A/N: Yes, I did just write BobMohinder...again.
Warnings: non-con, graphic smex, not for the weak minded.
#1
Mohinder flinched under the touch of a cold clammy hand, sliding over the bruised flesh on his cheek. Hissing in pain when fingers trailed to his bleeding lip, Mohinder glared at Bob from under his sweaty curls.
The world swayed when he tried to move away, a severe concussion (from an out of control Niki) kept him mostly immobile as Bob leaned closer to seemingly check his state of health, but Mohinder knew better.
"Don't." He growled out, when Bob's lips stopped a breath away, head titling slightly as a cruel smile spread across those lips.
"You have no choice." Bob replied before his lips crashed into Mohinder's, that tongue sliding roughly over the cuts and making the Indian hiss.
Hands were pulling at the back of his head to bring him closer and keep him from moving away. Mohinder whimpered into the kiss, his head hurting more as dark curly hair was sharply pulled. Bob devoured the sound; his leg pushing Mohinder's apart to get better access to the geneticist as he climbed up on the bed.
The world swam before Mohinder's eyes, he dizzy from lack of air and pain. He tried closing his eyes, willing himself away from the situation, but Bob's plundering tongue forced him to fight, forced him to participate in the sick twisted game.
Mohinder couldn't suppress the moan when Bob's knee brushed up against his straining erection, he couldn't help himself. His body responded to the touches; to the hand rubbing and twisting his nipple, to Bob's erection rubbing against his thigh.
He was hot and in pain and desperate for relief and there was no way this would end without Bob getting what he wants. Bob groaned out his name, whispered dirty words in his ear, and Mohinder cried out when Bob's hand slipped through his the waist band of his hospital pants to grip firmly his throbbing cock.
Three rough strokes were all it took for Bob to send Mohinder edge, his body bucking and a strangled cry forcing its way from his bloody lips. Pleasure shivered through Mohinder's body and he trembled as Bob continued to stroke him, sending pleasurable aftershocks through his frame.
Bob claimed his lips once more, a dark strain spreading over the front of his pants as he moved away from Mohinder's exhausted body. Mohinder felt sick looking at it, felt sick realizing what he had done, and he couldn't meet Bob's eyes as he stood up from the bed; that smirk was too pleased, too sickening.
"Get better soon." Bob ordered, his cum covered hand wiping itself clean on the bed sheet. "You'll have plenty of work to catch up on when you return."
#2
Mohinder struggled, unable to tear his arms from the strong woman's grip; Niki kept him stuck in place as Bob strolled forward, pulling the phone from Mohinder's limp grasp.
"Trying to take us down with Bennet? That just won't do." Bob stated, frowning at the furiously struggling geneticist."Take him to that room. I'll deal with him later."
Niki nodded, pulling Mohinder effortlessly along the stark white halls and into a stone room that contained only a bed. Even though he bit and clawed, Niki had no problem tying him down to the bed with the restraints.
"Don't do this." Mohinder begged as Niki fastened a cord over his mouth, silencing his voice from the world.
She turned on the heel, vanishing out the door but not before flicking off the light and leaving Mohinder alone in darkness awaiting Bob's visitation later that night.
#3
His screams were muffled against a sweaty shoulder; Mohinder twisted and writhed as blood dribbled down his thigh while Bob pounded in. He could pull his hands free from their restraints, they cut deeply into the skin of his wrists and ankles, making more blood pour onto the sheets.
Above him Bob grunted and moaned, his glasses glinting in the pale light as he threw his head back, mouth gasping in pleasure while Mohinder's body curled in pain.
When Bob's body finally shuddered in release, Mohinder choked on bile, falling brokenly back onto the bed. Bob wasn't finished though. He traced his fingers over Mohinder's scratched and bleeding skin, licking away all the blood with his warm, hot mouth; making Mohinder aroused despite the pain. It was so like Sylar, but the hands were different, the face was different, and even that smile was different, though they portrayed the same message of lust and want.
The only thing not different was they both, Bob and Sylar, brought him over the edge with gentle strokes and kisses; a greater torture than any pain or injury.
It damaged the mind, made him enjoy himself and when Bob's hand lingered over pulsing flesh Mohinder couldn't help but beg, "Please!" for his release.
#4
"I...I want to do what's right," Mohinder whispered, holding the gun heavy in his hands. He didn't notice Bob rise up from his chair, moving around the desk to stand by the shaky geneticist's side.
Mohinder jumped, startled when a pudgy pale hand enclosed over his on the gun.
"Good boy." Bob murmured before capturing Mohinder's lips, pushing the Indian back into the desk, hand still grasping his over the gun.
Mohinder took in a shaky breath, unable to stop the moans as Bob nibbled down his jaw and sucked hard on his neck; scraping and teasing the skin with his teeth.
A/N: All this was not my fault. Seriously!