Don't Be Bashful, I Don't Bite

[splice_of_life]

"Don't Be Bashful, I Don't Bite"
Who: Mohinder, Sylar, etc


He's nervous, sitting in the car for almost half an hour..  The man on the phone had been the only one, so far, that would talk to him.  Well, besides Nathan Petrelli's brother, of course.  Not that the boy had anything to really go on.  Zane Taylor might very well be the key that he needs to find so that his research makes sense again.  So that he can carry on with his father's work.

Pulling up his jacket, though it's not really that cold at all in Virginia, Mohinder raps lightly on the door and waits.  He can hear movement in there and it causes him to rock forward on his toes, teeth indenting the inside of his lower lip.

Comments

[heroslayer]

"Probably not," he repeats, pulling away from Mohinder slowly and reluctantly.

He lets his fingers trace down his arm, lacing his with Mohinder's when they reach his hand and tugs him towards the motel. Towards Mohinder's room, to be specific, since there are plants nested in the walls of his at the moment and he has no way of explaining them. He doesn't want this moment ruined by the truth. He'll tell him eventually, of course, but not now.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

He's been getting this vibe from Zane since they met, so really, this isn't a big stretch at all for Mohinder. He's always been a little too impulsive, a little too thoughtless when it comes to what moves he really ought to make.

And right now, being leaned back against his door, while certainly not the right move, doesn't actually feel so bad either. It's a little dangerous, too, which nearly has his toes curling as he touches his hair, the back of his scalp again. How does he know he enjoys being touched there?

[heroslayer]

It could almost be a lucky guess if not for the fact that he seems to know all the right places to touch him. Logically, he knows it's not a good idea to show off his knowledge of the Indian's body, that he should at least make a show of pretending to know what he likes, but logic is hard to stick to in the heat of the moment, and he wants to make it good for Mohinder, as always. His Mohinder would have accepted nothing less, after all, and if Mohinder questions it later, he can just write it off. He's been meaning to find a way to slip in the fact that he's an empath, and this may be the perfect opportunity -- particularly if he tells him he could just somehow hear the changes in his heartbeat when he touched the right place. It's not a lie.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

For someone so obviously introverted to be so good at this-- Well. It's pretty remarkable. Mohinder gets control of his mouth again just to make mention of that fact, as Sylar assumed he would.

"Why...how... I don't... I suppose I'm not sure why you're interested." And he's a bit worried that it's only because of his research.

[heroslayer]

He pounces on the question he asked, rather than the ones he started to.

"You're kidding, right?" He brushes a handful of curls out of his face and looks away, feigning embarrassment. He'd like to watch his face as he goes through his reasons, but now that he's not desperately warring for possession of Mohinder's mouth, his sensibilities have returned at least somewhat. "You're beautiful. Smart -- most people don't even bother trying to keep up with me. And you make me laugh. I don't think anyone's managed to do that in a long time."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

That particular look, the shy one, is one that Mohinder really does seem to like. He bites his lower lip in a smile, having no idea about how wrong he is in thinking that Zane's either a virgin or perhaps he's never really gone for men before. The way he talks...it's as if he's trying to woo a woman. It's beyond sweet. He can really get into being talked to as if he's precious.

It's why he usually goes for bigger men. The protective sort. That's probably just biology trying to save Mohinder from his own terrible ideas.

"You're very kind, Zane. It's my pleasure, really."

[heroslayer]

"It's true," he says, looking up finally. He says nothing beyond that, though, just watching him as he toys idly with his curls. It's not really in his nature to be mushy, even if, as he said, it's true.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

He's never met a man with such a kissable mouth. Mohinder's nails lightly scratch along his stubbly cheeks towards his chin before he presses himself rather gently, sinuously, against the other man. He feels good. He tastes good-- And it's his prerogative to have a little fun, right?

[heroslayer]

Sylar hums, pleased and relieved that he can stop wearing his heart on his sleeve all at once, and shifts a little closer to him in turn. He hooks an arm around his waist, his fingers sliding back into his hair, and kisses him back, and edge of intensity to it despite the fact that his mouth is light on his.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

He's got no idea where this is going. A little romp to waste time? Something potentially long term? All Mohinder knows is that he likes it and there's the familiar buzz of pleasure running through him each and every time Zane touches him.

They'd in bed a few minutes later, shirts off, and Mohinder's fingers immediately go for the patch of hair on the other man's chest. "Do you believe in fate? No, that sounds frighteningly committal. It's not how I mean it. It's just-- You called. You've been the only one. You'll get Dale to open up. You--" touch me every place I love to be touched. "It seems like fate is all."

[heroslayer]

His arm goes back around his waist the second their shirts are gone, and he pulls him back against him, both wanting more and just wanting to hold him. It's been a long time since he's been allowed the latter, him and the other Mohinder more concerned with carnal pleasure rather than anything else, regardless of how much either of them managed to draw it out, and he misses it. He misses their domesticity, even if he never thought himself the type to be tied down.

"I do," he murmurs, his fingers ghosting up over his spine. A beat and then he corrects, "Believe in fate, I mean. Some things are just -- just destine to happen. Some people ... "

Even if he's technically screwing with Mohinder's fate as much as he is time, their paths were meant to cross. Their paths will always cross. It's how it's meant to be, regardless of anything he does to speed it along. Even in the case of the other Mohinder, the one things didn't quite work out with, he knows that they would have met again if he'd stayed -- or he and his other self would have, if he'd let him live. It's the natural order of the universe.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder's not pumped full of drugs and serums and hormones at the moment. He's just Mohinder Suresh, saddened by his father's death but ultimately accepting of it for the moment. He'll get his revenge by saving people from the likes of Sylar, but finishing what his father started. He's more than happy laying back on the pillows now, held close. Precious. Cared for.

Not that Zane knows him enough for any of that. Mohinder can be allowed to be a little romantic, right?

"Yes. We seem to have so much in common. I'm not sure why. I'm certainly not into rock music as you obviously are."

[heroslayer]

"Well, we can't have everything in common." Funny thing is, he actually does like rock music -- just not the Ramones, as his shirt that first day lead Mohinder believe. "But it's ... good. It makes me feel connected, I guess."

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder can understand that. Large crowds, fans-- Yes. Mohinder sets his forehead against Zane's forehead. Their knees touch. It feels a bit like being in secondary school, really. Bit of a snog and talking. Actually, that formula had always worked out the best for him. He and his fiancee had always done the same.

"When we're done with this list...what do you think you'll do? Melt down the rest of your things?"

[heroslayer]

He steals a quick kiss from him, unable to help himself with Mohinder so close, and slips a hand under the hem of his shirt absently, his fingers flattening against his spine. He rolls his eyes at the second question, vaguely amused. "I don't know. I really hadn't thought about it."

Which, again, is the truth. A part of him just assumed he and Mohinder would travel the country forever. He always assumed the Indian's list was long enough.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder's eyes trail over Zane's face. His eyelashes brush his cheeks and his lips gladly accept any kiss offered. The hand suddenly up the back of his shirt makes him wonder though. He swallows. Sometimes, he's so bashful. And othertimes it's as if Zane knows him. Knows how to touch him.

"What did you use to do?"

It's standard stuff. Mohinder is interested.

[heroslayer]

"I fixed things," he answers, shrugging dismissively as if he's not sure how to explain his job and that's as close as he can get to what he actually did for a living. In reality, he's more hoping Mohinder doesn't press him for details. He may not be lying about what he used to do -- he fixed watches and then he "fixed" people -- but he doesn't want to have to explain that. Not when there's a pretty fair chance that, if Mohinder saw his apartment, he probably at least knows about his shop.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"Mechanic then?" He doesn't quite look it. And there had been all of those guitars in his home-- "Or musical instruments, that sort of thing?" At least he's giving Zane the chance to lie by simply agreeing.

[heroslayer]

"A little of everything."

That said, he shifts back away from him a bit, his mouth pressing into a thin, thoughtful line as he debates telling him the truth. On one hand, it's probably better that he does before they sleep together, but on the other, he has no proof any claims that he's reformed are true. Dale is still alive, sure, but that could be blamed on the fact that Mohinder was right there. And while he has the ring, carefully shifted into his skin so that Mohinder wouldn't be able to see it when he took his shirt off, he wonders if it would hold any weight as young as the Indian and their history together are.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Zane's behaviour is awkward and the reason, made up in Mohinder's mind, is obviously there for the picking. He must be unemployeed, Mohinder reasons with himself. He's embarrassed. It's why he could pick right up and come with me....

No man wants to try to enter a romantic relationship unemployed. Mohinder decides he'll be a little less equal from not on with sharing expenses.

Grabbing Zane's hand, he notes the callouses on his fingers and sets the digits back against his ribs. "Don't go."

[heroslayer]

"I wasn't planning on it." He lets Mohinder replace his hand, but his expression doesn't lighten. He's still torn, still afraid of screwing this up when they could be happy here. "I was just ... thinking."

And not about money, as much as he wishes it were that simple.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

Mohinder sucks his lower lip into his mouth, thoughtful himself. "I know you really do not know me all that well, but--" If they can snog like that, they can at least talk like friends. "Perhaps I can listen just the same?"

[heroslayer]

Sylar considers this for a moment, the frown unmoving, and then leans away again. If they're going to have a serious conversation, they need to not be tangled up in each other's arms, as much as he'd like that.

"I need to tell you something, but I don't want you to be afraid." It's a silly thing to ask of him, he knows -- Mohinder's going to panic the second he tells him, if not beforehand -- but he can't help it. It's human nature to preface things like this with things like that and, as much as he likens himself to God, he is still human. He only hopes he can control the damage or, more specifically, the fear.

[splice-of-life.livejournal.com]

"What at all would I have to be afraid of? If your power can be dangerous, there are precautions, I'm sure." Still, Mohinder sits, pulling his legs beneath him. He's ready to listen and, according to his thoughts, to comfort. "You're a good man, Zane."

[heroslayer]

"Zane might be, but I'm not Zane."

He straightens slowly, losing the awkwardness he carried around around for all to see while pretending to be the musician. His eyes are old now, sharp and knowing, his presence overwhelming. If they were somewhere public, all eyes would turn to him now, however briefly, and through no use of power. Predators just tend to draw attention, and that's most definitely what he seems to be now, having gone from kitten to tiger in all the time it took to sit up straight.

"You wanted to talk to your father's murderer. So talk." A beat, and then he amends, "And before you start, no, this isn't a joke. My name is Sylar." As far as he can remember, this time around Mohinder never named his father's killer, so the fact that 'Zane' knows it should be as good a tip off as any.