A/N: This is a one-shot fic between Sylar and Mohinder, it is also my first slash fic and I think that it might be a little sucky, so I apologise if it isn't very good. However having read it through the ending seems to be a much much dirtier than I imagined. Anyway I hope you enjoy it and happy reading.

Warning: This is to anyone that I know who may read this fic, you will most likely not think of me as the nice shy girl you once knew before B & L got to me. So blame it all on them.

A further apology can be found in the A/N at the end.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned. If I did I would own Sylar that way I could give him to Becca as a present.

As Sylar walked the dark empty streets of the city alone, he contemplated his next move. He had recently found out that Matt had gained Isaac's gift of painting the future, unsure of what to do and more than a little bewildered he thought of his next plan. Just the other night he had been attacked again. Stupid people he had thought they never get the message. They can't have me.

As he cut through an alley a homeless man looked into his face and shied away, further into his cardboard box. Sylar laughed at the stench of the fear that the man was emitting.

"Scared old man?"

"N…no. No" the man stuttered, pressing himself further against the thin wall of his box as if it could protect him. Sylar sensed the lie immediately and again chuckled to himself.

"Well you should be" he whispered and he stalked past the man towards the end off the alley. He took a left, letting his feet guide him through the deserted streets; he walked the all-familiar path and climbed the cold metal steps that led to Isaac's studio. He had made his decision, he could do with some new powers and anyway, what was Matt to him. There was only one problem as he entered the studio, and it wasn't the locked door. No one was in it was completely deserted. Sylar looked around, there were definitely signs of people living there, and he would just have to lie in wait.

It was then that he saw the painting; it sat along with some others lined up along a wall; he went to it, picked it up and studied it. There was a man in the painting, a man who looked familiar. Sylar surveyed the rest of the painting, noting the smashed canvases and paint-splattered wall; however he kept returning to the man, he was pinned against the paint splattered wall, his shirt was ripped all down one side; blood ran from his forehead and down his face. It ran down into his deep brown eyes, it coated his lips making them look as red as the rose, it matted up his already dark hair and plastered it to the side of his face.

Stunned and captivated by the painting Sylar stood intrigued and did not notice the person creep in behind him through the wide open door.

Mohinder had been out getting some supplies, as he neared the studio he could see the door standing open. He walked stealthily up the metal stairs; he recognised Sylar's profile straight away, he could not forget after everything that had happened and was going to happen. He crept silently into the studio and down the stairs hiding behind a collection of unfinished canvases.

To begin with Mohinder watched Sylar from afar, forming unsuccessful plans in his head. He couldn't chance calling Peter or Matt, Sylar would hear and find him with no problem. In the end Mohinder chose the plan that seemed most likely to give him some time. Glancing around the room he caught sight of some unused piping, cautiously he crawled across the room and grabbed a piece of the metal. Slowly he walked up to Sylar's turned back.

Swinging the piece of metal, Mohinder hit Sylar over the back of the head. The canvas dropped from Sylar's hands and thudded to the floor. Slightly stunned and confused Sylar slowly turned his face towards his attacker, on seeing who it was he smiled a slow taunting smile.

"Mohinder, I should have known it would be you" his voice caressed the words as he spoke them softy, almost a whisper.

"What are you doing here Sylar," spat Mohinder "there is nothing here for you" Mohinder stood his ground and continued to do so as Sylar took his first step forward.

"We'll see about that" Sylar raised his hand and a canvas flew across the room, it struck Mohinder in the face making him stagger back a few paces. The next blow came from a chair; luckily Mohinder had seen it coming and had managed to deflect the worst of the attack.

Paint cans flew from one side of the room to the other; canvases crashed against each other ripping holes into the neatly drawn paintings and splintered on the floor. The clean white washed walls became paint-splattered and coated with slick layers of Mohinder's blood. Mohinder coincidently got hurt the most, he slouched against the wall; his shirt was ripped across the chest and down one arm.

Sylar raised his arm and Mohinder along with it. Slowly and steadily he began to cut the air with his finger, Mohinder's forehead followed suit and his scream pierced the air. Blood seeped from the cut and down his face; spots of it covered his shirt and flecked the wall.

"Sylar. Please. We can work something out," Mohinder screamed again, and small tears formed at the corners of his eyes threatening to spill "you don't have to do this"

"You said yourself there is nothing here for me. So tell me, why not?" Sylar's eyes glinted with mischief and he thought of the man in the painting that he had picked up only moments earlier, he knew now why the man had looked familiar; that man had been Mohinder. His eyes connected with Mohinder's and his hand froze in mid air; Mohinder sunk slowly to the floor confused by Sylar's actions and expression, yet grateful to be spared the excruciating pain that he was being made to endure.

Mohinder watched on as Sylar stepped closer still and picked himself up off the floor. He backed himself further into the wall whilst looking for an escape route, as soon as he looked at the door it slammed closed and suddenly Sylar stood before him. He placed a cold hand on Mohinder's bare shoulder and caressed the bruises and wounds that he himself had caused.

"I'm sorry Mohinder. I…" Sylar's face was filled with regret for what he had done. Still Mohinder was confused as to what Sylar was doing, but he accepted his apologies knowing that they may be the only ones that he may get from such a human being. As Mohinder blinked a tear that had gathered from all the pain escaped and ran down his blood stained cheek, Sylar reached up with his hand and brushed the tear away skimming Mohinder's bottom lip.

As Mohinder looked back at Sylar their gazes again locked and burned into each other. Sylar's hand stroked back and forth across Mohinder's cheek and slowly he lowered his head towards Mohinder's. He pressed his face into Mohinder's neck and inhaled his sent, slowly moving his face closer Sylar gently brushed his lips against Mohinder's. He felt Mohinder shudder and smiled to himself, again finding Mohinder's lips with his own he kissed him; he pressed Mohinder flat against the wall and smashed their lips together. As the kiss deepened Mohinder's body relaxed and he gave in to the lust that Sylar was emitting; his lips slowly opened allowing Sylar's tongue to explore the depths of his mouth.

Mohinder gripped Sylar's shirt and with more strength than necessary ripped it down the middle, leaving the remnants to fall to the already chaotic studio floor. Clothes were shredded and naked bodies gleamed with the hint of sweat, they slammed each other against the walls; they pressed into each other, the need to feel the other too over powering. Benches were swept clear as their entwined bodies crashed into them, the cold of their surroundings only fuelling the need for each other's warmth. Groans escaped both of their lips, as they grew closer to their peak; their hands roamed along each other's clammy bodies and held tightly onto one another.

Sylar took the length of Mohinder in his hand and closed his fist around the hardness of him, running his hand up and down at a steady pace and slowly getting faster he felt Mohinder's body tense. He felt a slight twinge of pain as Mohinder's nails began to cut into his back and let out a small moan, but he ignored it at the thought of the pleasure he would soon be receiving. Mohinder's breathing increased and came in short gasps; he clung to Sylar afraid that his legs would give out if he let go. When he could take it no longer he tilted his head back and let out a small whimper, it was all the indication that Sylar needed he bent his head towards Mohinder and caressed his neck with his lips; thrusting with his hand for one last time he again felt Mohinder's body relax against his own and heard the deep guttural groan that passed his lips. Sylar's hand, still clasped over the length of Mohinder, was wet with his slick sweet pleasure. His mind ran as he imagined his own still to come.

Mohinder looked into Sylar's lust filled eyes and he knew that this was what he had wanted. He pressed Sylar onto the cold wall and took him, like Sylar had he, in his hand; Sylar let out a gasp of pleasure and raised the hand that had held Mohinder to the back of Mohinder's head, he tangled his fingers in his hair matting it together with semen and blood. Mohinder slowly traced his fingers along the firm extent of Sylar, revelling in the pleasure that he was giving him. Sylar captured Mohinder's moist lips with his own, not waiting for a response he plunged his tongue into Mohinder's mouth desperate for the need of satisfaction. Mohinder pulled back and ran his hand down Sylar's chest, easing down to his knees he gained yet another moan from Sylar on the realisation of what he was about to do.

Sylar groaned again as Mohinder's tongue teased him, and soon enough had to hold himself pressed against the wall to keep from falling. Mohinder's hot mouth closed over him and again his tongue teased, Sylar's hands again entwined in Mohinder's hair pulling him closer. As Mohinder moved back and forth Sylar tensed and called his name until he had reached his peak. Once Sylar had came in Mohinder's mouth he stood once again, he tilted his head towards him and kissed him letting him taste his own fresh desire.

Both men sank to the floor; their tattered clothes surrounded them along with splinters of wood and drying paint. Entwined in each other's arms they slept, face-to-face, skin-to-skin; the cool air hit their warm bodies and sent shivers along their naked skin. Sylar woke not long after falling asleep, he disentangled himself from Mohinder's embrace and gathered what was left of his clothing, he wrapped himself in his coat and bent to caress Mohinder's still sleeping body once more and gently, as not to wake him, kissed his fore head.

"Until next time Mohinder. I'll be looking forward to it"

A/N: So what did you think?? Bit of a lame ending I know, but I thought that it went well

I would like to apologise again to any of my friends who are reading this, who – for some odd reason – thought that I was still slightly sane in my mind and only wrote clean stuff. But like I said this is my first slash fic so there shouldn't be too much to worry about.

On another note please review; just press that little button below.

: )