"Shut up and take it like a bitch" Sylar growls as he bends the smaller, desperately flailing man over the kitchen counter. He'd forgotten after all these years of repression, how good it felt to be powerful. Now for instance he has that drivelling little bitch Hiro Nakamura quivering and sobbing as he lies pinned to the expensive marble, and all without laying a hand on him.
He doesn't know a whole lot about the japanese shit except he has that delicious power, and oh how he wants it. And waffles... oh! waffles. The syrup is still warm in the ceramic jug and Hiro gives a lovely sob as his jeans pool round his ankles, belt buckle ringing loudly against the tiled floor.
He liked to think of the human body as a canvas. His favourite colour to paint was red of course, how could he have forgotten? But the warm gold dribling over Hiro's buttocks is too good to resist, the pathetic whimpers issuing from the other end almost as mouthwatering.
"You do like waffles don't you?" He asks, all venom and malice. Hiro is too afraid to answer of course, he knows what the inevitable has to be. "It would be such a shame to think I wasted all this effort on you-" He reaches around, violently shoves one of the sticky cakes into his victims mouth "-and you don't even appreciate it." There's some satisfaction as Hiro gags on the sugary treat, although he doesn't actually want him dead. Not yet anyway.
"Don't swallow" He hisses into the mans ear. He'll thank him for this later, Sylar is certain. There's a muffled sob but Hiro does as he's told, even when he's forced to fight the reflex.
He enjoys the delightful shiver as he sheds Gabriel once and for all. He's too weak, too soft to do what needs to be done here. Every cell of his body cries out for the release of it, and whilst ideally he would have chosen someone a little less pathetic than the annoyingly persistent Nakamura, at this point he'll take what he can get.
Maple syrup as it turns out, makes poor lube. It's too viscous, not slippery enough, and fails at even the most basic lubrication. It's tight and dry as hell and Hiro's screaming into his mouthful of waffle like a fucking banshee.
Damned if it doesn't feel good though. The liberal application of spit seems to help and soon the man is silent underneath him, but for the occasional whimper. What does he care anyway? He'll be dead soon, and thankfully the dead don't remember.
Its a surprise when Hiro shudders and comes all over the underside of the table, though it doesn't stop him from quickly following suit, screaming as electricity crackles across his skin. He'd forgotten that not entirely unpleasant side effect of Elle's power. It's painful, but the kind of pain that makes your toes curl and every nerve in your body flare into life in a second of masochistic pleasure.
He even laughs as he admires the combination of syrup and jizz dripping down Hiro's thighs. He's red raw and limp against the marble counter top, sobbing through his waffle.
"You can swallow now" Sylar says casually, waiting for the bob of his throat. The quivering japanese man stands painfully, looking at him with huge doe eyes that make him want to vomit. It's fucking ruining his afterglow, for sure.
"You billian!" Hiro says in his squeak of a voice, and horribly butchered english. It's a massive oversight on his part that the little ass wipe has been let live even this long. He intends on rectifying that as soon as possible.