Heroes fic: Mutual Fantasy
Title: Mutual Fantasy
Series: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder/Sylar (in a Sylar!Matt/Mohinder way)
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: Sexytimes.
Summary: Turns out Sylar and Matt have something in common.
A/N: Um. Yeah. This is pretty much porn. And humor! But porn. Takes place during Volume 5.
"I didn't think you'd be interested," Matt said, scratching at a nonexistent itch on his thigh and shifting uncomfortably on the bed. "I'm not exactly Johnny Depp."
Mohinder laughed a little, prodding Matt's chin up. "I don't mind it. You're rather like a teddy bear."
"I'm flattered?"
Mohinder coyly played with Matt's shirt collar, and Matt leaned forward for a soft kiss.
"Oh, my God," a loud, irritating, inescapable voice burst out. "Really? I mean, really?"
Matt pulled back from Mohinder and shot Sylar a death glare. The killer watched from the corner, arms folded and shaking his head.
"You take time out of your fantasies to validate your diet?"
"Do you mind?!" Matt snapped.
"It's a fantasy. Obviously he's not gonna give a shit what you look like!" Sylar went on. "Just take what you want, for once." He laughed. "You know, it actually surprises me less that you conjured Mohinder to jerk off to than that you would be such a wuss even in your own head."
Matt had tried thinking of Janice, but he couldn't push away the thought of her with Sylar, even if it had been in his own body. So he'd gone with a favorite alternative-- not that it was doing him any good with a serial killer wandering through his mind.
"You know," Matt said, "you do me the favor of going away when I'm using the bathroom, but you'll watch me get off?"
"Those are necessary functions I want absolutely no part in. This is a privilege that I personally feel should be denied to inept telepaths who take other people from their rightful bodies." Sylar smirked. "Though I am curious how you even entertain the thought that you could pleasure someone who has definitely seen more action than you ever will."
This was bullshit. Maybe Matt's body had had sex lately, but Matt's mind couldn't recall any intimacy for at least a month. He would not let Sylar deny him this, so he ignored him and focused on Mohinder, who had stilled in his arms as if on pause. Matt gave him that kiss, and Mohinder's hands gripped the back of his neck tenderly.
"I guess I am a little surprised, though, that you didn't make him into some aggressive slut to compensate for your meekness."
Mohinder's tongue jammed down Matt's throat and he was suddenly in Matt's lap, grinding against him. Gasping, Matt grabbed Mohinder's shoulders and held him at arm's length. Mohinder writhed, trying to snatch at Matt's belt. "Oh, God," he groaned, eyes smoldering. "I need you to fuck me so badly!"
"Sylar," Matt said warningly.
Sylar tapped his chin. "But the shy, virginal fantasy is fun too."
Mohinder went suddenly slack in Matt's grip, panting. "Oh, Matt," he breathed, bowing his head but looking up beneath his eyelashes. "You don't know how you make me feel. Just... please be careful."
Okay, that was kinda hot, sorta like that one fantasy he had, the hot librarian one, where Mohinder took off his glasses and shook out his hair, not out of a ponytail of course, but just to scatter those curls and-- wait, that was beside the point! This was Matt's fantasy time, dammit, and he wasn't going to share it with a controlling, mocking psycho. "I'm warning you," he growled at Sylar.
"What are you gonna do?" Sylar challenged.
"Maybe I'll take a look at your apparently amazing sexual escapades and mess them up for you."
Sylar laughed. "My memories? In the past?? Interesting theory."
"I doubt any of those memories would be fun to look back on if I imprint myself into them, singing 'The Star-Spangled Banner' or doing jumping-jacks naked or narrating your every move like a football game."
Sylar scoffed. "You can't do that." Yet doubt flashed in his eyes.
"Two can play at this game," Matt muttered, reaching into Sylar's consciousness. He sought memories of nerves and sweat and excitement, and found one surprisingly quickly. The room changed around them, to some dank, dark motel room. Sylar lay in the middle of a bed, and Matt stood at the foot of it, but Mohinder was still there.
"What the hell?!" Matt exclaimed, watching Mohinder move steadily up and down on Sylar's cock.
"What?" Sylar strained, pausing as his head jerked back into the pillows. "Didn't Mohinder ever tell you about Zane?" he groaned.
"Um, yes." But never about this, for reasons that were blindingly apparent. "You've got to be kidding me. He barely knew you!"
"I beg to differ," Sylar muttered. Mohinder let out a shuddering sigh, running his hands back through his hair, and Sylar flexed his fingers into the flesh of his hips.
Ridiculous. As a roommate, Matt had never had the guts to make the slightest pass at Mohinder, but Sylar had gotten him into bed within one day of meeting him? Life was completely unfair.
"You couldn't even get a pity handjob?" Sylar prodded.
Matt frowned. He was getting careless with his thoughts, leaving them open. "I didn't act on anything because I didn't want Mohinder to be uncomfortable in his own apartment."
"Well, Matt," Sylar groaned, "he looks pretty damn comfortable." He slapped Mohinder's ass. Mohinder let out a quiet cry and jerked his hips, pulling another moan from the man beneath him.
Thoughts of screwing up Sylar's memory of this moment quickly faded as Matt watched Mohinder move. Faint blue light pressed through the curtains and played across his face as his head fell back, eyelashes fluttering and lips parting as he pushed down. Matt couldn't help the spark of excitement as he realized that this was what Mohinder really looked like in the throes of pleasure, far more beautiful than he'd been able to imagine.
This was probably the closest he'd ever get to reality.
Sylar's eyes locked onto Matt as he approached the bed. "You're really going to be a bastard and taint this?"
"Shut up," Matt said as he settled behind Mohinder, straddling Sylar's legs. He grabbed Mohinder's wrists, holding his arms up on either side of his head. Mohinder hardly paused; he leaned back against Matt while still working himself on Sylar's dick. Matt heard nothing from Sylar but his panting, and he lowered his lips to Mohinder's shoulder, kissing lightly. His heart clenched as Mohinder chuckled.
"Touch him," Sylar murmured.
Matt released Mohinder's right hand, and Mohinder immediately grabbed the back of Matt's head, urging him closer. Matt pressed his hand to Mohinder's chest, marveling at how real it seemed. He could feel the heat and sweat, and the heavy swell of Mohinder's breathing. Matt slowly traced the divots of Mohinder's muscles down his stomach, and he wrapped his hand around Mohinder's hot, hard erection.
"Ah... Matt..." Mohinder whispered, driving his hips harder. Matt stroked him along with the movements, slicking his hand downwards when Mohinder lifted himself up, then pulling his fist up over the head when he fell back down again.
Mohinder let go of Matt's head and moved his hand between them, down Matt's pants, into his boxers. Matt gasped as long fingers curled around him. He let go of Mohinder's left wrist only briefly to undo his pants one-handed, helping Mohinder free his erection. Despite the awkward angle, Mohinder managed to move his hand in time with Matt's, Matt's glans brushing against the dip in his back with each tug. Matt could feel his orgasm approaching already, but Mohinder and Sylar were almost there too. Mohinder panted like he could barely breathe as Sylar held his hips in a bruising grip.
They writhed on the bed, a groaning mass moving in hectic rhythm. Finally, it was all too much, and Matt came with a jerk onto Mohinder's back. Mohinder milked him dry, and Matt pulled his hand away to hold it while they kissed. Sylar threw his head back with low groan, thrusting roughly upwards, and Mohinder whimpered into Matt's mouth as his semen spurted onto Sylar's stomach. Matt was sure the sound would be burned into his mind, like the feel of Mohinder's body taut with overload, then slack in relief.
But Sylar sat up abruptly and pulled Mohinder out of Matt's grasp to hold him close. The way Sylar kissed him-- deeply, impatiently, eyes closed-- made Matt think for the first time that this was more than just a memory of manipulative success Sylar got off to.
Sylar's mouth moved to Mohinder's neck, then down to his shoulder. There he stopped, breathing hard with Mohinder sagging against him, and his eyes suddenly locked on Matt. "You know," Sylar said, "this could happen for real. If I had my body."
The guy had some one-track mind. But for a split second before Matt opened his eyes to his bathroom mirror, it sounded like a good idea.
Series: Heroes
Pairing: Matt/Mohinder/Sylar (in a Sylar!Matt/Mohinder way)
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: Sexytimes.
Summary: Turns out Sylar and Matt have something in common.
A/N: Um. Yeah. This is pretty much porn. And humor! But porn. Takes place during Volume 5.
"I didn't think you'd be interested," Matt said, scratching at a nonexistent itch on his thigh and shifting uncomfortably on the bed. "I'm not exactly Johnny Depp."
Mohinder laughed a little, prodding Matt's chin up. "I don't mind it. You're rather like a teddy bear."
"I'm flattered?"
Mohinder coyly played with Matt's shirt collar, and Matt leaned forward for a soft kiss.
"Oh, my God," a loud, irritating, inescapable voice burst out. "Really? I mean, really?"
Matt pulled back from Mohinder and shot Sylar a death glare. The killer watched from the corner, arms folded and shaking his head.
"You take time out of your fantasies to validate your diet?"
"Do you mind?!" Matt snapped.
"It's a fantasy. Obviously he's not gonna give a shit what you look like!" Sylar went on. "Just take what you want, for once." He laughed. "You know, it actually surprises me less that you conjured Mohinder to jerk off to than that you would be such a wuss even in your own head."
Matt had tried thinking of Janice, but he couldn't push away the thought of her with Sylar, even if it had been in his own body. So he'd gone with a favorite alternative-- not that it was doing him any good with a serial killer wandering through his mind.
"You know," Matt said, "you do me the favor of going away when I'm using the bathroom, but you'll watch me get off?"
"Those are necessary functions I want absolutely no part in. This is a privilege that I personally feel should be denied to inept telepaths who take other people from their rightful bodies." Sylar smirked. "Though I am curious how you even entertain the thought that you could pleasure someone who has definitely seen more action than you ever will."
This was bullshit. Maybe Matt's body had had sex lately, but Matt's mind couldn't recall any intimacy for at least a month. He would not let Sylar deny him this, so he ignored him and focused on Mohinder, who had stilled in his arms as if on pause. Matt gave him that kiss, and Mohinder's hands gripped the back of his neck tenderly.
"I guess I am a little surprised, though, that you didn't make him into some aggressive slut to compensate for your meekness."
Mohinder's tongue jammed down Matt's throat and he was suddenly in Matt's lap, grinding against him. Gasping, Matt grabbed Mohinder's shoulders and held him at arm's length. Mohinder writhed, trying to snatch at Matt's belt. "Oh, God," he groaned, eyes smoldering. "I need you to fuck me so badly!"
"Sylar," Matt said warningly.
Sylar tapped his chin. "But the shy, virginal fantasy is fun too."
Mohinder went suddenly slack in Matt's grip, panting. "Oh, Matt," he breathed, bowing his head but looking up beneath his eyelashes. "You don't know how you make me feel. Just... please be careful."
Okay, that was kinda hot, sorta like that one fantasy he had, the hot librarian one, where Mohinder took off his glasses and shook out his hair, not out of a ponytail of course, but just to scatter those curls and-- wait, that was beside the point! This was Matt's fantasy time, dammit, and he wasn't going to share it with a controlling, mocking psycho. "I'm warning you," he growled at Sylar.
"What are you gonna do?" Sylar challenged.
"Maybe I'll take a look at your apparently amazing sexual escapades and mess them up for you."
Sylar laughed. "My memories? In the past?? Interesting theory."
"I doubt any of those memories would be fun to look back on if I imprint myself into them, singing 'The Star-Spangled Banner' or doing jumping-jacks naked or narrating your every move like a football game."
Sylar scoffed. "You can't do that." Yet doubt flashed in his eyes.
"Two can play at this game," Matt muttered, reaching into Sylar's consciousness. He sought memories of nerves and sweat and excitement, and found one surprisingly quickly. The room changed around them, to some dank, dark motel room. Sylar lay in the middle of a bed, and Matt stood at the foot of it, but Mohinder was still there.
"What the hell?!" Matt exclaimed, watching Mohinder move steadily up and down on Sylar's cock.
"What?" Sylar strained, pausing as his head jerked back into the pillows. "Didn't Mohinder ever tell you about Zane?" he groaned.
"Um, yes." But never about this, for reasons that were blindingly apparent. "You've got to be kidding me. He barely knew you!"
"I beg to differ," Sylar muttered. Mohinder let out a shuddering sigh, running his hands back through his hair, and Sylar flexed his fingers into the flesh of his hips.
Ridiculous. As a roommate, Matt had never had the guts to make the slightest pass at Mohinder, but Sylar had gotten him into bed within one day of meeting him? Life was completely unfair.
"You couldn't even get a pity handjob?" Sylar prodded.
Matt frowned. He was getting careless with his thoughts, leaving them open. "I didn't act on anything because I didn't want Mohinder to be uncomfortable in his own apartment."
"Well, Matt," Sylar groaned, "he looks pretty damn comfortable." He slapped Mohinder's ass. Mohinder let out a quiet cry and jerked his hips, pulling another moan from the man beneath him.
Thoughts of screwing up Sylar's memory of this moment quickly faded as Matt watched Mohinder move. Faint blue light pressed through the curtains and played across his face as his head fell back, eyelashes fluttering and lips parting as he pushed down. Matt couldn't help the spark of excitement as he realized that this was what Mohinder really looked like in the throes of pleasure, far more beautiful than he'd been able to imagine.
This was probably the closest he'd ever get to reality.
Sylar's eyes locked onto Matt as he approached the bed. "You're really going to be a bastard and taint this?"
"Shut up," Matt said as he settled behind Mohinder, straddling Sylar's legs. He grabbed Mohinder's wrists, holding his arms up on either side of his head. Mohinder hardly paused; he leaned back against Matt while still working himself on Sylar's dick. Matt heard nothing from Sylar but his panting, and he lowered his lips to Mohinder's shoulder, kissing lightly. His heart clenched as Mohinder chuckled.
"Touch him," Sylar murmured.
Matt released Mohinder's right hand, and Mohinder immediately grabbed the back of Matt's head, urging him closer. Matt pressed his hand to Mohinder's chest, marveling at how real it seemed. He could feel the heat and sweat, and the heavy swell of Mohinder's breathing. Matt slowly traced the divots of Mohinder's muscles down his stomach, and he wrapped his hand around Mohinder's hot, hard erection.
"Ah... Matt..." Mohinder whispered, driving his hips harder. Matt stroked him along with the movements, slicking his hand downwards when Mohinder lifted himself up, then pulling his fist up over the head when he fell back down again.
Mohinder let go of Matt's head and moved his hand between them, down Matt's pants, into his boxers. Matt gasped as long fingers curled around him. He let go of Mohinder's left wrist only briefly to undo his pants one-handed, helping Mohinder free his erection. Despite the awkward angle, Mohinder managed to move his hand in time with Matt's, Matt's glans brushing against the dip in his back with each tug. Matt could feel his orgasm approaching already, but Mohinder and Sylar were almost there too. Mohinder panted like he could barely breathe as Sylar held his hips in a bruising grip.
They writhed on the bed, a groaning mass moving in hectic rhythm. Finally, it was all too much, and Matt came with a jerk onto Mohinder's back. Mohinder milked him dry, and Matt pulled his hand away to hold it while they kissed. Sylar threw his head back with low groan, thrusting roughly upwards, and Mohinder whimpered into Matt's mouth as his semen spurted onto Sylar's stomach. Matt was sure the sound would be burned into his mind, like the feel of Mohinder's body taut with overload, then slack in relief.
But Sylar sat up abruptly and pulled Mohinder out of Matt's grasp to hold him close. The way Sylar kissed him-- deeply, impatiently, eyes closed-- made Matt think for the first time that this was more than just a memory of manipulative success Sylar got off to.
Sylar's mouth moved to Mohinder's neck, then down to his shoulder. There he stopped, breathing hard with Mohinder sagging against him, and his eyes suddenly locked on Matt. "You know," Sylar said, "this could happen for real. If I had my body."
The guy had some one-track mind. But for a split second before Matt opened his eyes to his bathroom mirror, it sounded like a good idea.