Title: The Doctor and The President

Length: ~3400 words

Rating: NC-17

Genre: romance, angst

Pairing: Mohinder/President Nathan Petrelli (Sylar)

Contains: rough sex, hints of domination

Warnings: possible consent issues.

Summary: These are events leading up to the episode Five Years Gone. It is a collection of snapshots from the romance of Mohinder and President Petrelli in the 5YG universe. Yes, this is Mylar.

Beta by means2bhuman

Written for the Live Journal community heroes_contest prompt - "Spoil".

Nathan's body was a hot, heaving weight on top of Mohinder, surging into him in maddeningly slow thrusts. The thick length driving deep inside him, burning in its wake, hitting his core, felt dangerous and thrilling. There were large hands holding Mohinder's waist, controlling him, holding him still and not letting him go...it was all so overwhelming and still so unfamiliar...he reveled in it. It made him feel alive and free. It made him feel powerful and special. It was how he envisioned having an ability might be, in his guiltiest, most hidden thoughts.

Gasps and moans sounded in Mohinder's ears and he had no idea who they were coming from. All he knew was how he felt - his entire body was on fire and shivering cold at the same time, covered in sweat and goose pimples. Hot breath was on the back of his neck and teeth were biting him, making him squirm and shudder with sensation. His muscles strained and flexed with exertion. He ground his erection against the mattress, enjoying the leisurely, toe-curling path to orgasm. He gripped the sheets until his hands were sore but he only clenched the sweaty, cotton mess tighter, needing something to ground him. Everything was such a tight, hot, movement of pleasure, he could barely take it. It was so powerful an experience that he thought he might leave his body at any moment and fly into the ether.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Nathan pulled out and Mohinder found himself being flipped over onto his back, legs up in the air, held securely against Nathan's chest by thick arms. Mohinder was momentarily disconcerted by the abrupt shift; it felt like something was underneath him, holding him up, but then he was being entered again and his shoulders were being pressed into the mattress as his ass was plowed and he didn't worry about it. Worrying about what he couldn't explain might spoil things. Being with Nathan Petrelli was like being possessed by a demon of sex and power and in his honest heart of hearts, it was more than enough to offset the miserable existence the world had become. And any doubts he might have about his mercurial lover.

Mohinder had just finished up a meeting with the President in the Oval Office. He collected his briefcase and rose to leave when Nathan stopped him.

Nathan's hand reached out across the wide expanse of his desk. "Doctor Suresh...Mohinder...I hope this isn't inappropriate..." His hand fell to the wooden surface between them as Mohinder politely sat back down to hear what his president had to say. "But...to be honest, I could use some familiar company. This job doesn't really lend itself to socializing. Would you...have dinner with me, sometime?"

Nathan's slightly stuttering request had caught Mohinder off guard, but he quickly found himself warming to the idea. He was lonely as well, in this strange city; any company would be welcome even though he had no idea on earth what they might talk about.

"That's not inappropriate at all, Mr. Presi - Nathan." Mohinder smiled around the consonants. "I'd like that. Whenever you have time...you have the busier schedule, after all." He tilted his head wearing an amused expression.

The other man's gleaming smile contrasted with his complexion nicely Mohinder noticed as Nathan said, "I'll let you know."

When they shook hands in parting, Mohinder imagined that there was something lingering about it that time. There was something hidden behind Nathan's smile and in the warm press of his fingers that left Mohinder thinking about the man for days afterwards.

"You are familiar with quantum theory?" Mohinder asked, thoroughly surprised. They were sitting on the couch in the presidential suite after another late dinner. It was their fourth in as many weeks. The two men were sharing a bottle of merlot and having another wandering, though thoroughly enjoyable conversation, when Nathan started a long diatribe connecting bi-location myths with Einstein-Rosen bridge theory and teleportation.

"I did go to college, Doctor." Nathan uncrossed his legs and leaned in closer. "What? I can't be intellectually well-rounded? Curious?" His already roughened voice, deepened on the word. Mohinder really hoped he wasn't reading these signs wrong. He matched Nathan's body language, sliding one arm along the back of the seat they shared.

"So you consider yourself a curious man? I would never have guessed that about you." Mohinder dipped his head just a tad, looking up at the man sideways. He was suddenly conscious of everything going on - every movement from either of them, every expression crossing Nathan's handsome face. Even the feel of the clothing against his skin seemed magnified. Every breath and sigh was catalogued along with every creak of the cushions or rustle of fabric. Everything was taking on a singular importance, all zeroing in on President Nathan Petrelli sitting within his reach. A man who constantly surprised him with his intelligence and eloquence. A man Mohinder was surprisingly at ease with. Even more incredible, Nathan was a man that Mohinder was attracted to. Extremely attracted to. He shifted in his seat and ran his hand along the sofa back again.

Nathan inched closer, his thighs sliding against the seat and his fingers getting nearer to Mohinder's own. "Surely, you don't think you know me that well after only a few, private conversations."

Mohinder loved the way Nathan spoke when they were together like this. It was slower and deeper than his public tone. It sent tingles down his spine and made him warm all over. He watched as the other man's eyes flickered down, not exactly with subtlety, either. When they looked back up, they were dancing with barely contained excitement hidden in their dark brown depths. Mohinder felt his breathing speed up and his pants becoming tighter. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he licked his lips purposefully, happily watching as Nathan clenched his jaw, the blaze in his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. Mohinder got the distinct feeling that he was about to be devoured by someone filled with passion; passion for him and he was aching for it. Embarrassingly, he was so gagging for it that he couldn't utter his next playful retort. He was so turned on and anxious that his fingers had gone numb around his wine glass. He was grateful when Nathan took the lead, and the glass from his hand, to set both their glasses on the coffee table.

Mohinder liked where this was going. This was good - no bashful pretense. Just a few, tentative teases and then straight to business. Honestly, he couldn't stand the wait another moment. They came together with little hesitation, hands carefully stroking arms and shoulders, gazes locked, testing, gauging responses.

Nathan took his hand, tickling the palm and sliding their fingers together. Mohinder ran his hand along the tight dress shirt covering Nathan's muscular arm. His flesh was firm beneath his touch and he couldn't help clenching the bicep, feeling it bunch in reaction. They scooted closer together and then Nathan was tugging on his hand, and running his other up Mohinder's throat and under the unbuttoned neck line of his shirt. It was so slow and gradual, that by the time the first soft kiss was exchanged, Mohinder's heart was pounding out of his chest in excitement and anticipation. And the kiss itself was so soft, just a peck at the corner of his mouth. Not what Mohinder wanted at all. He didn't need softness. Pausing to set his glasses on the table, he came back into the embrace and used his own lips and tongue to encourage the fire that he knew burned inside his companion. And then nothing was soft, and nothing was slow for a long, exhilarating time.

"I still can't believe how good you are at chess," Mohinder said, as Nathan swept one of his rooks off the board. Thoughtfully, he drank his hot, spicy, chai, easily distracted by how good it tasted. They were in Nathan's suite, as usual. It was a rare, quiet, weekend night. The windows were open to let in the cool, fall breeze so that the rustle of leaves in the wind could be heard over the Tamil radio station playing softly in the background. It was so relaxing and domestic that for a while now, Mohinder had been feeling like all was right with the world. For once.

"I'm a politician, Mohinder. Being strategic comes with the territory. You're such an intellectual snob, sometimes," Nathan rejoined, leaning back in his armchair and sipping his wine.

Mohinder simply hummed in response, already lost in his next three moves.

The President watched his scientist study the board with a fond smile, thinking about how handsome he was in concentration. Some people were sexy when they were angry, but Doctor Suresh was sexiest when he was focused on a problem. It was one of the reasons Sylar had first suggested these chess games. It was foreplay for him, and the other man still didn't seem to realize it. He laughed softly to himself, completely ignored for the time being. Mohinder was pretty hot when he was being oblivious, too, but Sylar hated being ignored for long.

He scooted down in his seat and slipped off one of his loafers. He was just about to engage in another kind of game, when the telephone on his desk rang. It was his chief of staff and was urgent, of course. So much for a quiet night at home. Sylar looked an apology in Mohinder's direction as he took the call.

"What does it feel like, to fly?" Mohinder asked, nuzzling his face against Nathan, scratching his beard against the softer hair on the other man's wide chest. He closed his eyes as he felt the impossibly strong arms tighten around him. They were in bed together, having a post-coital cuddle. Mohinder inhaled deeply, smelling Nathan's scent and it compelled him to wrap one long leg around Nathan's, moving his body against the other man's hip in reflex to the musk. It drove him crazy.

"You shouldn't be asking me that." The low voice sounded somewhere between purring and warning.

"And yet, here I am, asking," Mohinder said lightly.

Sylar turned on his side, wrapping his borrowed bulk around Mohinder's sinewy frame. He clutched one hand in the magnificent mop of curls and he moved his mouth until it was just outside the delicate shell of Mohinder's ear to whisper his answer.

"Flying is just like it feels in a dream. Like you're lighter than a feather and more powerful than the wind. Your stomach drops out as you rise into the air and it's like the empty space you're in has mass, like you can push against it, but the space flows through you at the same time; because you are the thing that's empty. It's like being a rocket on fire and a bubble about to burst all at the same time. It's...I don't know if I'm describing this very well."

"I think it sounds amazing," Mohinder said, cuddling even closer, kissing the hollow of Nathan's throat, his tongue reaching out to softly lick up the remaining sweat. Determinedly, not thinking about how unexpectedly poetic that description was.

"It is." Sylar nuzzled and mouthed at short, curly locks of hair, breathing in their spicy herbal scent.

"You must miss it," Mohinder whispered.

Sylar's heart constricted, and he closed his eyes in pain, burying his face into Mohinder's hair. "All the time."

The next morning they were watching CNN over their first breakfast together when the broadcast was interrupted.

"Stay tuned for a special report. A girl with the power to throw fire has reportedly just killed a fellow classmate in her high school gym class and is holding her entire class hostage as the building burns."

Mohinder reached for the remote control just as the telephone rang, watching in worry as Nathan went to answer it.

"The whole world is spoiled!" Sylar yelled.

"Nathan..."

"Don't you 'Nathan' me," Sylar said snidely. He couldn't understand why Mohinder didn't see things his way and he was quickly getting tired of these little disagreements. "I am not drunk and I know what I'm talking about! If something doesn't change, and soon, things are going to get nothing but worse. I know it. Dammit, I know it! I understand how these things work. It's spiraling out of control. And all of this could not be caused by one man, even one that can teleport." Sylar flopped on the couch, head spinning. He put his glass of shiraz down on the table, suddenly worried that Mohinder might be right. This was the last of the bottle...that he'd drunk most of. He had to be careful. He couldn't let his glamor drop in some drunken fit over a stupid, little Japanese man.

Mohinder sat down beside him and gripped his arm. "Nothing is spoiled. You've held the country together when no one else could. You are the president and you are amazing."

Sylar lifted bleary eyes to his lover, taking in his earnest expression. It caused his lips to turn up in the barest of smiles. He was so grateful for Mohinder's support and for all the emotion in his voice when he said things like that. Sylar had come to count on so much from his scientist over the last year and a half. "If I had the ability to go back in time and change all this I would. You know that, right?" He meant it as a nice gesture, but Mohinder looked disturbed by his declaration. Sylar frowned, wondering why.

"No one we've heard of has that ability and you wouldn't be able to absorb it if they did, so stop blaming yourself," Mohinder said, letting go of his arm and scooting away from him, scowling.

"But if I could, I would," Sylar insisted, wanting his words to mean so much more than they were saying on the surface.

"Well, you can't, so stop it." Mohinder's voice raised a notch and he jumped off the couch to begin pacing the room. "Just stop it, Nathan. You're drunk and you don't know what you're saying. Only your brother can absorb abilities."

"I'm a liar, Doctor."

"I said - I do not want to hear it!" Mohinder burst out.

Sylar was taken aback by the out of character shouting from his normally quietly contained partner. His mouth hung open in shock but Mohinder was across the room and out the door before he could respond. Sylar closed his eyes as the door to the hallway slammed shut behind his angry lover. His security would have a field day gossiping about this one, he was sure. He imagined Mohinder storming down the hallway in a huff, probably going to the nearest public restroom to cool off. Or maybe for a walk in the garden. Either way, he'd be back. At least to get his laptop. And Sylar wasn't as worried about the White House staff as much as he probably should be. He was focused on Mohinder and the mess they were in. He had almost just confessed and the other man was clearly not ready to hear it. He leaned his head back on the coach in defeat.

Sylar had imagined that, eventually, he could tell his lover the truth. He couldn't stand that Parkman of all people was the closest thing he had to a confidante. Not that he ever confided in the tub of lard, but if he needed someone, someone that knew, Matt was the only one. And that was intolerable. This whole charade was getting intolerable.

He was so frustrated that he wanted to rip his hair out. None of his plans for containment were working and the rebellion was gaining momentum at every turn. Violence was breaking out all over and only some of it could be attributed to Nakamura. It was making him start to believe in random chance and he supposed it was also proof for chaos theory. Whatever.

All he cared about was that the rebellion was spoiling all his plans, and the worst part of all was not being able to tell Mohinder the truth about himself for his own peace of mind. He needed some space to be himself, to be Sylar again. Because being Nathan-fucking-Petrelli twenty-four seven was driving him insane. He was so stressed he couldn't think straight sometimes. Holding the glamour was starting to grate on him and not using his other abilities was making him feel like a volcano building to eruption. If he didn't get some relief soon, he was going to do something impulsive and that meant trouble. He had not worked this hard on the long con to waste it all due to lack of control. But he desperately needed to be himself. He needed to drop this fucking disguise and interact with someone as himself. Or, he needed to get out the White House and kill someone.

But being the President meant being watched, constantly. It was worse than being in prison.

God, when they caught Nakamura, he was going to kill him so quickly...it would make his head spin off his short little neck. Or Peter...He could teleport, too...

But it would be easier to just be able to talk to his partner. In fact, if only he could tell Mohinder the truth, Sylar was sure that he could figure out a way to fix the mess the country was becoming. No, his lover was not living up to Sylar's expectations, at all. Mohinder was supposed to be his consolation prize - his intellectually stimulating, supportive lover that Sylar could trust and depend upon to provide him with peace and love. Mohinder was not supposed to turn away from him in anger. And he definitely wasn't supposed to be this slow on the uptake.

God dammit, the man was a genius! How could he not have figured it out by now that he wasn't Nathan? Did he really think Nathan was this smart? That he could have this kind of connection with that man? He ground his teeth together, seething at the idea of the real Nathan and Mohinder being together. At the idea that Mohinder wanted the other man and not Sylar. He raged inside his mind, feeling thwarted and rejected. He could feel the threads of control slipping through his fingers and the helpless feeling that inured scared him, deeply and thoroughly.

Nathan was between Mohinder's legs, fucking him hard, pressing him down face first into the mattress with his weight, grinding into him over and over again. Mohinder's thighs were braced on either side of Nathan's knees. Nathan's powerful soccer legs held him open to the thrusts of his cock. Deep thrusts that were hitting their mark every time, sending spirals of ever increasing surges of pleasure throughout his body. The blindfold was a constricting presence, but Mohinder was starting to like it, starting to understand how it made everything so much more. The whole world was Nathan's voice in his ears and Nathan's body on top and inside of him.

"Do you want me?" Nathan gripped his hair hard, causing tears to spring to his eyes.

"Yes, Nathan..."

Nathan growled and yanked his head viciously to the side, biting down on his neck. It hurt like hell, but Mohinder was so far gone that it had him bucking back even more. It was as though Nathan unleashed a demon inside him, making him enjoy things he had only ever thought about in fleeting, timid, youthful explorations.

"Would you fuck me if I wasn't the president?" Nathan's deep, resonant voice over-powered all other thoughts in his darkened existence.

"Of course I would, Nathan..." Mohinder gasped as Nathan's cock surged inside him almost too deep. Nathan bit him harder. Then he slowed his pace, lifting off him a bit. He squeezed Mohinder's ass, digging his nails in painfully. "Aw, god, Nathan, please..."

"Call me Master."

"What?" Mohinder was so surprised, it felt like the whole world had stopped moving. He blinked against his silken mask.

"Come on, Mohinder, for me, just this once, will you call me Master? Please." Nathan's low voice sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once.

"I..." another hurtful squeeze had Mohinder complying, "Yes..." he tried not to laugh, "Master." The cock inside him started moving again, slower this time, and the stinging grip on his hair eased.

"Good...that's good. Say it again...Doctor."

Mohinder felt Nathan's body lay down on him fully, engulfing him on all sides, until all he could feel was heat and pressure, naked limbs covered in scratchy hair and heavy breathing filling the sightless void. They existed in a universe all their own, with nothing else but their two bodies moving together. When he spoke, his voice was loud in his ears, and deep with meaning, "Master. Fuck me, Master, please. It feels incredible. You're...everything."

"Fuck, Mohinder..."

And that's what they did for what seemed like hours and Nathan didn't speak a coherent word again. And if it seemed like, at one time, that the limbs surrounding him were as long and bony as his own; the groans and sighs and mumbles in the room with his seemed different in pitch from Nathan Petrelli's...well, maybe that was something to think about. Later.

Later, when there wasn't also the most glorious sensations coursing through his body and fire wasn't in his veins. When his skin wasn't alive with electricity and his insides weren't melting from the heat. Right now, he didn't care, wouldn't care about anything except that he knew this man with him like no other ever had. Knowing someone like that made Mohinder feel like he never had in his life. It made this wretched world dissolve around them and nothing was ever going to spoil them.