Summary: Luke doesn't really know what kindness is, until it's too late.
Pairing: Mohinder Suresh/Luke Campbell
Original story: Killing with Kindness by jaune_chat
A/N: With thanks to my tireless and extremely patient beta, boudecia7. Thanks hun!
If he’d have known it would be this hard, or that he would feel like this, he would never have done it. It felt as though he had been punched in the gut, his insides twisted until they broke. This is what it felt like to betray someone. This is what it felt like to throw away the only thing that could possibly be good in your life. He knows real pain now, knows guilt and regret, and he feels wretched.
Luke watched as Sylar paced up and down the small motel room, forehead creased in deep thought. The agents were getting closer—they had run-ins almost daily now, and each time they were better equipped, better prepared for dealing with Sylar and his array of abilities. It was only a matter of time before they overpowered them both, a fact that Sylar knew only too well, and one which caused him to worry. It was the waiting more than anything; they both knew that the inevitable was coming, and it was more a case of whether they would wait and let fate take its course, or stand and fight.
Sylar was never a believer in fate, Luke knew that for sure. He was someone who had fought bloodily to get to where he was now, and someone who would not give it up, would wreak havoc, would rather destroy the world than be imprisoned, incapacitated, controlled.
Luke swung his legs over the motel bed, causing it to creak. Sylar stopped in his tracks, and stared at him. “Do you mind? How am I supposed to think with you making all that noise?”
“I er…um sorry.” He stopped swinging his legs and stayed still, watching Sylar. Suddenly, his nose began to tingle. He started to sneeze, not once, but three times, each time louder than the last. When he had finished, Sylar was again staring at him.
“I have never known anyone as annoying as you,” he said.
“Yeah well, it’s a good job I’m good in the sack, right?” Luke was beginning to get bored, and boredom led to impatience.
“Oh you really think so? Listen, I’ve had people who…who…” his voice trailed off, fading into silence for a moment while he thought. “That’s it!” He cried suddenly.
“What? What’s ‘it’?”
“What? What the hell? What about Mohinder?” He ground his teeth at the name. Luke always got angry when Mohinder was mentioned. Mohinder. Sylar’s first. The one he said he had a ‘special’ connection to.
Sylar had spent many nights telling him about Mohinder , to the point where Luke had actually been seething with jealousy, wanting to meet this man just so he could burn the eyes out of his oh so handsome head. It was only when Sylar had told him how Mohinder had betrayed him, how he had treated him like an experiment, someone to be studied, only to leave him in a bloodied heap when someone better looking came along, that Luke’s envy had subsided. At least he treated Sylar as he deserved to be treated, blowing him when he wanted it, offering his ass when his need became apparent, giving him everything he wanted.
“He can help us. He’s the key to this.”
“Oh yeah. How?” Luke sighed.
“We can use him. Use him and his knowledge. He has access to a list of specials, the ones who are being tracked down by the government. The ones that were on the damn laptop before the agents wiped it. We need that list, we need him to help us find these people…then we can form an army, defeat the government and their plans. We can show them how dangerous we really are.”
“And how’re you gonna convince them to work with us?”
“Because the alternative is death, or a lifetime of repression. Besides, with Mohinder, he could probably formulate something that forces them to obey us.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot. He’s that good, right?” Luke ground his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to get Mohinder involved, because he knew what would happen. He would resist at first, and Sylar would be pissed with him, but then gradually all the old feelings would come back, and they’d end up fucking, leaving him behind to rot. He knew it.
“He’s not gonna help you. Why would he?”
“I’m not asking for his help, I’m demanding it,” Sylar said with a smile. As if reading Luke’s thoughts, he continued. “I have no interest in Mohinder anymore. Well…maybe taking his power one day, but no more than that. He had his chance with me and he blew it…I’m only keeping him alive because he can be of use to me. Once he stops being useful, he stops living altogether. He’s no different to anyone else.” He stared at Luke. Luke didn’t know whether it was meant to be reassuring, or a warning of his own fate should be betray him.
He merely nodded, making sure Sylar knew he understood, before asking the inevitable, “So how are we going to find him? And how are we going to make him give us the list? You can’t just walk in there and demand he help you.” He began swinging his legs again, the bed creaking as he moved.
Sylar stared at him for a while, cocking his head in thought. As he stared at Luke, his eyes widened. “He won’t help me. He’ll help you.” He said with determination.
“You’ll be the one to get him. He’ll help you, and once you’ve got him in the palm of your hand, he’ll do whatever we want.”
Luke looked at himself. Why the hell would Mohinder want him? Mohinder who, according to Sylar, went for the pretty boys. There was no way, no way at all. “He wouldn’t want me,” he said, still staring at his thin legs as they swung to and fro.
“Of course he would. He has a real ‘thing’ for the vulnerable. One look in those puppy dog eyes and he’ll be ours.”
Luke looked at Sylar, tilting his head curiously. “What do you mean, ‘vulnerable’?”
Sylar came up to him, and started stroking his head softly; Luke leant back, letting out a small moan at his touch. Suddenly, Sylar’s hands twisted in his hair, pulling his head back sharply. He yelped in pain, tears pricking his eyes. “That’s what I mean,” said Sylar. “Right there. That little whiny voice and the expression resembling a kicked puppy. That’s how we’ll get him.”
“I don’t expect you to understand Luke. The thing is, Mohinder likes them bruised, and broken. He likes to think he can protect people, especially from me. It’s how I hooked him in the first place.” His eyes flicked up as he remembered something, and a smiled broke through the corners of his mouth. He licked his lips, breathing heavily. “Oh yes, he likes the vulnerability, and you have it in spades. Tell him I beat you. Show him the bruises and the scars. Tell him I’ve been awful to you, taking advantage of you, riding your ass until it hurt, keeping you around as my little fucktoy.” His eyes shone, and his smile widened as he looked over Luke’s body. “Yes. Tell him I’ve abused you, make out like sex is the only thing you have to barter with.”
“And he’ll believe me?”
“Oh yes. But we have to make it look convincing, right?”
“Right,” said Luke, but he was still unsure.
“Lift up your shirt.”
Luke did as he was told.
“Now burn yourself.”
“Burn yourself. Not so much that it’s serious, but enough to leave a significant mark. You’ll need to scratch yourself too, and maybe a few bruised.” His eyes raked over Luke’s naked torso. “Mmm…we’ll work on the bruises together later. For now, burn yourself.”
Luke hesitated for a moment, but he saw the determination in Sylar’s eyes, and knowing that he was doing this for him…for both of them. So Luke did as he was told without question, holding his palms up to his body as the energy pulsed through them, singing his skin while Sylar looked on, smiling. The pain was bearable, but still unpleasant. He had tears in his eyes and was shaking slightly; he was never good with pain. When he’d finished, he noted Sylar’s hard outline in his pants, and his lust filled eyes. It wasn’t long before he was being fucked on all fours, gripped tight enough to bruise, pounded hard enough to rupture. It was all part of the plan, Luke thought. All part of the plan and nothing more.
It was put into action on a hot morning, outside the derelict remains of Big Jim’s Diner. Sylar would get word to Mohinder that he had dumped some stupid kid at the diner, him not being worth killing. Within a day, Mohinder would be there, his conscience forcing him to pick up the pieces of Sylar’s mess once more.
It was three days; a full two days longer than expected, when Mohinder turned up. Luke was hungry, dehydrated and half delirious from the heat when Mohinder found him, and his first exclamation of “Sylar!” was an unwittingly perfect start to the plan. Mohinder claimed he was an “old acquaintance” of Sylar’s, and was there to clean up yet another mess of his. Even in his partial delirium, this made Luke laugh. Sylar had spent many nights telling him how good of an “acquaintance” Mohinder was.
Though Sylar had told him about Mohinder, but had never described him in detail. He’d said he was handsome, but somehow missed out the fact that this man was like perfection personified. His hair, his body, his smile…it was quite unbelievable. Again, the old doubts surfaced; Sylar was a good looking man, someone who could quite easily ensnare someone of Mohinder’s calibre, but Luke…a dumb 17 year old, with no prospects and, up until a few weeks ago, a virgin with only the most embarrassing of intimate experiences behind him. As he watched Mohinder walk over to the car and graciously open the door for him, he felt somehow inadequate, like he wasn’t completely up to the task. He had to snap out of it. He had to do this. Sylar needed it. Sylar would be angry if he failed. Their future depended upon it.
He started off nervously. Mohinder took him to a motel, paid for everything, and expected nothing off him. He talked to him, listened patiently, but did nothing else. For three days, Mohinder seemed completely uninterested in him. He hadn’t touched him, spoken to him in any kind of a sexual way, nothing. Not even when Luke jerked himself off in the shower, crying out loudly as he climaxed, wanting Mohinder to hear what he was doing, what he wanted him to do. All Mohinder did was smile in that pitying way of his, asking him about his day, what his plans for the future were, if he was ok. He didn’t even ask him to pay anything towards food, gas or lodgings. On the third morning, after another desperate attempt at jerking off in the shower, he stepped out to find a number of a therapist left on some newly-ironed jeans, with a little note explaining that she came ‘highly recommended.’
Maybe Sylar was wrong? Maybe Mohinder had changed, and wasn’t the sort of person who went after vulnerable people any more. Sylar said that Mohinder never originally had a power, that he had ended up with one in a botched experiment. Maybe that had changed him. Maybe he didn’t care for ‘specials’ any more?
On the fourth day, he pulled out all the stops, and it actually worked. And that’s where things started to go wrong. Because what happened next wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He wasn’t supposed to feel like that.
He’d acted the angry, abused kid. The kid who had only been used by Sylar, the one who was confused, railing against the world, and thinking he was that repulsive he was no good to anyone. Finally Mohinder comforted him, kissed him, even asked him what he wanted, being unwilling to take it at all. At first, Luke took it as a sign of weakness, and played up to everything; blowing up the TV, threatening him, shouting at him. He pitied him at first, pitied that he was being manipulated by a 17 year old, but then Mohinder told him what his power was.
He could have crushed him if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He refused. Unlike Sylar, wanting to show the world how powerful he was at every opportunity, Mohinder held back. Did nothing.
Then, he dropped to his knees, and took Luke in his mouth. That was when Luke began to waver, began to wonder whether this was what he had wanted all along, not someone to follow, but someone to stand beside as an equal. He shook himself, trying not to have those thoughts, trying not to deviate from the plan Sylar had mapped out.
By the time he had been taken to bed, his mind was in complete disarray. Mohinder did things to him Sylar wouldn’t dream of doing. He made love to him, slowly and carefully, their bodies in complete and total sync. They came at more or less the same time, with Mohinder whispering his name as Luke writhed, moaning ‘Mohinder,’ over and over.
They slept for a couple of hours after that, a sleep Luke so desperately needed after spending three days in a derelict diner. He woke with a start, at first unsure of where he was, until he saw Mohinder’s deep brown eyes looking at him. He was smiling, and Luke felt lost. He didn’t understand anything any more, didn’t know what was happening. The plan…the plan was spiralling out of control and he didn’t know how to stop it.
He thought about Mohinder, about what Sylar said about him. Was this just something else? Was he just some other conquest for Mohinder, another notch on the bedpost? Why on earth would Mohinder want someone like him? If he was completely honest with himself, Sylar only kept him around because he could be used, in every sense of the word.
As he stared at Mohinder, he felt his heart rate speed up. He had to ask him, had to know. And so he did, and the answer was nothing what he expected.
“You’re not worthless. You never were. I like you Luke. I see myself in you, and I don’t want you to destroy yourself. You’re worth more than Sylar.”
That was it. He broke. All those years of being rejected, all those years of being made to think he was worthless…he thought he’d found a kindred spirit in Sylar, someone who accepted him; in reality, Sylar had used him too; was still using him. And here, with the only person who had respected him, asked him what he wanted and actually listened to his reply, he was using him, perpetuating the thing he hated. He was angry with himself, angry with Sylar, and overcome with a tremendous feeling of guilt. He tried to hold back, really tried, but in the end, he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, the primeval wail escaping from his lungs as he sobbed. Through it all, Mohinder held him, kissed away the tears, whispered to him that it would be alright, that he was here with him, wouldn’t leave him like Sylar did.
Eventually, when his tears had run out, he fell to sleep, utterly confused. He felt Mohinder move beside him, curling a hand protectively around him and pulling him close, the warmth of their bodies and the still-present scent of sex intermingling.
He dreams. He hasn’t dreamed in a long while; not since being on the run. Sleep had been fitful, with his senses always alert, always on stand by for the sound of a car door, boots on gravel, guns cocking. Now, he slept deeply.
In his dream, he was standing in front of a burning house. The scorch marks on his hands told him he had started it, and he stood there, watching his handiwork with a smile on his face. He could feel the heat on his skin, making it tingle, and he was about to walk away when he heard screams coming from within. Through the fire and flames, he saw two figures, separated by a large piece of burning debris. As he squinted his eyes to see, he could make them out. Sylar and Mohinder, both trapped, both unable to save themselves. He could hear them calling his name, pleading with him to save them. He knew from the ferocity of the fire that he would only have time to save one, yet he could not choose.
He stood there, rooted to the spot, listening as their cries became more desperate. He started to shake, completely overcome with emotion, and completely unable to do anything. The seconds ticked away, the fire intensified and he knew it was now or never. He rushed in blindly, heat burning his face and his hand where he shielded his eyes. He walked half blindly until he ran into a figure, who screeched his name in unrecognisable tones. He grasped out desperately, hitting clothing which he grabbed onto tightly. He turned an ran, pulling whoever it was with him, avoided ash and falling timbers as he desperately tried to exit the house. Finally, they were free, and both fell onto the grass, panting as they watched the house finally consumed by fire. Luke turned, about to see the person he had rescued, when suddenly he felt something on his face; the sensation of cool lips on his skin.
He woke with a start, to find Mohinder’s eyes staring into his as he leaned over him. Mohinder placed another kiss on his forehead.
“You were having a nightmare,” he said, stroking his hair gently. “You were calling out in your sleep.”
“What was I saying?”
“I don’t recall. Nothing intelligible, but you were very agitated.”
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” said Luke, still visibly affected by the dream.
“Don’t worry; it’s morning anyway.” Mohinder kissed him on the lips, chastely at first, before Luke’s instincts took over and he deepened the kiss, filled it with all the passion he could muster. It didn’t matter who he had saved in the dream; he’d made his decision.
He rolled over, straddling Mohinder, who smiled at him. They kissed again, Mohinder’s hands caressing his sides softly. He shivered, and Mohinder stopped, staring at him, eyes asking a silent permission. It was something he knew he would never get tired of, the constant checking that he was ok, that this was what he wanted too. They kissed again, grinding up against each other before Mohinder flipped him over, rubbing his hardness against Luke’s as they moaned in unison.
“Mohinder,” he began.
“Shhh,” Mohinder replied. “Do you want this?”
When Mohinder began moving down his body, kissing every patch of skin he could, Luke became lost. Nothing else mattered anymore, just being here with Mohinder, and experiencing this. He was again surprised that someone whose power was strength, could be so gentle, so loving towards him. Again Mohinder prepared him thoroughly, teasing his prostate until he was babbling incoherently with pleasure, and begging to be entered.
The feeling of fullness settled in his stomach, making him shiver all over as he anticipated what was to come. Again the difference to Sylar was so apparent it was bordering on the ridiculous, and Luke wondered how he had stood so much for so long. He would quite happily feel the way he felt now for the rest of his life, relishing the slow, long strokes, the feel of Mohinder inside him, catching his prostate over and over until he lost every feeling but pleasure. All the while, he whispered to Luke, telling him how good he felt around him, how happy he was that they had got to do this, and how he wouldn’t let Sylar hurt him. Luke was barely aware of the words, so completely lost in pleasure. He came with a shout, Mohinder quickly following behind him. As he slumped forward, Mohinder’s words came back.
You feel so good. It felt amazing, only…it was borne out of a deception, a lie, a betrayal.
I’m so happy we can do this together. He didn’t deserve to do this; didn’t deserve to be happy, not after what he had done.
I won’t ever let Sylar hurt you again. Sylar. He had followed him, emulated him, carried out his plan but now…now…
He couldn’t stop the panic rising in his stomach. He stood up, acutely aware that he was going to be sick, but fell back onto the bed. His head was spinning, both with Mohinder’s words, and the last words Sylar said to him before he left, “I’ll see you soon, Luke. Make sure the plan works. Make sure you don’t fuck this one up.”
But he had. Stupid, dumbfuck kid that he was. He had. He couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t go through with a relatively simple plan without his stupid feelings getting in the way. And now, he was completely stuck.
Mohinder, who had been discarding the condom, was instantly by his side, holding him as he shook.
“Luke? Luke? It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m here. Calm down. Breathe. It’ll pass.”
He couldn’t calm down. Sylar would catch up with them, and he would be forced to make a decision; stay with Mohinder and be hunted, or go with Sylar, betraying Mohinder in the worst way. He didn’t know what to do, and, for possibly the first time in his life, he was scared. He could feel his heartbeat, thumping out a pounding rhythm in his chest
“Luke? Luke look at me.” Mohinder held his face, while Luke desperately tried to focus on him. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Luke took deep breaths, trying desperately to still the panic and quell the nausea rising in his stomach. Mohinder’s arms felt warm and secure around him, strong and safe when he needed it. As Mohinder kissed his face lightly, he began to calm; his heartbeat began to slow down to normal, and it was getting easier to breathe.
“I’m sorry,” he managed. “I don’t know what happened.”
Mohinder was stroking his hair. “It’s fine, it’s fine. We...I…went to fast. We should have waited. You’ve only just gotten away from Sylar, and now I’m putting all of this onto you. It’s unfair, and rather selfish of me.”
“No it’s not. I wanted it. I’m glad we did…I just…”
“I…” Luke heard a noise outside the motel. He froze.
“What’s the matter?”
Luke’s eyes widened, and again he began to panic. “There’s something…something I need to tell you.”
He heard the sound of a car door slamming. Although the curtains were closed, he knew. He just knew.
“What?” Mohinder looked confused and, if truth be told, a little frightened.
“I…I…” He cold hear footsteps now, steady, heavy and confident, walking closer. “I’m so sorry. You have to understand…I didn’t know it would be like this.” He felt a tear falling down his face. “I didn’t know I would feel like this, I thought you were just someone else…just someone who would take me for granted, chalk me up as another conquest.”
“Luke, what do you mean?”
Luke took a deep breath. “I’ve betrayed you, Mohinder. I’ve betrayed you in the worst way. And I’m so, so sorry.”
Luke’s eyes flicked towards the door. Mohinder’s eyes followed, and suddenly, right on cue, the door burst open. There behind it, stood Sylar, clad completely in black and smiling.
“Perfect,” he said as he walked in, eyeing their naked forms. Luke just stared, nausea again rising in his stomach. Sylar’s grin widened. “Well, it looks like our plan worked brilliantly Luke.”
Luke turned to Mohinder. His face was twisted into a look of horror and complete betrayal. He went to say something, but before he could get the words out, two metal prongs hit his chest and he fell back, electricity pulsing through his body. As he writhed on the bed, his eyes still stared at Luke, still looking at him with utter disgust and disappointment.
Luke wanted to say something, wanted to stop Sylar, but he knew it was no good. The look Mohinder gave him, before he finally succumbed to the unconsciousness creeping across his body, would stay with him, he knew, for the rest of his miserable life.