He didn't understand what was happening to him. What he was allowing to happen to him. Zane's cries were louder than he could bear; he felt trapped inside his own head, watching the persona he had created animate his body, being pleasured by the chocolate-skinned scientist.
His skin was flushed but he felt far away from it. He wanted to scream--to throw Mohinder off of him, but that would stop this. And that simply wouldn't do. He thrust against Mohinder, deep inside of him, never doing more than responding to the darker man's movements. He was enjoying being dominated. The thought sickened him. The scene before him was like a play, he had absolutely no control. But it was so exciting, and as he screamed out Mohinder's name in Zane's too-high tones, it broke a part of him.
He lifted his arms up to wrap around Mohinder's gently. Gently. Why was he doing this? Because he was Zane and Zane aimed to please.
He was crying out now, whimpering. Sylar didn't whimper. But he wasn't Sylar right now, and he wasn't taking any messages for the murderer.
Mohinder was whispering in his ear, a litany of cries Zane, Zane, Zane. It was maddening, and he needed stabilization. He captured Mohinder's lips. It was the first time they had ever kissed. It was manic and soft and a bit of tangy sweetness lingered in Gabriel's mouth every time he pulled back for a breath.
He felt that telling warmth inside him and suddenly he was back in himself, drawing out the thrust and keening for Mohinder to help him cum.
Sylar was begging. He stopped for a moment to focus in on the nonsense he was half-breathing, half-moaning.
"Make me real, Mohind-er... Make..me real."