow and if it hadn't been for a tear rolling down Sylar's cheek, he would have been worried a physical battle could erupt. Mohinder's body twitches in the desire to stand up and brush it away, tell Sylar to be strong, but he can't bring himself to break this moment.

Sylar stays perfectly still, unable to look his savior in the eye when Peter's strong hand plants itself against his heart. Everything is tense; air hanging thick and silent with static around all three men, and Mohinder doesn't dare exhale; can't even move as he grips the arm of the chair white-knuckled.

And then Peter's eyes flutter closed, Sylar's following suit as he gives in to something he can't control. Mohinder realizes how frustrating it must be for a man who worships domination in every aspect, and a sense of pride washes over him watching his lover relinquish control.

Sylar thinks of Mohinder the moment a white hot heat flashes though his chest; eyes flying open and mouth gasping for air. He can't decide if its pain or release he's feeling but he hears the creak of Mohinder's chair as his lover jumps - senses Peter's hand pushing harder on his chest and the warmth intensifies. It pulsates through his body in an odd thrumming tingle and Sylar decides it feels uncomfortable. Pure and rejuvenating but incredibly abnormal. He manages to look over at Peter and sees that the empath's brow is furrowed down in concentration.

Sylar tries to gather his wits to say something, anything, to tell Peter to stop or keep going – he's not sure which exactly. But the sensation spreads at a slow crawl through his body, down his limbs and then back at an even more intense pulsation.

The heat pools back at its source; his heart underneath Peter's hard and Sylar gasps again when the contact is pulled away, the warmth fading. Without it there he feels cold - shivering, shaking, and whimpering lightly as he feels his body slowly thawing from the disease that had been frozen in his core.

Mohinder still can't speak, watching nervously while Sylar makes soft noises and Peter sits back on the floor, rubbing his face and visibly drained.

"What…that…" Sylar sputters while massaging the spot on his chest where something powerful has just taken place.

"You're welcome." Peter pulls himself off the floor and runs a hand through his hair. Finally able to move again, Mohinder is up in a flash and at Sylar's side, touching his knee and face.

"Did it work?"

"If it didn't then you've got an even bigger problem on your-" Peter's sentence is cut off by a mug from his coffee table flying past him and landing deftly in Sylar's palm. "There's your answer."

Letting out an impossibly long breath of relief, Mohinder runs his fingertips over the mug and grins at Sylar's wide eyes.

"Thank you, Peter…so much."

"No problem, Mohinder," he says back quietly, hoping for the same praise from the man he'd just healed. But Sylar sits in a daze, looking at his own hands with unbreakable awe. "I just need to go check on your house. Two minutes."

Mohinder nods and watches in astonishment as the empath flickers out of visibility, teleporting away. Power, he thinks, will never cease to thrill him.

"Sylar? How do you feel?"

Eyes narrowed in concern, the doctor scoots closer and squeezes his boyfriend's knee. Sylar answers by tugging the man into a forcibly hard clash of lips. When they pull apart Mohinder catches the rekindled flame in Sylar's gaze that had died out with the first prick of a poison-laced needle.

"Better than ever." He proves his point by pinching Mohinder on the ass with telekinesis.


And then Sylar moves, standing and pulling Mohinder with him into a warm embrace. Mohinder welcomes the hug, burying is face in the crook of Sylar's neck.

"You knew, didn't you? That I was dying?"

"I wasn't certain, but I was pretty sure." Mohinder pauses, searching for the right words to plead his case with. "I just didn't know what to do. I'm sorry."

A long silence follows and he would have been scared to death had it not been for the gentle fingers carding through his curls. After a minute of tender petting, Sylar speaks soft and low.

"We're even then. For everything."

Mohinder nods.


Sylar presses his lips to Mohinder's wild locks just as Peter appears next to them, immediately frowning at the scene.

"Ready?" he says, shifting impatiently while the two men break apart.

"More than you know, Peter."

The empath smiles at Mohinder before grabbing his bicep, then nods once at Sylar and plants a hand on his broad shoulder.

Mohinder blinks once, quickly, and when his eyes open again they're standing on the front lawn of a rather quant little house. He stumbles back a step, not used to being shoved through time and space in such a way. Sylar's strong arm wraps instinctively around his waist to steady him.

"You okay?"

"Yes…that was…"

"A rush," Peter finished for him with a grin. "Never gets old."

"I'm sure." Sylar tightens his fingers around Mohinder's skinny hip, clenching away the urge to try that ability for himself. Peter did something nice for him, so he will be good. He dips his other hand into his pocket and brushes it over to the pebble.

"A couple of things before I go," the empath says, opening the door with telekinesis and stepping into the petite home. Mohinder and Sylar follow him in, eyes darting around the slender hallway that leads deeper inside. "Here's the number you can reach me at if you have any problems. It's different than the one Noah gave you. This is my…personal number. I figured since I know you guys you should be able to contact me directly." He holds the tiny piece of paper out to Sylar who takes it with a quirked brow. Mohinder breaks away from them, excitement sparkling in his eyes, itching to see the house. He wanders into the next room in time to avoid Sylar's growl of frustration.

"Why are you giving this to me? I'll lose it. Mohinder should-"

"I know you'll lose it. Look at it, memorize it, and give it back."

Sylar clears his throat, biting back an argument and glaring down at the paper until his eidetic memory has the phone number efficiently stored. He smiles contently, handing it back to Peter.


"Perfect. Here are your keys."

He's given two identical silver house keys, slipping them into his back pocket.

"Anything else?"

"It's already furnished!" Mohinder's squeal of joy breaks their semi normal moment, bouncing off the walls of their new home.

After a chuckle Sylar calls back, "Good, because we're poor!"

"About that." Peter digs around in the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a thick envelope. "Here."

Flicking it open, Sylar's fingers skim over the large stack of hundred dollar bills.

"Shit, there must be five grand in here."

"We can't accept that," Mohinder is suddenly behind them, walking around and plunging his own fingers into the money.

"Like hell we can't!"


"What?! He's giving it to us, Mohinder. It would be rude to refuse."

"But that's too much."

"Its not, really. I have ways of getting money without stealing thanks to Bob Bishop. Take it. It's just to start you off."

"Peter," the Indian breathes out, taking a step forward to embrace him in a tight hug. "I can never thank you enough. We can never thank you enough."

"No need. It's about time you were happy, Suresh." They pull back with mirrored grins, Mohinder blushing slightly. "Besides…now I don't have to worry about Sylar popping up to take my brain," Peter jokes, smacking the former killer on the arm. "Keep him on a tight leash, Mohinder."

The look in Sylar's eyes sends a chill down the empath's spine.

"You're pushing it, Petrelli."

"Yeah, yeah." He glances back and forth between them before clapping his hands together once. "Alright. I guess I'm off then." An awkward moment passes before Peter's eyes close, and just before he can blink away Sylar grabs his arm.


"What?" the empath questions, turning a disapproving eye to the tight grip on his bicep.

"Can I…talk to you?" Without waiting for an answer, Sylar opens the front door and pulls Peter outside onto the front step. He smiles at Mohinder's confused face before closing the door behind them.

"Something wrong?"

"I wanted to say something before you go."

"Oh? What might that be?" Peter doesn't need to ask, he can hear it racing in Sylar's mind.

How do I say 'thank you' without sounding like an idiot? I shouldn't even be doing this but I know Mohinder will nag me if I don't.


"You?" He tries hard not to grin at the short-tempered man.

Sylar's jaw clenches as he squeezes the life out of his pebble.

"I wanted to say…"


Fuck you! I'm trying to get it out.

"What was that, Sylar?"

"Fucking hell, Petrelli. You're such an asshole." Thank you.

"I really need to go soon," the boy says, checking his watch and ignoring what he picked up in Sylar's thoughts. "Just say whatever it is you need to say."

I did already! I know you can hear me right now!


"Thank you!" Sylar growls out, giving in. "Thank you for helping us. For healing me. For the money. For everything."

Peter can't help but chuckle a little, feeling quite pleased with himself.

"No problem. Take good care of Mohinder or I'll be back to kill you. I know where you live."

"Come visit any time you want to get your ass kicked."

"Oh, by the way. There's a watch shop up for sale down your street." Peter grins and with a playful wink, he's gone.

Sylar is momentarily stunned, staring wide-eyed at the empty space where the boy just was. He isn't sure if he hates Peter for being so nice, or if he hates the fact that he now likes his former enemy. Either way, Sylar returns Peter's smirk a few moments too late, taking his hand out of his pocket and dropping the pebble in his new front yard. No need for such things now.

When he goes back inside and follows the sound of Mohinder's jovial heart beat, he finds his boyfriend in the kitchen propping Sylar's sketchbook up on the windowsill to showcase his latest drawing. He sneaks up behind Mohinder, wrapping long arms around his middle and smiling against his curls.

"You really like that picture?"

"Yes, it's amazing!"

Dark fingers drift lightly over the pencil marks while Mohinder admires the lines and curves. Sylar's careful hand put so much thought and concern into each stroke; he now considers this sketch to be his most prized possession. He's lost in the thought of how special it is when a jolt 

of pleasure rushes through him. Mohinder's fingers instantly fumble to grip the faucet as Sylar's groin presses hard into his bottom, pushing him against the counter edge.

"You're amazing, Doctor Suresh," he purrs into Mohinder's ear.

"Sylar," comes a gasp. "Stop that. Don't you want to explore the house first?"

The taller man stops nibbling down Mohinder's long neck to answer.

"That can wait. I want to taste you right now."

His hands run down the doctor's thighs, hips grinding in again, and Mohinder melts in the touches. He needs to be tasted.

Mohinder spins in Sylar's arms, leaning up on tip toes to capture his lips in a fierce kiss. With a quick jerk of telekinesis and strong arms Sylar lifts Mohinder up and onto the counter, deftly sliding between his knees and pressing their fronts together to deepen the kiss. Vying for control they nip and suck at each other's mouths, Sylar sliding his tongue in to wrestle against Mohinder's.

A soft moan erupts from the darker man when he feels strong hands massaging his ass roughly, sliding him even closer on the counter. He can feel their erections pressing hard and hot through thin denim and Mohinder wriggles to get more friction.

Sylar takes the hint, sliding his hands to the underside of Mohinder's thighs. With a grunt he picks his lover up and guides long legs to wrap tightly around his skinny waist. Their kiss grows more fervent as Sylar starts walking blindly down the hallway, bumping into walls and nicking furniture edges.

"Bedroom?" he murmurs against Mohinder's lips.


They turn sharply, the door flying open with telekinesis and slamming against the wall. Mohinder pulls back just in time to be dropped onto their bed.

"Let's not tear up our new house before we can even-"

He doesn't have time to finish before Sylar is jumping on top of him like a lion onto its prey, attacking his long neck.

"Oh, fuck!"

Mohinder's fingers tug on the hem of Sylar's shirt, dragging it up a muscled back and scraping his nails as he goes. A hiss of pain is the response, Sylar biting harder into the soft flesh of his neck to retaliate. He pulls back with an over exaggerated slurp, tugging Mohinder's skin between 

his teeth and standing up from the bed. Mohinder is left staring at him, panting, and tugging wantonly at his own clothing.

Sylar removes his shirt completely, throwing it off to the side and then goes to work on his pants. It isn't until Mohinder attempts to sit up and help that he feels the subtle push of telekinesis keeping him pinned to the bed. It gradually spreads across his entire body, arms and legs gluing to the soft comforter.

"Gods, I missed that ability," he pants out, watching Sylar with lusting eyes. His lover kicks his blue jeans off and plays teasingly with the hem of his boxers, putting on quite the show.

"I missed using it on you. The faces you make when you can't move…fuck Mohinder." Sylar chews on his bottom lip and tosses the undergarment clear across their bedroom. Now completely naked he stands still for several moments, holding his arms out and chuckling at the intense stare he's receiving from Mohinder. "Like what you see?"

"More than you know. Stop being a tease and ravage me!"

How could he resist that command?

Sylar crawls back over the still clothed doctor, growling low and long, sending a violent shiver down Mohinder's spine. He struggles to move on the bed; to reach up and touch; but that only seems to egg Sylar on more. Once he's straddling the restrained man, Sylar bends down and kisses too gently along his jaw line. Mohinder makes a small grunting noise of protest and tries to push up against him, causing another gruff chuckle to sound from his tormentor.

"Patience, Mohinder. We have a lifetime for this."

"Don't care," the Indian gasps. Sylar's fingers are undoing the buttons on his shirt too slowly and his devious lips are kissing that golden skin as it appears. "Need more."

Mohinder's fists clench and unclench as frustration grows. Being pinned down by Sylar's mind with hundreds of tickling and massaging telekinetic fingers is orgasmic in itself. But he needs to touch too; to feel that soft skin under his hands and to lick the salty flesh. He has the sudden overwhelming desire to taste Sylar's cock – to fill his mouth with it.

"More what?"

Unfortunately, it seems he's not going to get the chance. Sylar has easily discarded his button-up shirt and is now rolling blue jeans and boxers down Mohinder's slender hips, kissing the skin of his groin.

"More of you, you ass-AH!"

A quick lick of a wet tongue to his throbbing erection and Mohinder is thrashing harder than ever against his invisible bonds. Sylar sits up for a moment to see the brow-furrowed, mouth-agape 

look on Mohinder's face, grinning in accomplishment. He'd missed that expression more than he thought.

Sylar wets his lips, the taste of Mohinder's flesh sparking on his tongue.

I could make a fortune by somehow bottling his scent and flavor.

The soft whimper that escapes Mohinder at the momentary loss of contact snaps Sylar back into action. He settles back down between Mohinder's thighs and slips his mouth around the head of his cock.


Laving his tongue, Sylar's mouth waters profusely. He tightens his lips and slides them slowly down Mohinder's long length as deep as he can until the head presses against his throat. On reflex, he swallows, and feels Mohinder's hips jerk into his hands. Pulling back just as slow seems to have more of an effect on the Indian. His entire body wrenches in a desperate attempt to curl into himself, and Sylar quickly dips his head back down.

"Syyyylarrrr!" Mohinder drawls out, arching his lower back off the bed as much as possible. The mouth on his erection continues to work and he can only squirm, helpless to its ministrations. Just as his eyes roll back, fire building up in his gut, Sylar pulls away and sits up while wiping his mouth. "Wuh-" Mohinder gasps. He groans at the loss but feels his lover crawling back over him, kissing him gently.

It's in this instant that Mohinder finds the telekinetic hold has been conveniently lifted. He wraps his arms around Sylar's neck and with a rough nudge of his hips the pair is rolling until Mohinder is on top.

Sylar removes the invisible touch that had been stretching Mohinder and grunts in surprise, hands trailing down golden skin. Mohinder is kneeling over him, shoving his tongue into his mouth and stroking the taller man's erection with nimble fingers.

"Jesus, Mohinder…"

"Scoot back."


"Against the headboard."

Reluctantly, Mohinder de-straddles him and sits off to the side while Sylar shifts backwards. He takes a moment to look the former killer up and down; to take in the innocence and vulnerability of such a tough man. Sylar is flushed with lust, panting and mouth quirking up at the corner in a grin as he leans against the headboard of their bed. He holds his arms out to Mohinder who crawls back over him, taking his cock and holding it upright while positioning it at his entrance. 

The feeling of Mohinder's ass pressing against the tip makes him twitch, fisting dark curls quickly and pulling Mohinder into a rough kiss.

Sylar hears a thud as a hand shoots past his ear and latches onto the wooden board for support. Their lip lock is passionate, breath taking, and perfect.

It only intensifies when Mohinder lowers himself slowly, sinking down onto Sylar's erection inch by inch. He gasps between their open mouths and Sylar swallows the noise before releasing a deep moan himself. Mohinder feels so much tighter that he remembered and his sensitive skin is on pleasure overload.

When he is buried all the way inside his lover, Sylar lets his hands fall to Mohinder's hips for more stability.

"You okay?" he asks while the doctor whimpers through the adjustment to such a large intrusion.


Mohinder lifts suddenly and drops just as quickly, and Sylar doubles forwards against his shoulder. Both of Mohinder's hands grip the headboard white-knuckled, arm muscles cording as he lifts and sinks repeatedly in a steady bounce.


A slew of pornographic huffs and moans escape Mohinder's lips as their rhythm quickens; Sylar thrusting his hips up to meet the body sinking repeatedly onto his engorged cock.

The sensation of invisible fingers are present once more, wrapping around Mohinder's erection and stroking in a ghostly way that brings goose bumps over his entire body. He throws his head back, slapping skin on skin in a heated fury to jerk up into the touch and fall back to impale himself.

Sylar's fingertips dig painfully hard into his hips, and Mohinder tightens his thighs around his lover. They are lost in the moment, pleasure building deep inside of them and spiraling down to the base of their equally throbbing erections.

"Sy-Sylar, I'm gonna…"

With a growl of intent, Sylar lunges forwards and pushes Mohinder back so that he's lying flat. He grips a shoulder with one hand and hip with the other, pounding mercilessly into Mohinder's arching body.

"So…good," Sylar grunts with each slam of his hips.

Those words push Mohinder over the edge. His entire body seizes, nails digging into Sylar's back and eyes screwing shut.

"SYLAR!" His orgasm spurts between them and his muscles twitch through each pleasurable wave of sensation.

Mohinder clenches around Sylar who quickly follows, growling deeply against his neck and thrusting in a few more times. He comes inside his lover in a slow release, rocking his hips through the intense bliss.

He rolls off of Mohinder when his orgasm passes, not wanting to crush him as he collapses to the bed.

"That was…"

"I know."

"You haven't lost it, Mister Sylar."

"I know."

They simultaneously think; I could do this forever.

Panting the pair shares a look with heavy-lidded eyes. Sylar grins stupidly and Mohinder beams one of his bright smiles.

He's lost in it; Mohinder's eyebrows are raised in amusement, mouth wide and brilliant white teeth showing. His curls are mussed and his brow is slick with sweat that makes Sylar thirsty.

He could gawk until he went blind.

"Love you."

Mohinder curls into him, wrapping an arm around his lean stomach and burying his face in Sylar's chest hair.

"I love you too, Sylar."

He decides now would be the perfect time to recite a quote he remembers from 'Anger'; the only one he memorized as it made him think of Mohinder.

"Because of your smile, you make life more beautiful."