Fic: Forget (Heroes)
He wakes up sore, naked under tangled sheets. It’s too bright outside, and he winces away from the sunlight.
Cold water dashes the sleep away from his skin, washes away sweat from the day before. He must have slept wrong, he must have gotten into some uncomfortable position during the night. There’s no other explanation - is there?
His thoughts skip over one another, twist and twist and twist until he’s dizzy with it. He paces, in the apartment, dazed, distracted and alone.
~*~
He’s not sure what she intends to do, at first. He’s busy, on the computer - but it’s all started to blur together for him. He can’t focus.
The touch of her hands on his shoulder is unexpected, unwelcome. Violates the personal space, the cloak he’s kept around himself ever since his father’s death. He opens his mouth to protest, but the words die in his throat.
“Do you want me?” -a quiet question, purred in his ear.
“Eden,” he begins, but her hands clench harder.
“Don’t be afraid,” and her voice washes over him, liquid tones reaching past his skin, turning him inside out. “Tell me.”
“Yes,” he says, reflexively, helplessly. Don’t, he thinks, and I can’t, and I need you, but he’s silent, for her.
~*~
A knock on the door startles him, sets his heart racing. He wonders, at it. At the new fear in his body.
Eden steps inside, something cautious and withdrawn about her expression. “Are you all right, Mohinder?” she asks, immediately.
Is he that obvious? “Just a headache,” he murmurs, deflecting.
~*~
The kiss is soft. She slips an arm around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and Mohinder can feel his heart race, fluttering like a captured bird inside his chest, lightning tingles just from her touch. Her tongue curls into his mouth, and suddenly, it’s more, it’s important, it’s everything.
When she breaks away, it’s all Mohinder can do to breathe. He hesitates. How does this change things, between them?
“Come with me,” she says, and he rises from the chair, taking her outstretched hand. Disobedience never crosses his mind.
~*~
“Do you have aspirin?” She glances over to his cabinets, as though they have the answer. “I think there’s some in my apartment.”
“No,” says Mohinder, “no, I’ll be fine.”
~*~
“Sssh.” Her hand cups his cheek; her lips press against his forehead, and he’s conscious, right then, of everything about her. The smell of her, the coolness of her fingers, the curve of her waist. “You’re mine,” she whispers.
He sighs, caught in her thrall, and nods against her neck.
“Touch me.” -and he does.
~*~
“Take the aspirin, Mohinder.”
“I told you, it’s nothing.”
Eden’s expression hardens. “You look like hell,” she says. “You should take care of yourself.”
Make me, thinks Mohinder. His stomach feels sour.
Finally, reluctantly, he reaches for the glass. At the brush of her fingers, the touch of her skin, something indefinable, something too large and too light to grasp, floats past his memory.
The glass slips from his fingers and shatters on the kitchen floor.
~*~
She’s so slick he can barely concentrate, his thought slipping away like water through a clenched fist. His fingers trace her clit, swollen as it is - too lightly for her taste.
“Mohinder,” she gasps, and she bites her lip, bites it hard. Choking back what she was about to say. He understands, though.
His fingers slip inside, pressing through the choked resistance of her body, and to the heat inside. Touch me, Mohinder remembers, and he presses, massages with his thumb, twists with his fingers. She arches against him, but there’s something, something not entirely there about her.
Even so, Mohinder can’t withdraw. He can’t pull away. He can’t.
~*~
Mohinder dumps the last of the glass shards in the trash can, moving to the sink.
“I’m sorry, Mohinder,” she says, again. She touches his shoulder.
He turns, too rapidly, and suddenly they’re a little closer than comfort. She flushes, and she looks away, steps back.
Mohinder recognizes that look. It’s guilt.
~*~
His fingers slip out, after she climaxes. In between her breathing, light and shallow, and the sudden, tense feel to the room, Mohinder can’t quite meet her eyes.
She stirs, under his hands, tilts his head up to hers. She smiles, reassuring, but somehow it doesn’t spread to her eyes.
Her skin is smooth against his; she settles half-over him. He’s uncertain, hesitant, but she kisses him, touches her tongue gently to his. Mohinder doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t fight, doesn’t try to pull away as she moves down next to his ear.
“Come for me,” she says.
He makes a soft, shocked noise, and clings to her.
~*~
“It’s late,” says Mohinder. “You should probably go.”
The look that meets his eyes is something torn, strange. Mohinder doesn’t want to comprehend; he looks away.
“Mohinder,” she says.
Mohinder glances up, reluctantly. Listening.
She hesitates, for a long moment, then she shakes her head. “Never mind. Good night.”
“Good night, Eden.”
~*~
Her fingers stroke his cheek, the line of his jaw. He closes his eyes, just listens, just feels. It will make more sense in the morning.
“Mohinder,” she murmurs.
His eyes flicker open.
Her mouth twists. “Forget,” is all she says.
He does.
Cold water dashes the sleep away from his skin, washes away sweat from the day before. He must have slept wrong, he must have gotten into some uncomfortable position during the night. There’s no other explanation - is there?
His thoughts skip over one another, twist and twist and twist until he’s dizzy with it. He paces, in the apartment, dazed, distracted and alone.
~*~
He’s not sure what she intends to do, at first. He’s busy, on the computer - but it’s all started to blur together for him. He can’t focus.
The touch of her hands on his shoulder is unexpected, unwelcome. Violates the personal space, the cloak he’s kept around himself ever since his father’s death. He opens his mouth to protest, but the words die in his throat.
“Do you want me?” -a quiet question, purred in his ear.
“Eden,” he begins, but her hands clench harder.
“Don’t be afraid,” and her voice washes over him, liquid tones reaching past his skin, turning him inside out. “Tell me.”
“Yes,” he says, reflexively, helplessly. Don’t, he thinks, and I can’t, and I need you, but he’s silent, for her.
~*~
A knock on the door startles him, sets his heart racing. He wonders, at it. At the new fear in his body.
Eden steps inside, something cautious and withdrawn about her expression. “Are you all right, Mohinder?” she asks, immediately.
Is he that obvious? “Just a headache,” he murmurs, deflecting.
~*~
The kiss is soft. She slips an arm around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and Mohinder can feel his heart race, fluttering like a captured bird inside his chest, lightning tingles just from her touch. Her tongue curls into his mouth, and suddenly, it’s more, it’s important, it’s everything.
When she breaks away, it’s all Mohinder can do to breathe. He hesitates. How does this change things, between them?
“Come with me,” she says, and he rises from the chair, taking her outstretched hand. Disobedience never crosses his mind.
~*~
“Do you have aspirin?” She glances over to his cabinets, as though they have the answer. “I think there’s some in my apartment.”
“No,” says Mohinder, “no, I’ll be fine.”
~*~
“Sssh.” Her hand cups his cheek; her lips press against his forehead, and he’s conscious, right then, of everything about her. The smell of her, the coolness of her fingers, the curve of her waist. “You’re mine,” she whispers.
He sighs, caught in her thrall, and nods against her neck.
“Touch me.” -and he does.
~*~
“Take the aspirin, Mohinder.”
“I told you, it’s nothing.”
Eden’s expression hardens. “You look like hell,” she says. “You should take care of yourself.”
Make me, thinks Mohinder. His stomach feels sour.
Finally, reluctantly, he reaches for the glass. At the brush of her fingers, the touch of her skin, something indefinable, something too large and too light to grasp, floats past his memory.
The glass slips from his fingers and shatters on the kitchen floor.
~*~
She’s so slick he can barely concentrate, his thought slipping away like water through a clenched fist. His fingers trace her clit, swollen as it is - too lightly for her taste.
“Mohinder,” she gasps, and she bites her lip, bites it hard. Choking back what she was about to say. He understands, though.
His fingers slip inside, pressing through the choked resistance of her body, and to the heat inside. Touch me, Mohinder remembers, and he presses, massages with his thumb, twists with his fingers. She arches against him, but there’s something, something not entirely there about her.
Even so, Mohinder can’t withdraw. He can’t pull away. He can’t.
~*~
Mohinder dumps the last of the glass shards in the trash can, moving to the sink.
“I’m sorry, Mohinder,” she says, again. She touches his shoulder.
He turns, too rapidly, and suddenly they’re a little closer than comfort. She flushes, and she looks away, steps back.
Mohinder recognizes that look. It’s guilt.
~*~
His fingers slip out, after she climaxes. In between her breathing, light and shallow, and the sudden, tense feel to the room, Mohinder can’t quite meet her eyes.
She stirs, under his hands, tilts his head up to hers. She smiles, reassuring, but somehow it doesn’t spread to her eyes.
Her skin is smooth against his; she settles half-over him. He’s uncertain, hesitant, but she kisses him, touches her tongue gently to his. Mohinder doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t fight, doesn’t try to pull away as she moves down next to his ear.
“Come for me,” she says.
He makes a soft, shocked noise, and clings to her.
~*~
“It’s late,” says Mohinder. “You should probably go.”
The look that meets his eyes is something torn, strange. Mohinder doesn’t want to comprehend; he looks away.
“Mohinder,” she says.
Mohinder glances up, reluctantly. Listening.
She hesitates, for a long moment, then she shakes her head. “Never mind. Good night.”
“Good night, Eden.”
~*~
Her fingers stroke his cheek, the line of his jaw. He closes his eyes, just listens, just feels. It will make more sense in the morning.
“Mohinder,” she murmurs.
His eyes flicker open.
Her mouth twists. “Forget,” is all she says.
He does.