Trying on a New Life (RP for splice-of-life)

[teleparkman]

Matt sat on the edge of the bed, nudging one of his unpacked boxes with his foot. He'd never planned to take over Mohinder's room, and he wasn't going to make anything permanent. Not yet. But the man was right; healing gunshot wounds would have been even less pleasant if he'd been sleeping on the couch

Comments

[splice_of_life]

Mohinder's dreams were awkward, and it was a very good thing that Matt read actual thought and not pictures or sounds. Mohinder was riding a drug high, his body was not use to his medication and the trippy dreams he was experiencing were due almost entirely to the medication. He and Matt, in his head, were fighting. That in itself was improbable, but fighting turned into fist fighting and that caused them to roll around on the floor. Even more unlikely, fighting turned into making out. Which turned into rough sex.

Behind Matt, Mohinder whined softly into the sleeve of his shirt. Dawn was approaching by then, and with it -- thanks to the dream -- a small problem Mohinder had never experienced in bed with the larger man occurred quite without his consent.

Mohinder was thirty-three years old, but there was no age limit on morning wood.

[teleparkman]

Matt woke up slowly, and way too early. He blinked into the dim, pre-dawn light, wondering what had pulled him out of sleep. Then he realized that the cadence of Mohinder's sleep-fogged Hindi thoughts had gone from soothing to agitated. And then he noticed the pressure on his back. Didn't need to be a rocket scientist--or a geneticist--to figure that one out. He shot out of bed, tearing at his chest wounds, and backed against the wall. "Dammit, Mohinder..."

[splice_of_life]

Matt couldn't just be quiet about it and leave peacefully. No. He had to wake up a man already on the edge of sleep due to pain and, after several foggy moments, that particular man just realized what it was that had caused them both to be knocked out of sleep.

There was a sorry -- mentally in English, verbally in Hindi -- before Mohinder fled the bed and the room. The taste of his dream was still on his tongue and he shut himself into the bathroom until he could thing straight again.

It did not occur to him that, in thinking of his dream, he was giving Matt some very graphic thoughts to sort through.

[teleparkman]

He eased himself back down on the bed, arms wrapped around his chest. He was freaked out. He was freaked out because he hadn't been freaked out. Not like he should have been. There'd been a half-second there where he'd just... enjoyed it.

And that worried him. He felt... almost sick. This wasn't him. He was a Cop, for God's sake. A big guy. A tough guy.

And all of those thoughts faded away when he started picking up Mohinder's. He turned red in embarrassment, tried to block them out, but it was no use. The words flowed along his nerves, making everything quiver.

[splice_of_life]

That was an understatement. Mohinder's mind flared up with a million thoughts at once, though none of them concerned Matt other than the idea that he should change his shirt. Once they were ready to go, however, Mohinder's humor either returned or he was bound and determined to reignite Matt's discomfort. "It's unfortunate," he said with a wispy smile, unaffected by the stubble on his cheeks and upper lip, "that you'll have to be seen with such an ugly wife today."

[teleparkman]

"I don't think you know how to be ugly," he said with a soft laugh. And it was true. The bruises and scrapes made him look... pathetic, but not ugly. Like someone who needed protecting.

[splice_of_life]

That tickled Mohinder enough to make him laugh, one of his wide lipped, lots of teeth sorts of laughs that was more than just pretty to look at, but impossible not to join in for. Mohinder was a genuine sort of man, wearing his emotions on his face, unable to hide them for even a moment, even out of decorum, unless he truly focused on it. "You're far too sweet to be wasted on me," he all but purred in his dark and rich accent, leaning up to kiss Matt gently on his cheek. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Mohinder wasn't quite sure of he had missed his cheek and landed somewhere less 'friendly' on purpose or not.

[teleparkman]

Matt tensed, but it didn't stop the shudder that ran through him. He couldn't breathe. Why was this happening to him? Did God really hate him this much? It was a test. It had to be.

If only he knew what the right answer was. A month ago, he'd have had no question, but now... He sighed softly, then slid his hand into Mohinder's hair, pressing back into the light contact.

[splice_of_life]

Yanking open Matt's fly was extremely rewarding in the groan he received as payment for the deed and in the heated kiss that followed. Mohinder enjoyed making out quite a bit, but he enjoyed something else even more. It was a wonder he still enjoyed women from time to time when he was so enamored with one particular organ they did not possess. Dragging Matt by his now open jeans, hand greedily stuffing inside of them, Mohinder gently sat the larger man down on the couch and dropped to the floor immediately between his knees. His lips, hot from sucking kisses, pressed to Matt's abdomen just beneath the bandage, dark eyes watching his face as he struggled to pull his cock out of his underwear.

[teleparkman]

He kept his lust-darkened eyes fixed on the other man, breathing heavily. He looked so hot kneeling there, so eager... He gulped, then slid his fingers into those silky curls. "Mohinder..."

[splice_of_life]

I love it when you say my name. It was better than Buddy, that was for sure. Mohinder didn't want to be Matt's buddy. He wanted to pull what ended up being just as large as his fantasizing mind expected out of the man's jeans and get to work on devouring it. Mohinder was not disappointed. He felt the weight of Matt's cock in his palm, licking his lips, and then slowly took him into his mouth. No rush. He couldn't rush if he didn't want to choke.

[teleparkman]

Say his name. Right. His eyes slid closed as the warmth of Mohinder's mouth enveloped him. "God," he gasped brokenly.

[splice_of_life]

Mohinder breathed hard the moment Matt's hand touched him. He had wanted this so badly. Too badly. Lips trembling, the Indian sucked at Matt's lower lip and shuddered. Hopefully this would be enough like masturbation for Matt not to panic.

[teleparkman]

The feel of Mohinder's lips on his kept him grounded, kept his mind off of what his hand was doing. After a moment he found a rhythm that felt natural, taking cues from Mohinder's mind on the speed.

[splice_of_life]

He was trembling. That sort of thing did not usually happen, but it seemed impossible to ignore at the moment. All that Mohinder wanted was for time to stop so that he could teach Matt that there was nothing wrong with wanting a man. He could help him break through all of those Judeo-Christian barriers of his. Mohinder had smooth skin. Hot to the touch. And oh, it was so good to touch. Careful, Mohinder...his stitches.

[teleparkman]

Mohinder did have smooth skin. And he was as pretty as most of the women he'd been with--more, if he was going to be truthful. And he was nicer than most of them. He let his lips slide down the man's jaw to his throat.

[splice_of_life]

Mohinder tilted back his chin and leaned back against the far end of the couch. His arms slid around Matt's waist as he resituated himself for the larger man to lean down against. And yes, Mohinder did want to feel him, every bit of him. And truth be told, he was more than a little interested in touching him again. Feeling the girth of his cock again. Aah! His mind was filled with far less romantic things than he wanted.

[teleparkman]

It felt... so good to be wanted. He hadn't had that in a long time, except for isolated incidents, in the last year of his marriage. And he had to admit, the less romantic thoughts were a huge turn-on. "Mohinder," he whispered.