Fic: Never Heard Me (Heroes)
Pairing: Mohinder/Matt/Nathan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: through 2x07, to be safe.
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine.
Notes:
weirdofromafar mentioned the pairing.
airspaniel wanted theraputic porn.
Summary: Of fantasies we don't even know we have, until they're fulfilled.
- - -
It’s in the middle of sex, when it happens.
Mohinder is back in Nathan’s lap, Nathan’s tongue tracing just below his ear, his legs sprawled open, a moan fading into silence within his lungs. He twists, distracted, his eyes closing - the last thing he wants to see now is Matt, see Matt watching him, wanting him, because he’s betrayed Matt -
“You were right,” says Nathan. “He’s stunning.”
Mohinder bites his lip, choking off his own breath.
“I told you,” murmurs Matt, and the bed shifts, as Matt moves, settles back in front of Mohinder.
“Matt,” says Mohinder, softly - there’s a vision, an impression, deep in his mind, something fuzzy and wrong -
And then Matt gets that expression, that peculiar little head tilt, and Mohinder knows exactly what he’s doing.
“No,” hisses Mohinder, struggling out of Nathan’s grasp. No, and get out of my head and you don’t have the right -
“You have fantasies, Mohinder?” asks Matt, his voice a little husky, a little torn. “Stuff you don’t even admit to yourself-”
Mohinder’s blood runs hot and cold at the same time - he looks to Nathan, but Nathan’s eyes are dark, fixed on Matt.
No help there.
Mohinder shudders, in terrified arousal - what does Matt see in him? - and he wants to run, he wants to get out of here.
“Mohinder,” says Nathan, with a hint of warning, and he catches Mohinder, pulls him back. Mohinder blinks, and then - then everything is different, a little bit wrong, not quite real.
Nathan’s hand closes around his arm, and Matt kisses him, sweetly, softly.
“What are you going to do?” whispers Mohinder, and he imagines his eyes must be dark, very dark, to capture Matt’s gaze the way they do.
Matt’s eyes shift to Nathan’s, and Mohinder can feel the decision made between them, over his head, through him. Nathan’s hands shift to Mohinder’s waist, lift him; Mohinder moves with it, reflexively, until Matt’s hands replace Nathan’s, until he feels the head of Nathan’s erection, pressing against him -
“No,” he protests, his hands flat against Matt’s shoulders, but his limbs are sluggish, unresponsive, and there’s something irresistibly hot inside him, tingling, dragging him to immobility. “Matt -”
“Relax,” murmurs Matt, a with a soft stream of reassurance, something so low Mohinder can only make out a word here and there. It slips past his conscious mind without catching on Mohinder’s thoughts - goes straight to his body, hypnotizes him, until he shifts open, his lips parted, his face buried in Matt’s neck.
Mohinder finds his hips swaying with the motion, his body coiling, uncoiling, as Nathan works his erection inside Mohinder, bit by bit, past tense muscle. They don’t stop, don’t let him go, until Nathan is buried all the way inside him, until every movement sends Mohinder clutching at Matt, for any kind of anchor, any kind of rationality.
Matt settles Mohinder back against Nathan, Nathan’s arm moving protectively around his waist.
“Move your legs up,” says Matt, and Mohinder isn’t sure if he can - it all seems so impossible, so out-of-reach.
Matt helps, urging on with strong hands, strong arms. Mohinder melts, back against Nathan’s chest, and wonders what Matt is going to do, what’s coming next. Wonders if he already knows, just won’t let himself admit to it -
But then - then there’s pressure, against where Nathan is forcing Mohinder open, and there are fingers slipping in, stretching, coaxing the ring of muscle. Mohinder’s breath feels like it’s been forced out of his body, his heartbeat skyrocketing, and god, oh god, he does know what’s coming, he does, but he doesn’t know how to say no.
Matt pushes, pushes, and slips just a bit inside - and Mohinder trembles, barely half-aware of the noises he’s making, little, uncontrollable gasps and groans and pleas.
Matt presses home, all at once, and Mohinder twists, Nathan’s palm cutting short the scream that tears from his throat.
“I couldn’t do this,” whispers Matt, “not with anyone but you-” and he doesn’t just mean Mohinder, Mohinder can tell that immediately, no, it’s about the two of them, about both of them and Mohinder is so full, so broken, that he might be about to die from it.
Matt just barely moves - just a little bit - and that’s all it takes. Mohinder expects his climax to shiver through him, too intense to endure, and to end quickly - that’s what it does, what it always does. But this time, it - it’s different.
Mohinder cries out in terrible, piteous need, and he feels Nathan thrust, behind him, steadily, unchanging - a terrible, delicious friction, and that just enhances everything, draws it out. Mohinder has never experienced this, never - being fucked, while he’s coming, while he’s in the middle of coming -
“Jesus Christ,” breathes Nathan, harsh against the back of Mohinder’s neck, and the illusion snaps, breaks. Mohinder falls to the bed shaking, curling into himself. Neither of them are inside him, none of that was real, but it doesn’t even matter, his body believes it, he believes it, and the aftershocks are still wracking his system, so much so that it crosses the edge from pleasure to pain.
“Mohinder,” says Matt, moving over him, “Jesus, Mohinder,” and Mohinder doesn’t even know who initiates the kiss, only that it’s short, short and desperate, and that Mohinder has to break away just so that so he can breathe.
“You wanted that,” says Nathan, slowly.
Mohinder lifts his eyes to Nathan’s.
“I knew it,” says Nathan. “I could feel it - how is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” says Matt. “I don’t - I don’t know.”
Mohinder can’t take it, can’t listen to it anymore. He pulls Nathan down, weakly; curls in, resting his head on Nathan’s shoulder. He feels Matt’s arm settle around his waist, knows that neither of them, neither, will let him go, after that.
He wonders if Matt will hear his dreams, that night.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: through 2x07, to be safe.
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine.
Notes:
weirdofromafar mentioned the pairing.
airspaniel wanted theraputic porn.
Summary: Of fantasies we don't even know we have, until they're fulfilled.
- - -
It’s in the middle of sex, when it happens.
Mohinder is back in Nathan’s lap, Nathan’s tongue tracing just below his ear, his legs sprawled open, a moan fading into silence within his lungs. He twists, distracted, his eyes closing - the last thing he wants to see now is Matt, see Matt watching him, wanting him, because he’s betrayed Matt -
“You were right,” says Nathan. “He’s stunning.”
Mohinder bites his lip, choking off his own breath.
“I told you,” murmurs Matt, and the bed shifts, as Matt moves, settles back in front of Mohinder.
“Matt,” says Mohinder, softly - there’s a vision, an impression, deep in his mind, something fuzzy and wrong -
And then Matt gets that expression, that peculiar little head tilt, and Mohinder knows exactly what he’s doing.
“No,” hisses Mohinder, struggling out of Nathan’s grasp. No, and get out of my head and you don’t have the right -
“You have fantasies, Mohinder?” asks Matt, his voice a little husky, a little torn. “Stuff you don’t even admit to yourself-”
Mohinder’s blood runs hot and cold at the same time - he looks to Nathan, but Nathan’s eyes are dark, fixed on Matt.
No help there.
Mohinder shudders, in terrified arousal - what does Matt see in him? - and he wants to run, he wants to get out of here.
“Mohinder,” says Nathan, with a hint of warning, and he catches Mohinder, pulls him back. Mohinder blinks, and then - then everything is different, a little bit wrong, not quite real.
Nathan’s hand closes around his arm, and Matt kisses him, sweetly, softly.
“What are you going to do?” whispers Mohinder, and he imagines his eyes must be dark, very dark, to capture Matt’s gaze the way they do.
Matt’s eyes shift to Nathan’s, and Mohinder can feel the decision made between them, over his head, through him. Nathan’s hands shift to Mohinder’s waist, lift him; Mohinder moves with it, reflexively, until Matt’s hands replace Nathan’s, until he feels the head of Nathan’s erection, pressing against him -
“No,” he protests, his hands flat against Matt’s shoulders, but his limbs are sluggish, unresponsive, and there’s something irresistibly hot inside him, tingling, dragging him to immobility. “Matt -”
“Relax,” murmurs Matt, a with a soft stream of reassurance, something so low Mohinder can only make out a word here and there. It slips past his conscious mind without catching on Mohinder’s thoughts - goes straight to his body, hypnotizes him, until he shifts open, his lips parted, his face buried in Matt’s neck.
Mohinder finds his hips swaying with the motion, his body coiling, uncoiling, as Nathan works his erection inside Mohinder, bit by bit, past tense muscle. They don’t stop, don’t let him go, until Nathan is buried all the way inside him, until every movement sends Mohinder clutching at Matt, for any kind of anchor, any kind of rationality.
Matt settles Mohinder back against Nathan, Nathan’s arm moving protectively around his waist.
“Move your legs up,” says Matt, and Mohinder isn’t sure if he can - it all seems so impossible, so out-of-reach.
Matt helps, urging on with strong hands, strong arms. Mohinder melts, back against Nathan’s chest, and wonders what Matt is going to do, what’s coming next. Wonders if he already knows, just won’t let himself admit to it -
But then - then there’s pressure, against where Nathan is forcing Mohinder open, and there are fingers slipping in, stretching, coaxing the ring of muscle. Mohinder’s breath feels like it’s been forced out of his body, his heartbeat skyrocketing, and god, oh god, he does know what’s coming, he does, but he doesn’t know how to say no.
Matt pushes, pushes, and slips just a bit inside - and Mohinder trembles, barely half-aware of the noises he’s making, little, uncontrollable gasps and groans and pleas.
Matt presses home, all at once, and Mohinder twists, Nathan’s palm cutting short the scream that tears from his throat.
“I couldn’t do this,” whispers Matt, “not with anyone but you-” and he doesn’t just mean Mohinder, Mohinder can tell that immediately, no, it’s about the two of them, about both of them and Mohinder is so full, so broken, that he might be about to die from it.
Matt just barely moves - just a little bit - and that’s all it takes. Mohinder expects his climax to shiver through him, too intense to endure, and to end quickly - that’s what it does, what it always does. But this time, it - it’s different.
Mohinder cries out in terrible, piteous need, and he feels Nathan thrust, behind him, steadily, unchanging - a terrible, delicious friction, and that just enhances everything, draws it out. Mohinder has never experienced this, never - being fucked, while he’s coming, while he’s in the middle of coming -
“Jesus Christ,” breathes Nathan, harsh against the back of Mohinder’s neck, and the illusion snaps, breaks. Mohinder falls to the bed shaking, curling into himself. Neither of them are inside him, none of that was real, but it doesn’t even matter, his body believes it, he believes it, and the aftershocks are still wracking his system, so much so that it crosses the edge from pleasure to pain.
“Mohinder,” says Matt, moving over him, “Jesus, Mohinder,” and Mohinder doesn’t even know who initiates the kiss, only that it’s short, short and desperate, and that Mohinder has to break away just so that so he can breathe.
“You wanted that,” says Nathan, slowly.
Mohinder lifts his eyes to Nathan’s.
“I knew it,” says Nathan. “I could feel it - how is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” says Matt. “I don’t - I don’t know.”
Mohinder can’t take it, can’t listen to it anymore. He pulls Nathan down, weakly; curls in, resting his head on Nathan’s shoulder. He feels Matt’s arm settle around his waist, knows that neither of them, neither, will let him go, after that.
He wonders if Matt will hear his dreams, that night.