This is for my dear friend, Kiyo, because I lost a bet and was ordered to write a fic. Hmm...maybe I should lose bets more often? This one was fun. Sorry for any typos. I has no Beta and I suck at proofreading.

It is a prompt I got a little while ago: Mohinder takes Sylar to the doctor and has a heck of a time getting Sylar to calm down. Apparently he's very afraid of the doctor's office!

Rating: NC-17 or Hard R for smut and language

Word count: 4,740

enjoy kiyo!

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"Will you calm down? Breathe slower, Sylar. You're going to pass out!"

Mohinder leaned over, planting his palms onto Sylar's bouncing knees in an attempt to stop the nervous jiggle.

Sylar only glowered, narrowing his eyes at Mohinder and snarling. He unclasped his sweaty hands and cracked the knuckles anxiously.

Mohinder moved a hand to Sylar's rapidly rising and falling chest, feeling a heart inside beating as though it would burst free.

"Its not going to be that terrible," he continued, grabbing Sylar's chin and forcing the distraught man to look him in the eye. Mohinder knew what his eyes did to his lover; he hoped their depths would soothe his racing mind. Sylar had often told him that it was not so difficult to get lost in the dark brown pools when intent on figuring out what made the doctor tick.

Ignoring the invitation for visual seduction, Sylar snapped his head free, folding his arms tightly across his chest, and started to bounce his knees again.

"You don't understand," he growled, looking down at the loud linoleum floor. "You're a doctor and you're used to this sort of thing."

Mohinder rubbed his face tiredly and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair.

"Nobody likes going to the doctor, Sylar."

"And nobody has been through what I have!" Sylar snapped, eyes flaring in short-tempered anger at the memories flooding him. The waiting room fell deadly silent and all eyes transferred to the odd couple.

Mohinder tried his best to appease the stares by smiling and nodding his head apologetically at them until they went back to their unimportant conversations.

He sighed loudly before continuing.

"I know. I understand. Primatech."

It was all he needed to say. That one word set a fire ablaze inside Sylar and Mohinder could almost feel the heat radiating from his lover. Nothing else needed to be said; being strapped down in a hospital-like torture chamber and nearly dying due to selfish experimentation was enough to make anyone afraid of a doctor's office. Not to mention Sylar's phobia of needles that had been present his whole life. Mohinder shuddered, thinking he wished he'd known about that before the unfortunate spinal tap incident.

After a few moments of silence, Sylar's breath evened and his face contorted into an expression of complete woe. He turned his body towards Mohinder in a pleading hunch.

"I don't understand why you can't just do the check up." His eyes were big and filling with tears, a sight that forced Mohinder's own to close as a ping of guilt struck his heart.

"No. It's unethical. I can't examine you properly because I'm biased, it just wouldn't work."

This time it was Sylar who reached for him, latching onto Mohinder's flamboyantly patterned coat.

"That doesn't make any sense, you know me better than anyone else, you know my body better. You can tell immediately if something is off. "

Mohinder glanced around the room as Sylar's panicked tone caught attentions once again.

"Sylar," he breathed, peeling the fingers from his jacket and enter twining their hands together. Sylar's hand was moist and slippery and he was taken aback by the unavoidable display of vulnerability and fear from his usually confident mate. He'd never seen Sylar so nervous before, and the guilt sunk in even more. He wanted to grab his lover and drag him home to where he felt completely safe and calm. But a yearly doctor's checkup is vital to every human - even those with special abilities.

Mohinder leaned in, pressing his cheek to Sylar's rough stubble in order to escape the prying ears of the other patients.

"You know we'd never make it past getting you into a gown." His whisper tickled Sylar's ear and neither man was able to hold back a grin at the thought.

Mohinder pulled back and, noticing the mirrored smirk, planted a quick kiss on the other man's lips. He ignored a gasp from the corner of the room, enjoying for the first time the patronizing attention.

"Do this for me and I'll reward you later," he teased as he brushed his mouth against Sylar's jaw. Scooting back in his seat he winked at the robust lady across from them who had one hand covering her child's eyes and the other hovering near her agape mouth.

Sylar's newly relaxed form jerked as a nurse called out, "Gabriel Gray?" from the doorway.

His grip on Mohinder's hand tightened intensely, eliciting a wince from t he Indian.

He was frozen, eyes wide with fear at the sight of the smiling lady holding his folder in her arms.

Mohinder stood up, giving his lover a few seconds to do so as well before tugging him lightly by the hand.

"Come on, it's alright."

It took all of Mohinder's strength to pull Sylar to his feet and after doing so he smoothed down his lovers jacket in an attempt to make him look more presentable.

Sylar reluctantly shuffled his feet as Mohinder tugged him into the white hallway. They trailed the nurse after a friendly "Follow me please," Mohinder looking back constantly to the tormented face of his mate. He couldn't help but smile inside at how cute the stress of the situation contorted those rather prominent features.

When they came to the room, the nurse stepped aside allowing them entry, but Sylar was having no such offer. He planted his hands firmly on either side of the door frame and glued his feet to the floor as Mohinder pushed against his back. They struggled like that for a few minutes under the confused gaze of the woman, Mohinder leaning all his weight into Sylar's immobile form.

With a grunt the geneticist stepped away and said calmly to the nurse,

"I'll get him in there, please, just give me a minute." He smiled kindly as she hesitated then turned and bounced down the hallway to another room.

Mohinder cleared his throat while stretching his fingers out and curling them back into fists in preparation.

"You've left me no choice," he whispered against Sylar's ear before pulling back to watch the taller man's body, completely unmoving save for a slowly expanding and collapsing chest.

Without preempt he lunged at Sylar, running his fingers roughly up and down the man's ribs and tickling with a fury that caused him to grit his shock-white teeth.

The watchmaker, in uncontrollable reflex, curled into himself, releasing his grip on the door frame. Mohinder wasted no time, using his weight to push the giggling man into the room.

With exasperated breath he closed the door as Sylar plummeted onto the exam room bed. The white paper covering gaudy brown cushion was immediately crumpled and ripped as he dug his fingers into it with an angry growl.

He straightened and narrowed his eyes at the grinning Indian.

"Move, Mohinder. Or I'll make you move."

"No you won't."

Mohinder stepped away from the door, challenging his lover. They were locked in a glaring battle of wills for a good minute before Sylar collapsed backwards onto the bed, burrowing his head in his hands. He knew he could easily challenge the geneticist, and win, but he wasn't about to hurt his mate in the process. Not to mention the words echoing through his mind about Mohinder's promise for a reward if he made it through the required checkup. Sylar was defeated. But he was determined to make Mohinder feel as bad about it as possible.

Forcing out tears was no difficult task. He had done it once before while strapped to a chair with an IV pumping curare through his veins. He reached back to that memory of when Mohinder had turned on him and felt the hot wetness pricking the corner of his eyes. Sylar waited until his vision was blurry before he looked up and blinked once, sending a single tear down his cheek.

He joyed inside as Mohinder's face twisted into a frown.

"Aww," his lover purred as he sauntered over to Sylar in heavy boots and wrapped his arms around broad, quivering shoulders.

As Sylar nuzzled into Mohinder's neck wiping away the salty tears on warm flesh his surroundings registered back in his mind. Suddenly the overwhelming scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils, making him dizzy. He groaned, snaking a hand around Mohinder's shoulder to cover his mouth.

"What?"

"It reeks in here!"

"Sylar. That smell just means you are in a clean facility." Mohinder attempted to pull away but his lover only tightened his grip, grunting in disgust.

He buried his nose in Mohinder's hair and breathed as deeply as he could, repeatedly, until Mohinder finally asked,

"What are you doing? That tickles!" He squirmed until Sylar stopped sniffing his scalp.

"Replacing the scent of torture with the smell of Indian spices, Mohinder." He resumed the hound-like gesture, taking in the doctor's aroma.

Mohinder, unable to break free, sunk his teeth into Sylar's shoulder, clamping until he was released.

"Ow!" he rubbed the wounded area with a grimaced face. "What the hell was that for?!"

"Just a taste of what is to come later. And I must say, it was quite delicious."

The grimace faded to a grin and Sylar solidified his excitement for later by chomping his teeth together in a loud animalistic gesture of his hunger for Mohinder.

Both men were startled as the nurse came through the door, knocking as it opened. She looked flushed and breathless, forcing out a friendly smile as she speed past Mohinder.

"We're a little busy today, sorry. Put this on and Doctor Palmer will be in shortly." She flung a light blue gown onto Sylar's lap and, turning to leave, gave Mohinder a look that told him they would be waiting longer than expected.

He sighed as the door clicked, shrugging at the stunned man who glanced down at the tiny piece of cloth and then up at Mohinder.

"Yeah. I'm not putting this on," Sylar stated, shoving it off his lap as though it was laced with poison.

"You have to." Mohinder unfolded the gown, holding it up in the air to get a better look. "The doctor isn't going to undress you, Sylar."

"He will have to."

"Put it on."

"No."

"Yes."

"No," he declined, folding his arms across his chest in objection.

"Yes!" Mohinder lunged for the stubborn body, peeling his coat off hastily and grabbing his shirt from behind, pulling it over his head before the gawky man had the chance to stop the action. Sylar gasped as cold air struck his pale, naked upper body.

"Mohinder!" He growled, grabbing like a child for the shirt that his companion was tossing to the other side of the room in a victorious motion.

"Pants." The Indian motioned to stylish blue jeans. They glowered at each other for a few moments, Sylar testing the limits of Mohinder's patience before leaning back and lying down on the bed with a cocky smirk.

"You want them off? Take them."

Mohinder was happy to oblige, but he was not gentle about the job. Sylar winced as caramel hands forced his pants down long legs in such a speed that it burned his skin.

"Jesus, Mohinder!" he cried out as the force of the motion pulled him off the bed, along with the annoying crinkly paper. He hit the cold floor with a thud, scrambling to his feet to avoid contact with freezing linoleum.

Sylar went to grab the doctor but was caught off guard as Mohinder wrapped him in the gown, ushering his outstretched arms into the proper cloth holes. He all but gave up as the Indian pranced around to his back, tying off the powder blue garment into a perfect bow.

"There," Mohinder breathed, sweat forming on his brow from the tedious work. He ignored the whimper that escaped Sylar's mouth, reaching through the opening of the gown and tugging gently on black boxers.

"What're you doing?!" Sylar spun around, slapping Mohinder's hands away.

"Those have to come off too."

"Uh, I don't think so."

"Sylar."

"Mohinder," he countered, raising a brow in challenge.

"Off."

Sylar only tightened his lips together, shaking his head 'no' in defiance.

Mohinder contemplated for a moment before turning and opening the door, peeking his head into the hall. He looked left and then right, calling out to their nurse just before she slipped into another room.

"Excuse me! How much longer, miss?"

"A while!" she called back, irritated.

"Good." Mohinder retorted after closing the door.

"Good? How is it good that we have to be stuck in this hell hole?"

"Because," Mohinder stalked towards him, "it means we have time to play."

"Play?" Sylar wasn't sure how exactly Mohinder wanted to fool around in a doctor's exam room, but he surely didn't protest as he watched the Indian strip off his own jacket seductively.

"Dr. Suresh is ready for your examination, Mr. Gray," Mohinder teased, running his hands down Sylar's front. He grinned in his own excitement at the feel of a lean body through the thin gown.

"This is one we haven't tried before," Sylar smirked. "Raping you in a sterile room will be both creepy and thrilling."

"Hmm, you can't rape the willing, Mr. Gray. And who said you get to fuck me?" With that he plunged his mouth onto Sylar's, kissing with such force and passion that both men fell backwards onto the bed. During the lip lock he ran his hand up and down Sylar's barely clothed body, groping a hardening erection with a finesse that the taller man longed for every minute of the day.

Sylar groaned his approval into Mohinder's mouth, whimpering after the Indian slid off of him to remove his black boxers.

"What if someone comes in?" he asked, sitting up and placing his hands over his groin nervously as the gown rode a little too far.

"Hold the door closed with telekinesis." Mohinder unbuttoned his loud plaid shirt for better range of motion and rolled up the sleeves before pressing Sylar back down onto the bed.

He heard a soft click and a creak from the door and knew that they were now secured in their privacy at the invisible hand of Sylar's ability.

"Well now," Mohinder cooed, climbing onto the bed and kneeling on the end between long, pale legs. "Let's have a look, shall we?" The remnants of the annoying white paper crinkled loudly as Mohinder shifted, leaning downwards to blow cool air over Sylar's erection.

The taller man groaned, rolling his head back as he felt the touch of soft fingers slide up his length.

Mohinder stroked him gently, tauntingly slow, waiting for the moment when his lover would start to twitch underneath him for more. It didn't take long; within seconds Sylar was writhing and bucking his hips. Mohinder took the cue and fisted the pulsing erection, moving his hand quicker with greater pressure.

"Ohhh," the patient moaned, gripping harshly onto the edges of the bed to ride out the pleasure rolling over his body like hot lava. Mohinder bent down to plant wet kisses on Sylar's neck before tonguing his ear, just the way he knew the watchmaker loved.

"I...I oh-" Sylar gasped as the hand around his member squeezed lightly.

"You what?" Mohinder breathed into his ear.

"I should go...to the doctor...more often," he panted, tensing all the muscles in his body when a warm caramel thumb massaged the tip.

Mohinder nibbled at his ear lobe in response, encouraging Sylar to overcome his fear of the yearly visit. He retreated and the man below him stated his disapproval by reaching out for Mohinder's hair.

"There's nothing to be afraid of here, Sylar."

He hovered for a moment over the erection, breathing fiery passion-filled air onto the sensitive flesh before taking Sylar into his mouth.

"Oh FUCK!" Sylar called out, prompting Mohinder to reach a hand out and cover his mouth. The watchmaker didn't care; it merely muffled his moans.

He pumped his head up and down, quickening ever so slightly with each dip, tasting as much of his lover as possible. Sylar's constant hungry growl vibrated through his palm, tickling his golden skin. Nearly giggling from the vibration, Mohinder moved his hand, pushing his fingers into that whining mouth. They were promptly sucked by Sylar and licked with a hyper tongue.

An even noisier sound came when Mohinder swallowed around Sylar, causing the lean man to curl up into a sitting position. Mohinder grunted his objection, removing the saliva-slicked fingers and shoving Sylar back down onto the bed with a loud smack as he met the paper.

"Mohinderrrrrrrrr," Sylar whined, tangling his fingers in those luscious brown curls. Mohinder enjoyed the free scalp massage, realizing that the harder he sucked the more those long fingers caressed his head.

Like a chain reaction to the pleasurable groping on his always tired cranium, the geneticist hummed around Sylar as he dipped his head to the base.

"Hmmmm."

With that overwhelming vibration rolling over his erection, Sylar released. It was as though magma was pushed through every available pore, sparking lust behind his eyes and leaving him breathless. Before he could cry out, Mohinder jumped forwards and clamped both hands over Sylar's mouth, laying on top of the writhing body.

"Mmm...mmm...mmm," Sylar moaned as he panted through the shock waves of pleasure rolling through him. When the sounds subsided, Mohinder got up wearily, glancing down at his sex-stained shirt,

"Hell," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the large silver sink in the corner of the room and washing his shirt frantically. When he turned, paper towels in hand, to clean off his lover's stomach, Mohinder had to pause to take in the hilarious sight. Sylar was laying with all four limbs hanging gawkily off the table, nearly to the ground in his unnatural height. He had the biggest and most satisfied grin masking his face, staring at the ceiling and panting in complete nirvana.

Sylar flinched from his euphoric state as he felt dampened paper towel rub against his flesh.

"Cold!" he cringed.

"I have to clean you up. We don't want the doctor seeing that."

"Then why did you do it?"

"To make you more comfortable. It worked, didn't it?"

Sylar sat up when Mohinder was finished, smoothing his gown out. As all the pleasure faded from his body, a ping of nerves twisted his stomach into a ridiculously tight knot. He wanted to say 'No, it didn't work. Got any other ideas?' but he decided against it. His lover had just given him the equivalent of a proverbial lollipop to make him be good while at the doctor, and he decided he certainly wanted more later.

"There," Mohinder said as he threw the evidence into the trash can. "Now we wait."

"What time was my appointment scheduled for again?"

"Three o'clock."

The watchmaker glanced at his wrist noting that it was now three forty-five.

"Well this is ridiculous. I hope they don't make us pay for it," he huffed, folding his arms.

"Sylar, doctors are never on time. We are always running behind in one way or another." Mohinder sat in the chair by the door and picked up a magazine, flipping through it absent mindedly.

"You know, Mohinder. We wouldn't even be here if I had that wonderful healing ability."

"We've been over this. You can't kill Claire Bennet."

"Peter?"

"No!"

"Well there must be someone out there with that same ability. Someone that wouldn't even be missed. I just need to do a little research and-"

"Sylar! That is enough! No killing of any people with special abilities, period! You will go to the doctor like everyone else, and you will get examined like everyone else."

The watchmaker tried his damnedest not to smile. He just loved pushing Mohinder's buttons. The man's passion was quite a turn-on.

"But.."

"But what?"

Sylar went to speak and was interrupted by a feverish knock at the door.

The intruder pushed in, not waiting for a reply, and both men shot to their feet.

"Ah, hello Mr. Gray. Sorry for the wait."

Sylar looked the woman up and down as she thumbed through his file.

"Who are you?" he questioned. She laughed, thinking it was a joke at first, but noticed his confused face. Mohinder stood silent in amusement.

"I'm Doctor Palmer." She extended her hand but received no mirrored offering from Sylar.

"You must have the wrong patient," the tall man stated.

"No, Gabriel. I'm you're doctor." She smiled kindly, glancing over to Mohinder who gave her a tired shrug.

"A woman?! No."

"I'm sorry but my husband, the other doctor working here, is sick today. That is why we are so busy."

Sylar stepped away, the back of his knees meeting the bed and causing him to sit with a thud.

The doctor started working on him, listening to his breathing with her stethoscope and looking into his ears and throat while receiving menacing stares. Every touch made him flinch.

When she went to check his blood pressure, wrapping the tight cuff around his muscular bicep, he gasped harshly and startled the woman.

Mohinder decided to intervene, not wanting Sylar to TK the woman out the door in shock.

"Uh, Doctor Palmer, apologies. He's just a little...nervous."

She nodded knowingly, reaching out for Sylar's shoulder and squeezing gently. He jumped, but surprisingly did nothing to harm her, even as she pumped the gauge to a severely tight tension.

"Don't be nervous, Gabriel. I'll be gentle. I do this all the time." She unwrapped the cuff, jotting his high blood pressure down in his records.

Something dangerous flickered in Sylar's eyes as his brow lowered.

"That's not my name."

"I'm sorry?" She quirked her head to the right in confusion.

"My name. It isn't Gabriel."

"Oh, but it says right here...see...Gabriel Gray. I don't know how this record could be wrong." The doctor fumbled for her pen, intent on making a note of the error.

"My name is-"

"Gabriel!" Mohinder stepped in front of him before he could finish, giving the man the most serious look he could muster. Nothing good ever followed his cocky "My name is Sylar!" speech, and Mohinder feared for the woman as the air around his lover thickened.

"His name is Gabriel, but his nickname is Sylar. He prefers that," Mohinder said, stepping away.

"Sylar?" she asked hesitantly. "Alright then. Sylar." Her pen scribbled furiously on the folder, something much longer than the five-letter name, and the watchmaker suddenly wished he had the ability to read upside-down.

When Dr. Palmer turned to get her supplies situated on the counter by the sink, Mohinder mouthed the words 'Be good' to Sylar. His voice was barely a whisper, inaudible to the doctor, but Mohinder knew Sylar could hear him.

In response those devious lips mouthed the word 'Brains', jokingly, but Mohinder failed to see the humor. He was tempted to smack Sylar, something that hadn't been done since their last kinky sexcapade.

Mohinder's angry thoughts were broken as Doctor Palmer spun around, large needle in one hand and a vial full of clear liquid in the other. She plunged the needle in and started filling it with the medicine, much to the dismay of the fearful ex-murderer.

Mohinder prayed silently to his many God's as a visible tremor shot through Sylar's body.

He saw the man's jaw clench, lips curling, body tensing, eyes narrowing, and to Mohinder it resembled just a little too closely the look he'd seen in Sylar's eyes before he'd killed in the past.

"Alright," Doctor Palmer said, slowly easing the needle out and pushing the stopper slightly. Sylar flinched as a spurt of the medicine flew past him. "Are you ready?"

"What the hell do you think you're going to do with that?"

The watchmaker arose from the table and used his towering height to intimidate the woman.

"Um, well, you're due for your shots. In fact, you, uh, haven't had any in years," she stammered.

Mohinder shifted nervously.

"I don't need it."

"You really do, Mr. Gray. If you want to stay healthy, that is."

"Tell me, Doctor. Why get a needless shot when I can just find somebody with a certain special abil-"

"Sylar!" Mohinder grabbed him by the arm, laughing off his statement as a joke. "He's just messing around, please give him the shot." He threw his lover a look of warning while easing him back onto the bed.

"I don't really have time for jokes, Mr. Gray," the doctor murmured, rubbing Sylar's arm with a cold antiseptic. Sylar turned his head, meeting his face with Mohinder's shirt. The geneticist pined inside over the needy gesture. He wrapped an arm around the man, stroking his bare back soothingly where the gown parted. Mohinder knew it was working as he felt the head on his chest nuzzle deeper.

Without preempt she jabbed the needle into Sylar's arm, taking a step back as he turned towards her and growled deeper than Mohinder had ever heard before. She dispensed the medicine as quickly as possible, sliding the needle back out and covering the tiny puncture wound with gauze.

"There. Was that so bad?" Her comforting words were lost in Sylar's panicked breath.

"Yes. Yes it was. You'd think I'd be used to that by now, Doctor, with all the experimentations." He cocked his head to the left, eyebrow perking.

"Oh hell," Mohinder sighed, running his fingers through his curls. "I give up."

"Experimentations?" She questioned nervously.

"Yes. I've been poked and prodded like you wouldn't believe, Doctor Palmer. This is bringing back memories that I don't care to revisit." Sylar went for his clothes that Mohinder had folded neatly and placed on the chair.

"None of that is in your records. Were you ill?"

"Very much so. That is, until I met Dr. Suresh here." He motioned to Mohinder as he stepped into his black boxers. "He keeps me healthy...grounded."

"Well, wait. What are you doing?"

"Leaving. Isn't it obvious?"

She rushed over to him.

"You can't. I haven't done your prostate exam yet!"

The room fell deadly silent as Sylar's head lowered, his breath deepening. He gritted his teeth as his grip on the waist of his blue jeans tightened in white-knuckled anger.

"My what?"

"Prostate...exam. You need one." She stepped back.

As he spoke again, everything in the room began to rattle; colorful water color paintings on the wall shook, glass jars containing cotton balls and tongue presses bounced on the counter, and the blinds waved back and forth, smacking against the window.

"Are we having an earthquake?!" The woman gasped, spinning in a circle to take in the odd occurrence.

"On the contrary," Sylar growled, barely audible due to the loud clamoring his invisible hands were inducing all around the room.

"We're leaving!" Sylar was snapped out of his radiating telekinetic fury when Mohinder grabbed him by the arm and pulled him roughly out the door.

They flew down the hall, through the waiting room and past shocked stares as people gasped at the sight of the tall, gawky man in nothing but boxers and his examination gown.

The car ride home was nothing close to silent. Sylar sat slumped, grinning as he listened to Mohinder rant about his actions in public.

"You cannot use your abilities like that! You have to act normal, and that, Sylar, involves doing normal things. Including going to the doctor!"

"I went, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you acted like a child. Not to mention that you would have killed your doctor if I hadn't been there." Mohinder's grip tightened on the steering wheel. He felt nauseous over the thought of Sylar tossing Doctor Palmer about the examination room like a toy.

"I wasn't going to let her put her hands...there," Sylar hissed.

"Well, you let me, don't you?"

He nodded. "And I like it."

"Good. You're getting a prostate exam when we get home." The watchmaker tried to appear disappointed at the stern statement, but he couldn't suppress the chuckle.

Yes, he was afraid of needles, but it wasn't anything he couldn't ignore. His plan had worked perfectly. Not only had Mohinder given him a blow job without having to do anything in return, but now he would be rewarded with some rather appropriate touching on the spot that makes him purr.

"I can't wait, Mohinder."